#Santiago Garcia can slap me and I would thank him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

intoanotherworld23 · 10 months

Text

Deep Water

Characters: William Miller, Ben Miller, Francisco Morales and Santiago Garcia, and female reader

Warnings: Mentions of killing and blood, shooting, dead body, murder, drinking, swear words, drugging, and kidnapping

Summary: Drowning your sorrows in another bar since the mysterious murder of your family, your luck seems to run out that night when you witness a horrific murder done by the most ruthless mob in the city known as The Frontiers

I rewatched Triple Frontier for like the millionth time, and then got stuck in a loophole of reading all kinds of Triple Frontier fics, and decided to go ahead a write something of my own and was completely inspired by many people! I really hope you guys enjoy this one cause I think this is going to be an amazing read!! If you wish to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in the comments or my ask box! Also sorry for this but I’m tagging everyone on my tag list for the first chapter just to get more opinions about this! Thank you so much! XOXO

Part 2

Not understanding why you did it, but you always ended up at the bar. Feeling the liquid burn down your throat making you hiss. The bartender laughed shaking his head every time you motioned for another drink.

Looking around the room there were all kinds of people here. Feeling your body slouching in the chair, but nobody seemed to pay attention to you. It almost seemed as if they were doing everything they could to avoid you.

Being used to that feeling of loneliness it didn't faze you not having anybody. Ever since your family was killed you were numb to every feeling you could ever have.

Coming home to finding your parents and older brothers bloody bodies on the living room floor. Wondering how they were so easily killed even when they were heavily guarded. Nobody knew who killed them, and the entire case was dropped.

Ever since they were killed people didn't look at you, and they certainly didn't want anything to do with you. It puzzled you why wondering who your family really was. There was something more to them, and you certainly weren't interested in finding out.

Your mother never told you what your father did, and always kept it hush. All you can really remember is random men always coming over wearing suits and serious faces. His office was a forbidden room, and never allowed anyone in there.

All you know is your father made a lot of money and was a very powerful man. People in a sense feared your father but you didn't realize any of this until after he was killed. Questions running through your mind all the time that would go unanswered.

"Want something else?" The bartenders voice intruded your thoughts. "Maybe the tab."

"Yeah yeah I get it." Grumbling as you shuffled through your purse pulling out your card handing it to him. "What's so great about this place anyway."

"Do you not know who owns the bar?" He seemed surprised by your question as he stood there his eyes wide.

"No." You strung out the word shaking your head your full attention on him. “Should I?”

"The Frontiers own this place." He spoke the words hushed afraid they would hear him, and appear from the darkness. "The ruthless mobsters that run this city."

"They own this bar?" Saying more to yourself then the bartender who chuckled at your shocked response.

"Yeah they own this bar." Watching as he swiped your card through the machine. "Along with every other bar in this city. Or at least Ironhead is the one who owns them.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Slapping a hand on your forehead in disbelief as you sighed loudly.

“I wish I was hon but yeah this is their bar.” Pressing his lips together with raised eyebrows a sympathetic look on his face.

"I had no idea." Your voice quiet as you started to look around hoping they didn't sneak there way in here.

"Sweetheart the minute you walk out into the streets." He started to say as you looked up into his eyes. "They own you already."

Gulping so loudly you felt everyone could hear it. If it wasn't for the liquor you had in your system you would have ran out of this place so fast you would leave a trail of smoke.

You've never seen them before but you certainly have heard of them. Knowing what they did to people who betrayed them, or simply even pissed them off. They could kill anyone and nobody could touch them.

All you really knew about them was there names. Santiago, Francisco, William and Ben Miller who were brothers. You also knew they had nicknames like Fish, Ironhead, Pope and Benny. Will was the leader of the group and was the most ruthless out of all of them. Frankie was his second in command, along with Santiago and Benny.

"Here you go." Soon as he handed you back your card you shoved it into your purse hopping off the chair stumbling a bit on your feet. "Have a good night."

"Thanks." Mumbling with a stoic look still being polite to which he responded with a small smile and a nod.

Looking around for the exit you just started to walk letting your legs take over hoping you would just find your way out of here. Stumbling down the hall seeing a red neon sign above a door that read exit.

Not planning to get this intoxicated when you unknowingly entered the Frontiers bar. At least they didn't know up here and start causing violence like they were known to do. Just wanting to get home and pass out on top of your bed.

As you pushed the door open a cold breeze gushed around your body. Tugging your jacket tighter to your now shivering body as you looked around. Turning to start heading back to your apartment.

The streets were empty and it was eerily quiet. Not even a car was driving by which was making you a little nervous. The alcohol flowing through your system was making you a little more paranoid then usual.

Moving your legs as quickly as you could just wanting to get home so you could sleep this feeling off. Your heels clacking against the pavement it sounding louder than it usually would.

"Where the fucks our money?" A dark voice shouted from the inside of an alley making your feet stop in there tracks.

"Don't make us ask you again." It was a different voice but sounded just as dark.

Unaware that your feet were slowing moving towards the potentially dangerous sounds. Clutching your purse tightly to your chest as you peeled around the corner of the alley. Your eyes locked on three men standing around another man. His hands tied behind his back and his head slumped forward.

If it wasn't for those stupid drinks your ass would have been home already. Instead your curiosity got the better of you and you had to see for yourself what was going on.

All you could make out was their faces. The man holding the gun had tan skin with dark hair and a matching mustache, and the man to the right of him had blonde hair with a matching scruffy beard, and the man to the left had darkish hair with thin scuff around his lower face.

It shocked you how good looking these men really were especially the one holding the gun. Whoever these mysterious handsome men were they certainly had something dark and dangerous about them.

What intrigued you the most was the one with the blonde hair who had sparkling blue eyes that shined beneath the moon light, and gave him an even more menacing look. A shiver ran up your spine at the thought of getting a look up close.

"I'm losing my fucking patience with you Dave." The blonde haired man spoke shaking his head back and forth slowly. He looked and sounded like he was the leader of this group.

"You've got five seconds before I'll blow your head off." The man holding the gun spoke an accent behind his voice.

"I'm telling you I don't have the money Ironhead." The man pleaded as he cried silently begging for his life. "Please don't kill me."

That must be his nickname as the blonde haired man stepped forward crossing his arms across his chest. Kicking something in front of him trying hard not to lose his patience. The man holding the gun kept looking over at him waiting for some time of signal to be given to him.

Gripping the brick of a building you were crouching behind unable to walk away from this scene. It felt like you were watching a movie, and you couldn't take your eyes off it. Your eyes going back and forth between all of them wondering what was going to happen next.

“Then tell us where the fucking money is.” The man screamed louder this time making you jump.

“It’s gone.” He whispered loud enough for them to hear bowing his head down in fear. “He’s got your money.”

"Wrong answer."

Before the man could say anything else a boom rang through the alley, and rand through your ears. Covering your mouth quickly as soon as your felt a scream bubbling in your throat. Watching as the man's body dropped to the floor a pool of blood surrounding his body.

Stepping back from the horrific scene keeping your hand over your mouth just wanting to get out of there. Feeling a tear running down your cheek realizing you had just witnessed a murder. Never have you ever seen someone get shot point black out in the open.

Before you could make it very far your body backed up into another body. Standing there frozen as you heard a light chuckle and a breath near your ear. Wishing you would have just kept walking or could find the urge to run away from this scene.

"Looks like we have a curious little kitten." His hands gripped your waist pushing you forwards towards the other three men. "Should have just walked away sweetheart."

All eyes focused on you as they watched you being pushed towards them looking terrified. The one with the dark hair putting his gun away his eyes looking your body up and down. The man behind you gripped the backs of your arms when he felt you start to move.

It felt like a light was shining down on your figure as you felt all there gazes on you. Just wanting the ground to swallow you whole so you could get out of here. Maybe you should have just stayed in the bar a little longer, and this could have been avoided.

"Who do we have here?" The one with the mustache spoke up hands on his hips as he looked at you with a smirk. "Pretty little thing."

"This little one was watching the whole thing." Your head shoved down in shame and embarrassment knowing you got caught red handed.

"See the whole thing?" You didn't realize you were being asked a question until you felt someone lightly shove you making you look up at the man who was called Ironhead.

"Yes." Squeaking out feeling your mouth becoming very dry.

There was complete silence as you felt his gaze burning a hole in your face. Not realizing how attractive all these men really were until you were standing so close to them. Feeling your cheeks heat up for the thought of even drooling over these killers.

The man holding you stepped next to Ironhead both of them whispering back and forth. He had longer hair than the rest of them, and had an incredibly youthful look about him. They looked like they could be brothers or something.

"Kill her." Was all he said as he turned away cold as ice your eyes wide in fear not thinking tonight was the night of your death.

"What?" The one holding you before stepped closer to you almost in a defensive stance. "Come on Will we don't have to kill her."

"She's a fucking witness Benny." He glared at his partner his voice filled with authority. “The last thing we need is a squeaky wheel.”

"I don't think this one will talk." The man with the darkish hair and sprinkle of gray mixed in looked deeply into your eyes making you turn away.

Benny stepped around you standing directly behind you feeling his body hovering over you protectively. Keeping your eyes focused on other things acting like they weren’t talking about you like you weren’t there.

"You don't know that Pope." He argued back with him.

"I agree with Benny and Pope man." The one with dark brown hair spoke up this time.

"Shut the fuck up Fish." Ironhead snarled feeling conflicted right now as he watched your trembling body in his brothers hands. "All of you shut the fuck up."

These nicknames they were using sounding incredibly familiar. Repeating the names in your head over and over again trying to think of where you had heard them before. It seemed like you were just talking about men who had names like that.

"What's your name?" He asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Y/F/N Y/L/N." Hearing an intake of breath behind you as soon as they heard your last name.

It really confused you as to why they had the reaction they did when you said your name. Maybe they knew who your father was, and would ultimately decide to let you go, or they could tell you more about him than anyone else has. That was a fat chance though and most likely they were enemies.

It suddenly hit you as to who was all standing around you. It was the Frontier men, and you felt your entire body turn into ice. Feeling those drinks starting come back up your throat threatening to spill out of your mouth and onto the concrete.

Feeling like it was just too big of a coincidence drinking unknowingly in there bar, witnessing a murder, and now here you were in there hands. This was definitely not your night.

Having witnessed these ruthless mobsters killing a man in the alley. Feeling even more stupid smacking yourself in the face wishing you would have just walked away. Now here you were facing what felt like a trial on whether you got to live or die.

The three men were standing close together as they quietly spoke with one another. Going back and forth with each other trying to decide what to do with you. All kinds of questions running through your mind right now trying to figure a way out of this.

What was probably just a few minutes felt like hours. Staring down at your feet as the continued to talk. Not paying attention to the fact that Benny was soothingly rubbing your arms up and down.

"She comes with us." Ironhead finally spoke as he scratched his beard sighing loudly coming to this conclusion. "Keep her quiet."

"Please don't." You begged shaking your head hoping they would just let you go, but you had a gut feeling they weren't going to. "Please I promise I won't say a word."

"We can't risk that doll." Fish said with a calm sympathetic tone in his voice giving you a small smile to which you didn't return.

"Please don't kill me." Hearing your voice quiver as tears were flowing down your cheeks now.

"Did you not hear me?" Ironhead cocked his head at you as he stepped closer to you. "We're letting you live."

"Please just let me go." Pushing not letting it go hoping they would become annoyed and decide to just let you safely back home. "Please don't do this to me."

"Take her to the car Benny." Was all he said before he turned around to the other men. "We'll be right behind you."

Ironhead leaned to Benny whispering something in his ear before he looked to you. Benny nodded his head before he turned back to you with no emotion on his face.

"Come on darling let's go." His hand tugged you to face the other way as he led you into the car. "This is for the best."

You couldn't believe that any of this was happening to you right now. The last thing you ever thought was being kidnapped by a bunch of cold hearted ruthless mobsters. Thinking that maybe your family being murdered was already enough.

"I just want to go home." Speaking out loud without realizing it as you shuffled into the car.

"Maybe you should have walked away and minded your own business." He warned you with a look on his face saying not to push him.

Looking away as he wrapped something around your wrists tightly so you couldn’t escape. The fabric burning your skin as you moved your hands wincing at the minor pain. You could tell the man felt bad, but he clearly wasn’t going to help you.

"Maybe I should have." Grumbling as you looked out the car window watching the other men wrap the body up carrying it to the car.

This was like something out of a movie, and you were waiting any minute for the director to yell cut or something. Or pinch yourself hard enough and you’d wake up from this horrific dream.

"There not putting the body in here are they?" Looking over at Benny sitting at the drivers seat bored.

"Yeah of course." He shook his head with a light chuckle before he turned around to face you. "Can't have somebody finding it."

“Or maybe you just shouldn’t have killed the guy.” Spitting out before you could stop yourself but it seemed to amuse him.

“Well shit you sure got bite.” He bellowed out in disbelief at how you were talking to him considering everything. “We’ll get along just fine you and I.”

Your heart was starting to race rapidly as you sat frozen in your seat. Palms were sweating horribly as you felt the bile rising in your throat again. Your chest was heaving up and down as you slowly felt yourself start to panic.

Not moving a muscle as the three men stuffed the bloody body into the trunk of the car. Slamming it shut making your jump terror coursing through your body at the thought of being in a car with four killers.

Ironhead got into the passenger seat, and Fish and Pope got on either side of you. The tension was thick in the car, and you were starting to become overheated and overwhelmed. You can throw out not getting into cars with strangers out the window.

“What are you guys going to do with me?” Timidly asking once they all got settled in the car. There was silence for a couple of seconds which was making you even more nervous.

“That all depends on you.” A stern voice responded from the front making your eyes diverge to him.

“Behave and you’ll be okay.” Pope answered reassuringly to you, but nothing about his words felt reassuring at all.

One wrong move or wrong answer, and you could possibly end up like the man wrapped in tarp in the trunk. These were ruthless men who would kill anyone including you. For some reason though thankfully they decided to keep you alive. Well at least for the time being probably.

"Sorry about this sweetheart." Fish said with a pathetic smile before you felt something prick your neck before you could let out a scream.

Quickly realizing that it was a needle that went into your skin. Your vision was getting blurry, and you felt like the car was spinning. Trying to keep your eyes open fighting whatever drug he injected you with.

Feeling your body going limp as you slumped in your seat rolling your head to the side against Popes shoulder. Benny looked in the rear view mirror feeling sorry that this was happening to you.

"Go Benny." Ironhead growled not bothering to check if you were okay.

The last thing you remember was the sound of a roaring engine before darkness completely took over your body.

#Pedro pascal #charlie hunnam #Garrett hudland #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier #Pedro pascal smut #charlie hunnam smut #Garrett hudland smut #Oscar Isaac smut #Pedro pascal x reader #fic rec #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #Pedro pascal fic #Pedro pascal fanfiction #william miller #Ben Miller #frankie morales #Santiago Garcia

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idolatrybarbie · 5 months

Text

the world tipped on its side

epilogue - a sip or a spoonful

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

rating & summary: mature | he wants all of your love.

warnings: hospitals, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and feels, discussion of surgery and anesthesia.

notes: we have reached the end of this months-long delve into emotions, disability and family! omg - it's really insane to think that this lil' fic brought me some amazing new friends and introduced me to a great new writing community. twtois is my baby, and i love these two. i hate to say goodbye, but all good stories must come to an end. thank you to everyone who has followed me because of this fic, and/or showed this fic any love. it was a gamble writing about disability - as in, no one coulda read this fic and we would not be here - but like frankie i am a gambling man. and it paid off! so thank you again, and i hope you enjoy.

You’re stuck in the waiting room. Doctors won’t let you past the threshold of the medical floor, so here you are. Family only. Try as you might, the assertion still stings. He’s going to be okay. He has to be. It’s the only thing keeping you from losing your mind.

This ultimate curve ball you’ve been thrown has you reflecting, the flimsy chair you’ve chosen threatening to create a human spill of you at any second. Things with Frankie are easy. You have no clue why you ever wished for anything to come along and complicate that. Except that’s not entirely true—another lie, but you’re getting better at catching yourself.

When you’ve spent so much time acquainted with pain and uncertainty, the lack of it becomes a foreign concept. Existence without struggle is like pulling teeth. Feeling that free-flowing ease that Frankie somehow provides in droves still sometimes makes your skin crawl. It's a learning process. But nothing could possibly be scarier than the thought of losing him. You learned that today. Every other fear, all discomfort you hold fades to the background. He and you are inextricably linked.

A man bursts through the doors of the E.R., a whirlwind for your mind to grasp onto amid the sea of sterile white pain. He’s a bit shorter than Frankie, skin beige and brow creased as he strides through the waiting area like he’s on a mission. His walk makes him impossibly familiar: the way he wears his shoulders like earrings, toddling in the slightest with every right step. When he reaches the front desk and speaks to the attending nurse, his spine only relaxes slightly.

Of course you eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Here to see Francisco Morales,” the man says, speaking precisely.

“I’m afraid he’s not accepting any visitors right now,” the nurse replies.

“You’re looking at his emergency contact. Santiago Garcia…you look it up, you’ll see me.” His words are forceful; a slap across the face with an order to stand at attention.

You mumble an, “Excuse me,” and join Santiago at the attendant's desk. “How is he?”

“Ma’am, I already told you—”

“Please. I’m his…girlfriend,” you say. The word tastes weird in your mouth.

Speaking to Santiago, the nurse says, “I can speak to you. I can’t speak to her.”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself away from the desk and walk back to your seat. Rubbing fingers into your temples brings no relief to the steadily growing tension headache at your forehead. Your brain is working overtime, thoughts echoing as you try and take deep breaths.

He’s going to be okay.

“Ma’am?”

You’re expecting the nurse again, ready to ask you to vacate the waiting room to make space for the family of someone else—someone more important than him. You fix your mouth to tell her to get bent before you see who it is. Santiago.

“Oh, um—hi,” is all you manage.

He takes the seat next to you, keeping his back straight against the bendy top rail of the chair. “Frankie didn’t tell me he was seeing anybody,” are the first real words to you from this virtual stranger.

“It’s new.”

“I’m glad someone else is here,” he says, presenting you with a hand to shake. You take it, grasp firm around the bones of his knuckles before you let go.

He’s got palms like Frankie’s. Scarred and worn with use, from carrying a gun. From killing people, the back of your mind whispers. You ignore it. What was it that Frankie had said about this Santiago?

“He’s the only one still doing military shit these days…a bit of an asshole. You two probably wouldn’t get along.”

And then there was that other thing—the medical death wish. Perhaps an urge not entirely reserved at the hands of a doctor if he’s out there pretending to be G.I. Joe while all his friends have retired. Suddenly, unfortunately, you understand this Santiago Garcia better than most people you’ll ever meet. The pang of jealousy that hit your stomach at his materialization dissolves as you finally make proper eye contact. You introduce yourself. He does the same, telling you to call him Santi.

“Did they say anything about his condition?”

“He’s fine,” Santi shakes his head. “Just giving him a few to recoup, taking a couple tests.” Silence lingers a while before he broaches the topic of your relationship: when, where, how long. He asks nicely enough that you find yourself answering.

“We met on this stupid fucking movie,” you say. “I needed a helicopter and a pilot to fly it. And I’m sure you know he’s the best.”

“Oh, for sure,” Santi agrees. “You made the right decision.”

“Wasn’t me actually,” you say. Despite yourself, a smile creeps along your face. “My best friend—Mia. She’d worked with him before and it just happened to work out… I don’t know. Strange series of events.”

“Sounds like Frankie.” When you give him a questioning look, Santi explains, “He has a habit of finding himself in unconventional situations. Like crashin’ a fucking helicopter, for example.” The breathy laugh that accompanies his words should lift your spirits, but it doesn’t.

A drop of water falls to the back of your hand, and before your brain can catch up, you’re sobbing in the emergency department waiting room. The pliable chair beneath you threatens to fold with every sob that wracks your body. Santiago sits next to you, frozen in uncertainty.

“Sorry,” you say, voice garbled with tears. “I—it feels like my fault. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“Look, hey. Listen,” Santi starts, “People like us, like Frankie and me…we do dangerous shit. It comes with the job description. That’s the deal we cut.”

You don’t want that. Not for Frankie, not for Santiago. Not for anyone. You love what you do—what you did, before the accident. You know there is no reward without risk, but somehow that doesn't seem quite fair. The hardship you’ve endured is a different sort of pain, but you know regardless. No one should have to live that life.

“But I can tell you that these last few months, Frankie’s been the happiest I’ve seen him since his kid was born. He’s not one for show ‘n tell, so I wasn’t sure why. But I am now.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Sweetheart, with all due respect, I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.” He averts his gaze now, staring out at nothing as he says, “Frankie’s been through a lot. Done a lot. I don’t know what he’s told you. But I do know when that man cares about something, he will do anything in his power to get back to it.”

You get tissues from the nurse’s desk, settling in. You’re in the middle of trading Catfish tales when you freeze mid-sentence. The man himself stands before you—patched up and limping, but alive. They’ve taken his clothes and given him a hideous set of toothpaste green scrubs. You practically rush him, pulling Frankie close in a bear hug. The material crinkles like paper beneath you.

Your nose brushes against his jaw, the smell of him under soap and cleaner. Frankie carefully wraps his arms around you in turn. The action warms your skin, bringing you in from the cold.

“You’re okay,” you whisper.

“I’m okay,” he confirms. Frankie pulls back from the hug to look at you. “You saved me.”

“I don’t think—”

“You did. Thank you.”

“Always.” The word falls from your mouth like second nature.

Frankie must spot Santiago over your shoulder, giving him a nod before he pulls you in for another, briefer hug. Then he moves to Santi. You watch as they pat each other on the back like brothers. The shorter man paws at Frankie’s shoulders to get a firm grasp. They share a deep, concentrated stare; their communication is all in the eyes. Maybe that’s where Frankie gets it from. Regardless, you can’t decipher it. Whatever the two men share stays between them. Frankie embraces Santiago, lifting him an inch off the floor for effect.

“Alright,” Santi huffs. “Put me down, Fish.”

“I see you two have already met,” Frankie says as he steps away.

“Quite the lady you got here.”

“He was telling me some stories about your first deployment together,” you say.

“You got here right in time,” Santi says. “Was just about to tell her about how you got that call sign.”

“I think that’s enough storytelling for tonight,” Frankie says resolutely.

You narrow your eyes at him with a laugh. “You can’t escape me, Catfish. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

They let you take Frankie to your car in a wheelchair. Santiago makes Frankie promise to call him before he walks it back to the hospital doors. Frankie’s seat sits at an incline, letting him lay down while he stays buckled in. He looks exhausted, thoroughly worn down and ready for days of bed rest.

“We’re headed home, okay?” you say, readjusting the seat cushion beneath you at a red light. “You’re gonna sleep, and then when you wake up we can order food. That sound alright?”

Your fingers tap against the center console, a tick you’ve picked up from Frankie’s own car habits. You stop when he takes your hand into his own, squeezing gently. He looks up at you with round eyes, dark circles beneath them. He’s okay.

“I’m already there,” Frankie says.

You hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic can never truly hide the stench of death. Your dad died in one; the possibility of living life as you loved it was robbed from you in a room just like this. And yet here you are putting your faith in this hospital, the doctors that work within its walls, and the spirit of hope that lingers here. Or maybe that's just Frankie.

They've got you in a gown, laid out and waiting. Soon enough, the anesthesiologist will come in with another doctor and stick you with a needle. You'll count back from ten...and light outs. It won't be up to you anymore.

Until then, Frankie's by your side. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead. Talking to you about nothing, really, but you like to hear his voice. He stops you short when he asks, "Where do you want to go first?"

"What?"

"When everything is, y’know, said and done. If you could go anywhere?" he explains.

"Home. In a wheelchair. I won't be doing much of anything," you say.

"Come on, just—anywhere."

You laugh. "Frankie, there's nowhere to go. What, are you gonna wheel me across Europe?"

"If you want," he says.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you still love me for it. Where?” Frankie insists. He's not letting this go.

You sigh as you answer, "I don't know. I kind of liked that story you told about Michigan. With the snow."

"The one where I almost froze to death?"

"Yeah, that one. Except maybe we skip out on that part this time," you say.

"There are more glamourous destinations,” Frankie says.

"You said anywhere. That's where I want."

"The great state of Michigan.” He leans back in the plush seat beneath him. “Okay. I think I can make that happen." His phone chimes. Frankie pulls it from his pocket to take a look. "Mia's on her way."

"What? Why?"

"I called her," he admits.

"She won't be here in time, and then I'll be in surgery for a while," you say. Five hours. Three hundred minutes, give or take, to make or break your life. "I won't be discharged for a few days."

"I'll be here. We both will," Frankie says.

"You don't have to—"

"I'll be here," he repeats, firmer this time. The look in his eyes is fierce; halfway between love and a safety net, your own face reflecting back at you.

Part of you, jagged and lingering, wants to call his bluff—expect the worst and you aren't disappointed when it happens. But no, Frankie looks serious. His face is stone, jaw set tight as he holds your gaze. You have no choice but to trust him. Forever and always.

So you nod, squeezing his hand. "Okay."

tags! @wannab-urs @iamskyereads @anoverwhelmingdin

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #pedrostories #fic: the world tipped on its side #pedro pascal fanfiction

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Note

Also the way you write Santi is just mind blowing.

I was thinking 'I've never done this before 'and possibly anal. I literally envision his face like the gif because he wants to make it so good for you and he's so turned on you want to try it and trust him enough to do that for you

awww thank you <33 it makes me so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing, and yes, that's the exact face he would make, excellent gif usage

prompt list: #51 “i've never done this before”

trust me

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 0.7k

summary: You trust Santi enough to want to try something new.

warnings: established relationship, first time anal fingering, brief piv at the beginning, praise

MLISTS . LIBRARY.

You find it easy to be bare and vulnerable in front of Santiago, for the most part at least.

He grunts and pushes deeper, his cock hitting deeper than it ever has before. His hands feel large on your ass, he pulls your cheeks apart, and you moan at the amplified feeling of the drag of his cock. You claw at the sheets and scream his name into the pillow. You hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he groans. “Fucking perfect.”

A wet sound follows —you imagine him sucking on his fingers, another moan ripples through you— and you feel the wet pad of his thumb on your puckered hole. You jump with surprise and clench around him. Santiago hisses and his hips stutter forward.

“Sorry sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Should've warned you. My bad,”

You breathe heavily. Sweat uncomfortably clings to your skin as slick drips down your thighs, you’re still in the depths of your arousal. It’s not that you didn’t like it, or thought about it, but you never trusted anyone enough to try it out with. It was completely unknown to you, the area not even touched by yourself. When you let out a sigh it comes out in parts, your chest heaves. You feel his hands stroking up your back, soon his lips touch between your shoulder blades, and a pleasant tingle rushes up your spine.

“Sorry,” he mutters again, the apology seeping into your skin.

“It’s—It’s not like it didn’t feel good. It’s just well—” a burst of nervous laughter drops from your lips. Santiago waits patiently for your words, decorating your back with soft kisses. “I’ve never done it before. I’m a bit nervous,”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he says. “But if you do, I promise to make it feel good for you,”

“Y–Yeah okay,” you nod. “I trust you.”

The way you said it; your voice so soft and trembling, it makes something awaken in Santiago. The sudden need to protect you from the world overwhelms him. He wants to make you feel good, wants to show you all the ways you can feel pleasure. You trust him in a way that no one has before. His head spins at the thought.

He pulls out — playfully slapping the meat of your ass when you whine at the loss— and he opens one of the drawers and rummages through it. He finds a small bottle of lube. The bed dips underneath his weight as he crawls back to you, your ass is still obediently in the air, waiting for him.

“I’ll start with my fingers,” he says softly. “Tell me when you need to stop okay?”

“Okay, yeah,”

His cock weeps as he pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. Placing the bottle, he brushes his fingers against it, you take a sharp inhale and tense. He smoothes his hand over the small of your back, this calms you.

“Relax baby, I’m going to go slow,”

You nod and he slowly pushes the tip of his forefinger, he watches wide-eyed as you ripple and moan. Precum drips down the length of his cock. He swallows, hard. Santiago holds himself still until you gently start to fuck yourself till the first knuckle. You needily groan, he can feel the heat radiating off of you.

“More—” you choke on air. “Feels so good,”

Santiago pushes all the way to the second knuckle and wiggles his finger, your jaw tightens. The sounds you make are animalistic, desperate almost. You’re a whimpering mess by the time he starts to thrust his finger in and out, your legs spread and he adds another finger.

You see spots hovering across your sight when Santiago snakes his arm around your waist and starts to draw short, quick circles around your clit. Your skin is damp, heat and pleasure coursing through your veins as you feel his fingers deep inside you.

When you come it’s the most intense feeling, your body collapses, and trembles. Santiago pulls out his fingers, his lips find the side of your chin, and his teeth gently nip at the skin.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he says, voice hoarse. “You did very good for me.”

You hum, a smile blossoming on your lips. He says something else but you can’t hear him as sleep makes your eyelids heavy.

When you wake up you’re clean, wrapped in a cozy blanket with Santiago’s chest flushed against your back.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #oscar isaac characters

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

Note

Since I’m having a hard time choosing between these two hot boyz, you can choose which one you think would fit this prompt more.

Can I please request Benny or Mr. Garcia x female Reader. Spicy Romance. “You’ve made me a better person. Thank you”

This is for your June drabbles. Thank you very much and I hope I didn’t miss a step ☺️

Home is where you are

Santi x f reader | words: 1043

Warnings: spicy /sexual elements but no smut

Prompt: you’ve make me a better person. Thank you.

An: it’s my pleasure @aria725 ! I decided to go with Santi but I might give you both! (Cause I love them) * read Benny version here* Also this is longer than intended 😁

When Santiago picked you up from work, you had no idea what he had in store for you. As you left the building, you found him waiting for you, leaning against your car with a spark in his eye and a grin on his lips. He was wearing that blue baseball cap he loves; no one made a simple baseball cap look as sexy as Santi.

Your lover greeted you with a sweet kiss and offered to drive the way home. On the car ride over, he rested one hand on your thigh and asked about your day. You always loved the simple moments like this. Due to Santiago's work, these moments were few and far between, so you cherished the everyday domestic bliss whenever you had it.

Once you arrived at your shared home, you were surprised to find a dress laid out on the bed. As you pick it up, Santi stands behind you and offers a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He held the flowers under your nose, you inhaled the sweet aroma and closed your eyes. After a moment, you place the flowers on the dresser to free your hands.

He wrapped one arm around your body, holding you close against his own. His perfect lips meet the side of your neck. He peppers your neck with kisses, swaying your body with his. You rest your palms flat against his broad strong back.

“Take a shower, get dressed. The reservations in an hour. ” His smooth deep voice washes over you, putting you in the mood for something else. Your eyes jump to the bed, your mind fills with images of what you could be doing right now.

“But here you are, getting me all buttered up…what if I don’t want to go out?” You turn in his arms and clasp his face in your palms. Gazing longingly at each other, you continue to move your bodies, swaying as one.

“Don't worry amor, there will be plenty of time for that later. We have - “Santi takes you in with his eyes, and bites his lower lip, “ all night.”

Moving slowly, Santiago keeps his steamy gaze locked on yours as his lips move closer, soon brushing yours. He slides one of his hands up your spine and stops at the base of your neck. His grip is firm yet gentle.

His lips are soft when he kisses you, they’re always soft. Santiago's kisses were dizzying, even after two years, he made you feel every single emotion you felt the first time. This man kept your fires burning, your skin warm, your body ablaze. When the kiss breaks, he leaves you panting, spellbound. Your lips tingle with the taste of him.

Santiago plants a little kiss on your nose, then your forehead, “we leave in, “he glances at his watch, “30.”

“Yes Sir.” You purr. A fire ignites in his eyes, you know he’s going to make you pay for that response later. It made him feral.

Santiago leaves the room. You watch him walk away, ogling his ass in his jeans. Going to the doorway, you tilt your head to the side and watch him. “Damn baby.” You yell out.

You can see him chuckling by the way his shoulders move.

“It's all for you.” He slaps his own butt and turns left in the hall.

…

Later

Sipping your wine, you slip your left foot out of your heel and rub the inside of his thigh under the table. Santi nearly chokes on his drink and shoots you a warning look. He always looks delicious, but dressed up? A damn feast for your eyes.

He drops his voice low, “Such a tease.”

“I can’t help it, not when my man looks like this, I mean, damn.” You sit back, wearing a smirk and take another sip of your wine.

Santiago puts his drink down, reaches under the table, and slides his hands up your legs, he raises your dress above your knees. You slip your naked foot back into the heel.

“Are you having a good time tonight baby?” He asked.

When he raises his hands a little higher, you gasp and try to stay still.

“Yes I am.” You grip your glass tighter. The desire to rip his clothes off is becoming stronger by the second. “What's the occasion, I wasn’t expecting this?” You ask, trying to calm your libido until you two got home.

Santi lifts his hands from your thighs, gets up, and walks to your side of the table. You watch as he stands in front of you, holds your face, and leans down to kiss you. In contrast to the deep heated kiss from earlier, this one is slow, languid, like he’s trying to memorize every single detail of kissing you, of how your lips and mouth taste and feel.

“Wow.” you moan softly as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes.

“You’ve made me a better person. Thank you.” As he says the words, his eyes become full of emotion, of raw honest truth. Your heart beats faster as your eyes moisten.

“Santi - “ you pause, at a loss for words as you stare into his eyes.

“Te amo, “he brushes your lower lip with his thumb, “I never looked for a place to call home or thought I wanted that, not until you. Cariño, you are my home. You are my home, no matter where I am. Always.”

You blink back tears as your heart swells. Standing, you wrap your arms around him, your eyes on his, “ Te amo, “ you kiss him gently on the lips, and stroke his cheeks, “home is wherever you are.”

Santiago holds you tighter, his forehead resting against yours. The sweet moment leaves you both feeling the most loved, understood, and seen you’ve ever been. Santiago caresses your back.

“Hey, how about we finish those drinks so I can get you out of this dress?”

You reach out, grab your drink, and chug the rest, your eyes locked on his.

“Damn baby,” Santi chuckles and does the same. He quickly digs in his pocket, takes money from his wallet, and slaps it on the table. “Get over here, I need you naked and under me as soon as possible.”

Giggling, you let him lead you out of the restaurant and to the car.

My masterlist

More Santi / Triple Frontier

More Oscar

June Drabbles rules & prompts

Masterlist for June Drabbles

Same prompt but w/Benny

#santiago pope garcia #artes june drabbles #writing challenge #Santi triple frontier #santi x f reader #triple frontier

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geo-winchester · 2 years

Note

Could I have Santi/Reader with the prompts 'Can you hold me?' 'I think I'm bleeding' & 'i'm not going anywhere.

CONFESSION

Prompts: 09: Can you hold me?”, 32:I think I’m bleeding, 30:I’m not going anywhere.

A/N: hi love thanks for your request! I hope you’re great and I’m sorry it took me a lot of time of doin this, hope you like this and that this was what you expect it, lots of loves 💙 if you or anyone had any requests please send me an ask!

Masterlist

250 celebration

————

You like to say that your life was as simple as you always thought it would be, but that would be a totally lie, it all start when you finish highschool you decide to join the army, after a few days of training you were assigned to a team, that’s when you meet Santiago Garcia and his friends, you remember those first months around him, everyone on the team welcome you excited except for Santiago, when you went with the group his face changed and it seems like suddenly something smell really bad or if he was able to, he avoid you every time he could, like that day he rolled his eyes every time you said something in he meeting, he always avoid your gaze and the minute the meeting was done he try to leave but you follow him.

-Santiago- you call him but he didn’t stop only making you more angry -Hey, Garcia!

-What?- he asked you angry.

-Is this some kind of game you play?- you asked.

-What are you talking about?

-you been treating me like crap, like if I was dumb and doesn’t deserve to be- you told him angry -why do you hate me, I haven’t do anything wrong, I follow the orders, I’m good with guns and fights…

-And why do you care how I feel about you?- he asked.

-Because you’re my superior, your one of the best soldiers, you and your team are legends and I want to learn from you but don’t worry I’ll asked for my change tomorrow- you said as you were to walk away but he stop you, he took you from the arm, he look at you in the eyes, you could see he was struggling with something before you could say that he kiss you, for a moment you didn’t know what to do but after a few seconds you push him -what the hell Pope…

-I’m sorry- he said you could see his frustration in his face -mierda- he said as he laugh a little -I don’t know what you do to me, I feel like there’s this part of me that really don’t want to be around you…

-Gracias por eso- you said.

-No, no lo entiendes- he said -I don’t want to be around you because I hate the fact that you don’t feel the same way I feel, but what’s the point you’re going to leave even when I told you this- he said before he start to walk away.

-Hey- you said but he ignore you -Pope- he still ignored you -

Santiago- you said as you took his arm and make you face you, you look at each other for a few seconds before you kiss him, he kiss you back at the second he realize what’s happening but you back off and slap him.

-Carajo- he said.

-What was that? You tell me how you feel and then you walk away, pero que es lo qué pasa por tu cabeza?

But before he could say anything the sounds of the gunshots start to appear, Santiago took you from the arm and put you behind his back as he tried to found out where the gunshots come from, when he found out he told you to stay close to you, you took your gun and start to shoot back, you saw everyone move you were about to run to them but you saw how Santiago fall beside you.

-Hey what’s going on?- you asked as you scan him and then you see his hand with blood.

-Mierda, I’m bleeding- he said, in a second he start to get worse.

-Hey hey hey, vamos Santiago, hang in there, this is going to be ok- he look at you and brush your cheek.

-I wish I have told you how much I like you before and asked you for a dance- you smiled but you get distracted by the sound of someone yelling.

-You have to go- you shook your head -go Yn… esto no es seguro…

-I don’t care! I’m not going anywhere! I’m not going anywhere.

-Yn please…

-No! I’m not going to leave you alone.

The next thing that Santiago remember was to wake up on a hospital bed, he could feel the pain where the bullet hit him, he try to move his hand but he couldn’t, your hand was holding his hand, at the feeling of the movement you open your eyes and smile when your see him awake.

-Hola- You said.

-Hey, how’s the rest of the team?- you giggled.

-Only you could get hurt and still be more worried about the others- he smiled -you scared the hell out of me, I was worried that I couldn’t had the chance…

-The chance of what?- he asked you when you didn’t say anything.

-To say that I like you too- you finally said -you’re amazing in what you do, except for yesterday, you let yourself get shot- you joked.

-Ha ha ha well I was just trying to protect you.

-yeah I know and thank you- you said -but as you were on surgery

I couldn’t stop thinking on what you said and i feel the same, I like you since the moment I put a foot in this camp, you’re handsome, loyal and don’t make start when you speak Spanish, that’s why i hated that you treated me that way.

-I’m sorry- he said as he took your hand and kiss is making you smile -so you like when I speak Spanish, debería de hacerlo más seguido -you rolled your eyes -when I get out of here, would you like to had a date with me?

-yes, I like that- you said -do you want me to call one of the boys?- he shook his head.

-I have everything I need in this room- you smile -Yn, i know is going to sound weird but can you hold me?

-I would but the nurse would kill me if she saw me in the bed with you- you said but the you think about it -but what’s life without danger- you said he smiled before he move and put his arms around you -Are you ok?

-Much better now.

Xxxxxxx

Tag list: @anetteaneta @writefightandflightclub @mariesackler @multifandomlife22 @wasicskosgirl @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @ofstarsandvibranium @santigarcia @itspdameronthings

If you want me to add you to my taglist please let me know🙈

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia imagine #santiago pope garcia #santiago x reader #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac

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friendlyneighbourhood-parker · 2 years

Note

Hey cutie <3 for the husband, one night stand and best friend ask:

Santiago Garcia, Jake Lockley and Peter Parker

I have to remind myself that I asked for this god!!

for Peter I'll have to put him in the best friend category (this was a though one omg!!), like those friendships filled with mutual pinning that never went anywhere until those feelings disappeared and moved on, THAT KIND! or childhood best friends who knows each others secrets and embarrassing stories

my love Jake is claiming the title of husband! that man my lord, he totally is the type to know how to treat his partner right and just spoil the shit out of them.

and I hate driving so he can take care of that while I'm in charge of the music

now, Santi goes straight for one night stan 'cause, MAN!! I would let him do unspeakable things to me, he could slap the shit out of me while we do it and I would thank him later, also him speaking to me in Spanish with that accent!?? I would perish right then and there

#peter parker #spiderman #jake lockley #moon knight #santiago garcia #triple frontier

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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pedrosbisch · 3 years

Text

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

#santiago pope garcia #tf fanfic #pope x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #tw alcohol #fanfic

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Note

109 w santi? please omg i love your work 🥺

A/N: Thank you Anon! I’m really happy you love my writing! It makes me feel really damn good. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + ONLY NSFW (Explicit AF, oral F! Receiving, p in v sex, rough sex, blowjob, light choking, spanking, language, mentions of groping/unwanted advances)

My Masterlist

Pull Over

Santiago was fuming. His hands clenched and unclenched around the leather of the steering wheel. His lip caught between his teeth as he gnawed on it, muttering curses under his breath. You were pissed too, running your hands up and down your jeans, looking at your boyfriend slowly lose his composure as the city lights reflected in his deep brown eyes.

“Santiago,” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, and you feel yourself retreat. His foot slams on the breaks at a red light, and he looks over at you.

“What?” he tosses his hands in the air, “What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me right now?” His tone is stern, and you can feel the tension thick and suffocating in the cab of the truck, his eyes burning holes in you.

“He was fucking asking for it, Santiago!” you shout, and the light turns green, but he just sits there stewing until the car behind you starts honking. It doesn’t phase him, and he continues to stare at you—the car behind coming around and flipping you both the bird.

“I fucking know that! But did you have to break his goddamn nose?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you scoff.

“He groped me at the bar!”

“HE DID WHAT?!” Santiago roars, and you tremble to lean further back against the door. He slams down on the gas and whips the truck around back in the direction of the bar. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Baby,” you beg, “I’m pissed too, but if you go back there and kill him, you’ll go to prison, and you are way too pretty for prison.” The joke does nothing to lessen the tension, and he speeds down the road, blowing through stop signs and one red light. “Santiago,” you whimper, and he slows down his breathing erratic. “Santi, baby, please. Let’s just go home.”

“I’ll drop you off,” he mumbles, and you let out a sharp no. “Querida, if I go home with you, I won’t be gentle. I need to go somewhere and calm the fuck down.”

“Pull over,” his foot hits the break at the next red light, and you go flying forward, bracing your hands on the dashboard.

“If I pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week,” his words aren’t a threat but a promise, and you feel the warmth between your thighs begin to bloom.

“Pull the fuck over, Santiago.” He looks at you and nods before pulling off the main road and heading towards the woods. He drives for another fifteen minutes till the city’s lights begin to fade, and there is nothing but the coo of birds and the leaves rustling in the trees.

The truck comes to a stop, and he gets out of the truck and stalks off into the trees, leaving you to scramble after him. He stops walking about twenty feet in and begins to pace before you hear him let out a loud curse and reach for you. You go to him instantly, and he slams your back against the nearest tree. His mouth going down to suck hard purple bruises into the flesh of your neck, you let out a whimper when you feel his teeth bite down hard, his hands kneading your ass and pushing you into his hard cock.

“Motherfucker, tried to touch my woman,” he mumbles, and you gasp as he rips the front of your dress open and feasts upon your breasts. His teeth are grazing each of your erect nipples in his mouth, tugging them into the hot warmth of his mouth. Your hands entangle in his hair, and your head hits the back of the tree, panting. “I need to fuck you, can I fuck you?” You nod, eyes closed, and he freezes. His hand is coming to your chin and dragging you to look at him. “I need verbal consent, I’m pissed, Querida, but I’m not an animal.”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, Santiago. Erase any trace of that fucker on me, mark me up, I’m yours.” He growls and takes a handful of your panties before the fabric rips, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

“Turn around,” he orders, and you listen facing the tree. His hands come over the swell of your ass and slap it a few times, the echo loud in the quiet forest. “Spread those thighs for me, let me see how wet this sweet cunt is for me.” You feel another gush of warmth between your legs, and you let out a scream as he impales you with three fingers, filing you so full of him it only takes a moment before your cumming. He continues pumping you through it, his teeth leaving bite marks all along your shoulders, marking you.

When you feel the pleasure begin to fade, he slips out and sucks on his fingers; you turn and watch as he licks each one like a child trying to get all the chocolate off the spoon. “You taste so fucking good.” Both his hands come down on the sides of your ass, and he slaps them before kneading it roughly. You hear the sound of his belt coming apart and zipper lowering. The head of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance. He runs it through your slick, and then you hear him lean down and spit into your cunt.

“I’m not going to be gentle, Querida. If you want me to stop, you have to tell me now.” He wraps his hand around your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Wreck me, Santiago, fucking destroy me.” You moan as he shoves inside you to the hilt, his hand moving down to your neck and keeping you looking back at him. His cock is so thick and fills you better than any toy. His pace is punishing, and you feel his fingers dig into your hip so hard you are sure to be littered in bruises. The orgasm builds inside you again, and you struggle against the hand on your throat, his eyes black with lust.

“I’m gonna cum,” you pant, and he smirks down at you.

“I didn’t tell you, you could.” He brings his hand off your hip to furiously rub your clit, and you feel your eyes roll back into your head. “Are you going to cum on my cock Querida?” You mumble incoherently, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Cum, now.” You scream into the night and clench around him tightly, but he never slows down. Your eyes brim with tears, and he releases your neck, and you fall forward, bracing yourself on the tree. The bark sharp against your palms. He uses both hands now and slams into you over and over again, your breasts bouncing in the chilly night air at how hard he is pounding into you.

He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls you up against his chest, biting down hard on your shoulder and licking over it. He fucks up into you and comes down to rub your clit. Going between English and Spanish, he whispers the filthiest things to you, and you feel another orgasm building. “I can feel you tighten around me again. Are you going to cum Querida?”

You nod, and he chuckles, “Beg me, beg me to let you cum and soak my cock.”

“Please,” you whimper, “please let me soak your cock sir, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“Fuck right; you’re my good little girl, cum Querida, soak me.” You scream out again as the waves of pleasure crash over you, and the white dots blind your vision. You clench around him, and he lets out a loud moan, never straying his fingers from your throbbing clit.

“On your knees,” he pulls out, and you drop instantly. “Open your mouth.”

You open your mouth and present your tongue to him. He shoves his cock into your mouth and tightens his hands in your hair again. He devastates your mouth with the force of his thrusts, and you take everything he gives you without complaint. His hand comes to your nose and plugs it. He shoves his cock so far down your throat it hits the back. You gag, and the tears brim your eyes before he pulls out, and you gasp. Only giving you a second before he is fucking into you again.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and you reach between your legs and circle your clit in time with his thrusts. The crescendo of pleasure crashes into you and almost knocks you over. His hands come to your throat, and he cums with a groan down your throat. Cum, hot and thick, trailing down your throat, and you swallow every last drop. “Open your mouth, show me.” You do as he says, and he smiles down at you, “good girl.”

Your knees buckle from the force of your orgasms, your cum pooling beneath you and sliding down your thighs. “Lay back,” he helps you fall gently to the forest floor, your torn dress acting as a barrier between your bare skin and the crunch of fallen leaves. He tucks his cock back into his jeans and drops between your legs spreading them. “Santi,” you groan, reaching for him, and he drops to his forearms in front of your displayed pussy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m reminding you who owns this pussy.” His tongue licks a broad stroke through your folds, and he devours you like an alcoholic, and you’re top-shelf whiskey. He makes you cum two more times on his tongue until you are a shaking mess on the forest floor. Too tired to even stand, he closes your dress the best he can and lifts you into his arms. Your head is coming to lie in the crook of his neck as he walks you back to the truck.

When he reaches your home, he scoops you up from the seat and chuckles at the mess you left on the leather interior, and carries you into the house. He opens the shower and turns on the water getting it warm. He strips you out of your clothes and his and lifts you into the shower. You whimper when the washcloth slides over your oversensitive folds, and he places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, and you shake off his apology. When done, he wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you to bed; sliding under the cool sheets naked, he crawls in next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Are you outraged I broke Tom’s nose?” you whisper, and he holds you tighter.

“No, fucker deserved it. I’m sorry I shouted at you. Why didn’t you tell me he touched you like that? I would have killed him.”

You shake your head, “Because I don’t need you to fight all my battles for me. But I do need you to trust me, trust my judgment.”

“I promise. I will never doubt you again.” You sigh and snuggle closer.

“You better not. But if it leads to hot forest sex, I may be able to forgive you.” He laughs and kisses the top of your head.

“Go to sleep Querida; I love you.”

“Oh, Santi,” you yawn, “I love you more.”

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia @jedi-mando @spider-starry @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @josepedropascal @revolution-starter

#santiago pope garcia #Santiago pope garcia x reader #Female Reader #Oscar Isaac #Triple Frontier #Autumn Writes #Santiago Garcia #triple frontier fic

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part VIII

Word Count: 1,304 Warnings: PTSD. I don't think anything else needs a warning? Message me if I'm wrong though, I'll fix it. Author's Note: Thanks for your patience in getting this chapter out! Last week was difficult and then I had friends come over for the weekend (FRIENDS! AMAZING!). I'm not super proud of this but I'm also proud of this. We're getting to the end of this series and I'm just really... in fucking awe at all the nice things that have been said to me about this. Like, I'm genuinely over the moon and losing my mind every time somebody says something nice to me. Thank you so much for reading!

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

He slaps the passport against Pope’s forehead, starting a long held tradition between the two and he knows this will be the last time as he slowly says, “Nos vemos.”

See you.

The flatness he gives the words lets Santiago Garcia know, as he takes his friend and brother in, if he sees this man again, it will be through exchanged nods at functions for the others.

Santiago steps forward and Frankie embraces him but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong for who they are to each other. Who they were. It’s wooden, the weight of this mission—this mess—adding a new kind of density to the pain he carries. Frankie’s out for the count. For good.

“Cuídate,” he whispers into his friend’s ear.

Take care of yourself.

And he walks away, heading home where he belongs. A place he shouldn’t have left in the first place. Out of all the regrets Santiago has, dragging that man to Colombia might just be one of his biggest.

Leah was right, Santiago is never the one picking up the pieces. —————

He has to knock.

She disabled the doorbell the day they moved in, placing a small sign where delivers and visitors could easily read:

A combat veteran lives here, please knock gently.

She didn’t want any loud, sudden noises to trigger panic attacks. Wanted him to be comfortable in his home.

He didn’t tell her it would be today, wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get a flight out so he didn’t want to get her hopes up. But it had all worked out and he hadn’t had time to call and he doesn’t have his keys.

He didn’t take any identifying information with him. No phone. No keys. No wallet. Just the black tags that now sit heavy against his chest. He slipped them on mid-flight and walked back into the country with them to a quiet, welcome home, soldier from the customs agent. He didn’t even notice as he stamped the little blue book that the name stamped into the metal was completely different.

Frankie scratches his smooth face and stares down at the near bare feet standing firm on the wood of his front porch.

He made it.

He packed light back into the States, dumping his clothes and boots in the trash. All he has now is eight thousand in cash, a couple gifts for the girls and the fake passport he’ll be running through the shredder tonight. He picked up the flip flops at a vendor where he bought some of the shit to stuff with the cash.

Another steadying breath drags through his lungs and he looks around his silent neighborhood, the one Leah insisted on because of its proximity to the base. Illegal to set off fireworks this close to government property.

She shot down every house he found in any other part of the city and he didn’t even know why until the Fourth of July when his back bristled in anxiety waiting for the attacks to take his mind for the night.

Tears well up in his eyes as he finally brings his hand down on the sturdy wood.

She loves me so much more than I deserve. —————

“You stole my goddamn shirt, Francisco Morales,” she mumbles sleepily into his chest.

They haven’t left the couch all night, both his girls with their faces firmly planted into his chest. Their fitful sleep eased by the peace of his beating heart against their ears.

“I brought it back,” he laughs, smoothing her hair back, “but I won’t take it again, baby, I promise.”

And he means it. The only reason he took it to begin with is because she wears it as often as he does, her smell wrapped up in his and he brought it for comfort. But the rain and the saltwater of the sea wiped that scent away and he’s not doing this shit again.

“Because you’re not going anywhere again, right?” There’s a slight panic to the words, no matter how slowly they roll out.

He pulls her closer, “never, mi alma.”

“Good,” she looks up and he breaks all over again at her bloodshot, tired eyes, glassy and searching. Her pain meeting his but unspoken in favor of quiet reunion, his heart breaks because it wasn’t just him almost losing everything on a risky at best plan and he never even stopped to consider it was her everything too.

He saw it when she opened the door and instead of crumbling inwards with their daughter resting against her chest, she opened her arms and let him crumble instead. It was there when she excused herself to the bathroom and when she came back, falling apart in stolen moments of peace and quiet.

“I won’t do this again,” he says, the pad of this thumb sliding across the curve of her cheekbone; skin already raw with tear stains where they’ve run like rivers around her. She breaks into him then, arms tight around his still sore body as she buries her head into his broad chest. He instinctively moves to running his hand through her hair—his large hands turning her to jelly with each brush against her scalp—before he speaks again, adding reassurance to his words.

“And if I didn’t think you’d love it so much, I’d never even want to go back to St. John's.” He stresses that last bit, because it was the least stressful part of it all and still stabbed at him. Pulled at him. Reminded him that he was away. That he did this to his family.

“If you don’t want to be there,” she hiccups, “then I’ll never love it.”

And she means it. —————

Frankie cuts the last box open to begin sorting through the goods shipped home. The system follows that Frankie unloads the boxes, Benny separates the goods and Will counts the money. It’s worked flawlessly over the weekend as everything is accounted for, including the stacks that bought their way back into the country.

“How do we go about this shit anyway?” It's the question that’s been on Frankie’s mind from the jump, hoping he doesn’t find himself in another goddamn mess to maneuver away from.

“We can’t deposi—“

“No shit, William, so what do we do?”

He doesn’t need more crimes on top of all the ones he’s already committed. Money laundering on top of murder. Doesn’t even know where to start and a hundred thousand is hardly something to open a carwash about. He feels a stress settling in as he realizes he didn’t fully think this through.

“Just be smart about it,” comes the younger Miller’s voice, “keep it in the house, use it for groceries and other errands. Anything small that can be paid for cash, pay for it in cash. It adds up so your bank isn’t hit with constant fees, you can use that for the big shit. If you get in a pinch, deposit a couple hundred but never more than that. If you do need more, give cash to a friend and have them transfer it to your account.”

Benny looks up and finds the stunned faces of his brothers, “what? I dated a chick who was really into that Dave Ramsey guy.”

Frankie just continues to look at him in confusion, not expecting any of this information to come from Benny of all people and it seems Will wasn’t either because he follows it up with,

“Who the fuck is Dave Ramsey?”

“You know,” Benny continues to separate the goods into piles to be donated, “he’s that guy who talks about the money, I think that's the best way to go about it. We can’t exactly Breaking Bad this.”

“You're not smart enough to Breaking Bad this,” Frankie tells him.

“Nope,” he smiles, “I'm smarter.”

#frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ofc #oc #original character #original female character

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itspdameronthings · 3 years

Text

Getting Away From The Hurt

Happy Writing Wednesday. Here is my entry for @autumnleaves1991-blog's challenge. This weeks story is very dramatic. Doc ( female reader) walks into something that she didnt want to see. fearing the worst. Doc runs off. Could this relationship survive this screw up made by one of the boys?

Warning: lots of drama. male stupidity.

World as you know it started to crash around you. Couldn't see what you were seeing. Loves of your life flirting with two ladies. One with her arm around Benny's shoulder. Laughing at his jokes. Santi sees you out of the corner of his eye. Then noticed that look in your beautiful eyes. Look that would kill anyone. Couldn't get a word edgewise. Santi tried to make his introductions. You stomp your feet," oh, I see how it is. All the lies the two of you me about not ever looking or touching another women! How can I be so fucking stupid to believe you! I could take that from santi! Benny! How could you do that to me! My best friend! Thought we had something. Now I can't even look at you! So you can go and have your fun with this..!" The woman comes up to you," don't even call me trash! If you just calm down, listen to what Santiago and Ben have to say. You my dear will be begging for their forgiveness." Other women said," I agree. Temper like that would get you in a mighty heap of trouble "

Doc goes up to Benny and slaps him. Then knees Santiago in the groin. Tears in your eyes. Drive off towards somewhere you can cool off. Thought about calling ironhead. Then remembered he was on a date.Frankie was at his in-laws.

Benny and Santiago were trying to come to grips with what just happened. Both of them fear that they just lost the best thing that ever came into their lives. After the ladies left. The boys figured out where you went.

First place you went home.packed a bag. No note was left. Try not to shed any tears. Off you went to a place where they couldn't find you.

After saying goodnight to his date. Ironhead checked his phone. Noticed a text message from you. Telling him to call you. Something about his brother and friend screwed up. Think that they didn't love you anymore.

Will calls you. Only thing he got was your voicemail. Rubbing his beard. Look of a pissed off man. Goes looking for Benny and Santi. To set them straight. Not before calling Frankie for back up.

Soon you arrived at your destination. The elegant hotel that you wanted to stay at when it first opened. Never got the chance to go due to work and Benny's fight. Looking at your phone. See numerous texts from Benny and Santi. Thru the phone on the floor. Crying," how could they do this to me! With all we all have been through! Thought we had something special!" Looking around the room. There was a beautiful canopy bed.like the one you had as a girl. Bathroom was so beautiful. Something out of a dream. Thought it would be a good idea to take that bath. After undressing. You eased into the tub. Putting on your earbuds. Turned on a good playlist to make you zone out.

Meanwhile back at the house. Benny and Santiago come home to see that you came home to pack. Left no note. Both of them looked for any kind of clue to where you went. Will comes barging into the house. Since he has a key. With Frankie in tow. Not much of a hello. Will slugs santi in the face," WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU ! I GOT A TEXT FROM DOC ABOUT YOU AND BENNY WERE WITH TWO WOMEN! ARE YOU DUMB OR JUST PLAIN STUPID!" Santi pulls will off of him," she didn't let us explain! You know how she is. Now we can't find her! " Frankie cleared his throat," before we help you fix this serious fucked up job. Tell us who you were hanging out with." Benny and Santi tell them. Both of them looked at them. Will sighs," oh shit! "

Will tried to call you. Nothing. Until a few minutes later. You picked up the phone," finally you decide to check your phone! I'm in need of a good friend to talk to. " will sighs," I'm sorry Doc. I'm trying to smooth the waters right now. Yes, I'm with them. If you tell me where you are. I'll come over there." You texted him the location. Give the boys the location. Told them to not screw it up.

Soon the boys arrived at the hotel. Looking for the room you are staying at. The clerk gave them the number. Heading towards the fifth floor. Looking for the number. Once they did. Benny whispers," don't think we should knock.Going in there before she bails. Not leaving until we plead our case. Damn, I wish you prepared doc for their visit. You never think things through. Thought you learned the last time. Now she won't look at me the same she did before." Santi paced around," how many times I'm gonna say that I'm sorry about that,?!" Seeing the opportunity. Benny used the card key that was in the maid's cleaning cart.

You were relaxing in the tub. Eyes closed. Letting the water take you away. That moment was dashed when you opened your eyes. Trying not to yell," I don't want to see yall right now! Just leave me alone!" Santi shuts the door. Practically getting ready to go ballistic," if you stop being so fucking jealous all the time! I was trying to explain why we were with them! Sorry I didn't tell you before. Thought I could surprise you. Okay bad choice of words here. Okay! I'm gonna say it! Those girls were my sisters! My twin baby sisters. We're here to meet you now thanks to you. Mama is not gonna come to the wedding." Looking at sant and benny. Sinks yourself under the water. Benny pulls you out of the tub. Not before he fetched the towel that was on the counter," doc, I'm so sorry too. Wanna tell you about it,but Pope would not let me. I fell so bad about this. " holding him tight. Not before rubbing where you hit him," sorry for hitting you benny. As for you Santiago. If you ever ,ever try that stunt again. I swear to God I'll do more than kneeing you in the balls. As for your sisters? Let me call them. Don't want them to think I don't like them. Oh! By the way Garcia. Never mentioned that you had sisters. After how many years we all knew each other!"

After a few more minutes of chewing out santi and benny. Three of you finally made up. Both of them cuddled with you in the canopy bed. Benny did his best to make amends with you. By holding you tight. While Santi kisses your shoulder," I know I screwed again.i should have listened to mama. She told me not to surprise you. Thought I knew what I was doing." Benny tried to thump his head," I told ya too remember man? Didn't listen to me? What do I fucking know? I'm just a young member of the group." You looked at them," I'll try not to get so jealous. I admit it. I have issues with it. Try to work on it. I still love you my boys." Both of them kiss your cheek before turning off the lights.

#triple frontier #writer wednesday #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller and reader #oscar isaac #garett hedlund #channel 2

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 3 years

Text

Playin' With Fire: Into The Flames

Summary: Santiago has some shit he needs to figure out. THE MISSION. Dani has some shit she needs to figure out. Will is an angel. Catfish just wants to get home to his baby. Benny's just along for the ride.

WARNINGS: SMUT(18+), EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, Movie typical violence, people get shot, Tom is an asshole, like straight up, mention of pregnancy, because again Tom is an ASSHOLE.

Word Count: 7,453

At the bar, Santiago was outside waiting for Frankie and Dani. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, They needed to talk, especially if they were going to work this mission together. But a part of him didn’t want them to. He remembered how close they were. He knew he was being selfish. He had her to himself for three years.

He heard Frankie’s chevy long before it pulled into the parking lot. He parked it right next to Will’s. It took everything he had not to run to her. She and Frankie walked up to the entrance, his arm slung over her shoulder. Santi’s heart all but crumbled. Why did this bother him?

“Hey, Santi.” Dani smiled, removing herself from Frankie’s hold. Frankie opened the door for her but didn’t follow.

“I gotta talk to Pope real quick. Go on ahead. Ben’s probably thinking you left the country again.” Frankie told her. She gave him the stink eye, sticking out her tongue. Dani went on inside though because Frankie was right.

Once she was in the building and the door was shut, Frankie turned to his friend. “You’re an idiot.” He blurted out. Santi tossed him a confused look.

“Wh-what?” Santi was surprised at Frankie’s blunt words. Frankie kicked a rock in front of him, frustrated that his friend is being so dumb.

“You fuckin’ idiot. You had her, man.” Exasperated with Santiago, Frankie threw a finger in his face, accusingly. “You fuckin’ had her.”

Santiago scoffed, shaking his head side to side, “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, hermano.” Santi shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans, turning away from the man in front of him.

Frankie’s fingers tightened into a fist. He wasn’t gonna hit him, at least not yet. “I know she’s heartbroken. I spent the last twenty minutes talking about it.” He scoffed. Santiago was not a stupid man, quite the opposite, so it blew Frankie’s mind that he was acting like this.

“Yeah? Did she tell you that it was her idea? That she didn’t want a relationship because of you?!” Venom dripped off of Santiago’s words. He wasn’t trying to hurt his friend, but Frankie had no idea what the fuck had transpired in the last 36 months.

“She did, actually.” Frankie informed his friend. “Pope, man. What is wrong with you?” Frankie removed his ‘standard oil’ cap, running his fingers through his hair. Santiago huffed a breath.

“If you would have just stayed away from Vanessa, you two would be together; She’d be Ellie’s mom. You’re the reason she ran to Colombia with me in the first place!” Santiago’s voice echoed through the empty parking lot. Without a second thought, Frankie's fist collided with Santiago's jaw.

“Oh. I didn’t realize it was my fault you can’t keep your fucking dick in your pants!” Frankie shot back at him, struggling to hold back the anger bubbling inside him. “I know I fucked things up with her, but I got Elena out of it. She’s worth more to me than anything. Don't ever think for a second that anyone matters more, including Dani.” Frankie relaxed his fists, thinking about his daughter. “What do you have, cabrón?”

Santiago let Frankie’s words sink in. He was right. What did he have? Santiago took a seat on the sidewalk of the bar, running a hand down his face, hissing when he rubbed the tender spot on his lip. “Fuck, Fish.” Santiago sighed, looking up at his friend, eyes pleading for help. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Frankie joined Santiago on the ground. “You tell her, hermano.”

“Tell her what? ‘Sorry for sleeping around on you, even though I’m pretty sure I’m madly in love with you. I just wanted to give you what I thought you wanted.’ I mean she’d go for that right?” Santiago rambled.

“Pope, you’ve lived with her, slept with her, and have cared for her for three years. Get your fucking shit together and talk to her." With that, Frankie walked inside to join the rest of the group. He left Santiago sitting there, mind churning over the words they had shared.

"FISH!" Benny yelled as he saw Frankie filter through the small crowd to their table. "Where's Pope?" He asked, and Frankie turned around to see Pope was nowhere in sight. Dani instantly noticed Frankie's red knuckles from where he had hit Santiago.

Dani looked up at Frankie with concerned eyes, "Where is he, Frankie?" She whispered. Frankie pointed toward the door. She shot up from the table, weaving through the crowd and out the door. She found Santiago standing by Will's truck.

"Santi?" She called out to him, causing him to lift his head. She could barely see the blooming bruise on his lip, but she knew it was there. She reached him in just a few short steps, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the gesture, holding her tightly. "Are you okay?" She whispered into his hold.

He didn't answer right away, he just pulled her closer. He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the lavender scent. "I'm okay, beautiful. Don't you worry. Frankie was just knocking some sense into me." He mumbled against her. He was okay, as long as she was in his arms. The two of them stood there for a while, not wanting to let each other go. No other words were spoken, they only held onto the comfort that they had become accustomed to. Dani didn’t even realize she was crying until she pulled away from him, and wet stains were left in her wake.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, wiping her eyes. “Come on,” She grabbed his hand, “They’re probably missing us.” She told him as she pulled him back toward the bar. He let her lead him, enjoying her hand in his. He had to tell her. He halted in his steps, jerking her back into his arms.

“Wha-” She started, but was cut off by his lips on hers. Sighing, she melted into his hold. Their lips moving in sync. There was no rush, but Santiago kissed her with urgency, wanting her to feel the emotion flowing through him. When they parted, she sucked in a breath, her lungs burning for oxygen. She went to speak, but before she could he placed another soft peck to her lips.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that we need to talk before we leave. Promise me, we will talk.” Santiago still held her hand, looking into her eyes as he spoke, “Promise me.” He said again. She nodded, telling him that she promised. With her confirmation, they walk back into the bar with the rest of their friends.

Back at the Miller house, they all stumbled through the door, laughing like children. Dani thought it was nice for them to feel so care free before the mission. She left the guys behind, wanting to shower before bed. Santiago watched as she walked away. He wanted nothing more than to follow her down the hall, strip her down, and make love to her like he should. Instead, he plopped himself down on the couch with a groan.

Will sat himself beside him. “So, Fish clocked you, huh?” He asked. No one had brought up the fact that Santi had a busted lip and Fish had a busted knuckle. Santiago nodded. “Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” Will shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Thanks, man.” Santiago scoffed, “I know I fucked up, okay. All I want is to make it right. But I can’t.” Santi wiped his face. “She deserves so much better than me.” Will shook his head.

“Let her make that choice. You opened that door when you asked her to go to Colombia with you.” Will advised him, “I’m sure Frankie told you this already, but talk to her.” Will slapped him on the knee before heading off to bed. Santiago followed suit, walking down the hall to Dani’s room.

He was wringing his hands as he stood outside of her door. It had already been decided that they would stay with Ben and Will until they left. He knew he was welcome inside, he just couldn’t find the courage to open the damn door. With Frankie and Will’s words prominent on his mind, he raised his hand, landing three small knocks to the wood.

She opened the door, clad in a towel, blonde hair still dripping from the shower. “Santi? Why did you knock?” She asked, moving back into the room to let him in. He walked inside, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, um. I didn’t know. I mean, I thought maybe you’d want privacy, since we weren’t in Colombia.” He fumbled through the sentence. Santiago wasn’t a nervous person. He could shut down, manipulate, whatever he needed to do to complete his mission. When it came to expressing his feelings though, he was a wreck. Dani noticed his change in demeanor.

She sat on the bed, the same bed where they first slept together. “I told you, while we’re here, this is your room, too.” She wanted him to feel comfortable. He just nodded in response, still standing by the closed door. “Okay, what is going on with you, Garcia?” She asked, the words coming out a little harsher than she wanted.

“Can we talk now?” His voice was low, his head even lower as he looked at the floor. She stood up, which caught his attention. His eyes roamed over her bare legs, up to where the towel rested right below the apex of her thighs. He felt his cock stir in the confines of his jeans. No, not now, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, let me just get dressed.” She disappeared into the en suite bathroom. Santiago took the moment to adjust himself in his pants. He needed to tell her with words how he felt, not his dick. She emerged from the bathroom in his Metallica shirt, the same shirt she wore the last time they had sex. She was not making this easy for him. “What’s up, Santi?” She hopped onto the bed, crossing her legs under her, exposing her deep maroon panties to him.

He groaned and turned away from her. “Querida, please. I’m trying here.” His voice was strained. He was fighting the urge to take her right there. He heard shuffling, and she told him to turn around. She had covered herself with the blanket. He mumbled a thank you before sitting on the bed beside her. It was all so familiar. This was where everything had started between them. Santiago couldn’t help but think it was fitting for this to be where it ended.

Dani watched as Santiago seemed to search for words to say. “Dani,” He started. He almost never called her by her name. This wasn’t good. She swallowed harshly, trying to ease the constricted feeling in her throat. “You are, fuck, you are phenominal.” Santiago said, taking her hand in his. “You deserve everything that is good in this world. And I’m sorry I kept you from that.” Tears pricked his eyes. Dani’s breath caught in her chest.

“Santi, I don’t. I don’t understand.” Her voice broke. She didn’t know where he was going with this.

Santiago squeezed her hand. “I was selfish with you. I was so fucking selfish. And I hurt you in return. There aren’t enough apologies that will fix that.” Santiago didn’t cry, but a single tear rolled down his face. “I have to let you go.” He sounded conflicted, and he was. He wanted to keep being selfish, but letting her go, getting her away from him, was the right thing to do.

Dani shook her head, “No. You don’t get to make that decision for me.” She cried, “How do you know what I deserve?” The sadness in her voice tugged at his heart. She moved to sit up on her knees, still holding his hand. “Santi, these last three years with you have been amazing. You are amazing. Why would you ever think anything less?”

Santiago met her eyes. They shimmered in the low light of the bedside lamp. “I’m not capable of being who you want me to be.” He swallowed hard.

“How do you know what I want, Pope?! You haven’t asked me!” She raised her voice, the alcohol in her system affected her volume control. Santiago was sure the whole house heard her. She pulled him closer, grabbing his other hand. “I don’t know why, but I love you, you dope, I would walk through hell and back for you.” She confessed.

Her blue eyes met his brown ones. “You shouldn’t love a man like me, princess.” Santiago protested, releasing her hands to caress her face. Her skin was soft, but wet from the tears. She shook her head side to side, moving her face closer to his.

“Too late,” She whispered before pressing her lips to his. He pulled her closer if it were possible. His lips parted, tongue prying hers open. She instantly gave him access. His hands found their way down her back, to her ass. He gripped the tight muscle, pulling her into his lap. He moved them up the bed with skill as they fought for dominance. The kiss got more aggressive. He was the one who broke the kiss, only to find his way to that spot on her collarbone.

“Santi,” She moaned. He continued his way up her neck, nibbling on her ear, before returning his lips for a quick kiss. His hands hooked her panties, dragging them down her legs, as he moved off the bed. He unbutton his jeans, removing them and his underwear in one go. Once his pants were out of the way, he took his place back between her thighs. She could feel him hard against her thigh. They both knew there would be no foreplay, that this was something else. He couldn’t say the three words that were floating in the air, he didn’t know if he was capable.

Her hands were buried in his salt and pepper curls, leaving love bites on his neck. “Fuck, hermosa. I need you.” He groaned, rocking himself through her wet folds.

“Then take me, Santi.” That was all he needed to sheath himself to the hilt in one swift thrust.

The ride into the jungle of South America was bumpy to say the least. Dani had made herself comfortable in the back with Frankie, almost falling asleep a few times. Santi backed the SUV into the jungle thick, expertly hiding it from the view of the road. Santi gave Dani the bag of comms. “Pass those out.” He instructed her as he gave out weapons. Dani didn’t like the feel of a gun in her hand, she was a healer, not a killer. They separated as they stalked through the jungle up to Lorea’s house.

Dani wasn’t sure why she let herself get caught up in this as she laid between Santi and Tom on the forest ground. The boys were clogging up the comms with witty banter and stupid jokes. She was barely paying attention until she heard Frankie’s voice.

“Pope. Pope, I have kids over here. Does he have kids living with him? Cause that’s gonna make things a whole lot more complicated and is not what I signed up for.” The worry was thick in his voice. Dani only assumed it was because he was now a father himself. Thankfully, she had planned for this.

“The family’s not the problem, Frankie. They’re the answer.” She replied instantly, and Tom gave her a weird look.

Frankie asked why and Pope had a simple answer. Church. “Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday morning, He sends three guards to the 6am service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team, along with the family.”

“That leaves him and three guards in that house with the money. That’s our window.” Dani finished for him.

“Well aren’t you guys fucking cute, finishing each other’s sentences and shit.” Tom snickered into the comm. Dani wanted to punch him.

Will stalked through some brush, making his way to his check point, “Why would he do that?”

“He’s worried about someone taking his kids, and he never leaves his money. Also, I don’t think he believes anyone would have the balls to rob him.” Santiago answered him, chuckling a little at the end.

“That’s probably because it’s a stupid idea.” Dani could hear Will roll his eyes.

Benny broke the silence, “Pope, I got your girlfriend coming up right now. Holy shit, she is beautiful.” Dani clenched her jaw. She told Santiago that she loved him, and he never said the words back. The night of Benny’s fight, she was sure they made love. It was a completely different feeling. They still weren’t officially a couple, she didn’t know if they ever would be.

“I fucking knew it.” Tom groaned, looking over Dani to Pope.

“Fuck off.” Santi growled, not missing the look he received from Dani. Santi knew that he messed things up with Dani. He loved her and instead of telling her, he had sex with her. It was different that time, though. It was more passionate, more meaningful. He knew what he was getting himself into when he started sleeping with Yovanna, but that didn’t stop him from doing it. He just hoped that one day, Dani would forgive him.

“God damn.” Will whispered, “I got an execution about to go down over here.”

“Are you at the tennis court? That’s his spot of choice.” Dani responded, knowing that’s where Lorea liked to do business. The gunshots made Dani jump and Tom sighed.

“We can’t babysit you. If you can’t handle some gunshots, maybe you shouldn’t be out here.” He growls at her. She moves to get up, but Santi grabs her arm. She looked over at him, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't.

“Shit, we got ground sensors here.” Benny’s muttered voice crackled through the comm, breaking up the tension, looking down at his feet.

“Did you hit one?” Santi asked, quickly.

“I’m not sure.” Benny replied frozen in his place. “That stock boy job at wal-mart is starting to look pretty good right now boys.” He huffs out as two guards on motorcycles approach his location, but swiftly turn around. It was a close call; Too fucking close.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.” Will huffed, once it was confirmed that the informant made it out.

The bar was quiet, minus Benny telling some dumb story about how he almost pissed himself. Santiago tossed back his shot and Dani sat quietly, enjoying their company, nursing her tequila on ice. Will asked what the plan was and how Santiago was going to present to the agency.

Santi told the guys the real plan. He wanted to pull the job with just them. He didn’t want to involve the local government. He knew that with his team, they could get it done and take the money for themselves. The guys were pissed.

“Who paid our fees?” Will asked him, and Frankie pointed to Will indicating that he had the same question. They all had the same question.

“It’s complicated.” Santiago told them.

Tom scoffed, “How fucking complicated can it be? It’s a hundred thou-” Frankie stopped him as a group of men walked in. Dani told the guys she was getting the bill. Frankie sarcastically thanked her as she walked away.

“Well fellas,” Benny started, “This turned out to be some full on cowboy shit.” He finished before down the rest of his beer.

The guys moved back to the car. Santi was mid speech when Dani rejoined them. “You may not believe it, but I have spent the last three years of my life trying to make a difference. But it’s a fucking mess.”

“Santi’s right.” Dani spoke and the five guys turned to her. “Lorea has people everywhere. You have no idea what it’s been like for us.”

“Come on, guys.” Santi started, and pointed at Tom. “This man is a goddamn hero and can’t even afford to put his kids through college.” He turned to Fish, “You are the most talented pilot I know and you’re grounded on some bullshit coke rap.” He finally looked at Will. “How many times can your brother get the shit knocked out of-” Benny cut him off.

“I didn’t get the shit beat out of me. I won that fight.”

“Sorry, Benny.” Santi apologized.

“How many more pep talks can you possibly give, man? I’m done. Both knees are shot. That neck surgery I got last year made everything worse.” Dani had never heard Santi sound so hopeless.

“What about her?” Tom asked, pointing to Dani.

“What about me, Tom? You got a fucking problem with me being involved?” She questioned him, wanting to know what his deal was.

“I just don’t see why your involvement is necessary.” He spat at her, crossing his arms.

“This was my fucking plan. I helped with every part of this recce.” Dani growled at him, hands clenching by her side. Santi noticed and stepped between the two.

“Come on, man. I’ve trained her. She helped prep all of this. She’s in or no one is in.” Santi defended her. Tom shut up real quick. “I guess the question is, do we finally get to use our skills to our own benefit and actually change something?”

On the drive back from the bar, Tom had come up with a fool proof plan, “Sunday Soft Hit” he called it. Dani sat in the back with Benny and let the guys talk it out. Tom made it very clear that this was their area of expertise, she was just along for the ride. She watched as rain drops rolled down the window. She really hated the rain.

The next day, Pope had left to meet up with his informant. Dani tried not to let them see how much it bothered her that he went alone. That he didn’t want her to go. She tried to let Benny distract her with his silly jokes, but still in the back of her mind, all she could think about was Santiago.

They met him at a shipping container yard. He had a key to one, pulling open the doors. Santi was prepared for this moment. Every fucking gun, bullet, toothpick was sourced in-country, he was ready to pin this on a local rival gang. Santiago’s informant had come through with the recording of inside the house and promised to get an extra van into the compound.

They had everything they needed; The bird, the extra van, and Lorea confirmed inside the house with the money. Tom was conflicted about the whole situation, and that made Dani uncomfortable. She kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to start another fight with the captain. Tom gave a speech about how they could get out now if they wanted. Dani honestly thought it was touching, but none of them were turning back; The six of them were really going to do this.

“It’s a good thing these guys are so devout.” Benny started, looking up at the sky as the rain poured down, “Our dad used to say ‘when it’s raining, it means God didn’t need us in church today’.” Dani smiled at the comment. She really missed Mister Miller.

They watched intently as the guards piled the family in the vehicle to leave. None of them caught sight of Lorea. The family had left for church, and the informant showed up with the extra van. “Damn, Pope. This lady is a keeper. Punctual, smart, and brave as shit.” Benny spoke into the comms. Dani rolled her eyes, jealousy did not become her, but she didn’t care.

She entered the house behind Santiago. Two of the three guards were subdued easily by the former Delta members, but Frankie shot the third in the knee when he walked up on him and Will. “Eyes out for Lorea. He sure as fuck heard us now.” Santiago groaned, helping Frankie bound and gag the guard. Dani quickly went to work setting off the charges in the security room.

The five men searched the house, but Lorea was nowhere to be found. They were almost frantic looking around the property. “Everyone to the office right now.” Tom growled into their ear pieces.

“What’s going on?” Dani harshly whispered into the comm but didn’t get an answer. Before she could ask again, Santi grabbed her, pulling her upstairs with him. Santiago walked into the office to see his former teammates. They were pissed.

“What the fuck?” Benny was the first to speak, tossing an empty money bag to the floor. Dani looked around the room. Something wasn’t right.

“Lorea?” Tom asked, and Santi shook his head.

“He’s gone with the money.” Will scoffed, dropping into a chair.

“Your girl gave us up, Pope.” Frankie sighed, leaning back against the desk. “We gotta get the fuck outta here.” Dani hated hearing the regret in his voice. What the fuck did she do?

Santi ripped off his hat, “No, no, no, no.” He repeated as he removed his pack. How did this happen? He looked around, distraught written on his face, before taking a deep breath. “What’s that smell like to you?”

Frankie looked up at his friend, “Like a serious fuck up.” Will chuckled at Frankie’s sarcasm.

“No,” Santi shook his head, pointing to the painting equipment by the desk. “Paint.” He scrambled to the nearest wall, running his hand down it, before drawing back and punching hard. Dani watched curiously, wondering if Santi had finally lost his mind. He punched again, breaking through the drywall.

He ripped the debris out of his way, reaching a hand into the wall, pulling out a wad of cash. “La casa es la caja fuerte.” She mumbled, “The house is the fucking safe.” She laughed, picking up on what Santiago had just figured out.

The six of them started tearing down the wall and stacks of money fell out. They quickly packed it into bags and carried them down stairs. Santiago was still concerned about finding Lorea as they pulled out more and more stacks, packing them away. The more money they dug out though, the less confident Dani felt in the situation. Tom was getting carried away, determined that they had time for “A couple more loads”. Benny assured her that Tom never missed a hard out, and here he was, making up some bullshit about a fifteen minute cushion.

“Fuck this. Time’s up, we gotta go.” Will growled, glaring at Tom. Dani finished packing her bag, handing it off to Benny.

“I want one more sweep for Lorea, alright! Then we burn it all down.” Santi all but demanded. “Tequila, stay with someone.” She nodded, and walked into the bedroom with Will and Santiago, gun raised. She opened the wardrobe door and there was nothing but clothes inside.

Suddenly, the whole thing moved, and Lorea shot at her. She returned a single shot, straight to where his femoral artery would be and the man fell to the ground. Santi walked up and fired one, two, three, more shots at him to ensure he was dead. He stood over the dead body, reloading his pistol.

“Fuck, I’m hit.” Dani and Will groaned together, Will dropping to his knees. Will was bleeding from his left side and Dani had a through and through on her left shoulder. Santi whipped around to see Will and Dani both kneeling on the floor. Blood was soaking her shirt, as he charged over to her.

“You’re hit?” Will asked, eyeing her shoulder, and she nodded. “Fuck, Teq. You shoulda stayed home.” He groaned the last word as she put more pressure on the wound. “Get me the clot kit. I’ll be fine” He grumbled.

Santi dug through the bag on Dani’s back, handing her a kit, getting one out for her as well.

“What are we shooting at in here?” Frankie yells as he walks into the room. He immediately notices that Dani is bleeding. “Fuck, Dani.” Even though he wanted to, he didn’t move toward her, because Santi was already there, applying her clot kit.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” Will spoke through clenched teeth, looking at both Dani and Santi.

“Yeah, you did Will. Here ya go.” Dani agreed, wrapping his abdomen with a bandage. She hissed as Santiago did the same to her shoulder. Things had shifted between them. Will had never seen Santiago so attentive during a mission.

“Sunday school’s over fellas. We gotta go. Oh, holy Shit.” Benny says as he sees the scene before him. His brother was bleeding from his abdomen, Dani from her shoulder. He told them that the first shift of guards were back and that they needed to go. The rest of it was a blur. Dani barely remembered getting down stairs, let alone into the van with Frankie. She looked back to the house and it was ablaze. It was over, they just needed to get home safely.

The drive up to the meeting point for the helo was a short one. At least, it seemed short. Dani had gone into shock. “Fish, I don’t feel so good. I don’t think the bleeding has stopped.” She whimpered with her head against the window, the hand holding pressure on her wound was bloody.

“Just hold on tight, hermosa.” She heard Frankie say before everything went dark.

She woke up with someone jostling her. It was Santiago, who was carrying her bridal style out of the van. “Hey, querida. You with me?” He asked, laying her on the ground, her head propped up on a bag.

“I’m here, Santi. I should have some bandages and extra kits in my bag. I brought them in case one of you idiots needed it. Turns out, I’m the idiot.” She laughed as he dug through her bag, holding up the tool once he found it.

“This is going to hurt, hermosa. You want to take a swig first?” He asked, showing her a bottle of tequila she packed just in case. She nodded, taking a generous swig, hissing at the burn of the liquor going down. “Alright, Teq. Ready?” She groaned as he redressed the wound. It would need stitches to ensure it heals decently, but they would have to wait.

“Thank you.” She whispered when he was done. “Let me go take care of Will.” She took the bottle of liquor over to Will. “This is going to hurt like a bitch. You might want to.” She offered him the bottle. He took a quick gulp, before gesturing to her. She shook her head no. She was able to stitch Will up while the other guys loaded the helo. She looked over and saw Fish yelling at Tom as she started working on the stitches.

“If we want to get to the ocean, we gotta fly over the fucking Andes, man!” Frankie yelled about the weight issue. Dani and Will leaned onto each other as they walked toward the helo. Tom groaned about leaving two hundred million dollars on the runway. “Fine! She’ll make it. Let’s go!” Frankie ordered.

Dani was seated in the back of the helo between Benny and Will. Benny was helping her stitch up her shoulder. Dani couldn’t help it but her eyes trailed over to Santi who was staring at Yovanna, the informant. Jealousy and bile rose in her throat. “I’m good, Ben. Thank you.” She looked up and saw Tom staring at her, his eyes dropping to her hand that was splayed over her abdomen, then back to her, with a knowing look on his face.

They dropped Yovanna and her brother across the Peruvian border. Tom escorted them off the helo. Santi joined him with a bag of money and an envelope with documents. Once Santiago was sure they were good to go, they were back in the air. “She’s lying.” Tom said and Santi disagreed. “There’s consequences to this shit. You know what we should have done?” He deadpanned.

Dani couldn’t believe him. He wanted to kill her? After everything she did to help? “That’s one you wouldn’t come back from.” Will attested. Tom just ripped the headset off before moving into the cockpit with Frankie. Santi didn’t spare Dani a second glance as he laid back against a duffle and shut his eyes. She sighed, leaning into Benny, closing her own.

Frankie was constantly watching the gauges on the dashboard. It seemed as if they were going to make it, even with the weight issue. Everything was going smooth until it wasn’t. “We’re red-lining, man.” Santi’s voice was on the headset as he peered over his friend’s shoulder. Frankie was adamant that they needed to lose some weight. Dani heard Tom complain about leaving fifty million dollars in the middle of the jungle. He is going to get us fucking killed, she thought. Frankie shot back, standing his ground, asking if he wanted to make it to the ocean. Tom conceded; Will opened the door so Santi and Benny could throw out some bags.

It seemed to work for a moment. Frankie tried raising the helo up over the lowest peak he could find. There was rapid beeping and the aircraft started jerking. One of the gearboxes blew and the helo started to drop. There was a reason Santi wanted Catfish. He really was the best. He immediately regained control of the craft, maneuvering it so that it didn’t go into a spin.

“I’m losing altitude. We should land. We should land now.” Frankie grunted, trying to come up with a landing plan.

“Crash land here and we all will die.” Tom snapped at him. Frankie gripped the cyclic tighter.

“I’m trying to get her back to flat. There was a farm, not too far back.” Frankie growled back at him, trying to make sure he gets the craft to ground as safely as possible.

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom called the warning over his shoulder toward the back of the helo. Dani had one hand gripped to the wall, the other was attached to Benny’s leg.

“I can’t land with this thing with that net under us. We lose the money, maybe we don't die.” Frankie tried to reason with him, but Tom didn’t want to budge.

“LOSE THE MONEY OR WE WILL ALL DIE!” Fish’s voice boomed through the headsets as he tried to keep the helo steady. “Pull the external load release on the wall!” Dani looked over her right shoulder to the lever. She looked back at Santi, like she wanted permission.

“Pull the lever, Tequila!” Santi yelled, giving her the okay. She pulled it down with a struggle.

Will opened the hatch. Dani took a spot next to him, looking at the net. “It didn’t work!” Dani was terrified.

“There should be a manual override on the cargo hook.” Frankie explained. Benny crawled out the hatch and kicked the handle. The net of money fell to the earth below them. The helo jerked before Benny could climb back in, knocking him further out. Luckily, Will was able to grab him, preventing him from dropping straight to the ground. It became obvious to the man dangling from the floor of the chopper that he would die if it crashed with him barely hanging on.

“I gotta jump!” Benny yelled, releasing the grip on his brother’s arm and tumbled to the ground, just in time for the helo to crash hard. He ran back to the smoking wreckage. “Tequila! Fish!” Benny bellowed as he dodged shrapnel from the crash.

Dani groaned as she moved from where she landed on top of Santi. “You okay, cariño?” He asked her, and she remembered that Benny fell out of the fucking helo. “Benny?!” She yelled into Santi’s face, scrambling to get up.

She stumbled up to the front, where Fish and Redfly were crawling through the busted windshield. “Benny?!” She called again. He kneeled down into view, reaching for her.

“I’m good, Tequila. I’m good. Come on, I gotcha.” He said as he helped her through the broken plexiglass. She crawled out, trying to make sure no one had any lethal injuries.

“Oh, Fish.” She whispered, looking at the nasty gash on his face. She pulled some gauze out of her vest pocket and tried to clean it, but he pulled away.

“I’m okay, Tequila. Tom, they’re getting into the fucking net.” Frankie yelled over her, pointing to the villagers.

Climbing out of the overturned helo, Santiago looked over at Dani who was next to Frankie. Pushing down the bubbling jealousy, Pope asked, “What’s the plan here?”

“Benny cover us from under that treeline there, to the right. Frankie, you and Tequila take the left, while Pope and I go look as peaceful as we can.” Tom paused, “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they probably already have weapons trained on us.” Pope was apprehensive about Dani leaving his side, but he knew she’d be safe with Fish.

“Comms are dead, so we use hand signals.” Pope informed the group before he stepped between Dani and Frankie. He caressed her face before placing a kiss to her lips. He didn't know what had possessed him to do it. They were in the middle of a cocaine field, and they just survived a helicopter crash.

“Be safe.” She whispered where only he could hear. Tom called him away and Frankie grabbed her arm, pulling her in the opposite direction.

Frankie and Dani moved into position on the left hill. She raised her rifle, peering through the scope. “Hey, put the gun down.” Fish told her, “You don’t need to do this.”

She scoffed at his words. “If it comes down to you guys or these people, I will choose you guys, no questions asked.” She trained her eyes back to the field. This wasn’t the same girl Frankie met almost five years ago. She was different, harder. Like the time she spent here changed her. Pope had changed her.

They watched as Tom and Santiago tried to reason with the Farmers. Dani could see through her scope that Santi tried to keep his hands up, away from his weapon; Whereas, Tom’s flitted above the hand gun the whole time.”Frankie.” Dani whispered, “What is that?” She asked him, seeing that one of the farmers looked like they were going to draw a weapon. All she could think about was Santi.

He hated being so far away, even through the scope, Frankie couldn’t get a good look at what was going on down in the valley. “Pope, is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke into the dead comm. Dani moved his hand off the button and shook her head. “Fuck!” Fish yelled, as shots were fired by Tom. He let off one shot before they moved down to the rest of the group.

Dani all but ran down the hillside. “Santi!” She called out for him, seeing him just beyond the bodies. He turned when he heard her voice. “Santi!” She collided with him. “You fucking scared me.” Dani's voice cracked a little. He didn’t speak, he just lifted his eyes to her. She could see the regret, the pain. Santi didn’t shoot, that much she knew.

Was it an avoidable blood bath? Probably not. Who knows though. What they did know, was that Tom fucked up. Santiago sat down with the village leader and was able to pay the ‘debt’ owed and acquire some mules to help carry the bags. Dani knew though, all the money in the world couldn’t replace the men, the family, that those people lost. As they moved away from the small village, Dani took one last look back. Her eyes connected with a young man for a split second before turning around and walking on.

Trudging through the woods was what they wanted to steer clear of, for Will’s sake, but here they were. The six of them led the mules down a beaten path. All of them stuck in their own heads until Will addressed Tom. He asked about the payment for the damage they had caused. Once Tom answered, Will stopped, turning to the man. “Which one of you shot first?”

Tom looked at his former teammate. “I don’t know.” The lie slid off his tongue easily. Dani watched from behind Santiago. Will rolled his eyes, not buying Tom’s shit.

“We need to watch ourselves here.” Will told him, before turning around, leading his mule on. Santiago nodded his head, agreeing out loud with Will’s statement.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tom growled at Santi.

“Nothing. We just have to watch ourselves, that’s all.” Santiago responded, not wanting to stoke anymore fires. They had to get through the fucking forrest. And it t was fucking raining, again. They found a rock formation to hold up under to try and wait it out.

“How far have we gone?” Benny asked Santiago as he looked at their map.

“About twelve clicks. And it’s another day and a half to the boat.” Santi responded, putting the map away.

“How are you holding up, princess?” Tom asked, condescendingly. Dani had been quiet since the farm incident. The other guys shot Tom a look and he just shrugged.

“I’m fine, jackass.” She mumbled, turning away from him, wrapping her raincoat tighter around her.

“You shouldn’t have come out here.” Tom scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m starting to see why Molly divorced your miserable ass.” She gritted through her chattering teeth.

“The fuck did you just say? You want to get personal?” Tom shot back, “Does Pope know you’re knocked up?” Dani stopped breathing, eyes going wide. She could feel Santi’s eyes burning into the back of her skull. “Oh, yeah. I figured that out in the helo. That’s why she looked like a sad puppy while your informant girl was around. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not yours. Could be Frankie’s.” He crossed his arms, and sat back against the rock. Clearly, he was proud of himself.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about Tom. So, shut the fuck up, before I make you.” She stood up and whipped around to face him, ready to throw punches.

Frankie was the one that pulled her back. Tom laughed at this. “God, how is it that you leave the man when he needed you most, running off with his best friend nonetheless, and he is still wrapped around your goddamn finger.”

Dani shrugged out of Frankie’s hold and stormed away into the rain. Shit, she wasn’t pregnant. She had confirmed before they left for the recce. She never would have come out here if she thought she were. She didn’t know how long she stood in the rain before someone touched her shoulder. It was Frankie.

“Teq.” He started, but she cut him off. “Frankie, I’m not. I wouldn’t have-- I wouldn’t be here if I even thought for a second I could be. ” she sobbed. How could Tom just drop a bomb like that.

“está bien, cariño, está bien.” He whispered as he pulled her in for a hug, as her tears mixed with the rain drops on his shirt. “I think you need to talk to Santi.” He mumbled into her hair and she nodded. He walked her over to where Santiago was sitting alone. He looked up when he saw the two coming toward him. Frankie nudged Dani and she moved to sit next to him.

“Were you going to tell me?” He whispered, looking at the ground.

“If there was something to tell, yes. The test I took before we left was negative, I promise.” She tried to explain herself. Santi looked up at her.

“Why would you even come out here?” He mumbled, his eyes falling to her shoulder injury. “Fuck, you got shot, and you were in a helo crash.” Santiago caressed her face, moving his other hand down to her shoulder. “Lo siento, hermosa. I’m going to get you home safe.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to her lips.

Frankie watched as Santi pulled Dani in for a hug, trying to push down the jealousy stirring in his gut. He had his daughter he needed to get back to, that’s what he needed to focus on. Dani lifted her head from Santi’s shoulder, her eyes meeting Frankie’s. What was she going to do?

Translations:

Hermano: Brother

cabrón: Bastard

Hermosa: Beautiful

está bien: It's okay

cariño: Sweetheart

Lo Siento: I'm sorry

Tags: @mylifeisactuallyamess @danniburgh @speakerforthedead0 @221bshrlocked

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tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

nothing could be finer | Santiago Garcia x Reader x Frankie Morales | Part Five

A/N: No smut!!!!!!!!! What is this chapter?!

Rating: T

Warning: Naughty words. People talking about what they’re doing in a relationship. Pope makes Reader cry. Brief making out scene. Frankie is a little bit afraid of these emotions and things. Everyone is afraid of something in this lmao.

Word count: 2,051, apparently!!

Summary: You, Frankie, and Pope talk about what you want this relationship to be.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

GIF credit: @damerondjarin

Tags: @damndamer0n @bisexual-space-slut @justabeautiful-letdown @darksideofclarke @huliabitch @shakespeareanwannabe @woakiees @thirsty-flygirl @mrscrain-x7 @elena-myth @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @mitchi-c @feelmyroarrrr @beautiful-assholes @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @frietiemeloen @himbopoes @jennibradley @goddamndameron @the-bird-suit @thedevilwearsvibranium @lilangeldevil006 @fallingintovoids @lostgirlheather @justrunamok @chews-erotically @jaime1110 @witching-wilds @highlycommendable @damerondjarin @writefightandflightclub @demoncrypt1066 @clydesducktape @mistermiraclee

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Something was different when you and the boys went back to your apartment.

It was fine for a bit; you were laughing and flirting with each other, all delightfully tipsy, and then you looked at your phone and noticed how late into the night it was.

You hadn’t talked about whatever this was between the three of you and you didn’t know what was going to happen now.

Were they going to stay the night again? Was one of them going to stay and one of them going to go? Were they going to walk out then one or both of them would talk to you more, wanting to do this again? Were they going to walk out and never care to talk to you again?

That wasn’t even your insecurity talking so much as you genuinely didn’t know if this was just a one time thing where you were letting loose and having fun.

You were sitting on the couch between them with some sitcom playing on the television that you weren’t paying attention to, knee bouncing as you picked at your nails because somehow you were still terrified to ask what they wanted.

Frankie loved you and this was solidified as he reached over and gently squeezed right above your knee. “You okay?”

You opened your mouth as if the words would tumble right out if you let them, but you hesitated.

The laugh track on the television was distracting, and Pope’s eyes were glued onto it, and you knew you needed to communicate about this or somebody was going to be hurt.

Leaning over, you grabbed the remote and turned off the television.

Then you sat back in silence for a long moment as both men stared at you before you quietly asked, “What are we doing?”

Neither of them said anything at first and it made panic rise in you, and, fuck, maybe it was your insecurity that made you wonder if they’d walk out and never want anything to do with you now that they’d had their fun.

But then Frankie was running his knuckles up your arm, looking you over and meeting your eyes with a smile.

“You know how I feel, baby.” He leaned in to kiss you slowly, bumping his nose against yours playfully when he pulled away from you.

“I love you.” You ran your thumb over the little bit of hair that covered his chin.

When you turned to look at Pope, there was an odd look on his face that he quickly erased when he noticed your gaze on him, but he still wasn’t saying anything.

You moved your hand to his cheek, turning his face more towards you, making him look into your eyes. “Where are we at? I love you, Santi.”

“I don’t love you.”

The words were said so quickly that you barely took notice of how unsure they sounded, pulling away from him like he’d slapped you across the face. Your hand fell into your lap and that was where you cast your gaze too, tears quickly filling your eyes.

“Oh,” was all you said, voice trembling slightly.

Frankie was pretty sure his heart broke with yours, mostly for you and a little bit for himself, and his dark glare landed on Pope, ready to beat the shit out of him if this was all just for sex.

Pope almost looked scared, his wide eyes bouncing between your broken form and the way Frankie looked like he was about to straight up murder him. He decided it would be best to address you and then maybe the daggers in the other man’s eyes would go away.

His hands moved to gently cup your face, pulling you up to look at him.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? Oh, shit, oh, fuck, please don’t cry.” He moved his hands down to smooth over your shoulders, trailing his fingertips down until he touched your knees. “You know I care about you so much, right, sweetheart? I’ve never...I don’t do this shit, you know?”

You knew. He was one of your best friends, so you knew he did his best not to be this close to someone, this attached. He used sex as something to distract himself and now whatever this was was so much more than that.

It still hurt, that he didn’t love you, but it eased somewhat to know he wasn’t just using this as a moment of fun.

You reached out and pressed your hand over his heart, your eyes on his chest making you miss the soft, adoring look in his. “You’re safe with me, Santi. There’s no pressure, but…”

Frankie, relieved to know Pope wasn’t using you as another one of his distractions, met the other man’s eyes worriedly when you only started to cry more.

He still wasn’t the best at dealing with crying people, but he loved you so much that he seemed like an expert as he sidled up to you and turned your face to him. “Hey, hey, baby, if this is too much…”

You smiled at him gratefully and gripped onto his wrist to gently lower his hand, intertwining your fingers. You looked to Pope, your other hand moving to him and he hesitated slightly before copying the way you were holding Frankie’s.

“I love you both. I don’t like the thought of being without either of you and...and if it’s too much, then I totally understand, but what if we...I don’t know. Could we all be something and figure this out together?” You looked between them, hopeful and yet sure they were going to tell you it was disgusting, or shameful, or a bad idea.

“I love you.” Frankie leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, a teasing smile on his lips, “If I need to put up with Pope for you, then I will.”

A soft laugh fell from your lips as you leaned your head against his and then you both looked over at Pope. He looked like he was trying not to smile himself, looking at Frankie then finally smiling when his eyes landed on you.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t try.” He didn’t think you would dive into his arms like that and he fell onto the couch with a grunt and a slightly pained groan.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt your neck?” You pushed yourself up to look him over with concern in your eyes.

“No, but now I’m gonna need surgery on my ribs.” His tone was laced with joking pain.

You kissed him quickly and then moved off of him. “So we’re really doing this?”

Your joy was obvious and, fuck, Frankie loved you so much and Pope was pretty sure he never wanted to see you cry ever again.

Frankie answered your question by pulling you into the kiss you sweetly on the lips, again and again, smiling as you moaned into his kiss; this was because of him and because Pope had leaned in after a moment to suck on the side of your neck.

That was his answer.

You wanted to kiss both your boys to celebrate the start of navigating this relationship so you turned from Frankie to kiss Pope, who slowly pushed his tongue into your mouth.

You felt Frankie starting to pepper soft kisses along the other side of your neck and you reached up to push your fingers into his hair.

The three of you went like that for a bit, Pope’s hand rubbing at your inner thigh as Frankie timidly, gently groped your breasts, but you didn’t do anything beyond that since this moment was so much more.

Someone turned the TV back on at some point to an Addams Family marathon and you were pressed between Pope and the back of the couch, your feet in Frankie’s lap as he ran his fingers up and down your legs.

Pope was snoring softly and you giggled, pressing your nose into the back of his neck and gently kissing his scar.

Frankie squeezed your leg and spoke softly so as not to wake the other man, “Hey, I need to go so I can shower for work tomorrow.”

You were honestly dozing slightly yourself with how cuddled up you were to Pope, which you realized as you took a moment to look up at Frankie. “You don’t want to shower here?”

“You’re beautiful and I love you, but people are gonna ask questions if I smell like you.” He moved out from beneath your legs and grabbed his jacket off the arm of the couch, pulling it on.

You wiggled away from Pope slowly to be sure you didn’t wake him, walking with Frankie to the door and smiling against his lips as he kissed you.

He kissed you once, twice, again and again your lips pressed together gently until he chuckled out that he really needed to go; he didn’t move, though, one of his hands gripping onto your hip to keep you close.

“Will I see you?” You scratched through his facial hair, noting the way his jaw clenched and he leaned into your touch.

“I can come over when I’m done at work if you want. Don’t let him overstay his welcome.” He nodded to the man who was now taking up most of the couch since you weren’t behind him and he wasn’t sitting next to him.

“You know I’d keep you both here all the time if you’d let me, right?”

“I know.”

You straightened the lapels of his jacket, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes he’d been staring into for a long time. “I really do love you, okay? Thank you for agreeing to try this out with me.”

“I love you and...with Pope, it’s like…” There was longing in his eyes, mixed with a slightly frightened confusion, and you gently stroked his chest.

“We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready, baby.” You kissed his chin and he smiled.

“I really need to go now, but I’m gonna text you tomorrow when I’m off.”

“Maybe I should text you something naughty to remind you.”

His hand slid down to quickly squeeze your ass before he pulled away, opening the door and looking back at you with a smile, then walking out.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and giggled like a teenager who was asked out by a boy they liked, but when you turned around and saw how sweetly Pope was sleeping, you knew that squeezing sensation was love and not simple infatuation.

Walking to the couch, you grabbed the blanket off the back of it and gently put it on Pope, kneeling down in front of him to press a kiss to his lips.

He was a deep sleeper who was apparently easy to wake with a kiss, blinking at you sleepily.

“I didn’t fall asleep,” he said, even though he was still dozing.

“It’s okay, Santi. You can stay tonight.” You ran your fingers over his curls.

“I’m sorry I made you cry. I fucking hated that.” He was obviously sleepy and you did your best to hide a soft giggle.

“I understood once you explained, baby. I only cried because I thought maybe this was just sex to you.” You kissed him again then stood, turning to look down at him when he grabbed onto your wrist.

“It’d never just be sex with you.” He stared up at you honestly though he was still half-asleep, his thumb rubbing the inside of your wrist.

“Thank you.” What else could you say when you were about to cry from how sweet he was?

He released your wrist and then promptly fell back asleep anyway, so you turned off the television and walked into your bedroom, changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed where you smiled to yourself.

You loved both your boys so much.

Frankie seemed as in love as you were and maybe Pope was not in love yet, but you thought maybe he could be?

You were happy that the men you loved wanted to try out this relationship, and you were going to do your best to show them how much you loved them both.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier x reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

Text

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Three

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing

Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. Also I am not a native Spanish speaker, so I am sorry for any mistakes! *Cutie

Summary: It was hardly the first time Frankie had hinted at the possibility of something between yourself and Pope.

“I get that he’s frustrated, I mean, fuck, I am, too, but we can’t just jump on every single bust Diego throws our way,” You said into the phone. “Well he didn’t hop on this one,” Frankie pointed out from the other end. “Right, because I was able to talk him down. If he hadn’t listened to me, who knows what the hell might’ve happened?” “There’s no need to worry about the what-ifs, Q. C’mon, you’re both in one piece.” You sighed, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. You’d kept in contact with the team when they’d returned home, and you’d grown closer to Frankie since you’d started working with Pope. He and Pope had been the close to one another, so Frankie understood acutely what you went through with him day-in and day-out.

“Look, Pope’s got his impulsive moments, but he’s not an idiot. And he trusts you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t hold your opinion so highly,” Frankie added. You were quiet for a few moments, considering this. You and Pope spent most of your days together going over data, fragments of recorded conversations, picking apart stories from less-than-reliable leads; you were in one another’s faces all the time. You drove one another crazy sometimes, but at the end of the day, Santiago looked to you for your expertise. It had been your skill that had found the doctoring in Hernandez’s photo, and it had been Pope’s trust in you that had kept him out of that bust.

“I guess so,” You conceded begrudgingly, glancing toward the office door. Pope hadn’t been in, and you weren’t sure he would be, but you weren’t sure you wanted him walking in on this particular conversation. “I mean it’s not all the time, obviously,” You added, “but when things go wrong, I mean especially with that...Fucking Isabella situation...Ugh.” You meant that both ways. “Sure you’re not jealous?” Frankie asked lightly. You tipped your head forward, frowning as if he was right in front of you. “What? ... Frankie,” You warned. “It was just a thought!” He laughed on the other end. “Yeah, well, I love you, but it was a bad one, *chulo.” It was hardly the first time Frankie had hinted at the possibility of something between yourself and Pope. It wasn’t that you didn’t find Santiago attractive. When you’d first met in the service, you’d felt some... Pull to him. But at the time, you were determined not to get mixed up with any of the guys that you worked with. You’d slipped up once or twice, but never where Pope was involved. Even if Frankie hinted at the two of you being a ‘good fit’ almost every single time the two of you spoke, you were resolved not to go there. These past two years had shown you a completely different side of Pope than you’d known in the service. You’d seen him at his brightest moments and at his breaking points; he’d seen you at yours. You didn’t want anything to change the relationship the two of you had developed. While it felt like you never saw the guy for anything but work, you knew that there was no one in the world that you were closer to. You didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Jealousy over Pope’s ... Flings? Trysts? Whatever they were-- with the informants he used would definitely do that. So whenever you felt even one unwelcome, unwanted, ugly feeling about it creeping up on you, you’d just slap it down. It was like emotional whack-a-mole. Not that you’d ever in a million years tell ‘Fish that you felt jealousy over those incidences (because hey, was it really jealously if you only let it last, like, ten seconds?). “Did I lose you, Q?” Frankie asked. You cleared your throat. “What?” You asked. “I said, ‘I’ll keep my thoughts to myself next time’.” “No you won’t,” You chuckled a little. You glanced back as you heard the door open. “I got a ‘Fish on the line,” You said, smiling at Santiago. “Gimme,” Santiago ordered, holding his hand out for the phone. “I’m passing you off to Pope,” You warned Frankie before holding the phone out for Santiago to take. “Hey, Frankie,” Santiago’s face brightened instantly, and you couldn’t help your smile at the look on his face. You turned your attention down to the coffee maker. “Make me some for me, too, would you, Reina,” Santiago leaned in to murmur against your hair before he stepped away to set his things down at the desk. You rolled your eyes a little bit, choosing not to respond as you added more coffee grounds to the filter. You let yourself zone out as Santiago dipped into Spanish. Your ear caught on every few words, but you weren’t really paying attention; he knew better than to gossip about you in English or Spanish when you were nearby. You poured yourself and Santiago steaming mugs of coffee, adding two sugars to Santiago’s. You set his aside for him before you picked your mug up, blowing on the coffee lightly to cool it. “Frankie had to go, his shift was starting,” You heard him say as he came up behind you. He tucked your phone into your back pocket before he leaned against you, resting his hands on either side of you on the counter. “You’re not gonna drink your coffee?” You asked as his forehead rested on your shoulder. " ‘m gonna let it cool down,” He muttered. You reached up, lightly scratching the top of his head. “You alright?” You asked gently. “Fine.” He lifted his head, nudging his nose against the hinge your jaw. “Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” He murmured. “What did you hear from Diego?” You asked, seeing right through his flattery. Pope groaned, straightening up and leaning back against the counter after picking up his coffee cup. “He’s bringing in a specialist. Someone that he worked with on the Benavides bust a few years ago.” You frowned. “Benavides, that was Lorea’s... Godfather?” “Ten points to Gryffindor,” Santiago nodded as he brought his mug up for a sip. You rolled your eyes. “That’s not my house and you know it,” You grumbled. “Anyway,” Santiago went on, “Just...” He pushed a breath out through his nose, turning his head to look at you, “I just wanted to give you a heads up that someone else is gonna be around, you know? We’re gonna be expected to share our intel with someone else.” “... I think this is bothering you more than you thought it would bother me,” You said carefully. Santiago’s jaw clenched, and he looked into his mug. “This isn’t the worst thing in the world,” You added, “We can always use another set of eyes on something.” “Our eyes are just fine,” Santiago grumbled defensively. You looked him over for a moment before you set your mug down and turned to him. “Come on,” You held your hand out to him a hand out to him. “What?” He asked. “I think a spin around the office would do you some good.” Santiago’s face broke into a smile then. “No, it’s alright,” He chuckled, “But I appreciate the offer.” He pushed away from the counter, heading for his desk, and you sighed in relief. Thank fuck. You really weren’t in a dancing mood. Tag list: @justanotherblonde23

#Don't Treat My Love Like a Habit #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Pope Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia/Reader #Santiago Pope Garcia x You #Santiago Pope Garcia Imagine #Santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia Imagine

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

Text

Envious Desire - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie and y/n are good friends and are both too shy to admit their feelings to one another, until she starts getting herself out there and Frankie can’t keep it together anymore.

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, swearing, fluff

Masterlist

Another request by the amazing @peterhollandkait

A/n: this picture is totally Frankie sitting on his porch just having an existential crisis and overthinking every word he ever said to you.

The night Benny introduced you to the boys was the night your life turned around for the better. You’d been by yourself eating ice cream on the couch for the fifth night in a row after your best friend had moved out of the country. You seemed inconsolable now that your partner in crime had started a boring adult life full of responsibilities, the horror. Ah yes, your plans for that night were set in stone; cry, eat some more ice cream, drink the worries away, rinse and repeat. That was until your front door swung open wide, Benny and Will standing next to your couch.

“Go awaaaay”, you whined, pouting your lips.

Will grabbed the tub of ice cream from your frozen hands, your mouth agape in shock. Before you could scold him for it Benny ripped the blankets off of you, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Come on princess, we’re gonna paint the town”, he laughed, carrying you to his truck.

“Miller I’m in my fucking pyjamas”, you protested, fists banging on his back.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ve got it all figured out. Besides, where we’re going you’re not expected to really dress to the nines”, Will teased, touching the tip of your nose.

And they were right, when you walked into the event dressed in one of Ben’s flannels and a pair of baggy jeans nobody so much as turned a head in your direction.

“Are you fighting tonight?”, you interrogated your childhood friend as he guided you backstage.

“You betcha, had to bring my homegirl out for the big one”, he joked as he slapped a poster with his name on it.

You rolled your eyes as he slipped into what you presumed was his dressing room, crossing your arms over your torso as you stood in the empty hallway.

“I’m telling you Benny’s gonna get knocked on his ass”, a tan man taunted, his arm around Will, another man trailing behind them.

Will smiled upon seeing you, running ahead of his friends to scoop you up in a bone-crushing hug. “You look so tiny in these”, he cooed as he eyed you up and down.

You punched him square in the bicep, laughing along with him. “At least introduce me to your victims for the night”, you said pointing to the two other men.

“Ah yes dearest y/n, let me introduce you to Santiago Garcia and Francisco Morales, your soon-to-be best friends. Lads, this is our little damsel failing to cope with emotional distress.” He announced as he ruffled through your hair, landing him another slap.

During the fight you’d gotten to talking with the two, soon learning that Frankie and Pope (which is what they liked to call Santiago) were friends from their days in the army. The three of you had gotten along great from the get go, to the Miller brothers’ delight.

From that night on you accompanied the boys to almost everything, spending your Fridays drinking at Santiago’s and most of your Sunday’s barbecuing in Frankie’s yard.

This Sunday was once again spent in that exact yard, where you’d made some of your greatest memories in the past months. You’d convinced Frankie into showing you how to operate a grill today, to his dismay.

“Please just put them on, just to be safe”, he begged, handing you a pair of ridiculous gloves.

You put them on with a sigh, trying to stop yourself from smiling as he grinned at the sight of your tiny hands disappearing into the material. “What now?”

“Stand right here and hold this in your right hand”, he instructed, guiding you into the right spot by putting his hands on your waist. He handed you the spatula, further instructing you how to flip the patty.

“Oh this is easy! I’m a fucking natural”, you beamed, flipping the patties with ease.

“Don’t get too cocky now, these are just the basics”, he warned.

You’d continued on doing this for another ten minutes, Frankie’s hands regularly resting on yours to guide you. “Okay, okay, I’m getting waaaay too hot here!”, you giggled shaking the gloves off of your hands. You wrapped Frankie in a hug from behind. “She’s all yours again Fish!”

With that you left to sit with the others, leaving him completely red and flustered, the hue of the fire masking the blush on his cheeks.

“Just ask her out already”, Will chattered, handing his friend another beer.

“Not a fucking chance”, Frankie replied, skillfully flipping the meat over.

William sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. “She’s gonna start tindering again. Come on man, you know you like her.”

“I wish her the best of luck. Let’s go, dinner’s done.”

The night was filled with great food and hilarious conversation. When Benny told you about how Santiago had ripped his pants and needed to run around with his bare bum on one of their missions, you choked on a piece of your steak. Cackling and coughing away as Frankie worriedly hit you on the back a couple of times before offering you his beer. You gratefully took a sip, quickly wiping your mouth before getting caught in another fit of laughter. Frankie smiled as he looked at you, hunched forward, clutching your stomach as some tears started to form in your eyes at the intensity of your giddiness. William offered him a knowing look, mouthing a ‘just do it’ before returning back to the conversation.

An hour later the set of brothers left, needing to be in good shape for Benny’s training tomorrow. You were glued to your phone screen as the two men emptied the ashes from the grill, absolutely forbidding you to help. You had a sad smile on your face as you kept swiping, gauging Frankie’s interest.

“Hey, you okay?”, he asked softly, sitting down next to you on the back.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, my friend just sent me some pictures”, you breathed out, fingers shaking ever so slightly.

He moved a bit closer. “The one that moved away?”

You rubbed your hands up and down your bare arms. “Yeah, I’m really happy for her though. I’m just not as important anymore as I used to be, she has her husband for that kind of stuff now”, your voice was laden with emotions.

Frankie pulled you into his side, wrapping an arm around you. “That’s alright, you have us idiots to take care of now. And if you get Santiago and me drunk enough we’ll totally come to girls’ night.”

You let out a soft chuckle at that, nuzzling further into his side, feeling safe and confident in his warmth. “Would you let me paint your nails?”

“Okay, now you see, there are boundaries”, Santiago chimed in, taking a seat on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you.

“My boys”, you smiled, wrapping an arm around each of them. “I have work tomorrow, so I’ll see myself out now.”

After you and Pope had left, Frankie was left alone with his thoughts. He’d started picking up the empty bottles strewn across the lawn until he found the sweater you’d been wearing earlier. He picked it up as it laid there, forgotten. It smelled of your perfume and made his breath hitch as he caught a whiff of it. It was getting harder and harder for him not to fall for you. Every time the two of you would meet you’d spend increasingly more time with one another, sneaking off from the others under the disguise of a boring chore. During these little moments the two of you got to know each other more and more and he came to the realization that with everything he learned about you, he only fell harder. If it wasn’t for his crippling fear of rejection and commitment (thank you very much ex-wife), he’d have asked you out already.

The thought of you kept following around everywhere he went and he decided it was time to speak up about it. So Friday night, while he pulled into Pope’s driveway he practised once more.

“Hey y/n. I know this is quite sudden but I think you’re really pretty and- no that’s stupid.” He sat up a bit straighter. “Y/n, I know we’ve been friends for a while now but I can’t stop thinking about you- no that’s creepy. Just fucking talk to her instead of your fucking self.”

With his heart beating in his throat he knocked at the door, smiling as his friend gave him a hug. Letting go he glanced around the room, seeing everyone else but you. He frowned, assuming you must be arriving later.

“Take a seat man, game’s only just started”, Benny yelled from the couch, patting the spot beside him.

Frankie grabbed a beer from the table before sitting down. “Where’s y/n, she okay?”

“Sorry man, your little girlfriend has a date with Bradley”, William teased.

He launched a pillow at his friends face, shaking his head. “She’s not my girlfriend, malo”.

“You sure would like for her to be though”, Santiago mocked as he wiggled his eyebrows at Fish.

“Can we just all shut up and watch the game?” Benny meddled. “Yeah? Great, next one to say something stupid can pay for pizza.”

The bunch was back to their usual antics when the doorbell rang a couple hours later. Since Frankie was the closest he’d gotten up to open the door. Laughing until he saw you standing there, in a beautiful dark green dress, hair and make-up perfectly done.

“H-hi”, he croaked out.

“Caaan I come in?”, you questioned, darkened lips quirking up into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah of course”, he chuckled, mentally beating himself up for staring at you as long as he did.

“Bradley wasn’t the one?”, Santiago asked from the kitchen, already getting her a beer.

“I have never in my life met someone so daft. Seriously it was like his head was empty, ridden of anything except the ability to stare at my boobs.”

The guys laughed, Frankie laughed along, a wave of relief washing over him. You went to sit next to him, slipping off your coat to reveal your almost bare back, making his eyes go wide with surprise. He couldn’t ask you now, it would be wrong to put that on you after your.. eventful night. Yeah, it wouldn’t be right, Sunday during the barbecue, that would be perfect.

Except you didn’t show on Sunday or at Benny’s fight or the next four gatherings. Until one Sunday you did, all dolled up once again. While it looked really nice on you, Frankie preferred you the way he was used to you, a simple shirt and jeans, occasionally a skirt. This just wasn’t you.

“Well hello there boys, I hope you don’t mind me bringing a plus one”, you declared, a slick-looking guy standing behind you. “This is Mark, the guy I’ve been seeing.”

Well fuck. Frankie took a big gulp from his beer, disappearing into the house while muttering something about getting more drinks. He grabbed a pack of beers from the fridge, slamming the door shut, groaning in frustration.

“I know Fish, we didn’t know she would bring him either”, Will spoke, taking the beers from his friend’s shaky hands. “It’s not like they’re that serious anyway, c’mon let’s get grilling.”

That night you didn’t share the bench with Frankie, you shared a fucking chair with Mark. Sitting on his lap with your arms hanging around his neck. He felt sick to his stomach watching you with him, laughing and having fun. It should’ve been him holding you, it should be him kissing your cheek. You should be with him.

When he went inside to put the plates away, you quietly walked behind him. He nearly threw them when you spoke up, startling him. There it was again, that blinding smile.

“Sorry Fish, didn’t mean to scare you”, you giggled, engulfing him in a tight hug.

He hesitantly put his arms around you, trying to bite back the jealousy that had settled into his skin. “So Mark huh?”

“Yeah, it’s our fourth date, figured I’d see how y’all got along first”, you explained while grabbing the dish soap.

“He’s really not your type. So vain and work-obsessed”, he scoffed, turning the faucet on.

“Hey! He’s a nice guy, very smart too”, you bit back.

“I’m aware, he told me about his degrees six times already. Real fucking catch. Did he buy you that ‘dress’ too or was his dick good enough to reel you in?”, he spat out.

“What the fuck Francisco. Listen to yourself! Is there a problem?”, you panted, shocked and hurt by his words.

“Oh no, not at fucking all. Just keep whoring yourself out for him, showing up in skimpy dresses and bimbo make-up!”, his voice was laced with anger, but not towards you. He was furious with himself.

You broke out in sobs as you left his kitchen, not bothering to talk to anyone as your ran past all of them. Frankie was letting out a string of curses as he ran after you, but was stopped by Benny before he could reach you.

“What the fuck did you do?”, he warned as he looked Frankie directly in the eyes.

“Get. Him. Out.” He ordered, pointing a finger in Mark’s as he tightened his jaw and closed his eyes.

The measly man scurried away, not wanting to get involved in whatever this was. Frankie had to count to ten, twenty even before opening up his mouth again. “I fucked up.”

“You don’t fucking say”, Santiago growled grabbing his jacket and turning to leave.

“Fix this. If anything happens to her, I’ll have your fucking head”, Benny threatened, grabbing his friend by the collar. “She’s like a sister to me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll find her, I promise”, Frankie vowed, his eyes and stance softening.

As soon as the guys left he was calling you, over and over again, leaving voicemail after voicemail, pleading, begging for you to let him know you were okay. He only got more worried when he looked through the window, seeing a flash of lightning before feeling the familiar rumble of thunder. It was pouring rain outside and pitch black, making it almost impossible to see anything. He sat on his front porch, squeezing the phone in his hand at an attempt to keep him somewhat grounded. Only when it started buzzing violently did he look up.

“Y/n! Are you okay?”, he asked frantically, already running over to his pick-up truck.

“I-I don’t know”, you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He started the engine as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Are you hurt? Send me your location so I can pick you up.”

“I don’t know where I am”, you huffed.

“That’s fine, just text me your coordinates, I’ll come get you”, he instructed, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

There was some white noise coming from the other side of the line and soon Frankie got your exact location.

“Okay, got it. I’ll be there soon okay, try to get out of the rain. Please querida, stay right where you are”, he begged.

You didn’t reply before hanging up, your mind spinning and the tears streaming down your face. You sure looked a mess, black streaks of mascara running down your face, soaked dress glued to your body. Time didn’t even seem real anymore as you sat on a fallen tree trunk, staring intently at the rain splashing down on the road in front of you. When a car pulled up and you heard a door slam, you were pulled from your own head.

“Hey, hey. It’s me, everything okay?” He lifted up your face, locking eyes with you, heart pulling at the sight of the black streaks on your face. “Come on, let’s get you out of the rain”, he urged, already drenched to the bone himself.

“Frankie, I don’t want to hide anymore. I just need to do this and if you never want to talk to me again then I understand.. but I just need to know”, you voiced, hands shaking with nerves.

“W-what are you talking about, come on hermosa, you’re shivering.”

“Francisco.” He looked at you, intrigued by the use of his full name.

You grabbed his face, pulling him towards you to smash your lips against his. He didn’t know what to do, just utterly shocked by your sudden action. As you pulled away, he put his hand on the back of you neck, bringing your mouth back to his. You both smiled, your shed tears mixing in with the rain.

“Let’s go home, please, you’re shivering.”

He took your hand in his as he lead you back to the car, opening the door for you and quickly running over to his side before getting in. The two of you stared at each other for a second before leaning over the console to meet in another heated kiss. He pulled back, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Let me take you to my place, please.”

After you’d agreed he’d started the car, turning up the heating all the way as your lips turned a dark shade of blueish purple. He’d held your hand the entire car ride, scared to let go, fearing you might just disappear if he did. Once you arrived home he provided you with a pair of joggers and a shirt of his, leaving you alone to take a warm shower. He himself had changed in the comfort of his room, quickly drying his hair with a random shirt from the laundry basket.

He smiled when you walked out, hair damp and face bare. You looked adorable in his shirt and absolutely stunning overall. “What about Mark?”, he jested.

“I totally ruined his dress”, you joked.

Frankie walked over to you, resting his hands on the small of your waist. “I’m sorry hermosa.. When I saw him holding you like that I just freaked out. What I said back there- I – it wasn’t me, it wasn’t Frankie. I was jealous.”

You gently laid your head on his chest, burying your nose in his shirt. “I know, that’s why I brought him. I just needed to know if you felt the same way.”

“You’re an evil woman y/n”, he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I should let Ben know that you’re okay, if I don’t he’ll come over here himself to kill me.”

He picked up his phone from the dresser, but you took it from his hand. “It can wait, I want to catch up on some lost time with my boyfriend”, you mused.

“Now that does have a good ring to it”, he smiled, lips brushing past yours. “Buuuut you won’t have a boyfriend if I don’t call him.”

“Don’t tell him about this just yet.. I want to see the look on Pope’s face when I kiss you.”

He shook his head at you, smiling in adoration as he pressed the phone to his ear.

That Friday you were jittery as hell, your nerves getting the best of you. You’d managed to keep you and Frankie’s relationship a secret, waiting for the perfect moment. When the two of you arrived together none of the guys thought anything of it.

It wasn’t until Frankie handed you a beer and you’d kissed him, muttering a ‘thank you babe’ against his lips that the guys noticed. Their faces scrunching together with shock and confusion.

“Dude… no way”, Pope began, breaking the tense silence.

You pressed another kiss to Frankie’s lips, eyes watching Benny as he shook his head. “I swear if any babies come from this, I’m going to absolutely lose my shit.”

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #imagine #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader

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