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noisynaia · 1 year

Note

Santiago saying “that’s right baby, say my name” ?

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐈 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞

Thank you for the request. You are really feeding my Santiago obsession, I wrote this instead of working on my exam project...

summary: Santiago comes home earlier than you had expected, catching you in the middle of pleasuring yourself, and as the good boyfriend that he is, offers to help you out.

pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x afab!reader

word count: 2.3k

note: Explicit (18+) Established relationship. Female mastubartion, vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language. Title from ‘Movement’ by Hozier.

...So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally Move me, baby...

A shaky sigh escapes your mouth, as you slowly slide your fingers from your sternum down through the valley between your breasts to your stomach, letting the pads of your fingers run down your lower abdomen to the middle of your pelvis. Your other hand is palming the soft flesh of one of your exposed breasts, fingers sliding lightly over your nipple.

You are lying sprawled out on the middle of your and your boyfriend’s shared bed, your upper body slightly elevated by the pillows that are supporting your back, your legs spread open with your knees bent, the soles of your feet planted on the mattress. All you can think about as you lay in this possession is Santi. Making you imagine that it is his hands that are touching you as you let your hand wander further down, letting your fingers slowly slide through your wet folds. A warm rush runs through you, your skin tingling at the memory of his touch. You drag your fingers towards your entrance, coating them in the wetness of your arousal before slowly moving them up toward your clit.

Your fingers start to move in slow circles around the nerve bundle, slowly teasing yourself as you feel the heat in your stomach grow. Your eyes are closed tightly shut as you let yourself get lost in the sensation, your mouth slightly agape as you reminisce the feeling of Santiago’s broad, skillful hands touching you. You see him so clearly in your mind, easily recalling his handsome features. The lines of his strong jaw. The curve of his nose. The shape of his lips; lips you so desperately wish you could kiss right now. Those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes of his. You imagine them looking at you as you touch yourself, imagine his dark irises roaming your body through heavy lids.

His name is on your tongue and it spills from your lips as you begin to move your hand faster, adding a bit more pressure which makes your body jerk slightly. You keep moaning out his name as you imagine that it is his fingers that are bringing you pleasure.

“Babe?” A familiar voice utters and you are immediately pulled out of your fantasy.

Your eyes snap open and you squeeze your thighs together, more from instinct than anything else, it is not like he hasn’t seen you in more vulnerable positions before, but something about him catching you like this still makes you feel a little bit of embarrassment.

Santiago is standing in the door of your bedroom, you had not heard him come home, too lost in your little solo session to hear the front door opening or him going to through your house to your shared bedroom. His side is leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth like he is having a grand time seeing you like this, but something is flickering in his eyes, something darker, a deep and intense lust.

“You didn’t have to stop for my sake.” He says, uncrossing his arms as he starts to walk over to the bed.

“I… I thought you wouldn’t be home until late?” You mutter a little flustered, he was supposed to be out with the guys tonight, you had not expected him to get home before you had gone to sleep, but the clear look of enjoyment in seeing you like this is making it hard to feel real embarrassment.

“I missed you so I went home early.” He confesses. “Sounds like you were missing me too, huh?” The mattress dips as he climbs down on the bed, placing a hand on each side of your body, caging you under him as his eyes lock with yours.

“I always miss you when you’re not around.” You say, bringing your hand up to his face to cup his cheek, your thumb gently sliding over his cheekbone.

“Well, I’m here now.” He says, his voice low and deep, before leaning down to kiss you hard and passionately, it’s the kind of kiss that you would have you afraid of your knees giving up under you if you had been standing.

“Need you.” You whisper into his mouth as you finally break the kiss to get a breath of air and Santi takes the opportunity to pull off his shirt, throwing it on the floor before he comes crashing down on you again, kissing you like it was the only reason he had been put on this planet.

“Your jeans too.” You pant against his lips as he finally breaks the kiss.

He hums, leaving another quick kiss on your lips before he lifts himself from the bed to get rid of the rest of his clothes. You let out a little moan when his already hard cock springs free as he slides off his boxers. Throbbing and ready, the tip glistening with precum, he must have been standing in the door for a little while you think. You stretch out your arms towards him, gesturing for him to come back down on the bed to you. A devilish smile on his lips as he crawls back down over you.

“You looked so beautiful spread out like that, touching yourself as you moaned my name.” He says as he begins to leave a trail of kisses down your throat. You let out a light moan as he continues his trail of kisses further down your body. He stops when he reaches your lower stomach and looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, he is looking drunk on love. “Wanna taste you, baby.” He mutters, which makes you let out a little whimper.

You spread your legs wider, you need him so desperately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” He coos, sitting back on his calves to get a better view of your glistening pussy now on free display. “So pretty…” He says in awe. “Are you gonna let me have a taste?”

“Mmm.” You hum through closed lips, nodding to let him know that you are more than willing to let him have a taste of you.

He brings his middle and index finger to your core, slipping them through your folds as he coats them in your slickness.

��You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, letting his fingers explore your vulva. “My sweet, beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, Santi….” You moan as he finally slips his fingers into you. Slowly pumping them in and out of you as he positions himself between your legs. You tangle your fingers in his curls, letting out a little whine as he removes his fingers, making you feel empty, but it turns into a low moan as he lowers his head, taking your clit between his lips and starting to hungrily suck at it.

You grab his hair a little tighter as he brings up a hand to spread your lips open, giving him better access. He brings his other hand to your entrance, sliding his fingers into you once again, slowly pumping into you while his tongue licks and sucks at your clit. He is moaning into your cunt, enjoying the reaction his movements have on you, making you grip his hair even tighter. He keeps lapping into you, keeps working his magic and you feel how your climax is building up, getting ready to explode, and when he curls the fingers inside of you just right you know you’re a goner.

“Fu-ck… Santi, I…” You pant out, your hips jerking up into his mouth.

“I know, baby, I know. You can, baby. Please cum for me.” He hums into your pussy.

It is all you needed to hear, your climax washes over you in hot, electric waves. You whine out as you soak his face and your cunt clenches down around his fingers. Santi keeps pumping you through your orgasm, letting you ride out your high until you get too sensitive and you feel like you can’t take it anymore and you have to tuck on his hair to make him stop. Santi lets out a gasp as he finally detaches his mouth from you, humming happily as he licks his lips.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Can’t get enough of you.” He sighs as he climbs up over your body, caging you between his arms once again before leaning down to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his lips. It sends a warm rush through your body.

“I need you inside of me.” You confess, making him smile down at you, dipping his head down to kiss your lips again.

“Then you shall have me.” He grins into your mouth, kissing you as he takes his cocks in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before he positions himself at your entrance. He kisses your mouth as he starts to slip into you. You feel how your walls stretch as you take more and more of him. You raise your hips, lifting your legs to cross them around his body. You are relishing in the sensation of him filling you up so completely, even with the preparation of his fingers and with your wetness the girth of him still stings a little, but it is not an unwelcome feeling. Santi kisses your cheek and you feel so loved and so content in this moment like you are exactly where you are supposed to be. You can’t help but push your hips upwards, the need for him to move, getting almost unbearable. Your movement has him moan slightly.

“Ready?” He asks, leaving another kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah.” You nod, grinding slightly into him, which has him let out a little grunt. He starts to slowly pull out of you until only the tip of his cock is remaining inside before rolling his hips, pushing all of his cock into you again with one fluid motion, making you cling to his back as he begins to fuck into you, lifting your legs from his waist to his shoulder. The position is letting him thrust deep inside of you with each roll of his hips.

He starts out with a slow, rhythmical pace but his thrusts are quickly getting faster and more desperate as he loses himself more and more in the overwhelming feeling of you. “You feel so good, baby…” He pants out as he keeps thrusting into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” You breathe out, as he keeps pounding you into the soft mattress beneath you. “Fu-uck, love you so much, Santi.”

Your words have him fueled up, the way he is now pounding his cock into you, so deeply and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure. “Yes, Santi! Fu-uck, right there! Right there…” You shriek, the pleasure building up to a whole new level. “Santiago, I…I-” You are so close now, and you can feel him twitch inside of you as his name falls from your lips.

“That’s right baby, say my name” He growls “Love when you say it, makes me know that I’m yours.”

“You are, Santi. You are all mine.” You gasp out. His name keeps spilling from your lips over and over again, you’re chanting it like your life is depending on it like it is a prayer you are devoting to a life-giving deity. Your breasts are being squeezed against his broad chest, your sensitive nipples rubbing against his warm skin. Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His heavy balls are hitting your skin with each strong thrust, and the sound of your skin colliding is filling the room.

“I’m so close.” You babble into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby… You can, baby, you can cum for me.” He says, bringing a hand to your head and gently guiding it back onto the pillow, as he follows you down kissing you so gently as the last string that is holding you together snaps. Your walls squeeze down around him, sucking him into your warmth as your climax washes over you. He kisses you through it as his own climax comes over him. You hum into him as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, coating your walls. He keeps thrusting into you, fucking his cum deep into you until it is leaking out around his cock.

You only break the kiss when you physically can’t keep going as your lungs scream for air and you have to catch your breath, but you don’t mind as it makes it possible for you to watch his handsome as he keeps thrusting into you as he rides out his orgasm until his movements finally come to a halt. He sneaks his strong arms around you, kissing you before flipping you over so you’re now laying next to him instead of having him on top of you. He holds you close, the secure feeling of his strong arms around you making you feel safe and secure as he hugs you tight. His softening cock is still inside of you as you both lay and catch your breath.

“I’m glad you came home early.” You finally break the silence, as you whisper into his chest.

“Me too.” He says, squeezing you a little tighter.

The two of you lay like this for a while, until you start to yawn and Santiago gets up and leaves the bedroom. He is soon coming back in with a glass of water for you and a damp washcloth. He cleans you up as you sip the water, soon joining you on the bed again, pulling the warm covers over you both as you snuggle into his broad chest. He is gently stroking your back, whispering sweet nothings and ‘I love yous’ into the room until you fall asleep, completely engulfed in the warm feeling of his love.

...So move me, baby Like you've nothin' left to prove And nothin' to lose Move me, baby...

Movement, Hozier

@cutesyscreenname @alexxavicry

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 5 months

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honestly i just have dbf!santi brainrot.

Precious Girl.

oh my GOOOOOOD everyone knows I see the words dad's best friend and go fuckin feral. thank you for this.

warnings - smut. cursing.

Masterlist. Inbox.

You're sat on a bench in the dark when he walks past.

"Santi?" you ask, squinting to see him.

"Hermosa?"

He stops and sits down next to you, his warmth instantly seeping into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

"What are you doing sat out here? It's 2am and pitch black."

You chew at your lip, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"I had a date. It was bad, so I left. Realised I didn't know where I was, so I sat down here to try and call an Uber or something."

"What do you mean, bad?"

"I don't know. He was cocky. Patronising. Immature. I don't have the energy for boys anymore, Santi."

He chuckles, deep and knowing.

"At least you know what you want, hermosa. I admire that."

"What I want doesn't fucking exist," you laugh. "Think I'll just give up."

"I know you. You've never been a quitter."

You exhale slowly.

"I hate that you're right."

A pause.

"What are you doing walking around in the dark at this time of night, Garcia?"

"Met some old college buddies at that Irish bar."

"Did my Dad go?"

"Yeah. We parked in separate places, so I was just walking back to my car. He left just before me."

"He loves those guys."

"I do too," he smiles.

You both sit for a moment, thinking. Santiago nudges your shoulder with his gently.

"Let's get out of here, hmm? I'll drive you home."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I know you love my heated seats, so..."

"It's true," you laugh. "They're the height of luxury, Santi."

"That car was my mid life crisis."

"There are worse things it could have been. Thank God it wasn't gambling. Or prostitutes."

He laughs, throwing his head back and knocking his body into your side.

"None of that shit. Just a nice car with heated seats."

"What more could you want?"

"Exactly."

He grabs your hand, pulling you up with him.

"Let's go home, hermosa."

Santi walks you back to his car, only ten minutes down the road. When you reach it, he reaches past you and grabs the handle on the passenger side to open the door for you. He leans in close, his nose brushing yours. Your breath hitches in your chest, not daring to move.

You don't know who moves first, but all of a sudden his lips are on yours, pressing you up against the car. You're moaning into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his salt and pepper hair, desperate to get as close to him as possible.

Santi's hands dance from your hips to the hem of your skirt and underneath. He pulls your underwear to the side and runs his fingers through your wet heat, groaning.

"Fuck, baby. This all for me?"

When you nod frantically, he smirks.

"Fucking filthy. Getting all worked up for your dad's best friend. What would they say if they knew, huh? If they saw their precious girl getting fingered in a parking lot..."

He trails off as he sinks two fingers into you, his other hand holding an iron grip on your hip to keep you still. His thumb finds your clit effortlessly, the ease of it making you moan.

"Think it's time you expand your horizons, cariño. No more boys from now on, yeah?"

You're babbling, agreeing mindlessly, willing to say anything to get what you want.

"You look so gorgeous like this. It's nice to see your attitude in check for a change."

You kiss him again to shut him up, practically begging him to be quiet. As much as his teasing gets under your skin, he's right. This was exactly what you needed.

"Close, baby? Can feel you squeezin' me. Like a fuckin' vice."

You grip at his jacket and pull him into you, resting your forehead on his chest to try and anchor yourself. When he leans down and sucks into the spot under your ear, you're done for.

You find your release embarrassingly quickly, boneless and shaking. Santi talks you through it, murmuring sweetness into your hair.

You pull away and rest against the car, catching your breath. Santi steals a kiss cheekily before smoothing down your skirt and brushing the creases from your shirt.

"Good?"

"Good," you giggle. "Very good."

"Let's get you home, huh?"

He leans past you to open your door, lips brushing your ear.

"My home. I'm not done with you yet, hermosa."

The anticipation makes you shiver.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 4

Day Three | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Five

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Public sex; sex pollen; rough sex; unprotected sex; creampie; hair pulling

The scent of Santiago’s sweat and the night air is beginning to cut through the heavy fog of the pollen.

It had been a mistake. You’d been out since before sunrise, surveying the property of a suspected trafficker. For all of the other traps that you’d managed to avoid, you’d missed a tripwire. The two of you had only just managed to stumble out of the sprays of pollen that had been shaken loose from the trees above you. You hadn’t made it far before the fever took over. You could see that it had caught hold of Santiago when you’d looked at him—when you’d taken in his blown pupils, his flushed cheeks, and his cock straining against the zipper of his pants.

You’ve lost track of time. You don’t know how long the two of you have been out there. You’re almost certain that the sun was up when you had been hit with the pollen, and the sun is beginning to set.

You’re surrounded by him—the heat of him, the stretch of him, the slip of his sweaty skin against yours as he draws you roughly onto his cock. Your shirt is caught around your neck, the cups of your bra drawn down to expose your breasts.

You don’t know where the others are. You don’t think that you’d be able to stop if they stumbled on you now. You can’t think of anything past Santiago’s body, your pounding heart and heady breath.

“I need more,” You whimper, the words cracking from your dry throat. Santiago just growls against your neck in turn, tipping you out of his lap and shoving you onto the ground. He rips your pants down your legs, yanking off your shoes when they get in the way. Before you can argue, he shoves your thighs wide, latching his lips around your clit. You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle your whine. Your heels dig and slide along the forest floor as you try to find purchase, your hips tipping up into his mouth of your own volition.

You slide your hand down into Santiago’s hair, twining your fingers in his damp curls and chasing the tantalizing heat and slickness of his mouth. You peer down at him, getting as good a look at him as you can in the dying light. You thrill at the sight of him peering up at you, his lips and tongue working furiously. It feels amazing—but it’s just not enough.

“More,” You mumble, tongue thick with the plea, “I need more.”

Santiago draws away, bracing his hands on either side of your head as his hips snap harshly. He moves with such speed and force that your mouth falls open with a loud, involuntary moan. Santiago catches his lips with yours, growling against you as his hips thrust against yours. You raise your hands, combing harshly through his hair.

“Pull it again,” He orders. You oblige, and grin when his hips stutter against yours. You give an obliging little yank for each thrust, guiding his head and your kisses. Santiago lowers a hand to your thigh, hiking it higher up around his hip and sinking impossibly deeper. You whine, letting your head fall back down to the ground. Santiago’s lips lower to your chest, lapping and swirling hotly around your nipple.

“Santi,” You breathe, “Fuck, ‘m—’m so close.”

You tip your head back, letting your eyes fall shut, ready to let the orgasm wash over you—And then Santiago pulls out abruptly, using his hold on you to shove you over onto your belly. You nearly faceplant in the dirt, but Santiago draws you up, yanking you back against his chest. He pants hotly against your neck as he presses back inside in one fluid motion, groaning as your mouth falls open with a desperate whine. You can’t help the sounds that you continue to make with each of Santiago’s relentless thrusts. His hands grasp you almost punishingly, and you’re certain you’ll be bruised in just a few hours.

“Push back on me,” Santiago breaths, his voice growing rougher as you did as you were told. “Fuck, that’s it.”

You reach back, tangling your fingers in his hair again and holding on as his cock sweeps that spot inside of you over, and over–

You cum with a shout, planting your hands against the ground and riding out your high. Santiago bows over you moments later, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades as he spills into you. His pace slows after a few moments, and you hear him groan once more before he leans away, pulling out. You lower yourself onto the ground, blinking slowly as your head clears.

Fuck. Fuck, what did you just do?

You push yourself up on shaking arms before you reel back onto your knees, righting your shirt and wriggling to get your pants back up around your hips. Shoes, where did he throw your shoes?

“We need to get out of here,” You look around, grabbing one shoe, then the other. Christ, you can barely see a thing. Where the hell are you?

“...I need a minute," He mumbles.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“That’s a dumb fucking question.”

“Garcia.”

“I said I need a minute.”

“Is it the stuff or is it your knees?”

“Knees.”

“Alright.” You push yourself up, trying to ignore the sticky throbbing between your legs, and the lingering aching of your muscles. You pat yourself down, trying to track your gear. “You seen our guns?”

“I don’t think you want me to talk about what I’ve seen right now.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to fight the urge to reach down and give him a slap.

“C’mon,” You hold your hand out for him. It takes him another moment, but Santiago takes hold of your hand. You watch him wince as you pull him up, your gaze dropping to where his cock is still hanging out of his pants. You swallow thicky, looking around as he lets go. Your stomach flutters as you hear the zip of his fly, and the clank of his belt.

“Where are we going?” He asks after a moment. You shake your head.

“We could split up.”

“No.”

“Then pick a fucking direction.”

“Fine.” He turns, and you panic before he can get far.

“Santi,” You say softly. You see him go still, shoulders tensing as he turns back toward you.

“You won’t…” You shake your head, unable to get the words out, “The others, I mean.”

Santiago’s expression goes soft before he shakes his head.

“I won’t,” He confirms softly. You nod, lowering your hand and murmuring, “Okay.”

“C’mon.”

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#Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia/Reader #Santiago Garcia/You #Santiago Garcia fic #Santiago Garcia imagine #Kinktober #kinktober 2023

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dailyreverie · 6 months

Text

Under cotton and calicoes

A/N: Y'all should know me by now. I see Santiago Garcia and I immediately think of the softest, most domestic scenarios. This one was requested by the lovely @campingwiththecharmings, I really hope you like it!! Title comes from The Hozier song "Would That I".

@flufftober - Day 16 Singing one another to sleep

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word count: 917

CW: As we established before, domestic Santi is a warning.

Flufftober masterlist

You had been tosing the sheets for what felt like a thousand times, and on the 101st fight against the sheets, the clock showed only 40 minutes had gone by since you last checked the time. You sat up, feeling defeated and exposed to the cold night air on your skin. Your head dropped into your hands in a futile attempt to prevent your eyes from burning with exhaustion.

It was then that you felt Santiago's gentle hand caressing its way up your hip to your lower back. It should not have surprised you, and neither should the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table as it turned on. “What’s wrong?” The sleepiness in his voice stirred your heart with a touch of guilt. Santiago didn't always got to sleep soundly, and here you were, disrupting his peaceful night.

ou whispered, knowing that your words were as effective as speaking to a wall. Santiago sat up beside you and planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, making you yearn to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. "I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice tinged with exhaustion, and Santi chuckled in sympathy.

“I figured that out.” His lips traveled to your jaw, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. You found comfort in the warmth of his skin beneath your hands. “Maybe I can help?”

“Unless you are planning on giving me a sleeping pill I’m not sure anything could help.” You say in a lousy effort at humor at 2:40 a.m.

Santi laughs again, pulling you down to bed next to him. It’s easy to fit against his body, with your head in the crook of his neck and your hands over his chest, almost soothing enough to put you right to sleep as his fingers trail up and down your back. To finish it all, he started humming a song, a melody you are familiar with but can’t quite place it, your brain nothing but fog after being awake for so long.

Finally, it clicked as he reached the chorus of the song. In your groggy state, you asked into the darkness, "Are you seriously singing Guns N' Roses to help me sleep?"

Santi doesn’t answer, instead, he changes the humming to singing the lyrics with an audible smile in his voice. “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain, I’d hate to look into those- HEY!” your hand slapping his chest interrupts him.

“How’s that song supposed to help me sleep?” You asked in between a fit of laughter.

“Well, if you’d let me finish you would be asleep by now.”

“Not with freaking Guns n’ Roses! What’s next, Metallica?”

"Okay, fine. I have a better one. Come back here." His arm extended over the pillows, and you cuddled back against his side with a playful warning glance. After a few seconds, he starts singing: “When you try your best but you don’t succeed.”

“Santiago! That’s just mean!” You push him again, laughing out loud without a care of the late hour.

“That’s the calmest song I know.” He defends catching your arm to not let you go far. “I’m sorry I don’t know any of your boring songs.”

You gasped in feigned indignation, a playful glint in your eyes. "Don't you dare disrespect Hozier like that."

“Okay, okay, fine. What if I learned one?” He was already standing up, rushing to the living room to get the guitar he never really uses but still keeps around.

“Right now? You are going to learn how to play a song at 3 am?” You rested against the headboard on your side, looking at him opening up his laptop to search the chords of a song.

“I’m already up, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” Guilt gnawed at you at his statement. He had been snoring no more than twenty minutes ago, sound asleep, as you should be too.

"You should sleep, Santi. I'll just go to the living room and scroll through TikTok until I fall asleep." Santiago caught your wrist as you attempted to move, preventing you from going.

"No way, no one gets left behind in battle," he declared, ever the army man, evoking a smile of tired appreciation. “Now, let’s get this started.”

You watched from your comfortable spot against the headboard, sunken in pillows and cushions as he scanned the chords displayed on the screen, dancing his fingers along the frets and strumming softly as he went through the first few lines of the song time and time again. His soft voice, mixed with the gentle melody, began to work its magic. Your eyelids grew heavy as you continued to hear Santiago's voice like a distant lullaby.

“...I fretted fire but that was long ago.” Santi finished singing the first strophe with a triumphant smile, setting his fingers back to the first chord. “Honey, I think I got it! Check it-” He turned to you, seeking your approval, but instead found you curled against the pillows, breathing softly, finally asleep. “I guess I’ll show you in the morning.” Santi gently lowered the guitar and turned off the light, casting the room into darkness again as he wrapped himself around you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone as you settled in.

You were the reason he could sleep now, who was he not to help you whenever you needed to rest, too.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Pleasae reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober 2023 #flufftober #day 16 #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia fic #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia headcanon #triple frontier fanfiction

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anitalenia · 2 months

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━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.

He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.

Nngh, just you.

He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.

He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.

He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.

Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.

He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…

That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.

He had lawyers for that shit anyway.

Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.

He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —

“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.

He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”

You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.

But that was the norm for him.

For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.

You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.

But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.

He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.

One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.

One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.

All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.

━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.

It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.

You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.

You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.

Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.

So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.

He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.

Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.

He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.

He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.

He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.

He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.

Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.

He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.

“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.

You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.

So fucking delicious.

Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.

God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.

Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.

But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.

He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.

He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.

Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.

He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.

“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.

He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.

━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.

It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.

He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.

You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.

You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.

He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.

He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.

He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.

He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.

You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.

Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.

And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.

He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.

You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.

And he fucking loved it.

You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.

He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.

You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.

It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.

He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.

But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.

It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.

And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.

And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.

But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.

Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.

You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.

And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.

He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.

━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.

You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.

He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.

You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.

You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.

He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.

He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.

As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally” leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.

He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.

You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.

Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.

Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.

And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.

You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.

You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.

He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.

Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.

You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.

It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?

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flightlessangelwings · 11 months

Text

Not Leaving You Again

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader x Frankie Morales Word count- 4.8k Dialogue prompt- “ are you okay? “ Action prompt- [ YANK ]: seeing the receiver is in immediate danger, the sender hastily grabs them and pulls them against them, out of harm’s way Warnings-s.mut (18+ only!), bi mmf threesome, lots of pining, childhood friends to lovers, feelings, protective Santi and Frankie, assault attempt but it’s interrupted, reader is a bartender and works in a bikini bar but no physical descriptions given, reader has the nickname “Chiquita” given to her by Santi, no use of y/n Notes- Written for my Year of Protectiveness (@yearofcreation2023), and it was supposed to be posted in April so let's just ignore the fact that this one is late lol! This actually went through many changes before I settled on this version and I'm happy to have done something a little different! Also, if you’re wondering how I came up with the nickname Chiquita: I was eating a banana while brainstorming this and I thought that was a cute nickname lol! Enjoy! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post!

“Really Pope?” Frankie sounded exasperated, “A bikini bar?”

Santiago grinned mischievously, “Yes Fish, a fucking bikini bar,” he placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “You’ve been moping about your breakup for too long, buddy.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, “I bet they all know you by name here, huh.”

“Actually,” Santiago let out a deep breath, “I’ve never been here before,” he couldn’t help but laugh at Frankie’s shocked face, “I was looking up places to take you to cheer you up and this place came up.”

“It’s a wonder you never heard about it before,” he let out a heavy sigh of his own, “But I appreciate this.”

“Hey… What are friends for, huh!” he playfully punched Frankie’s arm, “Now let’s get a smile on that face of yours.”

“Whatever you say, Pope.” Frankie sounded slightly annoyed, but truly he was grateful for his friend. It had been several months since his fiance left him, and he knew he had been down in the dumps about it, bringing the guys down with him. And while Santigao Garcia had a tendency of being an asshole at times, he was still his best friend and he knew he had his best interest in mind. So, Frankie indulged him.

But, when the two men entered the bar, both their breaths were taken away.

The bar was reasonably packed for the late afternoon, and every single woman who worked there was stunningly beautiful. Women in all ages, skin tones, sizes and backgrounds worked behind the bar making drinks and running to the tables to serve them. Santiago and Frankie stood in stunned silence for a moment before Santi nudged his friend.

“What did I tell you, Fish,” he sounded very pleased with himself, “Good drinks, beautiful bartenders… It’s just what you need.”

“They’re not pieces of meat, Pope,” Frankie huffed, “They’re just here to work.”

“Yes I know,” Santiago cleared his throat, “But it’s a bikini bar for a reason,” he nodded a quick hello to a waitress who sauntered by and gave him a wink, “Let’s just enjoy it.”

With another roll of his eyes, Frankie followed his friend to the bar where he ordered them both drinks. He watched as Santiago suavely flirted with the bartender, and was surprised that he actually flirted back. But then again, Santiago always had that effortless charm that made anyone swoon. Even Frankie himself found himself captivated by his friend’s hypnotic gaze at times.

“Cheers, Fish,” Santiago’s voice jolted Frankie from his thoughts, “To single life. May you find the perfect person for you.”

“Thanks,” Frankie mumbled as he cheered and took a sip. He had to admit, Santiago had a kindness and caring side to him that he kept buried under the facade. And although this wouldn’t have been his first choice of venue, he was grateful that Santiago dragged him out of his place. But, just as he was about to voice his thoughts, another voice cut in between the two of them.

“Santi?”

Stunned, the two men turned over their shoulder and were met by another captivating employee, dressed in only a bikini top and jean shorts. Santiago nearly spit out his drink as he breathed your name in a surprised tone.

“Santiago Garcia! I would know that voice anywhere!” you put down your tray to open your arms for a hug.

He exclaimed your name as he hopped off the barstool and embraced you tightly, “Dios mio it’s been… years!” he sighed as he leaned back to take in the sight of you, “You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Frankie watched with a soft smile as two old friends reunited.

“It’s been too long,” you agreed as you looked him up and down, “I’ve missed you, Santi,” suddenly, you sounded sad.

Santiago cleared his throat and redirected your thoughts, “This is my good friend Francisco,” he gestured to Frankie, “Fish, this is Chiquita.”

“Pleasure. Call me Frankie,” he spoke softly as he took your hand in his. Frankie couldn’t help but notice how soft your hand was and how your face lit up when you smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” you gave him your name once more before you turned back to Santiago, “Chiquita, huh?” you asked with a laugh, “No one’s called me that in… I can’t remember how long. How have you been?”

Frankie couldn’t help but notice the flash of melancholy in your eyes when you turned back to Santiago. He listened as the two of you caught up for a minute before someone from across the way called your name.

“I’ll be right there,” you replied over your shoulder before you turned back to them, “It was nice to see you, Santi,” you breathed, “And very nice to meet you, Frankie,” you paused for a beat, “Come back again sometime. Tuesdays are usually slower… We can catch up more.”

Santiago and Frankie exchanged a glance and a smirk. “I guess this will be our Tuesday spot then,” Santiago exclaimed, “See you then, Chiquita.”

Your smile lit up your face once more, “I’ll see you then!” you said before you disappeared into the crowd and went back to work.

Tuesday came before they knew it, and just like you promised, the bar was much quieter. The waitresses all greeted Santiago and Frankie when they walked in and they almost clamored to get the chance to wait on them. Among them was even the one that Santi flirted with the last time they were in, but this time, he only had eyes for one person.

“Hey guys!” you waved from behind the bar, “Take a seat. I’ll make you my specialty. On the house!”

“Thank you, “Frankie murmured as he watched you work. When you set the drinks down, he asked the first of many burning questions on his mind, “So… What’s the story behind ‘Chiquita’ anyway?”

Santiago nearly spit out his drink in an attempt to contain his laughter, and you couldn’t help but snort as well.

“When we were kids,” he started before you could recover from your laughing spell to speak, “She dressed up as the Chiquita banana girl three years in a row. I started calling her that as a joke but it just kinda stuck.”

“Oh I would have loved to see that,” Frankie joined in your laughter.

“Actually,” you cleared your throat, “Funny story… I actually did a bikini version of that for Halloween last year!”

“You’re joking!”

“Nope,” you winked, “Too bad you missed it.”

“Damn,” Santiago cursed under his breath.

Frankie’s disappointment mirrored his friends, but he hid it better. Instead, he redirected the conversation as you wiped down the bar, “So you two have known each other for a while then?”

“Yep,” you replied, “We were friends as kids… grew up together… I hadn’t heard from you in years though…” your tone turned sad again, and suddenly Frankie regretted asking. He hated seeing you like that, even if he barely knew you.

“Hey,” Frankie tried to redirect your thoughts, “We’re all here now, so why don’t we enjoy the drinks and the company?” He lifted his drink to cheers.

“Yeah!” Santiago lifted his drink as well, “To good friends and good drinks!”

“I’ll cheers to that,” you poured yourself a water and joined them, “To good friends, old and new!”

The three of you clinked your glasses together before downing them all. With that a new friendship was born and you couldn’t help the feelings that bubbled to the surface… for both men.

Before they knew it, going to the bikini bar became a regular thing for Frankie and Santi. They were in there multiple nights a week, to the point where everyone there knew them by name. Frankie even joked that he knew that would happen eventually, which Santiago shrugged off. But, neither man could deny the growing feelings for you they both harbored, and both of them knew about the other. It went unspoken, however, and neither of them made a move on you. Instead, they just enjoyed your company and watched over you on busy nights to make sure no drunk men tried to put his hands on you.

But, there was one burning question on Frankie’s mind. And after several weeks, he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer: “What happened between you and Chiquita?”

The momentarily joy at Frankie using that nickname for you as well didn’t last, and Santiago’s face dropped, “We drifted apart,” he answered dryly as he took a sip of his drink, “It happens when people grow up.”

Frankie’s face soured, “That’s not it,” he sounded annoyed, “I see the way she looks at you sometimes. Don’t tell me you hurt her…”

“No!” Santiago snapped, “No,” he repeated in a softer tone, “It’s just…” he sighed, “Shit happens, you know? Especially with guys like us.”

Frankie’s gaze stayed pointed at Santiago, but he chose not to push it any further. Instead, he looked around the bar and caught your eye. His heart fluttered in his chest when you looked up from what you were doing and gave him a big smile. Fuck, he was down bad for you, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he didn’t want to hurt his best friend or come between you two. So, Frankie chose to keep his heart guarded and locked away. If this was the most he was going to be with you, a friend and someone to watch over, Frankie made his peace with it.

But, Santiago broke the silence between them with an unexpected confession, “We hooked up once after I got back from my first deployment,” he stated plainly, as if he fought to keep his own emotions in check, “After that, I decided it was best that she never saw me again. I’m not the kind of man that’s good for her. She deserves better than me and my shit. So,” he sighed, “I left and never called her again.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope,” Frankie couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice, “You really are a fucking asshole sometimes, you know that.”

“Yes, I fucking know!” Santiago snapped.

“So what stopped you?” Frankie sighed, “Normally you aren’t the ‘noble’ type.”

Santiago knew it wasn’t an insult. It was the truth. He rubbed his face in his hands, “Yeah,” he breathed, “I don’t know man. She’s just… Different.”

“Yeah…” Frankie’s voice sounded distant as he looked over at you again, “She’s something else…”

“You like her, don’t you?” Santiago asked, noticing the way Frankie looked at you.

“I… Uhh…” he stammered.

“It’s ok, man,” Santiago took a sip of his beer, “You’re a better man than I am. You’d take better care of her than I did.”

Frankie let out a heavy breath, “Thanks man,” he mumbled, “But I wouldn’t do that to you either. I see the way she looks at you.”

Neither man spoke for several long and tense moments. They sat in stillness as the bar hustled around them. For the first time in a long time, neither of them knew what to say to the other.

“Listen,” Santiago broke the silence, “Why don’t we let her decide? No hard feelings,” he sounded defeated already, which was very unlike him.

Frankie didn’t like it, but he decided to just let the topic go for now and agree, “Alright.”

“Hey,” your voice broke through their tension, “You boys alright?”

“Fine, Chiquita,” Santiago reached out for you, “Just talking.”

“It looked serious,” you glanced between them, “You sure everything’s ok?”

Frankie gave you a soft smile, “Everything’s fine.”

Neither Frankie nor Santiago spoke about that conversation again after that night. They carried on like it didn’t even happen, and surprisingly, they both were able to just spend time with you just like they did before. Their routine felt comfortable enough that it didn’t affect them, and neither man held a grudge about it. Besides, they both agreed that watching over you was more important than their childish squabble. Especially on nights like tonight.

It was crowded for a Monday night, and you barely had time to chat with your boys. If you were honest, you were almost disappointed, since you looked forward to the nights that Frankie and Santiago came in. True, it was hard for you at first to see Santi again after he ghosted you all those years ago, but when you realized that he’d grown since then and you liked the man he grew into, you forgave him. And his friend Frankie was beyond handsome and kind too.

There were nights you fantasized about Santiago. And then there were nights you fantasized about Frankie. But your favorite daydreams were when you had both men at the same time. You found yourself equally attracted to both of them, and you felt safe when you knew they were there, watching over you and chased drunk men away who threatened to get too touchy with you.

And you were especially grateful they were at the bar tonight.

Rowdy crowds of men spilled into the bar unexpectedly, and some of them made you and your coworkers nervous. You made your way over to the hightop table where Frankie and Santiago sat as often as you could.

“Busy night, Chiquita?” Santiago asked.

“It’s weird for a Monday,” you commented as you glanced between the two of them, “You guys doing alright?”

“We’re fine, sweetheart,” Frankie’s voice was velvety soft and it brought comfort to you.

Just as you were about to say something, one of the other waitresses yelped as he dropped a tray of drinks right in front of another table. “Shit,” you hissed before you turned to the guys, “Be right back. I’l going to go help her.”

They both nodded as they watched you hurry over to the new girl. She had just started two weeks ago, and she seemed very nervous. But, you were there to help her and you quickly rushed to her side and calmed her down, “Hey,” you breathed, “It’s ok. It’s just a spill. It happens.”

“Thank you,” she breathed your name as he looked at you with big pleading eyes.

From the far table, Frankie and Santiago watched as you bent over to help the other girl. And while they were captivated at the sight of you bent over while hardly wearing anything, a grumble from nearby caught their attention. One of the drunk men at the table next to where you were stumbled over with a sinister grin on his face and his hands reaching out.

Without a word, Santiago and Frankie looked at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking.

In a flash, they rushed over to you, intercepting the drunk man before he could put his hands on you. The two men worked together in tandem; Frankie grabbed you and yanked you against him, wrapping his arms around you while Santiago pushed the drunk man away from you and the other waitress.

“Back off, asshole!” Santiago shouted at him.

You gasped as suddenly you found yourself in Frankie’s arms and Santiago’s body stood in front of you, blocking you from the threat you didn’t even know was there.

“Frankie?”

“It’s ok, baby,” he whispered to you, “We’ve got you.”

You let out a deep breath as you and Frankie watched Santiago push the drunk man once more, “Get the fuck out!”

“Hey,” the drunk man slurred, “I didn’t mean no harm… I just,” he hiccuped, “Wanted a little squeeze.” His glazed over eyes landed on you.

A shiver ran up your spine at the way he looked at you.

“Not on my watch,” Santiago growled before he punched the guy right in the face, knocking him down to the ground.

“Don’t look,” Frankie turned you around so that his body blocked your view and you were turned away from Santiago and the drunk man.

All you could hear was a scuffle and shouting as others joined in and pushed the drunk man out of the bar. All the while, Frankie whispered soft nothing to you to keep you calm. And you heard him repeat over and over again, “You’re ok, baby. We ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

The commotion calmed down as quickly as it started and suddenly Santiago was in front of you, “Chiquita!” he huffed as you looked up at him from Frankie’s grasp, “Are you ok?”

You looked between Santiago and Frankie, stunned at the way he rushed to your aid so fast, “I’m fine,” you breathed, “Thank you… Thank you both.”

Time was a blur for you after that, and all you were aware of was that neither Sntiago nor Frankie left your side for a moment. And one of them had his hand on you at all times, as if they were both afraid that something else would happen if they strayed too far. Vaguely, you heard them speaking with your coworkers to make sure the other girls were alright before they relayed what happened to your boss.

“Baby?” Frankie’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you blinked your eyes as if you had to refocus on the present moment.

“We’re gonna take you home, alright?”

“B-but…” you stammered, unsure of if that was what you really wanted.

“Don’t worry, Chiquita,” Santi appeared on the other side of you, the two of them forming a protective barrier around you, “I talked to your boss, everything’s cool. Let us take care of you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as your hands trembled for an entirely different reason, “Ok…”

The ride home was quiet save for your directions. Frankie took his truck while Santi followed behind in your car so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. A hundred thoughts ran through your mind as you noticed that Frankie glanced over at you as much as he could.

“Watch the road, Fish,” you teased to break the tension inside the car.

He let out a short laugh, “Yes ma’am.”

Thankfully, the drive wasn’t too much longer and Frankie and Santi pulled into your place and escorted you inside. It felt a little strange, as if they were your bodyguards, but at the same time you had never felt safer.

“Well,” you breathed as you gestured around, “This is it. This is my place.”

“It’s nice,” Frankie mumbled, trying to keep his expression level.

You stood in front of Frankie and Santiago as you fiddled your fingers. “Thank you,” you broke the silence, “By the way… Thanks for lookin’ after me back at the bar.”

Frankie’s eyes softened, “You don’t have to thank us for that, baby.”

The way Frankie called you that pet name made your heart flutter in your chest. You always liked it when he called you that, and the way he said it always made your skin tingle. You glanced between him and Santi as the fantasies you had popped into your head. Santiago hadn’t said much since you got into your place, and all he did was nod at you. Something was up with him, you just weren’t sure what, but you still felt the tension radiate off of him.

As he watched your face, Santiago couldn’t stand the tension anymore and he broke the silence with a loud voice, “Ok, I’m just going to say it,” his emotions fueled his sudden outburst, “Listen,” he used your real name for once, “I know this isn’t fair of me to ask, but it’s driving me fucking crazy. And,” he let out a heavy sigh, “I just have to know… Which one of us would you choose?”

You blinked your eyes wide as your mouth dropped open, “W-what?”

“Santiago…” Frankie hissed.

“Chiquita, you gotta know we both are fucking crazy about you,” Santiago continued, ignoring his friend, “And I know I hurt you, baby. But I just gotta know so we can move on.”

You were silent as you looked between the two men. Your heart felt like it would burst from your chest at any minute as they both looked back at you like lost puppies. Slowly, you reached out and took Frankie’s hand in yours without a word.

Santiago spat, “Thought so,” he mumbled before he stepped past you to leave.

“Wait,” you grabbed his hand with your free one and held onto both of them tightly, “I…”

“What is it?” Frankie asked in a whisper as Santi looked back at the two of you with a surprised expression on his face.

“Do I have to pick between you two?” your voice shook, “Can…” you swallowed hard, “Can’t I have you both?”

Frankie and Stai’s eyes went wide as their gazes met. Frankie himself couldn’t deny the latent attraction he had for his friend. And Santiago’s eyes went up and down Frankie’s figure as a slight smirk lit up his face.

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Santi quipped as he stepped closer towards the two of you.

“Neither would I,” Frankie grinned back as he wrapped his arms around both you and Santi.

Your face lit up as you looked between the two men, “Are we really doing this?” you asked in an excited whisper.

Santiago cupped your chin and kissed you deeply, “It looks like we fuckin’ are,” he murured before Frankie grabbed your chin and turned you toward him to give you an equally passionate kiss.

Left breathless, you just nodded towards your bedroom and the two men quickly led you down the hallway, stripping you and each other on the way. Even after the tense moments at the bar, everything melted away as the three of you shed your layers of clothing, and giggles erupted among the three of you as you made your way to your bed.

“Fuck…” Frankie breathed as he took in the sight of you and Santiago before him.

“Just as beautiful as I remember, Chiquita,” Santiago murmured as he glanced over at Frankie, “And shit man, you’re an impressive sight too,” he winked.

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out before Frankie said your name.

“How do you want us, baby?’

“Yeah, your call.”

It took no time to decide how you wanted them. Leaning over to Frankie, you gave him a light kiss, “I want you to fuck me,” you breathed before you leaned over to Santi and mirrored the kiss, “And I want you in my mouth.”

“Have you thought about this before?” Santi smirked.

“That’s my little secret,” you winked.

Both boys let out a short laugh before they got serious again. They caressed your body, memorizing every dip and curve of you as they positioned you between them. Your back stayed to Frankie as his hands reached your ass and gave it a firm squeeze. Both of them groaned when you let out a beautiful moan, and suddenly the desperation took over for all of you.

You held onto Santiago’s shoulders as you positioned yourself, parting your legs for Frankie. Immediately, he cupped your pussy and traced a finger along your clit. Your body trembled as you moaned even louder while you grabbed onto Santi’s cock and slowly pumped it.

“Shit…” Santi hissed as you wrapped your fingers around him and stroked him slowly as if you remembered every little move that drove him wild.

While you jerked off Santi, Frankie pushed two fingers inside you while he stroked himself. A string of curses from all of you echoed in the room as Frankie’s thick fingers pumped in and out of you in the same rhythm that you pumped Santi.

“Frankie,” you murmured, “I’m ready… Please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Frankie caressed your ass as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and lined up his cock at your entrance.

You and Santi shared a look before you felt the tip of Frankie’s cock push past your entrance. Your mouth dropped open and you let out the most tantalizing moan either man had ever heard.

“Fuck,” Santi cursed as he watched you lower yourself onto your hands and knees.

As Frankie slowly pushed into you, you took Santi’s cock in your mouth, flicking the tip with your tongue a few times before you wrapped your lips around it and took him completely inside.

“Ay Dios…” Santi groaned as he felt your warmness around him.

“Fuck,” Frankie moaned as he buried himself completely inside you, “Fuck baby you feel so good.”

All you could do was moan around Santi’s cock as you felt yourself stuffed at both ends. Your mind swam in pleasure as Frankie reeled back and thrust forward again, and already you saw stars. Santi kept his hands on your shoulders to support you as Frankie held you hips and pounded into you faster. Unable to hold himself back, he rocked into you over and over again, already addicted to the feeling of your wet pussy around him.

Santiago looked up from where you gagged on his cock to meet Frankie’s eyes, and he felt a fresh wave of need pulse through him when he saw the look on his face. A shiver ran up his spine as Santi watched Frankie fuck you. Between the way his cock disappeared inside you over and over again paired with the carnal look on his face, Santi felt his climax build quickly.

“Fuck,” Santi growled as he grabbed your head and yanked you off his cock.

You let out a loud cry as drool dripped down your lips, “Santi? What?”

“I want to hear you, Chiquita,” Santi growled before he kissed you deeply, “Let us hear how beautiful you sound while Frankie fucks that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as the new angle drove Frankie’s cock deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot with precision.

Santi’s arms wrapped around you and held you tightly, and you felt Frankie’s grip around both of you as well. Your wind swam in pleasure as Frankie pounded into you faster and all you could do was rest your head on Santi’s shoulder as he held you.

As you felt your own climax build, you grabbed Santi’s cock and pumped it in time with Frankie’s thrusts. You heard him hiss your name as both men growled and groaned on either side of you.

“Fuck… Frankie… I’m gonna cum…”

All Frankie could do was moan your name, his own climax right behind yours. He tightened his grip on your hips as he pounded into you with fervor until you let out a louder scream as you fell apart. Your body trembled in their arms as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as you came on Frankie’s cock.

Your orgasm triggered Frankie’s and he looked into Santi’s eyes for a moment before he too let out a loud groan and came deep inside you.

Santi felt awe-stuck as he watched both of you hit your peeks. You both looked so beautiful, so sexy, that he almost forgot about his own pleasure for a moment. But, when Frankie’s hand covered your on his cock, Santi let out a gasp as the two of you pumped him together until he too came hard, spilling himself on your body.

Exhausted and spent, the three of you all collapsed down onto your bed, Frankie slipping out of you as you did so. For several moments, you, Frankie and Santi all just laid together in a tangle of limbs as you all caught your breaths. Your arms and legs laid out over your boys, and even as your heart pounded in your chest, you could also feel the same in both of them.

“That…” you broke the comfortable silence with a heavy breath, “What fucking amazing.”

Santi laughed, “Fuck yeah it was.”

“Perfect,” Frankie sighed as he shifted to make you all more comfortable. He gathered you in his arms and pulled you to lay on his chest before he reached out and grabbed Santi’s arm.

Santiago looked at him, confused as to what to do for a moment, before he settled down and let you rest in between them. His eyes trailed across your bodies as he couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have been had he not left the last time he slept with you. Would the two of you become a couple? Would you eventually have invited Frankie into your bed? Your relationship?

But more importantly, would Santi repeat his actions again?

“Hey Santi?” your voice broke him out of his thoughts as you looked over your shoulder, “You’re not gonna leave again? Are you?”

Santi’s eyes went wide as he glanced between you and Frankie, who gave him a stern look. After a beat, he softened, “No, baby,” he caressed your face and kissed you before he looked at Frankie, “I’m not leaving either of you,” his voice was soft as he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Frankie’s lips as well.

Frankie smiled into the kiss before he leaned down and gave you one as well, “I ain’t leaving either, baby.”

Your skin tingled and warmed as you nuzzled yourself in between the two pairs of strong arms, “Good,” you murmured as you rest your head down, “Good.”

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tropes-and-tales · 4 months

Text

The Fourth Year

For the super-late Winter Prompts (2023 Edition)! The master list can be found here!

This one was requested by the lovely and supportive @justreblogginfics (I mean, honestly? Is there anyone more supportive than this lovely person?)

"From Under The Mistletoe prompts: #13 (snogging and not realizing other people are present) with Santiago Garcia"

CW: Light angst (talk of Tom's death); pining (mutual); kissing; lot of typos.

Word Count: 1839

The Miller brothers put on the same party every December, a chaotic blend of their large and extended family and their friends. Two disparate groups who somehow blend together seamlessly: Tom and his wife have an easy friendship with a Miller sister and her husband. Frankie, ridiculous as it seems, always falls in with a great-aunt, a crotchety old woman who has a soft spot for Frankie and his big brown eyes—and Frankie enjoys the benign flirting, the old woman’s stories, and most of all, her famous rum-laced chocolate cake in the shape of a Yule log.

Santiago? He has his own benign flirting with you—a cousin of the Miller boys. He sees you once a year at this party. For three years now, he’s pined after you. It’s the same cycle, over and over.

November comes, and he realizes he’s a month away from seeing you again. He hypes himself up. He gives himself pep talks in the mirror, feels like an idiot afterwards, but he gasses himself. Tells himself that he’s smart and funny and good-looking, that of course you’d love to go out with him sometime.

Three days before the party, he gets a haircut, gets his curls trimmed up.

The day of, he feels a rare buoyant hope. He showers, shaves. He dresses and hopes he looks good but not like he is trying to look good.

The drive over, he plays his hype-playlist. This is the year, he promises himself. This is the year I get my shit together and make a move.

Three years of this cycle. Three years of promising himself that he’ll make a play for you, and three years of that promise disintegrating the moment you see him and call out, “hey there, handsome!” as a greeting. The moment he turns and sees you, every plan flows out of his brain and Santiago Garcia is struck dumb, his tongue clumsy and heavy in his mouth and unable to form coherent words. You’re beautiful to him, and trolling your social media throughout the year can never prepare him for seeing you in person.

Smiling as you walk towards him. Then the sudden feeling of you in his arms as you hug him, on your tiptoes as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him on the cheek. The scent of you—your light perfume, your shampoo, maybe a bit of wine on your breath. The lovely sound of your laughter as you joke around with him, then the feel of your hand on his arm, steering him deeper into the Miller home as you ask all about his year.

Three years of Santiago Garcia going chicken-shit and letting the moment pass him by. His courage always fails him. He always leaves with that sick feeling in his stomach, and he wakes in the morning with the depressing realization that he has to wait a whole year to see you again.

-----

This is the fourth year. Santi could lie and say he finally has the courage he’s been missing, but the reality is that the driving emotion is sadder.

He’s not brave. He’s just tired.

He’s tired of this game. Tom is dead. Frankie is in recovery. He feels adrift in his own life; he takes contracts overseas, but only because he doesn’t feel like he has a home.

The fourth year goes differently. He skips his usual haircut, so his curls are a little longer, slightly unruly. He feels less buoyant hope and more steely determination. He drives to the Miller home in silence, the window down and his arm out the window as the warm Florida evening turns into night.

And the moment he crosses the threshold of the door, you’re there. You’ve changed it up too: you don’t shout “hey there, handsome!”

Instead, your face lights up for a moment before you school your expression into something more somber. You walk up to him, and you pull him into a hug—but this hug is tighter, longer. And you whisper into his ear that you’re sorry about Tom, but you’re so glad he’s okay, and when Santi parts from you, he can see the way your eyes glitter with unshed tears.

“Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” you ask, and Santi wonders if his pining has been one-sided, as he always assumed.

-----

The fourth year. Tom’s absence seems to take up some space. The party is slightly subdued, less raucous than in years past. Frankie settles in with Great-Aunt Roseanne and her boozy chocolate cake. Benny and Will circulate with their sisters, all four of them in felt reindeer antlers.

Santi leans in the doorway between the living room and kitchen and just watches. It’s the remainder of his found family, the Millers and Frankie. He doesn’t want to lose the lesson in Tom’s death, which is that life goes on but can end in a blink. Santi gets lost in his thoughts (those memories of South America, the slack, heavy weight of Tom’s body), and he startles when someone touches his arm.

He turns and sees that it’s you. You smile at him, tentative, and ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah, great.” He clears his throat from its roughness, then smiles back at you. “How are you?”

You shrug, make a dismissive gesture with your hand. If Santi roams the planet on contract work, you are the opposite. You have a steady job, always in the same spot, and you have all the trappings of a stable life. You have a home and a mortgage, a dog, a fish tank full of tetras, a garden where you grow four different types of tomatoes and six different types of hot peppers. You belong to a hiking club, and you organize litter pickups with the local Girl Scout troop.

In other words, you have a full and robust life, and Santi yearns for even a tiny bit of space in it. He feels like he could curl up at your feet like a dog and be happy just to be near you.

The two of you chat, and maybe this is the result of Tom’s death too: you get a bit behind the surface-level chatting you usually do each year. When you ask about his work, he’s honest: he tells you it’s lonely and dangerous and how he wants to stay in the States.

When he asks about your year, you admit that your parents divorced, and that it hit you harder than you thought it would.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, and you do something you have never done in front of him: you laugh, and it sounds bitter.

“Please, Santi.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I have a charmed life. Whining about my parents divorcing, especially with me being an adult myself? People have it worse.”

He’s never heard you sound like this, and he’s never heard you be self-deprecating. He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a side hug, and a moment later you wind your arm around his waist.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t hurt too,” he chides you gently. “Suffering isn’t an Olympic sport.”

You don’t reply. You rest your head against him, and he likes the weight of it, the casual intimacy of holding you like this. Maybe you like it too because you don’t pull away. You keep your arm around him, and after a long moment, your head lolls to look up at him…but your gaze falls on something else.

“We’re under a bunch of mistletoe.” Santi glances up and sees the sprig of silvery-green leaves and white berries, and then he glances down at your upturned face. You’re smiling at him, and there’s a teasing quality there that is familiar from the previous three years. It hits him that you aren’t just the gorgeous, teasing woman from years past. You’re also someone who’s been hurt by your parents’ failed marriage, and someone who feels like you can’t really mourn it, and you’re far more complex—and human—than he ever realized.

It makes his superficial infatuation slide right off the cliff into wonderful, terrible love, just like that.

So Santi doesn’t tease you back. He leans down towards your upturned face, and he moves slow enough to watch your reaction. You don’t recoil or pull away. Your eyes widen a bit, but you smile up at him…and you move towards him, meet him part way.

The first tentative press of his lips to yours, closed-mouth. Quick. Over before he realizes it. But then a second kiss, bolder, lasting longer. Closed mouths again, but the third is where you part your lips against his, where he breathes you in, and the awkward side hug ends as he turns you gently towards him and you lay your hands against the back of his neck.

Then the fourth kiss, and Santi stops counting them because he feels the soft press of your tongue against his, and you taste like the tart wine you like to sip and he hopes you don’t mind his own hoppy, yeasty beer-breath and you must not because you deepen the kiss, lick against the inside of his mouth. Santi realizes that you’re actually the one leading this, not him, and he’s grateful that you are braver than he is.

The rest of the party fades away. The low roar of laughter and music and conversation fades and Santi is left with just the roar of blood in his own ears, the barely audible whimper you make as his hands find your hips, as he pushes you gently backwards into the doorway—

“Pope, Jesus!”

It’s Will…no, it’s Benny, and then it’s laughter and good-natured groans, and when Santi breaks away and turns to look in the room—startled out of his reverie of kissing you—Frankie raises his hands to his mouth, hooks his fingers there and lets out a piercing wolf-whistle that makes the Miller sisters clap and cheer at the show you and Santi have put on for them.

Only Will and Benny look peeved. Will shakes his head, crosses his arms over his chest. Benny calls out, “that’s my cousin, asshole,” which makes a wave of laughter rise and sweep towards where the two of you stand.

Santi turns and looks at you. You look sheepish but not guilty, and you grin up at him, give him a shrug.

“Sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be.”

“I wanted to do that for, like, the last two years.”

He tries to play it cool, your admission. It’ll hit him later, how he could be two years further along with you if he’d just been a bit braver, but Santiago Garcia will never be able to summon up much regret about it, in the end: because now, in the fourth year of knowing you, you shrug again then take his arm in yours, lead him to a more private part of the home, and you kiss him again.

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia imagine #pope garcia #pope garcia imagine #pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #tropes #winter prompts 2023

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whatthefishh · 10 months

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bloom for me

Series Masterlist

Regency Santiago Garcia x f!reader

A/N: Reader has a nickname (Wis) because I thought it flowed better with a title considering the regency times. Forgive me for historical inaccuracies it’s all fun and games here 😭🩷

Warnings: this chapter will have mentions of sex, pining, probably cringe writing, idk I just need to put this out there, be gentle pls. This has a real plot I promise lmao.

Words: 3k

He’s brooding again. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if he wasn’t so outwardly affected by his inner thoughts, whatever they may be. So now, you’re stuck standing next to the most disagreeable man at this week’s ball, patiently awaiting someone amiable to come and rescue you with a dance or two.

“Stand taller, you look like you want to leave.”

“Funny, coming from a man who needs a cane to walk before the sun starts to set.”

Sharply turning his head to cast you a withering look before anyone was the wiser, you started fanning yourself to hide the smirk you were sporting. You knew exactly how to rile him up and he hated you for it. He looked ridiculously handsome even while angrily grumbling to himself about your manners. Unfortunately for you, his outward appearance had more than fooled you into believing he was quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His black curls slightly greying, and the tanned skin of his neck defining the muscles you were sure spread far over his whole body, the very same muscles you tried not to eye in his fitted pantaloons. Not even his desirability could make up for how he got under your skin, however, how quickly he could make your blood boil with just a few words. Besides, he was such a disagreeable man that it would be such a misfortune to be liked by him. To think, you have to spend the whole season with him for company.

Santiago Garcia was a well respected, strong willed and overall charming man of the military - well, he was an ex-lieutenant, to your father actually. A shot in the leg worsened into such a state that he could not sustain another call to fight, leaving him walking with a cane on particularly bad days. Injury in the field will bring a soldier home quicker than a woman in waiting. Not that he had one of those either. A charming man, Santiago was highly favoured by the women of the town due to his roguish good looks and silver tongue. The man could easily sway a crowd of people to follow him into the river if he so pleased.

His brave acts during his time in the British Army, although risky, yielded him high praise amongst the upper levels of society upon his return. So much so, that your newly widowed father, the Colonel, had apparently taken quite a liking to him in the times they’ve interacted. Your father had taken this liking one step further than most would, inviting Santiago into your spacious home upon his arrival. Not only does the man standing next to you sleep under the same roof as you, but has also been tasked as your personal chaperone for the marriage season. How they came to this agreement over post-dinner brandy is lost on you but regardless, you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with your father, bile rising in your throat at the thought of crushing any friendship he found comfort in after the passing of your mother.

Your mother.

Your father spent a lot of time overseas, giving space for the love you had for your mother to grow beyond measure. He was quick to spoil you, however, finding it easier to show his affection with the latest fashion, shoes, jewellery, ribbons for your hair, chocolates from overseas, and chocolates from in town; he would give it all if only you looked at him. Your mother, however, was basically your best friend. The two of you spent hours in the family greenhouse, teaching you all about her love of botany until you were old enough to start growing your favourite flowers without her help. She tragically passed during the winter, the harsh cold taking hold of her lungs until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The nickname she gave you stuck, however, and in the months following her passing, you refused to be acknowledged by another title.

“May I request the lady’s presence to have the honour of the next dance?” a new voice pulled you out of your stupor, looking up to see a decently handsome young man extending his hand towards you.

“No, you may not, I’m afraid her dance card is already full.” Santiago answered for you, not only shutting down your new suitor, but fixing him with a stare so intense he was shaking as he quickly nodded and turned to leave. You could see him return to his support group, the other boys clapping him on the back for trying regardless of the intimidating gargoyle meant to guard you. Ironically, your dance card was not full, unless you counted Santiago’s own name on every line. Not that he ever danced with you.

You sighed heavily. Another wasted night, getting dressed up for a party in which you were just going to be rejecting any poor man who had the gall to approach and ask for a dance. This isn’t the first time he spoke for you, harshly turning someone down before you could get the words out on your own.

You suppose that’s what he thinks is his job, as your chaperone of the season. Your father trusted Santiago’s judgement of character to filter out potential suitors but as of now, it seemed, that he was just saying no for the heck of it.

“Don’t look so put out, Miss Wisteria,” Santiago murmured next to you, the nickname falling off his tongue smoothly. “This way, you leave them all wanting. Besides, I looked into most of these men. That one has debts at the racing club that he has yet to pay out.”

Even though he had a point, you couldn’t help but be envious of the girls whose mothers were at the party with them, encouraging dancing and interaction. You had gotten yourself ready with the help of your best handmaidens, taking their opinions for your outfit with zeal. You grew up without siblings, thus enjoying the friendly conversation you had with the house staff. Not that anyone outside the household knew how close you were with them, the notion of a lonesome girl without a mother, so desperate for human interaction that she reach beneath her status.

Coming downstairs in a soft lilac dress, the tulip sleeves and neckline lined with tiny sparkling beads, matching the delicate crystal necklace you donned to bring the look together. Your maid had also added some shimmering hair pins to your updo, only visible from the back of your head, which was your favourite part of your outfit. You felt rather pretty, and by the way Santiago had stared, slightly slack-jawed at you descending the staircase before collecting himself, you thought maybe he thought so, too. That was before he opened his mouth to complain about being on time and reminded you why you disliked him so.

“I was not aware of his debts. Thank you, I suppose.”

“Yes, well… that is why I am here, is it not? Your father asked me to—”

“My father asked you what exactly? Because I still don’t recall ever being told why he had to go and ask someone with the likes of you for help in this matter!” You whispered back vehemently.

“Do you truly esteem me so little?”

His soft voice betrayed his hurt, causing you to stop and look up at him in shock. This wasn’t so far off from your usual tone towards him, the two of you often bickering under your breath in the presence of others. Trying to gauge his true feelings by gazing into his espresso eyes, you concluded that maybe you were being too harsh on him. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal way he’d rather spend his time at a ball, supervising a girl’s courting experience and vetting the bachelors. No, he would probably be with the other gentlemen his age, swatting away the interested women like fleas in monsoon season.

You took a second to look at him for any tell of a lie, any sign he wasn’t as offended as you initially had thought, but the longer you looked at him the more distracted you got. Taking in the stoic man’s face, the crinkles around his eyes, the darkening shadow across his jaw as his hair was growing in, it all suited him so well that it almost had you even more angry at him for his beauty. Santiago was not that much older than you when you thought about it, probably somewhere under a decade of difference, which was not uncommon in some marriages.

Marriages? You thought with a slight panic, whipping your head to look back at the crowd, fanning yourself a little faster now. The moment had slipped from your glove-covered hands, whatever pull there was keeping your eyes trained on him you had snapped free from. In good timing, it seems, as another pathetic attempt at asking for a turn around the room was making his way towards you both. You could almost hear Santiago’s groan before the gentleman stopped in front of you, offering you a charming smile.

“Mr. Garcia,” the gentleman bowed his head to both of you after addressing you as well. “Might I have this dance?”

“Are you asking Mr. Garcia, or myself?” you ask with a short laugh, seeing as he had posed the question to your companion.

The man gave a genteel smile. “I was trying to be respectful of the present company. I know Mr. Garcia hasn’t danced all evening so this might be a chance to find him a partner.”

Your eyes flit to your companion, silently pleading with him to let at least one attempt slide past his defences.

Santiago looked at you for a moment, clearly seeing the hopefulness in your eyes before turning his eyes back on the gentleman in front of you, seemingly having come to a decision.

“Lord Miller, you make a fair judgement. I do not usually partake in such diversions, although I have been complimented on my light footedness. Miss Wisteria, if you wish to dance with Lord Miller, we shall take our leave soon after.”

The way your mother called you Wisteria oftentimes was much different to the way Santiago has been calling you that, and you tried not to think about it for too long.

Although Santiago’s words were light and jovial, you could tell from the set of his brow that he still was not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. That didn’t stop you from nearly jumping at the opportunity to dance with the handsome Lord, smiling graciously as you accepted his still-extended hand.

Making your way to the dance floor, you noticed more than a few pairs of eyes on you, probably wondering how Lord Miller made it past your sleeping dragon keeping you locked away in your proverbial tower. Keeping your chin up and not letting their eyes make you stumble, you took position for the dance.

“I will admit, Miss Wisteria, I find myself in raptures over your acceptance of this dance.”

“You flatter me, Lord Miller.”

“I cannot help it. You look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Also, if I may be so bold, I have seen how you’ve longed to dance, and thus, I took it upon myself to brave the glower of your guardian and rescue you.”

You laughed heartily at that. The conversation continued with Lord Miller discussing your shared interests in literature and past travels, and how many balls you both attended in the past two weeks alone. Lord Miller was an excellent dancer, making you feel as though you barely had to put in any effort to be gliding around the dance floor.

—

Santiago tried his best not to stare, he really did, but the way you let your head fall back in a carefree laugh at something the Lord had said to you had captured his attention unwillingly.

The thing was, you see, he was not supposed to be wanting after his ward, temporary or not. He was not supposed to watch longingly after you, walking away from him, whisked away by another more suitable potential partner, or at any other time when you weren’t watching him. He was also not supposed to jerk himself off to the thought of you in his bed, under your father’s roof, imagining how tight and wet you would be for him, how loud you would moan his name. Would you let him worship you with his hands and mouth? Would you still fight with him during the act or would you go pliant under his devoted attention?

You were a constant thorn in his side, reminding him at every chance of the magnitude of your dislike for him, your eyes meeting his angrily during your daily spats. You never gave him a chance to earn your friendship, immediately jumping to hostility once the news of him chaperoning you for the season had reached your ears. How was he to refuse your father, the generous man who offered him access to his estate as if he were a long lost son and not an old colleague? Besides, he didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it would be an easy feat, the world of courting running its own gears for longer than he has been in the game.

Frankly, he assumed there would be at least one meddling old croon trying to pair everyone up for the season based on her predictions but she had yet to turn up to help him along.

Santiago didn’t see his attraction to you getting in the way of finding you a suitable match, but unfortunately for him, he was wading through a pool of pathetic potentials, finding a reason to reject them at every turn. It was becoming increasingly difficult to give reason for their inadequacy, not wanting to hand you off to a lesser man.

Every ball you attended together, every promenade you walked with him trailing behind you, he was doomed to watch the men flirt with you, make you laugh, share lingering glances with, and every day felt more tortuous than the last. He learned a lot about you this way, but it never felt enough. He was stuck as an observer, watching from the outside.

Was this his destiny? To fall hopelessly for his friend’s daughter and not only watch her dance with other men but be the one to hand her off to them, lying through his teeth about his feelings on the matter?

It especially did not help his case with how ethereal you looked tonight, or any night for that matter. He could not count the number of times he has thought back to that first night he stayed in your home, running into you on your way to the greenhouse at night with your white nightgown. It was basically see through, the candle you were holding sinfully illuminating your figure, nipples pebbled in the cool air. He had been on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, being unable to sleep properly in his new chambers. You nearly dropped it when you bumped into him around the corner, his hand steadying you before you could, saving you from waking up the whole house. Santi wanted to kiss you silly every day since then.

Bringing his focus back to the present, he heard the quartet queuing up for the next song and soon saw Miller escort you back to him with your hand tucked into his arm. You were positively beaming, shifting your eyes to his with a question posed on your lips.

“Lord Miller was just telling me how he and his brother often go for boat rides on the lake near town. He has invited us to accompany him on an outing tomorrow afternoon if it is agreeable with you?”

You were blinking at him meaningfully, alerting him to the fact that they were waiting for his response on the matter. The longer he took to answer, the more stilted the silence between the three of them and the worse chance it was for you to leave the season with a suitable partner. A throat cleared, snapping Santiago out of his stupor.

“A turn about the lake sounds splendid for tomorrow! We would be delighted.” Santiago tried not to sound like he was bursting from happiness at this turn of events but he also knew that on paper, Lord Miller was of good stock and well in stature, making him a fine potential suitor for you.

“Wonderful, thank you, Mr. Garcia,” Miller bowed his head to him first before turning to you to bid you goodnight. “I am dearly looking forward to tomorrow.” He said the necessary pleasantries before leaving you two to stew in the silent aftermath.

The rest of the night passed rather normally, Santiago fetching you refreshments when your hands emptied, and before you knew it, you were finding yourself in the carriage on your way home. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was encouraging you to drink more so as to be able to get you to use the ladies’ room more, effectively removing you from wandering eyes.

The two of you didn’t speak much out of obligatory words, you were too excited about the prospect of a turn on the lake, and he was worried with a stone in his stomach about the same idea. Escaping to your respectful chambers, you were so wrapped up in your daydreams you barely said goodnight, leaving Santiago deeply unsettled and barely able to catch a wink of sleep.

Whether he was ready for it or not, tomorrow was arriving sooner than he wanted.

#bloom for me fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fic #Santiago pope garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfic

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Note

Could I request a little ‘A got roped into a blind date by their friends. They don't want a new relationship and plan to make themselves as unlikeable as possible to dissuade any further possible setups. All of that goes through the window when they see how gorgeous B is.’ with Santi as person A

(if you get this twice I’m sorry I can’t remember if I sent this irl or not because I saw the post when I was hazy and delusional at 2 AM)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 912

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests! First time writing for Santi, very very excited about this one! (And don't worry ab requesting twice, hun! It was a very inspiring prompt)

Warnings: fluff, santi thinks he's unlovable, a bit angsty ig?, frankie morales is a good bro, poorly edited (author has BDE)

Santiago really didn’t do the whole dating thing.

The flowers and the small-talk and the footsies over cheese-stuffed appetisers.

He had a long-term relationship with running away, that strange, filtered aeroplane air making him feel closer to home than any of his mother’s cooking could ever hope to do.

Better put, he wasn’t relationship material.

It wasn’t a deliberate choice from his end.

It sort of just…happened.

Life had morphed Santiago into the jagged, crooked, ugly thing that he was now.

In all of his attempts (three) at the real thing, all his tries at the dart board called love, it usually always ended in the same fashion. He’d take her to meet his friends, she’d realise sooner than later that she’d drawn the losing hand out of the four of them, and it was downhill from there.

One of them had been kind enough even to enlighten him to exactly what he lacked.

You just need to be more…Frankie, Santi.

Though it hurt, it was good to get out in the open like that. The plain, mumpy truth, in all its glory:

Santiago wasn’t relationship material because of the amount of ‘Frankie-ness’ that was lacking in his blood and DNA, because he was the losing hand, the cracked skipping stone in the middle of a torrential river on the way to the safety of land and love, true love.

And so, in what would be considered a sociologist’s dream case study, Santiago did what he did best, self-fulfilled then self-destructed.

He was the intermediary for girls before they managed to find their Frankie, Benny, Will.

It was a tough truth to chew, left a bitter taste in his mouth, that he’d only been created for people to recognize their self-worth and move on. There was a disagreeable insinuation behind it, if he thought about it too long.

Which was precisely why he didn’t.

And he ran away instead when things got too hard, too painful. Like a thumbtack in the heel of his foot.

But Frankie on the other hand, Frankie thought about it long and hard. Too hard and too long, no matter how often Santiago told him to quit it.

From his seat behind the driver’s wheel, Frankie was able to watch everything with a keen, honed eye, his two ears moving back and forth like a great-horned owl’s.

And nothing was able to go past Frankie’s eyes without him picking it up and giving it a thorough inspection.

Which is why Frankie's been adamant about it. A real pain in the ass.

Santiago was the bachelor of the group now. The only single one left.

And Frankie was set on changing that.

No matter how much Santiago protested.

Will and Benny gave in to Santiago’s reality with a simple nod, the former’s eyes sad and sombre, the latter’s teasing a little light-hearted and half-hearted.

But Frankie and him had the strongest bond he’s ever experienced. Saving a guy’s life a couple times does that to you.

Santiago knows, if anything, that whatever happens in this god-forsaken world, that Frankie will always be his rock, the one constant in a world of possibilities and probabilities.

But it also meant that Frankie had some sort of gall that the others didn’t.

And tonight, he meant to put an end to it, swiftly and surely.

The sibling of a friend of a cousin.

That still doesn’t mean Santiago wants to be here.

Detached enough from them that if it all went to shit, the ripples would be minimal. Attached enough to them to make the small talk a little less small-talkey.

“You’re frowning.”

“That’s because I’m mad, pendejo,” he grumbles back at the baseball cap.

Frankie huffs and though he can’t see it, he hears the eye-roll.

He feels like a petulant child, like he’s being babysat to make sure he won’t act out.

Which is what he is precisely planning to do.

He’ll take care of it quickly. Despite his cynical, eighty-year-old with three cats schmick he’s settling into nicely, he still has a bit of heart. And whoever the poor person was that had been roped into this will be roped out just as quickly. No harm done and Santiago’s Frankie problem fixed once and for all.

With another huff, Frankie leans back in his seat and fixes him with beady eyes, “At least, try to be a little agreeable.”

He only grumbles in response.

It’s a white-and-red chequered tablecloth kind of place. Corny, romantic, candle-lit.

Santiago was hoping he’d never have to set foot in such a place again.

The door jingles open.

Show-time.

Frankie sends him another one of his glares, and Santiago sends it straight back, letting it settle on his face, deep into the grooves of it.

There’s rolls and rolls of nervousness fading off of you.

But you look nice-

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

The air’s been swamped out of his lungs.

This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. This weird, fluttering thing that’s been going on his body since he laid eyes on you.

Santiago’s vaguely aware that you’re talking with Frankie, thanking him for arranging it all.

And there’s a lull in the murmurs.

He hastily gathers himself up, the angry little press of lines on his forehead all but gone.

He scrambles for the flowers Frankie made him buy you and holds them out, swallowing thickly, “Hi, I’m Santi.”

He hopes that this’ll make for a hell of a first-date story.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x y/n #santiago garcia x female!reader #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia angst #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfic #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia imagine #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fic #oscar isaac

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

Would you mind doing prompt 18 with either Jake Lockley or Santiago Garcia? I couldn’t decide which one I wanted more, so I’ll let you decide ❤️

Erase it (Santiago Garcia x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it

Word Count: 2.6k A/N: Fun fact! This period fic was just sitting in my drafts for a while but this prompt inspired me to add a lil something hehe. Enjoy <3

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (doesn’t matter if you’re on your period, WRAP IT UP), i'm back at it with the idiots in love trope <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't decide whether mother nature had decided to play a nasty trick on you or had blessed you with a chance when your period had made its uninvited appearance. It was an unusually cold night in Bogotá but you woke up sweating, pure pain radiating from your lower abdomen, edging itself towards your lower back. You panicked slightly when you turned, feeling a wet patch under you.

“Shit …” you mutter as you scramble to get out of bed to turn on the lights.

You were right, you had bled through your pants onto the bed below you as you slept. The past few weeks have been absolute hell, you and the boys have been out and about. Today had been the day where they checked into a hotel and you guess that your body decided to let go of all its stress that it was holding and push it out of your uterine lining. Your period had been late and your flow was heavy despite it being literally the first day. The cramps were biting into you, making you curl your body forward each time another wave hit you.

You ransacked your bag and the hotel room, but found no pads or even tampons. Part of you was ready to just free bleed but the other part of you just wanted to cry. All you wanted was a hot cup of chocolate and a large pad but you couldn't go and get it yourself, not in the streets of Bogotá at 2 am in the morning. You bit your lip and decided to admit defeat, walking out of your room and padding sadly towards Santi and Frankie’s room. You hesitated slightly before knocking their door.

Santi flung the door open and squinted down at you warily, sleep heavy in his eyes. His curls were astray and he was pulling down his sleep shirt, exposing some skin that made you blush a little. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled, a warm feeling coursing through you at how genuine he looked.

There's no way that this man could look this good even when he slept.

You were pretty sure you looked like a gremlin in your oversized t-shirt and blood covered shorts.

“Everything okay?” he mumbled, sleep coating his usual gruff voice, softening out its edges.

To put it plainly, his voice sounded like it had been touched by a siren.

“Uhm, yea kinda, but also no.” you look downward, shifting from one foot to another.

Santi raised an eyebrow but let you continue.

“Sorry for waking you Pope, but I need a little help.”

“That’s alright, querida. Name it, I’m at your service.” he said bowing a little, making you giggle.

You hugged yourself, feeling very vulnerable as you bit your lip

“I started my period.” you whispered

Santi gave you no reaction to what you had said and you wondered whether he had fallen asleep with his eyes open and standing up.

“Okay, need me to get you anything?” he said, instead giving you a small smile.

That took you aback slightly, no one had said something like this to you so casually. Normally men would lean on the extremes, either making it a big deal, as if you were on the verge of death or downplaying it and making you feel small

“Yes, please. I just need pads, the biggest ones you can find please and something for the pain.” you meddled with the edge of your shirt, twisting it in a comforting pattern.

“Alright, lemme just get my wallet. Wait for me in your room, okay?” he said cupping your face with his hand, an unusual act of affection from him.

“Okay. Thanks, Santi.” you smile, forcing down your tears as you look away from him

You went back to your room and took a nice shower, letting the hot water soothe your body. You heard a knock and you shut off the shower, pulling a fluffy towel around you before letting Santi in.

“I- oh.” Santi said before turning around when he realised you were only in your towel.

“Oh, it's fine. I’m decent. I mean the towel is long enough.” you laughed a little awkwardly.

Santi set the big bag of things he got for you onto the bed. He pulled out a packet of big pads, several of your favourite chocolate bars, pain ointment, painkillers, a hot water bottle and lastly a pack of cotton underwear. You didn’t realise you had a hand on your mouth as you watched Santi pull out the stuff from the bag

You were absolutely flabbergasted

“Fucking hell, Santiago Garcia.” you breathed.

You stepped closer to him and grabbed the pack of pads, examining it with a smile before turning to face him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. When you pulled away, you noted how red his face had gone, and the dopey expression that lined it. You thanked him profusely and rushed into the bathroom to get changed.

You finally felt nice and fresh. You came out to find Santiago laying a towel on the soiled part of your sheets and you started to tear up. You sniffling made him look up and he just opened his arms out understandingly. You almost run to him, letting him envelope you in his warm, comforting embrace.

“How do you feel?” he murmurs into your hair.

“Much better, thanks Santi.” you say into his chest, breathing in his soft scent as your tears get caught in his sleep shirt.

“Alright, I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” he said before slowly pulling away.

You were rendered confused, and he didn’t even get to put his hand onto the doorknob before you grabbed onto his wrist. His confused stricken face made you blush and drop his hand.

“Could you maybe stay?” you ask, slightly bashful.

Santiago just smiled at you, studying your face.

“Sure, I’d love to get away from Frankie’s snores for a while.” he said after a few seconds, making you snort.

He grabs a few of the chocolate bars before he leads you to the couch. You open one of the bars and break it into half, giving the other half to Santiago. The both of you nibbled on the chocolate and laughed about old memories.

You watched as Santiago animatedly tells you about the boys and their shenanigans. Oh, to be Santi’s girl. You would be treated like a queen, forget it, you would be treated like a goddess, mainly because this man had the heart to be absolutely head over heels over someone.

“There was once where Benny tried to pet a dog, it was a calm dog, for your information, and the dog lunged at Benny so fast that all we saw was Benny’s rifle flying 30 feet away in one direction and Benny running as fast as he could in the other direction.” You laughed a little too hard and felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, making you double up in pain.

Santiago held you and pressed his hand over yours on your tummy. For the first time panic flashed through his eyes, not knowing whether this was a normal thing.

“Ugh I hate taking pain killers, it's not like they work anymore.” you straighten your back as the pain ebbed away.

Years of chronic pain have made painkillers essentially useless for you. Santi nods understandingly, rubbing the back of his neck. Suddenly a sheepish look settled upon his face.

“What?” you say squinting at him

“It's nothing.” he said and you swore you could see a tinge of pink upon his cheeks.

“I demand you to tell me, I'm the one in horrendous pain,” you winced.

Santi settled back onto the couch and pulled you down with him with a sigh.

“Remember when we were small and our mom’s would take care of us?” he said softly.

“Of course.” you said, snuggling a little closer to him.

“You know when you would fall down and your mother will always have that one special remedy?” his voice edged into a whisper.

“Hmm? A bandage and some tylenol?” you say back, totally oblivious.

“No, I mean what comes after the bandage and the tylenol?” he says a little exasperatedly now.

You look up at Santi with a pout and shrug. He sighs again, this time with a small smile on his face as he brushes away a wet strand of hair from your face.

“When they kiss it all better?”

It took you a while to process what Santiago was trying to tell you. Suddenly it clicked but you didn’t let it show, masking your shock at what Santiago was implying with confusion to divert him.

“You wanna be my mom, Santi?” you feign confusion and he rolled his eyes.

You sit up slightly and press your lips together, trying to keep your laugh in.

“I’m just playin’, I’d love to kiss me all better, not that you’d know where to kiss-.”

His lips caught yours before you could finish your sentence. He sighed sleepily into your kiss and caressed your cheek with his knuckles. You smiled against his lips and anchored yourself against his chest, fingers feeling up whatever was under his sleep shirt.

He pulled away and smiled at you, a boyish smile that made him look several years younger. His fingers were at your chin and he turned our face so that he could plant another kiss onto your cheek before pulling you down onto his chest. You groaned again and clutched at your stomach as another wave of pain crashed through you.

“Guess your remedy didn’t work.” you mumbled sadly into his chest as his hand kneaded your lower back with soft pressure.

Santiago stayed silent for a while and you slowly felt yourself getting sleepier with his presence but a few biting cramps kept pulling you out of your relaxed state.

“I… umm… heard somewhere that there is a way to take the pain away.” Santiago stuttered a little, a little unusual for someone who was usually so calm and collected.

“I’ll do anything.” you muttered again.

“Anything?”

“Well not do hard drugs but you know, yes anything.” you sigh.

“It involves coming.” Santi says after a few seconds of silence

“Going where?” you said without missing a beat, the pain clearly making you stupid

Santiago’s nervous expression shifts to a blank one as he stares at you incredulously

“Pope, what?” this time you were genuinely confused as you stared at his face.

“I mean, like, ORGASM!” he whisper-shouted.

oH-

Now it was your turn to be nervous. You eyed Santiago and picked at a hangnail on your finger.

“Let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to something more sultry and you felt your insides swim with desire.

“How?” you whispered.

Santiago wanted to buy his time by whispering all of the sweet and sacrilegious things he had been meaning to do to you but in your current state, he would rather just blatantly tell you before he made a fool of himself.

“Let me touch you and help you relax.” his eyes were so soft when they met you and you found yourself trusting him entirely.

“Okay.”

With your confirmation, Santiago scooped you up and walked you to the bed, laying you down on the towel he placed there earlier, before pulling his shirt off and crawling beside you. Your heart thudded in your chest as you pressed your legs together and stared up at Santiago. You’ve never seen this look on his face before and he was studying you, his eyes scanning your body as your breath quickened.

“Relax, querida, I’ll take care of you.” he said, pulling your oversized t-shirt up slightly before hooking his fingers at your shorts, tugging them down gently, easing your legs apart.

The cold air on your bare pussy made you shiver and he eyed your core in a way he’s never looked at you before. You let yourself sink down at his soft touches, his fingers kneading gently at the skin of your thigh as he kissed your knee. He kept his eyes on you as his fingers found your clit and you squeezed your eyes shut at the soft pressure. Silently, he began to softly rub at your clit, easing out soft moans and whimpers from you. You felt the tension in your abdomen pull away as it is replaced by another sensation, one that was egged on by the attractive man who was hovering over you.

“How do you want me?” he asked softly over your whines.

“Anything you can give me.” you breathed back, and instantly, he slipped two of his fingers inside you, making your head drop back with a delicious moan.

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, and you started whispering his name like a prayer almost like you were pleading for him to not stop. His thumb swiped at your clit when your walls started to get tighter around his fingers and the band that he was building instantly snapped and your back arched off the bed as you came with a gut wrenching moan.

You dropped back down onto the bed and caught your breath, your vision swimming as you vaguely heard yourself thank Santiago. You felt the bed dip around you and your eyes dropped down to where Santi’s hand was. He had rid himself of his pants and was gently pumping himself up and down, smearing your blood on himself, eliciting a string of curses from your own mouth. You dropped your knees open and he pushed himself in, filling you up to the brim as you gasped at his size. He dropped himself onto his forearms, caging you as his lips whispered soft nothings into your ear.

“So wet and warm… Still so fuckin’ tight…” he started pistoning his hips pulling out moan after moan from you again. “Fuck, you feel so good, I need to make you feel good.”

He was making you feel good. All of the pain had vanished and was replaced with quaint pleasure coursing through your veins. The intimacy of it all made you feel so vulnerable yet safe. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly, letting him drop his head against your shoulder as your pussy started to grip him with absurd strength.

“So close…” you managed to breathe and Santi nodded, unable to form any words.

His fingers dropped to your clit once more and it didn’t take much for you to snap again, Santi spilling into you with a sharp moan to the column of your throat. He slumped against you and your hands lazily scraped at his scalp. All of your muscles were relaxed and it was replaced with soft clouds of pleasure that turned your mind hazy. You kissed Santiago’s temple and thanked him over and over as he soothingly kissed your neck.

“Better?” he mumbled into your neck.

“So much better.” you breathed, sleep pulling your eyelids over your eyes.

“Shh, rest, I got you baby. I always got you.” was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to the powerful callings of sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up curled up against him, his hand pressing a now lukewarm hot pack to your abdomen as he cuddled you close. While you were asleep, he changed you, and made sure you were comfortable before settling to sleep. His nose now was buried in your hair and your back was flush to his chest, impossibly close.

You held on to his arms and you pulled him closer, praying that he would never slip away, knowing that he’d be able to erase everything that could harm you.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~~

Tagging: @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @lia275 @euphoricosmo @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @swiggy-needs-mental-help @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @melodygatesauthor

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wysteria-clad · 1 year

Text

Triple frontier boys + 'I want a baby' challenge

Benny

Will

Frankie

Santi

#benny miller x reader #benny miller imagine #benny miller #will miller x reader #william miller imagine #will miller #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier boys #triple frontier

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 2 years

Note

Heey 😊 Congrats on the beautiful milestone! 1.5k is an incredible number and you deserve every single one of those follows.

Could I please ask for fluffy Santiago Garcia with prompts "Are you wearing my shirt?" and 'You kissed me last night.'"And you didn't stop me." I feel like fluffy Pope, there is too much smut for him and not enough cuddle (not like smut is a bad thing 😏)

So reading this ask made me realise how little I write fluff for Santi. I guess it was about time I gave the guy a break. Hope you enjoy!

If Only I Could Tell The World I'm Yours

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Prompts: "Are you wearing my shirt?" & "You kissed me last night." "And you didn't stop me." (Both been slightly altered to fit the dialogue.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: 18+ just for very minor references to sex. It's pure fluff. Hidden relationship. Frankie, Benny and Will being little shits.

You woke to warmth.

To streaks of golden morning light that spilled from the windows and left glowing lines across bare legs tangled with anothers. There were soft puffs of breath stirring your hair at the crown and the faint smell of mint, smoke and spice tickling your nose with every slow inhale you took in sync with the rising chest you found yourself squashed against.

Face pressed so deeply into the column of his throat that your lashes brushed the skin there when your eyes finally fluttered open.

And yet he tried to pull you even closer when you yawned and pressed your hands to his stomach in an attempt to shuffle yourself back, strong arms winding tight around your waist and the soft scrape of stubble over your forehead as he dipped his chin and planted a lazy kiss there. “Don’t go yet.” He rumbled, voice raspy - sleep thick. "Want to hold you a bit longer before you go rushing off.”

You melted a little at that, your own apologetic kiss laid to the hollow of his throat before you pulled back to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. Fingers stroking through the mess of his curls like you could soothe away the discontent that grew in both of you when you thought about having to leave his arms and his apartment and pretend that you hadn’t created a home for yourself in both.

Because that’s how things were between you and Santi - how they had to be when this thing between you was a secret kept from the other three most important parts of your lives. You’d decided together that they couldn’t know, Frankie, Will and Benny.

It was still so new. There would be too much pressure. Benny and Will were protective to a fault and Frankie would probably have a quiet panic attack over the possibility everything could go wrong and the man who lived and breathed loyalty to his friends, would be forced to choose a side.

It made sense to keep things between them until you had things more figured out.

There was just times, right now being one of them, where you wanted nothing more than to say fuck it and let them find out if it meant you could stay in Santi’s arms that little bit longer.

And he was clearly thinking the same.

For when you stretched and tried to roll to the side, he followed, catching the hand that had been reaching for your phone before pressing it into the mattress whilst he rose above you. “Where do you think you’re going cariño?” He grinned, a little drunk with pride when you shivered lightly before throwing him a rather adorably unconvincing glare.

"We’re supposed to be meeting the guys for breakfast and I still need to go home and change.” You huffed, arching a brow. “Unless you want them asking why I’m in the same clothes I wore to the bar last night.”

Your words made his eyes spark, his voice dropping low and rough as he leaned down, lips purposely avoiding your own and trailing over the line of your jaw. “And if they did? What would you tell them, hmm?” He murmured. “Would you make up some pretty excuse - let them keep thinking that you’re so fucking innocent and sweet.”

"Are you forgetting we all served together?” You laughed, loud in the otherwise silence of the room before it caught in your throat as Santi nipped at your ear. “They already know I’m hardly what you call innocent.”

"Not like I do.”

You groaned when his teeth found your shoulder as he pulled at the collar of your t-shirt, sinking down until you arched against him before sweeping his tongue across the newly made mark.

You were clinging to him now, fingers buried into the skin of his ribs and every thought about getting up and leaving began to drift away like smoke in the wind when he raised his chin, smile teasing, to watch you as he rolled his hips into yours.

"Jesus, Santi.” You breathed and he sank down to kiss you then. All slow, soft heat as he braced himself above you, arms caging you in, gentle hands cupping your cheeks.

It made your blood catch light and your heart ache, your head dizzy with each brush of his tongue against yours whilst your skin grew warm and tingly from his body pressed flush against you - the sunlight that poured over you both when the sheets slipped away as you wove your legs around his waist.

A quiet moan slipped from you when he sucked at the pillow of your bottom lip and there was almost another as he drew back to look at you - all dark eyes, ruffled curls and kiss-swollen lips.

"You make the prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, voice a little awed whilst his thumb scraped over the arc of your cheekbone.

You grinned, something sweet and golden blooming beneath your ribs that made you glow from the inside, the air feeling warmer as you turned your head to mouth a tender kiss to his wrist. “Yeah?”

"Mhm.” He murmured, dropping his head to nudge his nose against yours when your gaze was back on him once again. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty, you’re killing me expecting me to just let you leave when you look like that.”

His hand found the edge of your shirt, fingers toying with a hole in the worn fabric before they slipped under to splay across the smooth skin of your belly, his thumb stroking small circles that dipped teasingly beneath the waistband of your underwear. He watched as you shivered, as you shifted beneath him like you were trying to to push further into the press of his hand and then he suddenly leaned back. Eyes twinkling and lips parted before they quirked into a smug grin.

"Speaking of which - isn’t this my shirt?”

Shit. You'd hoped he wouldn't realise that you'd snatched up one of his when redressing last night. Choosing to forgo your own that was nestled among a few other things of yours in the draw he'd cleared out for you.

There was something about being wrapped up in a shirt that smelled like him, that you swore still managed to hold the heat from his skin despite however long had passed since he wore it. It felt like safety and comfort. It felt more like home than any of the dozen places you had given such a title to over the years. And you craved it.

You think Santi understands. Sees it in your face and the flash of nerves in your eyes that stealing his clothes was a step too far too soon, because even when you shrugged, when you tried your best to sound casual and lie that you couldn't find your own, his smile only gets wider. Sweeter.

There's a new warmth in his eyes as he tugged at the hem again.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning. "Well fuck sweetheart, maybe I should start hiding all your clothes if it means getting to see you in mine. Looks so much better on you."

A bubble of laughter rose from your chest - bright and airy with relief and something impossibly tender for the man above you. You wanted to draw him down, kiss him until you were both breathless and drunk from it and feel him press so deeply into you that it would be impossible to tell where one you ended and the other began.

You would have done it if it wasn’t for the sharp ring of a message alert sounding from your phone, the shrill of it puncturing the sticky-sweet haze you’d both slipped into making you flinch.

There was a pout on Santi’s lips when you nudged at him, your hand a firm and constant obstacle when he still tried to chase your mouth with his own before giving up and falling back into the sheets with a dramatic huff. Hiding his smile with mock offence at the sound of your chuckle.

You bit your lip as you raised yourself up on your elbows and looked at him. The lazy way he draped himself back, all tanned skin against white-cotton sheets, grey sweats slung low on his hips and his curls a rumpled mess from where your fingers had tangled through. He caught you staring and rose-blush lips spread into another shit-eating grin, his tone full of taunt when he winked at you. “You gonna get that or just keep staring at me like you want to fu–.”

He spluttered when the pillow crashed into his face, choked laughter erupting from his throat whilst you huffed and rolled your eyes before snatching the phone from the bedside table.

And then your eyes went wide. Panic flooding through your gut as you attempted to fling yourself to your feet only to get your foot caught in the sheets, flail, and nearly end up in a heap on the floor. You caught yourself at the last minute, a hand thrown to the wall when you stumbled before searching the room for your jeans.

"Benny and Will are on their way here. Right now.” You told a confused looking Santi, whose gaze swiftly changed from concerned to a disappointed understanding, his body frozen where he’d risen, arms outstretched to make sure you were okay. “They asked if I’m nearly at the diner because they’re on their way but stopping to pick you up first?”

"Shit, yeah, I completely forgot.” He muttered. “They offered because my car is still in the garage.”

You nodded somewhat absentmindedly, eyes still darting along the floor before you spied your jeans partially hidden beneath Santi’s clothes from the night before, all pooled together from where you’d tumbled into his room, mouths desperate on the others and hands a little too greedy to feel skin to take notice or even care where the things you were wearing landed.

He snorted at the way you lunged for them, the little cry of aha! when you lifted them triumphantly before bending to shove your legs inside them. “I’m just gonna have to go like this.” You huffed and Santi nearly groaned when you straightened.

Between your sleep-mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, the tight jeans and his shirt that, when the collar shifted ever so slightly, showed a brief glimpse of the pretty marks he’d left on your skin. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this breakfast with his sanity intact. “...let's just hope they don’t recognise the shirt.”

He swallowed hard, shook his head in a daze both in an attempt to reassure you and to clear the lust that was rapidly bleeding through his veins once more. “They won’t, it’s not one I ever wore that much.”

And yeah maybe that was a lie. But he didn’t want to mention that it had once been one of his favourites and have you decide that wearing it wasn’t worth the risk. Not when the sight of you in it had his pulse jumping every time he looked at you and his chest flooding with warmth.

There was another chirp from your phone and you quickly glanced at it, cursing as you located your shoes and yanked them on before reaching for him. “I have to go.” You rushed out, fingers curling around the nape of his neck to drag him into a too brief kiss, his lips only just beginning to part over yours when you pulled back and went to turn towards his bedroom door.

Only, before you could take another step his hand found your wrist and then he tugged sharply, reeling you back into his arms so his mouth could descend upon yours once again - hot and messy. More than a little hungry.

And despite yourself you melted, humming happily before you felt him smile against you and the corners of your lips tugged up into one to match. “Santi, baby, I’ve got to go.”

You laughed when his hand curled around your hip to pull you closer. His voice muffled but no less cheeky when he countered. “Just getting it out of my system before I have to sit with you, surrounded by our friends and pretend that I don’t want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you whilst your wearing my shirt.”

Your thighs clenched together at that, cheeks warming as you imagined it. Without meaning to your fingers tightened their grip in his hair, the hand that had rested over his heart curling until your nails bit into his skin and you had to catch yourself as your hips subconsciously rocked against him.

It made him grin, even more so when you swore, his eyes gleaming with mischief when you flexed your hand straight and pushed yourself away from him.

He let you go without a fight and chuckled -low and rough- when you narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re a fucking menace Garcia.”

"Only for you cariño.”

You turned, still grinning like an idiot when you swung his door open and then you screamed in shock. Your hand flying to your chest to cover the place where your heart slammed frantic against your ribs. Santi was by your side in an instant, his body sliding past yours to place you behind him and his expression hard and dangerous before it morphed into stunned surprise. His brow furrowing and mouth dropping open.

Because at his breakfast table sat Benny and Will. Both of them never looking more alike than they did in that moment with laughter in their eyes and bright ‘gotcha’ smiles spread wide across their handsome faces.

Frankie was busying himself with pulling groceries out of a bag but you caught the way he glanced at both yours and Santi’s disbelieving expressions before turning, grin soft and his shoulders shaking.

There was a moment of silence where all of you just stared at each other and then both you and Santi spoke at the same time.

"What the hell is going on?”

"Did you seriously just let yourselves into my apartment? How long have you been in here?”

It was Benny that answered. Like he’d been bursting with impatience for one of you to ask just so he could. His fingers tapping against the solid wood of the table before he pointed to you. “What’s going on is that you’ve been lying to us and now you’ve been caught red handed.”

He smirked, mildly amused by the way you couldn’t even hide your guilty expression before he turned to Santi and shrugged. “Not long, we were going to wait outside after sending the messages but then you took too long. And you gave us each a key.”

"Yeah, for emergencies Ben not –” Santi grumbled.

"So you don’t want coffee then.” Frankie interrupted with a teasing chuckle, lifting one of the steaming cups from beside him without looking up from where he’s setting things up for your apparent breakfast.

A spread of pastries and fresh bread, bacon and eggs and sausages all lined up for him to cook whilst you recovered from the shock and eased into the odd situation you found yourself in.

And just like that Santi lost some of his guarded edge. He watched them all and then you, assessing the situation, looking for hints of discomfort before he trudged forward to take the drink and then a second from Frankie whilst you sank into the chair besides Will.

If you expected it to feel awkward then you were instantly proven wrong. There was no anger or accusation from the guys, only curiosity and something soft like joy when they observed the way Santi drew immediately back to you, one hand placing your drink in front of you and the other resting gently at the back of your neck to let you know he was there.

They hadn’t done this with any other intent but to let you know that everything was fine. That you didn’t have to worry about things changing or them thinking any different of either of you because they would always be happy with whatever you decided as long as it was what made you happy.

And with that knowledge you fully relaxed, easing back into Santi’s quiet touch. You took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of the coffee, the bacon that hissed and smoked when Frankie placed it in the pan and after a large gulp of your drink you turned to the older Miller brother and nudged his leg with your toe. Smiling when his lips quirked and he nudged you back.

"Go on then.” You sigh with a grin, “Where did we mess up - what gave us away?”

Benny laughed, his features boyish and light with it. “Take a wild guess.” He joked and when you didn’t answer, blinking between them in confusion, he looked at you for a beat, then two, and then at his brother, shaking his head with amusement. “I told you it looked like they hadn’t even realised what they’d done.”

You glanced at Santi who looked just as clueless as you, racking your brain for such a memory and coming up with nothing.

"You guys kissed right in front of us.” Will finally explained with a chuckle. “Well, it was at the bar - which we had a pretty good view of.”

It hit you then. A little soft and fuzzy around the edges but you could remember Santi’s hand resting on your hip, the way he tucked you tighter against him to avoid getting jostled at the busy bar and it had been second nature. A reflex almost.

You had looked up at him with a sweet smile and the moment you had tilted your chin he hadn’t even thought to deny you, pressing a warm kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead that had made your heart flutter.

You opened your mouth and then shut it again, pressed your palm to your lips to smother the laughter that bubbled up - bright and delirious. You had both thought you had been so subtle only to discover you couldn’t have been more hopeless at hiding your relationship if you had tried.

There was a twinkle in Santi’s eyes when you turned again to find him watching you, an undisguisable fondness when you reached out and gently punched his arm.

"This is your fault.” You accused, teasing. “You kissed me.”

"And you didn’t stop me.” He winked.

Before you could argue there was a snort from the other side of you and you twisted to catch Benny rolling his eyes, an indulgent grin on his face even as he complained. “God I don’t think I can handle you both suddenly being this sweet. I think I preferred being in the dark about this.”

It made you cackle unashamedly when Will responded, an immediate quip that had the younger of the two blushing when he mentioned how he’d rather see this than the shit he used to walk into the kitchen to when Benny lived with him and had a girl over.

There was warmth in your chest - a champagne fizz type of happiness - when the light barb turned into swapping stories and the room grew noisy with bickering voices and bursts of laughter, when Santi drew his chair closer and tugged you into his side, fingers drawing mindless patterns on your shoulder whilst he added tales of his own to the mix.

You beamed when Frankie placed a plate of food in front of you, a little mix of everything that you liked that immediately had your stomach growling. He returned it when you thanked him. Ruffled your hair like he had ever since he had taken you under his wing the first time you met, forever the protective older brother that somehow turned into scolding mother the second Santi dared to reach over and try snatch a piece of bacon off your plate.

There was a flash of metal, a string of colourful curses from Santiago when the handle of the fork Frankie had been about to pass you rapped across the knuckles of the offending hand.

“Hands off Garcia, didn’t you ever fucking learn manners, jesus.”

“Me? What about you? You break in to my apartment, hijack my kitchen and then try to nearly crack a bone over a slice of bacon. Where are your fucking manners Morales?”

You zoned out their arguing in favour for tearing a chunk of still warm pastry and popping it in your mouth, startled when Benny’s foot kicked out at yours beneath the table. His eyes were full of mischief when you frowned at him and you nearly fucking choked when he pointed the coffee-foam covered end of his wooden stirrer at your chest.

“So considering you were still trying to keep it a secret before we surprised you, how did you plan on explaining the shirt?” He crowed. “Because I could swear Santi has one just like it.”

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#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia #santiago garcia fanfic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier imagine

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

Text

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Synopsis - Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Pairing - ExBoyfriend!Santiago Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count - 2.6k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. kinda toxic relationship dynamic. cursing. angst. this one gets a little rough.

Author's Note - I was in a mood when I wrote this. it's not often I write angst like this, but when I do, I aim to break some hearts. not sure why I chose Santiago for this one... it just felt right. I know this isn't a part of any of my series, but this idea came to me and I managed to bang it out in an hour. series fics coming soon - promise!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

This is the way it always goes.

You know it's him as soon as you hear the knocking.

He always knocks as if he's trying to break the door down. Maybe he is. He's broken down everything else in your life.

This is the way it always goes.

You tell yourself you're not answering. You're going to sit here and listen to him bang on the door. Then you'll listen as he yells, begs, tries to sweet talk you through the heavy oak, words seeping through the wood like raindrops. You're not answering.

But then he uses that tone, the honeyed, dulcet, low and raspy one. The one that shoots straight to your heart. His voice cracks, and so does your resolve.

You slowly wander towards the front door, sitting down against it with a thud. He hears it. He knows you're there. He knew you'd come around.

"Baby," he whispers.

You hear him loud and clear.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your baby, Santiago."

You're trying to sound authoritative but you just sound broken. Lost. Helpless.

"You are," he pleads. "Don't say that. You are my baby. You're always going to be my baby."

"No, I'm not," you plead back.

This is the way it always goes.

"You're the love of my goddamn life, honey. When are you going to realise that?"

"I'm not," you counter. "I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not."

There are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks. You didn't even realise you were crying until you felt the water hit your lap. He always makes you cry.

Your lover shouldn't make you cry.

"Just let me in. Let me see you. Please."

It's always the pleading please that gets you. Santiago isn't exactly a polite man. He gets what he wants and he takes what he needs and he usually doesn't care who gets hurt in the process.

"No, Santiago. No. You do this every time. Nothing ever changes. You never change."

"I'm trying, baby. I promise you I am. It's hard, it's really fucking hard, but I'm trying. For you. I'm trying for you."

You don't believe a word he says. You don't. But he sounds so... genuine. He's the king of false promises, Santiago Garcia. Maybe, just maybe, this time it won't be false. One of these days he'll actually follow through. Maybe.

"I can't do this, Santiago. I can't. You break me more every time."

Soon, there'll be nothing left for him to break.

"Don't say that. Baby, don't say that."

You hear his head hit your door with a thud, resting there. You turn to press your forehead into the wood, the two of you so close but still so far apart.

"You hurt me, Santiago. And every time I think I'm okay, you show up again. It isn't fair."

It isn't fair. But this is the way it always goes.

"I never wanted to hurt you, hermosa. I never meant to. I love you."

It's always those three little words that crack the very foundations of your heart, splintering it into a million tiny pieces.

It's always those three little words that make you relent.

You sigh deeply, and reach up above your head to undo the deadbolt. The noise startles Santiago from where he's sat with his head against the cold wood. He rises to his feet and takes a step back, careful and considered.

You take a deep breath and unlock the door. You don't open it. You can't bring yourself to.

Santiago does. He turns the handle gently and pulls it towards him, stood still in his place. He doesn't come in. He wants to hear you say it first.

You finally look at him, and you regret it instantly.

He looks good. So good. His hair has grown out longer than the last time you saw him, light stubble dusting his face. He's got more grays coming in, salt and pepper scattered amongst the darkness. The sun has kissed his skin on all of his missions abroad, making him glow. He looks delectable.

"Cariño," he breathes. "Fuck. You're so beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remember."

A tear drips down your cheek, soaking into the material of your shirt. He sounds so sincere. He is so sincere. You know he thinks the world of you. It's so painful.

This is the way it always goes.

He takes a step towards you, and you suddenly find you can't move. The rational part of your brain is telling you to get back, to put as much distance between you as possible. But you don't. You stay exactly where you are, allowing him to invade your space.

Santiago leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, large, calloused hands cradling your face tenderly.

"I missed you," he breathes, and you can taste the mint on his tongue. He's chewed this one type of gum since you've known him. He always tastes the same.

"You're gonna leave again," you whisper. "You come here, you fuck me up, and then you leave. I'm not doing it again, Santiago. I can't."

"I'm sorry, hermosa. So fucking sorry. You know I never meant to hurt you. You know that."

"Then why won't you leave me alone?" you cry. "I try to move on every fucking time, Santi. And then you crawl back into my life and I let you! I let you! I always say it's gonna be the last time, and it never is. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? I feel like a fool, Santi. A fucking fool!"

Silence.

"Santi," he repeats slowly.

You look at him incredulously, and then scoff in disbelief.

"What?"

"You called me Santi, not Santiago. Like the old days."

You didn't even realise you'd done it. It just feels so easy, to fall back into old habits. It's programmed into you, a part of your DNA now. He's your Santi and you're his baby and you'll break each others hearts a million times and keep on going.

This is the way it always goes.

He reaches back and shuts the door behind him. He's staying. For now. You look at him with teary eyes, bottom lip trembling.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," you jab shakily.

"Is that what I am to you, hermosa? An old habit?"

You inhale sharply.

"You're a hell of a lot of fucking things to me, Santi."

You want to step back. You want to push him away and throw him out the door. You want to hit him, scratch at him, punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face. But you don't. Instead, you step forward - straight into his outstretched arms.

You press yourself into him, tucking yourself into his broad chest. He wraps his arms around you as tightly as he possibly can, terrified that you'll disappear any second. You both exhale the past, and inhale the present.

"If you hurt me again, I'll kill you," you threaten, muffled by the cotton of his t shirt.

"I'd let you," he whispers into your hair. "I'd die a happy man if I was to die at your hands."

He always does this. Knows exactly what to say. Promises he won't leave. Then, inevitably, he gets a call, asking him to fly out to Colombia, Kenya, Alaska. And he goes. Without a second thought for you, he goes.

You've lost count of how many times it has happened. You're getting a horrible feeling of déjà vu. But you just can't bring yourself to break free from this hold he has on you. Not when he's rocking you gently, murmuring how you're his whole world, how he has nothing if he doesn't have you, how this time he'll be different.

You're not sure if you believe him. But you're sick of arguing with yourself and you're sick of pulling teeth. He'll break your heart again. Maybe you're immune to it now. There's only one way to find out.

"Make me forget," you whisper. "Make me forget all the shitty things you've done to me. Make me forget my own fucking name, Santi. Please."

He pulls back to look at you, to see if you mean it. You do. You're tired of fighting this. Of fighting the inevitable.

Santiago lunges forward and smashes his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He groans when he realises you taste the same. You chew that gum just for him.

He hooks his foot around your ankle and yanks, sending you flying backwards. Santi's got his arms firmly around your back, cushioning your fall. As soon as you hit the floor, he's on you. His lips are pressing into your neck, down your jaw, nipping at your ears. His hands are groping at you roughly - your hips, your tits, your ass. Anything he can grab, he does.

Santiago stops momentarily to look at you intently. He dips his head down and licks up your cheek before kissing your eyelids tenderly. You taste like salty tears and years of regret.

You tangle your fingers into his hair and pull as hard as you can, hoping to hurt him. He groans in pain, and a sick sense of satisfaction settles in your stomach. You want to hurt him. You want to hurt him like he hurts you.

You lean up and sink your teeth into the expanse of his neck, tasting the musky masculinity of him. He groans again, and you feel lightheaded, drunk off the sound.

"Fuck you," you murmur against his lips in between kisses. "Fuck you, Santiago Garcia."

"I love you," he whispers back against your mouth. "I'll love you forever."

You don't know whether you love him or hate him or neither or both and it's making you crazy. You knee him in the ribs and he folds forward, his weight dropping onto you. You want to feel every inch of him against you, every dip and curve and rough edge he has to offer.

You're ripping his shirt over his head before you can think twice. He's managed to pull your pants down your legs, throwing them behind him. He tugs at your shirt, gets frustrated, and rips it down the middle.

"Fucking asshole," you spit, sinking your nails into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

"You don't care," he drawls. "You love me and you don't care."

You grab at his belt, making sure it hits him in his side as you pull it through its loops. When he hisses in pain, you hit him with it again, this time on the ass.

"You wanna hurt me, hermosa, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you grit through your teeth, trying not to cry. "I want to do more than hurt you, Santi. I'd kill you if I could."

He kisses your neck so tenderly in response that you shake with rage. You keep trying to tell yourself that you don't want him, that you're better than this. It's no use. No one else in the world can make you feel the way Santiago can. You're cursed.

He's slipping your underwear down your legs and two fingers into the wet heat between your thighs before you can even think a coherent thought. You whine in response, canting your hips for more.

"You can lie to me all you want, honey. You can fight this all you need to," he murmurs, crooking his fingers. "But your body is giving you away. It always gives you away."

"I said make me forget, not remind me even more," you hiss.

He presses his thumb to your clit in response, the action making your legs go weak. You stop fighting him. Eventually, you always do. You surrender to Santiago, and go boneless on the floor.

"There we go," he coos. "You always give in, baby. That's how I know you love me."

You shake your head, tears welling on your waterline, saturating your eyelashes and making it hard to see.

"You do, baby. You do. I wouldn't be here if you didn't."

He speeds up his fingers, and it feels so good you see stars. Santiago leans down to kiss the spot underneath your ear, the one that makes you melt.

"Tell me the truth, my sweet girl. Please," he rasps against your skin. "Tell me you love me. Don't lie to me."

You're trying to clamp your mouth shut to stop the words escaping. They're on the tip of your tongue, begging to slip free. To make the pain go away.

"Please," he begs. "Please, baby."

He hooks his fingers just right, and your vision goes white. You're thrown into your climax with no warning.

"I love you," you gasp as you come. "I love you, Santi. Fuck."

You come down from your high, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your skin. You look up at Santi, and watch as the tears fall down his cheeks.

"I knew you did," he chokes out. "I knew I wasn't crazy. Fuck, I love you so much. I'll never let you go again."

He smashes his lips to yours, both of your cheeks wet with emotion, slipping against each other.

"I still hate you," you spit into his mouth.

"I know," he soothes back, running his tongue over your teeth. "I know."

This is the way it always goes.

Santi lines himself up between your legs, sliding home with a gasp. This is where he belongs. Home.

You throw your arms around his neck, trying to plaster yourself to his front. He rocks his hips steadily, sending you both sliding across the floor.

This is the way it always goes.

The two of you never make it past the hallway. Whenever Santiago comes back to you, it always ends with the two of you tangled together on the floor, limbs intertwined and bodies connected. You once tried to move the two of you to the couch, but Santi fucked you so hard you slid off the cushions anyway.

Much like he's doing now.

He snaps his pelvis into yours, the force of it making you keen. You're gasping into each others mouths, hands grappling at whatever you can find. His grip on your hips is so tight, you know you'll be black and blue tomorrow.

"Tell me you're mine," Santiago rasps into your mouth. "Please, baby. Please. Tell me you're mine."

You're so close you can taste it. As much as you don't want to admit it, the key to your release is those two words. You need to let go in more ways than one. You need to let go of the pain, the resentment, the regret, the false hope. You need to let go of everything, and surrender to the truth.

"I'm yours," you sob, tears running down your cheeks. "I'm yours, Santi. I always have been."

"You're mine," he confirms, pressing kisses all over your face. "And I'm yours, baby. I'm yours forever."

That's all you needed.

The two of you fall over the edge together, chests heaving and hips stuttering. You reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him down to your mouth. You're gasping against his lips as he chants sweet nothings against yours, the two of you panting and writhing.

Santiago collapses against you, his body acting as a weighted blanket. You wrap your arms around him, tracing absent minded patterns across his sweat slick skin. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, pressing occasional kisses wherever he can reach.

"I meant what I said," you murmur into his hair. "If you hurt me again, I'll kill you. I know at least three people that'd help me cover it up."

"Are those people Benny, Frankie and Will?"

"No comment."

He chuckles lowly, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"And I meant what I said. I'm yours. I'm yours forever."

This is the way it always goes.

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