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macfrog · 1 year

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rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

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When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. ��You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

taglist: @serenaxpedro @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #bbf!frankie #bbf!frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #enemies to lovers #frankie morales enemies to lovers

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prolix-yuy · 3 months

Text

Olive Branch

Pairing: Francisco Morales x F!Reader

Summary: If Frankie doesn't like olives, then what does he like?

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: T, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, incredibly tame for me, hints of spice. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: I was challenged by @happypedrohours to write a story involving Frankie and olives, and what do you know, these are two of my favorite things! I was snickering to myself the entire time as the olive metaphor rolled out, but what the hell, we're gonna keep it in! Enjoy my friends, and Happy Pedro Hours!

Cross-posted on AO3

When it slides in front of you, you know it’s a good one. You watched the bartender make one at the end of the bar and it was just how you like it. Dry, cold, three olives on a hardy metal toothpick. You were practically salivating by the time you ordered your own and it slid in front of you, shining like the Holy Grail.

“Didn’t know you liked martinis.”

Head whipping around, you stutter out a laugh as Frankie slides in next to you. He perches an elbow on the bar, free shoulder coming close as the crowd tucks you into each other. Your eyes dart to his crinkled brown ones, then to your drink, and back again to distract from the proximity. His hand is tucked into his faded jeans, but it wouldn’t take much to cup your elbow or wrap around your waist.

“On special occasions,” you quip, tossing your head at Will and Tatiana surrounded by your friends. She’s showing the girls the ring, the men clapping hands on Will’s back and making him laugh. The air holds the fresh taste of new beginnings.

“Never had much of a taste for ‘em. Just gasoline in a glass,” he replies. Your face must be ten levels of indigent with how quickly his eyebrows shoot up.

“Do I look like a car to you?”

Frankie’s eyes twinkle, and it flips your stomach.

“Definitely a hot rod.”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. He’s never serious, after all. He likes to ply you with compliments just short of flirty and leave you high and dry at the end of the night. The first time it stung so hard you didn’t go out with the boys for weeks.

“He’s just a little fucked in the head, don’t take it too personal,” Santi told you when he finally wrestled the reason for your absence out. “Can’t stop chasing anything messy with two legs. Last girlfriend was a cokehead, even worse before that. He likes ‘em pretty and crazy, and he bags ‘em left and right. They always leave him worse for wear.” Santi’s eyes narrowed over his knowing smirk. “So now you like him?”

“Fuck no,” you spat out, arms folded tight. “I don’t deal with boys who play games.”

Yet here you are, again, with Frankie, ready to roll the dice yet again. At least he doesn’t know you’ve still got a soft spot for him ready to land.

“I’ll ignore the fact that you called Hendricks gasoline,” you scold, sliding your gleaming prize closer on its soggy black napkin. “There’s also vermouth, and olives.” You take a sip, the warmth of the gin and sharp salt of the charcuterie mainstay sweeping across your tongue. Frankie’s eyes drifting down to your lips on the rim of the glass.

What a cocktease. At least most men who eyefuck you actually follow through.

“Shaken, not stirred?” he quips in a rough approximation of a Scottish accent. You snort, instantly regretting it as the burn of brine and alcohol decimates your sense of smell. Trying to hide it under a tiny cough, Frankie’s face turns to the bar.

“Not much of an olive guy either, so you're 0 for 3 on convincing me.”

You don’t know why, but your stomach sinks briefly as you gingerly twist the glass stem between your fingers.

“Perfect, more for me then,” you shoot back brightly, but he looks back a fraction too soon before the disappointment flits away.

“C’mon, you know you were never gonna change my mind,” he teases, jostling you with his shoulder as he motions for the bartender.

“Never said I was,” you add absentmindedly.

Frankie will never be an option. He’s made it clear time and time again that he doesn’t choose you. But sometimes, when you let your mind drift, you think about how it could happen. Some dark room where he finally finds something he’s been looking for. The brushing of noses and near-misses before one of you finally acts and you’d know what his lips feel like. Then he would lick into your mouth and his flavor would dance with acidity and botanicals on your tongue and he’d moan at how good you taste.

But he doesn’t even like olives. Or you.

Frankie’s drink is a golden lager, malt rising to your nose. You like beer too. You like a lot of things. You could sit at this bar and talk about your favorite drinks for hours. You’re not just the martini girl. You’re so much more.

You need some air. Your daydreams are getting in the way of enjoying the night and Frankie’s none the wiser, so best keep it that way.

“I’m gonna bring my gasoline olives back to the party,” you say, ducking out from Frankie’s body without waiting for a reply. Maybe catching a glimpse of surprise, you strut back to the girls. The warmth of their excitement and enthusiasm reinvigorate your tight throat.

Your drink dwindles slowly, savoring the clean flavor and crushing the olives one by one between your teeth. One of the girls tries the dregs of your glass and wants one of her own, so you weave back to the bar so you can help her order. A holler rises from the boys around Will, and when you look you catch Frankie’s face again. He’s all beaming smiles, eyes barely visible from behind his crows feet and gleaming teeth. He catches your eye and his smile softens, and over the din of the bar he mouths “you good?”

You nod. Of course you are. What would Frankie know about that?

The drinks come, followed by cheers and hums of contentment. You will definitely be tipping well tonight. Before you can make it back to the group Benny cuts off your path, swooping one arm behind your back and your free hand into his.

“No no no, Benny, I’ll spill!” you shriek, feeling the telltale wetness of a sloshed drink over your fingers. “Shit, I think I got it on the back of your shirt…”

“Ah, I’ve had worse,” Benny says, mock-dancing with you to the barely audible music.

“How’s Will?” you ask, leaning over his shoulder to snag a healthy sip of the martini. Now a more manageable level, you let Benny lead you away from the bar.

“So in love it makes me sick.” You raise an eyebrow. “In a good way!” he adds, turning you so the man in question is visible. Tatiana’s tucked under his arm, and his mouth drifts to kiss the top of her head.

“You know what, I get it,” you agree, the both of you snickering as the tempo of the music changes. It might be a Hozier song? It’s hard to tell over the babble of voices.

“How are you?” he asks, feigned innocence a red flag flicked in front of your eyes.

“Peachy. Why?”

Benny’s hand squeezes yours in a soothing rhythm.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. Fish mentioned you seemed down. Something about olives?”

The flash of heat rocketing to your face has to be combatted, so you choose comedy.

“Oh yeah, the fact that they never give me enough in my damn drink. Could drive a woman to tears!” Your put-on mid-atlantic accent doesn’t sell it. Benny chews on the inside of his cheek before leaning to bring his mouth to your ear.

“I know you’re gonna tell me to fuck off…”

“Then you don’t have to say anything.”

“...but you and I both know this ain’t about olives.”

You lean back, jaw set and eyes cool.

“You’re right. It’s about absolutely nothing.”

“Hey…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Benny lets go and you down the rest of your drink. It burns and you hate yourself for it, but it feels good to let liquid frustration carve through the center of you.

“It’s late, and bar snacks aren’t gonna soak up the hangover I’ll have tomorrow. I’m gonna say bye to Will and Tatiana, get a cheeseburger, and go home.” Benny puts his hands on his hips, blue eyes filled with a brotherly care you know better than to try and tamp down.

“And it’s not about olives?”

Plucking the toothpick full of metaphor out of the glass, you point it at him.

“It’s not about olives.”

Benny relents, and walks you over to the happy couple. Promises of more drinks and a bachelorette party are half shouted before you pick through the crowd and exit the front of the bar.

The air is just starting to get cool, alcohol thrumming in your blood. You love the way a martini buzz feels, your mind crystal and your body sharp as glass. It’s different from the smoky haze of scotch or the sluggish thudding of beer. Martinis make you diamond.

Which is why you notice Frankie immediately upon his exit, even though you can tell he wanted to go unseen for a few moments longer. He fumbles his hands into his pockets, ambling up to stand beside you while you glare at the Uber app.

“Got a ride coming?”

“Eventually.”

He nods and stares at the toes of his boots, which you observe surreptitiously. The progress bar keeps filling and emptying as the silence stretches.

“I’m sorry for shitting on your drink.”

You can’t help but snap your face to him, eyebrows raised.

“I sure hope you didn’t shit on my drink.”

The poor choice of words quirks the corner of your mouth as Frankie tries to recover.

“Jesus Christ, I mean…you know what I mean! I didn’t mean to be a dick,” he says, now contemplating the sky with resignation. There's still a fight in you, but you try to meet halfway.

“S’all good, I shit on your terrible beers all the time. We’re even.” You glance back at the app and shut it out of frustration. You’ll try again in a minute.

“I don’t hate olives, either,” he rushes out. You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping. God, could they just let this go? You’re embarrassed enough about it. Before you can make another joke, another deflection, he barrels on.

“To be honest, I’ve never tried…olives. I see them all the time - at parties, at the bar, at friend’s houses - and there always seems to be some reason not to try them. I’m always having something else, or just had something, and I don’t want to…I’m afraid if I try the olives, I’ll really like them. And I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. And that’s been scaring me off from even trying.”

Frankie looks up at you, mouth parted and brow furrowed, as realization rises slow and fizzy.

“Because I think I could really, really like them. Enough that I’d want them all the time. But I’ve never had anything like that before. And I don’t want to hurt the…olives.”

Your heart is thudding in your ears, lower lip close to a betraying tremble before you force it between your teeth..

“You don’t want to hurt…the olives,” you parrot back and Frankie sighs, lifting his cap enough to rake his fingers through his hair before resettling it.

“Fuck it, you know what I mean, right? It’s not about…it’s not about the fucking olives,” he says, and one of his hands wraps around your shoulder. It’s hot and strong and your chest swells at the touch.

“If it’s not about the olives,” you say, tentative, voice dropping into a lower register. He’s closer, almost as close as in the bar, thumb worrying back and forth over your shirt. “Then why don’t you show me what it is about?”

You expected more hesitation, but with that permission he lunges for you, cupping your face with both hands as he crashes your lips together. It’s fast and messy, teeth pressed against your lips and his tongue slipping in to taste. He groans and your knees go weak, head spinning worse than any drink could hope to do. You clutch the lapels of his canvas jacket and pull him closer, sweeping strokes of your kiss filling your mouth with bitter hops. With a lurch he pulls back.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but he continues to clutch at you, arm banding around your waist to keep you snug against him.

“For what?” you tease, sliding your nose along his proud profile.

“Takin’ so fuckin’ long.” His teeth graze your jaw lightly, heat pooling in a place that’s demanding a more private location for proper penance.

“I think you owe me a lot more than one very good kiss, after everything you’ve put me through,” you contemplate, his grip tightening.

“Still waiting for your ride?”

Your fingers wander to the nape of his neck, and his curls are just as soft as you imagined.

“No.”

A gentler kiss follows, broader, somehow still able to make your head spin.

“Good, you’re coming home with me so I can properly apologize.”

The next morning as Frankie opens his front door for his breakfast delivery, he finds a pristine jar of olives resting on his welcome mat. The scrawled note - better start getting a taste for these! - is clearly in Benny’s handwriting. The memory of your body, soft and sleeping in his bed, pulls him back inside.

After everything that got him here, he could learn to like olives.

END

"This is where righteousness ends It’s a relief to wave this overdue white flag and My blind spots have tortured you enough How much salt could I pour in To think that I called myself a friend."

Alanis Morissette, Olive Branch

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #prolix fics #happypedrohours

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sci-fi-disney-prince · 7 months

Text

Garrett Hedlund Mini March Fic Madness

In honor of March Madness, I created this master list of Garrett Hedlund character fanfics and may update it even after March. This may not be mobile/tablet-friendly.

Note: This may not have all of the stories posted on Tumblr and/or elsewhere since I am only one person and could only find as much as I can and unfortunately get distracted by Garrett along the way.

Also, these do not belong to me. These stories belong to these lovely fanfic writers credited below and to the people behind the original source material. Do keep in mind that many of these fanfics are targeted for 18 years of age and older, so reader discretion is advised.

Tagged: @the-blind-assassin-12 (the person behind March Fic Madness 2024)

Key: ❤️‍🔥 = Smut(ty)/Explicit 🍬 = Fluff ❤️‍🩹 = Angst

Updated as of May 5, 2024

Sci-fi-Disney-prince’s G.H. Corner coming soon

Special Events

@/triplefrontier-anniversary (A fanfic and art event to celebrate Triple Frontier's 5th anniversary which is run by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime that goes from March 1st-March 14th. Take out the slash to go to their page)

Masterlists

Mitch Keller x F!OC Waitress Oneshot Masterlist by @marmie-noir [Content warning: violence, sex, and 18+ content] ❤️‍🔥

TriFRambles’ Masterlist by @triframbles

Delta Landscaping Mainlist by @rhoorl ❤️‍🔥

Benny Miller Masterlist by @dameronscopilot [some 🍬, some ❤️‍🔥]

Garrett Hedlund Masterlist by @dameronscopilot 🍬❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Benjamin "Benny" Miller Masterlist by @musings-of-a-rose [Some Fluff, Some Angst, Some Smut, some all of the above]

FishBen Rec List by @thirstworldproblemss [Some fluff, some angst, some smut, some all of the above]

phoenixhalliwell Masterlist by @phoenixhalliwell [includes Triple Frontier guys x Gender Neutral!reader]

Individual Stories

Triple Frontier

"Every Kiss Begins With A Mistletoe" by @kittyofalltrades [Santi and Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"Not So Silent Night" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Office Party Love" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader] 🍬

Sleepy Benny by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] 🍬

"I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"An Unexpected Discovery" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Benny's Favorite Librarian" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Before I Go" by @cowboystokes (deactivated) [Benny x Black!Reader (Co-Parents)]

"Drunk Poetry" by @violentdelightsandviolentends [Benny x female reader - Content warning: cursing and alcohol mention] 🍬

"I see my shot" by @writefightandflightclub [Benny x female reader - Content warnings: alcohol, mildly steamy making-out, swearing, “unrequited” feelings and implied possible public sex acts (fade to black).] ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

"I've loved you three summers now, honey, I want them all." by @bullet-prooflove [Benny x Reader]

"Disinhibition" by @busycryin [Benny x Reader - Content warning: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex] 🍬

"Slow Motion" by @miss-beep-beep [Benny x Viet!OFC - Content Warning - some cursing and kisses] 🍬❤️‍🩹

Four Brothers

"Hopper saves a boy’s pieces, Joyce puts him back together" by @imeanwhynotbruv (Jack Mercer Stranger Things AU/crossover - TW: abuse)

"Number" by @jackmercerenthuiast (Jack Mercer x Reader - Content warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, suggestive language, and gang violence)

Tron: Legacy

"Masks" by @ivorydragoness44 [Sam Flynn x Reader] ❤️‍🩹

"iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours." by @solar-siren [Sam Flynn x Tron] 🍬

Tulsa King

More from other movies/shows/projects in the new masterlist

#benny miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #jack mercer #four brothers #garrett hedlund #tron: legacy #sam flynn #tulsa king #mitch keller #four brothers fanfic #Tulsa king fanfic #marchficmadness24

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floralpascal · 9 months

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The Heart’s Flame, Chapter 1: The New Owner

Summary: When a new owner buys the house next to Fire Station 133, Frankie is tasked to be the welcoming party. However, he didn’t quite expect the new owner to be a gorgeous woman like yourself.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical description)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: PG (series is Mature & Explicit though, so minors do not interact)

Warnings: None, just Frankie with a big crush

A/N: I’m so excited to introduce you all to these two! Ugh I’ve been obsessed with writing this the past week. Please note that I don’t know all that much about firefighting, so expect some inaccuracies there.

In the decade Frankie had spent as a firefighter and wildfire helicopter pilot at Station 133, a kind and quiet elderly couple — Mr. and Mrs. Henry — had lived in the house next to the station. They had loved living next to it and loved the firefighters that worked there. As the only house in the vicinity, they had painted their front door red in solidarity long before Frankie joined the station. It had been a surprise for everyone when the news broke that they were selling the house and moving to Italy for their retirement. A few of the firefighters had helped the couple move their things into the moving vans before bidding them goodbye. Then, they watched for any signs of a new owner for the small house. Weeks went by until last Thursday when an unfamiliar black Jeep showed up and warm yellow light came from the windows of the house.

The Jeep came and went from the house but with the positioning of the house and the entryway, no one was able to get a good look at the new owner.

The firefighters debated for four days over when one of them should go over there to introduce themselves, as it was important for the station to establish a good relationship with the mystery owner as soon as possible. Finally, after a rather heated debate with the firefighters on duty today, Frankie won the role of greeting the newcomer by virtue of being the best baker out of them all. Granted, with his main rivals being Benny, Will, and Santi, it was inevitable.

“Twenty bucks says it’s another retired couple,” Benny bet the guys as Frankie took a pan of cookies out of the oven.

The one upside to working 24 hour shifts was that the station had to have a full kitchen. Half of the room made up the nice but cluttered kitchen while the other half was occupied by a large table. Huge windows lined the wall behind the table, the little house visible to the left of the station.

The guys had all packed into the kitchen the moment Frankie started the cookies. Benny leaned against the kitchen counter to Frankie’s right. Will sat in a seat at the table behind him as he nursed a cup of coffee a few feet away from where Santi sat on the corner of the table with his arms crossed.

While Frankie and Will simply shook their heads at Benny, Santi scoffed. He retorted, “No, man. I say it’s a hot single woman. The house is right next to the fire station, she gets to watch all the fine men and women in uniform from the porch. It’s a good deal.”

“Are you kidding?” Benny asked. He gestured in the direction of the little house. “Look at that place. It screams retirement.”

Santi waved a hand at him dismissively. “It’s not about how the house looks, it’s about the view.”

Benny went to argue, but Frankie cut him off.

“This,” Frankie sighed as he packed the warm cookies into a tub, “is exactly why I’m going and you two aren’t.”

“Oh, come on, Fish,” Benny appealed to him. “You know as well as I do that it’s gonna be some retired folks.”

Frankie really did agree with Benny on this one, but he refused to tell him that. The house was well past its prime and clearly a relic from the 80s, two-toned white and brown. Confusingly, it also had a faded red roof — that Frankie wondered if had once matched the door — and light wood accents for patios in the front and back of the house. In all honesty, it was a little ugly. It was like bad design had met bad taste and poor aging. He didn’t think anyone would really find it appealing, but it definitely didn’t look like a place a stunning bachelorette would want to buy.

Benny pointed at his brother and tried to appeal to him, too. “Will, who do you think is right?”

Will shook his head with disinterest before taking a sip of coffee from his mug. “Nope. I’m not humoring you two.”

Frankie chuckled as Benny complained and urged Will to side with his baby brother.

As Frankie packed up the tub of cookies and its accompanying Welcome to the neighborhood! card from the station, Santi gave him a sly, confident smile. “We’ll see who’s right.”

Frankie made his way out of the station, feeling oddly anxious about the newcomer. Would they be as nice as the last owners were? Would they allow the station to use part of their lawn as extra parking space for the charity cookout they hosted every summer? Would they put up with Santi blasting rock music with the bay doors open? Were the newcomers ready to put up with lights and sirens coming from the station at all hours of the day?

Finally, reaching the little house, Frankie ascended the old rickety stairs that led to the worn deck. When he reached the faded fire engine red front door, he knocked. Shifting the plastic container of freshly-baked cookies to one hand, he quickly adjusted his navy uniform.

He hadn’t been particularly anxious about the new owners until now. He hadn’t really realized how incredible the last owners had been as neighbors. They didn’t just put up with the station — and some of the firefighters’ antics — they adored the station. Mr. and Mrs. Henry always wanted to help out however they could. But now, with them gone, it dawned on Frankie that not everyone would like living next to a station or want to participate in what they did.

Shuffling from behind the door pulled Frankie from his thoughts. The door swung open and—

Oh. Oh, this was not a retiree.

Frankie had rejected Santi’s prediction so swiftly and thoughtlessly that he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. You were gorgeous. You were clad in shorts and a baggy black Queen tank top, peering at him questioningly.

“Hi,” you greeted cautiously. “Can I… help you?”

It was like Frankie’s world had been turned upside down.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake himself from his stupor. “Um, I’m Frankie. Frankie Morales. From the fire station.”

You cracked a small smile as you looked down at his uniform. “I see that.”

“We, um, wanted to welcome the new owner to the neighborhood,” he explained, raising the tub to make his point. “That is, if you are the new owner.”

A full smile broke out across your face, brighter than any fire he had seen. “I am.”

He reciprocated your smile as you told him your name. When he offered the tub with the attached greeting card to you, you graciously accepted it.

Eyeing the card, you said, “This is so sweet! I have to admit, I didn’t know if I would actually get to meet any of you.”

“Are you kidding? We were all dying to meet our new neighbor. I was the lucky guy who won the job.”

It eased Frankie’s nerves when he saw you suppress a bashful smile at that — a crack in the easy confidence that seemed to roll off of you.

“I didn’t know you all would care so much,” you said, almost to yourself.

Oh, Frankie had been interested before. Now he cared. And he imagined some of the single guys and girls at the station might, too.

“Of course we do,” Frankie insisted. “We want you to feel good about the neighborhood. If you ever need anything — anything at all — you can always come to the station.”

“If my house ever catches fire, I expect an incredible response time from you all,” you teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a theatrical nod.

Laughing, you beckoned him with your free hand. “Come on in, Frankie. I’m afraid it’s kind of a mess in here right now.”

Still trying to ignore the fast thrum of his heartbeat, he crossed the threshold and followed you into the house. The door led straight into the living room — or what had once been a living room. The carpet had very obviously been ripped out, pieces of flooring missing at one edge of the room. Wallpaper had been torn off of all the walls, evidenced by the one wall that still had half of its gaudy wallpaper — yellow diamonds on a white background. Paint buckets sat in a huddle by the corner. Other painting and remodeling supplies littered the edges of the room, making the place look less like a house and more like a construction site.

As you took the tub of cookies to what seemed to be the kitchen, you called, “This place is in need of a serious overhaul. It’ll take a couple months to even get this place to where I can actually move in.”

Frankie eyed a nail gun which sat next to a table saw. “Are you… are you doing the renovations all by yourself?”

You appeared in the walkway again, opting to lean on the doorframe with your arms crossed and an easy smile on your face. “What? Don’t think a girl can do it?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide. “No, no! Just impressed, actually. This looks like a lot for just one person.”

“I grew up helping out on different house renovation projects,” you explained.

“Is that why you bought this house?” Frankie asked. But even as he asked, he already knew that it was. It wasn’t the reason that Santi predicted a pretty woman like you would buy the house. The answer was even simpler than that. “You wanted a fixer-upper?”

You nodded a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “It’s more fun to work for it.”

Frankie thought that he may just die then and there. How the hell could he have gotten so lucky for the most perfect woman on earth to move in right next to the station?

Trying desperately to sound like a caring neighbor and not a guy with a quickly-forming crush, he made an offer he would forever be thankful he made. “Well, if you ever need any help, just let me know. I’m pretty handy myself. Just tell me what to do.”

You nodded, a sweet smile on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind, Frankie. You know, when Mr. Henry said you firefighters were a sweet bunch, I didn’t quite picture any as sweet as you.”

Your words were like gasoline on the burning flames of his quickly intensifying crush. He fought to find his words once again before settling on, “Mr. Henry told you about us?”

You nodded, pushing off the wall to move closer to him. Frankie fought to keep his eyes on your face and not your gorgeous form. You gestured in the direction of the station. “He told me all about you guys. He wanted to make sure that the new owner understood what living next to you guys would entail. Obviously, I was okay with that. Before he let me buy the house, though, he made me promise to continue helping you guys with your cookouts. Apparently, it’s a big deal and I need to provide parking and some kind of side dish.”

Frankie laughed, looking out of the living room window that faced the station for a moment. “The Henry’s were always good to us. It’s good to know they were looking out for us, too. And, uh, the side dish is optional. You’re always invited to the cookouts as a guest. The Henry’s just always wanted to be involved.”

You tilted your chin up at him. “Then maybe I want to be involved, too.”

Frankie tried to tamp down how badly he wanted that — to have you there at the cookouts. To talk you, get to know you more, ask you to dance with him. Instead, he said, “We would all really appreciate that.”

You chuckled. “Then count me in. I’ll be there. As long as all of the other firefighters are as nice as you are.”

“Most of them,” Frankie chuckled, a hint of nerves in his voice.

Then, it got quiet for a moment, awkwardness pressing in. In a desperate attempt to get rid of it, Frankie blurted, “Would you like to come see the station? I’m sure everyone there would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Really, it wouldn’t be a bother.”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Oh, what the hell. Let’s do it.”

Frankie tried not to beam. He had a little more time to be with you, to get to know you. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could even convince you to stay for dinner at the station.

As you led him out of your house and out into the sunkissed day, he couldn’t help but hope that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction

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pimosworld · 7 months

Note

💌

Congratulations on 700 followers, yay!! And what a way to celebrate with the things you're offering!

I simply can't just *not* ask you... brat tamer Santiago Garcia, if you happen to be inspired?

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x F! Reader

Summary- You push your boyfriend just a little too far with your teasing

CW-18+, NSFW, MDNI, Brat tamer Santi, Sub reader, slight voyeurism, Overstimulation, Breath play, Rough sex, Safe word established, Use of restraints, gagging, Dacryphilia, Pet names, Unprotected PIV, Cream Pie, Aftercare

WK- 3.6K ( Drabble..who said this was a Drabble?)

A/N- This was the first ask in my follower celebration and I’ve wanted to put my all into it. Santi is so intimidating and I love writing for him.

Not beta read

Some inspiration before you read if you’re feeling so inclined. ( Santiago)

[Main Masterlist][Triple Frontier]

Cupid’s arrow

It started off innocently enough

Text image

Santi:Baby you’re killing me

Just wanted to give you a Valentines preview

It was boredom that often got you in trouble with Santiago. He said you had a knack for testing his Will power. A constant push and pull between being good and watching the moment he decides he’s had enough of your behavior.

The problem here lies that you can’t see his face via text. There was no way of knowing when the flip switched from innocent to a lesson in never pushing Santiago’s buttons.

Text image

Santi:I’m serious I’m trying to work here cariño

Fine…tell Frankie I said hi

It really was his fault…he left you to your own devices for an entire day. Of course you went shopping and saw the lacy red set that you know would drive him wild. The woman who helped you out convinced you to get a few more things and also another set in pink. But then you saw the black silk teddy with the red trim and you knew you just had to have that one.

A full photo shoot in the floor length mirror in your shared bedroom had you occupied for a little longer. And now you find yourself growing impatient as the time ticks on.

“Pope, my dog can hold a flashlight better than you.” Frankie’s muffled voice comes from under the sink as Santi discards his phone on the counter.

“Relajate hermano.” Santi’s annoyance oozed from his tone, mostly irritated at his lack of preparedness for what was supposed to be a simple ‘in fish’s words’ fix to his leaky sink.

One hour turned into four and it seemed like they had made way too many trips to the hardware store. This was clearly not going to be a quick fix and Frankie should’ve hired a plumber like he said. He knew Frankie was too stubborn for that, the pilot could fix mostly anything on his own and that sometimes led to an air of too much confidence.

Frankie leans back on his heels wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt, the backwards standard oil cap on his head a shade darker around the rim because the man is too cheap to turn on the ac.

“Your dick hard from holding that flashlight or were you staring at my ass.” Frankie chides and Santi’s flipping him off before the words even leave his mouth.

Santi can’t help the way his body reacts to you. Which is why he desperately needed you to stop sending him those photos. He could be home with you right now, undressing you piece by piece. His face buried between your thighs as he pulled countless orgasms from you until you were begging him to stop. In reality he was going to do that anyway but he’s not going to be so nice about it now that you’ve decided to be a grade A pain in his ass.

You couldn’t possibly know that he’s at his wits end between Frankie��s constant ribbing and his one too many mentions of you. He appreciated that his friend cared about his love life but Santi knew how he really felt. The too long looks at you swimming at Wills in your bikini, the hugs that lasted longer than he’d felt comfortable with but wouldn’t dare say anything to Frankie. The way you genuinely laughed at his awful jokes when you were all hanging out at the bar.

“Let me take a look, I think your eyes need a break.” Santi bumps him out of the way with his foot.

“Oh you’re an expert plumber now, but you can’t even hold a damn flashlight.” Santi shoots him a look as he breathes heavy out of his nose and Frankie concedes taking the flashlight from him.

Santi’s grumbling in a mix of English and Spanish as he takes in the mangled mess of tubes and the puddle of questionable water his arm is sitting in. Santi is suddenly aware of every sore muscle in his body as his back goes rigid. His knees ache and his head is pounding from a lack of food and water. Right now he’s seeing red as he notices the problem they’ve been dealing with all day was quite literally because Frankie had his wires crossed. He's fumbling with the tubing as his phone buzzes in succinction on the counter above him. He thinks you might be calling him but it stops after three.

“Everything alright up there Fish?” His tone slightly exasperated as he’s plunged into darkness. Evidently neither of them know how to hold a flashlight properly.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

“What!?” He groans after a loud thud that was his head hitting the underside of the sink reverberates through his body.

Frankie’s scrolling on Santi’s phone with a perverted look plastered on his face. He’s leaning against the counter completely unaware or unconcerned that Santi is staring daggers at him.

Santi snatches his phone hastily. “Get a good look?” Frankie clearly can’t read the room as he chuckles at him and this is the closest he’s been to getting punched since basic training.

“I didn’t see much.” The lie is clear as day on his face as Santi crosses his arms. “I just don’t know how you could be here with me while you’ve got that at home.” Frankie crosses his arms almost mimicking Santi and an unfamiliar noise leaves his mouth. Santi probably resembles a fire breathing dragon more than a human at this moment.

“You’re right Frank.” He clenches and unclenches his fist. “I don’t know why I’m here.” He wonders now if Frankie was in on it with you and some elaborate plan to push him to the brink of his resolve. He wouldn’t put it past either of you, always vying for who can win the award for the first place pain in the ass. Unlucky for you and lucky for Frankie that his displaced aggression now has a direction.

Santi leaves the kitchen without another word, slamming the front door a little harder than he meant but not feeling too bad about it. He’s bounding toward his Jeep with his phone clutched in his hand and a painful bulge in his jeans. He decides not to leave Frankie entirely in the dark and also not wanting to have the day be a total waste.

I fixed the problem

🐈🐠: Gracias hermano te aprecio

Santi puts the car in reverse and starts the slow roll down the driveway. His phone buzzes next to him on the seat and he aggressively puts it back in park to check.

🐈🐠: Tell her to wear the red one 🥵

Since when did his old ass figure out how to use emojis? Santi pulls up the messages he forgot you sent him. The ones Fish saw. The sweat trickles down his back as he takes in the compromising positions you’re in. One hand clutching your breast, another hand dipping beneath the deep red fabric. You’re only saving grace is that he can’t actually see that spot between your legs. The spot he knows is soaked and if Frankie had seen he’d never live it down. They’d have to share you at that point and Frankie would be none too pleased with himself.

Santi: Be in the bed with the red one on

You were starting to get worried when you sent those last three images. You hadn’t heard from him and your anxiety was getting the best of you. You knew you were constantly pushing the limits of how far you could take him, with all the trust in your relationship you assumed at this point Santiago was limitless. Sending a few racy texts was nothing compared to making him come in his pants while you palmed him under the table at your last hang out with the guys. Your punishment was relatively mild when he yanked you into the bathroom and made you clean up the evidence.

Can’t wait to see you baby 🥰

You're waiting…patiently now after you’ve changed into the one that you knew would drive him crazy.

He’s driving, barely obeying the traffic laws as he white knuckles the steering wheel. He’d already picked out your tombstone when you sent the first photo.

Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

****

He knows he needs to shower first, so you’ll just have to wait a little longer. He hopes for your sake you’re in the bed like he asked. You had the expert ability to do the opposite of what he wanted at every turn.

The sun is just starting to set when he enters your shared home. He can smell his favorite scent wafting through the air of one of those ridiculous wax melts you had all throughout the house. He would never tell you that he liked it so much but it seems you’ve caught on anyway. He can’t even describe what it is since it’s labeled autumn air, but it reminds him of you.

Had you been a little faster you might have gotten away with it…but he sees a flit of red and your foot just barely making it into the doorway of the bedroom.You’re lying on your stomach when he enters the room doing your best to not look out of breath with that innocent smile on your face.

“You think you’re slick?” You shake your head as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his tan skin. He throws it towards to hamper, missing it completely as he stalks towards you. He takes your jaw between his forefinger and thumb and you tilt your head up for a kiss that never comes. “I asked you a question.” His breath is hot on your face as you search his eyes for a sign of reassurance but you find none.

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about.” Your voice comes out shaky as his grip tightens on your chin. He laughs as an unmerciful look spreads across his face. You’re a mixture of terrified and aroused as you hang there in the balance, unsure of what his next move is.

He lets go of your chin and presses you back with his palm to lay against the headboard. His jaw is clenched and his lips in a tight line as he straddles your hips pinning you down with his jean clad thighs. You reach out to palm the obvious bulge in the front of his pants and he not so gently grabs your wrist. He places a soft kiss to the palm of your hand before bringing it up over your head to rest on the pillow. “That’s the last time you’re gonna act out of line.” His voice a low growl in your ear and you think you may have royally fucked up.

He sits back on his heels, trailing his hands over the soft fabric of your dress. His thumbs graze your nipple and his eyes go wide at the way your body reacts to him. He grips your hips and bunches the fabric to reveal the matching thing soaked with your arousal. If he had fangs he’d draw blood with the way he’s biting down on his lip as his fingers toy with the thin string, pulling it tight between your lips. He’s playing with you now and your antics earlier may have been seriously detrimental to your health and well being.

The material bites into your skin and you wince as he snaps the thin fabric like it’s made of floss. It’s vulgar the way he brings them to his nose inhaling your scent, his eyes roll back and your breath picks up at the carnal display before you.

He sets the torn panties down next to your head before his hands are back on you. “I take it, I bought this?” You nod once and he tsks under his breath.

“Yes.” It’s rushed out and he slaps the side of your thigh as he crowds your space. “I mean yes sir.”

“Good girl…I think it’s been too long since you’ve been taught a lesson.” You gasp as he rips the fabric. “You can’t even remember your manners.” Your gut churns at the voracious tone he’s using. The bold red dress flutters in front of you as he reduces it to shreds. His muscles flex as he pulls it taught, inspecting it to his liking. He leans over you, his soft kiss a stark contrast to his words. All you’ve wanted all day was to touch him, but you keep your hands where they are as his lips devour you. His kiss growing hungrier by the second. He pulls away breathless as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. He rolls his hips instinctively, his lust for you is almost too much. “You just need a little reminder sweetheart.”

He regained some composure as he pulled his weight back. The warmth of his body leaves you and goosebumps raise on your skin. His thumb grazes your bottom lip as he pulls down gently, coaxing your mouth open. He shoves your panties in your mouth and you can taste yourself on your tongue. You breathe deep through your nose as he waits for any sign you need this to stop. His hand grabs your wrist and the shredded fabric bringing it up to the bedpost. He was nothing if not tactical with his movements as he quickly secured both wrists with his perfectly procured gift. He gives a light tug and smirks, seemingly pleased with his work.

You squirm and whine as he swings his legs over your body and exits the bed. The drool starts down your cheek as you soak the fabric in your mouth. “Don’t worry cariño, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

He opens the bedside drawer and fishes out your small pink vibrator, it’s been so long since you’ve used it you're not even sure it’s charged. He clicks it once and it roars to life…the opposing looks on your faces are almost cartoonish as you groan in anticipation.

He pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans as he leans over dragging the tip through your slit. Not even bothering to look at the mess he’s making. “Let’s see… how many photos did you send baby?” The sarcasm drips off his tongue as he counts each one out loud. He whistles low under his breath. “Five…I’m not sure you can handle a five.” The settings go up to six and you’re praying to whatever god is listening that he has some mercy.

You keen as it breaches your entrance almost out of breath on the first setting. He clicks it twice more and snickers at your muffled cries. “I’m gonna shower okay sweetheart. You stay right there and don’t move.” He clinks his belt and pulls down his pants before heading towards the en-suite bathroom. He sends you one last salacious look as he palms himself over his boxers. You writhe as he turns his back to you, no doubt grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

****

You want to call him every name in the book besides his god given one as you breathe through your second climax. Your legs are shaking and you wish your pussy would go numb to the constant vibrating sensation wracking your body. You tried to crawl away from it to no avail, you clenched your thighs together hoping that would give you some relief and accidentally bumped it up a notch.

Your back arches off the bed as your wrists tug at the restraints, the new angle has it hitting that spot deep inside you as you bite down hard on the soaked fabric in your mouth. You’re almost grateful for it and you think he must know what he’s doing because you’d surely have cracked a molar at this point.

He’s humming some incessant tune as the water shuts off and you try and focus on your breathing knowing it’s almost over.

He exits the bathroom, steam emanating off his sturdy body. He used a towel to run through his thick hair not covering the hefty cock dangling between his thighs. He saunters over taking his sweet ass time, slowly pulling the vibrator from your soaked folds. A lewd sound comes out of you as he pulls the fabric from your mouth. He straddles your chest this time, careful to keep his weight off you as his cock sits heavy between your breasts. You know he’s doing it on purpose, as he unties your sore wrists. He knows how much you love sucking his cock that hangs inches from your face, but you wouldn’t dare do anything now without permission. You breath out heavily, mouth watering at the sight of him as he looks down upon you. His cock jumps at the temperature change and you know that he knows what you’re doing. Quite possibly the only thing you can do in your current predicament.

“You did so good for me cariño.” He slides down your body, trailing precum along your sweat soaked skin. He wipes the drool from your mouth with his hand and purses your lips in his grasp. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Santi please…I'm sorry.” You’re reduced to begging, something he rarely denied.

“I gave you a chance to be sorry.” He wipes a stray tear that rolls down your cheek and for a brief moment he feels bad. You were just trying to show off for him after all. The shredded reminder of your little outfit is all the motivation he needs to finish what he started.

You rub your sore wrists and stretch your limbs as he grabs his phone from the bedside table. You get a nice look of his pert ass as he walks to the opposing lounge chair in your bedroom and props the phone up to his liking.

“Hands and knees baby.” He’ll always love the way you quickly obey as he works his hand over his cock and climbs in the bed behind you. He’s sure you’ve learned your lesson but now he wanted to have some fun and you were being so good.

He soothes you with his other hand as he watches your shaky breaths from behind. Your ass wiggles a little as you try to get comfortable. He can see the arousal dripping down your thighs as he drags the tip through your soaked folds. “I can’t see your face baby, so keep your eyes open.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s my girl.” He pushes in as he grips your hips, starting a brutal pace. You’re so worked up from before as he drags in and out of your walls. Grunting behind you as the lewd sounds of the slap of skin echo in the room. He’s been so keyed up all day he knows he’s not going to last long and the way your pussy squeezes him so tight with every thrust he needs to feel you come before he loses all control. The chants of his name are like music to his ears as you grip the sheets below you, but it’s not good enough.

He wraps his arm around your chest bringing his hand to your throat as he breathes heavily into your ear. A sharp intake of breath as he squeezes slightly. “Your eyes open baby?” All you can do is nod and you hope that’s good enough. He releases it gripping your jaw to look at the camera while fucks relentlessly into you. “Whose fucking you like this…hmm.”

“You Santi.” Your voice cracks as you grasp at his arms to stay upright. He moans into your ear as you grip him tight. His breath on your neck tickles and you both chuckle slightly. A sighting of your Santi sprinkled into your intense moments.

“You tell him who you belong to.” Who? You whine as your body shakes, you’re just at the edge of the cliff all you need is that little push. He grips your hair with one hand bringing the other to rub your clit. “You know who.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I don’t I swear.” You sob, tears of ecstasy roll down your face as your fingers dig into his forearm.

“Frankie.” He growls in your ear as you fall apart in his arms. He follows you over the edge quickly after, much to your relief at the prospect of reaching your climax at the mention of his best friend.

It takes you both a moment to catch your breath, just basking in the afterglow. He kisses your shoulder asking if you’re okay. Turning your face to his when you don’t answer immediately, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. “I’m okay baby, I promise.” You sigh as he releases you, your tired body falling into the soft sheets below you.

He rubs your back for a moment before rolling out of bed to the bathroom. You have no idea what time it is, with the sun setting so early it could be six or nine and in the excitement of the day you didn’t eat or drink as much as you should have. Santi returns with a washcloth, wiping your face first and down your chest. He gently wipes both thighs and you shiver as he brushes the towel over that overworked spot between your legs. “I know it’s cold, I’m sorry.” His voice is low and calming like he’s approaching a frightened animal. The vulnerable and sweet Santi that you know and love talking you through the aftershocks.

He heads to the chair in the corner retrieving the phone you’d all but forgotten, sliding it in front of your face on the mattress.

“Why don’t you hit send for me cariño.”

🐈🐠: Message loading

Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @goaways-stuff @criticalarchitecture @pedrit0-pascalit0 @charethcutestory02 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #brat tamer santi #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier fic #pimosfollowercelebration #valentines celebration #valentinesparty #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x santiago garcia

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canadianfangirl-95 · 2 months

Text

A Bahamas Bet

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader

Summary: Going on vacation to the Bahamas with your friends could only call for sun, fun and a sweet vacation hookup. Nothing could ruin your enjoyable time, not even your childhood friend’s obnoxious army buddy, Frankie Morales. Right?

Original characters- Wendy (Will), Blaire (Benny), Sofia (Santi)

Two-part series warnings and info: 18+ Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, one bed left at the inn trope, alternating povs, Frankie doesn’t have a child, brief mention of therapy, reader nickname Birdie, alcohol, smut, protected p in v, hat stays ON, oral f receiving, swearing

Part 2 Word Count: 8k

Part 2

Saturday

Head pounding, you pull your tired body up in the bed. Rubbing your hands on your face, you look over to the other side of the bed and notice it empty. You can’t hear anything either, until the hinge of the bathroom door creaks, and Frankie steps out, already dressed for the day in a fitted black t shirt and cargo shorts, his signature hat perched comfortably on his head.

He comes to a stop at the end of the bed and rests his hands on his hips, “Well, morning sleeping beauty.”

You grunt and grab his pillow from beside you before throwing it at him. He easily bats it out of the way and smiles. “Feeling fresh and ready to enjoy the day?” He asks with far more gusto than you would prefer given your state of unwell.

Peering at him through hooded eyes you reply, “Frankie just, leave me here to rot, go get brunch.” You say, as you rest your head back down on the pillow.

Grinning, he comments, “Alright well, I uh- left out some water and Advil for you there. Thought you might need it.” He shuffles on his feet, trying to play off the incredibly thoughtful act as a moment of complete nonchalance.

Pulling the comforter down off your face, you look at him and then the nightstand, “Oh, thanks Frankie.”

He nods, “No problem I’m gonna, uh- I’m gonna go catch up with everyone.” he says, gesturing to the door, before fumbling around with his wallet and room key and heading out.

Once you’ve finally collected yourself enough to run your drained body through the shower and pull a brush through your hair, you make your way to the dining room with sunglasses adorned on your face. You were still working on getting back to yourself after the brutal hangover you’ve been feeling and did not want to risk running into Juan without covering up the grim bags under your eyes.

Bennys eyes brighten when you approach the full table and he gestures to you, “Oh, there she is our beautiful and not at all dead looking friend.”

They all clap along with him as you wave your hands, conceding to his comment.

“Still look better than you Miller.” You say, sitting down and beginning to eat your pile of breakfast food you’ve collected from the buffet.

Blaire offers you a sympathetic smile, “Oh don’t listen to him, just start thinking about seeing Juan later and I’m sure your energy will come right back.”

“Mm, you’re right. We’re going to the beach today, right? Maybe I’ll get a nap in while I’m there so I’m nice and refreshed.”

Wendy taps her hands on the table and straightens up in her seat, “Right, so once you’re all done, I think we can head there after we’re all changed. Maybe some beach volleyball if you’re all down?”

The group gives their approval for the days’ activities and departs once you are done eating to get ready for the hot Bahamas rays and stunning waters.

Th sun scorches your skin as you lay your towel down on a reclined chair on the beach next to the girls. You pull your bathing suit cover off, revealing your tiny black bikini that shows every bit of skin that you’re looking to show off this weekend. Grabbing your sunscreen, you sit down on the recliner and begin to apply it on yourself. You see Frankie standing just to the side, apparently looking out to the water’s horizon, however, if you could see under the mirrored sunglasses he has on, you’d be able to see that his eye line follows every movement of your hands as you apply the sunscreen to your smooth skin.

Rolling over onto your stomach you gesture to Frankie with the sunscreen, “Hey roomie, could you get my back and shoulders?”

He gulps and tries his best to feign annoyance. “I see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing Frankie?” You say, mimicking your innocence of yesterday.

He huffs, “Fine, but you asked me, so it doesn’t count as anything.” He says, waving his hands casually before you.

You pop your eyebrows up and down and lay back down on the recliner.

Frankie sits on the side of the recliner and wishes to all that is good in this world that your ass didn’t have to look that good in your bikini. He squeezes the sunscreen into his hand and looks down at your nearly bare back. Taking a deep breath, he begins rubbing the lotion onto your back and shoulders, trying to be mindful of the top of your bikini bottoms.

You let out a quiet moan that could only be heard by him, “Seriously?” He asks in a sarcastic tone.

“Sorry, just feels so nice and relaxing.” You say, giggling to yourself.

He rolls his eyes and finishes rubbing the lotion on you, patting your shoulder when he’s done and standing up from the recliner with a grunt.

A while later you’re woken from your slumber with a smack on your ass, you turn swiftly to see Sofia hovering over you, “Hey bitch wake up it’s volleyball time.”

With a groan of sleepiness, you get up from your comfortable position and make your way to the volleyball court on the beach your friends are situated at.

The game is certainly waking you up and making you feel a little more energetic. Wendy suddenly taps your elbow and points over to the water, “Hey isn’t that, Juan?”

Your eyes snap over to where she is pointing, you pull your sunglasses up slightly to look more intently and sure enough see the same man you were flirting with last night. Today though he is shirtless with short swim trunks. His tan chest was chiseled, and his 6 pack was undeniably sexy. Biting your lip briefly you give Wendy an excited look before turning your attention back to the man by the shore.

Raising your hand to wave, you are just about to call out his name when suddenly a THUD- in the form the volleyball strikes you right in the head. You turn and look with a shocked expression on your face to see Santi standing on the opposite side of the net with his shoulders at his ears and a grimace on his face.

“Sorry!” he yells over to you, waving his hand as an apology.

You nod your head and look back to the shoreline, where Juans stunning physique has now disappeared from. Chewing the inside of your cheek you look around for a moment before returning your attention to the game.

The music in the resort nightclub is booming and the crowd is carrying on with the same energetic dancing as the previous nights.

You and Blaire are situated in the middle of the dance floor after a few too many drinks enjoying the night. Your eyes continue to scan the room for your mysterious love interest, though admittedly, dropping back to Frankie in the booth. His hair is especially curly this evening, poking out of his hat after spending the afternoon in the water. His cheeks are rosy from being in the sun today and his black t shirt was open on the top 3 buttons, exposing the small patch of chest hairs. You are dressed in a tight red dress that hugs each and every curve with black heels that have straps around your ankles, and a special pair of black lace panties for your potential suitor that night. If he ever shows up that is.

A hand finds its way to your waist, and you turn swiftly in it, placing your hands firmly on Juan’s chest as he looks down at you with a devious grin.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I took so long to get here. My buddy is pretty much blacked out in his room right now, so I had to make sure he was alright.” he says, inching closer to you and wrapping his arm around you.

Smiling back at him you fumble with the buttons on his shirt casually and look up to meet his gaze, “It’s okay, I’m just glad to see you here now.”

You look back over your shoulder to discover that Benny had seen Juan’s attendance and joined his girlfriend on the dance floor. Subjecting everyone to his terrible white boy dance moves.

You and Juan fall into a comfortable routine of grinding against each other and sneaking back to the bar for shots, as well as stealing heated kisses, all of which had your head spinning. He was a nice guy, for real he was, but you knew it was just a vacation fling. He didn’t give you those butterflies that you knew you were supposed to have.

Finally, feeling the effects of all the liquid you drank, you offer your apologies as you exit to seek the washroom. He leans in and tells you that he’ll be at the bar getting some more drinks.

Feeling so much lighter and not having to squeeze your thighs together any more due to the incessant need to pee, you return to the dance floor and peer over to the bar. However, Juan is nowhere to be seen. You look around and sneak a peak at the booth your friends are at, but still nothing. In a huff you walk over to the bar, just for your elbow to be tapped by Juan over to your side. Your smile spreads across your face until you notice his worried expression.

He leans in with his hands planted firmly in his pockets, “Hey, I uh- I’m gonna head back to my room.”

You perk up and run your hands on his chest, “Okay, that sounds good to me.”

Juan slightly recoils at your touch and pulls a half smile, “Oh, no just by myself. It was nice meeting you, but uh- I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Have a nice night though.”

Before you can pick your jaw up off the floor he has turned and is heading to the doors. Your head spins from the alcohol and the complete 180 degree change your date has just had. Turning on your heels you go over to the dance floor where the girls are all dancing to the Britney Spears throwback booming through the speakers.

“Hey, what happened to Juan?” Blaire asks.

You shrug, “I don’t know. I thought things were going great and then all of a sudden, he bailed on me. I don’t know what even happened.” Crossing your arms you think back to the conversations you had and look for any red flags you may have put forth.

Wendy bites her lip and looks up in thought, “I saw him talking to Frankie at the bar after you left to go to the washroom, maybe he would know?”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, and you excuse yourself to go to the bar. As you squeeze through the crowd you see Frankie seated on a stool with his broad shoulder facing you, looking up at one of the TVs. You tap his shoulder, and he spins slowly in the stool to face you, his expression dropping slightly.

“Hey um- this is weird to ask but did Juan say anything to you when you were talking to him. Like about me? He just left in a hurry, and I don’t really know what I did wrong I guess.” You say with your arms crossed and shoulders hunched forward, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Frankie swallows deeply and hums to himself, “Uh, nope he didn’t say anything about you.” Taking a drink from his beer, his eyes are somewhat sympathetic.

Biting your bottom lip you nod, “Oh okay, well worth a shot I guess.” You motion to turn but before you can Frankie interjects.

“It might’ve had something to do with what I said to him though.”

Your head whips back and eyes bulge, heat growing between your ears. “And what did you say to him?”

He smirks to himself and replies, “I told him that we were a couple, were looking for a third and that I was really excited to get to know him.” He chuckles and winks at you before bringing his beer back to his lips.

Head spinning, eyes burning you stutter out, “What, - what the fuck Frankie why would you say that?”

“Probably because his face was funny as hell when I told him, plus that guy was a total tool, you should be thanking me.” He responds with a smile.

Your emotions get the better of you and you shove him directly in the chest with both hands, “Dammit Frankie! He was not a tool he was a good guy. I can’t fucking believe you!” You turn on your heels and storm towards the exit.

Frankies eyes bug out and he quickly chugs his beer before slamming it down on the bar top to rush after you.

Your friends see the kerfuffle from their comfortable seats in the booth. All quietly wondering what was to come from this fight. Santi and Sofia give each other knowing looks before they all return to their evening.

All you could hear during your stampede to your room was the trailing footsteps of Frankie’s shoes and his meek calls for you to stop.

Finally getting to your room you slide the card in and heave the door open before whipping it hard to close. Frankie’s hand finds its way between the door and the latch to squeeze in and follow your step once more.

“Hey, come on are you seriously that mad?” he asks, with his arms spread and exasperation on his face.

You whip around to face him, placing your hands on your hips. “Yes, Frankie I am fucking mad. You had no right to do that. I don’t even understand why you would give a shit if I hooked up with him tonight.”

His face drops with his hands, “I don’t know, I just, fuck I don’t know Birdie.”

“Oh no, don’t even start with that Birdie shit. You have never once in your entire time knowing me used my real nickname so don’t start now.” You turn your attention to your suitcase and begin throwing items into it.

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching your fumbled state.

Not even looking over your shoulder you reply, “Getting the fuck out of this room. Have fun cuddling Santi tonight.”

Frankie steps inward and crowds you, “Come on don’t do that. Just talk to me, why are you leaving.”

You turn quickly in your spot, standing now just inches from him. Raising your head to speak directly into his face. “You wanna know why? Fine, you are the biggest narcissist I have ever met.” You begin, counting out on your fingers your reasons. “You ruined my date, and my vacation. And you’re too busy wallowing in your own self-pity to realize how your actions affect other people. Are those enough reasons to leave?”

He sucks his teeth and looks down at you, “Are there any reasons to stay?” he asks calmly.

“Hm, not that I can think of. Can you think of one?” You ask sarcastically, glaring at his deep brown eyes.

In an instant his mouth crashes into yours. Your eyes bulge as you take in the moment, before quickly falling victim and wrapping your arms around his neck. He grabs your hips and pulls them in closer to press against him. It’s all tongue and teeth as you devour each other next to the mini fridge of your hotel room. He slides his hand into your hair to pull your head back, granting him access to nip and suck at your neck as you moan and run your hands through the hair at the nap of his neck.

He turns you on your feet and backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed, before pushing you down flat on it. He leans down and grabs your heel to pull it up to his chest and begins pulling the straps off them, peppering kisses along your ankle. Moving to the other. His drunken hands fumble with the clasp, “Fuck sakes you had to choose the most complicated shoes.” He mumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Shut the fuck up and get down here.”

He eyes you with raised brows and pulls the shoe off your foot before taking his hat in his hand and pulling his shirt up and over his head, placing his trusted hat firmly back on his luscious curls. You bite your lip as you watch him unhook his belt and pull his shorts down, kicking off his shoes in the process.

You widen your legs for him, and he trails his hands up your thighs, sneaking them slightly under the hem of your dress. You rise up on the bed and pull the straps off your shoulders to begin shimmying the dress down your body. He rubs your legs as his eyes widen, watching your plump chest fall free from the fabric of the dress as you continue to scoot it further down your body. His hands raise to grab the material from you, and you lift your hips to allow him to pull it the rest of the way down your body, leaving you bare save for your lacey panties.

He runs a finger lightly over the fabric on your folds, “These were for him then?” he asks quietly.

You nod slowly, he grins and comments. “I guess his loss is my gain then.”

You inch up on the bed as he follows you closely, climbing over your body and launching down to capture your mouth with his teeth. Your hands explore every inch you can reach as you urge him forward. Hips bucking up to seek friction against his hardening length.

He breaks off and looks down between the two of you, “Needy huh?”

Shaking your head with frustration you pull at his curly locks, “Can you just fuck me already?”

His smirks and leans back on his haunches to grab your panties and pull them down your legs, before rolling onto his side and side his boxers down.

When he returns to his position you both drop your gazes. He licks his lips, looking down at your wet pussy, just dripping for him and your eyes pop at the sight of his cock. Long and girthy, a sensational feeling creeps up your spin as you admire his length.

He looks at you, “Did you happen to bring any-,”

“Oh, fuck, yeah just in my nightstand.” You say, pointing over to the table situated beside the bed.

He nods and reaches over to the nightstand to pull out and roll the condom firmly onto himself.

Widening your legs for him he leans back down to bring you into another kiss, reaching down between the two of you to guide his cock into your entrance. The first few pushes burn with the stretch, but it feels too good to slow down. He continues his pace until he bottoms out in you, both of you letting out an agonizing moan as you take in each other.

“You okay?” he asks.

Nodding you reply, “Yeah, yeah fuck, Frankie just move I need to feel you.” Your tone almost begging.

Frankie smiles and begins moving his hips back and forth against you, your eyes roll back at the feeling, and he leans down to capture your nipple in his mouth. Biting it tightly as he slams into you at a pace you haven’t experienced before.

He breaks away momentarily to mutter under his breath, “Can’t believe we’re doin’ this.”

Moans escaping your mouths as the top of his cock presses against your clit with each devastating roll of his hips. You bring him back up to your mouth to pull at his lips with your teeth as he continues to move into you. Deep breaths and the slapping of skin is all that can be heard as the two of you take in each other’s bodies. He lays flat on you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to squeeze as your walls clench around him, sending the most incredible waves up your body and causing your chest to arch into his. He hums at the feeling and then lets out an animalistic grunt as he presses forward one last time, filling the condom inside you.

He stills and rests his head against yours, both of you breathing deeply. “Fuck, what was, fuck was that?”

You giggle under your breath, “I don’t even know.”

Frankie drags his tired body off you and heads to the bathroom. You slide under the sheets and close your eyes, head still spinning from the alcohol and the intense orgasm you just had.

He comes back and lays down next to you resting his arm behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. “Do you uh- do you wanna talk about that or-,”

“No, no Frankie I just, mmm I need to sleep. I’m still too drunk.” You say rolling over on your side and snuggling next to him.

He grins to himself, looking down at your sleepy state, “Okay baby, get some sleep.”

Sunday

Eyes creeping open, you once again feel the weighted body of Frankie against your back and his arm slung over your side. Your annoyance ringing in your ears before the events of last night and your current state of undress crash into you like a freight train. You don’t move, don’t breathe too heavily, as if not engaging in the truth or awakening the world with your presence would somehow make what happened last night not real. Did you want it to be real? No, how could you possibly, he’s an ass, always has been. Last night was just a drunken mistake. Was it? It did feel amazing, and you could’ve stopped it any time, but you didn’t. Have you secretly been thinking about the possibilities since the beginning of this forsaken bet? All these questions swirling around your aching head makes your eyes squeeze shut again, desperately trying to drown out the light and the consequences of your actions.

As if feeling the tension literally emitting from your body, Frankie begins to roll over and move his arm off of you before waking himself. You hold still in the position you are in, pulling your covers close to your chin and hoping he might not see you.

He rubs his eyes and peers over at you, “Mornin’” he says with a groggy voice.

Slowly rolling over onto your other side with a shy smile you look at him with your head rested firmly on the pillow, “Hey.” You whisper.

Frankie rolls onto his side and places a warm hand on your arm that is holding the comforter tight to your neck. “You okay?”

Pulling your mouth into a thin line you nod, “Yeah, just uh, - don’t really know where to go from here. Or what it meant.”

“Yeah, that’s uh, I think a bigger conversation after some coffee.” He smiles, rubbing tiny circles in your arm with his thumb.

You nod and rise out of bed, both of you getting ready silently but politely. Holding the door to the bathroom open for each other, him handing you your sunscreen from the table when you were fumbling in your bag looking for it, you making the bed including his side.

The two of you walk beside each other down to the buffet for brunch, no words, just a comfortable silence. It doesn’t feel like even small talk would be safe until you have a chance to properly talk.

After collecting your much-needed coffee and food, you both sit down at the table with your friends and they all examine your faces, wondering where you stood after last night’s fight.

Wendy rubs your arm sympathetically, “Hey, how you doing? What happened last night?”

Frankie clears his throat to defend you before you interject, “I’m fine, last night was a total misunderstanding. Sorry if I worried you guys.” You say, offering a half-hearted smile.

Benny crosses his arms and leans back, “But like, what made you wanna go round for round with Fish here?”

Biting your bottom lip and looking at Frankie’s deep brown eyes, filled with concern you straighten up and reply, “I thought Frankie ruined my date when he talked to Juan, but I was wrong, he explained himself when we got back to the room and he was right, that guy wasn’t right for me. I didn’t need him, don’t need him.”

Frankie’s face pulls into a short smile, trying to stifle his apparent joy at your story.

Blaire smiles, “Well, I hope you two are still okay if we break off for our couples day today.”

Nodding you reply, “Oh of course, you guys go and enjoy your days. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Santi grins to himself and slaps his hands on his thighs as he rises up, “Alright well, if you’ll excuse us, I have a date with my lady and a waterfall.” He says, taking Sofia’s hand and helping her up before waving to the group and departing.

The other two couples stand as well and say their goodbyes, leaving you and Frankie staring down at your plates of food and steaming coffees.

You eat in silence, a million questions racing around your mind with each bite of your toast. Upon finishing your plate, you lean back in your chair to check your phone. Looking at your calendar you’re reminded of something you unfortunately forgot. “Hey, Frankie um, - I’m really sorry but I booked a massage for this morning since I knew they would all be busy. I can always cancel it if-,”

He waves his hands causally towards you, “No, no please go. We can catch up later.” he says, breathing deeply out of his nose.

You smile and nod before getting up and heading over to the spa. During your walk your feet feel like they’re floating and you’re still slightly dizzy from the events of the weekend. Rounding the corner to the spa you look to your right and catch a sight of Juan standing near the checkout desk. He spots you and quickly turns on his feet to face another direction.

Pulling your lips tight to your teeth you huff out of your nose. Yep, that seems about right, you think to yourself. A relaxing massage is exactly what you need to hopefully shut your mind off for a while.

A while later you leave the spa with your body and mind more relaxed. Your hangover has disappeared, and your energy returned, ready to take on whatever the rest of the day called for. While still nervous, you didn’t know what Frankie would think about what happened last night. He has never once shown interest in you during these few years. Was it purely physical or was there more. If there was more, was there more on your side? How would your lives fit together you thought. He lived in the same city as you, had the same friend group as you, partook in the same activities on the weekend as you. Really, your life has been blended for years now. He has a good job and so do you, it seems like it could come together seamlessly. However, there’s still the nagging feeling that is crawling up your neck each time you consider a relationship with him. That feeling comes of course from the relentless taunting and bullying you’ve received from him. You’re tough in the skin and it never bothered you but is that still the type of person you would want to build a life with, having had such a bad foundation to form on.

As your mind drifts in and out of uncertainty, your eyes are unfocused as you turn a corner and come crashing into none other than Frankie Morales.

“Oh, shit sorry.” You exclaim, trying to steady your footing.

He grins down at you and grabs his hat to scratch his head, “Hey, that’s okay I um should’ve been watching where I was going. A little lost in thought I guess.”

You nod and clasp your hands firmly together in front of you, “Hm, yeah, me too I guess.”

Taking a deep breath, he asks casually, “How was your massage?”

“Good, good thanks for asking. Definitely relaxing.”

“That’s good.” He says, both of you drowning in the undeniable awkwardness of the moment.

Frankie clears his throat before asking, “Do you wanna, go for a walk? I saw a trail over at the end of the beach that looks nice.”

Accepting the time has finally come for your talk, you agree and begin the walk towards the beach.

Sun beating down and waves crashing in, the beach is filled with fun seekers and tanners. They all look to be having such an easy-going time compared to yourself whose stomach has not stopped twisting since your sandals hit the warm beach.

You and Frankie remain in your quiet state until he finally finds the trail head and starts down it. He looks beside himself at your flushed chest and chewed lip that you’ve been worrying since you left the spa. “I don’t, really know how to start this I guess.” He says, placing his hands in the pockets of his plaid shorts.

Grinning slightly, you look up at him, “Yeah me neither.”

“I guess, I should first just apologize for what happened with Juan last night. I really am sorry.” he says, looking around at the foliage of the trail.

“Oh right, uh thank you. I appreciate that.” You say before thinking further, “I guess my question from last night was never answered so -,” you trail off, hoping he understands where you’re coming from.

He nods, “Yeah, that I don’t entirely have an answer for I guess.” He scratches the thin patchy beard spread across his chin. “I guess I was just threatened by him and didn’t like the idea of you going home with him, or anyone else really.”

His admission came as a shock, still unclear as to why he had such feelings. “Why did that bother you? I mean, we go to bars together, we’ve both seen our fair shares of one-night stands. It didn’t seem to bother you before.”

“Yeah, I know. Um, just felt different I guess.” he says quietly.

“Different how?” You ask, crossing your arms and growing slightly frustrated.

Taking a deep breath, he pinches the ridge of his nose and thinks. “Sorry, I haven’t done this in a while.” He begins.

“Done what?”

He smiles softly, “Talked about, - talked about my feelings. For someone.”

You take a deep breath in your nose and twirl your thumbs together, still slowly making your way down the trail. “Is that what we’re doing here? Talking about our feelings for each other?”

Before he can reply he looks forward at the scenery the trail has led to. A cascading waterfall atop a simple flowing stream and wildflowers all about. A single two-person bench sits quaintly near the edge of the water.

You laugh to yourself looking around, “Huh, figures. The waterfall for lovers.”

He grins and then offers his hand to you; you look him in the eyes before taking it and allowing him to lead you to the bench.

Frankie sits and rests his elbows on his thighs, taking deep breaths and looking at the water toppling down the cliff side. He turns his head to look at you, “Ask me again.” he says.

You look at him confused, “Ask what again?”

He clears his throat, “Ask me again why I always treated you the way I did. Like you were annoying.”

Biting your lip, your voice comes out as quiet as a church mouse, “Why?”

Frankie’s breath comes out like it hurts, “Because, I thought if I pushed you away like that then it would be easier. I liked you as soon as I met you, but I just, I was a mess when I was discharged, and I didn’t want to burden you with all that. I wasn’t ready for whatever this could be. So, I thought if I didn’t get close to you then I wouldn’t have to worry about you developing feelings for me. Making you hate me seemed better than disappointing you.”

It was heart wrenching hearing Frankie speak so highly of you and so poorly of himself. Floods of emotions came, and you had to know more about what you were considering at this moment. “What about now? Are you ready now?”

“Now?” he began, “Now, I have a steady job and a therapist that helps me take care of my mind. I have friends who are all happy and have moved on from everything we went through in the service. Now, I’ve spent 72 hours with you and during that short time you managed to break through all the walls I had built and the cage I put myself in.”

You want to respond, want to apologize that you may have pushed him too far, especially with the bet, and that you could give him more space, but he continued before you could pull the strained voice from your throat.

“I think I am ready now. I think I’ve worked hard these last few years to become a man you deserve. I think you deserve the world, I really do, and while I can’t give you that, I’m hoping I may be enough.” His deep brown eyes well up with emotion and he tries not to look directly at you.

Your chest tightens and your breath stops. This isn’t the Frankie you knew, no, this is new. This Frankie is different. This Frankie doesn’t have sharp edges or a quick wit. This Frankie, this Frankie is one you could fall in love with.

“Frankie, I have been extremely surprised by you this weekend. I have yelled at you, laughed with you, and experienced things I didn’t think were possible. I’m gonna need some time to catch up, because up until a few days ago, I absolutely hated your guts.” You and he both laugh for a moment, and he takes your hands in his. “But, if you’ll allow me the time, I’d like to try to catch up to where you are, because I really like you and I want to see where this could go.”

His eyes lighten and his smile beams, “Shit really?”

Nodding you reply, “Yeah, I guess Fish and Birdie do kind of go together anyway.” You beam and he matches your expression.

Frankie wraps his arms around to bring you into a tight embrace and you stay there still, him holding you and you listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“You know, if I weren’t such a nice person, I might count you confessing your love for me as making a move.” You say giggling to yourself.

He lets out a chuckle, “I think I already lost the bet last night when I kissed you.”

“It’s okay, I won’t count that either. We can split the room, and you can just owe me like 50 dinner dates.” You say pulling yourself out of his arms to lean in and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

“Deal. Now that I’m sure the waterfall worked its magic, we should head back.” He says, taking your hand again and helping you off the bench.

Your mouth gaps, “Did you know this was down here?”

His face grows embarrassed, “Uhhh, yeah, I did. I figured I needed all the help I could get.”

You laugh together and take his hand in yours, traveling back down the path.

“You didn’t completely hate my guts, right?” he asks inquisitively.

Rolling your eyes you reply, “Oh big time. Couldn’t fucking stand you.”

Frankie’s mouth drops in fake offence. You continue, “But, I did think you were cute and may have daydreamed about you a little.”

He smiles and pulls you in to wrap his arm around your waist, “I’ll take it.”

Returning to your room you look at the bed, the scene of the crime. You still haven’t spoken about that part of the situation yet and just thinking about it makes your core ache for more.

Frankie spots your eyeline and follows it to the bed, both of you standing near the edge facing each other and holding hands. He looks back at you, “I didn’t know when would be a good time to talk about, that whole thing. It was a bit impulsive on my side and I’m sorry if it was too soon.”

You shake your head, “No, no it’s okay. It was definitely unexpected, but I don’t regret it at all.”

Nodding he bites his lip, “So uh, what the fuck was that all about then?” he asks, his tone changing to a humorous laugh.

You match his laugh, “Fuck I literally don’t even know. Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Pfft, fuck, it was incredible. I can’t wait to see how it feels when I’m not hammered and can actually take my time.” He says, smiling at you, the lines on his face shining brightly with his expression.

You both look over at the bed again, chewing the inside of your cheek, before looking back at each other.

Moving as one, you close together and bring your hands to his face and his on your waist. Encapsulating each other in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against your lips, which you happily encourage with your own tongue. You quickly become impatient and begin pulling at each other’s clothing. Unbuttoning his shirt as fast as your fingers can manage while he pulls at your shorts and pushes them down your legs. Once you’ve sufficiently rid yourselves of your clothes, save for Frankies hat, he turns you and sits you down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna take care you baby alright?” he says, kneeling down and kissing the inside of your thighs as you lower your body flat on the bed and spread your legs for him. He swiftly turns his hat backwards and hums as he swipes a finger through your slick folds, “I didn’t get a good look at you last night, you have the most perfect pussy I have ever seen.”

“Oh stop, you’re just saying that.” You say with a giggle.

“Does this make you feel like I’m lying?” he asks, before diving in like a man starved of food for weeks.

Your back arches immediately as he expertly takes you apart with his tongue. Bouncing around between your entrance and clit. Your moans permeate the room with each swipe. Before you can even realize what’s happening, the string in your core is snapping and your orgasm is rushing through you. Frankie can feel your pussy plump out for him, and he quickly slides two fingers into your entrance for you to clamp down on. The sudden intrusion descends you into another wave of your orgasm. Hands grasping desperately at the bed spread, breath deep, you finally come down from you transcendent high.

He licks one last agonizing stripe up our folds to your sensitive mound and begins to crawl up the bed to you. “Taste so sweet baby.” He says before latching his mouth to yours.

You take his face in your hands and taste your pleasure on his mouth and mustache. You scoot out from under him and urge him to lay down flat on the bed. “I wanna ride you baby.” You say breathlessly.

He bites his lip and moves on the bed, before he can lie down you reach down to his head and pluck his hat off, planting it on your own backwards. He growls at the sight and steals a passionate kiss before accepting his position as pillow princess.

You reach over to the nightstand and hand him a condom. He rolls it on, and you sit up on your knees over top of his hardening length. Taking him in your hand you swipe him through your dripping folds, before slowly lowering yourself down on him. Each inch sending pleasure through every nerve of your body.

“Fuck, baby, taking my cock so well look at you.” He says, grabbing your hips tightly, no doubt to leave bruises for him to kiss tomorrow.

Bottoming out you let out a primal moan and place your hands firmly on his chest. “Oh, you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Show me how good I feel inside you.” He says through gritted teeth, slowly rocking you on his thick cock.

You raise up and down on him and every time it feels better than the last. Over and over again until you’re both panting from pleasure and overwhelmed. He reaches up and presses his thumb to your clit, so you roll your shoulders back and place your hands behind you on the bed to expose more of yourself to him. Your breasts bouncing with every movement and your head rolling back as your break approaches.

He watches you intently, as if you were a masterpiece in a museum, “Wanna see you come on my cock baby. You look so good when you finish.”

A few more sharp circles of your clit with his thumb and you’re stuttering, “Fuck, Frankie I’m gonna-,” is all you can manage before you begin squeezing him within an inch of his life. He follows immediately after, rutting up into you while he moans from his own bliss.

After a minute of deep breathing and eyes trying to roll back to normal you finally climb off of him and toss his hat off your head. He kisses your cheek before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

He rolls back into the bed with you and pulls you close to rest on his chest, “Mmm, that was great.” He says kissing your head.

“I’m so tired after all that, wanna take a nap?”

“Sounds good to me.” He says.

Hours later you’re awoken by your phone ringing, just missing the call you roll over and peer at the screen. “Fuck.” You exclaim.

Frankie jolts awake and looks at you, your eyebrows furrowed reading your messages. “What’s wrong?”

“That was Sofia trying to call me, looks like she texted me too. They headed down to dinner a while ago.”

He chews his lip and eyes your still naked body, “Would I be a total dick if I said I just wanted to stay here for the rest of the night?”

Turning in the bed with a mischievous look you ask, “No, but whatever would we do with all that time?” with a wink.

“Oh, I can think of something.” He says, leaning over onto you and capturing you in a kiss.

You oblige but quickly push him off, “Can we get room service though, I’m starving.”

Nodding, he replies, “Sure, then I’ll only owe you 49 more dinners.”

Room service took about 45 minutes, which gave you sufficient enough time to fool around again. Now sitting together on the bed, wrapped in the hotel’s fluffy white robes you stuff your faces with pizza and chicken wings while chatting.

“Good thing you brought that box of condoms, huh? Would’ve had me sprinting to the hotel store at 1am last night in nothing but my boxers if you didn’t.” Frankie laughed.

You grin as you swallow another bite of pizza, “Hey I was planning on hooking up this weekend, didn’t know it was gonna be you but, oh well.”

“What size box did you get anyway?” he asks, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out the box. “34!” he exclaims, looking at you with wild eyes. “How much sex were you planning on having this weekend?” he asks, laughing.

You laugh and snatch the box out of his hand, “Hey, I wasn’t gonna use all of them, obviously.”

“I don’t know, sounds like you had some pretty big plans for this weekend.”

Biting your lip, you look him up and down, “No, but something big did come up.” You say with a wink.

He looks at you slightly confused but also amused.

You giggle, “Sorry, dick joke.”

“Oh!” He laughs, “Yeah, one of my more redeeming qualities that’s for sure.”

“I’d say you’re pretty much redeemed at this point.”

Smiling, he looks at you with those damn deep brown eyes that make your heart twist every time now, “I am sorry again about how things have been between us. I really regret hurting you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I think a part of me could tell there was more to it. Will and Benny always sang your praises and I trust them so, I figured you couldn’t be as much of a bad guy that you led on.” You reply, taking his hand in yours. “It’s actually kind of exciting now, I get to get to know you all over again. The real you, that is.”

Looking bashful he tucks his head down slightly, “Well, I’ve gotten to know you quite a bit, and I really like you.”

You lean in for a kiss, “Thanks Fish, I really like you too. Does this mean you’re gonna start calling me by my nickname now?”

He goes into a fake deep thought, “Hmmm, I don’t know.” You offer a pout and plump your lower lip out. “Alright, you win, Birdie.” He says with a wink.

Monday

“You ready?” Frankie asks, putting away the last of his things in his suitcase.

Looking around the hotel room you grew a sense of sadness, so much has happened this weekend in this room, and you are sad to see it go. You are worried, worried about how the real world would react to your relationship with Frankie. Praying it wouldn’t reject you like a bad piercing and instead you would be able to blend your lives together and continue how it’s been these last crazy 24 hours.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna go home, and get back into our routines, and I’m gonna take you out on a date. Have a chance to treat you right.”

His touch warms you and his words make you swoon. He was so comforting, and so reassuring. The way his eyes twinkle when they look at you could only be described as magic.

Nodding along to his soothing words, you throw your backpack over your shoulders and grab your suitcase, sliding out the door behind him. Once in the hallway, Frankie offers you a caring smile and his hand, which you accept gladly.

Walking into the lobby hand in hand with Frankie Morales was not how you expected this vacation to end, and by the looks on your friends faces it’s not what they were expecting either.

“Well, what do we have here?” Will hums.

Benny whistles and the girls give their ouus and ahhhs.

“Alright calm down you animals.” Frankie says, to settle the crowd of looky loos.

Blaire smiles, “So this is why you two weren’t at dinner and drinks last night, huh?”

“Thought you were dead.” Sofia comments with a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You say, steadying your suitcase on the white granite floor. Frankie squeezes your hand reassuringly.

Santi crosses his arms and grins brightly, “Well, I guess my plan worked after all.” he says, winking at Sofia who laughs and swats his arm playfully.

You look at him confused, “What plan?”

He smirks, “Oh, I booked you guys in the same room on purpose.”

Yours and Frankie’s mouths drop as the rest of the group share your shock. Various whats and Popes echoing out from you all.

Santi taps his hands up and down in the air, “Alright, alright calm down. I had to do something after the way I’ve been watching my best friend pine over this woman for the last few years. He wouldn’t make a move, so I just thought if I put them in the same room together for the weekend they’d be forced to-,”

“Fuck.” Benny interjected, giggling.

Sofia shakes her head, “Noo, talk. But I mean, we’re assuming you also….” She begins, giving you an inquisitive look.

You cross your arms and suck your teeth at the thought of your friends tricking you and Frankie, but ultimately nod your head slightly which earns a cheer from the group and causes Frankie to press his hand to his face in embarrassment.

Frankie pulls his hand off his face and points jokingly at Santi, “I’m gonna kick your ass, man. You could’ve told me.”

Santi shrugs, “It had to happen organically, love can’t be forced.” he says, wrapping his arm around Sofias’ waist.

Will leans into the group, “Hey Pope, did you hit Birdie with the volleyball on purpose on Saturday?”

You perk up immediately, snapping your fingers as you point at him. “Hey, yeah that was when I was trying to get Juan’s attention!”

Laughing, he replies, “Hey I was looking out for my boy. Didn’t want that guy messing anything up. I thought about trying to get rid of him that night too, but it seems Fish beat me to it.”

“Oh, you have no idea, that is a funny story for the shuttle ride.” You say, tapping Frankie’s elbow as he smiles at you.

Wendy claps her hands together, “Alright, now that we’ve got that all sorted, let’s head back to reality.”

Quiet groans erupt from the group as they collect their bags and head to the lobby doors. Frankie swiftly grabs your wrist before you can get too far and swings you back into his arms. Looking down at you he smiles, and you smile right back, before he leans down and kisses you tenderly, squeezing you tightly in his strong arms.

And there they were, those butterflies floating around in your stomach, just like you always knew you were supposed to feel when you were with the right guy, at the right time.

Part 1

@christinamadsen @fluffygoffpanda

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #francisco morales

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musings-of-a-rose · 8 months

Note

I'm having a Sparks and Benny thought here. Based on this pic. Both of them arrive at home from a Xmas party at Will's. Things got hot really quick.

Note this was supposed to be in your ask box. I messaged ya this thought. My bad! Holiday brain!

The Party

Pairing: Benny Miller x “Sparks” f!reader

Word Count: 1300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I miss the HELL out of these 2 so please continue to send in anything! Also I’m changing this up to a New Year’s Party because I couldn’t finish it in time for Christmas. And then I was even more late! Thank you for being so patient and waiting!! (This was not beta read)

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Light Me Up Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Did we really have to dress all fancy?” Benny whines, rolling his shoulders to shift the suit jacket a little.

“It’s Will and Makayla’s first New Year’s living together and they wanted to be fancy,” I explain as I knock on the door to Will and Makayla’s place.

“I guess.”

“Plus, it’s my first as Mrs. Miller and I wanted to look pretty.”

Benny’s eyes soften as he looks me, the edges of his gaze darkening. “You’re always gorgeous, Mrs. Miller.” He grips my hips and pulls me to him, releasing one hand to tip my chin up, kissing me softly, the heat slowly warming.

“Get your own porch, asshole.” Will had opened the door and was standing there smirking.

“You’re right. I’ll just take my wife home then,” Benny pulls me in the direction of his jeep.

“Nice try. Makayla would kill me if you guys didn’t show up. Come on in.” He opens the door wide and motions for us to enter, fist bumping Benny as he walks past.

Makayla had gone all out, everything sparkling in silver, gold, and black, like a modern day Gatsby party. People had already arrived and Benny steers me towards Frankie and Monica, Santi off in the corner making out with a girl, whom I shockingly recognize.

“Is Santi with the same girl he brought to the bar a month ago?” I whisper to Frankie and Monica.

She nods. “Yeah! I think this one is sticking around, surprisingly enough.”

We chat with them for a bit, Makayla flitting over for a few minutes before being whisked away on a champagne emergency. The music is going, some people getting up to dance. Will recruits Benny to help him with something in the kitchen, so I pull Monica onto the dance floor, whispering to her that we’re going to be menaces to our respective husbands.

We start dancing to the upbeat song, hands on each others hips as we sway and move to the song, her spinning me around so my back is flush with her front. And that’s when I see him, Benny, emerging from the kitchen and freezing, his eyes on me as I dance. Judging by the light chuckle in my ear from Monica, I’m guessing she caught Frankie’s eye too.

“Wanna torture them some more, Sparks?” She says close to my ear.

“Hell yeah.”

I follow her lead, moving my body as she guides me, our hips moving in tandem as she pulls me closer to her. For good measure, I lift my arm, wrapping it around the back of her head, trying not to giggle when she squeezes just a little too much on my inner hips. And then the song ends, Monica and I laughing as she hugs me.

“That was way too much fun, Sparks.”

“Yeah it was. Did you see their-”

Suddenly, Monica was ripped from my grasp, Frankie’s hand firmly clamped around her upper arm, a smirk and a wink tossed my way from her as he steers her away through the group of people.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Benny had snuck up behind me, his hands now on my hips, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he speaks low in my ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was dancing, good sir.”

He chuckles and it makes goosebumps pop up down my arm. “Yeah. Dancing. Sure.” He makes to pull me away, to find some secluded spot but then Will clanks a spoon on a glass and everyone turns, Benny groaning a little too loud so I elbow him softly in the ribs.

Will puts his arm around Makayla next to him before speaking. “I just want to thank everyone for coming. We’re so excited to share our first New Year’s Eve with everyone we love and we’ve been working hard- ok. Makayla has been working hard. I just do what she says,” laughing flits around the group as Makayla playfully slaps his chest, leaving her hand on his toned pec. “But seriously. Thank you guys. Here’s to another great year!”

—----

The toast was had, the ball was dropped, the midnight kiss was a little too risque between you and Benny, Will not so covertly throwing an empty Solo cup at Benny’s head.

“Ugh I’ve been dying to take these shoes off all night!” I groan, kicking my heels off and plopping down in one of our comfy chairs.

“You looked hot though.”

“That’s the price of fashion. Pain.”

He chuckles as he removes his jacket, revealing that he wore a simple, plain black shirt underneath it, the fabric stretching and pulling as he tosses the jacket on the back of the couch and sits with a sigh. I look over at him, feeling warm watching his movements.

“Did..did you really wear a black t-shirt under your dress jacket?”

Benny looks down at his shirt, his eyebrows pulled together. “Should I not have?”

“No, no. I think it works.”

He brushes his chest and I almost come unglued. “Good.”

“Wanna see what’s under mine?”

His big blue eyes snap to mine. “Fuck yeah I do.”

I get up, standing in front of him as I pull my dress over my head, hearing his sharp intake of breath as I reveal his favorite lingerie set on me, complete with black garter belts.

“You…you had this on the whole time?”

I nod, moving to straddle him. He grips my hips, sliding his hands up to my ribs as he kisses my chest, his mustache tickling my skin causing me to chuckle. But then he grips me tight, standing abruptly and sets me in the chair, draping each of my legs over the arms of the chair. He kneels, his eyes dark and all-consuming as he stares between my legs.

“Can you buy new underwear?”

“I think so.”

I barely get my reply out before he grips my panties, ripping the part that covers me, tucking the ripped ends up. His large hands squeeze my inner thighs and before I can say anything, his mouth is on me, warm and lapping, my legs trying to squeeze around him. He holds me open, his fingers digging deeper into my skin as I moan his name, electric sparks rolling over me as his tongue changes patterns. One of my hands grips the chair and the other moves to his hair, tugging hard and whining when his growl vibrates me.

“Oh fuck! Ben, I -” The sounds he pulls from me are loud and grateful, Benny leaving his mouth on me to work me down. But I don’t have time to relax as he stands, pulling me up only to spin me, pushing my upper back down, the sound of a zipper loud in the quiet apartment. He drags himself through the wetness between my thighs before pushing and I slap the chair, trying to find something, anything to grip.

“Can’t believe you were wearing this the whole night and didn’t tell me,” Benny pants behind me, setting a rougher pace just hear the panted whines tumble from my lips.

My hands scramble, still trying to find purchase as he presses harder, faster, but then he folds himself over me, engulfing me from behind, his large hands sliding down my arms, his fingers lacing with mine, holding my hands as he continues to push in further. I turn my head to the side, feeling myself hurtle towards the edge again as he brushes against that spot at the back of me.

“Oh fuck, Benny! Please..please!” I come, tightening around him, his breaths panting out across my neck as he buries his face, turning his head slightly to bite my shoulder as he comes, his hips pushing in a few more times as he releases. His bite turns to kisses, nuzzling into my hair before he whispers.

“I love you, Sparks.”

I manage to finally catch my breath. “Don’t you mean Mrs. Miller?”

“Fuck!” He pulls out but stands, picking me up to throw me over his shoulder with a squeal as he stomps down the hallway, spending the next few hours showing me exactly what being called Mrs. Miller does to him.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#benny miller #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction

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campingwiththecharmings · 9 months

Text

*These weren’t necessarily written and/or posted in December, but that’s when I read them 😊

🔥 - explicit/mature content

Star Wars

Christmas Tree Farm (Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader) - @dailyreverie

Headcanons for Poe with someone shy and quiet - @ivystoryweaver

🔥Santa Baby (Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader) - @dailyreverie

Moon Knight

🔥Somnophilia (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @juneknight

Perks of Being a Wallflower (Jake Lockley x Plus Size!F!Reader) - @soft-girl-musings

Blossoms & Whiskers (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

It's Cold Outside (Steven Grant x Reader) - @dailyreverie

🔥My Turn (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @runa-falls

🔥Study Buddy (Uni!Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor

The Old Oak (Jake Lockley x Reader) - @mccn-bcys

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps (Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader) - @soft-girl-musings

🔥Divine Nights (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @moonlight-prose

🔥Helpless (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

🔥Audible (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @juneknight

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

🔥Always Yours, Never Mine (Yandere Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor (new chapter means it gets rec-ed again 😌)

🔥Scratches and Bites (Miguel O'Hara x Spidergirl!Reader) - @runa-falls

🔥After Dark (Dark!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @runa-falls

Ex Machina

🔥Centerpiece (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Accidental Kiss (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @youvebeenlivingfictional

🔥Kinktober Day 9 (Pegging) (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @youvebeenlivingfictional

🔥(Not) Good Enough (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @midgardian-witch

🔥Sugar & Spice (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy

Untitled Soft Nathan blurb (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @eyelessfaces

Triple Frontier

🔥Santi & Aftercare (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @runa-falls

Narcos

🔥Tied Together (Javier Peña x Black!F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Mojave

🔥Cruel Intentions (Jack x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy

Won't Back Down

🔥High Tension (Youth Pastor!Michael Perry x F!Reader) - @hon3yboy

Inside Llewyn Davis

Untitled Sweet, Fluffy blurb (Llewyn Davis x Reader) - @eyelessfaces

Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️

*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.

**If you’d like to have your fic removed from the list, I completely understand, just let me know

#poe dameron x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #jack mojave x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #nathan bateman x reader #llewyn davis x reader #santiago garcia x reader #javier pena x reader #michael perry x reader #fic rec

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jedifarmerr · 2 months

Text

Wasteland Masterlist/AO3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC (established backstory, no y/n or physical descriptions)

Series Summary: Sentenced to a life underground after a nuclear attack, what was said to be a quick and painless process somehow ended up taking 200 years. Waking up alone and with everyone else still frozen, a search for help and answers turns upside down when four mysterious men come into the picture.

Rating: E (chapter warnings: language, food & eating, some allusions to PTSD. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 12k

Authors Note: Yes, it's been a thousand years and I'm so sorry, but here we go again!

Chapter 11

“Have any of you seen Tom?”

Frankie glanced from the Miller’s to Santiago, his gaze catching on the empty stool that haunted the head of the hightop. He grimaced and looked away, feeling a stone lodge in his gut. Being here without Tom didn’t sit right with him.

They were at Shamrock Brewhouse – a tradition on Tuesday night. There was no one in the sunroom with them, but Will and Santi scanned the basket archway and the limited view of the second floor for any prying eyes or stray barflies. Nothing. Scarlett was nowhere to be found with their food either.

“Nope,” Will answered as Santi sullenly shook his head. They turned to Benny who was tracing the rings and runny medullary rays on the oak table.

“I ran into Molly the other day at the grocery store, but no Tom,” Benny said, voice low and sad. “Have you seen him, Fish?”

Lifting the frosted mug to his lips, Frankie downed a heavy sip and swallowed. “Not since the welcome home party.”

Twelve days ago.

One of them should’ve seen Tom around town by now. Sanctuary was too damn compact. You couldn’t evade anyone for too long unless it was intentional.

A bitter taste hung tauntingly behind his uvula, and no – it wasn’t pale ale backwash. Tom had made his point abundantly clear not showing up tonight – for the second week in a row. The writing was plastered on the wall: Tom was avoiding them.

And Frankie had no idea how to deal with that.

It was fucking with his head.

He’d never been on the other end of Tom’s silent treatment. None of them had, not Will or even Santiago. They never fought to such a degree before. Frankie tried to recount when any of them last genuinely argued with Tom. It must’ve been sometime before he retired. Butting heads was inevitable on missions when stakes and tensions were high.

Will cleared his throat, shaking Frankie from his musing. Behind Will, the wall of windows revealed a pitch-black sky. It was still somewhat early. It couldn't have been later than 8:30, but the nights had grown longer the further it inched into fall.

"It's been long enough. It’s time we reach out,” Will declared as he rubbed his jawline, his fingers scraping the thick, blonde hair there. “Besides, Tom’s not gonna be the one to do it.”

“No shit,” Santi murmured, snatching a greasy fried pickle from the basket in the center of the table. "But if we all show up at his house unannounced, he's gonna feel ambushed."

True.

“Alright, then, who goes?” Will didn’t look directly at anyone, but the answer was obvious. Even if Frankie knew his friends would never say it first.

There was a long pause. The air was ripe with tension. The music from downstairs bled in from the ceiling into the sticky floorboards, vibrating the legs of his chair. Frankie glanced around the table at his friends. Their faces were bathed in disfigured shadows by the few stained-glass pendant lights that barely lit the room. The glass was painted in dark neutral tones, the bulbs dim and orange as pumpkins.

"We all know it has to be me,” Frankie broke the silence. “I can go see him tomorrow.”

“Only if I’m coming with you.” Santi stared at him adamantly. The expression on his face was resolute, but Frankie still protested.

“You don’t-”

“You’re not going alone,” Santi interrupted, voice firmer than usual. He rarely raised his voice at Frankie.

"Not after that shit he pulled with your mom," Will added, and Benny nodded.

Surprised, Frankie’s lips parted. He didn’t think they would still be hung up over that. It had been almost two weeks, but the guys were still pissed at Tom for dragging his mom into this mess. Good thing he kept his mouth shut about Tom mentioning his dad. Or else it would be World War fucking 4.

"I wonder what your dad would think of that - about all of this."

Frankie could still recall the way Tom sneered at him. Those words had been said so flippantly – so carelessly – that it rooted Frankie to the spot. Shocked. He would’ve sworn he’d just been pummeled by a rabid gulped with the way the air caught in his chest, squeezing his ribs and lungs.

Tom must’ve known. Tom had to have known that it haunted Frankie. That he’d thought about his dad and especially his opinion every goddamn day since meeting her. Hell – longer than that. It’d plagued him for years. Ever since that cold January night when tiny white specks fell from a starless sky, wetting his ears and nose – snow. It was almost as if those flakes had melted into his head, sunk into his brain, and buried themselves somewhere deep within the grooves and fissures of his frontal lobe. He could not rid himself of it, could not make a decision without it being there - looming and present, unseen like a ghost.

What would my dad think of this? Would he be proud of his son?

It had been in that moment that Frankie had wanted to defend himself against Tom. It took everything in him not to lash out, but he knew better than to argue with Tom when he felt backed into a corner. There was no point. It was like dealing with a wild boar – a prowling snake – a faulty fragmentation mine where one tiny misstep would make him completely implode.

Instead, Frankie had left his office without saying a word.

Honestly, Frankie didn’t expect Tom to swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness. It was less of a joke and more of a universal fact that Tom was allergic to apologies. The word sorry would sound alien in Tom’s voice. It didn’t matter, though. Frankie had already made up his mind and forgiven Redfly. It felt like the least he could do given the circumstances.

"It worked out, though, didn’t it?” Frankie finally replied.

Abruptly, Will straightened and his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie said, his thumb smudging the sweaty mug. “Blue seems to like working there-”

“That’s not the point, man,” Will intercepted, his blue eyes piercing into Frankie. "He never should've put you in that position."

Frankie shrugged, his tongue running along the roof of his mouth, feeling the dents and ridges. It was tough. He could understand where Tom's anger stemmed from in a way they could not.

He could see it from Tom’s perspective, and a part of him felt deserving of Tom's wrath. If roles were reversed, he’d also feel betrayed. He’d be shaken up, as well. Crawling out of his skin if someone, let alone his friends, showed up with a Vault-Tec kid claiming they were innocent.

“I could’ve said no,” Frankie reminded them. “We just need to make things right with him.”

---

The next day, the sun was beginning to set as they made their way to Tom’s place.

Frankie felt like he was going to be sick. His throat was dry as chalk – tongue lace-patterned. The hard lump in the center of his chest was shaped like an unruly fist.

His slippery grip tightened, practically strangling the glass handle of their peace offering – a growler from Shamrock. Coming equipped with an olive branch in his arsenal seemed like a necessity at this point. It never hurt to be prepared.

He hoped that Tom would be willing to talk as they silently walked through the orange and pink painted streets – as they moved into the calmer part of town and past colonial homes primarily reserved for families.

Encroaching upon the white picket fence, he was surprised to see Molly. Or her ponytail, more like. Her rich copper hair nearly blended into the budding sunset. He’d never met anyone with red hair before her. As a kid he’d thought it was a myth that only existed in the dingy pages of picture books like Madeline.

She was alone in the backyard. Her back turned to them as she picked up fake, plastic food in the patchy grass. It gave him a moment to readjust a smile on his face before Santi knocked on the fence.

Molly spun around, squealing when she realized it was them. At least she was elated to see them.

"Tom didn't tell me you guys were coming by." She tossed the toys into a nearby bin and waved them in.

“Thought we’d surprise him.” Santi unlatched the gate, tipping his stubbly chin towards the house. "Is he home?"

“He’s inside with the girls.” She hugged Santi, then Frankie. This was a much kinder welcome than anticipated.

It was funny how different Molly was from Tom. On the outside, their couple almost seemed like a mismatch. Polar opposites. She was warm and bubbly and as green as her eyes. There was a callowness there, an innocence that Tom did not possess, but then again, nobody who lived in the vaults did.

Tom needed someone like that to calm, ground, and balm his barbed-tooth edges. Molly was good for him. They worked well together.

After setting the growler carefully on the ground, they helped Molly clean up the rest of the yard: chalk, hula hoops, and a single jump rope. Most of the time, Molly talked about the girls – Janey had started school. Tess was learning how to ride a bike. They’d been pestering Tom non-stop about when the guys would come visit.

That made Frankie feel a gut-twisting guilt for his friend. Poor Redfly. He was angry at them, but still had to cover up their absence and had done it well, given how normal Molly was behaving. Frankie couldn’t imagine. Lying to his mom was hard enough and would undoubtedly be worse with a wife and kids.

"Would you mind hanging around out here?” Molly asked, directing them to sit at the patio table. "It's almost bath time, and it will be impossible to get the girls upstairs if they see you."

It was no problem. Of course, they did as she said. It would offer them more privacy, anyway.

As Molly waved goodbye she made them promise to come by next week for dinner with the Millers before heading inside to fetch Tom.

Waiting, Frankie nervously drummed his fingers along the tempered glass. The sun was barely cusping the horizon. A crisp breeze, scented with salt and early October, rattled the leaves, which had recently changed from green into fiery shades of orange and red – some pink and vermillion.

The back door kicked open – it swung and hit the terracotta siding with a thwack.

Wordlessly, Tom stepped onto the porch. His jaw was clenched. His beard was scraggly and unkempt. The only good sign was a stack of three cups in his left hand. It seemed he was letting them stay for a drink.

Frankie watched as Tom mechanically walked towards them. Usually, he’d stand to greet him but decided not to push it. He instead went with the safe option of a smile. The last thing he wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot over something stupid like a hug.

Santi must've had the same thought because he remained seated, as well. "How's it going, man?"

"Alright." Curt. Stone-cold.

The only sounds that followed were the wind and the whine of rusty hinges as Tom sat in the chair between them. God – it was awkward. It made Frankie doubt if it was a good idea coming here.

Tentatively, Frankie slid the growler over to Tom hoping it would help. It was a gift – a tribute. Tom remained silent as the grave. For a second, he thought Tom might push it away, deny it, and tell them to leave, but he finally sighed and accepted the offering. He unstacked the cups, unscrewed the lid, and poured the inky black liquid into the first glass.

"Imperial Stout." Tom's lips twitched enough to resemble a smile. "Trying to butter me up?"

"That depends." Pope shrugged with an ease that Frankie envied. He made everything look so simple. “Is it working?”

Tom answered with a nondescript hum before filling the other two glasses. Together – they took a drink. The beer coated his mouth. It tasted mildly of cherries.

It was civil twilight. The sky was crepuscular and cornflower blue. Around them, the streets were empty. The closest neighbors were an elderly couple who were likely already in bed. Tom was lucky. His house was private, located on a half acre of land.

A light from upstairs suddenly turned on – it flooded the grass with a dull yellow hue, and Tom cleared his throat. “Molly’s getting the girls ready for bed, so we can cut the bullshit.”

"What bullshit?" Santi quickly shook his head. Barely a word had been said, yet. “We’re just here to talk.”

Tom remained silent, eyeing Santi as if he was lying. It didn’t seem to faze Santi because his voice was as calm as ever.

"What do you want from us, Tom? We’re doing everything you asked. We’ve been looking after her-”

“We? Really?” Tom snuffed, the bottom of his cup smacking the tempered glass. "Cause what I’ve heard is only one of you is babysitting her.” He flayed Frankie with such a venomous glare that it startled him. “How’d you get that job, huh Fish? Pulling sticks?”

"Are we supposed to be keeping an eye on her or not?" Santi replied before Frankie could finish licking the bitter tang off his lips.

"Keeping an eye on her is a very different thing from following her around like a fucking dog," Tom spat, and Frankie had to look away, suddenly feeling severely embarrassed.

A dog? Was that what people were saying? It must've been the shop owners. Assholes. God forbid he walk her to work every day for the first week. It was just to make sure that nobody fucked with her. He didn’t like how certain people looked at her sometimes. That’s why he also walked her home if she got off when it was already dark. Sanctuary might’ve been protected against ghouls, raiders, and mutants, but there were still creeps.

Her safety was his – their responsibility.

He vaguely wondered if Kasumi had told Tom how often he was at her apartment. He hoped not. He hoped Kasumi had kept it to herself how often she saw him in her garden. In those first few days especially, he'd hung around her place slightly more than necessary when it became apparent how much she was struggling. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave her alone for too long – isolated in that tiny garage apartment with nothing more than her thoughts for company. It seemed cruel.

“Molly went by your mom’s shop the other day, but Blue wasn’t there.” Tom’s fingers curled around the metal armrest, his knuckles blanched as white as the crescent moon. “No. She was out to lunch with you.”

“So what?” Santi – again – intercepted. “I took her to lunch today - Benny took her yesterday.”

“But it’s mostly you, isn’t it?” Tom’s voice was so smug that it came across as patronizing. Even more so when his lips twisted into an impish grin. It was as if he’d caught him.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t like that. It really wasn’t.

Yes. Frankie had taken on the brunt of the work. He’d mainly looked after her, but only because the others had been analyzing the data from Blue’s vault, trying to figure out a way to open the pods. They had also been working on decrypting the synth chip. Besides, Frankie had more time to spare than the others. Will and Santi, and likely Benny as well, had someone in their beds.

“They help out when they can,” Frankie explained, tugging at the worn sleeves of his camel-tan nubuck jacket. “You know tech shit has never been my thing.”

"Don’t fuck around with me.” Tom shook his head in disbelief – or maybe disgust. “Is she what - your friend, now?”

“So what if she is?” Santi answered, but other than a grimace, Tom ignored him; his gaze remained firmly glued to Frankie’s face.

“I-” Frankie muttered, “I don’t know.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t know what she was to him. It wasn’t something he ruminated over too much because anytime he did, it struck him as a sin. He felt contrite when he realized Blue had wormed her way in. She’d gotten closer than he anticipated, and the guilt bound to his skin like old, muddy blood.

His brain was hard-wired to despise anything remotely associated with that company. It was decades worth of psyops.

They were the enemy – they imprisoned innocent people – they destroyed his fucking life.

He knew, deep down, he knew that he was supposed to hate her.

And he had hated her.

He’d despised her entirely with that bratty attitude and sinfully tight vault suit. He'd wanted to kill her. He’d pointed a gun at her head and nearly shot her dead. Brain matter on the Vienna rug. Purple guts on the velvet couch like the mud from their boots. Her body left to decompose in the living room.

It was strange how after just two weeks with her, he could no longer bear that thought. Ugly. Horrible. It cut him deeper than the idea of being her friend. He felt violently sick whenever he remembered his finger on the trigger, visualized her trembling chin and bulging eyes in his sight. The memory was never supposed to stick with him like this. She was never supposed to matter. It was like nothing made sense anymore. He swore nothing did since she came crashing into his life.

Of course, he had no idea how to explain any of that. The sky had darkened and blued like mold when he looked at Tom, wishing he could articulate all the shit in his head. He cleared his throat.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Tom spit the word back at him. Staggering back in his chair, Tom tilted his head and scrutinized him. “Are you fucking her?”

"What?” Frankie stared at him in shock as Santi sputtered on his drink. “No.”

"Jesus, Tom. What the fuck's the matter with you?"

"Me?" Tom hissed, ramming a finger into the center of his chest. He suddenly lurched forward and Frankie could see the prominent vein on his forehead throbbing. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? I mean, seriously - it’s like you’ve all forgotten who we’re dealing with here.”

“Do you think I could forget?” Frankie snapped – his shock erupting into indignation. His fingers curled into his fists as he tamped down the fire to rattle Redfly by the collar. How could you say that? How dare you. "I know better than anyone who we're dealing with," he spat, voice shaking with overwhelming rage. "My dad's dead because of them."

It was like he slapped Tom across the face. The force of his words made Tom’s head jerk, his mouth split apart like a gutted fish. Good. Tom gaze instantly dropped to the ground, where the moss was branching over the bricks.

Frankie snagged his drink off the table and took a heavy pull, though he wished for something stronger. His body craved it. Almost demanded it. His tongue itched for the specific burn that only the hard stuff – the good stuff – could supply: gin, whiskey, or whatever gut-rot he could quickly get his hands on. Of course, all of those were off the table. Had been for the last five years. He'd given up hard liquor when he quit Mentats and Jet and every other Chem that he'd grown too reliant on to live.

"What'd she say when you told her about your dad?" Tom's voice was soft, almost remorseful. It was the closest thing he'd get to an apology.

"I haven't told her yet," Frankie answered. "It's not easy to talk about." There was a reason why most people avoided mentioning Vault-Tec. It was a trigger. It brought back those memories that he used to try and choke to death in Chems and booze.

Soon. He would tell her, though. Very soon.

"I get it."

The stars breached the surface. A gust of chilly air seeped into his jacket, making Frankie snug it tighter. He turned to Tom and even in the ripe twilight, he could see Tom starting to crack. All that previous hardness was chipping away to reveal the man he knew – his friend. Redfly.

"I'm not asking you to trust her, Tom. I know I didn't." At first. Frankie sighed, dragging a hand across his jaw. "I still have doubts."

"About her?"

"Sometimes,” Frankie admitted. “Not as much as I used to, but it’s not like all the shit from before just goes away."

“We’re just asking you to give this a chance,” Santi siad, his carob eyes pleading with Tom. Trust us. "Can you do that?"

Tom waited a moment before giving a weak nod. “I’ll try.” He raised his glass in the air and rested it against his bottom lip. "Let's hope you're right."

"We'll find out more tomorrow." Santi squeezed Tom's shoulder. "She should give us some sort of intel at that meeting."

---

You'd expected things to move a little faster than this. You'd expected them to be on your ass for information. You'd expected them to give you at most a week, maybe a day or two at the new job before they started hounding you about holding up your end of the deal. This was, after all, a transaction. It'd sorta seemed like you'd be treated like one of those informants in a drug cartel movie.

You weren't complaining, though. Not at all. Having time to settle in was nice and much needed and you took it as a sign of good faith. They’d help up their end of the bargain, and now it was your turn to do the same.

After a little over two weeks, you were finally summoned to the council building. In the basement, they'd set up a private base where you could safely share intel. It was tucked away within a maze of short hallways, secured behind a pair of password-protected doors.

Stepping inside, the room appeared to be nothing special. It looked more like a storage room than a nerve center. The floor and walls were unfinished, gritty concrete with spidery cracks in the ceiling. Tiny motes of dust swirled around the strip lights like fruit gnats. Your eyes stung when you breathed in the heavy smell of loam and spilth.

The room was certainly spacious, though. Even with ten people in here, there was legroom to spare. The limited furniture undoubtedly helped. Against the back wall, a chalkboard on wheels was flanked by foldable steel chairs on two-tier dollys. Everyone gathered in the center of the room around a long cafeteria table.

Squeezing into the spot between Preston and Benny, you noticed the table was covered in maps, which encompassed the entire state of Massachusetts. A few even expanded into parts of Rhode Island and New Hampshire.

These maps were incredibly detailed. Each included street names, major highways and interstates, parks, and various landmarks. Someone had added their own interest points: X's and O's, making the maps look like a scrambled Tic-Tac-Toe board.

"These areas are where the bombs fell." Preston pointed at the black ring around Fall River. His finger rested there for a few seconds - tapping it for emphasis before trailing to the other circles.

You tracked his movement from Bridgewater to Rockport to Milford. When his finger ran across the ring near Wayland, you winced. It felt stupid that something as small as a circle could be a trigger. You couldn't escape it.

The nightmares were constant. Again and again, you dreamed of Concord, reliving everything like Groundhog Day. There was the distant sound of sirens and screams. Families desperately wailing for someone to save them. You could see Nora - bloody lips and gravel-dust on her ashen face. Against the summer blue horizon, a bright burst of light - a mushroom cloud of smoke. You'd thought you were going to die. It rattled your skull. You'd braced for impact, accepted death, then turned around and had to live.

To make matters worse, you could not go somewhere deep inside your head anymore. You couldn’t escape to happier times. Everything was too fresh and tainted. You couldn't remember Nora without seeing her dead. You couldn't think about your parents or family trips to Spain and Greece or the Amalfi fucking Coast without the taste of vinegar burning your throat. All your memories had become rotten, curdling like spoiled milk.

A salty pressure built around your temples, and you quickly closed your eyes to keep back tears. This was not the time or place to fall apart. You could do that later, in bed, like a normal person.

If anyone noticed your reaction, they didn't mention it. You were thankful for that. You were still figuring out how to deal with everything and where to put it all.

Stuff it down.

Stuff it away.

Bury it.

You opened your eyes when the threat of tears finally waned. You exhaled before scanning the mix of red and black X’s on the map. Focusing, you recognized some of the locations of the black X’s and noticed the red was solely in the north.

"I know these black X's are Vault-Tec. So, I'm guessing the red must be for Treasury?"

Preston smiled in response as Benny explained, "We added Treasury's, just in case you were curious."

Surprisingly, it was very informative. Most of the vaults they'd found were also in the north. That made sense, you supposed. Finding the vaults closest to Treasury's and Sanctuary was probably easy – or easier, at least. Additionally, there was one in Malden, Revere, two more in the neighborhoods around Boston, and four in New Hampshire. In total, you counted 16, but that was it?

"When did you start looking?" you asked. You were genuinely curious, but your tone must have come off as judgmental or unimpressed because Tom immediately appeared offended. He defensively folded his arms and nearly elbowed Frankie in the ribs as he puffed out his chest.

"The first vault was freed in 2200."

Suddenly, it made sense why they seemed so desperate for your help. Almost 80 years of searching, 16 was barely scratching the surface. At this rate, it would take another two centuries for them to locate the rest. If not longer.

"The first vault actually liberated themselves," Preston elaborated, gesturing to the X in Swampscott. "They found us, and that's how all this started."

"How many others have freed themselves?"

"As far as we know, none," Preston said.

Tom suddenly let out a sound that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a snort. It audibly flared his nostrils. "They made sure it never happened again," he stressed, the tendons in his jaw twitching.

He continued to stare at you. The chill that ran down your spine had nothing to do with the cold draft in the basement room. Under his ruthless hazel eyes, you felt scrutinized. His upper lip curled in disgust as if you stunk of toxic waste.

The guys had said they'd talked to Redfly. He's gonna try. He's gonna give you a chance. Yeah, that didn't seem to be the case.

Benny must've sensed the growing tension because he abruptly shifted topics. “Do a lot of these overlap with the ones you had?”

You tilted your head unevenly from side to side.

“About half-and-half. I didn’t know the exact location of the ones in New Hampshire. Or any of these, either.” Your finger orbited around the three vaults in the far northeastern region. “I was pretty dicey on this one, too,” you added, pecking at the city of Lawrence. It was lucky for them that most of the ones you knew were either within a 25-mile radius of Concord or to the southeast of Boston.

“So, that means you have a vault to give us.” Tom’s voice was flat as wood as he rolled a marker across the table. It would've been easier to just hand it to you, but of course, he had to be difficult. He probably didn't want to risk touching you. It was like you were diseased.

Luckily, you caught the marker before it could slide off and hit the ground. The last thing you wanted to give Tom was the satisfaction of seeing you crawling around on the cold, cement floor for a runaway marker.

You tapped the capped side of the marker against your chin. The fluorescent lights were bright white, reflecting against the synthetic paper. On the edge of Peabody, there was a vault. Finding Cannon Rock on the map, your eyes drifted a few blocks northeast. Right there. In that park.

You paused and abruptly looked at Concord, where your family was currently frozen. You thought back to when you left the vault. The only reason you did it was to save them, not betray them.

You'd been flirting with the point of no return but realized this was it. If you did this, if you gave up the vault, you could never go back to them again. Your father would not forgive you. Thinking about losing the only thing you had left of the world you knew made your chest feel too tight. It was as if a burlap sack was wrapped around your sternum, making it hard to breathe fully.

You wondered if this was the right decision. There was a split-second where you considered giving them the wrong location, leading them there, then making a run for it. This was a position you never wanted to be in. You were tired of being misled. Tired of not knowing who to trust. Time and time again, your own intuition had proven wrong. You didn't want to fuck up anymore.

You looked up, and when your gaze landed on Frankie, he offered a small smile. It was subtle, a simple quirk of his pink lips. You felt penitent. You hated yourself for even briefly considering misleading them. It was a lapse in judgment. You had no idea what you were thinking. Whether you turned back or not, things would never be the same with your family. You knew too much.

You uncapped the marker and took a deep breath before drawing an X near the border of Peabody and Lynn.

No going back, now. It was done.

---

When Frankie saw where she marked the map, he knew Tom would definitely question her.

“Right here?” Tom hammered his index finger against the fresh blue X, smearing the edges onto a nearby street. "Are you sure about that?"

Tom's stare bore into her like a heavy boot on her neck, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she firmly nodded, not even looking down to double-check.

"Positive?" Tom continued to press despite her confidence. "Cause we've checked that area more than a dozen times-”

"I don't know what to tell you, Tom. It's there."

Frankie had lost count of how many times their unit was sent on a recce to scope out that exact area.

Over the years, there had been countless clues and data encryptions that alluded to a vault being somewhere in Peabody. They’d go and waste days sifting through the town, turning it upside down to leave empty-handed.

After a while, Frankie had started to believe it was a ruse – a diversionary tactic to throw them off their scent. It sounded like something Vault-Tec would do, but now, it seemed like they had just overlooked it somehow.

"What made you pick this vault?" Tom asked.

She glanced down at the map before peering up at Tom through her lashes. "Uh - it's the closest one." Her tone was dry, a duh heavily implied. "I thought that would be the easiest way to do this, wouldn't you agree?"

The vein on Tom's forehead pulsed like a wound. He grunted in response, clearly pained to agree with her.

Truthfully, they should've been thanking her. She could've easily given them a vault that would take days or weeks to reach, but Frankie decided not to point that out. He'd rather not pick a fight before the ink could dry on their new peace treaty. Things between them weren't entirely back to normal just yet. Their interactions were still slightly awkward – stilted and fragile.

"So," Will rested his hip against the table and looked at Tom. "Is the captain going to tag along?"

Tom's lips split into a disarming grin that shaved the years off his face. Gone were the bags, wrinkles, and frown lines. He hadn't seen Tom smile like that since he retired.

Frankie knew Tom missed being out there – with a gun in his hand. He craved action – adrenaline – the acts of violence that inflicted the wasteland. Sitting at a desk and reading through files wasn't the life he ultimately envisioned.

"Come on." Tom folded his arms over his chest. "Do you think I'm gonna let you guys do this without me?"

"Woo!" Benny cheered, pounding his fist on the table. "That's what I'm fucking talking about."

Frankie glanced across the table at Blue and noticed the worry flicker over her face. Her fingers were curled tightly around the marker as her smile faltered to one side. There was a faraway look in her eyes and absently watched Tom and Benny celebrate. She blinked and abruptly corrected her expression. Even though she appeared fine, Frankie could tell innately that something was bothering her.

It had become almost like a sixth sense. Over the last two months, he had subconsciously come to learn her tics and tells. She didn't even have to give a lot. To him, she was downright easy to read.

And right now, she was nervous. He suspected that her unease had something to do with Tom and couldn't really blame her. She had no reason to trust him or any of them for that matter.

"Will Molly be okay with that?" Preston's voice was almost as stiff as his spine, but Tom didn’t seem to realize.

"She won't mind," Tom said dismissively. It was likely. After retiring, Tom continued to fill in for a sick patrol or volunteer to clear out an infestation of ghouls. He'd jump at the chance to escape from Sanctuary. She must've realized those few hours outside the gates kept him sane. "Besides, as long as Blue's telling the truth, we should be back before dark."

When Tom looked away, Preston quickly exchanged a glance with Curie. The two of them shared an inscrutable look. Interesting. Maybe it wasn't just him who caught on to Blue's apprehension.

"Well, someone has to balance out the testosterone in this group," Curie announced casually. "So, I'll come too."

Blue snorted earnestly before flashing Curie a grateful smile. "I'd really like that, but-" she paused for a moment, her lips twisting to one side. “Won’t people find it strange that I'm tagging along?"

“We don’t think so,” Preston said. “But we did talk and decided if anyone asks, we’ll say you aren’t comfortable being here without the guys, just yet. That excuse should buy us a few months, at least.”

"Besides, everyone believes you grew up out there," Will added. "To survive this long, you'd have to be a pretty big badass."

She smirked at that, but her expression quickly turned serious again. "So, you don't think anyone will put two and two together? Even with finding a vault?"

Frankie could understand her concern, though it was highly unlikely for a few reasons. For one – the guys didn't even believe who she was when she was in front of them, donning a vault suit.

Secondly, nobody had any real reason to question the Council or their unit. They were both respected. Both were highly regarded throughout the entire Commonwealth. Even if there were rumors, Frankie doubted the gossip would include Vault-Tec. Not with his involvement. Just his seal of approval alone cleared her name.

Thankfully, Preston said something different than that.

“We told everyone about the synths in Lexington for a reason. They know we’ve been working hard on analyzing the chip,” he explained, glancing briefly at Tom. “It wouldn’t be the first time a vault’s been found that way.”

She was silent for a long moment – seemingly contemplating before she nodded and said, “Okay.”

That was it.

The meeting concluded with Tom laying out a plan.

“We’ll leave Sunday.” He looked in Blue’s direction and scowled. “After the morning patrols get back. I don’t want any fucking surprises.”

---

On Sunday morning, the patrols slowly trickled in one by one. The routes covered the area of Clifton, but you doubted they extended further than Phillip's Beach or Swampscott Mall. Waiting seemed like a waste of precious daylight for only an hour or so of clearance, but questioning Tom would surely piss him off. He was already in a sour enough mood.

For the last hour, Preston and him had bickered in the corner. The council lobby didn't offer much in terms of privacy, but neither seemed to care.

"All I'm saying is maybe we should postpone the trip another day or two," Preston had said, halfway pleading with Tom to reconsider.

It had been raining on and off since yesterday. Last night, it was so severe that it woke you up twice. Even though the storm had passed earlier, you glanced out the window at the sky, where a mass of blackness brooded on the very distant horizon. Traversing through a hostile wasteland was dangerous - even more so with sight lines limited. Preston made it sound like a death wish, but Tom seemed intent on asserting his dominance.

"It's just rain. We'll be fine." Tom's tone was harsh – final. "I'm not waiting another day to find out if she's telling the truth."

Preston must have realized that Tom would not budge because he went to a nearby linen closet and handed everyone a flimsy bedroll. He dropped it in your lap, and it smelled like mothballs. "Just in case."

Luckily, you'd been prepared and wore a field jacket with a hood. Clad in combat boots and tatty black jeans, the leather holster around your waist looked like something straight from an old western - Gunsmoke or something with Clint Eastwood. It was thoroughly shocking that Tom even allowed you to have a gun.

It was around 10 or so when the last of the patrols walked through the gates with another clean bill of health. Finally, the group left – Preston waving goodbye with a worried look in his ochre eyes.

Against the overcast skies, you could see it was storming in Lawrence or Andover. Somewhere out west. The clouds over there were smeared and bruised with a sickly green hue. The air was gummy and thick with humidity from the October rain, and as you walked down Tedscore Street, you could feel your tank top sticking to your skin.

It was strange being surrounded again by destruction. Inside the walls of Sanctuary, you could almost forget what existed on the other side. No - everything there was so clean and put-together instead of destitute.

You turned onto Eastern Avenue and saw it lined with decay. The houses and stores were comatose, rotted from time and weather. The uranium residue hung above the town, blending into the ozone. This once busy street was now full of holes.

Staring down at your feet, you carefully stepped around the debris - the pits and cracks that riddled the asphalt, making it undrivable. Inside the potholes, the fresh puddles carried a specific stink. It was earthy and sulfuric, overwhelming your nostrils like a hot shower in Orlando, Florida.

Funny – even the smell of petrichor was different than it used to be. Nothing was the same anymore. It was ugly. It was broken. The world was in utter shreds.

“Pick up the pace," Tom barked, knocking you back into the present. His hot breath and bits of spit pelted the back of your neck. He was right on your heels.

"I'm going as fast as I can," you sassed. You refused to look over your shoulder, not wanting to be that close to his face.

"It's slick here, man," Benny was quick to come to your defense. It wasn't like he was moving any faster than you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Frankie lightly grip Tom's arm and guide him three steps back. You were thankful for that. It was better than nothing, though you wished Tom wasn't here at all.

You knew he would ruin the entire vibe when he announced that he was coming along. Everyone seemed uneasy around him. Barely anyone had said a word over the last hour and a half.

You’d thought Frankie was bad in the beginning, but even he didn’t act this cold. At least Frankie had the decency to act a little sympathetically toward your situation. He didn't trust or like you but cared somewhat about your safety. He didn't leave you in Concord. He'd protected you from the bugs and ghouls. You doubted Tom would've taken a nasty gash to the arm for you.

Two or maybe closer to three miles left, the group stopped for lunch in a strip mall parking lot. You plopped down next to Benny on the curb and pulled out a sandwich from the front pocket of your bag. Molly had made one for everyone. This morning, she'd handed them out personally before kissing Tom goodbye. You'd talked with her briefly, a quick introduction, but she was nicer than you expected given her husband. There was something kind about her smile.

"So," Tom began as you took the first bite. "How exactly do you know where this vault is?"

Suddenly, you realized they'd never explicitly asked how you knew the location of the vaults. You supposed it was a small detail in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps they thought it was common knowledge back then, and honestly, they wouldn’t have been completely wrong.

Looking around, you wouldn't know it now, but there were billboards everywhere, cheesy late-night infomercials, and posters shepherding traffic to the closest vault in case of an emergency. Back then, everyone knew where a few vaults were.

You swallowed. "My family went to the grand opening." Took another bite. This sandwich was delicious. You needed the recipe for whatever this sauce was.

"You've been to this vault before?" Will sounded surprised and slightly confused. Suddenly, you noticed everyone staring at you and gulped.

"Only outside of it, but yeah." You absently picked at the bread crust. Once construction finished, barely anyone was allowed inside aside from a few high-ups, such as your parents. Not even Alice had that sort of clearance, much to her annoyance.

"Vaults are a fragile system," your dad would tell her. "They need to be kept in perfect condition. We must maintain their integrity."

"And every vault had a grand opening?" Santi clarified, and you nodded.

As a kid, you used to cut the big yellow ribbon. You could remember the first time – outside of Vault 85. It was in the middle of a blizzard. Your teeth chattered, tiny hands shaking so violently in your fur-trimmed gloves that your dad had to hold them steady as you grappled with the giant scissors.

"I don't get it." Benny scratched his temple with a quizzical expression. "If you couldn’t go inside, what was the point?”

You couldn't help but smile at Benny. It was funny how much things had changed. Of course, it wouldn't make sense to him. In this world, there was no PR or promotions. They had no idea that a brand needed media attention to thrive.

"The whole thing was just for publicity." The Boston Bugle was always front and center – their pictures were broadcast on WRVR evening news. “The only reason my dad brought me was for the photo op. He thought seeing a family unit was good for the brand.”

Tom made an ugly sound with his mouth.

"If your face was already selling vaults, sounds like you might as well have worked for them." Tom glanced at Frankie, who was awkwardly sitting next to him on the cement parking block.

"It's not like I didn't consider it." You did. Of course you did. That would've made things at home so much easier. It would've made your parents – God, your mom so proud. How nice it would've been to make her proud for once. You shoved that thought away and shrugged. “At the end of the day, I didn’t want a job dealing with the end of the world. It wasn't something I liked thinking about."

For good reason, you thought, scanning the strip mall. There were the remains of a Dunkin' sign – a pizza place – a quaint corner cafe. At lunchtime, this area would've been swarming.

Now, there was no one. Now, there was just brittle mineral dust. Ash and ghosts.

You sighed. "I would've rather focused on saving the world I had, not saving it in the aftermath."

"And that's what Vault-Tec was doing? Saving the world?" Tom hissed, the words gritting between his teeth.

"That's what I thought at the time," you said calmly, voice sad. "Turns out I was wrong."

—-

It wasn't much further now. You were passing St. Joseph Cemetery, where headstones were buried under a thicket of weeds and bright yellow dandelions. Amidst the river birch and flowering dogwood trees were mausoleums entwined in vines. The brass doors were dark and rich with patina.

“Blue!” Curie called out, snapping your attention away from the grand iron archway and to the front of the line. “Wanna come lead the way?”

“Sure.”

She ushered you to the front of the pack, walking at your side. You squinted at the street signs and storefronts. It was hard to orient yourself when everything looked radically different.

“Here, this might help,” Curie said, revealing a pip-boy from her bag and placing it in your hands.

“Is this a 3000 model?” You marveled at the pip-boy before latching the band around your wrist. The device was roughly the size of your foot. It was clunkier and heavier than the prototypes. Vault-Tec had advertised the device as lightweight – you won’t even realize you have one on. Just another one of their lies. It was no wonder Curie had kept it in her bag. It felt like a two-liter of soda pressed against your radius and ulna.

On the screen, there was a monochrome map. You messed with the control dial on the right side, flipping through the different tabs at the top: data, stats, and a radio that emitted pure static. The device must’ve been modded because it was missing the vault features. Even on the home screen, there was no Vault-Boy (or girl).

"I'm guessing your vault didn't hand those out." Tom's voice was even more grating than the static.

"Nope," you said simply as you switched back to the map, honing in on the vault's location and placing a pin.

"And you didn't find that odd?"

"No, not really," you replied. "Believe it or not, the last thing on my mind after watching the world end was a fancy computer for my wrist."

You could hear Tom let out a low growl but ignored it.

As you continued down the road, you wondered if Tom was someone who people didn’t usually fuck with. It seemed highly likely. He was intimidating, after all. Big and menacing in his build. He struck you as someone who didn’t want to be tested. Or bested for that matter.

On the last half-mile, it began to drizzle. Picking up your pace slightly, you glanced at the screen and turned right. Just a block ahead, outside the neighborhood, was Granite Park, nestled in a valley between rolling hills. Most people had no idea the park was funded by Vault-Tec. It wasn't anywhere on the sign.

The park was eerie with its empty benches and dead gardens. The monkey bars and jungle gyms had lost their paint and would undoubtedly collapse with time. A cool breeze rustled the swings. The melody was haunting.

It looked different than you remembered, and not in the way that everything looked different. The park had changed, but you couldn't pinpoint what exactly.

“So, where is it?” Tom slapped his thighs like an impatient child.

With an irritated huff, you pressed forward. Your boots slopped through the overgrown grass, hitting just below your knees. After passing the picnic tables, it was basically a swamp. It led to a pond filled with moss and trash, and the air stank of stagnant water. There were willow flies and golden drakes the size of your fist. The vault was around here somewhere.

Rubbing your chin, you spanned the shoreline and even went deeper, near the forest edge. Nothing. In a valley, the land was flat enough that you could see the expanse of open area fairly clearly. Your mouth began to dry as you backtracked to the picnic tables, then scanned the grounds, including the kiddie area and splash zone.

Again – nothing.

The vault was gone.

---

“Are we gonna keep going around in circles, Blue?” Tom taunted, and you could imagine the look on his face - his chin thrust out and eyes gleaming with insolence.

Holding your breath, you surveyed the pond, the soccer fields, and cracked pickleball courts. That was the fourth time: still, nothing. Your toes and fingers felt like static. Your heart was in your throat. Your anxiety was rising to a level that made it nearly impossible to think straight.

A strong hand grasped your shoulder, yanking you from the brink of a full-blown panic attack. Your feet swerved in a circle and when you tilted your chin up, Frankie’s hand dropped to his side. He shifted back a step to study you. His thumb dragged over his bottom lip, your eyes tracking the flicker of pink that appeared between his teeth.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Frankie whispered, glancing momentarily at the group. His brows were pleated, his jaw tensing. He appeared less upset and more worried than anything.

Tom was going to lose his shit any second.

“I don’t understand. I-” You bit down hard on your bottom lip, though let it go before drawing blood. “It was here. I swear.”

It was.

It was here.

The vault couldn’t just get up and move, so where the hell was it?

Cursing, you spun back around to observe the park for the fifth time. You scanned the perimeter of the pond. Something pulled you back to the cola cans and plastic bags floating in the water. A hairless duck had made a nest from diapers.

It became more difficult to focus as Tom’s voice rose, yelling and laughing as if this was a game he’d just won. “I knew it.” He repeated over and over again. “I fucking knew she was a fraud.”

“Shut up and let her concentrate.” Frankie snapped before mumbling. “Jesus Christ.”

“Fuck you mean concentrate?” Tom snorted. “The vault isn’t here. She's setting us up. She lied to you."

“Stop it,” Santi warned, voice stern and angrier than you've ever heard. Tom growled like a wild beast, clearly not in the mood for orders.

“This is fucking bullshit.” He roared as the rain began to fall harder. “For all we know, synths could be on the other side of that tree line."

“That’s not helping, Tom,” Curie cut in, which was mildly surprising. She barely knew you, after all. All of them, especially Curie, had every right to doubt you, yet…

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frankie shift and reposition himself at your back. He was guarding you. Ben and Will also began to defend you. It made your chest feel warm, even against the chill of the rain.

You refused to let them down. Focusing, you gripped the edges of your hood and crushed it against your ears to drown out the fighting.

Think. Come on, think.

It didn’t make sense. If this vault had opened when you were a kid, you would’ve understood being turned around, but it had been relatively newer when the bombs fell. Its grand opening was the day after your 21st birthday. Your dad had dragged you here disastrously hungover, hair in a bun and makeup crusty from the night before. You'd spent the entire drive dry-heaving in the backseat of his Bentley Continental. Then a solid ten minutes with your head buried in a public toilet, swearing off Sea Breeze's and vodka in general.

You glanced over at the bathroom, a brick shack that was surprisingly in decent shape. The vault was just a short distance from the bathroom. Squinting, you inspected where you swore there used to be a gravel pathway. Amidst the weeds and greenery, something silver caught your eye.

It was a random metal pole near the outdoor fitness zone. It looked plain and unassuming, nothing special at all. However, it triggered a memory from the day you left the vault. Outside, one of the first things you’d noticed were silver poles. The last remnants of the fence.

Slowly, your hands fell to your sides as you spotted another pole a few yards off - two more on your left. They were scattered in seemingly random order, though none too far from...you rocked back.

“The pond.”

“What’d you say?”

You ignored Frankie, too busy perusing the hills surrounding the park. The pieces were rapidly clicking into place. Yes, you’d realized something was different. Something had changed, and it was this pond. This pond was not here before. A group of vaults had been built in a flood plain. You closed your eyes, visualizing the bulkier entrance that was reinforced with protective barriers to prevent it from bogging.

Obviously, those barriers were now gone. They’d descended underground, you guessed. Disappearing along with the men, women, and children when the vault was sealed.

Suddenly, you were seeing first-hand how deep Vault-Tec's corruption ran.

They’d clearly planned this when building the vaults, strategically placing them in places where no one could find them – places where the landscape could do the dirty work. The rain had covered their tracks. Marked on a map or not, no one would question a pond in the middle of a park. It was brilliant and frightening.

That was why these guys had struggled to find the vaults. That must’ve been why they appeared so frustrated – so desperate. They had searched this area before – they were in the right place this whole time. Everything was starting to make sense.

You spun around to find Frankie staring at you from the berm. Visibly anxious, his fist shook at his side. You slid over to him, leaving barely a gap. “It’s in the pond. It’s here. It’s under the water.”

The expression on his face morphed from curious to puzzled. It took him a moment to digest the information. His gaze flickered from your face to the murky water behind your shoulder. “In there?”

You nodded, and Tom scoffed with his usual mark of disdain.

“Do you expect us to take your word for that?"

"Not at all." You moved to the side and dramatically motioned towards the pond. "Be my guest and check for yourself," you challenged, making his upper lip curl into a snarl.

You didn’t know how deep the pond went, but surely, if he dove down far enough, he’d find something. The yellow and white paint had likely thinned and peeled away, but the VT mullion would still be visible. Ponds weren’t metal at the bottom. Perhaps he could feel the steel ridges under his feet or with his hands.

As thunder rumbled in the distance, Benny stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Will asked, very concerned, but Benny was already stripping off his clothes.

His jacket and shirt were strewn over a bench. Gone were his boots, socks, and jeans. Clad in black briefs, your cheeks burned seeing Benny this exposed.

You'd seen a man shirtless before. Of course, you had, but they never looked like that. He was lean with muscle and much hairier than you expected. His chest and lower abdomen were swathed in dark fuzz.

Shit. You were staring.

Turning away, you caught Frankie eyeing you, his tongue pressing against his cheek. It was hard to read his expression. The rain dribbled off the brim of his cap and blurred his features – his revelatory eyes.

Almost immediately, he broke eye contact and glanced down at your wrist. "Benny will need the pip-boy," he stated, devoid of emotion.

When you finally managed to unhook the pip-boy, Benny was on the shoreline in all his farmer-tan glory. He was close enough where you could see every individual strand of russet hair between his muscled pecs. You cleared your throat and handed over the pip-boy.

"It should be somewhere close to the middle," you told him as he secured the device to his wrist and flicked on its flashlight. Smart. In this cloud coverage, visibility was going to be extremely limited.

"Don't worry, Blue. I'll find it." Benny winked before Will patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"Be quick." Will tipped his chin towards the dark, grumbly sky. They didn't need Ben dying from a lightning strike.

“I will,” Benny promised and descended into the sooty water. It must’ve been cold because the muscles on his back convulsed. The water ruffled as his head disappeared entirely under the moss.

The rain formed capillary waves, making it impossible to see where Benny was. On the shoreline, everyone stood in a single line except Tom, who was lurking in your shadow. Every breath, every scoff, every mumbled remark puffed against your pulse point like the hot breath of a dragon.

Benny emerged once – a second time, a few more yards out. He shook his hair out of his eyes like a wet dog. “I think I see it!” He sucked in a big gulp of air before diving back down again.

The storm was edging closer. Closer. The moody, pewter-green clouds heaved a low growl. A flash of white light snaked the sky as Benny resurfaced for a third time.

"Holy shit!" Benny slapped the water and hollered, "We've struck gold, bitches!"

---

The celebration was cut short by the storm. The rain pelted them as Frankie and the group fled to the nearest house with an intact roof - a split-level with a wood stove in the living room. It was a lucky find. Even though it stunk of mold, and radroaches had long-infested the master bedroom.

As Santi and Will treated the intrusion with double-barrels, Frankie worked on starting a fire. Searching the second bedroom, he found a stack of Grognak comic books and used the pages as tinder. Good thing he brought matches. His hands hovered around the fire for warmth, but the cold had seeped through his bones and made his teeth chatter. His fingers were chilled blue from the rain. His clothes were soggy and swamped, gripping his skin like mutant guts.

He undressed in the kitchen, hiding his bare ass behind the island. God forbid Blue come upstairs to see him in such a pitiful, shriveled state. Not just her – he would hate for Curie or any woman to see him like that. Even though it was completely normal. It was the cold, wet goddamnit.

After yanking on a spare pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his pack, he draped the sodden clothes over a dining room chair to dry. Time was already running thin before this delay, so there was no chance of returning to Sanctuary tonight.

Sighing, Frankie leaned against the sliding glass door and watched the steady deluge of rain. The backyard offered a small view of the park. In the gaps between the trees, he could see a glimpse of the swing set - the teeter-totters. Throughout the years, he’d spent countless hours ambling around these streets and even that goddamn park for a sign of a vault.

It was there. This whole time, the vault was right there.

He wondered how many other vaults they'd missed, overlooked, and walked right past without a clue. It was obvious they never would’ve found it on their own. They never would’ve thought to look at the bottom of a pond. Those people would’ve been stuck there forever if not for her: A woman whose skin was freezer-burned less than three months ago.

It was crazy how much had changed within a season – from a simple mission to explore further west. He could remember arriving in Concord defeated, drained, and covered in sweat and ghoul brains. Like the town before, the neighborhood had been swarming with undead. Throughout those muggy August nights, he'd desperately wished for a miracle while bunking in a brick mansion, unaware that its original owners had worked for Vault-Tec. Unaware of her existence at all.

Little did he know.

Frankie had never put much stock in the idea of fate. He would much rather rely on logic and choice than the idea that his life was written in asterism. However, there was no denying that meeting her felt almost cosmic.

Thinking about her like that made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. It scared him how fast his doubts about her were beginning to dwindle. He wanted to cling to them. Sometimes, those what-ifs felt like the only thing keeping him sane. It gave him an excuse to keep her at a distance. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't have a reason to keep her at arm's length.

A violent crash yanked Frankie from his musing. The first thing that came to his mind was Blue. As he wondered where she was, he remembered she was with Ben and Curie. She was safe with them.

Gun at the ready, he tracked the noise to the master bedroom. It was just Will and Santi moving an armoire to block a broken window, where the roaches were likely entering. Afterward, they decided to do the same for the rest of the house, checking and covering any entry points large enough for creatures to sneak through.

When they finally finished securing the house, it was dinner time. Everyone was gathered in the living room around the rekindled fire. Luckily, they were prepared for the worst and brought mason jars of chili, which was just vegetables and beans, no meat. Despite it being cold, Frankie preferred this to sleeping on an empty stomach.

“So, give me a timeline - how long does this whole freeing the vault thing take.”

Frankie turned to his left, where Blue was beside him, criss-cross on the moth-bitten rug. She shoveled a handful of dry fruit into her mouth. Her and her damn dried fruit.

“It can be a lengthy process,” Frankie answered, and she bobbled her head for him to elaborate. He snorted at her dramatics. “Depends on the season, the weather, the geographical location of the vault. Sometimes, it takes weeks - other times months.”

"Alright, but what about this one?"

Probably a while. Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The raggedy couch cushion whined under Curie as she leaned forward. “Typically, the process starts by hacking into the vault's main control board using the Pip-Boy's adapter plug. We install a backdoor attack, which allows us to remotely access the vault doors without tipping them off."

“Damn.”

“And not just that,” Curie continued. "We also gain access into the Pip-Boys registered to the vault, which offers us a headcount for the MRO.”

Doors and Pip-Boys. It was strange how those were the two weak spots in the system. Everything else, though, was locked down and encrypted. As a young cadet, part of their duties included ciphering the coding - or at least, attempting to. Frankie thought back to those weekends spent at the base's information room in the dark basement. Afterward, his head would hurt from the mess of letters, numbers, and mysterious dates: September 7th, 2041, January 3rd, 2045, and more that he couldn't fully recall. Once in a while, a random word would be thrown into the mix, like Sugar Plum Fairy or Peanut.

Goddamn peanut was everywhere. In fact, the intelligence team had been thoroughly convinced that it must have something to do with elephants. One of the best units in Sanctuary's history - Frankie's idols growing up - were deployed to Franklin Park Zoo. It was one of the worst missions ever. The unit returned home down two arms and an entire person after a blood bath with mutant lions and pygmy hippos. It was a miracle any of them survived.

The crackle of thunder pulled Frankie from his thoughts. As he slugged back a bite of chili, he figured Curie would launch into one of her usual tangents. He was fully expecting Curie to tell Blue about the ability to communicate with the Vault Dwellers as well. It made more sense when Curie explained it. She knew better than all of them the logistics behind sending messages to individual Pip-Boys. She was on the intelligence team that would spend days, even weeks, cold-calling until someone got curious enough to take the bait.

Breaking into the vault without an early warning was risky. It was essential to form trust for a smooth rescue. After all, these people had kids – families that they would want to protect. Even though it was shitty, the vault was the only home they'd ever known. That was their entire world.

Curie's mouth opened as if to say more, but she must've noticed Tom glaring from the dusty recliner because she took a drink from her canteen instead. No one wanted to deal with Tom's wrath, and knowing Curie, she'd likely tell Blue later - when Tom wasn't around to give her hell.

Will finished off the last of his chili, screwing on the lid of his jar. "This time will be harder, though," he said in his typical methodical tone. "Since the main control board is embedded into the entrance-"

“Which is underwater,” Blue finished before Will could.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Will hummed. "So, we're gonna have to figure out how to drain the pond."

“Well, maybe-” Blue abruptly cut herself off, wrenching her jaw shut. Her expression switched into something conflicted, her gaze diverting to her lap, where the cloth bag of dried fruit was twisted like a water knot in her grasp. She bit down on her lip, chewing it thoughtfully.

Frankie wondered what was going on in that head of hers as the wind rattled the windows. The rain continued to pour down in sheets, leaking from the various water stains in the popcorn ceiling. Underneath, the wooden floorboards were bent and warped and gnarled. He forced himself to focus on the plop-plop-plop instead of trying to figure out her brain. He didn't need to know the interworkings of her mind - he didn't understand why he even cared.

In the quiet room, the fire crackled and spit, casting the room in shadows. Blue drew in a breath as if savoring the smell of burning paper. The resin buttons on her shirt slowly relaxed as she exhaled. “I don’t know if you noticed the metal poles around the pond, but those used to be a part of a fence that went around the vault."

“The fuck does that have to do with anything?” Tom interrupted, very confrontational. Could he let her finish?

“I’m not completely sure,” she answered Tom more calmly than he deserved before choosing to focus on Frankie. "But if Vault-Tec wanted to wipe themselves from the surface, why leave those?"

Intrigued, Frankie's body dipped into the space between them as he licked his lips. "They wouldn't."

"Exactly." Her bright eyes reflected the orange light from the fire – her lips curved into a pleasing smile. “Now, those poles could be integral to the vault structure or something. But, maybe, there’s some type of wiring inside.” She shrugged, shaking her head as if worried to say something stupid. "I mean - I don't know much about that kinda stuff, but in order for computers and Pip-Boys to work, they gotta be getting a signal from somewhere, right?"

That goddamn head of hers.

This was the second time today she'd left him dumbstruck. She looked unsure of herself - almost insecure - and even though they didn't know if she was right or wrong, it was a sound theory. She was full of surprises.

"Blue!" Benny revered, hugging her around the shoulders and lightly shaking her. "You might be the smartest girl I've ever met."

She giggled girlishly as Benny rocked her back and forth a few times before finally releasing her.

"Thanks, but I find that hard to believe when Curie's legit the reincarnation of her namesake."

Curie clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses."

"That sounds like something a genius would say," Blue said, and Frankie tilted his head, his lips pursed as if deeply puzzled.

"Does it?"

She scrunched her nose at the sarcasm in his tone and answered, "A humble one, at least."

"And how many of those do you know?"

"Sadly, I've met more arrogant idiots," she said before trying to open her jar of chili. It didn't budge. She grunted, trying and failing for the second time. She frowned.

He gestured at the jar with two fingers. "Let me see it."

Stubborn, like always, Blue ignored him and instead cranked the lid as hard as possible. The muscles in her neck flexed, but when it still didn't give way, she groaned and begrudgingly handed it over, finally accepting his help. It took one solid twist for him to pop the lid.

"Show off," she huffed under her breath. He'd never met someone so determined to prove themselves as capable. Even with small things.

When she snatched the jar from his hand, it was Deja Vu. He was instantly transported back to her first few days in Sanctuary when cooped up in her house, they'd spent hours in her tiny kitchen. She'd put herself in charge of cooking, but he was always there, propped against a nearby counter to watch her zest lemons and mince garlic cloves. She insisted that she didn't need his help, but five minutes later, she would turn around and ask him to open a jar, stir the sauce, or grab some spices off the rack. "Whatever you say, chef."

She was a far better cook than he anticipated. Every dish, even the most basic, had her own little flare.

One night, she whipped up some brownies, licking the gooey batter off the beater. Her tongue twisted, curling around the metal rods to get every drop. It had made his breath catch.

The memory of her pretty tongue flashed behind his eyes, making his blood simmer in his veins. Frankie dug his fingers into the musty rug. His focus abruptly dipped to the jar pressed against her lips. She tipped back her head, eating the chili like a pull of whiskey.

His gaze was glued to her mouth as she thumbed some juice off her bottom lip and sucked it from her fingertip. It made something hot unfurl in his gut that he had to jam into his intestines before it could take root. He looked away, suddenly remembering where he was. This wasn't her kitchen. Other people were in the room.

Curie and Will might've been lost in each other, but Santi and Ben were staring at him. In the dark, the firelight obscured their faces - their expressions indistinct. When he thought of looking in Tom's direction, the heat of shame burned his cheeks.

It was stupid. He'd done nothing wrong at all.

So, why did he feel caught?

#pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #francisco morales #frankie x reader #fallout fanfic #fallout au

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dameronscopilot · 2 years

Text

illicit affair

Dad’s Best Friend!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x f!reader

Summary: Following your intimate encounter with your dad’s best friend, Santiago, during your family’s Thanksgiving gathering, the two of you pick back up where you left off when you visit home again for Christmas—though your covert rendezvous doesn’t quite go as planned.

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, minimal plot mainly filth, DBF!Santiago, implied age gap (reader is of age), masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), anal fingering, rimming, reference to anal sex, creampie, squirting, cum eating, spit kink, praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, dirty talk

A/N: This is a sequel to cut the brakes. If you want context on "what happened at Thanksgiving," read that first! This and all of my other spirals over DBF!Santi are forever dedicated to my beloved @welcometostayingawake.

While you’d anticipated sneaking away to see Santiago during your trip home to spend the holidays with your family…this turn of events certainly wasn’t in your itinerary.

Initially, after the clamor of festivities at your dad’s house on Christmas, you’d had every intention of feigning plans with hometown friends for the days that followed—plans that would actually find you nestled up at Santi’s house, during which time he’d hopefully make good on all of the wanton promises he’d made over the phone following your Thanksgiving adventures. Your vibrator was nearly on its last leg after vigorous daily use at this point, the silicone finding a familiar home lodged deep inside of your wet cunt every evening as your phone screen lit up with videos of Santiago fisting his thick cock.

Santi had found a reasonable excuse to politely decline your dad’s invite to Christmas dinner, if only because he could in no way promise that he’d be able to resist fucking you right there in your childhood bedroom while your family unknowingly mingled in the living room. The mere thought sent excitement racing down your spine, but you knew you had to play it safe if you wanted this to continue. He was your dad’s best goddamn friend, after all. God forbid your grandmother accidentally mistake your room for the bathroom and find the man balls deep inside of you.

So yeah, you’d save your long-awaited fuck fest for the privacy of Santiago’s house. Where you could scream as loudly as you wanted to whilst he pounded you into the mattress.

…at least that’s what you thought.

Until your dad invited you along for a Boxing Day visit to Santiago’s, in lieu of his absence from the prior evening’s celebrations. A visit which unfortunately coincided with a snowy morning that rapidly evolved into an outright blizzard by the afternoon, the hazardous road conditions therefore preventing you from leaving.

Snowed in with your father and Santiago?

What could possibly go wrong?

—

You ran a hand over the sleek black comforter neatly tucked across Santiago’s large mattress, your mind spinning at the thought that you were about to sleep in his bed for the very first time with your father in the room just across the hall. And Santi wasn’t even there with you.

When it became clear that you wouldn’t be getting out the door anytime soon due the amount of snow that continued to accumulate in the streets with not a single plow in sight, Santiago had offered up his bedroom and his guest room to the two of you. Your father was quick to say he’d take the couch, but Santi insisted otherwise. And when he proceeded to head upstairs to clear out the abundant clutter in the spare bedroom, which he rarely used, your dad casually waved him off as he told him not to bother. He, personally, didn’t mind the mess, and you could just take Santi’s bedroom to make things easier. You hadn’t dared even steal a glance over in his direction when your father said that, face burning with the downright irony of the situation at hand.

Sighing, you allowed yourself to collapse onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows and inhaling the warm scent of Santiago’s cologne. You rolled onto your side, your body pressing into the edges of a hard lump nestled beneath the covers. Curious, you pulled the blanket down, fingers closing around a rectangular box tied shut with a large, pink bow. You tugged at the silky material and opened the lid to find a lacy lingerie set with an index card placed on top of it.

Merry Christmas, cariño.

Breath hitching in your throat, you brushed your fingers over the material, a thrill running down your spine. Of fucking course he would do this.

A few moments later, your clothes were left discarded on the floor as you slipped on Santiago’s gift, turning sideways to admire the way the lingerie looked on your body. Glancing back over at the soft, rumpled sheets on the bed, an idea occurred to you, prompting you to climb back onto the mattress.

Santiago may not have the opportunity to fuck you in this bed tonight, but you’d certainly be getting off one way or another. You ran a hand down your throat and over your breasts, teasing at your peaked nipples, which were nearly on full display through the sheer bra. Sliding your fingers inside of the material, you arched your back into your own touch, imagining that the sting of pleasure that pinching your nipples elicited was from Santiago’s teeth as he latched his mouth onto your tits.

Your thighs fell open as you trailed your hand along your stomach, fingers flirting with the waistband of the panties that just barely covered your mound and your ass. But before allowing yourself unfettered access to your aching cunt, you reached toward the nightstand for your phone, opening up the camera.

You snapped several photos, including a shot of your breasts while you sucked on your fingers, your ass on full display with nothing but a thin strap of material running between your cheeks, and the sticky arousal that had already leaked through your panties, coating the inside of your thighs. Santiago had received plenty of suggestive photos of you recently, but the chance to shamelessly tease him while you were sprawled out across his mattress, knowing he couldn’t come upstairs and fuck you, was something you couldn’t pass up.

Swiping over to the video feature, you propped the phone up on a pillow for a full-frontal view of your leaking cunt as you hooked a finger in the fabric, pulling the panties aside and inserting your middle finger into your fluttering hole. You moaned as you realized just how wet you were already, the digit sliding through your tight walls with no resistance, and you quickly slid another finger in.

Downstairs, Santi shifted from where he was sprawled out on the couch, lifting up his phone and squinting in the darkness of the living room to glance at the bright screen. His mouth went dry as he swiped a finger to reveal the gallery of images you’d sent to him, showing off that you’d indeed found the gift he’d stashed under the covers for you.

He scrolled through the pictures, cock stiffening heavily in his sweatpants at the way the lingerie left little to the imagination, showing off the dips and curves of your nearly naked body. Groaning, his hand found its way into his boxers when he opened the video of you finger fucking yourself, and he gripped his shaft tightly at the slick, squelching noises that accompanied your needy moans.

“Santi”

At the sound of you whimpering his name, he dropped the phone face down in his lap, biting down hard on his knuckles as he fisted his length, jerking his hips upward, mind wandering with the temptation of climbing the stairs two at a time and stuffing his cock inside of you without preamble.

He’d spent far too many nights jerking off to nothing but your text messages in the time since he’d seen you last—he’d even gone so far as to excuse himself from the table when he made the mistake of opening a particularly filthy photo of a dildo stuffed into your ass while he was out for lunch with your father last week, rushing to the bathroom to sloppily fuck his fist (while also sending you a photo of the way he’d accidentally splattered his cum all over the stall afterward).

Santi was nearing the point of desperation now—he needed to feel the way your tight cunt choked down his fat cock as he slid inside of you. He needed to hear your broken sobs in his ear as he kept fucking you through your first orgasm and right into the next without stopping. He needed see the cock drunk expression on your face as he pumped you full of cum over and over.

He was halfway through entertaining of the thought of how quickly he’d be able to escape the wrath of your father's fists if were to walk into the bedroom to find Santi fucking his daughter when he froze upon hearing a creaking sound up on the stairs. Hastily pulling his hand out of his pants, he sat up, only to be greeted by the side of you slinking your way across the room and over to the couch.

“Is that my shirt?”

You offered him a wry grin, doing a twirl for effect, the unbuttoned dress shirt fanning out to reveal the lingerie set you wore beneath.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, running a hand over his face, cock throbbing in his boxers. “Come here.”

He beckoned you toward him, and you swiftly climbed into his lap, immediately pressing down against the erection straining at the front of his pants. He slipped his hands inside of the shirt you’d pilfered from his closet, running them up your sides before scooping your breasts into his palms. You arched into his touch, rocking your hips against him.

Leaning in, he ran his teeth over the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “Did you touch yourself in my bed?”

His breath was hot as it ghosted along the side of your neck, and you shivered as you admitted, “I...may have made a bit of a mess."

Santi snaked a hand between your bodies, cupping your mound to feel the wet, sticky remains of your orgasm. He pushed your panties aside just enough to dip a finger into your sensitive entrance, scooping up a glob of cum and licking it off.

“Good girl,” he murmured, cupping the side of your face and leaning in to kiss you.

Your chest heaved as his lips finally slotted against yours, quickly engulfing your mouth as he loosely wrapped a hand around your throat.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, you asked, “Should we go upstairs?”

Santi chuckled against your lips, brushing a thumb along your bottom lip. “No, because I think you want me to fuck you right here on this couch. That’s why you came down here, isn’t it?”

Heat flared in your gut as his gaze burned into yours, knowing all too well that after your risky romp in your dad’s backyard, part of you wanted to chase that thrill again. And you knew that if you told him that’s what you wanted, he’d do it.

So you nodded.

He reached up, sliding the shirt off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground as he leaned in, mouthing the space between your breasts.

“Get up, and bend yourself over the arm of the couch.”

His tone brokered no room for argument, so you clambered out of his lap, padding across the carpet and grabbing a throw pillow before folding your body over the side of the couch.

But before he could get up to follow, you reached out and placed a hand on his wrist from where he was still seated. “Wait.”

You let your hand trail over his thighs, pressing the heel of your palm into his erection, and he quickly understood what exactly you were getting at. Santi shifted so that he was kneeling on the cushion in front of you, and he tugged his t-shirt up and out of the way as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock as it sprang free. He sucked in a breath as you darted out your tongue to lap up the precum dribbling down the tip.

Santi’s hand came to rest at the back of your head as your lips parted around his cock, slowly taking him into the wet heat of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his length, swallowing him as deeply as you could and glancing up at him to make eye contact as you reached out to play with his balls.

Santi groaned, fingertips pressing into your scalp. “Can’t believe you can take my whole cock in that pretty little mouth. If I didn’t want your pussy so bad right now, I’d fuck your throat till you were choking on my cum.”

Clenching your thighs together as a fresh wave of arousal trickled through your body, you continued to bob on his shaft, saliva running down your chin as your lips engulfed him. After a few moments, Santi pulled himself out of your mouth before you drove him over the edge, sliding off of the couch and coming to stand behind you.

He began to firmly massage the globes of your ass with both hands before pulling aside the material of the thong nestled between your cheeks and spreading them wide. You dug your fingers into the couch cushion below you at the sound of Santiago spitting, letting out a huff of air as the glob landed right on your exposed tight ring of muscle.

“I was out to eat with your dad when you sent me that photo of you fucking yourself in the ass with a dildo, sweetheart,” he casually stated as he ran a finger over your puckered rim.

“I know,” you gasped out.

He tutted. “Maybe I should take you to the same restaurant this week. I’ll show you the bathroom stall where I had to go jerk off, and I'll stuff my dick in your tight little hole right there. You can spend the rest of lunch feeling my cum dripping out of your ass.”

You whimpered as he slowly began to press his finger past the rim. “Please.”

“I’ll fuck your needy cunt in my truck after, too. And then you can go back to your dad’s house and act like both of your fucked out holes aren’t full of his best friend’s cum,” he gritted out, voice wavering slightly as he slipped his entire finger into your ass.

Despite his initial reservations about your arrangement, Santiago had clearly reached the point of no return, prepared to embrace just how fucked up this entire situation was.

A sound of surprise left you at the feeling of him reaching down with his other hand to run his fingers through your folds before thrusting two of them into your entrance. You tugged the throw blanket down from where it was laying on the back of the couch, biting down hard on the edge of the material as Santi squeezed another digit into your ass, fingering both of your wet holes with fervor.

“You like having both of your holes filled, don’t you?” he questioned, voice rough.

“Feels so fucking good, Santi,” you nearly sobbed.

He worked a third finger into your cunt and your ass, and it took all of your willpower not to shout.

“Come for me again before I fuck you, cariño.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As he crooked a finger tightly inside of your pussy, the steady thrum of pleasure coiling deep in your gut unfurled rapidly, the ache between your thighs blooming white-hot as your climax gushed out of you—literally.

“Oh fuck,” Santi moaned appreciatively as clear liquid squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his arm.

Cock throbbing painfully with need at the sight, he hastily tugged you back onto the couch, placing you so that you were kneeling on the cushions and facing the back of it. He unclasped your bra, greedily palming at your naked breasts before reaching down and tearing your panties in two.

“I liked those!” you protested, whispering loudly.

He leaned in, biting the side of your neck. “I’ll buy you more, if you’re good.”

You wiggled your ass against his cock, feeling it brush against your cheeks. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Santi smirked, gently grabbing your chin and turning your head to the side to face him while wrapping his other hand around your neck. “That’s my girl. Now open for me.”

Clearly, your late night pleas via text message for Santi to “make you his little slut and spit in your mouth” weren’t forgotten, because the moment you parted your lips for him, he tightened his grip around your throat as he spat a glob of saliva into the back of your throat.

After you swallowed, he brought his lips to meet yours, kissing you hard as he reached down to line his cock up with your dripping entrance. You let your thighs spread further apart as he began to sink into your cunt, both of you groaning softly in unison at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of your slick walls.

He slowly pulled out of you, taking his time to let you adjust to his girth, but he paused as you pleaded, “Be rough with me, Santi.”

Running a thumb along the curve of your jaw, he warned, “You have to be quiet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to shut me up,” you retorted, roughly pushing back against him and rapidly sheathing his length in the warmth of your cunt once more.

He hummed thoughtfully, trailing two fingers along your cheek before swiping them across your lips. You darted your tongue out, licking the digits before taking them into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he crooned, pushing his fingers further in, urging you to suck on them as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts, hips snapping against your own.

A wave of heat spread under your skin as you desperately sucked on Santiago’s fingers, saliva running down your chin while he pounded into you, massaging your inner walls with his thick shaft at a brutal pace. Your nerves were on fire, and it was all you could do to keep from moaning as he jackhammered into you, the couch groaning in protest with each vigorous thrust.

He reached down with his free hand, and you gagged on the fingers lodged in your mouth as he slid two fingers back into your ass while he continued to roughly fuck you against the cushions. At that, you began to lose your composure, legs trembling and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried not to cry out. Feeling the telltale tightening of your muscles, Santi took his fingers back from where your lips were wrapped around them, instead clapping his hand firmly over your mouth to muffle the wail of pleasure bubbling up in your throat as your orgasm punched through you.

Hips stuttering, Santi plunged into you several more times before his own climax overtook him, and he left his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you, filling you to the brim with every last drop of cum that your cunt greedily milked from his shaft.

Once he was spent, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade as you both tried to catch your breath. When you eventually attempted to move, he shook his head, holding you in place as he pulled away from you, and you could feel as his cum began to leak from your hole, dripping down your thighs. Confused, you glanced back, only to catch a glimpse of the wink he tossed your way before leaning in, lapping broad strokes through your sensitive folds. You shivered at the overstimulation, the feeling of his tongue probing your entrance both too much and not enough all at once.

Santi froze as a creaking sound echoed from the hallway upstairs, and he cursed, quickly climbing up onto the couch and pulling you down, trapping you between his body and the cushions as he covered you both with a blanket. Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of your father descending the stairs, and you dared not breathe as Santi gripped your hips tightly while footsteps could be heard in the kitchen. Obscured by the darkness of the living room and the thick blanket you were burrowed beneath, you thought you’d probably be fine...as long as you didn’t move until your dad went back to bed.

—but Santiago clearly couldn’t resist a challenge.

He trailed a hand down your chest, cupping your mound, and you bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to hold back the whimper he almost drew out of you as he sunk two fingers back into your cunt.

“I want you to come for me one more time," he murmured.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfiction #dbf!santiago #dee writes

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justafandomgvrl · 10 months

Text

Cold Hands.

Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

just. cuteness. fluff. domestic santiago

cw: swearing. santiago’s hands are their own warning.

word count: 300ish. not proofread.

reader descriptions are at a minimum. just that you are shorter than him and have small hands and are from england.

You huffed into the air. You were finally on vacation, taking your boyfriend of a year to see your home. The sudden chill was very much unappreciated. By you, at least.

Santi was not bothered. In fact, he almost relished it after spending so long in a swelteringly hot country. He was sauntering around in a black tee, one that you were convinced he bought a size too small on purpose just to tease you.

He had taken pity on you already, you thought, wrapping his jacket tighter to your frame, tugging the sleeves down over your trembling hands. Santi looked over to you with a chuckle, shaking his head and pulling you into his side.

“Ay, hermosa, thought you were from here. What’s wrong?” He teased, leaning down to nuzzle against your neck. His stubble scraped your skin in the most delicious way, and you sighed.

“It’s colder than I remember.” You mumbled, and you prayed that the flush on your cheeks could be blamed on the wind biting at every exposed piece of skin. He heard you, of course he did, and he chuckled against your neck. He pulled your hands into his and his eyes widened.

“Shit, cariño, I didn’t realise you were this cold.” He said, wrapping his fingers around yours. His thumbs rubbed circles across the backs of your hands. “Should we get you some gloves? Do you have any with you? No, of course you don’t, if you did you’d be wearing them-” he broke off, noticing the way you were staring at him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen do much adoration in someone’s eyes before. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so…” you paused, chewing on your lip. “I love you, Santi.” He smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners as he moved one of his hands, gently stroking your cheek.

“I love you too. I’m glad we came here, even if you are freezin yourself to death out here.” He said with a chuckle. “Cmon, let’s get you done gloves, amor.” Your heart fluttered and he squeezed your hands, letting you lead him to the nearest shop.

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #triple frontier #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #x reader #drabble

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burstanddecay · 2 years

Text

Mine. (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!Reader) (18+)

Summary: Turns out, Santiago gets a little possessive when he notices someone else watching you the entire day.

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!Reader (no use of y/n) Wordcount: 2.4K Warnings: Teasing. Voyeurism. Some mild possessiveness/jealousy. There is a hint of a thing with a mirror, but that’s not what we’re here for. Little bit of dirty talk. No mention of a condom (established relationship) (please be careful IRL, loves). Honorary mention of Santi’s Shitty Knees™ This fic is not beta read. This work will be part of a holiday series I will reveal when I have it further established!

Dedicated to the lovely @dameronscopilot who caused severe Santi brainrot and was very lovely when I asked for some input 🧡

“I have been waiting to touch you all fucking night.”

You’re not quite sure if it’s the icy wind or the words that accompanies Santiago’s entry, but a shiver wracks through your body nonetheless. He closes the door behind him with more force than necessary, causing the window to rattle as he does.

“Tease,” he continues, stalking forward as if he were approaching prey. “Did you even notice that your nipples are visible through your top?

“Guess I didn’t,” you lie easily, bending down to take your heels off, the shoes hitting the floor with a clack. You had noticed: the eyes of your brother in law had been on your chest all night, practically burning a hole through the soft fabric of your blouse.

There had also been Santi’s hand, heavy as lead on your thigh throughout the night, smile tight towards said brother in law.

“His eyes were on you all night, cariño.”

“He’s done that ever since I’ve know him, Santi. He’s been dating my sister since I was 18,” you reply, not a single word of it a lie. “That’s what he does. He stares, asks if I have a boyfriend yet and proceeds to get drunk off two whiskey,” you continued as you step into the small bathroom, lighting the candle on the counter. You make a mental note to thank your mother: you didn’t count on her remembering that you hate showering with the overhead light on.

He follows behind you, leaning into the doorframe with his arms crossed, making eye contact in the mirror.

“Can you close the black out curtains?” you ask as you start to pull the collection of bobby pins from your hair, catching soft light of the garden lanterns behind Santiago from the corner of your eye. “Please?”

“Extinguish the candle,” he merely replies, voice so low it rumbles through the small space like a thunderstorm.

You pause, the final bobby pin hitting the counter. “What? Santi—”

He crashed into you, almost doubling you over the counter with the amount of force, his hands catching on the material of your blouse as he runs them from your waist up, cupping your breasts. Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes glued to the imagine in front of you.

There's something poetic about it: the dark figure behind you, clad in a tight fitting turtleneck crowding your space, hands creeping into your cream coloured blouse, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror.

“All day,” he starts, voice soft, breath ghosting across your skin. “All day, I have been watching him stare at you. His eyes following you. Knowing as well as I do that your nipples are visible through this top,” he says, thumb brushing over the lacy fabric of your bra. “You do know he wants to fuck you, right?”

You do know. You vividly remember the proposition he made when you were 21 and the way he cornered you the following morning when you told him no, begging you not to tell your sister. You hadn’t to this day: not for his sake, but for hers and hers alone.

You don’t reply, but wordlessly start unbuttoning your blouse as well as Santiago allowed, fully exposing the lavender bra beneath.

Santi’s expression remains neutral, but his blown pupils are the first giveaway that he is practising a surprising amount of self-restraint. He backs up ever so slightly, giving you a little more space as he pushes the fabric of your blouse past your shoulders, the garment pooling at your elbows, caught on the few buttons still done up at your waist. You know his expression is a façade: the second tell takes form of his cock against your back, achingly hard in his pants.

“So what are you going to do about it, Santiago?”

He falters for a split second, the moment so brief you almost doubt the reality of it. Time seems to freeze: you’re both suspended in the moment, waiting for the other to make the next move.

“Well?” you push.

In the blink of an eye, he turns you around, leaning past you to blow out the candle and tosses you over his shoulder in one swift motion, causing you to let out a loud yelp.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Santi, you’ll blow your knees out, you fucking idiot!”

“Don’t give a shit,” he replies curtly, exiting the bathroom and tossing you on the bed, where you land with an oof.

“If you don’t close the curtains, someone could see us,” you tell him, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he stands at the foot of the bed. His frame blocks the lamp behind him, the light casting a halo around him.

“I don’t care,” he growls, pulling his top off. “Who will see us? That asshole? Let him watch.” He tosses the shirt onto the chair in the corner of the room, not caring that the fabric immediately slithers to the floor. “Wouldn’t even surprise me if he actually did.”

You scoot down to the end of the bed, sitting back on your heels in front of him, laying your hands over his as they moved to unbuckle his belt. He pauses, dropping them to his side, his eyes on you, quietly watching.

“Do you really think,” you start slowly, pulling the leather strap free from the beltloops, looking up at him through your lashes.

He suppresses a shiver, something that might’ve gone unnoticed with someone else, but not with you. You can read him better than anyone, something he realises all too well. His eyes follow you as you rise, first onto your knees, then standing up at the foot of the bed, this time crowding his space instead of the other way around. Your fingers ghost over the waistband of his pants, tracing his cock through the fabric, pulling a strangled noise from his throat.

“That I would let him touch me, Santiago?” you finish your question, your lips brushing against the muddled grey stubble on the edge of his jaw. You smile, stepping past him as he lets out a breathless chuckle, pulling at the fabric of his pants in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

You finally finish unbuttoning your blouse, bending down to pick up Santiago’s disregarded top and placing both on the chair before moving to close the curtain, pausing for a split second when you spot a figure across the garden.

Watching from the living room of your parents’ home, you spot your brother in law, eyes firmly trained on the window of the small guesthouse you were standing in. You huff out a laugh, catching Santi’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as he presses against your back, brushing your hair aside before pressing his face in the crook of your neck, mouth trailing hot kisses on your skin.

You drop your head back onto Santi’s shoulder, revelling in his touch as one hand rests at the base of your neck, the other flat on your stomach, slowly creeping down.

“He’s watching, isn’t he?” he murmurs.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

The question floats in front of you, prickling the air like static electricity and for a moment, you weigh your options.

You can’t quite place the feeling clawing at your chest: you're desperately turned on, your lace panties no doubt ruined, but there was also wave of anger coursing through your veins, directed at the asshole your sister has married.

Then, before you’ve even finished thinking it through, you move forward, closing the sheer curtain with force, leaving the black out one alone. You turn the lamp at your side off, leaving only the one on the other side of the room lit. A shadow play would be the only thing visible, and only to someone that was purposefully watching.

He wouldn’t get to touch you, but you’d let him suffer a little, just for a little while.

“No.”

The single word confirmation is enough for Santi, his hand diving down, past the waist of your jeans, beyond the underwear that left nothing to hide.

“Fuck,” he moans lowly, voice rumbling through his chest. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” he breathes as a calloused finger brushes past your clit, causing you to hiss and clasp his arm. His hands dives down deeper and you can feel him grin against your shoulder as you try to bite back a moan, the sound strangled as it escapes your throat.

Santi may have been the one to proclaim that he has waited all night to touch you, but you were a goner from a moment he had appeared in that fucking turtleneck at the beginning of the afternoon.

Which he knew. He knew damn well what he did when he pulled it from the suitcase. He knew the way he filled it out, the fabric stretched tightly across his pecs and arms, years of active combat still visible on his body.

It wasn’t until after dinner that it fully hit you, when his hand had found its way onto your thigh, the casual display of possessiveness the definite cause of your ruined panties and the hot want burning in your lower stomach.

“Santi,” you whine, the sound breathless on your tongue. “Santi, please,” you beg when his fingers merely tease, one finger teasing at your entrance, his thumb brushing over your sensitive clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body but never quite helping to relieve the tight feeling coiling in your lower belly.

“Mhh,” he hums in reply, his free hand lightly trailing up and down your side. “Because you asked nicely.”

He picks up a steady rhythm, mouth on your shoulder, a low hiss breezing past your skin as one hand digs crescent moons into his forearm and the other tightly tangles in his curls.

You outright moan when he finally plunges two fingers inside, somewhat relieving the downright ache that had started to announce its presence, but not enough.

“Santi,” you whimper, hating how small it sounded. The want behind the word was far bigger than that: you needed more.

“What do you need, baby,” he rasps, reading your unspoken request, groaning when you push back, bringing both your attention to his rock hard cock, still trapped in his pants. “Fuck, don’t do that. Gonna blow my load— “

You ignore him, repeating the motion, unable to stop the whine that leaves your mouth as his rhythm pauses as he pulls his fingers out.

“I think that’s enough of that, no?” he asks lowly, his fingers glistening in the soft light as he brings them up, sucking them clean and releasing them with a vulgar pop.

He leaves his spot behind you and for a moment, you think this is it: playing games came at a risk, and today was the day you fucked around and found out.

You press your legs together as he moves past you. desperate to relieve your aching, sensitive clit and the empty feeling haunting you, lip almost quivering as you try to supress your disappointment.

What he does next, however, is close the black out curtain with force and turn back, crashing his mouth into yours, hands flying all over your body as he guides you to the bed, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed. He briefly pauses, working your pants down your legs, taking in the matching set on your body, the lace so sheer it does nothing to hide how turned on you are.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, wide grin spreading across his face. “You’re beautiful.”

His steps out of his pants and underwear, cock springing free, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“I’m about to ruin that set,” he confesses, giving himself a quick pump as he leans against the edge on the bed. “That’s far too pretty to take off your gorgeous body, baby.”

“Santiago—” you start, protests morphing into a hiss as he slides inside, having pushed your panties aside to gain entry. Where he normally has to take his time easing in before he can fit to the hilt, you’re so wet that he immediately slides all the way down, a slew of Spanish desperate as prayers brushing past his lips as he pauses for a second.

Your hands slide across his shoulder blades, eliciting a strangled noise from him, his arms trembling as he takes a deep, controlled breath.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah,” he replies, pressing his forehead against yours. “Don’t think I’ll last long.”

“That’s okay, baby. Take what you need.”

His picks up where he left off, fingers finding a steady pattern as he starts moving, one hand tangling with yours, fingers clasped together above your head as he coaxes his first orgasms from you, mutters praises as it crashes over you unexpectedly, shushing softly as you buck against his continued touch, unsure if the feeling was a welcome one or overwhelming.

He starts to stutter in his rhythm, a sign that his own climax wasn’t far out.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” he moans, his strokes getting deeper and more uneven. “You take me so well, are so good for me—”

“’s okay baby,” you tell him. “Come for me, baby. It’s okay. Want you to— want you to come inside,” you continue, voice breathy, the threat of another orgasm on the horizon as Santiago is unrelentless in his rhythm on your clit. “Fuck, Santi, please.”

“Yeah?” he asks, “Inside? So you can go sit at your family’s kitchen table tomorrow morning with my cum coating your thighs? Is that it?”

The orgasm that crashes over you is blinding, so overwhelming that you’re sure you black out for a second, feeling Santiago’s cum hot on your thigh as he pulls out, dropping next to you on the mattress, the pair of you breathing heavily as you catch your breath.

“Shit,” you laugh. “Don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life,” you confess. “Think I should make you jealous more often, baby.”

“Don’t,” he replies half-heartedly. “My dick ached the entire evening, you fucking tease. Had to tuck it into my waistband halfway through dinner, thought I was gonna have to—”

“Seriously?” you ask, looking over at him. “If you had said the word, Garcia, I would’ve found an excuse to leave far earlier into the evening.”

“Yeah, well. There’s no fun in that. Teasing is a two way street, baby,” he grins widely.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And yours,” he adds.

“And mine,” you agree, snuggling closer to his side and slinging an arm over his waist. “That, too.”

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia smut #pope garcia x reader #triple frontier smut #santiago pope garcia

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gosmigenergy · 11 months

Text

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Twenty-Three

( Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader )

BREEDING/IMPREGNATION / FANCY DRESS / FROTTAGE

Summary: Santiago Garcia doesn’t do Halloween so why has he insisted on taking you out to a fancy dress party?

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Sex party, mentions of drink, language, sex show, minor predator/prey, public sex, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), Dom!Santiago, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

You waited for Santiago to pull up outside before leaving the house. Hugging your coat to your frame, you tiptoe carefully on your boots across the lawn and into his car.

“Cold?”

“A little,” you say, sliding into the passenger seat. “The outfit you got me doesn’t cover much.”

“But it fits?”

Santiago knew your measurements like the back of his hand.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

You look him up and down, face scrunching. In comparison to you, he was dressed like he was going to a black tie dinner.

“So where’s your costume?”

“I’ve got a mask in the glove box.”

You hum distastefully.

He gave you that look, the one where if he was stood up he’d have his hand on his hips, head cocked, and you’d be very much in trouble.

“Do you still want to go?”

“Yes,” you blushed, “it’s just, I’m dressed like this, you’re dressed like that.”

“It’ll make sense when we get there.”

He wasn’t really one for Halloween so his invitation came as a surprise, especially when he said it was fancy dress.

Santiago Garcia doesn’t do fancy dress.

But with all the other boys busy with kid’s parties, getting into a cage fight or making a speech in some other state, you had limited choices. It was accept Santiago’s invitation or don’t celebrate the holiday at all.

He didn’t tell you much about it, offered to buy you the outfit and told you no fake blood or face paints, you had to dress appropriately or you wouldn’t be allowed to step through the doors.

The location was a drive out of town.

When the pair of you pulled up, a few other cars arrived and out came similarly dressed couples, pulling on masks to shield their eyes.

“Santi, what kind of party is this?”

He cleared his throat, not looking at you.

“It’s a sex party.”

“Oh,” your brows knot. “Do the boys know?”

“Will said no third parties, Fish wants us home by midnight.”

You continued to people watch, not one person appearing the same but plenty of lace, heels and long coats.

“We can head back if you want,” he spoke softly, bringing a palm to your thigh. “I don’t mind.”

Your intrigue pooled between your thighs.

“There’s no harm in taking a look.”

His eyes darkened when he looked at you, “That’s our girl.”

Santiago leaned over and popped open the glove box, two masks falling out with the motion. One was red, definitely intended for you, the other was in the shape of a wolf’s head including ears. He pulled his mask on before getting out of the car, ever the gentleman, he went to open your door.

Taking a breath, you put on the mask and stepped out, hand slipping into his seamlessly.

At the entrance, he squeezed your hand, analysing your face.

Of course, you were nervous, you couldn’t hide that but the smile you gave him reassured him that this was still ok. He plucked two tickets from his pocket and handed them over. You were both asked politely to put your phones in a zip lock bag and to hand over your coats.

Your eyes flitted to the reception area where women were already scantily clad, complimenting on each other’s body parts openly.

You could do this.

Santiago helped you out of your coat, wrapping an arm around your waist to escort you further. His breath teased hot at your ear.

“I knew you’d look fucking beautiful, honey.”

He chose wisely.

Your outfit was head to toe red, a cute babydoll that extenuated every curve and gently floated around you as you walked. You made sure to shape yourself into a neat triangle and found red heeled boots to go with Santiago’s clear theme.

You were Red Riding Hood and he was the Big Bad Wolf, the perfect predator / prey scenario he’d always imagined.

And you received some glances, fleeting yet full of desire.

“Shall we get a drink and have a look around?”

You nursed a drink in one hand, your other slipping into Santiago’s as you wandered round the old mansion.

It was grand with high ceilings and long flowing curtains. Music filled the spaces, lighting low and though everyone was bare, the rooms were dressed to the nines. People were already starting to accept their pleasure, lips meeting exposed skin, palms running over soft muscles. The noise of moans and sighs like the base tone of a song, it travelled through you and pulsated low.

Santiago squeezed your hand and broke you from your hypnosis.

“It’s a lot to process, isn’t it?”

You look at him with doe eyes, pupils blown.

Of course it was a lot, you’d heard about these sort of parties online, knew Santiago would probably go to one if the opportunity ever arose but you could never picture one. Not in all it’s textures, it’s heat, it’s vividness.

You nod feebly.

“They said there’s performers in the main hall.”

“Really?”

He smiled, you were cute when you were shocked yet undeniably curious. It was a look he’d admired every time he suggested something a little different in the bedroom.

“Come on,” he dragged you away from the bedrooms.

The main hall was all centred around a round stage piled with cushions and draped in a thin mesh, dressing the performers in a soft glow. There were two women and a man, hands dancing over each other’s skin.

Santiago wrapped an arm around you, hand fixed to your waist, pulling you near.

The pair of you stood enchanted by what was taking place in front of you. A combination of professional artists performed an erotic ritual, penetrating each other with a variety of toys before taking a man’s cock. They roamed each other’s bodies, fingers delicate over curves and muscle, much like how Will had touched you for the first time.

Your hand reached to Santiago’s crotch, his cock solid underneath tailored pants. You palmed and a growl rose deep from his throat.

“I need you,” you say so softly he only just hears you.

“Shall we make things a little interesting?”

What could be more interesting than fucking at a sex party?

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll give you a thirty second head start.”

Your brows knot, “To do what?”

Santiago glanced out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t need to tell you what.

“One, two, three…”

“What? That’s not fair, I’m not ready!”

“Eight, nine…”

Your hand breaks away and you run from the room as fast as your shoes allow, taking the first left up the flight of stairs.

The adrenaline kicked in quickly, your heart battering against your chest as you weaved through the spaces. You had an idea of being laid out, ready for him to come and take you but every bed you encounter was already full of heavy handed bodies.

Shit, you thought to yourself, taking the next set of stairs.

Thirty seconds must be up by now.

“Hey, baby girl…”

The terminology made your skin crawl even more than the guy who chose to block your path.

“Hey, sorry, I’m with someone.”

This wasn’t the time, Santiago wouldn’t be slow.

“What’s the matter? Daddy won’t let you play?”

Now you understood Santiago’s distaste to you calling him that, it was weird.

“Oh, we’re playing. Just not with you.”

You hurry away.

There were a few people wearing red, it was Halloween after all, however Santiago had something of a photographic memory. That’s what he said to you anyway.

He’d analysed the length of your babydoll and the shapes of the fine mesh, studied the height of the shoe you were wearing and how you did your hair. Even amongst the throngs of people, he knew what to watch out for.

Already, he’d guessed you’d taken the stairs, scouting every room on the first floor with no luck. You wouldn’t have stepped outside, there’s only so far you’d go even with him.

He climbed the next set of stairs.

“Looking for someone?”

Santiago took one look and the man who approached you earlier backed away. He didn’t care for anyone else, not when he knew he was hot on your tail. This guy would have spooked you, just a little, and you would have attempted to get as far away as possible.

You still couldn’t find anywhere for the pair of you to fuck. Sure, people would have gladly allowed you a place on the bed but you didn’t quite fancy another 6 people trying to get involved.

Time was almost up.

There was that sixth sense that told you Santiago was close, your nerves falling into arousal in your cunt.

You walked out of one room with a second glance and bumped straight into the back of Santiago. He didn’t give you chance to figure out who or what was going on until you found yourself pinned up against a vintage vanity.

He forced a knee between your legs.

He brings the joint to your pussy and notches it up slowly, rough material spreading on your soaking seam. You shudder, a sweet yet desperate squeak escaping your mouth as you grip to the woodwork.

It caught people’s ears, a few eyes peeking.

Santiago dropped his head, hot breath teasing your neck as he pressed his cheek to yours.

“Here will do just fine.”

He leaned back enough to meet your eyes before he crashed into your lips and took the air from your lungs.

It takes a couple of seconds to process what the fuck was happening then you relaxed. Your tongue begs at his lips to enter, his five o’clock shadow shredding at your chin.

He grabs your ass and boosts you on top of the vanity before pressing your chest to his.

You pull at his tuxedo jacket, letting it fall to a puddle at his feet. Clawing at the buttons of his shirt, he removes his lips from yours and brings them to your ear.

“How’s it looking?”

You press your plumping lips to the shell of his ear, ensure you give your building audience a show.

“There’s a lot of eyes on us,” you contain in a laugh.

He grabs your hair by the scalp.

“Turn around, honey.”

His hand doesn’t move as you follow his instruction, making sure your eyes stay only on him. He takes a step back and lets you prop your elbows on the vanity, legs spread and back arched. With his other hand, he runs down your spine, a shiver his reward. He rubs one butt cheek to prepare you for what’s next.

The sting only makes you wetter, your yelp drawing more attention.

Santiago’s weight falls to your back.

“Eyes on me.”

You stare at each other in the mirror.

He undoes his belt and pants, his cock slapping against your thigh.

“You ready for my cock?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding. Lining up, you push back on the tip of his cock, humming.

Santiago’s breath comes ragged, his fingers like talons in your flesh before he snaps his hips, burying his cock.

You gasp, moaning as he settles deep within you.

He yanks your head so your neck is straining, your breasts threatening to slip out of your babydoll. A smirk quirks on his lips as he pulls out slowly, your walls holding him tight.

He thrusts hard and fast, each one taking your breath away with his grunts filling the air. Your cunt pulses around him, your finger hooking to trace circles over your sensitive clit. The squelching of your arousal becoming louder and louder as Santiago’s cock hits that soft spot.

He snarls, returning to your ear.

“You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You mewl.

The force of his thrusts knocking the vanity over and over, the mirror shaking. You were beginning to see white spots, sweat clinging to your skin from the heat, chest flushed.

This was hot, so fucking hot.

“You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you choke. “Oh my god, yes!”

Santiago went harder, faster, stronger and each time you cried out with desire, your walls fluttering around him.

He filled you, coating your cunt with his load.

“Fuck,” he whispered sharply.

Your legs shook as his cock slid from within you, his creamy cum leaking to the sleek wooden floor.

‘That was so fucking hot.’

It was the only comment you heard when the crowd dispersed, it was the only comment you needed to hear.

Santiago trailed kisses along your back before nuzzling into your neck. You wrap an arm over to stroke the back of his head, a giggle caught in heavy breath.

“We should do this more often.”

He laughed, looking up to admire you in the mirror. Your hair is no longer the neatness as when you came in, your eyelids heavy from being absolutely cock drunk, a loose smile painting your face. Beads of sweat hung to your chest and your one breast had definitely broke free, your nipple a hard bud, the faint glint of your piercing.

And he fucking loved you as you basked in this high together.

Pressing a final kiss to your shoulder, he straightened up and tucked his cock back into his pants. You stretch before lifting yourself up, clinging to the edge of the vanity as your legs gave a slight wobble. Turning around you lean back and rest your ass down.

Santiago cupped your face in both hands, gently bringing his lips to yours. His energy had shifted, he was calm, his heartbeat steady as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue licked his bottom lip before he allowed you to enter his mouth briefly.

“You alright?” He asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheek bones.

You hum, giving a singular nod.

He didn’t believe you, his one brow arched as he roamed your face. You felt the temperature rise in your cheeks, his gaze that intense.

“I may need a little bit of help getting back to the car.”

“You want to go home already?”

He said, moving to the side of you, taking your hand in his as he started to walk.

“I thought we were just getting started.”

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #kinktober

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pimosworld · 6 months

Text

The ties that bind

Pairing- Dave York x f!reader x Frankie 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 wants you all to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI, NSFW, Smut,Fluff, shameless flirting, sexual tension, MMF dynamics, MM flirting, oral (f) receiving, unprotected piv, cream pie, aftercare

WC-5.9k

A/N- I’m sorry I made you guys wait so long for this but I promise it was worth it. We just have a few chapters left before I say goodbye to these three and I’m glad they finally figured it out.

[Main Masterlist][Series Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter VI

“I know you’ve explained it already but repeat it back to me.” You bite your fingernails as you pace in front of the couch.

“Honey I can explain it to you a thousand times, you’re still going to have to hear it from them.” Alicia says after her attempt at calming you down. The story Santi told her sounded so far-fetched you didn’t believe it at first and then you needed to hear it again to be sure.

“I just find it hard to believe they would go through such great lengths for me.” You narrowly miss the pillow she throws at your head from her spot on the couch.

“I told you about talking down on yourself.” She points a finger at you. “You’re a fucking catch and you have the upper hand so talk to them and see where it goes.”

****

It sounds easy enough but you weren’t even sure where to begin. You’re just glad your current predicament didn’t seem to be affecting Alicia and Santiago’s relationship. You loved seeing her so happy and told her not to worry about you. You had plenty of time to think since you spent most nights alone while he whisked her off on dates.

You were taking your sweet time responding to Dave and Frankie wanting them to squirm a little after what they put you through. You did appreciate their persistence. The daily good morning texts even with no response from you. Flowers overflowing your apartment and the record store. Your boss had stopped by on a rare occasion and raved about how you’d been decorating the place. You wanted to turn down the money he left knowing how expensive flowers were and you didn’t have it in you to even begin to explain where they all came from.

After a week and a half they were slowly wearing you down. Frankie sent you his attempt at a selfie while he was in the helicopter in his aviators. He cut off half his face but it still had you weak in the knees.

Frankie: image

Frankie: just in case you forgot what i look like

You wanted to respond so badly but you opted to just like the photo.

Dave:image

Dave: thinking of you

The extreme close up of the hummingbird practically brought tears to your eyes, but that could also be your hormones. You can see the vibrant colors on its back and the blur of its wings as it feeds from a petunia in the park.

It was inevitable that you were going to cave, but you wanted it to be on your terms. Over the course of the next week you spoke to both of them separately. You called them and heard both of their stories…the truth this time. As bizarre as the whole thing sounded you were relieved when their explanation matched up and you could tell they were being genuine. You’ve never heard two men apologize so much in your life.

Dave had to return home for a few days and Frankie was busy with work so you decided to meet at the end of the week to all talk in person about what you were going to do going forward.

****

“You’re gonna be late if you keep fussing with it.” Alicia says perched on your dresser as you fidget with the little black dress she let you borrow. As uncomfortable as it was in the beginning, wearing her clothes always brought out another side of you.

“I’m just taking a page out of your book.” You point at her in the mirror. “Fashionably late…plus I want them to squirm a little.”

She stares at you with an incredulous look on her face. “What have I done to you?”

In all honesty she’s given you a boost of confidence that you sorely needed over the years of your friendship. You’ve learned to ask for the things you want and not take no for an answer. You’d spent years being told you weren’t good enough or didn’t fit the part by your step mom and your ex and ultimately the rejection from your dad had you really believing those things were true.

Anyone else may have grown tired of constantly reminding you that you deserve to take up space. She never did and would be there every step of the way to prove it to you time and time again.

You suppose that’s why she’s such a good fit for Santi. He needed someone to be his match, to challenge him when no one else would. To show him what it was like to laugh again and enjoy the little things.

You put the finishing touches on your makeup as she hops down from the dresser. “You call me either way.”

“Of course.” You wave your phone in front of her face as she crosses her arms.

“Just know I’m extremely jealous of you right now.” She trails behind you as you make your way to the front door a little wobbly in your heels.

“Nothing to be jealous of…this could all crash and burn in my face.” A sudden wave of fear waves over you at the prospect but you shove that down.

“I highly doubt that hon.” She spins you once and places a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She’s leaning precariously in the doorway as you step out into the hallway.

“Would you do this?” You ask sheepishly.

“In a heartbeat.” The door shuts in your face and you’re left in the quiet. Only the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echo as you head to the elevator.

****

“If you’re gonna keep fussing with your tie you might as well not wear one.” Dave says as Frankie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt.

They’re sitting in the lounge where you all agreed to meet to discuss things and Frankie hasn’t been this nervous since his pilots exam. Dave is the picture of calm as he relaxes back in the blue crushed velvet seat.

“Where am I gonna put it?” Frankie aggressively rips the tie from his neck.

“Put it in your pocket or something.” Dave bites out as he leans forward to take a sip of his drink.

The two of them probably look ridiculous sitting here bickering. It’s been an uncomfortable few minutes since they finished their conversation about how the night could go.

Frankie was preparing for you to tell him that you would need to think things over for awhile since they lied to you initially and he didn’t come to you genuinely and say who he was from the beginning.

Dave was prepared for you to tell him that you were obviously going to choose your soulmate and that he was a creep for leading you on and basically stalking you in the process. He seems calm on the outside but inside he’s cursing the thought of returning to his lonely life of helping others find what he so desperately missed.

Frankie leans forward as he glances at his watch. “We said seven right? It’s been a little while.” He wrings his hands together nervously. “What if she doesn’t show?”

Dave swirls the glass in his hand as he looks over at Frankie. “Relax…she’ll be here.”

They both turn their heads as the sound of heels on marble floors sound in the room.

****

It’s serendipitous walking into the hotel lounge where weeks ago you and Alicia tried and failed at finding love. The very same lounge where you both decided that this was it and you were probably going to end up marrying each other and riding off into the sunset.

You see them before they see you.

Dave is sitting back in the chair, legs spread wide with a glass of amber liquid twirling in his hand. He’s wearing a fitted black suit with his hair combed back. Frankie looks about as nervous as you feel as he leans forward muttering something to Dave. You can’t hear his reply but he looks unbothered. He’s ditched his signature cap and his loose brown curls are styled somewhat to frame his face. He’s got on black slacks and his white dress shirt is unbuttoned a little so you can see a sliver of his tan chest peeking out. If you were a weaker woman you’d forgo any conversation and ask for Dave’s room key right now.

It’s the click.click.click of your heels that brings their attention to you as you approach the table.

****

“Holy shit.” Dave speaks first and for all his practiced effort to keep it cool his resolve quickly crumbles as he sees you approach wearing something entirely not you but such a welcome surprise.

He would tell Frankie to close his mouth if his wasn’t hanging agape at the short silk, black dress. The barely there straps that he could break with his teeth and the front plunging low enough to see your sternum.

You’re standing there expectantly and he quickly realizes neither have them have spoken a word since you waltzed up to them.

Just as Frankie is about to speak a waiter appears at your side. “Excuse me miss, would you like something to drink?” His eyes linger over you a second too long Dave’s nostrils flare in annoyance.

“Gin and tonic with lime please.” You say politely as you sit in the open seat in front of them. Doing your best to cross your ankles to not give them a view you’re not ready for. The dress rides up your thighs as you sit on the soft velvet seat and Frankie’s eyes flit briefly to them as he clears his throat and adjusts in his seat.

You’ve barely said a word and you’ve got both men wrapped around your finger. You’re completely unaware of the predicament you’ve been in since your little stunt at the country bar and this is only making it worse.

“So I suppose you both have some things to say before I tell you my thoughts.” There’s a slight air of confidence to your tone as you survey both men.

Frankie glances at Dave before clearing his throat. “Listen, I'm sure you’re sick of hearing our apologies.” You nod once before letting him continue. “I still have to say I’m sorry for lying to you. I wrongly assumed you would just toss Dave aside.”

“Thanks.” Dave responds dryly and you have to suppress your laugh. It’s obvious they’ve formed some sort of connection that hopefully plays into your favor.

The waiter returns with your drink trying to gauge whatever interaction is playing out in front of him. You all awkwardly wait until he’s out of ear shot to continue.

“Anyways…everything else I told you was the truth. Including the fact that I think I’m falling in love with you.” The last part is rushed out as your eyes go wide. A small part of you thought you might be moving too fast, but the feelings you were developing for both of them were hard to deny.

Frankie wishes the floor would swallow him up whole right now. His practiced speech went out the window when he saw you walk in the room.

You take a sip of your drink and direct your attention to Dave.

“I don’t regret what I did.” Dave states matter of factly as Frankie brings his head up from staring at the floor. Of all the things you expected him to say it certainly wasn’t that. “If I could do it all over again the only thing I would do differently is tell you who I was as soon as Frankie met you.” His voice is low as he leans in a little closer. “Even if you never want to speak to me again, I’m glad I did all those things for you and I never lied when I said I care about you a lot. So much that it scares me.”

You finish the rest of your drink and sit back in your seat. This is really starting to feel like an episode of the bachelor and if they don’t accept your proposal you suppose more than one person is going to get hurt.

“Well…” You fidget with your hands momentarily as your voice shakes a little. “I appreciate your honesty…even if it’s a little late. I’m relieved to know that you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Frankie feels like he can breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself.

“I’m not choosing.” You say with finality and Dave raises an eyebrow at you from across the table. “I don’t think I should have to after what you two put me through. So if you want out, now is your chance.”

****

You’re all three or four drinks deep, now the only ones in the hotel lounge. You’ve been swapping horrible dating stories and they’ve been swapping some more classified stories that you don’t care to remember for fear of your personal safety. These two unassuming and charming men have seen some things in their lifetime that you would never have imagined. It’s thrilling in a way to know how dangerous they are but when it comes to you they’re inculpable.

Neither one budged when you told them you weren’t going to choose and now that you’re sitting here a little more comfortable sharing the loveseat with Frankie as Dave relaxes back in the chair next to you it almost seems like this is how it was supposed to be.

Frankie’s strong hands rub small circles along the exposed part of your thigh. “So he calls you hummingbird?”

“That was our secret.” You say playfully to Dave as he brushes his fingers along your knuckles.

“Well, you share the tattoo with Francisco so I figured I should tell him.” He turns your hand over in his tracing the lines of the tattoo on your wrist.

“You don’t have to call me Francisco.” Frankie’s breath is hot on your neck as he’s moved a little closer to you.

“What if I want to?” Dave’s voice is anything but innocent as you watch a moment pass between him and Frankie.

This could work.

Frankie leans in whispering something as his lips brush your ear. He has to resist biting it as he sees the goosebumps raise on your skin at the close contact. Something in the air has shifted throughout the night and he’s done trying to overthink it.

“Who’s telling secrets now.” Dave grabs your foot that was trailing up his leg, your heels have been long discarded. His hands start to kneed and rub and you have to stifle a moan at how good it feels.

“I was just telling her what hummingbird means in Spanish…so we can have our own little name.” Frankie’s feeling bold as he kisses your neck. “Isn’t that right?”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the sensation of both of their hands on you but a pleasant buzz is running through your body.

A throat clears behind you and you lean your head back against Frankie as you lock eyes with the waiter. He looks a little annoyed but straightens up Dave and Frankie put their attention on him.

“The lounge is closing for the night so-“

“Charge it to my room please. Dave York, Capri Penthouse suite.” Dave cuts him off and he’s gone before he could finish his sentence.

It’s quiet for a moment as you wait to see who’s going to speak first. You definitely don’t want the night to end yet but you have no idea where their heads are at. You exhale and look them dead in the eyes before you lose the courage to say what you’ve been wanting since they both walked into your lives.

“I want you both.” They nod at each other but you’re certain they don’t interpret your true meaning.

“We’re yours.” Dave says genuinely as he looks at Frankie.

“Tonight.” It’s not a question, more of a statement as they both look at you wide eyed. Frankie tenses behind you and Dave’s shocked expression has you a little worried. It’s bold and so unlike you, you’re sick of doing the predictable thing. You want them and they clearly want you so these are your terms.

Dave slides forward in his chair. “You’ve been drinking…” he whispers as if you’re not the only ones left in the lounge. “We don’t want to take advantage.” He emphasizes we….assuming Frankie feels the same and he nods at him.

“We’ve all been drinking… and I made up my mind last night.” You gather your purse in your hand and start to stand. “Unless you don’t want to and we can discuss this at a later…”

“No.” “No.” You have to chuckle at their sudden enthusiasm.

Frankie’s mind already starts to wander to all the things they could do to you. Things they could show you. All the ways he could make you come apart. Two hands are better than one and four hands….

It’s a little shocking to Dave that this scenario had never crossed his mind but it’s clear neither of them were about to let this opportunity pass them by, if even for one night.

“I’ll give you two a moment to talk, I need to make a phone call.” You walk just out of ear shot to call Alicia who is no doubt picking up on the first ring.

****

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” You can hear her sigh and probably shaking her head on the other end of the line.

“Clothes!…that’s what you’re worried about right now? I will bring you a change of clothes in the morning if you manage to pull this off.”

You’re standing at the edge of the lounge door, not wanting to turn around and see whatever heated conversation could be going on behind you.

“I’m mostly stalling, and mentally preparing myself to call a ride home in case they think this is crazy.” This is crazy right, how was this the next logical step in your brain. It all sounded right bouncing around in your head throughout the week and now your nerves seem to be getting the best of you.

“Deep breaths…I doubt anyone with two eyes would turn down and offer like this.” Alicia mumbles something incoherent on the other end but you can take a guess as to what she may have said.

You duck your head as some loud guests enter the lobby heading back to their room after a night on the town. You don’t know why you’re shying away, it’s not as if they could possibly know what’s going on behind you.

****

“You said this would go one of two ways.” Frankie says as he fidgets with the label on his empty beer.

“I know what I said…it’s just of course I didn’t expect…do you not want-“ Dave’s brief moment of clarity cuts through the sexual tension. Not even realizing what he’s asking of Frankie who’s already given up so much.

“No, of course I want this.” His voice is sure and it’s the first time he actually says out loud the thing he’s been thinking since that first day in the coffee shop when he met Dave. Nothing in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined him here in this exact scenario.

They’re both quiet for a moment, a little hesitant after admitting something that most men wouldn’t be brave enough to counter. It feels like that moment when you’re lucid and you don’t want to wake up because the dream is just too good. The lights in the lounge are perfectly dim casting a shadow along the walls. You’re standing there against the doorway, looking adorable and exposed in your shirt black dress and your heels haphazardly buckled because you didn’t want to walk barefoot away from the proposition you just dropped in their waiting laps.

“Have you ever?” Dave asks timidly no ridicule evident in his tone.

“Yes, but I didn’t care about them this way.” Once or twice when he was stationed overseas because Pope wrangled him into it, long before he was married. “I doubt she ever has.”

Dave surveys you for a moment as you chance a look over your shoulder. “There’s no need to rush this, if this isn’t going to be the only time. I think it’s fair if you take the lead.”

Frankie should be nervous or anxious at the prospect of your first time together being watched by Dave. There’s something else drumming below the surface as his voyeuristic tendencies start to rear their head. Frankie adjusts himself trying to hide his excitement as Dave’s eyes linger too long on him.

****

You’re glad you walked away to give you and them a moment to collect yourselves. You didn’t want to be present for any uncomfortable conversation if either of them decided this was just too much.

You can see it in their eyes as you approach, it’s clear what decision they’ve made.

“So boys…are we doing this?”

Frankie stands and takes your hand in his as Dave slides the room key out of his pocket. “Baby…we’re all yours.”

****

“You wore this to talk?” Dave’s fingers lift the strap of your lace bra as he slides down, brushing his thumb across your nipple through the soft fabric.

“What can I say? I like to be prepared.” You bite your lip as small goosebumps raise across your skin.

Frankie has to shake his head at the sentiment. The act you put on is not as innocent as he previously thought. Maybe your friend gave you a little push in the right direction.

He’ll have to thank her later when she doesn’t want to kill him.

Both of them standing in front of you, patiently waiting for your next move has you feeling a little exposed.

Dave can sense some hesitation from you, you’re staring anywhere but at them as your hand covers your stomach.

His hand cups your face, as he brushes his thumb across your jaw. “We don’t have to do this hummingbird.” You can see it in his eyes, how deeply he cares for you in that moment.

“No, I want to…it’s just. I’ve never done this before.” You gesture between the two men and laugh a little.

They both hold such serious faces then, not wanting to make a joke of your vulnerability. You are opening this part of yourself to both of them.

Dave leans in, his lips brushing yours as you melt into the kiss. He turns your jaw slightly and Frankie is at your side, his large palm replacing yours across your stomach and then caressing your hip.

His forehead meets yours for a moment, just breathing you in before he dives in for a kiss. It’s like shockwaves whenever you touch him, the feeling skates down your spine into your toes and you’re leaning into his touch.

Dave presses you impossibly closer, the growing bulge in his pants pressed against your back and the added pressure of his hand kneading your breast. You reach your hand back, reveling in the way Dave moans into your ear as you palm his cock through his jeans. The other hand tangled in Frankie’s hair as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth.

“We’re gonna take real good care of you baby, aren’t we Dave?” His breath ghosts over your lips in a whisper.

Dave just hums in response, he’s letting Frankie take the control. He wants him to have this with you. He’s already been given the world, now's not the time to get greedy.

“Lay down on the bed.” Frankie hooks his finger around you, making quick work of your bra before he lets you go.

You haven’t been this exposed for anyone since your ex and he used to look at you in disgust, all the tattoos that weren’t his.

They’re staring at you now like a painting in a museum. It almost takes your breath away at the thought of him finally seeing his artwork adorned on the body meant solely for him.

“Jesus…you’re beautiful.” Frankie half whispers to himself as you sit on the edge of the bed, gesturing to their clothes.

They almost mirror each other as they strip their dress shirts and slacks. You’re practically salivating at the two of them stripped down to their matching black boxers and tan bodies. Dave looks over to Frankie and whistles and you can see the red flush creep up his neck. It’s a relief to know you weren’t the only one this nervous.

Frankie nods his head and Dave takes the spot behind you against the pillows. He crooks a finger at you to join him and you crawl over settling in the spot between his legs. You lay your body back against him and you can feel his hard cock through his boxers as he adjusts to get you more comfortable.

“We’ll go slow…this time.” Frankie says as he crawls on the bed, fitting his broad shoulders between your legs. His fingers hook into the lace of your panties as he slowly slides them down your legs. His eyes are dark as he sets them on his prize and you swear you see him lick his lips.

Your ex would go down on you occasionally but you could tell he was unsure of himself and so you never really could enjoy it.

Frankie takes his time as he kisses at your stomach and nips at your thigh. Dave’s strong hands knead your breast and you giggle a little as he whispers in your ear that he knows you’re ticklish. The laughter dies in your throat as Frankie licks a stripe through your slit. His groan reverberates through you as you let out a soft whimper. Your senses are on overdrive as Dave’s hands work your body and Frankie’s mouth devours you whole.

Frankie doesn’t care that he has to share with the way you’re looking at him and the sweet noises you’re making he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. You cry out his name as your hands tug on his curls. He’ll do anything to have you say his name a thousand times over while his face is buried between your thighs. “Fuck…Frankie I’m gonna come.” You pant out between breaths.

“Come for me hermosa, I want to hear you.” He dips two fingers into your pussy as his tongue works circles around your clit.

Dave’s not sure how he thought tonight would go. He hoped you would forgive them both and maybe find a way for everyone to get what they want. He didn’t expect to have you splayed out in front of him while Frankie takes you apart.

He’s always thought himself confident in the bedroom but he may have to ask Frankie what exactly he’s doing to elicit these noises. His cock twitches at every moan and whimper as you squirm against him.

You arch your back into him and whine, he can tell you’re close the way your whole body shakes.

“I’ve got you baby, you can let go.”

It has to be Dave in your ear because Frankie hasn’t come up for air. You can feel the coil tighten inside as your fingers grip his hair. He growls as you pull him closer.

He’s missed this feeling, the craving for someone so bad you can feel it in your gut.

He can taste it on his tongue, the moment you break and cry out his name. Your voice is hoarse and he’s barely had his fill of you.

He looks up from between your thighs and locks eyes with Dave. Your chest is heaving as he holds you close trying to calm your breathing. there isn’t an ounce of regret in the way he’s looking at you both. Like this is exactly what’s been missing from his life.

Frankie rubs his hands down your body, slowly bringing you back to him. He kisses that crease of soft skin before he raises up and captures your lips in his, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Don’t you taste so good?” He rasps against your lips.

“Mhm.” Is all you can manage as Frankie squeezes your thigh, dimpling your skin between his fingers.

“I think Dave wants a taste.” Frankie nudges you back as Dave moves down beside you.

You can feel Frankie take the spot on the other side as Dave takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Gently holding you there while you catch your breath. When he presses his lips to yours it’s softer than you would imagine. The hard set line of his jaw and his intense stare don’t let on to the tender touch of his hand.

His hand drifts from your chin to cup the back of your head further deepening the kiss as you both moan at the sensation. He’s achingly hard against your stomach as he rolls his hips into you, pulling you impossibly closer.

You reach down and palm him through his boxers but he carefully grabs your hand pulling it up to his lips, placing a kiss to your palm. “Not tonight hummingbird.” You tense up at the slight rejection but he’s quick to assure you. “You’ve already made me the happiest man alive, I can be patient and wait my turn.” He looks over your shoulder to Frankie with some unspoken words as they effortlessly roll you to face him.

Frankie’s hair is a wild mess as you reach over and run your fingers through it. “Sorry about this.”

Dave laughs as he presses his lips to your shoulder. “I don’t know, I kinda like it.”

If there was a competition on who could make Frankie blush, Dave would be winning by a landslide.

Frankie suddenly looks a little shy. “We can stop now, if you want too.”

“No Frankie…I need you.” You surge forward and kiss him as you feel two fingers dip into your entrance. A small gasp leaves your lips as Dave works your open. Frankie’s pulling his boxers down in one swift movement as you try not to balk at the sheer size of him.

“I’m gonna go slow okay?” His breath fans across your face as you nod. Dave groans behind you as he pulls his fingers out dragging them slowly up and circling your clit. You whine and drop your head back on his shoulder as he lifts your leg over Frankie’s hip.

You only let the two of them talk briefly about tonight and yet it’s like they’ve mapped it out for weeks. They have the blueprint to your body’s every need and they work together like they’ve studied you for years. You’re not afraid to call it what it is anymore…it feels even more than love to you the way you all fit within each other. Dave at your back and Frankie at your front, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

Frankie reaches between you to grip his cock, sliding the tip between your lips as you shudder. He pushes in slowly, experimentally rolling his hips as you grip his shoulders. Dave is nearly silent behind you as he places his hand along your abdomen, feeling the way you breathe. You grit your teeth at the slight pain that gives way to pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt. You wait there a moment, your foreheads pressed together as he tries to catch his breath.

“Frankie please…” A stray tear rolls down your face as the sensation takes over your body. The feeling of Frankie’s cock inside you has you clenching around him.

“Fuck me…” Frankie hisses and Dave has to chuckle at the sentiment of you fucking him. “You’re so tight baby.”

Frankie starts a slow agonizing pace and you can feel every ridge and vein as he drags his cock in and out, his eyes flit down to where you’re connected so he can watch the way your pussy takes him so well. He’s not going to last the way you feel right now and the way Dave’s looking at him. You bury your head into his neck, crying out his name as he picks up the pace, his grip tightens on your hips as Dave squeezes your stomach making Frankie jerk his head up to him.

He can feel him and he knows it, your legs pull him in further as you match his thrusts and he finally locks eyes with Dave. He can see it in his eyes and he hopes he’s not wrong as Frankie leans in kissing him feverishly. He’s dizzy with the scent of you and Dave on his tongue.

“Oh fuck Frankie.” You’re shaking as you whine into his neck.

“You gonna come for me?” Dave’s voice cuts through the moans and sharp breaths and Frankie doesn’t know who he means but he’s dangerously close.

Dave’s hand trails down from your stomach to rub your clit, his hand is pressed between your bodies and Frankie bites down on his lip to keep from coming right then, he wants to wait for you. He has too.

It’s delirium having them all over you, inside you. You open your mouth as a silent scream leaves it, Frankie’s lips are on yours breathing it in as you come apart in his arms. You can feel his hips stuttering as Dave grips his arm. “Mierda, díme.”

“English Francisco.” Dave grits out behind you.

“Come inside me please…” Frankie groans as he pulses hot ropes of cum inside your pussy as you flutter with the aftershocks. You can feel a warm wet spot on your back as you cling to Frankie, his cock still pulsing inside you as you whimper at the overstimulation.

It takes you all a minute to come down from your high and Dave rolls out of the king size bed to the en-suite bathroom. Frankie’s kissing your sweat soaked forehead as you rub circles on his back, still tangled up in him.

“Okay lovebirds, I need to clean you up.” Dave says as he dips onto the side of the bed, wiping your back carefully with a warm washcloth. You glance at him over your shoulder as he blushes. “Not a word.” You laugh and mock zipping your lips.

There’s a moment after he’s done where you’re unsure where to go from here. You can tell Frankie feels the same as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Dave clears his throat as he takes his spot on the other side of you. “Generally speaking people sleep under the covers.” He pulls them back as you and Frankie deflate, his relieved smile etched across his face. It feels right between them, maybe a little hot at the moment but you know it’s where you’re supposed to be.

You nestle in between the two of them as your eyes start to drift off to sleep.

“Hermosa?” Frankie’s sleepy voice sounds from behind you. “You speak Spanish?”

“In a pinch.”

Dave snorts into the pillow as you both burst out into laughter. Ya this feels right

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