#chubby frankie rights !!!!!
Note
Some angst??? Idk. Maybe there’s something here. You decide.
This is after Frankie tells mouse that he is as big as he wants to get. Mouse, being the wonderful partner she is, listens to his request and stops encouraging any extra ~indulging~ to help him maintain/lose weight.
BUT each time they pass a gelato shop without going in or mouse says no to a dessert menu, it stings. It’s as if he’s been left hanging for a kiss or like he’s been left on read.
Food has become an avenue of affection, and now that it’s closed he’s realizing how much it means to him. And even though he’s the one that asked for this, he feels like he’s going crazy being denied in this way.
To Nonnie, Love Beefro
The bitch is back. Need we say more?
--------<3---------
Beefro Proudly Presents:
a Chubby!Frankie one shot
The Catfish & The Mouse: All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader
Summary: A communication breakdown causes a lot of angst.
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)
Word Count: 3,546
Content Warning: weight talk, angsty angsty, self esteem issues, communication breakdown, allusions to oral (f-receiving), feederism talk, car smut, masturbation, p in the v, established relationship
Author's Notes: I know this deviated from the original ask, but I hope this suffices, Nonnie. It's not as sweet or innocent as I think you were looking for. Thank you @xdaddysprincessxx for beta'ing & offering ideas! Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for also beta'ing & being their every awesome supportive self.
Things were rough, that much was true. After the night that Frankie had confided in you that he felt he was big enough then thinking out loud about how maybe he was getting too big, you’d done your best to keep his meals at standard portions and not offered anything indulgent to him.
On a Saturday, Benny had stopped by to return the snow shovel he’d borrowed from Frankie. Having not seen him in a while, you stepped back into the house to let the guys catch up. But you heard everything through the kitchen window as the guys chatted in the backyard.
“Fish! Holy shit! You losing weight? Last I saw you, you looked... you were bigger!”, Benny chirped with a huge smile on his face, patting Frankie on the shoulder.
“Yeah... well, you know... was getting pretty big... wanna keep the Mrs. Happy...”
You almost dropped the knife while you were chopping vegetables.
You peaked out the window and saw Benny’s face twist in confusion as he looked at Frankie. “I... dude, I thought... I mean, if you’re serious about it, I could always use your help. Trying to become a personal trainer... you know, I need to personally train someone...?”
It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t specifically said to you that he might be too big, but the way you jumped at his words and completely changed how you fed him – how you cared for him – was jarring. To see his portion sizes shrink so quickly and not be offered a dessert was disappointing for him. At the rate you changed everything, he couldn’t help but feel that you had wanted him to lose weight. Were you embarrassed to be seen with him like that? Were you glad to have a smaller partner? Did his body disgust you and were you doing a good job being supportive?
Frankie’s mind would churn and whirl through every insecurity almost nightly as you slept peacefully next to him. When Benny offered to help him slim down further, he thought you would be happier, but it only made him feel worse about himself, and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t want to disappoint you.
Almost four months since Benny offered, Frankie had shrunk. Not by mass proportions, but enough that his silhouette was definitely smaller. It could have been because he wasn’t constantly heaving around a big, full belly anymore, but his clothing was no longer pulled tight across his middle. You did your best not to say anything about his body or comment on his eating, and despite your disappointment at his changing physique, you kept up a supportive and positive attitude. You had no idea that withholding that was eating Frankie up inside.
The positive side of this was that Frankie’s broad shoulders were definitely broader and his arms were thicker and more muscular. But Frankie was miserable; he missed how you looked at him adoringly as he ate, or how you would squirm under his weight. He’d pulled away and was irritated almost all the time when he was home. He'd barely touched you in the past two months, and it left you wondering why he had become so removed. You’d tried talking to him, crawling onto his lap in nothing but a smile, but he’d declined, saying something along the line of being tired. Needless to say, the dejection had caused your vibrator and dildo collection to increase.
Frankie texted you on a Friday evening and said he was going to the gym with Benny, and you could eat without him. Your heart sank when you read the message and you ate your pathetic peanut butter and jam sandwich alone at the table. Your sadness quickly turned to anger with a smack of horniness; he’d gone from needing to make you scream his name and come on his hands, mouth and cock almost daily to barely looking at you, and you had only done what you thought he wanted you to. Not bothering to clear the table, you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed one of your toys from the drawer. It was a newer one that was specifically used on your clit, and it was the closest thing to his mouth you could get. Not bothering to look at the time, you got to work, making yourself whine and pant, starting the ritual you’d created every time you missed his touch.
You were so engrossed and close to climax that you didn’t hear Frankie’s truck pull up or the door open. You didn’t hear him come down the hallway because he no longer called out your name; he had stopped doing that a month ago. You didn’t hear him standing in the hallway, rocking between his feet anxiously, listening to you pulling those sounds that he used to out of your mouth. You didn’t hear the hurt that was boiling over into frustration and anger in his mind.
You did, however, hear the bedroom door open as you came, and when your eyes met his, you barely recognized the broad, angry man standing in your doorway.
“What. The. Fuck.”, he snarled through gritted teeth. In his heightened state, he couldn’t differentiate whether his anger was at you for what you were doing or at him for not willing to do it to you himself.
“Frankie... baby... hi...”, you said softly, reaching your hand out to him, beckoning him to join you.
“What the FUCK is that?”, he barked, clearly hurt, and pointing to the vibrator in your hand.
You jumped at his harsh, loud tone, then closed your legs and pulled your knees to your body. Swallowing hard, you tried to find your voice, “Honey... I just... I needed...”
He stepped into your room, his hulking form at the end of the bed. His eyes darted between your face and the vibrator. For the first time ever in your relationship, he felt unneeded and replaced. Betrayal broke out on his face, and he yelled, “You needed what? To replace me? Let me know I can’t keep you happy, so you put of a fucking show for me to come home to?”
This was not your Frankie. Why was he mad? He’d never been angry before when he’d walk in on you masturbating in the past. He used to take it as the warm up act before he got to the main event, even telling you to finish for him before he got involved.
“Baby... honey, no! I could never replace you! I just... I wanted a release... I didn’t think it was a big deal!”
“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding this from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?”
You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it.
“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to-to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!”
He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room.
After having a shower in the guest bathroom, you’d crawled into the guest bed and tried to sooth yourself by scrolling through your phone. It was only once you heard Frankie come back into the house that you put your phone down. You saw his shadow pass the guestroom door, heading to your room, and then come back out and hover in front of the door. You wanted to call out to him, but it seemed fruitless. He’s turned down so many of your advances and chances to open up, you figured this was it. If he wanted it, he had to make the move.
Your heart broke for a second time that night as the shadow retreated back down the hallway, and you heard your bedroom door close.
Your night was restless; you tossed and turned, never able to find a spot that was comfortable. By the time morning light was pouring in through the window, you’d resigned to the fact that you were not going to get more than a few hours of sleep.
As you laid in bed, trying to decide how to tackle the awkwardness that was sure to come from your next interaction with Frankie, your phone buzzed and your heard his buzz, too, from the next room.
Calendar Reminder! - 12:00 pm – Taste of the Town! Food Truck Festival
You groaned quietly, turning off the reminder. You’d bought tickets months ago for this, before Frankie’s health kick, at his request. You’d already made up your mind that he wouldn’t want to go – you weren’t going to make him – and opened up your messages to ask the group chat if anyone wanted the tickets.
As you typed, a notification popped up from Frankie.
You still wanna go?
You were stunned. You knew he knew you’d read the message, and you wanted to answer, desperately clawing at any shred of attention he was willing to give you, but he was still on your shit list.
Was gonna ask the guys and Hannah if they wanted the tickets. Assumed you wouldn’t want to.
Through the walls, you heard him get out of bed and rip open the bedroom door. You got out of bed and waited for him to come bursting through the guestroom door, but instead he knocked.
“Mouse? I-I think... I want to go with you. Might be fun, baby...”
His voice was soft and pleading, and it made you melt. But you wanted an apology, an explanation!
“It’s okay... I know it’s not your thing anymore...”
The door opened up and Frankie stood in front of you with an adorable pout on his face.
“No. I want to go. With you. I want to go with you.”
You’d conceded and now that you were standing outside in the sunshine with Frankie as he ate a hot dog, you were glad you did. While the conversation was a bit awkward and stilted, he was at least talking to you.
You mind wandered, watching the other happy couples walking hand in hand, when Frankie’s voice pulled you back.
“Mouse? You gonna eat that?”
You turned to him, then looked where he was pointing – at your hot dog.
“Oh... no. Go ahead.”, you said quickly. Then as he grabbed it and was about to take a bite, you blurted out, “Are you sure you want another one?”
You knew it was wrong as you watched Frankie’s eyes fall. He closed his mouth and put the hot dog down onto the picnic table, and sulked. You felt horrible.
“Honey... I didn’t mean to stop you. I just thought...”
“Thought what?”, he interjected in a cold, quiet tone. “Thought if I ate that you’d have a fat boyfriend again?”
You froze, feeling the lump in your throat start. Is that what you had become? That girlfriend? “No... No, I thought it’s what you... I - never mind. You enjoy it, okay?”
He didn’t look up at you. You did your best to keep the tears at bay, but it was quickly going to be a fruitless endevour. You got up from the table, trying and failing to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?”
If he tried to stop you or say something, you didn’t know; you were already moving away from him, discreetly wiping your eyes.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet and somber. Frankie had eaten your hot dog, but avoided anything else except the lemonade you brought him. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you didn’t want this to go on any longer.
“Frankie?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I did to fuck this up, but I want to make it better.”
He stopped and looked at you. You felt his eyes look over your face, examining you. And he was. He was looking for his Mouse; his sassy, hot tempered, spitfire Mouse. Instead, he saw you looking the way you had for months, and he’d ignored it – sad and scared. He pulled you into a hug and it felt different; not just from the bit of weight he’d lost, but the emotion behind it, and you couldn't place what it was be it felt final.
“I’m sorry, too, baby.”
The ride home was quiet; the only sound was the radio on a low volume. You noticed up ahead that traffic was backing up on the highway, and as Frankie slowed the truck to a stop, he swore under his breath.
Then you heard it. His tummy grumbled. Frankie was hungry.
“Do you still keep snacks in your truck?”
Your quiet question broke through the silence and was met with an irritated sigh from Frankie.
“No. Benny helped me clean it all out.”
“I have a granola bar in my purse.”
You pulled out the little, wrapped bar and held it out for him. After a brief hesitation, he took it and ate it.
Silence.
“You... you got any more?”
You smiled to yourself and pulled another one out of your bag, handing it to him, and just as with the first, it disappeared quickly.
“Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation lately... and I just wanna know how you're doing.”, you pleaded softly. You took a risk and placed your hand on his shoulder.
He let out a huff. “I hate this.”
You pulled your hand back and faced forward, and he quickly turned, grabbing your hand.
“No! No no no! Mouse, no, honey! That’s not what I meant! I mean... I hate this diet!”
“This diet?”
He turned back, hand returning to the steering wheel. “Yeah... I hate it. I’m always hungry and I just feel like shit, and I don’t feel like myself and I know this is what you want, but - “
“Whoa! Wait... what I want?”, you interjected, sounding almost offended.
“Yeah. You want this. “, Frankie eyed you before finishing, “... don’t you?”
“I... no! I thought you wanted this!”
“Why would you think that?!”, he snapped.
“Be-because you said you thought you were getting too big so I asked if you wanted to make a change and you said yes! I was trying to be supportive!”
You didn’t mean to yell that at him, but you were so wound up and just as confused as he was.
You stared at each other until a horn honking broke the silence. Frankie quickly turned and got the truck moving again.
“You did this for me? Not because... not because you hated how I looked?”
You stared at him aghast. “How are you even asking that?!”
“You made me do it so quickly! Like all of sudden you... you just stopped. Stopped everything! It’s like you wanted it and as soon as I said it, you were elated!”
“Oh my god, no! Frankie, no! I always felt selfish giving you all this food, and then you said you might not be happy with it... I love how happy I can make you with food and I never stopped! I put the same energy I would have into feeding you into... into not doing it as much!”, you said frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is this why you’ve ignored me? Why you’ve-you’ve cut me out? Is this why you don’t like me anymore? Don’t want to be around me?”
Frankie slammed on the brakes and the whole truck lurched. He looked at you with wide eyed, his mouth open in shock.
The horn behind you sounded again, and if not for the moving traffic, you were sure that that Frankie was ready to jump out and punch the guy behind you’s lights out.
As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Frankie exited the highway and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park and ripped his seat belt off, then jumped out of the truck. You stayed put, watching him stalk around to the passenger side and rip the door open.
“What?!”, he barked, breathing heavily with a panicked face.
“What??”, you asked back, just as panicked as he was.
“You think I don’t like you?! That I don’t want to be around you?”
“Yes!”, you cried out softly, grabbing his face. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t know why!”
His eyes searched yours before he spoke.
“Tell me you want me to enjoy eating again.”
“I... what? Frankie, I’m trying to be serious here!”
“So am I! Say it! If you mean it, say it!”
“I...”
“Tell me you want me to eat everything on my plate.”, he growled, reaching around and unbuckling your seat belt. “Tell me you want me to hit my fucking limit every day at dinner.”
You felt heat pooling in your core. This was the most animated and hottest you’d seen him in so long.
“I want -”
“Tell me you wanna watch my clothes get too small again.”
He pushed you back and crawled up on the bench and shoved his knee right up to your cunt as he hovered over you.
“Tell me you want a fat guy to fuck you.”
“I want you to get fat again and fuck me.”
From the outside, it was clear what was happening in the truck. The door was wide open and your only saving grace was that you were in a parking lot for a nightclub, and it was 2:30 pm. Regardless, Frankie ate you out in the front seat of the car and you finally made it home around 5:00pm – just in time for dinner.
You made sure he finished everything you made – lasagna of course! Then, instead of Frankie hoisting himself to the couch, he backed you down the hallway to your bedroom.
“Never wanna go that long again without your pussy on my mouth, princess...”
You whined as you gripped his full – albeit smaller – belly. He grunted and one of your hands slid down to his hard cock in his jeans.
“I don’t want these jeans to fit you anymore, Frankie...”, you cooed as you palmed his cock. “Wanna watch you struggle getting them up... got too skinny for me...”
Frankie made a groaning sound as his eyes rolled and he shoved you onto the bed. You got your clothes off and frantically helped him remove his and you pulled him down on top of you.
“Fuck! I missed this!”, you growled, biting his ear lobe.
He shifted and laid on his side and pulled you into a feverish kiss. As your mouths danced, his hand slid between your legs. He groaned again with how wet you were.
“Can’t wait... need to fuck this pussy... need to feel it, princess.”
You nodded dumbly, shoving him to his back and crawling onto him. You spat in your hand, gave his cock a few pumps, then positioned yourself over him and sank down.
You both let out long, low moans, finally feeling like the missing puzzle piece was found. You started moving and his hands gripped your hips, keeping pace.
“Say it, princess... say it”
“I’m gonna make you so fat, Frankie...”
Benny pulled up to your house, determined to find out why Frankie had started coming up with excuses to avoid work outs. It had been almost two months since the last time he showed up and he’d looked like he’d put on a little weight then.
“Fish? Mouse? Anyone home?”, he yelled, banging on the door.
Frankie was sitting on the couch, letting dinner settle, and smiled at you then motioned for you to stay seated.
“I’ll get it.”
As soon as the door opened, Benny knew exactly why he wasn’t coming to work outs. Frankie’s stuffed belly was almost nearing where it was when Benny started working with him, and the shirt he was wearing looked to be at its maximum tension.
He grinned and gently elbowed Frankie’s belly. “See you’re putting in a different kind of work, huh, Fish?”
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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 13
Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.
Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.
And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude
Chapter word count: 7.3k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻
Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude are tested to their absolute limit. Mentions of smut.
Enjoy! 🖤
Chapter 12
The pen runs out of ink on the fourteenth of April.
Frankie looks down at the notebook as his scrawl becomes nothing but faint indents on the paper. He shakes the pen in frustration, but it’s no use. His writing days are over now.
They’ve been on the island for almost a whole year. Surviving, barely, on fish - and now tamarind - and rain water.
Jude would make a pulpy sweet mush of the tamarind to flavour the fish, and it jazzed up the cooking for a while. But soon, like the fish, eating the tamarind soon lost its sweet taste on their tongues.
The school of fish had dwindled dangerously for a while, but soon more began to appear in the bay as the weather shifted. The rainy season seemed to end and the scorching sun was back with a vengeance.
One day whilst they were fishing, Frankie continued to scout around the rock pools and found a few mussels - and was careful not to step on any urchins this time - as he pried them off the rocks with the completely dull switchblade.
He proceeded to explain to Jude in great detail about all the tasty ways you can cook mussels; rambling on excitedly like a five year-old who won’t shut the fuck up about dinosaurs, and it made her smile fondly at him to see him smile about something again.
They ate the mussels from their shells, steaming them in the tin over the fire and that seemed like a treat, something different which revitalised their spirits for a little while.
But still they continued to appear more gaunt, often going days without eating at all, not because they didn’t have any food - what with the tamarind pods filling up a suitcase that they’d taken out as Frankie climbed the trees and shook them loose onto the ground for Jude to collect - but because when you eat the same thing over and over, you soon begin to lose your appetite for it.
“If we ever get off this island, I’m never eating fish or tamarind again.” Jude remarks one evening as they’re sitting by the fire outside together.
Frankie has his arm slung over her shoulder and is twirling his fingers idly in the sand beside him, drawing squiggly lines absentmindedly.
“I second that.” He smirks. “I think I might just live off of Mcdonalds for a month or something. Get a bit fat.”
“Mm. I can see you with chubby cheeks and wearing sweatpants with your gut out, shovelling burgers in your mouth. Hot.” Jude giggles.
“Living the dream,” he agrees. She feels his chest heave as he chuckles.
“Do you think they had a funeral for us?” Jude asks a little time later, and the question winds Frankie; he stops drawing in the sand.
He wraps his arm around her tighter and kisses the top of her head.
“I think they probably did.” He admits, trying not to think about it, admittedly.
“What do you think they would’ve said about you?”
“Hopefully good things, but I doubt it." He says, sadly.
“Of course they did. You’re a good person.”
“Here, maybe. But I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of. Even before the coke.” He kisses her head again and rests his chin on it, staring out into the flames. Thinking about all the mistakes.
“I miss my mom so much.” Jude whispers.
“Me too, I miss all of ‘em. Everyone.” Frankie confirms.
He thinks about his family and the guys. Their faces flit behind his eyes. He even thinks about Carla a little too; wondering if she’d attended his funeral. He considers if she’d stood up and read from anything, or said anything heartfelt and cried with black mascara tears streaming down her face. Whether she’s mourning the loss of him and wishing things had been different.
His chest feels tight at all of the murky recall.
Jude feels him sigh out and cuddles into him further. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just thinking is all.” Frankie assures.
“I know, I can hear the cogs turning.”
His fingers jab, tickling into her side and she flinches, laughing.
“I’m alright. Just comes in waves, y’know?” He explains.
“I know. When I think about it, it’s like I can’t breathe. I can’t imagine their pain. Not knowing what happened to us; that we’re right here, waiting.”
“Yeah.” Frankie nods.
Jude reaches for his hand and interlocks his fingers, squeezing them tightly inside her own. “We have each other though, right?”
“Right,” Frankie nods to her as she looks up at him.
She kisses him, lingering on his lips and breathing him in. He kisses her, his beard scratching against her lips and it makes her giggle.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Frankie says.
“No. You don’t tell me nearly enough.” She grins.
“C’mere,” he says, pulling her in and squeezing her hips and she laughs.
They spend time curled up together by the fire as it gets dark and she hears Frankie yawn.
“You feeling sleepy?” Jude asks him and he nods, those eyes of his looking a little droopy.
“Let’s go to bed,” she smiles at him and stands up. As she does so, she stumbles backwards a little unsteady on her feet.
“Dizzy?” Frankie asks her, steadying her with a hand on her back and one on her stomach.
“Yeah. I’m okay.” She pats his hand and begins walking towards the shack with his arm around her.
Jude rolls over on the cushion bed a few days later and watches Frankie as he sleeps through her fuzzy vision coming into focus, rubbing crusted sleep from her eyes.
She notices small beads of perspiration on his forehead like diamonds glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the window hole, and watches as his eyes dance crazily back and forth under his eyelids.
He flinches a little and groans as he dreams.
She places her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrumming inside it. His skin is boiling to the touch and she sits up, a little concerned.
“Frankie...” She whispers close to his ear and he stirs, groaning. “Frankie, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
He opens his eyes slowly and turns his head towards her; focusing in on her face as she wipes at his forehead that seems utterly drenched.
“Hey,” she greets him and he blinks several times before smiling, then frowning.
“Fuck, my head is hammering,” Frankie reaches up and runs his hand over the top of his skull with his thick fingers.
“Are you feeling alright, you’re pretty hot?” Jude touches his skin around his scarred neck. “Having a sexy dream, were you?” She snickers.
“Pornographic.” Frankie smirks.
He sits up slowly and the shack begins to spin. “Fuck.” He slumps back down on the bed and Jude fetches him some water.
“Here, drink this.” She unscrews the cap and he glugs quickly from the bottle feeling incredibly parched.
“How much do we have left?” He gasps as though the thirst will never be satiated.
“Enough, just drink it.” She encourages, touching over his head and feeling how hot he is. “You’re burning up. Just stay in bed today, you need the rest, okay?”
Frankie nods and flops back down on the bed grunting.
“I’ll go catch us some fish, you need to eat something. I know you haven’t been.” Jude says, narrowing her eyes at him.
He smiles faintly at her through purplish-pink lips. He runs his pointer finger around the top of his head in a circle indicating there’s a halo there, and she smirks with a little unimpressed snort.
“Take my cap, it's hot out.” He says, tossing his cap at her and she plonks it on her head.
Jude leaves him to sleep off what is probably chronic exhaustion and hunger, and heads to the bay to fish.
The water is mostly still as Jude wades around the rock pools, watching the fish and spearing them.
She catches several and smiles as they fill the tin; a sight she hasn’t seen for a long time. She glances up to see the empty shell of the fuselage on the sandbank still, ageing with an early birthing of speckled rust as the sun scorches it daily.
Her mind wanders back to the harrowing moments of the plane crash, a memory etched into her consciousness like a scar on her soul.
The cabin engulfed in chaos as the plane shuddered and lurched through the turbulent skies. Panic-stricken passengers clinging to their seats, their faces contorted in fear as the realisation of their impending doom washes over them like a tidal wave.
Jude can feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a thunderous drumming in her ears as she braces herself for the inevitable impact, but it goes dark, just like it did when she blacked out.
She looks out at the horizon, thinking about the impending anniversary of them both being on the island for three hundred and sixty-five days, and all that they’ve accomplished and endured on this piece of shitty rock they’re still marooned on.
She feels a tickle around her thighs and looks down, freezing instantly.
It’s a small shark in the water, barely longer than her arm in length, swimming around her legs curiously and she smiles widely as she aims her spear.
Jude heads back to the shack with the tin of fish and slimy shark corpse. She approaches the fire, tossing more kindling on it, encouraging the flames to grow once more ready for their meal, and goes to check on Frankie.
She enters under the plastic sheet. “Hey, guess what I caught in the bay, it’s a-”
She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Frankie on the ground, laying on his front, vomit all around his face and a red blotchy rash covering his back and arms.
“Frankie!” Jude lurches forward and shakes him; he’s unresponsive and she immediately sticks her fingers into his mouth, clearing away the vomit.
“Frankie! Wake up! Frankie!” She shakes him again and he groans with a choked gurgle.
“Oh, thank God! Frankie, can you hear me?” She pulls back his eyelid with her thumb and his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.
She pours water from a bottle over his chin, rinsing away his vomit from around his mouth, and then uses her wet hand to touch his forehead that still feels aflame.
“Frankie!” Jude calls out to him again, shaking him and once more he groans.
He’s alive, but she’s completely panic stricken. His breathing is shallow and laboured, his pulse weak and thready beneath her touch.
A wave of dread washes over Jude as she realises the gravity of the situation. He's sick. He's sick on an island without a doctor or any meds.
She strips him of his clothes; his body is saturated with sweat, and the heat radiating off of it feels like the sun’s corona burning her fingertips.
The rash is all over his torso, in and around his groin in patches of red lichen-like blotches which look mean and an angry red.
She hooks her arms under his armpits and drags him towards the bed, groaning out at the weight of him.
Despite his drastic weight loss, he’s still heavy. Jude lugs him backwards more until she’s able to roll him onto the bed. She turns him over into the recovery position, tilting his head up so he doesn't swallow his tongue.
She dabs away vomit chunks from Frankie’s beard and washes him down with sea water she collects, trying to cool his body temperature.
Jude spends the next two days by his side, periodically pouring water down his throat as he drifts in and out of a heavy consciousness.
“Wake up, Frankie, please.”
But Frankie remains stubbornly unconscious, his features slack and pale against the crimson blotches. He’s sick several more times, and when there’s blood in it, she freaks.
“Frankie, stay with me,” Jude pleads to him as he passes out again; the water dribbling from his lips.
She doesn’t sleep. She never got to cook the fish or the shark.
Instead it stays untouched outside on the beach, slowly rotting in the sun.
Dengue fever isn’t pleasant.
Of course, at the time neither Jude nor Frankie knew that’s what he had.
It’s caused by mosquito bites, and only a few days prior to falling ill, Frankie had been bitten by one that was infected as he fished in the bay.
He’d slapped the pest dead against his arm and didn’t think much of it. He’d been bitten around the ankles by horseflies in the grasses and all sorts of bugs since being on the island - just another pest taking a bite out of his tasty skin.
But it was as simple as that - a simple, little bite.
Ordinarily, if he’d been fully healthy, the effects of the fever wouldn’t have maimed him as much. But we all know that from his current state of malnourishment and dehydration, he wasn’t strong enough, and his immune system struggled to suppress the infection.
It had already begun to spread through his body and started laying down the foundations of the attack.
The signs were there; hot flushes, stomach cramps and vomiting. But yet he’d been doing that on the regular, so what was there to notice differently, really?
Frankie had caught an abundance of fish; nine in total, before the school figured out their numbers were dwindling before their eyes, and scooted off into the deep again from whence they came.
He’d cooked them all over the fire and mashed more tamarind with it, and they’d feasted like kings that evening, filling their bellies up until they felt like they would pop uncomfortably.
They sat opposite one another, eating and playing another game of Tic-Tac-Toe in the sand and talking like they usually would.
Frankie had the hiccups; probably from eating too fast he assumed at the time, and the little belches that rolled out of him had made Jude giggle.
“Where did you get that scar on your hip?” She’d asked him randomly, as he placed down a shell in the middle box of the hand drawn grid in the sand.
“I was shot.” Frankie’s mind casts back to the helicopter crash and the feel of the bullet ripping through his skin.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” He’d hiccupped again, keeping his mouth closed.
“You were shot at a lot, weren’t you?” She placed her pebble down.
“Nine times.” He holds his wrist up at her with the numbers tattoo.
“I couldn’t imagine that.” She said, scrunching up her face.
“I shot back, too. Thirty-nine confirmed kills.” He was concentrating on the grid and looking carefully at where to place his next shell, when his shoulders heaved again from another rolling hiccup.
“You got any scars, aside from the crippling emotional ones?” Frankie had questioned and she’d tossed one of her pebbles at him. He whinnied as it landed in his lap.
“A few,” she’d drawn her leg up and caught sight of the pink, ragged scar on the back of her calf, probably the most prominent one now to adorn her body.
“I have this one,” Jude had said, turning her face to the right and pointing just under the top of her cheekbone. A small, faded circle was there, indented into her flesh.
“I wondered about that one. It looks like someone hole-punched your face,” Frankie marvelled.
He hiccupped again and put his hand over his mouth tasting bile in the back of his throat.
“No, it was chicken pox. My mom says I kept scratching it and scratching it, and now I have a scar there.” She shrugged.
“My brother and I got the pox at the same time. It was fuckin’ carnage in our house when our cousins got it too. My pop just threw us all out in the garden in the pool and let us get on with it.” Frankie smiled, putting down another shell, and she’d blocked him making a complete line with another pebble.
She watched as his face changed; a sudden look of widening eyes and a serious mouth as he looked across at her.
“What?” She questioned him curiously.
Frankie promptly stood up and dashed off over towards the tree line.
Once there, he threw up; barely making it to the ground on his knees before it flooded out of him.
He pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his mouth with it, looking disgusted at the lumpy swill of barely digested fish. He groaned out as he felt it rise up again in the back of his throat and he bent forward heaving it all out.
“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked him, approaching and rubbing his back as he’d sat upright on his knees, the pile of fish and tamarind mixed puke visible in front of them.
“I’m fine. Except everything comes out of my body in liquid form now,” Frankie winced, gripping his stomach and spitting onto the ground.
“Too much fish?” Jude asked him tenderly as he stood up.
He nodded. “Maybe, I dunno. Probably.” He scrunched the t-shirt up in his hand.
“Come on,” she had said sympathetically, putting her arm around his waist and walking with him slowly back to the fire.
Four days later and he’s drifting in and out of consciousness; dreaming of nothing but black feverish voids as he burns up and his body gives birth to a ferocious rash that prickles at his already scorched skin.
Jude dips a t-shirt into the tin of sea water and wrings it out on the third day that Frankie remains hardly responsive.
She dabs at his chest and shoulders, giving him a tiresome bed bath to cool him off, titling his head back and tipping rain water into his mouth in the small instances when he’ll come to.
She occasionally dozes off for a few moments beside him, absolutely shattered.
She’ll suddenly jolt awake when he groans out or throws up again, and the longer he remains like this, the more fearful she becomes that he’ll actually die.
“Don’t you fucking dare die on me. You hear me, Frankie.” Jude warns him as she watches him just lying there, occasionally grunting in pain.
She hovers her fingers under his nostrils to feel for any air flowing out of them when she’s staring at his chest, convinced she can’t see it rising and falling like it should be, and working herself up all over again.
She picks up his hand and kisses it, holding it close to her lips and feeling utterly helpless and terrified.
With each shallow breath that escapes Frankie's mouth, Jude's heart clenches with a sense of impending doom, the fear of losing him clawing at her chest like a ravenous beast.
She can't bear the thought of him slipping away from her, of being left alone in this desolate wilderness with nothing but memories of what could have been.
There’s no way she can get through this without him; she’s resolute in that fact. It’s thanks to him that she’s even made it this far; the swamping loneliness on the island would have driven her insane during the first few weeks alone.
With him here, grinning at her moronically through mouthfuls of fish to make her laugh, or showing her how to light the fire; rubbing the small of her back when she sleeps in his arms, are the moments that make life bearable on the island - make it seem normal somehow in their routine.
The island is him - it’s Frankie.
A whole year almost of just being in his personal space and learning about his life previously makes facing each day worthwhile, something to look forward to. And to take that from her now would be cruel.
She knows if he slips away she’ll undoubtedly follow. A life without him on the island isn’t a life she wants to live through. She’s confident in that thought, as harrowing and scary as it is to consider.
It would drive you mad, a year in this place, all alone. Loneliness is an acute disease; people die of loneliness all the time.
Have you ever heard about those stories of an elderly couple being married for years and years, and when one of them sadly passes on, the other physically can’t live without them and passes away not too soon after, dying of a broken heart? Yeah, that.
You give up; you don’t want to face the world alone without them, because you simply know you can’t.
Imagine wandering the shoreline without anyone to talk to out loud, no-one to share your fears or worries with or talk them through rationally when they try to overcome you and drown you like the ocean’s waves.
No-one to calm you down when the sheer terror will rattle through your bones convincing you that you’re going to die out here.
No-one looking into your eyes with their warm cocoa ones and telling you to breathe deeply and try again, with an encouraging smile beaming out at you from under a navy Standard Heating Oil baseball cap.
No-one to hold you in his strong, broad arms and tell you stories about his life, his hopes, wishes and dreams as you listen to the music of his body; twirling your fingers around the curly hair at the nape of his neck that has grown longer as the days had worn on.
It doesn’t bear thinking about, right?
Frankie was a stranger once; just another passenger on a plane headed for a final destination into carnage, but now he’s the better half of Jude - the stronger one, her protector.
The one to get her through, the one who had seen every single side of her, including the vulnerable, the weak and the damn right acutely terrified.
He’d seen all the ugly parts of her when no-one else had seen them before, and yet he still scooped her up in his arms and told her she was strong, brave and beautiful.
It dawns on her that if he actually dies, if he is to slip away right now from her on this thin thread of a hard life they’ve been walking on for some time now, she’ll never recover from the loss.
Because he’s everything; he’s saved her, without a shadow of a doubt, and in more ways than one.
I love him. I fucking love him.
Jude’s dabbing him with the wet t-shirt again around his neck, looking closely at the faint, pink scars on his skin from when he was burned by the aviation fuel in the water, when Frankie reaches for her hand.
She looks up at his face, his eyes bloodshot and blinking at her through heavy, tired lids.
She scrambles up closer to his face and strokes through his wiry hair, her eyes filling with water.
“Hey,” she says, and kisses the top of his head in relief. Thank God.
“Why you crying?” Frankie croaks out through a constricted throat.
“Because of you, you dummy.” Jude reaches for the water and tilts the bottle towards him so he can drink. “I think you caught a fever or something. You had a rash and passed out. You’ve been out for days.” Jude rubs away the water that drips from his mouth and glistens in his beard, over-spilling.
“What?” Frankie coughs. He tries to sit upright on the bed.
“Slowly,” she urges.
“I passed out?” Frankie asks her, a little confused, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah.” She wipes her own eyes as he lifts his fingers to them and smears away a tear or two.
For a moment, Frankie seems disoriented, his gaze searching hers as though trying to make sense of the world around him.
But then, as the fog begins to lift and clarity returns, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips - a silent reassurance that speaks volumes without a word being said.
“How are you feeling?”
“My head is still fuckin’ throbbing,” he says with eyes like he’s squinting.
Jude places the wet t-shirt on his head as a cool compress for him. “I caught a shark.” She smirks as he closes his eyes in relief of the compress.
“I knew you were badass,” Frankie smiles.
“It was a bay shark, kinda small. I couldn’t cook it; it’s probably no good now.”
“That sucks.” Frankie remarks with a faint smile through his cracked lips. He can taste blood on them and the stench of vomit lingers in his nostrils.
She leans forward and kisses his forehead. Most of the rash has disappeared from his body except around his legs where it’s still fading. His palms and ankles are a little puffy and swollen and he looks pretty out of it still.
Jude's eyes shine with tears as she reaches out to grasp his hand, her fingers trembling with emotion.
"Thank God you're okay," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I was so scared..."
“You look tired,” he observes, pulling on her braid gently.
“I didn’t sleep much for the last three days.” She smiles faintly, blinking and her eyes feel incredibly irritated, despite the tears now falling out of them.
“Come here, hermosa,” Frankie encourages, holding out his arms and she shuffles into them. He wraps her in tight and he feels much cooler to the touch.
He kisses the top of her head several times and squeezes her, a silent reassurance that he’s still with her, that they’ve weathered yet another storm together.
“I thought you were gonna die” she peeps timidly, her voice breaking.
“No. You don’t get rid of me that easily,” Frankie breathes into her hair, his throat feeling tight and raw.
Jude looks up at him and he leans in for a kiss, but she baulks as she can smell vomit on his breath.
“Maybe wash your mouth out first,” she laughs, wiping her eyes.
“Fuck that.” Frankie pulls her face towards him and kisses her, smiling.
They both sleep for what feels like a hundred years.
Frankie is stroking her face as she sleeps in his arms. Her rhythmic breathing is a soothing melody in the otherwise quiet dawn, a reminder of the fragility of their existence on the deserted island.
The idea of Jude navigating the challenges of survival without him fills him with a sense of guilt, a pang of regret for the moments he had been unconscious, unaware of her struggles.
He can't bear the thought of her facing the dangers of the island alone, her resilience and strength a testament to her unwavering determination to survive.
And yet, as he gazes down at her peaceful expression, a sense of gratitude washes over him - a deep-seated appreciation for her unwavering faith in him, her steadfast belief that they’ll overcome whatever obstacles lay in their path, together.
And he believes it too, knowing that with Jude by his side, he's the strongest he's ever been in his life.
With a soft sigh, Frankie presses a tender kiss to the top of Jude's head, his heart heavy with the weight of his own fears and insecurities, but they’re muted for a while longer as he lies with her.
She wakes a little while later and it’s barely light out.
“How are you feeling?” Jude asks him through a stifled yawn.
“Better.” His stomach rumbles and they chuckle together. “Hungry.”
“You feel up to going fishing today? Might find another shark.” She asks with a small birth of hope in her voice.
“Yeah. I’ll give it a go.” He nods and kisses her forehead again.
Frankie sits up slowly and takes his time standing fully upright on his legs that feel weak and like they don’t belong to him.
“I need a wash first though, I stink.” He says, getting a whiff of himself.
“Yeah. You’re a bit ripe.” Jude laughs, wrinkling her nose.
She takes him by the hand and leads him slowly down towards the shore, stopping by the cave mouth to pick up the remaining soap and shampoo. He looks at her expression and shrugs as she explains that it’s the last of it.
“Well, it was a nice luxury whilst we had it,” Frankie remarks casually.
They wade into the sea and he dips under the water and resurfaces, running his hands over his face, water dripping from his beard that’s longer and more coarse.
Jude squirts some of the shower gel into her palm. He holds his out and she squirts the last of it into his hands in a bubbly dollop, and watches as he rubs them together making a creamy lather.
Smirking, Frankie runs his hands across her chest, massaging the soap into her breasts, and stopping momentarily to feel her nipples harden under his palms.
She leans in, kissing him and tasting salt on his lips. She runs her soapy hands through his hair, scratching through it as she works the lather and makes him groan out in a satisfied grunt.
“I like it when you make that noise...” She breathes, smiling as he opens his eyes and looks back at her.
“I like the noises you make, too.” He grins.
Jude presses up against his chest; her breasts crushed tight against him as he kisses her with some sudden uncontrollable urgency. His tongue darts into her mouth and his hands paw at her ass.
She reaches down into the water and finds his cock, hard and rigid. He grunts out into her lips as his fingers swim up inside her pussy, and makes her gasp out too as his thumb brushes against her clit.
“Fuck me...” Frankie whines into her mouth enticingly as she pumps him.
“You should really take it easy,” she says around his lips, unable to resist that pull of him as his fingers slide in and out of her.
He shakes his head. “Fuck me, Jude.” Frankie whines again, smirking with glittery eyes.
She bites down on his lip making him hiss. He lifts her up onto him; the soft, bounding waves keep her buoyant as she wraps her legs around his waist.
Jude cries out as she feels him slide into her, making him grunt in unison.
He holds onto her ass cheeks as he rocks his hips back and forth in the water, fucking her deep and with intense strokes.
“You feel so good,” she whines.
Jude clings on around his neck, crushing her lips to his and moaning out as she bounces up and down on his thick cock, with a little help from the waves in a deliciously intense rhythm.
“Fuck!” Frankie grunts out, gripping onto her ass tighter.
“Frankie!” She throws her head back as she comes hard and fast; her braid dipping into the water and he’s gasping out through his own rolling orgasm as he pumps out inside of her, shaking.
She holds onto him as they stop moving, feeling his cock slide out of her, and he kisses her again.
They chuckle, and she watches as he dives under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair and swimming around her, poking her in the stomach or butt cheek from under the water.
Jude looks up at the sky, a huge weight of relief sliding off of her shoulders that had been wrought and tense for the last few days.
Thank you...
She’s running, but no matter how fast she runs, the helicopter is falling further and further out of sight, away from the island.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!”
Her voice is being swallowed up by the sound of the crashing tide rolling in beside her as she runs down the beach.
Jude can see Frankie inside the helicopter looking out at her; the wind flapping through his unruly locks, and waving back at her as he shrinks further and further into the horizon, until the helicopter disappears completely and Jude is left on the beachfront, falling to her knees in horrific disbelief.
No, NO!
She wakes up with a jolt; her heartbeat reverberating crazily inside her chest like it’s trying to escape.
She’s had this nightmare a few times since being on the island, but it seems more intense this time - more like it could be real and she’s waiting for it to happen where she won’t wake up, no matter how many times she pinches herself.
She finds Frankie crouched by the fire pit cooking a singular fish and turning it over on the flat stone.
Egon is perched beside him on the rock watching the fish sizzling intently; looking for a snatch-and-run opportunity.
Frankie scoops a piece of tamarind out of the tin he’s been mashing up and offers it out to Egon; the little monkey’s fingers curl around his own.
“That’s all you’re getting.” Frankie advises him.
He looks over his shoulder as Jude approaches. “Hey,” he croons to her with a sleepy smile.
“Morning, Captain Morales,” she yawns, planting a kiss on his crown before heading down to the shore for a swim to wake her up.
It’s been several weeks since Frankie suffered through his horrific fever, and although it seems as though he’s recovered well physically, mentally is another question.
He’s been a little quiet; withdrawn and reflective as she often catches him just staring into nothing.
Completely zoned out at the furthest reaches from her, until she’ll touch his hand and he’ll come back to her with a little startle and a faint smile to convince her that he’s okay.
She wonders what it is that he sees in that thousand yard stare.
She slips off her clothes that are like a tent on her now. She’s been reduced to just wearing the bikini bottoms and a t-shirt that swamps her as of late; the shorts and her jeans no longer stay up around her waist of their own volition and she’s tired of hanging onto them all the time.
Frankie wears a t-shirt, or a plaid woollen jacket on the days it’s a little chillier, and he often drapes it around her shoulders to keep her warm at night.
When it’s unbearably hot, he’s often fully naked and letting it all hang out and free, and it's a sight that admittedly, she won’t tire of.
The flip-flops have long since broken and so he walks on bare feet, the skin on his soles hard and dry.
Jude’s hair has grown so long that it almost touches her lower back and it seems almost daily that Frankie re-braids it for her after combing the knots out with his fingers as they sit by the fire or on the shore whilst he does it.
His own hair and beard is even shaggier now and grease slicked from sweat. The cap barely keeps its unruly mess at bay.
She’s noticed his weight loss increase further over the last few months, seeing the bony bulges of his spine now too when he hunches over the fire.
How his rib cage is showing under his skin and how sunken and sullen his face looks, more so than it ever had before. He’s so skinny it’s spooky.
It’s a harsh reality to confront that essentially they’re only just keeping full starvation at bay. She dreads to think what they'll do when the tamarind stops growing, or the fish stop coming into the bay altogether.
It gives her shivers to even venture down that route of dark, swirly thoughts that are like gnarled fingers reaching out for them and following them around, ready to snap them up at any given moment.
Jude wades into the water to cool her skin and notices the sky is a swirl of blue and grey. Clouds are forming on the horizon and the breeze contains a little nip, even through the heavy heat.
She swims around in the water, untying her braid and diving under to resurface again to wash her hair without shampoo as she scratches through her salty scalp with her fingers.
Frankie’s padding into the water, and she smiles warmly as he swims towards her and kisses her deeply.
She wraps her legs around his waist as he holds her whilst they bob in the water.
“I made some food. Fish and tamarind paste, my specialty.” Frankie smirks at her.
She clutches his chin with her thumb and finger and kisses him again.
“And maybe some monkey, because if Egon steals it I will actually gut him.”
“You love him really,” Jude smiles, patting his hairy cheek.
He dives under the waves and as he resurfaces, he clocks the panic stricken look morphing on Jude’s face as the water rinses out his ears.
“What?” He questions, frowning.
Then he feels it himself; the intense shaking and rocking of the seabed floor.
She plops backwards in the water as the heavy rumbling intensifies, knocking her off balance.
“Fuck!” Frankie swims to her as she resurfaces, wiping at her face and spluttering in shock.
“Holy shit, was that an earthquake?!” Jude exclaims to him as he hoists her up on her feet in the shifting water as the rumbles die out.
“We need to get outta the fuckin’ water!” Frankie presses to her with wide eyes.
“Wait,” she pulls him back, but he simply grabs at her hand, pulling her forward
“I’m serious, Jude. We need to get to high ground, quickly.” The panic is palpable in his voice. “That was a fuckin’ earthquake. We’re on an island in the middle of the ocean. A tsunami will be imminent. We have to get to high ground!” Frankie repeats to her, looking Jude dead in the eye.
He isn’t messing around.
Jude can feel her heartbeat crashing inside her chest as he says the words. “A-a tsunami?”
“Yeah, we have maybe fifteen minutes or so, maybe less.”
“How do you know that, it might not even happen?”
“Do you wanna take that chance? C’mon!” Frankie makes a dash for the shoreline and they run naked towards the shack.
She frantically pulls on clothes as does he inside of it.
“Here!” Frankie tosses her a life jacket; one of the two he’d kept rolled up all this time on the case beside the bed.
A warning sign; a deadly prediction from his gut thriving into fruition right under their noses all this time.
It only perplexes him how, at the time all those months ago when he’d made that decision not to cut these two life jackets up, that he would be right not to.
He hopes he’s wrong. Hopes that nothing will happen and that his overzealousness will be met with a rational calm later.
With trembling hands, his senses on high alert, he searches in his mind for the safest route to higher ground. Every second feels like an eternity as they stumble through the frantic chaos.
Jude unravels it and puts it over her head, fastening the ties, but not inflating it.
He nods at her as she glances at him as her hands work the ties in a blur, time seeming like it grinds to a complete halt as the looks they exchange terrify them both to their cores.
They both run out of the shack. Frankie looks out at the sea and it all seems calm and normal. No signs of any turbulent water, but they can’t take the chance and be caught unawares.
“Up to the ridge, go!” Frankie instructs.
They scramble up the hill towards the ridge; getting up there in half the time it usually takes them. Frankie’s pulling her by the arm, almost yanking it out the socket as they pelt up the hill as fast as they can muster.
They reach the top of the ridge and Frankie’s branch igloo is still there; as is the ugly shirt flag fluttering in the breeze. Jude puts her hands on her knees and breathes in heavily, staring out at the horizon, watching... waiting.
“What do we do?” She puffs.
“We wait. It’s all we can do.” Frankie confirms bleakly.
“It might not happen,” she murmurs, convincing herself.
“Almost after every earthquake at sea, there’s a tsunami that follows,” Frankie informs her, but it doesn’t make it any better.
His mind races with the memories of the devastating effects of tsunamis he’d witnessed during his time in the military, on search and rescue recon’s - the sheer power of the waves etched into his memory like a nightmare he can't shake.
“Are we up high enough?” Jude asks, fear gripping her.
He doesn’t answer, feeling the heavy breeze blow through his beard and watches as the wind whips around her hair, casting it about wildly like a sea monster with several hundred tentacles coming at him.
Frankie secures his own life jacket around his waist and then tugs on Jude’s to check its tightness. He undoes it and ties it again for her, and she feels him pull on it again afterwards to test it won’t come undone.
Frankie looks up at the flag shirt and reaches for it, tearing it down from the branch. She watches him rip through the fabric with ease.
He takes her right arm and wraps it around hers and then around his left one, effectively tying their two hands together.
She locks her fingers into his and he grips onto them tightly.
She can already feel the bind of the shirt cutting off her circulation, but it’s nothing compared to the sheer terror raging through her body right now.
And that's when she realises it. Realises how eerily quiet it’s suddenly become.
“Shit...” Frankie gasps looking over her head at the horizon, his eyes widening in fear.
He pulls her back towards him as she turns and sees the waves high in the sky in the distance.
All she can do is gulp at the sight of it hurtling towards the island.
Frankie tugs on the pull cord of her life jacket, the hiss pours out of it as it inflates around her chest and throat.
He does the same with his, but nothing happens.
Jude looks wide-eyed at him; hearing nothing but her heartbeat inside of her ears almost deafening her now.
“No, no, no-”
“It’s ok,” he reassures. “Just don’t let go. It’ll be okay.” Frankie squeezes her hand tighter than ever. "Don't fuckin' let go."
Jude looks out at the horizon, at the waves hurtling towards them; thundering across the ocean and staring at imminent death in the face as it smiles back at them viciously.
It’s been waiting for them, waiting for so long and is now coming to reap the reward of its patience.
“Frankie-” She begins in a terrified voice that whimpers and cracks. “Frankie!”
“I fuckin’ love you, Jude!” Frankie calls out to her frantically over the storm of the relentless tidal commotion that bellows through their eardrums.
She looks back and sees the transformation on his face.
It’s like super, slow motion as his nostrils flare, his eyes widen as big as they'll go, and his mouth morphs into a large engulfing hole; his teeth bared and shouting as loudly as he can at her.
He wrenches Jude backwards into his arms as the waves fully engulf the island in a thunderous roar.
“BRAAACE!!” Frankie yells.
To be continued...
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#pedro pascal#pedro paacal x reader#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales#frankie morales x ofc#frankie morales x you#frankie morales smut#triple frontier fic#adrift with you series#jett's writing
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My 2023 Fanfic-Wrapped
I only really started reading Pedro fanfic in April or May, I got started on some of the well-known fics on AO3 that were recommended on tiktok. However, one of them brought me to tumblr (because I wanted to see more from this author, I wanted to see their moodboards and their sneak peeks). And I haven’t left since.
I even decided to try my hand at writing as well. It’s been a LOT of fun. (My masterlist is here if you want to see all the weird shit I wrote so far). Thank you to everyone who has supported me in all my efforts and to all the friends I've made.
I wanted to create this list to highlight some of my faves this year. If you haven’t read these, they all come highly recommended by me.
I'll be reblogging everything on this list throughout the day. If you’d like to reblog this post and add some of your own favorites from this year - PLEASE DO!!! I would absolutely love to get new recs!! Let’s share the love!!
In no particular Order - Here are some of my favorites from the year!
Fave Writers
(I’ll read anything they write)
@toxicanonymity (joel miller masterlist)
Personal Faves: NightWalks!Joel, Vamp!Joel (both Ongoing)
@theywhowriteandknowthings (masterlist)
Personal Faves: Creep - Joel, Princess and the Duke - Dave York (Ongoing)
@chloeangelic (masterlist)
Personal Faves: Love Me Back - Joel, Seeking What is Desirable - Joel (Ongoing)
@goodwithcheese (masterlist)
Personal Faves: The Layover - Frankie, Paranoid Heart - Javi P (Ongoing)
@beskarandblasters (masterlist)
Personal Faves: Me and My Husband - Din Djarin, New York or Nowhere - Bodega!Joel (Ongoing)
@absurdthirst (masterlist)
Personal Faves: Kinktober 2023 Oct 15th - LactationKink!Dieter, A Marriage of Convenience - Regency!PeroTovar, (they have SO many good ones)
Fave Ongoing Series
Mall Rats (Jackson-era!Joel) by @strang3lov3
Oh! Honey (Monster!Joel x Mortician!Reader) by @lincolndjarin
Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender (Pimp!Joel) by @iamasaddie
On the Waterfront (Chubby!Mafia!Frankie) by @beefrobeefcal
The King’s Queen (Royalty/ArrangedMarriageAU!Javi G) by @wardenparker
From Eden (PlantShopOwner!Joel x Married!F!Reader) by @5oh5
A Lover’s Pinch (Professor!Joel x Student!Reader) by @hier--soir
Into the Beat of the Night (Bi!Frankie x afab!gn!OC) by @perotovar
Fave Finished Series
A Stranger’s Heart Without a Home (Jackson-era Joel) by @morning-star-joy (This is the one that brought me to tumblr. Doni created this beautiful story and it has a very special place in my heart.)
Late Night Texts (Post-Colombia Javier Peña) by @undercoverpena
Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband (Married!No-Outbreak!Joel) by @netherfeildren
Something New (SexWorker!Frankie) by @prolix-yuy
Something Wretched About This (DrugDealer!Joel) by @covetyou
Pioneer Frankie (A series of stories about Pioneer!AU!Frankie) by @frannyzooey
Trial & Error (No-Outbreak!Joel helps Tommy & reader get pregnant) by @thetriumphantpanda
Pleased to Meet You (Meeting Francisco Morales - twice) by @intheorangebedroom
Fave Characters
Husband's Best Friend Joel Miller (with Married! Reader) (HBF!Joel) by @gracieispunk
Jackson-Era Vampire! Joel Miller (A Secret Worth Keeping) by @multiversed-daydreamer
Soccer-dad No-Outbreak Joel Miller gets a racy text from an unknown number (The Right Wrong Number) by @proxima-writes
Demon! Ezra (with Witch! Reader) (In Every Lifetime) by @xdaddysprincessxx
Protective Jackson-Era Joel Miller (A Safe Haven) by @joelsgreys
THROUPLE Frankie x Joel x F!Reader (Catalyst Masterlist) by @ezrasbirdie
Sleezy Gas Station Joel *MC* Miller (Meet Me in the Back) by @atticrissfinch
Porn Star Joel Miller (with Porn Star Reader) (I Know it When I See it) by @bageldaddy
Fave Dark/DDDNE Fics
(These fics aren’t being put in the corner but they do come with some very special warnings so I wanted to separate them)
Trick or Treat? (DDDNE Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader) by @morallyinept
Bullet For You, Darlin’ (DDDNE Dark!Raider!Joel Miller) by @kewwrites
Online Friends (Cherry Bomb) (Dom!Joel, online/phone sex) by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!DubCon! Joel Miller - Handmaid’s Tale AU) by @romana-after-dark
Red Light (Dark!Obsessive!DubCon! Landlord Joel Miller) by @kiwisbell
The Burglary (DDDNE burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller) by @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape
I don't know man.... I just know I like it
Menuet (It’s an animal/shapeshifter/monster fucking thing (Pero Tovar) that fundamentally changed who I am as a person) by @psychedelic-ink
Liquid Gold (Joel - and Tommy? - help Pregnant!Reader out when an issue arises) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles
Get a Grip (Watch Model!Joel Miller x Manicurist!Reader Hand/GloveKink!) by @bonezone44
Mother Who Provides (Mommy!Kink Joel gets breastfed) by @pedge-page
Goodbye 2023, See you all next year!!!!
#fanfic wrapped#noxturnalpascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction
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The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 36: The End **
I am glad you are here with me, here at the end of all things, Sam.
Frodo Baggins - The Return of the King
Series Master List
Epilogue Warnings have their own post - Word count: 17.5k (I saved the longest for last 😊)
Having electricity wasn’t a new thing to you both, the QZ’s had electricity, albeit black outs where common. But electricity in Jackson, in a community where everyone worked towards a common goal of making things better, it was like a return to a more normal life. Supplies were still scarce, daily hunting trips a necessity, but suddenly you could cook food, freeze it, preserve it and lay away stores for the winter. A large cold storage had already been built and as the summer drew to an end and the trees started to shift in color, it was being filled with the harvest of the community garden and the berries collected in the wild during hunting trips. And all the projects picked up speed when power tools could be maintained and used. Although Frankie cursed the raw blisters on his hands after he and a few other of the strongest men had worked at felling trees by hand, fuel was still a rarity so axes had to be used for that.
But it was also the simple act of coming home and the house, yours and Frankie’s house, being lit up by lamps, the warmth hitting you as you opened the door and the smell of cooking drifted out along with music, actual vinyl record music.
You poke your head around the corner, into the living room, and find Frankie hunched over, holding on to Jack’s chubby hands, as the baby’s unsteady legs wobble with each step.
“C’mon, Jack, look at you go!” Frankie smiles, “You’ll be walking in no time, gordito!”
Jack gurgled, grinning widely, proudly showing his two tiny teeth, the sources of many sleepless nights lately. Frankie looks up as you step into the room, turning Jack around to face you.
“C’mon, Jackie, walk to your mamá, show her how good you are,” he gives you a wide grin, “He’s been standing up all afternoon, holding onto the couch.”
“You’re growing so fast, Jack,” you smile, crouching down as he wobbles towards you, holding onto Frankie’s hands. The baby stumbles into your chest and grabs onto your hair as you pick him up, holding him tight and kissing his chubby cheek. Being Jack’s mamá had become second nature, the little boy inserting himself into your life just as easily as Frankie and you had settled in Jackson.
You’d worried briefly over how Frankie would fare with sleepless nights, his nightmares and troubled sleep hadn’t gone away. But it was as if his body clicked into another gear, remembering sleepless nights with his own daughter. He’d be wide awake as soon as Jack whimpered, out of the bed and picking him up before you’d barely opened your eyes. Half asleep you’d listen as Frankie padded around the room across the hall, soothing Jack, singing endless renditions of Arroz con Leche until even you knew it by heart. On the nights when Jack just wouldn’t settle, Frankie would take him downstairs, heat up some baby food, usually berries with some sweet honey, and wander through the house with Jack in his arms until he fell asleep again. And then he’d tuck Jack back in and you’d briefly wake up as he slipped under the covers, reaching out and curling himself around you. You’d grumble as his cold skin met your bed warm body but he’d just bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as your hair tickled his nose. It would put you right back to sleep, his body slowly warming up, his arms around you and his hand in yours as you felt his hot breath over your neck.
It was the most domestic it had ever felt since the outbreak, sometimes you woke up forgetting it had even happened. You’d blink your eyes open to sunlight filtering in through the curtains, a soft pillow under you, Frankie’s arm around you and clean sheets and blankets on top. If Frankie had snuck up and left the bed before you woke up, you’d smell breakfast from downstairs, frying eggs, warm bread, even jam. The crackle of the fireplace would drift up to you as you pulled your robe on and walked on bare feet down the stairs. You’d stop at the entrance to the kitchen, just like you did when you came home, and just take in the sight of Frankie, your husband, making breakfast for Jack, your son, like it was the most normal thing to do and the outbreak had never happened. It made your heart warm and you could watch the scene for hours. But it also made you realize how much you had to lose, now more than ever, and it scared you. You knew both you and Frankie would fight tooth and nail to protect this life that Jackson offered its small, but growing, population, because this was worth fighting for, more than just fighting for Frankie and yourself.
…
The first time Pat took you and Frankie up to the radio tower it was a beautiful morning. You’d left baby Jack with Maria before heading out. The first snow had fallen over Jackson and the surrounding mountains overnight and the weather had turned properly cold. It had taken longer than planned to get out to the radio tower, many things needed to be prepared before the winter in order for the community to survive. With the electricity up and running, alot projects took priority. Houses were mended and isolated, two women with medical training needed help setting up a small clinic, the stable had to be completed and isolated. On top of that were the necessary and constant patrols and guard shifts almost everyone had to participate in as well as going hunting with Pat.
But now, finally, you were on your way up to the radio tower to see if the radio could be made to work. If not, Pat thought it would be good to have a safe house on one of the patrol routes where patrols could seek shelter if they needed too. With you was another Jackson resident, an older man called Eugene. He was a former electrical engineer and to be honest, you thought your participation on this mission might be pointless, if Eugene couldn’t fix the radio, you didn’t think you’d be able to either.
The entire radio tower compound had at some point been surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire on top. It looked in pretty bad disrepair by now and was pulled down in places.
“It’d be good if we could get that fixed,” Pat says, looking at the fence, “get a gate in place and make this place a bit more secure.”
“Yeah,” Frankie nodded, “we still have plenty of fence and barbed wire down in the Jackson HomeDepot, pretty sure we could build a gate too.”
You were on Winston together with Frankie for this ride. You were slowly learning to be a better rider and had been practicing whenever you had time, but you preferred riding with Frankie when you had to go outside Jackson. You felt safe sitting in front of him, he had one steady arm around your waist, the other holding the reins. Now you feel him move his hips and nudge Winston onwards, through the main gates and into the small yard in front of the entrance.
“Has anyone been into the radio tower recently?” Frankie asks, looking at the door that’s hanging off its frame and half open.
“No, not since we first came up here,” Pat says as he swings himself off his horse after stopping by the fence, “We’re going to need to clear it out carefully.”
Frankie keeps an eye on the door as Eugene gets off his horse but makes no move to let you get off, “Was the door always open?” he asks, pulling the rifle from its holster and Pat turns around, furrowing his forehead as he looks at the door.
“We had to break it open when we first came up here, but I’m sure we closed it when we left.”
You can feel Frankie tense up behind you as Pat carefully approaches the door, gun raised. He bends and picks up a brick from the ground and tosses it in through the door. A shriek cuts through the air, making the horses skittish, and then the tell tale sound of a clicker.
“Fuck…” Frankie breathes behind you and Pat hastily retreats and swings himself up on his horse. You’ve got your gun raised too now and when the door slams open, the clicker is hit with several rounds, two shots exploding through its head, making it drop on the ground.
All four of you sit in silence, waiting to hear if something else stirs on the inside. After a few minutes Pat gets off his horse again and approaches the door, you can’t help but wonder if he’s really brave or really stupid, but he nudges the dead clicker out of the way and shines his torch into the darkness.
Behind you, you feel Frankie press a kiss to the side of your neck, “Stay here, cariño,” he whispers before he slides off and quietly walks up behind Pat, joined by Eugene, who’s also gotten off his horse again.
“If I remember correctly, there’s a light switch just inside here,” Pat says, and feels around just inside the door. It clicks and the room fills with light and nothing stirs. Frankie waves you towards him and you tie up Winston and join them.
“Eugene, no offense,” Pat says, “but you’re the oldest and least nimble here, could you stay and watch our backs?”
“No offense taken,” Eugene chuckles and takes up post at the door, looking out at the horses and the front yard while Frankie, you and Pat move towards the inner door. It’s a wide double door and it’s undisturbed.
“We did close this one too, hopefully nothing else got in,” Pat says in a low voice as he reaches for it. It opens without issue and nothing moves on the other side. Silently and carefully the three of you go through the building, clearing out rooms and gathering any supplies you come across until you reach the main radio room on the second floor.
“This seems to be the way we left it too,” Pat says and you walk over to the radio. It’s not a military radio but it’s different from the one you worked on in Boston but it doesn’t take you and Frankie long to start it up. The electricity cables from the Jackson Dam run up here too and the console hums to life, but when you flip the switches to receive or broadcast, all you hear is silence, not even static.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, “but if you could check all the wires Frankie, and I’ll check that equipment does what it should.”
“Sure, cariño,” Frankie says and while Pat scans the top floor for any supplies, you and Frankie work through the radio.
“I’m gonna go get Eugene,” you finally sigh, on your back underneath the console, “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong if all the wires are connected and all the equipment works, something else is up.”
“Ok, I’m just gonna double check the connection from the outside, up on the radio tower,” Frankie says as he gives you a hand up from the floor. You jog down the stairs and back towards the front door. Perplexed, you stop by it and look around, Eugene isn’t there but you can’t see any other footsteps in the snow so you turn and look into the building, his snow covered footprints are moving off towards one of the rooms you cleared coming in.
“Eugene?” you call, walking towards the back. You’ve cleared this area so you’re not too worried, but there’s always a risk of the crumbling building deciding to collapse a floor or a ceiling on any explorer. There’s a door you haven’t seen before, half open at the back of a hallway and you carefully poke your head through it. You can see a set of stairs going down and a flashlight moving around in the dark.
“Eugene, you ok?” you call and to your relief you hear Eugene’s voice come back up to you.
“Yeah, yeah, just checking this basement, the door was locked but I got through it. It’s pretty empty down here though.”
“Ok, just come up when you can, we need you to check the radio,” you call back down to him.
“Right, I'll be there in a jiffy.”
You hear it as you turn, the fast, uneven scrambling of feet behind you making your adrenaline spike. The infected runner bolts through the open front door and immediately sees you, launching itself at you with a shriek. Your hand goes for your gun and… you grasp at nothing, panic shoots through you as you realize it’s on the table upstairs where you left it before you crawled under the table.
“Frankie!” you scream as the infected runs down the hallway and you back up, through the basement door, barely slamming it shut in time. But the broken lock won’t let the door close and the runner's hands are scratching through the opening, pushing it back. With a cry you stumble back as it throws itself against the door and get it open. You lose your balance and tumble down the stairs, a sharp pain shoots through your head as you slam down against the first landing. You fight to keep your eyes open, a haze overtaking you, but the infected screeches and runs down the stairs. It’s on top of you in an instance and you just manage to get your arms up, avoiding its snapping mouth as black dots dance around your vision. As you slip under you hear Frankie roar your name.
Frankie hears you scream, the desperation in your voice cuts through his heart like ice and he almost falls off the ladder as he slides down, dropping everything to get to you. He hears the infected shriek and he roars your name, taking the stairs three steps at a time. He sees the runner shove the door open as he reaches the first floor and hears your scream as you tumble backwards and the loud crack as you hit something on your way down.
He slams through the door and almost falls down the stairs as he tackles the infected, “Get off her,” he roars, wrenching it to the side and shoving his gun point blank to its head, pulling the trigger. The ragged body drops immediately but Frankie doesn’t even register, he’s turned to you, hands roaming over your still body, searching every inch of skin he can reach.
“Did she get bit?” he hears Pat pant from behind but he can’t respond, he’s pulling off your shirt, trying to lift you up without jostling your limp body.
“C’mon cariño, please, please, don’t do this to me, not like this, not like this,” his voice breaks and he grabs your cheek in his hand, the other around your back, carefully sitting you up, cradling you in his arms.
“Put that away, she’s not fucking bit!” he snaps at Pat as he sees the man come around the side, aiming his gun at you. Pat lowers it, your eyes are still closed.
“Please, hermosa, mi vida, I’m here, please don’t leave me,” he caresses your cheek, lightly tapping it to make you wake up, “Don’t go, I can’t…” he whispers, “I can’t lose you,” he bites back the panic that threatens to rise up. “Please, you know I need you more than you need me, that’s how it’s always been. I’m a fucking mess without you, I can’t keep my shit together without you, I need you with me, always, cariño. Fuck, please, just wake up!” He’s rambling as fear fills his chest, making breathing hard. In desperation he gives your shoulder a little shake and suddenly your eyes blink open, with a groan you squeeze them shut again against the bright light of Eugene’s flashlight.
“Frankie…” you mumble and he shushes you.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you hermosa, I’ve got you, just don’t scare me like that again.
One of his hands is still feeling as much of your body as he can, lifting your arms and hands, inspecting them while Pat waits, his eyes searching your skin too.
“Cariño, I need to open your shirt,” Frankie says, leaning closer to your ear, “I’m sorry, I have to make sure you…” he trails off, his jaw tightening as he exhales through his nose, “I have to check you for bites,” he grits out, looking into your eyes as you carefully open them again.
“Ok,” you breath out, your voice small and scared and Frankie cups your cheek.
“It’s ok cariño, I won’t let you be alone if that happens, I won't leave you.” Gently he unbuttons your flannel shirt, pushing it off you while trying to not hurt your head, a large bump is already forming at the back. His hands roam across your bare skin, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he finds nothing. Cupping both cheeks with his hands he presses his lips hard against yours, kissing you deeply before pulling back again.
“You’re fine, nothing on you,” he says, releasing your cheek to push a strand of hair behind your ear, “let me check that bump on your head though.”
“The dog will have to check her when we get back, Frankie, you know that,” Pat says, putting his gun back in his holster and Frankie nods while gently probing your head.
“I know, but she’s fine, you can see for yourself.”
Pat takes Eugene upstairs to the radio and Frankie carefully makes you stand up on unsteady legs. You pull your shirt back on and button it as you tell him what happens, Frankie curses Eugene for leaving his post under his breath.
“What the fuck was he gonna do in the basement anyway?” he growls, putting his arm around your waist and leading you back upstairs. On the way past the front door, he stops and closes it, dragging a heavy desk in front of it, “Should’ve just fucking done that from the beginning,” he grumbles.
When you get back upstairs, Frankie insists on you sitting down on the floor, leaning against the wall, while he helps Eugene with the radio. It doesn’t take the old man long to figure out what’s wrong, quickly replacing some sort of mechanism in the back and tweaking it. When Frankie flicks the switch, statics fills the room.
“Let me hail Sean back in Boston,” you say, pushing yourself up from the floor, making Frankie rush over to hook his arm around your waist. You want to tell him to not fuss, but you’re still woozy and your head hurts so you gratefully accept his support.
After a bit of experimentation you find Sean’s frequency, praying he’s still working the radio, that FEDRA hasn’t shut it down, and hail him. After you say ‘Over’ the airwaves go silent and you wait, everyone in the room holding their breath.
“Boston QZ here,” Sean’s distinct voice comes through tinny and shrill but it’s definitely him and you breathe a sigh of relief.
“Sean!” you cry out, “It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“What…is…is that really you?” Sean sounds amazed and relieved on the other end. “I thought you were dead, and your Frankie too, you just disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth! Where are you?”
“It’s a long story Sean, and I can’t tell you where we are, in case you know who is listening. But we’re safe, we’re fine, both of us.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, and how’s Frankie, is he doing well?”
“I’m here Sean,” Frankie leans forward and grins into the microphone, “I’m doing good, really great.”
“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that, my dear boy! The last time I saw you, I’m sorry, but you didn’t look well,” You can hear Sean’s smile through the speakers and you give Frankie’s hand a little squeeze.
“I know, Sean, but it’s all good now. And we’ve met some good people here too, so we’re doing good.”
“Listen, Sean,” you say, before Sean can say something else about Frankie’s health, “Can you pass a message to Will and Benny? Let them know we’re alive and well and that we want to schedule a time to talk to them on the radio?”
“Absolutely, of course! I’ll leave the radio station early and go past their place before the curfew tonight.” Sean replies and you hear him scrabble around for something in the background before he comes back on, “I’ll have to leave straight away, it’s almost five thirty here, and the curfew is still at six pm.”
“Thank you, Sean, you’re the best,” you say, “Be careful, and give them hugs from us!”
“I won’t even reach up to give them hugs,” Sean chuckles, “but I’ll try. I’ll radio at two pm tomorrow, does that work for you?”
“We’ll be here, Sean,” Frankie says, “talk soon, over and out.”
“Over and out.”
…
You feel giddy on the way back to Jackson, despite the dull throb in your head. The feeling lasts right until Pat stops you just outside the Jackson gates.
“Sorry, I need to get Maria and the dog, you know the rules,” he says and you just nod to him and he disappears inside the gate. Frankie helps you out of the saddle, gently setting you down on your feet.
“It’ll be fine, cariño, he just has to be cautious,” he says, running his hand over your cheek before he wraps it around your shoulders, holding you close.
It doesn’t take long for Pat to return with Maria, she’s got a worried look on her face but stops a few feet from you.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I really hope you’re not infected but you know the drill,” she kneels to release the dog and looks up at Frankie. “I’m sorry, Frankie, but I need you to step away from here, and I’ll let the dog sniff you too, just to be safe.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, letting his hand fall from your shoulder as he steps back.
You hold your breath as the German Shepherd approaches, you blacked out, you don’t know you didn’t get bit but Frankie insists you’re fine, but what if he missed something? The dog sniffs your legs and jumps up, bumping its snout into your belly with a happy wag of its tail and you exhale deeply. Maria whistles and directs the dog towards Frankie and he trots over, Frankie reaches down and holds out his hand, the dog takes one sniff and then lifts his head and licks Frankie’s face, its long tongue lapping across his nose.
“Jeez, Scout,” Frankie chuckles, holding the dog off with his hands, “you’re not meant to eat me if I’m not infected, you know.”
“Thank god you’re both fine, I nearly had a heart attack when Pat told me what happened, I’m going to have to have a talk with Eugene about abandoning his post,” Maria shakes her head and clips the leash back on Scout’s collar. “But I heard the radio works and you got in touch with someone in Boston?”
“Yeah, Sean, who I used to work with on the radio there,” you reply as the four of you start walking back through the gates, Winston trailing behind Frankie who’s got his arm back around your waist, making sure you’re still steady on your feet. “And actually, we wanted to talk to you and Pat about that, about Boston, but in private first I think.”
“Ok,” Maria looks curious but nods, “I’ll put Scout back in his kennel and you can meet me at my house when you’ve stabled Winston.”
“Cariño, I need to check your head too,” Frankie says, lightly running his hand over your hair, “we’ll meet you there Maria, as soon as I’m sure she didn’t get a concussion.”
Maria nods again and Frankie leads you over to the stable along with Winston. You feel ok though, a bit battered and you know you’ll have bruises all over your back soon, but you let Frankie check you after he hands Winston over to Ned.
“Just follow my finger with your eyes, cariño,” he instructs and you do as he says. He lets his finger trail back and forth in front of your eyes until you sigh and wave it away.
“Frankie, I’m fine but if you keep waving that finger I really will get nauseous.”
“I’m just making sure,” he says, “you scared the shit out of me, I hear the crack when you hit the floor you know.”
“I feel fine, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my gun behind, that was a rookie mistake,” you say as Frankie gently cups your cheeks with his hands.
“You should’ve had it on you, but Eugene really shouldn’t have left the front door unguarded, we were lucky it was just one runner.” he tilts his head forward so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck…I hate when things like that happen to you, it’s like I a get a glimpse of what like would be without you and I don’t think I could fucking cope.”
“Did you mean it?” you ask in a small voice, “That you wouldn’t leave me if it did happen?”
“If you’d been infected?” he asks, “I wouldn’t leave you, I could never leave you, especially like that,” his thumbs stroke across your cheeks, he’s trying to keep his voice and eyes calm but you see the anguish in his face as he touches upon that thought. It fills you to, the very idea of Frankie being infected, of seeing the mycelium under his skin, losing him to that, it makes you shiver and he tightens his hold on you.
“Would you kill me? If I asked you to?” you whisper and you see his jaw tighten.
“If you wanted me too,” he says after a long pause, “I would, but I think…I might…” he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to say it, not even think it, but he knows he’d be hard pressed to not turn the gun on himself afterwards if it came to that.
“You can’t, Frankie,” you say, reaching up and tangling your fingers in the curls around his neck, “we can’t. Not while Jack needs us.” You pull back a little and look at him, his hands still around your face. “You have to promise me, that if the worst happens, you stay, for him. Don’t leave him.”
Frankie’s face flashes with pain and you feel it too, the idea of trying to go on without him, in this world, is just so very hard, but for the first time you feel responsible for someone else apart from Frankie and yourself.
“I don’t want to live without you, Frankie, not ever. But if I have to, for Jack, I’ll have figure out how to. And you need to do the same.”
He nods, it’s the smallest of gestures, but he’s looking at you and you see the intention in his eyes and you bring him close again, forehead to forehead.
“I promise, cariño,” he whispers, “I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out too. But I’m not letting that happen, I’m keeping you and Jack safe.”
“You can’t promise that, Frankie,” you whisper back, coming back to the same objection as always.
“Just fucking watch me,” he growls, but he’s smiling, challenging you to contradict him in his conviction.
It’s only a little bit later that you make your way over to Maria’s house, the plan for what you’re going to ask her ready. She calls for you to come on in when Frankie raps his knuckles on the front door.
Pat is already in the living room, on the couch with a cup of herbal tea in his hand, the only warm drink the community is able to produce, yet at least.
“How’s the head?” he asks as you sit down.
“Not too bad, there’s an egg sized lump on the back of my head that’s throbbing, but nurse Frankie says no concussion.
Pat chuckles as Frankie rolls his eyes at you, “Good to hear, you gave us one hell of a scare there, sorry if I was a bit rough with you afterwards.”
“There’s no need, Pat, it is what it is,” you shrug, trying to feign a casual response you don’t feel.
“I made some tea for you two too, thought you might need some warming up,” Maria says as she comes into the living room, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Frankie accepts the tea from Maria and clears his throat, “We wanted to ask you if we can invite four friends of ours, to Jackson, if they can make it from Boston.”
Maria has raised her eyebrows in question, you know how protective she is, how protective you all are, of the community, who you let in, and how crucial it is to keep the circle of people who know about it small.
“Before the outbreak, as you know, I was in Delta Force,” Frankie says, rubbing his thumb over the tea mug, “two of my best friends from those days, Will and Benny Miller, are still in Boston with their girlfriends. Will and Benny are two of the best people I know, my brothers, and very competent soldiers. For selfish reasons we’d both like to have them here, but I also think they’d be a great asset to Jackson.”
Maria nods slowly and looks over at Pat who’s rubbing his hand over his chin, “Frankie, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I trust you with my life when we’re out on patrol, and if they’re anything like you, and you vouch for them, I’d be more than happy to welcome them here.”
Pat’s glowing review of Frankie’s character makes pride swell in your chest and you see Frankie’s ears turn pink at the praise.
“Thanks, man, I…I don’t know what to say,” Frankie stutters, failing to hide his grin, “I…We’ve just really tried to do our best for the community, and I know Will and Ben would do the same. And their girlfriends are great people too, Diana, Will’s partner, is a nurse and Eve was training under her, it’d be great to have them here too.”
“It’s a long and dangerous journey, you two know that very well,” Maria says, “but if they’re willing to risk it, and as Pat says, you vouch for them, I don’t see why not. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another two ex-soldiers to deter any raiders.”
“We’re hoping to talk to them tomorrow at two pm, Boston time,” you say, “Sean was going to try to set it up for us.”
“Ok, but make sure you don’t tell them exactly where Jackson is, in case FEDRA listens in. Guide them to the radio tower, we’ll do patrols there regularly,” Maria says and Frankie can’t help but chuckle.
“Trust me, if we tell them to go to the radio tower, they’ll find Jackson the same afternoon, Benny will smell the food and Will’s going to read the map and figure out exactly where we are in under a minute.”
…
Pat and Ned come up to the radio tower with you and Frankie the next day. The front door had been properly secured before you left yesterday but you still carefully clear the building before heading up to the radio.
You start it up and find the right frequency, hailing Sean as Pat’s old wind up watch hits noon. Wyoming is still two hours behind the east coast, time zones strangely still being a thing, at least over the radio.
But it’s not Sean’s voice that comes back at you over the radio.
“Fuck you both for taking off like that,” Benny roars over the air waves, filling the small room in the radio tower, making Pat raise his eye brows and look at Frankie with alarm.
“We thought you were fucking dead! And not a word, not even fucking note, first Pope and then you two just disappear, what the fuck was that about? And now you just suddenly fucking turn up out of nowhere and you’re safe and you’re somewhere out west and I don’t know fucking what? Fish! You are so dead the next time I see you!”
“Benny, shut the fuck up for a second and let them respond,” Will’s voice comes through, interrupting Benny’s angry tirade, “Ironhead, over.”
The radio goes silent as someone on the other end lets go of the broadcast switch and you press yours down to reply, not quite sure what to say after Benny’s outburst. Sure, it was probably justified, but it wasn’t exactly the way you thought your first communication with them would go. Pat is looking very surprised and a little bit hesitant next to Frankie.
Frankie leans forward over your shoulder and puts his hand over yours on the switch, “Catfish here. Good to hear your voices, and I guess we had that coming Benny. We owe you guys an explanation.”
He pauses, his hand still on the switch as he collects his thoughts, “I had to leave, you guys know why, and she made me see that it was the only way. We didn’t want to leave without saying anything but…we couldn’t let you risk everything too. I know you both would’ve come anyway, even if I told you not to, so we had to leave without saying anything. But I’m sorry, really, Benny, I’m really sorry we didn’t say anything. Over.” He takes his hand off yours and you let the switch flip back up into the receiving position.
“Are you good now, Fish? Over.” Will’s voice comes over the radio almost instantly and Frankie hits reply.
“Yeah, I’m good now, been good for a while. But I’ll tell you all about it later, because we’ve found something really good here and we want you to come out too, if you can. It’s a long journey, but it’ll be worth it. I don’t wanna say too much in case FEDRA or someone else is listening in, but remember that job we did in Iraq? And the name of that fucking C.O. that kept calling Pope and me spics? There’s a place in Wyoming that matches, that’s where we are, come find us there. Over.” Frankie lets go of the switch.
“You’re in Wyoming? How the fuck did you end up there?” Benny’s voice is incredulous and he still sounds a bit pissed off but Will interrupts him.
“So you want us to travel halfway across the country but you can’t tell us why?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know it’s dodgy as fuck, but I know you trust me, it’s good, it’ll be worth it, we’ve got something really good going here. And you know the names right?”
“Yeah, sure, I still have a fucking five inch scar from that job and I know exactly what asshole you mean,” Will responds.
“Will,” you lean forward, “it’s a dangerous journey, we know that. But if you can get a car, you’ll find abandoned cars almost the whole way so that you can fill up on gas as you go, that’s what we did. Only thing is, the last two days, once we got to Wyoming, there were no more cars so we had to walk the rest of the way.”
“But why the fuck did you go as far as Wyoming?” Benny asks again and you can’t help but smile, you can see his face in front of you, his forehead bunched up as he tries to wrap his head around it.
“We didn’t plan it,” Frankie says, “we were just trying to get away from populated areas as much as possible. And then…something happened in Nebraska, and we had to head further west.”
“Yeah, be careful of people, we ran into some really nasty types in Nebraska, just about got away,” you fill in.
“But you’re saying it’ll be worth the journey, if we make it out to you guys?” Will asks and Frankie nods as he flicks the switch.
“Yeah, absolutely, I’m sorry I can’t say more over the radio, but yeah, one hundred percent worth it.”
“Well, anything is better than fucking Boston QZ at the moment,” Benny grumbles as Will flicks the switch again. “FEDRA has turned it into a fascist state, it’s even worse than when you left.”
“Fish, we’ll talk to Diana and Eve and let you know, but…I mean, I trust you with my life, you’re my brother,” Will says, “If you say it’s worth risking our lives for, then I believe you.”
“Ok, can you be back on the air at the same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Will says, “We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Over and out.”
The radio goes silent and you sit back, you can hardly believe you just talked to Will and Benny again. You just hope they want to come, and that they make it. Frankie wraps his arms around you from behind and gives you a big hug, pressing his lips to your cheek.
“So fucking great to talk to them again,” he grins, “I hope they want to come but I hope we did the right thing to ask them, it’s a long journey.”
You nod as you go through the motions of switching off the radio, you hope so too and a little ball of anxiety is settling in your stomach.
…
That ball grows as you don’t hear from them the next day. Not even Sean is on the radio and you can’t get in touch with Boston at all. You fiddle with the dials, trying everything Sean’s taught you, but there’s nothing, just statics. Frankie stands behind your shoulder, looking anxious. It was always a risk, contacting them inside the QZ, if FEDRA listened in they might’ve tried getting to Will and Benny straight away.
“Fuck, I really hope we didn’t put them in danger just by contacting them,” you say with a sigh, looking up at Frankie, he’s rubbing his hand over his jaw, deep in thought.
“I don’t know, cariño, I really hope not. I guess all we can do is come by here every day at noon and see if we get a response.”
You and Frankie take the patrol route that goes past the radio tower every day and make sure to be there at noon. The first couple of weeks you remain hopeful, maybe something broke, maybe there’s a curfew preventing anyone from getting to the radio, life is so unpredictable now, you know this. But as the weeks turn into a month, and then two, and the radio remains silent, both you and Frankie start losing hope. It’s like the Boston radio station has ceased to exist and all you can do is wait. And hope.
It’s not until you’re deep into winter that you come back to the radio station on one of your patrol routes, Frankie and you don’t even go on that patrol regularly anymore, and you find a message from one of the other Jackson residents.
Message from Sean in Boston: FEDRA shut down radio. W & B left approx. three months ago. Hope they have arrived. Will send new messages when possible.
“Three months ago?” you say, looking at Frankie, “they should be here by now if they managed to drive.”
“They should be here even if they walked the whole way,” Frankie says, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown, “something must’ve happened.”
You feel the lump in your stomach, anxious nerves twisting your insides, and Frankie sees the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms.
“Don’t give up hope yet, cariño,” he mumbles into your hair, “you know that if there’s anyone that can do that journey, it’s Will and Benny.”
“I almost wish we hadn’t told them,” you say into his chest, “I’m scared we’ll never hear from them again and never know what happened.”
He caresses your hair, trailing his fingers along the back of your neck, “You know, Benny will say it’s payback for what we did when we left without saying anything, I can just see his smirk as he says it, ‘Fuckin’ payback Fish!’ “
You smile through your tears, looking up at Frankie who’s doing his best to imitate Ben’s smug grin.
“There you go,” he smiles back at you, wiping your cheek clean, “don’t grieve for them yet, there’s still plenty of hope.”
…
Winter in Boston is a piece of cake compared to winter in Wyoming, as you find out, especially this close to the Rockies. The snow covers everything both inside and outside of Jackson in a thick layer. Almost every morning Frankie shovels the snow off your front porch and clears the path to the street. Then he shovels the section of the street the two of you are assigned to, everyone helping out to keep Jackson passable as the winter continues. Patrols become increasingly difficult, the snow becomes too deep even for the horses to pass through and the only upside is that if the Jackson guards can’t patrol, then no one else can either, all of Wyoming is snowed in.
But there’s plenty to do in the town and you go back to working in the kitchen, bringing Jack with you most days. He’s the only baby in the community and to say he’s spoiled rotten would be an understatement. He’s walking now, waddling around as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, but when he’s in the kitchen he spends most of his time on the hip of one of the residents who work there with you, happily watching everything that goes on around him.
Frankie takes Jack some days but he’s often outside, helping to build or fix things, slowly putting Jackson together into a working town. The stable has been joined by two chicken coops, the old medical clinic has been cleaned out and repaired as much as possible, there’s even a communal ‘shop’ of sorts where any useful clothes and shoes are stored and organized. An election has been held and Maria is now head of the community board, Jackson is slowly turning into a proper town.
As the weeks pass, the winter deepens and Maria and the board decide that it’s time for the town to have its very first holiday celebration. To be honest, no one is completely sure what day it is anymore. You lost track back in Denny’s cabin when you were trying to keep Frankie alive. In the QZ some people had made calendars to track the days but more often than not they disagreed on exactly what day it was. FEDRA in Boston claimed they had an exact calendar, but Will, who’d spent most of his life tracking everything, said it was incorrect by twenty six days, almost a month off, and you trusted Will. But in Boston, even to Will, it didn’t really matter what date it was, you were too busy just surviving.
So as the days are still growing shorter, a day is picked, a Saturday in two weeks, for the first Jackson Holiday Season celebration. The community hall is decorated with evergreens and the big room smells of juniper and pine every time you come inside. A thread bare red blanket has been cut into strips and turned into bows that are now nestled in the evergreen branches. And it seems every red item that can be found in Jackson has been brought to the hall to decorate tables, windows and every available surface.
As the day draws nearer Frankie becomes more and more secretive about what he’s up to, giving you sly grins whenever you ask where he’s off to as he tries to sneak out the door. You know he’s planning something, but you can’t figure out what. But his absence from the house gives you time to work on your own gifts for him.
There’s not much in the way of available holiday gifts though. Although Jack’s turns out to be pretty easy, the toy shop in the non-enclosed part of Jackson has an array of toys left on its shelves, not much use to anyone in the apocalypse. Frankie and you go over there one afternoon on a patrol route and pick out a colorful set of wood blocks and, of course, a toy helicopter, still in its box.
“You’ll have to explain what a helicopter is,” you say to Frankie as you watch him carefully scan the shelves to find the biggest and, in Frankie’s professional opinion, best helicopter model.
“Yeah, kinda weird knowing he’s gonna grow up never seeing a helicopter or airplane actually fly,” he replies, discarding yet another helicopter, “This model is alright, but the Viper really is better, even if most people thought the Apache Guardian was the best one. I always preferred the Viper, better maneuverability at low altitudes.”
“I think he’ll like this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red and yellow helicopter, clearly from a children's tv-show. Frankie glances at it and shakes his head immediately.
“No, I’m not giving our son a fake helicopter, he’s getting a real one.” He goes back to scanning the shelves, crouching down and moving the boxes aside. “Maybe they have some more out back,” he mutters, discarding yet another perfectly fine looking military helicopter.
“Well, when you find a ‘real’ helicopter in here, let me know. I’m going to see if I can find some crayons and drawing books for him,” you can’t help teasing him as you turn away and head towards the craft section.
You have to stop yourself from filling your bag to the brim with crayons, drawing books, beads, paint, brushes and other crafting materials, but you still stuff it pretty full. Just as you close it Frankie finally comes over, two boxes in his hands.
“I found a Viper out back, last one they had,” he says with a grin, showing you a military helicopter that, to you, looks identical to the one he discarded, “but I also got him this really cool rescue services helicopter, they use it for water bombing, it’s a S-64 Skycrane, it can hold up to three thousand gallons of water! In the army we call it the CH-54 Tarhe, but the Skycrane is the civilian name. It’s a twin engine, heavy lifting helicopter, one of the best in the world. You really need a pilot and a co-pilot to fly it but I had special training and could fly it solo in an emergency. But the really cool thing is that it could lift up to forty two thousand pounds and still do a hundred and nine knots! Isn’t that awesome, cariño?”
You’ve walked out of the shop and turned back down towards the Jackson gate while Frankie enthusiastically gushes about the toy helicopters still in his hands and when he pauses for your opinion, you just nod and smile at him. Most of what he said has just floated through your head, but Frankie tirade of facts reminds you of the first time he took you up flying, how he’d rattled off technical facts about the helicopter you were about to fly in and then apologized for boring you with all the details. As you wave to the guards and the gate slides open to let you in, you bump his shoulder with yours.
“That’s pretty cool, Frankie. Jack’s going to be very impressed too.”
“I can’t wait to show him on Christmas morning,” Frankie grins, smiling lovingly down at the two helicopters in his hands.
…
The night before what Jackson has communally decided is Christmas, or whatever holiday you want to celebrate, Frankie turns up at the door with a Christmas tree and you can’t believe your eyes. It’s not huge, a modest one, but he’s somehow found a foot for it, and now it’s standing in the living room and Jack’s eyes have never been bigger as he gazes at it. He’s almost one and you’re set on making his first Christmas as magical as possible.
“Pat, Ned and I found loads of decorations at HomeDepot, even the lights work,” Frankie says, showing you the box. “We’ve got enough decorations there to fill all of Jackson I think, I even got candy canes!”.
“You’ve got everything here,” you can’t help but giggle as you look into the box of decorations he’s dragged in after the tree, “baubles, tinsel, streamers, this is going to look amazing.” You haven’t wanted to celebrate anything for years, but now you’re filled with an urge to make the tree, and the house, look perfect for your first family Christmas. You’ve already made a wreath for the front door out of evergreen and colorful scraps of fabric but now you can add more decorations to the house. As Frankie organizes the tree decorations, you go through the house, placing tinsel and baubles wherever you can find a suitable spot.
“Should we decorate the tree now or wait until Jack’s asleep?” Frankie asks you as you come back into the living room, “My mom would always do it while we slept and then it’d be all perfect and ready on Christmas morning.”
“He’s too small for that, and I wanna sit in front of the fire with you tonight and look at our tree,” you reply, sliding your arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.
“Anything for you, cariño,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
…
Christmas Day morning you wake up as Frankie slips from the bed and you mumble after him. He comes back and tucks you back in, placing a feather soft kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Go back to sleep, cariño, I won’t be long.”
You doze off, the light in the room still dim and there’s no noise from Jack’s room, it must be early.
Frankie gently places a tray on the bedside table a little bit later and runs his hand over your shoulder, making you blink awake.
“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he whispers, before he disappears again and you slowly open your eyes, confused. But then you hear Jack’s gurgling as Frankie comes back in with the baby in his arms and you wake up properly.
“First family Christmas for baby Jack,” Frankie smiles and gives you the little boy after you’ve scooted yourself up to lean against the headboard.
“First family Christmas,” you smile back, snuggling a still sleepy Jack close while Frankie picks up the tray and sets it down on the bed before crawling back in next to you. On it are two steaming mugs and you can’t believe your nose.
“Is that hot chocolate, Frankie?!” you ask, eyes wide and he nods, giving you a big grin.
“Pat and I found a big bag of cocoa powder a while back, we’ve been keeping it a secret for Christmas, he’s making brownies for everyone tonight.”
“Oh my god, I can’t wait…” you sigh, accepting the mug as Frankie passes it to you, keeping it out of reach from Jack’s grabby hands.
“Don’t worry, gordito, I’ve made you some too,” Frankie chuckles, giving Jack a sippy cup. The baby’s face transforms as he tastes the sweet drink, tilting the cup back so fast you have to grab it to stop him from drowning himself in the drink.
“I hope there’s plenty of cocoa powder because we may have found Jack’s new favorite thing,” you laugh. Frankie scoots closer and puts his arm behind your back, pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Frankie, your present is under the tree,” you say and you can feel him chuckle under you.
“So that’s what you did when you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night,” he laughs, “I was wondering what you were up to.”
“No, that was Santa Claus,” you say with a serious face, “you must’ve heard of him coming down the chimney.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Frankie chuckles again, “Santa Claus.” He puts his mug down and tilts your head up towards him, brushing his nose against your cheek, running it along the bridge of your nose until his lips find yours and he nudges them apart with his tongue. He tastes of chocolate and honey and himself as he deepens the kiss. Jack coos happily on your lap, you can feel him tugging at the t-shirt you’ve slept in while Frankie’s warm body wraps around you and Jack. He pulls back a little, leaving your lips, and smiles down at you, and then Jack, his eyes warm and soft, crinkling at the corners.
“Merry Christmas,” he says in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment and you reach up and cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scruffy beard, stroking the small patch that never fills in and you kiss him again.
The rest of the morning, after breakfast has been cleared away, is spent in the living room. The fire is going, warming the house and keeping the blistering cold Wyoming winter at bay, and the Jackson board has given everyone leave to light the Christmas lights as the dam is running like clockwork, producing much more electricity than the small community needs.
Jack happily tears into the bright paper around his presents, banging the wooden blocks against each other with glee as Frankie shows him how the helicopter flies. Frankie’s wearing your presents to him, your very first knitting projects, a woolly hat that turned out much better than you anticipated, and a pair of pretty knobbly socks that Frankie swears are the comfiest socks ever, but you’re pretty sure he only says that to make you happy.
Your own present from Frankie is already neatly placed in the book shelf next to the window, a wide selection of best selling books from the Jackson Bookshop. You hadn’t even known there was a bookshop but Frankie had lugged back over twenty heavy books, and promised to take you there to get more books when you wanted.
“I also have another present, but you’ll get that one tonight,” he smiles, giving you a mischievous wink that doesn’t fail to get you a little bit turned on. You’ve almost lost count of the years you’ve been with him now, but he still knows exactly what look to give you to make heat shoot through your body, making your thighs clench together.
As darkness falls over Jackson, almost everyone heads for the community hall. There’d been a draw and a few unlucky people were on guard duty, but they’ve been giving generous hampers of the best food and extra days off from guard duty as compensation. But you’re still very happy that neither your or Frankie’s names got pulled for duty tonight. Instead you’d wrapped Jack in warm clothes and walked down to the community hall that’s blazing with light and warmth. Now you’re leaning back in your chair, Jack on Frankie’s lap, full of food you didn’t think you’d ever eat again. Turkey and cranberries, roast potatoes, even Pat’s brownies, it had all been delicious and you think it may have been the best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had. Jack had happily tried everything that had been placed in front of him, except the brussel sprouts, but you couldn’t blame him for that. The brownie had been his favorite, smeared across most of his face to the delight of the whole Jackson community. It was as if Jack’s presence, still the only child in town, gave even more of a holiday feel to the celebration and he’d been passed around almost every lap during the evening before slumping in Frankie’s now, almost asleep.
“Do you want me to take him now, Frankie?” Maria asks as she comes over and you look up surprised but Frankie just smiles.
“That’d be great, I think it should be ready now,” he gives Jack a peck on the top of his fuzzy head and carefully hands him over to Maria, “We’ll come pick him up tomorrow morning, but not too early.”
“Don’t worry about it, take all the time you want,” Maria says and winks as Frankie stands, holding out his hand to you.
“Mi amor, time for your Christmas present,” he smiles and you take his hand.
“I want to ask where we’re going but I’m guessing you won’t tell me?” you ask and Frankie chuckles, waving goodbye to Maria and leading you out of the community center.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.
You walk through the quiet town, in the opposite direction from your own house and you’re thoroughly confused when Frankie leads you down a street no one lives on yet and to a house right at the end of the cul-de-sac. He pushes the gate open but instead of going up onto the porch, he leads you round the back, pushing open another gate in a tall fence, and stepping into the backyard.
You see it immediately, a large wooden hot tub, filled to the brim with steaming water, heated by a wood fired heater next to it. A big pile of firewood is next to it and by the way the snow is flattened you guess Frankie’s been here during the evening to feed the fire and heat up the water.
“Seriously?” you smile, turning to look at Frankie who’s grinning next to you, “A hot tub?”
“Yep, we knew it was here but with fire wood needed to heat the houses it was never put to use. Now that the dam is running so well, we can afford to waste a bit of wood on heating it. So, Merry Christmas, cariño.”
He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans his head on your shoulder, the cold tip of his nose finding the warm skin of your neck and you reach up, cupping the back of his head.
“Merry Christmas, Frankie, this is amazing…” you sigh, “And I guess Maria is in on this too, that’s why she took Jack?”
“She’s babysitting him tonight for us, so we have all the time that we want,” Frankie mumbles, his lips already wandering across your neck, pushing hair out of the way and reaching that spot just under your ear that he loves to nuzzle into, to nip at just a little, because he knows how you react when he does.
“C’mon, we’re skinny dipping,” he smiles into your neck, reaching for the zipper on your winter coat and sliding it down, “strip fast and get in, I’ll be right there.”
He gives your neck a final little nip, making you hum quietly under your breath, before he steps away and goes to retrieve something up on the back porch. There’s a bench next to the hot tub and you quickly take off your jacket and peel off the rest of your clothes. As you get to your bra and panties you quickly glance around and realize that the backyard has total privacy, even from the neighboring houses, so you strip down and climb into the tub. Frankie comes back just as you step into the water, the short stay in the frigid air has made you shiver and you moan as you slip into the hot water.
“Frankie, this feels amazing,” you sigh as Frankie places a couple of towels on the heater to keep them warm, and places two glasses and a bottle on the edge of the hot tub.
“You look very cozy there, cariño,” he smiles as he starts stripping down too. You can’t help but lean on the edge of the hot tub and watch him as he pulls his shirt off, followed by his pants. He’s well into his forties now but he’s still maintained his wide, muscular shoulders and broad chest that tapers down into a narrow waist and hips over strong thighs. The only thing betraying his age and the slightly softer lifestyle of Jackson is his soft little belly and more gray hairs in his patchy beard.
“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles as he spots you shamelessly scanning his body.
“Always, ever since our first date,” you smile, scooting to the side as he steps in. Your mouth waters as you take in his half hard cock hanging stiff between his legs, despite the cold air.
Frankie sinks down into the water with a groan, the warmth seeping into his muscles and bones and with a thump he drops his head back against the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes, letting a long breath escape him. You move closer to him again, pulling his arm around your shoulders as you sink into his side.
“Hmm…” he tilts his head towards yours, his hand coming up to hold your chin, moving it so that he can reach your lips, “you taste like Christmas, cariño.”
It makes you smile into his mouth, letting your tongue slip into his, tasting him, the burn of the whiskey he had before you left.
“What’s in the bottle, Frankie?” you ask, mumbling against him and now it’s his turn to smile.
“Something to make you lose your inhibitions and have sex in a hot tub in the middle of a Wyoming winter,” he chuckles.
“Sounds exactly like what we need,” you smile back at him and he pulls away far enough to grab the glasses and the bottle. The bottle is barely half full but it’s more than enough for a finger in each glass and when Frankie hands one to you, you smell the rich bourbon.
“This is the real stuff? Not Eugene’s moonshine?” you ask, your eyebrows raised but Frankie just grins and clinks his glass against yours.
“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he takes a sip, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief over the brim.
“Francisco Morales,” you say, trying to sound stern, and failing, “where did you get this?” You take a sip and groan. You were never a big whiskey drinker before the outbreak, and not even during the first few years of it. But while in Boston, when creature comforts became fewer and further between, real whiskey was one of the few things that could sometimes be traded for, the one indulgence that could make you all relax enough to forget the real world for a while. As the years passed it became harder to find the good stuff, mostly it was moonshine disguised as whiskey. But this was real bourbon, Jack Daniels, and not the cheap stuff.
Frankie takes another sip and leans forward, “I pulled a few strings, I am the hero of Jackson Dam after all,” he chuckles before he makes you open your mouth to his tongue again. The whiskey flavor is mellow this time, mingling with his own taste and you forget your question, moaning as he licks into your mouth. He takes the glass from you, placing it on the edge without letting his mouth leave yours and then his hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. The cold air hits your shoulders but Frankie sinks down further, water sloshing around you, and as he moves his lips from your mouth, trailing down your neck, you forget about the frigid temperature. His hands are pulling you down against his hard length as he sucks a mark into your smooth skin, making you whimper under him.
“I wanna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, his lips brushing down over your chest as he lifts you out of the water, watching the cold air make your nipples tighten before he wraps a hand around your breast, the warmth from his palm making you shudder, “Gonna make you come on my fingers right here, fuck you on my lap, then I’ll take you home, get you warmed up in front of the fire before I take care of you for the rest of the night, anything you want, hermosa, I’ll do to you.”
His words make you shiver more than the air, sending spasms down your spine, and Frankie moves you off his lap, setting you down next to him, the warm water coming up to your neck again.
“You can come inside me tonight, Frankie,” you say as his strong hands grip your legs, and you feel his response, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and he presses his mouth to yours, taking a long kiss, tongues slipping over each other, before he pulls back a little.
“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear now, as he pulls you into his side, his hand slipping up the inside of your thigh. You don’t need his words to spread open for him, but he knows you like to hear him ask for it, so he lets his breath skate across the damp skin while he tells you what to do. Hooking his leg over yours, he squeezes the soft flesh of your leg as he props you open for his hand to slip further up. You’re protesting at his slow pace, he’s just teasing you as he strokes the butter soft skin right at the top of your thigh, grazing against your core as he moves his hand to the other side. He chuckles into your ear as your hips buck, chasing his hand and he lets his other arm slip down to your hip, grabbing it tight and holding you still as he moves his hand up again.
“So impatient tonight, cariño,” he smiles before his teeth nip at your neck, his scruff tickling your skin as he moves further down. His hand is still kneading the plush flesh, pushing you open more as he slides his hand back up. When his fingertips catch at your entrance and drags upwards, you whimper, turning your head and chasing his lips with your mouth. He lets you kiss him, opening his mouth to your tongue as his fingers slide through your folds.
The slow drag makes you want to clench your thighs together but his leg is keeping them in place, keeping you open for his drawn out exploration.
“Frankie…” you moan against his lips, breathing heavily against him as he brushes around your clit yet again, “please…more…”
You can feel him smile against you as your pleading voice turns into a whine when he slowly pushes the tip of his finger inside you, only the one, much too little for what you need, and you keen in protest, grabbing his shoulder and trying to push your hips towards him.
“Sshh…hermosa, just stay still, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his voice low and promising, “gonna let you feel my fingers so deep inside this wet little pussy, just be patient…” the last words he mumbles into your ear as he leaves your lips, his hot breath making you shiver. His finger slips out and slips back in, pumping slowly as he lets his thumb touch your clit feather light, but even under those small touches, your breath catches, head thrown back against the edge of the hot tub.
Frankie’s teeth grazes your throat, just under your ear, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you shiver again and he slides his finger out, even the hot water feels cool against his skin after the heat of your pussy. When he adds a second finger and slides in, he’s rewarded by a loud moan as you turn your heads towards him again, desperately seeking him. He swallows down your noises, drowning in your pants as he starts curling his fingers back, dragging across a spot he knows makes you squeeze your eyes shut as you gasp. His thumb finds your clit again and now he lets his rough pad, made soft and wrinkled by the warm water, rub across the swollen pearl, circling, flicking, teasing until your gasps are replaced by panted whimpers into his mouth.
“Frankie…” you moan, “Frankiefrankiefrankie…”
Your cries send shock waves into his hard cock, resting heavily in the water between his spread thighs, one of his legs still hooked over yours. He feels your hand slide down over his front, wrapping around the solid length, and it’s his turn to gasp, your thumb finding the slit and caressing over it.
“Make me come, Frankie, I-I want you to fuck me h-here,” you pant, shaking under the way his fingers plunge in and out of your tight heat, “I want your cock inside me now, I don’t want to w-wait…oh fuck…”
He’s slipped out and added a third finger, pressing them deep inside you, moving his body to push you against the wall of the hot tub, your hand still gripping his hard, aching cock. His tongue invades your mouth, both of you moaning under the onslaught of pleasure rippling through your nerves. You’re further along, Frankie’s thumb teasing your clit in ever tightening circles while his fingers curl back. But it’s Frankie who breaks first, as his cock easily slips through your tight grip under the water, he curses in Spanish, pulling away from you.
“C’mere,” he growls and you gasp as his fingers slip out of you. He grabs your arms, turning you around easily and placing you on his lap, pushing your legs wide, hooking them over his knees, as you lean back against his chest. You feel the tip of his rigid cock at your entrance as he pulls you down, the slick heat of your core and the water making him slide in deep in one firm thrust. The impact, the way he hits a spot deep inside, makes you throw your head back, against his shoulder, and cry out his name. Frankie sees your hot breath steam into the cold air, mixing with the steam from the hot tub as you moan again. One hand on your hip to pull you down, he lets the other find your aching clit, teasing it with his fingers as he thrusts up into you. His cock his aching, every movement from you transplanting into every nerve ending along it, shooting up through his spine, his balls, his fucking finger tips, he swears he can feel you clenching tight around him even in his ear lobes.
His mouth is right next to your ear and he’s mumbling, slamming his hips up as much as the position lets him, “Such a tight fucking pussy, couldn’t wait another second, bebita, your hand…” he groans as another spams ripples through your body, he can feel how close you are, grinding your hips down against him with every thrust up, “fuck…you feel so fucking good,” he moans, “let me feel you come around my cock, just let me feel it, I’m so fu-fucking c-c-lose…”
You can feel his fingers dig into your hip, his mouth against your ear, his rough fingers caressing rough circles around your clit, building pressure.
“Frankie…” you whimper, your voice tight and strained, “I’m…”
Your orgasm hits you without warning, snapping every muscle in your body, Frankie feels you go rigid under his grip as you cry out his name again, it catches in your throat as he continues to grind up in to you, his fingers rubbing fast circles, pushing you forward, prolonging every waves that washes through you until you go limp. With a sob you slump back against him and he grabs your hips, pushing himself deep, once, twice, with a cry he thrusts in a third time and feels himself explode, pumping deep inside as your slowing spasms milk him dry.
You feel yourself relax in his arms, his grip tight, heart thrumming under your back as he pushes his face against the crook of your neck. You look up towards the night sky, trying to focus your eyes again, as every muscle in your body tingles with pleasure, coming down. Tendrils of steam are rising from the tub, your breath mingling with his, low pants and sloshing water the only sounds around you. You shiver as you realize most of your chest is out of the water, you’re still sitting on Frankie’s lap, but he notices and lifts you up, your body almost weightless in the water.
“C’mere, don’t get cold,” he mumbles, his voice soft and mellow, and he tucks you in under his arm, pulling you close into his side, kissing your cheek with his warm lips.
“Even before the outbreak, this would’ve been an absolutely perfect Christmas gift, Frankie,” you hum, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he draws another deep breath, his shoulders dropping, relaxing.
“Yeah, I would’ve gotten one of these for the house,” he says, lifting his hand and caressing the top of your head, his fingers trailing through your hair for a few minutes as you both let the warmth of the water soak through your muscles, relaxing you enough to slip even further down.
“I haven’t thought about life before the outbreak in a long time,” he mumbles after a while, a darker tone to his voice, “or where we would be if it hadn’t happened.”
“We’d still be together, Frankie, I know that. In our house, getting old, soaking in a hot tub.”
You see him give a small smile but his mind has turned to someone else.
“She’d be turning seventeen this spring…I wonder what she would look like,” Frankie’s fingers twitch in your hair as he tilts his head towards you, you feel the shift in his mood as clearly as if you were looking at his face.
“You know she’d be beautiful, Frankie, but more importantly, she’d be an incredible young woman with you as her dad,” you take his hand and stroke your thumb over the knuckles, a small soothing movement.
“It’s so unfair…I could've protected her, if only she’d been with me when the outbreak happened, I would’ve kept her safe,” he shifts so that he can turn himself more towards you, slipping down and leaning his head against your shoulder, his arm circling your waist to pull you even closer, “and none of all the shit I put you through would’ve happened, I would’ve been able to stay away from it with both of you alive.”
“You had to go through something no one should have to face, Frankie, you know I don’t blame you for any of it,” you whisper, letting your lips brush over his damp curls and you hear him let out a shaky breath.
“My first sponsor, back before Lucía was born, used to say that men like him and me need a focus in our lives, someone to protect or something to live for, to keep us straight. It might not be the best way, but it is what it is. And he told me I should let Lucía be my focus, and it worked.”
Frankie draws a deep breath and shrugs, “She was the reason, even before she was born, that I got clean. When I met you,” his hand wraps around yours under the water, “I knew that I didn’t need to put that burden on you, I could just be yours, be the man you deserve, and not let you deal with all my shit. She was going to keep my focus even if she didn’t even know it,” Frankie stops, and you hear the sob he tries to swallow back and you wrap your arms tighter around him as he digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer, pressing his face to your neck.
“When she…” he murmurs, and you can feel him shake his head, “I can’t…say it…”
“You don’t have to, Frankie, I know what you mean,” you press your lips against his head and he draws a deep breath, swallowing down another sob.
“After, at the cabin, I had to shift my focus to you…you were the only reason I didn’t walk into the lake. But I don’t want you to have to be the reason I stay clean, I should be able to do it anyway, it’s not your burden.”
“You know I’d do it all again, Frankie, I will happily help you carry your burden, as long as I get to have you alive and well with me, that’s all I ever want,” you sink down, cupping his face between your hands, finding his eyes with yours before you press your lips to his, “You’re my everything, Frankie,” you mumble, pulling back a little and looking at his tear filled eyes again, “You’re always my everything, you’re always going to be the most important person in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes, always,” you kiss him again, harder this time, pressing your love into him and you feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer.
“Cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, “cariño, hermosa, eres todo para mí.” he brings his hands up to your face, his nose nudging yours as he kisses you again, “Siempre, siempre.”
He pulls you in, his mouth finding yours, soft lips pressed close, as he pulls you onto his lap again, “Always, I’m always yours.”
…
Winter seems to drag on forever, with no end in sight. You wish you had a weather channel on the useless tv that’s stored away in the garage. You’d love for a weatherman to explain to you why it’s mid-April and it’s still snowing, a thick layer on the ground.
“It’s the mountains, cariño,” Frankie explains for the fifth time as you grumble at the snow on yet another cold morning. “We’re so high up, even though we’re on the same latitude as Boston. And Boston has a coastal climate, Jackson has a continental climate, but we’re in a valley so I think, probably-”
“Frankie, I love you, but I don’t need another encyclopedic entry on why Jackson winters are so fucking long,” you sigh, shutting him up with a kiss that makes him grin at you as he tries to grab your butt.
“Fine, snow bad, sunshine good,” he chuckles, taking Jack from you. Jack’s grown a lot over the winter and totters around the house, forcing you to baby proof every low surface to prevent him from grabbing at anything within reach.
You long for warmer weather, for mild days where you can let Jack go outside without four layers of clothing, to be able to sit on the porch swing with Frankie and just rock back and forth. And, thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for your wish to come true. It’s like someone flicked a switch. Freezing nights are replaced with mild spring showers, the snow melts, turning all the unpaved streets to mud, only to dry up as the sun returns a few days later. Suddenly the white world has turned dirty yellow and gray, and then bright green breaks through. It’s like an Arctic spring, over in a week, the mountain’s are still snow capped but the meadows are coated in fresh green grass and a riot of spring flowers.
Daffodils shoot up through the sparse grass in your backyard, the originally neat rows have multiplied over the years and taken over the lawn. You realize that whoever lived here before the outbreak must’ve planted them and now they spread their bright yellow shine all over what is now your garden. You pick bunches and decorate the house, fill every container you have with them, give more to Maria and Pat, even Ned and the horses get bunches for the stable, and still you have daffodils all over your lawn.
With spring all of Jackson is busy preparing for the new season, the first two green houses have been built over the winter, glass from dilapidated houses used to create two impressive structures. Now they’re filled with neat rows of planters and almost everyone takes turns tending them, overseen by a young man called Alwin, a self taught gardener with very green thumbs.
You still work in the kitchen though, food is always needed for the growing community and together with Alwin, you and the other kitchen manager have made plans for what plants to cultivate for maximum harvest.
You leave the community center and the kitchen behind one afternoon when spring has almost moved into early summer, Jack wobbling next to you. He loves to run but his legs aren’t really stable enough so you keep your hands ready to catch him as you follow his unsteady gait towards the stable. Frankie has been working on putting up an extension to the storage building, three foals had been born this spring and next winter more feed would be needed to keep all the horses well fed.
Frankie spots you and Jack as he jumps down from the hay loft, “Hey Jack, look at you go!” he calls to the grinning boy, and Jack speeds up, trying to run to Frankie.
“Da! Da!” he gurgles excitedly as you stop him from toppling over.
“Yeah, that’s your Da,” you laugh as Jack sets off again, tilting at a precarious angle. ‘Da’ could mean dad but also ‘horse’, ‘there’, ‘food’ or any number of things that might catch Jack’s eyes. But right now there’s no mistaking who he means as Frankie catches him and sweeps him up over his head in a big swing. Jack shrieks with laughter and Frankie spins him around an extra time before setting him on his hip, one arm securely around the boy’s back, as the other catches your waist, pulling you in so that he can kiss you as you put your hand behind his neck.
“You’re early,” he mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip and demanding another kiss, before he pulls back to look at you. His sweaty curls are unruly and flopping around his ears and forehead, his cap nowhere to be seen, and the spring sunshine has given him a tan, the tip of his nose slightly pink, and you have to give it a peck.
“We were done with planning and dinner is already sorted, so I thought we’d come surprise you,” you smile at him, “You really need a haircut, remind me tonight and I’ll give you a trim.”
“Sure, and I think Jack needs a trim too, either that or a hair tie,” Jack’s blonde curls are blowing in the wind and threatening to fall into his eyes but they are so cute that you’ve been putting off cutting them. Just like with Frankie’s curls, they were irresistible for wrapping around your fingers as you caress his soft head while he falls asleep.
“How’s the new building going?” you ask and Frankie turns to point up towards the roof.
“We just finish-”
You suddenly hear running footsteps from the main street and Josie, one of the people on guard duty today, comes rushing into the stable yard. You feel Frankie stiffen next to you, cutting himself off and instinctively reaching for his rifle that’s leaned against the stable wall.
“Oh good, you’re both here,” Josie pants, taking a deep breath and wiping her forehead, “You need to come quick, there’s people at the gate!”
“Are we under attack?” Frankie lets go of you and grabs the rifle but Josie shakes her head.
“No, but people,” she says, “asking for you! Come on!” She turns and starts heading back the way she came and you glance over at Frankie, hope suddenly burning in your chest and you see that he’s had the same thought. With Jack still on his arm you both hurry after Josie.
By the time you get to the gate it’s already open and you see a patrol returning, horses, men and women, coming through.
And then you both see them at the same time, two tall blonde men on horseback, and your heart leaps. Will spots you and his face splits into a wide grin, throwing his leg over the horse and jumping down.
“Fish!!” Benny yells, startling everyone around him, but he’s ignorant of it, throwing himself off his horse, sprinting towards you both. You laugh as you see Eve throw her hands in the air at being left on the horse as Benny takes off, behind him you see Will help Diana off her horse.
Benny stops short a few feet in front of Frankie, looking from him to Jack and back again, Jack’s big blue eyes are staring at Benny.
“Fish, I swore I’d fu-..” he bites his tongue, looking at Jack, “I swore I’d smack you, when we found you, but you’re holding a baby,” Benny blinks at Jack, looks over at you, and back at Frankie, “You have a baby?!”
“Come here, dumbass,” Frankie laughs, stepping over to Benny and giving him a one armed hug, “So fucking good seeing you, we were starting to get worried.”
Will grins as he reaches you and picks you up in a bear hug that makes you giggle, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.
“Fuck, I missed you Will, missed you so much,” you smile, willing yourself to not start crying as he puts you back on your feet.
“Missed you too,” he grins and takes a step towards Frankie, smacking him on his shoulder, getting his attention away from Benny, who lets go of him. The two men hug, you see Frankie blink his eyes rapidly, clapping Will on the back, but then Benny grabs you, picking you up just as high as Will and shaking you back and forth in his iron grip.
“So fucking good to see you!” he laughs, squeezing you tight enough to make you tap his shoulder.
“Missed you too Benny, but jeez, let me breathe please,” you laugh, your feet a clear foot off the ground.
“Come one, give her a break,” Diana chuckles, and you find yourself being hugged by both women, your tears starting to drip, you don’t think you’ve felt this happy in a long time and Benny wraps his long arms around the three of you.
“Great place you’ve got her, but did you have to move to the other side of the fucking country?” he says, grinning down at you as you wipe at your eyes.
Will and Frankie join you and Will tucks his arm around your waist next to Diana as you all stand in a tight little group, grinning at each other, not quite believing that you’re all here.
“So who’s this little guy?” Benny asks, putting his finger out for Jack to grab.
“Long story,” Frankie says, “but we met his mother on the way here, she was dying unfortunately, so we took care of him. She told us her brother was out in Wyoming with a group of people, that’s how we met these guys,” he gestures at the patrol dispersing around them.
“And now he’s ours,” you smile down at the grinning baby, “His name’s Jack, named after his uncle, but unfortunately he died before we found him, so we felt kinda responsible for little baby Jack.”
“He’s adorable,” Diana says, smiling at Jack and getting a toothy grin back, “And being parents suits you,” she says, “you guys look happy.”
“Yeah, you do, happy and healthy,” Will says, looking at Frankie who dips his eyes to his boots, reaching out and taking hold of your hand before he looks back up.
“We are…I am, really happy, and healthy,” he smiles, glancing over at you, “I’ll tell you all about it later, but yeah, I’m doing really good, better than ever I think.”
“Good to hear, man,” Benny says with a grin, clapping Frankie on the shoulder.
Maria approaches the group with a smile, looking at the newcomers.
“I take it these are your friends from Boston?” she says, holding out her hand and introducing herself to them all.
“I’m going to guess you’ve had a pretty long and rough journey so I’ll let these two take care of you tonight,” she nods at Frankie and you with a smile, “I can imagine you have a lot of catching up to do too. I’ve assigned all of you to the house across the street from the Morales’ for now, but there’s another empty house if you’d rather live separately with your partners.”
“Thank you very much, “ Will says, “We really appreciate it, thanks for letting us come here, taking us in like this.”
“Oh, we’ll make you work for it, don’t worry,” Maria grins, giving you all a wave before she walks off.
“C’mon,” Frankie says, “Let us show you your house and then we’ll sort dinner at our house.”
“I cannot believe you have a fucking house, Fish,” Benny grins as the six of you, and baby Jack, set off down the street.
“Yeah, I’m getting used to it now but it was weird the first few months,” Frankie says, “and then we got electricity, we managed to fix the dam last year, and it started feeling like normal life again.”
“You’ve got hot water?” Eve asks, you can hear the hope in her voice and it makes you laugh, you remember the feeling of the first hot shower you had once the electricity was working again.
“We do indeed,” you say, smiling at her as she bounces on the balls of her feet, “and lots of it.”
“Oh my god, I’m going to drown myself in a hot shower….” she sighs and Benny hooks his arm around her shoulders.
“You n’ me both, babe,” he grins, “together and-”
“And maybe we really should look into that other house Maria mentioned,” Will interrupts, as you and Diana laugh, “I am not sharing a house with my baby bro again.”
“Don’t worry,” you smile, “I’ll ask Maria which one it is tomorrow. There are still plenty of empty houses around Jackson.”
“This is us,” Frankie says, as you all arrive on your street, and he points to the dark green house that’s now yours, “And you guys are in this one, for as long as you want.” He points across the street to a pale yellow wooden house with a porch similar to the one that wraps around your house.
“Nice, very nice, you guys!” Benny is already pulling Eve by the hand towards the yellow house and you all follow them inside. It’s sparsely decorated but clean, most of what the previous owner left behind is still here.
“There should be clean towels and sheets upstairs and I’ll get you soap and shampoo from the community center,” Frankie says, showing them all around as you get the fire going in the living room and turn on the heating.
“It’ll take a while for the water to heat up but the rooms should start getting warm straight away,” you say to Will as he wanders into the living room again. You stand up and put the fire guard in front of the fireplace and he comes over and puts his arm around your shoulder with a smile.
“It’s really good to see you two again,” he says, looking down at you, “seeing Frankie doing so well, he looks like a new man.”
“Will, I’m really sorry we took off without saying anything to any of you, especially right after Santi…”
“I know, I get it,” he interrupts, “If you’d come to me and told me what you planned, I would’ve stopped you, or probably gone with you. I know you did the only thing you could to save Frankie, he needed to get away from Boston, from Joel, he wasn’t strong enough to withstand it.”
“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to leave Diana behind, or bring her on a really risky venture,” you take his arm and lead him to the couch in front of the fireplace and you both sit down, “I know how loyal you and Benny are to Frankie, but I…I couldn’t risk your lives, or Diana and Eve’s, for Frankie’s problems.”
“Yeah…” Will sighs, “I understand, I would’ve done the same, if Benny had those problems, I’d do anything, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to risk their lives.” He nods, looking over at the fire that’s spreading warmth across the room, “He’s lucky to have you, what you did…” he looks over at you again and gives you a crooked smile, “you’ve saved his life more times than he even knows.”
“I know,” Frankie says and you both look up, he’s standing at the doorway, looking at you with a warm smile. “I know I owe her everything, even from before the outbreak, she was always way more than what someone like me deserves.” He comes over and sinks down onto the couch next to you and pulls you in under his arm, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”
“Good, I’m glad you know it, or I would’ve had to let Benny knock some sense into you,” Will grins
“I keep telling you, you deserve a lot more than what you think, Frankie,” you say, leaning into him. His soft brown eyes look down at you and there’s a hint that maybe he’s starting to believe you, after all these years as he smiles. You can’t resist, even though Will is sitting right next to you, you reach up and press your lips to his, and you can feel him nip at your bottom lip. Will clears his throat, but chuckles as he shifts in his seat.
“Keep that shit in your own house, please.”
“Yeah, you’ve got an entire house to yourselves, please keep that out of my house,” Benny snorts as he walks into the room, baby Jack snuggled on his hip.
“I see you’ve made a friend,” you laugh as Jack happily tugs at Benny’s long hair.
“Yeah, he’s a cool little bean,” Benny grins as he carefully unfurls Jack's chubby little fingers, “and with a killer grip, ouch, little man, give me a break!”
“He used to tug at Frankie’s beard all the time,” you say, “he had to keep it short or Jack would rip all of it out.”
“And I know, I didn’t have much to start with,” Frankie says, “I’m just saying it before any of you point it out.”
His remark makes you all laugh and Jack happily joins in.
“I think the water is hot enough now, so I’m jumping in the shower,” Diana says from the doorway, “and there’s shampoo and soap and everything up stairs too.”
“I’ll come with you, honey,” Will says and pushes himself off the couch.
“We’ll let you guys get cleaned up, settle in,” Frankie looks over at you as Benny hands you Jack, “we’ll get dinner sorted so just come over whenever you’re ready, you know where we are.”
…
You glance out through your kitchen window as you chop some fresh buckram for the chicken, you can see Benny through the window of the other house, pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt as he talks to Eve. It feels surreal, but also like the most natural thing in the world, to have them here, in a normal world, finally. To have your best friends, and Frankie’s best friends, living across the street, cooking dinner for them, looking forward to a long evening of catching up.
Behind you Frankie comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, the tip of his nose pressed against your neck.
“Jack’s asleep, out like a light,” he murmurs, “too much excitement I think.”
“We should hire Benny as a nanny,” you smile, “they were great together.”
“Yeah, Benny was always great with kids, probably because he’s a big kid himself,” Frankie chuckles, “I’ll go let them in,” he says as you see the four of them leave their house, Eve gives you both a big wave as they spot you in the kitchen window.
You hear them tumble into the house, Benny is telling some story about deer and even though your back is against them you can sense Will’s exasperated eye roll at his brother.
You put the tray in the oven and clean your hands, grab the whiskey bottle Frankie has left on the kitchen table and follow the noise into the living room.
“So tell us, what took you so long to get here?” Frankie asks, pulling glasses from a cabinet, “and what happened to the radio, all we heard was that FEDRA shut it down.”
“FEDRA was listening in, like we suspected,” Will says, “They came in the next morning before Sean even got there and took everything, equipment, notes, spare parts, left nothing.” Will takes a glass of whiskey from Frankie and groans as he sips it.
“Good stuff, Fish…” he takes another sip, “And we had to run, we got a tip off from Sean’s grandkid that they were coming for us, were gonna take us for planning on leaving the QZ. We grabbed our bags and got out, didn’t plan anything, wasn’t time.”
“Shit,” Frankie mutters, “surprised you even got out of Boston like that.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t easy,” Will shakes his head, “we got caught just outside the wall, had to take down a couple of FEDRA soldiers and Benny was grazed by a bullet.”
“It was nothing,” Benny scoffs, “I’ve had much worse, and on the bright side, we got their guns and ammo, made things easier down the line.”
“Yeah, we ran into a bunch of raiders who tried to ambush us,” Will continues, “took them out and stole their truck, a FEDRA truck they must’ve stolen from a patrol. We made it pretty far in that but winter hit early in Nebraska, the roads were impassable and we couldn’t continue. So we decided to stay at an isolated farm we found, way off the main highway. It was untouched, full of supplies, the luckiest fucking find of my life, it saved us,” Will shakes his head, looking over at Diana, “it got pretty rough for a while there, before we found it.”
Diana nods, taking his hand in hers, “I don’t think we’d be here if Will hadn’t scouted ahead and found it. Eve and I were starving, didn’t have clothes for the cold, but Will got us through it, saved us.”
“Ironhead lived up to his nickname,” Benny grins, but he’s looking at his brother with a rare softness, “I was starting to give up on us just as he came back, middle of a fucking blizzard, barely any shelter, couldn’t light a fire in all the snow, we were all freezing. Di’s right, if Will hadn’t found that farm, we wouldn’t have made it.”
“Alright, tell us how you got here, Fish,” Will shrugs, changing the subject and taking a deeper sip of the whiskey.
Frankie gives Will a shrug in return, “It was rough, but we got here easier than you I think. We took that car we had stashed, and got pretty far in it. But we…I…” he looks over at you and you put your arm around his waist, giving him a small hug, “I had to stop, the withdrawals got too bad…she had to take care of me while I got it out of my system. After that we got half way through Nebraska, where we found Jack and his mom, and then almost all the way before we ran out of gas. Walked for two days before Maria and Pat found us.”
“I know I yelled at you over the radio,” Benny says, looking serious, “but I’m glad you guys left, even the way you did it, and I’m really fucking glad you got through it. I just wish you’d fucking told us how bad it got before it got that bad.”
Frankie nods, looking at the toes of his boots as he usually does, but then he draws a deep breath and lifts his eyes and meets Benny’s gaze, “Yeah, I should’ve told you all, right from the start, I knew you guys would have my back, but I was too ashamed, just too ashamed of admitting how bad it got,” he looks over at you, you’ve still got your arm around him and meets your eyes with a steady look, “I was afraid she’d think I was too much work, how fucked up I was, and finally give up on me,” Frankie leans forwards and presses his forehead against yours, “but now I know she’ll never give up on me.”
You smile and cup his cheek, letting your thumb stroke his scruffy beard, “Never Frankie.”
Frankie gives you a small smile before he sits up straight again and his eyes go dark, losing some of the softness they just had.
“One of us is missing,” he says, glancing around the room, “and it’s my fault. Pope should be here now too, but I failed him, I fucked up and he had to pay for it.” Frankie’s voice wavers before he draws a deep breath, you can see how he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “I think about him every day, how much I miss him, h-how good it would be to have him here.”
His voice breaks and you can feel tears filling up your eyes as you reach out and take his hand, unfurling his tight fist, smoothing it out under your fingertips.
“You know Pope would be proud of you for how far you’ve come,” Will says, “you were always his brother, and because of it, he was always the hardest on you when you fell back into it. But now, Frankie…he’d be so happy and proud of you, with your wife, and baby Jack.”
Benny suddenly stands up, pulling Eve with him, raising his glass.
“We need to make toast, to Pope,” he says, looking around at all of you as you get to your feet. Frankie puts his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, your arm around his waist, holding him tight.
“We should all say something to him,” Benny raises his glass higher, “we never got a chance to send him off back in Boston, but now we’re all here, together again, and safe, we should say something.”
“Go first then Benny,” Will says, motioning to his brother and Benny looks into the distance, gathering his thoughts before he begins.
“Pope, you could be the most annoying fucker ever, but the best wingman I’ve ever had, from the first day we met back in basic, to the very last. I miss you man, but I’ll see you again.” Benny fights to keep his voice steady and draws a deep breath before he looks over at Will.
He rubs his hand over his face before he slowly nods, “Santiago, you drove me fucking insane with your crazy plans, but somehow you always knew what you were doing and I learned to trust you and your instinct, it never failed us. My greatest failure is letting you down at the end, I hope we meet again so you can tell me how we should’ve gotten you out in time. I miss you brother,” Will looks up at the ceiling, raising his glass and you all do the same.
Frankie draws a deep breath, he doesn’t know how he’ll keep his shit together for this, but he needs to do it, with everyone here, it feels like Pope is listening.
“Hermano,” he begins, looking up at a vague spot on the wall, gathering his thoughts, before he feels tears well up in his eyes and he has to draw a deep breath, “hermano…I fucking miss you, miss you so fucking much. And…I…I have so many things I wish I’d done differently…but I did what you said the last time we talked. I got past it, with her help, and I did it for you, and for her. You said we’re family and I really wish Jack could meet his tio Santi. But I know you have a job to do, wherever you are, and I know you’re looking out for her until I’m there to see her again,” Frankie pauses, drawing a deep breath, his eyes overflowing as he looks down at his toes, “Tell her, her dad loves her. Te quiero, hermano.”
He raises his glass, taking your hand in his, holding it tight, and the others do the same, “For Santiago Garcia, the best brother anyone of us could ask for, for lost friends, for family, and for a better life.”
“For Santiago,” echoes around the room and you sip the sharp whiskey, letting it burn on the way down. You feel Frankie’s eyes on you and as you meet his eyes he leans closer, his lips finding yours, pressing warm and soft against your mouth.
“For family,” he whispers.
Epilogue
So here we are, at the end.
As in most stories, the story continues, but outside the frame. There is an epilogue coming too, but this is where the story ends.
I am pretty emotional about writing the very end of this, it's been with me since April and I never thought then that it would grow so much in scope, in length. I love these two fools so much and I love how much in love they are, how through it all it's what keeps the two of them together and fighting for the other one. It's very hard to say good bye to them and I'll miss them so much!
But I think I'll have to update the intro to this story to help any new readers tackle it! I think I'm close to hitting 300k words…
Thank you everyone for all your comments, your reblogs, your love, your encouragement and support! It's a cliche, but I never could've kept going if you all hadn't kept cheering me on, saying so many lovely things about the story and making me want to keep sharing the ideas in my head. Love you all!
Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf
#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales fanfic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#frankie morales smut#frankie morales/reader
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Ahoy Hottie! 💜🥩💜 you know I gotta do it to ‘em…
#9 & chubby!Frankie x f!reader 🥩 or just a plain ol’ fat frankie… I’m not picky.
Beefro👌🥩💜
Hey, Beefro! I can't tell you how excited I was to see this request! Hopefully I did fat Frankie justice 😘
Good 'n' Deep
Pairing: Fat!Frankie x f!reader
Word Count: 2.6k (oops 😅)
Tags/warnings: finger fucking, oral, multiple orgasms, piv sex, slight overstimulation, soft dom frankie, mentions of weigh gain, dirty talk, smut, fluff, idiots in love, manhandling, frankie being a fucking unit
Summary: Fat Frankie can't be sated.
*****
You get home late. And feeling awful.
It was supposed to be date night with your husband, but the boss kept you in for overtime. You know Frankie doesn’t mind, and reassured you about forty times that it’s not your fault, you still hate to skip it. But as he says, you always go out on Fridays, and the two of you have plenty of Fridays to make up for this one.
It’s not much, but you did pick up dinner at Frankie’s favorite fast food place on your way home. He doesn’t know yet, and you’re excited to at least surprise him with that. It’s a bit on the expensive side, but definitely worth it—both in the sense that it’s fucking delicious, but also that you’ll be able to see Frankie excited.
“Babe,” you call into the dark house as you toe your shoes off. You smile when you hear Frankie’s quick footfall coming right for you. He wraps you in a hug as soon as he gets to you, engulfing you in his warmth and immediately relieving some of your stress.
He leans down and kisses you gently, but only for a second because he’s suddenly very distracted by a certain smell.
“Ohhh, baby,” he groans, hands already reaching for the paper bag in your hand. “You’re the fuckin’ best.”
He plants a kiss on your head as you giggle. “You’re welcome, baby.”
You both walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table, pulling your food out of the bags. Frankie looks excited, just as you’d hoped he would be. He looks so good right now, wearing his gray sweatpants, his standard oil cap (which you swear he has separation anxiety with), and an old, white tank. There’s a ketchup stain on the front from about a year ago that just never came out in the wash. You also notice that it’s gotten a good bit tighter since then—definitely one of those shirts that Frankie keeps trying to convince himself that fits.
You won’t burst his bubble or anything, but he’ll need to try a bit harder, because there’s no way he’s fooling anyone. A sliver of his pudgy tummy peeks out from the bottom of the tank that used to cover him completely. The fabric hugs him tightly, probably just on the side of not being painful even though it’s being stretched to its limit. It used to hang loosely on him, but he’s gained a good bit of weight since the two of you have been together. You smile to yourself at that, glad to see him looking so happy and taken care of.
He groans as he takes the first bite of his burger.
“Fuck, thank you again, baby,” he says through a mouthful of food. You nod at him, mouth full as well.
The two of you talk about your days as you devour your food, you finishing quicker than Frankie but staying at the table while he finishes his other burger and large fry. He tells you that his day went pretty good. All the guys showed up at work and there wasn’t an issue to keep them on the job for longer than necessary.
You wait until he finishes his last fry before you start to pick up the trash. You take his cap off of his head as you walk by him so you can brush his hair back and place a gentle kiss on top of his head. He smiles warmly at you when you put his cap back on and move to throw the trash away. You glance at the clock, biting your lip as you decide there’s probably a bit of time to do something before you go to sleep.
“You want to watch a movie, Frank?”
He hms thoughtfully as you walk back toward him. “Maybe, " he says.
You move to pass where he’s still sitting at the table, but you’re quickly stopped and pulled into his lap, both of your legs draped over his thighs. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck for stability.
“Think I’d rather have a snack though,” he says through a grin as he rubs the side of his face against yours. He then rotates your body so that you’re leaning against his back.
“Frankie, honey,” you giggle despite catching his meaning. “You just ate!”
You turn and poke his full stomach to prove your point, but he only grunts and holds you tighter.
“I’m feeling greedy,” he rasps into your ear as he grinds his hardening length into your ass. “Need my dessert.”
You shiver, lust staring to cloud your head. Leave it to this man to want to fuck you after a huge meal. He doesn’t wait for you to respond as he lifts your shirt up and you raise your arms for him to tug it off. Your bra is next, discarded on the floor next to you within seconds.
You give in—which isn’t very hard—and let yourself relax into him. You moan and he leans down to lick up the side of your neck, his beefy hand traveling even lower to worm itself beneath the band of your panties. He finds your clit quickly and immediately starts to rub circles just the way you like. Your hips buck a bit as you crane your neck to devour his plush lips with yours.
“Mm-Frankie,” you whimper against him as your thighs begin to tremble. You feel him smirk against you in return but say nothing. All you can focus on is the building of your orgasm, that addicting feeling tugging deep inside of you with a promise for more.
He lets his fingers slip down to your hole and gather the slick there before bringing it back up to create a smooth movement atop your bud, his hand moving faster and faster until the coil snaps and you’re crying out and convulsing on top of him. His other hand wraps around you to stop your thighs from closing, forcing you to prolong your pleasure as he keeps up his slowing movements.
You’re panting when you come down to your high, practically drooling with the back of your head planted on Frankie’s shoulder. You’re not sure when that happened, you leaning back and clutching his forearms so tightly that there’ll be nail marks when you let him go.
He chuckles darkly as you release him from your clawing grip, trying to calm your breathing. You’re only slightly aware of him helping you off of his lap to stand. He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You must only be in there for a half-second before he’s pushing you down on your back and dragging you until your ass is basically hanging off the edge of the bed.
“Frankie!” You screech his name at all the movement, the way he’s man-handling you. He only smiles cheekily through the grunt he lets out as he gets down on his knees in front of your cunt to kiss the inside of your thigh.
“Sorry, hermosa,” he coos. Though he’s very obviously not that sorry because he goes right to practically ripping your pants and underwear down your legs. You don’t even bother yelping or reprimanding him this time. You know that he’s determined now, and Frankie Morales doesn’t relent until he gets what he wants.
He’s back at your cunt—in your cunt—before you can blink. You scream as he burrows the entire lower half of his face into your soaked folds and grasps your legs over his shoulders. Your hands fly to his hair, knocking his cap off in the process of getting to his thick, soft curls between your fingers. He moans sharply as you tug, unintentionally forcing him closer to you. You don’t worry too much, you know he loves it. He once told you that he would die a happy man if you ever got tired of him and chose to suffocate him in your sweet pussy.
He licks and sucks at a furious pace, completely skipping a buildup and going right to the action. It’s unbelievable to you how quickly he manages to make you come sometimes. You yell his name as he eats you out like he’s mad at you. It’s so fucking good, this blinding pleasure making your entire body shake and your blood run firey hot. And you know he loves it just as much as you do.
You start to fall limp again, sweat covering your entire body as he keeps drinking you up. You hiss, your body bucking as you pull on his hair again to try to get him off of you. You’re about to tell him you need a break, but then he suddenly has a finger gliding into your hole, and then two, and you don’t get the chance as your second orgasm melds into your third. He finger-fucks you at an inhuman pace, almost hurting your poor pussy with how hard he shoves them into you as he sucks harshly on your clit. The sounds are obscene even through the blood you hear pumping in your ears.
He starts to slow after you ride out your third high, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s taking pity on you or if he genuinely just can’t handle not being inside you for another second. You assume it’s the latter as you listen to the sound of his clothes being tugged off, one arm thrown over your eyes as you try to collect yourself.
“God, you look fucking gorgeous, baby,” Frankie groans as he admires your limp, sweat-slicked body.
You lift your arm to find him between your messy thighs again, this time standing over you. Despite the three fucking orgasms he just gifted you, you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him standing so imposingly in front of you. He’s so fucking big and intimidating. He’s stripped all the way, as naked as you now, letting you see every inch of his gorgeous damn body.
He watches you with a gaze that tells you he’s in the mood to pound you through the damn mattress. You find yourself excited, despite already being sore, as he takes a step forward and lines up his blunt tip with your slippery hole. You whimper and grip the sheets as he starts to make shallow thrusts to push in, stretching you despite your excessive preparation and the amount of times he’s had you before.
He moans right along with you, gripping your hips and pulling you onto him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open once he’s fully seated and breathing heavily above you.
“Fucking christ, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” he accentuates the last word by pulling out slightly and thrusting hard back into you, making your back arch when he slams into that spot deep inside of you.
He starts at a slow but forceful pace, making you see stars every time he pushes himself in. You watch him with hooded eyes, admiring how gorgeous he looks when his own eyes close and his lips part. His pelvis comes flush with your ass each time and he uses the opportunity to grind into you, rubbing your walls in a way that makes you want to cry. Actually, you think you are. It’s only now that you feel tears start to leak down your ruddy cheeks.
Frankie must have opened his eyes at some point while you were lost in your head, because he’s suddenly letting out a breathy laugh and using one hand to thumb away the tears. Your toes curl at the gentle touch compared with the brutal treatment of your cunt.
“I know, sweetheart,” he coos. “I know it’s a lot.”
God, he feels so good leaning over you. You want him closer—need him closer.
“F-Frankie,” you manage to get out. “N-Need you closer.”
He smirks at you and thrusts a bit faster, pushing you up the bed and leaning over you to kiss you deeply. One hand stays on your hip as the other cradles your face, keeping you where he wants as he devours your lips in a messy kiss. You wrap your arms and legs around his broad body, smiling a bit when they don’t wrap around him all the way. You love when he overwhelms you like this, completely trapping you under him as he pummels into you. He’s barely even pulling out now, just slapping his hips to yours as fast as he can as he whines and moans into your mouth. The grip he has on your hip is crushing, but it feels good because it’s him.
The coil is tightening once again within you, making everything go hazy as you focus solely on how he edges you closer and closer with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix.
He’s getting frantic, too. You can tell by the way he loses control of the kiss and his thrusts get even shorter.
“F-Frankie,” you mumble into his lips. “M-More.”
He picks up the pace yet again, making you scream when he hits a spot that you didn’t even know existed. You jolt against him, startled but the burst of pleasure that sparks through you.
“M-More,” you beg him again, panting so hard you think you might pass out. You need more. More of him inside you, on top of you. You need everything to be filled with him until there’s no room for anything else.
“‘M so close, baby,” he whines to you.
“Frankie, please!”
He growls against you and tugs back, slipping out of you with a lewd squelch. You don’t have time to cry out from the loss though, because he’s back in an instant to grab you and flip you over on your stomach. Then he’s over you again, slamming back into you with a single thrust. You’re forced to stay flat, your hands scrambling for purchase in front of you until he drapes himself completely over you, threading your fingers through his so he can use them as leverage to fuck deep into you.
“Better?” He grunts out, almost angrily. He’s so heavy above you, using all of the force he has to nail you into the bed in furious ruts, the entire thing moving with each pound into you. You can’t respond though, finding your voice trapped in your throat as you convulse around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, even with him. It’s what you wished for—to be so overwhelmed that everything else is purely pushed from you. It’s all static right now, your brain, your body. You think you may scream his name, but it might have been a bunch of gibberish.
“This what you need?” he asks as he fucks furiously down into you. To be fucked good—hmng—good an’ deep?”
You use what’s left of your fried brain to nod beneath him, practically drooling onto the bed sheets.
“F’kn deep,” you slur, half-delirious.
You let him continue to pound into you until grunts loudly beside your ear and you feel his cum spurting into you. It makes you moan again, the way he keeps fucking it deeper and deeper into you. You quiver and he groans as he starts to come down himself, joining you once again in the real world. Your ears are still ringing and your entire body feels like you got tossed off of a mountain and possibly into a bit of lava, but you find yourself laughing once Frankie untagles your fingers and rolls to the side, taking you with him.
He starts to laugh with you, neither of you saying a word but knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Which is something along the lines of ‘holy shit’. Despite your sweaty bodies, you sink back into him and let him hold you close, both of you stuck in giggling fits and sharing little kisses until you fall asleep a minute later.
*****
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#pedro pascal#fan fiction#ao3#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedro pascal characters#fluff#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x f!reader#plus size frankie morales#fat frankie morales#plus size character#chubby frankie morales
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Ok, so this is the MUCH REQUESTED addition to Chapter 8 of I'm Your Man, in which Rosie is forced to put Jill to bed on Christmas day. This one's for the girl-dad Rosie fans, I love you.
Word Count: 1.6k
Her fingers were sticky as they clung to the cuff of his sleeve, tugging downwards against his shoulder, the remnants of a hastily devoured mince pie lining her mouth. Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever been responsible for something so tiny before - so fragile, so utterly beyond his own understanding. The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they climbed, cast in the shadow of a single bulb, illuminating the upstairs hallway. Here it felt like stepping into the past, into a part of Frankie's life that she had long since left behind, old crayon doodles littering the wallpaper at knee height that no one had ever bothered covering over.
It was a motif in all of her childhood drawings - two stick figures, a huge man and a little girl, holding each other's little stick hands and smiling little stick smiles. Up ahead, Jill waddled into the bathroom, socks sticking to a puddle on the tile. She dragged a small box stool across the floor, hauling herself up by the rim of the sink until she could only just see her own face in the mirror, her reflection never making it past the bridge of her nose.
"Whatcha doin' there?" Rosie asked, leaning against the doorframe. She had handed him the ragged old teddy bear that she had been carrying in one hand, and he tucked it under one arm, its head poking out as if watching over the scene before it.
The girl's brow furrowed, looking over at him as if he were a fool. "Brushin' teeth."
"Ah, I see," He nodded. In her obscured reflection, Jill couldn't see the mess that covered the lower half of her face, and before she could raise the brush to her mouth, he stepped forward. "Hey, hey, wait a sec."
She raised a brow, tracking his movements as Rosie crouched down before her, their eyes at level height. Dipping one hand into the warm water she had half-filled the sink with, he gently rubbed the pad of his thumb around the corner of her mouth, wiping away the muck. There was certainly a family resemblance when he stood this close, the same brown eyes even beneath that crop of silver-blonde hair that never seemed to lay flat. Jill giggled, his soft touch tickling her cheeks, and he felt himself mirror her grin as he finished, washing away the stickiness from his hands. "There ya go. All done."
"Aw," The girl tutted disappointedly, craning as high as she could to catch a glimpse of her freshly cleaned face in the mirror. "Will there be more pies tomorrow?"
Rosie chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he stepped back into the doorway. "I'm sure there will be. But not if you don't brush your teeth first."
Jill obliged, and he could hear her whispering through the foam that filled her mouth as she brushed away, quietly counting the seconds like she'd no doubt been taught, making sure she did a good job. He smiled, fighting every urge in his body to ignore the conversation that drifted up to his ear from downstairs.
"That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you."
It seemed almost too much to take in in a single moment - too heavy, too full of brilliant, wonderful implications for him to deal with right now. The only way to stop himself from standing there, frozen, hanging on every word, was to convince his mind that this was a mission - that this little girl on her wooden step, toothpaste foam running down her chin, was his only objective, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.
Jill bent forward, spitting into the sink, wiping the back of one chubby palm across her face to clean it. The floor creaked beneath her as she jumped down from her step, baring her teeth at him as proof of her hard work. Rosie narrowed his eyes, inspecting closely. "Open up," He demanded, authoritative tone making the child giggle as she stretched her mouth open as wide as possible, peering up at him as he surveyed the job. "Excellent job, soldier - we oughta put you in for a medal for this one," Rosie grinned, raising a hand to his forehead in salute, and a gleeful laugh erupted from her, echoing in the tiny room.
It was a short walk to the girls' bedroom, and he realised upon entering that it must have once belonged to Frankie's parents, sacrificed by her father to accommodate their growing family. The two girls shared a double bed, and Alice had already rolled onto her side, facing the wall as she read a book quietly, waiting for her sister to settle. Rosie uttered an apology as they entered, but she seemed entirely unphased by the noise as Jill clambered clumsily up onto the mattress, clutching her teddy to her chest. "Storytime," She uttered, whispering in the dim light.
"Ah, right," He nodded, and waited until the girl pointed to one of the books that filled the shelf on the wall. Rosie pulled it from the rest, smiling at the boy and the little yellow bear that decorated the cover. His knees ached as he crouched down beside the bed, flicking through the battered, yellowed pages until Jill held out a hand, stopping at the section she liked best.
"What a good choice," Rosie declared. Although the book bore almost no familiarity for him, it was clear in the wear of the paper that it had been loved.
Jill listened intently, blankets tucked up to her chin as he read, angling the book towards her so that she could see its illustrations.
"'Hallo Pooh,' he said. 'How's things?'
'Terrible and Sad,' said Pooh, 'because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail-"
"Do the voices," Jill whispered, her voice so meek and tired that Rosie almost didn't hear her over the sound of his own.
"What's that, honey?"
"You've gotta do the voices. Everyone always does the voices."
Of course. He considered himself foolish for ever thinking he could get away without such a thing. "Oh, right. Uh-
'-because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he's Moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?'"
Rosie paused again at the sound of giggling, muffled beneath the blankets as Jill lifted them to cover her mouth. "That's not the right voice," She snickered, cheeks flushing red at the hilarity of his failure. "Read a different one."
The book fell shut in his lap, and he nodded firmly, pitying Alice as she tried to ignore their chattering. "Alright. Which one do you think the voices will be good for?"
Her blankets rustled as Jill scurried out of bed, padding across the floor towards the shelf as she scoured the books, an expression of utmost seriousness furrowing her brow. After a moment of deliberation, she plucked out a new book, this one even more battered than the last, a rabbit in a blue jacket adorning its cover. On the inside page, Frankie's name was scrawled in messy, faded pencil.
"...'Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole, and shut his eyes...'"
Before he had managed to reach the end of the book, the soft sound of little snores alerted Rosie to the fact that his audience wasn't quite listening anymore. Teddy bear tucked tight beneath her chin, cheek squished against the pillow, Jill's mouth hung open slightly as she slept, tiny snores escaping her every now and then. A soft smile curled his lips, and he let the book close, slotting both stories back into their place up on the shelf. By the time he'd turned back towards the bed, Jill had rolled over in her sleep, arm outstretched towards her sister.
"You need anything, Alice?" He whispered, soft words piercing the veil of silence. Alice smiled over at her baby sister, discarding her own book upon the nightstand.
"Nah. I'm ok. Thanks, Rosie."
The floorboards creaked beneath him as he left the room, and he tip-toed to lessen the sound as best he could. "D'you want the door left open or shut?"
"Leave it open. Jill's scared of the dark."
"Alright then. G'night."
Frankie's father had already headed upstairs by the time Rosie came down, a gentle, content quiet laying over the house. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it inside his skull as he descended the staircase, the conversation he had overheard playing over and over again in his head.
This was good - this wasn't something to be afraid of - and yet he was. He was until he reached the doorway to the living room, and Frankie was lying there, sprawled out atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had called a bed the night before, staring at the wall, at her childhood self's attempt at drawing a rainbow without half of the prerequisite colours. This house was the beating heart of who she was, an altar to every moment of her life, an archive of a younger version of her. If he could meet her here, he could meet her anywhere.
"You're in my bed."
#fic | i'm your man#rosie rosenthal#oc: frankie#masters of the air#masters of the air fic#masters of the air oc#I'm emotionally vulnerable when it comes to writing children/childhood can we tell
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Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader
Summary-Frankie comforts you during that time of the month.
CW-Tooth rotting fluff,mentions of sex but no smut, Frankie being the best partner anyone could ask for. Reader is not described but has a period every month, pet names, mentions of blood (of course).
WK-898
A/N- inspired by @beefrobeefcal he’s not quite chubby but he’s Frankie nonetheless. It’s so hard for me to write while I’m on my period because the cramps make me lose focus but this definitely helped in some placebo effect way. @triplefrontier-anniversary
Not beta read
At your service
Frankie rolls over to find your side of the bed uncharacteristically cool for a Saturday morning. Sleeping in and cuddling until you had to pry yourselves out of bed was one of your favorite rituals on the weekend. It’s too early and the only light illuminating the room is leaking out from the bottom of the bathroom door.
He can hear some sniffles and a groan and he’s throwing back the covers in a panic as he leaps out of bed. He tries the door and it’s locked causing him to panic even further.
“Hermosa, you okay in there?” His voice laced with concern echoing through the wall.
“Don’t come in Frankie…it’s a murder scene in here.” You groan to yourself again as you hear him try the door handle again.
He quickly realizes what predicament you’re in. He should’ve known your period was coming. You’re like clockwork each month, and instead of subjecting him to your dreaded pms you tend to shut yourself off the days leading up to it. Trying to stay busy at work or telling him to hang out with the guys so you can rage in peace. It’s still something you’re working on after all these years with him. Not understanding that he’s going to take the good with the bad and not be like your shitty ex who would make snide comments about your time of the month.
“Honey, I’ve seen much more blood than whatever you’ve got going on right now.”
“I beg to differ.” You whine and he tries not to laugh, that would most certainly not make the situation any better.
You finally open the door and he’s met with the most pathetic site as you stand there with fresh tears in your eyes and one of his large tee shirts draped over your body. He’s only seen deeper frown lines on Santiago.
He pulls you into his chest as you try to wrap your arms around his larger frame, your body goes willingly limp as he rubs your head and rocks you back and forth. He’s so warm and smells like fresh laundry and you swear your hormones play evil tricks on you each month because you’ve never wanted him more than when you’re on your period. Despite his endless hours of showing you how much he appreciated your body and your mind and whatever else came with your emotions, you still weren’t comfortable having sex during these few days.
You had once or twice before with Frankie but he never pushed you if you weren’t feeling up to it.
“Vamos hermosa, let’s get you back to bed.” He kisses your forehead and waddles you to the bed, tucking you safely under the covers. “I’ll grab your heating pad and some water.” He kisses you again and you go tight lipped trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as more tears spill and he pulls back from you visibly confused at your reaction. “We were supposed to go to the beach for Benny’s birthday.”
He tuts and pulls you back into him mumbling into your neck. “I don’t want to go to the stupid beach and get sand in my ass anyway.” Your wet laugh rumbles against him and he can breathe a small sigh of relief.
****
You can hear him in the hallway on the phone as he returns from downstairs.
“You owe me anyways pendejo, I covered for you last week, remember?”
You can hear him rest his head on the bedroom door as he huffs out.
“Ben, it's been way too long, you need to learn some Spanish…I gotta go, promise I’ll make it up to you soon.”
He opens the door with an arm full of way more than two items. He sets down the water bottle with fresh ice and dumps the rest of the contents on the bed. You giggle at the sheer amount of items but cover your mouth when he sends you a warning look.
He sets up your heating pad and explains everything down to a tee just like the military man that he is. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much he enjoyed taking care of you so those arguments stopped early on.
“I’ve got your sleep mask you left on the couch, you should get some more rest.” He hands you some pain medication and your water and you take it obediently. “I’ve also got a snack for when you wake up.” He sets the granola bar on the side table along with your phone charger, before turning off the bathroom light and rejoining you in the bed.
You can hear him warming up his calloused hands as he rubs them together under the covers before draping them across your belly. The only time of the month you’d allow him to rub your belly. Something he’d allow you to do to him everyday.
You’re perfectly content again as you resume your Saturday morning cuddles with the love of your life.
“Frankie?” You ask sleepily as he hums behind you. “What did you cover up for Benny last week?”
“Go to sleep hermosa, sweet dreams.” He kisses your neck as he pretends to start snoring and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside you.
“Fine, you keep your secrets. You’re lucky I love you.”
“Te amo tambíen.”
#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales#francisco catfish morales#triple frontier#frankie 'catfish' morales#pedro pascal characters#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfic#frankie morales x f!reader
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okay but imagine frankie stressing out about taking his little girl to the father daughter dance and the reader has to calm him down and assure him he’s gonna do great.
pairing: frankie morales x reader
summary: frankie has some concerns before his first father-daughter dance.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: insecurities about parenting, very light angst, mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, lightly edited
author's note: frankie my beloved!!! i can't believe i didn’t write for him sooner. i'm also taking drabble requests for all pedro characters right now! just drop it in my inbox and i'll try to crank something out :-)
“Say cheese!” you directed, grinning as your daughter flashed her newly grown-in teeth and clung onto her father’s black dress slacks. Frankie looked just as pleased as he squatted down next to your ecstatic daughter, her excited energy clearly infectiously spreading to her parents.
“You guys are just precious,” you gushed before lowering your camera, pleased with the boatload of pictures you’d taken of your two favorite people in the world. “You ready to go, conejita?” you asked, approaching your daughter and lowering yourself to her level.
“Yes!” she squealed, her little chubby cheeks rising as she beamed once more. “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, daddy?”
“Of course we are,” he agreed, his soft voice fully equipped as he seemed to fall under the spell of his adorable daughter.
“I’ll race you to the car?” she asked, although she was already taking off out the door with zero regard for her dress, or anything for that matter.
Frankie looked at you and raised his brows as if to ask if he should’ve been chasing her, and you gave him a noncommittal shrug. “It’s her new thing,” you explained, walking at a far more casual pace as the two of you headed outside. “And she prefers to win.”
“Good to know,” he chuckled softly. “You know, I do want to be home more often to do this kind of thing. I want to know what her new interests and little quirks are,” Frankie’s face seemed to fall the slightest bit as you turned to look at him, a small frown now on his face.
“I know you do,” you said understandingly, despite the fact that more often than not, you didn’t understand. His missions were often very hush-hush–even for you–but what you did know was that there was often a lot of money involved. Enough money to allow your husband to become a stay-at-home father, and to send your daughter to college several times over. Yet, despite his growing joint pain and his desire to be with his family, he was often sent on many months-long excursions that ended with him being mentally absent for days, and waking you up in the middle of the night from squeezing you so hard that you thought you might burst. “But this mission is your last one, right?”
“It should be,” he shrugged, stepping out into the garage with you. While you tried to have hope, you could think of multiple occasions where Frankie was told that a mission would be his last, but that ended up not being the case.
“Then you’ll be back with us soon permanently,” you assured him, “More father-daughter dances, more playdates at the park, hugs and kisses from us whenever you need them… Just try to look forward to that. I know I am.”
You were doing your best to reassure him, but in the process you were also attempting to reassure yourself. It obviously was not your preference to have your partner and the father of your child gone so frequently, but it also wasn’t up to you. That much was clear.
“I will,” he said, his frown dissipating once he laid eyes on his daughter once more, who was standing outside of the car door with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.
“I won!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air in celebration. “You’re too slow, daddy,” she giggled.
Frankie wasted no time walking over to her and scooping her into his arms, pressing a big kiss onto her cheek with all the love in the world. As you watched, your heart melted, particularly as your daughter happily scrunched her face up at the affection. You yearned for more of this, to be able to wake up every day and be able to bask in the love that came from the two people across from you.
“I’m too old now. I’m such a slowpoke,” he said dramatically, making your daughter laugh as he moved to get her settled in the back seat of the car. “We’ll have to do a do-over race at some point.”
“I’ll still win,” she said confidently, causing you to laugh where you were standing by the door. After strapping in your daughter and closing the back door, you were sure that the conversation between you and Frankie was over. He was off to have a fun, well deserved night with your kid, and you had a bottle of pinot noir and a trashy romcom calling your name.
Yet, before you turned to go back inside, Frankie reached out and grabbed your arm.
“Everything okay?” you asked, concern written all over you. His previous behavior around his daughter compared to the look he was giving you right then were night and day–his shoulders tense and his worry lines making an appearance as he gulped.
“Yeah, I’m just… I want to make sure that she has the best night possible. We just see each other so little now that I want to be sure that the memories she does have of me are good ones,” he confessed.
“It will be a good one,” you assured him.
“I-” he seemed to stop himself before he said something else. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
For some reason, you were getting the feeling that his worries weren’t just related to his dancing skills. Frankie had shared his insecurities with you over his parenting a number of times before–his concerns that he was going to end up not knowing anything at all about his own child, his fears that she would grow up resenting him for his absence, and his biggest fear that she one day might even forget that he was her father in the first place. It made sense that something like a father-daughter dance would bring out some of that insecurity in him.
You pulled Frankie into a hug, knowing that he was never all that great with sharing his feelings, but a bit of physical contact always seemed to help him a bit. You swore you could feel his shoulders relax as you embraced him, swaying him ever so slightly.
“Baby, you are not a bad dancer. And even if you were the most awful, terrible dancer in this world, all she’s gonna remember is how fun of a night she had with her daddy,” you attempted to comfort Frankie with your sincerity. “You should hear how she talks about you when you’re gone. The amount of times she’s retold me the story of your trip to the conservatory, or about the time you two went to the aquarium together? I promise, all the little details don’t matter. What matters is that she loves you, and she loves getting to spend any time with you.”
The assurance from you that your daughter didn’t think of him in the same way that he seemed to think about himself seemingly did the trick, giving Frankie all that he needed to gently pull away from you.
“Thank you,” he said earnestly, pecking your lips before looking at you with an almost watery expression.
“Of course. I’ll always be here for you,” you replied with just as much sincerity. “Now, you should probably get going before she starts complaining about you being a slug and taking so long.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Frankie agreed, fully pulling himself away from you and turning himself towards the door once more.
“Love you guys,” you called as you began to walk towards the house door. “Make some fun memories tonight, okay?”
The grins and waves you received as the two began to back out of the garage told you more than any verbal answer ever could’ve.
They absolutely would.
#frankie morales x reader#frankie 'catfish' morales x reader#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x f!reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader
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Dark!Frankie Saga: VII
Chapter Seven: Bring It Home
Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Summary:
Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)
Chapter Word Count: 3,740
Content Warning: angst, threats of violence, crime, snark, Major Character Death, stabbing, violence, betrayal, kissing
Author's Notes:
Y'all, I know you had big dreams for this chapter... and I thank you for your patience. Please don't hate me 🥺
The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜
thank you to the following for being supportive good eggs & sounding boards: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @thehalflifeofloveisforever @rebel-held @gracieispunk
And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! when i feel like it👌
On the Waterfront Masterlist | Previous Chapter
--------<3---------
From the time Frankie pulled you onto his lap at the bowling alley to when he stood with you at your bedroom door, you felt like you were in a dream. A beautiful, hazy dream that you were pretty sure was going to end with him fucking you in your bed.
“You did good tonight, Honey.”, Frankie said sweetly, cupping your jaw and cheek in his big hand.
You couldn’t help but stare back, falling further for him through his deep, brown eyes. He but the softness in his gaze hardened as he sucked in a breath and released your face, stepping back. He broke the connection with you and looked away. He cleared his throat and nodded towards your door, leaving you feeling cold and confused. What did you do wrong?
“Night, baby girl...”, he mumbled as he turned, heading towards the lounge.
You opened your mouth to say something to him, but all you could do was feel your body react to the lack of his touch and your cheeks burn from the rogue tears that fell. You were alone in the hallway, and you didn’t know why.
*****
Pope had been outside in the shadows, trying to remain inconspicuous while on his phone, when the blacked-out SUV pulled up at the front doors.
“Yes, I know!... fuck you... I’ll call you back...”, he hissed quietly into his phone before ending the call and focused on the two of you returning.
He watched as Frankie got out of the SUV, holding his hand out to you, and saw the stupid look on Frankie’s face as he helped you down from the vehicle. Pope shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching Frankie pull you in for a disgustingly sweet kiss before he tugged you into the building.
He scoffed as he brought his phone back up to call his contact back, a message popped up on the screen.
Steven is done. Now what?
Pope grinned as his deviously sadistic mind’s wheels turned; he pocketed his phone and walked into the building.
*****
Frankie’s heart was beating fast as he walked away from you, and his palms were sweating as he clenched his fists. He didn’t stop until he was standing in his office, shakily sucking in his breaths, and he allowed himself to think about what had just happened. It was one thing for him to go down on you in the bowling alley and hold you as your body came back down – he was still in control. But looking in your eyes as you looked back at him, seeing the same thing he felt staring right back told him he was no longer holding the reigns in this, and it terrified him to his core. He felt like you could see who he really was under his harsh and mean exterior; under it all he was just the former drug addict who battled his demons daily to keep himself upright; just the man who made himself bigger so he could be respected, because no one was going to respect a scrawny junkie. And if you did see it, why did you still want him at all? Did you see weakness? Did you know that just asking him for a kiss would make him weak in the knees? Why did he allow you to get under his skin?
He was finally broken from his trance when the door to the office opened behind him. Frankie whirled around and found himself facing Pope.
“Fish... you got a sec?”, Pope asked, cautiously approaching him, with a judgmental eyebrow raised. When Frankie nodded, trying to shake the weakness of you from his mind, Pope nodded back in kind.
“What d’you need?”, Frankie said coolly as he made his way around his desk and sat down heavily on his chair.
Pope walked up to the desk and leaned heavily on, deciding not to tell Frankie that he saw him come back with you, and how he saw the look on his face and knew what it meant. He instead decided to set in motion what he hoped would be the last thing he needed to.
“I got a message... from one of the grunts under Will... he was making the rounds and checking in on people that owe us...”, he said quietly, trying to sound nervous about what he was going to say. “and, he - uh…”,
“Fuckin’ spit it out, Pope.”, Frankie groaned after a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes.
“He went to Steven’s...”
“Who the fuck is that and why do I care?”, he growled, not looking up at him. “Get to the fuckin’ point!”
“It’s your girl’s brother...”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
Frankie looked up at Pope, feeling his blood run cold.
*****
After being left on your own, you sat in your room, feeling the buzz from the beer slipping away and letting your thoughts drift towards more nefarious avenues. It hurt to know that no matter what happened, you would end up alone; your brother sold you out for more drugs, Benny hated and abandoned you, Will threw you into the lion’s den, and Frankie didn’t want you beyond getting what he could from you. And Pope... you knew what Pope wanted and it made your skin crawl.
The tears that you’d cried had mixed with your make up had dried on your face, leaving your skin feeling itchy and tacky. You needed to clean yourself up and give yourself some comfort, even if it was small. You stepped into the shower and tried to wash away your sadness.
After drying off and getting into your pajamas, you once again sat in your room alone. The weight of solitude was heavy on you, so much so, you could barely stand it. All you could do was pick up your Kindle and try to distract yourself until you fell asleep.
*****
Benny sat back and watched the other guys play a round of foosball. They’d invited him to join but he’d waved them off. He’d wanted to sulk and be angry with no interference; he couldn’t get your face out of his head from the last time he’d seen you the night before, and Frankie’s words to him sounded off like a fire alarm in his skull: She’s not here for you. Stick your dick in literally anything else, but that is mine.
He’d replayed your last interaction with him over and over in his mind over the past 24 hours, building up more rage and fury over how stupid you were being. He didn’t want you for himself; he wanted something better for you. There’s no way Frankie could offer you what you deserve. Fuck, no one in this fucking building could. He sneered as he shook his head, anger rising further each time Frankie’s words bleated in his brain and deafened the rest of his thoughts. Frankie told him to fuck anything like you weren’t even a person. You were just part of the wide scope of anything, like an object he could own and devour like he did everything else he wanted.
Will watched Benny silently from across the room. He saw his brother furiously twisting his hands and clenching his jaw; saw the vein in his forehead pop out as his face turned red with rage. Will knew he was at fault for this; he knew Benny had a soft spot for vulnerable people, especially women. He knew Frankie was wrong about how Benny felt, but he wasn’t willing to correct him and confirm that Benny wanted to fuck her as much as Frankie wanted to diet. But the powder keg that was hitting a critical point across the room in his brother was far more worrisome than he’d accounted for, given even a day going by hadn’t managed to dampen his rage. Benny could be a dangerous man, given the right mindset, and he wasn't afraid of violence or being violent. It was the reason he was so valuable to the Frontiersmen - he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty for the right cause, and Will worried that you were becoming the right reason for Benny to unleash that terrible dog in him at Frankie.
As Will decided it was in everyone’s best interest to try and quell the fire, Pope walked in with a smug grin aimed directly at his brother, and Will felt like he was about to watch a train derail.
“What’s with the long face, fucker?”, Pope crooned sadistically as he sauntered towards Benny.
“Fuck off, Pope.”, he growled in response, his eyes glaring up at the smiling man.
Will saw the determined, toothy smile breakout over Pope’s face as he squatted down in front of Benny.
“What’s the matter, baby Benny?”, Pope mockingly cooed, amusement bleeding from his tone. “You mad that Fish is cockblocking you from that sweet little puss – “
Benny’s hand jutting out and gripping Pope’s throat stopped him from finishing his sentence. He stood up, pulling Pope into a standing position as he stared wide eyed and clawed at Benny’s arm and wrist, gasping and choking.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”, Benny snarled, pulling Pope’s face close to his.
Will ran up beside Benny and gripped his shoulder, shaking him. “Benny! Drop’im!”
He yanked Benny’s arm back and Pope collapsed on the floor, gasping and coughing.
“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF ME!”, Benny roared as Will’s arms wrapped around him form behind and pulled him back.
“Fuck you, Pope! Fuck you 'n fuck your fuckin’ smug mouth!”, Benny screamed at him as Will continued to restrain him. ‘FUCK, WILL! LET ME THE FUCK GO! I’ll FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”
Will knew Benny didn’t mean it. Sure, he’d probably take a swing and hit him – he’d done it before. But beyond that, he knew it was Benny’s rage talking.
Pope shakily looked up at Benny and offered him a cruel smile. Benny saw red; that fucker fueled his blinding rage, and he threw Will off him, storming out of the rec room.
“Don’t move, Pope!”, Will yelled, pointing his finger at him as he turned and ran out after Benny.
Pope smiled, watching him leave after his brother, seeing a brand-new opportunity. Fortune favours the brave…
*****
Benny was on a rampage. Like a rabid bear, he stalked the hallways, making a beeline to the barracks. He’d walked right past Frankie’s office, not even considering stopping there first to tear into him over what he was doing. Will quickly caught up to him, yelling for him to stop.
Frankie sat in his office chair. He heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and he looked up, but they moved past. He thought nothing of it until he heard Will.
“Ben! Stop!... Stop 'n take a fuckin’ breather, man!”
“FUCK YOU AND FUCK POPE AND FUCK FISH AND FUCK THAT STUPID BITCH!”
“You’re not thinkin’ this through! You don’t wanna hurt her, Ben! BENNY!”
Will’s panicked voice caught Frankie’s attention and he stood up, listening to the sounds move further down the hallway. He knew not to get in Benny’s way when he was mad, but he was heading towards you and the idea of Benny being in this foul of a mood and even Will wasn’t able to placate him didn’t sit well with him.
Benny threw the doors to the Barracks open and screamed your name. Even being in a separate area, the volume at which he called you made you jump. You dropped your Kindle on the bed and moved cautiously to your door. You clicked the flimsy lock on the doorknob, and you jumped heard the door to the hallway slam against the wall from how hard it was flung open.
Your heart was beating deafeningly loud in your ears, and you backed away from the door as the thumping footsteps got closer and your doorknob jiggled.
Just as soon as you were mentally thanking what every deity was listening for that lock, the door was kicked open and there was Benny. Breathing hard, his face twisted in a snarl and his fists clenched.
You looked up at him, not sure what he was going to do. “Benny... wha - “
“You're so fuckin’ dumb!”, he yelled, stomping towards you and cutting you off. “You’re fuckin’ smarter than this!”
He stood over you, his hot furious breaths fanning over your face. You tried to back away, but he grabbed at your arm.
“Don’t fuckin’ move!”, he yelled in your face, his hold on you tightening.
You yelped and tried to pull away from his grip. He shoved you back, sending you to the floor. Shock gave way to fear and anger as he stalked towards you, and you scrambled back into a standing position.
“Just fuckin’ stay down, you- “
“What do you want from me?!”, you cut him off, yelling in a cracked voice as tears welled up in your eyes.
His eyes narrowed at you and his scowl set further in his face. “I want you to smarten the fuck up! I want you to stop bein’ a dumb bitch!”
You angrily wiped at the tear that fell down your cheek, and, for a brief moment, Benny’s eyes looked at you almost horrified at what was happening. Your face contorted with a frown, and you pushed him with all your strength, making him take a small step back to keep his balance.
Neither of you knew that Will was in the hallway watching this unfold, not sure how to intervene, and his focus was torn away from you both as Frankie walked into the hallway and stood next to Will, ready to jump in.
“What is your problem?!”, you screamed at him.
His menacing glare returned, and he stepped up to you, challenging you.
“My fuckin’ problem is you’re not thinkin’ with your goddamned brain!”, he bellowed. “My problem is you’re thinkin’ with your pussy like a fuckin’ whore- “
Before you could register your actions, your hand harshly made contact with his face; you slapped him hard.
The room fell silent, and Benny’s head snapped back to you, all fury gone. What was left was the look of hurt and disappointment, and you weren’t sure who it was directed at – you or himself. Will rushed in and grabbed Benny, hauling him back. Benny’s eyes didn’t leave yours until Will had dragged him out of the room, cursing at him for his temper.
And once again, you were alone. Your chin quivered and your body trembled as the rage dissipated from your system, replaced with shame and remorse. What did you do?
Before you could collapse under the weight of your actions, Frankie stepped into the doorway.
You raised your eyes to him and held back a sob as you shook your head, silently saying please – I can’t handle any more.
“Baby girl...”, he spoke softly as he walked slowly towards you and pulled you into his arms. You tried pushing him back, but he gently used his strength against you, holding you in his embrace. His gentleness after the harsh intensity of what you’d just experienced with Benny broke you, and you let out a heavy sob that wracked your body. His large hand held your head against his chest and he murmured softly, trying to soothe you.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl... come on, Honey... calm down... he’s gone... I know, baby... I know... he’s gone now... I’m sorry... he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, baby... he doesn’t know what he's talkin’ about...”
“Stop... just stop!”, you squirmed out of his hold and stood back from him. You furiously wiped your face again and shook your head. “He’s right! He’s right about everyth - “
“No, baby girl... no, he’s not!”, Frankie pleaded, holding his hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.
It made you angrier, his actions seemingly still trying to train you to be his good little bitch, coming when he calls. You shook your head, rage taking over. “I’m not a fucking dog! You don’t order me around like one!”
His voice was so soft. “Baby... Honey, please...”
“No! Mr. fucking Morales! He’s right - I’m just another one of your dumb whores that you can throw away! I’m no better than that bitch you had on your lap at the bowling alley! You just keep me like a pet and bring me out when you need a fuckin’ fix! You don’t want me - no one does!”
You didn’t realize you were screaming at him and walking towards him. Frankie’s hands were held up, trying to calm you. His eyes were wide and pleading, his mouth was open and frowning, as he shook his head.
“Baby girl… shhhhh… no… no, Honey…”, he shook his head, and cooed, moving towards you again. “No, Honey… you got it all wrong…”
“Don’t…”, you warned as you stepped back, glaring up at him. To Frankie, you must have looked like a cornered, feral cat, fueled by rage and fear.
You didn’t intimidate him. He reached out and cupped your cheek, as he’d done countless times before, but this time you pulled out of his grasp.
You didn’t scare him. But he needed your softness back; this harsh and jaded version of you hurt him in ways he didn’t know he could be wounded. His heart ached as his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him again. He smoothed his hand over your jaw, his thumb gently caressing your lips. You tried, albeit half-heartedly, to get away, but he saw the softness slipping back into your eyes.
You didn’t deter him. “Don’t push me away, baby girl…”, he said softly, bringing his face close. He ghosted his lips over yours. “I want you here… with me.”
He pressed his lips gently against yours. Your resolve to fight dissolved and you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping for more contact with him. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, he followed suit, slipping his tongue against yours. You were both desperate. Yes, you’d fooled around in a bowling alley, but this was something that wasn’t scratching an itch or a power play; this was the two of you finally, without words, admitting that you needed one another on a baser, more human level.
Frankie pulled back first, breathing heavily and his eyes scanned yours, asking silently for more. You nodded, and with that, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room and into his.
*****
After his run in with Benny and making sure his windpipe wasn’t crushed, Pope was back outside around the building in an alleyway. Hidden in the shadows, the only sign of his presence was his phone screen lighting up his face.
As he searched through images confirming Steven’s demise, a call came through. He answered it quietly, keeping his voice low but harsh.
“I need more time - … no, you don’t understand, he - ... I know that was the deal, but you gotta hear me out- … I can’t just… I know it has to look like an accide-… I tried! The fuckin’ little brother… Yeah… fuck, no… No… I know, but I ca-… fuck. Okay… I understand… Yes! Fuck! I got it!”
Will watched from the far end of the building. Pope’s voice, although quiet, carried, and Will’s mind raced, putting piece by piece together, not quite being able to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He didn’t know what he was up to, but he knew he didn’t like it.
He watched as Pope hung up and stopped himself from throwing his phone against the wall, and he clenched his fists and teeth. Will moved on his feet, causing the gravel to shift and crunch under him.
“What do you want, Will?”
He stopped, feeling his body tense at Pope’s recognizing his presence, even in the dark.
“Who you talkin’ to, man?”, he asked. Will tried to keep no discernable emotion or feeling in his tone, trying to keep Pope off his anxious scent.
“No one… one of the grunts fucked up… just tryin’ to set them straight.”
Will hmm’d in acknowledgement; he knew it was a lie and he knew Pope wouldn’t be convinced that he believed him, but he knew saying anything more would probably drive more suspicion.
“I’ll ask again, Will… what do you want?”
Will moved closer to Pope, trying to keep his voice down when he spoke.
“You gotta stop rilin’ Benny up. I know you think it’s funny, but he’s gonna really fuck someone up and we don’t need that.”
“Fuck you, Will… what are you, his keeper? His fuckin’ nanny?”
“I’m the last thing keepin’ him from killin’ someone… If wasn’t there tonight, you think you would’a made it?”
“So, what you’re saying its you’re the one keeping a leash on him?”
Even in the dark, Will knew Pope was facing him. He could feel the breath on his face. He was close – too close.
“If you weren’t around, no one could stop him?”
“Jesus, man… You know he’s got a fuckin’ temper... he needs someone to hold him back.”
“Yeah, he does have a temper.”
“Then stop pushin’ him! Stop antagonizin’ him!”, Will pleaded. He heard Pope huff a laugh.
“You’re in his fucking way, Will.”
Will heard the smile in Pope’s voice, and his blood ran cold.
“The fuck is that supposed’ta mean?”
Pope got close to Will and grabbed the back of his neck and held his face to his.
“You’re in my fucking way.”
Will felt a sharp sting in his stomach, and then warmth. Wet, hot warmth on the skin of his abdomen. The sharp sting erupted into searing pain, and he sucked in a ragged breath as his head spun.
“Santi… wha- don’t….”
“Fuck you, Will.”, Pope huskily whispered, ripping the knife out of Will’s gut. “This is on you. You wouldn’t let him just...”
“San-Santi? Pope? … why?” Will gasped, stepping back and clutching his middle. He stared up at Pope, wide eyed and trembling as he fell against the wall behind him and slid down to the ground. A tear slipped down his face as he watched his friend – his murderer – turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the alley to slip away into the inky darkness.
--------<3---------
TAGLIST:
@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @gwendibleywrites @romanarose
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal tummy#frankie morales#triple frontier#francisco catfish morales#frankie morales fanfiction#chubby frankie rights !!!!!#chubby!frankiedark#dark!frankie morales#dark!frankie still chubby though#on the waterfront#OTWF#major character death#🥩
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Triple Frontier/Narcos fic: Crossing the Streams
This week is @fleetwoodmactshirt's birthday and I knew I wanted to write her something if I could—it was just a question of what. Frankie Morales making ravioli from scratch? An intimate morning spent with Ezra? Or: this? A deeply self-indulgent (and Fleetwood-indulgent) AU of an AU crossed over with another AU from an entirely different piece of media. It made sense in my head.
This concept is something we've jokingly(?) discussed for years but it always felt too outrageous to actually put to words. Until now. Happy birthday, beloved! I hope this makes you smile.
Title: Crossing the Streams
Characters/Pairings: Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Javier Peña, OFC, Baby Morales, ghost!Reader. Nascent Fishben implied; Javi/OFC implied.
Rating: Teen (but maybe Gen)
Word count: 1.8k
Content/warnings: Crossover of my ghost 'verse and @fleetwoodmactshirt's Javier Peña X-Files AU 🙃 Not really exactly officially a part of the ghost 'verse, but could be considered a spin-off chapter of it maybe. I don't think any particular warnings apply. Reader is a ghost. The OFC listed above is the reader from Fleetwood's AU, and I tried to leave her a blank slate. Javi holds the baby a lot. I fudged the timelines so Javi is older but not as much older as he would be. Unbetaed, so let me know if you spot any mistakes.
You can see the family resemblance immediately. The man standing in the foyer isn’t an exact carbon copy of Francisco, but they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Benny had been the one to answer the door and the visitor is sizing him up, friendly but with a hint of narrow-eyed assessment peeking through. Benny senses it and stands a little straighter, calling over his shoulder, “Fish, they’re here!”
The slap-slap-slap sound of the baby’s hands on the hardwood floor announces her arrival even before she rounds the corner into the hallway, crawling rapidly towards the front door while Francisco ambles behind her. Ben scoops her up before she can reach the threshold, easily hefting her up to his shoulder, while the other men greet each other with a hug.
“Ah, mi sobrino!” Francisco’s uncle gives him an affectionate pat on the cheek. “Te ves bien, Francisco.”
“Hola, tío Javi,” he says with a grin. “Come on in. You met Benny?”
Now that they’re standing side by side you’re able to see the similarities and differences between them. Javier is older by fifteen years or so, his dark hair greying at the temples, slim body still fit but gone a little soft around the middle. He’s cleanshaven but for an attractive, full mustache, and his warm brown eyes are shielded by a pair of glasses with dark, slightly rounded plastic frames.
Javier nods. “I haven’t met this one yet, though,” he says, reaching for Francisco’s daughter. She goes to him without hesitation and he has to catch her chubby hands in his before she can drag his glasses down his nose. He pulls a face at her and she giggles.
“And is your…” Francisco pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Partner outside?”
Javi glances out the open door. “She’s getting some equipment out of the trunk. Listen,” he says, lowering his voice a little, “she takes this stuff seriously and she can be a little—excitable, about it. Take it easy on her, okay?”
This stuff, as it turns out, is investigating the world of the paranormal.
After Francisco’s mom had heard about Santiago’s suspicion that the house was haunted, she’d been the one to suggest he invite tío Javier and his… partner, for a visit. (You understand the hesitation before “partner” as soon as you see her; the energy flowing between them is lit up with something far brighter than a pair of regular, platonic co-workers would ever have. And even someone without your vision might notice the way it takes her a moment to recover from the sight of him with the baby in his arms, or how his hand hovers over the small of her back as they make their way down the hall.)
Francisco leads them into the kitchen, where he sets a pot of coffee brewing.
“You can set her down if you want,” he tells Javi, nodding to the baby’s high chair.
“That’s alright,” he says, taking a seat and easily shifting her into the crook of his arm. He crosses his legs so she’s half in his lap and bounces his thigh, just lightly, offering up his free hand for her to pull and pinch and bite at as she likes to keep her entertained.
His partner is watching from the doorway and you observe with interest how her breathing goes almost imperceptibly unsteady before she gathers herself again.
“So which of you saw the ghost?” she asks Francisco and Benny.
Ben’s eyes shift to the corner where you’re perched on the kitchen counter, but Francisco is already answering for the both of them. “Neither of us,” he tells her. “Our friend Santiago is the one who thinks he saw something.”
She’s taking notes in a pocket-sized notebook.
“And what was it that Santiago saw?”
“Socks,” he says, in a tone that indicates he thinks this is just as silly as it sounds.
“Socks,” she echoes, tilting her head inquisitively.
“Floating in the air.” He makes a vague, floaty gesture with one hand while pouring the coffee with the other.
Tío Javi’s partner finally takes a seat at the table, so she’s not stuck juggling her coffee cup and the notebook. The baby leans towards her, curious, and she gives her a polite smile. “Hello.” Then, struck by a thought, she looks to Francisco again.
“Has the baby seen the ghost?” she asks.
Benny’s eyes widen. Francisco just chuckles. “Not that she’s mentioned,” he says dryly. “Look, I don’t want to be wasting your time. You should know that—I’m not suggesting Santi’s making it up or anything but—the guy’s had more than one concussion before. You know what I’m saying?”
“That’s interesting,” she remarks, jotting it down.
Francisco exchanges a glance with Javier.
“Is it?”
“Well, brain injuries, trauma, near-death experiences—they can open a person’s senses to things that others can’t see,” she explains.
He looks skeptical.
“We’ve all had near-death experiences,” he says, gesturing around the room. He says it so matter-of-factly that she looks startled, and maybe a little concerned. “Ben and I were Special Forces. Tío, I’ve heard your stories from Colombia. We’ve all dealt with some dark shit.”
Javi flattens his mouth in a grim line. Ben is rubbing his knuckles over his lips and you can see the anxiety building in him. The room falls silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” she says. Under the table, Javi shifts his leg to bump his foot with hers reassuringly.
“No.” Francisco frowns. “I’m sorry. You’re just doing your job. You—I know you brought some gear with you. You’re welcome to check the house, or… do whatever you need. I’ll show you where Santi saw the socks in the air.”
She sets down her pen.
“If you don’t mind.”
Francisco leads her upstairs to the nursery. You’re not sure you want to get anywhere near her ghost-hunting equipment, whatever it may be, so you stick to the kitchen and keep Ben company while he attempts to make conversation with Francisco’s uncle.
“So you worked in Colombia,” he tries. Javi gives a quiet grunt to the affirmative. He doesn’t want to talk about that—you can tell, and Benny figures it out pretty quickly, too.
“Do you—” he starts, but Javi’s already speaking.
“What’s the situation here?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Between you and Frankie.”
You can almost feel the heat radiating off him as the air shimmering around Benny turns a deep, blushing pink.
“There’s no situation,” he says.
“You’re roommates?”
“Yeah—I mean, we’ve been friends for a long time. My lease ended a few months ago and he said I could stay here. He has a guest room,” he adds, a touch defensively.
Javi smiles and nods like he hadn’t meant anything by it.
“What about you?” Benny asks. He nods to the ceiling, where Javi’s partner is upstairs. “You guys seem close. Are you dating her?”
Javi’s placid smile doesn’t falter for a moment, but his eyes narrow a little.
“No,” he says. “She has a guest room, too.”
Ben’s mouth opens, then snaps closed, and the men sit in silence for a moment.
“I think she wants to get down,” he says, gesturing to the baby in Javi’s arms, who’s squirming and lunging forward as if to jump to the floor. He sets her down carefully on all fours and she takes off at speed, leaving Ben to scramble behind her. Javier looks around the empty room, eyes skipping right over you, drains his coffee, and follows suit.
You trail behind him to the living room, where Benny has deposited the baby in the middle of the conversation pit with a basket of toys. Javi stops short, taken aback by the sunken couches.
“Holy shit,” he says. “This place hasn’t been remodeled in a while, huh?”
Benny glances at you, knowing this subject is a sore spot. You’d taken great pride in this house, back when it had belonged just to you, and you’re not sure why everybody keeps wishing to change it now.
“We like it,” he tells him. “It’s got character. Plus, this is like a built-in play pen. She’s too little to climb out.”
Javier sits himself down, spreading his legs comfortably wide in a confident-man sprawl.
“It’s a good house,” he admits. “Quiet neighborhood.”
They watch the baby playing on the floor. You join her there, rolling plastic balls back to her too subtly for Javier to realize they haven’t simply bounced.
“Can I ask you something?” Benny says. Javi raises an eyebrow in assent. “Say there is a ghost—” he starts.
“There isn’t.” Javi narrows his eyes a little, like he’s trying to decide if Benny really believes in something so unfathomable.
Benny is avoiding your gaze.
“But theoretically,” he says. “If there was. What would—I mean—What do you do? Like if the EMF meter or whatever registered something.”
“Well,” Javi replies slowly. “Theoretically, if there was a ghost hanging around I think my partner would tell you there’s something unresolved that they still need. A sense of peace, or…”
He pauses, scratching his chin. Eyes still on the child.
“It’s the same as what anybody wants, right? A sense of fulfillment. So you can move on.”
It makes something feel hollow and fluttery inside your chest, achy like you haven’t felt in a while. Now you’re the one avoiding Ben’s eyes, when he looks at you. You retreat to the corner, wanting to be alone but unwilling to give up eavesdropping on such a rare visit.
Their conversation is cut short by the others’ return. Francisco still looks skeptical and she looks thoughtful. Javi tilts his head back and raises an eyebrow.
“Inconclusive,” she announces. “There were some very interesting readings but nothing concrete. There are some other tests we could—”
“I think this is enough,” Francisco cuts her off gently. “It’s not like any of us have been possessed. If blood starts dripping down the walls, we’ll call you back.”
“Well, for a simple specter I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” she assures him. “Blood drips can be indicative of—”
“It was a joke,” he says, and she smiles but she also shrugs like, well, we’ll see.
“Mijo,” Javier says, changing the subject for everyone’s sake. “Pick a restaurant, we’ll go out to dinner, my treat. Your roommate can come too.”
The emphasis he puts on roommate isn’t strong enough for Francisco to pick up on, but Benny does and he shoots Javi a narrow look. Javi gives him an innocent grin and turns back to the baby, who’s been pulling herself up on his pant legs, trying to climb up to her dad since he’d walked in the room. He swings her into his arms and hands her over to Francisco, and after a ten-minute debate over a pizzeria versus a steakhouse, and a five-minute diaper change, the group heads outside.
Alone in the quiet house, you float up to your attic window seat, where you settle in to contemplate tío Javi’s words about things unresolved.
(tiny tag list: @pedrostories, @littlemisspascal, @loversandantiheroes, @by-ilmater, @pettyprocrastination, @littleferal, @pennyserenade)
#narcos fanfiction#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales#benny miller#javier peña#fishben#pedro pascal#my fic
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The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 35**
I wrote this while on holiday so any mistakes I blame on sun stroke and cocktails! This is the second to last chapter! I'm not ready! Chapter 36 will be the last chapter and then I've got an epilogue planned. How will I say good bye to these two!? Please enjoy what's left 😭
Series Master List
Chapter 36- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.4k
The night passes quietly, and you watch the sunrise over the eastern horizon across the river while Frankie sleeps in the tent with baby Jack. As the sun starts to warm up the cool prairie air, you make some breakfast, dreaming of the days you could have coffee, and hear Frankie stir as Jack begins to cry. You listen to your husband soothe him, and with a pang of longing you wonder if Frankie makes the same soft cooing sounds for Jack as he did for Lucía. Frankie had told you years ago that he’d been petrified when Lucia was born, he’d been in such a bad state and not able to enjoy having a baby girl. But he’d grown into such an incredible dad by the time you met him, it was hard to imagine him being anything but a proud doting father.
The zipper of the tent slides open and Frankie crawls out, Jack held tight to his chest with one hand. The boy is staring up at Frankie’s beard and as you watch, Frankie carefully gets to his feet and smiles at Jack, dipping his chin low enough so that one chubby little hand can come up and grab at the scruffy hair.
“Ouch, you little scoundrel,” Frankie chuckles, “you’ve got some grip in those tiny hands.”
You smile and hand Frankie a bowl of ravioli as he gently sinks down next to you, “Careful, he’ll give you another bald patch,” you tease and Frankie rolls his eyes at Jack.
“Listen to her, going after my poor beard now, as if she doesn’t love my bald patches.”
“True, I do love them,” you lean forward and press your lips to the one on his right jaw, “pull harder, Jack.”
The baby gurgles happily in Frankie's lap, reaching up for the beard again.
“I’ve prepared some food for him too, I cut up the ravioli,” you pick up the bowl, “do you want me to feed him while you eat?”
“No, I’ll do it, if you wanna pack up the tent?”
“Sure, I’ll pack up,” you give the bowl to Frankie and you can’t help but smile as he takes it, barely looking at you as Jack grabs his finger and blows a spit bubble. In all your years with Frankie, in an increasingly hard environment, you’d never have guessed that a little foundling baby would be the thing that made your husband melt into a puddle.
As you take down the tent and roll up the sleeping bags you listen to Frankie talk to Jack, an endless stream of baby nonsense. When the baby swallows the last bite of food, Frankie praises him, gently wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. As you put Frankie’s pack next to him, he wraps Jack into the makeshift kangaroo pouch and ties it around his chest.
“I’ll take him, since you carried him all day yesterday, rest your shoulders today, cariño,” he says, adjusting Jack’s legs.
“Are you sure? You’ve got a pretty heavy pack,” you say, slipping one of Frankie’s socks onto Jack’s head to protect him from the sun.
“Yeah, if you take the rifle today it’ll be fine.”
…
The three of you keep walking west, the endless prairie slowly giving way to more hills and trees. Far off in the distance you can see the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, impossibly high in the clear air. At the end of another long day of walking you’ve climbed up, away from the prairie and into low hills that slowly stretch up towards the high mountain range to the west. While you rested at midday you’d actually managed to run down some sort of chicken, it looked fairly domesticated and Frankie guessed that chickens must’ve escaped from farms after the outbreak and multiplied. Whatever it was, you managed to wring its neck without getting too squeamish and hang it from your backpack.
You feel like you’ve crossed all of Wyoming on foot when the sun finally starts dropping and nothing worth noting has crossed your path since you left the pick up, no infected, no people, only animals in the distance. The farms and houses you’ve passed have been empty and mostly looted, people have passed through here before you but it’s impossible to know when. You realize finding Jack’s uncle will be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the group he was with even got as far as Wyoming, it seems unlikely you’ll meet anyone out here and maybe that’s for the best..
At sundown you make camp a mile from the road you’ve been following. It’s far enough away from anything that Frankie risks a campfire and grills the bird you’d caught whole. Even Jack can eat the tender meat when you cut it up and he even seems to enjoy it.
“I’ve been looking at the map,” Frankie says, bringing it over to the campfire so that you can see, “and I’ve got a couple of options, tell me what you think.”
You lean into him as he spreads the map out onto the ground in front of you. “There's a place up here, about five miles from the road.” He points to a spot on the map, “It’s got a small river running next to it, the mountain on one side and this open valley on the other side. It’s marked as a private ranch on the map key. It could be what we need. But there’s another place,” he moves his finger and points to a place much further north, “it’s another twenty miles into the mountains, up this valley that we’re in.”
“I’m guessing there’s a good reason why you want to walk another twenty miles?” you say, looking at the long stretch of land that lies between you and the spot Frankie’s fingers is resting on.
“Yeah, this place is a small hydroelectric dam. If we get there I could probably get it up and running and we’d have actual electricity, heating, hot water.” He looks up at you with an excited smile, “I was thinking about it today, even if it doesn’t work now, I could fix it somehow and the place is so remote, it’s bound to have all the equipment needed on site. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s only another half days' walk, with a potentially huge reward.”
You look at the dam location, tucked away at the river mouth, a few miles from the main road. Plenty of fish in the lake probably, and open land full of game, provided you’d be able to craft something to hunt with.
“It looks like a better location than the ranch, but probably a bigger risk of infected, if the people who worked there didn’t get away.”
“Yeah, that’s the main drawback,” Frankie says, “we’d have to be very careful clearing it out.” He’s tapping the map thoughtfully before he looks up at you. “It’s up to you completely, if you don’t want to risk it, we go with the ranch, live settler style. Maybe that is the better option, safer for now at least.”
“The dam could attract other people too, if they have the same idea as you,” you say and Frankie nods.
“Yeah, there’s always the risk of other people too, although, so far Wyoming seems pretty empty to be honest.” He folds up the map, “We’ll sleep on it, see how we feel tomorrow, we could just go check out the ranch first, it’s almost on the way.”
Behind you Jack shifts and begins to cry and you pick him up, tucking him into your arms.
“I’ll set up the tent and take the first watch, cariño, see if you can get him to go back to sleep.”
“He’s usually asleep by now, maybe he got a tummy ache from the food,” you stand up and start rocking him the way you used to rock your nieces when they were babies. The thought makes you wince, over the years you’ve come to terms with all the people you lost when the outbreak happened, your parents, siblings, friends. But sometimes, when you do something that reminds you of them, it’s like touching a piece of glass inside your chest and the cut is fresh. Gently bouncing on your feet you try to remember how old they’d be by now but you get stuck, in your mind they’re forever little girls, just slightly older than Lucía.
Jack just won’t settle, his cries cut through the still night, no matter how much you and Frankie try to soothe him. Even Frankie’s beard goes untouched, the tiny fists clenched hard as Jack wails in Frankie’s arms. It feels like he cries for hours, sleeping is out of the question, you can’t shut your ears to Jack’s crying and you’re starting to worry that anyone or anything in the vicinity will hear and come to investigate.
“Give him to me,” Frankie suddenly says, handing you the rifle, “I had an idea, my abuela once told me I had tummy aches as a baby every time I’d eaten and she’d hang me over her shoulder.” He gently takes Jack from you and hangs him, belly down, over his shoulder. His large hand holds Jack steady as he gently begins to rock on his feet and you walk around his back so that you can see Jack’s face. He’s still crying but as Frankie moves back and forth he seems to calm down a little.
“Keep going, I think it’s working,” you say and Frankie starts walking circles around the fireplace while you keep watch around the campsite. There’s a new moon in the clear sky and you look up at the thin sliver and all the bright stars. You’ll never get over how bright they really are once you’re out in the countryside. When the world came crashing down it took a long time before you had the peace of mind to sit in the dark and look at the sky. It wasn’t really until you were out on the boat, sailing from New York, that you’d noticed them again. Now you search out familiar constellations and find the North Star. Behind you Jack is finally quiet, you can hear Frankie gently humming a lullaby you don’t recognize.
“Arroz con leche me quiero casar, con una señorita de Portugal….” and he hums a few notes, the words forgotten, before you hear him sing again, “Con esta sí, con esta no, con esta señorita me caso yo.”
You turn and smile at him and you hear a branch snap behind you, fear shooting through your veins like ice. Your heart drops into your stomach as you swing round, raising your rifle towards the sound, you suddenly see several shadows moving in the corner of your eyes. You hear Frankie rush up behind you, his back against yours as he turns and scans the dark forest.
“Lower your guns, there’s more of us than you,” comes a man’s voice from in front of you as several people step into the light of the campfire, guns raised. You can see at least five of them, and from the footsteps behind you, at least another five you can’t see.
“Lower your gun, cariño,” Frankie says, his voice low, “and take Jack.”
You give Frankie a scared look as you lay your rifle on the ground and take the baby from him, tucking him into your arms, one hand protectively cradled over his head. Frankie raises one hand and slowly pulls his gun from the back of his pants with the other, laying it down on the ground.
“Step away from her, five steps back,” the man barks, jerking his head at Frankie.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Frankie says, “We’re just passing through, the baby was ill.”
“Step back,” the man snaps, taking a step forward and raising his gun, aiming at Frankie. You look over your shoulder at Frankie, he gives you a small nod.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, slowly backing away from you.
“Have you been around any infected?” the man asks and behind him you see a woman stepping forward, a German Shepard on a leash.
“We haven’t seen anyone since we left Nebraska,” Frankie says, “no people or infected.”
“If you’re lying the dog will sniff it out and rip you to shreds,” the man keeps his rifle on Frankie and nods to the woman to unclip the dog. It growls and runs over first to you and sniffs around your legs before padding over to Frankie and doing the same. Satisfied that neither of you are infected, the woman whistles the dog back..
“We’re looking for a man named Jack,” you say, before the man with the rifle has a chance to decide what to do next, “We found his sister in Nebraska, she’d escaped from slavers with her baby boy,” you nod down at baby Jack in your arms. “She was dying and asked us to find her brother and bring her son to him.”
You see how the woman with the dog and the man exchange a look, a blink of recognition, before the woman speaks up.
“The woman, her name was Julia?” she asks and both you and Frankie nod.
“Yes!” you exclaim, “Do you know her?”
The man with the rifle holds up his hand but the woman answers anyway, “Did she say what Jacks’ last name was?”
“No...” you hesitate, “she only said the boy’s name is Jack Connolly and that he was named after her brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people.”
“We were heading for White River,” the woman replies, “Jack, his last name was Connolly too, was with us until two months ago. I’m sorry, but he died.”
“We didn’t know him,” Frankie says, “and we didn’t know Julia either, but I’m sorry to hear he died. It would’ve been nice to bring baby Jack to his family.”
“Juan,” the man with the rifle says, looking at a man somewhere in the tree line, “don’t let them move, I need to talk to Maria.” He motions to the woman with the dog to follow him back into the trees, out of earshot. You glance over at Frankie who’s still standing five steps away from you and he gives you a small smile, but you can see the concern in his eyes.
You look back down at baby Jack, sleeping in your arms now. You had been thinking about the possibility of not finding his uncle, and then you and Frankie would have to take care of him, but it had been a vague ‘what if?’. Having a child of your own with Frankie had never been an option ever since the outbreak, not even in the relative safety of Arlington or Boston. But taking care of an orphan child who really has no one else, that seemed like a very easy decision to make when you were faced with it. But Jack was never yours, you were only taking care of him until you found his family. But now? If his uncle was gone, you felt responsible for him, for the promise you’d made to his mother. Looking down at him, you couldn’t help reflecting over how strange it felt to suddenly be an adoptive parent of this little boy.
The man and the woman called Maria come back through the trees and wave Frankie and you over.
“Alright, I’m Patrick, this is Maria. Sorry about the curt welcome committee, we can’t be too careful about people out here.”
“Yeah, we get that,” Frankie says, taking Patrick’s outstretched hand. “I’m Frankie and this is my wife.”
You shake Patrick’s hand and then Maria’s, giving them your name.
“You seem like decent people, and you have Jack’s nephew to care for, so we’d like to give you two options,” Maria says, looking between the two of you, “We have a settlement not too far from here, you’re welcome to come with us and seek shelter. We’ll have to confiscate your guns until we know we can trust you and we’ll expect you to help out with whatever you can. If you don’t like it, you’ll be free to leave whenever you want.” She looks at you and then down at Jack sleeping in your arms, “But I think that once you see how the community works, that you’ll be able to keep baby Jack safe, you’ll want to stay,” she smiles at the little boy, as he stirs in his sleep, his little hand waving free from the blanket. “He actually looks like his uncle, does he have blue eyes too?”
“Yeah, he does, big blue eyes,” you smile, looking at Jack and tucking in his arm again.
“So what do you think?” Patrick asks and you glance over at Frankie, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if this is the group Jack’s mother wanted you to seek out with her son then maybe it’s worth a shot.
“What’s the second option?” Frankie asks.
“We leave you to fend for yourself out here, no hard feelings. But we would prefer it if you came with us. Every person we leave out here is a potential infected down the line.”
“But we’d really like you to come to Jackson with us, especially seeing as you have the baby. Jack was a good man and we’d like to make sure his nephew is safe,” Patrick says and from the corner of your eye you see several of the other people nod.
“Can I talk to my wife in private for a minute?” Frankie says and Maria nods and steps back a little with Patrick. Frankie takes your hand and you walk to the other side of the fire.
“What do you think, cariño?” he asks in a low voice, his fingers threading between yours.
“I think it might be worth the risk to trust them,” you say, “They seem genuine.”
Frankie nods, “I think it might be our best chance at getting to a safe place, even if our plan was to get somewhere safe just you and me.”
“But with baby Jack, we could really need a community, it’s not just you and me,” you say, stroking your hand over the baby’s head. It’s only been a few days but you’re already feeling very protective of him.
“Yeah, and about him, with his uncle dead, I guess it’s on you and me to take care of him? Are we gonna be his parents?” Frankie looks down at Jack, you can see his eyes soften as gently caresses the rosy cheek with his finger.
“It’s not how I imagined this ending but I don’t think I could give him up now, could you? I feel responsible for him after what we promised his mother.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same,” Frankie says, looking back up at you, “So I guess we’re parents now and we go with Maria and Patrick? At least to check it out? Hopefully they meant what they said about us leaving if we don’t want to stay, but I think we can risk it?”
You nod and together you walk back to others.
“Alright,” Frankie says, “We’ll hand over our guns and come with you. We feel responsible for baby Jack and it seems you might be the option to keep him safe.”
Maria nods, “I’m happy you think that, I hope you’ll wanna stay with us once you see what we’re building.” She turns and waves forward a younger man, “Ned, get Winston please, if you can ride with Nellie on the way back these two can ride him with the baby. She turns back to you, “Winston is a very steady and gentle horse, he’ll keep you safe on the ride back.”
The horses had been left out of earshot of the camp and you’re delighted to see a small herd of them once you’ve packed up. Winston turns out to be a large bay horse who lets you reach up and stroke his soft nose while he nickers gently. Frankie swings himself into the saddle with ease and a happy look, giving the horse a pat on the neck. You hand Jack to him and Maria helps you hang your packs on the side of the saddle before you get on behind Frankie.
“All these years, Frankie,” you smile as the group sets out, “and I never knew you were such a cowboy.” You’ve got your arms around his waist, Jack is safely tucked into the makeshift pouch on his chest.
“My uncle had horses,” he says, “and he taught me how to ride, just haven’t done it in years, but it’s like riding a bike.” He clicks his tongue and Winston sets off, following Maria and Patrick’s horses. “How about you, are you ok back there?” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah, I’m ok,” you bury your nose in his soft shirt, holding on to him, “I was never a great rider but I know how to stay on at least.”
“Just hang on to me, cariño, Winston and me won’t let you fall.”
The ride back to the group's camp only takes a couple of hours, Maria and Patrick leading the way cross country rather than following the road. The sky lightens and Maria rides up next to you and points down a hill towards a large lake.
“That’s Jackson,” she says, “and that’s the dam we’re trying to get fixed. If we manage we’ll have electricity.”
“That’s the dam we saw on the map, cariño,” Frankie says, “We were thinking about coming here and seeing if it was fixable.”
“Do you know anything about how hydroelectric dams work?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows at Frankie and he shakes his head.
“No, not really, not more than the theory of it. But I’m used to fixing a lot of different things, I used to be a pilot before the outbreak.”
“I don’t want to get into it now, but we will have a conversation with the two of you later about what skills you have that can be useful for the community,” Maria says as the group rides up a large gate set in the wall surrounding the town. “But for now, let's get you settled, it’s been a long night for us all.” She waves to the men guarding the gate and someone on the inside pulls it open.
“We’ll put you up in one of the empty houses for now, we’ve cleaned them all out and there’s sheets and pillows in most of them.”
You look around you as the horses pass through the gate. The sky is light, the sun almost up, and it casts a golden glow over the western themed houses. Maria points down the street and you see a wood barricade at the end of it.
“Down there is the rest of the town, we’ve only walled off this smaller area so far, it was already a gated community so we built on the existing walls.”
“Is the rest of the town cleared of infected?” Frankie asks and Maria nods.
“Yeah, we had to do it bit by bit, but we cleared the last house a month ago. But it’s outside the wall so it’s not completely safe, we still get infected wandering in sometimes.That’s why we have guards and patrols to handle them and any potential raiders.”
She leads you to the stables and you dismount, Ned comes over and takes Winston’s reins.
“I’ll get him dried off, just go with Maria and get settled,” he says with a smile and Frankie slides off, one hand on Jack and then gives you a hand down. You yawn wide as you get down, the sleepless night is catching up with you as you feel safer.
Maria leads you to a small house near the outskirts of the gated community and opens the door.
“This will be your place for now, or at least if you decide to stay with us,” she says, motioning you inside. “There’s no food here, come to the mess hall for that. But try to get some rest first, there’s a crib for Jack in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”
“Thanks Maria, we’re very grateful for your help,” you say and she gives you a quick nod.
“I’m sure you’re hoping you didn’t make a mistake in trusting us, and I’m hoping we didn’t make a mistake in trusting you,” she says, “We’re a small community and we need decent people to keep this place safe and thriving, I hope my gut feeling about you two is correct.”
“It is, we’re just looking for somewhere good and safe to settle down, even before we found baby Jack,” Frankie says, “If you are who you say you are, we’ll be happy to help build the community.”
“Good, that’s great to hear,” she says, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you both later today, there’s firewood outback if you want to heat up water and clean up.”
With that she leaves, closing the door behind her, and you find yourself alone with Frankie in a house, a safe house, for the first time in years.
“Hermosa,” Frankie slides his arm around your waist, “you look dead on your feet, c’mon, let’s sleep before we do anything else.”
You nod, yawning big again and letting Frankie guide you up the stairs to the second floor where you found what looks like a master bedroom. The house looks well preserved despite all the years it’s been abandoned and there’s pillows and sheets with thick blankets on the bed. It looks very inviting and you groan at the sight of it. Sliding off your backpack you sit down on the bed while Frankie smiles at you, bouncing Jack on his arms. He’d woken up during the ride but now he’s yawning again.
“I’ll find the crib for Jack,,” Frankie says, “Just go to bed, cariño, I’ll be right there.”
You give him a grateful nod and start unlacing your boots and peeling off your clothes. Everything you own is grimy and unwashed but you find your least dirty t-shirt and change into it. As you pull back the sheets Frankie comes yawning through the door.
“The crib is in the room across the hall,” he says, “Jack fell asleep instantly but I left the door open so we’ll hear him if he wakes up.”
“Hopefully he’s as tired as us and we can get a few hour’s sleep,” you yawn, sliding into the bed as Frankie starts pulling off his clothes. It doesn’t take him long to climb in next to you. You yawn again and Frankie pulls you into his arms, tucking your head in under his chin.
“Sleep, hermosa, I think we’re safe here for now,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair and you feel yourself slip into sleep without even trying. The last thing you register is Frankie’s lips against your cheek.
When you wake up a few hours later you think for a minute that you’re in a dream. You’re warm under the covers, Frankie’s arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel his shallow breaths against your neck. The bed under you is soft and a shaft of sunlight is filtering in through the closed curtains, hitting a painting of a mountain landscape. You let your eyes drift around the room and take it in as you slowly remember where you are; Jackson, a safe place at last.
Frankie stirs behind you, tightening his grip around your waist, “Morning, cariño,” he mumbles and pushes his nose into your hair, inhaling and kissing your neck.
“More like ‘afternoon’,” you smile, reaching back and threading your fingers through his curls.
“Mhmm…I slept like a log,” he rolls over and stretches out, pulling you with him so that you end up half on top of him. You lean your chin on his chest and trace your fingers through his scruffy beard.
“Me too, and it seems like Jack did too,” you mumble, kissing his chest as he strokes your hair. And right on cue, Jack whimpers from the room across the hall and begins to cry.
“I’ll get him,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed, “he’s probably hungry, it’s been hours since he ate.”
“I know how he feels,” Frankie mutters, “I’m starving, we should see if we can give him the last of the spagettios and then go to the mess hall Maria mentioned.” He sits up and shoves his fingers through his curls, making them stand on end.
While you get Jack and get him to stop crying, Frankie gets the camping stove out and heats up some food.
“Hey, look,” he calls from downstairs, “someone’s left some supplies on the porch.” He comes in with a bag as you bring Jack down. “Looks like some clean clothes both for us and Jack, and some diapers.” He holds up some reusable diapers, “they’ve thought of everything.”
He comes over to Jack and gives his little belly a poke, “did you poop your pants, little man? Yeah, you did, I can smell you.” Frankie chuckles as Jack giggles and squeals. “Do you wanna do food or poop?” he asks you with a grin and you immediately hand Jack over to him.
“Food, you’re on poop duty,” you reply, grinning back at him and Frankie makes a grimace.
“Knew you’d say that, cariño,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Too late now, Frankie,” you laugh and grab the last can of spagettios from his backpack.
Frankie starts cleaning up Jack as you warm the food and when Jack’s got a clean diaper on Frankie comes over.
“I was thinking about what Maria said before,” he says, setting Jack down on the counter and holding on to him, “About everyone doing what they can to help out this community.”
“You’re thinking about what they’ll say if you tell them about your background?”
“Yeah…” he trails off, watching Jack open his mouth for a first spoonful of pasta. “I’m not going to tell them about the PTSD or the drugs, it’s none of their business and I’ve got it under control. But if I tell them about my army background, they’ll want me to do patrols, and I’d like to do that, if you’re ok with it?” Frankie looks over at you, his eyebrows drawn together in that slightly worried look.
“I can’t imagine doing patrols and guard duty here is anything like what it was like with FEDRA, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “And if you start feeling it, please Frankie….” you gently take his chin between your thumb and finger and give him a little tug with every word, “You’ve. Got. To. Tell. Me.” You look into his warm brown eyes and he gives you a crooked smile.
“I know, no more hiding things,” he nods, taking your hand from his chin and pressing his warm lips to your palm, “I promise, for real this time.”
“Good. Because we didn’t just go through all that shit and travel halfway across the country for you to do all of that again,” you smile as he pulls you in by your hand and leans his forehead against yours.
“I promise, I really, really mean it, no more lies, no more hiding, I’m going to be what you deserve now, cariño.” He dips his head and finds your lips, one hand still holding on to Jack who’s gurgling happily on the counter, the other slipping around your neck and holding you just as close as the little boy.
Once Jack is fed and changed you heat up some water on the old wood fired stove. The old house you’re in has a modern kitchen but both the living room and the kitchen have the old fireplace and stove and plenty of firewood stacked next to them. You light a fire and Frankie gets water from the hand cranked well outside. It’s not exactly a hot shower or bath but it’s warm water to wash in and you take the chance to wash some of your clothes too, hanging them to dry in front of the fire before you leave for the mess hall.
The mess hall is easy to find, it’s the largest building in the old gated community and used to be the community center. Someone has made a rough wooden sign and it hangs over the door of the western style building. Frankie holds Jack on his hip, his other hand holding yours as you walk down the main street towards the hall. You can’t help but glance at Frankie and Jack. It’s almost hard to believe the change that Frankie’s undergone in just a few weeks since you left Boston. The withdrawals had left him haggard and tired looking, and you know he’d struggled with the more psychological symptoms longer than the physiological symptoms. But traveling further away from Boston had changed his mood and with the added responsibility of Jack, a child to care for, you started seeing a version of Frankie that you hadn’t seen since before the outbreak. You don’t think he’s even realizing it himself but you’re seeing how he’s slowly turning back into the dad he was to Lucía, treating Jack like a son even though he might not be ready to see him as such. At least not yet.
Now he bounces Jack on his hip, tickling the boy's chin as Jack happily gurgles up at him and you see Maria smiling at the two of them as you enter the mess hall.
“Hey there, I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, coming over and smiling at Jack who gives her a toothless grin.
“Thanks for the supplies,” you say, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”
“Yeah, I thought you might need some things to feel a bit more human after traveling for as long as you have.” She gestures to a cantina set up at one end of the room, “Have some food and come and sit down with us.”
You grab some bowls of rich looking stew and say hello to the woman overseeing the cantina. She’s delighted by Jack’s gurgling smile and gives him a small bowl of fresh blueberries that she mashes up with some honey.
“Someone kept bees in one of the gardens before the outbreak,” she says, “so we now have a huge bee colony and more honey than what we know what to do with.”
You thank her and join Maria and Patrick at a table in a corner of the mess hall. The stew is warm and hearty, and you have to pace yourself or you’ll inhale it, hungry as you are by now. Maria and Patrick let you finish your food before Patrick leans forward and leans his elbows on the table.
“So, you seem like decent folk, but I’m sure you understand we’d like to know a bit more about you now that you’ve had a chance to see our community.”
You both nod and Maria looks at you, “Where have you come from?”
“Originally, when the outbreak happened, Arlington, a town down south. But we’d been in Boston for about five years by the time we left.”
“What made you leave? You’re a long way from Boston and it’s a dangerous journey,” Patrick glances between you and Frankie and Frankie answers first.
“Have you heard of a group that calls themselves The Fireflies?” he asks and both Maria and Patrick nod, “They were causing a bit too much trouble in the QZ. They blew up a guard station, a truck, and FEDRA responded as you can imagine, making life very difficult. So we decided to leave.” Frankie glances over at you and takes your hand and rubs little circles into your skin, “We met a year before the outbreak, she’s been my wife for over ten years and I wouldn’t have survived without her, luckily for me she was willing to risk it all and come with me when it became necessary to leave Boston.”
Frankie’s telling a truncated version of the story behind why you left but for now, there’s no need for anyone to know anything else.
“She used to work the civilian radio in Boston and we know the Fireflies are making trouble all across the QZ’s so at first we just planned to get away from Boston and find an isolated farm and try to survive on our own, how long that would be didn’t really matter, as long as she was with me.” Frankie continues to tell the story of your journey across the Midwest, ending with how you found Jack and his mother and how you stole the slavers’ pickup.
“We’ve heard about slavers from some of the people who have joined our community,” Maria says, “the outbreak really brought out the worst kind of behavior from certain people.”
“We’ll certainly make use of your radio skills,” Patrick says to you, “there’s a radio tower nearby that we haven’t managed to fix yet, we need to fix the dam first, but you might be able to help us with the radio when it comes time for that.”
You nod, “I can fix most things on the particular model we had in Boston, if we have the right parts, but Frankie’s the real fixer.”
“What have you worked with, Frankie?” Maria asks and you see Frankie inhale, there’s so much trauma connected to what he did both before and after the outbreak, and you take hold of his hand, squeezing it lightly, giving him your support, and you can tell both Maria and Patrick senses the tension.
“Before the outbreak I was retired from the army,” Frankie begins, trying to keep his hand from nervously shooting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m ex special ops, Delta Force, I was a helicopter pilot, a soldier.”
You can see Maria and Patrick exchange a quick glance and Patrick nods, “I’m not gonna lie, Frankie, we live under constant threat of raiders and infected here, to have someone with your background on our side would be a great help.”
“I realize that, and so did FEDRA, they recruited me in exchange for letting myself and my wife stay in the QZ we got to at the beginning of the outbreak. But I didn’t stay with them for too long, their ways of doing things…” Frankie trails off and shakes his head. “So, we,” he glances at you, “did what we needed to do to stay alive. We both smuggled, got stuff into the QZ’s we were in both for our own survival and benefit. But we did good too, I hope,” he looks at you again and you nod.
“We did good, Frankie, you know that. We brought in medicine and supplies that FEDRA was denying the population.”
“Everyone here has lived under FEDRA rule,” Maria says and Patrick nods in agreement, “we know all too well what it’s like. I don’t judge you for being smugglers, as long as you’re good people.”
You feel Frankie tense up at the last words, but he bites his tongue as you squeeze his hand.
“We stopped smuggling a while back though,” he says instead, “I couldn’t handle the risk it put her in,” he looks at you and his eyes soften as you smile at him, “and then, when it got more dangerous, I didn’t want to risk leaving her behind alone if something would happen to me.”
“Well, we don’t need smugglers here, but we do need good guards and we all take turns doing guard duty or go on patrols,” Maria says, “We run this place like a commune, everything we have is owned by everyone, and we share the resources we bring in.”
“I’m in charge of the hunting parties,” Patrick says, “so if either one of you is a good hunter, let me know. We eat mainly meat that we trap or shoot, but it’s hard work feeding everyone.”
“Our crops are starting to ripen, we’ve worked hard all year to cultivate local crops and we hope to have greenhouses too at some point. But for that, we need electricity, so that’s our first priority,” Maria explains, “but we’ll give you some time to settle in today and I’ll show you around tomorrow.”
“Frankie, if you don’t mind, can I take you up to the dam tomorrow?” Patrick asks and Frankie nods.
“Yeah, sure, whatever works for you,” he replies, “If you’re ok with taking Jack tomorrow, cariño?”
You nod and Maria reaches over the table and strokes the baby’s hand, “We don’t have any babies here, yet at least, but we hope that Jackson will be safe enough for people to raise families in the future.” She looks up at you and Frankie and seems to hesitate, “I know you two accidentally became Jack’s caretakers, but I get the sense that you’d like to continue to care for him?”
You both nod, “We feel responsible for him now,” you say as Frankie puts a protective hand around Jack and smiles at him, “and we did promise his mom to keep him safe, at least until we could find his uncle, and with him gone, that feels more important than ever.”
“What happened to his uncle?” Frankie asks, looking up again and Patrick grimaces and shakes his head.
“It was two clickers, three of us were clearing out one of the last houses in Jackson, outside the gated community, and we'd killed three runners and heard nothing else. But they were inside a shed in the yard and came rushing out as we approached. Jack was unlucky, got bit as we took them down.”
“We’ve been here just over six months now and we’ve lost three good people to raiders and infected,” Maria says, “and it never gets easier. But we’ve learned a lot from each death, we’re safer now, better guarded.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Frankie says, “but you seem to have built up a good perimeter defense, judging by what we saw when we rode in.”
“I would love to have your eyes on it, Frankie,” Patrick says, “give us some advice on improvements.”
Maria gives a low chuckle, “Give the man a break, Pat, he’s been here all but two minutes and you’ve already commandeered his time.”
“It’s alright,” Frankie said, shaking his head, “No problem at all, if we’re staying here I’m more than happy to help out in any way I can to keep this place as safe as possible.”
“Speaking of staying then,” Maria says, smiling at you and Jack now, “why don’t you have a wander around Jackson, and see what we have to offer. It’s not big but I think it’ll give you an idea about what we’re trying to build here and we’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“Sounds like a plan,” you say and Frankie nods, shaking Patrick’s offered hand.
“Welcome to Jackson.”
It doesn’t take you long to see all of Jackson, the community is clearly very small but like Maria had said, you could see what they were planning. People were working on a number of projects around the small gated community and the park in the center had given way to crops that looked almost ready to harvest. The garden of one of the biggest houses has been converted into a stable yard and a stable is almost fully built up against the wall that surrounds the community. You say hello to Winston and Ned, who turns out to be the one responsible for Jackson’s horses.
At the furthest end of the small town is the slaughterhouse, where fresh game has been brought in by two women and hung up, the blood trickling from two white tail deer.
As you wander back towards the house you’re staying at, Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close.
“This all feels very…normal,” he says, “like maybe they have a chance at making this work.”
“Normal, apart from the infected and the raiders?” you say, looking up at the high wall that surrounds the small community, guards with rifles patrolling at the top.
“Yeah, but Maria and Patrick seem to have the right idea about how to run this place, so maybe they can make it work,” Frankie glances around the small town, “It’s kinda like the settlers in the old west. You were somewhat safe in the towns but it was dangerous to travel outside them. The biggest problem with what’s happened after the outbreak isn’t the infected, it’s how FEDRA handled the situation.”
You’ve arrived at the house and Jack’s fallen asleep so you put him down and join Frankie out on the porch.
“So what do you think?” he says, pulling you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you think we should stay here and make a go of it?”
“I think so, Frankie, if you think you’ll be alright with patrols and guard duty?”
“Yeah, I think so…” he rubs his hand up and down your back, looking out over the small street the house is on, “It’s not for FEDRA, it’s for this place, for you and for Jack, to help keep you and this place safe.”
“I think you’ll be able to help them a lot too, you can use your skills for something that really makes a difference for this place.” You run your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, long enough now for you to wind around your fingers. Frankie’s looked away from the street and is looking at you, his warm brown eyes soft as he smiles up at you.
“And they have sturdy doors on these houses,” his hand has drifted up from your back to wrap around your neck and he’s gently pulling you closer to his lips. As you smile the pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his plush bottom lip, you don’t even need to feel the bulge growing under you to know what he’s thinking about. You press your lips against his as he pulls you closer, his mouth opening to let you in with a low groan.
“Cariño,” he mumbles, “this is all I ever want,” his hand presses against your back as he deepens the kiss, “you and me in a quiet place where I can give you everything you deserve.”
“You deserve it too, Frankie,” you mumble, his hand tangling in your hair as his tongue slips in between your lips. You can feel him nod under you but you lose all train of thought as he bucks his hips under you.
“Fuck, hermosa…” he mutters, “we need to move inside or our new neighbors…”
You pull him up, take his hand and slip through the door while he wraps his arms around you from behind, kicking the door closed with his foot.
“Bring Jack upstairs and put him in the crib,” you say, as Frankie starts kissing your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.
“Do you really think we’ll make it upstairs,” he mutters, his hand already tugging at your t-shirt, slipping it under it and pushing under your bra.
“We have a kid now, Frankie,” you chuckle, “no sex in front of the baby.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he grumbles and pulls away from you, keeping it decent as he picks up Jack, carefully to not wake him, and follows you upstairs. Once Jack is safely nestled into his crib and the door closed but with a crack open in case he wakes up, Frankie comes into your bedroom with a smirk.
“You’re gonna need to be quiet or you’ll wake him and alert the neighbors, and I’m gonna make sure you really wanna scream my name, cariño…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you hold your finger up to him.
“Francisco Morales, you wouldn’t dare,” you wave the finger threateningly in front of him as he stalks across the room, making you back up until your legs hit the bed, his grin is lethal, all wicked intentions and mischief.
“Just let me take care of you, mi hermosa, mi amor de mi vida,” he croons, slipping his hands around your waist and gently pushing you back onto the bed, making you crawl up towards the top as he bends his head and starts kissing every inch of skin he can reach while peeling off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants. When his wide shoulders pushes your legs apart you groan and fall back against the sheets. You can feel his hot breath against your core as he settles down and grabs your thighs, kneading them and letting his fingers caress the soft skin.
“Frankie,” you sigh, reaching down and threading your fingers through his curls.
“Fuck…” he grumbles, “I’ve missed this, this sight, this smell, cariño, you’re so fucking sweet,” without warning he dips his head and runs his tongue through your folds, a long deep lick that ends at your clit. The sensation explodes through your nerve endings and you arch your back up, pressing your hips against his mouth.
“Did you miss this too, hermosa?” he chuckles, looking up at you from between your thighs, a smirk on his face, but before you get a chance to answer he dives back down, tasting every part of you as his nose circles around your clit but never really touching. The teasing makes you moan, canting your hips up against him and he pins you down with an arm over your middle.. When he slips in two fingers you’re already on the edge, with a whimper you cry his name, trying to keep your voice down. He pumps them slowly, curling them back as his lips seal around your clit. You glance down at him and he’s got his eyes on you, his black eyes are glowing as he watches you pant, your body taught as a bowstring.
He lifts his head slightly, his mouth hovering just over you and every one of his breaths sends tremors through your body.
“Come on, let me feel you come on my mouth and then I’ll fuck you, I wanna feel you around my cock so badly, cariño, you have no idea how hard I am…” he grinds his hips into the mattress, dragging the tip of his tongue over your clit again. His words and his eyes, still burning up your body makes you groan, barely able to keep looking at him. As his lips close around your clit again, ramping up the pressure, you throw your hand over your mouth, biting down hard on your lip as you moan. When you fall over the edge his fingers almost stop moving as you spasm around them but the rough pads keep pushing you through every wave that crashes over you. Frankie doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking over your clit as heat courses through your body until every muscle in your body relaxes and you fall back against the bed.
“So fucking good, cariño,” Frankie moans, trailing sticky kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, moving up to your hips, resting his head there and looking at you as he caresses your skin.
“Come up here and fuck me then, Frankie,” you mumble, reaching down for him and he groans, hiding his face against your hip, sucking a mark into you, making you hiss under him. His tongue comes out and soothes the mark before he sits up and quickly pulls off his shirt and pants before crawling up the bed, hooking his arm under your knee as he goes. He’s painfully hard and weeping, you can feel him drag over your leg, the contact makes him exhale sharply and he grabs his cock firmly. He slides the tip through your sensitive slick folds as he bends down and slips his tongue between your lips. You feel the familiar stretch of him as he pushes the blunt head into you, forcing your knee up higher and grinding his way deeper.
He gasps as you involuntarily clench down around him, “Bebita…fuck…so tight..I…I can’t fucking move…” With a deep groan he pulls out a little before slamming in deep again, making you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Your arms come up around his neck and pull him down closer as he begins to move in earnest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moves in and out, slow at first but soon he picks up pace, groaning over you as his own high draws near. The familiar tingling is building inside you again as he hits a spot deep inside and he can feel you starting to tremble around him.
“C’mon…please…again, hermosa, fuck…” he pushes himself up on one elbow and looking down at you, his sweaty curls hanging over his forehead as his hand slides down and grabs your hip, “I’m…fuck…” he drops down with his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as your climax explodes through your body and you feel him follow, grinding deep. Both your moans mix in the air, all attempts at keeping quiet forgotten until you collapse on the damp sheets.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his face against your neck, “I came inside you, is it ok?”
“Yeah, I would’ve stopped otherwise, I forgot to tell you it was ok,” you mumble, kissing his damp forehead and pushing back his curls. As you start caressing his hair, scratching his scalp he snuggles deeper into your neck and sighs contentedly.
“I missed this so much, cariño,” he mumbles, “you and me, a bed, nothing else.”
“And a sturdy door?” you smile as his arm comes up around your body, his hand resting on your breast as his thumb lightly strokes across the nipple.
“Yeah, a sturdy door with a lock,” he nibbles at your neck, pressing light kisses along your jaw until he settles down again, humming under his breath.
“I wish there was some way we could let Will and Benny know about this place,” he says after a while. “It’d be good to have them here if they could make the journey.”
“Yeah, I miss them, and Eve and Diana,” you sigh, “and I think Maria and Patrick would love to have two more ex Delta Force guys here.”
Frankie rolls over, pulling you with him so that he can pull your back against his chest and wrap his arm around your waist, “We’ll keep an eye out, maybe we’ll figure something once we fix the dam,” he kisses the back of your head, tucking you in under his chin, “sleep now, cariño.”
…
Patrick comes by next morning and knocks on the door as you’re finishing up breakfast. Frankie grabs his pack and leaves after giving you a kiss and dropping a peck on Jack’s head. He makes you smile when you hear him give the baby instructions to behave and be a good boy for tu mamá .You hadn’t even thought about yourself as his mom, Julia was still his mom, but you guess Jack would have to call you something once he started talking, and Frankie seemed to have settled on mamá for now. It made your heart warm to hear his affection for the little boy, finding him and his mother had maybe been very lucky for you and Frankie, as well as for baby Jack.
For the first time in years, Frankie didn’t feel worried about leaving you behind as he left and went outside the safety a wall entailed. Jackson felt safe, not just because of the wall, but because of the people on the inside. He glanced back up at the gate as it closed behind him, it looked strong and sturdy, and the guards on top were alert.
Patrick, or Pat as he asked Frankie to call him, had brought a group of men and women on the short ride across to the Jackson dam. As they rode Pat pointed out how they’d started building a wall that would circle around the dam structure too.
“That way we won’t have to worry about raiders cutting the electricity once we get it up and running, or infected getting in,” he says, “both possibilities are something we have to take into account whenever we go to the dam now. We have to clear the dam compound every time.”
This time there’s nothing in the building or around it, and Pat leaves three guys to keep watch on the wall over the main entrance.
Together the crew looked over the different components and Pat explained to Frankie what parts they’ve been having problems with. It took them the better part of the day to figure out that something is blocking one of the mechanisms deep inside the dam, then another hour to find the right maintenance hatch and get it open. The tell tale sound of a clicker comes up from the deep hole as they wrench the hatch open. Ladders, however, seem to be something, infected can’t handle so it’s not too much of an issue to shoot the poor dam worker through the head as he scratches against the wall under the hatch. For good measure Frankie and Pat toss a few rocks into the maintenance tunnel and lower a flashlight to lure out any remaining infected. When they deem it safe enough Pat carefully climbs down while Frankie and another man, Walter, cover him.
“Alright, all clear down here,” Pat’s voice comes back up from the tunnel and Frankie climbs down, followed by Walter.
They follow the tunnel down to the entrance in the dam wall and climb out, spotting the problem immediately. A large mess of plastic scraps and synthetic rope has tangled into the mechanism and it takes an hour to clear it without creating further damage. Eventually the machinery turns smoothly and Walter remains behind as Frankie and Pat climb back up to the main operating room.
“Now, if we’ve done everything right, things should work now, and the first turbine will start generating enough electricity to start the main turbines and produce electricity for the town,” Pat hoover his hand over a button and gives Frankie a tight smile, “So far, this hasn’t worked once, so fingers crossed, Frank.”
He pushes the button and in the distance they hear machinery kicking into gear, running for a few seconds before shutting down.
“Fuck…” Pat mumbles, scratching his head, “that’s more than we’ve had before but I don’t know why it shut down.”
“It sounded like it started fine but short circuited,” Frankie says, “Let me open up and check behind the console.”
“Let me know if you need anything, I’m gonna go check on the turbines,” Pat says, leaving Frankie to grab a set of mismatched tools and pry open the console. He sees the issue as soon as he opens it, a thin tendril of smoke is rising from one of the wires, the insulation has corroded and it’s touching another wire. It’s a matter of minutes to rewire it and make sure the inside is protected from any dampness. Once the dam is up and running the heating will keep this dry and protected.
“Pat,” Frankie calls, “I’ve fixed I think, let’s try it again.”
Pat comes back and motions to Frankie to hit the button, “Do the honors, you’re the one who fixed the last bit.”
“Here goes nothing,” Frankie grimaces and gently pushes the button again. This time the machinery kicks into gear, running smoothly for a couple of minutes until a louder rumble starts up, the main turbines starting to turn and suddenly, making both men startle, lights flood the room their in, lights go on all over the console and static starts pouring out of an abandoned radio on the window sill.
“Oh shit! It worked! It fucking works!” Patrick yells, punching the air before clapping Frankie on the shoulder with a big grin. From the outside they can hear yells of delight from the other men and women of the work party. They go out to join them, leaning over the edge of the dam and watching the water pump through the turbine hall and the lights in the lamps lining the edge flicker to life.
“All the cables feeding electricity to Jackson are underground so we’re hoping they’re unharmed, the town should have electricity now!” Pat says, grinning widely, “Come on, let’s head back and make sure everything’s working.”
Three of the guys are staying behind to keep guard and make sure the dam runs smoothly, they’re to be relieved in a few hours, for a night shift.
“We can’t leave the dam unguarded now,” Pat says, “and we might need to do something about the lights, black them out for now, so that we don’t draw too much attention to it.”
When they get back to the Jackson gate people are waiting for them, you’re there with Jack on your hip. The lights in the house had suddenly come on, a few of the light bulbs immediately broke, but the fridge started humming and the tv buzzed to life with loud static that startled Jack enough to make him cry. You had to run around and turn as much as possible off, checking what worked and what didn’t. The hot water boiler seemed to be working just fine and was full of water that was slowly heating up. Even the radiators came to life, warming the house. Maria had shown up a little while later, on her way to the gate.
“Let’s go greet our returning heroes,” she laughed, “I can’t believe we’ve got electricity!”
All of Jackson turned out, forming a crowd just inside the gate and everyone cheered as the work party, led by Pat, rode into town. Frankie quickly found you in the crowd, grinning wildly as he came over, his horse in tow.
“What a welcoming committee;” he grinned, bending to kiss you and then Jack.
“How does it feel to be a town hero on your second day, Frankie?” you laugh, hugging him tightly as he took Jack from you, putting him on his hip.
“Feels good, feels like coming home, cariño. Feels like coming home.”
Chapter 36
If anyone reading knows how a hydroelectric dam actually works, don't tell me all the mistakes I made, I'm playing fast and lose with the technical details here!
I'm also kinda playing lose with any abandonment issues Jack should, realistically, have after being taken from his mother at six months. But I'm excusing that by thinking that he probably didn't get to spend too much time with his mother anyway, in my mind Julia would've been forced to work straight after giving birth and Jack was left behind whenever the slavers wouldn't let her bring him to whatever work she was made to do (seriously, the last part of The Last of Us 2 is horrifying, it gives a very nasty view into how a slaver's camp worked in this world).
The song that Frankie sings to Jack is called Arroz con Leche and is a well known Latino lullaby. You can hear the version Frankie sings if you look for Arroz con Leche sung by Soleada Arboleda on Spotify!
Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf
#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales fanfic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#Frankie morales smut#francisco catfish morales#triple frontier fanfic
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Be careful what you wish for…
Here I am, wondering…what were little Raven’s favorite things about thanksgiving? I really love that Billy is getting another chance at a loving family with his wife & baby. They have lots to be grateful for. 🥰
Well, I know it’s way past thanksgiving but this was so much fun to think about. It started out as a bunch of headcanons but sort of morphed into a little ficlet. I hope you like it and thank you for sending this in! ♥️
Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.
Pairing: Tattoo artist Billy Russo x F! Reader with their little Anna Raven.
• Anna Raven goes to daycare a few days a week and I remember when my little miss was in daycare and holidays would come around, her teachers would always have them make little art projects to go along with those holidays. So of course, the hand turkey is always a popular art project for little ones and little Raven would be SO happy and excited to give that to her parents. Billy may even take it to the studio to hang on the wall or put on his desk.
• A smile stretches across Billy and Reader’s face when they tell little Raven that you can make pie out of a pumpkin. The confusion in her narrowed eyes going from a pumpkin on the table to the pie that just came out of the oven. Watching her work that out in her little mind would definitely makes her parents chuckle.
• I can see her wanting to toss around the football with her Dad, Uncle Frankie, Lisa and Junior even though she’s still a little too young for it but they include her anyway. Anna holding the football while her Uncle picks her up and runs past everyone for a “touchdown.”
• And maybe she’s not quite steady on her feet to run and hold a big football at the same time so she stumbles and falls, her face hits the ground and when she sits up, one of the leaves that has fallen from the tree above is stuck to her cheek. They rush to her side to see if she’s ok but she’s a tough cookie, she doesn’t cry easily but has two tough marines wrapped around her little finger, fawning all over her and making sure she’s ok.
• I can picture Billy slinking around the kitchen with Anna on his hip while dinner is being cooked to see what he can taste. “Billy Russo, you put that pumpkin pie bar down right now!” You playfully shout at Billy while he holds little Raven in front of his face. “The baby wanted to taste it.” He says as Anna licks the pumpkin off of her chubby little fingers. You try to bite back a smile but it doesn’t do any good; little Raven’s eyes are wide like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. “Don’t use the baby as a cover for your sweet tooth, lieutenant.” You say pointing your finger at him, trying your best to not let that perfect smile of his get to you but it always does.
• Watching Anna’s face as she struggles to eat a green bean, her eyebrows pulled together while trying to chew it enough to be able to swallow. “Those are good for you, little Raven. They make you strong.” Frank says, popping one in his mouth. Anna hands her Uncle the rest of her green bean as if to say “Ok, well you eat it then if you like them so much.”
• During dinner, Billy leans in slowly to kiss your temple. He whispers in your ear how thankful he is for you, how much he loves you, and how much he loves Anna. Side note: I want to get back to these two as a couple. I love their little family but I think they’re due for some alone smexy time, what do ya think?
• Everyone is very amused watching little Raven eat her dinner. Mashed potatoes smeared across her face, her lips puckering when she tastes cranberry sauce, biting into a dinner roll and saying, “You a good cook, Mommy.” You let out a laugh, shake your head and thank her for the compliment. “Well, thank you very much, Miss. Don’t forget to tell Auntie Maria she’s a good cook too, she helped me put those rolls in the oven.”
• After everyone has finished eating, you all move into the living room to relax on the couch or a comfortable chair. Football is on the tv. Frank and Billy are on opposite ends of the couch with little Raven going back and forth between them before her eyes start to get heavy and she crawls into Billy’s lap and rests her little head against his chest. She tries to fight sleep but she doesn’t last very long before she’s out like a light up against her dad with her wild dark brown hair tickling his nose.
• Looking around the room, they appear to all be asleep except for you and Billy. “You and Maria really nailed dinner, my love.” He whispered. “Thank you, handsome.” You whispered back. “The little miss stole my spot.” You said with a warm smile. A slightly wicked smile stretched across his lips. “Ah, your spot is a little further south, sweet girl.” He said with a wink in a low sexy voice. You could feel the warmth rise to your cheeks “Bill, what have I told you about poisoning my goddaughter’s ears with your filth?” Frank interrupted and you let out a soft laugh. “She’s still asleep, Frankie. Relax.” Said Billy.
• With the lights dimmed low, you all sit around the coffee table, eating desserts while trying to keep quiet as Anna is still fast asleep on the couch. Pillows surround her so she won’t fall off. Noise doesn’t bother her either; she could sleep through anything. You and Billy enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving with the Castle’s; they are more than just good friends…they are family.
• Billy brushes the top of your hand, the one with the rose tattoo, with his long slender fingers, kisses your forehead, and whispers in your ear the things he wants to do to you when you get home. He always knows how to make you blush. “Are we keeping little Raven for the night? You two look like you could use some alone time.” Maria said with a kind smile. “You wouldn’t mind?” You ask. Frank glanced down at a sleeping Anna and said, “Nah, we don’t mind. But when you come back tomorrow, you’re makin’ me some of those Thanksgiving leftover eggrolls, y/n. Yeah?” You smile at Billy, gaze into his endless brown eyes and lean in to give him a gentle kiss. His beard tickles your chin as you pull away and reply, “It’s a deal, Frank…and thank you for taking care of her tonight.”
• Frank gazes at Maria, then down at his own children and back to little Raven. “Anything for family, kid.”
Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes
Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend
If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo fanfic#billy russo imagine#tattoo artist billy russo#billy russo au#billy russo x y/n#billy russo x you#the sweetest pain
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