#pop garcia

[fettuccin-e]

Forever Feels Good

A/N: So yeah. its more santi smut. I rewatched triple frontier recently and yknow how oscar and pedro look absolutely scrumpdiddlyumptious so i had to write some happy, domesticated santi because HE DESERVES SOMETHING GOOD

Description: Sometimes, Santi can't believe that he's actually yours, that you're his. And, as a good husband, he just wants to make his beautiful wife feel good. (w/c: 3.1K)

Tags: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x reader, afab!fem!reader, Santi really likes that she's his wife, pretty domestic, alcohol consumption, oral (r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), breeding kink like quite a bit of breeding kink i may have a problem

Santi sometimes forgets that he’s actually married to you. That it’s his ring on your finger, that he lives in a home that the both of you share. 

There’s a part of him, a big part, that looks at you and knows that you’re too beautiful to really be his. With your bright smile and glittering eyes, smoothing out his rough edges and giving something to live for again. It doesn’t feel real, even after years of being married, introducing you as his wife to all of his coworkers and friends, fixing up a house you bought together, living a perfect little white picket fence life that Santi had only thought was a fantasy while in Delta.

He watches you with rapt attention across the bar, grabbing your fruity drink from the bartender while you chat with Frankie at the pool table.

You’re laughing hard to a story that Frankie is telling, Santi’s beer clutched in one of your hands while you brace the other on Frankie’s shoulder. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are crinkling at the corners with your grin, and Santi can’t imagine anyone more perfect. 

As your laughter eventually dies down you gaze at Santi across the room, probably unaware that he was already staring, and the breath is nearly knocked out of his lungs as your eyes meet. Your wide smile melts into something softer, intimate even in a room full of people, and his already weak knees want to give out.

He forces himself to walk on shaky legs across the room, setting your drink on your table, fingers itching to touch your soft skin. He spins you around when he reaches you, pinning your back to his front and wrapping his strong arms around your waist while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

Your perfume is strongest there, the smell of you invading his senses and swimming through his desperate mind. He vaguely senses Frankie walking away to talk to Will, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Not when he has his wife in his arms, your hair tickling his nose and you giggle echoing in his ears.

Santi presses a kiss to your neck, unable to help himself. “Look so pretty tonight, princesa. Y’wanna let me take you home?” he murmurs quietly into your ear, hearing you suck in a soft breath.

“I don’t know how my husband would feel about that, handsome,” you giggle, and he tugs you just a little bit closer.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sure he won’t mind one bit,” he chuckles lowly. “Can’t let a pretty thing like you go without being taken care of like you deserve.”

“Hm,” you sigh, leaning back against his strong body, “you drive a hard bargain, don’t you?” You reach a hand back to wind your hand into his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips in a sticky kiss. “Promise to take care of me, baby? I’ve been told that I can be greedy. Gonna need you to make me cum as many times as I want.”

Santi feels lightheaded, his vision blurring at the edges. “Fuck, hermosa, anything. Anything you want, you’ll get it, promise I’ll-”

“Hey, lovebirds!” you hear Benny call from the pool table, stick clutched in his hand. He’s disarmingly loud even in a room full of people, your head snaps ahead from Santi’s lips, and you can feel the groan rumble in your husband’s chest at the loss. You smirk to yourself involuntarily, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that you’re the one that can bring Santiago Garcia, ex-military grump with a will of fucking steel, to his knees with a something as simple as a little kiss. 

“You guys gonna get a room or what? Think of the kids!” Benny continues, laughing. Frankie chuckles with him, Will smacks him on the back of the head.

“Turning a little green there, Miller!” you fire back, smiling all the while. “Been a while since you got any? Celibacy is not a good look on you, man.” Frankie laughs harder at that, and even Will chuckles, and it’s Benny’s turn to smack his brother on the back of his head.

You turn your head again to whisper up into Santi’s ear, “As much as I hate to admit it, he might be right.” You shift your hips back, just a little, pressing your ass tight against the bulge of his dick in those tight pants he always wears. Santi curses. 

“You wanna get out of here handsome?”

“Please,” Santi groans, and you laugh softly at his eagerness before you’re grabbing his hand and walking him to the door of the bar, nodding a goodbye at Frankie as you do.

He’s on you the moment you walk through the door of your shared home, pressing you hard against the door with a thick thigh between your legs, pressed tight against your hot cunt through the material of your panties under your skirt. He licks into your mouth like he’s starving for it, like he’ll never get to again, like it’s not the cold metal of his ring on your finger, pressed against his cheek as you cup his jaw.

“So, so fucking pretty for me hermosa, my god. Got everyone in that bar looking at you, but you’re mine, yeah? My wife, fuck-” Santi says into your mouth, choking on the last word, bucking up into you. 

“Bed, Santi, please,” you whine, head spinning with the taste, the smell, the feel of him under your fingertips. Six years of marriage, and you’re both still obsessed with each other the same way you were when you both first met. Clutching into each other like the other will disappear at any moment, like every second together has only been a wonderful dream. He grins into your mouth before taking your hand again, breaking into a jog through your little house and into your bedroom, the both of you giggling like teenagers.

You make him feel young, Santi thinks, laughing into your mouth as he lays you gently onto the mattress. Even with his creaky knees and graying hair, you manage to make him feel young. He presses himself against you, and you mewl, your hips moving in desperate little grinds against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Santi, please,” you choke, gasping softly as his zipper catches on your clit through your panties. You’re clenching around nothing, suddenly so unbearably empty that you could cry from it.

Santi shushes you gently, running his hands under your shirt, rucking it up over your chest. You raise your arms to help him along, and Santi wastes no time in divesting you of your shirt. He tosses it behind him carelessly before leaning down again to lick into your mouth, utterly addicted to the taste of you. 

There’s something about Santi that brings out this part of you, this desperate, needy part that you’d never felt before knowing him. He makes you feel ravenous, animalistic as he towers over you, kissing you like a man possessed.

You reach down to grab his shirt in a fist, shoving it up his stomach until he finally smiles against your mouth, breaking away from your kiss to yank his shirt off, tossing it in the same direction he threw yours. He moves down, trailing hot, sticky kisses and bites to your neck, your collarbone, right between the valley of your tits. 

His thick hands curl around your back, his calluses scratching along your soft skin, raising goosebumps in their wake as he unclasps your bra, dragging it down your arms and leaving you bared to him. It should feel vulnerable, exposed, but you hear Santi groan softly under his breath at the sight of you, and you feel anything but vulnerable. Fuck, you feel powerful, stunning under Santi’s burning gaze.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it feverishly while his other hand, warm and rough, tweaks the other harshly. You can’t help how your back shoots up, how a choked moan escapes your throat. Your hands tangle in his hair, a terribly sexy mess of grey and black, holding him to your chest.

“Fuck, oh God, Santi, Santi, need you so bad baby, please. Please,” you mumble, your mind already hazy as Santi switches nipples, his eyes closed and lost in you. He brings his free hand down, down, under your skirt, and presses a thumb harshly over your clit through your panties. The friction of the cotton is harsh against your throbbing clit, but Santi rubs quick little circles into you, reveling in the whines that escape unbidden from the back of your throat.

“So fucking pretty, princesa. Mi amor, god, mi vida. You’re my fucking life, you know that? So gorgeous, angel, and all mine. Fuck, can’t believe you’re mine, baby.” Santi mumbles against your skin, finally releasing your nipple from his mouth. He continues peppering tiny kisses down your stomach, staring up at you as he does. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin even as he brings his hand up from your clothed cunt, tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You can feel how soaked you’ve gotten, the way your thighs are slick with your arousal.

“Fuck, hermosa, what’s got you this wet, huh?” He grunts, his voice gravelly and rough.

“You, Santi, it’s all- it’s all you. Since the bar, baby, since before the bar. Fuck, always want you, Santiago, ‘m ready for you all the time.” You tilt your hips up with your words, your entrance throbbing and so desperate for his touch.

“God, bebita,” Santi groans. “Such a fucking slut, huh? You would’ve let me fuck you right in that bar, yeah? Just let me tug you into the bathroom and fuck you as hard as I want. Would've done it too, sweet girl, you get me so fucking hot. In these,” he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, and you twitch as you feel him breathe a warm gust of air right over your desperate pussy. “In these fucking little skirts you like to wear, god. Got the sexiest girl in the fucking world, yeah? Everyone wants you, but I’m the one who gets to have you. I get to have you for the rest of our lives, mi amor.” He’s so close, so fucking close to wear you need him most. “I get to fuck this sweet pussy for the rest of our lives, baby,” Santi breathes.

You nearly scream as he licks a long stripe up your cunt, lapping up some of the mess you’ve already made of yourself. He sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking at it hard and unrelenting. The sensation of it is almost too much, and your thighs clench around his head quickly, before Santi brings a hand up to grab at your inner thigh. He pulls you apart, keeping you spread for him as he licks and sucks and plays with you until you’re already shaking. He keeps you spread with only one of those strong hands, pressing his tongue harshly against your sensitive little clit, and you suddenly feel the thick presence of his other hand, a calloused digit sinking slowly, so slowly into your cunt.

“Santi, Santi, oh fuck, Jesus fucking Christ baby, it’s so- shit, it’s so,” you can hardly get the words out, especially as he crooks his finger up and presses it against your g-spot without any trouble. Santi groans against your clit, sinking yet another finger inside you along the first.

You should be used to it by now, after so long together, but every single time Santi fucks you, it’s like he’ll never get to do it again. He throws himself, his mind, body, his fucking soul, into only making you feel good. It’s nearly sacrilegious, how he worships you, praying with his tongue at the altar of your body.

But it’s not enough, not when you know how it feels when he’s inside, not when you’ve been thinking about his thick cock stretching you out until you feel like you’re about to break. You tangle a hand back into his hair, tugging him harshly away from your pussy. He keeps his fingers inside, spreading you apart as he looms over you, meeting your lips in a sticky kiss. His lips are sticky with your arousal, but you can’t bring yourself to care, gasping, “Please, baby, Santi fuck me, ‘m so empty, need to be filled up, need you to stuff me full.” 

Santi grins, smug against you as he presses a third finger into your tight cunt, relishing in how your body jerks hard in response. “Just a little longer, baby,” he mutters, “Gotta make you cum first, right? Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my fingers, fuck baby, you’re so sexy. Want you to cum, princesa. Cum like you fucking deserve.”

You choke on a gasp as he hammers hard into you, overwhelmed tears filling your eyes as he abuses your g-spot with a practiced hand. You can feel your orgasm building inside, threatening to drown you in it’s severity, as Santi leans down again, whispering harshly, like it’s a threat, “Be a good little wife for me, baby, and cum. Now.”

And you can’t do anything but that, whining high as your pussy clenches and gushes all over Santi’s hand, your hips jerking wildly. Santi is murmuring little praises into your ear, but you can hardly hear him over the ringing in your head, the effort it takes to breathe properly again. 

“You okay, mi amor? Need to stop?” Santi whispers, petting his hands across your thighs, calming, but your eyes snap open all the same. 

“Santiago Garcia, if you leave me here without getting fucked, I’m filing for divorce.”

Your statement shocks a quick laugh out of your husband, but he leans down to kiss you all the same. “So greedy, mi amor,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you giggle as he stands quickly, shucking his pants and boxers off before kneeling between your spread legs again.

You gasp softly as he notches the head of his cock against the entrance of your abused cunt, winding your arms around his neck to tug him close. He presses in slowly, agonizingly slow, and you gasp against his mouth. 

You’ve had Santi for years, but taking his cock always feels like the first time, all over again. He groans so lowly it almost sounds like a growl, holding your hips up to meet him as he finally bottoms out inside you. So deep he feels like he’s in your fucking stomach.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans over you, his eyes clenched shut. He draws his hips out and shoves back in quickly, and you can’t do anything but gasp wetly, nails digging into his shoulders as he breaks you open around his cock. “So tight for me, always so fucking perfect.”

“So big, Santi,” you slur dazedly. “Stretching me out so good, it’s so fucking deep, baby.”

“You like me deep, bebita? So deep I’m in your fucking guts? Gonna fill you up, princesa, shit. Get through that fucking birth control, yeah? Get you,” he fucks into you again, hard, “get you fucking pregnant, sweetheart.”

“Oh God,” you whine, mind swimming with the overwhelming mixture of Santi over you, surrounding you, inside you. Fucking you full of him, enough to render your IUD useless, get you pregnant no matter what. “Fuck, Santi, please.” He works himself in and out of you, his thick hands holding onto your hips hard enough to bruise.

“You want it, baby? Want me to fuck a baby into this little pussy? Shit, you’re sucking me in baby, so fucking desperate for it.” He shifts closer, just a little, lifting your hips further into the air to throw you hard onto his cock, and he can’t miss your sweet spot like this. His perfect cockhead just jams into your g-spot at an angle like this, and Santi knows it. “My needy little wife, you wanna cum on this cock? C’mon, do it. Wanna see it baby.”

Tears are finally escaping, leaking slowly from your eyes as Santi fucks into you like only he can, practiced, harsh, unrelenting. You can faintly hear yourself babbling, a mixture of praises, and pleases, and Santi’s name. 

Santi brings a hand from your thigh to press a thick thumb to your over-sensitive clit, and you want to fucking scream. “C’mon baby, show me how good I’m giving you this cock. Show me how good I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Yes, yes, yes, it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, gonna cum, oh god, gonna give you a baby, Santi, oh god, oh my fucking god-” you gasp, unable to get a full breath into your lungs before you’re cumming again, nails digging hard enough into Santi’s back that there will be marks, marks that Santi will tease you about later when he looks in the mirror, but you can’t care. Not when it feels like your body is on a live wire, muscles and nerves strung taught and pulled apart.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” Santi groans above you, his hips stuttering into you. “Fuck, just like that, so fucking tight for me. Fuck, you’re mine,” he mutters, barely even speaking to you at this point. “Can’t believe you’re fucking mine, mine forever.” 

He’s lost in it, muttering to himself, and you tug him down, trying to ground him back to Earth against your lips as you whisper, “yours.”

Santi kisses you hard as he cums, emptying himself inside you. He wraps you in his strong arms, the both of you shaking softly against each other as you breathe through the aftershock of both your orgasms. He slips out of you at one point, and Santi takes the opportunity to roll you onto your sides. It’s quiet between the both of you for a few minutes as you brush a hand through Santi’s sweaty curls, and he brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping any tears away.

“Love you so much, Santi,” you whisper after a while, and Santi smiles wide, wider than he ever had before he met you.

“I love you too, baby, more than I can describe.”

“Do you- do you think we could start trying? For a baby?” you whisper, tentative. There will be a bigger discussion tomorrow, about the future, especially if you throw children into the mix. But you need to know, for now.

“Mi amor, mi cielito,” Santi whispers, pecking you softly on the lips. “I would love nothing more.”

[endrimer]

[phillycheesesteakcore]

hey whatever you do don't think about the fact that while Normal was spending his one good day with his dad, Hero was probably off with Uncle Lark somewhere slaughtering a deer with her bare hands

[whohasthecards]

Hangman is touch starved and he knew that for a while know.

Parents never there, and with his siblings (if he had any), he would be the one initiating contact, comforting them, soothing them, but that was rare, and even then it never really soothed the aching underneath his skin.

It got worst when he joined the Navy.

Although, it took a while before he realized what the crawling aching feeling was.

Why he felt weird whenever Javy slung an arm around his shoulders.

Why he felt a sense of awe whenever an instructor clapped him on the chest when they passed by him, congratulating him on a successful hop.

Why he wanted to lean closer to the hand squeezing his shoulder when Admiral Kazansky congratulated him on a successful mission.

It all felt off, not bad, just off.

It made the ache underneath his skin throb.

As if it was shouting more, more, more.

One day they were getting off the ship, deployment finally over, families and sailors reuniting. Javy running off to his family, his ma and pa enveloping him in hugs, his siblings taking turns afterwards, his tiny nieces and nephews throwing themselves at him.

He saw the same scene over and over around him.

He felt his chest tighten and his throat clenched, a frown unintentionally tugging down on the corner of his lip.

He swallowed.

He should be happy.

Instead he tugged his cap down over his eyes and walked away.

Nobody noticed him leave.

He tried to shove the urge down.

He got used to it crawling under his skin.

Come on, Seresin, men like you don't deserve shit like this.

It got better.

He and Javy got closer, Javy who lightly punched his shoulder in greeting, who slung arms around his shoulders, who pulled him close against his side when they were celebrating.

He got closer to his shipmates. Bumping fists, lightly nudging each other away, roughhousing in other occassions.

He had lovers, all of them temporary, none of them stayed for long, but it was something for a while.

Then his first air to air kill happened.

Hangman was not a name associated with his spelling mistakes when he was doing paperwork sleep deprived.

It became the name of an executioner.

To the eyes of the crew and his superiors, he was same old, Hangman. Head held high, nothing bringing him down.

He was a mess behind closed doors, though. Only Javy saw how he would stare and stare and stare. Looked down in his hands. He felt like he was under water.

Javy gave him space unsure how to deal with him the first few weeks after the kill. He tried, brought him food, talked to him even when he didn't talk back.

But when Javy made a move to sling an arm around his shoulder, Jake's breathe hitched, watching him.

Jake wanted.

Javy took the hesitation as a bad thing.

Javy gave him a small smile and pulled back.

Hangman can do mission debriefs, can make the crew relax, can calm down pissed off superiors.

Jake never really knew how to talk.

After that things were different.

His shipmates stared at him in awe, respect, fear.

If not, they only ever wanted to talk about his accomplishments.

He learned how to disarm them, flash a smile, talk shit, give them enough to satisfy them and move to a different topic.

It got better.

Eventually he could mostly get along with his shipmates again. He was showing Hangman more and more, but they got along.

Javy started coming around more, again. Jake made sure to act normal when he was near. He didn't want his best friend to pull away.

Then the mission happened.

He remembered Mav pulling him into a hug. It was quick, celebratory, yet tight and warm all the same.

He didn't want to let go, but by the time he thought that, Mav was moving on to the next member of the Dagger Squad.

He was surrounded by claps to the shoulder and other celebratory hugs that day.

At the hallway going to medical, Javy whirled around, stopped him and gave him a tight hug that he haven't gotten in a while.

"God, Jake, I'm glad you came back," he murmured.

Jake said nothing but grip the back of his friend's shirt tighter and bury his head on the older man's shoulder.

The hallway was empty, no one was there to see.

Javy made sure to shepherd him to medical where he was put in a room with Mav and Rooster. Mav raised a brow at him, quelling any protest that was about to leave his mouth.

He wasn't pouting.

Rooster gave him a fond smile, and patted him on the back. "Mav's not letting you leave medical if he can't leave too, buddy."

Mav had an annoyingly smug look as he settled in his bed.

It was when the room was dark and he could hear Rooster and Mav's snores that he realized that the crawling feeling was back.

It was soothed when he was surrounded by his crew, but it's back again.

He should really stop doing this. Stop the longing. The more he succumbs to it, the more he craves.

Dagger Squad became a permanent squad.

Javy has always been a fixture in his life ever since the academy, but there were times that they were away for months, even more than a year at a time due to conflicting deployments and leave schedules.

But now, daily, Javy was there slinging an arm around his shoulder, playing around with him, Jake tried stopping himself from leaning too much into it. He wasn't needy.

He wasn't expecting the others, though.

How Phoenix would nudge him on the shoulder when they would walk side to side in the hallway.

How Bob would knock his knuckles on Jake's back in greeting.

How Fanboy would offer him fistbumps, Payback close behind him patting his shoulder.

Rooster of all people, started following Javy's lead in slinging an arm around his shoulders. Unlike Javy though, Rooster was a little shit and would lean on him heavily, gravity's not working my ass--

It was nice, it was warm, he wanted more, more, more--

Admiral John Seresin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

After that ordeal, Mav brought him home for dinner with Admiral Kazansky-- Ice, they didn't talk about it, not really.

Mav pushed his chair away from the table, Jake stood up trying to help clear the plates away, but he was so shaky--

Mav took the plates from his hands and turned Jake to face him. He didn’t say anything, but wrapped an arm around Jake's back, another around his waist, and held on tightly.

He felt his eyes burn, a sob bubbling out his throat, as he buried his face on Mav's neck, gripping the back of the older man's shirt, tightly."

"M-Mav," Jake sobbed out.

"Shh, I'm here, kid, I'm here," Mav said stroking a hand through his hair. "I got you."

"He wont get to you, son, I won't let him," Ice said clasping a firm hand on his shoulder.

Jake could do nothing, but nod on Mav's shoulder, hoping that would convey his gratitude.

Whenever he was with Javy, with the Dagger Squad, or with Mav and Ice, he feels warm and content.

The crawling feeling was still there, always will be, but whenever he's with his team, it never gets bad.

When Ice hands him a beer, ruffling his hair as he walked by, Jake thinks he could get used to this.

[svd126]

Ice and maverick definitely host a listening party for 1989 Taylor version for their baby pilots. Because said baby pilots almost end up in jail because of their listening party for speak now Taylor version.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Mistake - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, F!reader

Word Count: 2500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I never planned to write a part 2 for Mistake, but so many people asked me for one, I felt compelled to write it! A HUGE thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for literally saving my ass on this one. Seriously, go thank her and while you’re there, binge her writing!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

<<Mistake Part 1<<

It's been 6 weeks since I've talked to Santi or Frankie. I've been begging Santi to talk to me, apologizing to a now full inbox, flooding his phone with texts. He's not as his usual spots whenever I manage to get the courage to try and find him. The guilt has made me physically sick, exhausted all the time from just thinking about it. 

And then there's Frankie. 

As much as I've tried to reach out to Santi, Frankie has tried to reach me. On one hand, it's hard not to talk to him. He's been my best friend since forever. I've been in love with him nearly that entire time, and apparently the feeling is mutual. 

But the way we had to find out was fucked up. 

I never wanted to hurt Santi. I do love him, but if I'm being honest with myself, I didn't love him the way he deserves. It's like he was the closest thing I could get to Frankie. 

Bile rises in my throat, my stomach churning and I run to the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before emptying my breakfast into it. It's been like this for a couple of weeks, my guilt taking over my body physically to match the way my heart feels. All I'd need now to top off this fuck me fest is my period-

Wait. When did I have that last?

I whip out my phone, quickly tapping on my calendar app, looking for the red dots indicating the start of my cycle. Once I find them, I quickly count the weeks and realize I'm nearly a month overdue for my period. 

"There's no way."

I skim the calendar, locating the day that we had our combined bachelor/ette parties and…fuck it's totally possible. Fuck fuck fuck!

After I finish vomiting yet again, I manage to get myself out of the house and to the pharmacy up the street, sort of floating through the aisles to pick up a box of pregnancy tests. I silently pay for them and the woman hands me my bag, offering a small smile and a "Good luck," to me under her breath. 

I get home and head straight into the bathroom, determined not to drag this out. I'm just sick from the horrible shit I've put Santi through. That has to be it. My mind goes a million places all at once, until the little timer on my phone goes off. Taking a deep breath, I flip the test over. 

PREGNANT

I stare at the word as it stares back at me, taking several long seconds before I actually take it what I'm seeing. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. There's a baby in me right now. And it's…

There was only 1 person I had sex with at that time, as Santi and I were on a temporary hiatus until after the wedding. 

"Of fucking course!" I yell at the universe, once again throwing a curveball in the path that is my relationship to Frankie.

Frankie. Fuck, what is he going to say? He already has a kid from an ex wife. An ex wife he hates. I don't want to be like her, forcing Frankie into something he doesn't want. But what do I want?

A quick text to my friend and she's coming over for drinks. Well, one of us is drinking anyway. 

—-

"I'm sorry,  you're what??" My friend Olivia spits out, handing me a napkin for the drink she just spit at me.

"Pregnant."

"Yeah I heard you I just…are you sure?"

I nod. "I took several tests. I have my OB appointment next week and-"

"Wait. You're keeping it?"

I take a breath, eyes scanning my living room. "Yeah."

Olivia looks at me. "You think Santi will come back?"

I play with the condensation on my glass of water. "It's Frankie's."

Olivia slams her hand on the table. "What? From that night?"

I nod and she lets out a whistle. "Are you gonna tell him?"

"I don't-"

Suddenly, I hear footsteps on my porch. Confused, as I wasn't expecting anyone, I get up, Olivia following behind me as I open the door. 

"Hey."

My stomach drops completely out as I stare up into the eyes of my ex fiance. 

"S-Santi."

His eyes scan my face, dipping quickly down my body. "Can I come in?"

"I uh.. s-sure."

I step back, allowing Santi to come into my home. He gives me a small smile and holds up his finger. 

"Wait a sec." He looks back out towards my driveway.

I hear more footsteps on my porch and then he's there, curls flipping out from under a hat, hands in his pockets because he doesn't know how to deal with the tension. 

"Come on, man. Don't just stand there." Santi walks past me and grabs his arm, pulling him inside. We all stand there in an awkward silence for several long moments before Santi clears his throat. 

"Can we talk?"

"Y-yeah." 

Santi follows me into the kitchen, Olivia giving me a questioning look as I pass her. I honestly have no idea what's going on and am having a hard time processing everything that's happening. I offer Santi a drink, but he declines, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. 

"I'm sorry," Santi says with extreme sincerity. 

Well that was unexpected.

"What?"

"I've been thinking these last few weeks and I've realized a lot of shit. I love you, querida, and I always will. But I think I loved the idea of you more."

"Again, what?"

"Look, I… I won't lie. When I saw you there with Frankie…that fucking hurt. I mean destroyed me." He puts a hand out as I open my mouth to apologize. 

"Just let me talk… anyway, I realized through the pain that what I was missing most was a wife, the commitment to someone to start a life with. Not you, exactly. I mean it…it still fucking hurts, but I'm not… I'm not mad. Anymore.” He takes a moment to gather himself and me? I’m just…I have no words.

“Querida, you deserve someone who loves you for you. Who wants to be with you and not just because it’s easy. Frankie is that. No, don’t look at me like that, he is. I… I knew he was in love with you, even with all the shit that happened with Claire, and I knew how you felt. It wasn’t hard to figure out - you’re both idiots.” He chuckles a little sadly and I feel tears starting to burn at the corners of my eyes. “I really should have never pursued you, but when Frankie got Claire pregnant and then married her, you looked so sad and I just…I wanted to take care of you. Take that hurt away-”

“And you did! You-”

“That’s good to know…Anyway, I reached out to Frankie and he tells me you aren’t talking to him? That you hate him?”

I dab furiously at my eyes, trying to get them to stop leaking, but I nod. “He lied, Santi. We both did. He knew I was c-calling your n-name and he k-kept going. And I f-figured out w-what I was d-doing and started c-calling out his n-name, and I just, Santi I am s-so s-s-sorry, and n-now I c-can’t s-stop c-crying!”

Santi swallows hard, then closes the distance between us, wrapping me in his arms, letting me soak his shirt as my shoulders shake. He shushs me, rocking me slightly to get me to calm down. Eventually, I do, somehow managing to contain myself and these pregnancy hormones.

Ah, fuck. The pregnancy. Do I tell Santi? No, I have to talk to Frankie first. 

“Querida, you have to talk to Frankie.”

I look up at him, pushing away from him and wiping my eyes. “No. I-I can’t.”

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I didn’t go through all of this self discovery to not have the 2 most important people in my life be together when they’re so very obviously still in love with each other.”

“Santi, I cheated on you with him. I can’t just forget-”

“Look. It wouldn’t have happened if it were anyone else and I know that. I knew better and I shouldn’t have asked you out. Just…talk to him? For me?” He raises his eyebrows at me until I agree. He smiles, giving me one last hug and kissing the top of my head.

I’m still not sure what’s happening, not entirely. Santi showing up and forgiving me was not on my bingo card for this lifetime.

Santi turns and walks out of the kitchen and I follow him, walking into the living area where Olivia and Frankie were making idle chit chat.

“Hey Fish, I’m gonna head out. It’s all good- no. You stay here.” Santi glances up at Olivia and his entire demeanour changes, like he just noticed, really noticed she was here. 

“Oh. Uh, yeah I’m heading out too,” Olivia says, meeting Santi’s gaze. “And you can take me to dinner. I’m starving.”

Santi smiles at her. “I’d love to.”

They leave, Frankie and I staring in shock at the closed door for several moments before I shake my head, moving to lock the door. I take a breath and turn around to see Frankie standing there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, lifting the hat from the top of his head and running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck he’s so hot.

“Did…did Santi tell you everything?”

I nod, my arms wrapping around myself. “He did.”

“Kind of wild, wasn’t it?”

“I mean, whatever works for him. He seems to be doing ok.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches between us for several long moments. 

“Hermosa, I- I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t have…I should’ve stopped-”

I sigh. “Yeah, but I knew, Frankie.”

“You what?”

“When you left, I started remembering more. At first I thought you were Santi but I did realize it at some point and then just…changed to saying your name. I wasn’t thinking straight because I love you, and then-”

Frankie’s eyes snap to mine. “You love me?”

“I-” I look at him. Time to confess everything.

“I..do.”

Frankie smiles, but then remembers we’re supposed to be serious, so he drops it. “I love you too.”

I study his face, the worry in his eyes, the patches in his beard. I have to tell him, even if it pushes him away. 

"Come sit with me?" I ask nervously, moving around to sit on the couch.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok." Frankie sits next to me, smoothing out his pants several times before settling. 

Fuck, this is hard. 

"Hermosa, I-"

"I'm pregnant."

Frankie freezes, mouth open mid word as his brain tries to process what I said. 

"P-pregnant?"

I nod. "Yup."

Several long moments pass between us, the air charged with tension. 

"Well…I.. I hope you and Santi can.. get back together. For the… the baby."

My eyebrows pinch together, my head slightly cooking to the side. "What?"

"Santi. I mean, I know he said he loves the idea of you more, but I think, or hope that would change with you carrying his child."

Oh. He doesn't realize.

"No, Frankie. It's not… the baby is yours."

His eyes grow wide, searching my face for a lie. "Wh-what? Are you sure?"

I nod. "Santi and I had promised no, uh, no sex for the month leading up to the wedding. So-"

"That night."

I nod. "Yup." I emphasize the p sound. 

"Listen, Frankie, I've thought about it a lot and… I'm keeping the baby. And you can be as involved as you want or not involved-" 

To my surprise, he's smiling, growing wider by the second and his eyes are all watery, like he's holding back tears. 

"Frank-"

"We're having a baby?"

"Yes. But did you hear-"

"Together? You and I?"

"Yes, that's what I said. Frankie, are you listening to-"

He lets out a small laugh, the smile lighting up his whole face and I swear he chokes back a "whoop". He takes my hand in his and the warmth from it immediately starts to calm me. His other hand comes up to the side of my face, his large fingers curving around the back of my head as his thumb softly rubs at the skin of my cheek. His eyes move between mine and then down to my lips and before I can think, he's in front of me, our lips just barely out of reach.

"Can I kiss you?" Frankie whispers, and I can't think of anything else besides how much I want him.

"Yes."

His lips push against mine gently, his fingers tightening their grip as he increases the pressure, sliding his tongue into my willing mouth. 

"Wait." I push back from him and he trails after me, eyes confused. 

"Did I hurt you?"

"No but Frankie, I think we need to talk about the baby in my uterus."

"What's there to talk about?"

My eyebrow raises. "Seriously?"

He smiles, nodding. "I'm all in, hermosa. Always. As much as you'll have me or want me to be."

"But you already have a daughter with someone else."

"So our baby will have a sister already."

"What about Claire?"

Anger flashes in his eyes. "What about her?"

"Will she be ok with this?" I gesture to my stomach. "With us?"

"I don't give a fuck what she thinks of us- wait. There's an us?"

"I-I-" Time to throw your last card on the table, the one you'd never lay down if it wasn't for Santi giving you permission.

"If.. if you don't think me and the baby would cramp your style."

He laughs, smiling wide for a few seconds before his eyes get a little darker, his voice dropping an octave or two.

"I'd put a hundred babies in you if you'd let me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I love you, Hermosa."

—-

With Santi's enthusiastic insistence, we get married a few months after our son is born.

And Santi marries Olivia the following year, starting on that life he always wanted. 

-------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

[marbletheunworthy]

LARK?!?? S2 Spoilers under the cut but I think it’s funny

That feeling when you shoot your boyfriend and his arm falls off 😥

[apollofour-teens]

inspired by this art <3

[brokehorrorfan]

Funko will releases Marvel's Werewolf By Night Pops in September. Elsa Bloodstone, Jack Russell, and The Werewolf are $11.99, while the super-sized 5.25" Ted (Man-Thing) is $19.99.

[puckleberryfinnie]

random idea: isaac walter/garcia x theater!reader

ok so I just finished MLWTWB and I have so many ideas flowing through my head that I want to write down- so here you go! (you’ll find that a lot of my ideas are centered around theater and acting <3)

again, anyone is welcome to use these (and I would be soso honored and happy too!!), just send me a little message or tag me in the post so that I can send some love your way!!

imagine a theater kid reader who’s best friends with Danny- reader hangs around the house ALL the time, so her and Isaac are acquainted at the very least

when everything goes down when Isaac takes the part, reader is super mad, as she knows how much Danny wanted it, especially considering Isaac could care less (though in this case, he was doing it to get closer to reader). she yells at him, and he takes his time to apologize and try to make things right with her and Danny (maybe it ends with a confession🤭)

I know this is kinda small, but I got 17 likes on my last post about finnick- every single like makes my heart so happy, thank you so much!! at this point any interaction at all is a win for me <33

love ya!!

[justafandomgvrl]

Falling on Ice / Emergency Room

Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word count: 500 ish

No warnings, just a lil bit of swearing and blood mentions.

Santiago doesn’t get to you fast enough. You go crashing to the ground, pain rising through your arm as you protect your head. He skids to a stop next to you, dropping to his knees. “Are you okay?” He asks, helping you to sit up. You wince as you move your shoulder, looking down to see a red stain through your jumper.

“Fuck,” you mumble, letting him pull you to your feet. “Fuck, it really hurts, Santi.” You realise as you try to pull your jacket up over your shoulder. He stares at you, almost at a loss. He’s seen so much blood, so much pain, so many broken bones. But he never expected to see you injured. He shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. You shriek as he scoops you up into his arms. He doesn’t say another word as he carries you to his truck, easing you into the front seat. He still stays silent as he drives to the hospital and you’re sure he’s broken at least five traffic laws to get there so soon. He rushes to help you out of the truck, helping you walk into the ER.

He waits until you’ve been seen before he relaxes. He drags his hand through his hair and then over his face as he sits next to you. “I’m sorry baby, I just … I saw you bleeding and I was so scared.” He mumbles. You giggle, painkillers coursing through your veins as you reach for him with your good arm.

“Santi. You took care of me. You’re so cute.” You whisper, slinging your legs over his lap. “I’m just not great in icy weather so I slipped. Accidents happen.” You say, shrugging your good shoulder as you bring your arm back to your chest. “I just wish it hadn’t been in your friend’s front yard.” Santi chuckles at that, his hands resting on your shins.

“Yeah, Benny will not let you live this down.” He says and you groan, just hoping you can leave soon.

Your wish comes true and you leap eagerly to your feet, leaving the hospital the fastest Santiago has ever seen you move. You pause at the door, testing the ground for ice and he laughs, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you stable.

When you get back to Benny’s, Santiago is proved right immediately.

“Went down like a rock in the ocean,” he jokes. You groan, hiding your face in Santiago’s chest.

“Benny. Dickhead. You see that sling? At least wait until it’s gone to make fun.” Will huffs, elbowing his brother. You turn your head slightly and smile at Will. Santiago presses a kiss to your head, helping you sit down.

“Someone gets injured every time there’s something going on in this house, hermosa, it’ll be forgotten soon.” He assures you, resting his hand on your knee. You nod, letting your embarrassment fade as Frankie presses a beer into your hand.

[ongawdclub]

D e s t r a G a r c i a

[aduckinpain]

No fuck YOU my moon knight era never was and never will be over

[shatterdome-underscore]

Either way Norm's gonna have a rough time

[monkeydlitty]

This chapter! Fuck you old man! 😒