#Santiago Garcia hurt comfort | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

penvisions · 7 months ago

Text

the melting point {chapter 19}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: Time passes and heals a lot of things, while others are discussed as the wedding gets closer. Frankie sees the stress weighing down on you amid it all and plans something special…

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, fluff, light angst, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is partially handicapped, reader has mobility issues, adult content, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m recieving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, serious conversations, alcohol consumption, alcohol, mentions of past trauma, ptsd, nightmares. that seems to be it, but let me know if i've missed anything!

A/N: as we see this penultimate chapter, i just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who read, liked, commented, and shared this fic that holds a special place in my heart ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“We’re going on a trip. Cleared it with your doctors and ensured them we would keep up with your stretches and daily mobility exercises. Does…does that sound okay?” Frankie is making dinner, busy at the stove as he stirs the contents of one pot and keeps an eye on the other. Simple, today, after you had gone to work a shift at the bakery, and he had been in the air since before the sun rose. Lex was in the living room doing her homework, the tv on but muted to allow her to work easier.

You were at the table, having set it up for the meal and now on your laptop answering emails. You look at him over the top of the screen, about to question him when Lex trots in and all but shoves herself into your lap and puts a piece of paper down across your keyboard.

“Mama Pastel, I don’t understand this.”

“Is this your way of asking for help?”

“Alexia, manners, please. Did you ask Pastel if you could sit in her lap, her legs are still very tender sometimes.”

“Yes, papa.” She barely resists the urge to roll the very same eyes peering over at her. She turns to you with a smile so sweet your heart melts. You wrap an arm around her, holding her in place as you shift your legs to hold her weight more evenly. “Mama Pastel, can you please help me with this, it’s fractions. Also, your legs can hold me, right? I…I feel like I need to be close to someone right now.”

“Of course, mija, my legs are always strong enough to hold you. Fractions are no fun, huh?” You smile over at her father, something he catches before he turns back to finish dinner as you lean down to rest your chin over her little shoulder. The soft murmuring of you helping her with the page fills the room, and it’s enough to make you yearn for everyday to be this easy.

But just last week, Frankie had had a rather alarming nightmare, his mind replaying the events of his hearing. He had woken up in a sweat, frantically wiping at his face to rid himself of the white powder he had been indulging in right in front of the judge. You hadn’t been in bed, which further spiked his overwhelming panic. Searching through the whole house to find you sat behind the wheel of your truck, hands tight on the steering wheel as you bowed you head and sobbed. You had a nightmare of your own, dreaming of driving and loosing the feeling in your legs and crashing. You hadn’t said anything other than that, but Frankie read between the lines. You were afraid of hurting them, of causing them injury with the potential for your limbs to suddenly be numb to your control.

“What are we having for desert?” Lex asks as Frankie announces dinner is ready, turning off the stove tops.

“Little Pastel, that’s what you’re turning into.” Frankie pins her with a raised eyebrow, his eyes meeting yours behind her as he settles the pots in the middle of the table on trivets.

His lips are twitching as he tries to tame a fond smile in order to chastely parent. Though you can see right through him, worry and love for his daughter outshining the reminder to be kind and respectful because he knows it’s a reminder that she’s comfortable around you enough to push into your space and seek you out in the ways that she has been. It’s been a little better since she returned to school, feeling more like herself and doing better in crowds. She had even asked to go on the winter fieldtrip, a weeklong thing at a conservation center down South toward the coastline. You had both agreed it would be good for her, even more so since she seemed so excited. But needed her therapist to sign off in the idea before a decision was made.

“Better than little Catfish!” She fired back loudly with giggles that only increased in volume as you tickled her sides and asked her what was so wrong with being like her daddy.

“He’s so good to us, we should both wanna be more like him, I think.” She squeals as she fidgets in your hold, trying not to lose her balance still in your lap. But you don’t let her fall, you wouldn’t dare. You look up at him and offer him a bright smile he can’t help but reflect back before he says to dig in before the food gets cold.

“Thank you,” You wound your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him as his hands helped to guide you into a comfortable position against him. Nestled in between his outstretched legs, you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. You moved to do so to the other side, but he dipped down and captured your lips fully with his own. You had been doting over wedding plans when he had found you in bed, papers and brochures and an open laptop scattered all around you.

“No need to thank me, sweet girl. Want you to be comfortable. You okay with this, not too much pressure on your hips?” His hands were light on you, helping to support you as you stood on your knees over him. But you didn’t answer him with words, instead you planted yourself right over his lap, grinding down on him. The deep groan he graced you with was swallowed by your willing mouth, tongue lapping at his lips to catch the lingering taste of something sweet he had eaten.

“Q-querida, we- you sure this is okay?” Despite his cock stirring in his boxer briefs, his worry for you softened your heart further and you felt adoration for the man beneath you fill your chest with a jittery feeling. You had been lingering, staying up late to greet him after his double, triple flight tour day. It had been marked on the communal whiteboard in the kitchen for weeks now, a reminder that he was still the only one working.

“Frankie, I need you. It’s been so long.” You’re suddenly desperate, having been alone all day. Caring for and totting Lex to and from school, making dinner with her, getting her bathed and settled into bed with a fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer and a bedtime story. You longed for the days to feel just like that, the shadow of Frankie all around the house, in her smile, her laugh, her sparkling brown eyes. Her love for you as strong as the love you had for him and for her in return. The ease of domesticity stirring something in you, making you feel like your skin was too tight and Frankie was the only one who could help abate it.

“I-I want to…”

“Just, let me sit on it. Please, carino, I need to feel you inside me.” You can’t help the whine of your voice, the scent of him fresh from the shower and dressed only in his underwear laid across the bed too much of a temptation.

“Fuck, you can have anything you want, just want you to be comfortable.”

“I will be, once your cock is nestled as deep as it can go, filling me up, stretching me. God, Fransisco, your cock is so beautiful, so thick and hard, and perfect. You’re perfect to me, for me. I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” You panted against his lips, kisses smothering the words into his skin, his lips, his scruff, the column of his neck. Hands trailing down and releasing him from the fabric.

“Dios mio, mija, you’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

“Let me show you what kinda mouth I’ve got.” You push down further to rest over his shins, hips hinged as you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his weeping head. His hips stutter up, chasing the feeling of your warm breath as you pull back to relieve yourself of his large shirt you had stolen before settling in bed to wait for him.

It’s slow, despite your desperation for the man you loved, the way you take him fully into your mouth and lave at the velvet hardness of his cock with your tongue. Taking him as deep as you could before bobbing your head at a savoring pace. His thick fingers tangle into your hair, gathering it into a mockery of a ponytail to better see your face.

Hallowing your cheeks, you look up at him through your lashes and groan around him at the wreckage you’ve caused. His mouth is hanging open, plush lips wetted by his tongue and puffy from your barrage of kisses. Beautiful eyes blown wide as he takes in the image you create between his legs, blush high on his cheeks as he feels the slight scrape of your teeth along his length. He’s still so warm from his shower, smelling of his woodsy and homey soap. But he chokes on his next breath as you dive down, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you close your eyes to revel in the feeling of him thick and hard in your mouth.

“Get up here,” He moans out, hands letting your hair fall from its loose hold. You readily pull your mouth from him, making sure to lick a firm strike up from his heavy balls to the sensitive tip before moving up to straddle his waist. He shimmies from his underwear completely, shucking them to crumple at the end of the bed along with all the paperwork you had hastily piled together.

His cock nudges against your inner thighs and you take him in a gentle hand to line him up properly while he latches a mouth around your breasts, free from the flimsy camisole you had on just seconds ago. He bites down on the hardened peak as you sink down, slick arousal making it easy for him to stretch you. A wonton moan at the feel of him after so long catches as he grazes that soft, spongy spot at the perfect angle and your hips rock forward suddenly. His hands wrap around your ribs, grounding you, keeping you upright even as you arch at finally sitting flush, hips to hips after what had been nearly six months of being cautious and careful. Nearly six months of waiting and pleasuring each other in other ways.

“I’ve got ya, sweet girl. Just take your time, we’ve got all the time in the world for you to feel good.” He rumbles, voice gravel as he presses kisses all along your neck and chest, nipping at the soft weight of your chest, your lips, your cheeks. Everywhere he could to sooth you while you adjusted to feeling so full once again. “Gonna make you feel good for the rest of our lives, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, lifting up slightly before sliding back down his length with an obscenely wet sound. His lips capture yours and you hook your arms around his neck, beginning to move against him to spark pleasure across both your bodies.

It was winter, the new year just having passed, Alexia sent off on her fieldtrip, leaving you and Frankie to each other for the entire week.

Open road is stretched in front of you, the tires below you moving quickly and devouring it as quickly as Frankie would allow. You were busy in the passenger seat, one of his hands on firmly on the wheel while the other moved the piece of paper in your hand to get a better glimpse at it over his dark aviators.

“I think we should keep it small, even if the city has rallied to help us.”

“Yeah, I don’t want a huge thing, its already going to be in the paper. An article in the magazine.”

“We can ask them to not do that, if you really want.” He smoothly drifts into the fast lane to pass a slower work truck laden down with a trailer full of yard work machinery, shifting back into the slow lane as soon as he’s passed them and had enough room to safely do so before he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. The flowers, the venue, the caterers, the photographer, everyone one of the local businesses had offered to either donate their services or severely discount you for the event. Wanting to make sure you both had everything you needed or wanted for the momentous day.

It had honestly shocked you, when you discovered just how much the people around the city appreciated your efforts during that fateful last day of the farmer’s market. Offering your shop to those seeking shelter in the chaos, the people you had stopped to help if they were bleeding or limping from the rushing crowds as you searched for your own people amidst it all.

“No, I think…I think it’s nice to have some good publicity for the bakery.”

“Did…did you pick out a date you wanted?” You paused, looking out the window as you felt your heartrate pick up and your nerves spark to life. It was beyond sappy, you realized, but the particular date you had in mind seemed to work out perfectly with all the vendors, with family needing to fly in or travel, with a break for there to be coverage at the bakery and Lex’s school out for the summer…

“I wanted to pick one that meant something to both of us so…I was wondering if the date we first met was okay with you?”

“Sweet girl, that’s…that’s perfect. I was thinking it but didn’t want to influence the decision if you already had your heart set on something.” His hand curled tighter over your thigh, dull fingernails making light marks in your skin.

He helps you out of the truck at the next gas stop. His hands strong around your waist as he makes sure you have both feet on the ground and your cane in hand before he dips to kiss you cheek and lets you loose to make your way into the building. The giggle bursting from your lips and the slight float to the skirt of your dress has him feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he makes sure you have no trouble along the small distance. Someone is exiting just as you approach the door and they do a double take at the sight of your tattoos on display and the flattering form of the dress over your skin, holding the door open for you and saying something you seem to reciprocate.

Frankie busies himself with hooking the gas pump into the tank’s opening and looks up to watch you amble through the store through the wide windows, the guy who held the door open doing on the other side of the pump. You’re slow in your movements around the few aisles, taking in all of the sweet and savory options. But you make sure to grab a dr. pepper and a cherry coke. Mini powdered donuts make their way into your hand holding the drinks to your chest before you approach the checkout.

“She’s a looker, man, good on you.” Comes from the other side of the pump before a vehicle takes off.

“Frankie! I got snackies!” You hold up a plastic bag the second you’re back out the door, shaking it slightly before grimacing and halting the movement, realizing it would make the drinks fizz up. “Oops, my bad.”

“Sweet girl, what did you get us to munch on? We’re only about half an hour out at this point.”

“And where is it we’re going again?”

“Nice try, querida, but it’s a secret. I think you’ll really like it.” He pressed the tip of his index finger to your nose as you enter his orbit. Hand moving to take the cane from you and place it in the truck exactly where you preferred it. It was a beautiful thing, sleek carved wood stained a dark, espresso brown. The hand coated in silver cast to look like blooming flowers to ensure your grip is secure and travel down a few inches. The tip of it capped with rigged silver as well to help with steadying your uneven right side.

He takes the bag from you next, setting it down in the middle of the bench seat, the center console pushed up to create more room for you to cross your legs while you went over stuff. It wasn’t the best position for you to be sitting in for long hours, but you argued it was one of the few ways that brought relief sometimes so he let you do what you thought was best. He had put his foot down and gotten stern with you though, saying that if he noticed it was doing more harm than good that he was going to ask you to try and sit another way.

Truth be told, Frankie would carry you for the rest of your live if you would allow him to. Should you need to be off your feet altogether. A custom wheelchair having been ordered to replace the generic one the insurance company had covered for immediate use after your surgeries. It had been a long conversation, one in which both of you had shed tears during. But the agreement was that it would be stored in the downstairs closet and brought out for longer trips, hospital visits that would take more than a quick pop in and out to ensure no uncomfortable and hard waiting room chairs caused harm, and days where the errands piled up.

While you were recovered from the surgeries and dealing with the trauma of what happened, your legs worked as well as they could. Though the already replaced right one tended to go numb at random intervals the doctors could only explain as part of a degenerative disease that had probably been undiagnosed before the first shooting. The left often got a tingling sensation, sciatic nerve sensitive on both sides making it hard for you to get out and about some days.

Working full time had been another conversation, safety rails installed with the help of the guys all around the house should you be home alone. The showers in the two bathrooms you used were set to be remodeled with ledges for you to set on should you want to, the tubs to be replaced with shower stalls and a fancy tub of your choosing to be put in the master one attached to yours and Frankie’s room.

He worried about the stairs, something that took a longer conversation in which you admitted to feeling like you were flipping his whole life upside down and ruining the home he had carefully curated for him and his daughter. His solution had been as simple as breathing, as loving you: turn the guest room and laundry room into a new downstairs master, expand the kitchen to accommodate the laundry room equipment. The money it would take had caused you to break down, even if Frankie hadn’t batted an eye at the arguably large sum it would require.

Will and Benny had argued that two cousins of theirs that resided in Texas was more than willing to make the trip to oversee the project. They had readily agreed to absolve the labor and graciously discount the materials as long as their flights were covered, and they had a place to stay as for the duration.

You had briefly talked with Joel about it, equal parts meek and steadfast on certain aspects of the project. Insistent that they would be able to stay in the apartment above the bakery. You had promised you didn’t want to be difficult, but the man’s deep twangy voice had assured you that you had every right to be since it was for your comfort.

Trees got thicker on either side of the winding road as the elevation hiked up. Deep in a forest of some part of the northern portion of the state. Somewhere you had no idea of, the GPS on the truck shut off and Frankie leading the vehicle with just the inner workings of his mind. The truck was moved into second gear and the engine rumbled loudly as Frankie continued to drive. He had shut off the radio to concentrate, something you did often as you drove to new places for the first time. A pleased smile pulling at your lips as you discovered things about him that you shared.

Turning off the paved road, the tires crunched over a gravel one as he continued on. You were leaning out of your seat to try and better see the glimpse of bright blue off aways between the trees.

“Almost there, sweet girl.”

“Frankie, what in the world did you plan?”

He just chuckled, jostling your thigh in his grip before removing it. You were about to turn to him when you heard the hum of conversation and laughter through the open window. The gentle splash of water trickling in the background as he rounded one last curve and began to pull up the drive of an impressive looking cabin. It was all dark tones with neutral accents in the form of a large patio that shifted into a deck, stretching out onto a decent sized lake. The water sparkling in the sunshine and temporarily stunning you.

“About time, Fish! Mante, watch this!” Benny hollered as he ran down the length of the deck that jutted out into the water and leapt from the edge of it. Balling up, he made a spectacular splash into the pristine water, causing it to splatter all over the girls lounging on the bank. Morgan and Luciana only laughed as Benny bobbed up to the surface, wiping the water from their skin and turning to wave at you from their spots. Will and Santiago were over by the grill, trading laden down plates with of cooked and raw items from a long wooden picnic table set up right in the middle of the covered part of the deck that doubled as a large patio off the side of the cabin.

“Figured the water would feel good on your hip. Got you a set of trekking poles if you want to hike, but there’s also plenty for us to do around the cabin if you don’t feel like it. Whatever you wanna do, sweet girl.”

“Don’t be hoggin’ the woman, primo.” Santiago sidles up to the passenger door, leaving Will to handle the grill on his own. His sunglasses pushed up into his hair as he reached through the open window to brush an errant wave of hair away from your face and behind your ear. You feel warmth blossom in your chest at the endearing move, grateful for the man that he was and the part he had become in your life even if it had been more than bumpy since meeting him. “Let’s get the week started! C’mon, Fish can unload the truck. I’ve got your favorite beer in the cooler waiting for you, hermosa.”

Before you move through the door Santiago opens for you, you lean over and take Frankie’s face in both your hands to kiss him deeply. Your hands trail down the thickness of his neck to rest atop his shoulders as you scoot across the long bench of the front seat, the center console pushed up. You hook your arms around them to scoot closer to him, pressed your chest flush with his. Tongue licking into his mouth, you sneak your hands into the back of his shirt dip them below his belt and grope at skin beneath. Hoots and hollers rang around the open space hidden in the trees, making your heart soar to be around so many friends, around Frankie.

He seems a little star stuck as you scoot out and walk arm in arm with his best friend toward the hub and bub of the deck, taking a moment before he pushes himself from his won seat behind the wheel and follows suit with a shining grin.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime @peppermintfury @tuquoquebrute @readingiskeepingmegoing @christinamadsen @heareball @soft-persephone @vivian-pascal @undercoverpena @undercoverpena-fics

61 notes · View notes

pimosworld · 3 months ago

Text

Someone like you(tba)

Pairing-Ex-fwb Santiago Garcia x ofc, Joel Miller x ofc

Summary- After a tumultuous years-long friends-with-benefits relationship with Santiago, you decide you’ve had enough of the uncertainty and lack of commitment. Seeking stability and genuine affection, you meet Joel Miller and he’ll make it his mission to show you what love is supposed to feel like.

CW-18+, MDNI, NSFW, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, abandonment issues, healing, longing, smut, a case of don’t know what you had until it’s gone. Joel Miller appreciation, multiple pov between reader, Santiago and Joel.

A/N- Reader has a name and a nickname, hazel or haze, but otherwise is a blank slate, no body descriptions or ethnicity. I don’t have a set number of chapters yet ( please let me know if you would like to be added to the Taglist)

My other wips looking at me like this 👀

#triple frontier au #tlouau #santiago garcia x ofc #joel miller x ofc #joel miller smut #santiago garcia x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #triple frontier x fem reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #santiago garcia smut #pedro pascal characters #will miller x fem!reader #joel miller tlou #ex fwb Santiago garcia #joel miller fluff #santiago pope garcia angst

85 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 9 months ago

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Six (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Hope you like this one. Weirdly it's one of my fave chapters. (I love Frankie, you'll see.) Slightly shorter chapter this time. The angst continues (I’m so sorry... but also I'm really I'm not sorry at all, yk? :P)! As always, I would be super, super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way, and I'm so touched that anyone would even consider reading this far along in the story! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.7k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Santiago watches you go. Feels the violence of you being snatched from his side like a wound.

He feels lost for a moment. Paralysed as he watches you retreating, barging by Frankie and Will and Benny in the doorway; most of the boys - barring Tom- having mobilised downstairs. They are soldiers, after all, and so they can sense a conflict. They look like it too. They look primed: to assess, attack, defend. Defend you. Always was that way. That’s all Santiago ever wanted too.

“Hey. Hey, hey. Come on. What is all this?”. Frankie attempts to soothe as you hasten your approach across the sand, towards the refuge of that doorway. As though Santiago is an earthquake and you must take shelter from him there. “Come on,” he calls out to the two of you, indiscriminately. And then, to Santiago only. “For fuck’s sake, man. You care about each other.”

Santiago can’t move. He desperately wants his feet to move after you but he can’t seem to get them to cooperate. Can’t seem to get any sound of protest to birth from his throat. Can’t seem to bring himself to stop you from walking away. Just like last time. Maybe he thinks he knows what’s better for you, and so he dare not try.

Instead, he watches as Frankie futilely tries to smooth things -to slow you down - but on your approach he must see little chance of reconciliation in the folds and caving of your face, for he lets you barge right by him. You slip clean by Will on the porch too, and just past Will’s broad shoulders, Santiago can see his brother spinning on his heel. Launching himself to follow you back upstairs. To offer you the comfort you deserve after the wounds you didn’t. The wounds he has created by telling you the one thing he’d always feared himself.

That there was no hope for the two of you.

God. He had simply tried to love you, but how could he reach out to you softly when his hands are so lethal? How could he hold you, when all he ever did was hurt?

He huffs a sharp breath out of his nose, cursing at himself under his breath. His heart is hammering in his chest. There is a ringing in his ears. Guilt. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Guilt most of all. Santiago watches dissociatively as Frankie beelines across the sands for him, not to comfort, he thinks, but to blame. It’s all he deserves, isn’t it? Maybe, but he feels exposed out here, alone on the sand, so he too mobilises towards the house. His head down and his pace purposeful, face locked in a grimace, as though perhaps he too could somehow slip by unnoticed, despite its guarded perimeter. Even though the whole squad is primed for damage control. Even though he’s flagged as the danger. The wrecking ball, the shell, the strike, threatening to bring this house to its knees.

He’s done worse.

He had wanted better for you.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit, man,” he spits to Frankie - without looking at his buddy as he rounds on him, attempting to get in his way and slow him down. Santiago doesn’t like to feel caged in. To feel small. Vulnerable. He rasps the palm of his hand down over his mouth and chin. “Fuck.”

Santiago reaches the porch, still ignoring Frankie, and moves to pass Will too. But, his old captain is having none of that. He pushes Santiago back firmly - heel of hand to shoulder. “Why don’t you leave it?” he warns, the words frothing between his teeth. Santiago still does not look up, his face a snarl, trying once more to shoulder barge and bypass his way into the house. “No, no way.” Will stands taller, knocking him back, practically looming over Santiago now.

Santiago looks at him this time, in accusation. He squares off to him, tension writhing along his jaw, Will bearing down on him with all the weight of his bulk and presence and his track record.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Frankie placates from behind him, and Santiago feels the man’s hands settle on his tense, packed shoulders. He quickly shrugs them off. “Let’s take a walk. Let’s take a walk.”

“You fucking kidding me?” Santiago bites, his breath raging through his nose.

“Take a fucking walk, Garcia.” Will orders coolly. The shorter man’s jaw writhes, tension rippling through his body, but he doesn’t plan on going toe to toe with Captain Miller. He knows that wouldn’t end well.

Frankie tries again, planting his hands once more on Santiago’s shoulders and twisting him away from the porch. Santiago still hasn’t looked at the man. He can only feel him there. This quiet, calming presence, reflecting the grotesqueness of own anger back at him. Forcing him to face himself in the mirror. “Let’s take a walk. Come on, hermano. Take a walk.”

Santiago rips his gaze and head away from Will and with an unbecoming grunt begins pacing it down the long strip of beach, adrenalin still piping into his veins. His body shaking, tremoring, and fists clenched by his sides. “Can you believe her? I’m just so… fucking-” He growls.

And still, Frankie is behind him, in his PJs and sliders and just shoving him forward, palms planted on his shoulder blades. “Walk, man. Just fucking walk. Don’t talk. Move your legs.” Santiago tries it one more time, tries to twist around but Frankie just shoves him onward again, keeping pace behind him. He sticks with him, despite the huffed breaths and snipes and everything else. He walks him like a fucking dog until the adrenalin has burnt off. Until Santiago feels only jitters through his weak legs. Until he feels a pit open up inside and swallow him. Until he can carry himself no further away from you. Until he realises that no matter how far he walks he cannot run from himself.

“You cooled off now, huh?” Frankie manages to soothe, even with the bitter lime-wedge bite in his tone. “Okay. Okay.”

Santiago crashes.

“Fuck, Frankie.”It is as though he turns to sand, knees buckling and dropping to a crouch, burying his face into his gently tremoring hands. “Shit.” He scoops up a handful of sand, tossing a tiny grit storm into the air. “Fuuuuucckk.” He crests, and he sags back on to his ass with a sorry thud into the sand, his legs spread and knees drawn up. He rests his elbows on top of them, his head sagging down in between his legs and his fingers lacing behind his neck. He looks like he’s protecting himself from debris. From the aftermath.

To his side, Santiago hears Frankie sigh deeply, and he plonks himself on the floor beside his buddy. Santiago squirms performatively to dismiss the circles Frankie’s broad hand smooth into his shoulder, but he is eminently glad when his friend doesn’t quit. He needs this. Someone who won’t give up on him.

Frankie’s robust voice is a comfort too, yet he can still hear some judgement in it. Knows it is coming. Still, generously, Frankie allows Santiago a moment. A breathing cycle before he must face another onslaught. “Hey. Hey, come on.” He pats his back more firmly, and Santiago just sits, tears piping freely down his cheeks.

There is a groan around a bitten lip, and Santiago finally looks. Finally looks to see Frankie softly shake his head from side to side. Something is coming. Santiago can guess what. It’s somehow always his fault, isn’t it, and so he should expect the onslaught? Frankie’s voice is deceptively soft, but he always strikes in stealth. That’s where he does his best work. He applies another couple of slow, forceful pats to Santiago’s back, before scrunching his hand into his t-shirt and jostling him, perhaps as though he could shake some sense into him once and for all. “I don’t get it, man,” Frankie intones. “Isn’t she everything you ever wanted?”

Santiago closes his eyes, the final smattering of tears beading in his long lashes. “I don’t know why I can’t…” His shoulders tug up as he sucks in a steadying breath and promptly releases it again, digging his closed fists into the sand before him. “I don’t. I just…” His eyebrows leap up in distress as he wrestles with the complexity. “I want to. I want to, but she’s better off without me. She doesn’t deserve all of my bullshit.”

“I don’t think she’s once tolerated any bullshit, hermano, least of all yours.”

Santiago sees what his buddy is trying to do, but Santiago shakes his head forlornly from side to side. “I wouldn’t be good for her. Wouldn’t be good enough…”

Frankie clicks his tongue. “She wants you. Don’t patronise her by thinking you know better.”

“No. It’s too late. I fucked it. I… Shit.”

Frankie’s voice drops an octave. “I’ve been patient. But I’m tiring of your fucking excuses, man.” He does; he sounds tired. Everyone, always so tired of him. “Look ahead with me for a minute, alright?” Frankie gestures with a sweep of his arm through the air, as though Santiago could fix on a vision of the future before him. Instead, all he sees is a black, rolling sea, fringed with frayed white lace. A round disk of mellow light shining down through the night. “What do you see in your life? Christ - what’s your endgame? Getting shot in some fucking ditch?” Frankie swats Santiago’s arm with the back of his hand when he receives no reply, the man instead looking wistfully out over the water, his eyes as soft as the moon. “I asked you a question. So answer me. What’s your endgame? If you can’t even say it aloud, I can’t fucking help you.”

“Her,” Santiago breathes, without looking away from the water. “Her. You know it is.” He scratches nervously over the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so in love, man. So gone for her I can’t fucking think straight.”

“Right,” Frankie nods firmly, looking at Santiago unblinkingly from beneath his lashes. “So what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

“I can’t just leave everything, Cat. Walk away and-”

“-Can’t you?” Frankie smacks the back of his hand definitively against his own open palm. “I did. Tom. Will. She did.”

Santiago actually scoffs then, as if something is funny. “Yeah. Yeah, Cat,” he concedes, pushing himself up from his hunched position in the sand, voice oddly taut. “You did.” Frankie stands with him, his chin raising as he defends from whatever low blow Santiago has brewing, a healthy dose of cynicism dripping from him already. “You did, and fucking look at you. You’re all a goddamn mess. A hot steaming pile of shit.” His eyes tighten with resolve, a solemnity shrouding his sharp features. “I can’t do that to her.”

“Fuck you, man,” Frankie revs. “I’m good. I have a little girl on the way.”

“Oh, please. Give me a break.” Santiago slices his hand through the air. “Tom’s eyes are fucking hollow. Selling fucking condos?” Frankie’s eyes flash with a rage and a sadness that seem to cancel each other out at first, and so he can all but listen as his buddy winds up his tirade. “Will - fucking Captain Miller - this burly bastard walking on eggshells because he’s afraid of flipping that switch and blacking out again. He choked a man out, no flag on his shoulder. Lost the love of his life. I thought those two were it, man. You’re scraping by on lines and don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Frankie’s head ducks down then, and he lets out an undone noise, something between a protest and a whimper. “Fuck, even Benny. The fucker gets beat to shit for fun. Do we sound fucking healthy to you, Cat? Is that how good it is getting out?”

Frankie’s breaths are turbulent now. Santiago can see the familiar look of restraint on the man. Nostrils flaring, brow drawing down. The dark, formidable edge behind Frankie’s quiet exterior barely kept in check. He meets his gaze and he almost looks battle-drunk. On the offensive and ready to do whatever it takes to get off the backfoot. But, he reins it in. Swallows it down. Until all he delivers is a march forward, pacing Santiago backward, his finger jabbed into his chest and his words snarling directly against his cheek. “Fuck you, pendejo. You think you’re any better than us?”

Santiago lets him have it. He’s not sure he has any fight left anyway. Isn’t sure he’d mind anymore if he got punched down into the dirt.

“No. No, I don’t. That’s exactly my point.” Frankie searches his face, the knife in his keen eyes blunting to a wet sheen as Santiago lays it out in a small, fractured voice. “If you can’t do it, how in the hell can I make a go of it? I’m not the best of you. I’m so fucked up. I’ve got all this… fucking baggage. My mom. The nightmares. Lorea. The blood on my hands. I can’t be ‘it’ for her. I can’t. Because she deserves better. Deserves the fucking world, man.”

Frankie clamps his hands down on Santiago’s shoulders, drawing back to look him squarely in the eyes. “Guess what? You’ll be fucked up in or out, trust me. But you may as well be fucked up with fewer bullets grazing your vitals daily, no?”

Santiago shakes his head as if getting “out” is simply impossible. “I’m doing something, man,” he mutters, as if he can’t muster the strength to believe his own line anymore. As if all his old mantras are dead. Washed away in the sand. “I’m trying to do something down there.”

“This mother’s homeland bullshit again?” Frankie really does sound eminently tired. Trust Santiago to hit on an argument within an argument, right? He can always twist just about everything. “Wake up call, Pope. You can’t fix it. You don’t even care if you fix it. You just want to keep fucking running.”

Santiago tears away from Frankie’s grip, pacing in a small circle. “Fuck you.”

Frankie raises his palms in the air. As if he really is about to give up. What does he do if every one of his best friends gives up on him, Santiago thinks? “Fine. Whatever. That’s your shit, not mine. But look at it this way. You tell me you can’t walk away from that life. Look me in the eye and tell me this. You okay walking away from her?”

“She walked away,” Santiago spits, even though he scarce believes it any longer. Yes, you might have walked away. But he was the one who ran. “She was the one who-”

“-I don’t care!” Frankie yells, quickly losing patience, waving his palms of surrender around. “I’m tired of this. Shit - I do not care about these little technicalities. Yeah. Okay. She left, right? She moved on, Santiago. Moved along the road. Life is moving on. Don’t blame her because you’re standing still, cabrón.”

Santi shifts his weight from foot to foot, swipes his palm back and forth over his mouth. “Fuck you, man, standing still my ass.”

“Oh, what?” Frankie retaliates. “You can come at me but I can’t come at you?” Santiago’s expression is stark, all straight lines and angles and shadowed planes. “You stayed and for what? To spite her? To prove yourself right? Jesus, Pope. Lorea has you chasing your tail. You’re going round in circles. You fuck your problems away but you wake up and, hey, guess what? They’re still there. Still a big steaming stack of turds in the corner.” Santiago curses under his breath, spitting insults and deflections, but Frankie is undeterred. “And the worst thing is, you could fucking have it! You could have everything you want! What the rest of us wouldn’t give for that, pendejo.”

“Right, yeah. Thanks for that assessment. I’m just a fucking chump, is that it?”

“Hey, look. It’s you. I’m just saying what I see.” Frankie’s mouth curls into a tentative smile, yet the blow dealt by Santiago’s stony expression manages to dull it.

“Asshole.”

“Whatever. I’m done helping. You don’t want her? Fine. You don’t have to change a thing. Can drive her away all on your own, I’m sure.”

A hard swallow bobs down Santiago’s corded neck, and he chews on some words before offering them up. “And if I do? Want her?”

“If you do? Then, Christ. Stop moaning about it like a little bitch and do something about it.” Santiago’s face sours all over again, and Frankie holds his hands up once more in surrender. “I’ve tried the softly, softly approach, man. We’ve all got our own shit going on. It’s past time for a fucking intervention with you.” Santiago writhes his jaw, but there is no further protest from him. Eventually, he concedes with the barest of nods. Frankie braces his arm on his shoulder, his expression growing wistful. “I just want to see you happy, man. I gotta know that some of us can still be happy. Of all of us? She fucking deserves it. And, look. You deserve it too, alright?”

Tears ball in Santiago’s eyes. It’s been a long time since he felt like he deserved to be happy. A very long time. He concedes, with the barest of nods. “It’s… I’m….” He chucks out a breath, frustrated at his lack of ability to get his words out, his mouth and brows pinching together.

“What? Spit it out.” Frankie gives his shoulder an encouraging jostle.

Santiago looks him in the eyes, about to level with him. Perhaps upon seeing the vulnerability there, the pilot’s eyes soften. “I’m fucking… scared, man.”

Frankie’s eyes tighten with a wistful mirth, and his hand slips up to curl around the back of Santiago’s neck in a brotherly embrace, emotion flooding the cracks in his grit-flecked voice, making it warm and robust. “Santiago. Idiota. The way she looks at you, man? You don’t have a damn thing to be scared about.”

Tears glisten in Santiago’s eyes once more, and Frankie draws him into a tight, enclosing hug. Santiago lets himself collapse into it, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s broad, slender torso. After a few moments, and an extra squeeze for good measure, Frankie draws back, still cupping the nape of his buddy’s neck.

“Cool down and come back to the house okay?” Frankie encourages, eyes needling Santiago for an answer until he nods. “Look. You okay?” He nods again, more adamantly this time as Frankie soothes him, dipping his chin down and raising his brows to hammer home the seriousness of his inquiry. “Yeah? Not gonna do anything stupid? Santiago?”

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

Frankie drops his arms, evidently feeling somewhat reassured. Yet, with Santiago, the fact that he promises not to do anything stupid bears repeating. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll take a walk,” Santiago nods, his face drawn down into stern lines. “I’ll come back to the house.” He regards his friend, his eyes still painted with concern.

Santiago frowns. Scratches the back of his neck. “Listen. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Frankie grins, an element of deflection in it. “I’ll be okay.” He bumps Santiago in the shoulder with his fist. “Fuck you though.”

“Yeah. Sounds about right. Listen, we gotta talk soon, huh?”

The smile drops from Frankie’s face as he contemplates being the one placed under scrutiny. “Yep.”

Santiago shuffles from foot to foot. “Will you…”

“Yeah,” Frankie reassures. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

“Love you, man,” Santiago calls, as Frankie turns on his heel.

He calls back over his shoulder, walking a few backward paces. He comes to a halt a few metres from his friend. “Yeah, I know. Love you too.”

“And… I’m sorry.” He had no right to drag Frankie’s shit into this.

“Yeah. I know that too,” Frankie revs. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be if you ever say shit like that to me again. I’m too old for this bullshit, man.” Still, Frankie shrugs, indicating no hard feelings. “Anything else you want to say for yourself?” He juts his chin up. Watches Santiago struggle with the words, but allows him the time to pattern them out.

“She said she wants to fucking marry me. Can you believe that? But… I’m not that guy, Cat. I’m not the picket fence guy. I…” A frown layers over his already stern face, and he gazes intently at a spot in the sand, mid-way between them. “I don’t want to be the guy who… ruins her life.”

Frankie inhales deeply, letting the whole gust of breath go in one, puffing it out through his pouted mouth. He looks far too tired for this. “Fuck, I don’t know man. You’ve got so many hang-ups I could use you as a coat rack. But that doesn’t mean you’re not loved. And that’s enough, no? Picket fence doesn’t suit you? I don’t fucking know.” Frankie shrugs, palms tipped up towards the sky. “Shit. Have whatever kinda perimeter you want. Just -for Christ’s sake - make sure you put her on the right side of it. Don’t keep shutting her out.”

“That’s some deep shit, Cat.”

“Not just a pretty face, cariño.”

Santi grins.

“Now, are you done? I gotta fucking sleep.”

Santiago nods, and watches as Frankie begins to turn away again. But, there must be something in Santiago’s face which causes him to think better of it. Instead, he surges towards the man, cupping the back of his head in his hand and planting a kiss to the middle of his forehead. The frown lingering there disappears. “I love you, asshole.”

There are several things which bear repeating when it comes to Santiago.

“I know.” Santi stares intently at his feet.

And, finally satisfied, apparently, Frankie seems willing to leave his buddy to it - granting him a moment to contemplate things alone. To contemplate you. To contemplate his words of advice.

Santiago feels grateful for Frankie. Even feels bolstered for a moment, until he realises that what he’d assured him might not be true. That even a love that feels too abundant to bear? That it is not always enough. After all, you’d told him as much, hadn’t you?

His love wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Frankie walks away.

Santiago will have to decide if he’s going to do the same.

Or maybe he’ll run.

After all. Isn’t that all he’s good for?

#santiago pope garcia x reader #oscar isaac #ride or die series #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia

115 notes · View notes

eyelessfaces · 2 years ago

Text

packing

santiago garcia x reader

summary: you're moving out. santi helps you packing, and it's the perfect occasion to finally talk about everything unsaid between the two of you.

warnings: mentions of sextoys for some reason....... don't look at me like that. sexy times mentionned and implied, the fic fades to smut so it kinda starts but nothing too steamy

tags: f!reader, mutual pinning, friends to lovers

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

“Heard you needed help. I’m your man” were Santiago’s words before he winked at you and stepped into your half empty apartment.

You moved out at the beginning of next week, and because the laziness got the best of you you now had to rush to finish packing your stuff.

You had started when you were determined, all energy gone once your back hurt at the end of your first day of packing, and you hadn’t continued since. And this was your mistake.

You could have been wiser and you could have started packing gradually, a bit every day but no– procrastinating had sounded so much better to your “it’s cool, I still have time” ears.

You had started panicking when you realized it was Saturday already, so you had called your friend group in hope that they could help you get this covered, except they all happened to be conveniently busy. Except for one of them.

“I heard Santi’s available” was Frankie's casual reply when you called him to ask for his help, and you swore you had heard him smirk over the phone when he said this.

You honestly doubted Frankie, Benny and Will all happened to be busy, and you firmly believed that for a good reason; they had been doing their best to isolate you and Santiago since you had kissed at Benny’s birthday party.

Even though you had tried to resonate with them by telling them that you were both drunk and that this kiss probably didn’t mean much to Santiago, they had been actively keeping on trying to get the two of you to have a conversation about it.

Except as of now, packing was your priority.

“Thank you for coming to help me. I’ve been procrastinating doing this and I don’t know if I’d be done by tomorrow night doing this all by myself” you sighed, picking up an empty cardboard box and throwing it to Santiago.

He caught it and pinched a smile.

“No problem hermosa, you know I’m more useful helping you here than watching TV naked on my couch. Where do I start?” he asked, walking through your living room and looking at the boxes you had already packed used to support the TV, since you had already emptied and packed your TV stand.

“Would be nice if you could finish the bookcase next to the couch. You can put the CDs with the books, just name the box with both” you instructed, picking up the marker from the floor and handing it to him.

“Yes ma’am” he smiled taking the marker from your hand in a swift motion, determined to start his job and to do it right. Maybe the other boys not being here would actually profit you and you would be faster with your task, no distractions around.

“You know you’re not getting out of here without explaining why you watch TV naked” you said going back to the kitchen where you had started packing all your cooking tools. It was a kitchen opened on the living room, so you were not far from each other.

He chuckled. “Well because why not” he replied as he sat on the floor to empty the lower part of the bookcase.

“Why” you insisted, placing your cooking tools strategically in the box so everything would fit perfectly.

“You know I’m not the only one who does it. I mean– staying home naked. Frankie does it too. Well not anymore since his daughter was born but he used to do it”

“Bless that kid” you chuckled. “Still doesn’t answer my question” you asked looking back at him.

“It’s comfortable” he shrugged. “Things swaying freely” he said turning to look at you, a smirk on his face.

“Okay I’ll stop asking questions” you laughed shaking your head.

An hour and a half later Santiago had finished packing your living room, leaving only the couch and TV surrounded by cardboard boxes. You were also almost done with the kitchen except for a few cabinets and of course still leaving out the essential: a few forks, knives and spoons, and a few glasses and plates.

“Need help for the kitchen?” he asked, sitting on the counter.

“Yep, I was about to empty my mug cabinets. I have a lot” you nodded. You grabbed another cardboard box and sighed when you looked around but didn’t find what you were looking for. “Fuck can you get me the bubble wrap? I must have left it in my bedroom when I was packing the perfume bottles in my drawers”

“Sure be right back” you thanked him before starting to get the mugs out of the cabinet, placing them on the counter waiting for him to come back to start wrapping them.

Santiago went into your room and searched for the roll.

Walking towards your bed, he saw something looking like what he was looking for peeking out from under your bed, it had probably rolled and gotten under there accidentally.

He kneeled down to pick it up, noticing a black plastic box placed under your bed. He chuckled to himself before the pain in his knees reminded him that he couldn’t stay in this position for long, grabbing the bubble wrap roll and standing back up.

“Nice sextoys collection” he threw with a smug smile as he came back to the kitchen, handing you the bubble wrap roll.

You almost dropped the mug between your hands. “Wha– don’t tell me you–”

“No, but now I have the confirmation that it’s really your toy box” he laughed, and even harder when he saw your startled and slightly embarrassed face.

“You want a medal or something” you chuckled, taking the roll from his hands, your own hands not even capable of functioning correctly. You would definitely be losing some mugs after that.

“Hey don’t be embarrassed” he nudged your side. “Ever used them with someone else?” he asked leaning against the counter.

“Jeez Santi” you laughed. You looked at him and rolled your eyes. “Tried to. The guy didn’t want to because he saw it as its enemy. Turns out its enemy did a way better job than him afterwards” you explained wrapping one of your least favorite mug so you wouldn’t regret it if it slipped from your slightly trembling hands.

“Mh I see” he said reaching to grab one of the mugs to help you wrap them. “You just haven’t tried with the right guy yet” he sighed, turning to look at you.

You focused on arranging the box correctly to avoid his gaze as your cheeks heated at his words, trying to discard the feeling. “Probably” you mumbled. Probably.

—

Santi plopped down on your couch, a low grunt leaving his mouth as he did so.

You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaling in relief.

You were done. It seemed impossible, but here you were, everything packed.

“Wanna drink something as a reward?” you offered before you could sit down for good.

“Got a beer?” he asked raising his eyebrows.

“Yup” you said turning around to grab them from your refrigerator.

You uncapped them and sat down on your couch next to him, handing him his beer. He clinked his bottleneck against yours and you smiled, taking a sip before letting out another sigh of relief.

“Seriously, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you” you declared smiling at him, and he finished his sip before smiling back at you.

“Eh if I hadn’t helped you who would have?” he rhetorically asked, chuckling.

“Right” you sighed, remembering the sarcastic exclamation point at the end of Benny’s message when he said he couldn’t come, Will’s fake pondering face when he did a quick review of his schedule when you called him on facetime, and of course Frankie suggesting Santi’s presence.

“You know they’re not really busy right” he questioned, turning to you and leaning his arm against the back of your couch. You threw a single nod before taking a sip of your beer. “You know they just want us to figure out what’s going on between us, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed and looked over at him. “I know. I think they made that obvious”

He scratched the light stubble on his chin and put his beer down on the floor before returning to his previous position.

“Then what’s going on between us?” he asked tilting his head, and he smiled when he saw you chuckling. “What? I think we should give them what they want or they’re never gonna stop” he shrugged.

“Okay.” you cleared your throat before going further. “Well, I don’t know what’s going on between us but I liked kissing you” you admitted, immediately taking a sip of your beer after delivering your words. You were almost embarrassed at how fast your heart was beating.

He smugly smiled and looked you up and down.

“As friends?” he asked playfully, throwing his chin at you.

“Dunno, you?” you asked, mirroring his smile, putting your beer down on the floor too. You looked back at him and he shrugged.

“Well all I can tell you is I was drunk but I think I know what I was doing” he said with a single nod, pinching his lips into a small smile. “And I enjoyed it.”

“That’s good to know” you replied playfully, your gaze going back and forth between his lap and his face. “You’d do it again?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me, idiot” you chuckled, planting your elbow against the back of the couch.

“Question or order?” he asked rhetorically, a smirk plastered on his face. You playfully hit his arm when you realized you had been tricked, and he nudged your side. “Answer the question”

Your face inched closer to his, and you tilted it slightly before answering. “Order” your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

His thumb and forefinger grasped your chin after your implied consent, and it took him a very short time to press his lips against yours once he was sure you both wanted it.

He kissed you and he knocked the air out of your lungs, your hands buried in his graying curls and his hands traveling up and down your curves.

You made out intensely, laying down on your couch, his body hovering over yours as he practically fucked his tongue into your mouth.

“If that wasn’t abundantly clear, not as friends, no” you panted against his slightly swollen lips once you pulled away for air.

“Good. Good choice” he said biting down on his bottom lip, laughing when you yanked his face down to kiss him again. He kneaded one of your breasts while his tongue plunged in your mouth, his thumb brushing against your hard nipple, and you moaned in his mouth as a result.

He pulled away from your mouth, his own shifting towards your ear.

“Hey I thought maybe we could make some use of that box under your bed. It’s not packed yet after all” he whispered, unable to cover the devilish grin on his face or the excitement in his voice.

And in his pants, too.

—

masterlist | taglist | ao3

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia fanfic #triple frontier #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

188 notes · View notes

emma23 · 1 month ago

Text

Unexpected repairs Part 3:

Santiago garcia x reader

————————————————————————

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. Every time she thought Santiago had reached his limit, he somehow managed to surprise her in the weirdest way.

This morning, she had woken up to find every single item in her closet organized—by color, by season, and apparently by "outfit combinations."

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," Y/N muttered as she stared at her closet in disbelief. She had never been the most organized person, but this? This was professional-level crazy. How does he have this much time on his hands?

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and she grabbed it, already expecting another one of Santiago's cryptic messages.

Liked your new setup?

Y/N gritted her teeth.

Stop breaking into my house!

She hit send, but before she could toss her phone aside, another message popped up.

Breaking in? I’ve got a key.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. “Oh my God, he’s insane,” she whispered, pacing back and forth in her room. She had been so distracted by the weird gestures that she hadn't even realized the bigger issue: Santiago had access to her home. Full access.

What kind of stalker casually admits to having a key?

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to figure out her next move. She considered calling the cops again, but after the last time, she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously. They thought she was being dramatic. “He’s not dangerous,” they’d said. “Just overly attentive.”

Overly attentive? Fixing her cabinets was "attentive." Replacing her couch and reorganizing her closet was something entirely different.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Okay, fine. You want to play house? Let's see how far you're willing to go."

Santiago watched the screen with a small smirk. He could tell Y/N was reaching her limit, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, it only fueled his need to push things further. The more frustrated she got, the closer she was to accepting that he was here to stay.

He wasn't just playing a game. He was winning.

He knew she'd see it his way eventually.

As the feed on his laptop showed Y/N pacing back and forth in her room, Santiago glanced at the small box on his desk. The velvet covering practically shimmered in the light, and he thumbed the edge thoughtfully.

“It’s almost time,” he muttered to himself, closing the laptop and standing up. He grabbed his jacket and slipped the small box into his pocket. Y/N thought she was in control, but she didn’t even know the half of it.

Y/N spent the rest of the day nervously watching the door, waiting for some sign of Santiago’s next move. Part of her hoped that maybe, just maybe, he would get bored and leave her alone for a while. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t happening.

It was already well past midnight when she finally gave up and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes, trying to push all thoughts of Santiago out of her mind. It didn’t take long before sleep started to take her.

But then, just as she was about to drift off, she heard the creak of her bedroom door opening. Her eyes shot open, heart pounding in her chest. She stayed still, barely breathing, listening as soft footsteps approached her bed.

Santiago…

She knew it was him. She could feel his presence in the room. A mix of fear and—strangely—comfort washed over her. He wasn’t going to hurt her. If anything, he was there to protect her…in his own messed-up way.

The bed dipped slightly as he sat on the edge, and Y/N finally turned her head to see him. Santiago was sitting there, watching her with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes were intense, but not angry. He didn’t say a word.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Santiago held up his hand, revealing a small velvet box.

She blinked. “Is that—?”

Without waiting for her to finish, he opened the box. Inside was a ring. A gold band with their initials engraved on the inside.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “Santiago, what the hell is this?”

He reached out, taking her hand gently and slipping the ring onto her finger as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s a promise,” he said softly. “You’re mine now, Y/N.”

She pulled her hand back, staring at the ring like it was a bomb about to go off. “You can’t just— Santiago, you’re insane!”

He smiled, leaning closer. “Maybe. But now, everyone else will know you’re mine, too.”

Y/N stared at him, completely dumbfounded. She didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh. This man had officially lost his mind, and now he was dragging her down with him.

“And what if I don’t want this?” she asked, holding up the ring.

Santiago’s smile faded slightly, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have a choice, Y/N. This is happening, whether you like it or not.”

Her heart raced as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. Santiago’s presence was overwhelming, but there was something about the way he spoke, the way he touched her, that sent shivers down her spine. She hated herself for it, but part of her didn’t entirely hate the idea of being his.

Not that she was about to admit that out loud.

#santiago garcia #dark santiago garcia #masterlist santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #triple frontier

15 notes · View notes

idolatrybarbie · 1 year ago

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

50 notes · View notes

savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 2 years ago

Text

Heartbreak Feels So Good

Santiago Garcia X Plus Size F!Reader Platonic!Frankie Moraxes X Reader

Your eyes were glazed over, staring at the way his arm was wrapped so tightly around her waist, when had they arrived? There was no warning, nothing that could stop the way your heart shattered in your chest. Support and acceptance, that was the only thing that Frankie was looking for. How were you going to be able to sit idly by like there was nothing wrong, like you weren’t breaking apart inside? Santi had caught your gaze, the way your mouth hung open just barely as you stared at the couple in front of you. There was a deep pain in your eyes, one that Frankie clearly hadn’t caught onto yet.

“C’mon, you know damn well I’m the best thing that ever happened to you,” You were poking fun at the way Frankie all but laid himself on top of you.

“And you’re right, which is why I’m not moving until one of us has a decent nap,” Frankie buried himself further into your embrace, sighing contently.

You’d been friends longer than you could remember, helping pick up the pieces when he came back home from being overseas. It was no surprise that he struggled with PTSD, all the boys did, but Frankie sought out your comfort the most. He’d moved into your home after a few months, afraid he’d relapse and ruin the life he was trying so hard to rebuild. It was nice to come home to a home cooked meal everyday, the way your eyes would light up whenever he stepped foot over the threshold.

“Well I already had my nap, so why don’t you get a few hours before we go out later tonight,” It was something the two of you did everyday.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to have you fall asleep and then the guys get all upset,” Frankie knew Benny would get on your ass if you were late, it was more funny than anything.

Frankie was a cuddler and you weren’t going to deny him something that kept him sane on the worst days. He never overstepped his boundaries, keeping his hands in proper places so as not to grope you when he was trying to sleep. It wasn’t like you would push him away, your heart racing every time he crawled into your bed, or made his way to the couch. Benny had joked countless times that you and Frankie should just bite the bullet and finally get together.

Only, you weren’t the one Frankie wanted.

“You guys make a great couple, I’m happy for you,” If Frankie caught on to the way your voice wavered he didn’t say anything, his girlfriend seemed so genuine and kind, who were you to come between that?

“It means a lot, why don’t we sit down and have a drink so everyone can finally meet her?” Frankie was lovestruck, anyone with two working eyes could see how much he adored her.

“I’ll see if I can wrangle the boys up, just give me a few,” You turned before he could see the tears well up in your eyes, running over to where Will and Satni were standing together.

They’d protested going out tonight at all, Will claiming he had important matters to attend to in the morning while Santi grumbled he’d wake up hungover again. Frankie all but begged everyone to come out, including you since he’d moved out a few months prior. It was obvious as to why he’d suddenly decided to get an apartment, and you weren’t going to deny him his freedom, so why did it hurt so badly watching him drive away?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Santi’s hands cupped your cheeks, brow furrowing as he wiped the tears from your face.

“I need to leave, I can’t be here anymore,” Could you really tell them the truth, that you were in love with your best friend and knowing that he was happier with someone else was tearing you apart?

“How about this, I’ll go say a quick hello and goodbye and I’ll take you home, okay?” Santi had always been there for you, albeit silently at the worst times, but right now you couldn’t be in that bar.

You nodded slowly, trying to calm down your breathing as you struggled to keep yourself from panicking. Will’s arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, squeezing all the air out of your lungs until you finally calmed down. He was the best when it came to bear hugs, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing until you were out of breath. Santi’s voice was somehow louder than the entire bar, he didn’t sound mad at Frankie which you were thankful for but there was an edge to his voice. What had you done to deserve this level of kindness from him?

“Hey, what’s going on?” Frankie was nervous, had something happened that he wasn’t aware of?

“I’m gonna take her home, we’ll talk later okay? It was nice to meet you Viv, sorry I couldn’t stay longer,” Santi didn’t want to come off rude, Frankie was his friend first but right now you were in pain and he couldn’t ignore that.

“Have her text me when you drop her off,” Frankie still looked worried, which was making your heart break more.

“I’m gonna stay with her Fish, I’ll let you know when we get to her apartment,” Santi turned without another word, walking over to where you were standing with Will.

The three of you hadn’t noticed the way Frankie’s face fell, the way his brow furrowed slightly for a brief moment before his attention was back on the woman beside him. He couldn’t worry about things when he had Viv to introduce to everyone, but damn, why did watching you leave with his best friend irritate him so much?

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

The drive was silent, after saying a quick goodbye to Benny and Tom you were headed back to your apartment. Santi was a great driver, but the silence was beginning to slowly drive you mad as you watched the sights pass by. The air was still warm, clinging to your skin like a warm hug after a rough day. That’s exactly what this was, a rough day, though you wouldn’t really be able to call it that, this day was going to happen sooner or later.

“Is it my fault for developing feelings and not telling him?” You glanced over at Santi, lips pulled into a frown as he kept his eyes on the road.

“Absolutely not, the way he acted towards you, we all thought that one day he was going to show up at the bar and announce that you guys were dating,” Santi ran a hand over his mouth.

He’d been angry that Frankie seemed to be leading you on for months on end, sleeping in your bed when his nightmares became too much, or cuddling together on the couch like a couple would. Frankie was never shy about how he felt towards the women he's dated, which was why when he never made things official with you everyone started to get concerned. The final shoe dropped tonight, reminding everyone that Frankie didn’t lead with his heart.

“You don’t have to stay tonight, I’ll be fine on my own,” You didn’t want to feel like a child, like you were seconds away from having another breakdown.

Well I call bullshit on that, you’re clearly upset so I’m not leaving,” He pulled into the driveway so smoothly even you were shocked.

Your house was a little bit off the beaten path, that was mainly because you didn’t want to have too many neighbors surrounding you. Benny had joked that he was going to build a house directly next to yours so he could annoy you daily. Frankie had defended you from Benny’s terrible ideas the entire day, promising that he would be the one to build the house. That would never happen though, he’d find someone that he’d spend the rest of his life with and forget about you entirely. The car stopping jerked you out of your thoughts, now it was time to head inside and drink away your sorrows in the safety of your home.

Santi didn’t wait for you to get out of the truck, rushing around to your side and opening the door like a gentleman. It brought a small smile to your lips, the guys didn’t treat you any differently than they did one another, so this was new. You rested your hand on his bicep, slipping out of the car slowly as your heels touched the ground below you. Unfortunately it had been raining earlier which meant the grass was slick, you screeched and threw yourself into Santi’s arms. He caught you easily, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you back against the side of his truck. Your eyes locked for a moment, a thousand emotions running through your mind as you stared back at the man you’d called a friend for over a decade.

Neither of you were sure who leaned in first, lips pressing together softly, gentle pecks as your arms slid up and around his neck. You’d always wondered if the rumors about Santi were true, but your heart had been so focused on Frankie that you felt almost bad for thinking about Santi that way. You couldn’t stop the whimper as Santi’s tongue slid into your mouth, your body heating up as his grip tightened further on your waist.

“We should get inside before someone sees us,” You and Santi both knew that no one would see you, but the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position shouldn’t have been so hot.

“Let’s go,” You slid your arms down to his hands, walking towards your house with a confidence you weren’t sure you truly had.

Santi’s gaze was locked on the way your hips swayed, the dress you wore clinging to your curves so deliciously. How had he managed to keep his hands to himself for so long? Frankie be damned, you were gorgeous and Frankie was a fool for ignoring the signs. You unlocked the door quickly, kicking off your heels and tossing your keys in the bowl right inside of your door. Santi wasted no time kicking off his own shoes and hanging up his coat, the least he could do was make sure not to leave your foyer all cluttered. His hands found their way to your sides, squeezing the plush flesh beneath his fingers. The moan you let out was downright sinful, his cock had been straining against the zipper of his jeans nearly the entire drive home.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk hermosa,” You were practically dripping at that point, reaching back to grab his hands.

“Please, I need you so bad,” Your voice was breathy, whimpering as his hands slid to cup your chest.

He could feel the way you were practically spilling out of your bra, clearly one of your more “fancy” ones as you’d come to call them. Santi turned you towards the kitchen, spinning you around so your back was against the island. You didn’t hesitate to jump up onto the cool surface, reveling in the way it cooled your skin slightly.

“I’m gonna strip these clothes off of you, and then I’m going to get down on my knees and eat this pretty pussy until my face is soaked,” Your core was throbbing, Santi’s fingers sliding along your upper thigh as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress.

Without giving yourself a single second to doubt the decision, you slid your dress up and off your body. You’d worn a matching set for the night, hoping that Frankie would be the one to strip it off your body before coming to the true realization. No, there was not going to be any thoughts of that man while Santi was doing sinful things to your body. Santi pulled off his shirt quickly, tossing it aside carelessly and turning his full attention back to you.

“Fuck, please,” Your back arched into the air, nails digging into the marble countertop.

“Good girl,” Santi gripped the sides of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs quickly.

He eyed the way your cunt glistened in the dim light, nothing but the moonlight showing your skin. Santi had a reputation, and he was about to make sure that you knew what the truth was when it came to him. Pressing a gentle hand against your chest he pushed until your back was flush to the countertop. He pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, biting gently with each moan you let out. Your thighs were thrown over his shoulder, exposing your body to him entirely.

“Sweet pussy is dripping for me, isn’t she?” Santi slipped two fingers into your entrance slowly, giving you time to adjust to the stretch.

“Only for you, holy fuck!” You couldn’t stop the moans, reaching down to grip the roots of his hair as the tips of his fingers stroked that spongy spot so deep inside your core.

“Gonna make you forget your own name,” Santi’s lips wrapped around your clit, suckling gently as he continued to move his fingers.

You were almost ashamed at how fast your orgasm creeped up, legs shaking over his shoulders as you tried to stave off the euphoric feeling. Santi of course was not having that, doubling down with his fingers and mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit as your walls tightened around his fingers. Your cum dripped down his hand as he continued his ministrations, overstimulating you to the point you’d thrown your head back with a scream, gushing over his fingers pressed inside your body. Santi smirked victoriously, pulling his fingers out slowly so as not to hurt you.

“That feel good?” You could hardly nod, eyes fluttering shut as your body rode the waves of pleasure.

“I’m totally riding your face one of these days,” Shit, you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, now Santi was going to think you were weird.

“Baby you can ride my face for the rest of my life and I will die happy,” Santi pulled your hips to the edge, pressing kisses all over your stomach and chest.

You snuck a hand to your back, unclasping the uncomfortable bra and sliding the straps down and off your arms. Santi’s eyes locked on your chest immediately, hands cupping the soft flesh with awe.

“I never knew you had your nipples pierced,” He ran the tip of his thumb over your left nipple, breath hitching at how the stiff peak seemed to tighten underneath the callous.

“Had em since I was nineteen, no one’s ever gotten to see em before,” It was a secret you were going to take to the grave, not wanting to admit something so risque to your closest friends.

Santi leaned down slightly, taking your nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue ever so gently over the stiff bud. Your hands tightened in his hair, back arching into his face as you struggled to catch your breath. He’d barely done anything to you and yet you were already on the edge once more, how many times was he going to get you to cum before he found his own release?

“Bedroom, please,” It’d be easier on the both of you if you were in your bed, you didn’t want the night to end too soon.

Santi stepped away from you, helping you down off the counter before sliding his hands behind your thighs to wrap around his waist. You were horrified at the yelp you let out, gripping onto his shoulders so that you would not hit the ground. Most men you’d been with had complained about carrying you around, Santi acted like it was a personal mission to get to your bedroom without you touching the ground. Though once you were finally in your room he threw you onto the bed, unbuttoning his jeans slowly.

Your eyes were glued on the way his cock was straining beneath his jeans, how would he manage to fit with that monster of a cock he was carrying around? Would he let you choke on it and bring him that sweet bliss of relief, or was he going to pin you down to the bed and fuck you until you were crying. Santi kept his eyes on you as he pushed his jeans and briefs down his legs, watching how your eyes widened when his naked cock hit the air. Santi was absolutely huge, there was no way he was fitting.

“Get on this bed, and get that cock in me before I die,” You spread your legs wide, running your pointer and middle fingers over your slick cunt, gently rubbing your clit for the added stimulation.

Santi didn’t waste a second, crawling over your body with a determined expression on his face, you weren’t leaving this bed until he had his fill. He grabbed the backs of your knees, pressing them up to your shoulders as he lined the tip of his cock up to your dripping cunt. Sliding in slowly Santi kept his gaze on your face, slowing down if you looked to be in any amount of pain. This was meant to be a pleasurable moment, and Santi wasn’t going to ruin that by hurting you in any way.

“Holy fucking shit, please tell me you’re in,” Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, hands clutching the bed spread harshly.

“Only halfway, do you need me to stop?” You shook your head frantically, rolling your hips down as best you could given the position.

Santi groaned, slipping the rest of the way inside in one final push. It felt as if the tip of his cock was in your throat, he was surely going to be the death of you tonight. He pulled back slowly, giving you time to readjust before slamming his hips forward. Your scream was guttural, head thrown back into the plush pillows as you struggled to breathe. Santi built up a slow but harsh pace, hips slapping against yours before he began to build up speed. Your core tightened with each stroke of his cock, bringing your body higher, and higher.

“You like when I fuck this perfect pussy? Stretch you open so that only my cock can satisfy you?” Santi was struggling for air, hands gripping your thighs even harder.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You reached a hand down, rubbing your clit in quick circles.

“Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are, I know you wanna soak my cock,” The room was filled with the sound of your moans, and the sound of skin slapping together.

Your thighs locked on his sides as you squirted over his cock, breath stuttering in your chest as your peak continued to climb steadily. Santi didn’t slow down his thrusts, merely laid your legs down before pulling out and flipping you onto your stomach. He pulled you to your knees, shoving your head into the pillows as he slid his cock back into your slick cunt.

“Fuck baby, this pussy was made for me,” Santi slapped your ass hard, gripping the plush muscle as he pulled you back against his hips.

You weren’t sure if you’d cum again or were still riding the waves of your first orgasm still, he was determined to keep his word it seemed.

“Where do you want me to cum?” Though he sounded breathless, Santi was still somehow more level headed than you were.

“In-Inside!” You were on birth control anyway, and the thought of letting him finish inside you fueled something inside of you.

It only took a half a dozen more thrusts before his hips were stilling, warmth spreading through your entire lower half as he came deep inside of you. He didn’t pull out right away, instead stayed seated inside you and tried to slow his heart. Had Santi not had a grip on your hips, your body would’ve slumped into the mattress entirely. He pulled out slowly, laying you down against the bed before running into the bathroom to get a damp washcloth to help clean you up. You hardly noticed him, wincing slightly as he wiped the cum that had started to drip out of you.

“Do you need me to get anything?” Santi threw the washcloth into your hamper, laying down beside you.

“No, but thank you for asking,” You rested your head against his chest, snuggling into the soft skin.

He smelled like the cologne he always wore with a hint of sweat and something almost spicy, it was intoxicating. He chuckled lowly and moved to pull the comforter over the two of you, wrapping you up in his arms as you finally settled. Sure there would be questions in the morning of how you moved forward after all this, but for right now it was time to sleep.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Santi was the first to wake in the morning, groaning at the way the sun was peeking through your blinds so easily. He rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush to his chest. You let out a small sigh, snuggling deeper into his hold as you clung to the offer of sleep. The two of you would’ve gladly gone back to sleep, had it not been for someone banging on your front door. Had Santi promised he would visit one of the guys and was running late? There was nowhere you had to be anytime soon so they definitely weren’t here for you.

“Stay here, I’ll go see who it is,” Santi pressed a kiss to your hair, slipping out of the bed and grabbing his briefs.

Even if it was some annoying people trying to promote their church, no one needed to see his naked body at seven in the morning. The banging continued as he made his way down the hall, brow furrowing for a moment. He hadn’t thought to check the peephole, to see who had caused a ruckus this early in the morning. Once the door was opened Frankie pushed his way inside, stopping dead in his tracks as he took in Santi’s near naked appearance.

“What the fuck is going on?” Frankie sounded angry, and then it dawned on him, neither of you had texted when you got back to your house.

“Listen, I completely forgot to text you and by the time I realized you were already here,” Okay, maybe that was a lie and Santi had forgotten entirely, but he couldn’t tell Frankie the truth right now.

“No, instead of letting me know you guys made it back here safe you two ended up fucking,” Frankie wasn’t even looking at him anymore, eyes locked on your clothes that were scattered in the kitchen.

How could he even defend himself, the two of you threw caution to the wind and spent the night together, there was no denying it. That was the real kicker though, Frankie was mad that you had hooked up with Santi, even after denying you for years.

“You have no right to be mad at us right now, she had shown you for years how much she loved you and now that you have someone she’s going to move on,” It was the truth and it was tearing Frankie apart inside.

He’d always seen you as a friend, someone there to help pick up the pieces when he couldn’t bear to do it himself. Sure you were absolutely gorgeous, but he was afraid of ruining the friendship the two of you had, and now here you were, in the arms of his best friend.

“You’re right, I have no right to be upset, but even if the feelings weren’t mutual she’s still my friend and I don’t want to see her get hurt,” Frankie would take down anyone that hurt you, no matter who they were to him. “You know I’d never hurt her, we’ll have a discussion like adults and see what the future holds for us,” Things were going to be different whether you wanted them to be or not, but Santi wasn’t going to leave while you were asleep.

Frankie glanced over at your open door, debating whether or not he should say anything before leaving. Santi shook his head, your wounds were too fresh, you would need time to heal and come to terms with the fact that Frankie had found someone else. He left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Santi stood in the entryway, trying to figure out exactly where the two of you were headed.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia fluff #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales angst #santiago garcia angst #oscar issac #pedro pascal

222 notes · View notes

wandanatswitch · 1 month ago

Text

About me

Hi! You can call me Ella or Thea. I'm 19 and English isn't my first language. I've never written fanfic before so advice is much appreciate it!

About this blog

Like I said, I've never written before and English isn't my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Fandoms/characters:

The ones that are over lined are not being written at the moment but will be soon...

MCU

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Kate Bishop

Yelena Belova

Pietro maximoff

House of the dragon

Alicent Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Cregan Stark

GOT

Daenerys Targaryen

Margaery Tyrell

Criminal minds

Emily Prentiss

Elle Greenaway

Penelope Garcia

Brooklyn 99

Jake Peralta

Rosa Diaz

Amy Santiago

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Orange is the new Black

Alex Vause

OUAT

Regina Mills

Zelena Mills

What I can/will write:

wlw

Smut

Bottom reader

Power bottom reader

Fluff

Angst

What I could possibly write in the future:

Hurt/no comfort

Platonic

Dark fics

Men x woman

What I will NOT write:

Pedophilia

Pet play

Little x caregiver

Top reader

#emily prentiss x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #hotd x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #x reader #x fem!reader

13 notes · View notes

uselesssomebody · 1 year ago

Text

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝟛𝟙 - santiago garcia x fem!reader

complete masterlist | kinktober 2023 masterlist

kink || period sex

taglist || @silversprings-mp3

fandom || triple frontier

a/n || last day. i'm doing the rest post-october

➵ not proofread

warnings || smut

➵ a lotta blood overall

➵ explicit descriptions of experiencing a period (sexual and non-sexual/casual experiences)

santi was a little oblivious sometimes.

granted, all his friends were - when it came to certain things. in the field, fighting for your life - or your country - grants one sharp reflexes and heightened senses, owing him to never allow anyone the satisfaction of sneaking up on him.

but when it comes to things like his girlfriend's mood, and emotions, he was a little worse at it.

he was by no means stoic - if she needed a little support, he'd happily - well - be a shoulder to cry on, a makeshift therapist, or let his dick be a stress toy for her. but he just needed to be told sometimes when she needed those things.

like today.

if her sleeping in late this morning wasn't indication enough, the sound of a full youtube shein hall - i.e. the sound of plastic violently opening - in the bathroom should have been an EAS alarm. but it wasn't.

then, the little whimper and groans of pain that emitted from her - barely hidden under the squeaks of her slippers on the wooden floor should have been enough. it wasn't.

but surely, the fact that she was knocking back two aspirin with the tallest glass of water he'd ever seen should have been more than enough. it was not.

it took her waddling over to him, uncomfortable with the side of her pad scratching her inner thigh, and the heavy, grotesque churning in her stomach, and plopping on the couch beside him, where he finally noticed the scowl on her face.

"is everything okay, cariño?" he murmurs sweetly, petting her hair and pushing it from her warm - frustrated, not feverish - cheeks.

"everything hurts, santi." she whimpers. in another context, perhaps even a whine, but there was nothing childish about her pain. his face immediately contorts in worry, before her actions this morning click into place in his mind.

"you're on your period?" he asks her, in a soft tone, and all she can do is nod, a dejected look on her face. he immediately lifts her chin to face him, peppering kisses over her nose and cheeks, "what can i do for you?" his question makes her pause.

"can you put some hot water in the heating pad?" she finally settles on, wanting his help and support, but not wanting to overwork or stress him. he sees right through her polite request, standing up and pulling her upright as well.

"come lay in bed, amor. i'll get you what you need."

she had not expected 'what she needed' to include a heating pad, two bars of her favorite type of chocolate, a pastry for good measure, a pack of aspirin, a water bottle and a vanilla scented candle.

"oh my god, santi, did you get the whole store?" she gasps, as he places everything at the bedside table. her shock makes him chuckle, as his hand goes to caress and massage her scalp.

"feeling more comfortable now?" he murmurs sweetly, placing the hot water bottle on her abdomen, "anything else i can do?" she reflexively shakes her head, already feeling like he'd done too much for me. he knows the reaction, and it makes him sidle up next to her on the bed, "you know i'm here for you. anything else, and it's yours."

she hesitates for a moment.

"can you just stay here with me? let me vent a little?"

nothing sounded sweeter to santi.

he nodded, curling next to her such that her head rested on his chest, and he could feel the heat emitting from the heating pad on her body.

and so, she vented. about work, a dispute with a friend, an issue around the house. and then, she vented about her period.

"and it's just so annoying - i mean, it hurts for such a long period of time, and nothing makes it *stop*, it just dulls the pain - the meds, the heating. it's just - ugh." she groans, looking back up at him.

he's listening intently, trying to get rid of his lovely girlfriend's pain.

"maybe...." he muses, "you don't need to lessen the pain, you just need something to take your mind off it." she furrows her brow.

"and what are you suggesting?" but she can guess. he's got that cocky smile on his face, and that look in his eyes. she shakes her head. "no. santi, no." she says, like she's dissuading a pet or a young child. his devilish grin doesn't subside.

"it'll be fun."

"it'll be gross."

"it'll be hot."

"it will not be hot!" she protests, with a giggle.

"why not? you know how warm your thighs feel when you're like this. i bet it would feel so nice and warm and wet-" she cuts him off by laughing harder.

"how could you know that?" he deadpans.

"you don't think i can feel it when you're lying next to me? damn, it makes my cock twitch. it's bad enough i don't get to feel you cum for a week straight. look, we've been together for a while. might as well try it" she pauses, but he knows he's got her.

"fine."

she had used the bathroom, and freshened up to the best of her ability, while he got a roll of paper towels ready to go, and a few towels laid across the bed - the 'splash zone', as he had called it, making her cringe deeply.

she looks at him with a pout, "it's gonna be so gross." i grumble.

"i'm the one cleaning, cariño." he reminds.

"still." he looks at her.

"amor, it's just a suggestion, and i think a fun and sexy idea for us to try. if you really don't want to, we don't have to.

but of course she wants to.

"i appreciate it, baby. c'mon, let's do this." he sits down on the bed, watching her walk over to him. his hands go to her hips, pulling her closer, as he presses a small kiss to the drawstring bow of her sweatpants, sitting right over her navel.

"can i take this off?" he whisper, voice husky, and she nods. his hands go to the hem of the pants, tugging them down softly, letting out a low groan as more of her skin is exposed to him, "god, you're so sexy." he murmurs, and she laughs, shaking her head.

"there's literally nothing sexy about the sweatpants i wear when i'm on my period." he pinches her ass in playful scolding.

"wrong. everything about you is sexy."

though he says this, her breath hitches awkwardly when he pulls her underwear down her legs, her fresh pad on display. he doesn't say anything, but he does look up at her, and it's such a loving and appreciative gaze, that her worries dissolve.

he takes her hands, helping her to lay back on the towels on the bed.

"you wanna take your shirt off?" he asks softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek once she's settled, and she nods, the two pairs of hands easing it off her torso. she then lays back to watch him undress, a sexy vision as she smiles to herself at how she bagged the ridiculously hot man in front of her.

he's in just his boxers, and she gestures him towards her.

"i wanna do it." and he obliges, moving up her body so the fabric is in her arm's reach. she palms him over the cloth for a moment, before pulling it down, beaming at his hard cock, "you excited?" she teases, making him laugh.

"incredibly." he shifts, laying over her, caging her head between his strong arms. he gently spreads her legs, tracing his fingers over her thighs, "you need me to do anything to prep you?" he asks earnestly, shifting one of his hands to gently squeeze her own. she smiles at his sweet nature.

"no. i just need you, santi." she whimpers, and he nods, looking down between her bodies as he lines himself up with her entrance. his tip makes content with her seeping cunt - blood and arousal - and it sends a shiver down his spine.

he pushes in, and she swears - she hears this man whine.

"fuck..." he murmurs, head falling to bury in her neck, bottoming out, "you're so warm, and wet and ohmygod-"

she can't even blame him. there's a highly confusing and arousing feeling of pleasure overwhelming her cramps, and he's so deep inside of her, she's worried he'll impair her ability to breathe, as - true to form, she's breathless.

"santi!" she moans, but it's overshadowed by his own guttural noises of pleasure as he starts thrusting.

her eyes roll back in her head, as breathless and needy moans escape her, the feeling of the sticky wetness coating both of their thighs. she tries to look between them at the mess, but santi notices, gripping her chin to keep her eyes looking at him.

"how does that feel, cariño? you happy i'm fucking away those cramps?" he murmurs, biting her earlobe, and she has to bite her lip from crying out in pleasure, realizing she hadn't thought about her cramps in a hot minute.

her stomach knots and twists.

"i'm so close." she whimpers, head falling back.

"good, cum for me." she doesn't need any more encouragement, clamping around his cock as she moans his name loudly. he keeps thrusting, and she starts to squirm, "wh-where do you want it?" he asks, also close, voice breaking.

"th-thighs." she manages to whimper out, and he sighs deeply in relief, pulling his cock out and stroking himself to completion, moaning as he cums over her thighs.

finally, she looks at the damage. their lower halves look like crime scenes, and the towel's definitely getting thrown away. but what entrances her is the blood coating his cock and his hand from where he stroked himself. for a moment, she finds it hot, before the post-nut clarity hits her.

he laughs at the grimace on her face, once he's finally caught his breath.

"wanna take a shower?

"god, yes."

#kinktober 2023 #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia oneshot #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier #blood kink #period sex #oscar isaac

51 notes · View notes

360iris · 2 years ago

Text

Backroom of a bad dream | dec. second ‘22 (fic)

marc spector x reader, moon knight system x reader x layla el-faouly, angst, hurt/comfort?

Dimly lit | dec. fourth ‘22 (blurb)

marc spector x reader x steven grant, fluff?? kinda

Rose-colored boy | dec. sixth ‘22 (blurb)

steven grant x reader, hurt/comfort? idk, it’s cute tho

Moon Knight System Dynamics | dec. 23rd ‘22 (drabble)

moon boys x reader, fluff

NSFW Moon Knight System HC + Blurbs | jan. 11th ‘23 (drabble)

moon boys x reader, smut

Make it awkward | jan. 14th ‘23 (fic)

steven grant x camgirl!reader, jake lockley x reader

Is just to love | jan. 24th ‘23 (blurb)

jake lockley x reader, fluff

Tu promesa de adorarme | feb. 8th ‘23 (blurb)

marc spector x reader, fluff

Call it bed rest | feb. 15th ‘23 (fic)

married bestfriend!layla el faouly x reader x marc spector, fluff + smut

Good days | feb. 24th ‘23 (fic)

vampire!steven grant x reader (feat. marc spector & jake lockley), smut

Précis | april 27th ‘23 (blurb)

marc spector x reader, smut

Me & U, Isn’t | april 28th ‘23 (fic)

santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader, angst + smut

Bloom & Brew Coffeehouse: Lilac and Orchid | nov. 29th ‘23 (fic)

florist!steven grant x fem bipoc!oc, fluff/smut, cafe/flower shop au

So don’t run (they’re not so tough) | nov. fifth ‘22 (fic)

poly!marauders, angst and grief

With a feeling | nov. twentieth ‘22 (blurb)

poly!prongsfoot, mature

Falling in love (with a feeling) pt. I | nov. twenty-first ‘22 (series)

eventual poly!prongsfoot x reader, mature

Falling in love (with a feeling) pt. II | nov. twenty-fifth ‘22 (series)

eventual poly!prongsfoot x reader, mature

Girldad!James Potter + mafia au | nov. twenty-six ‘22 (blurb)

poly!marauders, fluff

— HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST (FICS)

— HARRY POTTER BLURBS

— BTS MASTERLIST (FICS)

float like a butterfly, sting like a bee 🐝

steven grant, moon knight

SMILE 📸 — you’re on camera!

marc spector, moon knight

a man after my own heart 🤍

marc spector, moon knight

only the best 🫶

din djarin, the mandolorian

my favorite cheaters 🤭💗

jonathan levy/mira levy, scenes from a marriage

who has the choice like Smarty does? nobody, nobody, nobody.

pedro pascal

oh, Levy! you’re so fine!

jonathan levy, scenes from a marriage

save who you can save

joel miller, the last of us hbo

just to sleep at night

steven grant, moon knight

she belongs to the 🌃

layla el faouly, moon knight

Oh???

frankie “catfish” morales, triple frontier

Out of her head, she sang

layla el faouly, moon knight

All I want is you now

marc spector, moon knight

Bodies, bodies, bodies…

steven grant & marc spector, moon knight

M a m a b o y 🖍️

steven grant & marc spector, moon knight

338 notes · View notes

penvisions · 10 months ago

Text

the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

66 notes · View notes

pimosworld · 9 months ago

Text

Unrequited

adjective; (of a feeling, especially love) not returned or rewarded.

Pairing -Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence,depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity,unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposal(s)

A/N- Based on this drabble, I can’t get enough of Santi and Frankie but I’ve always wanted to explore how Frankie would be the one who couldn’t commit or settle down after the events in Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Chapter I-Lovesick

Chapter II-Pining

Chapter III-Yearning

#frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x francisco morales #santiago garcia x f!reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x reader smut #santiago garcia smut #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #oscar issac characters #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier au #francisco morales x reader smut #frankie morales fanfic #santiago garcia reader #santi x reader #triple frontier moodboard

155 notes · View notes

wyn-n-tonic · 2 years ago

Text

Your Slow Turning Pain

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Mental illness talk but never really fully defined. Like... the tiniest pinch of Daddy kink (used by Santiago, not reader). Author's Note: Anon, I love you and I'm over the moon that you came to me with your request and super super super grateful you came back to answer some questions and trust me with these parts of yourself to help me make this. I really hope that it lives up to what your expectations. I'm already thinking of a part two.

Masterlist

Ghostly.

Unseen, unheard.

Full of so much sadness and hurt but not enough to fuel the strength to actually move or be moved.

There’s a passivity to your presence, your contributions. Say something and the subject changes or it’s repeated louder by another down the line. No pats on the back for the work you’ve put in or how far you’ve come. Sometimes there are quiet nods of understanding; small, whispered conversations away from prying eyes who may see and silently judge. Because, God forbid, you may be contagious.

The only time that does change is on your bad days. The greasy hair; the wrinkled clothes; the less and less make up that adorns your features. It’s enough to be seen, to move.

The pain weighs so much more than the happiness.

Everybody turns to the flat voice and the tired eyes. Comment on it or ask about it; Why do you only ever focus on the negative? They ask why there is sadness and how, exactly, you can be. Drop their voices low and ask if everything’s okay at home.

“I don’t know, Santiago,” you breathe out, “sometimes I feel like I only matter when I’m falling apart.”

He’s shaking his head, back turned to you as he focuses on dinner for tonight. You trade off on good days and bad days, switching the duties based on energy levels determined by chronic pain and the chemistry of your brains.

Words come out of his mouth, ones that are meant to be comforting; validating; affirming. They fall flat and he knows it. He knows it because you’ve heard it all before. He knows it because he’s said it all, you’ve said it all. That doesn’t take away the hurt of it all in the moment. Because when you’re in it, you don’t see it for what it is—and you never will because you’re always in it.

“I hate that you care so much,” he bites out. “I know that it’s unfair for me to when I go through the same goddamn thing but”—he runs a hand down his heat flushed face as he turns from the stove—“I wish neither of us had to, I wish neither of us had these broken fucking brains.”

Some group therapy bullshit brought you together, a half assed performance that felt more like it was preparing you for a future of addiction than being a place of healing. In fact, the facilitator all but said he expected half the group to end up in Alcohol Anonymous or its counterpart for narcotics—or both. Your therapists had suggested it, which was usually what put new butts in those hard plastic sheets, but there was something about Santi that took you from the moment he sat directly across in that wide circle—always going around and growing but never going forward.

It took a few weeks, getting to know each other through the vague answers of general feelings you gave in response to the questions you were asked over and over until your turn ended and another’s began.

“You know it’s not just your fight right?” He asks, body draped over yours now that he’s closed the distance.

You never had to be weighted down with all of it to be seen, never had to be full of too much to move him or be moved by him. To Santiago, you never had to be anything but what you were from moment to moment. He weathered it all, he loved it all; he broke for and cared for with confidence that it wasn’t one-sided.

It took some getting used to, every part of your routine built around self-preservation and self-sufficiency. The first time he called himself daddy, said you could tell him anything and he’d take care of it, your whole brain short-circuited and all he was met with was a twisted face that made him think it was all over before it started.

Turns out, support groups weren’t supporting either of you—you just kept coming for one another.

“Come on,” he continues, the teasing heavy in his voice as he starts to press kiss after kiss into your cheeks; your lips; your neck. “Tell daddy what it really is today, let him make it all better.” Big hands slide up your bare upper arms, rough palms scratching like sandpaper against your skin. Sometimes you wonder how the lotion he so meticulously massages into you every night hasn’t taken away these calluses. Selfishly, you’re glad that it hasn’t.

“It doesn’t fucking matter in the long run, Santi,” you give up against his lips. “I’ll get bored and move on again, it’s not a big deal.”

He tells you it matters because it hurts you, it’s a big deal because it hurts you.

You’ve never exactly been a job hopper, just going with circumstance from one place to the next. But Santi came along like a true devil on your shoulder. Go where it benefits you and leave when it no longer does. He stopped that kind of speaking when you asked if that’s how he felt about you. Now he only encourages you to take care of yourself and he’ll follow where that thinking leads—fill the gap that it leaves.

“Why don’t you move on now, sweetheart? Huh?” He bends his knees between yours to keep eye contact, that big, brown gaze boring right into you. “Your savings is built up, you don’t even have to work ever again if you don’t want to.”

You don’t, that’s what he keeps saying. Keeps telling you that you’re wearing heart and your mask thin for nothing but your own pride. He says he’ll take care of you, he says it’s okay. He knows what’s holding you back though, he knows the fear you have over becoming reliant on somebody else when you’ve already put away so many reservations as it is.

“Tell daddy what it is, tell daddy what it is,” he says over and over again, your smile widening alongside his with every push of his lips into your skin. “There's something bothering you in that big, beautiful brain of yours. Let’s go. Tell me, tell me. Dinner’s simmering and I wanna get to dessert.”

God, he’s fucking annoying and you love him so much.

You got close so quickly, dinner after group turned into meeting together instead of group. Turns out the suggestion to join at all came from a worry of loneliness for the both of us. For him, he came home from bootlicking bullshit—as he calls it—a lot later than his friends; they’d already been on their healing journeys and they’d done so together. Santiago feared his bullshit would pull them back and so he sought out support elsewhere to leave their progress in tact.

For you, just having moved and trying to start all over, you had no support. Your therapist thought that would be the place to build it. She was right on some level. Moved in together not long after dating started.

It all just seemed to click.

“I don’t know, Tiago, baby, I-I”—your head shakes as you try to find the words—“remember how you said once that you feel like you’re a guest star in Benny’s and Will's and Frankie’s lives?”

He nods, lip bitten. “Is that how you feel?”

You tell him it’s more like being an extra than a guest star, just there for eight or twelve hours beneath the too bright lights trying to school your face to fit the tone of the scene. “Except… my face doesn’t cooperate because of the panic attacks or the nightmares having kept me up the night before and I know you try to fuck the bad moods out of me, baby, I love you, but you also know—“

“That's not how it works,” he finishes for you.

Finger tips trail across the top of your forehead, curving around your temple and down your cheek. “Let's make a plan, okay? Let’s take a sick day tomorrow, you and me, and we’ll stay in bed or I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, buy you all the sugary bullshit you want.”

“And if I want you to leave me alone?”

Laughter bubbles up out of him and fills you in a way that starts to push the other feelings out. “Then I’ll leave you alone, beautiful.”

To make his point, he moves away from you, pushes off the counter and away from you. The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes it worse as your fingers slip against his smooth upper arms in an attempt to grab him and pull him back.

Santiago Garcia has never made you feel unseen or unheard, taking the perfect care to understand the intricacies of how the things in your head work; how they learn and adapt and move the goal lines of your healing journey like some kind of mutated virus.

Truthfully, wholly and in every way he can, he sees the moments and strives to meet the points of connection you’re reaching for.

For a long time, you never let anybody see it. You never let anybody see any of it. That’s where all these feelings come from, this emptiness of a drained body. Because you spend hours covering it all up with make up and clothes and caffeine like a bad relationship except your abuser is yourself now—not the one who put the thoughts there in the first place.

It is exhausting to be two people, the one you are; the one you pretend to be. With Santiago, you only ever have to be the one.

Here. Now. Everyday and always before that.

You let him and he knew that was as good as you telling him you loved him.

#santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia #oscar isaac #santiago 'pope' garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #o writes #santiago garcia

110 notes · View notes