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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,�� he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

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

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comicaurora · 3 months

Note

These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

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cassifictional · 2 years

Text

Underneath

Picture taken from @sapphictemple 's Sevika pic folder and edited. Go check it out.

Pairing: Sevika x g/n reader

Tags: nsfw - oral. Established relationship, Sevika’s on the receiving end for once.

Summary: poor Sevika has had a long day fighting paperwork. She probably needs to relieve some stress. Why not try something new?

Word count: 2.9k (cheers)

Notes: Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon appetite.

For real though, I’ve had a real shitty week so any nice comments/reblogs would make me so happy. And it’s been a while since I wrote smut. I really like how it turned out, despite the events of this past week. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ❤

As you rounded the corner on your way to The Last Drop, you noticed that most of the lights had already been turned off for the night. You hadn’t even realized it was that late already. Not that it mattered, you were quite comfortable being active and awake all throughout the night, right up until the early hours of the morning. It also didn’t matter that the bar was already closed. You weren’t there to party, you were there for one person and one person only: your girlfriend.

The front doors were already locked, but some of the lights inside were still on. Peeking through the windows, you could see the vague outline of a person sitting at a desk near the back of the room. No doubt about it, that had to be the woman you were coming to see. As you looked around for a second longer, you noticed there wasn’t anyone else around. You grinned as you realized this might be the perfect time to attempt a little thing you had been wanting to try for a while now. The Last Drop, entirely vacant, doors locked, granting you the most privacy you could possibly get in this nightlife hotspot. A hotspot that was always so crowded. Except for now. Exciting.

You quickly made your way to the side entrance, a partially hidden door reserved for employees and “special guests”. As you pushed it open, you called out for your girlfriend to announce your presence as a “special guest” and not a thief looking to get their hands on the contents of the register behind the bar.

“Sevi?” you called out to no response. You couldn’t yet see her from where you were right now.

Oh god. What if it hadn’t been Sevika you saw through the window. Maybe it had been Silco. In a really big coat.

“Oh, thank god.” you sighed as the desk in the corner of the room came into view and you realized it was, in fact, your girlfriend sitting at the desk as usual. Sevika raised an eyebrow at you as you approached her.

“Thank god I’m stuck at this desk?” she said, sounding more than a little annoyed.

“No, it’s just- no, actually, nevermind.” you walked up to her desk and took a seat right on top of it. You’d rather sit in her lap, but that spot wasn’t available right now. The desk was a mess, there was barely enough space for you to sit. Little piles of papers and notes were everywhere with tools and small loose bits of machinery mixed among them. From the looks of it, she had been combining paperwork with some maintenance on her mechanical arm.

“I was waiting for you at home,” you spoke, reaching out to touch her hand, “but you were taking too long, so I came to see you.”

Sevika allowed you to touch her, but she didn’t return the gesture like she’d usually do when you two were alone.

“Well, yeah, it’s one of those days. Lots of work. Nothing I can do about it.” she huffed, taking back her hand to get back to the work on her desk.

“Sure you could.” you smiled sweetly, tilting your head to the side. “You could finish it.”

“No shit.”

Right. Seemed like humor wasn’t working on her tonight.

“How much longer, do you think?” you asked, trying a more compassionate approach. You leaned over to take a look at what she was working on. Shimmer shipment details and numbers. Boring stuff. The kind of stuff that would make her extra grumpy.

“I’m almost done. Twenty minutes or so.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes. Stop distracting me.” she glared at you.

“Alright. Fine.” you grumbled, getting ready to hop off the desk again. Sevika quickly reached out to grab your arm before you could do so.

“Didn’t say I don’t want your company.” she said without looking up from her papers. Seems like she had realized she was being a bit harsh.

You smiled at her and turned around on the desk to face her, swinging your legs over to the other side so you could rest one of your feet on her thigh. Immediately regretting her decision to be nice to you, she shot you another glare, but you just glanced around the room, feigning ignorance. Sevika let out a long, deep sigh, and continued with her work, trying her best to ignore you for the time being.

Now all you could do was wait for your girlfriend to finish her work. You took your time to study Sevika’s beautiful features, something you loved to do whenever you were near her but she was too busy with other things to pay attention to you. You noticed her brow was more furrowed than usual. By the way she kept blinking, you could tell that she must be feeling tired. Her shoulders seemed stiff, the rest of her posture seemed to be as well. Her leg, the one you were not currently resting your foot on, was bouncing up and down ever so slightly. She looked incredibly tense, like she had a very long and very annoying day. Luckily, you knew a thing or two to help her get rid of all that tension.

“Almost done.” she mumbled, shoving a few more papers to the side. You took that as your cue to start the little plan that had popped into your mind the second you had seen her through the window, sitting here all by herself in the corner of the now closed bar.

You slowly let your foot slide down her thigh until it was in between her legs. You felt her flinch at the sensation, but she didn’t give you the satisfaction of a further reaction. Displeased, hoping for a slightly more exciting response, you started slowly rubbing the tip of your shoe along the inside of her thigh. Again, you felt her shudder underneath your foot ever so slightly, but that was all you got out of her. You had to stop yourself from grinning when you noticed all the hairs on her arm were now standing up straight. As hard as she was trying not to react, her body could not help itself.

“I thought I told you to stop distracting me.” she said in a tone that was meant to sound intimidating. It didn’t work on you, though. Not right now. You knew that in this case, it was just an empty threat. She could try all she wanted to pretend she wasn’t enjoying this at least a little.

“I’m not distracting. I’m encouraging.” you smiled at her.

Eager to see her react even more, you made a bold move and decided to gently press the tip of your shoe right in between her legs, rubbing it up and down her crotch just once.

A quiet “fuck” escaped her mouth as you felt her whole body twitch underneath you. Finally, a crack in that stoic composure of hers.

Breaking the silence in the building, there was a small noise coming from the direction of the side door, from where you had entered. As if feeling relieved, Sevika shot up from her seat, loudly shoving her chair back as she did. You sighed, rolled your eyes and turned around a little to see where the noise was coming from. One of Silco’s goons had entered the building, holding a small stack of more fucking paperwork. Sevika huffed and straightened her clothes, trying to hide that her breathing had suddenly gotten very heavy from seemingly just sitting still at a desk, and made her way over to the guy awkwardly standing by the door.

“Here’s that report that was missing, boss. It’s-“

“Give me that.” you heard Sevika hiss, followed by the noise of rustling papers.

As Sevika gave the guy an earful about being late, you hopped off the desk and set the second phase of your plan in motion. You were already getting excited, and the best part hadn’t even started yet.

When Sevika returned, she seemed surprised when she noticed you weren’t sitting on her desk anymore. She glanced around before sitting down, jumping in her seat a little once she realized you had hidden yourself underneath the desk.

“Last guy, right? Did you lock the door?” you asked, sitting on the floor underneath Sevika’s desk, pretending to admire its wood grain as you talked.

“I did. What are you doing? Get up.” she demanded as if she had forgotten about your previous interaction just a minute ago. She really wasn’t taking hints well tonight.

“Encouraging you.” you said plainly. “You were almost done, right? I suggest you hurry up.”

Sevika scoffed. “Or else?”

“Or else I’m not rewarding you for working so hard today.”

Something finally seemed to click in her when you saw her eyebrows raise a little once you started running your hands up from her calves to the insides of her thighs.

“What, right now?” she asked, her breathing getting a bit heavier again already. “Why here? Can’t this wait until we’re home?”

“No, because I know how much you like to instantly fall asleep the second you get home after a day like this.”

“I hate how accurate that is.” she chuckled.

For a moment she considered her options, but her decision was quickly made. Without saying another word, she leaned back over the desk and started scribbling on the papers again. You rested your head on her thigh as she worked, continuing to tease the inside of her thighs with your hands as “encouragement”. She carefully pushed you a little closer to her with one of her feet, wordlessly urging you to continue whatever you were doing.

After five more minutes, you were getting impatient. Sure, you had a front-row seat to the best show you could think of, but nothing was happening yet. The scribbling of Sevika’s pen continued and irritated you. Enough was enough. Either she finished her work now or she could finish as she was herself, well, finishing.

You moved in a little closer and moved your hands up to the front of her pants. Slowly, giving her just a little more time to continue her work, you started to undo her belt. A sharp hiss shot out from her metal arm, followed by the sound of her sharp metal fingertips scratching the desk. Good. You were getting her all worked up again.

“No patience, you..” she groaned.

“Hurry the fuck up then.” you said as you fully undid her belt, working your way down to the button and zipper below.

She leaned forward a little more. You heard her curse quietly under her breath again.

“Shit.”

The button now undone as well, you decided to take the zipper in between your teeth and undo it like that. You felt Sevika shudder underneath you.

Then finally, as the zipper was now fully open, her underwear already peeking through, you heard Sevika slam her pen down on the desk. Forcefully, but careful as not to hurt you, she shoved her chair back and raised her hips just enough that she could quickly slide her pants down.

“I’m done.” she growled as she dragged herself forward again to be closer to you, reaching back to take her underwear off as well, but you stopped her from doing so.

“Took you long enough.” you grinned, hooking the fingers of one of your hands underneath the top of the hem of her underwear. Right in front of your face, you could see that a damp patch was already well visible in between her legs. Teasing her a little more, you lightly ran your fingers over it. You heard her sharply inhale as you did.

“About that ‘reward’ I was promised..” Sevika said in between heavy breaths, pushing you a little closer again with the back of her foot, “how about you quit being a nuisance and get to it?”

“Who’s the impatient one now?” you said teasingly before dragging her underwear down in one smooth motion, a sharp contrast to your previous slow teasing that seemed to please Sevika. You were about to please her a whole lot more, though. The sight of her glistening wet in front of you was even better than the front-row seat you had before. This was more like a VIP-ticket. Including a meet-and-greet. Meet-and-eat.

“Fine. How about you say ‘please’ first?” you smiled up at her expectantly.

“No.”

You shrugged. “Oh, well. Was worth a try.”

Sevika wasn’t the type to beg for attention. She knew she would get it one way or another anyway. That didn’t stop you from trying every once in a while, though.

You took in the sight of her all wet and ready and impatient in front of you just once more before you finally went down. Savouring that first taste of her just a little more than usual. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as your mouth finally made contact with that sweet spot. To finally relieve that mutual impatience together, to release that built up tension from the entire day, that relief felt incredibly good.

“Ah, yes, just like that..” Sevika groaned quietly, “keep going. You know how I like it.”

You sure as hell did.

Dragging your tongue up and down her folds, you lapped up everything she was giving you. After the long day at work, her scent was intoxicating, musky and warm and wonderfully her, somehow still not smelling gross like you’d expect someone to smell after a labor-intensive day. You wanted to tell her all about how much you were enjoying her, but for you to talk you would have to pause and you weren’t eager to do that.

You moved up to give her clit some much needed attention, which she happily accepted. With her metal hand clutching the armrest of her chair, Sevika’s free hand quickly found it’s way to your head, intertwining itself in your hair and pushing you down into her a little more. Her foot, still behind you, pushed you a little closer as well. It was almost getting a bit hard to breathe, but not enough to be an issue. But even if it was.. what a way this would be to go.

“Just like that. Perfect.” she panted, already looking perfectly dishevelled.

Her hand on your head and the foot behind you were enough to tell you that she very much still demanded control of the situation, even though you had her fully at your own mercy as well. The balance between both of your needs to be in control made everything feel that much more exciting.

As you continued to eagerly eat her out, juices dripping down your chin, you felt her thigh tense up underneath your hand. A telltale sign that she was getting close. Already?

In an attempt to make the situation last a little longer, you tried to move your mouth down a little again. A rough tug on your hair quickly made you reconsider that decision, moving back up again as quickly as you had tried to go down.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop now.” Sevika growled, her breathing heavy and deep, her body feeling warm and flushed against you.

So you continued as you had before, eagerly licking and sucking and enjoying every little reaction you got out of her. You looked up at her in an attempt to maintain eye contact, but she couldn’t keep her composure anymore. You could feel her thighs tense up again, along with the muscles in her hips and the now painfully tight grip on your hair told you all you needed to know. Still looking up at her, you watched her close her eyes and lean her head back. So close.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.” she repeated, breathlessly now. “Please.”

The unexpected please sent shivers up your spine. You knew exactly what you needed to do now.

Keep up the pace. Let her come.

And she did. Moaning and groaning through clenched teeth, trying to not make too much noise in case anyone was somehow still around in the vacant and closed bar. She pulled you in so close you could barely breathe as she rode out her orgasm. Judging by how long it lasted, she must have really, really needed that sweet release. After what felt like forever, she released your head and you took a long, deep breath, thoroughly enjoying the sweet, sweet oxygen.

“That was fast.” you panted, out of breath after nearly being smothered in the best way possible.

“Told you. You know what I like.” she grinned, also out of breath, but for an entirely different reason. The way she said it made it sound like a genuine compliment, a rare treat coming from her.

“One more?” you asked, more than eager to get back to work.

“No, that’s enough,” she chuckled,” You did well. I need to have some energy left to walk home.”

Disappointed but also satisfied, you crawled out from underneath the desk, letting Sevika dress herself again before taking her head in between your hands and giving her a long, deep kiss. Letting her taste herself a little in the meantime from what remained of her on your lips.

“You know..” she mumbled through the kiss, “If all my days behind this desk ended like this, I think I’d be more inclined to take the shifts involving paperwork.”

“You go do that.” you mumbled back at her, your eyes still closed. “Show those papers who’s boss. I’ll sit under your desk all day if it’ll help.”

“I doubt it will.” she snickered. “But it’s something to look forward to, for once.”

Notes: I think I may have a bit of a fixation with desks :v and legs. Definitely legs.

Also, the logistics of (tight) pants and this position are something I’ve yet to experience for myself. I have a hard time picturing it in my head without it looking silly.

You’d think I’d have a thing for almost getting caught doing something somewhere you’re not supposed to, considering I’ve written a scenario like that before. In reality, I have anxiety and would never ever put myself in a situation like that LOL

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane imagines #cat writes

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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 15 days

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An update from me that I have been brewing on for quite some time !

Hey guys, so I know that I have been almost completely gone from this fandom for about three months just after being so lucky to get to know and talking to some of you and even getting a bit back into writing!

The reason for this is luckily not a bad one, but is that I have been lucky enough to travel for three months, the first two living on a sailing boat with 7 other people and a dog, two of whom (and the dog) being friends I know from home who are sailing almost around the world and who invited me to join and the last month doing a roadtrip with in the US with another friend from home who went with me!

It’s been amazing and I feel so privileged to have been able to take time out my studies and (barely) afford to do this trip ! 🙏 but I have also been regretting that I have been so unable to join in on fandom activities and sending love to all the amazing fics and other creations that you guys have posted while I’ve been away! One trait for me is that I am already usually quite overwhelmed by life and stuff and so am notoriously bad at being two places at once and keeping in touch when a lot is going in my immediate surroundings! Luckily my friends and family are aware of this and are so good at bearing with me 😅 but I really have been so happy about being welcomed into this fandom and joining it for real and meeting and talking with you guys, so I wish that this amazing experience didn’t have to mean that immediately after just disappeared for three months !

Instead of trying the impossible task of completely catching up now that I am home with exams and an unestablished living situation or even knowing for sure whether I’m going to join my friends sailing again in a couple of months, I just wanted to let you know that even if I have been invisible I haven’t been completely away, more like I just regressed back to the lurking stage of fandom for a while🙃 wip Wednesday and seven sentence Sunday have helped keeping me on track of what day of the week it was, and I have loved keeping a bit up with fandom on those days and all your amazing creations have forced me to take shortlived breaks from everything going around me to read your snippets and fics and I’ve loved everything you’ve posted SO much, you’re seriously all so talented and me and everyone else is so lucky to have YOU share it in this fandom !!! Sorry I haven’t been able to give it all the love and appreciation it deserves !!

I also wanted to share with you that the US roadtrip started in Austin (!! :O) which was so exciting and I got this little Tarlos related souvenir:

We also passed by a AFD firehouse, which was super cool although I didn’t get to take a picture of it because stuff was happening all around me.

Anyway, I’m back, at least for being a little more visible and cheering and engaging although maybe not so much for writing - my tablet which I prefer to write on and where all my wip’s and ideas are on is packed away somewhere but maybe I’ll get it one of these days or try to manage without.. and also I’m staying with my parents, and due to them having just moved and medical stuff that happened while I was away, I’m helping them with the move and other projects in the house.

I still haven’t decided if I’m going away again - on the one hand, it’s an amazing opportunity, on the other hand I really want a stable and permanent place to live, to finish my studies in a normal, everyday life sort of way, and not least of all be able to set an hour or two aside to just engage with what I love and write and post and reblog and talk and all those things !!

Sorry for rambling, that’s my thing, and sorry for tagging you if you didn’t really wanna read through all my ramblings, it was just important to me for my update and explanation for being away and my appreciation for everything you’ve created and posted in the meantime to reach you guys but please don’t feel obligated to do anything with it🙃 I hope you all are doing well and thank you if you’ve actually reached this part of this long rambling post !

Just tagging some of the people here that I’ve been so lucky to enjoy talking to and if I miss anybody that I’ve only talked to a little or who remembers me from small interactions, just know that I mean you too, I’m just too shy and afraid that tagging you in those ramblings will be unwanted to tag you if our interaktions havent extended further than the tags or a couple of messages 🙃

All the hugs from Mar !!

@carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @paperstorm

#me rambling #and an update #glad to be back and have a bit more time and headspace for fandom again!

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charmsandtealeaves · 2 months

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How do you get people to read your fics?

Hi anon!

Good question, which requires a little interpretation on my part to answer but I’ll give it my best shot from my personal experience.

So first I’m gonna make some assumptions that may be right or wrong:

You’ve started writing in your fandom space.

You’ve got a figure in mind for comments/kudos/interactions of some sort

Those numbers aren’t adding up with your expectations and you’re feeling a bit disheartened by it.

Does that sound about right? Well, in my experience there are a lot of things that play into those factors:

People these days tend to give likes/kudos rather than comments/reblogs

If you’re using Tumblr: when you post compared to the timezone of most of your followers/readers can influence how quickly things get picked up.

Some people prefer reading complete fics over WIPs (when in my opinion reading along with WIPs is half the fun)

People have TBR lists a mile long because life gets in the way (hello that’s me) and so maybe your fic is sitting in one of those.

Anyway, let’s try and answer your original question: how to get people to read your fics.

I’m assuming you have Tumblr? which is a good place to start. The AO3 filtering system can be a little counterintuitive so I know a lot of people get their fics here rather than the search function.

Firstly, are you personally also reading and engaging with other peoples works? Because otherwise you’re probably just shouting to the void and not getting any sort of echo. Fandom is a community space, and we help and feed each other. If you’re only ever expecting stuff for your own work but never doing the same for the content you enjoy… you’re not gonna be having a fun time.

Secondly, timezone reblogs are your friend. Admittedly I’ve never really worked this one out properly. But my timezone is whack and a lot of my followers are in the States/Europe. The point is don’t be afraid to reblog your own post at different times. It increases the chance of someone seeing it.

Personally, I like adding banners to fic posts. A.) because they’re fun to make (and procrastinate writing) and B.) they draw the eye better than a solid wall of text if someone is just having a little scroll.

And now here’s a big one: tag your posts with what’s actually in your story/post. Don’t use every ship and character tag under the sun. That’s not how the tag system works on Tumblr, and by doing that you’re more likely to hide your work rather than elevate it. People block tags to cultivate their online space, and you will annoy people tagging things not actually present.

Okay now I’m gonna offer you a little advice that is probably gonna have you frustrated and rolling your eyes at me but it’s kinda important so hear me out for a second:

Stop comparing yourself to others so much (especially the ones who’ve been around in fandom for decades) and just have fun with it for yourself. <- easier said than done.

I’m guessing you came and gave me this ask because you perceive me as someone who already gets a lot of attention for fics. But the thing is… I still feel quite new to this even though I’ve been doing it for a couple of years now. And I do compare myself… to my past self. You might have noticed the post currently pinned to my blog is a year-in-review post that contains AO3 stats. I started doing it for myself to see how far I’ve come in the space of a year, but also it helpfully offers the ability for others to do the same.

So let’s focus on one thing: all of those stats increased (quite significantly) from last year to the previous. But let’s break down what else happened over the course of that year that might explain WHY:

I was also starting to read a lot more.

I’d started to make some good friends in fandom. Which also meant I trusted people enough to start beta/cheer-reading my works before posting.

I started the whole jilymicros setup (the blog, prompts lists, discord, events etc.)

I did a whole heap of challenges and events.

I was starting to feel more comfortable and welcome in fandom space in general.

Those things all heavily influenced the quality of my writing and the size of my audience. A lot of my followers are because I admin those spaces according to a few ‘why are you following me’ ask games. Taking part in events (like those run by jilychallenge, jilytoberfest, or Ladies of HP, to name a few I do) allows you to get out of your comfort zone, try new things, and get your work out there to a wider audience following those spaces. I honestly can’t recommend doing them more. So my advice to you anon really is this:

If you're gonna compare to anybody, compare yourself to yourself.

Engage with others and their works.

Challenge yourself, try new things.

Have fun with it and find out what style works best for you - if you’re not having fun there’s no point doing it. Some of the best fics are the ridiculously self-indulgent.

#ask answered #anon asks #writing advice

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aelaer · 1 year

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Just saw your post about having to block the doctor strange x reader tag, and I must agree it's become the predominant DS fic that comes up as recommended on my feed as well. There are several authors I enjoy reading in that category (although lately the overall amount of fics is overwhelming), but I only started writing them myself as my stephen x ofc fics could never gain a bit of traction. I have a theory that if I went back and changed my ofc's to reader inserts, I'd probably gain a lot more readers--but I can never bring myself to doing that as I wouldn't be true to myself as an author.

I suppose that's just a writerly woe I'm sharing with someone who might understand.😏 But I'm curious; are you open to reading non-romance fics featuring original characters? I've found that tumblr can be quite snobbish towards that species of fic.

I wanted to reply to this ages ago but it requires my computer and some thinking, so I kept pushing it off again and again and again and whelp, here we are. My bad. ><

I'm the same way where being true to myself as an author is writing what I want, so I get you there. Doesn't get As Much Engagement as other tropes would, but y'know what, I can live with that. If anything, I've actually found that the fic I compromised most on (because it was for a themed exchange) is one I want to reread the least. So if anything, a lot of me writes for "do I want to reread this in the future" and that has helped me since.

It's funny since OFC romances used to be pretty popular way back when, but I guess "reader" took over that audience over the last decade because the majority of the people just wanted to insert themselves into the position instead of reading about a full-fleshed character? Honestly not sure.

Right, I keep delaying the reason I took so long to get back to you - non-romance fics with OCs. The answer, by the way, is yes. Great OCs are fantastic, but you don't tend to see many OCs outside of romance, or you only see them as side characters in another pairing's fic. They don't often have starring or co-starring roles. But I wanted to find examples with great OCs which would take time.

And now I'm taking that time. Here's some good OC-starring fics that I scoured through the tag. They're difficult to find. I had to smudge that requirement after a while. Then I gave up after I got to 2 years back in the tag.

Some of the stories that I know have very good OCs are also IronStrange, but I know that's not your cup of tea so I left it out. But I found a handful.

Keshwyn was the author that came to mind when you originally sent this ask, but I wanted to have more than one author when I wrote this. Read their series, highly recommend, top-tier OCs across the whole spectrum, with the main star being female.

This fic by LexLemon is technically PalmerStrange, but the OCs are her parents, so it's basically a delight in my eyes as Stephen's fish-out-of-water act is always funny to me.

Dragonnan writes good OCs, usually the mean sort though, the ones who hurt Stephen rather than befriend him (male and female lmao), but if you're in a whumpy mood at some point...

This isn't technically an OC, but I don't know the character from the comics, so she's an OC to me! This Stephen's new apprentice is Casey Kinmont fic by Stratagem. They just updated recently too, need to cheer them on at some point.

*sigh* Sorry love, I ran out of good OC fics that didn't have background/primary IronStrange that I could find/remember. But yeah. There's some fic/author recs.

(If anyone wants to add to the list, feel free to leave a comment or reblog. I was avoiding IronStrange for the asker in particular but I don't think the asker sees reblogs so go for it if you'd like).

Also, I love the OCs that I've come up with for my various stories in both LOTR and the MCU. I'll ramble all about them if you (or someone) wants me to, quite happily.

Hope that answers the question/reason for the ask, mostly.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #ask #answered #fic recs #stephen strange #fanfic #yes give me a reason to just write an essay about my ocs lmao #all the rp ones in particular were really well loved

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dial-this-dial-that · 4 months

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[REVAMP SOON]

Hello and welcome to my page of OCs! Call me Dial (or Fugo if we're close). This page is meant to be a hub for all my FFXIV shenanigans, but especially characters and their stories.

Be warned that I don't really tag many CWs as my characters are full of them, so expect occasional slurs, sexual references, drug and alcohol mention and all that stuff.

Below the cut you will find some of my characters and very brief surface-level profiles on them. If you'd like to know more you can click on their name to see their personal tag or shoot me an ask/message with a question or an RP proposal!

If you just want to see my art/screenshots without the reblogs, you can see the #dial-does-images tag.

Jah'to "Jack" Rhydir [Coeurl], a Twelveswood born and raised Keeper, a younger twin. He left home early due to family conflict and quickly adapted into the life of a robber and criminal otherwise. Fate eventually brought him to meeting the love of his life through the most curious of circumstances. Now, he is on the path of recovery as a co-owner of a small apothecary with a side-hobby of raising chocobos. [old outdated carrd]

Vivienaix Vaitabeois [Coeurl] is a down-on-his-luck musician, chased out of his noble family for disobedience. Not prepared to face the broad society, he'd spent over a decade as a shut-in in a small apartment in Ul'dah, reading books, tending to his plants and writing music only for his own ears to hear. Eventually, the finances his family graced him with ran dry and in his search for a job he could do with his minimal skills he found himself back in Ishgard, forming a very complicated relationship with his new boss.

Cillien Cedrepierre [Mateus], a mysterious Duskwight of a million faces, who claims to have grown up in a poor family in some remote Twelveswood village. Although depending on who you ask, you may hear a completely different story of his origins, making one wonder if Cillien is even his real name. He's got a perfect mask up his sleeve for any person and situation, yet one question remains: does he himself still remember what he truly looks like? [carrd]

A'nanas Tia [Coeurl] is a self-made, yet genuine doctor of psychotherapy, otherwise known as a mind-mender. With his practice still being quite novel to the mending community, he frequently struggles with having his work be officially recognized or otherwise sponsored. But he doesn't give up, taking willing patients as part of the Stardust Apothecary services and writing books on the matter.

Rakim "Nile" Ottah [Coeurl], a classic criminal mastermind with a flamboyant and eccentric side to him. A proud son of Dalmasca, who fled to Eorzea with his waning parents and eventually had to survive in the streets of Ul'dah on his own. His strong leadership and skillful manipulation led him to the top of a small gang of robbers, which slowly evolved into a very powerful syndicate under his wing.

Zachand Greystone Karasu [Coeurl] is the son/daughter of Nile. He isn't the brightest, but her cheerful and innocent attitude often compels people to call her an angel. She isn't opposed to it, always happy to act on the nickname and help a person in need with all she can. ...Which is often quite a lot, since Nile frequently showers him with very hefty allowances and very little regulation to where those allowances go.

Teppei Shirayuki [Diabolos] is the youngest son of a fairly influential Hingan family. Far from being the family heir with plenty of older siblings, Teppei has grown into quite a spoiled brat. His lack of sense of responsibility led him to causing problems for his parents, who kindly asked him to sail overseas and not stick his nose out for a while as the dust settled. He is only happy for it though, as he is finally completely left to his own devices and also can stay as far away as possible from his despised oldest brother.

#pinned #ffxiv roleplay

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onlyseokmins · 1 year

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tracking tag!

Hello! This was going to be a part of my milestone event but I really don't have the time or energy (as usual) to launch it quite yet. However, I am aware I haven't had the time or energy to read/find/catch up on a lot of fics lately :((( That means I end up missing a lot of content and I'd like to try and amend that!

Thus, I'm finally launching my tracking tag where you can use #ez bookmarks as a tag for any NSFW fics you'd like me to read as I think it'll be easier for me to get to them in one place!

For now, all I ask is that your fic at least have a "read more" (:readmore: + enter on mobile) and that you do understand if it takes some time for me to get to. I also reserve the right to not read/reblog anything I don't want to and there's a good chance that mutuals' fics will take precedence! (hint, hint, come interact and be my friend ajdkfjd😄) I really hope to see it fill up with lots of good content 💖 Feel free to send me any questions that you have, cheers to happy creating and reading 🥂📖

#i'll be organizing some of my tags too but idk when #but yeah - hope this gets used!! i feel so bad for not reading things at times 😭#ez.monches

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namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou · 2 years

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Swamped

I liveeee!!! And here is my fic entry for the Jellicle summer event! This was (supposed to be) just a quick in-between thing; I’m still working on the requests, don’t worry. @falasta I’m sorry you’re not having a good day, so I thought I’d being brazen and tag you to maybe cheer you up? ♥♥ As always, all my love to all who read/like/reblog, and enjoy!

“Where are we going?!”

“Didn’t you ask that already?”

“Yes! I mean. Um. Are we there yet?”

Munkustrap’s gentle huff of laughter disturbed the cool, damp afternoon air, dew drops catching in his whiskers and making his silver pelt shimmer.

“Have you heard of the saying ‘the journey is the reward’, Etcetera?”

The sand-coloured kitten shook her head, scrunching her face in confusion. “What‘s that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes it’s not necessary to arrive somewhere. I brought you with me to enjoy this walk. A hike, as the humans call it. A little adventure, if you so will.”

Five pairs of small ears perked up at those words.

“An adventure!” Tumblebrutus squealed, and Pouncival stayed true to his name and pounced at Munkustrap’s left hind leg, triangular tail quivering with glee.

“So Skimble took us on the train with him so we can hike around in the woods?” Electra marvelled. What an expenditure! (Jemima had read that word to her from Jennyanydots’ dictionary, and they both thought it sounded very mature.)

“I suppose we could have hiked at home just as well,” Munkustrap admitted, awkwardly waddling with a certain patched kitten still attached to his hind leg. “But this is an experience neither Skimble nor I wanted to deprive you of.”

“It’s like a summer camp!” Jemima crowed happily; Demeter’s little human girl had explained the concept to her in all of its details.

“Exactly,” Munkustrap said, even though nobody had ever explained the concept to him, for that matter. “We’re the earliest group to go, Skimble’s group will arrive later. We shall scout out the safest way to travel, what do you think?”

His words were met with mews of approval and pride. Jellicle cats were quite territorial, after all, so securing a perimeter for others was a valued skill.

With their fur fluffed against the cool air, the kittens did their best in showing off their talents in this unfamiliar environment.

Electra found that climbing onto forest trees was a lot harder than it looked; there were so many strange insects hiding in twigs and leaves and under pieces of bark that she was constantly distracted.

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus agreed to become forest cats from now on, because the soft mossy ground was so pleasant to land on when flipping and jumping around.

Jemima did not want to become a forest cat when they asked, because it was so hard to see the moon with all the trees. Etcetera tried to convince her by showing her a few fireflies that had woken up a little too early, but Jemima didn’t relent.

“We’ll come and visit you four once a month,” Munkustrap said eventually, sighing dramatically and playfully nudging Jemima’s flank with his tail. “We can bring them some cream, what do you think? If we don’t end up eating it all on the way here, of course.”

Jemima guffawed, and the other kittens quickly gave up their plans of moving into the woods.

A life without cream? Unimaginable!

The cloud of mosquitos angrily buzzing up when Tumblebrutus tumbled into a bush should have notified them of what was coming, but Munkustrap had to shamefully admit that it had been a while since he had entered a proper forest – he was a city cat through and through.

Shortly after, the floor began to grow soft and muddy.

With every step, their paws seemed to sink more into the ground, releasing with a wet smack. At first, the kittens laughed about the sounds and the feeling alike, jumping around and pushing each other over, but after awhile it became tiring, and their pelts were uncomfortably damp.

The further they walked, the more it felt as if they were wading through syrup.

First Jemima climbed onto Munkustrap’s back to be carried, then Etcetera, and soon the silver tabby had become a kitten taxi, coming to a halt ever so often to test the mossy ground with a paw, trying to find a way out of the boggy area they had found themselves in.

“Can some of you tell me what you saw when the ground started to go soft?” Munkustrap asked his tired cargo in an attempt to distract them.

“A forest,” Etcetera deadpanned.

“I saw a tree,” Tumblebrutus added. “It looked like a spiral, as if it was growing around another tree that isn’t there anymore.”

“Very good. Remember that tree, it will be a marker for the others, so they won’t become stuck here as well.”

“But we aren’t stuck,” Pouncival argued, pawing at one of Munkustrap’s ears.

“That’s true,” Munkustrap said, even though he sank in almost to his elbows and knees now with every step. “We will make sure they stay away, anyway. This is not really what I’d call an enjoyable hike.”

Just as he had ended his sentence, it was as if his paws broke through some kind of spongy floor, and in the next second his head and his back, including his precious cargo, were the only things not submerged in cold, muddy water.

“Are we going swimming?”

Munkustrap spluttered.

The kittens jumped as the severity of their situation dawned on them.

“Do you see that branch over there?” Munkustrap asked with patient urgency as soon as he had spit out a mouthful of water. “I want you to jump on it. Can you do that?”

The kittens nodded, fearful but brave.

Pouncival went first, then Electra, who launched herself off Munkustrap’s head, making his face hit the water’s surface once again.

“Phrrlphrt.”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t worry. Tumblebrutus, you’re next.”

Tumblebrutus landed safely, adding a front walkover as if by accident. His dexterity lessons were really paying off.

Etcetera followed, almost falling off the branch when she bumped against Electra, who was readying herself to catch Jemima in case she didn’t make the jump, having the shortest legs of them all.

Jemima took a run up from the hind end of Munkustrap’s back, also using Munkustrap’s head as launching pad, but this time he was prepared. The kittens on the branch caught her by the forelegs, bodily pulling her onto the branch next to them as soon as she was in reach.

“Well done!” Munkustrap called, voice ringing with pride and a big grin splitting his face.

Five triangular tails rose high in reply, bashful and proud giggling filling the cool air for a long moment.

Then the still existing problem at hand quickly dispelled their mirth.

“Are you going to drown?” Tumblebrutus asked worriedly, eyeing the mud splattered up to Munkustrap’s ears.

“No, I am quite buoyant, as you can see,” Munkustrap reassured him with a wink, trying to lift his head and find more stable ground.

The only thing that came close was a sturdy looking tree stump just a hair’s breadth away, but try as he might, he couldn’t find anything solid to stand on, and swimming was just as impossible.

Sinking was not something he had to worry about since everything that fell into bog water was indeed quite buoyant, but if he didn’t manage to get out by nightfall, he would probably freeze to death. Already the cold water made his hind legs tingle.

“Jemima, Etcetera, Pouncival, I have an important task for the three of you. I want you to find a safe path to solid ground. I think it’s best if you climb along branches and anything else that you can find, as long as you don’t try to walk on the ground without testing it first. Can you do that?”

The three kittens nodded mutely, wide-eyed and quivering with excitement as well as well-managed fear. They began to balance along the length of the branch, claws out, bellies brushing the wood and tails upward in the air to balance.

Electra and Tumblebrutus stayed, waiting for instructions.

“I am going to try and make it to that tree stump over here and I might need some help. May I ask that of you? I know this is an uncomfortable situation.”

“We can do that,” Electra decided, ears pulled back and voice shaking, but eyes alight with determination. Tumblebrutus nodded quickly, clawing at a twig and purring in small spurts to calm himself down.

Munkustrap made a mental note to give them all of his salmon paste as reward as soon as they were back with the others, then he set his eyes on the tree stump and experimentally kicked his hind legs.

Other than a few glugging sounds nothing much happened, so he kicked with a little more force, pedalling his front paws as well to try and lift himself out of the water enough to reach the edge of the stump.

The water seemed to cling to his fur like molasses, and only seconds later he was a bit out of breath from exertion. But there was no time to waste; Skimble and the others were surely waiting for them already, and what if they got stuck as well while trying to search for them?

He kept kicking.

Meanwhile, the other half of their little group had travelled relatively far, only using branches that they were certain would carry their silver protector, and more and more bushels of grass crossed their path. At last, they couldn’t see any more treacherous puddles, so they searched for a branch close to the floor for a test. Etcetera volunteered. She buried her claws so deeply into the branch that it almost hurt, then she slowly let herself dangle off until her back paws touched the ground.

Pouncival and Jemima, crouched low next to each front paw in case they had to pull her up, turned their ears into her direction.

“How’s it looking?”

“Feels stable,” Etcetera reported enthusiastically, trying to push against the ground and releasing a sigh of relief when it didn’t give in under her paws. She jumped on her hind legs, then stomped, trying to determine if it would carry an adult cat.

She let go of the branch, trampling back and forth, then Pouncival climbed down and on her back, and Jemima jumped on top.

When the ground still stayed nice and solid, they bumped heads and squeaked with joy and pride, taking care to look for markers and scrambling back onto the branch to return to the others.

With an unappetizing smacking sound, one front paw came free. Munkustrap breathed a short sigh of relief, suppressing the reflex to brace himself on the swampy ground and kicked his back legs as fast as he could to avoid overbalancing.

“You did it!” Electra cheered, and Tumblebrutus clapped.

Munkustrap smiled into their general direction, focusing on kicking his tired legs and reaching for the tree stump. But even though his forelegs were exceptionally long, it was not long enough. No matter how hard he kicked and how far he reached, he kept falling just short of catching it with an unsheathed claw.

Tumblebrutus leapt onto the sought-after tree stump and, without a word, leant over the edge, worming himself under Munkustrap’s big paw. Electra followed shortly after, taking hold of Tumblebrutus’ tail with her teeth and burying her own claws in the stump.

Grimacing, Munkustrap hooked his paw over the kitten, claws carefully sheathed, equal parts worried about hurting him, resigned about the fact that there was no other option and unimaginably proud of his creativity and courage.

Tumblebrutus scuttled a few tiny steps at a time to the side, dragging Munkustrap’s paw with him. It was slow-going, because Munkustrap’s arm was heavy with water and exhaustion and his shoulder really didn’t like the position it was being forced into, but slow-going still meant it was going, and that was the important part.

Just as an array of scampering paws announced the other three’s return, Munkustrap’s paw touched the stump. Tumblebrutus was pulled out by Electra and Munkustrap unsheathed his claws, burying them deeply in the damp wood and trilling a thank you to the two kittens.

“We found a way out,” Etcetera said happily, attention fully on Munkustrap starting to pull himself out of the bog with one arm.

The other paw came free quickly, but the wood started to splinter under Munkustrap’s claws and his lower body stayed stubbornly stuck.

“Munkustrap, are you tired?” Jemima asked worriedly, kneading the branch a little.

“Of course he is, he’s been in there forever!”

“But he carried Plato around for an entire afternoon once. And remember when Bustopher jumped into his arms when the mice played a prank on him?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Is too!”

(Munkustrap was a little too preoccupied with panting to interrupt them.)

“Nuh-uh.”

Pouncival crinkled his nose and lashed his tail. “Fine. But if he’s tired, then what are we gonna do? We can’t pull him out.”

Said tomcat had marginally gotten his breath back, and his ears wiggled with amusement. “Don’t worry, it might take some time, but I will get myself out. And then I’ll spend hours and hours to groom all the mud out of my coat.”

That produced a few laughs and playfully disgusted noises from the little group, and shortly after Munkustrap began to kick his hind legs again.

“We could sing for you,” Etcetera suddenly piped up, prancing back and forth on the branch. “Like Tugger does when Mister Mistoffelees does a biiiig magic trick. And like Tumble does before he starts his hard flips.”

“I don’t sing before my flips!” Tumblebrutus protested, but his twitching ears betrayed him.

“Yes you do, but very quietly.”

“Hmpf.”

“What are we gonna sing, then?” Pouncival asked quickly before they could break into a fight.

Etcetera scratched her ear with a back paw. “Hm. I don’t know…”

Electra began to hum a melody. The other kittens perked their ears, digging in their memory to remember the lyrics. They came up mostly blank.

“I can only remember the last verse,” Electra murmured, shyly ducking her head. “But it’s a nice song. I heard it on the radio with Victoria and we danced to it.”

Jemima chirped and motioned her to start singing, so she did.

“Move on up, and keep on wishing. Remember your dream is your only scheme, so keep on pushing. Take nothing less than the supreme best…“

Tumblebrutus bounced on the spot; he knew the song. He joined in.

„Do not obey rumours people say, ‘cause you can pass the test. Just move on up! To a greater day. With just a little faith, if you put your mind to it, you can surely do it!“

They repeated the line over and over since none of them could remember the rest of the song, and after two repetitions the other kittens joined in as well, creating a sweet impromptu polyphonic choir.

Munkustrap could feel his kicks grow more powerful, lifting the back end of his body a little more out of the muddy water, centimetre for centimetre.

Every Jellicle cat emanated their share of magic, some more showy than others. Take a few of them together with the same goal in mind, and they could sometimes achieve impossible things.

Evidently, five mud-splattered kittens singing a third of a soul song was more than enough to work wonders. Munkustrap was humbled to not only witness this casual magic, but to also be its recipient.

When the big silver tabby was close enough to the tree stump to brace his elbows on the edge, the kittens sang a little louder, sitting down on his front paws so he wouldn’t lose his grip.

And eventually, with a last wet slorrrp sound, Munkustrap’s bushy tail was freed from the bog, the normally soft fur matted and dripping muddy water. There was much grooming to be done, indeed.

Loud cheering rang through the woods when all four of his paws finally stood on the stump, and Munkustrap sang the single line of the song for them in turn, bursting with pride and the tips of his ears tingling from their little strain of magic. (If one had compared it with that of Mister Mistoffelees, it was not ‘impressive’ per se, but making things seem bigger than they were was one of Etcetera’s rather unique quirks.)

“I couldn’t be prouder of you all,” he told them as they made their way across the path the three youngest had ventured out, eventually relishing the solid mossy ground under their paws once more.

The kittens mewed with joy and pride, tails lifted so high that they almost walked on the very tips of their toes.

Certain that his cheeks would split if he smiled any harder, he nuzzled each kitten and touched his nose to theirs.

“Now we just need to find a way back.”

“I’ll lead the way this time,” Jemima said confidently, “I won’t sink so deeply if there are any more bogs, and you can pull me out, too.”

Munkustrap let her, walking closely behind, brushing against everyone who was close enough and being nuzzled affectionately in return.

Apparently, there was still some miracle-working magic left, because only a few steps behind the next tree stood Skimbleshanks, and Alonzo beside him.

“Why, fancy seeing you here!” Skimbleshanks greeted them cheerfully, his teasing grin slipping from his face when he saw their mud-splattered states. “What-”

“We got a bit turned around,” Munkustrap replied mildly, making the kittens giggle.

“You don’t say,” Alonzo said, voice as dry as desert sand and eyes on Munkustrap’s legs, which shook from exhaustion. “I take it we shouldn’t go back and talk a stern word with whatever mud monster attacked you?”

“Unless you would also like to spend a few hours removing bog water from your fur, I would advice against it.”

Skimbleshanks gaped, ears pulling back. “Bog water?!”

“Electra sang a song from the radio,” Etcetera added helpfully.

“Ah. Well, in any case, I have a thermos of tea waiting back at camp and you look like you are in dire need of it. Let’s leave the hiking for tomorrow, shall we? Maybe our species is not suited for such things,” Skimbleshanks joked, checking over each kitten and grooming the mud from their faces.

Alonzo pawed at the wet rag that pretended to be Munkustrap’s tail, grimacing in sympathy.

Munkustrap huffed a gentle laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely not suited for it. These five here, however, are the best hiking scouts you could wish for. I think you should at least take two of them whenever you go into the forest. For safety.”

The kittens’ chests swelled with pride. Skimbleshanks’ eyebrows wandered into the direction of his ears. Then a smile grew on his face, almost rivalling the one still present on Munkustrap’s.

“Now there’s a story that I just must hear. And that I will get to hear, I presume?”

Pouncival did not bother to draw it out, instead launching right into the juicy part, which resulted in an argument with Etcetera about appropriate plot pacing.

Jemima climbed on Munkustrap’s back and began to purr, tiny paws kneading the scruff of his neck, Alonzo walked beside him, gently bumping into him ever so often.

They made their way back to the camp, listening attentively to Pouncival and Etcetera talking over each other to tell of their adventure, adding a mud monster here and there for dramatic effect, and the moon rising over the trees seemed to be a lot bigger than it usually was.

I knowww, my Cats stories mostly play in the 20s/30s and Move on Up is from the 70s, but disregard that just this once XD Also I know that bog and swamp and all other synonyms are probably not synonyms at all, but I haven’t had the patience yet to look into that any further, forgive me djfksjkdf Also yeah, I did grow up next to a swamp, how did you know? ;) Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

#cats the musical #munkustrap #jemima #etcetera #pouncival #tumblebrutus #electra #namethat-i writes #summer event

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autumntouched · 1 year

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Tumblr Crash Course/Welcome

I'm still not over learning some of you joined tumblr because of Talk to Me 😭😍🥹

**Please excuse any terms I use incorrectly and feel free to correct me 🫠 I’m becoming my mom with my slipping grasp of technology 😭 **

Sorry, this site isn't the most intuitive, but I find it much easier as a writer to interact with readers here. I love that people can send me private messages/chats with their thoughts 💗 If you’re new, here's a little TGM fandom tumblr crash course:

First, I love this fandom. The writers are so talented but also incredibly kind. You may see us occasionally have meltdowns around "likes" and interactions, so I'll start there…

There are a lot of things about tumblr that don't make it entirely user friendly, including not having a "save" option for posts that you want to come back to. Enter the "like." On most other social media platforms, a like carries weight. On tumblr, a like can feel ambiguous to a writer because of its dual function as a bookmark

Therefore, generally, the best way to communicate your appreciation for a fic is to reblog it (to raise its visibility) or comment (to let the writer know you read and appreciate their work). If you’re looking at a post, the “reblog” option is the square of arrows. A window will open for you to add a comment and/or gif and/or image and/or Tags. Tags can serve as comments and/or a way for you to organize the the content you’re interacting with (helpful if you want to find it later). Once you post, the reblog appears on your blog for your followers to see

A “comment” can be left with a little speech bubble. Note that a comment goes on the original post, so if the writer is adding to a post that they’re reblogging, you have to tag their blog for them to see it. Apologies, not the clearest explanation, but you’ll get the hang of it!

But not every reader is comfortable with that visibility! Anonymous “asks” are a great way to share a little love. The option to send an “ask” is at the top of a writer’s blog if their asks are “open.” It’s usually a button with some clever way of saying “talk to me.” Lol, which is mine as a nod to Phoenix’s “Talk to me, Bob.” Just dropping a note, a screaming gif, a heart to say “i love your work” means the world. If you’re requesting something, it’s nice to lead with some kind of acknowledgment to the writer. Know that the writer will reshare your thoughts publicly though! So make sure to switch to “anonymous” mode before you start writing so you don’t forget when you post 😊

Also, personally, my messages are always open, and I love hearing from you there too!

That said, even with those varied options, saying anything can be a huge and terrifying stretch for readers, and that’s where I don’t really have an answer 💗 What can I say? When you give up time and important aspects of your life to put words to screen, it helps to know and feel that time is well spent. But I also want this space to feel welcome and open to everyone so demanding that people engage in a certain way, and in any way that is harmful to their well-being, is not conducive to everyone feeling safe and included. A communication work in progress, I guess 😅

I hope you stick around long enough to feel comfortable engaging but if not, I still hope my stories bring you joy 💗 I’ve had to de-prioritize writing quite a bit for the time being but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting to get to know you all or thinking about you as I’m going about my day or cheering you on when I know you’re going through a tough time or also an amazing time. Life can be pretty rough, so I try to live by the motto “be kind.” I hope you feel that here, and I’m so grateful for the connections I’ve made through our shared love for TGM

#welcome to tumblr #i love your notes #talk to me #or don’t 😂#whatever makes you feel welcome

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attheexactlyrighttimeandplace · 2 years

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I was tagged by the coolest tumblrina @wvnjo to answer this ask game. Each time your personal tags show up on my dash, i think about how much someone as full of energy and ambition like you deserves to reach her life goals. I can't be more than a groupie who is cheering for you from the side, but i'm doing it with all my heart. 💗

Name: Imane

Sign: Lion sun, Taurus moon, Capricorn rising,

Height: 1,58m

Time: 18:45

Birthday: july 27th

Favourite bands/artists (the ones i always returned to in difficult times): Ali Farka Touré, Toumani Diabaté, Fayruz, Umm Kulthum, Cesaria Evora, Médine, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and so many more

Last movie: US by Jordan Peele

Last show: Severance (an instant favourite: series that mix sci-fi/political concept+ philosophical/metaphysical questions about the nature of identity+ impossible love stories will always have a special place in my heart)

When I created this blog: I think in 2011 but it's not my first blog on Tumblr

What I post: What my mood dictates me. I see my blog as kind of stream of consciouness created to calm and to relax. I reblog quasi exclusively (since i have no talent) all sort of arts (photography of nature, architecture, paintings, poetry, music, gifs of films) and sometimes current news about the world (Palestine), but in a specific order because my brain needs a visual/aesthetic connection to what i reblog and more importantly an invented (by me) narrative continuity between the posts. That's why i don't reblog immediately what i like or bookmark. I search/create in my mind the stories that gives sense to me to the flow of the pics/gifs i pick.

Last thing I googled: Algeria

Other blogs: Fandom blogs. It's pure nostalgia for my childhood favourite tv shows.

Do I get asks: Very rarely. That's why i rarely post personal thoughts. I think most of my followers prefer this blog to speak for itself, without additional thoughts...

Following: I don't get this one. Am i is supposed to say how many people i follow or who i follow?

Average hours of sleep: usually 6-8h. I can't have less: i'm too old to endure sleepless nights anymore.

Instruments: None

What I’m wearing: A cute blue dress i received as a gift from my mother who just came back from her holidays in Algeria.

Dream job: Quoting my muse @wvnjo "I don’t dream of labour". I studied law and worked in the field for years because i have a strong sense of justice. I loved to defend people but lost a lot of my illusions, so i quit. These days, i daydream of some activity, (not necessarily a job, volunteering would be very okay), with children: helping in a children library (i love to share books and stories with children) or teaching some after classes lessons to children of primary schools.

Nationality: algerian the only one that matters in my heart and forever. I have been born, raised and lived my entire life en France. I have the french citizenship but i don't feel i belong here. If my health condition was better, i would pobrably try to leave France.

Favourite songs (currently, it changes all the time): Sun May Shine by Tamino, all because my favourite music librarian @wvnjo rebloggged it and got me hooked. it's so melancholic and so soft at the same time, i think i will never be not haunted by Tamino's voice (and the notes of arab influence in his music certainly helped a lot).

Last book I read: The Willow Tree by Hubert Selby Jr. A very powerful modern story on revenge, grief and forgiveness about a young black american boy whose life is shattered when his hispanic girlfriend and him are attacked by a street gang enraged by the fact they are a racially mixed couple. I loved how the author used such a musical and poetic language to tell a a seemingly hopeless and dark tale, until grace comes from an unexpected place and enlightens again life.

3 fictional universes: Middle Earth. Battlestar Galactica. All poems and plays related to the House of Atreus: The Illiad, The Odyssey and The Oresteia.

Tagging all my mutuals and everyone who feel inspired by this ask game.

#ask games #personal

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nashibirne · 3 years

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Gimme Shelter - 7

Here it is, the last chapter of Gimme Shelter. It took me a while to write it, I kinda had a hard time to let Kat and Henry go... I'm going to miss them. I hope you like the ending I chose for these two. If so, please let me know by leaving a comment, reblog or like. Feedback is much appreciated. 💜

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~ 4.5 k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more? Chapter 7: An important conversation, a celebration and lots of love.

You can find the previous chapters and my other fics on my masterlist!

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues, smut, sex (p in v), vanilla, unprotected sex, nsfw, 18+, fluff

UNBETA'ED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

I got a little help with a certain paragraph, thank you so much @sillyrabbit81 for your advice and your support. Love ya 💕

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and a lot of wishful thinking.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019

Let the grand finale begin....

***********

"There's no need to be nervous, Kat."

Henry gave her a smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

They were sitting at their gate, waiting to board the plane that was going to fly them to Jersey.

"I know", Kat sighed, shaking her head slowly, "but I still am. I haven't seen your family in years, there will be so many people I don't know…"

"And they will love you. Look, Kitty, today is gonna be relaxed. You'll meet my parents, my brothers and their families and that's it. Just a casual dinner. Tomorrow there will be the celebration and I promise you it's gonna be great. My folks know how to party," he winked at her with a grin, "and on Sunday everyone except for my parents will be gone and we have a whole week to relax and just enjoy the island and our time together. Okay?"

"Okay," she smiled at him and took a bite of the muffin she had bought at one of the airport cafes, "I'll try to relax. Just distract me, tell me something... anything."

"That's the text for Instagram. The open letter to my fans and followers."

"Well, actually there's really something I want to talk to you about", Henry said reluctantly. He grabbed his phone and opened his google docs. "I need your opinion on this." He gave her his mobile.

Kat saw that the display showed a long text. "What's that?"

"I see," Kat chewed on her lip, looking him in the eyes, "and you want me to proofread it?"

"I want to know what you think about it."

"Alright. Let's see."

She stared at the words on the screen with a beating heart. Henry had been working on this statement quite a while now and she knew it would include his plans for the future. They had talked about different scenarios but she didn't know what he'd finally decided to do with his life and his work. She was curious but at the same time she was scared because many of these scenarios meant that he was going to leave St. Ives and her life. She took a deep breath and started to read.

The statement was deep and of unabashed openness. The way Henry described what he had gone through in the past year was very touching and she had to fight back tears several times. Relief flooded her when she read that he was asking his fans to give him a little more time to reorientate and that he intended to remain in the background for a little longer, stating that he was very happy at the sanctuary he had found and that good friends had given him shelter. What left her completely amazed was the last paragraph.

"Kal is going to take over your Instagram?"

Henry grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah. For a while. I think it's a good solution. I'm going to post pictures of him with captions that let people know what I'm doing without giving up my privacy until I'm ready to return and face the public again. It's my way of letting my fans be a part of my life although I'm not really present. I want to share what I'm up to but not the way I used to do it. I want to do more than promotion and I want to be more than a thirst trap, Kitty."

"You're much more than that, Hen", she took his hands in hers, looking at him with a frown, "so much more."

He gave her a grateful smile.

"I know that but many people don't and that's my own fault. The way I've presented myself on social media was very one-sided in the last year and it will be interesting to find out how many of my 17 Mio followers still like me when all they'll get to see in the next weeks is my dog. The ones that remain are the ones that count and in the future I want them to see who I am and what's important to me. I have picked three topics I want to concentrate on. First: conversation and protection of species in cooperation with Durrell. Second: mental health, focusing on problems men often face. I want to found a charitable trust that helps and supports men with mental health issues and that raises awareness of that topic. Thirdly: Fitness, because it's such an important part of my life. I want to show how good moving can make you feel but I also want to show the risks of overdoing it and that even very fit people can still have body issues and how I deal with these issues myself."

"First of all I think the statement you want to post is great. It's so sincere and you open up so much... It's a risk because you expose yourself but I think people will appreciate your honesty and I'm sure many can identify with what you've been through. And your plans sound fantastic, Henry. I know how important these topics are to you and you're going to be a great ambassador for all of this because it's authentic. This is you, people will notice and appreciate that." She couldn't help but give him a spontaneous hug. "God, Henry, I'm so happy for you."

Henry let out a sigh and shrugged, looking at Kat with an expression full of doubt and insecurity.

"What do you think?"

He hugged her back, pulling her into a tight embrace. "That's such a relief, Kat. I was worried it might sound stupid."

"Not a bit! It sounds perfect. But what about work? Do you already know where to go with your job?"

He took a deep breath.

"Yes. I want to return to filming but I want to leave my comfort zone a bit and try to get different kinds of roles. I'll have to talk to my agent and hope that he can find some interesting projects for me. I also thought about going on the stage again. Back to the roots, maybe I will find a theater that is willing to give me a chance. But that's just an idea, I'm open to anything. I just know for sure that I love my job. I want to be an actor and I'm ready to work again."

"And you will work again. I'm sure. Are you going to tell your family about your plans?"

"Sure. It will be a great relief for them to see that I'm back on track."

"Of course. It's a relief for me too."

"I know…"

They were interrupted by the announcement that boarding was about to start and so they got on the plane, heading to Jersey with a pretty good feeling.

****

36 hours later Kat was still feeling pretty good. The garden party was in full swing and she really enjoyed the jolly atmosphere, the food, the drinks and most of all Henry's company. His family had given her a very warm welcome and so she had a very good time. The garden was beautifully decorated and lit by countless torches, candles and chinese lanterns. A local band was playing cover songs on a little stage and a clown was entertaining the children.

It was almost midnight when Henry turned to her with a smile.

"Time for the big surprise."

"Can't wait. You've been such a mystery-monger lately."

"I know, but you'll soon know why."

"Well, you want to surprise your mum. Isn't that the reason?" Kat was visibly confused and Henry gave her one of his perfectly imperfect winks.

"My mum and...you. Maybe?"

He went away with a grin and left Kat with a beating heart. What kind of surprise could he possibly have for her? On his mother's birthday? She smoothened out her plain black dress with a nervous gesture before she followed Henry with her eyes, her arms resting on the cocktail table right in front of the stage. When he grabbed the microphone, Kat assumed he wanted to hold a speech, maybe telling his family and friends about his future plans but when he turned to the band leader for a whispered exchange she knew there was more to it. Henry nodded at each of the band members and Kat could tell he was nervous by his body language.

"Hello everyone," his deep voice echoed through the speakers, "I'm sorry to interrupt, I know everyone is having a great time and don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with a speech, but I still have prepared a little something. A surprise."

He flashed a bright smile at his mother, ignoring the teasing cheers and whistles coming from his brothers.

"Mum, I racked my brain over a special present for weeks. What would make you happy? What would surprise you? Eventually I had this idea I knew you'd love but that really got me out of my comfort zone. I worked hard on it and I hope you and everybody else will like the result." Henry cleared his throat with a sheepish smile.

"Come on man, spill it." That was Henry's younger brother Charlie and Kat couldn't help but chuckle when his older brother Simon joined in.

"Yeah, Hen, the suspense is killing us."

Henry shook his head, laughing and Marianne Cavill shushed her sons with an amused smile.

"Okay, well... I'm going to sing for you."

"Oh please, spare us. You can't sing." Charlie again, he'd always been a cheeky guy and obviously he hadn't changed a bit. Henry laughed out loud, pointing his finger at Charles.

"Right, brother, that's why I took lessons. I spent many, many hours at our neighbour's who is a vocal coach. Kat is my witness."

All eyes turned on her now and she couldn't give them much more than a shrug, a nod and a smile to confirm his words. She wasn't able to say anything, but her mind was racing. He had been taking singing lessons with Mel, who had been a music teacher and vocal coach before her marriage. The revelation hit her hard and unexpected, flooding her with relief and a hint of shame. She had been so suspicious all this time without a reason. Nothing had been going on between Hen and Mel, nothing inappropriate, nothing intimate. He had been telling the truth.

Henry's voice interrupted her thoughts and she took a deep breath, turning her attention to what was happening on stage.

The band started to play and Kat immediately recognized the song, Green, Green Grass of Home, and when Henry began to sing she was completely captivated by his full, warm and dark voice. He did great up there and it didn't take people long to pull out lighters and smartphones to wave them in the air to the slow rhythm of the song, creating a sea of lights that illuminated the garden.

"Well...I better get started before I chicken out and change my mind." He nodded at the band with a grateful smile.

"We only had the chance to rehearse two times so please be lenient with me. Thanks guys for playing along and allowing me to take over... Anyway, I've prepared three songs. Enjoy."

Kat looked at Mrs Cavill, no, at Marianne -it still felt strange to call her by her first name- and she was beaming, tears of pride and joy sparkling in her eyes. Kat was incredibly happy and proud too, it just felt so good to see Henry perform, completely at ease with himself, confident and charming as ever.

The next song seemed to be some kind of family hymn. After only a few lines of Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline everybody was singing along, even the kids, and Kat joined in, soaking up the jolly atmosphere and the good mood that was so infectious. Henry obviously had a great time too. He was smiling all over his face and it made Kat glad to see him so relaxed and happy. Before he began singing the last song, he spoke softly into the microphone.

"The next one is for everyone who's in love. Grab your loved ones and get on the dancefloor, it's time for slow-dancing", and after a little pause he added, "this one's for you, Kat."

I know that you've been hurt before

He looked her straight in the eyes and his words sent shivers down her spine. She noticed the curious glances people gave her and she knew she was blushing but she did her best to pretend to be cool, calm and collected, taking a sip of her red wine. When the music set in, Kat easily recognized the song. It was a slow version -Henry's version- of a Curtis Stigers song and she already loved it after the first few words. She knew the lyrics by heart and thinking about them awoke the butterflies in her belly.

Happy couples filled the dancefloor looking lovingly at each other, dancing slowly to the music. Henry's full voice was perfect for the song and he kept looking at Kat. Their eyes were locked and to her it felt like no one else was around, like Henry was singing just for her.

But that won't happen anymore, no no

Just give your heart to me

And I'll guard it with my life

I don't know what I'd do

Baby, without you

His words found their way right into her heart and for the first time in 22 years she felt ready to finally let go of the past, to completely trust him again, to believe him and to forgive him.

You're all that matters to me

The ground that you walk

The air that you breathe

Someday you'll discover

I don't want no other, believe me

You're all that matters, baby

All that matters to me

She realized that a teardrop was rolling down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily. Concern was showing in Henry's eyes when he saw that she was crying but the smile she gave him showed him it was a tear of joy and relief flooded him. He couldn't wait to finish the song now, couldn't wait to dance with Kat, to hold her in his arms.

Loud applause followed his performance, accompanied by calls for an encore that he declined politely with a shy smile. Henry made sure to tell the band to continue with some ballads and after receiving some very tight hugs and kisses from his extremely happy and proud mother he finally joined Kat at their table.

"Fancy a dance?" He offered her his hand with a charming smirk.

She nodded and took his hand, following him to the dance floor where he pulled her close. They swayed slowly to "You Are The Sunshine of my life" for a while without saying anything, content with just looking at each other, before Kat broke the silence.

"You were great up there."

"You liked it?"

"I loved it, Hen. You have a wonderful voice. Mel seems to be a good coach." Kat gave him a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, she is. Once she'd realized that I wasn't interested in more than singing lessons she was very professional and pretty strict."

Henry grinned at her, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise and I wanted you to trust me." He shrugged, giving her a tender smile.

"And I didn't. I let you down. I was such an idiot, Henry. I should have believed you, I am so sor…"

"No, Kitty, please... don't apologize, okay?" He looked at her with a frown, seriousness showing in his eyes. "You had every right to be mistrustful, I understand that. Just tell me that you think you will be able to trust me again some day."

"I already do. I…"

They bumped into another couple and it wasn't the first time. The dance floor was crowded and everyone was keen on congratulating Henry on his performance. It felt like every single party guest was watching them.

"Wanna leave?"

"Yes," Kat nodded with a smile.

****

"It's so peaceful, isn't it?"

"It is. It's beautiful." Kat squeezed Henry's hand before resting her head against his shoulder. They were walking down the beach along the dark shore, that was romantically enlightened by a bright full moon hand, in hand. The sea was calm, just giving off its soothing sounds and a cool breeze that made Kat shiver. Henry took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks", Kat said with a smile, "not only for the jacket but for bringing me here and for this wonderful night."

"Did you enjoy the party?"

"Of course, it was so much fun and I loved your performance. Especially the third song."

Henry stopped walking and turned to her, taking both of her hands in his, looking her deep in the eyes.

"Every single word was true, Kat. I meant it. I'd never hurt you again. You're really all that matters to me. I know you find it hard to believe me, but…"

"I believe you," Kat cut in, "I felt it. I feel it now."

Henry stared at her. "You do?"

"Fuck, yes, I do!" Kat threw her head back, laughing out loud, feeling incredibly happy and light-hearted all of the sudden. "And I feel the same, Hen. Exactly the same."

She cupped his face with her hands and did what she had been longing to do for so long. She kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, almost shy and when Henry felt her mouth on his, her soft lips united with his, skin on skin, no tongue, just tenderness and love, he was beyond happy and savoured every single second.

When Kat pulled away reluctantly he rested his forehead against hers taking a deep breath.

"I feel like 17 again", he whispered.

Kat laughed softly at his words. "So do I. It feels great."

The next kiss started off just like the previous one, innocent and sweet, but when Henry pulled Kat close to deepen the kiss all the bottled-up sexual tension and energy, all the suppressed passion and desire of more than 20 years erupted and they started to make out hungrily, starving for love and intimacy. After a while things really heated up and Henry was the one to put the brakes on when Kat started to fumble with his fly.

"If you don't want me to take you right here we better take it to the bedroom, Kitty", Henry sighed, his voice thick with arousal and desire.

"Well, I've never done it on the beach…", Kat smirked, biting her lower lip.

"Seriously? Here?" Henry took a look around checking if the coast was clear.

"I was joking, Hen. I hate having sand in every pore." Kat nudged him with a grin. "Just take me home."

They made it to the cottage in record time and started to undress each other right in the little hallway, kissing and fumbling like teenagers. While Kat was unzipping Henry's trousers, he was unsuccessfully trying to open her bra.

"Front clasp, Hen", Kat explained to him breathlessly.

"Fuck", Henry chuckled, "I swear I'm not gonna be that clueless once I'll have you naked."

"Good," she answered with a lewd smile, stripping off her bra when he'd finally managed to open it, standing in front of him in just her panties.

"God, you're beautiful, Kitty." Henry let his eyes wander all over her body while stepping out of his pants. He took off his socks and now he was facing her naked too, except for his briefs.

"You don't look so bad yourself, pop."

She grabbed him by the hem of his underwear, pulling him close for another kiss. Kat gasped when he lifted her up effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling his hard-on pressing against her wet panties. She moaned into his mouth when he moved his hips, dry humping her teasingly. Henry carried Kat to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He stripped off her pants before he did the same with his and when they finally were both naked he climbed on top of her, looking her deep in the eyes, before kissing her again. It was a long, slow kiss and Kat let her fingers run over his back till they reached his butt. She squeezed his ass and pulled him close, sighing with lust when Henry started to kiss her tits and to suck her nipples. She reached between her legs and grabbed his dick that was pretty impressive, giving it a few strokes that made him moan loudly.

"Fuck, Kat...I need you…I need to feel you...now."

She brought the tip of his cock to her entrance, bucking her hips, inviting him in.

"Take me. I'm yours, Henry."

"Are you on birth control?"

"I am, don't worry. Just go for it. Please."

Her words weren't more than a hoarse whisper but Henry heard them crystal clear. He moaned again when he realized that it was finally going to happen. He was about to make love to Kat and it was like a dream come true. A hot, sexy, wet dream and he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He penetrated Kat slowly, gently, enjoying the moment that marked the beginning of their first time.

"God, Hen…", Kat moaned softly as he stretched her pussy, kneading his ass and lifting her hips to meet him halfway, "you feel great."

"I love you, Henry," she whispered before she came with a loud moan. She arched her back and Henry felt the shiver that ran through her body and the contraction of her pussy that tightened around his cock. The feelings that flooded him were more than Henry could take and he cried her name out loud when he got off, releasing an enormous amount of cum and the thought of filling her up like this made him thrust into her cunt hard and deep one last time. "Fuck...Kitty." He collapsed on top of her, gasping and panting, holding her tight, pressing a kiss on her lips. Henry looked her in the eyes with a loving smile.

He started to move slowly once he filled her completely, looking her in the eyes. It was impossible to turn back time. He wasn't her first, she wasn't his first but he still intended to make their first time together feel special, he didn't want to fuck her mindless, he wanted to make tender love to her. He thrusted a little faster and deeper now and Kat followed his rhythm, her gaze resting on his face. They shared another sensual kiss, moving in sync for a wonderful long time, prolonging the intimate moment as much as possible, enjoying the sensation of closeness, their bodies and souls connected.

Henry's moans got louder, turning into raspy grunts which was a great turn on for Kat, who was a panting mess. Breathing heavily she was getting closer to cumming with every thrust that hit her cervix, with every stroke, brushing against her g-spot, with his lower body pressing and rubbing against her clit. She watched Henry, who had his head bent back now, eyes half closed, his upper body propped up on his elbows that were placed left and right of her torso. She wrapped her legs around him, making him go even deeper before she grabbed his head and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. They locked eyes and his gaze was full of tenderness, his pupils tinted black and filled with lust.

"I love you too, Kat."

A few minutes later they were lying side by side, holding hands, their faces turned to each other.

"We should have done that 22 years ago."

Henry grinned at Kat, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I doubt it would have been so good. Teenage Kat was very self-conscious and a little prude and I guess teenage Henry wasn't a pro at handling this weapon right from the start." Kat touched his dick and gave him a teasing wink that made Henry chuckle.

"Right. We've come a long way. It just feels like we've wasted so much time...all these years."

"We can't change that, Hen", Kat said, "but we can make the most of the time that's still to come. Let's just be happy together from now on. Let's spend as much time together as possible, let's have lots and lots of fucking great sex, let's have fun, let's share our joys and sorrows, let's share our lives."

****

Epilogue

Two years later.

Kat sat at her desk in her office with a happy smile on her face. Mr. Darcy was sleeping on her lap and she held a letter in her hands. Bringing it close to her nose she took a deep breath, smelling Henry's scent, his tangy, musky cologne. It was a habit they had established in the last years. Whenever Henry and Kat were separated for more than a few days they sent each other love letters. Handwritten in ink, the exclusive, handmade writing paper perfumed with their odours, the lines filled with their love. The letters usually weren't long, most of the time they shared just short poems or simply a few sentences about how their days had been without each other. It was their old fashioned way of showing their affection and of staying in touch in addition to their conversations via phone or facetime.

"A letter from daddy", Kat whispered, stroking her round belly tenderly. Eight weeks to go until they would welcome their first child and a little more than half a year until their wedding. "Let's see what it's saying."

Kat opened the letter carefully and pulled out the thick paper to unfold it.

"My darling Kitty,

Only three days to go until I finally can take you in my arms again. I can't wait to kiss your lips and your belly to greet you and our little bean. I don't have much time, you know how tight my schedule is, but I needed to write down this poem for you. It would make a great wedding vow, don't you think? Just read it and let me know how you feel about it when I'm back.

"Mouthful Of Forevers

I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers. We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.

Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come. I think that has to be part of its miracle. This is how we heal.

I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book.

I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.

And I will not be afraid of your scars. I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know: whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane."

Isn't it perfect for us?

by Clementine von Radics

I love you!

Forever yours,

Henry"

***********

The End

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill smut #friends to lovers #slow burn #Spotify

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 3 years

Text

- Dirty Thoughts -

Summary: Poor Robert Pronge is stuck at his son's birthday party, but then he spots you amongst the guests that came from all over the neighborhood.

Pairing: Robert Pronge aka. Mr. Freezy x may or maybe not so innocent Reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Content Warnings: Downright Filth (18+), Robert's dirty, dirty thoughts, Robert being a creep, maybe a very needy Mr. Freezy, explicit sexual content, explicit language, a lot of swearing, alcohol, (male) masturbation and a ruined orgasm

A/N: 🍦 A Very Happy Mr. Freezy Friday To All Of You! 🍦 After reading so many good and downright nasty Freezy fics lately, I decided to throw my own story into the pot and what better time to do that than on a Freezy Friday! And....uhm.... it's a Robert Pronge story so it gets at least a tiny bit dark! 👀

Please like and reblog! 💕🌸

Messages, asks and prompts are always welcome!

Feel free to check my Masterlist!

I tagged a few people who I think might be interested. I hope that's okay. If not, please let me know!

@wayward-blonde @the-iceni-bitch @deceitfuldevout

There were quite a few things Robert Pronge hated. Cookouts for example or pretty much anything that forced a larger amount of social interaction onto him for that matter, but above all he despised children's birthday parties.

Wasn't it enough already that he had to deal with children in that godforsaken ice truck for the most part of his day? No, apparently dealing with their dipshit parents at the same occasion was Karmas way this time.

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses. This shitshow all around was his personal hell come to life. For the past few years he had been able to sneak "important meetings" or, if nothing else seemed to work, even "doctors appointments" into his schedule, but this time it was all due to his own stupidity. He couldn't care less about that wench of a woman he called his wife and the same amount of carelessness applied to his son, thus Robert Pronge, the man himself, blatantly forgot about his sons birthday. Was he growing old?, he pondered, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip and his hand reaching out to the now fourth bottle of beer.

Now he had to spend his Friday afternoon in his garden, while a bunch of little shits ran around alongside his overjoyed son, pretending to be just as jolly over the fact that his own spawn out of hell became yet a year older, like it was something special.

Just sit it out, Pronge, just sit it out, he told himself and opted for a long drag of beer. He wasn't the biggest fan of dulling his senses like that, but if there had ever been an occasion he felt it was necessary it was this hellfest. Someone like him usually had to remain sharp and focused, but since murder was definitely off the menu today, he granted himself the solace of a comfortable buzz.

As he allowed his gaze to wander between cheering kids and their prattling parents he couldn't possibly get his head around on how just one of these people could actually enjoy being a parent. He, for sure, didn't.

For whatever reason one of those brats had started crying and instead of whirling towards the boy like everyone else did, Robert tilted his head and sunk deeper into his chair to enjoy the show. A few tears came as a small fix to his raging urge to just stand up and leave. From what he gathered by staring at the hastily forming crowd, the little shit got his knee scratched. Oh, for fucks sake, Robert rolled his eyes, as long as the limb was still attached there's nothing to worry about.

With his eyes switching between the over dramatically wailing boy and equally ridiculous behaving parents, Robert's attention was quickly captured by something or rather someone entirely else.

He spotted you, as you were about to rise yourself from the crowd, gently straightening your pale blue shirtdress.

Pretty, he thought, a barely even there smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Robert furrowed his brows ever so slightly, not that it would have been visible behind his huge glasses anyway. He had never seen you around before. Not with one of those annoying little devils standing in front of his ice truck nor around the neighborhood in general.

Who are you? With your hair put together to such an innocent, bouncy, little ponytail...

Your entire appearance stood out to him, because you were unpretentious compared to all the others. Your looks plain and you're whole demeanor hardly even there, like you were just as uncomfortable as him in this situation.

Robert followed you taking a few steps from the lot, back to one of the standing tables, that were placed all around the garden, where your glass with fruit punch was waiting for you. While stepping over the lush, green grass, that Pronge had mowed just this morning, the seam of your dress fluttered over your knees, allowing him to take a thorough look at your lower thighs. Even from afar he could've sworn that your skin must be a soft and delicate save haven, your thighs effortlessly gliding back and forth with each step.

A sight for sore eyes, Robert noted, a precious, little gem between awfully colourful balloons and equally ugly tablecloths. As you arrived at the table and the seam of your dress was done with giving Robert a little show, a tiny mewl, he hadn't allowed his body to form, fell from his lips.

Get a grip, Pronge!

He bit his lip rather hard to punish himself for uttering such pathetic sounds, but the pain didn't help with what had started to burn beneath his skin. He tried to blame it on the alcohol, it was a fruitless attempt to cover up the fact that he hadn't buried himself deep down between such stunning legs in quite some time. He tried to think about his annoying and more than anything else boring wife, but that was to absolutely no use as well. You were way too enticing, standing there by the table and whirling that tiny cocktail skewer through the liquid.

At first, Robert thought it to be a small burp emerging from his throat, but to his growing embarrassment it was a deep, guttural growl rumbling through his chest. Clenching his jaw, he had to admit that he grew more and more needy by the minute.

He didn't even notice that he was blatantly staring at you as his heart seemed to skip a beat here and there, trying to catch up on the sheer amount of fiery arousal in his bloodstream. His glare followed each and every of your movements, not matter how small they were and his imagination was soon to join in.

Robert couldn't help himself but to think about how good it must feel to peel you out of your pretty, little dress just to leap at your delicate flesh an instant later. Sighing under his breath he crossed his legs to hide the rapidly growing bulge. If it wasn't for this shitshow being a fucking birthday party, he'd be up and out of that chair, bending you over the table and mercilessly fucking the everloving hell out of you until you were a quivering and whimpering mess underneath him.

Oh, poor little kitten, he would not only rip one orgasm after another from your body bent over that table, no...he'd take you his way anywhere. Imagines of him latching his teeth at the sensitive skin of your neck, bruising it black and blue flooded his mind and with that his by now rock hard cock started to painfully press against his pants. The more he lost himself in those thoughts the more rampant the need to relieve himself from this pressure got.

Robert took a deep breath and let his gaze wander up to your face. Any air, that he so desperately tried to gasp, got knocked out of his lungs the very same second.

You were staring back.

Your playfully shimmering eyes darted at him, swallowing him head over heels.

Although there was no possible way you could tell what he was thinking let alone how his body was reacting, Robert felt caught red handed and didn't dare to break from your innocent, doe eyed glare.

With his mouth unconsciously dropping agape, he stared at you impaling an alcohol soaked cherry with the skewer from your drink and slowly bringing the fruit up to your lips. They enclosed the boozy treat carefully before you popped it from the skewer and bit down unexpectedly harsh.

Jesus...doll...you have no clue what you are doing...or maybe you do?!

Robert's heart was thrashing against his ribcage as he jammed his chair free from underneath the table for it to almost fall down to the floor as he rose himself and turned towards the house.

Not giving a single fuck about what the other guests might have thought about him abruptly leaving the scene, he stomped through the living room and along the short corridor that led towards the bathroom. In a reckless motion Robert threw the door open, stormed inside and locked himself in.

"Fuck...goddamit!" He wheezed between grinding teeth as he leaned against the sink. The sound of pouring water was barely able to cut through the echoing thunder of his blood coursing through his ears and instead of following his first idea of giving his face a good splash of cold water and calming the fuck down he turned his back on the sink.

It took Robert but a few quick movements to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants and pulling his sipper down. Biting his lip, he let his hand slide down his shirt and underneath the fabric of his shorts. His legs were shaking a little and he swallowed a longing moan, that was threatening to break from his mouth, as soon as Robert started to pump his aching cock with rough strokes. The still very vivid picture of you sucking on that skewer flickered behind his closed eyes and the rest of his surroundings started to fade into a blur of burning need and animalistic hunger for your body underneath his. Robert could only imagine the sounds you would be uttering while he was balls deep inside of you. Maybe you'd be begging him to stop his assault on your soft flesh, possibly even cry a little.

Oh yeah, he wanted you to cry out his name under your breath, your mascara smudging all over your face and mixing in with a puddle of drool that surely would be gathering around trembling, puffy lips.

Robert let his head fall back, his imagination now entirely on the loose. With the thoughts of your naked body quivering and shaking form as many orgasm as he could rip from you, it didn't take Robert long to be dangerously close to his own. And he was oh so ready for this intermezzo to be over, to shoot his load and get back down to earth in order to go back out there, pretending nothing ever happened.

He could already feel his lower body shaking, his throbbing cock hardening with every vigorous pump. To not groan out in sheer relief and pleasure, Robert bit down on his lip so hard that he drew a small bit of blood.

"Bobby, Darling, are you alright?" Alongside a gentle knock on the door his wife's voice got through.

In a pure haze of shock Robert let go of his twitching cock and pressed his hand onto his mouth instead. Thick, white hot ribbons of cum were exploding all over the bathroom tiles as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

"I'm good..." he huffed, his voice sore from the growing anger over a thoroughly ruined orgasm.

"Are you sure? Do you need any-"

"I said that I'm okay!", small tears of almost childish rage were forming in the corners of his eyes "I'll be back in a minute!"

Fucking bitch, Robert thought, withholding an anger-fueled sob. That damn cunt would have to pay for taking even that from him.

#robert pronge #the iceman #mr freezy #smut #chris evans fic #chris evans smut #robert pronge x reader

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everythingthemoontouches · 3 years

Text

⛈️🌹☔

Rain Pick A Card 👆

This reading answers the following questions :

1. What purpose does rain serve in my life?

2. What feelings does it bring to the fore?

3. What do my spirit guides want to convey?Water is known for its mystical properties, quenching thirst and enhancing intuition.

4. What emotional aspects need healing or a little bit of extra care?

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Pick a Card List 🔮🌹

Please don't Repost passing it off as your work. There's a lot of love, hope and meditation that goes into sharing these messages. I'm happy to be tagged if you wanna share the messages with a friend/ your community @everything_the_moon_touches is my instagram handle.

Pile 1

What does the rain bring you? ☔

It brings you a storm of angst. Either petty squabbles with your friends / peers. Or, it could enhance the feelings of turmoil you have within you. If you are considering leaving and starting over, hopping on to a venture or anything that brings you the recognition, love, adoration you feel you rightly deserve, the rain just heightens this sense of ' I need to do something. To get out.' Spirit could quite literally knock you out to get you to do the things you're meant for. You're bigger than your current rock pond. There's a strong sense of you needing to claim your spot in the sunshine/ limelight.

💙How do you feel when it rains?

Passionate. Energetic. Driven. Like you're meant to conquer the world. You could daydream about success and what having your ideal life would look and feel like. Inspired to start a whole new life. Don't just dream Pile 1, make a plan and get moving. Start now. Rain changes up the ionic balance recharging your body to get up and take action. Channel this burst of energy for your greatest good.

😇Spirit Guides Messages

10 of wands, baby. Things are coming full circle. They wnat you to finish what you start. To see things through the end. Think for yourself. In traditional tarot, it's a lone man, carrying all his wands home. The road is long but he is almost there.Your guides want you to channel all your energy into building something for yourself. Wands represent the fire element. Passion, confidence, self expression are the key traits they wish yu would embody. They just wanna remind you that it's not selfish to work towards your best interests.it's oajy to cute yourself the biggest slic eof pie wheen you're the one who spent hours baking it. And at the risk of sounding a little mean, I've got to add : it's okay to let some people fall to the side if they slow down your progress. The people who truly care for you would cheer for you from afar. We all have our individual paths to take-some roads we must walk alone, so we can meet our highest self. ( and then have your friends over once you have built that palace on the top of your hill) there's a hindi song that goes ' Kar Har maidan fateh'(loosely translates to conquer every field) which basically shows the lead climb up a hill as part of drug addiction and winning his battle with addiction. You might find it inspiring. Feel free to hmu if you want me to translate 📞😊

❤️Healing around water houses 💚🌹

Queen of Cups Reversed : I feel like you give too much to people who don't care for you the same way. Sometimes your feelings can be a bit too much for you to handle. You need to spend more time and love yourself a little more. One can't pour from an empty cup. For others of you, I feel like it's just the opposite. Maybe you need to step out of your bubble and think about how your actions can impact others?

It's all about finding the right balance between taking care of and allowing yourself to be loved and cherished by those around you. I'm hearing ' we accept the Love we think we deserve' and I am being told to remind you that you are enough. If you are a mom, you need a break from baby duties for a while. Let your mom / husband / friends pitch in to help.

Please reblog if this resonates 🧿✨

Pile 2

What does the rain bring you? ☔

Inspiration. Divine Guidance. Love. Happiness. Joy. Hope.

New beginnings. Inspiration. Gifts and blessings.you could literally have people ask you out or admit to having a crush on you when it's raining out. In India, monsoon is heavily romanticized : there are a number of songs pictured around couples either getting frisky, or old been together forever couples making fritters to go with a warm cuppa Chai ( tea). If you've applied for any new roles, you may receive positive outcomes. College acceptance letters or anything that bolsters your faith in life. Money. Spiritual clarity makes its way to you. Please listen when it rwians. If you're a creative, the muse could really send you some extraordinary works of art. Please create your music when it rains, I promise your audience will go absolutely bonkers over any art taht you realize that was created while it was raining outside.

💙How do you feel when it rains?

You wanna start new things. There's a sense of ' I could do this if I tried'. It's a good time for you to start a project, initiate conversations and work on a new way to make money. Wands are more about creative inspiration than actual material wealth so what I mean by this is you could have an idea on how to monetize something. Or you could just create art that gets you noticed which in turn gets you brand deals. For some of you this could also be a good time for you to make a baby? It's a good time to plant seeds you wish to harvest int he future. The timing is right and you could get a bountyful harvest if you just do the right thing at the right time. Get moving. Dancing could be a great way to utilize this burst of inspiration. If you have a message you want to put out that you really hope would be well received, this is a really good time to do it. If I were you I might schedule a meeting if I wanted to propose some kind of revolutionary idea to my seniors.

😇Spirit Guides Messages

No need to cry over spilt milk, darling. Just focus on what you've got. The door that just banged shut in your face lead to a crappy broken world. Look ahead for the fairytale portal that is lining up for you. There's greater things to come. Life is all about what you want to make of it. Some say that would make you a dreamer, an optimist, impractical. If you ask me, it's stupid to wallow in what could have been. Take your lessons, keep the gifts if you want to, but always, remember to look up and ask yourself : what's the best I could do with this? Like Ariana says, ' I've got so much love, Ive got so much patience, I've learned from my pain' and it's gonna turn out amazing for you. Ace of wands, love, it's all about starting afresh. To treasuring those moments that spark the start of something new, something that's gonna change the world, regardless of scale... Even if you get just one thing right, it could signify a mammoth shift. For example : Matt Le Blanc landing Joey's rope ON friends. Pretty much made him a household name world wide. Don't give up.

❤️Healing around water houses 💚🌹

Learn to wait and watch. Trust in the work you have done. Fruit doesn't grow in a day. It takes time. Keep adding fertilizer, weeding it periodically and pruning wayward branches. Some of you could lack faith in your skills or efforts. Either you may feel liek its not good enough or just give up because you're underestimating the effort it takes. Nobody posts their failures on Instagram. Do you know how many selfies it takes to get that one good picture that makes it to the feed? Sometimes it takes me two separate days of dress up, hair and makeup. ( I don't want any mean comments about this, k) Good things cost discipline and tenacity. I saw the page of cups as I was shuffling so you guys might really need to start believing in your gifts / talents long enough to persevere and see actual results in the physical plane. You could identify with the starseed community, and be used to just manifesting with thoughts alone. That's not quite how it works here. Just stay focused and don't out your tools down just yet. It's gonna be a really good harvest, just stay dedicated a little longer...

Please reblog if this resonates 🧿✨

🖤Pile 3

What does the rain bring you? ☔

Memories of past hurt. There could be a real sense of panic that washes over you when it pours outside. Over time you may have learned to treat rain as a bad omen. Some if this may not have nany basis in your current reality that the fear us so deep rooted that it's almost impossible to penetrate. I felt a lot if resistance before channeling this Pile, it was almost as if spirit didn't want me to touch upon these.

Either you wronged someone terribly or had something horrible happen to you in the past. Your conscious mind may have buried this to protect you. There is also a sense of picking at your old wounds and making it worse in the present day. I would really recommend keeping a journal kr speaking to a trusted professional about this.

How do you feel?

Trigger warning :

if you feel griefs so profound it just makes you wanna block out how you feel, please don't read further.

A sense of trepidation. Like there are forces beyond you pushing you in a certain direction. You wnat to dig your heels in but feel like you need to trudge on. There's fear. There's hesitation. There's a a lack kf trust. The knight of cups usually shows an offer if love but your energy tells me that you may not be so open to it. You may have been betrayed or stabbed in the past. The people that's hould have loved you did not care for you as selflessly as one would expect. You could have an active 8th or 12th house. May have seen the ille effects of addiction or infidelity early on.im so sorry, Pile 3, this reading is not meant to hurt or offend but to . Guide those of you who may be seeking help in lowering your walls.

😇Spirit guide messages

Some of you may have a real fear around money, kr doing things on your own if it deviates from what your family values were. Could have grown up poor. Or taught to see money as evil. You may be working to release this sense of guilt and pain. There may be some fear around turning into the people you swore you'd never be like as a child. You're worried that you'd repeat the mistakes your ancestors made. The apple doesn't fall from the tree. But coconuts can make there way to an entirely new continent. You're not a tiny apple on a rotten tree. You're a buoyant, old coconut and you could float far away, someplace safe. Someplace that allows you to grow. You could be in the middle of a dark spiritual Awakening, recognizing your a shadow aspects, seeing your parents as people, accepting that they could ha e had flaws even if they were trying their best and learning to cahrt your own course. You don't have to be the same . Or be a certain way just because of those negative early /past experiences. Like the Phoenix, you have the ability to rise from the doom and gloom of burned wings .

I keep you in my prayers.

❤️Healing around water houses 💚🌹

Some of you need to meditate on the judgement card. Keep lists. And journals. Play the real or not real game. Question every toxic / hurtful thought you ever have about yourself. Let go of shame. Release the pain. You may feel guilty about a lot of things, I feel liek there is a grandma or some ancestral figure who was devoutly religious and could have severely admonished you for being a rational thinking child. This figure could have put fear into you. I felt so. E really heavy scorpion IC energy when I was reading for you guys. Like a spiritual shield around you. You could be naturally psychic or spiritual aligned but had to suppress that part of yourself because of the fear mongering at home. Now that you're older you're free to explore your sexuality / tarot / wicca or other occult practices without being branded as evil / ungrateful.

Of all the piles I've read for, yours feels the most sacred / private energy. Almost as if you have some kind of a Guardian angel trying to protect you from the truth / pain unlocking this could cause. There are some truths you need to uncover for yourself, by yourself. I wish you all the very best in your spiritual journey

Please reblog if this resonates 🧿✨

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