#santiago x ofc

[artemiseamoon-ficart]

This is not a love story

Fic info

Status: coming soon

Full chapters will post to A03 | short previews to tumblr (A03: Artemiseamoon)

Moodboards

[absurdthirst]

The Cupid Shuffle {Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Pope x F!OC}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Exhibitionism, voyeurism, bisexual women, mentions of past sexual relationships, little bit of putting on a show for the boys, women making out, mentions of fantasies, oral sex (male and female receiving), partner swapping, unprotected sex, cum eating

Comments: Inviting Pope and his girl over for a low-key Valentine's night movie turns in to something much more.

A/N: Valentine's Day foursome? More likely than you'd think!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Babe. I was talking to Santi and he’s cool with a movie night tonight. Him and his girl are going to go out tomorrow like us because tonight is always crazy busy. So it’s a quiet one in for Valentine’s Day.” Frankie says as he comes up to you to caress your waist, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You wanna go get some snacks? You know Santi will eat us out of everything if we don’t buy extra.” He jokes and you turn your head to kiss him, smiling against his lips. “What time are they coming over?” You ask and he murmurs, “seven.”

You grin, happy that this is happening. Santiago Garcia, or ‘Pope’ as Frankie calls him, is dating your friend from college. You had been the one to set them up, absolutely in love with your helicopter pilot boyfriend and Pope had always been a flirty, fun time when he was in town. After he’s moved back permanently, you had set them up and the rest is history. “Perfect. A low key night is just what we all need.” You promise, kissing him again 

and smirking. “And after, I’ll give you your present.”

Frankie smirks, loving how eager you are and he’s excited to get you in bed after the movie ends and Pope and his girl are gone. “Baby, you’re already my present.” He murmurs, nipping your ear as you lean back against him. “Let’s get everything set up and we need blankets for the movie.”

You decide to have groceries delivered instead of going out, allowing you and Frankie to clean up and get ready to have them over. It’s not necessary, but you set out some of the candles Frankie got you for Christmas and light them, enjoying the romantic glow with the soft blankets strewn around for couples to cuddle under. “This is better than battling the craziness of a restaurant and a movie theater.” You decide, smiling at Frankie. You know that he hates crowded places and is constantly on alert for threats, so it’s easy to accommodate him and do a romantic night in on the busiest day for most fine dining restaurants.

Frankie nods, “it looks great, babe. I prefer this than going out and battling the crowds. We got some movies saved on the tv so we have a few options. You gonna make that dip?” He asks, biting his lower lip with a pleading expression. You nod and he groans, his hands caressing your side, “fuck yes. I can’t wait for that.”

You laugh quietly, swearing that dip is what made Frankie fall for you. Eating your dip at a party to the point where he almost made himself sick. “I’ll go make it now, I’ve got everything I need.”

Frankie playfully smacks your ass and you gasp, making him chuckle. His life was so dark before he met you. You brighten his days, make him believe in a hopeful future. You saved him. He’d be lost without you. “I’ll go get the drinks ready.” He says, making his way to the garage to grab the ice bucket and drinks for the movie marathon you have planned. Pope and his girl will be arriving soon.

The other food arrives and you set the store bought wings out on a tray and pop the pizzas into the oven and dump a bag of cheddar popcorn into a bowl. Just as you are setting it and the dip out, the doorbell rings out. “Oh! They are here!” You squeal, excited to see them.

Frankie heads to the door before you, opening it to greet his best friend and your best friend. You’ve been on quite a few couple dates, enjoying each other’s company during game nights. It’s been a perfect combination so far. “Hermano. Todo día más feo.” Pope teases Frankie as he pats him on the back in a hug and Frankie affectionately rolls his eyes as your best friend steps around the men to greet you.

“Hey!!!!” You and Dara throw your arms around each other and squeeze tight. Always happy to see each other and it’s such a joy to see your friend so happy after having so many shit boyfriends before Pope. You had constantly moaned together that it seems like there weren’t any good men anymore, and now you are both with ones that are completely amazing. If Pope had been kind of a playboy before, he had focused all that flirtatious energy into making sure your friend was head over heels for him. “How are you? I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to call!” You apologize and look at her once you break apart. 

She grins at you, “I’ve been so busy with the new job and honestly, going to Pope’s nearly every night. I’m hoping he’s going to ask me to move in soon since I basically live with him by now anyway.” She says, squeezing your hands as she glances over at Pope who is telling Frankie about his latest client in his security business. “We need a brunch to catch up.” Dara giggles and you nod, “yes we do. You want a drink? I got that vodka that you like.” Dara nods and lets you drag her into the kitchen with a smile.

“It going okay with your girl?” Pope asks Frankie who nods, glancing back at the door you disappeared through.

“She’s everything.” He murmurs, a silly smile on his face that Pope understands.

“Sooooooo.” You grin as you pour the vodka and add juice to it for Dara before mixing up one of your own. “Tell me, how is basically living with Pope?” You ask. “You look happy, really happy. And I love that for you.”

Dara grins, her cheeks hurting from how much she’s been smiling, “honestly, he’s so good. In every way.” Her voice lowers slightly, “he flirts like crazy with me and only me. All that attention makes a girl crazy in love.” She confesses and you squeal quietly, the ice cubes in your drink shaking as you bounce a little.

“Love?” You ask and she nods in confirmation.

“Who would’ve thought? Both of us in love? Especially when we were lonely and horny and used to-” Dara is cut off as the boys come into the kitchen to grab their beers, “you ladies ready for an epic movie marathon?” Pope asks, leaning in to kiss Dara on the cheek.

“Let’s do it.” You wink at Frankie and he nods, walking back into the living room to get the movie up on the streaming service. Pope and Dara take a seat on the large sectional, snuggling into each other and Frankie holds his arm out for you to curl into his side.

You fold into his arms easily and pull the cover up over your laps. The snacks are out and you smile over at Dara and Pope as they curl together near you, Dara closest to you. “Let me know when you need another drink.” You murmur to Dara before the movie starts.

The movie is some superhero movie the boys wanted to watch. The next movie is your choice. The explosions are loud and Frankie glances over at Dara and Pope whose eyes are on the screen. His hand slides down from your shoulder until he’s squeezing your breast. Your eyes flick up to his face and he is smirking slightly, knowing you can’t make a noise otherwise the others will know. His hand slides a little lower, brushing past your stomach until he is sliding his hand under the hem of the dress you’re wearing. His fingers trail along your thigh, slow and teasing, and you spread your legs a little for him. Covered by the blanket, his fingers slide higher until they are pressing against your clit through your panties.

Your breath catches and you bite your lip so you don’t moan, not wanting Dara and Pope to know what Frankie is doing to you. You aren’t focusing on the movie, having no clue what is going on as your boyfriend starts to rub tight circles on your clit, teasing you as he touches you. Frankie loves to make you cum and you have no doubt that he will right now, regardless of the other people in the room.

Pope smirks as his hand sneaks under the blanket, teasing his girlfriend as he caresses her through her clothes. She offers him a warning look, knowing that they are in someone else’s home. All thoughts of propriety leave her mind when his finger finds her clit, rubbing through her panties under her shirt. She bites her lip and focuses on the screen, unaware that you are doing the same thing. Frankie can feel how tense you are, trying to control yourself and that urges him on, rubbing your clit a little faster and you put your leg up, acting like you’re getting comfortable when you’re really giving him more access to you.

Pope glances over at the two of you, noting the smug smirk on Frankie’s face and he grins. He knows that look, and with the way you are squirming, you’re doing exactly what he and Dara are doing. He leans in and presses his lips to his girlfriend’s neck. “Dirty girl. Just like your friend.” He whispers playfully, biting her ear.

Dara stiffens slightly until she looks over at you and Frankie, knowing that look on your face. "Looks like you had the same idea as us." She declares and you rip your eyes away from the screen to look at your friend just as she pulls the blanket away from her lap to expose Santi's fingers rubbing her clit under her underwear. 

"Jesus." Frankie hisses, his cock already hard against your side as you lean against him. You smirk and pull your blanket off too, watching as Santi continues to rub Dara's clit. 

"Damn, baby. What a sight." Santi coos and Frankie doesn't stop his movements. The four of you watch each other, the movie forgotten as you moan softly. 

"Wanna have some fun, like old times?" Dara asks, her eyes flicking between you and Frankie.

Frankie’s eyes widen, gaze darting between you and his mouth is hanging open. 

“Baby?” You turn to look at him and lean in to kiss the bare spot on his jaw where his whiskers never grow. “Do you want to see me fool around with Dara?” You ask him, turning to look at Pope with a questioning look. You think it would be sexy, but if your boyfriend or Santi isn’t okay with it, you wouldn’t touch her.

Frankie is a little dumbstruck and he nods, looking over at Santi who grins and says “fuck yeah.”

Frankie leans in to kiss you softly, “yes. I want - want whatever you are comfortable with.” He murmurs, pulling his hand from your underwear to give you the freedom to touch Dara how you want. 

Dara grins, “like those lonely nights back in college.” She teases, leaning in to cup your cheek after Santi pulls his hand away from her and she leans in to press her lips to yours.

You are familiar with her mouth, accepting the kiss eagerly and curling your hand around the back of her head and sliding your tongue into her mouth. There were plenty of nights that you had done this and more, because you were bored, lonely, curious and finally just enjoying yourself. You hear the way the boys groan beside you but you are enjoying the way you know they are staring at both of you.

Santi reaches down to squeeze his cock through his pants, not noticing Frankie do the same as the two men watch their girlfriends kiss. Every guy’s dream honestly. Frankie caresses your back, squeezing your ass as you slide your tongue against Dara’s until she pulls back with a grin. “I wanna - do you want to switch?” She asks breathlessly, glancing behind you to Frankie.

You know that Dara has always been interested in how Frankie is as a lover and despite him being your boyfriend, you aren’t jealous. This woman has been a lover on and off for years and you have no jealousy. “What do you think, baby?” You ask Frankie, reaching down and pulling her tits out of her shirt and sneezing them. “Do you want to touch Dara like this? Show her how good your tongue is, like I’ve bragged about since the first night we’ve fucked?”

Frankie is torn, wondering for a second if this is a test, but your eyes are dark with lust and he glances at Pope to make sure he’s on the same page. His best friend nods, “as long as I get to see what these blowjobs you rave about are like.” He teases and Frankie smirks, “just you wait, hermano.” 

Dara giggles, leaning in to kiss you again. “Any of us have an issue, we say it.” She says, setting the rules as she shuffles around you towards Frankie, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his pants. “You weren’t lying when you said how thick he is.” She says and Frankie blushes slightly.

“I would never lie about that.” You coo as you crawl towards Santiago. “My baby is packing, and he knows how to fuck a girl until her legs are jelly.” You bite your lip as you straddle your friend’s boyfriend. “Just like I’m curious to find out how Santiago fucks you so hard you pass out.” You caress his cheek and lean in, the movie forgotten in the background. “Can I kiss you, handsome?”

Santi nods, his hands immediately finding your waist and he groans when you grind down onto him, leaning in to meet your lips in a kiss. Frankie inhales sharply when Dara reaches down to undo his pants, reaching in to pull his hard cock out. 

“Fuck, she wasn’t lying. You are packing. And uncut like Santi. Love that.” She murmurs and grips him, leaning down to take him in her mouth as her eyes focus on his while he watches her.

You look over as Frankie’s head drops back to the couch cushion and he moans loudly. You love the sounds he makes when you are blowing him and now you get to see him from another view. “You want to have a little competition, Dara?” You coo. “See who can get the guy to the brink of cumming the fastest?”

She pulls off of Frankie’s cock, a smirk on her lips as she looks over at you. “You’re on, baby. Let’s blow their minds.” She grins and you peck Santi’s lips as you slide down his body until you are working his pants open. Dara pumps Frankie in her hand and his eyes watch you as you take Pope’s cock out. Jesus, he feels his cock twitch in Dara’s fingers as your eyes meet his.

“Fuck, you weren’t lying when you said he has a beautiful cock.” You hum, pulling the foreskin back and looking at the bead of precum that has built up at the tip. “I can’t wait to hear him moan.”

Santi watches you as you take the head of his cock into your mouth, “mierda.” He curses and looks over at Dara who has taken Frankie back into her mouth with a moan. The men’s eyes flick between their partner and the woman sucking their cock. Groaning as Santi caresses your head and Dara chokes as she tries to take Frankie deeper.

You know Dara knows how to give head so you put everything you’ve got into sucking Santiago’s cock. Wrapping your fingers around the base and pumping while you work him deeper, making sure that you make him wet and keep your palette soft.

“Fuckkkk.” Santi pants as you take him deeper and Jesus, your mouth feels so good. He hisses and Frankie nods, “damn good. So fucking good.” He pants as his hand comes up to grip the back of the sofa, trying to keep himself from thrusting up into Dara’s mouth.

You moan around Santiago’s cock, enjoying the way he throbs and pulses in your mouth when you swallow around him. Reaching down and gently cradling his balls when you let go of his shaft and completely engulf him in your mouth until your nose is pressed against the short hairs at the base of his cock.

“Holllly fuckin’ shitttt.” Pope hisses, his fingers curling in the edge of the sofa cushion and his toes curl as you take him deep. “Fuckkkk.” He exhales shakily, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you blow his mind.

Dara chuckles around Frankie’s cock, knowing how good you are, and she ups her game, bobbing her head a little faster so Frankie hisses at the pace. "Holy shit."

You have to let up, needing to watch Frankie’s eyes roll back in pleasure. You hum around Pope’s cock and reach for his hand, pulling it to the back of your head. Encouraging him to thrust up into your mouth or push your head down. Wanting him to completely lose control.

Pope groans, keeping you still as he thrusts up into you, his cock twitching as he pushes down your throat. Fuck, no wonder Frankie looks dazed whenever he comes back from his lunch break. “She’s good, hermano?” He asks and Pope nods, panting slightly.

You don’t know if Pope plans on cumming down your throat but you don’t let up. Bobbing your head and swallowing around him, keeping the suction tight around his cock as he throbs on your tongue.

He doesn’t want to cum down your throat. He lets out a strangled choke and grabs the back of your neck, dragging you off of his cock and he watches you stay connected to his length with a line of spit. “Holy fuck.” He gasps, trying to calm himself down and he looks over at Dara who is taking Frankie down her throat.

“One day, you need to cum down my throat.” You gasp as you try to catch your breath, grinning up at him before you look over where Dara is still sucking Frankie’s cock. “Fuck they look so sexy, don’t they?” You moan, sinking a hand between your thighs and inside your panties. “I don’t know which one is sexier right now. And I’ve fucked them both.”

Frankie pants, turned on by your statement. He knows your history with Dara, you’ve talked about your sex life and Frankie must admit that he’s jerked off thinking about you and Dara messing around. He hisses when Dara pulls off of his cock, knowing he won’t want to cum, and Pope moves fast to drag you up his body. “Whose cock do you want to sit on?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Weelllllll, I think I want to sit on your cock, baby.” You lean in and press your lips to Santi’s. “I want to hear Dara squeal Frankie’s name while I moan yours.” You are dripping at the idea and reach over to grab your friend’s face and pull her close for another kiss. “Do you want to lick your boyfriend’s cum out of my pussy, baby?” You ask her breathlessly.

She nods, a whimper escaping her lips and she grabs her shirt to pull it over her head. You follow suit with your dress, leaving you both in panties that are soon shoved onto the floor. You straddle Pope, caressing his chest through his t-shirt, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. “Goddamn. You’re gorgeous. Fish is a lucky fucker.” He compliments you, his hands finding your ass to squeeze your cheeks until he slaps them.

“You’re lucky too, hermano.” Frankie groans, stroking his hands up and down Dara’s back before cupping her tits. “Your girlfriend is fucking breathtaking. Too good for your ugly ass.” He jokes, leaning in and biting her shoulder.

Dara whimpers and reaches down to grip Frankie’s cock. You know she has an IUD and is clean. She knows you are the same. She trusts everyone here and she’s excited to have a good time. She’s dripping wet so notching Frankie at her entrance isn’t hard work. He slips into her as she sinks down onto him with a low moan.

Both you and Santi watch, eyes blown with lust as your boyfriend and his girlfriend start to fuck. “Fuck,” you pant as you look back at Pope. “I need you inside me.” You beg, reaching down and gripping his cock. “Will you fuck me, Pope?”

Santi nods, his hands sliding down your back until he’s squeezing your ass again. “Take what you want, bebita.” He orders and you shuffle closer, swiping his cock through your folds a couple of times before you start to sink down onto him.

Frankie groans as he watches you take his friend’s cock. The way your jaw drops and he twitches inside of Dara. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” She murmurs to him, her eyes watching her boyfriend and her best friend.

“Fucking amazing.” Frankie groans, unable to believe this is happening. “You are so tight, hermosa.” He praises, rocking his hips up and slapping her thigh gently. “Never thought I would get to do this.” He huffs, groaning again when she squeezes him hard enough to make him twitch.

You watch Frankie and Dara, clenching around Pope’s cock hard enough that he hisses. “You like watching them, baby? You like watching them fuck each other?” He coos into your ear, biting down on your earlobe. “You’re so fucking wet around me. Always wondered what you’d be like. Frankie said he’d give me a chance with you.”

You moan softly, wishing you had known about those conversations before now. “He has.” You hum, clenching down around him. “How do you like being inside your best friend’s girl?”

“Fucking love it.” Santi groans, smacking your ass with both hands. He hisses your name and rocks you a little faster on top of him. “You enjoying it?” He asks you, leaning in to nip your jaw.

“Yesssssss.” You whimper, closing your eyes and tangling your fingers into Santiago’s hair while you start to bounce on his cock. “Always wondered what it would be like to fuck you. Imagined you and Frankie both railing me. Now I want that and to see you both rail Dara.”

Santi groans at the same time as Frankie, imagining that dirty thought. They have shared women before during time stateside but he loves the idea of sharing you with his friend and his girlfriend more often, watching you all like his own private porno. “Goddamn.” Frankie hisses, cupping Dara’s tits and pinching her nipples to make her gasp.

You giggle quietly and look over at your boyfriend. “You like that idea, baby? Fucking me and Dara with Santi? Being complete sluts for the two of you? I know you would want to have Dara sit on your cock while I sit on your face.”

Frankie groans, cock twitching inside of Dara, “and Pope can fuck her ass.” He smirks, knowing his friend has a big thing for anal.

Dara chuckles, “double? Fuck yes.” She groans, “then I can play with that gorgeous pair of tits and kiss your girl. Keep her satisfied while you suck on her clit like I used to.” Dara smirks until her jaw drops when Frankie thrusts up into her.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Santiago hisses and his hands tighten on your hips. “You never told me that.” He huffs. “I’d have had you telling me all about it while I was making you scream.” He has had quite a few ideas of fucking you and Dara, but to know that you used to eat each other out? It’s sexy as fuck. “I’ll want to see that while I recover enough to fuck her.”

“We can show our boys how to eat pussy, can’t we baby?” Dara winks at you and moans when Frankie thrusts up into her again. “Oh do that again.” She begs, knowing he has found the right angle and Frankie obliges her, keeping her still while he fucks up into her like it’s the last thing he will do.

“He’s so good, isn’t he?” That’s not to say Santi isn’t a good lover and he steals your attention back to him with the next thrust. Making you moan and turn back to crush your lips to his while you start to ride him again in earnest.

Dara watches you kiss Santi and it sends her over the edge, she cries out against Frankie’s shoulder as he thrusts up into her with vigor, grunts escaping his lips as he jackhammers up into her until she is squealing. Shaking against your boyfriend as she cums, soaking him and her nails digging into his shoulders.

Santiago actually stops thrusting into you, although his cock is pulsing harshly, twitching inside you as he watches his girlfriend cum all over Frankie. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses, so turned on by the sight he almost cums himself. “Now it’s your turn.” He promises, kissing you passionately and starting to move when Dara collapses against Frankie’s chest.

Frankie stops thrusting once Dara is worked through her orgasm, wanting to watch you cum on Santi’s cock. He doesn’t want to cum too soon so he strokes Dara’s back as they both watch Santi start to thrust up into you. “That’s it, Bonita. Want you to cum for me.” Santi coos, his hands squeezing your ass to help rock you on top of him.

Your boyfriend encouraging to cum throws you over the edge. Tossing your head back, you cry out in pleasure. “Santi!” Your walls clamp down around his cock and you soak him as your body shakes.

He groans as you clamp down on him, squeezing him tight. 

“Holy shit, Fish. Like a goddamn vice.” Pope hisses and works you through it by rocking you on top of him. His cock is throbbing inside of you. “Wanna - don’t wanna cum yet.” He admits and Frankie nods. 

“Get on your hands and knees. Both of you.” Frankie orders, smacking Dara’s ass.

It takes a moment for you to move, but when you are on your hands and knees by Dara, you lean in and kiss your friend. “Fuck.” You giggle against her lips. “Isn’t this the fucking dream?” You ask breathlessly, looking over your shoulder at the two men and smirking. “They are both so fucking hot and want to fuck us.”

Dara smirks back, “a girl’s fucking dream, baby. Remember when we used to talk about something like this happening?” She asks and you nod, leaning in to kiss her again, sliding your tongue against yours. The two men groan, slowly jerking their cocks before they shuffle forward, notching themselves at the dripping wet cunts and pushing back in.

You don’t know exactly who is inside you for a moment while you are kissing Dara. Eyes closed and trying to guess because your cunt is already a little abused from the fucking. Until his hands grip your hips and he drills forward hard enough to make you gasp into your friend’s mouth. “Frankie!”

Your boyfriend chuckles as you gasp out his name and he slaps your ass. "Want you to cum for me, hermosa." He demands, knowing he can pull you apart easily. He hisses when you teasingly clench around him. 

"That's it baby." Pope groans when Dara grinds back onto him and he thrusts into her, making her moan into your mouth before she sucks on your tongue.

Dara nods, knowing it won't take much. She hisses as she rocks back onto Pope, his fingers rubbing her clit, but when you lean in to kiss her, your fingers pinching your nipple, she's sent over the edge. "Fuck!" She squeals into your mouth as she cums, clamping down on Santi's cock.

Both men groan at the sight of the two of you locked into a kiss when Dara cums. Santiago grips her hips tights to continue fucking her and Frankie moans as his own pace quickens. You know they are loving the sight and you swallow her sounds as she comes apart.

Frankie wants you to follow, his hand squeezing your tit as he rocks into you. “Fuck baby. Want you to cum for me.” He demands, pinching your nipple as Dara pants against your chin.

His cock is shredding against something wonderful inside you and you know you won't last long. You never do when he's hammering into you like it's the last thing he will do. Your body starting to stiffen with each thrust until you let out a loud cry, unable to stop yourself from tumbling over the edge and drawing out your pleasure.

“Fuckkkk.” Frankie groans when you squeeze his cock like a goddamn vice. “That’s it, hermosa. Jesús Christ.” He hisses, trying to hold off from filling you up. He pants your name and caresses your stomach, enjoying the way you soak him.

Dara groans and pushes back against Pope's cock. "Need you to cum, baby." She begs softly. "Both of you. Want to see cum dripping out of both of our cunts."

Pope grunts, jaw clenched as he pounds into your best friend, his nostrils flared as he seeks his orgasm.

Frankie groans, smacking your ass when you clench him, egging him on. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep as he fills your walls with his hot seed in one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

“Fraannnnnnnkie.” You whine his name, rolling your eyes back in pleasure as he paints your walls with his cum, hearing Pope hiss out Dara’s name beside you as he is the last one to cum, his hips stuttering and his entire body jerking in pleasure as he fills her. “Oh god.” You pant, collapsing down onto your cheek and look over your friend and her boyfriend as he slumps over her back and kisses along her spine. “That was amazing.” 

Frankie leans over you to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours and you kiss him back as hungrily. Dara chuckles breathlessly, “now I wanna taste your cum from her pussy.” Dara smirks at you, “wanna sit on my face like we used to?” She asks, biting her lip.

“Fuck yes.” You moan, clenching around Frankie and the thought of her tongue against your cunt. Frankie is amazing at eating your pussy, but Dara was just as good, if not slightly better. “I want to taste Pope’s cum too.”

The two men shuffle from behind you, pulling out slowly, and move to sit on the other side of the sofa, eyes eager. Dara shifts to lay down and she smirks at you, tapping her cheek and you shift to straddle her face, stretching your body over hers so you can push her legs apart, finding her creamy cunt. Dara doesn’t hesitate to lean in, sliding her tongue through your folds with a groan.

It takes a good bit of tilting her hips, but your own tongue quickly follows suit while both men groan around you. Watching as you two sample their cum from their girlfriend’s cunt with an eagerness that borders on feral. You love the saltiness of Santiago mixed with the sweet tang of Dara, licking the mixture from her swollen folds and holding her legs apart when your tongue swipes over her sensitive clit. 

“Fuck me.” Frankie murmurs, watching you both writhe and lick and suck. It’s primal and his spent cock rests against his thigh but his stomach twists with arousal at the erotic display.

“Mierda.” Pope murmurs, watching just as intensely.

You love the fact that they are watching, but this is honestly for you and Dara. They have cum and it will be a little while before they can fuck again. You clench around nothing when you hear Frankie groan, and suck a little harder on your friend’s clit. 

Dara squeezes your ass, loving the way you rock back onto her tongue. Her hips tilted so you can lick deeper into her pussy. It’s intoxicating and everyone is feeling the intensity of this moment. “That’s it baby. Lick her clit. She likes that.” Frankie coaches you, seeing Dara’s reactions.

You hum, grinning into her folds as you obey Frankie. It’s no hardship, especially since that’s exactly what she likes. You suck her clit into your mouth and give it a series of kitten licks that makes her moan into your cunt.

Dara’s tongue gets faster, anxious to make you cum like you used to. She laps at you, sucking on your clit and swirling her tongue around it while the boys continue to watch with rapture. “Look so good, bebita. Wish I could take a a fucking photo.” Pope groans, watching with dark eyes.

She pulls her lips away from your clit for a moment, making you whine. “Do it.” She moans before she dives back into your cunt. You moan your own agreement and nod. You trust the boys not to share that, and you would love to see how sexy this looks from their perspective.

Pope scrambles to find his pants on the floor, getting his phone and he looks over at Frankie who nods enthusiastically. “Do it, hermano.” He insists and Pope smirks as he takes a photo of you and Dara. “So fucking hot.” He groans softly, taking a couple more.

You whimper when Dara sucks on your clit again, so close to cumming as you rock your hips back. Pushing down onto her tongue. Your hand slides up and you push two fingers inside her, knowing how much she loves to cum around something.

“Fuck.” She cries out against your folds, her lips slick with cum and your arousal, and the boys watch in awe as her thighs start to shake around your head. “Cum for her baby.” Santo orders, his cock twitching in interest.

It only takes another few moments of sucking on her clit and pumping your fingers into her cunt before she is crying out. Her walls clenching down around your fingers and soaking them with her cum.

The boys hiss, watching Dara cum, and Frankie leans forward on his elbows, planting them on his knees as he watches Dara ride her orgasm on your fingers. “Your turn, hermosa.” Frankie rasps and Dara nods, her tongue pushing back inside of you, her chin against your clit as she tries to push you over the edge.

You whine, eyes fluttering closed and your mouth drops open when she flicks her tongue inside you, sending you over the edge. Your entire body bucks and you squeal in pleasure as the waves of bliss crash over you, making you gasp out as you grind back onto her face.

The guys groan, their cocks half hard at the sight in front of them. Pope smirks, biting his lip as he watches you cum. “Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.” He coos to both women. 

“Goddamn.” Frankie murmurs, watching Dara work you through it before she shifts to pull her mouth back.

You sit up and shift off of her, smirking at Dara and pulling her in for one last kiss before looking at the boys. “Happy Valentine’s Day, boys.” You hum playfully, making Dara giggle as she clings to you and it might be the best Valentine’s Day that you’ve ever had. Definitely one to repeat.

[pimosworld]

Someone like you(tba)

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

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

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

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

My other wips looking at me like this 👀

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Caught

Summary: Santiago inviting you and Frankie for his house warming party over the weekend leaves you to spend some nights at his new place. Getting up in the middle of the night to get some water, leaves you finding Santi and his girlfriend in the kitchen. Unable to look away Frankie finds you and decided to have some fun with you too.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader / Santiago Garcia x OFC

Rating: E

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: established relationship, accidental voyeurism, dub con (just cause people are being watched without their consent but the watched people do not mind in the end) smut (oral; fem receiving, unprotected PiV), fluff, dirty talk (the word slut is used twice)

follow me @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified for new fics

You usually weren’t a big fan of being stuck in a car for two hours. But Santiago Garcia did not buy a house to settle down with his girlfriend (soon to be fiance) of two years and invite for a housewarming party every day. 

And you were always a fan of spending time with Frankie. 

You looked at him from the passenger's seat, one of his hands on the steering wheel, the other one on your thigh. He had the aviators on that you gifted him for his last birthday after he broke the pair he had before. The gray shirt he was wearing was tight around his upper arms and you could see a tiny bit of the tattoo he got earlier this year. 

God he was gorgeous. 

“See something you like?” he hummed, a smirk sneaking to his lips as he caught you staring, his hand squeezing your thigh. 

“See something I love,” you clarified and he smiled, his dimple showing and you swore you could see his cheeks blushing.

You and Frankie have known each other since you were four years old. Growing up as neighbors until he left to join the army made you spend endless summers together. 

But you hadn’t started dating until a little over six years ago. 

With him joining the army and you eventually going abroad to study you very much lost contact. After you got your degree you moved to Boston for work and only came back to the tiny town you grew up in for family celebrations or holidays. 

But then your mother died and you decided it was time to go back home to help your father. 

It was on your 26th birthday that Frankie showed up on the doorstep of your childhood home with a box of donuts and a bottle of whiskey, looking like he had been through hell and back. You would only learn much later that he had been. 

Your friendship really just picked up where you left off, just with you both legally allowed to drink booze and adult problems.

And feelings that hadn’t been there before. 

You remembered that you talked on your birthday until the early morning hours, Frankie telling you little about the army, about the divorce he was going through, about his little girl he wanted to be the best father too, about his drug addiction. Much like you told him about the man you had broken up with before you moved back home because he insisted you stay where you belonged. With him in the city. He didn’t care about your family or your feelings for that matter. 

Not that you thought you would marry the guy, but it still hurt to be so wrong in someone you loved. 

He told you everything about his little daughter Carina. She was his whole world.

She was also the reason he and his ex-wife had tried to make their marriage work but decided in the end that they were better off as friends. 

Carina and you became fast friends, even though you still think it was because of the huge amount of cookies you had baked with her and Frankie the first time he had invited you over to meet her. 

You started to spend more time together after that. 

You went on drives, you cooked together, you even went on a weekend trip into the woods where you met all his army brothers. It was the most fun trip you ever had been on. 

But something changed throughout the months after that. Touches lingered longer. Hugs seemed… tighter and more intimate. And then came his 34th birthday. 

His divorce was final, his three year old daughter was staying for the whole weekend and he had decided that it was time to teach her how to swim. 

The three of you spend the whole day at the local swimming pool. You brought muffins and sang happy birthday for him with his daughter before he blew out the one candle you had put on one of the muffins. 

When you asked him if he made a wish he only nodded at you with a small smile.

It was the perfect day.

Carina fell asleep before Frankie’s truck was even off the car park, making both of you chuckle. You stopped to pick up pizza on your way home, you insisted you pay because after all it was his birthday. When you came out of the pizza place, Frankie was leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

You put the pizza on your seat, waiting for him to go back to the car but he didn’t so you leaned next to him against the car, bumping your shoulder towards his. 

He took a deep breath before he came to stand in front of you and you still could feel the butterflies in your belly when he looked into your eyes, his fingers brushing over your cheek. They never really went away since that day.

“What did you wish for Frankie?” you had asked and he had smiled softly. 

“A birthday kiss,” he whispered. You licked your lips. 

“Then come and get it,” you whispered back. 

You would never forget this first kiss with him in the parking spot in front of a pizza place in your home town. 

That was six years ago and you have only grown closer ever since. 

By now not only your family but all friends were asking when you would get married and have children on your own. 

Both you and Frankie told them to fuck off on a regular basis but they did not seem to get the hint. 

If they knew you had been married for the last three years they would lose their minds. You got married on a beach while you were both on vacation in mexico. The only witness the older man who married you early in the morning at sunrise. 

But Frankie and you had a bet going how long it would take for anyone to notice. 

When he had asked you to marry him you had gotten him a ring too, so seeing the both of you with rings was not something out of the ordinary. 

“Can you believe that he’s going to propose?” you asked Frankie when you entered the town Santi had moved into. He had started his own Security firm here and met Tina, his girlfriend, who owned the flower shop across the street from his office. 

You had heard the story a million times, but the thought of Santiago Garcia buying all kinds of flowers on an almost daily basis for a month until he had finally asked her out still made you laugh. 

“I couldn’t believe Benny getting married too, so anything is really possible,” Frankie joked and you laughed. 

You would be staying at Santi’s place for four nights. The house warming party was in two days and Frankie had agreed to help Santi with the finishing touches of the back porch which left you and Tina mostly laying in the garden, watching your men sweat and work shirtless while offering occasional Lemonade.

You were very thankful the guest bedroom was in the basement when Frankie railed you in the shower after, his hand over your mouth to suppress your moans.

Sex with Frankie was ….

You still couldn’t believe he was the first man who ever made you cum on his cock. He was only satisfied when he made you cum at least twice. 

The day before the housewarming party you spend with Tina in the kitchen. Helping her prepare some salads and dips and things for the party on the next day while Frankie and Santi finished the work on the porch and started putting tables and chairs together. 

“I’m gonna make dessert when we come back from dinner,” Tina said. You wanted to argue but she waved you off.

“Santi is gonna help me. He has a hand for all things sweet,” she winked and you grinned. 

You were very tired after dinner. And maybe a little tipsy.

Frankie and you invited them both to a Chinese restaurant where you ate way too much sushi. 

Seeing Santi so in love with Tina was not something you ever thought you’d see. He had been living with Frankie for a while when you got back in contact with Frankie and he had a new girl every week. It went on until he decided to go back to Columbia for work.

You were happy to see him so content and happy with the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. 

Once back at their home you didn’t fight to help with desert anymore, letting Frankie tuck you into bed where you fell asleep almost immediately, not even waking once Frankie got into bed with you after he had taken a shower. 

You woke up hours later in his arms. One of his hand holding one of your breasts like every night. He argued he did it unintentionally but you knew how much he loved your tits. 

Checking your phone you saw that it was just after 2 am. Sighing you carefully untangled from Frankie, feeling thirsty. Sadly you hadn’t gotten a new bottle of water before going to bed. You put one of Frankie’s shirts on (apparently Frankie had undressed you to your panties after you pretty much passed out) and opened the door to make your way to the kitchen.

You were climbing up the stairs when you thought you heard a moan. Stopping where you were standing you listened for more noise, taking the rest of the stairs. When you could look through the room, your head just on the ground level you heard another moan and you turned your head towards the noise, eyes widening when you saw what was going on. 

Santiago’s house had an open floor plan on the ground floor. When you entered the house you were facing the stairs that lead to the first floor and the basement. The spacious living room lay on the left side, the kitchen on the right side. 

The kitchen was huge, having two islands, one you were facing now where Tina was laying on top, her side facing you. Santi on his knees in front of her. 

You knew you should turn around and look away but you seemed rooted to the spot. 

His arms were wrapped around her thighs, keeping them apart as he went down on her. One of her hands was in his hair, her back arched, her eyes closed, her other hand made into a fist which she pressed against her mouth to keep herself, quite unsuccessfully, quiet. 

“Fuck baby keep doing that,” she whispered and you heard Santi hum against her.

You felt yourself getting turned on, your panties dampening with your arousal. 

“Fingers… need… fuck give me two fingers,” Tina moaned lowly and you saw Santi bring one of his hands between her legs before she whimpered as two of his finger pushed inside of her. 

You closed your eyes, deciding that this is not something you should be watching, before taking a deep breath and turning around to go back down to wake up Frankie so he could fuck you, when you collided with someone. Just so stopping yourself from yelping you looked up, already knowing it was Frankie. You parted your lips to tell him to turn around when he put one of his fingers in front of his lips, his head turning towards the kitchen. 

He was completely naked, his cock already half hard.

You gulped, following his line of sight. 

He turned his head back towards you and you caught Frankie’s eyes, before he leaned down, his lips against your ear. 

“I saw you watching them,” he whispered and you shivered. His hands came to rest on your hips, taking a step down so you couldn’t see into the kitchen anymore he towered over you. 

His eyes were now on your friends in the kitchen and you sucked your bottom lip in as you heard Tina moan. 

“I think he’s gonna make her cum baby….” Frankie whispered, his eyes now finding yours again. He took a step closer, two fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties to push them all the way down, you stepping out of them, before his hand cupped your pussy. 

“Fuck you’re so wet,” his fingers parted your folds, slipping through your wet slit. 

You let your head fall back against the wall.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you heard Tina moan and you released a shuddering breath. 

“Frankie…” you whispered. He shook his head slowly.

“Shh listen….” he hummed, nodding upstairs and you did. Hearing Santi’s girlfriend fall apart as she tried to keep quiet, her moans echoing through the room. 

“Fuck baby you’re so sexy. My little cock slut,” you heard Santi say and Frankie’s eyes found yours. 

“Gonna fuck this pussy so good we gonna wake up the whole neighbor hood,” he continued and you felt one of Frankie’s fingers enter you. 

You heard a slap and you were dying to see what was happening in the kitchen. 

“That turn’ you on? Making Frankie and his girl wake up to find me fucking you in the kitchen?” Santi asked.

“Fuck baby….” she moaned and your lips parted when Frankie pushed another finger inside of you, pumping them slowly, his other hand pushing your shirt up. You helped him, pulling it over your head, throwing it down. He cupped your breast, playing with your nipple.

“You want them to hear what a slut you are for my cock?” you heard Santi ask and Frankie bend down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hands flew up into his hair. 

His lips wandered up your neck, his lips against your ear as he moved his fingers inside of you. 

“When I woke up you were gone and I got up to find you and maybe fuck you in the kitchen,” Frankie said and you whimpered, very quietly. 

“But then I found you watching my best friend fuck his girlfriend…” he sucked on your earlobe and you let one of your arms fall down, your hand wrapping around his cock. You let your thumb brush over the wet tip of his cock.

“Who would have known my little wife is getting turned on from watching our friends fuck?” he looked at you then, his lips finding yours, swallowing your moan as he added another finger, stretching you out for his cock. 

“Fuck me already baby,” you head from upstairs and you pushed Frankie away. He looked at you confused until you knelt down on the stairs, getting on all fours for him. Looking over your shoulder you caught a glance of Santi pumping his cock with his hand and lining himself up to sink into his girlfriend with a satisfied groan. You caught Frankie’s eyes, smirking when you found his hand pumping his cock too. 

“Fuck me,” you mouthed and he shook his head in mock disbelief, his chest rising in a silent chuckle. 

You heard a long moan from the kitchen and cursing from Santi. 

Frankie’s hands were on your ass, parting your cheeks. He spit on his cock, taking a step closer and you felt him notch the head of his cock against your slit. 

You could hear Santi and Tina fucking, moaning from both filling the room, skin slapping on skin. 

They were doing a shit job at keeping quiet but then again it was their house.

“Can you keep quiet?” Frankie whispered, pushing the tip of his cock inside. 

“Can you?” you challenged, looking at him over your shoulder, biting your lip when he thrust his cock into you fully. 

“Fuck baby you’re so wet,” Santi moaned and you let your head fall down between your shoulders, squeezing Frankie’s cock. 

“If I knew getting caught turned you on so much, I would have fucked you in your shop,” a moan was heard from Tina and finally Frankie began to move. 

“Oh shit,” you whispered, feeling his hand groping your hips as he pumped into you with deep thrusts. 

He fucked into you, his thick cock stretching you and it felt so fucking good it took all your brainpower to keep yourself quiet. Frankie groaned quietly, giving you a hard thrust that made you moan. 

The sounds of Santi fucking his girl were almost porn worthy. And they continued doing a terrible job of keeping quiet and it made you wonder if they might want to get caught. 

Frankie fucked you harder and you moaned again, definitely too loud to not be caught. He stopped, his cock deep inside of you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders as you waited if you had gotten caught. 

You didn’t. 

You looked at Frankie and he winked at you, before both of his hands wrapped over your mouth. He gave you a quick thrust and your eyes rolled back. 

He used his grip as leverage, beginning to pump into you with short hard thrusts. You heard him groan quietly. 

“Oh fuck, right there. Baby…. fuck you gonna make me cum,” Tina whimpered and you clenched around Frankie, making him choke on a moan. 

You risked a glance towards the kitchen, now being able to see what was going on and fuck these two looked so fucking hot. Frankie kept fucking into you while you saw Santi pump his thick cock into his girlfriend who was still laying on the kitchen island. His hands were on her breasts, groping them and you sighed into Frankie’s hands, closing your eyes. 

Frankie took a step up, his feet now next to yours on the stairs. He let go of his grip over your mouth and pushed your upper body down as his cock dove into you. The new angle made him hit your G Spot perfectly and you pressed your lips together, trying to keep quiet.

“Shit I’m gonna cum,” Santi groaned. 

“Rub my clit,” Tina moaned and you heard her cry out a long fuck as she came. Santi following her only seconds later. 

Frankie pumped harder into you and it was only seconds later that you fell apart, moaning as quiet as possible as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

“Shit baby,” Frankie groaned in a whisper. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you clenched around him, squeezing his cock and he groaned, loud, as he spilled inside of you. 

You leaned your head down, your arms laying on the stairs, breathing deeply as you still felt Frankie spill inside of you. He leaned down, his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. 

You turned your head, smiling softly and he kissed you. 

“There better not be any cum on the stairs, Fish,” you both heard Santi say and you jumped. Frankie’s arm came up to cover your tits as he pulled you up, both of you finding Santi and Tina looking at you with him still inside of her. 

There was an amused grin on his lips and Tina seemed amused. 

“No worries. Definitely no cum on your stairs,” you finally said and you all burst out in quiet laughter. Frankie kissed your cheek. You both took some stairs down and he pulled out of you. You felt his cum drip down your thighs and you reached for your panties to clean yourself while Frankie helped you back into your shirt. 

Turning around you wrapped your arms around Frankie’s neck and kissed him softly. You heard footsteps behind you and turned your head, finding Santi standing on top of the stairs, wearing his sweatpants. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, feeling guilty. 

“I’m sorry. I woke up and wanted to get some water and when I walked up I heard you and I just…” Santi waved his hands. You saw Tina come up behind him, hugging him from behind. 

“Next time just ask if you could join if you end up fucking,” Santi winked and you made big eyes, looking at Frankie who was still looking at him. You turned your head again, finding them both looking down at you. 

Frankie’s hand ran down your back, groping your ass. 

“Maybe we will,” he said and you looked at him, finding his eyes. It was like a silent conversation happened in the span of seconds before you turned your head to look at Santi and his girl again. 

“Yeah. Maybe we will.”

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU~ Part ONE

Summary: When Phoenix comes home to find her fiancé banging some other girl, her whole life changes seemingly overnight. Forced to go back and live with her Dad, she's about to be dragged into a life with the men her Dad is indebted to.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, setting things on fire, swearing, dead parent, debt, mental health issues, brain tumour, broken family, anger issues (female rage), AFAB OFC, objectification of the female body, pyromania, little bit of theft (smut to come)

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I didn't need to have yet another idea for a story. I also didn't need to write it straight away, but I recently read Den of Vipers and figured I could do something better featuring the Triple Frontier boys. I don't know how many parts of this there will be, or how regularly this will ultimately be updated, but I thought I'd share anyway. Smut will come, featuring all four guys this time. This will use an ofc but apart from the hair, there aren't too many descriptors. This will also be written from multiple characters points of view throughout to keep things interesting. Enjoy!

ONE

PHEONIX

My fingers itch as I grip the steering wheel tighter. I should have worn gloves, I say to myself as I drop one hand from the wheel and rub it vigorously against my torn jeans, hoping the friction from the denim will- at the very least- satiate the itch left behind from the lighter fluid long enough for me to get to the next gas station, so I can stop in and wash my hands properly.

It was reckless of me really- the whole damn thing. My brothers taught me better than this, but then again, everyone said I had a temper that was only second to Archie’s in my family- so I’m really not that surprised. People say my Dad used to be equally hot headed before he got remarried to Marina and took over the club, but I’ve still yet to see it- even after all the shit me and my brothers have pulled over the years. It’s like after our Mother died he just gave up. But I don’t blame him. I would too if I lost the love of my life to a fucking disease like that. I had barely known her anyway, so I didn’t really notice all that much when the brain tumor turned her into a “literal monster”, as my older brothers used to so fondly call her when she was on one of her rampages.

I’d always said that my only real memory of her was when she tried to burn down the house by settling alight to the curtains in their bedroom. I remember we all stood out on the front grass as the smoke billowed out of the windows and mixed with the night air. Archie stood on my right holding one of my hands, E.Z stood on my left holding the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had a thing for fire myself. Messing about with lighters, setting things on fire- all so I can try and understand that night… At least, that’s what a therapist would probably say.

My Dad tried to make me go to one once, after I ended up burning down the whole science block at my school at 16, but alas, that never happened. Which is why I’m probably still using fire as a coping method after all these years.

My phone is blowing up by the time I reach the nearest gas station. I scan the messages from my brothers over quickly as I pull into the lot.

Deano: Heard what you did, I’d say he fucking deserved it.

Archie: Dad is pissed. Gonna try to calm him down before he does something stupid.

E.Z: Seriously, Phe, again! Dad is gonna be so pissed.

Leo: Just heard about your latest work, props little sis, I think your balls might be even bigger than Dean’s.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone in the glove box as it begins to buzz again. Uhh, I really don’t want or need a lecture right now about how I should or should not have acted upon finding my fiance in bed with another woman. Did I over react… by some people’s standards- maybe. But did I also live out every woman’s fantasy of dousing the bed in lighter fluid and striking a match whilst they were still in the bed… yes- yes I did- and do I give two fucks about any repercussions? Absolutely- fucking- not. Because there won’t be. Never have been. My Dad works for some of the most powerful men in the city- and I’m not talking about the Governor or the Mayor. No- someone will send some money over to keep them sweet and in a couple days time, everything will go back to normal.

I scrub at my hands with the shitty cheap soap in the tiny cubicle inside the gas station to the point the giant rock, still on my finger, almost slips off and down the drain. It’s the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s just an extension of my hand at this point. What am I gonna do with it? I mean- it’s worth a fucking fortune. Freddie was fucking loaded after all. None of it fucking his mind you. His Dad was a close business partner for the same guys my Dad worked for. Let’s just say, crime pays and his Dad has made so much money over the years working for Santiago Garcia and his crew, Freddie has never had to lift a single finger, let alone do a days work, to get what he wants.

I grab a handful of shitty paper towels, drying off my hands and the ring, holding it up to the fluorescent bathroom light. Uhhh it wasn’t even my style. I hate diamonds, they’re so basic and boring. Give me a massive fuck off ruby or saphire anyday. 

Still unsure what to do with it, I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before assessing how I look in the mirror. It’s like waking up from the weirdest dream and not recognising yourself. I look at my blonde hair in the mirror, the plain white t-shirt covering my breasts. I look like one of those young Barbie, trophy wife wannabe types. Where did the color and fun go? He drained it all out of me.

In college, when I met Freddie, I had pink in my hair and always had on something bright. At least my ripped jeans still have some character. 

Exiting out back onto the shop floor, I grab myself a large bag of cheetos and a cherry icee- that's as big as my head- from the machine in the back. As I place the large bag of cheesy puffs on the counter, I take a large sip of my drink, before placing that too on the counter, reaching for a pair of bright yellow heart sunglasses on a display next to the cashier.

“What d’ya think?” I ask the portly man behind the counter, who’s polo shirt doesn’t look or smell like it’s been washed for at least two weeks with its armpit stains and ranch dressing smear on the front.

It’s obvious he’s trying to come across as if he’s not checking out my whole body as he looks at me, but his eyes scan lower than my face, falling on the V neck of my t-shirt and my breasts for a hint too long. I flash him a sickly sweet smile as I take the sunglasses off my face and hook them into my shirt where his eyes seem to linger instead. “How about now?” I ask.

He quickly clears his throat as he looks back to the register. “Uhhh, yes- Yes- I think they suit you, yes.” he rambles and I can’t help but laugh. Men like that were always so predictable.

I reach for the icee taking another sip and try to school my features when I get brain freeze. “With the sunglasses,” he says, “16 bucks.” I sigh, but fish a couple notes out my back pocket and hand them over, just as my eyes land on a lighter covered in black and white harlequin print. My fingers instantly reach for it.

I turn the lighter over and over again in my fingers before flipping the top of it open and striking up a flame, my eyes getting lost in its amber glow as it sways hypnotically back and forth. It instantly takes me back to not 20 minutes ago and Fred and the girl’s screams, as the bed covers went up in flames and they both shot out from underneath them as he screamed about how much of a psycho I was. 

The ding of the till draw brings me back to the present and I flick the lighter closed. “Oh, and I’m taking this as payment for you oggling me.” I smile at the balding cashier, as I pocket the lighter and grab my bits off the counter.

I can hear him calling after me, “HEY, COME BACK HERE! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!” but I just laugh and take another sip of the slush and place the sunglasses back on my head.

As I walk back to my car, I notice a bum, sitting in the shade of the wall at the back corner of the station. As I look at him, I can feel the weight of the ring in my back pocket, dragging me towards him. Hey, the ring might not have changed my life, but it doesn’t mean it can’t change someone else’s life.

“Hey.” I say, lifting the yellow sunglasses on top of my head so I can meet his eyes. “Catch.” I toss him the ring. It sparkles as it hits the afternoon sun and I know from the look on his eyes as it makes contact with his fingers, he feels like he just won the lottery. “Pawn it. Get whatever you want with it, I don’t care.” I say as I begin to turn away from him and back to my car.

“Uh-thank you.” he says at first in shock, “Thank you.” he says again, a little more confidently now.

“Don’t mention it.” I shout back to him as I unlock my car with a chirp and climb back inside. 

I open the bag of cheetos, taking one and popping it in my mouth, before dumping them on the passenger seat and reaching to open the glove box, taking my phone back out.

7 more texts from my brothers and 5 missed calls from my Dad; with a final text saying:

DAD: Get your ass home. NOW!

Well, that does it then. I guess I’m going back to the old family home.

I start the engine, shuffling through the radio stations until I find something I like. When I hear the opening riff for Britney Spears’ Toxic, I stop and whack the volume all the way up. My tires screech as I speed out of the forecourt. I sing at the top of my lungs all the way home.

☆

I’m not through the door five seconds when E.Z is trying to usher me back out again. He’s always been the softer one. Third born. The middle child. Always overlooked, but still always trying to appease everyone.

“Dad is pissed.” He says, when he meets me in the foyer. After Mom tried to burn the house down, the place got remodeled. My Dad had to sell his soul to the devil to do it, but it meant we got to stay in our family home. Well, sort of. 

The whole left side of the house needed rebuilding, which meant they got to extend it out a bit more. We lost the basketball court the boys liked to play on, but it meant they finally got their own rooms so they didn’t mind. 

“I know.” I say to E.Z, waving my phone in his face with one hand, while I take a sip of my icee with the other. 

“Give me that.” He says, snatching the drink from my hand, the contents within the straw almost going everywhere as he rips it straight from my mouth. “This is serious Phe, Andy,” Freddie’s dad, “has already been on the phone making threats. You know how important he is for the business. He’s threatening to cut off the club’s supplies.”

“And….” I shrug, before reaching to take back the large cup in his hands. He merely moves it further out of my reach. “Look, I’m sure the guys who own the place have other connections he can use.”

“You sure about that?” My brother presses, raising his eyebrows and looming over me.

“Oh come on, you telling me those four wannabe goodfellas bozos, haven’t got some other dipshit on their payroll to import and export shit for them off record to help keep club costs down.” 

E.Z’s face is a picture. Eyes wide, face serious. It’s clear from his expression and his mouth that keeps gaping like a fish as he tries to get a word in, that he thinks I should shut up. “What!?” I hiss at him, but as I’ve been ranting and raving, I haven’t heard the second set of feet that have made their way through the front door into the foyer. E.Z’s face turns pale as he looks behind me to the figure and back.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” A forced casual voice comes from behind me.

I turn my head and follow the voice to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on. All tanned skin and dark curly hair, a smattering of grays mixed in- the only hint to his age. I frown as a familiarity falls over me, but I can’t quite place from where. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

He slides his fingers into his trouser pockets, his foot tapping slightly as he looks me up and down. “Oh you know, I’m just one of those bozos who’s now having to help clear up your mess.”

Before I have a chance to respond, my Dad and Archie step out of his office at the end of the hall. “PHEONIX!” My Dad’s voice bellows and I blanche, maybe that anger isn’t as far away as I thought. 

I turn away from the stranger in his Armani suit by the front door, to my Dad, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Hi, Dadd-”

“Uh- No!” He says, holding up a hand to stop me, “Don’t you dare-” He stops as he spots the other gentleman in the foyer. “Pope.” He says, his demeanor growing lighter as he greets the man who actually owns his ass.

“What kind of name is Pope?” I hiss to E.Z under my breathe, but he just nudges me to shut up.

“David… Archie…” Pope nods his head to the two men. “Shall we talk in your office.” He says, nodding back down the hall behind him.

“Uh- yes. Yes.” My Dad says nervously, turning his body to indicate for him to follow him back, before shooting me a stern look, telling me to behave and that this was far from over.

“Pheonix.” Pope nods to me as he passes, a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth and a look in his eye that I could only describe as fascination. But it quickly disappears again as he turns back to my Dad.

As the door to my Father’s office closes, my brother begins to ferry me towards the stairs. “I’d get up there and stay out of trouble if I were you.” He warns. 

I roll my eyes at him before I slip the yellow, heart shaped sunglasses, down over them with annoyance, snatching back my icee, before I stomp upstairs- as usual, out of sight, out of mind.

~

POPE

“Mr Garcia, I am so sorry for my daughters behavior. I really had thought she’d grown out of this,” David Leacher says, as I sit myself down in one of the leather armchairs in his office. “And I never thought she would do something like this that would put your well balanced business in jeopardy.”

I fain disinterest about the subject, because really, it doesn’t actually bother me all that much at all. Sure Andy is a bit pissed now on behalf of his son, but from what I hear, if you’re gonna go sneaking around behind your soon to be Mrs' back and she finds out, you kinda get what your asking for. To be fair, I gotta give the little lady props; it takes real guts to dump lighter fluid on a guy and strike the match, regardless of the consequences. 

“… I just don’t know what to do with her.” David says, slumping back in his chair behind his desk with a large glass of bourbon in his hand. 

“And this is why I never got married and had kids.” I say, giving him a tight lipped smirk. There’s an awkward pause between us, the only sound in the room, the ice clinking in David’s glass as he takes another nervous sip, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation, waiting for the slap on the wrist he thinks is about to come. “Look David, I’ll get to the point, Andy wants compensation for the money he’s already forked out for the wedding.” David puts his drink down and begins rubbing his temples as if this whole ordeal is giving him a headache. 

He sighs, turning to me, an earnest look in his eye, “Pope,” he says softly- imploringly- “you know I don’t have the money for that-“

“I know.” I say, cutting him off. “That’s why, we’ve decided to franchise Medusa’s. We are going to acquire two more clubs, you’ll get a pay rise and oversee all three venues, to help cover the costs. We get more money coming in through the clubs, you get more money to pay off Andy- everyone’s a winner.” 

The look of relief on David’s face is a picture. “Oh thank you, Pope- uh Mr Garcia.” He says, as his whole body seems to let out a very long breath that he had been keeping tight in his body, probably since the first call he got this afternoon about his daughter’s antics. “Thank you, thank you.” He seemingly pants.

“Look Dave, you’re a good guy- a loyal guy-“ I say honestly, “you work hard, you run Medusa’s well. Profits have been up 30% since you took over. I’m not gonna jeopardize that over some silly tiff between a couple kids.”

“No, no… thank you.” He says quietly, acknowledging my words as I continue to speak.

“Whether this had happened or not, we were going to come to you with this proposal this week anyway. Help you pay off your debt to us quicker too- you know.”

“Yes… thank you, Pope. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” I nod to him. “I’ll call Andy, let him know everything is settled.”

“Thank you, Pope, thank you.” He says again. 

David is a good man- a loyal man. He runs our most popular club well, but it was a real shame how soft he had gone in his old age. Ever since he lost his wife, he’s never been the same. Then he married that wannabe wag Marina- who does nothing but spend the rest of what little money he has coming in after he repays some of his debt to us- and walks all over him. Back in the day he had really made a name for himself bare knuckle boxing. They used to call him The Reaper because he could knock a man out with a single blow that brought a man close to death; but nowadays he’d barely hit a fly. This was yet another reason I never settled down and did the whole wife and kids thing- it made you soft.

Still didn’t stop his little girl from being as tough as nails and crazy to boot- but when the only female role models you had growing up were a Mother with a brain tumor that made her- to be polite- unhinged; and then Marina, it's no wonder she’s ended up as she has. She bounced around three different boarding schools in her teens. By the third school- after she had burnt down the science block at the second school- we had to write a fairly hefty donation cheque, in order to get her in. Just another number added to David’s bill to be repaid.

Although he had initially approached us looking for work in order to pay off his wife’s medical bills and then to redo the house after she had burnt half of it down, most of the money he’s borrowed from us over the years has been for Phoenix. Frankie, Will and myself have spent many a night around the table with a drink in our hands speculating on why he continues to bail her out and put himself in more debt to protect her. We’ve long come to assume it’s probably because of guilt. That she was robbed of a proper Mother. Cursed to have a weak Father. If she had been my kid, I would have tossed her ass out on the curb a long time ago and told her to deal with her own shit if she wanted to keep behaving the way she has over the years.

To be fair though, after she met Freddie, we thought she’d finally straightened out- or at least she had become Fred’s problem and he was dealing with it. She stopped going to the clubs. Started wearing more grown up clothing that matched her age. Began running with Freddie and his older friends. But I guess it was only a matter of time and you know what they say- a leopard never changes their spots.

I’m halfway to the door, ready to leave, when David stops me. “Umm, Pope.” He says tentatively. I slowly turn myself back to him, ready to hear his request, even though he’s in no place to be making requests right now after I’ve just bailed his ass out for the fifteenth time. “I was just wondering…” he continues hesitantly, “seeing as Phoenix and Freddie are no longer together, she’ll probably need an actual job of her own now…” I can almost feel myself rubbing at my temples, knowing the question that was about to come out of his mouth. It’s the same question that had come when all of his son’s came of age and needed a job… but this time is different- and we both know it.

Phoenix isn’t like her brothers. Where they are able to be mature and step up and follow orders, she most definitely can not. I’ve seen enough of her school reports over the years to know what kind of employee she’d be. When David had asked about getting the boys jobs, it had been a no brainer. Each one of them had a build similar to their father in his hay day, perfect for a bit of muscle and extra protection in the club. But a job in Medusa’s for Phoenix would be behind the bar- and I know for a fact she’d sooner pour herself shots of liquor and dance on that bar than stand back and serve everyone else whilst they had a good time.

I already know I’m going to regret this when I finally climb into my bed at the end of the night, “She gets one chance.” I say. “One chance.” I hold up my index finger to him for emphasis.

“Thank you, Pope. I promise she won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter to myself, my thumb and forefinger rubbing at my eyes in both irritation and exhaustion, as I finally leave the room. I give Archie a brief nod of acknowledgement as he sees me back out to my car.

I'm about to climb back in when he says, "I know you didn't have to do that, but he needed that, you know. He needs that hope that she'll be okay."

I only give him a nod as I look up to the row of upstairs windows and back to him, "We'll see." I say. "We'll see."

-----------------------------------

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[frogs-and-oscar-brainrot]

Guys, where do you find good fanfics? ;-;

I can't find any for a while. Maybe I can't search... Maybe it's because ai is popular now? (not that I don't use it, but I definitely suck at writing human interactions)

Please feed me with Oscar Isaac things ;-; I'm almost over a terrible internship for my university degree and I feel drained from my whole life essence

[pedropascalsx]

The Fall Out; The Invitation.

Frankie Morales x F!Reader. 

Summary: You attend an audition for a local band, and all seemingly goes well until it doesn’t.

Warnings: P in V sex, Creampie, Swearing, Some angst, Arguing, Asshole Frankie and Drummer!Benny Miller.

Word Count: 2K.

Chapters: 1 of 6.

A/N: I don’t know what I am doing. I am bad at this. This is mostly flashbacks and throughout the series I will be jumping back and forth. The next chapter will heavily focus on the breakdown of the band/relationships.

[FLASHBACK: TEN YEARS EARLIER].

It was fucking intoxicating, it was four months of unspoken tension and frustrations being hashed out in the most bruising and salacious way. 

Every thrust was fuelled by a different desire, a desire to make you scream his name, a desire to make you his and a desire to stop your smart mouth from spilling anything but moans of pleasure and desperate whimpers of his name. 

His grip was bruising from the very second the tension snapped, he spun you around and pulled down your panties without stopping for breath. He made a snarky comment about how fucking desperate you were for him and the way your thighs were glistening with your wetness meant that for once you couldn’t shut him up with a snide remark of your own. 

Instead you just choked back a moan, ignoring the sharp sting of pain you felt as you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip at a futile attempt to hide the overwhelming feeling of relief that it was finally happening.

He sunk himself into you in one fluid movement and you swore you could see stars. Everything around you disappeared and for a moment you were somewhere else, you weren't in a filthy dressing room at the back of some shady venue that hadn’t seen a vacuum in god knows how long.

And then he spoke. 

“You think I can’t see what you’re doing,” he scolded before ceasing his movements, “Stop biting your lip. I wanna hear how well you take my cock. I can already feel it, so what’s the point in trying to pretend that you’re not fucking gagging for it?” 

The groan that was milliseconds from spilling over your lips was replaced by a moan that you had no chance of suppressing, his cock having speared into that spot inside of you as your lips had parted. 

And from that moment on, you were putty in his hands. All the need to defy him had evaporated and the only thing that you could feel was a stronger need to be consumed by him, to feel the heat of him enveloping you as he relentlessly fucked into you. 

You gave him everything he wanted, you came with a gasp of his name and you let him spill every drop of spend inside of you as he murmured some almost incoherent speech about how you were his and he was going to claim you in every single way.

It was always going to end in tears.

[THE BEGINNING]

“Can I add this to your notice board?” A voice boomed out from across the cafe, as you served a customer their overpriced coffee. 

“Sure,” you replied with a friendly shrug, “Spare pins are placed in the bottom left corner of the board.” 

“Thanks, babe,” the voice called back and before you could get a real glance at him, he was out the door and on his way to cover every spare post or board with copies of the same flyer.

The rest of the day had been so busy you didn’t even think of it again until you were heading out, the hastily made flyer grabbing your attention as you slung your backpack across your shoulder.

You pulled it off the board and studied it for a few moments before shoving it in your backpack, it has been a while since you’d even considered performing in front of people, work and bills getting in the way of the dream you’d had since you were a child, but something about this was calling out to you. 

[THE DAY OF THE AUDITION]

Work was as busy as ever, you had been starting work at four am rather than six because the festive period had seen more visitors popping in before or after doing their Christmas shopping. 

And that had seen the pastries, cakes, tarts and cookies you made for the business selling out quicker than you were used to. 

Work was a helpful distraction, the amount of things you had to freshly bake and prepare meant you didn’t have time to fret or sike yourself out over the audition.

And before you knew it the café was open and filled with hungry and thirsty customers; and your co-worker Callie was bouncing behind the counter to relieve you of your duties. 

“Are you ready for the big audition for the big gig?” she asked with a signature wink, “You’re gonna smash it.” 

“Ooh, the big gig?” you said with a giggle, “Is that what we are calling me potentially hanging out in someone’s garage a couple of times a week?”

“Sounds like superstardom to me,” Callie shot back as she tied her apron around her waist, “Good luck, break a leg or whatever!”

“Yeah, yeah! Thank you babe.”

“Don’t forget to text me how it goes,” she called back as you politely weaved your way past the waiting customers. 

The line of people outside the venue made your nerves tingle, you weren't sure what to expect or just how many people would be interesting but it certainly wasn’t this. There must have been 25 people ahead of you, and that was just waiting outside. 

Instinctively your fingers intertwined with the fingers on your other hand, as you eagerly waited your turn, occasionally fighting the urge to abandon ship and wait for another opportunity to come around.

But the snotty girl in front of you said something to someone else in the queue that made you stand your ground, the anticipation and intrigue outweighing the anxiety and doubt.

She was eavesdropping the conversation in front of her and the sharp scoff she exhaled in judgement immediately caught your attention, “Didn’t you hear? They asked the original lead singer to leave. This is a big fucking deal, they were offered an opening slot that would have been huge for them and he pissed someone off so badly that they withdrew the offer.” 

“Who were they going to open for?” a voice that sounded alarmingly like your own croaked out and the mean girl spun around with a raised eyebrow before looking you up and down and scoffing again. 

“Green Day.”

‘Shit.’ You murmured, and she turned back around before making some unintelligible comment under her breath that made you roll your eyes.

After three agonising hours, it was almost your turn. The pink haired mean girl from the line came crashing out of the room with a smug look splashed across her face and just as you’d made the decision to go home, the door opened again and the same guy from the café was inviting you.

“Hey!” he said with a huge smile, “From the café on main right?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a shy smile, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Come meet the guys,” he said as he ushered you in the room, “I’m Benny by the way. Drums!” 

“Oh, yeah, it figures you’re a drummer,” you reply with a laugh before introducing yourself. 

“Why’s that?” Benny says as he gestures to the microphone before climbing back on stage and calling out, “Because the drummers are always the most handsome guy in the band?”

“Something like that,” you roll your eyes and shrug and simply reply, “Your arms.” 

He laughs before telling the guys your name and telling them where you work and then he introduces them all.

“Okay, so we got Pope over there on bass, my brother Will is on keyboard, I’m obviously on drums and this is Frankie our guitarist.”

As he introduced each guy they waved and smiled from behind their instruments, all until Frankie. Who barely glanced up at you. Too busy fiddling with his instrument to give you the time of day, boredom and frustration clearly painted across his face. 

His incredibly handsome face. You hated how obvious it must have been that you did a double take when you looked at him, your breath hitching as you took him in. You couldn’t ignore his strong nose and jaw and his endearing scruffy patchy beard. He was gorgeous. But he seemed so utterly disinterested that he immediately struck a nerve. 

“So what are you going to sing?” Pope called out from the stage, “You want us to play something or do you have a backing track?”

“Shit,” you hissed, “No I didn’t bring one. I just figured I’d sing it without… is that ok?”

“All good, babe,” Benny yelled back with a reassuring smile, “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Run by Snow Patrol had been the song you ultimately settled on singing for the audition, it had been a firm favourite for years and was always something you felt comfortable performing.

“Holy shit,” Benny spluttered as you finished the song, “Café girl has got some pipes.” 

“That she does,” Will replied with an approving nod.

And before you had a chance to thank them a gravelly voice flooded the room, “She’s not exactly what we’re looking for,” he said as his fingers still fiddled with his guitar, “I mean, yeah, nice voice, but come on.”

“And what exactly are you looking for?” you blurted back, “Another arrogant asshole that’ll blow any more chances that may come your way.”

He sneered at you, before standing up and giving you an obvious once over, “Yeah, she’s…uh, real nice. Clearly she would make a great addition to the band” he spat out to his band mates every word dripping with sarcasm before slipping through a door off the stage.

You couldn’t make sense of how quickly he had gotten under your skin, and immediately you were trying to work out if you wanted to slap or kiss him. Slap him. Definitely slap him… Maybe. 

“Is that good for you?” the voice called out from the stage as you tried to regain some focus.

“What?” you stammered, “Uh, sorry, I didn’t catch what you said?”

Will laughed, “He has that effect on people. Could you leave your number on the sheet over there and we will let you know in a few days.” 

You nodded politely before giving the band an unconvincing smile, before stumbling over and scribbling down your name and number on the sheet. 

‘Well, I definitely won’t be hearing from them.’ you thought to yourself as you slowly walked home, replaying it all back over and over until you felt physically sick.

You sipped the hot chocolate in your mug as some absolutely awful but equally captivating hallmark movie played out on your TV, each scene as predictable as the next making you roll your eyes but somehow still being so alluring that you audibly tutted when your phone started ringing and disturbing it.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

“Hello,” you sighed into your cell phone, “If this is a spam just do me a favour and hang up for me.” 

“Depends on what you’d refer to as spam, Café girl,” the voice boomed back into your eye with a laugh, “Not disturbing anything important I hope.” 

“Benny?” you asked with an obvious tone of surprise, “I didn’t expect to actually hear from you.” 

“Can hardly offer you the position if I don’t contact you, babe,” he says and you can picture the cocky grin on his face, “What are you doing Tuesday night?” 

Joining a local band with a guitarist that you’ve already had a spat with? ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ you thought to yourself before answering.

“Sounds like you’re about to tell me.”

[PRESENT DAY; TEN YEARS LATER]

The chill in the air made you grip the mug of hot chocolate in your hand a little tighter, you sat comfortably on the balcony off your bedroom and looked out over the lake whilst enjoying the same silence you had for years.

The rude unexpected ringing of your phone making you wince slightly as you glanced down at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Usually you’d just let it ring out, maybe check the voicemail they’d potentially leave a few hours later if you felt like it, but a feeling you hadn’t felt for many years started to bubble up in your stomach, and something was calling out for you to answer.

“Hello,” you quietly murmured into the phone.

“Hello, babe,” a familiar voice boomed back at you, “It’s been a while. What are you doing next month?” 

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Is this how it ends? 6

Fic info & warnings

Read on A03

Words: 5,218

A03

Rhea’s eyes fixed on the window as the sun rose on the horizon, golden rays of light cast across the sky like brushstrokes accompanied by oranges and blues.

The heaviness of a long night was now absent from the sky, but no matter how much sunlight streamed through the room, it still felt like midnight.

Rhea barely slept. She kept reliving the afternoon before, what she could have done differently if she kept her anger in check, and how good it felt, even in the context of the situation, to see Frankie’s face, finally. And, she was also worried about Will, she had to make sure he was okay with her own eyes too.

In order to do that, she’d need to gain some trust with Pope, which she might have ruined yesterday. She didn’t regret it, she was pissed, and sick of his games; at the same time, she needed to find a way to control herself so she could get on his good side.

When they got back to the house yesterday, she was locked away in the room, where she’s been since then. She had a small amount of food and some water delivered around 6pm by a guard, but Pope himself was a no show.

Rhea kicked the covers off then sat on the side of the bed, her eyes moving to the Armoire full of dresses and shoes. Even the actual closet had clothes in it he picked for her.

“Stuck in a fucking dollhouse.” she muttered with a frown.

Even the pajamas she wore were selected by him. Rhea got up and started to pace.

“Fine Pope, you want me to play, I’ll play,” she opened the closet and thumbed through the clothes while going over a plan in her head.

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More vibes of this trio aka Rheas phone

[nerdieforpedro]

Day Six - Santiago Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC)

Word Count: 406

Warnings: domestic fluff, children, some feelings

Notes: An Oscar Isaac character has joined the spring prompts! I recently read Santiago being a dad in some fics by @reallyrallyauthor who also had the Delta boys being babysitters. I highly recommend them for fluffy and comedy value. Then I kept trying to figure out what to do with flutter. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenge

Every spring, Amalia requests that he stop by the Home Depot on his way home from work “when he thinks about it” but Santi is a smart enough man to know what his wife means within the week she told him about it. He’s checking out three of them, feeders for hummingbirds. She prefers a certain kind because it matches the soft yellow of their front and back porches. He always promised himself he was going to paint over the yellow with white or gray - a more neutral color but the bright color had grown on him now. 

Unloading the feeders and carrying them to the back was an easy feat for him, maybe not his knees though. His wife Amalia greeted him with a warm smile and took one of the feeders from him, setting it down on a table that was soon joined by the others. “Mr. Garcia, you’re a devious man.” Her hands were on her hips playfully, Santi wouldn’t deny that he is sometimes, well more than sometimes but he just got in. What did he do? His wife tilted her head toward the backyard he had worked on a project with their children and Frankie’s daughters. A small mason jar that had four tubes sticking out of the bottom hung from the large tree that provided about a third of the yard with shade.

Their three children were gathered around watching as an elegant turquoise hummingbird was gathering nectar out of one of the tubs. Small, bright and excited eyes were trained on the bird seeing its wings flutter until they were nearly invisible. They remained quiet so as to not spook the bird and were content to watch, their giggles barely heard by their parents.

“Something Catfish and I put together for the kids. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work. I taught Grace how to use the hot glue gun to plop the flower Luis made with Diego.” Amalia’s arm wrapped around Santiago’s waist and she laid her head on his shoulder. 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have fussed about getting the feeders. And yes I know I did, I just did it silently.”

“It’s fine. Who knows how long it’s going to last anyway? We’ve got backups now, Mrs. Garcia.” He matched his wife’s playful energy and she bumped his hip with her plush one. Gentle moments like these made Santiago Garcia’s heart flutter with warmth.

[catalvarezs]

seeing smut in the tedtrent tag like 'guys no they're my dads'

[wyn-n-tonic]

Did You Think I Had Forgotten?

Word Count: 2.6k Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader (written in third person). Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Talk of murder. Allusion to pregnancy loss (not spoken about in explicit detail). Fucking at a funeral. Author's Note: This may be my favorite thing that I have written. It's right up there with Soft Cries and Sacred Oasis for me.

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Ao3

He’s got a mean streak.

Deep beneath the calluses of his hands and the surface of his skin, it’s there; golden tan and mean as shit with hard set sable eyes. She’d be terrified if she didn't know any better, didn't know all the shades of softness that warm his cheeks in sun kissed, peach toned blooms.

Santiago Garcia, standing there with a half smile like it’s just another day. Like he’s been around for all this time and all these changes. Like he’s waiting for a hometown hero, movie star style kiss.

She’d fucking hate him if she could.

Not that loving him stopped her from chucking a half full glass of whiskey from halfway across the room. 

He looks down when it shatters at his feet, the amber liquid bleeding into the black of his pants and the shine of his shoes, and looks up at her again. “You still put ice in your whiskey, Sandy Koufax?” 

Ben’s hand fists into his shirt before he can open his mouth again, the starched, black fabric crunching in his grip as he pulls the shorter man away from the mess; the room; her. 

If they were eccentric rich people, this could be written off as performance art—The Scorned Lover and the Man Who Ripped Her Apart. The true bullshit of it all is that he didn’t even have to try. It was all so simple for him, leaving the bed and a note. His cellphone number had been disconnected before he even reached the airport. 

He didn’t even take his fucking clothes.

Back against the closed door, she closes her eyes to fight the welling tears. It’s been two—three?—years, her anger shouldn’t feel like this anymore. Shouldn’t feel so palpable and all encompassing. She got past that stage clinging onto Ben’s hand while his sister and Frankie tiptoed around packing boxes and preparing food like it was a fucking wake. They were downstairs too, she thinks to herself. All that time pretending they didn’t want to fuck each other just to show up here with three rings and an infant between them.

Embarrassment floods her suddenly, overtaking the despair and the rage. A drink. She threw a drink. She threw a glass of watered down whiskey at a mourning man’s feet. She made a spectacle out of her grief that wasn’t even for the man they’d just buried. Of course he was here.

Of course.

This was all his fault, after all.

They should change his nickname to Judge for the way he likes to sentence others into agony. 

She looks down at her feet and then up again, across at the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall that cuts her at the waist. He bought this dress one Christmas, asked her to wear it out the store after he managed to collect his words again. Took her to dinner and then asked her to keep it on a few hours later in the bright white light of their bedroom.

Maybe that smile he wore was for the same memory the dress brings her. But it’s the only black formalwear she has with an appropriate neckline. Tits out in front of old friends at the funeral of another just didn’t sit right.

Pushed forward when the door opens, she breaks her fall on the vanity countertop and swears as she looks up into the reflected eyes of the man who drove her in here.

“Fuck.” 

Who chose black anyway? If this was actually a celebration of life, they’d all be in camouflage and smudged face paint sharing anecdotes of casual racism and laughing about how it makes sense his half functional alcoholism tossed his head against the rocks on another foreign hike.

“He didn’t fall, did he?” She asks, turning towards him. “You did this, didn’t you?”

Santi shrugs. “I played a part—oh, don’t roll your eyes at me, sweetheart.” His eyebrows pinch, hand raised like he’s cutting off the chance of a response. “You fucking hated Tom.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, but I needed him.”

“And me?”

He huffs a laugh. “That was more that you didn’t need me.”

“Fuck you, Santiago.” There’s venom in her words but they only seem to land at his feet like the shattered glass from earlier or her knees all the times before that. “You’re a piece of shit.”

A step closer, hands in his pockets, and he looks down at her with pity in his voice. “I don’t know what I missed more—your cunt or the way you like to act like one.”

“I'm so glad I burnt most of your shit.”

“Kept the house though, didn’t you?” He asks, closer still.

“It should be you in that box down there.” She regrets it before it’s halfway out of her mouth, brain already grasping to pull the words back in and down her throat. 

Santi leans forward, hands bracing himself against the counter as the tip of his nose smudges against hers. “Fuck,” he breathes. “It's hot when you talk back. Been a while since somebody could give it as good as I can dish it out.”

“Nice to know you’ve been keeping yourself busy in…” She doesn’t know where he’s been, just that he went.

“Colombia,” he finishes. “There was nobody to keep myself busy with, trust me.”

When she licks her lips, she swears she almost catches his too and swallows back the fresh saltwater sobs threatening to surface. “Why should I do that?” 

He stands straight again, palm rubbing up against the grain of his beard like he’s trying to find a respectful way to speak his thoughts. Finally, his shoulders raise and drop just as quickly again. “Nobody had an ass as great as yours”—his eyes dart down her body and back up—“good to see you’ve still got it. Did you end up having kids? Ben refuses to tell me anything.”

“Yours,” she nods, watching as his eyes open against the permanent jet lag of his life. “But don’t worry,” she continues, “he left me like you did. Guess I wasn’t good enough for either Garcia boy. Like father, like son, right?”

Light reflects off the strands of silver in the salt and pepper curls that spill between his fingers. He pushes them up and away, pulling near the roots before relaxing his grip to slide down against the grain of the half grey scruff across his cheeks and he shakes his head. “It was never that you weren’t good enough, mi vida.”

“You have no right to call me that.”

“Don't I?” He steps forward again, less space than before left between their bodies. “My decision was to value your life, your needs, over mine. I did what I thought was best for you.”

She looks up towards the art prints of ocean views hung on the wall, gently swiping at her lower lid, and takes a deep breath. “No, Santiago.”

A beat passes and then another, the tick of his gold Rolex echoing in the silence as his eyes stay on you and yours stay on a fixed point over his shoulder. 

He’s got a mean streak and he’s stroking it with every breath between them. He’ll push until it’s satisfied, masking it with a warm, honeyed citrus scent and a deft tongue until every barrier breaks for him to take what he wants.

And then he leaves for others to pick up the pieces of the destruction that he left.

“No what, sweetheart?” He finally asks.

“No,” She repeats, turning to face him again. “You did what was best for you, Santiago. Just as you’ve always done. Because the only two people in this world that you have ever served is whatever grey faced man who sits in the oval office and—“

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he interrupts. “Don’t paint me like this, don’t make me the bad guy. I loved you.” His head drops towards her shoulder, turned towards her still and he presses his nose into her hair, breath ghosting across the shell of her ear. “I love you.” 

She laughs, arms hugging closer around her body. “You've got a funny way of showing it.” 

“You want me to tell you I’m sorry?” 

Her head shakes and she turns to face him, warmed over by the liquid coal in his eyes. “I don’t think you’re capable of it.” 

Santiago’s lips turn upward as thick, dark eyebrows rise to the challenge. “I am, baby,” he says. “I didn't know—“

“How could you have? Your phone disconnected and every goddamn email bounced right back to me.”

“I adore you,” he continues. “I always have.” He tucks his palm beneath her jawline, gun callused thumb sweeping across the pout of her lips. 

She wants to hate him but she can’t; not when this simple touch feels like the first warmth she’s had in years. Leaning into it against her will, she feels the levees break as a half choked sob claws its way out of her chest. 

He doesn’t even ask. Doesn’t even wait because his body is operating on pure instinct to push comfort onto her distress. It’s why he left before the sun rose. All he wants to do is keep her away from the bad things, especially when they begin and end with him.

He hates even more that she doesn’t even fight it, doesn’t push him away when it’s what he deserves. Because despite all her words, she’s just as in love with him as she was the night before he left.

Mouth opening beneath his, her body molds easily to his form as if she’s done this every day without interruption.

Nothing’s hurried about their touches, no urgency in the way they grab for one another, and neither of them forgot how to make the other melt.

“Santi, Santi,” she pushes back against his chest as his hands make their way beneath her skirt. “Stop.”

“Is there somebody else?” He asks.

“There was Ben,” she tells him rolling her lips in attempt to smooth out the splotched color he wears now too. “It wasn’t serious, I-I—“ 

“You needed somebody warm and sweet and just as broken by me as you.”

“Well…” When he puts it like that. “Yeah.”

Santiago nods, lips pressing back into the apple of her cheek. “That's exactly what he said when he told me. Mi vida”—he shifts his stance between her legs, pressing his hips against hers—“mi alma, I want to come home. I know you don’t believe me.” She doesn’t. “But I need you to.” But she does. “Leaving you, losing Tom…” He inhales deep, trembling lips and soft eyes fighting to betray an otherwise usually cool demeanor. “It could be me in that box down there; and God knows I fucking deserve it, baby. But all I thought about on the side of that mountain as I dodged bullets was you. I thought about what my life would look like if I hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning, if I’d stayed there in our bed and made you my wife like I wanted to. You were in my mind and it put Tom’s all over the fucking rocks.”

“Yet, they said he fell.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well…shot in the head for being a murderer and a thief doesn’t look too good in an obituary.”

“Santi—“

Again, he kisses her. Harder this time and with both hands gripping her hips, he leverages the press of his own to lift her up onto the counter. “It could’ve been me, baby,” he whispers into her, tears buried somewhere deep in his words. “It could’ve been me and I never would’ve seen you again.” Fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and pull. “Never would’ve told you I love you again. I hate myself, sweetheart. I know you never will but I-I”—the strangled pain of relief cuts his words as his zipper goes next—“Let me hold that anger for you, baby.

Vulnerability is his weakness, he yields to it every time. Hard stuff, he can do. He’s stood face to face with war criminals but this scares the shit out of him. She scares the shit out of him. He walked away time and time again from one night stands until she came along and called him a pussy for it. He never did have the balls to actually say goodbye.

He strokes himself in the space between her legs, chests heaving against each other beneath the fluorescent light.

“You gonna fuck me or what, Garcia?”

“Just waiting for you to tell me that I can, my love.”

She barely even says yes before he pushes himself inside of her, bottoming out quickly from the excitement of it all. Before he can even crack a joke, or swear, about the ease with which she takes him, her fingers wrap around the base of his skull. “Muscle memory,” she whispers, pulling him down to squeeze even more distance from between them.

Sex with Santiago has never been just sex. Never something to just get out of the way. To pass the time. Never too mean or soft; rough all around because he was too but tender all the same. Even the quickies ran with that formula, that same slow grind racing against the clock like a well calculated mission. Not this time, though.

This time he’s sloppy, pace stuttering as he tries to catch his breath but he can’t between all the shit flying out of his mouth. How wet. How hard. How many nights he’s sat up thinking about this moment. The way they sound together. The way they smell together. 

He’s coming before he knows it, a grief filled groan right into the crook of her neck. This isn’t how he wanted it. This isn’t how it should’ve been done. He shouldn’t be leaking out of her onto a dead man’s bathroom counter top but here the fuck they are.

Heat blankets her cheeks and she covers her eyes against his stare, bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth as he pulls himself from between her legs. He says something about grabbing tissue but she’s crying before he can even turn around to find it.

“Shh, shh.” Santiago takes her hand in both of his and kisses the back of it. "Baby, what is it?”

“It's you,” she says. “It's us.” Her head shakes. “It's everything and how fucked this all is. And all of it because you couldn’t open your goddamn mouth to have a conversation in the first place.” 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.”

She tries to pull her hand back from him but he only turns it upward to continue kissing at her palm, nuzzling against the marks of her own lipstick he leaves as if trying to make up for all the touch he lost.

“Did you see Benny’s sister and Frankie finally got together? A whole baby and everything.”

Everything lights up behind his eyes again as he smiles and nods. “They named her after me,” he says proudly. “She’s one person I haven’t let down and”—he shakes his head—“you don’t understand how close I came to ruining her little life too.”

“But you didn’t.”

They stay there for what feels like hours, small touches to prove reality traded back and forth as the noise that soundtracks their own conversation downstairs dissipates down to nothing.

“We should go.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you really burn most my shit?”

She’s halfway to the door, hand already reaching out to pull at the handle, and turns. “Come home and find out.” 

[pimosworld]

Five more minutes

Pairing - Francisco morales x f! Reader (hints of Santiago Garcia)

CW-18+, MDNI,NSFW, smut, oral f receiving, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation.

A/N- This little Drabble is part of a series I’ve been teasing for awhile. Stay tuned 🤍

“Frankie please I can’t.” Your blunt nails dig into his scalp as he growls into your pussy. Your legs draped over his shoulders with his head buried  between your thighs. 

“Yes you can…give me one more.” He chuckles as you try to squirm away from him on the bathroom counter. His strong hands pull you forward as your head hits the mirror. “Sorry.” 

“No you’re not.” You gasp as his tongue circles your clit, his fingers dip into your center stroking that spot that has you seeing stars. 

“You’re right…I’m not.” His husky voice and the scratch of his beard on your thighs has you trembling. He can tell you’re close as you dig the heel of your wedges into his back. “Come on baby, you’re almost there.” You whine as his mouth sucks hard on your clit, his thick fingers pressing down on the bundle of nerves. 

You might come up with a few locks of his hair after this but he doesn’t seem to care as he works you through your climax. 

“I’ve been waiting for five minutes in the truck.” Santi’s teasing voice breaks through the haze as he leans against the bathroom door. 

Frankie sits back on his heels, your slick dripping from his chin and a stupid grin across his face. “Five more minutes.” 

You look to Santi for assistance but he just smirks and sets his watch timer. “It’s your fault for wearing that dress.” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

tagging a few who might be interested-@heareball@for-a-longlongtime@romana-after-dark@legendary-pink-dot@ghostslillady@casa-boiardi@survivingandenduring@romanarose

[femmeanonymelives]

Electric Touch (feat. (feat. Francisco Morales) (Val's Version)

Frankie Morales x Valerie "Songbird" Harlow (Singer Songwriter!OC) (platonic)

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Valerie "Songbird" Harlow (Singer Songwriter!OC) (mentioned in this chapter)

Series Masterlist Part 1

Ari's Note: Finally, I finished this chapter. I took some liberties with the timeline. (In my head, the movie takes place in 2017 and this story takes place in 2019 or 2020ish.) Frankie in my head is in his late thirties, whereas Val is 31 in this story.

Deep breaths, in and out. 

In and out.

“What the fuck,” I think in my head as I pace inside the home studio inside my house back in Florida, a day after the show where I ran into Santiago. My mind is racing over the kiss that he gave me the night prior. I owned the house before I started dating Santiago. A small house near a beach. When we were dating, we balanced staying with each other at both of our homes. I come from an old-fashioned family who never believed in moving in together with someone before an engagement.

Frankie comes into my home, holding two cups of coffee, one for him and one for me. His hunter-green jacket is slightly stained due to wear. His slightly brownish-gray hair is messily curled. His “Standard Heating Oil” hat always seemed attached to his head. We have known each other since childhood. He is a few years older than me; he used to babysit me when he was 10, and I was 6. We were more like siblings than friends. His child refers to me as “auntie” more than anything else.

“Kid and momma are spending the day doing a mommy playdate. I am all yours. You okay?”

“I am fine… you are late, by the way.” I sip the lukewarm, bitter coffee slowly to fully enjoy it. 

“Being late for a demo session for a song that I am not even singing on.” Frankie takes a look at the home studio setup. A setup that I made when trying to get someone- anyone to recognize what I have is real. A random patterned rug that I found on clearance at West Elm. Faux-leather stools that were found at a yard sale when babysitting Frankie’s kid years prior. The only new thing is the technology given to me by the label. 

“The band recorded the instrumentals back in Seattle. The label wanted to see how I would sound doing an actual love song, which is this song. I told them this song is perfect if the male vocalist is a tenor and as a duet. That is why I sent you that text with the lyrics a few days ago. This session to record the vocals and send it to the producer and the label.”

“When you told me about this, I thought you were crazy for wanting me to sing again.”

“Said the man who loved choir in high school.” He rolls his eyes. He takes off his faded trucker hat and tries to straighten his hair. His darkish gray curls are messy like always.

“That was the choir in high school, Val.” He looks at me with concern, fully knowing what happened the night prior backstage. “What happened with you and Santiago last night?”

“It was nothing,” I look over at him as I start prepping the studio for two people recording there. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him.

“Val, he left mid-song. I tried to find him after your set for over an hour. I had to find him nursing a beer outside the venue. I know your guys’ breakup was hard on you, but it hit him the hardest.”

“Frankie, I love you like a brother. Can we not talk about this now? I don’t want to waste your time by talking about this instead of doing the recording.” I start vocal warmups before handing him his headphones, and we go into the booth together. We both are standing in front of a microphone for each of us. I place my laptop on a nearby table with the instrumental track and pull up the recording software. He holds the notebook with the lyrics in his hand. “I will lead you in when your part comes in. Recording in 3…2…1.”

The soft country rock instrumental leads me in as I start singing. Frankie smirks the songs as he recognizes the song beat as a signature of my musical composition style. 

“Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay

Just an hour 'til your car's in the driveway

Just the first time ever hangin' out with you tonight

I've got my money on things going badly

Got a history of stories ending sadly

Still hoping that the fire won't burn me

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm”

Frankie’s soft tenor voice appears as I gesture him into the song. His voice is soft, yet rough. I could have been a while since he sang aloud, but he still sounded good.

“I've been left in the rain lost and pining

I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying

'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart (whoa)

I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone

I've grown accustomed to sleeping alone

Still, I know that all it takes is to get it right

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch

I was thinking just one time (just one time)

Maybe the stars align (just one time)

And maybe I call you mine

And you won't need space

Or string me along while you decide

And just one time (just one time)

Maybe the moment's right (the moment's right)

It's 8:05 and I see two headlights

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch (oh)

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm”

Out of breath, I pushed the end of the recording. “Please tell me it hasn’t been a while since you sang aloud.” I take a long sip of water from my water bottle nearby.

“Three years.”

“Karaoke with Ben was the last time you sang,” I asked as I gave him a questioning look.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Santiago kissed you?” I gave him the look of “are we really talking about this right now again?” 

“How did you know?” Frankie gave me a concerning look since he knows the truth.

“Based on the details in the song, this song was about your first date because you told me how much you cared for him. Plus Santiago told me that he kissed after your set after you two talked after I picked him up from the bar…. Val, what the hell happened?”

“He and I kissed… He told me about the money… his share of the money.”

“And?”

“And that his share was for me…”

“He finally told you then…”

“Frankie, don’t dabble in his bullshit…” I am getting fed up with the same fucking lie that his share was for me.

“I am not… Val, he wanted that money for you….” He sighs deeply as he takes a long sip of coffee. “I know it was shitty of me for not telling you, but I promised you I would have done the same thing.”

“I understand the guilt around Tom’s death but why did he have to do it like that?”

“He was going to buy you a ring so he could propose to you…”

“What?”

“He wanted to propose and do a big old fancy engagement for you. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you.” Frankie is concerned about what is next for me and Santiago.

I sigh as I step out of the makeshift studio so Frankie can record his audio. “I need to record your vocals, Frankie... I will start the music where your part comes in.” As the music plays, my phone buzzes. I pick it up. It is a text from Santiago.

Santiago: We need to talk. Alone.

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell Moodboard

And Chapter 2 Teaser….

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So I made small talk, bumped a couple of lines and downed the complimentary bottles of bubbly that kept being brought to her booth and over all, tried to block out the mind numbing monotony of the whole situation. I only started dancing on the table to give myself something to do- but then my new buddy and his friends walked in. Gods he was more handsome and mysterious under the cover of night- and his friends weren’t bad looking either.

They all wore some version of an all black uniform; casual suits with half open button downs, black T-shirts and leather jackets. I didn’t know which one I wanted to sink my newly single teeth into first, because let’s face it, I’d happily fuck each and every one of them… maybe even twice… or maybe even more than one of them at the same time.

It’s clear the biggest guy wants me too, the way he stands staring, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth as he salivates, his eyes taking me in like I’m already his favorite meal and he can’t wait to chow down. No doubt he’d take me for the ride of my life, if I let him, but it’d be too easy. I love a challenge and the way Pope has his eyes on me, I really can’t resist.

As he ushers them to move on, taking the lead as they make their way towards a VIP booth up a couple steps over to the far left of the DJ booth, giving them the perfect view to survey their goods, my mind begins to whir as quickly as my limbs swing around the pole in my hands. I watch tentatively from a distance, taking mental notes of every little thing he does. The way he runs his hands back through his tight curls when he becomes stressed. The way he struggles to relax, always sitting further forward, reaching for his phone or something on the table, or if that fails, fiddling with the buttons of his open blazer as his fist rests against his hip.

He’s uptight that’s for sure. Typical business type who likes to be in control and run the show. If I’m gonna wear him down, it’s gonna take time and not just on the side lines working in this club, but I have to penetrate his inner circle. As I slump back down next to Lucy in the booth, I slowly realize what I have to do. It’s just like in the olden days, if you wanted to bed the King, you had to get yourself in with someone lower down in his court and work your way up- and I knew just who to start with.

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@casa-boiardi @southernbe @littlenosoul @movievillainess721 @pastawench @littlemisspascal

[nerdieforpedro]

Her need for routine and the fact that Santi's been there for her since Jay's death... 😭 He's already reading baby books and keeping track of what's best for mom aka Vin (not that he isn't been doing that). It's just so sweet.

Half of You (Chapter 3) [Santiago Garcia x fem!Reader]

CH. 1 CH. 2

Summary: What's a romcom without a little tragic backstory, huh? Tragic backstory and muffins.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mentions of death, mourning, talk of pregnancy.

A/N: I want to thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and tags on the previous chapters of this story, it means the world to me 💚 This is going to be kind of a slow burn, mmmkay? I want Vin and Santi to simmer good and long before we add the spice because we want that payoff to be delicious. Enjoy!

You don’t knock when entering Santiago’s home anymore, not in the mornings, at least. You know you’d never catch him in a compromising position in his kitchen or living room, especially not at 9am. He is military clockwork. The ISS could set its time to Santiago’s morning routine. He’s up at 6 every day for a weighted vest run. Sometimes, when you’re up at that hour and just laying in bed, you see him jog past your window at 6:04 and always back at his front porch again by 7:00. 

For the past two years, with almost no exceptions, you’ve been getting up every morning, making some kind of breakfast, and bringing it over at 9, or around nine. You’re not as punctual as Santi and sometimes the muffins or breakfast bars or whatever you make aren’t ready on the dot like his routine, but he never complains.

It wasn’t really like you were doing this for Santi, this was a structure for you. This routine of taking care of someone, being expected at someone’s home at a certain time to feed them. Not that Santi needed to be fed, the man could subsist on protein powder and supplements if needed. It was the promise you made to him….

 How worried he’d been for you in the early weeks following Jay's death. When he wouldn’t see the lights of your home turn on all evening despite knowing you were inside. How he’d knock and sometimes you couldn’t find it within yourself to even tell him to go away; instead silently crying into the pillow that your head couldn’t leave.

Santi had been at a loss. He was grieving too and could only turn his pain into work. Toughing out the emotions through tasks.

It had been an odd morning about two weeks after the funeral that you saw a pair of legs sticking out from under Jay’s car in the front driveway. You were so pissed that someone was fucking with Jay’s things that you went outside for the first time in over a week, in your pajamas (a pair of Jay’s sweats and one of his giant cotton t-shirts) no shoes, and kicked the intruder in the thigh, hard enough to hurt your own toes.

“Get the fuck away from that car! I’m calling the cops!” You screamed, not caring that Mrs. Rosenthall was walking her little dog across the street, slowing her pace to watch the domestic scene play out. 

“Fuck!” The hidden man shouted grabbing his thigh and in the process of reacting to the leg kick, he audibly hit his head on the underside of the car, giving another prolonged “Fuuuck.” Before scrambling out from under Jay’s vintage Mustang. 

“Santi? What—What are you doing?” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to get to his knees, wiping off the oil from his hands onto what are clearly work pants. 

“I’m changing the oil and then, if you’d be so kind as to not club me in the head with a wrench, I was going to replace the spark plugs.”

“Replace the spark plugs?” 

“Yes. After the oil. Jesus, you kick like a horse.” He groans, rubbing his definitely bruised thigh over his dark blue pants.

“Sorry.” You mutter, meaning it but not really projecting culpability. How were you supposed to know it was him? Santi dives back under the car and you gasp affronted. “You can’t have his car you know. Just because he’s— you can’t, it’s not yours.”  You sound like a child, unable to even express basic sentiments and the ones that you can express are stubborn and selfish. It’s the way you’ve come used to talking in the past few weeks. 

Santi makes a frustrated sound under the vehicle and you don’t know if it’s because of your words, or if its a particularly stubborn nut he’s prying. 

He emerges from under the car again after a few silent moments of you shifting your weight from foot to foot. Santi brings out a pan of dirty oil with him and wipes his brow with the back of his dirty forearm.

“I’m not angling for the car, Vin. It’s not my style. The fucking color alone, dios. But if you just let these things sit here, unused and unserviced, they have a tendency rot, ok?”

The metaphor feels like a personal attack, an attack on your inability to honor Jay’s memory by letting his car go to shit, an attack on your own inability to take care of yourself down to the routine maintenance of tooth brushing.

The tears come again and you let them fall pathetically. “Jesus, will I ever stop crying? I didn’t know this many tears could exist in a person.” You laugh in woe at the hard understanding on Santiago’s face. 

Santiago brings you into his arms. He holds you and lets you ugly cry into the dirty fabric of his shirt. The oil and armorall smell reminds you of Jay and all his Saturday mornings spent under that fucking car. 

Jay would come in after an hour or two, depending on what needed to be done, or how distracted he’d get on the maintenance if Santiago showed up to help. Tack on an extra hour if they decided it needed a ‘test drive’.

You always had breakfast waiting for him when Jay came in; oily and sweaty. Sometimes he’d come in and grab you from behind with dirty hands to which you’d shriek and demand that he needed to take a shower before he ate. You regret that now. You miss his big strong arms and you you’d give anything for the stains of his embrace. So you shift tighter into Santiago’s hug.

“I’m filthy.” He says apologetically. Probably realizing you’re in One of Jay’s nicer cotton shirts, definitely not something he’d wear to work on the ‘Stang, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. 

“I don’t care.” You insist through tears, clutching his torso like a port in a storm. Santiago rubs your back, up and down like soothing an infant. You even hiccup like one. 

“Do you wan’t to come in for breakfast?” You sniff. “Please.”

“You don’t need to make me breakfast, Vin. You should probably rest.”

“No. No, I don’t need to sleep. Please?” 

Santiago hesitates. You can feel his head turn to look at the car. 

“Spark plugs first, then I’ll go home to shower, then I’ll come back for breakfast. You need me to bring anything?”

“You don’t need to shower.” God, it comes out so starved. Your emotional regulation has gone to absolute shit and you realize for the first time that the feeling that has been eating you up is a little thing called loneliness. 

“Vin, it’s okay, I’ll come back.” He pats your back and you pull out of the hug, wiping your tears and snot on the back of your forearm, looking down at your barefeet on the gravel.

“Eggs.” You nearly whisper.

“Eggs?”

“Eggs. Bring eggs. I don’t think ours are— mine are any good.”

Santiago showered and came back with eggs and you made food in your kitchen for the first time in weeks, fresh food, a meal that wasn’t a condolence casserole. 

 It lifted your sprits up so much that you begged Santiago to come over the next morning and then it quietly evolved to you bringing the baked goods over to his house. The responsibility did so much to haul you out of bed on days that threatened to swallow you into the folds of your comforter, on days where all you’d want to do was watch the day grow bright and fall dim without performing a solitary meaningful action. 

Two years had passed. There were hardly any mornings nowadays where you felt the pull to sink into sleep and waste the day in unconsciousness. You were excited to get up every morning to see your friend. And on days when he would be gone due to the nature of his work, you’d braved up and made other friends in the neighborhood, bringing them freshly baked scones or a pitaya bowl if it it was too hot to bake. Just something. A reason to get up, to greet someone. 

Santi’s home is immaculate, like always. He’s the type of single man who takes pride in a cleanly appearance, wether that’s a learned behavior from the military or if he’s always been tidy from childhood, you don’t know. The granite countertops are spotless and he’s perched at the barstool with the morning paper. His hair is still slightly damp from his morning shower and he scowls over the sports page, shaking his head at some news or other from the top fold. 

“I hope you like crasins… and walnuts.”

“Jesus, Vin!” Santi startles from his stool and tosses the paper down.

“That’d be a no on the crasins then?” You laugh and ruffle the back of his curls as he settles back down into his seat. You grab a couple plates and napkins, setting a crasin muffin down on each one before pouring yourself a cup of coffee from the pot into your designated yellow mug (a trinket Santiago had made at a Color Me Mine double date from 3 or so years ago).

“You ever think about knocking when you come over?” He takes a bite from the muffin and hums pleased. 

“Knocking? I’m hurt. So all that mi casa su casa talk was just for show, Garcia?”

Santi closes his eyes and slaps the counter. “Mmmm, this.” He points at the muffin and gives you a thumbs up.

“You like it more than the cinnamon rasin bread from yesterday?”

He wipes his mouth off on a napkin and gulps from his coffee mug. “That was good too.”

You take a bite of your own muffin and hum in agreement. “Oh yeah, that shit’s delicious. Adding this one to the roster for sure.”

“Uh, roster, don’t remind me.”

“Why?” You gesture to the paper “was there a tragic drafting in the world of fantasy football? Should I fly the flag at half mast?”

“Pretty dismal. Do you want to hear about it?”

“I mean, you can tell me anything, Santiago, but I’m not going to understand a word you’re saying.”

“Uh huh, I figured. I’ll spare you the tragic details and sum it up with ‘I think I’m going to lose a big chunk of change to the boys this week’ but, hey, at least I’ve got these muffins.”

“You can’t have them all, I was going to bring the rest over to Mrs. Rosenthal.”

Santi makes a quiet noise of indignation and pulls the plate of muffins closer to himself. 

“Not to Gertie! You know her little fur ball was barking till past midnight? Right outside my window. Again. She doesn’t deserve muffins.” There’s a twinkle of teasing in his eyes and you sigh and relent, squeezing between your fingers the bit of tum that sits above his belt.

“You’re starting to turn into a muffin. I spoil you too much.”

With a full mouth, Santi shoves the plate back in your direction and frictions his fingers clean of crumbs.

“Take em!” He shouts dramatically with a mouth full of muffin, pushing his stool back and taking his plate to the sink to wash it by hand. 

“I like the tum by the way, it’s very becoming… and the dad bod is fitting, you know, considering…” 

You trail off and Santi turns around wide eyed, drying his hands on a dark grey tea towel. “Do you mean…?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, not yet, not for a couple weeks… I mean I could be right now, and I— I wouldn’t know.” You’re beaming, eyes alight with excitement. “I’m nervous!” You clap your hands quietly together. “That’s why I made so many muffins this morning, I’m just ugh, bouncing with the anticipation— HEY what are you doing with my coffee, Garcia?!” Santi dumps your full cup of coffee down the sink and starts on hand washing your yellow mug. The barstool scrapes as you get up to retrieve your mug from his soapy hands.

“You can’t be having caffeine! It’s bad for the baby!” His upper arms are strong as he blocks you from getting your hands on the mug with his back turned to you.

“Bad for the baby? How do you know that?” Santi dries your mug with a clean towel and sets it by the electric tea kettle, flipping the blue switch on. When he abandons the mug to grab some tea from the cupboard, you snatch it and hide it behind your back, making your way sneakily over to the coffee pot as he rummages for something on the shelf.

“I’ve been reading up about it.”

“Reading up about it?” You’re not really listening to him, simply parroting his words as you quietly pour yourself a new cup of delicious dark roast coffee. 

“Aha! Got it!” He holds up a box of celestial seasonings tea, eyes getting wide as he sees you taking a sip from the piping hot mug.

“Vin!” He cocks his head and holds out a hand, and the way his eyes narrow on yours, glinting with resoluteness makes you sigh with defeat and hand him the steaming hot mug.

He rinses it out once again without complaint and you examine the box of “ugh, herbal tea?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ of the word. There’s no arguing with Santi. 

“I might not even be pregnant, you know.” But the proffered information is pointless. You know what he’s about to say before he even says it.

“Yeah, but you might be.” It’s exactly what you knew he was going to say. 

“I never read anything like that.” But it’s a lie. You have read things like that, but of all the things? Coffee? How are you supposed to live without coffee?

“Well maybe you should read harder. I have a book you can borrow.”

“You have a book?”

“I’m not done with it yet, I’ll let you read it when I’ve finished.” Santi pours the boiling water over the teabag and you almost cry when he places the mug into your hands. In a last ditch effort to get your way, you pout your lips out and fix him with a defeated stare.

“After all the muffins I’ve made for you. Now this.”

“Nuh uh, Vin. Just try it.” He ruffles your hair in a very ‘you’ move and chuckles when you stomp your foot in a petulant show. 

You sit back at the stool and blow on your tea before taking an exploratory sip. It’s not bad, but you scrunch your face in disgust anyway. 

Santi shakes his head at you and takes a big gulp of his own coffee. “Mmmm, that arabica roast. Delicious.”

“You shit.” You mutter taking another gulp from the chickory tea. It’s really not too bad. You’ll have to take a picture of the box so you can get some more from the store later. 

“I don’t mind playing the villain, as long as our baby won’t have a third arm from the bio hazard levels of caffeine you consume on a daily basis.”

Our baby. Our baby. Our baby. Your eyes go wide and Santiago backtracks. “I didn’t mean ‘our’ baby like that, I meant your baby… of course.”

A few beats of silence fall between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, I shouln’t—“

“I’ve been meaning to—“

You both speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly. Santiago gestures to you gently. “Please, go ahead.”

“I… I was just… well you signed all the papers Renatta gave you, and I’m sure that you, being Mr. ‘I’ve been doing my own research’, you read the whole release contract?”

“I did.”

“So… how involved did you… how involved are you intending to be with the baby?” The baby. Neutral. Not “my”, not “our”, “the”. Safe.

Santi scratches his smooth jaw and licks his lips deliberately. 

“I guess I’ll be.. I wan’t to be…”

Your heart stops for a second with the intensity of his pause, your head swims and flicks through future images at a thousand miles a minute. Santiago holding a little baby’s hands as it takes its first wobbly steps, shushing a wailing baby to sleep in a nursery that doesn’t exist, singing lullabies, scrunching his nose at a dirty diaper, hiking trips with a toddler on his shoulders, tee ball practice. You shake your head to clear the whole little lifetime that unfolds rapidly in fantasy form.

“I want to be as involved as you let me.” His eyes meet yours then. And you nod unthinking at the brilliant umber depths. “If you want me to be their uncle, their neighbor, their… whatever. I’m,” he takes in a breath that fills his whole chest, “I’m okay to be whatever you need me to be.”

“Okay.”

“Well how involved do you want me to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“At all?”

“No.” Your voice sounds small and all of a sudden you feel like you’re being interrogated. 

“Haven’t thought about it one bit?” He presses.

“No.” But the no feels like a lie. Because of course you’ve thought about it. You’re thinking about it right now, seated next to him in his immaculate kitchen.

“That tracks.” He scoffs and goes back to his paper, flicking the pages open with agitation. 

“Hey!” You push his fist down and hold his clenching fingers lightly with your own. His face looks hurt. “I don’t really know right now. It’s— this is all new to me, Santiago.”

Santi nods in understanding but still looks as though there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s trying to reign in. “I’m sorry Vin. You…” he unclenches his fist and takes your fingers into his warm palm, holding them with reassurance. You stare down at your joined hands, unable to meet his understanding eyes. You don’t deserve how kind and patient he is with you. How giving he’s always been with you. His nature makes you feel fucking guilty at times. “You take all the time you need, Vin. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No?”

“No. I live right next door.”

You smile at him. “Thanks, Santi.”

He lets go of your hand and pats it. “Plus the real estate market is a nightmare right now,” he takes another sip of his coffee which sloshes slightly when you shove his shoulder. “I’d be insane to sell in this economy.”

“You shit!”

Santi smiles and goes back to his paper with a smile and genuine interest. 

“What are your plans for today, officer.”

Santi scratches his eyebrow, “I need to hit up Home Depot to get some fresh wire for the weed whacker. How about you?’

“Oh my god, thats perfect!”

“Glad you think so, seeing as how I’ll be treating your lawn too.”

“Are you taking your truck?”

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“Becasuse… if you could, if you’d be so kind…”

Santi rolls his eyes, “What do you need?”

“There’s this little outdoor plant shelf from their weekly ad that I want to get. Plus this osmosis water filtration thingy, but what I really need your truck for is the plant shelf.” You temple your fingers at your lips in hopefulness. 

“Thought you said it was ‘little’?”

“Uhhh…. Comparatively.”

“Compared to what?”

“Compared to my car.”

“Vin…”

“And I know what you’re thinking. You think that I’m going to force you to build the plant shelf for me.”

“Bingo.”

“But its pretty simple, I think I can do it myself!”

“Uh huh.”

“I will need to borrow your zzzz zzzzzz gun, though.”

“My what??” 

“Don’t play dumb. Your bzzzz bzzzz gun! The think that can drill stuff?”

“My drill, you mean?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Santi scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And the osmosis filter?”

“What about it?”

“Is it an internal or external component?”

“Uhhh? Elaborate?”

“Is the system under the sink or to the side of the sink?”

“Oh! Under.”

Santi blinks at you. “And where will the filtered water come out of?”

“A little spigot with a lever on the side of the main faucet.”

“You know you’ll need a drill for that one too? Plus you’ll need to shut off the water main? I…. Vin, did you know this?”

“No… but I did taste the reverse osmosis water and Renatta’s the other day and ugghhh I need it! She said it wasn’t hard to install.”

“Really? Did she install it herself?”

“No. She hired someone.”

“You’re insane.”

“I can figure it out, Santi! I don’t need your help! I just need your truck to fit the planter desk thingy.”

“Fine.” 

You clap your hands and Santi sighs, grabbing his keys and sunglasses. You push past him out the door with the plate of remaining muffins

“I just gotta drop these off at Gertie’s and grab my purse, I’ll meet you at your truck!” 

“Careful!” Santiago barks at you as you jump over the low hedge toward Mrs.Rosenthal’s house. You nearly stumble and spill the plate of muffins on her driveway. You turn to see Santiago standing on his porch with his sunglasses on his head, both hands on his hips and shaking his head at you with a slight smile. He really would make a great dad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[artemiseamoon]

As long as I’m alive

Riley Moore (ofc) x TF guys | special guest Tyler Rake

Words: 6,510

Part of Artes Year of Whump (with comfort and fluff) | @yearofcreation2023 (March 2023 entry)

✨✨✨Summary: Stuck in a cell, in the middle of no where, Riley and Will try to survive and hatch a plan to find the guys, dead or alive.✨✨✨

Warnings: very heavy on whump, injuries, blood, ptsd mentioned, guns and weapons, self defense driven violence and killing, mentions of torture (not shown).

The guards verbally creepy off screen (but there is no non-con or assault in this - zero. So please know you will not encounter that in this fic at all. I just wanted to mention this for anyone who might fear encountering that in the story, you won’t, you are safe!)

Below is a preview * read in full only on A03

Preview #1 here

They occasionally give them food and water, but it’s sparse and not on a schedule. The last time food was given was two days ago, based on the way the light changed through the ceiling bars. It was a narrow space, not wide enough to be a window but open enough to let in small amounts of fresh air and sunlight.

“Will,” Riley looked up at him, “the others - do you think - “

Will took a sharp breath in, “I don’t know-”

Will hopes they're alive.

He kept telling himself they are, and he just needed to get to them. To think they weren't - that hurt too damn much. He loved every single one of them, and his brother - Benny, his kid brother who he looked out for and protected his entire life- if anything happened to him -

Will felt like he failed Benny, he's supposed to keep Ben safe, and now he didn't know where he was.

In the silence, his mind went back to that moment they were torn apart. Everyone fought like hell, every single one of them, but they were outnumbered.

It was a dark room, like this without bars; guns in their faces after fists had been thrown, they fought until they couldn't anymore. Bruises and blood on both sides, the captors and the captees.

They all blocked Riley from the men, surrounding her like a protective pack of wolves. Still, they were pulled apart, one by one, kicking and screaming until Will and Riley were the only ones left. Will nearly got knocked out when he attacked the men taking Benny, he hit the ground with a thud, and a ringing sensation moved through his head.

Will faded in and out, coming to just as Riley bit down hard on one of the man's arms, tearing skin, his blood on her lips. When he hit her, she fell down and Will dragged her behind him, then putting his body over hers.

After that, his memory got spotty. From what he learned later, from Riley, he went wild- attacking both men with superhuman strength and fighting his ass off. It took a blow to the back of the head to knock him out, then everything went black. He wasn't conscious when they picked her up and dragged her out of the room.

Sometime after that, Will awoke in the same room, this time chained to the wall. He was later blindfolded, gagged, then moved. To his surprise, he wasn't alone, Riley was in there. He didn't know why they were paired up, but he was thankful. He could protect Riley, and he hoped Ben, Frankie and Santi were all together.

Will felt defeated, he had to remind himself of who he was; the call tag Ironhead was earned, he survived all kinds of crazy shit that should have killed him but didn't, including the one gunshot that solidified the name.

Will was getting Riley out of here, and he was going to find his brother - he was going to find Frankie and Santi even if he died trying.

Will knew exactly how many men there were now, the group was smaller, as far as he could tell. He knew the face of every guard, their habits and their schedules. Will counted 44 steps to the staircase, 10 descending steps, followed by a left turn: then a count of 56 steps to that fucking room.

Along with all this, the other thing churning in his mind was the why; why were they kept alive?

If their kidnappers wanted payback for Lorea, Will and the others would have been executed on the spot, or delivered to what’s left of Lorea’s men. If this was about ransom, which was a possibility, they’re being kept alive for money.

Another observation Will made was this; the men were getting lazy and too comfortable. He's taken the beatings, fought back, and watched at the same time. His time to act is soon approaching.

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