NARCOS | 2x09 Nuestra Finca
└ Let me tell you something, Agent Peña. Maybe it’ll make you feel better, but maybe not. We’re gonna get them someday. But not your way. For everything you know, you’re extremely naive.
Word count: 7.5k 😱 or 2.8k if you want to skip all the fluff at the start and go straight to the date and the smut, I won’t judge I promise. I’ll add a heart divider so you know where to start.
Summary: it’s the day of your first date with Frankie and it seems like everything is going wrong. Luckily Frankie is good at making you feel better.
A/N: this is my last post for Frankie February (but not the last story for these two, I’m obsessed)! This was supposed to be posted as a crossover for week 2 and 3, Frankie valentine and caretaker Frankie but I got carried away and now it’s massive and late 😆
Huge thank yous again to @grogusmum and @avastrasposts for all the effort they’ve put into this amazing month long festival of events, it’s been so much fun. I’m looking forward to catching up on all the entries now that this mammoth is finished!
Warnings: reader has boobs and a vagina, wears a dress and make up and is plus size, no other physical descriptions. Fluff (it’s tooth rotting), lots of kissing (stands to reason the PEK would’ve good with his tongue in other areas), phone sex, (kinda public) masturbation, panty stealing gifting, Self deprecating thoughts, anxiety, Frankie being the most capable man on the planet.
You normally sleep in on Saturdays. But when you wake up today and remember that in a few hours Frankie will be arriving to take you on a date it’s like every cell in your body has been directly injected with caffeine. Its 7:15 and you’re already absolutely wired.
You check your phone and smile when you see you already have a message from Frankie.
F: Good morning beautiful.
You: Good morning Frankie. I hope you slept well.
You lounge back in your bed and think about him, about last night. How easy it was to talk to him. And do other things with him. Your face burns as you remember how shameless you were with him. How filthy his words were. But he’d been so kind and sweet afterwards, giving you aftercare when he wasn’t even in the room with you. That was more than any of your previous partners had ever bothered to do.
Your phone buzzes, you grab it from the nightstand and almost drop it on your face in your haste to unlock it.
F: Like a log baby. How about you? You have more of those sweet dreams?
You: The sweetest
Your phone buzzes as a little heart emoji pops up on your message.
You: I can’t wait to see you later
F: Me either baby. Good thing I have some errands to run or I’d be fixing to turn up on your doorstep 4 hours early.
You: I wouldn’t mind…
F: Oh baby please don’t tempt me!
You giggle. High on the feeling of someone choosing you. And choosing you without the hesitation or mind games that usually come with dating.
You: Haha, go and do your errands baby, I’ll see you in a few hours.
F: Yes ma’am
F: I like it when you call me baby 😉
You put your face in your hands and scream. With embarrassment or joy, you’re not sure. You hadn’t even realised you’d done it. It had just flowed into the text naturally, like you were always supposed to call him that. You realise with glee that you have not overthought or spiralled once during this whole interaction. Angie is gona be so proud of you.
You’re halfway through your breakfast when you get a message from her.
A: So how did it go last night??
You: Amazing, he’s so lovely.
A: C’mon, give me details! Where’s he taking you, did you talk long?
You: We talked for a bit but then we got…distracted.
A: ??? What does that mean?!
You: Things got a little frisky...
Your phone is ringing before you can even put it back on the table. You’re giggling as you answer and have to hold the phone away from your ear as Angie screeches down the line.
“WHAT!! What does frisky mean, I need details right now!”
You giggle again, completely giddy at the memory of last night.
“Well we were talking about our days and then making plans for today-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, get to the good parts.”
“Well, he said if he’d seen me last night he wouldn’t have the energy to be a gentleman…so I asked him to tell me what he would have done if he was here. So he did. And things kinda escalated from there.”
“YOU DID WHAT?! Who are you and what have you done with my girl?! How escalated are we talking?”
You’re laughing all through Angie losing it on the other end of the phone. It’s normally her telling you about her various escapades and you living vicariously through her. Or you recounting sad tales of mistreatment by the men you’re seeing. It’s nice for it to be the other way round on both counts.
“Well he said some very lovely but very filthy things and we um, we listened to each other…y’know.”
“You had phone sex?!”
“Well, yeah,” you laugh.
“And how was it?”
You sigh dreamily, “it was amazing. I swear I’ve never had an orgasm like it.”
Angie squeals down the phone.
“And how was he after?”
“So sweet. Checking in with me, making sure I was ok.”
“Oh I love that! Sounds like you hit the jackpot! So where’s he taking you today?”
“Picnic in the park.”
“Oh that’s cute! What’s the outift?”
“I was thinking the blue sundress and sneakers.”
“Yes, I love that on you! That is so your colour. He's gona be blown away."
"You think?" you ask, first signs of nerves making themselves evident in your quiet voice.
"Honey I know! And by the sounds of it, you could turn up in a bin bag and he'd still be all doe eyed for you. Bet he turns up on your doorstep with a big bunch of flowers too."
Panic rips through you. "You think?
"Well yeah, it is Valentines Day," Angie says, registering the change in tone, "you love flowers, why would that be a problem?"
"I didn't get him anything. He said he had errands to run, what if he's spent the morning doing something thoughtful for me and he turns up and I have nothing for him? Oh God but then what if I do get him something and he hasn't got me anything and he thinks I'm a weirdo?"
Angie laughs in relief. "Ok, there's my girl, was beginning to worry you'd had a personality transplant."
"Angie!" you whine, "what am I gona do? Do I have time to go shopping? What would I even get him?"
"Ok ok, relax. It's gona be fine. You don't have to go shopping. Men are impossible to buy for at the best of times and I know how much you hate generic gifts. You'd work yourself up into a tizzy trying to work out the best gift for a man you've spoken to twice."
"This is not helping!" you scold her.
She just laughs, "ok, I'll stop teasing you. I'll help but you have to calm down first. Take a big deep breath for me."
You comply, just because you know you will get her assistance much quicker if you do.
"And another one... there how's that, feeling calmer?"
"Yes," you tell her sulkily. Because you actually do and you hate it that she's right all the time.
"Ok, so no shopping is needed. What is the one thing I always ask for when I want you to show me that you love me?"
"Brownies," you tell her with an exhale, a smile spreading over your face. While you hate it when she's right, you have to hand it to her. It's perfect. Its a thoughtful gift, that shows you thought of him without going over the top. And if he shows up empty handed then you can just say that you baked them for the picnic and he will never know what a loon you are.
"Brownies," she agrees. "Poor sucker really doesn't stand a chance. If he's not already in love with you now, wait til he gets a mouthful of those bad boys. You'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand."
You laugh at her. Her love for your brownies knows no bounds. "Thanks Angie. I mean it. You always know what to do. I'd be lost without you you know?"
"I do know. And if you want to thank me with a brownie, I'd be all for that."
You snort. "You know there's no way in hell I'd make a batch of brownies and not save you one."
"And that my dear is why I would be lost without you too. Now, go get baking, time is ticking! And I want date details later on ok?"
"Ok. I'll speak to you later."
You hang up and immediately get to work. Brownies first, then they can be cooling while you get ready.
It's as you're taking the brownies out of the oven that things start to go wrong. You catch your arm on the side of the tray and almost drop the whole batch on the floor. You somehow manage to make it to the worktop with the burn on your arm searing. The tray clatters onto the surface and you see a big crack form in your carefully crafted bake. Fucking great. Tears start to prick at your eyes as you run your arm under cool water. It stings like a bitch.
Once the brownies have cooled you try to cut around the crack, but they're a crumbling mess. You try picking out the best brownies, putting them carefully in your nicest tub with a pretty napkin in the bottom. They look messy and the perfectionist in you wants to throw them out and start again but you don’t have time.
You manage to make it through your shower without incident and try to shake off your earlier mishap. You focus on getting yourself ready, moisturising your body and listening to an upbeat playlist, singing along at the top of your voice, completely out of tune.
You carefully do your make up, opting to keep it light and fresh but somehow manage to drop your foundation bottle and you groan in frustration as it smashes on the floor.
“Fuuuuuck!” you groan, staring at the mess of broken glass strewn across the floor and oily liquid seeping into your rug. You’re so annoyed, it had been almost full and you don’t have time for this but you can’t just leave it. You run to the kitchen for a dustpan and brush, googling the best way to clean foundation out of fabric. Head in your phone and panic setting in you completely misjudge where you’re walking and smack straight into the corner of the dining table with your hip. You scream in agony as the sharp corner makes contact. That will definitely leave a bruise.
You’re sniffling as you make your way back into your room with your gathered cleaning supplies to clean up the mess, the flesh of your hip now tender and throbbing along with the burn on your arm. You do your best to clean up the glass without smearing the foundation further into the rug but you can see the sharp little shards that remain. Would be just your luck today to scratch yourself to smithereens.
You blot up the oily liquid as best you can, not rubbing, trying to minimise the damage. You apply dish soap and blot again with warm water, hoping that it will work. You keep at it until you think it’s not going to get any better. The stain is still visible, the rug totally ruined.
You heave a defeated sigh, getting to your feet and fetching the vacuum to try and pick up all the remaining glass.
You chance a look at the clock. You’re so far behind schedule. You’d planned your timings with such care so that you wouldn’t be rushing, knowing how stressful you find that and wanting to be in as calm a headspace as possible for when Frankie arrived. But now it’s already tipped past 12 and you still have to finish your make up, get dressed and get all your shit out of your drab work purse into the cute one you planned to bring today.
You take a deep breath and try to calm your hammering heart. Of all the days for things to keep going wrong. You finish your make up and get up, quickly throwing on your underwear and your dress. You look at yourself in the full length mirror, and groan in despair, You’re so bloated your stomach looks round and protruding under your dress.
“No, no, no, no,” you wail. Not today. You curse yourself for your food choices yesterday, a burger AND pizza the day before a date! What were you thinking?! This is by far your most flattering dress and you usually feel so good in it. It had been a no brainer for your date outfit but as you stare at yourself you feel so hideous and worthless you can’t help but burst into tears.
You have nothing else to wear. If this dress looks bad on you, everything else will be 10 times worse.
You rack your brains for a way to try and hide your belly but your mind has shutdown to rational thought and is instead berating you for being so stupid. For ever imagining that you could be good enough for Frankie. For making bad decision after bad decision.
You turn away from the mirror, knowing that the reflection isn’t going to change no matter how badly you wish it will. There is no comfort for you there.
You manage to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. It helps a little. You sit back at your dressing table to try and fix your make up but its made decidedly more difficult every time a tear slips down your face.
And to make matters even worse your doorbell rings at 12:20. He’s early. But you told him you wouldn’t mind if he was so you only have yourself to blame. You trudge to the front door, no spring in your step. No excitement. You dread the moment Frankie takes a look at you and you see the light of desire for you burn out in his eyes.
You steel yourself. You swing the door open and there he is, your breath catches in your throat. He’s even more handsome than you remember, his deep brown eyes look so deep in the light of day, the bright sun painting his face in golden glow.
His face lights up and his shoulders relax when he sees you and you and he’s holding out something to you. A Lego rose. Not the bunch of flowers Angie had predicted but something real and solid that you’ll be able to keep forever as a reminder of your first date.
The joy quickly drains from his face as he takes in your appearance and you think you’re about to vomit, certain you’ll never find anyone as wonderful as him again.
But instead of making his excuses and swiftly departing he’s pulling you into his arms, wrapping you up in his tight embrace. You break almost immediately, sobbing into his chest.
“Baby, what’s wrong, did something happen, are you ok?” His voice is full of concern and his hand is stroking up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.
“Baby, please talk to me,” he pleads and you try to get yourself under control, to stop the embarrassing flow of tears, to catch your breath enough that you can respond.
“I-I’m s-so s-s-sorry Frankie,” you gasp between sobs and hiccups, “I’m so s-stupid.”
“Hey, none of that,” he tells you sternly. “You’re not stupid, you’re allowed to be upset, tell me what happened.” He clutches you tighter to him and your body just wants to melt. If he wasn’t holding you up you think you’d be a puddle on the floor.
“I-I burnt m-m-my arm, and I r-ruined your present a-and I s-stained my rug and I banged my hip and I-I look t-t-terrible in my dress, a-and I w-w-wanted to be perfect for you, I’m s-so sor-ry Frankie.”
“Hey, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. You are perfect, just as you are. Let me see you.”
You shake your head against him and bury your face fully into his chest, fists balling in his shirt. You know your face will be swollen and tear stained and your make up will be ruined. Paired with your awful big, fat belly you’re not fit to be seen.
"Ok, ok, just stay right there a minute and let me hold you," he whispers. His palm resumes the slow stroke of your back before he asks, "you said you hurt yourself baby, will you let me see? Will you let me take care of you?"
"You're t-too kind Frankie. Y-you don't n-n-need to take care o-of me. I know you're p-probably w-wanting to leave."
"What?! Baby no!" he tells you, forcing you out from his chest this time, one big hand firmly but gently wrapped around your upper arm and his other arm still linked around your lower back. Moving you out but keeping you close. You still want to wail at the loss of contact. You feel his hand cup your chin and direct your face upwards, and you finally see him, his face the image of distress. You hate yourself for causing him to look like that.
"I'm not going anywhere. I know you've had a bad morning and I hate that you're sad but I hate it even more that you think that it's a reason that I'd want to leave. I told you I didn't want you to hide from me. And the reason I want to know when you're feeling bad is because I want to take care of you and make you feel better,'" he takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against yours, "will you let me?"
You nod your head, in awe of this amazing man and his seemingly never ending patience for your nonsense. He smiles at you, it's wide and radiant and makes your heart beat a little faster. "Words baby, use that pretty voice."
You take a shaky breath, unsure if it's the remnants of your meltdown or the way he's using that commanding tone again.
"Yes Frankie," you manage to croak out, too tightly wound to utter much more.
He hums in satisfaction, "good girl, now show me where you hurt yourself."
Still sniffling you lift up your arm to showcase the ugly burn on the inside of your forearm.
"Oh baby, that looks sore," he says as he gently takes your arm and bends to place the softest kiss against it. It still stings but it's such a tender gesture that you notice the steady pulse that starts in your core. You've never been treated like this before and your body is fully on board.
He straightens up and looks back in your eyes, "what happened?"
Your shoulders sag, "I was baking you something, when I took it out of the oven I caught my arm."
His eyes widen and the arm still around your back squeezes you in, pulling you flush with him once more, cradling your cheek in his other big hand.
"You baked for me baby?"
You nod and a fresh wave of tears leak from your eyes, "I ruined it though, I nearly dropped the tray and I was too rough when I put them on the counter and it cracked and- "
"Hey, hey, hey," he murmurs, cradling you gently against his chest again. "You are so sweet baby, baking for me! I can't tell you the last time someone did something like that for me. You're so thoughtful."
You sniffle, "I'm sorry I messed them up."
"Nuh-uh, I know whatever you've made me will be delicious, I can't believe you did that for me baby. Thank you."
You relax into him. The tension starts to ease from your body. You feel so safe with him. You think even if he were to leave now it would still be the best date you've ever been on. Just standing with him, talking to him, being held by him. It's incomparable. He's just watched you in full meltdown mode and he didn't even flinch. You don't know what you did to deserve him.
"Ok, what else?" he asks you, "you said something about your rug?"
You huff a laugh against his chest, he really was working his way through your tale of woes, crossing items off like a grocery list.
"You don't need to worry about that. I just was clumsy and knocked something off my dressing table. I tried to clean it but it looks as though it's stained."
"Show me anyway, maybe I can help."
You smile against his chest. As happy as you are tucked against him you're feeling better so you take his hand and lead him into the house and into your bedroom. It's only once you're in there that you register how intimate this is. Him seeing your private space. You'd always intended to invite him inside for a few moments, into the living room before you headed out. But this is another level.
You sneak a look at him. He's not looking around or trying to snoop, he's fixated on one spot, seeing the problem straight away. He drops your hand and walks over to the spot, crouching down to run his hands over it. It's then you notice he's still got the lego rose in his hand and you want to throw yourself at him.
"What did you use?'
"Google said dish soap and warm water."
He nods, matter of fact. "You got any baking soda?"
"Um, yeah I think so," you turn around and run into the kitchen to rummage in the pantry. An excited "aha!" escapes you when you locate the baking soda.
When you turn around he’s leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you with a crooked smile. It takes your breath away how handsome he is. You can’t believe that he is here for you.
“This is for you,” he tells you, looking slightly unsure. He pushes away from the door and moves towards you, extending the rose to you. You feel your face heat as you take it from him, overwhelmed by how thoughtful it is.
“I’m uh, I’m sorry it’s not real roses, the ones that were left were kinda crappy,” he tells you nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
You silence him with a peck to his lips and both his hands land gently on your waist to pull you closer.
“It’s perfect Frankie, I love it thank you.”
“Really?” he asks and you can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
“Really,” you reassure him, giving him another kiss, and looping your arms round his shoulders, “I prefer this actually, I’ll get to keep it forever.”
The smile he gives you sends warmth surging through your body. He leans in again and you meet him half way, savouring having him close, having his lips on yours. And when his tongue tentatively swipes at your lips you eagerly open to allow him entrance, moaning into his mouth as his tongue dances with yours and he holds you so close you can feel his heart hammering in his chest.
A whine escapes when he breaks the kiss. Just like at the bar. And just like at the bar he soothes you, pulling you in tighter to him and kissing softly over your cheeks.
"I know baby, I know. I'd stand here and kiss you all day but I'd really like to take you out, if you still want to go?"
"I want to," you tell him, "but how about just a little more kissing before we go?"
"You're killing me baby," he groans but it doesn't stop him leaning back in and thrusting his tongue back into your mouth. Where the first kiss was sweet and soft, this one is needy and passionate. Your arms loop back round his neck, rose still in hand and one of his wraps you tight and holds you against him, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. His tongue presses more forcefully against yours and he tastes so good it doesn't take long for your needy core to start throbbing again. You've never been so turned on just from a kiss.
When his hand on your back starts to roam lower and grabs possessively at your hip you break the kiss with a loud yelp. Frankie freezes for a moment, confused and horrified at your reaction.
"Baby what's wrong?" he begs you, taking a step back to give you space, afraid that he's crossed a boundary.
Tears prick at your eyes again, there's no point trying to hold them back, they always flow easier once the damn has initially burst and you've cried so many times today, their descent is inevitable.
You clutch at his shirt to keep him from going too far and the tension leaves his shoulders that you're still reaching for him, glad he hasn't ruined things.
"I'm sorry, I banged my hip earlier, it's a little sore."
He pulls you back into his chest, his arm back around your back and one hand gently cradling your head.
"I'm so sorry baby, I completely forgot. I can't believe I hurt you, please forgive me!"
You laugh against him, you're honestly starting to wonder if you've fallen ill and this is all some fever dream. Except you know it can't be because you know your brain could never conjure the prospect of a man this wonderful being interested in you.
"Shh Frankie, it's ok, you didn't do anything wrong. Honestly, I totally forgot about it, you had me very distracted."
He lets out a relieved huff, refusing to let you go for a minute, finally kissing you on the crown of your head before releasing you.
"How about we sort out the rug and then we go on our date? What do you say?"
"I say yes," you smile at him, "just going to find something to put my rose in, two seconds."
He picks up the baking soda off the counter and turns towards the bedroom, "you sort that out, I got this."
You watch him walk away, checking out his cute bum and broad shoulders. And those curls that make you want to run your fingers through them, maybe give them a gentle tug.
You shake your head to dispel those images from your mind, your panties are already soaked and you're not sure you're going to be able to sneak another pair to change them while Frankie is in your bedroom.
You hunt through your cupboards for something to put your rose in but you can't find what you're looking for. You head into the bathroom and find the vase you had in mind. A quick glance in the mirror reveals your make up is totally ruined so you quickly give your face a wash. You will have to go au natural the rest of the day seeing as your foundation is now soaked into your rug.
You put your rose pride of place on the bookshelf in the living room. the vase isn't ideal and you resolve to buy a better one but it will do for now. You can't help but smile as you admire it. The thought that he went out to look for roses for you and deemed none of them worthy so took the time to build you this instead makes your heart flutter and your oussy clench.
You take a deep, happy breath to steady yourself and try and force your body into line. You like him a lot and you feel so comfortable with him but you're not ready to share your body with him yet. Too many bad experiences built up in your past to make it an appealing thought. Except your body doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. Your pussy wants you to walk in there and throw him on the bed and let her take her fill. Your brain is wondering whether the first time he sees you naked he'll be able to maintain a boner. Because that's definitely not an experience you want to relive. Even if that guy had turned out to be a douche of epic proportions that you were better off without, the fact that his body had physically rejected you still stung.
You shake your head to try and dispel the memory. Frankie isn't like Dickhead Derek. He wanders out from your bedroom and you can't help but smile back at him. All thoughts of other men evaporating in a cloud of mist.
"I put some baking soda on the stain, needs to stay on for a little while, can clean it up when we get back."
You nod, "ok, thank you." You feel a little bad for making him do that for you on your first date. It really has been calamitous so far. But he doesn't seem put off by it.
"Shall we go?"
"Yes, lets." You start to head towards the door then remember, "oh wait!" You dash back into the kitchen and grab the little tupperware with his brownies in. You shyly hand them over to him and he pulls you in to give you a quick peck on the lips.
"I still can't believe you baked for me, sweet girl."
"I hope you like them."
"I know I will."
He ushers you out the door and into his truck. Before you set off he reaches over to the glove compartment and pulls out a little blue bag. He unzips it and pulls out a little silver container that when he opens contains a clear gel.
"Give me your arm a second baby." You hold it out for him and he gently smears some of the gel over the burn on your arm, it's cool and soothing on your skin.
"Aloe vera," he tells you with a wink, packing it away, "always getting little burns working on the chopper so always try to keep some close, it'll help."
"Thank you Frankie," you tell him. He definitely clocks how breathless your voice is because his mouth twitches into that crooked smirk that you find so endearing.
"You're welcome baby."
💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
The rest of your date is thankfully uneventful. He takes you the bakery and you choose some delicious treats. You walk through the park hand in hand until you reach a little lake. He sets up a blanket and you get settled on it, he pulls out the food you bought and some drinks and you talk and spend the time getting to know each other.
You feed the ducks and at one point he gets up and pulls you into his arms to slow dance to a busker who has set up near the path. And it's so easy and lovely. The conversation flows so fluidly and the quiet periods are never uncomfortable. He listens attentively when you talk, nodding and offering insights when you ask for them.
Despite all the goodies you got from the bakery he still insisted on bringing the brownies with you. And when he opens up the tub he groans and tells you how delicious they smell. And he groans again at the first taste, fawning how delicious they are, pulling you down into a very chocolatey kiss when you've both finished your brownies, murmuring his thanks against your lips.
And then you sit on the blanket cradled against his chest and watch the sunset before packing up and heading back to the truck. He drives you home, his big hand settled over your knee the whole way. And you love it, the claim of it. The way it screams that you are his. By the time you get home you feel almost drunk on the endorphins that are coursing through you.
He opens the door of the truck and walks you to your door. You curse yourself for putting off changing the bulb in the porch light as you see him frowning up at it. He doesn't say anything though, just pulls you into his arms and kisses you on the lips.
"Thank you so much for today, I had the best time," you tell him and he looks like you just hung the moon and stars.
"Me too baby, thank you for letting me take you out. I'd really love to see you again if that's ok?"
You let out a little giggle, "yes baby, I would like that very much." And he groans when you call him that, pulling you into the most needy kiss yet, it's sloppy and frantic and your hands have looped round his neck and finally wrapped your fingers in those curls. Your body is pressed fully against his as his tongue dips into your mouth, his nose tickling your cheek as his mouth moves desperately with yours.
And you're moaning now too, right into his mouth and you tug on his hair drawing a pathetic whine out of him as his hands sink to your ass, carefully avoiding your bruised hip and you're now very thankful that you didn't change that light bulb so that all your neighbours aren't getting a show.
A growl rumbles in his chest as he squeezes the flesh of your ass and he crowds you against the door, breaking away from your lips and kissing down your jaw to your throat. And fuck you want him. You want him so bad as you feel his hand on your thigh, still over your dress but it's enough to send a wave of slick into your already sodden panties.
And it hits you all at once. How devastating it will be to lose him. You've been on one date but you're already addicted. You're not ready to take any risk of putting him off. Your head that was buzzing with want just a moment ago is now buzzing with fear. You're not ready to be physical with him.
So you gently push at his shoulders, "Frankie, Frankie, wait."
And that's all it takes. He straightens immediately, hands returning to your waist as he looks you in the eyes.
"Sorry baby, I got carried away."
"I'm sorry Frankie, it's not that I don't want to," you desperately try to explain yourself, "I really do, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that."
"Hey, it's ok, you haven't got anything to be sorry for. We go at your pace and not a bit faster ok?"
You bite your lip and turn your head away. You're so annoyed at yourself as you feel more tears pricking at your eyes. You're such a fucking mess.
"No, don't cry sweet girl, tell me what's going on."
"I'm so confused Frankie. I want you so bad but I'm so scared. It's like my mind and my body are at war with each other. And I know I'm sending you mixed signals and I don't want to scare you off but I'm terrified you'll get bored and give up on me."
He leans in and kisses his way over your cheek and back to your mouth. It's softer, more chaste and sweet.
"Baby, I want you too but you don't ever have to do anything you don't want. All of you. We don't have to go any further until your brain and your body are both ready, you hear me?"
You nod.
"Words baby," he directs you.
You sniffle, "yes Frankie."
"Good girl, come here." He pulls you into his embrace, your head finding a home on his chest once more. It's quickly becoming your favourite place to be.
He sways you gently, his arms engulfing you until he feels your heart and your breathing begin to calm.
"There now, feel better?"
You nod and belatedly throw in a "yes Frankie," already expecting to be told to use your words. "But..."
"But what baby?"
"I'm still so turned on."
He lets out a surprised laugh and kisses you again. "You're gonna be the death of me baby." He cradles your face and gives you lots of sweet little kisses that leave you mewling. You feel his cock twitching in his pants and that almost breaks your resolve but before you can even say anything his forehead falls to rest on yours and he's nudging your nose with his to get your attention.
"Did you like what we did last night baby? On the phone."
Your pussy clenches violently at the memory, a strangled "yes" escaping you as you clutch at his shirt.
"Would you like to do that again?" he asks, his voice sounding low and gravelly just like it did last night and you think you might pass out.
"Fuck yes!"
"Hmmm good girl," he murmurs against your check, his hot breath on your skin causing goosebumps to erupt over your body. "Here's what we're going to do," he starts, pulling back and looking you deep in the eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. "You're going to go inside and I'm going to get back in my truck and I'm going to call you."
You whimper as he starts to kiss down your throat again. "And you're going to answer and let me listen to you playing with your pretty pussy ok?"
You whine as his kisses continue down over your chest, one soft kiss placed on the swell of each breast over your dress and still he's sinking lower.
"And while you play with your pussy and let me hear how wet she got for me, I'm going to stroke my cock and imagine how she'll feel when he gets inside her."
"Fuck," you whimper, your head tips back and thuds into the door, your legs already feeling like jelly at the thought of Frankie jerking off in your driveway. You look down and he's on his knees now looking up at you, and it's absolutely sinful how debauched he looks.
He leans in to kiss your belly and he feels you tense. Knowing you're sensitive about that part of your body, he diverts and places a gentle kiss on your hip, right on the bruise that this morning he grabbed by accident.
His hands are on the outside of your thighs now, and you think you're about to lose your mind when he says, "and if you want to be a really good girl for me, you'll let me take these panties, so I can smell your pussy while I stroke my cock."
Your whole body spasms with want. Fuck, he's so filthy but in the best way. He wants you but is willing to do this entirely on your terms. And seeing him on his knees for you makes you weak. You think you'd give him anything he wanted right now. You'd let him fuck you despite your own reservations, so how can you deny him when he's asking so little.
"Yes Frankie, take them," you tell him through your panting. Your chest is heaving, your body feels like a live wire.
He leans in and presses a kiss to your mound, making you whine as his hands sneak under your dress to hook into the elastic of your panties and slowly start to inch them down your legs, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.
And you're completely mesmerised as you watch him gently help you out of your underwear. This feels so much more intimate than you've been with any other man. And you love it.
"Good girl." He lifts his prize and you see him run his thumb along the gusset. "So wet for me baby."
And you should be embarrassed. You really should be, but as you watch him bring his thumb to his mouth and suck off the moisture and see his eyes roll back in his head as he groans, "fuck baby she's a tasty little puss", you feel like a fucking Goddess.
"Frankie!" you whine, so fucking gone now that you think you could come just from watching him. But your desperate little whine snaps his restraint. He's on his feet in a flash, pressing a quick kiss against your lips and growling, "inside, now."
Your body reacts immediately, following his command without question. You fumble your keys out of your handbag and desperately try to get the door open. Once it is you feel him press a kiss against your neck and he's gone, rushing back towards his truck, panties in hand. He turns back before he climbs in and gives you a reassuring nod. You return it and close the door, rushing close the blinds and lay down on the sofa, pulling your phone out of your bag.
Your heart is beating like it's about to burst out of your chest. And even though you're expecting it you still jump when your phone starts to vibrate.
You answer immediately, "Frankie please!" you beg, needing to come, needing to hear him.
"I got you baby, I got you. Gona make sure you see fucking stars."
"Fuck yes," you moan, your free hand already squeezing your breast.
"Hmmm sound so pretty for me baby," you can hear a zipper through your phone and the thought that Frankie is sitting right outside your window, getting his cock out.
"You in your bed baby?'
"No the sofa, closer," you huff. Closer to where you were or closer to him, you're not sure, maybe both.
"Hmmm good girl, what are you doing now, tell me."
"I'm groping my breast."
"Fuck yes, those pretty tits need some attention. Can't wait to get my hands on them properly baby. Gona kiss them and suck on them and then I'm going to fuck them"
"Frankie!" You vocabulary seems to be diminishing by the second.
"You want that baby? My big cock sliding between those beautiful tits?"
"Yes God I want it, I want it so bad."
"Good girl. Now I want you to slide that hand into between those gorgeous thighs and start playing with your clit while you tell me what else you want to do with my cock."
You whimper as you follow his instructions, your clit is so sensitive you cry out when you make contact.
"Oh baby is she that worked up for me?" he asks as if he's not sitting outside with your soaking wet panties as evidence for how much he'd riled you up.
"Oh Frankie!" you moan as you get used to your own touch. You hear him through the phone, the wet thwacking as he beats his meat right out there on your driveway. You hope none of your neighbours get an eyeful.
"C'mon baby talk to me, where else do you want my cock?"
"Oh fuck! Want him in my mouth, want to suck him and taste him and make him feel good."
Frankie groans down the phone to you and it's a beautiful noise. "Yeah baby, can't wait to fill up that beautiful mouth, feel you all warm and wet around me, fuck! What else baby?"
"In my pussy, I need him in my pussy," you confess.
"Yes, fuck baby, I want to fuck your pussy so bad. I just know she's going to look and feel as good as she tastes. And smells." He punctuates that with a very loud inhale and you can picture it, him in his car, his leaking cock in one hand and your panties held to his nose in the other and it makes you feral, your fingers speeding up against your poor clit.
"Gona fill that pussy up so good for you baby, make her fucking sing for me. Put your fingers inside baby, I need to hear her."
You do as he says with a moan, two fingers sinking into your needy hole. You start to pump fast and filthy and the squelching rings round the room, loud and undeniable.
"Oh yes baby, just like that, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Gona come baby, tell me you're close."
"I'm so close Frankie, come for me, want to hear you!"
He growls and groans through his peak, panting and calling your name.
You fucking burst, pleasure scorching through your veins, your whole body spasming, back arching off the sofa as you scream his name. It's fucking transcendent. Your fingers still inside you, your pussy convulsing around them as you pant and groan. Your body finally stills and you flop back on the sofa.
"Woah," you murmur. You sound like you've just run a marathon, sucking in mouthfuls of air, your chest heaving and your body covered in a sheen of sweat. That was the most intense orgasm you've ever had.
"Baby, are you ok?"
"Mmmm, I'm amazing baby, that was so good," you tell him.
He groans again, "fuck, I love you calling me baby."
You giggle, "I love it too."
"Can- can I come in baby. Just to help you get settled and hold you for a while?"
Your heart wants to burst. The way he can go from being the filthiest to the sweetest in seconds is as astonishing as it is delightful. You've never had anyone take care of you or make you feel the way he does. So you don't even need to consider it, "yes please baby."
You hear a relieved sigh, like he'd been scared you would deny him something precious to him, "thank you baby."
"Um Frankie, my legs might be out of action for a few more minutes, but the door is unlocked."
A minute later he gently knocks on the door before opening it and coming inside. You've managed to drag yourself into a semi-seated position. He rushes to you, "here let me help you up." He helps you to stand on very shaky legs and you can't help but lean in for a kiss. It's fairly PG compared to what you just did but it's so nice. Nice enough to give you the confidence to ask him to stay a little longer.
"I'm going to go and get cleaned up and get into some pjs, would you like to stay and watch a movie with me?"
He gives you a dopey, blissed out smile, "I can think of nothing I'd rather do."
Tagging some people who enjoyed the first stories.
If you’d like to be untagged please let me know, no worries @missadangel @picketniffler @reasonablyluminousquill @needz1nk @waywardimpalawriter @simpingforjoel @pedrit0-pascalit0 @littlepedrito @insomniamamma @inept-the-magnificent @sawymredfox @visionsofyouandme @ishabull @librosylove @justtryingtocope @allthe-ships @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @txmel @annwrites24
welcome everyone to acaciusology, a blog exclusively dedicated to Pedro Pascal’s character, Marcus Justus Acacius, General of Rome, from the movie Gladiator II.
if you think the ppcu moved on a bit too quick from Acacius and are obsessed with him (same here), fret not, you are exactly where you need to be. here you’ll find anything and everything surrounding the General, from gifsets to inspiration for your own fic, such as:
#fic inspo and #prompts, reblogs or original content to inspire you and your writing.
#horny thots, either original or reblogged.
#gifsets.
#resources, incl. about the character himself, ancient rome and other co-existing civilisations.
#fic recs.
#acacius fic writers and their masterlists.
#admin asks, for any questions you may have about the character, his characterisation, his background, etc.
#acacius asks, in case some of you have any burning questions for the General himself, but beware, he is a busy warlord...
we are here to have fun. please be respectful or you will be blocked. otherwise, enjoy your stay!
Summary: You are an assistant to a costume designer on a busy movie set, where the pressure is high and the work is exhausting. One difficult evening during a lunar eclipse, you suddenly spot a man in a Roman military outfit materializing out of nowhere. At first, you think he’s just a drunk or a bit off his rocker. Unbeknownst to you, he is General Marcus Justus Acacius, who has time-traveled from 205 AD to 2025.
authors note: It's a bit of a romantic-comedy-drama stuff because Marcus doesn't know that he traveled to 2025, LMAO poor baby (and you know I'm a hopeless romantic). I'll explain in more detail in chapters why he ended up here and what led him to meet the reader, but I'm avoiding spoilers. And the reader will help him get back to his time but accidentally travel to ancient Rome because of something; i can't talk more, lol. Wait for the episodes, please thank youuuu. if you wanna be tagged lemme know!
every chapter will be its own warning and music theme
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose and her hair is dyed)
Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut
Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 45, reincarnation
angel's masterlist
Little preview from chapter 1....
-------This wasn’t the first time you’d encountered someone like him. He had to be one of those extras, probably underpaid and known for causing trouble on set. He likely hadn’t bothered to change out of his costume and was relishing his small role in this odd setting.
“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble, but I really need you to take off that costume. I’m responsible for the outfits, and if anything happens to it, it’ll come out of my pay, okay? Didn’t anyone give you a heads-up about this?” You stepped closer, but he just froze like a statue, clearly sizing you up.
Taking another look, you noticed the armor under his robe was totally different from anything you’d ever seen. Were they filming something new without you? That couldn’t be right—or worse, what if he’d swiped it? Great. You reached out for a closer look, but before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and shoved you away like it was nothing.
“Aaaah!” You winced, clutching your sore wrist, glaring at him in frustration. “Are you out of your mind? Get those clothes off right now! Can’t you hear me? Are you deaf or what?”
The guy sighed as he wiped his sword with the hem of his robe and sheathed it as if he were doing it every day. He did it with such flair that even a top-notch actor would be impressed.
“I see you’ve been really getting into character. Nice job!” you quipped with a hint of sarcasm. “But like I said, I need to grab the costume. So, come on, take it off.”
"What kind of shameless woman are you to demand that I undress?"
What the hell was that? The accent, thick and unfamiliar, rolled off his tongue in a way you had never encountered before. It felt like a whisper from another age, as if echoes of ancient times were woven into each word he spoke.--------
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader
characters: harry castillo, fem!reader, stevie and dylan
content warning(s): EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ MDNI), violence (harry sees red and gets physical - aka, he beats dylan's ass), stevie dealing with an absent father, harry gets jealous, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, missionary(?) against the sink, harry covers reader's mouth, dirty talk, creampie, no use of y/n.
word count: 6k
a/n: ok, angry + jealous!harry has unlocked something in me. i tried to keep it as tame as i could, but my GOD i need more of him lmao. thank you all for sticking with me through the angst... all good things moving forward now <33
part 21. - part 23. | series masterlist.
When the three of you had gotten home, Stevie was quick to run into her bedroom. You tried to go after her, but Harry reached out for your hand.
It was gentle.
Grounding.
You looked back at him, tears already in your eyes.
“Just… give her a few minutes, baby.” Harry whispered. “And give yourself a few minutes too.”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“I’m fucking livid,” he said, jaw tight and hand curled into a fist. “But our little girl needs us right now and we can’t—” Harry sighed. “We gotta be strong for her.”
You bit your lower lip and nodded, slowly walking over to him to bury your face against his chest. “I could fucking kill him,” you muttered.
Harry nodded, one hand rubbing your back gently. He was trying to be strong for Stevie and for you, so while it seemed like he was levelheaded about it all, Harry was fuming inside.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, lips gently pressed against your temple. Both arms now came around to hold you tighter. “Neither of you should have to deal with that.”
You sighed and buried your face further against him as your own arms wrapped around him. “I just wish I hadn’t gotten Stevie involved. I should’ve… I should’ve made sure he was serious about it first.”
Harry shook his head and pulled back to look down at you. He brought a hand up to your cheek and gently wiped away your tears. “You did what you thought was best, baby. It’s not your fault that he didn’t show up.”
“She was just so excited,” you whispered. “And he—he fucking let her down.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “I know…” he sighed. “I know, baby.”
You looked up at him and sighed, hands moving to rest on his chest. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I know it wasn’t what you signed up for.”
He shook his head and leaned down to press his forehead against your own. “You shouldn’t even be apologizing. None of this is your fault.”
“I can’t help but feel responsible,” you admitted.
Harry sighed and shook his head, his anger just growing as the seconds passed. “Dylan never deserved you, and he sure as hell never deserved Stevie.”
You sighed and pulled away when you heard the sound of a door opening. Turning around, you saw Stevie begin walking towards the both of you—her head hung low and eyes focused on the floor.
“Hey, baby,” you whispered.
Stevie looked up.
Harry noticed the tears streaking down her face.
His hands clenched into fists.
“Can I sleep with you guys tonight?” She asked.
“Of course, baby,” you answered, gently pulling her into your arms once she was near. Her face buried immediately against the side of your neck and her small arms wrapped around you tightly.
Harry knelt down next to the both of you and leaned down to kiss Stevie’s temple. “I love you, my Stevie girl.”
Stevie looked over at him and felt his hand reach over to wipe her tears away. “I love you, daddy.”
Harry smiled sadly. “No one deserves these tears, Stevie girl.”
You bit your lower lip and looked over at him, gently rubbing Stevie’s back.
Stevie nodded, but tears continued to stroll down her cheeks. “I’m just sad.”
“I know, baby,” you chimed in quietly.
“And it’s okay to be sad,” Harry added.
“That’s right,” you nodded. “And we’re both gonna be right here, okay?”
Stevie nodded again and then shut her eyes, burying her face into your neck.
“How about I go and get some pizza? We can have a quiet night in,” Harry suggested.
Stevie didn’t answer, but you just nodded and leaned over to peck his lips. “That’s be great, baby.”
“Okay,” Harry said with a nod. “I’ll be back then. If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“Ice cream?” Stevie asked quietly.
Harry smiled and kissed the crown of her head. “And ice cream, you got it. I’ll have Marco sneak in some cannolis too.”
She lifted her head from your shoulder and looked up at Harry, nodding with a small smile. “Thank you, daddy.”
“Anything for you, Stevie girl.”
“I love you,” you added.
Harry smiled. “I love you too, baby. I’ll be back soon.”
It didn’t take long for Harry to get the food and ice cream, so he drove to the address that his assistant provided him with. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary; it looked just like a regular neighborhood in New York. He parked his car across the street, hoping to get a glimpse of Dylan.
While waiting, he sent another text to his assistant, asking her if she could find out any details about what Dylan would usually do at night if he wasn’t working—if he spent it at home or would like to go out. She replied saying she’d look into it. He sighed. Harry knew he had to get back home, so he put his car back into drive and pulled away from the curb.
He’d see Dylan soon enough—he was sure of it.
For now, Harry wanted to get back to his girls.
You and Stevie were both sitting on the couch, waiting for Harry to come home. Stevie was looking up at you, tears stinging her eyes.
“Talk to me, baby,” you whispered softly. “I’m right here. I don’t want you to keep it bottled in, okay?”
She nodded. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Why am I sad if I didn’t even know him?”
“Maybe it was because of the hope that you would get to know him,” you suggested. “Hope is a beautiful thing, Stevie, but there are times where that hope you feel… that excitement that you have… sometimes, it just doesn’t work out and that’s okay.”
“But I wanted it to,” she whispered.
“I know you did, baby,” you sighed, cupping her cheek lightly. “I wanted it to work out too.”
“I don’t want to hope for anything anymore if it’s going to make me feel like this,” she pouted, shaking her head.
Your jaw tightened. You felt your anger rise once more. Dylan did this—he was beginning to dim your little girl’s light.
“No,” you said. “You don’t let him steal your light. That hope you feel, baby, it brought Harry into our lives. When you hope for something and it turns out the way you wanted it to… well, what feeling can beat that?” You continued, kissing her nose gently. “Hope is what makes us strong, Stevie. Hope… it carries us through the good and most certainly the bad times.”
“It just hurts, mama,” she whispered, tears strolling down her cheeks.
“I know it does, baby,” you sighed, your own tears filling your eyes. “But we don’t let him dictate how we continue with our lives, do you understand? It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to hurt,” you continued. “But we don’t let it consume us, okay? When you’re ready—and you will be—you stand up straight and you keep that light in you alive, Stevie, and you keep going. You’re gonna have disappointments in life, baby. You’re gonna have moments where it feels like you can’t get through it, but you know what gets us through those times?”
Stevie looked up at you, lips curled downwards as she wiped her tears with the back of her forearm. “Hope?”
You smiled sadly and nodded. “Hope and love, baby.” You wiped her tears away and looked into her eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Stevie. You’re the reason why I’m the person I am today.”
Stevie bit her lower lip. “Really?”
“You’re my hope, baby,” you said quietly. “When things felt too difficult or when it just felt like darkness… you were my light. My hope. The reason I got through it,” you continued.
“I love you, mama,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around you tightly.
You smiled and held her tight to you, gently rubbing her back as you both cried against one another.
Dylan didn’t only hurt you, but he had hurt Stevie and you never wanted her to feel the pain you felt when Dylan left you.
But he disappointed her. Got her hopes up only for him to bail. You knew this one conversation wasn’t going to be an immediate fix; she was going to feel this for a long while, but you were relieved to know that you didn’t have to do it alone.
You had Harry.
Harry had walked in to see you and Stevie cuddling on the couch, fast asleep with the television still on. He bit his lower lip and quietly walked into the kitchen to set down the box of pizza and cannolis, and then put the ice cream in the freezer. Then, he walked back into the living room and gently sat down on the couch at your feet.
He draped his arm on the back of the sofa, legs spread wide with your feet gently resting on his lap. Harry looked down at his phone and tightened his jaw. It was an address of a bar that Dylan frequented, so it was a possibility that he’d be there tonight.
He pocketed his phone and turned his attention back to you and Stevie. Harry tried to contain his anger, not wanting to show it to you and especially not to Stevie. He hated seeing you both upset; he knew he couldn’t fix it, but at least he could retaliate in a way that would keep Dylan away forever.
You shifted awake, eyes fluttering open as you looked down to see Harry staring at you. You smiled and felt his hand move to rest on your feet, slowly digging his thumb against the bottom of it.
“Hey you,” you whispered.
“Hey, baby,” he answered. “Been sleeping long?”
“Probably half an hour,” you said quietly, eyes fluttering at the sensation of his thumbs massaging your feet. You sighed and looked down at Stevie, biting your lower lip. “Think we should wake her?”
Harry shook his head. “I think she’ll wake up on her own,” he whispered.
You nodded and gently pulled your feet from his lap to set Stevie down on the couch. She murmured in her sleep before burying her face against the back of the couch. Quietly, you took Harry’s hand with yours and led him towards the kitchen.
Harry eagerly followed you, glancing over his shoulder at Stevie before focusing straight ahead. He wrapped an arm around you from behind, pressing a light kiss on the side of your neck.
“I love you,” you said abruptly, turning in his arms and looking up at him. “I don’t think I tell you enough just how much you mean to me, to us.”
“You tell me enough. You show me enough,” he reassured.
“I don’t deserve you,” you sighed.
He scoffed. “This again?” Harry teased, momentarily forgetting about Dylan. He just wanted to focus on you.
“I’m serious,” you said, resting your hands on his chest. “After all of this, how are you still so patient with us? So… kind?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked. “I love you and I love Stevie. I don’t want anyone to hurt either of you, and it’s taking a lot in me to… to keep a lid on my feelings.”
“You want to hurt him,” you pointed out quietly.
“Hell yeah I do,” he answered without hesitation. “He hurt you and he hurt Stevie. Made her fucking cry. Made her wait. Of course I want to hurt him.”
You sighed.
You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him. “I love you,” you repeated. “No one…no one’s ever made me feel like this… safe and protected.”
Harry sighed, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Good,” he whispered. “It should only ever be me.”
You smiled. “Yeah? Just you?”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, moving his lips from your own to your jawline. “You’re mine, you know that?” Harry whispered.
“I know,” you said quietly, eyes falling shut as you felt his lips move down the side of your neck. “I’m all yours, Harry.”
His hand moved from your cheek to your backside, grasping your ass roughly. Harry lightly ran his teeth across your skin, growling lowly. “That’s right, baby. All mine.”
“Harry,” you whimpered, feeling his hand move from your backside to the front of your jeans. “Wait, baby…”
“What?” He mumbled, pulling back to look down at you. “Don’t you want me to show you just who you belong to?” Harry teased.
You narrowed your eyes. “You know the answer to that.”
He smirked and slowly turned you around, pulling you flush against his front. He gently pushed you against the kitchen counter, pressing into you from behind as his arms snaked around your waist. Harry leaned in—lips near your ear—and whispered quietly, “could bend you over, make you take every inch of me like a good fucking girl…”
“Harry,” you moaned quietly, rolling your hips back into his.
“Could cover your mouth too, make you stay fucking quiet for me like that time in the lingerie boutique,” he continued, gently nipping at your earlobe.
“You’re a menace,” you teased.
Harry chuckled quietly into your ear. “Maybe I’ll save it for tonight,” he said. “I do wanna take my time with you,” he continued. “Make sure you really know that you’re mine now… and for the rest of your life.”
“Promise?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.
“Promise, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek lightly.
Later that night, Harry left the bathroom dressed in black jeans and a black long sleeve with a dark jacket over it. For a split second, he wondered maybe if he should just stay home instead of try to seek out Dylan.
Because when he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw you and Stevie curled up on the bed already.
“You really have to work late, daddy?” Stevie asked.
Harry nodded and walked over to the bed, sitting at the edge of it and gently reaching out to pull her into his arms. “Only for a couple of hours, Stevie girl.”
She sighed and then wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him for a few seconds longer. “Hurry back, okay?”
Harry nodded and held her to him, kissing her cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, scrambling off his lap to lay back down with you. Harry stood up and leaned over to gently kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Drive safe,” you said, hand resting on his arm. “We’ll be here.”
Harry nodded and then kissed your cheek again before moving to kiss Stevie’s forehead. “Love you both.”
“Love you, daddy.”
“Love you, baby.”
Harry smiled and then straightened up, turning on his heel to leave the room. He looked down at his phone and entered the address of the bar that Dylan would most likely be at.
He wasn’t planning on being gone for long, but the anger that simmered in the pit of his stomach grew more prominent.
Especially now that there was a possibility he would be confronting Dylan.
Harry stepped foot into the bar, already feeling extremely out of place. It wasn’t a place he would normally go to, but still, he had to blend in somehow. He walked to the bar, raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention and ordered a beer on tap. He glanced around the dimly lit area, not seeing any familiar faces.
“Close the tab,” Harry said, tossing a twenty dollar bill on the counter and taking the glass. He walked through the bar, eyes scanning the area before he sat down at one of the tables.
It wasn’t too loud, but there was a small band playing in the corner. He tapped his foot on the floor, sipping his beer casually as he tried to keep his resolve. Harry told himself that if Dylan didn’t show up by the time he finished his drink, he would go home.
It wasn’t worth spending anymore time on a man who didn’t deserve it.
But as the minutes passed and his patience wore thin, Harry was about to chug the rest of his drink until a group of people stumbled in. They were obnoxiously loud, everyone’s attention turned to them immediately.
And Harry saw him as soon as he stepped foot inside.
It only angered him more because Dylan acted so carefree, laughing and joking with the other people he was with.
He was acting like nothing happened, like he didn’t just disappoint his daughter.
Harry stood up and kept his eyes down, holding his drink in one hand. As he approached the other man, Harry purposefully bumped into him, his drink spilling all over Dylan.
“What the fuck, man!” He yelled, immediately reaching over for a few napkins on the counter of the bar. “Watch where the fuck you’re going.” He spat, not even bothering to glance in Harry’s direction. Dylan turned to his group of friends before motioning to the hallway. “Fuck, I’ll be right back. Get me a beer.”
Dylan began walking away from the group and down the hallway to the bathroom. Harry tightened his jaw and set his now empty glass on the counter. He followed him closely, watching Dylan disappear into the men’s restroom.
Harry inhaled slowly before stepping inside. Closing the door behind him, Harry made sure to lock it before he looked over to see Dylan washing his hands and the stain on his shirt and pants.
“Dylan,” Harry whispered.
He turned his head in Harry’s direction. His eyes widened and his hands clenched into fists. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You were supposed to meet your daughter today,” Harry said, taking a step closer to him. “You have better things to do than meet her?”
“You made her wait. Do you know how heartbroken she is?”
Dylan sighed. “Not my problem anymore.”
Harry’s jaw tightened and he grabbed a fistful of Dylan’s shirt and shoved him against the wall. “You made it your problem by asking to meet her!”
“I was stupid!”
“Yeah? No shit,” Harry spat. “You hurt my daughter. It’s one thing to have hurt her mother, but you—you made my little girl hope for the chance to meet a man that’s meant to be her father.”
“She’s not your daughter—”
“She’s more mine than she is yours,” Harry interrupted.
Dylan’s jaw tightened and he shoved Harry hard, causing him to stumble back. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Or what?” Harry asked, pressing hands on Dylan’s chest and shoving him back as well. “You didn’t have to fucking agree to meet her.”
“I wanted to meet her,” Dylan said, his jaw tight. “But then I started to do some digging on you and… and I’m never gonna be someone like you.”
“You’re fucking pathetic,” Harry snarled. “You really can’t just own up to it, can you?”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I did what was best.”
“You know what, you’re right,” Harry said, looking at Dylan with clear disgust in his features. “You’re never gonna be me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, someone will tonight,” he grinned.
Dylan started to breathe heavily. His hands turned into fists at his sides. “Shut the fuck up. She’s never gonna love you the way she loved me.”
“I sure hope not,” Harry said. “She loves me way better than she ever loved you, I know that.”
Dylan stepped closer to Harry.
Harry didn’t falter. He stayed where he was.
“You are never going to see her again and you will never get close to Stevie again,” Harry threatened. “And if you do, well… I can make your life a living hell, Dylan.”
“You think just because you have money… you can make shit happen? She will always have a soft spot for me—”
Harry laughed. “That’s funny.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dylan spat.
“You’re lucky it’s me that’s here and not her,” Harry said. “Because she’d fucking kill you if she had the chance. You don’t ever mess with our little girl again.”
Dylan shoved Harry again. Then, he pulled his fist back only to deliver a hard punch across Harry’s cheek. He wasn’t expecting it, so Harry didn’t get the chance to block or dodge it. He felt the weight behind Dylan’s punch and felt his lip split open.
Before Harry could even retaliate, Dylan tackled him to the floor and began delivering punches to Harry’s face. Luckily, Harry was blocking every single punch until Dylan tired himself out.
Then, Harry rolled Dylan onto his back and threw a couple of punches across his face. He felt his knuckles split open, could see the blood now trickling down Dylan’s check from the cut that formed due to his punches. Harry wasn’t ever a violent man—in fact, he hated fighting, absolutely despised it.
But Dylan had awoken something inside of him.
Something territorial.
Because all he could see now were images of your frustrated face and Stevie’s tears trickling down her cheeks.
After a few minutes, Harry stopped punching him. He was breathing heavily and Dylan was lying on the tiled floor.
“Fucking pathetic,” Harry spat. “You’re a sorry excuse of a man,” he continued.
“Fuck you,” Dylan repeated, turning his head to spit some blood out.
“We are done here,” Harry said, standing up and walking to the sink to wash his hands. “If I catch you trying to contact her again or if I even find out that you’re trying to insert yourself back into our lives, I’m gonna make sure you know to never fuck with me and my girls ever again.”
Dylan sat up and rolled his eyes. “You think you’re what she wants? What she needs?”
Harry dries his hands with a few napkins before he pulled Dylan up to his feet. He kept his hand wrapped in a fist round the collar of his shirt. “I know who I am to her and to my daughter… that’s all that matters to me.”
Dylan flinched when Harry brought his other hand up.
Harry shook his head.
“This is the last time you hurt either of them,” Harry said. “Are we clear?”
Dylan nodded. “Whatever.”
“Not good enough,” Harry spat, tightening his grip around his shirt. “I said, are we clear?”
“Y—yes,” he muttered.
“Good,” Harry said, shoving Dylan backwards as he flattened out the wrinkles on his shirt and pants. “Good talk, Dylan.”
He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. He knew you would have questions about the bruising on his knuckles and the split lip.
“You should clean yourself up,” Harry said. “You look like you just got your ass beat,” he chuckled.
Dylan scoffed. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”
“Happy to,” Harry said. “Have a good night, Dylan.”
“Fucking psycho.”
Harry chuckled. “No one messes with my girls,” he said, walking towards the door and unlocking it before he pulled on the handle. “I hope to never fucking see you again, Dylan,” he continued, leaving the bathroom and already making his way back home to you and to Stevie.
It was dark in the house by the time Harry arrived. The only light that was on was the light in the bedroom. He sighed and walked to the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and running his hands under the water. He could feel the bruising on his lower lip and jaw already settle in, but all he wanted was to be with you and Stevie.
He looked down at his hands, noticed the redness on his knuckles, and sighed once more. Harry never liked to be violent—he never found the need for it, but something had taken over him tonight. All he could see was red.
He heard quiet footsteps behind him and he looked over his shoulder. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you, quietly turning the faucet off and grabbing a towel nearby to dry his hands.
“You’re back,” you whispered, walking over to him once you turned the light on. “Harry, you’re—”
Harry flinched when he felt your hand touch his cheek, lips parting silently. “Careful,” he whispered.
“What did you do?” You asked quietly, looking down at his hands once he set the towel aside.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“You’re lying.”
“Does it matter?”
“Harry—”
He sighed and pulled his hands from you. “Just did what I thought needed to be done.”
“You hurt him.”
Harry nodded once and looked away from you. “I found him at a fucking bar… didn’t even care that he left our little girl waiting.”
You sighed and gently brought his hands to your lips, lightly pressing your lips against the bruised knuckles. “Do you feel better?”
“No,” he answered honestly. “It just makes me angry knowing you had to deal with someone like that…”
“Not anymore,” you said. “Thought I knew what love was… turns out I never really did. Not until I met you.”
Harry’s eyes softened and he finally looked down at you. “Is Stevie asleep?”
You nodded. “Passed out a few minutes after you left. I think today was exhausting for her.”
“Yeah,” Harry whispered. “Makes sense.”
“I’m sorry you felt the need to do that,” you sighed, gently running your thumbs across his knuckles. “I—I should’ve never put either of you in that position and I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Harry sighed. “And I don’t want to hear you say it again,” he continued. “If anyone should take blame, it should be Dylan.”
You nodded and then let go of his hands. “Did you—did you hurt him bad?”
“Enough for him to know never to come around us again,” Harry answered.
“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up to gently press a soft kiss on his cheek. “You didn’t have to do what you did, but… thank you for standing up for our little girl.”
“I always will,” Harry said softly, gently bringing a hand up to your cheek.
“Come on,” you said, turning your head to kiss the inside of his wrist. “Let me get you all patched up.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Stevie’s gonna see it too, so we should at least clean up your lip, Harry.”
He sighed. “Okay. Lead the way, baby.”
You didn’t want to wake Stevie, so you brought Harry into one of the other bathrooms near the kitchen. Once inside, you shut the door and locked it, turning the light on to see him clearly. His knuckles were red and bruised, his lower lip was cut open with dried blood. Stevie would definitely have had questions if she had seen him.
“Did he hit you?” You asked, sighing quietly as you grabbed the first aid kit to begin cleaning his lower lip.
Harry flinched and stared up at you, hands resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Only once.”
You sighed. “Was he drinking?”
“Seemed like it.”
“And to think I was going to let Stevie meet him,” you shook your head. “Can’t believe that I ever thought I loved him.”
Harry’s grip around your hips tightened.
You continued to clean his lower lip, stepping closer to him as your head tilted to the side. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” he answered. “Did you really love him?”
“Harry,” you sighed. “I thought it was love. I was young, naive. What I felt for him doesn’t even come close to what I feel for you.”
His jaw tightened and for a brief second, he forgot about the pain that lingered. Harry turned you around until the edge of the sink pressed against your lower back. “It frustrates me,” he whispered. “That he had you before I did. That he—he helped you create Stevie.”
“Harry,” you repeated, shaking your head as you tossed the paper towel into the trash. “Stevie is the only good thing that ever came out of that relationship.”
Harry darted his tongue out to lick his upper lip as he moved a hand roughly underneath the shirt you were wearing. He watched your eyes widen at the feel of his hand running up along your abdomen to your breast.
“Harry…”
“How about you prove to me that I’m the only one you’ll ever want?” He whispered, his thumb brushing against your nipple. “How about you show me that it’ll only ever be me?”
“I’m here,” you gasped quietly, looking up at him. “I’m choosing you… every day. For the rest of my life, Harry.”
“Then show me.”
You nodded and slowly lowered to your knees in front of him. He pulled his hand from your shirt only to rest both hands on the edge of the sink as he looked down at you. He was still angry, still so frustrated, and he not only wanted you to show him that you belonged to him, but he also wanted to prove to you that he’s the only one for you.
You always hated it when violence was involved—you never found the reason for it, but seeing Harry so pent up and angry because someone hurt you and Stevie only made you fall for him even more. You wanted him so badly when he said that he had hurt Dylan, that he made sure the other man knew to never come around again.
It was fucking hot.
Seeing him so territorial.
You reached up to undo the button on his jeans, pulling down the zipper slowly and then tugging on the pant legs to drag it down his legs. Harry pushed down his boxers and then stepped out of it, kicking it to the side with his jeans. He wasn’t half hard, twitching upwards at the sight of you on your knees in front of him.
Harry reached down and cupped your cheek lightly before he grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Open that mouth, baby.”
You nodded and rested your hands on your knees, parting your lips for him. He used his free hand to hold onto the base of his length, leaning forward to push the tip of his length into your mouth. His eyes fluttered when he felt your tongue swirl around the head of him as his hand stroked his base slowly.
Harry was becoming harder by the second, especially as you began to bob your head along his length. He felt your tongue swirl around him and when you started to take more of him into your mouth, he released himself to grip the edge of the sink. He kept his eyes on you, lips parted as strained grunts escaped him.
He pulled back quickly, a quiet pop of his length slipping out of your mouth. It bobbed against his lower abdomen, glistening with your saliva as he gently picked you up from the floor. Harry hoisted you onto the edge of the sink, pulling your shorts down your legs and pushing your panties to the side. He wasted no time in sliding into you, eyes fully focused on yours.
You gasped loudly, hands moving to his chest as you parted your legs even further for him. Harry stepped closer, feeling himself slide further into you. A moan escaped your lips and he abruptly covered your mouth with his hand, staring deeply into your eyes.
“Gonna stay quiet for me,” he whispered, delivering a harsh thrust. “Told you I’d show you that you’re fucking mine,” Harry continued, pulling out to his tip only to slide all the way into you.
Your lips parted against his hand, moans muffled against it when he applied more pressure to keep you quiet. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, his hips thrusting into your own repeatedly. They were slow, but hard thrusts, causing your body to jerk upwards once he filled you to the hilt.
Harry wasn’t sure why he was jealous. He knew that he was better than Dylan—there was no doubt about it, but he still wanted to fuck whatever memory you had with Dylan out of you.
And he knew that Dylan never crossed your mind, but Harry wanted to make sure of it.
He moved his other hand between your bodies, beginning to circle your clit with the pad of his thumbs. The fabric of your panties were still in the way, but the pressure was just enough to cause a reaction out of you.
He smirked and whispered, “I just love how tight you get around me when I rub you like this.” Your walls began to tremble around him, tightening even further with each passing second.
Your toes curled and you locked your ankles together at his lower back, pulling him closer to you as your hands moved to link at the base of your neck. Harry growled, his thrusts deliberately slow and deep. Slowly, he pulled his hand from your mouth only to press his lips against yours. He continued to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties as the other hand moved to hold himself steady by gripping the edge of the sink.
You moaned against his lips, tongue meeting his own, as the kiss—messy and fueled with so much passion—muffled your moans. “H—Harry,” you mumbled, feeling him gently bite down on your lower lip. You could feel every inch of him, sliding along your walls. “I’m—I’m gonna come,” you muttered, pulling away from the kiss to look into his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his forehead against your own as he stared into you. “Come for me, baby,” he growled. “Let me fucking feel you.”
You bit your lower lip hard, muffling your own moans as your walls tightened around him further. You held him flush against you, arms wrapping around him tightly. You felt Harry pick you up just enough to lift you off the sink, his arms underneath your legs as he began to pound into you.
The sound of sex echoed through the small bathroom, but it didn’t last long. Harry delivered a few more erratic thrusts before setting you back onto the edge of the sink to slam into you once more—his come painting your walls.
His body trembled.
His eyes shut tight.
You were breathing heavily.
Your arms were still wrapped around him, using his broad frame to ground you.
Harry panted quietly, slowly pulling back to look down at you. He remained deep inside of you still, eyes scanning yours. “I got carried away,” he whispered.
“No,” you shook your head. You leaned up and lightly pecked his lips. “It was… perfect.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded. “I like when you show me who I belong to,” you teased. “I won’t say no to a reminder every now and then.”
He chuckled and slowly pulled out of you, watching his come trickle out of you before he slid your panties back in place. “Keep it in,” he whispered, looking down to see your panties soaked with his come and your arousal. “More of a chance to get you pregnant.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“You’re it for me,” you said honestly. “I don’t want you to think about who I was before you or who I was with. I want you to know that all I think about these days… is the future I get to spend with you.”
His lips curled upwards. Harry reached up to cup your cheek, thumb lightly brushing along your lower lip. “I love you,” he said softly. “And whatever life holds for us now… I’m with you and I’m with Stevie. No one will ever mess with my girls,” he whispered, eyes falling shut as he buried his face against the side of your neck.
Finally, Harry felt relieved.
Like the weight of his frustration was no longer weighing him down.
He was ready to move forward.
Ready to start the rest of his life with you and with Stevie.
Summary: it’s the day after you met Frankie at the bar and your intrusive thoughts get the better of you.
A/N: This is a direct follow on my fic Wingman so you’re probably gona want to read that first. Lots of over thinking, feelings of not being good enough and Frankie being the best through it all. I fully love him FYI. Also, this ended up being way longer than I anticipated so sorry for that 😆
This is my second entry for Frankie February Week 2 Francisco Valentine. Massive thanks again to @grogusmum and @avastrasposts for bringing us this joyous month long event. I’m having the time of my life actually!
Warnings: reader is plus size, very self-conscious (to the point that it’s annoying, even to her), has a vagina but is otherwise undescribed, self deprecating thoughts, anxiety, fluff, masturbation, phone sex.
When you wake up the next morning it takes you a moment to realise why you feel so happy. Buoyant even. And then the memories come flooding back. Sweet Frankie. All the lovely things he’d said, the way he’d kissed you. The way he’d made you feel like you mattered.
You rolled on your back and squealed, kicking your legs to try and get out some of the excited energy.
When you’d got home last night you’d masturbated to the thought of him, remembering the way his body had felt pressed against yours as your fingers circled your clit frantically. You’d made yourself come twice before falling asleep.
He’d taken your number before you headed home for the night and promised he’d be in touch about your date. Your Valentine’s Day date. You’d never been anyone’s valentine before. That’s how sad you were. No one had ever even sent you a card. And now this amazing man had asked you out. You couldn’t help the trickle of doubt that started to penetrate through your joy. Maybe this was all too good to be true.
So when you picked up your phone to check the time and saw that there was already a message from Frankie waiting for you, you couldn’t bear to open it.
What if he’d come to his senses and was calling off your date. Surely that’s what it would say right? He’d been drinking last night. Not much from what you’d seen but who knows how much he’d had before you arrived. Maybe he was good at hiding how drunk he was and now he’d woken up with a sober mind and regretted hitting on an unattractive lump like you.
Tears already forming in your eyes you placed your phone back on the bedside table and hauled yourself into the bathroom for a shower, hoping that the steamy water would help distract you from the churning in your stomach.
It didn’t help. You spent the whole time stewing on that message. On how you would respond to his rejection. Would it be better to just ghost him? Delete the message and his number and forget it ever happened. Let him think that you weren’t affected at all, that it was totally fine and you weren’t that into him anyway. Or respond with an angry rant about how horrible it was to treat people that way. Or set a disappointed tone, tell him you’d thought he was better than that.
The indecision was nearly crippling. And worse still you hated yourself for being this way. For getting so wound up over a man. You’re an independent woman for fucks sake. You have a good job and your own home and you can make yourself come better than any man you’ve ever been with. But it still hurts. And you still wish you were better. Pretty and sweet and fun like Angie. Or confident in your curves like Lisa.
By the time the shower is over you’ve decided you need to rip the bandaid off. Open the message and deal with the fall out. Depending on how brutal he’s been you can either have a little cry while you get ready for work, or call in sick and ugly cry while you eat ice cream on the sofa. You can decide later on whether to respond.
You sit on your bed, wrapped in your towel and pick up your phone. You take a big deep breath and open the message:
F: Good morning beautiful, I hope you had a good sleep
You burst into tears, the relief and frustration completely at war within you. Relief that Frankie still appeared to be interested and frustrated with yourself for allowing yourself to spiral so completely. Scientists really should study your ability to make a drama out of nothing.
You read the message again and then clutch your phone to your chest as if this will somehow simulate having him near. It’s sadly telling how much a simple good morning text means to you.
You look at the message and look at the time stamp. 6:03am. He told you his shift started at 7 so this must have literally been one of the first things he did today. He woke up and thought of you. You have half a mind to call in sick from work anyway and spending the day rubbing yourself raw to the thought of him.
Instead you start trying to work out what to reply. You want to message something fun and flirty but it’s been an hour and a half since he sent that message. What if he thought you’d gotten cold feet? You start to panic a little at the thought of him thinking you weren’t interested.
You: Morning Frankie. I slept really well. Had very sweet dreams for some reason 🤔☺️
You hit send and immediately regret it. Is it too much? To imply that you dreamt about him? Why the hell did you say that?! And the emojis? What are you 12? You open the message app again to delete it and send something more casual but there’s already 3 dots flashing by Frankie’s name. He saw it already. Fuuuuuck!
Your phone vibrates in your hand and at least this time you have learned your lesson, you open the message immediately.
F: I’m sure they weren’t half as sweet as mine pretty girl ❤️
You turn your face and scream into your pillow. Pretty girl. That’s the second time he’s complimented you this morning. Your heart is pounding and you’re on your back in seconds, your hand back between your legs as you revel in his praise.
It takes an embarrassingly short time for you to come, stars flashing behind your eyes as you feel your phone vibrating next to you.
You pant as you pick it up, fumbling to unlock it with your left hand as the right still toys with your sensitive clit.
F: Can I call you later? After work?
F: To discuss plans for tomorrow?
You bite your lip as you reply, feeling giddy and lightheaded.
You: I’d like that
F: Me too. Going to be looking forward to it all day
You add a heart emoji to that last message not wanting to tell him that he’s all you’re going to think about today but also wanting him to know you’re also going to be looking forward to it all day. You can’t wait to speak to him again.
You make it into work on time by the skin of your teeth, sliding into your seat a minute before you’re due to start. You’d had to skip breakfast because you’d spent so much time dillydallying over Frankie. It was fine, you’d grab a croissant off the food trolley. You’d been through the gamut of emotions this morning, you definitely deserved a treat.
Angie is at your desk in seconds, “someone looks happy this morning,” she teases. “Let me guess, you’re still thinking about something tall, dark and handsome.”
You giggle a little, trying to keep it quiet. The last thing you want is for nosy Carol the office gossip to overhear.
“We’ve been texting.”
“Shut up!” Angie almost squeals in excitement, “he already text you?” She knows you far too well to think that you initiated it.
You nod, unable to wipe the grin from your face as you hand her your phone to read the messages. She slaps your arm giddily as she reads the messages.
“Oh you two are far too cute!” she tells you handing your phone back. “We’re going out for lunch to celebrate.”
“Angie, let’s not get carried away,” as if you didn’t spend the whole commute fantasising about yours and Frankie’s wedding.
“Nope, no arguments, I’ll meet you downstairs at 1. I have to sit through that strategy meeting all morning so I need something to look forward to. 1 o clock ok?” You chuckle and nod. Angie is a force of nature when she sets her mind to something, there’s no point in arguing.
You put your phone in your bag and try to concentrate. You know if it’s lying on your desk you’ll be looking every 2 minutes for any more messages from Frankie. Which is stupid, you know he’s working. And you should be too.
You somehow manage to make it through the morning but time drags by so slowly. You do manage to be semi-productive but your output is way lower than usual. You just can’t stop thinking about him. Wondering how his day is going. You can imagine he must see some awful things. It must be so hard. And you just want to hug him and hold him close and take care of him.
At 12:58 you finally take your phone out of your bag and you’re slightly disappointed to not have any messages from him. But he’s working and it’s not like he can sit playing on his phone while he flies a damn helicopter. But Angie can see how deflated you are by the time you meet her in the lobby.
“Hey what’s going on?”
“Nothing, I’m just being stupid. Where do you want to go for lunch?”
“Nuh-uh, out with it,” she demands as she links your arm and walks you out of the building and steers you to the left.
“I just thought maybe Frankie might have text again and he didn’t. But he’s working, it’s no biggie. I’m just being stupid.”
“Well if you want to hear from him why don’t you text him?”
“I don’t know, won’t that come off as a bit needy?”
“Would you think it’s needy if he text you now?”
“Well no but…”
“But nothing. You need to stop thinking yourself into knots. Frankie likes you. He likes you so much he text you as soon as he woke up, the night after he met you. Do you know how often that’s happened to me?”
You shake your head. “Never! It’s never happened. So just send him a message I promise it will be ok.”
She can see the turmoil on your face so she stops you and makes you look at her. “For what’s it worth, it looks like Frankie is head over heels for you and I doubt that one text message is going to derail that but if it did, then he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”
You take a deep breath. You thank your lucky stars for Angie. She’s always been able to talk you down off a ledge. And she’s right. You’d been so happy when you read Frankie’s message this morning, if you could make him feel half that good by sending him a message then it was worth doing it.
You pull out your phone. You pull Angie in next to you and take a selfie. She manages to hide her confused look long enough for the photo to be taken.
You attach it to the message thread.
You: Off out for lunch, hope you’re having a good day.
Your heart is thudding in your chest. You shove your phone in your bag and try to forget about it as you allow Angie to steer you into you favourite diner.
“I need something greasy,” she tells you as she collapses into a seat. “I should know better than to go drinking the night before a strategy day.
You chuckle and decide to indulge yourself too. The waitress comes and takes your orders and once your food arrives the conversation quickly turns back to Frankie.
“So I got as much info out of Benny as I could,” Angie tells you between bites of her burger. You keep chewing yours as she talks.
“So he said, he’s a great guy, but he would say that. Said he was the most loyal and trustworthy guy in the unit. Said he’s a straightforward guy, says what he thinks type. His last serious partner was a few years ago and it didn’t end well. He didn’t know many of the details but he did know it messed Frankie up for a while. Said he’s not seen him look at another woman since then until he saw you.”
The warmth in your chest grows steadily outward as she talks. You want to know everything about him you realise and your face heats at how much you’re already invested in him. After one conversation and one make out session and a few texts. Like a damn teenager with a first crush. Another consequence of your lack of experience in this area. You need to get a grip on yourself. But then you feel your phone vibrate in your bag next to your leg.
Angie sees you stiffen, confused for a moment but then a huge grin spreads over her face as you reach for your phone.
You open it. Two messages from Frankie. Your heart almost beats out of your chest.
F: You look beautiful baby.
F: You don’t know how much seeing your pretty face has cheered me up.
You show Angie the messages and she looks at you excitedly. “What are you going to reply?”
Your heart is pounding. He called you beautiful and pretty. Again. But now it makes you feel a little uncomfortable. Next to Angie in the photo you definitely don’t deserve either of those compliments.
Before you can even think about it you say “maybe I should check he knows that I’m the one on the left.”
Angie snatches your phone out of your hand and places it on the table next to her, covering it protectively with her hand.
“Hey, give it back!” you demand.
“Nope, not until you pull your head out of your ass.”
You look at her in shock. It’s not unusual for Angie to call you out but she’s usually a little more gentle.
She takes a deep breath and softens her tone. “Look I know you’re not used to being treated nicely by men. But this guy seems to really like you. You need to get out of your own way. I know it’s easier said than done but try not to over analyse everything. Benny said that Frankie’s a straightforward guy right?”
You nod your head.
“And that’s the vibe you got from him too?”
You nod again.
“So maybe just trust that if he’s calling you beautiful it’s because he thinks you are in fact beautiful.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. Just, I don’t see how he can think that.”
“Then it’s time to admit that your view of yourself might be somewhat skewed. Although I am slightly relieved that it’s not just my word you doubt when I tell you you’re beautiful.”
You laugh at her. She always manages to make you feel better.
“Always just assumed you were being polite.”
“You’re an idiot,” she snorts at you. “A beautiful idiot.” And you both start laughing. It helps you calm down. You wonder what you did to deserve a friend like her. In all the years you’ve known her this is the closest she’s been to actually getting annoyed with you for overthinking everything. And you know how annoying it is so that is no mean feat.
“Now, what do you want to reply?” she asks unlocking your phone and opening the messages.
“You’re not even going to let me type it?”
“Nope, phone privileges are revoked until I can trust you to make good decisions.”
“I’m never getting my phone back am I?”
She snorts, “not with that attitude.”
You laugh again, already feeling much better. You think it over for a minute.
“Ok tell him, I’m glad I could help him feel better and I hope his day hasn’t been too hard.”
Angie types as you talk and finally hands you your phone back. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”
“I guess not.”
Your phone buzzes again. You snatch it up before Angie can grab it.
F: Was a rough morning. Thankfully I have something to look forward to at the end of the day 😉
You smile at your phone and bite your lip, back in a good headspace thanks to Angie’s antics.
You: I’m sorry you’re having a hard day. You can tell me all about it later. I can’t wait to talk to you.
F: I’m counting down the minutes baby. I have to go, I’ll call you around 8 ok?
You: Perfect, speak to you then. Have a good afternoon.
F: You too baby.
When you finally look up from your phone, Angie is staring at you expectantly.
“Well?!” she wails, desperate to know what’s going on.
You hand your phone over and her eyes light up as she reads the messages. She hands it back, “I’m so proud of you!”
You laugh at her again. But her words mean a lot to you. And you allow yourself to feel proud too.
You make it through the rest of the day without too much trouble. Knowing that he’s busy and has set a time to call helps ease your mind and you manage to get through your work without your mind wandering too much.
When you get home you’re exhausted. You feel like you’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions today. And there’s a knot of nervous energy in your stomach, so excited at the prospect of speaking to Frankie later but also, slightly terrified.
You can’t be bothered to cook so you throw a frozen pizza in the oven and pour yourself a glass of wine to settle your nerves a little.
You eat your dinner and then try and keep yourself busy with housework but soon your jobs run dry and you still have half an hour until Frankie calls.
You pour another glass of wine and flop onto the sofa, you put the tv on but can’t concentrate. You doom scroll and try not to watch the clock. It feels like it’s the longest half hour of your life.
Your phone rings at exactly 20:02 so you’re only slightly panicked when you answer on the first ring.
“Hi,” you breathe into your phone.
“Hi baby, how was the rest of your day?”
You feel your face heat when you hear him call you baby. He’s been doing it in his texts but to actually hear him say it makes you want to squeal in delight. And just like when he said it last night it sends a pang of want shooting through your core.
“It was ok. Kind of dragged,” you swallowed, hesitating slightly before continuing, “couldn’t stop thinking about this.”
“In a good way I hope?”
You chuckle, “in a very good way. I like talking to you.”
“That’s sweet baby, I like talking to you too. Last night was kinda great.”
You’re beaming, you’re glad he can’t see you because you think you must look deranged.
“It was,” you agree. “How was the rest of your day.”
He hesitates, “it was fine.”
He’s lying, you can hear the tension in his voice. And you remember what he said to you last night about not hiding from him.
“Frankie, I don’t think that’s true.”
You hear him sigh. “You’re smart as well as pretty huh? I just didn’t want to dump it on you. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you all day and I’m sure the last thing want is to listen to me whining.”
You think back to you conversation with Angie earlier and decide just to be straight with him. Painfully honest and hope it doesn’t scare him off.
“You’re wrong Frankie. Look. I like you, a lot. And I know we just met and have a lot of getting to know each other to do but… while we’re doing that, I don’t want to just deal in pleasantries. I want to know everything, even the bad stuff. And when you’ve had a bad day I want to know about it. You told me not to hide from you and I won’t but you don’t get to hide from me either.”
He’s quiet for a moment, just long enough for you to convince yourself that not even 5 minutes in you’ve already ruined things.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I am?”
He laughs then, not in a mocking way, it’s such a joyful sound you can’t help but smile.
“You’re so cute baby. Yes you’re right. I don’t want to do this half-assed either, just…I don’t want to scare you off by being too intense. I know we only met last night and I’ve been a bit full on. I just like you a lot and I don’t want to ruin it.”
It’s your turn to laugh now, “Frankie, if you only knew how much I have over thought every interaction we have had today. I’ve been terrified of coming on too strong.”
“Jesus, we are a pair of idiots,” he laughs down the phone and you can’t stop giggling along with him.
“Yeah we are. But I already feel so much better after talking to you.”
“Me too pretty girl.”
You don’t even try and hold back the smile now. You feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s only your second real conversation but talking to him feels so easy.
“So tell me about your day. I know I probably can’t do anything to help but I’d still like to hear about it.”
“Hearing you laugh has already helped more than you know.”
Your breath hitches and you bite your lip. He’s so sweet.
“There was an issue with the chopper. One of the warning lights came up during safety checks and I called the engineers out. But there was a big pile up on the freeway and my supervisor was on my ass about getting in the air, said it was probably a loose wire but I insisted we get it checked and it was a whole thing. Wanted me to just sign off and go but I couldn’t put everyone at risk like that.”
“Oh Frankie. Your supervisor sounds like an ass,” you tell him, angry on his behalf. “Is there someone you can report him to? I’m sure there’s protocols in place for a reason and I can’t believe he would expect you to go up when it’s not safe.” You’re ranting you realise. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down.
“I don’t know. I only just started and I don’t want to be causing trouble. And I know he was just keen to get the paramedics there. And the issue turned out to be a loose wire just like he said, it wouldn’t have caused an issue when we were in the air.”
“But it might have. And then there would be two disasters in need of medical help. You did the right thing Frankie.”
“You think?”
“I really do. You have a duty to the people who fly with you and to the people you pick up. And just so we’re clear, I would very much like it if you would not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”
He laughs, “noted. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Good.”
You lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment. You feel so at ease with him. Normally a silence would send you spiralling into a pit of awkwardness and self-doubt but with him it feels nice. Safe.
He finally breaks the silence.
“Listen about tomorrow, I-“ he interrupts himself with a huge yawn. Your heart rate picks up. He’s exhausted, he’s going to cancel. You try to be gracious despite your disappointment and wait for the hammer to fall.
“All the good restaurants are booked up but there’s this really nice bakery by the park. Thought we could stop in and pick up some treats and maybe have a little picnic in the park.”
“Oh,” you sigh out.
“If that’s ok,” he says quickly, “I know it’s a bit of a cop out for our first date, if you’d rather I can try some more restaurants, I’m sure I’d be able to get us in somewhere.”
He’s talking so quickly you can’t get a word in.
“Frankie. Frankie, stop,” you tell him softly. He listens and goes quiet. “A picnic sounds perfect. I’d actually prefer it to a restaurant.”
“Really?” he asks quietly, “you sounded a little disappointed. And I want our first date to be perfect.”
“I wasn’t disappointed, I was relieved. I- I thought you were going to cancel,” you tell him, sticking with your new policy of honesty. “And I would’ve understood if you had, I know you’ve had a hard day and you’re tired but… I really want to see you again.”
“Baby, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you. If I could trust myself to be alone with you, I’d be there with you now.”
Your heart rate picks up again now for an entirely different reason. It’s so nice to be picked. To be wanted.
“Really?”
“Yeah baby. But being a gentleman would take more energy than I have right now.” His voice has dropped lower and sounds a little gravelly and it sends a spike of pleasure through you. Your heart is thudding so hard in your chest, partly from his words and partly because you’re on the verge of doing something that could spectacularly backfire.
“Tell me,” you ask softly, “what you’d do if you were here.”
He groans down the the phone and your pussy actually clenches at the noise
“Fuck baby, you- you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“Tell me, please,” you beg him. You’re dangerously aroused and you feel the wetness spreading in your panties. Sense has gone out of the window along with your inhibitions. You’d never have dared to do this with anyone else.
“Oh sweet girl, you want to hear all the dirty thoughts I’ve been having about you?”
“Yes,” your voice is breathy because you’re almost hyperventilating. You’re so far out of your comfort zone you barely even recognise yourself. Your confidence is gone but the need is so deep. You set yourself on this path and now you have no choice but to walk it. And Frankie. Frankie is gone, lost to the thought of telling you how much he wants you.
“Yeah? Want to hear how I came all over myself last night when I thought about kissing you?”
“Frankie!” you whine as your hand moves down to your crotch, rubbing lightly over your clit over your pyjama bottoms.
“Made a big mess for you baby. Did-did you touch yourself for me? Tell me you played with that pretty pussy last night.”
You almost come on the spot. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done and with a man you barely know no less.
“I did! I touched myself thinking about you.”
“Good girl, you want to do it again baby? Want to touch that little pussy while I tell you what I’d do to you right now?”
“Yes Frankie. But…”
“But what baby, tell me.”
“I want you to touch yourself too. I- I want to hear you.”
Frankie growls down the phone and you can’t help but tip your head back and moan. You need him so bad. Your hips buck towards your hand as your hear a zipper on the other end of the line.
“My baby can have anything she wants. I’m so fucking hard right now. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I- I’m rubbing my clit over my clothes.” Gone as you are you at least have the sense to know that Frankie doesn’t need to know that you’re touching yourself over the bleach stained pyjama bottoms you’ve owned for at least a decade.
“Good girl.” The words send a shiver through you. “Put your hand in your panties baby.”
You immediately follow his instructions, whimpering as your fingers make full contact with your throbbing little bean.
“You sound so pretty baby. How does that pussy feel, she wet for me?”
Your pussy clenches again at his words as your fingers pick up the pace on your clit.
“She’s so wet for you Frankie.”
Frankie growls again. It’s quickly becoming one of your favourite noises, just behind the slap of his fist against his abdomen.
“Bet she’s tastes so fucking good. That’s what I’d be doing if I was there baby. I’d bury my face between those beautiful thighs and eat that pussy til you scream for me.”
Your orgasm rips through you, white hot and relentless, it feels as though you’re coming apart at the seams. You’re so lost in the sensation that you have no idea what noises you make or what words you babble to him as you explode but when you come back down you hear him praising you through the moans and groans of his own completion.
“Ohhhh fuck, sound so fucking pretty when you come for me, oh the best girl, ohhhhhhhhh, so fucking good for me, fuuuuuuck!”
Your head tips back onto the arm of the sofa with a soft thud as you pant and moan softly through your come down and you can hear Frankie doing the same. It’s oddly intimate, lying there listening to each others recovery.
He breaks the silence first.
“You ok baby?”
A pathetic “Frankie,” is all you’re able to mewl as anxiety hits you full force. What did you just do?
“You’re ok baby, I’m here. I wish I could be there with you to hold you and give you kisses and spoil you like you deserve.”
“Really?” you sniffle. “You don’t think I’m weird for starting that?”
“No baby, I don’t.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice and it helps to calm you. “That’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. You’re incredible, I’m so happy I met you.”
“I don’t normally… I mean this is the first time- I just need you to know that I’ve never-”
“Shhhhhh baby it’s ok, it’s ok I promise. This hasn’t changed how I think of you. I still can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Just to spend time with you, not because I expect anything else to happen ok?”
You take a deep breath, your nerves fully dissipated with his words. He’d somehow tapped into exactly what you were worried about. Because as much as you enjoyed this you’re not sure you’d be ready for something more physical.
“Thank you Frankie. I can’t wait to see you either.”
“So no regrets?”
“No regrets. It was pretty wonderful to be honest.”
He laughs, “it really was.” He yawns again, long and loud.
“You should go to bed Frankie, you must be exhausted.”
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”
But you can hear how soft his voice is now, how his words are slightly slurring. You can’t help but smile. He’s fighting how tired he is just to get to spend a few more minutes with you. Your heart is ready to burst.
“Tell you what, put me on speaker while you get ready for bed and then we can say goodnight ok?”
He sighs contentedly and agrees. You hear him get up and shuffling as he moves towards his bedroom.
He tells you that he’ll pick you up at 12:30 tomorrow, asks you to text him your address, and you tell him again how much you’re looking forward to seeing him.
“Gona leave you on the nightstand while I use the bathroom pretty girl, not sure we’re quite at that stage in the relationship yet. Wait here for me ok, I’ll be quick.”
You can’t help the giggle that escapes you.
“I love your laugh baby,” he yells as he walks away from his phone. You giggle again and collapse back on the sofa. You take a deep breath and bask in the happiness you feel right now.
“You still there baby?” he asks a few minutes later.
“I’m here, couldn’t leave without saying goodnight.”
You hear him groan and the bed creak as he settles in it.
“Hmmm thank you baby. Had the best time with you. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait to see you either. Good night Frankie. Sweet dreams.”
Tagging some people who enjoyed the first story. If you’d like to be untagged please let me know, no worries @missadangel @picketniffler @reasonablyluminousquill @needz1nk @waywardimpalawriter @simpingforjoel @pedrit0-pascalit0 @littlepedrito @insomniamamma @inept-the-magnificent @sawymredfox @visionsofyouandme @ishabull @librosylove @justtryingtocope @allthe-ships @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @txmel @annwrites24
This is for Frankie February week 2, Francisco Valentine.
Summary: You meet Frankie at the bar and think he’s perfect. Shame he’s only talking to you because his friend is interested in yours.
A/N: ok, I’m in love with Frankie. It only took Frankie February to make me realise it! Thank you to @grogusmum and @avastrasposts for bringing us Frankie February!
This is the same couple as my first Frankie February fic Rewind, but a different au so no need to read that one (although would love you too if you fancy it)! Not gona lie, the reader in this is a bit of a mess, she’s had a rough time ok, give her a break!
Warnings: lots of fluff. Very self-conscious reader, self-deprecating thoughts, feelings of worthlessness, Frankie just being lovely.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
You look up from your phone and your breath catches in your throat. The guy looking down at you with a shy smile is so gorgeous it makes your chest ache.
You’d spotted him across the bar as soon as you’d entered, playing pool in the corner with his friend. Of course you’d known you never stood a chance with him, but he was so nice to look at you’d been chancing glances over at the pool table all night from the little booth you and Angie had occupied. A fact that Angie had not failed to notice and tease you for.
“Let’s go over and introduce ourselves,” she’d said following your eyeline. “They’re cute!”
When you’d shaken your head, horror struck at the suggestion she’d just chuckled and rolled her eyes before heading to the bar for another round. Of course in her head such things were simple. She was tall and slim and beautiful and everyone fell in love with her the instant they met her. She’d never know how it felt to be you. Nothing special. Plain and fat. Most of the time it felt like people would look right through you. You could only imagine the mocking look you’d get if you went over there. No one would ever choose you when you stood next to Angie. No one ever had. And those who you had ended up with had always ended up making it known that you were the consolation prize.
And yet here he was here smiling at you as your brain scrambled to figure out what was happening. He was still looking at you expectantly and you belatedly remembered he’d asked you a question.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you. Just a beer,” you managed to respond, brandishing your almost empty bottle at him.
His smile got even wider and you wanted to melt under his gaze. “Sure thing, be back in a mo,” he told you before turning towards the bar completely clueless of the internal spiral he’s sent you into with one simple question.
You try to stifle the smile that wants to break out over your face. The warmth that is spreading outwards from your chest.
Your joy is short lived however as you scan the bar and spot Angie over by the pool table with your mystery man’s friend.
A heavy weight sinks into your stomach. Of course. He’s not interested in you. He’s just being a wingman. Keeping the chubby friend occupied so his buddy can shoot his shot with Angie.
You battle against your disappointment as you see him heading back towards you, beer in hand. At least he’s being polite about it. Sometimes the guys that get sent over to distract you can barely hide their contempt. Wanting to make it overtly clear to you that they’d rather be anywhere else. So it could be worse. And Angie has always been so good to you. You want her to find a nice guy and be happy.
You put a polite smile on your face as he sits down opposite you.
“I’m Frankie,” he tells you, passing you your drink.
You give him your name and drink in the smile he’s giving you. He really is so handsome. The little dimple on his cheek as he beams at you makes you weak at the knees.
You try to reign yourself in. Remind yourself that he’s not interested. But he seems interested. Asks you about yourself, where you’re from, what you do, about your family and offers the same information up to you eagerly when you ask.
When you learn that he’s a helicopter pilot you nearly swoon.
“Was in the forces for a good long while but got out a few months back. Got a job flying the air ambulance.“
“Frankie that’s amazing,” you tell him breathily, trying your best to force your mind away from Frankie in a flight suit. But good Lord, the fleeting picture in your mind is enough to dampen your panties.
He gives you a wry smile, “yeah, after I got my discharge I wanted to do something good you know? Give back a little.”
He’s perfect. So sweet and charming and you find yourself wishing you were better. Worthy of him. But the sound of Angie laughing at his friend, who you now know is called Benny, is enough to bring reality crashing back in. But maybe if Angie and Benny hit it off, you can at least get to spend some more time with Frankie. And maybe if you could get your shit together and lose some weight, maybe one day he’d see you differently. You push the thought down before you can drown in the want.
Conversation flows so easily between you that you completely forget about your nerves, about how self-conscious you are. You forget where you are. You forget how this started. You forget about Angie and Benny. Until Frankie drops a bomb.
It's when you ask if he has any vacations planned, he tells you about a trip up to some cabin with the boys from his unit.
"We go every year, all of us, partners too and we just spend the week, hiking and out on the lake. It's awesome. So beautiful. Benny's actually planning on proposing to his girlfriend while we're up there."
You feel as though you've been doused in icy water. You don't hear anything he says after that. Your brain has done a full detour. Benny has a girlfriend and is still out here hitting on Angie. And Frankie. The guy you had thought was so perfect was just totally fine with that. You want to be sick.
Flustered you just cut him off mid sentence, "need to use the bathroom."
You bolt out of the booth and beeline over to the pool table. You catch Angie's eye, "going to the ladies, you coming?"
Angie's eyes light up, no doubt excited to tell you about the man she's spent the last hour or so with. She smiles at Benny, "back in a sec," and hands him her cue.
She slips her arm through yours and you all but drag her to the bathrooms.
"Hey what's the rush?" she asks as you pull her into the ladies. "How's it going with Frankie? He's cute! Seems like you've been getting on very well." She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you can't even answer her, you just have to get it out.
"Benny has a girlfriend!"
She chuckles, "I know, he's going to propose, showed me a picture of the ring, it's beautiful."
You feel like you're in the twilight zone. Of all the reactions you had anticipated, that had actually been nowhere on the list. Your brain stutters like it's malfunctioning, trying to work out the appropriate response.
"What?! And you're ok with that?"
"Um, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She looks at you like you have two heads. You're not entirely sure that you're not looking at her the same way.
"Uh because he sent his friend over to wingman me so he could hit on you?"
"Wingman you?" She bursts out laughing and you start to get annoyed.
She manages to get a hold of herself but just barely, little peels of laughter still breaking through. She grabs you by the shoulders and makes you look at her. The annoyed look on your face almost breaks her resolve.
"Hey, what's so funny? I can't believe you're ok with a guy hitting on you when he's about to propose to someone else."
"You're so clueless, it's adorable. Frankie wasn't wingmanning you." You open your mouth to protest and she shushes you sternly but softens when she sees how confused you are.
"Frankie wasn't wingmanning you, Benny was wingmanning me."
You open your mouth and close it again. You don't know what to say. She's wrong clearly. You start to shake your head as if the action alone is enough to prove her wrong.
She catches your chin in her hand, making your head still and making you look at her.
"When I came out of the bathroom Benny intercepted me, told me that his friend was crushing on you bad and asked if I'd play a game of pool with him to give Frankie a chance to go over and talk to you. And then it looked like you two were getting on so well, we just left you to it."
It doesn't feel real. But Angie wouldn't lie to you. She's far too sweet to play such a cruel prank.
You feel all at once overjoyed and terrified. How can you face him again now? Your time with Frankie has been so enjoyable, but now that you know he's interested in you, you're right back to feeling awkward and worthless. ‘He can do better’ is the only thought in your head. You have the batshit idea of climbing out of the bathroom window to avoid seeing him. So that you never have to watch that realisation dawning behind his eyes.
Angie shakes you gently by the chin.
"Hey, look at me." She waits until you do. "What's going on?"
You feel tears welling in your eyes and feel even more stupid. You're such an idiot.
"Why the hell would he be interested in me?"
Angie face looks pained as she pulls you into a hug.
"Because, you idiot, you're a beautiful, interesting, kind, caring woman."
"Angie!" you whine, wanting to argue with her assessment.
"Nope, you're going to be quiet and listen for a minute." She pushes you out so she can look you in the eye.
"I need you to hear me ok? I know you've been treated like shit in the past. But those losers didn't deserve you. Frankie saw you across the bar and thought you were so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off you. And he's been sat listening to every word out of your mouth for over an hour and giving you heart eyes the entire time."
She smiles when you take a deep breath and bite your lip. Was that true?
"Just give him a chance ok? He seems like a good guy. And he seems to really like all these curves if the way he was watching you walk away is any indication." She slaps your ass for emphasis and the pair of you burst into giggles.
"Ok?" she asks.
You nod. "Ok." She dries your tears and helps you fix your make up before you head out.
It's only when you see a concerned looking Frankie leaning on the pool table, nervously nibbling on his thumb that you realise just how long you've been in the bathroom.
The second he sees you he pushes off the table and comes straight to you. You see his hand twitch at his side, almost like he wanted to reach out to you. Angie walks back over to Benny, leaving you to it.
"Hey, are you ok? I'm sorry if I said something to upset you."
You smile at him. He's so sweet. You feel bad for making him worry.
"Can we go outside for a minute, I could do with some fresh air."
He nods and follows you out. Its quiet outside thankfully, the standing tables all empty. You make your way to one over to the side, tucked away next the wall. Frankie follows, staying close but not pressuring, not being pushy.
He looks at you with the saddest puppy dog eyes, "I really am sorry if I -"
"Frankie," you interrupt him. You know it's rude but you also know you need to say what you need to say now or you might lose your nerve. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me, I think I got the wrong idea when you came over."
You see the confusion on his face but you keep going. "I thought you came over to give Benny the chance to hit on Angie, I thought you were only trying to distract me to help him out and then you said he has a girlfriend and I freaked out."
You see some of the tension ease from his shoulders as you explain your weird behaviour. "No, it wasn't - it was, it was the other way around," he tells you with a shy smile, reaching out and taking your hand. The touch of his skin against yours sends a shock through you like a live wire and you have to fight to keep from throwing yourself at him.
"Angie told me. I'm sorry if I freaked you out. Just… I'm not really used to guys showing interest."
"I find that very hard to believe," he tells you softly, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. It's not said to flatter. The sincerity in his voice puts a lump in your throat that has you cursing yourself even as your lips twitch upwards.
"There's that pretty smile," he whispers, stepping closer. You can feel the heat of his body now and you want to just slump into his chest and let him hold you and tell you everything will be alright. But you somehow manage to restrain yourself.
"I had a great time talking to you tonight, I'd really like to get to know you better, if you'd be up for that?" he asks, gentle and hopeful.
You feel your face heat and you can’t look him in the eye. “I-I’d really like that Frankie,” and you almost can’t bear the huge smile that breaks across his face, you need to make sure he knows what he’s getting into. “But look, I wasn’t kidding before. A-about men not being interested. I-I haven’t had the best experiences and I’m kind of a mess and-”
“I don’t care,” he interrupts you now, stepping even closer and wrapping his free hand around you to land on your back and pull you closer.
You squeak in surprise and he chuckles, your mouth opening and closing like a fish as you scramble to get your train of thought back on track even as your free hand comes up to clutch at his shirt, wanting to pull him even closer.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he tells you with a grin.
“Frankie,” you whine, “I’m being serious!”
“So am I,” he teases, bumping your nose with his, holding you so close but so gently. “I like you, I want to get to know you better, ok?”
“Ok,” you agree after a moments hesitation, waiting to see if he changes his mind. “I’ll try and reign in the crazy.”
“No!” he tells you sternly, his commanding tone making you clench your thighs together. “I don’t want that,” he’s softer now, hand coming up to cup your face, “if you’re upset, or scared or worried, I want to know. Even if you think it’s stupid. Especially then. Please don’t hide from me.”
“Frankie,” you sigh, as his forehead falls forward to rest against yours.
And it’s so nice. You feel so safe and warm. It’s hard to believe you’ve only known him for a short time. You want to believe him so badly. Want to be wanted by him.
“Been dreaming of having you in my arms like this since you walked in the door,” his breath is warm as it fans across your face. “Can I kiss you?”
You’re not used to this at all. The gentleness with which he handles you. The way he gives you so much grace. You nod against him.
“Need words honey, tell me it’s ok.”
“Please Frankie, kiss me.” Your voice sounds desperate and pleading but you’re far too happy to care as he calls you a “good girl,” and leans in.
His lips are warm and soft and plush as they press gently against yours. He doesn’t rush, just lets them linger against you for a moment. It’s heaven. And then he pulls away slightly and takes in your blissed out face before leaning back in and this time he sucks your bottom lip between his. And when you gasp he slowly reaches out his tongue and gently swipes just inside your bottom lip.
Your breath hitches and he feels you tugging him closer by the death grip you have on his shirt. It’s all the encouragement he needs to dip his tongue in further, still gentle and controlled, rubbing against yours as you melt into his embrace.
You don’t know how long you kiss for. What you do know is that at some point your back has ended up pushed against the wall, that his body is in full contact with yours and that kissing him is the best thing you’ve ever done. He tastes so good, and he smells even better and everywhere his hands touch - your arms, your back, your hips, your cheek, it leaves a trail of tingles that have you about to lose your mind. When he pulls back you chase him a little and a little whine escapes from your throat.
“Shhh baby, it’s ok,” he peppers quick pecks against yours pouting lips, “if I don’t stop now I’m not ever going to and unfortunately I have to work tomorrow.”
You chuckle and bury your head in the crook of his neck and he pulls you in close, placing a few soft kisses on the side of your head.
“It’s a 12 hour shift tomorrow so I won’t be able to see you but how about the day after?”
“That’s Valentine’s Day!” you blurt out, not sure if you have a point to make or if your brain is so mushified from the best make out session of your life that your mouth is just firing things out with no filter.
He looks down at you, a teasing grin on his face, “I guess it is, what do ya say then honey? Want to be my valentine?”
You lay your head back on his chest and listen to the rapid thud of his heartbeat. It makes you smile to know that even he is a little on edge.
“Yes Frankie, I’d love to be your valentine.”
///
My taglist is currently under construction, see this post, so for now, some npt:
summary: you plan to take a pregnancy test, but your focus is pulled elsewhere when stevie starts asking questions... and it doesn't turn out so well.
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader
characters: harry castillo, fem!reader, stevie and dylan
content warning(s): EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ MDNI), oral (m receiving) discussion of being a single parent, use of alcohol, stevie asking about her biological dad, protective!harry, stevie insecurities, talks of pregnancy, no use of y/n.
word count: 6k
a/n: ugh ok, i really hated writing this part bc i don't like hurting our girl stevie, but we had to go through this in order for the story to progress. can you guys believe that there's only 6 parts left?! ugh, i'm gonna be real sad when this story comes to an end. anyway, pls enjoy and we got a more protective!harry next week <3
part 20. - part 22. | series masterlist.
Harry had gone to the store early that morning and grabbed every brand of pregnancy test he could find. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, boxes of pregnancy tests right next to him and you were standing above him with a small smile and an amused look on your face.
“What?”
“You… bought so many,” you said.
“We have to be sure, right?” Harry asked, biting his lower lip. “Some tests are more accurate than others?”
You stepped closer to him and gently cupped his cheeks, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist loosely.
“Hey,” you whispered. “Whatever the test says… however many I take, we got this.”
“I should be the one reassuring you,” he sighed.
“I just know that pregnant or not, I’m still going to be happy because I have you,” you said.
Harry smiled. “Now who’s the charmer?”
“I think you rubbed off on me,” you teased, feeling him pull you onto his lap. “We’ll be okay, regardless of what the rest says, okay?”
“Okay,” he sighed, resting his forehead against your shoulder.
“Should I go and take one right now?” You asked, biting your lower lip nervously.
Harry lifted his head from your shoulder to look up at you. “Whenever you want to, baby. There’s no pressure.”
“Can we wait until tonight then?”
He nodded and let a small smile line his lips. “Of course, baby,” he answered. “I’m following your lead, okay?”
You smiled and moved on his lap to straddle his waist as he remained seated at the edge of the bed. His hands moved to your waist, lowering them down until he grasped your backside tightly.
“Harry,” you gasped, biting your lower lip as you looked down at him.
“What?” He smirked. “You can’t sit on my lap like this and expect me not to touch you.”
Slowly, you rolled your hips into his. He squeezed your ass tighter.
“Baby,” he whispered. Harry leaned in and began lining kisses along the side of your neck, hearing you let out a quiet whimper.
You continued to roll your hips, feeling his manhood harden underneath you. “You get so hard… so fast.”
Harry chuckled, teeth grazing your soft skin. “Are you surprised? I can never control myself around you.”
You smiled and then moved off his lap to settle yourself on your knees in front of him. You looked up at him and ran your hands along the side of his legs, thumbs brushing against his scars before you reached up to gently tug on the end of his shorts.
“Oh,” he said quietly, lifting his hips to push down his shorts and boxers down his ankles. Harry kicked them off to the side and looked down at himself, his length already hard and erect at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. “Baby, I’d rather you sit on it instead and—”
You interrupted him by leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his length, tongue swirling around the tip of him. You grinned up at him, bringing one of your hands to the base of his length to slowly stroke him.
“Fuck,” Harry groaned, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress and the other moving into your hair.
Just as you were about to take him deeper, you pulled back when you heard the door rattle followed by loud knocks.
“Mama! Daddy! Why is the door locked?” Stevie said, continuing to try and wiggle the door handle open.
Harry’s eyes widened.
You looked up at him and immediately looked at the array of pregnancy tests on the bed.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “I’ll… I’ll take care of this.” Harry motioned to himself and the pregnancy tests on the bed.
“Sorry, baby,” you whispered.
Harry shook his head and stood up from the bed, leaning down to peck your lips. “Don’t be. We’ll just pick up where we left off tonight,” he promised.
“I’d like that,” you smiled, helping him put the pregnancy tests into the same bag he came in with. Once he pulled on his boxers and shorts, he took the bag from you and quickly walked into the bathroom and locking it behind him.
With a deep breath, you fixed your hair and then walked to the bedroom door, unlocking it and opening it to see Stevie on the other side with her hands on her hips.
“Umm, good morning,” she said. “Why is the door locked?”
“No reason, baby. I must have accidentally locked it,” you answered, scooping her up into your arms.
“Where’s daddy?” She asked, looking over your shoulder and into the room.
“He’s in the bathroom, baby,” you said, leading her out of the room. “How about we go make breakfast?”
“Pancakes!” She said excitedly, the mishap of the locked door now an afterthought. “With chocolate chips.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that.”
“And bacon,” she added. “Daddy likes bacon, so we have to cook that too.”
“Of course,” you smiled. “My thoughtful girl,” you said softly, looking down at her. “Why are you the sweetest kid, hm?”
“Because of you, mama,” she grinned, locking her hands at the base of your neck.
You sighed and then walked towards the kitchen, gently setting her on the counter. You looked down at her and cupped her cheeks, staring down at her as your mind drifted momentarily to Dylan. There were subtle features that she shared with him, but it wasn’t clearly obvious to anyone. If anything, she started to resemble both you and Harry.
“I love you, baby,” you said.
“I love you too, mama,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, anything,” you answered, turning on your heel to grab the ingredients to prepare pancakes.
“Who was the man yesterday?”
You cleared your throat and set down the ingredients before turning your attention to grab the whisk and a large bowl. “Oh, it’s just—he was an old friend.”
“Was he nice to you?”
“Mostly,” you answered. “It was a long time ago.”
“How come you’re not friends anymore?”
“We just drifted apart, baby,” you answered.
“That’s sad,” Stevie sighed, pouting. “So… you can lose friends?”
You set the things down on the counter and walked over to Stevie, bringing her back into your arms. “Oh, baby,” you sighed.
“Sometimes, people come into our lives and stay forever,” you continued, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. “And sometimes, people stay only for a little bit… but that doesn’t mean that the memories we shared wasn’t bad. Remember how I talked about a chapter closing but another one opening when we moved out of our apartment and in with Harry?”
Stevie nodded. “Yeah…”
“It’s the same thing with friends, baby.” You said softly. “Some are meant to stay forever… and others are just there to help you along in your journey in life before you have to part ways.”
She bit her lower lip anxiously. “And daddy? Is he forever?”
You smiled. “Yeah, baby. Daddy is a person that came into our lives… and he’s staying. Forever.”
“Until I’m older?” She asked again.
“Forever, baby.”
She sighed. “Can I ask you another question?”
You smiled, sitting down with her on the couch. “You wanna talk before we make breakfast, baby?”
Stevie nodded. “Can we?”
“Of course,” you leaned back and kept her on your lap. “What’s up? What’s on your mind?”
“Your friend—old friend, I mean,” she said. “Was he your friend when I was a baby?”
“Before that,” you answered. “We were friends before I had you, baby.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “How long did you know him?”
“Long time,” you said softly.
“He—he looked at you like daddy looks at you,” Stevie pointed out.
Your brow furrowed. “And how’s that?”
“Like he loves you,” she whispered.
Harry had passed the living room, catching Stevie’s words as he made his ways silently to the kitchen. His jaw tightened—he knew Stevie was right. He had noticed the same thing last night at the restaurant.
You sighed and then shook your head. “Baby—”
“Did you love him?” Stevie interrupted.
You bit your lower lip. As you were staring at Stevie now, you started to notice subtle resemblances that she shared with Dylan. Memories of your relationship with him before finding out you were pregnant flashed in your mind.
“Yeah, baby, at one point, I did,” you answered honestly. “But I’ve never loved anyone the way I love your daddy,” you continued. “So you don’t have to worry about that other man coming into my life now.”
“Okay…” she sighed.
You furrowed your brow. Stevie looked down at her hands, brows pulled together as she was thinking. “I know you want to ask another question, baby.”
“Could he…” she shook her head. “Nevermind. Should we go make pancakes?” Stevie said instead, scrambling off your lap and pointing to the kitchen.
Without waiting for you to respond, Stevie went running into the kitchen. You heard her exclaim and giggle, followed with Harry’s voice. You leaned back against the sofa, bringing your hands to your face and shutting your eyes.
You knew what Stevie was going to ask next. She was a smart girl, very observant and aware of what was going on around her. If she was able to notice the way that Dylan looked at you, it was only a matter of time before she asked you the question that you hoped she would never ask.
Could he be my real dad?
Harry would always be her father—there was no doubt about that.
But you knew that she still wondered who her biological father could be—the man that she shared some DNA with.
You heard Harry’s laughter.
Heard Stevie giggle.
With a deep breath, you felt yourself relax.
This was the life that you wanted, the life that you always dreamt of having, and the life that you wanted Stevie to have too.
After breakfast, the three of you migrated to the living room. Stevie was sitting between both you and Harry, watching some cartoon that she put on the television. Harry’s arm was draped over the back of the sofa, reaching over to rub your arm slowly—comfortingly.
Stevie giggled to herself, her attention solely focused on what she was watching.
You looked down at her and gently pulled her onto your lap, cradling her like she was a baby but her head was still turned to face the screen of the television. Harry looked over at you and scooted closer to close the distance now, pulling you both against his side.
“Okay, Stevie girl,” Harry said. “What do we wanna do today?”
“Hmm,” Stevie answered, slowly pulling her attention from the television to look over at Harry. “Can we go swimming?”
“Swimming?” You asked. “Baby, you don’t know how to swim.”
“But I’ll have my floaties, so I’ll be okay!”
Harry chuckled. “Okay, swimming it is.”
Stevie screeched in excitement and then squirmed out of your grasp until she was standing in front of the both of you. She looked at Harry and then looked at you, a large grin on her lips. “I’ll go get ready!”
“Okay, baby,” you smiled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you too, mama.” Then, she pulled away and ran towards her bedroom, the sounds of her feet pattering against the hardwood floor.
Harry smiled and then looked down at you, pulling you into his arms. “You were quiet during breakfast.”
“Just thinking,” you sighed.
“Feels like you’ve been doing that the last twenty-four hours, baby,” Harry said softly.
“Can you blame me?” You whispered. “My mind is just all over the place and then this morning…”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry interrupted. “Maybe I shouldn’t have bought those tests—”
“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not that. Stevie—she asked be questions about Dylan. I think she wanted to ask me if he was her dad.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. He had heard just bits and pieces of the conversation you and Stevie had, and he couldn’t help but feel anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “What will you tell her if she does ask?”
“The truth,” you sighed. “Right?”
“I don’t know, baby.” He answered honestly.
“I just—I don’t want to lie to her, you know?”
“I know,” he nodded. “How about we weigh the options? The pros and cons?”
You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. “Okay, yeah. That’s—that’s a good idea.”
“But how about we just spend the day with our girl? Then, we can worry about everything else later,” he suggested.
You smiled, leaned over and pecked his lips. “I love you, Harry.”
Harry smiled. “I love you too, baby. I’m right here, okay?”
“I know,” you whispered. “I just—I feel like this is just a burden on you.”
“It isn’t,” he reassured. “I’m with you, baby. The good, the bad… the ups, the downs. I want it all.”
You nodded and let out a breath of relief. “You know, I told Stevie that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you answered.
“Good,” he said. “I want to be the only one.”
“You are,” you smiled.
Harry pulled you onto his lap and held you close, gently pecking your lips. “And Dylan?”
“Doesn’t even come close,” you answered. “I promise.”
He smiled, let out a deep exhale and then squeezed you gently. “Okay, good.”
Just as you were about to lean in to kiss him, you both heard Stevie’s door open followed by the sound of her footsteps running towards the both of you.
“Think we should get ready before we have little miss sassy pants give us a piece of her mind,” you teased.
Harry chuckled. “Good idea,” he replied, gently releasing you before he stood up from the couch.
“Hey!” Stevie exclaimed. “Time’s ticking!”
Harry laughed to himself and then scooped Stevie into his arms, gently tickling her sides as her laughter filled the space. “What? We have all the time in the world, Stevie girl.”
“Daddy!” She giggled, trying to squirm in his arms.
You smiled to yourself, watching how the both of them eased into their relationship so easily—so naturally. Your hand moved to your abdomen, biting your lower lip. Despite the lingering thought of Dylan, you also couldn’t help but think about taking a pregnancy later that night.
“Okay, okay,” Harry chuckled, gently setting her down on her feet. “While me and mama get ready, can you make sure you get your towel and floaties ready?”
Stevie nodded, breathing heavily after her fit of giggles. “Okay, daddy.”
“And sunscreen, Stevie girl.”
“I know,” she said. “Okay, hurry up and get ready!”
You laughed quietly.
Harry smiled.
You both watched her walk back into her room.
“I love her so much,” Harry commented.
You smiled and leaned against him. “She loves you too, baby.”
“Okay, let’s get ready. I don’t want to get yelled at again,” he teased, leading you back down the hallway and into the bedroom.
The three of you had been at the pool for almost two hours now and you were already exhausted. You were lounging on one of the chairs as Harry and Stevie remained the pool. She had removed her floaties, but only because Harry was keeping her afloat.
“Okay, Stevie girl, now move your arms forward and kick your feet,” Harry advised.
Stevie paddled forward, her feet kicking in the water. She kept her eyes focused ahead of her, feeling completely and utterly safe with Harry nearby. “Am I swimming?!”
“You are, Stevie girl,” he chuckled, letting his hand just hover nearby as she floated on her own. “I’m not even holding you up anymore.”
Stevie giggled, continuing to kick her feet and move her arms forward until she swam into his arms. She looked at him with a large grin. “You taught me how to swim.”
“I did,” he smiled. “You did well, Stevie girl.”
“Thank you for teaching me,” she smiled. “Love you, daddy.”
“Love you too, honey,” Harry said, gently stroking her damp hair back and away from her face. “You ready to head back home?”
Stevie nodded, locking her hands at the base of his neck. “Yes, I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, I figured you would be,” he chuckled. “How about we make some pasta when we get back?”
She grinned. “Yummy.”
“Wanna be my helper?”
She nodded excitedly, keeping a tight hold on him to keep herself above water. “Always!”
“Okay, let’s get going then. Looks like mama’s ready to take a nap,” he teased.
Stevie looked over her shoulder and giggled. “Looks like she’s already sleeping.”
Harry chuckled. “Yeah, you might be right.”
She bit her lower lip and then looked back at him. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, Stevie girl?”
“The other man,” she began, sighing quietly. “Mama told me they were friends a long time ago, but friends don’t look the way he did at mama.”
“What way is that, Stevie girl?”
“He looked sad,” Stevie pointed out. “But he also looked at her like you look at her.”
“Like I love her?”
She nodded. “Yeah. He looked at mama like that.”
“Maybe he was just thinking about all the memories they shared,” Harry suggested, biting his lower lip.
“I noticed…” Stevie sighed. “Nevermind.”
“What is it, Stevie girl?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m ready to go home now.”
Harry sighed and nodded, gently hoisting her out of the pool. Stevie then walked over to you, grabbing the towel and using it dry herself. You blinked awake, looking up at your little girl with a sleepy smile—unaware of the brief conversation she just had with Harry.
“Hey, baby,” you said, sitting up in the chair and gently pulling her into your arms with the towel wrapped around her tightly. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” she said with a small smile. “Daddy taught me how to swim.”
“Aw, I missed it,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Mama,” she sighed. “Could that man be my dad?”
You cleared your throat.
Harry stopped in his tracks near the chair you were sitting in with his hands occupied with the towel to run through his wet hair.
Stevie kept her eyes locked with yours.
“What, Stevie?”
“Is that a stupid question?” She asked. “I’m sorry.”
“No, hey…” you sighed, gently cupping her cheek. “It’s not a stupid question.”
“I just—He was looking at me too and I don’t know.”
You tightened your jaw, but pulled her closer. “Baby…”
“I mean, I know he’s not my dad like Harry,” she whispered. “But—” Stevie sighed, biting her lower lip as she looked away. “Could he have been there when I was born?”
You bit your lower lip and glanced over at Harry. Shaking your head, you gently hooked a finger under her chin to get her to look at you. You could see the way her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Stevie, baby, he—the only one at the hospital when you were born was grandma and grandpa.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “So… he’s not my dad in the way that dads should be when their kids are born?”
Harry sighed and gently sat down at the end of the chair, gently resting a hand on your leg comfortingly. He locked eyes with you and nodded once—a silent reassurance that whatever you told Stevie, he would support it.
“Stevie,” you repeated. “You know Harry’s your dad, right?”
“I know…”
“But the man at the restaurant last night… he—he’s your—” you sighed.
Stevie’s eyes widened slightly. “He is my dad…”
You didn’t verbally answer, but you just nodded your head.
A simple yes.
“Does he know?”
You nodded again.
“And he doesn’t want me?”
Your lips parted. You remembered the conversation you had with him last night. You remembered what your mom had told you. And now, with your little girl staring at you with such hope, you couldn’t lie.
Even if you wanted to protect her.
You didn’t have it in you to tell her no.
“He wants to meet you,” you finally said.
“He does?”
“But only if you want to, baby,” you answered. “And you don’t have to feel pressured or anything, okay?”
“I want to meet him too,” she said.
You took a deep breath.
It wasn’t what you wanted her to say, but you weren’t surprised either.
“Okay,” you answered. “Okay, Stevie.”
Stevie then looked over her shoulder at Harry and bit her lower lip nervously. “You’re always going to be my daddy,” she told him. “But—”
“Hey,” Harry interrupted quietly. “Don’t worry about me, Stevie girl. I just want you happy, okay?”
She nodded and then crawled over to him, feeling his strong arms pull her onto his lap. “I love you, daddy.”
“I love you too, Stevie girl.”
“Baby,” you said, sitting up slowly and gently reaching over to rest a hand on her arm. “Whatever happens, you know we love you, right?”
Stevie nodded. “I know, mama.”
“And we’re both going to be right here when you meet him, okay?”
She nodded again. “So, W—When can I meet him?”
Later that night, you had sent a text to Dylan after unblocking his phone number. You had received an insane amount of missed calls and unread text messages from his number, but you ignored every single one. Didn’t feel the need to listen or read back.
You sent a message that Stevie wanted to meet him too.
He answered within seconds.
Said he had the day off tomorrow.
Harry stepped foot inside the bedroom, hands in the pockets of his sleep pants. “Did he respond?”
You nodded and looked up at him. “Said he’s free tomorrow.”
“That’s fast,” he pointed out.
“That’s what I was thinking too.”
“How about we set something up for later this week? Give it some time,” Harry suggested.
“She’s going to be asking about it,” you said. “Every day.”
“I know,” he nodded. “But we shouldn’t rush this… and we’re doing this on our rules, not his.”
You nodded, then sent Dylan a reply that the only day you could do was Friday after her school.
All he sent was a thumbs up.
You sighed, replying to tell him that you’ll reach out to him later in the week on where to meet up.
Another thumbs up.
It didn’t sit well with you.
He didn’t seem all that excited.
“I have a bad feeling, Harry.”
Harry sighed, walked over to you and gently sat down at the edge of the ebed. He reached over to rest a hand on your thigh, looking up at you with his soft and deep brown eyes. “Pros? Cons?”
“Pro—he actually wants to be part of her life,” you said.
“I’d say that’s a con, but that’s just me being jealous,” he teased. “But okay, that’d be great for Stevie.”
“Con—he doesn’t show up.”
Harry sighed. “And that’s a very real possibility, baby.”
“Pro—he does show up.”
“Okay, that could happen too.”
“Con—he disappoints her.”
“It’s two for two, baby,” Harry said. “What do you want to happen?”
“Honestly?”
He nodded.
“I want him to show up so that Stevie can come to the conclusion herself that she doesn’t want him in her life,” you answered. “I don’t want to influence her decision. She deserves a chance to meet her father,” you continued. “But at the same time… I don’t want him to hurt her.”
Harry sighed and then moved to lie back, pulling you into his arms as you both stared up at the ceiling. “Let’s at least hope he shows up,” he said. “For Stevie’s sake.”
You nodded, leaning over to peck his lips. “I don’t—I don’t think I’m in the right headspace to take that pregnancy test, Harry.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “It’s not going anywhere. We’ll take the test after everything’s all said and done.”
“Well, if it means anything… I’m late,” you whispered.
Harry smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you answered. “So it’s a real possibility.”
His smile grew.
His hand drifted to rest on your abdomen.
“Let’s get through this week and then, we’ll go from there.” He whispered, running his thumb along the fabric of your shirt. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too,” you said softly.
Suddenly, you both heard Stevie’s footsteps patter down the hall and into the bedroom. Harry lifted his head to look down at the little girl, dressed in her matching pajama set.
“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Stevie asked.
You lifted your head from Harry’s shoulder and looked at her, nodding instantly. “Of course, baby. Come ‘ere.”
Stevie climbed onto the bed and settled herself between your body and Harry’s. Both you and Harry turned to lie on your sides, facing Stevie who was laying on her back. You draped a blanket over her, kissing her cheek lightly.
“We’ll meet him on Friday, baby,” you whispered.
Stevie looked over at you. “Really?”
You nodded. “Yeah, baby.”
She sighed.
Then let a small smile line her lips.
“Okay, I can’t wait,” she said. Slowly, Stevie turned her gaze to Harry and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Can you sing our song, daddy?”
Harry smiled and nodded. “Of course, Stevie girl.”
With his arm draped over her and his hand resting on your hip, Harry quietly hummed to Isn’t She Lovely and felt Stevie cuddle closer to him. He smiled to himself, but he also couldn’t help but wonder how things would change if Dylan stays in her life.
He didn’t want to tell you—and certainly didn’t want to tell Stevie—how this was affecting him. Harry wasn’t usually a jealous man; he knew his worth and he knew his value, but he didn’t want to lose either of you to a man that you had history with.
To Stevie’s biological father.
Dylan couldn’t help but feel excited when you finally texted him to let him know that Stevie wanted to meet him too. He looked around the room he was in and immediately started planning on how he could get his own place. Living with roommates and having a five-year-old daughter didn’t seem all that realistic.
So, he spent the entire week planning.
It had been a long time since he felt this motivated and determined to do something with his life. The last time this happened, it only backfired in his face. He spent so much time in getting his act together for you and for Stevie only for it to never pay off.
He figured he’d start with Stevie first.
Show her that he wanted to be in her life.
To be the father that she deserved to begin with.
Then, he’d try to win you back.
Because he never did stop loving you.
For once in a very long time, Dylan was hopeful.
Excited.
For the possibility of having a future with you and with Stevie.
You were a bundle of nerves when Friday finally came around. You did your best to hide it from Stevie—who had been excited all week—but Harry knew where your mind was at. Even when you would shut down (out of habit), he’d be there to take you out of it.
To reassure you that you weren’t doing this alone.
You still had this bad feeling in the pit of your stomach though, which didn’t help your nerves either. Dylan barely replied to you and when he did, they were only one-word answers. You figured it was because he just wasn’t much of a texter—he never was anyway—but you assumed he’d at least be excited about meeting his daughter.
You sent him a single text—to meet up at Central Park.
He didn’t reply.
And it irked you.
For someone who was really eager to meet their daughter last week, it was like he completely changed in the span of a week.
“Hey,” Harry said, resting a hand on your thigh. “Breathe.”
“I can’t,” you whispered, sitting in the passenger seat as you both waited for Stevie. “In just half an hour, Stevie’s going to meet him.”
“And we’ll be right there,” Harry said. “I will be right here.”
You nodded, looking up at him as your foot began to bounce anxiously. You felt Harry squeeze your thigh.
“Baby,” Harry said. “You’re going to freak me out and then Stevie’s going to notice.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he whispered, leaning over to peck your lips. “We will be okay.”
“I’m just worried about Stevie.”
“We’ll be right here in case anything happens,” Harry reassured.
“I didn’t—I didn’t even ask you about how you felt about all of this,” you sighed. “I’m so selfish—”
“Hey, stop,” Harry said. “You’re not selfish. You’re just preoccupied with making sure that our little girl is okay.”
You nodded. “But—but how are you with all of this?”
“Anxious,” Harry answered honestly. “Worried. I don’t want him to hurt either of you.”
You sighed.
“And I—I do feel jealous,” he admitted. “That I’m sharing you and Stevie with this man who doesn’t deserve either of you.”
“Harry…”
“I know,” he sighed. “It’s childish—”
“It’s not,” you interrupted quietly, resting a hand over his. “You just love us and—”
“And I don’t want to lose either of you.”
“You won’t,” you said softly. “Nothing that happens today will change anything between us,” you continued. “Nothing will change between you and Stevie.”
“But he—he’s her father,” Harry whispered.
“Not in the way that you are,” you said. “No one is more her father than you.”
He nodded.
Harry leaned over and gently kissed your forehead.
“Let’s get through this afternoon, yeah?”
You nodded. “Then, I take a pregnancy test.”
He chuckled. “Okay, baby. Let’s just get through this first.”
Dylan hadn’t gone to work in a week. Not since last weekend when he saw you and his daughter for the first time. He was excited at first—eager to finally meet her and hopeful to be back in your life again.
But he started to research the man that you were with.
The man that had confronted him.
And Dylan didn’t like what he read.
There was no way that he could ever become someone like Harry Castillo.
He was rich.
Had a good childhood, loving parents, a younger brother in the business too.
No matter how hard Dylan worked, he’d never get as close to success as Harry Castillo.
He didn’t know who he was when Harry confronted him last weekend, but now that Dylan knew just exactly who he was…
It made him feel inferior.
Made him feel so fucking small that he ended up missing work.
Ended up so focused on Harry and his successes that meeting Stevie and finally having you back in his life had taken a back seat.
And when Friday rolled around, he was sitting on the edge of his bed.
Two bottles of liquor already finished.
He was fucking drunk.
And there was no way that he was going to show up to meet Stevie.
Because Dylan knew that Harry would be there.
So, he didn’t bother to send you a message to say that he had changed his mind.
He figured you’d get the hint.
He should’ve listened to Harry to begin with.
Stay away from my girls or we’re going to have a problem.
“Mama, I don’t see him,” Stevie said, her legs dangling off the edge of the park bench. You were sitting next to her with your phone in your hand as you sent texts repeatedly to Dylan, asking him where he was or if he was on his way.
Harry had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the area for any glimpse of Dylan.
“He’s probably just running late, baby,” you reasoned. “Stay with daddy and I’ll try to give him a call, okay?”
Stevie nodded. “Okay,” she said with a hopeful smile. “Tell him to hurry!”
You feigned a smile and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. Standing from the park bench to walk a good enough distance from them, you dialed Dylan’s number.
Straight to voicemail.
You sighed and redialed.
It rang a couple of times before it went to voicemail again.
The third time you gave him a call, he finally answered after the fourth ring.
“Where are you?” You asked, jaw tight. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”
“S—Sorry,” he slurred. “I—I changed my mind. I don’t want this.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sighed, glancing over at Stevie who was looking around with a hopeful look in her eyes. “You made her believe that you were going to show up. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m allowed to—to change my mind.”
“No, you’re not!” You yelled, tears stinging your eyes. It was like you were immediately transported back to when you first found out you were pregnant and Dylan had told you that he didn’t want it.
Didn’t want to become a father.
You shouldn’t have given him a second chance.
Because deep down, you knew that he was going to disappoint you.
“She is waiting for you, Dylan. S—She was so excited. All week, she was so fucking excited and then the last minute, you decide—again—that you don’t want this?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I—I’m just going to disappoint her and—”
“Save it,” you interrupted. “And fuck your sorry.”
Dylan said your name.
You interrupted him once more. “This was your last chance, Dylan. If we see you again, we are going to act like we don’t fucking know you. You broke my heart all those years ago, but you don’t get the chance to break my little girl’s.”
Without even waiting for him to respond, you ended the call and blocked his number. You took a few deep breaths, bringing your hands to wipe away your tears before you turned back around.
Your eyes locked with Harry’s first.
You shook your head.
He tightened his jaw.
Then, you saw him whisper to Stevie quietly.
You noticed the hopeful look on her face immediately disappear.
She looked over at you and even from this distance, you could tell that she wanted to just burst into tears. So, you walked back over to them. Once you were close enough, you pulled her up into your arms and she immediately buried her face against the crook of your neck.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you whispered, rubbing her back as you felt her tears against the side of your neck.
She didn’t say anything, just kept a tight hold on you as Harry stood from the bench as well. He had her small backpack draped over his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the back of Stevie’s head. He could hear her sniffling.
Harry was furious now.
“Let’s go home, okay?” You whispered.
“Mama,” she mumbled, pulling back to look at you. “Is it me? Am I just—Am I not enough for him to want to meet me?”
“Oh baby,” you sighed, tears filling your eyes as you looked down at her. “He’s missing out on a wonderful and beautiful little girl,” you whispered. “You are more than enough, you hear me? And I am so sorry that I got your hopes up. I should’ve said no. I should’ve made sure first and—”
Stevie shook her head and just wrapped her arms tighter around you, burying her face against back against the side of your neck. She was crying harder now. You held her close and looked up at Harry, nodding as he led the both of you back to the car.
Harry pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his assistant to get Dylan’s home address. Within minutes, she replied with an address that was about half an hour away from where they were.
He knew what he was going to do.
Harry was going to confront Dylan for hurting his girls.
For putting you through so much stress and anxiety the last week.
For making Stevie cry.
For breaking her little heart.
And for getting her hopes up only to bail the last minute.
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