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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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musical-chick-13 · 3 years ago

Note

Excuse me, please tell me about the Mentally I’ll woman and WOC save the world. Also the extremely long canon compliant Adlock fic. Please and thank you 🖤

YES THANK YOU I AM VERY HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS

Saving the world:

So, basically, there are creature that warp reality and have a real knack for getting into people's heads. They're trying to find the best simulation to place people in or, "system" for people to perceive, by figuring out how best to subjugate Earth (and other planets, though Earth is the one being focused on because I, the author, live here). This allows for a lot of different genres to show up, as well as the team who decides to take them out and figure out how to escape these "systems" by having to fight their way back to reality needing to...improvise.

SPEAKING OF THIS TEAM there are are 4 women: one of them is...basically me: lover of classical music, discovers she's bi over the course of the show, very severe OCD. Her love of music helps her use sound as a weapon and look at situations more creatively, and dealing with her OCD helps her deal with being in the various "systems" because she already has to fight her brain trying to change her perception of reality on a regular basis. She's more optimistic than I am (to a fault), and very good at pretending to be happy because character flaws and conflict!! Occasionally her OCD holds her back from doing the necessary things to save the world because she gets paralyzed by the need to do things ""Right™"" and she is deathly afraid of her intrusive thoughts being weaponized by the reality warpers, which is a major source of angst. Uses self-destructive coping mechanisms as a way to "hold herself accountable."

The next member of this team is an Asian woman with a degree in literature. Because of this, she has a very good understanding of how stories work, as well as a wide breath of knowledge about different time periods, trivia, and strategies. All of which allows her an advantage in breaking down the illusions of the reality warpers. She deals with severe depression, which affects her perception of reality as well. Sometimes this manifests as anger or impulsive behavior, which can be very helpful as tools for motivation and in providing needed split-second decisions, but sometimes it works to her detriment. Has been friends with the woman with OCD for a very long time, and their friendship is central to their respective recoveries.

NEXT CHARACTER. An aroace Indian woman who practices Hinduism. She works as a stuntwoman/stunt driver for the movie industry and, as such, is excellent at working vehicles and physical combat, which are obviously very helpful in the whole saving-the-world-fighting-your-way-out-of-dangerous-simulations, thing, but she has to figure out the best way to reconcile that with her faith. She tends to assume the worst in people, which makes it hard for her to let herself fully open up or be vulnerable, and has made it harder than she'd like to make friends. This is because of the harsh, toxic culture of the entertainment industry, trying to tell her who she should be and how she should act. As it is...wont to do. She didn't want to be a stereotype or be broken by discrimination, so she decided to isolate and harden herself in response. Her harsh understanding and hardened determination allow her to be immune to most of the reality-warping. But she is fiercely compassionate, which ultimately wins out over everything else.

And the last member of the team: A Latina medical student working on her doctorate. Has a love of science, which helps pinpoint the structure/chemical makeup of the systems the team finds themselves stuck in, as well as how to heal those broken by them. Tends to be a workaholic and majorly struggling with a work-life balance on account of a fear of being seen as unintelligent. Some of her fellow doctoral students really suck. Her perseverance allows her to power through the reality-warping illusions. Takes a much more logical approach to conflict and problems, and is extremely loyal to those she lets into her inner circle, but is unafraid to cut ties with narrow-minded or unprincipled people. She also falls in love with a trans man and they quote anime at each other all the time. It's adorable.

Also, all of them are huge fandom nerds, which gives them all different areas of expertise depending on the genre of the simulation they fall into. There is definitely a Big Conflict™ that takes place at a con while everyone is in cosplay. Ultimately, it's a story of healing from your emotional baggage, the strength one can find in friendships, and leaning how to fall in love again with things you might have lost your passion for. It's a story about the complexity of human relationships and how we perceive reality, and how different life experiences (especially as marginalized people) can shape who you are and how you see the world and interact with others. And despite the author's snarky cynicism in real life, this is a story of hope.

Adlock Fic

Sherlock saves Irene. Sherlock helps Irene get a new identity. They bicker and disagree on how best to do this. It's a defense mechanism because they don't understand emotions and don't want to admit that the other person has given them a desire for vulnerability because they Caught Feelings. There's corruption in MI-6 they have to fight, with the assistance of an MI-6 agent who has know Sherlock for years and grows to become good friends with Irene (whom he finds interesting and entertaining in spite of himself). Plus, there's the added stress of them both pretending to be dead and taking down Moriarty's network after he dies. Eventually this all explodes into a volatile discussion of Feelings™ between our two favorite emotionally repressed disasters, and they begin the closest thing they can to a romantic relationship, with Irene eventually giving birth to Nero Holmes, who they have to protect from enemies they've made with the whole "destroying the MI-6 conspiracy and Moriarty's network" thing. Lots of time devoted to Irene kicking ass (and Sherlock being head-over-heels because of it, although he'd never actually admit that).

ask me about my wips

#wow this got LONG I'm sorry #my stuff #wips #adlock #(idk if I should tag that but it IS relevant here?)#multi t(ASK)ing

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royalreef · 6 years ago

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THEMES & PREFERENCES QUESTIONNAIRE !!

aka, things i’ve always wanted to ask people / have people ask me. please remember to repost rather than reblog! happy munday ~ !!

what types of genres do you gravitate towards ? I’m a pretty major fan of splatter, horror, and some good straight up gore or even gorn. They’re genres that have long influenced me and my writing in other characters, and honestly I find the most fun in breaking characters down, physically and emotionally. There’s something innately satisfying in it. Not to mention, with where I come from, horror is something personally dear to my heart. It’s all in the atmosphere, and I love a good, thick, terrifying atmosphere. Other than that, however, there’s a lot of adventure I enjoy- really big things with overarching storylines and lots of themes, lots of different things to explore and play with in terms of worldbuilding.

what types of genres do you gravitate away from ? Slice of life and stuff that just has human characters thrown into human situations. I just find it boring and I can’t do that. There needs to be tension, there needs to be a risk, there needs to be something greater on the line- not just ordinary stuff that I already try to get away from. I have trouble forming emotional bonds to characters and feeling things in stories that aren’t over-the-top, so to have something like that- it’s just really irritating and annoying.

what types of characters do you most often play / enjoy ? I have a type and that type is “pink fish princesses who can and will murder you.” Okay, but outside of that, I guess I’ve always loved monsters. And as much as I love Monster Prom, that isn’t the type of monster I’m going for. I’m going for genuine horror movie monsters, stuff to scare the shit out of you. My parasite OC is perhaps the biggest example of this. It’s born out of my love for the alien, for parasites, and smash it together with my massive love of gore and horror. It’s fun! I also enjoy a good ol’ southern gothic character every now and then, but man I need to find another one to play with on that trope soon.

what types of characters do you seldom play ? Probably just straight up good characters, characters with no grey area or dark parts of their personality. Like... The hero is only as good as their villains, after all, and to have a majorly sweet character with no secrets? That’s creative death to me. There’s a reason I don’t particularly like Scott (yes he is sweet and precious, but he’s not for me) and it’s because he’s too good for me. At the same time, however, I couldn’t pull off characters like Damien who are just bad boys with maybe a bit of a heart of gold. There needs to be balance, and I enjoy teetering on that balance of “this character is so sweet/good/precious” and “they’ve killed millions in increasingly horrible ways.”

any pairing tropes you particularly enjoy ? Nerds and popular kids getting together. Specifically, wimpy nerds who you could barely dream of getting a date and the popular kid who is a little too cutthroat and dangerous but oh so charismatic. And I don’t mean that in the sense of “everyone else looks on in the relationship and wishes that could be them,” oh no. I mean it with the popular kid falling for the nerd, going after them (sometimes dangerously), the nerd wondering what they did to grab their attention, worrying about what it’ll mean for the social climate, and a lot more complex stuff. Similar to that, princesses and their guards/executioners/someone else below them, where the relationship has to be kept a secret but is oh so steamy. And, of course, the two most dangerous people getting together and making the world their bitch. It’s so much fun to have two characters being so alike and have them bounce off of each other well, so that their traits are all amplified.

any platonic tropes you particularly enjoy ? Honestly I don’t do platonic stuff well. I really don’t. Although, if I had to pick... Maybe Murder BFFs? I have no clue, I just don’t do platonic stuff *flops*

any antagonistic tropes you particularly enjoy ? EVERY SINGLE ONE... Honestly it’s easier to count the antagonistic tropes I don’t like! Although, I have to say, I do have a soft spot for the villains with way too much power, where the fallout of what happens after you take them out is a challenge in itself to fight. Similar enough, the ones that are flat out gone, the ones who are much too into what they do and you can tell they’re getting off on it. Just, unf, I love villains!

what are your preferred thread types ? I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR PARA. I love rambling on and on about every little detail and describing the way the characters feel and really setting the scene and the atmosphere, aaahhhhh... Unfortunately, inspiration for that type of roleplay is a hit or miss, so if I’m not feeling it, it really turns into a struggle!

what are your favorite types of interactions ? Hmm, that’s a tough one. Perhaps one of my favorites are when a character and Miranda instantly get along, and slowly start to feed into each other’s personalities, often to the detriment of everyone around them? Then again, I also love when you have a character who can actually frighten Miranda, put her into a helpless situation where she has nowhere to go, no options on how to fight back. I know I did this for a bit with @purpleshopkeep with Miranda’s suitor Alexander, but I really want to see Miri forced into horrible situations!

what’s on your wishlist ? what sorts of threads / plots / relationships are you craving right now ? Oh boy, do I have so many of these. Right now, I suppose my biggest two are some good, old-fashioned smut and torture. Miranda really needs to shine through as the murder princess she is, and I don’t think it’s really gotten the chance to sink in exactly how bloodthirsty she can be. Smut, well, for the obvious. Although I do have a LOT of angst planned for in the future, specifically with my newest plot thread that’s going to be strung through on this blog. The Miranda breakdown is coming, and it’s coming soon. I do genuinely want someone to turn the tables on Miranda, do the horrible things to her that she does to other people, and there’s definitely something cathartic in all of that. Really... If I could, I’d like to play Miranda in an abusive relationship, if only to watch her break under it. But I’m going to accept that that’s likely never going to come, ahah.

I also would really love to flesh out Miranda’s kingdom some more. At this point I’ve accepted that it’s not going to fit the canon of the game, but- whatever, right? I do what I want, and if canon disagrees with me, then it’s still my blog to play with and have fun with, ya’know?

tagged by: @hellrager tagging: @shadow-of-fear-and-doubt @ask-shark-bait @d-e-lioncourt @brokentality @fromavarice @brodaad @oz-mxn

#Shore leave || OOC post #long post #(( Thanks for the tag Grim!!!

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my-mystic-messenger · 7 years ago

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My thoughts on and analysis of the V route

I did play the V route and so far I got the Good End, Normal End, Bad End on day 9 and today and the Bad End on day 7, therefor effectively filling all my albums. As for analysis, there is sadly very little too analyse plot wise, in all honesty. Despite it’s overdramatic and pseudo-philosophical nature there wasn’t really a lot to pick apart and find the hidden meaning behind. As for my thoughts, if anyone really cares to read this, I was quite frankly a little disappointed with the route and especially the eventual conclusions in form of the Normal and Good End. @promiscuous-jalapeno wrote a very good piece on the V route - which you can read here - where she mentioned a lot of the things that bugged me about the route and some points I disagree on so here it comes:

In short, I can only say that while I found it quite interesting to play, I have to admit that I found the route highly underwhelming altogether, although I will wait with my final judgement until the After Story is out. But if you know me, you know I like into detail so let me tell you what I thought about specific aspects of the game:

Honestly, I was never the biggest fan of V. People who know me know that. I blame him for Mint Eye almost as much as I blame Rika for it and in my opinion Saeran was much more deserving of a route and redemption than him.

So, when the route was announced, I was already a little bit salty but figured I give him a change to prove himself. He is pretty and I did like the idea of romancing him, since I saw potential for his character.

As a writer myself, I was majorly disappointed. V was a bland character at the beginning and the story ended with him remaining a bland character. Other than his self-sacrificing he really doesn’t seem to have a personality.

Despite the fact that I’m no big fan of Saeyoung, Yoosung or Jaehee those are distinguished characters with likes, dislikes, problems, talents, flaws and many things that make them human. V has nothing going for him.

There were certain parts of the route where I actually went aww and came close to liking him as a character, but then he started with his peaceful solutions to problems he shouldn’t even try solving himself and I was done.

All in all, as someone who writes headcanons, fics and more and therefor invests a lot of time into these characters this route was in no way helpful in actually getting to know V and that’s just sad.

His Mother:

That whole thing bothered me immensely. I’ve seen people enjoy it, liking that whole backstory part but I couldn’t have cared less for a single one of those diary entry VN even if I tried.

This was V’s route and yet I learned more about his mother than I did about him. I think if I count, more VN were dedicated to her than to the actual protagonist of the story.

What kind of thinking is that? I could have gone well without all those extra VN if those we had ended up actually focusing on V or even adding to the progress of the story, but they absolutely didn’t.

Please, explain to me how his mothers very detailed past is in any way relevant to the events that transpire during the route? They don’t even explain why V is the man he is, not really.

The Plot:

While we’re already at it, let’s talk about the plot, because frankly I think they made a mistake choosing this setting and it’s obvious that they didn’t really think the whole two years in the past thing through.

There were a couple of continuity issues with the entire thing, but that can happen so I don’t really want to focus on that. I’d much rather talk about the setting and why I think it would have been better as a Saeran route.

Despite this being V’s route, you not only barely get to romance V - but we’ll get to that later - but you actually barely get to interact with him at all. And due to setting the interactions like the car phone calls are extremely cringeworthy.

Personally I would have preferred the entire thing having been set in the same time line as the original routes just a little later with Rika gone and V having to deal with what he’s caused and how to move on.

That way interactions would not only have been more natural, they also would have made more sense as well as actually giving you the opportunity to romance and help V properly.

In this route, you really don’t help him like you do in the others. It’s more about saving yourself than V and the change in his heart that does happen doesn’t seem natural at all.

One moment he is telling you how he loves and adores Rika and how he needs to sacrifice himself and the next moment he realizes it’s obsession and not love and let’s everyone else take the reigns.

That change came way too fast and therefor seemed rushed and rather unnatural to me. The general flow of the entire story did. At first is was far too slow and then it turned into a rushed clusterfuck towards the end.

The Romance:

This is honestly one of the parts I am the saltiest about and I don’t even know where to begin with this honestly. Cheritz is aware that MM is an otome game, right? Why can’t I romance the main character?!

Like I’m not even a V fan, but even I felt let down but the romance aspect of this route because there was literal none. The entire routes it’s Rika, Rika, Rika and ‘I don’t know how to love, keep away from me’

To me it felt like someone had taken the worst parts of Yoosung’s and Saeyoung’s route and smashed them together to create this. It was honestly so frustrating and the suddenly ‘romantic endings’ were unsatisfying.

Worst of all, the romance we did get wasn’t really all too nice either. It was a constant cycle of MC trying to save V and V trying to sacrifice himself for MC. They don’t even get to know one another?! How is that even love?

The RFA:

Where were they? I’m seriously confused. Zen disappeared for an entire day and it literally changed nothing. You barely get to talk to any of the RFA, actually, despite them being kind of the focus of this game.

I learned nothing new about them, I didn’t get to build any friendship with them which made them suddenly trusting me and caring so much for me really awkward and from a writing point illogical.

I mean technically as a player you get to know Jumin through the backstory VN but he doesn’t know that and neither does MC so why do they talk about her like she is some saint and she cares so much.

Also, and I want to mention this specifically because it bugged the hell out of me: I literally lost all respect or faith I had in Yoosung. He was a huge disappointment and I’ll never see his character the same way.

I really enjoyed how unapologetic everyone else in the RFA was of Rika, as they should be after everything she’s done , but Yoosung even attempting to excuse it despite not knowing of her past made me rage

Rika:

Ah yes, the grand bitch herself. Honestly, I really hope that anyone who ever posted positivity for her feels really, really bad after playing this route because there is literally nothing that could excuse her choices.

She is a horrible person and on top of that they really added a notch of completely mental in this route, making all conversations with her hard to follow and boring as hell.

In fact both V and Rika have this tendency to talk in code and comparison and I cannot hear the word sun anymore. Everything seemed so pretentious after some time, like two hipsters discussing Nietzsche at Starbucks.

Her backstory didn’t really surprise nor touch me, mainly because I too suffered bullying and abuse by my parents probably even more severe than hers and I do not go around torturing and drugging people. Not impressed.

The whole look into V’s and Rika’s past made me extremely uncomfortable as well. Their ‘love’ was really sick and unhealthy and what weirded me out was how strangely sexual everything seemed.

I mean don’t get me wrong, I love me some Wolf!Zen and Bad End Jumin, but with V and Rika it seemed so out of place and plain uncomfortable, especially the whole photo thing…

But above all, and I cannot stretch this enough, I find it utterly disgusting that you basically have the option to romance Rika. To even think that was okay to put into the route is beyond me.

That worn out idea that every villanious woman has to be over sexualized and in this case even homoerotically is a cheap writing point to begin with, but executed the way it is, it’s like a slap to the face.

How come Rika gets to cuddle it up with MC in multiple CG’s and flirt the entire time but Jaehee’s entire goddamn route has none of that? That is seriously just insulting to the players in my opinion. Moving on before I have an aneurysm.

Saeran:

Loved him! Hands down the highlight of the entire route. I’d always dreamed about his route being similar to this route, with you working with Mint Eye to take down the RFA instead of the other way around.

This was like a taste of a dream, really. He was what I’d hoped V to be; romantic, devoted, actually pursuable to some extend and beyond everything you actually get to know more about him.

His character is really well expanded in this route and for a writing who always wants to get to know the character better, this addition to the game was like a dream come true.

Beyond just getting to know more about him, however, he actually gave some room for interpretations, analysis and discussion. Is he really dead? Is Ray the real personality or Saeran?

He made me laugh. He made me cry. He actually made me go through the emotional rollercoaster the route should have been but only was due to him. He saved the whole thing for me, because he was actually human.

The Art:

I was a little disappointed by the art as well, if I’m honest. It’s not as bad and rushed as the DLC art was, but also not entirely the same style as the original. The fact that they can’t stay consistent within the same game is sad.

The colour palette was constantly changing between the CG’s as well as the CG’s in comparison to the in game play. Just look at Jumin in the picture with V’s father and the one with his own. The skin doesn’t even add up.

On top of that some of the colours were way too vivid and made some of the art seem flat for lack of shading. And don’t let me get started on those pathetic chibi pictures of Jumin and V.

I was actually looking forward to the backstory parts of those two, I even wrote a fic about that, but with the art looking like super poor chibi’s like not even the cute kind, I was extremely let down.

As for the CG’s themselves, they weren’t all too overwhelming either. A lunch box, a salad and an old ass book? Thanks for the amazing additions to my character albums.

Not to mention the amazing V album that while it actually expanded quite a lot, most of it was useless since it involved Rika or his mother. 3 CG’s. We get 3 MC x V CG’s and two of those look like MC is forcing herself on V. Great!

Also was it just me or did V look kind of blurry the entire time? Not in the CG’s but in the game he looked kind of fuzzy compared to the old design. I mean not that there is much of a difference with anyone, despite 2 years…

The Voice Acting:

Some were amazing, some were mediocre and of some I was really disappointed, namely Rika. Since we non-Korean’s rely heavily on the text below we obviously pay a bigger focus on that.

Now reading the subtitles Rika’s VA really underperformed on this one. Rika had some very dramatic scenes and a lot of anger and pain that were conveyed beautifully while written but fell flat while spoken.

I honestly expected more vigor with this one, because as an actor myself I know how much fun it can be to get those really dramatic slightly over the top roles. It didn’t look like the VA was enjoying it at all.

She could have screamed so much more, could have actually sounded angrier and match the facial expressions Rika was making while talking, but never did. A grave opportunity missed.

Ray on the other hand. I wasn’t really a fan of the VA in the normal route but he really stepped up his game with this one and I loved it. Emotions to rip your heart out. Once again, saving the route.

Conclusion:

While I enjoyed the route with the new content and general excitement it provided, I was overall disappointed with what seemed to be a lack of thought and care put into creating the route.Of course I am still thankful to Cheritz for creating at all, but as a content creator myself who gets literally nothing out of it, I still make sure to keep certain standards. Let’s hope for a better Saeran route…

#mystic messenger #mysme #v #jihyun kim #v route #answered #analysis #my thoughts #take it with a grain of salt

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