A/N: Thank you to everyone who stayed with me throughout this whole mini series it was a pleasure to write, and I will miss these two! Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like!
It was too early to be poked and probed in the morning. The soft music filling the room as your mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law shared a glass of champagne and cried over baby photos. The phone in your lap gave a ping, and you grinned down at the familiar name opening the message.
Santiago:Hey, quick question. Did we fuck last night?
You put your phone to your chest and quickly looked around, hoping no one noticed. The woman putting the finishing touches on your makeup smiles at you through the mirror, and you cringe. But that quickly turns into a smile when she puts a finger to her lip like a secret. You look back down and promptly send back a reply.
You:You are just lucky no one caught you sneaking out of my room this morning; your Abuela would have had my head.
Santiago: LOL, I love you. I can’t wait to marry you.
A/N: This is part 4 of the Did We F**K Last Night? Series. I am so overwhelmed with the love and support this story has gotten. Thank you to everyone that reads, reblogs, comments, and likes. It means the world to me.
Moodboard made my @the-purity-pen for this series. I am so obsessed with this LeeAnn. She is an incredible writer and creator and you should follow her!
Previously…
“I think I’m going to stay out here and get some air; I can hear you okay from out here.” He nods and kisses you softly before going inside. You catch your breath and rub your hands over your shoulder, allowing the mortification to seep in.
Footsteps pounded on the ground, and you turn around as Santi comes running out and cups your cheeks, giving you a hard and sweet kiss. “Don’t run away, okay?” he asks quietly, and you nod, smiling. His face breaks out into a boyish grin, and he runs back inside and up to the mic, keeping his eyes on you and giving you a wink.
Chapter Four- The Speech
“Excuse me?” you turned and looked at the three women in matching pale purple dresses.
“Can I help you?” you ask, turning from Santiago and the rest of the room to face them. The one on the right reaches forward and grabs a strand of your hair, and twirling it around her finger.
“Well, you are a pretty one, aren’t you? Where did he find you?” her voice has a twinge of malice, and you step back and raise your eyebrow.
“Excuse me?” you try to keep polite, but you can feel the defenses rising. “What are you talking about?”
“The new flavor of the month, I was June of last year,” the one on the left says, taking a step closer. “You don’t actually believe he cares about you, do you?”
A/N:This is the second part of the smut prompt: Did we fu*k last night? I was really excited to continue this story and I hope you like it too. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.
Moodboard (below) made by @the-purity-pen. Holy sh*t how can I describe LeeAnn without using the words talented and incredible. Follow her for incredible writing and moodboards!
Moodboard (below) made by @ghostwiththemostbitch. I’m speechless by the talent of this woman. Follow her, she writes fantastic stories!
Summary: The boys want a second pass at that fucking money. They need your help. The only problem is that you and Santiago aren’t talking, not anymore, not since everything went so sideways.
Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader
Word Count: ~15.5k
Warnings: angst, pining, canon level violence, lots and lots of cursing, PTSD and assorted metal health issues, smut (p in v), best friend Benny Miller (yeah it needs a warning), reader has a nickname (Blue) in the same way the others do (Pope, Fish, etc.) sparingly used
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please forgive anything that is militarily inaccurate/inaccurate to the ravine location, I changed some things to fit the story better. I am so very aware I’m basically writing in what is probably a dead fandom for a meh movie. That doesn’t matter to me, what matters is all that Oscar Isaac ass and the fact that this is genuinely my favorite movie at the moment. That, and when @velvetofyourheart asks for something, I can’t really say no.
Tanya, thank you so much for your wonderful idea and always encouraging my aquarius god-complex. This is your fic, you own it. This is your Santi, never let anyone tell you any differently. I love you. Happy very belated birthday.
Now
Fog is still rolling over your front yard when Benny Miller’s familiar jeep swings into your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
You sit down your cup of coffee, the many rings lining your fingers clinking against the ceramic, and huff out a breath at his audacity, showing up at your place so early in the day.
The morning is muggy but cool, condensation beading along the porch railing where your feet are propped up, booted feet crossed at the ankle.
The jeep’s headlights go out and the driver’s side door pops open. Benny smiles at you when he climbs out, giving you a big, exaggerated wave before he lopes over, all sweetheart golden retriever energy.
Benny is big feelings and big gestures in a body that would never be enough to trap it all inside, that could never cage all that wild energy.
“Well, fuck,” you say when he climbs the porch stairs. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
