#santi saturday

[legendary-pink-dot]

Santiago Saturday

Since yesterday was Frankie Friday, I feel like Santi Saturday is a natural attachment. 😏

Enjoy this fine cake, friends.

[radioprinz]

Forever mood

[witnbeauty]

.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

listen

summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were. 

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else. 

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly. 

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted. 

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features. 

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him. 

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after. 

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful. 

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi. 

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway. 

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it. 

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further. 

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar. 

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles. 

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman. 

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight. 

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out. 

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says. 

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’ 

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’ 

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

 - before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste. 

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it - 

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty. 

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It���s agonising. 

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read. 

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’ 

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’ 

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder. 

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’ 

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’ 

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’ 

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks. 

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay. 

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door. 

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet. 

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out - 

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you. 

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

 - before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing. 

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left. 

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye. 

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly. 

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck. 

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting. 

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing. 

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away. 

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ���Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie. 

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off. 

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes. 

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park. 

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable. 

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together. 

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move. 

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week. 

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun. 

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is. 

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on. 

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point. 

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi. 

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call. 

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave. 

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives. 

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once. 

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it. 

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’ 

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something  which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers. 

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes. 

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him. 

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand. 

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire. 

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him. 

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says. 

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear. 

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips. 

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out. 

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’ 

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good - 

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom. 

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him. 

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already. 

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both. 

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head. 

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets - 

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him. 

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’ 

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied. 

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say. 

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat. 

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest. 

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless. 

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before. 

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again. 

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’ 

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry. 

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out. 

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long. 

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea. 

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper. 

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours. 

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning. 

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards. 

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement. 

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’ 

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

[for-a-longlongtime]

Catch That Buzz

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x nonbinary!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 Warnings/tags: Smoking (cigarettes, cannabis), fingering, hair pulling (m), biting (m), PiV, oral (reader receiving). Characters are bisexual 💖💜💙, on PrEP + birth control. Reader is nb + AFAB (assigned female at birth), had top surgery. Mention of scars. No use of pronouns, reader has a clit and ‘folds’, gets wet, no further genitalia descriptors.  Word count: 1079

A/N: This suddenly happened, inspired by @sin-djarin‘s and @lotusbxtch‘s input, and with thanks to @perotovar! Casually written format, based on the gifs below. This is for @romanarose‘s Oscar & Pedro Characters Fic Pride event; please go check out the other stories and send in your own! Dividers by @saradika.

Young Santi, pre-Army days or on leave - idk make it work in your mind, time is irrelevant.

but

The way Santi would have YOU light that cigarette for him after you’ve fucked, just to see if your hands could hold it steady enough. And if it does - well then he hasn’t done a good enough job, according to him. 

He'd take a drag of the cigarette and then pull you to sit on his lap, slipping his free hand between your thighs. "C’mon, baby. Ride it for me," stroking you before he slips two fingers inside.

He would finger you to orgasm at least once, probably twice, while he smokes that cigarette. Then depending on his mood - e.g. a lazy Saturday or Sunday would be perfect - he may even light up a joint, shot gunning you as he keeps you in his lap, sitting against his hardening dick. Just slow slow rocking and rubbing against each other, kissing as you're both getting hazy from the weed.

It’s always good to kiss him, but even more so when you’re this relaxed, because he kisses you like *that*, devouring you, slow and easy, while you can’t stop your fingers from playing with those beautiful curls. Soft groans slipping from his lips when he finally breaks your kiss, baring his neck as he tips his head back and you tug a little harder at his curls.

“Malo…”, he warns you, his hands stroking your chest; gently over your scars as always, then a little rougher to tease your nipples until they’re hard. So you taunt him back, tugging his hair just a little harder as you grind yourself against him, still so wet from when he fingered you earlier. You don’t know which strain of weed he tends to buy, but it always makes you so horny despite - or maybe because - everything seems to move so slowly.

It takes a little longer than usual to get him hard when he’s high, but that’s no problem, because one of the perks is that he’s more inclined to let you take charge. And you like it - love it, really - when you push him down on his back and he holds his cock like that, jerking himself off as he gives you a heated look. He whimpers so pretty when you first only let your folds brush over his leaking head, teasing him some more just because you can, and you love that slightly strung out look in his eyes as you sink down on him, he’s always unable to tear his glance away from how you engulf him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers as he rocks his hips up into you, never one to lay back idly even when you’re riding him like this. But when you pull his hands away from your hips and bring them up above his head, leaning down to kiss him as you hold him pinned against the bed - even though you both know it would take no effort for him to break free -, his breathing will stutter so beautifully.

He tries to hold back, slow down his thrusts into you, but he loves it when you take him like this - when you take what you want from him, and as your hand slides into his curls again, his eyes will flash dark with need and a wordless question. Because despite how soft and hazy and slow everything is like this, you know what it is he wants in that moment.

He moans when you sink your teeth into his shoulder, his breathing growing even heavier, and then that loud hiss you love so much when you tug at his curls. "Fuck me harder, baby," he pants and you do so, tightening your heat around his cock when you bite his other shoulder, curling your fingers just a little more around his locks. Only then you tug *hard* to really make it hurt - the way that makes his breathing stutter so rapidly and desperately in his chest, tears glistering in his eyes from how his scalp stings.

He arches up under you, just like you do when he holds you down and fucks you like this, and when you keep him pressed down and lick his neck, whispering "Come for me, pretty boy" he cries out hard, pumping his seed into you as he stammers your name.

You like to keep him on edge as he tries to catch his breath, tell him to keep his eyes on you as you sit back up and touch yourself while keeping him inside, even as he's softening. He always obeys, dark eyes fixed on you, biting his lower lip which makes it look even more plush than usual. You don't even need to tell him to do so, but you like ordering him around at times like this, particularly because of the eagerness sparking in his eyes to listen like the good soldier he was trained to be.

He loves watching you get yourself off, the way you'll lean back to give him the best view as you spread yourself open for him, your fingers on your clit brushing down every now and then to stroke him where you two are still joined. You know he's bordering on being overstimulated, and that there's only so far you can push him like this, but it's worth it.

Worth seeing the unabashed desire in his eyes like this even though he has already come. Worth hearing him gasp when you tighten yourself around him as you come, but most definitely worth the way he stares at how you move up to let him slip out of you. Because the way his jaw drops without fail when he watches his cum leak out of you, his body nearly shaking at the sight of it - it is priceless -, until he then moves up with a growl and will push you down on your back, not coming up for air until he's eaten his spend out of you and you've come on his tongue, now feeling just as overstimulated as he is. 

You taste yourself on his tongue when he moves up to kiss you, and as you’re both struggling to keep your eyes open from exhaustion and the weed, you know there will be plenty left - for him, for you, for anything - of the weekend once you wake up again.

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[canadianfangirl-95]

A Bahamas Bet

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader

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

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

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

Part 2 Word Count: 8k

Part 2

Saturday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me.” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you slightly confused but also amused.

You giggle, “Sorry, dick joke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny whistles and the girls give their ouus and ahhhs.

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him confused, “What plan?”

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

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

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

“Fuck.” Benny interjected, giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1

@christinamadsen @fluffygoffpanda

[romanarose]

Talk to Me

Santiago Garcia x afab!reader

Join my taglist!

Main Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi

Summary: You open up to Santi about being sexually assaulted.

Warnings: Description of sexual assault. Just all the warnings there. Santi responds how I'd like a partner to respond in this setting (Ideally I'd like them to kill my rapists but unfortunetly this is the real world :(). Just be aware this could potentially be very triggering but I was trying to find a fic like this and couln't so I just made it.

Immersivity: Reader is so longer in teens (meaning not 18 or 19) I think thats it. gender neuatral but reader is AFAB

A/N as is the natue for many of these kinds of stories, I am describing my real life experience. Everyone is different, and no matter what, how you responded (fight flight freeze or fawn) or how you got into that position or how old you were, weather it involved physical violence or coercion or alcohol it's all traumatizing its all awful and you deserve to be heard and believed and comforted, and to have some form of justice whatever that may look like for you.

"It was stupid, honestly." You mutter, sitting up against the headboard of Santi's bed.

Santiago Garcia was the first guy you dated that had anything more than a box spring on the floor and who washed his legs, so things had been looking up. You were staying over at Santi's place, enjoying a nice saturday in, and dozed off only to be woken up by Santiago trying to be playful. He had grabbed your ankle, tugging at you saying 'wakey wakey eggs and bakey! Well, there's not eggs. Or bacon honestly. But I can doordash some- are you okay?'

You had begun to have a panic attack, something that Santi wasn't knew to handling with you. Over the months you were dating, he came to know your anxiety and depressive episodes, learning how to help deal with them. He wasn't knew to mental health: Will had PTSD bad enough he used to black out. Ben suffered from nightmares and panic attacks. Frankie buried his depression in addiction.

Today was different. Other times the panic attacks came from general anxiety things. Life surrounding Santi... today, it was clear he triggered it. He felt awful, an absolute wreck, making you cry when all he ever wanted to do was make you smile. So, he helped calm you down, and when you were ready, he broached the subject. He had suspected for a while now that someone had hurt you, but seeing as the relationship was fairly new still he didn't think it was his place to ask.

Now, the two of you sit together on his bed, parallel. You couldn't look in his eyes.

"It's not stupid. I promise."

You huff, crossing your arms and sinking into the bed just a little. "The whole ankle thing wasn't even that actual night, but a few weeks before. It was college. I had this group of friends I worked with and partied with a lot. Usually at this one couples place where a fuck ton of people lived. It was my friends place so we got drunk and I crashed on the couch when everyone went to bed. I was passed out but not like... not unconcious. In and out of sleep I guess. This guy who lived there with his pregnant girlfriend, Kody, he sat on the other end of the couch and just... started touching my ankles and legs. Massaging kinda. He occasionally said things to me that I dunno... made me feel good I guess. Maybe he was calling me hot but I don't remember. I just remember I'd pull my leg away sometimes and he'd keep touching or would wait until I stretched out again. I never really liked my legs touched. Tickleish I guess. But he wouldn't quit. I had the distinct feeling if I fell asleep he'd um... touch more."

You can hear Santi take a deep breath. "But he didn't that night?"

You shake your head. "My friends boyfriend came out and grabbed him. Said something like 'what the fuck is wrong with you' or something. Then put him in his room where his girlfriend was."

"He knew he was trying something."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And they still stayed friends?"

You can't help chuckle darkly at the nievty. "bro's before hoes."

But Santi isn't having it.

"What- that not-"

"Would you really stop being friends with one of the guys if you knew they-"

"They wouldn't. They aren't like that."

"I know. But if they did."

"Gone. No questions asked." The resolution in his voice made you smile.

"Anyway." You sigh. "Doesn't matter because a few weeks later I partied with them again and it happened so. I did that to myself." The tears and shame well up in your eyes, and Santiago grabs your hand.

"It's not your fault, amor. It's his, only his. Your were a teenager."

"Old enough to know better."

"Stop it."

"Old enough to know I shouldn't have gotten turned on."

Santi remained quiet at that, letting you continue.

You rest your head on his shoulder. "I was horny. Like, mad horny back then. He kept feeding me drinks and for hours he would touch me whenever people weren't looking. I was so fucking drunk, Santi. Like, the kind where you just puke int he bathroom then go back to partying. After a while I didn't just go along with it I kinda... I touched him too." With that, you begin to cry and Santiago pulls you into his arms as you finish. "We went to my dorm and he... he followed me but I let him in and I didn't fight back, and and, and, it felt good and I hated that it felt good and I hated that he knew how to touch me and I hated that he was complimenting me the whole time and I just wanted it to stop! I wanted to start screaming, I wanted to but thought about how I touched him back and my friend saw us kiss and... I just knew there was no way to prove anything. I knew it would just be embarrassing. He was a shift lead at work and I was new and I just knew there was no way anyone would believe me..."

"Baby..." Santiago's heart was broken, holding you closely to him and wishing he had been there, wishing he could have protected you.

"Eventually I started passing out. Most of my memories of that night were blacked out anyway... I couldn't even get into the car by myself. I just kinda... gave up, I guess. I let sleep take take me and let him do whatever. Sometimes I woke up and just went back to sleep. I couldn't even lift my head anymore."

Santiago rubbed your back soothingly. It felt nice to have him there. You ran those two nights through your head again and again, all alone, it was such a comfort to be held by someone you trusted while you think throught it.

"What happened in the morning, baby love? Was he gone?"

You're griping his shirt tight. "No. He fell alseep in bed with me, in the shitty twin mattress I had lofted. I just... i remember his sticky skin. I think about that a lot. I was delirious still but needed to get away so I stumbled my way to the couch and slept for I don't know how long. Then my alarm went off and I needed to go to math class because I wasn't doing good. I had to.... I had to go back to my room and wake him up. I didn't wanna touch him but he needed to leave. I just remember thinking 'I have class, I can't miss class' which like... should be the least of my worries. Anyway he um... He got up eventually and walked home. I tried not to interact with him after that. I dropped out at the end of the semester." You rub your face on Santi's sleep shirt, aware you're getting snot on it.

"He um... it was.... inside... I was just in shock for the next week, you know? I didn't get any plan B and then it was too late... So I just prayed and prayed I wasn't pregnant. I don't know what I would have done, honestly, but their weren't any abortion clinics nearby so. Who knows. All I know is every time some old politician man wants to make a rule banning abortions, they'll never be 19 sobbing between classes in the bathroom begging for their period to come."

He let you cry for a while, let out all your sobs and heaves and snot while he rubbed your back, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. When it was done, when you'd cried it all out finally, Santiago pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. He cups your face in his hands, looking you directly in the eye so you could feel the honest in them. A single dark curl fell over his forehead.

"I love you. I believe you. I don't blame you." He tilts your head down to press a chaste kiss on your nose. "I don't blame you for how you felt when he manipulated your body. I don't blame you forgoing back and partying with him after he touched your legs. I don't blame you for not getting plan B or wanting to get to math class or touching him. If you were so drunk you could barely walk, if you were blacking out, there's not way he could have consented. You were innocent."

You hug him.

A tight, child-like hug, clinging to him like your lifeboat in a storm, the anchor that keeps you grounded.

This is what you needed to hear. You needed to know that even if you weren't this idea of the perfect victim, you were still a victim. You were taken advantage of raped by a man who saw you as simply something to use, and it wasn't your fault.

Thank you so much for reading.

The year after this hapened to me was really bad, almost loft my life a few times. Words cannot describe how badly this broke me as a person, and my friends were extremely worried about me.

Againn, this was extremely self indulgent. I needed to hear these words from my beloved Santi, my sweet man <3

I love you all, and it wasn't your fault.

you can keep up by joining my tag list, joining my tumblr community, or following @romana-updates

[pimosworld]

The story of us

Pairing: Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary: Set before reader and the boys are officially together and how it all came to be.

CW: 18+ MDNI, eventual poly relationship mentions of ptsd,verbally abusive boyfriend, cursing,threats of physical violence,alcohol consumption,mentions of past drug use,flirting,mentions of sex, smut in later chapters,minor character death, angst,fluff and happy ending.

Notes: I’ve taken some liberties with their lives after leaving delta but nothing too ooc. Frankie doesn’t have a kid and he lives with Benny and Will. Reader is a nurse for her occupation and her call sign is honey. The story will go between readers pov and the boys throughout. The boys have a group chat without reader named The golden girls, and a group chat with the reader named DF4L. It starts off heavy on the angst but it gets better I promise. No description of reader.

Chapter summary-The boys are concerned since you’ve grown distant and decide to surprise you. They find themselves in a compromising position.

WC-2k

Not beta read

Chapter 1 Boundaries

——————————————————————————

Saturday

  Your hands are shaking as you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter. You can already feel the splitting headache forming that always follows the tears steadily streaming down your face.

  Why do you keep putting up with this? Just leave him. 

  But his words constantly echo in your thoughts. 

You’re going to be alone, and then what? 

  You're pulled from your thoughts when your phone vibrates on the counter. Hopefully he’ll just leave a voicemail apologizing like he always does after a fight. You don’t have the energy to argue anymore. 

  Your phone vibrates again and you think you might as well get the apology over with. It’s almost as if you crave the fight because you're showered with affection once it’s over.

  What is wrong with you? 

  You flip your phone over and curse under your breath. Shit

  “Hey Santi”, you try to hide the quiver in your voice and the constant sniffling. “I’m so sorry, I can’t make it tonight I’m just not feeling well”. You stammer out hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible. 

  “No,no not again, this is the third time”, he says sternly yet his voice is laced with concern. “I’m not

above begging, but you can’t tell the guys or I’ll have to kill you”. He chuckles nervously on the other end. 

  You can’t hide the barrage of tears that start to flow because you know how much he cares and you feel so guilty canceling on them-again. 

  “Cariño, I was just kidding, please don’t cry, you can tell them I begged if it means we get to see you” his voice now laced with obvious panic.

  You’re trying desperately to calm your breathing and push down the guilt that you feel for lying yet again to your best friend. “ I know you were just joking, I just…” hiccuping between words trying to stave off a horrible panic attack. “I had a long week and work was so stressful, I don’t want to put a dark cloud on the night”. 

  He knows you're lying but he’ll never push you. 

  “Okay cariño, you said that last time but I won’t push you”. 

  There’s a brief moment of silence and you wonder if you should hang up first. 

  Santi takes a deep breath and you're preparing yourself to hear the worst “You know I would do anything for you”,Just say I love you another brief moment of silence passes over you. You know he’s not expecting a response. 

  “I know” Just say I love you 

  End call.

  ****

  Santi enters the bar alone-again. He does not want to have this conversation-again. He plasters on the best wide grin he can muster as he approaches the group. 

  “Long time no see hermañ-” Frankie is cut off by Benny’s obnoxious groan. 

  “AGAIN”, Benny can’t hide his annoyance, though he’s never been much for subtlety. 

  “Nice to see you too Ben” Santi hangs his head not wanting to look amongst the men he’s known for his entire adult life. “I tried,” he says sincerely. 

  “Not hard enough obviously”Ben grumbles under his breath. 

  Santi flips him the middle finger “Fuck off”. 

  Between the conversation he had with you and Ben's warm welcome Santi is at his end. 

  Always the voice of reason Will chimes in “Can we all cool it please?”. Santi pulls up a chair next to Frankie and slaps his friend on the back as a silent hello. 

  “I know it’s that fucker Mike, she just won’t say it”. Benny says still unwilling to drop the subject . Your boyfriend of 6 months wasn’t a fan amongst the boys. They tried in the beginning to like him, all with the exception of Ben. He always had an uneasy feeling about him. 

  “We haven’t seen her in weeks” Ben says almost in a whisper. 

  Will rubs the back of his neck nervously and looks to his brother, “ Ben you gotta stop, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy”. 

  “Oh I KNOW you’re not calling me crazy” Ben says almost at a shout inside the bar. Some patrons have started to raise their eyebrows at the heated conversation taking place amongst the oddly handsome men. Ben leans in real close so that only the boys can hear his taunting tone. “ Will drives by her house everyday, even though it takes an extra 15 minutes to get home”. 

  “You never shut up do you?” Will grumbles at his brother. 

  Santi chuckles to himself, finding some reprieve in the Miller brothers' bickering. He glances to his left to see Frankie deep in thought. His arms crossed tight across his chest and his brows furrowed, his eyes boring a hole into the table. 

  Frankie knows how long it’s been-37 days. At first you still came out with them and saw them as often as you could but over time the excuses started. You didn’t stop by the house as much, and then you missed a few barbecues. Once you stopped coming out for drinks he knew things might be changing for good. He didn’t want to think about that for too long, it hurt too much. 

  You used to spend so much time at the Millers you had your own drawer for extra clothes in his room. You kept your Vanilla body wash in his shower for when you would stay over and had a spare toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed the smell of your lavender shampoo lingering in your hair when you would curl up next to him on the couch for movie night. 

  Moving in with the Millers felt like a step back at first, when he struggled with his addiction but you started spending more and more time there. As time went on he felt like a part of the household and not so much a burden or an unwanted guest. You started spending so much time there that the three men had a conversation about you moving in. You paying rent at your own house didn’t make sense when you practically lived there 5 days a week. 

  They knew you were so fiercely independent that you enjoyed still having a place to call your own. Once you started seeing Mike the entire idea was out of the question. Frankie regrets not having that conversation everyday. 

  “Fish” Santi calling his name brings him back to his current reality. You’re not here with them

  “I’m gonna grab a pitcher while they finish bickering” Santi gestures his fingers between the two brothers. 

  “Nope” Frankie slams his hands down on the table and abruptly stands up. “We’re gonna go keep our girl company if she’s not gonna come out with us”. 

  “Hell ya”, Benny whoops and stands up as Will shrinks in the chair hating the eyes of the bar patrons once again focused on them. 

  “Will?” Santi looks to his comrade hoping he’ll be the voice of reason. 

  “As much as I think she deserves her privacy, I’m starting to get worried”. Benny grabs the arm of Santiago and all but yanks the poor man out of his seat. “So it’s settled, we’re going to get our girl”. 

  The boys make their way out of the bar as if they're  on one of the most important missions of their career. 

  Santi is buzzing with nervous excitement. “You boys head over and I’ll grab some beers and her favorite snacks from the store”. 

  “You might want to grab some of the hard stuff too,you know she loves tequila when she’s sad”, Benny yells across the parking lot to Santi. 

  ****

  Benny is practically bouncing as they walk the short path up to your cottage style home. He spent months helping you find this house when you finally had enough money to leave your apartment. 

  He realized how much he missed you as he took in all the little details of your home that made you who you are. Not being offered much individuality in the military it was important to you to make your home special. 

  The wooden bench with cast iron frame that Will and Frankie built for you as a housewarming gift sits perfectly on your front porch. The honeysuckle growing over the lattice has finally provided you with enough privacy to enjoy your morning coffee before work. 

  He’s taking in all the surroundings except for your boyfriend's truck parked across the street from your house. 

  Will makes it up your steps first and begins to knock when he hears shouting coming from inside. 

  “YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” they can clearly tell it’s Mike and Benny all but knocks his brother over to bang on the door. 

  They anxiously wait for an answer but no one comes to the door. Ben goes to bang on the door again but Will grabs his arm. 

  “What the fuck are you doing, I’m not just gonna stand around and wait for an answer”. Ben practically has steam coming out of his ears as he stares down his brother. 

  While the brothers are bickering Frankie is counting down the minutes since they knocked. He’s picking at his jean pocket out of nervous habit,wishing he had at least one beer before heading over here to calm his nerves. Are you okay on the other side of that door? 

  “I know man but I just need you to think for a minute, take a deep breath”. Will looks at his brother with pleading eyes. Ben takes a long exaggerated inhale and exhales. “Okay, I took a deep breath and now I’m gonna kick the door down”. 

  “BEN” Frankie pushes past him to the door. “What Frank , you guys can just fix the door later”. 

  Frankie turns around and huffs as he digs through his pockets glancing at both brothers as if they've grown two heads. “We all have fucking keys to her house”. 

  As Frankie begins to unlock your door with his spare key he hopes you won’t be upset with them, of course you won’t be. 

  ****

  Santi was hesitant at first, this has to be crossing a boundary. He thought about you while perusing the candy aisle for your favorites(and Bennys).

Checking on you after you asked for space  is not crossing a boundary. The years you’ve all spent together in delta force and after should tell him that, this is necessary. Killing people together wasn’t crossing a boundary, huddled up for warmth on a mission with no clothes between you because it was life or death wasn’t crossing a boundary, the boys all but forcing you to move to a city you've never been after leaving delta because they couldn’t bear the thought of being away from you. 

  You might get mad at first but you always get over it, he thought to himself as he finished paying for the insane amount of drinks and snacks because he was sure once you calmed down you would welcome them with open arms-like you always did. 

  As Santi rounds the corner to your street he can see the obnoxious camo wrap lifted truck parked adjacent to your house (this can’t be good). Your boyfriend's truck always bothered him; he wasn't even military. 

  Panic sets in as Santi puts his car in park and doesn’t see anyone outside your house. He decides to ditch the snacks to assess what might be happening inside. As he runs up the path to your house he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you and Benny sitting on the wooden bench Frankie built for you. 

  His relief is short-lived when he sees your blood shot eyes and Benny cradling you in his arms as if you’re going to run away any moment.  

  Mike is a dead man. 

Next

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[eyelessfaces]

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

[ivystoryweaver]

EVENT CLOSED

My Masterlist

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

THANK YOU for every single follow and interaction! Every single reply, comment and rb makes my heart explode! I'm a bit overdue for a 1k so I thought I would combine it with a ✨Holiday Celebration✨

There will be 2 parts to this party:

Celebration Part One✨

Based on this poll, 400 of you voted, and the Moon Dads/Hanukkah idea won.

However, the Miguel/Christmas idea was such a close second, I decided to make a holiday event. LET'S DO THEM ALL!

Here's the schedule for Nov. 26-Dec. 30: (I will try to post on Saturdays or Sundays)

UPDATE: They have titles now! Each one is a holiday song title

WEEK 1: 🫂💖 "Jingle Bells" - Santiago Garcia comfort/cheer-you-up ficlet for this busy, sometimes lonely time of year. Occurs during the holidays, but is not holiday-specific. Fun fact: Jingle Bells is actually a Thanksgiving song. Thanks to the moots who helped me pick Santi

WEEK 2: 🌙🕎 "Eight Nights (in December)"* Moon Knight System as dads/Hanukkah short story. Thanks for voting! This story is your winner! 🏆

WEEK 3: 🕷️🎄"(Everybody's Waitin' for) The Man With the Bag" Miguel O'Hara/Christmas one-shot

WEEK 4: 🎅🏼🐶 “Fairytale of New York” 18+ Pathetic Puppy Llewyn Davis on Christmas Eve one-shot ^ This occurs on Christmas Eve, but doesn't necessarily mean characters celebrate Christmas

WEEK 5: 💫🌳 "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" Poe Dameron/Life Day one-shot *"Eight Nights" is a gorgeous Hanukkah song by Rosi Golan if you're not familiar

Celebration Part Two✨

And here's how you can get involved in the celebration:

I will be taking specific requests for the following characters. Please read this entire post before requesting:

Askbox

🌙Moon Knight - Marc Spector, Steven Grant and/or Jake Lockley 🕸️Across the Spiderverse - Miguel O'Hara 💫Star Wars - Poe Dameron 🤖Ex Machina - Nathan Bateman 💵Triple Frontier - Santiago Garcia 🎬Scenes From a Marriage - Jonathan Levy

There are a few other Oscar Isaac characters I might attempt, if asked.

— rules: • must be following me & must be 18+ • No request limit at this time, but let me know your top priority request if you have more than one. • requests don't have to be holiday based, but they can be!

Pick a character (above) and request:

1.🖼️- a moodboard - you can tell me the scenario or vibe, or I can pick for you! Telling me a little about yourself will help 2. 🦸🏽- a character blurb from one of my stories My Masterlist 3. 🤔- headcanons for blorbos. Requests for stories/ficlets/one shots, etc. are not open for this event

Ideas below if you need them:

here - romantic confession dialogue prompts here - married life prompts here - tender prompts here - affectionate prompts here - protective prompts here - variety prompts: angst, fluff, smut, bittersweet

4. 🎮 - games - "Would You Rather?" or "FMK" (I'll probably answer you with kiss rather than kill) 5. 📚- fic recs - Recommend a fic for me to read - can be yours or someone else's, OR ask me for recommendations because I've been reading for FOREVER and I have some writer moots who are rad af 6. ❓- questions about me, my stories or anything at all 7. 📸- send me your favorite pic or thoughts about your blorbo 8. 🤍- get-to-know-you questions here or Top 3's here - ask me to get to know me, I'll answer and ask you one back! 9. ➡️⬅️- follow backs - I need more blogs to follow. Tell me why I should follow you. What are you into?

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

My Masterlist

Askbox

[fancoloredglasses]

Captain America (Could you stop the film, please? I think I'm going to be sick), part 1

(Thanks to Chas Blankenship)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and 21st Century Films MGM. Please don’t sue me]

Oh gods…where to start…

First off, I had previously reviewed a pre-MCU interpretation of Captain America. This film, made over a decade later, was supposed to be a theatrical release in conjunction with the 50th anniversary of the character. Unfortunately, it missed the anniversary by a year…as a direct-to-DVD release (mainly due to reviews being savage). I’ll get to the bad acting and poor writing choices lates, but I want to address on HORRIBLE costuming choice first…

CAPTAIN AMERICA’S COWL HAS RUBBER EARS!

WHY?!?!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way…

One of the first issues with the film is casting an inexperienced actor in the title role:

Matt Salinger, son of Catcher In The Rye author JD Salinger. Now, I’m not saying nepotism was involved, but…

Salinger looked the part but lacked the ability to pull off being the center of attention. The writing certainly didn’t help matters either.

Of course, you can’t have a Captain America film without the Red Skull. However, in this film he is not Johann Schmidt, Nazi (and VERY German) zealot who volunteered for the procedure that transformed him. Instead, he is Tadzio de Santis, an Italian boy who was kidnapped after his family was slaughtered by Mussolini’s forces, then subjected to the procedure and brainwashed.

There are one or two names worth mentioning in the cast (neither of the main characters are) that I’ll cover when they’re introduced, but now…on with the show.

If you would like to watch the film, it’s available out YouTube or behind your favorite paywall.

We open in Italy in 1936, 3 years before the start of WW2 (for those who didn’t pay attention in history class) where a young boy is doing a piano recital (with a tape machine recoding it for posterity) in his home when Italian troops break through the window and enter (wouldn’t the front door be easier since you’re destroying property anyway?)  The father objects and is gunned down for his trouble. Mussolini then orders the boy to be taken as his troops slaughter the rest of the family while they make him watch.. Why this particular boy?

Oh sure, that makes sense. Take a prodigy against his will and kill his family. I’m sure he’ll be totally cooperative after that! Besides, the kid is what, thirteen at most? Surely there are genius adults they could recruit, or maybe Mussolini could’ve just appealed to the family’s sense of patriotism and asked for the boy for the good of the country.

 We then switch to an Italian fortress where we have an Italian officer showing a bunch of German officers a film of a rat for some reason, then reveals…

…and this is a good thing???

The Italian claims the rat is much stronger and more intelligent (yeah, but good luck getting it a date in Saturday night!)

We are then introduced to Dr. Vaselli, who created the process (as opposed to Dr. Erskine in the comics, since he’s German and the producers wanted to do this in Italy for some reason), who is appalled that the military is using her process on the bot (you mean she’d be less appalled if they used it on an adult?) so they have her restrained, but she breaks free and flees.

We then fast forward to 1943 (three years after Cap’s comic debut? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to kidnap an older lad and have this be 1940?)

President Roosevelt is being briefed on Project Rebirth, which is Dr. Veselli’s research now in the hands of the Americans.

The President is told that the first volunteer (at least he wasn’t kidnapped?) as a man named Steve Rogers. Should the test be successful, many more will follow.

Out in California (wait, isn’t Steve from Brooklyn? Can’t the writers get ANY details right?) Steve gives a tearful goodbye to his friends and family before Uncle Sam comes to retrieve him.

Steve is then whisked away to a secret lab, where Steve is pumped full of whatever Vaselli’s formula is and electricity until……

(Thanks to Video Club Random)

[QUICK NOTE: Lt. Fleming is played by Bill Mumy, who played Will Robinson on Lost In Space and Lennier on Babylon 5)

With Vaselli dead, Steve Rogers (Code Name: Captain America) is the first and last of America’s super soldiers. Unfortunately, he was critically injured from his gunshot wounds. Col. Louis (Played by Michael Nouri, who played the Love Interest in Flashdance) tells the doctor to patch him up quick because the Axis has a rocket capable of targeting anywhere in the world, including onto US soil, within a week. So no pressure or anything.

As the doctor leaves, Steve forces himself up and wants to know where he’s going in order to stop that rocket.

Within hours, they’re on a plane.

…with Captain America trying out his new fireproof outfit (with his new shield) Once over the area the launch site is supposed to be hidden, Cap parachutes down.

(Thanks to TheMovieDump)

As the rocket speeds toward Washington…

(Thanks again to Video Club Random)

(The boy’s name is Tom Kimball, whose family happened to be visiting Washington. You’ll be hearing about him again in about 50 years)

Later, in Alaska…

…the rocket crashes, but somehow doesn’t explode. Instead, it buries itself in the ice.

Later, when the Kimballs go home to Ohio, young Tom tells the story about the rocket to his best friend, Sam Kolawetz.

Eventually, the war ended and time marched on until 1993 (3 years after this movie was made; again, why not set he WW2 bit in 1940, then have the present be 1990 (which would be Cap's 50th anniversary)) where young Tom Kimball has grown up to become President Thomas Kimball (Played by Ronny Cox, who was Lt. Bogomil in the Beverly Hills Cop franchise and Dick Jones in RoboCop)

He is preparing to travel to Rome for an environmental summit (considering we’re STILL trying to fight climate change, you can guess how successful it will be)

Before he leaves, Kimball meets with General Fleming (who is NOT played by Bill Mumy, but Darren McGevin (who voiced the crime lord Tony Dracon on Gargoyles)), who seems to give Kimball a veiled threat to cancel the summit.

Let’s switch to Italy and a familiar stronghold we last saw 50 years ago.

…where the Red Skull isn’t so red or skull-y anymore (and is sporting a shiny new prosthetic hand so the actor doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t have one) Skull is holding a summit of his own to oppose Kimball’s environmental agenda. His compatriots want to kill Kimball, but Skull suggest a brain implant to control him instead.

Meanwhile in Alaska, a group of explorers discover.…

OK, if Cap was THAT close to the surface, then there’s no way (a) he’d be frozen enough for suspended animation and (2) it would’ve taken 50 years to discover him!

The explorers cut through the ice and bring the block of Cap-sicle to their base camp. Suddenly the block shatters and…

…Captain America is alive, well, and very fucking confused. He walks out of the tent into the cold (is he trying to become an ice cube again?)

Later, at the White House, Kimball is reading the morning paper…

Kimball pulls out the photo he took of the man on the rocket from 50 years ago to discover it’s the same person (or at least the same outfit) He then calls Sam Kolawetz (now a reporter for the Washington Dispatch…

...played by Ned Beatty, best known for being Lex Luthor’s flunky in Superman and getting sodomized in Deliverance) Sam (because Kolawetz is too hard to consistently spell) starts going on about the legend of the Red Skull and the man in the ice could be a link to the Skull.

Meanwhile in Rome, Skull is making plans for Kimball’s visit. He wants to know where Kimball will be at all times and any dirt his people can dig up on his Secret Service agents. Then he gets the morning paper and sees…

He then tasks his daughter Valentina (wait, you mean someone had a kid with him? Well, that would explain the change in his appearance) to deal with the good Captain.

Later, in the Great White North (What? You can’t expect Cap to get from Alaska to the Lower 48 without going through Canada!) Cap is wandering aimlessly when helicopters (led by Valentina) approach and Sam is driving toward his location. Cap ducks into the woods, so Valentina has the choppers land and she and a couple of goons give chase on motorcycles they just happened to have aboard (why? Couldn’t the choppers be armed and shoot at Cap from the air?) Cap manages to somehow lose all of the goons except Valentina.

(Thanks to Tales From SYL Ranch DARKROOM)

Cute, but there’s no way in hell anyone else would be dumb enough to fall for that.

To be fair to Cap, just a day ago by his reckoning he was in a war against the Germans and the Japanese.

As Cap drives away, he thumbs through Sam’s notebook (after all, he was frozen before it was ill advised to drive while distracted), checking a map to discover he’s in Canada, and drives until he’s out of gas.

Packing up the notebook and disguising himself (good thing Sam had an overcoat that just happened to be Steve's size) he hikes until nightfall, where he finds a truck stop and a trailer that the driver apparently forgot to lock.

…falling asleep next to the Champaign of Canadian Beers as the truck drives through the night, eventually ending up in Steve Rogers’s hometown.

…eventually realizing this isn’t 1943. He finds his girlfriend’s (Bernice) home, but when he approaches the owner (who looks a lot like her)…

She then calls for her mother to call the cops, but…

…her mother’s his old flame (emphasis on old, since it’s been 50 years) and reality finally sets in.

Meanwhile in Italy, Valentina reports failure, but somehow she bugged Sam.

However, all the Skull can think about is her inability to kill Captain America (he shouldn’t be so hard on her. After all, he couldn’t do it either) and sends her away.

Back in Washington, Sam is tracking down the origins of Captain America.

Wait, if that file is Top Secret, how the hell did he get his hands on it?

Sam goes through the file and finds the hometown of Steve Rogers. He immediately calls President Kimball (remember him?) to give him the news (Wouldn’t Kimball have security clearance for that file, being the President and all?)

So naturally, Valentina now has the information and can improve her father’s opinion of her.

Back in California, Bernice' daughter daughter (Sharon) is letting Steve crash until he gets himself caught up. While at Bernice’s place…

…Sam has shown up looking for Steve Rogers. Suddenly he’s shot from behind (nice to see Ned Beatty continues to be cast as the guy who gets shit on)…

…as Valentina storms in looking for Captain America!

At Sharon’s place, Steve is caught up and realizes Sam was telling the truth, and that the Red Skull is still alive. He remembers Vaselli kept a diary that might have Skull’s actual name. Then the phone ring.

We then shift to outside Bernice’s home, where the occupants are being loaded into emergency vehicles and the place has been cordoned off as a crime scene! Sharon’s father is alive despite being shot, but Sam and Bernice…

…refused to talk and paid the price!

The next morning at the hospital, Sharon sits with her father and turns on the TV to comfort him when a Special Report airs.

Well, THAT can’t be good!

Looks like Captain America is taking a trip to Rome (where Kimball was abducted), but first Steve needs Veselli’s diary. Sharon takes Steve to the diner where the lab was hidden. Surprisingly, it hasn’t been converted into a Denny’s yet. Steve goes to the spot where the secret door should be, only it’s a ladies room now.

As management calls the cops, Valentina and her goons arrive at the diner (how did Steve not know he was being tailed?) Steve then finds a space between studs and punches a hole through the drywall to find the secret door into the remains of the lab.

Steve finds the diary as Valentina’s goons arrive at the diner, guns waving. Steve and Sharon hide as Valentina enters the lab. They manage to sneak out while Valentina’s back is turned, but…

What? You didn’t think Valentina would plan for that? Steve uses the darkness to play cat-and-mouse with the goons, making short work of them. They then leave before the cops arrive. Sharon goes through the diary (so she can read Italian?) and while it doesn’t give the Red Skull’s name, it does give the town where he’s from.

So…trip to Italy?

CAN Captain America save the President?

WILL Steve and Sharon become An Item?

WHO the hell thought ANY of this was a good idea?

These questions and more will be answered in the exciting conclusion!

[legendary-pink-dot]

Happy Santi Saturday!

That lap is just so inviting. 🥵 Especially when he looks stern and like he needs to tame you for being a brat.

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 10

It's time for your 12 week scan, and Santi has some things to say about Craig.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Worry about being a single parent. Blood test. Jealous Santi. 'Arguments'. Mentions of wine drinking, but not the reader (obviously). Reader is referred to as 'girl' once (in a friendly way). Not proofread so there's probably mistakes. Word count: 3,999 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Edited on 27/08 as I realised I called Beth, Bethany, when her full name is actually Elizabeth, as stated in part 2. My bad!

Part 9 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 11

“You’re glowing!” Beth greeted you, giving you a hug as she made her way into your apartment.

“It’s definitely sweat,” you tell her before coming out of the hug and closing your door. “I’ve just spewed my guts up in the bathroom.”

Beth was the last to arrive for your wine-night-that-is-now-Diet-Coke-and-wine-night. It had been a while since your last one (before you were even pregnant), and you felt like you could do with seeing your friends before your appointment tomorrow. In solidarity, Gabrielle swapped from wine to lemonade, but Beth and Courtney had both claimed, ‘you chose to stay pregnant, why should we stop drinking wine?’, and vowed that they’d drink enough wine for the three of you. You’d jokingly told them it was their hangover.

Beth had sent you a less than ladylike emoji back.

You settled everyone in your living room before going into your kitchen and bringing in your snacks for the evening. You had gone to the store to get your usual cheeses, but most of them you couldn’t eat now, so you settled on a few hard cheeses and your trusty bag(s) of Sourpatch Kids. You’d already worked through one bag as you prepared for your friends to come tonight.

You walk into the living room to find Gabrielle pouring you a glass of Diet Coke as you place the board on the coffee table. “There we go!”

“You know you don’t have to do this every time,” Beth says, arranging herself some cheese and chutney on a cracker.

You shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“We can have wine night at my place, if you want,” Courtney suggested. “Could take the pressure off you and…it doesn’t seem fair that you always do it.”

“But I don’t mind,” you said again, giving them a small laugh. “Really, I don’t.”

“Eh, we’ll organise it for my place next time,” Courtney said. “I’ll kick Andy out for the night.”

You shake your head. “Look, let me enjoy having my friends round to my place before it’s taken over by my children.”

Your friends laughed before Courtney rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

“So are you excited for your appointment tomorrow?” Gabrielle asked, smiling widely. “You get to see your babies again!”

You hesitate before nodding. “Yeah…I am.”

Beth raise an eyebrow. “You don’t sound excited.”

You pause for a moment before sighing. “It’s Santiago.”

Your friends went quiet, before Gabrielle asked, “Oh?”

“He’s just…been quiet.”

“What do you mean?” Beth asks.

“Like…I don’t know,” you sigh, rolling your eyes lightly. “We had a really good time on Saturday, and we said we’d start communicating more, getting to know each other a bit better, you know? And I think I might have done or said something, or made him uncomfortable, because he’s barely been texting me.”

“Have you been texting him?” Gabrielle asked.

You nod. “Yeah.” You bite your lip. “I’m not even sure if he’s coming tomorrow to the appointment, he’s been so quiet. I told him the details and he didn’t confirm, just read my text.”

“He might just be busy,” said Beth, shaking her head lightly.

“What if he’s realised that this isn’t worth it?” you ask, your brow furrowed in worry. “What if having two babies is more than he can handle? Or what if he’s actually met someone? How well is that going to go down?”

“What I think,” Courtney says, placing her wine glass down on your coffee table. “Is that you’re pregnant, you’re vulnerable, and you’re overthinking it.”

“She has every right to, though,” said Gabrielle. “I would be worried as well if Matthew had suddenly stopped communicating with me and I was pregnant.”

You have your hands at your friends. “Look, it’s girl’s night, okay. I don’t want to talk about my…man problems.” You say it as if it’s a question.

“Girl, that’s what we’re here for,” said Beth, rolling her eyes. “So what are you going to do?”

You’re silent for a moment before you give a weak shrug. “Suppose I’ll just…have to talk to him tomorrow. If he turns up.”

“If he doesn’t turn up, I’m gonna hunt him down and kick his ass,” muttered Courtney.

You sigh as you pick at your fingernails, a nervous habit you’ve suddenly taken to do so much more recently. Like you’d said in the past, you know you’d be fine without Santiago; but it was nice knowing he wanted to be involved, that your children wouldn’t have asked where their daddy was when they realised that their friends in school would have both parents. And how were you supposed to answer that? That their father didn’t want them? That he was probably on the other side of the world, in his big house, with the tall, skinny, booby blonde woman who had the world’s biggest diamond ring on her left hand?

Courtney was right, you do overthink.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, shaking your head as you pick up your glass of Diet Coke, taking a large sip. “Let’s talk about something else, like Beth’s dress shopping we’re doing in a few weeks.”

“Oh, yes!” said Gabrielle, turning to look at Beth excitedly.

Courtney shot you a look that said your conversation wasn’t over, but for now, she turned to Beth to listen to her wedding plans, drinking her wine.

“I have the dress appointment booked for the 2nd September,” said Beth, giving the three of you a look. “But it's for bridesmaids only, so write it down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, already putting it in your phone. “Am I gonna be super pregnant at your wedding or what?”

Beth shakes her head. “No, it’ll be after February.” She sighs, a small smile on her face. “We’re looking at May. Georgia wants a spring wedding.”

“Do you have a colour scheme?” Gabrielle asks.

“Well that’s where Georgia and I are disagreeing,” Beth says, sipping her drink. “She wants something bright and warm for spring, but I’m not…a bright person.”

“Can you compromise?” Courtney asked. “Can you have like…a spring colour of various shades?”

Beth snapped her fingers and pointed at Courtney, a grin on her face. “Genius. I’ll suggest that.” Beth then turned to you and Gabrielle. “Also, kids are welcome, since we decided to have the wedding in Florida and Georgia has a few nieces and nephews she wants there.”

“Oh that is so exciting, everyone has child-free weddings nowadays and I always have to miss out!” said Gabrielle.

You nod at Beth, your chest warming at the fact that your babies would be there for Beth’s wedding. “Thanks, but they’ll only be a few months old. I’ll…figure something out.”

Your brow momentarily furrows as you try recall someone who might be able to watch them at the time…if Santi wasn’t around.

“Hey, don’t worry about it now,” Courtney said, giving you a pointed look. “You have time, and you don’t know what’s going to happen in a year.”

You think about it for a few seconds before you nodded. “You’re right. You’re right! I won’t worry about it.” You smile at Beth. “I’m excited for dress shopping.”

“I’ve booked at Aurora Bridal, a full package, chocolates, strawberries, champagne, and everything. Except you,” Beth said, giving you a look. “Because you slept around and got pregnant so no champagne for you.”

You throw your chair pillow at her, where she let out a yell about how she almost spilled her wine on ‘your too small couch in your too small apartment’. You made a quip that she decide to come here every wine night and that she’d miss it once you moved out (with the ‘too small’ couch). You and Beth had been talking regarding your living arrangement and decided it was probably best now to start looking for a new apartment, and Beth knew all the best places to look due to her work.

You talk about wedding plans and dresses throughout the night until Beth and Courtney are lightly buzzed and Gabrielle gets a text from Matthew about the kids not going to bed. The night comes to an end after a few hours and you usher your friends out the door with their usual offers to help you clean up, which you decline and tell them that it’ll take no time at all. You give them all hugs before closing and locking up your apartment and turning around, collecting the used glasses and the nearly empty cheeseboard.

You take your time cleaning up, fighting to keep your eyes open. You remembered the days when you could stay up well into the night with no issues, but now you couldn’t even make it to 10pm most nights. Once finished in your kitchen, you double checked your front door was locked and turned off the lights before making your way through to your bedroom and getting ready for bed.

Once you were settled and wrapped up in your duvet, you checked your phone for any messages from Santiago regarding your appointment in the afternoon. You sigh and roll your eyes when you see the familiar 'read' sign and no reply. You practically toss your phone on your nightstand and lay down, trying to ignore the burn of tears in your eyes.

You were convinced he’d changed his mind about the babies, which was fine. It was. You had told him at the beginning that if he didn’t want to do it, he didn’t have to; that you’d be fine and get by without his help, because you had a good support system. It was just a shame if he had decided he no longer wanted to be a father. You thought you were finally getting to really know each other.

You ignore the tightness in your chest at the thought of Santiago leaving as you roll over to sleep.

You didn’t think that your first disagreement with Santiago (because you refused to call it an argument) would have been at your OB’s office after your twelve-week check-up.

He’d shown up after all, but barely looked at you as he took a seat with you in the waiting room. You’d texted him again in the morning, reminding him of the appointment, and you’d even left him a voicemail just before you left the office to go to said appointment. You’d asked him how he was doing, since he’d gone a bit MIA during the week, but you just got grunts back as answers.

You tried not to be hurt by it.

Jennifer called you in, checked on your general wellbeing and did your usual blood and urine tests. When she was satisfied, she asked you to go on the ultrasound table and prepare for your sonogram whilst she sent off your blood test. When you were settled on the table and Jennifer was out the room, you took the opportunity to talk to Santiago. “What’s going on?”

He gave you an unreadable look before lightly shrugging his shoulder and shaking his head. “Nothing.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Well it’s not ‘nothing,’ since you’ve barely spoken to me this week. Something is bothering you.”

Santiago didn’t answer. Hell, he didn’t even look at you. He just looked ahead, his arms crossed across his chest as he sat back in his uncomfortable plastic chair.

You grit your teeth, feeling the frustration in your chest, overtaking the anxiety you’d felt since the night before. He could at least tell you he wasn’t interested anymore instead of giving you the silent treatment, or treating you like this. You blink back the angry tears, looking away from Santiago and sitting back on the table, looking up at the ceiling.

The silence in the room weighs heavy on you, and when Jennifer comes back in the room, she momentarily pauses at the atmosphere before plastering a smile on her face. “Let’s take a look at these babies then!”

You give her a shaky smile before watching her take a seat by the monitor. She pressed a few buttons before turning to you, the gel in her hand. She gave her usual warning that it might be a bit cold before she squirted the gel on your bump. She places it down and grabs the wand before running it along your abdomen. She looks at the screen before smiling. “There they are!” she turns the screen towards you and Santiago.

You glance at Santi but he’s just staring at the screen, barely even blinking. You bite your lip to fight the tears threatening to fall before you turn your gaze back to the twins. You feel the usual warmth that spreads along your body as you look at the two, more human looking, babies. “Do they look okay?”

Jennifer moved the wand around a little, examining the image on the screen before nodding. “From what I can see, they look good. Growing well!”

You snort. You knew that, you felt like your bump was growing bigger every second.

“And I think they might be identical,” said Jennifer, moving the wand again before taking a few screenshots. She studied for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I’m sure they’re identical.”

She took a few more screenshots of different angles of each baby. You stare with wonder at your babies; they definitely looked a little more like babies now, you could even see their fingers on their hands and their little noses. You watch as Jennifer measures them, before taking some notes and more screenshots. “By how big they are, I can see exactly what how far along you are…” she bites her lip for a moment as she looks at the screen then nods. “Yup, you’re about to hit thirteen weeks, so you’re estimated due date is…February 5th.”

“And they’re growing okay?” you ask, looking at Jennifer.

She nods at you. “Yes, they are as big as they should be, so you just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Eat, sleep, throw up, repeat,” you joke, causing Jennifer to give a laugh.

Santiago remained silent.

Jennifer took a few more screenshots and a few mores notes before smiling at you both. “Everything is looking great! Hearts look good, they’re growing well, there’s lots of movement. I have no concerns.” She places the wand down and hands you some tissues to wipe up the gel before turning the sonogram machine off. “Do you know what kind of birth plan you were thinking?”

You nod as you wipe off the gel. “Well, ideally I would like a home birth with a pool, but I just don’t have the room for that until I move out. And I’m having twins so the risk of something going wrong is higher.”

“We can look into it more if you want,” Jennifer says, making a note about it in your file. “You’re still early so you have time to change your mind.”

You shrug. “I think I’m just going to stick to a hospital birth, just for my state of mind, and in case anything goes wrong.”

Jennifer nodded. “We’ll book your next appointment and we’ll talk about it then. Now let’s get these pictures for you.”

You grab your things and prepare to leave, Santiago standing and giving a polite goodbye to Jennifer. She opens her office door and leads you out to the reception area, mentioning that you should get a call next week regarding your blood test results and she disappeared into a back room to grab your ultrasound images. You spoke to the receptionist about booking your next appointment, aware that Santiago was standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

If he had a problem, you just want him to tell you. If he had met someone, then you would be happy for him, but you weren’t together, nowhere near anything romantic, so he shouldn’t be afraid to let you know. If he had changed his mind about the babies, sure, you’d be upset but you’d get over it. But you needed him to tell you. You can’t be dealing with the silent treatment, feeling like you’d done something wrong or being stuck in this limbo with him, where you don’t know where you stood with each other.

You were pissed off that he was treating you like this.

Once your appointment was confirmed, Jennifer handed you your photos, giving a quick glance between you and Santiago before giving you a smile. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

You thank her again before turning and leaving, noting Santiago followed you out. You looked at the ultrasounds for a few photos before practically throwing some photos at him, not looking at him. “Here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you felt Santiago take the photos. You place the rest in your bag as you walk towards your car, digging around for your keys. You’re almost to your car when you felt someone grab your arm, forcing you to turn around.

Your eyes widen at Santiago. He was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint, but he almost looked…ashamed? Out of place? You weren’t sure. You look at him with confusion. “What is it, Santiago?”

He stands there for a second, looking at you, before he blurts out, “Is this working for you?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Me.” He’s still holding the ultrasounds in his hands, tightly. As if he’s scared to let them go. “Being involved.”

Ah. So he was thinking about leaving. You straighten up, trying your best to hide the sudden bubbling of sadness in your chest, from your face. “If you’re not happy, Santi, then we don’t have to do this.”

He’s already shaking his head. “No it’s not that. It’s…” he goes quiet and bites his lip (something you wish he didn’t do) before he ran his hand through his hair (something you definitely wish he didn’t do). He sighs before holding his hands up in a way that he didn’t really know what to do. “Look, if this,” he said, motioning to him and your bump. “And me or whatever, if it’s affecting your dating life, then I don’t want you to worry about it.”

What was he talking about?

You look at him with a confused look on his face. “What?”

“Because…” he looks at you for a moment before licking his lips and shaking his head, his hands going on his hips. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

“No, what gave you the idea that I wanted to get back into dating?” you ask, your eyes wide at him.

He hesitated for a moment before swallowing. “When I saw you with that guy last week at the mall – “

“Craig?” you asked, confused. “You think I want to date Craig?”

He looks at you before sighing. “He seemed like a nice guy, and he looked interested in talking to you. You mentioned you’d cancelled your date and hadn’t seen anyone since, and – “

“I am in no way looking to date right now. I’m pregnant with your kids.”

“Exactly!” cried Santiago. “I don’t…want you to not date a decent guy because you think it’s going to hurt my feelings.”

“Where is all this coming from?” you ask. “Is it because I was chatting to Craig?”

Santiago’s jaw tensed for just a brief moment before he shook his head, looking away from you as he rubbed the back of his head. “You looked good together, that’s all. If you like the guy, then great, I’m happy for you to date him. Really.”

“But…but I’m not...” You give him a sudden stern look. “You think you’re getting in the way of my dating life?”

“You and Gregg – “

“Craig.”

“Craig,” he says snidely. “Just seemed to get on really well and he looks like he has his shit together and I can't help but wonder if I'm somehow holding you back. Maybe you'd rather be out there dating and not tied down to me and this situation.”

“You are not holding me back in any way.” You look at him with a furrowed brow. “And this isn’t a ‘situation’, Santi, these are my kids, our kids. These babies are my top priority, and I am fully committed to our family.”

“I’m not saying you’re not – “

“You just think that I should be dating other people. Like Craig.”

“No, I just think that you shouldn’t be putting your life on hold for me!”

You stare at him for a moment, noticing his breathing was a little heavier, that he had an unsure look on his face now. You got the urge to pull him to you, but you don’t. You were worried he would bolt if you even thought of moving.

“Santi,” you say, trying to relax your tense stance that you hadn’t realised you were in. “I don’t want to date. I don’t want to date Craig, I don’t want to date anyone. My life hasn’t been put ‘on hold’.”

He looks at you for a moment before sighing, rubbing his hands down his face. “This wasn’t how I thought this conversation would go.”

“Is this what’s been bothering you all week?”

“Yes,” muttered Santiago, looking up at the sky to avoid your gaze. “Because I was an idiot that can’t fucking communicate, even though we spoke about it last week.”

You look at him for a moment before you reach over and hold his hand, causing him to look at you. You ignore the tingle that goes up your arm. It’s the most intimate thing you’ve done since you slept together. “This journey we're on is something we're doing together. I’m perfectly happy with my life right now. My focus is on our family.”

He sighs, giving your hand a small squeeze. “I guess I let my imagination run wild a bit.”

“And in the future, if this happens again, please talk to me about it first,” you say. “I was having palpitations all week.”

He gives a small chuckle before looking at you sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“I thought that…I thought you’d changed your mind.” You feel your cheeks warm up. “That you’d met someone else or something.”

He immediately shook his head. “No. I haven’t met anyone, I haven’t changed my mind. I just got in my head a bit.”

“Okay,” you say, giving his hand another squeeze, which he gave back. “We’ve established that we’re not dating other people. But if we do, we will tell each other, okay? No-one holding anyone back.”

Santiago nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He sucked in his lips for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, stop apologising,” you say, suddenly pulling him towards you and giving him a hug before you could even think about it.

You were about to pull away at his frozen stature but as the words of reassurance and understanding flowed between you and Santiago, a warm feeling began to spread within your chest as his arms wrapped themselves around you.

This was the most intimate thing you’d done since sleeping together.

The tension that had lingered from your brief disagreement melted away, replaced by a sense of connection and unity. The embrace was tender, a silent confirmation of the bond you shared that was still growing between you. Time seemed to stand still as you held each other, the warmth of your bodies and the soft rhythm of your breaths syncing in a silent rhythm of understanding. It was a hug that said more than words ever could, a gesture of acceptance and forgiveness that bridged the gap between you.

As you finally pulled away, you push aside that feeling in your chest, that fuzzy warmth that spread through you as you ask, “Are we good?”

Santi studied you before grinning. “We’re good.”

“Good.” You smile before giving him a swat on the arm and a light shove. “Don’t go MIA on me again, all right? My hormones are all over the place enough as it is.”

Santiago snorted. “Noted.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday/Thursday

I saw @secretelephanttattoo upcoming one shot series she’s doing on quiet moments 👀 It comes out Saturday’s people. So I figured I’d put together a little something. I was also tagged by @pedroshotwifey she has a deviously dark Javier Peña series weekly on Fridays as well. The end of the week is stuffed full of content it seems. 😎

1. Still working on Javi G. So far, very sweet, I have 2 chapters done and I’d like to thank @linzels-blog for beta reading for me. 🤗 I'm going to name this thing eventually. And maybe then I can share a chapter with you all.

2. Somehow, despite most starting to write for Tim Rockford, I’ve stalled in my second chapter of Roc & Doc. I’m mad at myself though I know inspiration wanes at times. 😭 But I'm still mad. I want more bad cop jokes.

3. Me being, well me. Now I’m gonna try sandwiches so I made a Double Feature Masterlist where there will be two Pedro/Oscar/other fic character and a female reader. Fics for this one are pending. But there might be one on that list by the time I post this. 🫡

4. Still working on both Dave/Santi and Pero/Jack for M/M.

5. More Weddings 101 with Dieter will be coming. Likely later in the month.

6. Next month, because again I’m me and a sponge, 🧽 I’ve decided to do a daily March prompt dealing with spring prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting I'm not used to using prompts. I was inspired by @trulybetty ‘s daily February valentines. My ideas pop up, very strange but hard to grasp. So I wanted to try and be more focused.

Despite all the smut I put out, I have my fluffy moments. 😚 Here's a fluffy moment from my Javi G fic:

“Gracias (Thank you) Javier.” Abigail smiled shyly, placing her hand over Javi’s on her hat. They were warm from the sunlight, he brought a hand to her face to cup it, but let it hover. “Is it alright if I touch your face Señorita Abigail?” Javier questioned softly, she nodded and dropped her hands, letting them rest at her sides. “Only if you call me Abigail or Abby rather. Señorita is a bit too formal.” A smile graces her face as his sun-kissed hand cupped her face with his thumb outlining her soft cheek. She couldn’t resist reaching for the hand still at his side and holding it. The moment appeared surreal as they stood, the crashing of the waves behind them, with another soft breeze in the air. “Señ- Abby, did you want to come to lunch as you are now? Or travel back to your hotel to change. I find myself fine with either option you choose.” The chocolate haired man explained, leaving Abigail to decide. It would be best to freshen up before going to his home which looked to be enormous. A squeeze of his hand and a nod confirmed that she heard him.

I quite like how this is turning out. A much different flavor that 'Weddings 101 with Dieter'. These two kids are going to be a cuteness overload.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! 💜

NPT: @lady-bess @megamindsecretlair @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @maggiemayhemnj @trulybetty @magpiepills @rhoorl @gemmahale @alltheglitterandtheroar @laurfilijames @undercoverpena @goodwithcheese @fhatbhabie @agentjackdaniels @pamasaur @perotovar @saturn-rings-writes @ladamedusoif @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Who's Gonna Pay Attention To Your Dreams? [a Jay & Frankie fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay ‘Lady’ Ray (OFC) **Series masterlist**

Warnings: the usual jay & frankie language (that means swearing), drinking, jay fucks with someone trying to pick her up, Pining Idiots!

Words: 1,839

Summary: It's just a normal night out with the guys for Jay and Frankie, but both of them are suddenly Feeling Things about the other. Frankie drives Jay home and walks her to the door. Does he have a chance with her?

A/N: Title is obviously from Drive by The Cars.

Taglist: @amneris21 @apascalrascal @harriedandharassed @kikis-writing-world @lovesbiggerthanpride @miraclesabound @mswarriorbabe80 @pazizz @paulalikestuff @rambling-in-purple @trinkets01

Saturday night at the usual dive is just getting started as Jay finishes her drink, and the bartender raises the volume of the music. Something old and very 80's by Bon Jovi is playing, but she doesn't pay attention to the music as she instead leans back in the booth, listening to Benny regaling her and the rest of the guys with some entertaining story from his visit to the gym earlier that day. The punchline is a good one, as it always is with Benny, and she joins the others in a hearty laugh.

"Who's up for more drinks?" Will wants to know when the laughter has died down.

"Duh," Jay scoffs. "You buying?"

"Might as well."

"Hold on," Santi intervenes, fixing Jay with his velvety brown gaze. "You have an admirer."

Frowning, Jay looks around, and sees a tall, lanky guy looking at her from the bar. His tight t-shirt and pumped arms tell her that he spends a lot of time at the gym working to reduce the leanness, but that he constantly skips leg day, and that his muscles are just for show. The kind of man who likes the idea of a no-nonsense girlfriend but can't handle it when she benches more than he does.

"Yeah," she sighs, "that's definitely the type that I manage to attract. Scrawny puppies who think they're tough."

"You've been through a few," Benny agrees, "but you could always ruin another one."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's not a challenge when it's too easy for you," Will points out, and Jay chuckles.

"True that."

" But I gotta admire his balls," Santi insists, "staring at you like that, even when you're surrounded by four guys. He has to be really into you."

"He doesn't know what he's into," Frankie mutters, low enough for the others to take no heed. Jay does, however, throw him a questioning glance, but he just pulls his cap down to shield his face, and stares into his empty glass.

"Well?" Benny clearly wants to see blood, so Jay sighs theatrically.

"Fine."

She gets up and heads straight towards the guy, who immediately straightens and offers her a friendly smile when she joins him by the bar. She gets the bartender's attention, orders another round, then turns to the guy.

"You know that staring and not coming over to talk isn't going to get you laid, right?" she deadpans, leaning one elbow to the bar. He smiles a little bashfully, clearly sweeter than he tries to present himself.

"You're here, aren't you?" he quips.

"That still doesn't mean you're getting laid."

"Start with a drink?" he suggests easily. "What are you having?”

Jay throws a disdainful look at the man’s cheap bourbon. “Not that.”

He orders two glasses of Scotch, and Jay nods approvingly.

“Now that’s a drink.”

Before the guy has even touched his glass, she has poured the contents of it into her glass and proceeded to emptying it. The Scotch burns smoothly down her throat, settling as a warm weight in her belly, and she hums in approval when she puts down the empty glass.

“Yeah, that’s the good stuff. Thanks.”

With that and a friendly nod, she turns around and walks back to the booth where her teammates have been watching her with bated breaths.

“You’re just too bad, Ray,” Benny shakes his head when she slides into the booth.

“You know that if a man did that to a woman, she’d cut his dick off, right?” Santiago points out. "So it's reverse sexist."

"I think that guy can take one for the team," Frankie defends her demurely. "Men have done some pretty fucked up shit to women for a long time."

Jay glances at him, surprised - yet not - at his stand. Frankie is a good one, she knows that, but she still doesn't expect him to stick his neck out in an environment as hegemonically masculine as the military. But he does, maybe not stridently, but he's always there with a quiet remark in her favor. And it has birthed some kind of strange feeling in her, one that she can't entertain or nourish in any way, because if it had a chance to grow, things would get complicated.

"He started it," she shrugs dismissively. "How is it that I can't go up to a fucking bar for another drink without having men throw themselves over each other trying to buy me one?"

"Yeah, you have it so hard," Santi rolls his eyes. Jay gives him the finger.

"Fuck you."

"Anytime, anyplace, sweetheart," he gives her that smoldering smile that she knows makes other women weak at the knees, but to her it's just phony.

“Not even on your birthday,” she retorts.

A young brunette comes over with their drinks and to flirt with Will, for whom she has a soft spot. Jay grabs her beer and drinks, eyes cast down to keep them from wandering over to Frankie, who has an annoyed line between his brows.

"Goddammit, I have to take an Uber," Jay mutters when she, very intoxicated, exits the bar later that night, followed by Frankie. Benny and Santi already left earlier, having found company for the night, Will was picked up by his girlfriend Serena, and Frankie honestly didn't feel like even trying to find someone to warm his bed tonight.

"I can drive you," he offers quietly: too quiet, in fact, for Jay to hear him as she curses low over her current state while tapping open the app on her phone.

"Jay!" he says, a little louder, and now she's looking at him, blue eyes unfocused from alcohol, a quizzical line in her forehead.

"Frankie!" she barks back, then grins. He has to grin back, then he snatches her phone from her hands.

"I'm driving you," he tells her.

"It's not on your way," she protests, "and give that back, or I'll kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'll do it on Monday during that exercise op Tom threatened us with," she slurs, reaching for her phone, but Frankie keeps it away from her.

"I'm driving you home," he repeats, taking her by the shoulder and leading her to his truck. He had two beers, the last one two hours ago, and feels fine to drive, and drive her home he shall.

"I'd be fine in an Uber," she mutters as she gets into the passenger seat and is awarded her phone back before Frankie closes the door and rounds the truck to the driver's side.

"I know," he tells her, ”But I don't mind."

He'd never tell her that he feels protective of her. Not that she wouldn't be able to defend herself against a possible creep, even in her state he's more than positive that if the need arose, she'd sober up in a heartbeat. No, he just feels better driving her himself. He wants to make sure she makes it all the way into her apartment without any hitches.

Jay buckles up and looks at Frankie as he does the same. "I could've taken an Uber, you know. I'm not that drunk."

"I know," he nods, turning the key in the ignition. "But as I said, I don't mind."

She hums and sinks into the seat a little, redirecting her stare out the window shield.

"Last time I took one, the guy drove like an idiot. I do prefer your driving, it's so smooth."

"Thanks." Frankie smiles a little as he turns out on the road, shifting as slowly accelerating. There's no traffic until he hits the main road leading out of town, and he turns on the radio. The pining voice of Benjamin Orr fills the car: Who's gonna pick you up when you fall? Frankie listens to the lyrics, painfully aware of how relevant they are tonight, glancing at Jay in the passenger seat. Jay, with her baggy jeans, worn-down Converse, zip-down hoodie, crew cut, and zero pretense.

Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

He's driving her home, and he's feeling a lot of things about it.

"Pfft," Jay suddenly scoffs. She leans forward and turns the radio off. She settles back, eyes fixed on the road ahead, and yawns. Frankie bites back on his questions: Are you tired? Take a nap if you feel like it. Are you feeling okay? Do I need to pull over?

He chides himself for those thoughts. Jay could always hold her liquor. He settles into a silence that he quickly discovers is quite comfortable. Jay's presence is palpable, but in a good way. He likes it that he can drive her home without them having to speak to each other.

"Thanks for the lift," she says when he parks outside her apartment building. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Frankie nods.

"No problem."

"What are you doing?" she frowns at him when he gets out at the same time as her. He shrugs as he starts to walk towards the front door of her building.

"Checking under the bed for monsters before you go to sleep," he tries to joke, but realizes immediately that it was a bad idea to think about Jay's bed. It sets off a tiny pull deep inside him.

It's Jay, for fuck's sake, Jay "My Lady" Ray, his teammate who is fully capable of killing him with her bare hands. Jay, whom he trusts completely. Jay, the most competent, stubborn, funny, tough person he knows.

"My hero," she quips in her most sarcastic voice, but lets him follow her in. She takes the steps quite easily, but when she's about to unlock the door, the keyhole proves difficult to find. Frankie takes the key from her and opens the door, stepping in before her.

"All clear," he tells her, ”No monsters in the entry."

He turns back to her just as she trips on the threshold and falls headlong into his arms that he promptly, instinctively opened for her. He expects her to pull back from her stumble against his chest, but instead her hands come to his shoulders, and she stays where she is. Slowly, she raises her gaze to his, the light of the stairwell spilling into her unlit apartment just enough for him to see the blue in her eyes, and her lips separate for a second before the upper comes down on the lower one to wet it.

God, he wants to kiss her.

The thought has barely passed through his brain before Jay takes a step back.

"Good night, Fish." She sounds a little shaken, but maybe he's imagining it.

"Good night," he replies automatically, handing her the key. Her fingers are warm when they touch his.

Frankie closes the front door behind him and heads down to his car. Before he drives away, he watches the lights come on in her window. Jay's shadow move behind the curtain and eventually, the window turns dark.

Not until then does he start the truck and drive away, heart beating for new and impossible reasons.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Hii! Hope I'm not too late for this but may I please request Swingsets and tree houses with Santi for your summer blurbs please?🥺

I hope it’s alright that I made this an I’ll Be Back Again To Stay drabble, I just miss those two losers

2023 Summer Blurbs

As much as you loved living with Santi, loved getting to spend every day with him and Inez, it was clear that his house was never designed with children in mind. While turning the gray walls in Santi’s office into the pink walls of Inez’s room was an easy fix, your daughter’s immense boredom in the summer was not so simple to solve.

With Inez out of school, it’s clear that the open, flat backyard wasn’t going to cut it anymore, so you spent most of your free time researching different play structures.

“I can just build her something,” Santi says to you one night as he slips into bed next to you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, remembering the time a few months ago when he tried to put together Inez’s new bed. You’d needed to call over both Frankie and Benny before it was finished.

“Of course, honey,” he responds with a kiss on your forehead before he turns off the lights, “I’ll get started this weekend.”

When Saturday rolls around, you wake up at seven with Santiago’s side of the bed already cold. Coming downstairs, you see Inez on the couch watching cartoons and Santi in the backyard with a stack of lumber.

“What’s your dad doing?” You mumble, looking out the window at Santi as he tries to hold up two pieces of wood.

Your daughter just shrugs, and you’re about to open the back door and ask if Santi wants you to call the boys for help when you remember how badly he wanted to build this for Inez all by himself. The rest of your morning is spent keeping Inez and Toby busy while stealing glances out the window to keep track of Santi’s progress every few minutes.

By the time lunch rolls around, there are four wooden posts in the ground and other than that, you’re not really sure what the structure is supposed to be. Santi’s sweaty and frustrated when you call him in for lunch, but he smiles at Inez and answers all her questions about his project anyway.

“You want me to call Frankie?” Santi shoots you a glare, one that says I can do this myself but you just raise your hands like you’re settling a startled animal. “Just for an extra set of hands.”

Santiago still seems opposed to asking for any sort of help from his friends, but when he heads back outside to continue work on the play structure you give Frankie a call anyway. Really, it’s to see if Maria wanted to keep Inez company for a while, but you might have slipped in a little information about Santi’s project and his refusal to ask for help.

A few minutes later, Maria and Frankie and his tools are at your front door. Inez squeals with delight when she sees her best friend, and the two of them practically sprint upstairs to play. Frankie makes his way to the back door, sighing when he sees Santiago struggling. You just sit on the couch, watching the two men approach each other out of the corner of your eye.

It’s late when Frankie comes inside to take Maria home, and you thank him for everything from your spot on the couch, your daughter sprawled across your lap keeping you from moving. You carry Inez up to bed before getting ready for sleep yourself, and you’re surprised when Santi’s already under the covers.

After spending all day working on that play structure, you know his knees and back and neck must be killing him, so you wordlessly tell him to flip onto his stomach so you can try to knead some of the tension out of him.

“Thanks for calling Frank,” he mumbles into the pillow, and you can tell he’s embarrassed to admit this, embarrassed to admit that he couldn’t do it all by himself.

“Thank you for working so hard to give Inez something to do outside,” you respond instead of gloating, placing a kiss at the base of his neck.

When Inez wakes and sees her new play structure outside, she’s buzzing with excitement and races through breakfast and getting ready for the day. Santi wakes later, dealing with aches throughout his body but he thinks it’s all worth it when he sees his daughter playing and having fun with something he built just for her. He’d take all the pain in the world if it meant Inez would be as happy as she is right now.