#The good things that he’s saying to Roman trying to force him to do the right thing ��😂😂 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewickedjazzy · 23 days ago

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Level 3: “Stay Still!” [Dry humping] for Kinktober.

⤷⊹₊fyodor d. x afab! reader.

⊹₊Synopsis: it's your own roman empire, where you and fyodor continually indulge in lust-fueled escapades during important meetings.

⊹₊Warning: ņsfw, mdni, smųt, dry humping, agoraphilia, risky sex/secret sex, orgasm control, praise kink..etc.

⊹₊Word count & a/n: 1k, animated lines by @/cafekitsune. this was a very fun level to write honestly, a sweet thank you to bb rem @remlionheart for beta reading, ilysm<3

“stay quiet, дорогая (dear). if they notice, i’ll stop, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

that might be the last coherent thing you hear before fyodor starts his meeting with nikolai and sigma. you’re face-down on the cold, rough metallic table, wobbling body pressed between him and the edge, feeling a familiar, simmering need flooding through your senses. three agonising months of work have kept him busy, and you’ve missed him terribly. so, if this is the closest you can get to feeling him? then fucking be it.

you grind your bare folds against his clothed bulge, the friction sending your whole body numb with pleasure. it feels too good, almost overwhelming, and you can’t hold back the quiet whine that escapes your lips.

“...we'll need a distraction, something to divert their attention while nikolai can execute our plan.” the russian states calmly as if your pussy is not soaking the hell out of the fabric of his trousers at this very moment. honestly, you can't fathom how he maintains such composure while you squirm beneath him, desperately trying to stretch out the pleasure that’s building quickly in your lower belly. maybe you can hold out until the meeting is over.

you’re doing your utmost to hang in there.

“the weretiger is an easy target...”nikolai exclaims, on the other hand, sigma is already rolling his eyes in boredom, clearly frustrated that they still haven’t addressed his casino issues yet.

you squeeze your eyes shut trying to drown out their conversation, focusing solely on the one command fyodor has given you: “don’t cum until I say so.”

such a cruel man he is. why? because he's slowly grinding his hips back against you, he knows that you're desperately close, it's in his nature to push all the right buttons, only to leave you mourning the loss of his touch afterwards.

you do your best to stifle a moan, but a soft whimper slips past your lips instead.

his slender fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to make you tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his devilish gaze as he shoots you a warning glance, seeing you nod obediently, trying to stifle the needy whimpers that escape as you force yourself to slow down, biting your lip to keep quiet.

“their unity is what gives them strength; without it, they're weak,” fyodor continues, his left hand tightens around your hips, guiding your rhythm with maddening control, while his other hand slides down to tease your aching clit, circling it with deliciously slow, torturous strokes.

your eyes roll back, vision blurring from the overwhelming pleasure, and you’re caught between trembling restraint and the impossible need to let go. fuckーhow can he expect you to hold back when he’s sinfully pleasuring you like this?

It's been half an hour, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. an aching need swells within you as you clutch his hand, fingers intertwining with his, silently begging him to quicken his pace, desperately craving that sweet, sweet release that feels just out of reach.

once the russian has his mind set on something, no amount of begging, sweet words, or tears will sway him. his long, pale fingers slip between your folds, thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit hood to add to your mounting pleasure and you can’t help but roll your hips against him, grinding harder with each passing second. you're acutely aware of the risk that his body might jolt, drawing the unwanted attention of his oblivious subordinates.

you can't hold back anymore, the pleasure has woven itself tightly within you, each pulse layered like bricks in a tower that only fyodor’s permission keeps standing, until the same bricks of bliss snap at the base of your spine once his hand, which had been gripping your hair, taps against the cold metal table twice.

it’s the sign you’ve been begging the heavens for. you're now rolling your hips faster against his hard cock, finally riding out your long-awaited release—jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a trace of drool slipping from your parted lips as you soak his fabric, bliss coursing through you like the light of a thousand stars from the milky way.

as you shudder in ecstasy, the three of his fingers continue bullying your swelling clit—coaxing you through the rest of your release as he draws sharp shapes on the puffy nub.

“that’s it, my love keep that orgasm going for me.” he leans down out of the camera's field to pressing searing kisses to the nape of your neck.

ironically, the meeting continues, oblivious to your plight.

nikolai’s enthusiastic breaks through your sweet bliss. “...and that’s how i’ll handle the weretiger situation.”

while sigma rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “can we move on? i still need to discuss my casino issues.”

clearing his throat, fyodor straightens up, his trademark icy professionalism settling back into place once more. “then let’s wrap this up. we’ll reconvene later to finalise the plan.”

you try to regain your composure, still feeling the aftershocks of erotic pleasure, as the meeting draws to a close. fyodor casts you a sidelong glance with a small loving smirk as he adds, “i trust everyone will stay focused now.”

frankly, you can’t shake the feeling that your relationship won’t stay a secret for much longer. especially given how risky you both are being by engaging in sexually-driven activities like this.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary

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coryndoll · 2 months ago

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lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

prev next

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

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yurozo · 2 months ago

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the monomyth, (leon kennedy x reader)

the exodus, also aptly known as retirement, has been sending leon for a loop. you are there to pull him back down to earth. (smut/fluff/overuse of greek references)

a/n: 18+ readers only! anyone under eighteen will be personally chased by me at full running speed. i am very much a classics nerd, as will be glaringly obvious in about three seconds. i love you nerd leon, no one understands you like i do.

shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet who was forced to listen to me ramble about this fic for three entire days

a single structure repeats itself in an endless loop of tragedy and non-tragedy, operating through the cycles of aristotle’s poetics in order to create a universal narrative of the roman hero. prologue, parados, episode, stasimon, and exodus– recycled and reused to form the endless configurations of misfortunes that befall the heroes. what is pervasive, and often tragic, about these heroes is not their moral struggles against the physical evils, but instead an internal and divine battle against a common enemy– time.

ultimately, what defines the perfect tragedian hero is the prevailing feeling of inescapability. they cannot run from the ties of fate that rely on them as a catharsis for conflict, and instead must emotionally resolve themselves to their social positions as a weapon for the gods, regardless of the institution’s ideology. this priori of obligation forced by an infinite and perfect consciousness is what makes the tragic hero tragic; this life is not one that they choose for themselves, but one they are forced to live until that last grain of sand slips through the hourglass.

leon’s eyes had started to burn thirty minutes ago, long ignored in favour of another jstor binge at a truly ungodly hour of the night. he, at least, had the chivalry of keeping his phone brightness on the lowest setting, screen carefully tilted away from your resting eyes.

this whirlwind of information had started with the myth of perseus, followed by odysseus, and then a countless amount of papers analyzing the hubris of the tragedian heroes. supplementary material for tomorrow’s breakfast conversation, so that he can talk at length over eggs and coffee across from your bright eyes and eager expression.

that’s what always killed him, just how genuinely interested you were in whatever he said. god knows that was especially rare, particularly from the other women in his life. claire was always half-listening whenever he lost himself on a tangent, and don’t get him started on trying to get ada interested in anything he had to say.

but ada was long gone, and claire was always delighted on your talent of getting leon off her back.

how contentedly boring his life has gotten that the most exciting part of his day is your opinion on his recent fixation, just to listen to you fill in all the missing pieces he never realized were absent. you were like that in almost every aspect of his life, the golden glue that slowly puts poor humpty dumpty back together again.

wrong type of mythology. regardless, you were something he never realized he desperately needed until that warm feeling of being content started filling his chest. a passing comment on his resemblance to a greek god had established this whole spiral– a form delicately cut in marble and praised over the centuries for the countless deeds committed in a long war to protect his people.

perseus, maybe. or odysseus, but that was too easy. too cliche. leon was never one for divine glory, instead preferring the silent type of satisfaction that came from finally putting some good back in this world. or preventing more terrible things from happening, more like. a careful balancing act, another stupid cycle of finally feeling like a person again until he can get home and stop the dreams of people screaming in your ever-so-loving arms.

bellerophon is the final choice. a figure riding into battle against the monstrous chimeric beast with only a tamed ally and a lead-tipped weapon. a hero that was never satisfied, choosing bigger and bigger fights until he falls from the heavens and into the dirt below. a god angered at his success, a product of an institution that brought him into a war he never asked for as a weapon, and left him crippled to wander the world alone when he ascended too far.

maybe retirement really was getting to him. this so-called period of exodus, a final parting song and the materialization of the final crisis.

you stir in your sleep then, arm sliding across his chest until your head is tucked against his bicep. he moves to rest his arm underneath your head instead, which instead of achieving its original purpose of comforting you, only causes your eyes to blink blearily up at him.

“get off wikipedia,” you mumble, shifting the blankets until it sufficiently covers the both of you. another thing he never noticed, how cold his legs were, sprawled uncovered on the mattress. this kind of comfortable routine is where you and leon thrived, so used to each other’s presence that accommodation was natural. “you should be sleeping, we have a big day tomorrow.”

“i’m on jstor. totally different site.” he supplies unhelpfully, earning a stern glare in return. his lips peck your forehead a moment after in apology. his version of proskynesis, a gesture of reverence towards his god that showed him admiration instead of ire.

“i was thinking of taking the bike,” the change in subject is nonchalant, like it’s not three thirty in the morning and you’re definitely functioning enough for idle conversation.

“hell no,” you grumble, sinking further into the mattress. “i’m not getting on that thing with you.”

leon shifts until he’s on top of you, now wide awake and grinning slyly down. “not a fan of my chariot?”

“while i usually do love riding you, that thing is a death machine.” the glimmer of amusement in your eyes now match his own. finally, you’re actually awake. an unspoken question, a command, given from the divine to its mortal instrument. “and i’ve seen the way you drive it. i very much value my life.”

“that’s different. i can’t exactly go slow on those things when there’s rabid dogs chasing me.” he alleviates his statement with a slow string of kisses down your neck, soft and gentle like he can’t snap someone’s neck with his bare hands. “and i’ll be careful. promise.”

“like you promised not to get hurt in alcatraz?” your rebuttal doesn’t phase him, his mouth still preoccupied with tracing down your neck until his fingers start to pull the collar of your shirt down.

“extenuating circumstances,” he mutters, lowering himself down the blankets until his mouth is in line with your hips. divine fate, maybe, or some other twisted machination of a higher being that decrees his near-death every six months. it’s hard to stare up and curse at the gods when they brought you to him, his own piece of olympus pliant in his hands.

your hips lift off the mattress as he pulls at your shorts, another directive he is all too happy to follow. hunnigan would be furious at his obedience, like a dog all too happy to head the leash.

“besides,” he continues, lips brushing against the frail skin of your upper thighs. “i’m officially a retired man. long past my prime.”

why does tragedy exist? is it purely to show the power of the gods, that they so fiercely defend the threads of fate that control every aspect of their existence? is it simply a consequence of the endless cycle of war invited by a world whose very frame requires an institution to desire it? regardless of its source, a world born of this mindset cannot escape an endless cycle of war that legitimizes a world-destroying violence, with no true winner other than the institution that began it.

his clothes are pulled off quickly, following yours. scraps of fabric thrown haphazardly around the room, ignored in favour of hands tracing along the contours of your body. gentle, reverent. nails tracing down every scar, every piece of evidence that you are real, that you are alive, and there’s nothing within these four walls that can take this away from him too.

“not too far past to not be horny in the middle of the night.” you huff, curling your hand in his hair to pull him back down to you. his breath ghosts over your thighs, his tongue darting out instinctively to wet his lips.

“i’m a simple man,” he lowers his mouth to you, licking a premeditative stripe up your folds. “got a beautiful wife in my bed. just can’t help myself.”

the hand in his hair pulls him closer, and leon understands the simple action for what it is. a cue to stop talking and get to work, to use his mouth for something other than popping off one-liners at inopportune moments. a man’s place is on his knees, and all that.

where leon is rough in every aspect of his life, he is always careful with you. he eats you out like it’s somehow the last time he’s ever going to do it, and the first time he’s ever tasted anything so divine. equal parts eager and careful, even as his fingers prod at your entrance.

you jut your hips up again, and he slips two in easily. every part of you is familiar with every part of him. his tongue and hands start a rhythm, a soft push and pull that slowly eases you to the peak. a peaceful trek to that coiled tension starting in your legs, thighs squeezing around his head in the way you know he likes.

that one took a while for him to admit; that he liked the feeling of being crushed between you. it was a long-drawn experiment on how far on the pain threshold he could bear before it got too much for him, until it started to push past pleasure and more into the drowning in the too-high waters of a lab territory. years of experience has taught you where to stop, his secret little tells that no one else knew about burrowed deep into your memory for safekeeping.

that furrow between his brow deepens, and you know to ease off a little. he kisses your clit in a silent thanks, before his rhythm resumes. while leon may not feel the decreased stamina of age yet, you are too aware of your limits to handle two orgasms, so you have the mind to pull him off before that point of no return.

leon sprawls on the mattress next to you, hands gently easing you up until your knees are bracketing his hips. not usually his preferred position, considering his penchant for control.

“my back hurts,” he mumbles softly, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss along your knuckles. “want you to ride me.”

“if you make another chariot joke, i’m seriously going to hit you.”

“ye’ of little faith,” his hand drops yours to line himself up with you, and a gentle push of his hips drives the tip of him into you. “i never make the same joke twice.”

your only answer is a shuddering gasp until you gain your bearings enough to sink down onto him fully. he lays still for a few seconds, letting you get used to the intrusion. his breath stutters in his chest as your hands lay flat onto it, right palm splayed right over his heart.

an uneven thump, beating so fast in his chest that its a god-given miracle he hasn’t keeled over yet.

there’s a unique type of mythmaking when it comes to the tragic heroine. it is a story of fear; innocence; fall from innocence; catharsis; being desired by the right people; being desired by the wrong people; by dangerous people; by excitingly dangerous people. revision is a privilege given to so few who desire it, and to be tender-hearted in a world defined by tragedy is to die.

and yet, the fruit of consideration when it comes to tragedy is not the moral resignation that comes with that acceptance. instead, it is a revealing of the self’s utter dependency on others. the reason that tragedy works is that character is built through this adversity. just as the nature of goodness appears in the face of moral evil, tragedy shows what is fragile and ultimately human about us.

but you are not a god, and he is not a myth. there is no divine fate here, only a random calculation of ethereal and clunky moments that controls so much of his life that he just has to live it. that dependence is the one good thing that has come from all the fighting, and the aching, and the loneliness. a perverted sort of serendipity that leon thanks the heavens for every waking moment.

he is real, and you are real, and that’s enough for him.

both of you are moving in tandem, chasing the upcoming release with a soft desperation. his hands are firmly grasping at your hips, kneading the flesh there like its the only thing tethering him to this reality. that heat of pleasure starts to coil in your gut, and judging by the twisted expression on leon’s face, he’s not too far behind.

“please,” he gasps, shoving you down until your chest is pressed against his. “i need-”

“i know,” you answer softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that delightfully juxtapose the depraved way his hips are slamming against yours.

it’s like falling down from the heavens, except this time there’s no splatter of a body onto the earth. only a light feeling crawling through his limbs, like that final moment of peace before succumbing to the darkness. if the gods had asked him now for a sacrifice, he would have gotten on his knees all over again to keep you. when tranquility was once the bane of his existence, now it is the center of it.

you tense above him, like a goddess struck in stone until you are returned to the flesh, crumpling on top of him. a soft cough escapes him, a wheezing sound that signifies that you are most definitely crushing his lungs. the forces that be roll the both of you to the side until you’re facing each other, his hand unconsciously reaching for yours under the mattress. happy, warm, and sated– leon’s husbandly duties have officially been achieved.

“i love you,” he whispers, and he doesn’t even realize the tear escaping his eye until you gently wipe it away. every part of him now is soft and malleable, even the parts so carefully hidden from everyone else.

“love you too, old man.”

a final kiss to your forehead before he tucks you into his chest, “we’ll take the car tomorrow.”

two more hours until he can eat eggs and drink slightly shitty coffee, and finally fill you in on his newfound epiphany. his arms wrap around your half-conscious figure, body curling around you like something to protect. you hug him tightly in return, bare skin soft on your cheek. your arms hold him like he is sacred too.

#top academic of the police academy would absolutely go on random academic tangents and no one can fight me on that #thank you vaaaaaiolet for listening to the nonstop writing process #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil imagines #ali writes #leon kennedy smut

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bvidzsoo · 4 months ago

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I'll go animal to keep you next to me

⭔ Stalker!Wooyoung ⭔

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

∞ Warning: stalking, mentions of murder and kidnaping ∞ Word count: 4.9k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, stalker!au, university!au, strangers to enemies!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: Not having enough money to pay your monthly rent and also your college bills, you start working at a nice coffee shop. One day, a mysterious man with a little girl in his arms comes inside and orders an Iced Americano. Why is that after that day you find white roses in front of your front door each day? Who is giving them to you? And what does this mystery person want from you?

∞ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Last update for the week as I'm going on a mini-trip tomorrow ^^ Wooyoung's part looked a lot different in my mind initially, but the drabble turned out like this, I hope it's good! I might just turn my initial idea into a oneshot or smth lol. Most probably Hongjoong's part will be next when I sit down to continue this mini-series, so keep an eye out for that. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy!

⭔ Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥

How we perceive others is a peculiar and particular thing. How others perceive us is another thing we do not have power over. Sometimes, people can tell when somebody isn’t a good person, and sometimes, somebody manages to hide their dark side so well you wouldn’t even know until their mask slips and their true nature starts showing through the cracks. A good-hearted person will always try to see the good in everyone, in everything around them despite their friends' warnings about said somebody. A kind person will try and ignore all the red flags they seem to be getting from said somebody in favor of writing it off as paranoia. Because a handsome man with a sharp jawline and a Roman nose, high-pitched laughter that sounds like a witch's laughter, and is good with children cannot be a crazed man, right? He cannot hide his ugly nature underneath this perfect mask that seldom cracks, seldom.

I had met him in a coffee shop while I was on my shift, desperate for this part-time job to keep the bills paid as my parents paid for my university. It was a fair arrangement, I had been on board with the idea, but after they had to lay me down at my previous well-paying job, I was rather desperate and accepted almost any job to be able to pay this month’s rent. The coffee shop was in a relatively safe part of the city and was usually frequented by college students, so I had never truly felt unsafe. The bus station was right in front of it, so I didn’t even have to walk through dodgy alleyways to get home, or anything. Yet, somehow, when a man who looked like he was sculpted by a Greek God walked inside the coffee shop, my heart dropped and my arms got covered in goosebumps. It wasn’t even from his unnatural beauty; it was due to this very quiet voice in the back of my mind warning me that he was dangerous. But that voice must’ve been wrong because there was no way in hell a little girl would be clinging to his side and calling him uncle if that were the case. So, against my better judgment, I had ignored the warning voice, and instead, smiled widely as they arrived at the counter, our coffee shop’s welcoming speech rolling off my tongue like second nature.

Despite silencing the already quiet voice, I couldn’t shut down my body’s natural reactions to the man and I found myself having to force the smile to stay on my face, averting my eyes onto the young girl to try and remain genuine.

“I’d like an Iced Americano, Y/N.” Hearing him say my name made me blanch for a second, eyebrows furrowing as I wondered from where he had known my name until I remembered my nametag.

“Will that be all, sir?” I had asked with a polite smile as the little girl whined and pointed at the chocolate chip cookies we had in the fridge and the man, who looked barely a few years older than me, hummed and looked at me with his sharp eyes. They softened whenever he looked at the little girl and then grew harsh anytime he looked at me. His gaze was calculating and scrutinizing almost, full of wonder for a second before he was smiling dashingly, taking me off guard. I had seen many handsome men in my life before, but there was something almost ethereal to him. His dark hair fell around his face in untended curls making it look natural yet attractive. Something about his eyes made his gaze look almost lazy yet filled with sharpness, the mole right underneath his eye giving his already unusual face a charming glow.

“Two chocolate chip cookies, Y/N.” And there he was, saying my name again with a certain edge to it, and I gulped as I nervously typed in the rest of his order, telling him the total after I checked whether he needed anything else. The little girl had started singing as I got to brew his Iced Americano, and I could feel the man’s watchful eyes follow my every move as he muttered something to the little girl occasionally as he took her into his arms. I tried to calm my nervously beating heart, not quite understanding why I was having such a visceral reaction to the man. The warning voice I managed to silence in my mind was certainly gone, yet I couldn’t find it in myself not to flinch slightly away when I handed his drink over and our fingers touched accidentally. The man’s eyebrows had raised as a dangerous smirk painted his lips as he took the red straw between his teeth, waiting for me to bag the two chocolate chip cookies. Handing them over too, the little girl took one of the bags happily and pressed a sweet kiss against the man’s cheek, making him chuckle as he threw a glance at the cute girl. But then, the other bag was placed back onto the counter and slid towards me.

“For you, pretty girl.” My heart had halted as his pressing gaze bore into mine, making my cheeks flush as I stumbled through my words to thank him for his unnecessary kindness, “My name’s Wooyoung.”

And then he was gone with the little girl, the straw of his drink still between his teeth and pretty lips as he put on his shades, tickling the little girl’s side, making her giggle as she had dirtied her mouth with the chocolate from her cookie. After that first encounter, I had forgotten about Wooyoung rather quickly, with too many worries on my shoulders and too many new faces entering the coffee shop daily, making it hard to remember just one person, but perhaps it would’ve been smarter if I had remembered him. Wooyoung. White roses started showing up in front of my flat’s door every day after that warm day at the coffee shop, and I had no idea who they were from.

The second time, based on my recollection, when I saw Wooyoung again—not that I could be sure of it—was on a random Friday night, months after having met him at the coffee shop, in an overcrowded club as I was celebrating my friend’s birthday with a large group of friends. Most of us have met at our university courses, some of us have known each other since highschool. I was relatively new to the group but they were nice and rather protective of me, I felt safe and appreciated with them. Not being a huge fan of clubbing and the sweaty crowd, I needed a few drinks in my system to make me loosen up, so, it was no surprise that I was tipsy not long after we arrived at the place. I couldn’t pre-game with them as I was on the afternoon shift at the coffee shop and had to lock up, but due to my low alcohol tolerance, it came as no problem catching up with their intoxicated states.

The music was loud and the flashing lights blinded me every few minutes, but I was enjoying myself. Arms high up in the air and hips swaying to the beat, I was surrounded by my friends who were screaming the lyrics to the songs that were played, and I finally felt free after ages. It was refreshing, relaxing, and most of all…I finally felt stress-free. I was enjoying myself, laughing and playing around as my friends and I played random dance challenges on the dance floor, roping in a few others as well as they seemed to be amused by our shenanigans. I felt eyes on me all night, a heavy and intense gaze, but I couldn’t pinpoint just one person. Perhaps it didn’t help that my vision was hazy from all of the alcohol I had consumed, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. We were in a club, after all, everyone was looking at everyone, surveying the crowd and the people, probably looking for someone to hook up with for the night.

When my throat had started feeling parched and my stomach a little unsure, I pulled aside one of my friends and told her I needed a drink. She was eager to accompany me to the bar and I was even more eager to down a whole bottle of water in under a few seconds. My friend chuckled and asked for another one, knowing that I would need it, and she was right, the second bottle of water was gone in no time too, but this time I did share it with her as well. I wasn’t as thirsty as seconds before. But we weren’t satiated just yet, so, my friend asked for two rounds of some sour shots that I didn’t care to memorize the name of and once we had downed them, I was positive I would be throwing up in the morning with a head-splitting headache on the horizon. But that was tomorrow me’s problem, tonight was about having fun.

Just as my friend and I had decided to head back to the dance floor, the tall bartender came over with a pink and orange-looking cocktail, motioning for me to lean closer as his voice wasn’t audible over the loud music and even louder crowd. Apparently, the drink was from someone sitting down at the bar, and the bartender had said the man wanted me to know that a pretty girl like me deserves a sweet drink. Finding no harm in that, I thanked the bartender and tried to find the man, but upon being unsuccessful, I allowed my friend to lead the way back to our friend group as we shared my drink, which was definitely too sweet. Despite being curious of who the mystery man was that bought the drink for me was, I never came across him. Feeling those piercing eyes on me continued throughout the night, but I never quite seemed to make eye contact with anyone who could’ve been the culprit. I suppose it was meant to stay as a mystery. It also didn’t help that in a confusing flash of moment when someone crashed into me from behind and I turned to look at them, I had thought it was Wooyoung, from the coffee shop. But before I could actually make out his face, he was gone.

Underneath the blinding lights, as I was guided by my intoxicated mind, sometime along the night, I had felt arms sneak around my waist and then a broad chest pressing up against my back. I didn’t find it in me to complain and shake the man off, instead, I turned in his embrace and danced the night away by his side, vision too hazy to see his face clearly. But he was tall and he had muscles that could certainly crush my skull if put in a headlock, not that I thought he was dangerous or had evil motives, it was simply an observation that entered my fuzzy mind. But despite us enjoying each other’s company and even finding common ground in surprising subjects, after the man had excused himself to the restroom, he never returned. I was confused for a while until I realized he had probably found himself another company, and I couldn’t blame him or feel bad about it. We were here to have fun and if he found someone more suitable, that was alright. It’s not like I had found my soulmate in him.

What I didn’t expect, however, was to find another white rose in front of my door two days after clubbing with an added gift box to it. It was peculiar, it made me feel uneasy, but I’ve been receiving these roses for four months now, however, the gift was unusual. I still couldn’t figure out from who the roses were from, and despite my friends advice of reporting it to the police, I kept it to myself for now. What were they going to do? Probably send me back home after they tell me they can’t do anything about it, unless I was actually harmed, or this mystery person shows their face. Another shocking development to my day was switching on the TV as I wiped my kitchen clean, gasping and feeling faint for a second as despite my hazy memories I could recognize the face of the missing person they had shown in the news. Apparently, his name was Kim Mingyu, and he had been missing for exactly two days. It’s been exactly two days since we’ve been clubbing, and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure he didn’t return to me because he found somebody else to mingle with. As I went to phone my friend in a confused and worried frenzy, I realized the consistent eyes I had felt on me at the club had disappeared just as Mingyu had gone to the restroom.

I was scared to open the gift box, and when I did, my eyes widened and I panicked, scared to even touch the necklace that was so obviously Kim Mingyu’s. A letter with few words on it had been slipped inside it, underneath the necklace, and it read, ‘Pretty thing he was, unfortunate that he had to go so early on’. Instead of phoning my friend, I phoned the police.

A month had passed and Kim Mingyu was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t known him for long, but it pained me that police could find no leads on him. I was ruled out as a suspect after I called and informed them of the box put in front of my door and they came to speak to me. The investigation was still ongoing, and I was asked to be very cautious as apparently whoever hurt him was the one probably sending me the roses. Rightfully so, I have grown paranoid and scared for my safety, often times I would only leave my apartment if one of my friends could accompany me. I still couldn’t give up my job, so most of the time I just sucked it up and put aside my fear, knowing that I was the safest I could be at the coffee shop with all the cameras in and outside, as well, watching and surveying everything. The roses never stopped showing up, and if at first I found them beautiful and kept them, now they lay in a pile in the trashcan, thrown out every day before I left for my classes. The grounds of the university were safe too. The only time I actually felt scared for my safety was when the crowd wasn’t big, or when I heard footsteps outside my flat. It could’ve only been my neighbors, but I still couldn’t know for sure.

Tonight, however, I finally gave in to my friends' naggings and went out to a barbeque with them. They were worried about me and I could understand them. They rarely saw me now, unless they would come over for the night or walk with me to my destinations. It was hard, I was trying to return to normal and ignore this weird paranoid feeling that I was constantly being watched, even inside my apartment. My gut had twisted before I left my flat, the quiet voice in the back of my mind warning me to stay out of my flat tonight, to just sleep over at my friend’s house, but I couldn’t do that. Her boyfriend was coming over and I didn’t want to be a burden. I already felt bad for always needing someone to be by my side, I didn’t want to inconvenience her even more. I was a big girl and I could take care of myself, it was just that stupid voice trying to scare me and nothing else. I was safe, besides, if whoever was sending me roses hadn’t approached me after five months of possible stalking, then I was alright, they certainly wouldn’t approach me now.

It was past eleven in the evening when I finally made my way home, belly full and tummy hurting from continuous laughter, body and mind at ease from having been with my friends who knew how to up-lift my spirits. I felt fine, serene even, and perhaps the fact that there wasn’t a rose in front of my door today only added onto feeling less worry. Perhaps this somebody had gotten bored of me, finally realized there was nothing special about me, or even fun. I unlocked my door and walked inside my small hallway, dropping my bag onto the floor as I stepped out of my shoes and wore my slippers, hanging my coat onto the hanger. I grabbed a hair tie from the small bowl on the shelf and tied my hair in a low bun, excited to shower and change into my pajamas and perhaps read a bit before going to bed. I had the morning shift tomorrow and I didn’t want to go to bed too late tonight. But as I started shuffling towards my bathroom, I froze in my steps as I realized there was light humming coming from the kitchen and the aroma of multiple foods combined in the air.

My muscles grew tense as I felt around my jeans for my phone, feeling dread when I realized I had left it in my bag, which was on the floor in the small hallway. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I started tiptoeing back to the hallway, but jumped and almost screamed when a body in the darkness rounded the corner, leaning against the wall. The person was now blocking my way towards the hallway and I gulped as my heart started racing, eyes narrowing as I tried to see through the darkness and recognize the person. Perhaps it was one of my friends’, it must be them. I has to be them.

“You’re home later than I expected.” I shuddered as I exhaled, the voice unfamiliar as my heart now beat even faster. So it wasn’t any of my friends. This wasn’t good.

“I—I was out with my—friends.” My voice sounded unsure, and I tried not to tremble too much as the person hummed nodding. I still couldn’t see their face; the blinds were drawn in the living room and I realized it wasn’t me who left them like that.

“You threw my roses away.” The voice sounded disappointed, accusing. I gulped, feeling a chill run down my spine as I eyed the exit. I needed to do something, I couldn’t just stand here and wait for something horrible to happen to me.

“There, uh, there were too many of them.” I whispered, fumbling with my hands as the person just hummed again then sighed loudly.

“Did you have fun at the barbeque, pretty girl?” I gasped quietly as he asked that question, making me shake as I realized he hadn’t only been sending me flowers, he was probably watching my every step. Had this person been inside my flat before? Were there cameras inside? I felt like crying, but I quickly swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to keep my composure.

“It was alright.”

“I cooked us dinner.” I bit my lower lip and flinched as the man pushed off the wall, approaching me very slowly as if he waiting to see if I would run away or not. I did think of running away, but I had no idea whether he was armed or not, whether he’d try to kill me or not if I flee. Not that I was safer staying put, my last dying hope was in talking my way out of this.

“I’m starving.” I lied through my teeth as the man chuckled, a low rumble, and then finally stopped just a few steps in front of me. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked up in his eyes, searching his face to familiarize myself with his features in case I do make it to the police to report him, but I was taken aback when I realized he seemed somewhat familiar. A sharp jawline and a Roman nose, asymmetrical eyes and a sharp gaze, I had seen him before. Months ago, perhaps at the coffee shop. Perhaps he was the man with the little girl. I needed a second to remember his name as my eyes stopped on the mole underneath his eye.

“Wooyoung?” I whispered uncertainly, flinching away when he reached a hand out towards.

“I knew you’d remember me, pretty girl.” He whispered smirking, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he touched my hair despite me trying to cower away, “Look at you, you’re prettier than I remembered you were.”

I gulped and tried to take a deep breath as Wooyoung stepped closer, making me back away, but then he was gripping my arm painfully and I froze, heart beating out of my chest in fright.

“Don’t lie to me.” Suddenly his voice dropped octaves and I shuddered as his grip tightened, making me wince, “How can you be hungry when you’ve been to a barbeque?”

“I didn’t eat much; I didn’t have an appetite.” I was quick with my lie as I tried to smile at him, arms covered in goosebumps as he traced his fingers down my skin, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. The quiet voice in my mind was loud now and my gut was twisting painfully, making me wish I had listened to the warnings before it was too late. Could I escape this man? What should I do now?

“Is that so?” Wooyoung hummed, grabbing my hand in his as I nodded wordlessly, my body refusing to move when he pulled me after himself. His hand was cold, his fingers decorated by chunky rings, “Won’t you have dinner with me?”

“Ye-yes.” I stuttered and forced my legs to move after him, to follow him towards the kitchen just around the corner as I desperately glanced towards my small hallway, wishing that I had some telekinesis powers to make my phone come to me.

“And how was your day, pretty girl?” Wooyoung’s voice was warm and pleasant as he led me inside the kitchen, making my mouth fall open in shock at the sight. The table was set beautifully with candles in the middle and a huge bouquet of white roses in a vase that wasn’t mine. Wooyoung walked me to the chair that was furthest from the door and pulled it out for me, smiling cheekily as I gulped and remained standing. He said nothing as our eyes met again under the candlelight and I was losing the battle of trying to stay calm as my muscles started contracting, my heart beating too fast. I felt trapped in my own flat, threatened and unsafe with a man that broke in and had been stalking me for almost half a year now.

“It was—what do you want?!” I snapped, finally losing my cool as Wooyoung just chuckled, leaning his hip against the chair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done so a long time ago, pretty girl—”

“Stop calling me pretty girl!” My voice was shaky as I snapped, eyeing the table as I lunched for a knife before he could stop me. I held it in front of myself as I felt panic finally overtake my body and mind, making my hands shake uncontrollably and chest rise and fall rapidly.

“But you are a very pretty girl, Y/N.” Wooyoung pouted, looking down at the butter knife in my hand with an amused expression, “Since you seem scared, I’ll be honest with you. I want…you.”

I gulped as my eyebrows furrowed, growing more confused and scared by the minute. Wooyoung didn’t say anything else just stood up straight and stalked towards me with a confident stride, lips pulling into a menacing smirk again. I raised the knife as my hand shook, and lurched forward with zero intent of actually stabbing him, perhaps I hoped it would intimidate him. But before I could blink, he gripped my wrist harshly and twisted it until I dropped the knife with a pained cry, face scrunching up in pain as I was whirled around and immobilized by Wooyoung’s arms as he pulled me against his body, his warm lips pressing against my ear as his hot puffs of breath made me shiver. I was breathing loudly as Wooyoung hummed quietly, the hand that was still holding my wrist loosened slightly as his fingers started caressing my skin. It made my stomach churn as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wasn’t working too well.

“Let go of me.” I tried to demand, but it came out as a helpless whisper and I felt Wooyoung’s lips press against my temple, making me flinch as I tried to trash around, but despite his lanky form he was strong. Way too strong, and I realized I had no chance of escaping unless he allowed me to.

“But if I let go of you, you will run, Y/N, and I can’t have that happening.” Wooyoung muttered and then sighed as if this was inconvenient to him, “I don’t want to watch you from the shadows anymore, I’ve done that enough. It’s time we get to know each other like normal people—”

“There’s nothing normal about this situation right now, Wooyoung.” I cut him off with a snare, trying to yank myself free again, “You’ve been stalking me for months.”

“Indeed,” Wooyoung confirmed and I felt like throwing up, “but that was because I had some pretty bad business to take care of first. If people would’ve seen us together they would have targeted you, and I can’t have that happening.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked in a whisper and stumbled forward as Wooyoung suddenly released me as I tugged against his arms again. I ran into a chair and caught myself just seconds before falling over. I eyed the exit as Wooyoung cleared his throat behind me.

“I have many enemies, Y/N.” Wooyoung spoke up with a casualty to his voice, and I glanced back and watched as he popped a grape in his mouth, giving me a questioning look, “Can’t have you kidnapped and tortured.”

That was all I needed to hear as I bolted towards the front door and tried to grab my bag too in the process, but realized I didn’t have time if I wanted to free myself. But as I threw the door open, I was met with two huge men blocking the doorway. They were dressed in black suits and had sunglasses on despite being inside. I gasped as they didn’t even look at me and whirled around as Wooyoung came walking to the hallway with a tsk rolling off his tongue.

“You’re making this more dramatic than it’s supposed to be, pretty girl.” I tried to scurry away from him but he marched up in my face in no time and grabbed the back of my head as I tried to fight him off, but as his eyes hardened, I knew it would be best to just obey him and stop fighting, “I like you and if you don’t stop trying to run away I will take you away with me by force, Y/N. I’m giving you two choices. One, you shut up about this and don’t go to the police, you let me take you out and we’ll see how our relationship develops from there on. Two, I knock you out right now and take you back to my highly guarded and isolated mansion and you’ll never see your loved ones or anyone you knew before. Which one will you choose?”

I was shaking as I tried to gulp, but my throat was dry and my eyes shook as they filled with tears as I clawed at his arm holding my head, “First option, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Good girl.” Wooyoung grinned as he bit his lower lip, eyes taking in my face as he leaned close until our foreheads pressed together, “I’ve been waiting for this since the moment I saw you cross the road and walk up to the coffee shop, ready to start your shift, Y/N.”

My heart stopped as a tear rolled down my cheek, “You’re insane.”

“I’m just a man bewitched by you.” Wooyoung retorted with a cackle and I yanked myself away as he released me and gave me a scrutinizing stare, “You don’t have to eat dinner, I know you’re full, but I’ll be back in the morning to take you out for breakfast. Now get some rest.”

I scowled when his lips touched my cheek and Wooyoung just chuckled and walked around me towards the bodyguards who stepped aside and made way for their boss. I turned to watch him with a frown, mind torn between what I should do next. But the wink he sent me before he closed the door and I heard his footsteps fade into the background, I knew Wooyoung wasn’t to be messed with. He really would kidnap me if I didn’t do as he wished. Just who is he and will I ever get away from him? What had I done to earn his attention? I fell to the ground as the tears finally fell free, wrecking my body painfully as I sobbed.

If I ran away, would he find me?

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waddei · 2 months ago

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my ocs valentina and aldana :)

aldana amado (tall one with black hair) is romans sister and valentina is both alans girlfriend and tomas's classmate

ive touched on aldana before and will do so again in a moment but heres some valen lore

shes 19, she used to go to aldanas school and thats how they know each other but changed schools after getting held back a year for the second time (aldana romans and alans school is a private school and her parents where tired of paying for it)

she ended up in tomas's school on the same grade as him. she sits next to him cus shes actually trying to get good grades this time around and hes quiet and never tries to talk to her (still she sometimes tries to strike conversation with him, something he actually starts to aprecciate after he starts to actually try and socialize with people)

shes pretty laid back and chill, she likes to say that she minds her own bussiness but shes huge into gossip. thats the main reason shes dating alan actually hes like deep into that shit and always finding stuff out. she kinda finds him weirdly interesting and thinks his generall inexperience with women is kinda charming and also likes that he isnt overly romantic or too clingy (hes too dedicated to his grind really)

aldana thinks shes fucking crazy for dating a loser like alan, specially since alan hangs out with roman and she hates him. but shes also really jealous of her having a boyfriend and jealous of basically everything about her so she kinda shuts up about it

aldana herself is 15, shes generally very insecure in typical teen girl fashion, she looks up to valentina as someone who has everything she wants "shes prettier than her, shes got bigger boobs, she has a boyfriend, she more likable, shes everywhere and everyone likes her" etc etc

she belives that the first thing on her way to being like her is her relative lack of independence. shes very often forced to stay at home to watch her little sister Pilar and beacuse of this she skips a lot of "teen activities" that she sees as crucial to her social life (theyre not really, she has plenty of friends and theyre actually pretty nice about her not being available a lot) she envies how valen doesn't seem to give a fuck about anything and wishes she was like that

she resents her parents for this but she also resents her brother roman, who never helps her at all and mostly just dips for the entire day every day and only seems to cause trouble.

she met valentina at a random birthday party and they clicked veyr quickly, becoming #besties. shes very tall for both her age and being a girl so valen kinda thought she was older, something that aldana was really happy to hear

#wadds art #argieoc art #aldana amado oc #valentina rios oc

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touyubesposts · 2 years ago

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My Sander Sides Enlightment

You know what’s always kinda bothered me? Those mean takes on the other sides. Like ‘Janus is manipulating Patton and isn’t actually trying to be friends with him,’ ‘Patton has too much moral superiority,’ ‘Roman never learns,’ So on and so forth. There is something bad to say about all the sides. No hate to anyone who's made one, you are valid and probably right in your own way. I think the only reason they bother me so much is because you can easily say the opposite. The most common phrase being ‘Nobody listens to ____’

“Nobody listens to Patton! He was trying to show the others that Virgil was good all along and only when Virgil was gone did they listen.”

“Nobody listens to Logan! He gets ignored constantly and he’s getting mad because of it.”

“Nobody listens to Roman! Every time he comes up with a solution, he gets shut down only to get blamed for not coming up with a solution.”

“Nobody listens to Virgil! He only gets listened to when he forces Thomas to hear him, and he doesn’t like doing that.”

“Nobody listens to Janus! Even when he has good ideas and arguments, they get pushed to the side because he is a dark side.”

“Nobody listens to Remus! That was the entire point of an episode. And all he wants is to be listened to, it doesn’t matter who.”

And all of these are valid points. But at some point, you have to wonder who’s not listening the most. Which is how I think the criticism posts of the characters came to be in the first place. But I don’t think any of them are to blame. Even when this new side gets revealed, it won’t be his fault either. The fault isn’t on Roman, or Logan, or Janus, or any of them.

It's on Thomas.

And of course I don’t mean ‘Writer Thomas,’ I mean ‘Character Thomas.’ Throughout the series, Thomas has always held himself high. You can’t be perfect, but you can try to be. And every time a situation comes up, he doubts himself, wondering if he’s even any good at all.

And in comes the sides, telling him that he can’t be bad and here's why. In fact, Thomas won’t let himself be bad at anything. Can’t be a bad worker, can’t be a bad actor or singer, and certainly can’t be a bad friend. Even in situations where he wouldn’t even be those things, he can’t even let himself risk it.

And so, the sides follow suit.

Logan becomes the perfect person for knowledge and learning, never letting himself be anything less than right all the time.

Roman strives to be perfect physically and materialistically, coming up with creative ideas that help Thomas move up in the world or, at the very least, make himself feel better.

Patton is the perfectly moral person. Make sure everyone is alright, help whenever and wherever you can, and always keep a smile on. Wouldn’t want anyone worrying for you, right? That wouldn’t be good.

Virgil is the perfect alarm system. Even false alarms are taken with the utmost seriousness. Just as long as no one else knows your anxious.

Janus is a deceiver. And Thomas lies often. So he needs to be the best at putting on a face and making sure nothing goes off without a hitch. Wouldn’t want people catching him in a lie. He needs to be the perfect liar.

And then there's Remus. The only one who tries not to be perfect. But that idea terrifies the others so much, Remus is left to pick up all of the imperfection slack. Maybe that's why Remus was offended when he was called ‘Scary.’

Trying to be so many perfect things all at once, you’re going to but heads with all of the different aspects of yourself. You're going to not listen. You're going to ignore. And in some cases, your perfectionism is going to make you look like the bad guy. And as someone with perfectionism, I relate a little too hard.

Thank you for reading.

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part-time-zombie · 3 months ago

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Ok I've either reached some sort of analytical epiphany here, or I fully fried my brain and I'm no longer making sense. Either way...

seven sides = seven deadly sins.

Roman = Pride.

Easy enough, he represents the ego and pride in a most literal sense (along with passion and creativity). A wound to his ego creates literal pain, and his reputation/role as a heroic prince means everything to him since his very existence is tied to being the "good" part of imagination.

Remus = Lust.

Another easy one, but I think it's more than just the dirty jokes here. It had been suggested before that since Remus represents all forbidden/unwanted thoughts that c!thomas rejected/repressed because he thought they were bad, there likely may have been a point where he was also his closeted homosexuality in the past.

Virgil = Sloth.

Procrastination is a common practice from Virgil, one he either unintentionally prompts or openly promotes. Anytime something stressful or challenging occurs, Virgil always seems to suggest inactivity and avoidance as the solution, preferring to hide from the issue altogether instead of making any effort into fixing it.

Orange = Wrath (?)

Not much is really known here, but from what we've seen so far it's fair to assume that anger is a driving force if not a direct role for the orange side, though future videos may provide more insight.

Janus = Greed.

Greed is a desire to collect and hoard material wealth/resources, with no intention of sharing or using it. It is innately selfish (and not always in a good way) and the way I feel this translates to Janus is by him wanting c!thomas to prioritize himself above all else, even if it involves letting others down. He wants Thomas to seek out the things he wants in life (like the callback) and to take it without feeling bad about choosing his own happiness. This isn't just for goals/achievements, though, he also wants thomas to save his free time/availability for himself without giving it out carelessly. It's as he said: "it's your time and you do what you want with it". He wants Thomas to remove the blindfold and take what he wants while he still can, before the opportunity is lost again.

Patton = Envy.

This one was a little tough, but I think I made it make sense (at least to me). Patton is Thomas' morality, something instilled in him by observing and imitating those around him. As such, Patton's ideals largely come from him comparing himself and Thomas to others. Sure, Thomas is good, but is he as good as someone else? Can be be better? Can he be perfect, and what counts as perfect to begin with? Patton is constantly looking to outside influences to determine what standards to set, which is why Janus managed to help get through to him when he needed guidance in pof. In a way, Patton is envious of others for them seemingly having gotten it all figured out and being effortlessly good (which is obviously ridiculous, but Patton may have had issues with realizing that).

Logan = Gluttony.

In all seriousness, though, this is about more than just crofters. Gluttony is an obsessive overindulgence of material pleasures and consuming more than is healthy. It differs from greed in that greed focuses on amassing wealth and holding onto it, while gluttony uses up everything it can as quickly as possible. How does that relate to Logan? Well, instead of simply associating this with jam or wine, I like to think he is gluttonous of c!thomas' time. He says he experiences a "titillating, tingling sensation whenever deadlines are met" and regularly tried to direct as much of the focus onto himself and his plans as possible, and becomes frustrated without having surplus time to work. It's not like that time is wasted, though. He does quite the opposite by trying to prioritize all of the time to what he wants, even when it's at a detriment to the others/thomas. He allotted only 0.5% of the day to hopes and dreams, insisting the rest of the day be spent as he pleases. Why? Because being prioritized means he's important and respected, which for him is like the best feeling in the world. And going by how eagerly he devours crofters or chugs wine, it's clear that anything he finds enjoyable will be immediately consumed.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #analysis #does this make sense #am i onto something?#or am i overthinking it #this wouldn't leave my head #what do you think?#sanders sides theory

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the-lying-heavens · 3 months ago

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"Defeat"

[Heroes of Olympus/Odyssey(and techically EPIC) crossover]

Masterlist

Goofy blurb inspired by this post cause yes

Warnings: Not proofread, nothing else I believe

Word count: 830 words

Odysseus is ready to strangle the Olympians—one by one—for forcing him into this volleyball match. And then the teenagers who are absolutely destroying his crew.

Eurylochus crashes to the ground, the ball bouncing off his head and landing on the court.

The other side erupts in cheers. If Odysseus hears them shout in joy one more time, he might just summon a storm with his anger.

"I think I may have broken a bone," Eurylochus groans, while Polites helps him up.

"Eurylochus, do not—" Odysseus begins, fully prepared to curse out his brother-in-law.

"We will beat them, don't worry," Polites interrupts brightly.

The scoreboard blares 12 to 0.

Perimedes points it out. Elpenor quickly shuts him up.

He glared at the kids across from them. They had been introduced to each other, so he knew all their names and their parents. The first one, and the one who had gotten the most points, was Percy Jackson, a child of Poseidon. He wondered what the sea god would do if he poked Jackson's eye out.

He debates whether it was worth it.

He decides it is. As soon as he got his hand on something sharp-

The others included, Annabeth Chase, was a child of Athena, which strangely stung.

A child of Zeus, Jason Grace. Eurylochus had declared if he hit the blonde kid in the face with the ball, it would be a victory for him.

Leo Valdez, a son of Hephaestus, who clearly was not taking the game seriously. He got distracted by everything and could not stay still for 10 seconds.

Frank Zhang, a child of Mars, who was Roman version of Ares. Odysseus groaned when he was told that there were a different versions of the Greek Gods who weren't very different at all.

And Piper Mclean, a child of Aphrodite. He didn't know how to feel about her.

There a child of Pluto, the roman version of Hades, watching from the sidelines named Hazel Levesque.

He’s a hero, a legend remembered by history, and these children are laughing at him!

Annabeth calls. “You might want to work on your serve. It’s kinda… underwhelming.”

“Underwhelming?” Odysseus snaps, grabbing the ball. He winds up and serves with all the force of a furious storm.

The ball flies sideways and misses the net entirely.

Jason bursts out laughing. “Nice shot! Want me to get it for you?”

Piper chimes in with dripping sarcasm, “Yeah, we can take it easy while you go on a quest for the ball.”

"Perimedes, go get it," Odysseus grumbles.

"Why me?" Perimedes whines.

Odysseus glares daggers at him. Perimedes stumbles to retrieve the ball.

Odysseus growls and tries again. His serve barely clears the net and is intercepted by Frank Zhang, who spikes it so hard it almost knocks Odysseus over.

“You know what’s the worst part?” Odysseus mutters. “They’re enjoying this.”

Annabeth catches his eye, smirking. “We do have a tendency to be good at things like this,” she calls out.

“Yeah, well, so do I!” Odysseus snaps back. “I could sink your whole ship with a single command!”

Leo Valdez, inspecting the ball like a piece of machinery, barely looks up. “Cool story, bro. But this isn’t the Odyssey. It’s volleyball. And we’re winning.”

"You haven’t done anything!" Odysseus retorts.

"Well, neither have you." Leo motions at the scoreboard, barely glancing up.

“You know, we’re having fun. I think that’s what counts," Jason says.

Odysseus turns to his team, who look equally dejected. “Alright, let’s try a new tactic,” he says, trying to salvage some dignity. “We’re going for a strategic play!”

Eurylochus mumbles, “You mean, like hiding the ball in the bushes?”

“No!” Odysseus snaps. “We’ll use the element of surprise.”

Perimedes, finally back with the ball, looks at him skeptically. “What’s the plan?”

Odysseus whispers dramatically, “We’ll fake a serve and then—”

Before he can finish, Leo Valdez, who’s just fixed his shoelace, tosses the ball back into play. The ball sails over the net, and instead of following his own plan, Odysseus dives for it, accidentally bumping it into his own face. The ball ricochets back over the net.

Percy spikes it with ease, and it lands with a decisive thud on Odysseus’s side. The scoreboard updates: 19 to 0.

The final whistle blows. Odysseus stares at the ground, his pride in tatters.

Percy Jackson and his team erupted into cheers and high-fives, their victory sweet and complete. Percy, with a grin as wide as the Mississippi, calls out, “Great game, guys! You definitely kept us on our toes!”

Annabeth, grinning, adds, “And hey, it was good practice for us, too. We’ll be ready for anything now!”

The child of Mars chuckles. “You should’ve seen it, Odysseus. You almost made us break a sweat.”

Odysseus grumbled, “I’d rather face the Cyclops than play another round of this.”

"I wouldn't…" Polites mumbles.

As his team trudges off the court, Eurylochus, still grumbling about his 'broken bone', picks up the ball. In a fit of frustration, he hurls it toward the demigod team.

The ball smacks Jason Grace in the face. He stumbles and falls backwards, landing on his behind.

"AHA!" Eurylochus yells in victory, throwing his arms up, then winces.

Odysseus, struggling to hide a grin, says, “Well, at least we hit something.”

The crew quickly gathers their things and moves away, leaving behind the stunned demigods.

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pleasantspark · 28 days ago

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The Reason why I don't like Angel Dust

I went on the record to say I didn't like him because of his "AWFUL" portrayal. But there's lots of reasonings.

The tryhard fanbase.

The fanbase tries to make it about that fact that Angel Dust is a victim through and through when most of the time he's victimizing others, and usually the sexual harizzment is played for laughs and when it happens we're supposed to be "OH POOR ANTHONY HE GETS SA'd BY HIS BOSS!" like how can you be tonedeaf?

2. Viv and Raph

The unprofessionalism when handling the Story Arc that we're supposed to BE on the side of Angel Dust and "empowering him" failed, reason being that the story arc is being handled by people who fetish the abuse of a victim rather than being out of the way and approaching it with a more "detatched way" the entirety of EP4 could've been a commentary but instead it became a joke of an episode with two musicals that are nothing more than bringing down and making victims uncomfortable.

3. Loser, Baby and Poison did nothing to the story.

Loser, Baby is a useless addition to the already shitty soundtrack (There's like 2 soundtracks I liked out of them all.) and only provided us with the fact that "it's okay to be a victim and sell your body, it's okay to feel like a slut" it only serves to breed people to depreciate someone's self esteem, it's seen as "empowering" and "great" for Husk to belittle someone whose already been kicked down. Everyone in this episode was unlikeable with the exception of Sir Pentious, and ontop of it, everyone was OOC.

They were OOC to force a conflict and BS resolution because they needed a cute HuskerDust moment.

And don't get me started on Poison, the very song that tries to be Addict. But failed tremendously, Poison's animation was animated by a weirdo creep who probably had his hand somewhere else, and I wouldn't even put it past it.

Blake Roman has good vocals, but he's trying to be Michael, instead of his own person. There's alot of things I could say, but my dissection of this song is up if you want to hear it.

4. My EX liked the character and he's a piece of shit.

My ex, known as D, was an abusive cheating narcissist, who spent most of out relationship flirting with my then best friend (whose my boyfriend now) C. He spent most of the time doing it in front of me. It's not the first time he's done it, he's done it with other people, and alledgely by C, he made some rapey comments about him. My boyfriend (I will not say anything in respect) had "bad history" I had "bad history (involving family members.)" and for someone to say all that to someone who is a victim is gross.

When I left him after awhile he went on Twitter on a burner to harass me and my associates while spreading false allegations and using my mental breakdown as a way to say I diddle kids, along with screenshots when I was still a minor to prove to everyone I was a child diddler.

What does this have to do with AD?

Because he CONSTANTLY referred to Angel Dust as a "Femboy Spider" and KNOWING I was sexually abused, it made me INCREASINGLY uncomfortable. He and the fandom only see Angel Dust as gooning material, which is why he's written to be overly sexualized, he isn't a character that's deep and enriching, he's someone for people to sexualize and demean. He's not even human.

(He also had an obsession with UnknownSpy's stupid Sploot character which is a trigger of mine too.)

5. The roleplay side of them (esp Underage Kids) weird me out.

They have this weird sense of "judgement" about them that comes along with being an Angel Dust stan, they often try to make it to where they are uncomfortable around you while also portraying the easiest character.

and finally.

6. Angel Dust is easy to write, and not complicated.

Every single shit is a cop out, they write Angel Dust because its easy to make jokes about his body parts, they write Angel Dust because it's easy to rewrite canon into making him a victim.

Every FUCKING time.

I am SAYING Angel Dust can beat Val, it's easy, everyone down there has some sort of Asspull where they can somehow magically achieve Super Saiyan Bullshit.

Angel Dust by that logic should ALSO fucking take down the Vees, but no. We need more "liberating moments" for him to feel "empowered" and putting the sex back in Sex Worker.

This is why I hate him as a victim myself, and as a writing standpoint. People aspire to be like him, VICTIMS look up to him, NO ONE SHOULD PERIOD.

#helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #anti-vivziepop #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel critical #angel dust critcism

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 days ago

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Protector | Water Borne

Protector is so good and if it's not too much trouble could I ask for another chapter with Virgil's first kiss to one or more of The Five? Pretty please? (It's okay if you don't want to - no pressure!) – twoalpacas

Could you write some Roman angst that takes place in a merperson au? Whether Roman is a merperson or a human who meets merpeople would be up to you. – monkeythefander

Read on Ao3 Protector Masterlist

Warnings: ptsd, implied/reference drowning/brainwashing

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 5043

Virgil doesn't even give himself the time to sigh when his well explodes and Remus scrambles out of it, dripping wet and covered in something he's not going to try to name. Instead, he makes himself move his hand away from his dagger and stand up.

"What's happened?"

"Come with me," Remus barks, grabbing his wrist—

"You're coming with us," the guard snarls, ale heavy on his breath outweighing the stench of blood, "you'll be dealt with the way all traitors are—"

Virgil's hand creeps back toward the dagger and he sets his jaw. "Remus. Let go of me."

"What the fuck are you doing? We have to go, now!"

"Remus."

Everything in him screams to get out of this situation, diffuse, excuse, find some way to leave the angry magic user without making things any worse, but this is Remus. Remus, who after realizing that maybe grabbing his wrist wasn't the best idea in the world—which, you think?—stops and glares at Virgil.

"We have to go," he says again through gritted teeth, "come on."

It's like parenting a child, Virgil realizes with no small amount of hysteria, forcing himself to take a deep breath and let his arm go slack in Remus's grip. "Remus. Explain to me what's going on."

Remus's jaw works and he squeezes Virgil's wrist tighter. "Roman needs help. You need to help him."

"What's happened to Roman?"

"Didn't you hear me? He needs help!"

"I understand that Roman needs help, but if you tell me what sort of help he needs, then I can be better prepared to offer that sort of help."

Careful, his instincts warn, don't agree to anything yet. But he hasn't. He's just offered up the logical explanation that being more informed begets more productive assistance. Only then does he realize that Remus's breathing is still way too heavy and his eyes are so wide he can see the whites all the way around.

"Remus," he says, quieter now, "you made it to me. I'm here, I'm listening. It would be helpful if you explained to me what's going on with Roman."

Remus stares at him for a long moment before the mania finally begins to fade from his gaze. He takes another shuddering breath and his grip on Virgil's wrist loosens. "Someone fucked up a transformation spell. Ro got hit by it. He needs—he needs help."

A bolt of something cold races down Virgil's spine. He's survived this long by being wary enough not to get in between the fights of magic users. He's not about to let himself just get willingly dragged into one, but he's not sure how he can safely refuse Remus when he's just about feral and still holding onto Virgil.

"I'm not sure I'm the best source of help for a magical issue," he says as carefully as he can, "I don't know enough about spells or how to fix them—"

"That's not what I want you for!" Remus stamps his foot—it really is like parenting—"I want you to help Roman!"

"I don't understand."

Remus bears his teeth and for a moment, Virgil worries that the dagger at his side might be the last thing he ever holds in his own two hands, but then the man just deflates. He's almost rushing to get his arms under Remus's shoulders, quickly redirecting his collapse onto the nearby stool instead of the freshly-planted flowers. He squats down, letting Remus keep a hold of him, angling himself so he can see his face.

"Hey," he say softly, "hey, buddy, talk to me. What's going on? What does Roman need help with?"

Remus's lip wobbles. "He's so scared, Virgil. He's scared!"

"What's scaring him?"

"We need to fix it. We don't—we can't—we have to go and he can't do anything and he—you have to help him."

Virgil's chest clenches. He's not any more inclined to get in the middle of a fight between magic users than he was a few minutes ago, but he is more upset that Remus is so visibly torn up over it. He forces himself to stay aware for just a little longer.

"Is Roman physically hurt? Does he need me to patch him up the way I helped Janus?"

Remus shakes his head.

"Is there a mental element to the spell that's affecting his perception or emotions?"

"Sort of."

"Okay. Are you expecting me to be a part of magically resolving the process, or is my role something non-magical?"

Remus's brow wrinkles. "Why would I come to you if I needed someone else to cast magic for me?"

"Well, that's why I'm confused, buddy."

He shakes his head, another shower of droplets hitting Virgil's shoulders. "Roman needs help. He doesn't need more magic."

"Let me see if I understand, then: Roman got hit by a spell that went wrong. He's scared. You want me to help—like, keep him calm or be less scared while you figure out how to magically fix things?"

"Yes," Remus says, a touch of impatience back in his tone, "I thought that was obvious."

"Just wanted to make it explicit," Virgil mutters, scowling when Remus's brows pump up and down suggestively, "good to see you're fine enough to do that."

"Oh, I'll show you what I'm fine enough for." He giggles when Virgil rolls his eyes, sobering a moment later. "I don't—I don't know what to offer as payment. I'm not—Lolo normally does that."

"We could do what we did last time," Virgil's offering before he realizes what he's saying, "you could offer me something in collateral before the actual payment itself is agreed upon."

"I don't have a yathrylx."

"What else do you have to offer?"

Remus's mouth twitches and works back and forth a few times before he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small stone. He holds it out insistently and Virgil hesitantly extends his hand. It drops into his waiting palm.

"I would like to know what this is."

"It's a star-diamond calyx." Virgil just raises his eyebrow. "It's a really powerful magical ingredient, okay? It's used in resurrection spells."

"…Remus, you're carrying an ingredient for a resurrection spell."

"We didn't know if Ro was gonna make it," Remus says, his voice choking up again, "we—we needed to be prepared."

"But Roman is stable now."

"Yeah. He's—he's okay for now. He's just really scared, Virgil, we can't—we can't leave him alone but the rest of us have to go and—" he sniffles— "and I can't just leave him."

Something foreign settles in his gut, then, at the realization that Remus—and by extension, the others—trust him enough to be there, to help, to protect them. They're fucking magic users, they're ten times deadlier than he is at his best at their worst, and still they trust him to do this.

"I will take the star-diamond calyx as collateral for keeping Roman calm," he makes himself say, "until adequate payment is decided."

"Can we go now?"

"I will gather my things."

***

His second trip through a portal is no more impressive than his first, but the arrival destination is…enough to make him pause.

He's no stranger to wild and fantastical places. His way of life practically necessitates that he ventures to half a dozen far-flung and perilous places every single year. And yet, sometimes even he has to take a second just to breathe in the scenery.

Remus's portal brings them to the very edge of a tall sloping cave, crystalline walls leading up, up, up to a bright light source in the middle of the ceiling. The more he looks at it, the more it shifts, facets of complex gemstones sending small motes of light scattering down the walls to reflect off the clear surface of the pool at the edges of the cliffs. Small flowering bushes and trees grow along the edges of the water. Tiny birds and other creatures flit about in the spaces between the blooms, gathering or pollinating or something—most of them look like the harmless varieties that are common close to the edges of the Draymack River, but he'll double check. A soft purple mist rolls through the upper air, the light exposing glittering particles as it passes through.

"Oh, you found him," he hears, and he turns to see the others hurrying toward them from the shoreline. Patton rushes up first, almost barreling into him before skidding to a stop. "Did Remus explain everything?"

He summarizes, watching their faces to see if Remus left out anything especially pertinent, but all he sees is grim resignation and worry. "I would like to know if there's anything else important I'm missing before you leave, as well as the dangers posed to me in this location."

"There isn't anything here that's going to hurt you." Janus gestures to the wildlife. "The pixies and mephits are harmless and as long as you don't destroy any of the flowers, they'll ignore you completely."

"And the air?"

"Spell mist."

Ah. That would explain why they brought Roman here; the inherent abjurative nature of the cavern would dampen any lingering magic and restrict the spell to its current form without risk of evolution.

Shit, Bonnie really has been rubbing off on me. Though he makes a mental note to send her and the Aspen Witch some form of token.

"Roman's in the water," Logan says, interrupting his train of thought, "the spell didn't manage to transform him completely, but in its halfway state he's still more comfortable breathing water than air. And the good news is he didn't get any more of the bespelling gifts so you'll be—"

"The what?"

Logan pauses, looking at him in confusion, before he turns to glare at Remus. Remus shrugs, looking as unrepentant as ever—Virgil doesn't know how he feels about that fact that it just makes him feel fond—before Logan sighs.

"The transformation spell's made Roman turn into part mer."

Ah.

Well.

This does complicate things and is definitely something Remus should have told him. Would he have refused outright? Probably not—and that's something he's going to worry about later, thank you very much—but he would've brought way more precautions if he'd known the scared and upset magic user he's supposed to be keeping calm is part mer.

"You said he didn't get any more bespelling gifts?"

"No. He's still—he's still got his magic, so he's capable of it, but he'll need to—it's not an innate instinct the way it is for most full mers." Patton glances over his shoulder as soft splashing sounds come from the water. "And it's still Roman, so he's gonna recognize you."

Yeah, I'm not sure if that's gonna work in my favor or not. "How long do you anticipate being gone for?"

"A few hours. Not more. But we need all of us to get the right ingredients and we can't leave Roman alone for that long. There's a risk his emotions could trigger his own magic and it would mix with the spell and—"

He holds up a hand. He doesn't need to know about the details. "I understand."

"We can negotiate payment when Roman is back to normal," Logan says with an earnestness that he can't just write off, "we give you our word."

What is the world coming to, where Virgil's willing to take the word of a magic user when he's about to do something as dangerous as this? But it's the world he's in, and he nods and confirms the details before Remus gives his shoulder a tight squeeze.

"I know I don't need to say this," he says, voice oddly calm, "but don't hurt Roman."

"I will do my best not to cause Roman physical harm."

"No." Remus fixes him with a look. "You won't hurt Roman."

His throat runs dry, but the others are looking at him, and he can't do anything else but nod. Remus looks at him for a moment longer before his fingers twitch and he wraps his arms tightly around him in a fierce hug. Virgil tenses and Remus doesn't hold on for long.

"We'll be back," Janus says, loud enough to be heard over the splashing, and then there's a flash of light as another portal opens.

Virgil takes a deep breath and heads down toward the water.

Sure enough, there in the shallows, is a mer. He makes himself stop and confirm that if—if—Roman tries to pull him in, he has ways of getting out of it that won't cause Roman any permanent damage. Then he carefully crouches near the edge of the water and clears his throat.

"Roman?"

The water ripples. Slowly, the mer's head—Roman's head, and isn't that fucking weird, that he can still tell it's Roman—lifts up out of the water just enough for Virgil to see his eyes. They're blown wide, inhumanly black, the sclera reflecting the lights as though they were pools of their own—

He snaps himself back. Bespelling gifts. He's out of practice but not that much.

"Hey, buddy," he says, careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible, "I heard about what happened."

The feathery fins near Roman's ears flatten against the side of his head, water rippling around them. A long streak of red thrashes beneath the surface, his tail, most likely, and there's another low noise of rocks sliding against each other before Roman looks up at him again.

"Yeah. Sounds like it wasn't fun." Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to talk about. "Good news is the others seem to know exactly what to do, so—what?"

Roman glares at him and splashes again. He jabs a finger toward the shore.

"No, they're not here right now, they left to go somewhere." Roman nods. "Which means…?"

Roman rolls his eyes and his tail thrashes again. Virgil wracks his brain for something that might be close to whatever the hell Roman's trying to get him to understand. Okay, so the thing that he said that wasn't right was that they knew exactly what to do, so…

"You don't think they know what they're going to do?"

Roman nods, settling a little bit as the water stops frothing. His fins ripple slightly as the spines along his crest flatten in a way that seems almost petulant.

"Why not?" Roman gestures toward the shore again. "Because they're not here? But wouldn't they have to leave anyway if they knew what they were doing, to get whatever they needed to…"

He trails off as his eyes widen. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And they didn't say where that was or what they were getting, which means they probably don't know specifics enough to do that."

Roman's tail swishes. Virgil has the sudden urge to reach down and splash a bit of water back at him, but quickly decides that no, he's not about to do that, because that's a terrifically stupid idea, even by his standards. He settles for easing further down onto the shore. Something twitches in his chest as he takes in how much Roman is simultaneously trying to push himself closer and hold himself away.

"They left you very quickly," he says, trying his best to make the observation gentle.

Roman makes a low clicking trill, the water nearest his throat vibrating slightly with it. He picks up a rock and clutches it tightly in his claws.

"That's a cool rock." Roman holds it up for him to see. "Yeah, bud, it's cool. Oh—oh, you're giving it to me?"

Roman holds it out insistently. Virgil carefully frees a handkerchief and lays it over the palm of his hand, slowly moving to meet him. His gut reminds him that letting his hand get close to a mer is not the best thing to do, his brain cautions him to flip his hand so Roman would grab the handkerchief first if he does try to pull him in, and his heart knows that this is Roman.

And he's not going to think about that last one too much for right now.

"It's a really cool rock," he says again, cradling it in the handkerchief, "thank you for giving it to me."

Roman's tail happily smacks the water, sending up a shower of glistening droplets. Virgil runs his thumb over the edge of the rock, feeling the rough texture.

"…Roman?" The mer chirps. "Do you know why they left so quickly?"

Roman's shoulders slump and his fins flutter as he nods. He holds a hand over his chest, rubbing in slow circles, gesturing between himself and Virgil. Then he points to the shore and makes a fist, miming an explosion.

"You—they left because they didn't want the magic affecting you to get worse?" Roman nods. "Because…their magic would make it worse?"

He shakes his head. He puts his head under the water and large bubbles appear.

"Uh—"

He rolls his eyes and comes back up, miming taking an exaggerated breath while pointing to Virgil.

"They want me to help keep you calm, yeah. Oh—are you saying they left because them trying to figure things out here would stress you out more?" Roman gives a happy little trill and spins around in the water. Virgil laughs in surprise, shaking his head at Roman's child-like glee. "Never thought you'd be so happy about not being stressed."

Roman stops then and gives him a look that makes him burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay, point taken." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm happy I'm not making you more stressed."

That seems to do the trick. Roman relaxes back into the water, tail moving lazily back and forth. Virgil settles into a quiet pause, the gentle buzz of activity from the nearby bushes filling the air with soft chirpings and the fluttering of miniature wings. He finds himself tracing Roman's features, seeing where the smooth scales meet the soaked brown hair still mostly covering his head. Parts of him are red and angry, nothing like the smooth meeting of Janus's scales with the unblemished skin. His mouth thins. He hadn't even given a thought to how painful this might be for Roman.

Roman trills in question and he realizes he's reaching out again. He should stop. He should sit back. But this is Roman, and Roman is hurting, and so he swallows and keeps reaching.

Roman leans up out of the water, his hands down in the silt, letting Virgil brush his fingers gently over a patch of rough and reddened skin. Roman's breathing hitches slightly. He does it again, trying to move his hair away from it, and Roman lets out a small keen. He keeps going, warm fingers stroking back and forth over the raw skin, just trying to keep everything soft, slow, gentle and tender.

He should start keeping a tally of how many things he does that he swore he'd never be foolish enough to do, shouldn't he?

Roman, for the most part, seems to be falling into a light doze under his ministrations. His head dips lower and lower, until it's pillowed in the waves lapping gently along the silt. Virgil shifts to carding his fingers through his hair, avoiding the base of the spines as he goes. Every so often, a soft clicking pattern comes from his throat, fins fluttering as he does.

"Hey," Virgil says softly after a good deal of time has passed, "I dunno if it's a good idea for you to fall asleep out here, buddy."

Roman snuffles but begins to push himself up. He's much closer now. He can almost see himself in the dark sclera. Roman looks at him for a moment longer before flipping around and diving into the water.

Virgil blinks. That was…sudden. Did he cross some invisible line? His expertise with mers typically comes in the form of hey let's not fucking mess with that, not…whatever affection he was just showing Roman. His expertise also doesn't typically come with openly showing affection to any magic user, but that ship's sailed a long, long time ago, he's just now realizing, and he's not sure what he's going to—

Oh.

Roman's back.

Roman bursts from the water with a shower of sparkling droplets, his hands cupping something to his chest. There are bright spots of color on his cheeks, his spines standing out sharply from his head. Virgil frowns, going to shift back to a crouch when Roman opens his hands.

His breath catches.

He might actually have stopped breathing. He's not sure.

What he is sure of is that Roman is holding a tessarae cluster.

Virgil prides himself on knowing just enough about magic to know what not to do and what to stay the fuck away from. But when you do what he does for long enough, certainly as long as he has, you pick a few things up. Like what ingredients for spells are the most common, which ones are the most expensive, and which ones have nearly limitless uses if someone has the proper magic. You also learn about things that even magic users covet—those tend to be the ones he stays the fuck away from, since getting in the middle of magic turf wars is not high on his list of things he wants to do.

So, when Roman offers him something that he's seen entire swaths of magic users go full scorched-earth over, he thinks he can be forgiven for taking a second to just go what the actual fuck?

He should leave. He should figure out the politest way to get the fuck out of this situation. He should do a lot of things right now.

He shouldn't reach forward to cup his hands under Roman's, nor should he look up like he can't believe this is happening right now. He shouldn't be thinking of how much it means that Roman is offering this to him, not when it's so priceless to anyone but him, and not the fact that this might explain why exactly the Five are so powerful.

And he definitely shouldn't be distracted enough to be caught off-guard by a crack of the portal reopening.

He whirls around, hand on his dagger, only belatedly realizing that not only is it the rest of the Five coming toward him, he's put his back to a mer in the water. But he does realize them, and so he relaxes, turns back, and tries to smile at Roman, say it's alright, the rest of them are back and they can fix this, but there's a quiet hurt in Roman's expression that robs him of any words.

"Roro! We got it!" Remus's skidding halt throws up a lot of silt the makes Roman wince. "We'll have you back to normal in no time!"

"Thank you for being here," Logan says quietly as the rest of them swarm the beach, Roman quickly holding the tessarae cluster to his chest again, "I know we should discuss payment, but if you'd be willing to wait a little longer while we attempt to—"

"Yeah," he says gruffly, "help Roman first."

Logan blinks. "A-alright. It's, well, it's not quite safe for you to be here while we do this, so could we—"

Virgil makes eye contact with Roman one more time, trying to make him understand that any offense he may have just caused wasn't his intention, he swears, but Roman's eyes are too busy darting around at the others and he swallows the lump in his throat. "Yeah. I'll wait for discussion of payment and said payment in exchange for keeping Roman calm at my home."

"Thank you again, Virgil," Logan says as he walks him back to the portal, "really."

Virgil just nods and steps through.

***

"Virgil?"

Virgil stands, dusting off his knees as Roman approaches the edge of his garden. "Hey. You're looking more as I expected."

Roman laughs, but he glances down, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, well, perhaps I've learned my lesson about…certain things."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, no, I know, I just…" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That wasn't how I intended that to go."

Virgil frowns, stashing the trowel in its place on his belt and walking closer. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I figured that you'd be there to, you know, keep an eye on me, stop me from hurting myself, but—" he huffs— "I think I underestimated how much the spell would affect my instincts."

"How so?"

Roman eyes him warily, eyes darting to the door. "Could we do this inside? I don't—having a conversation out here—"

Virgil hesitates. He doesn't truly have an issue with inviting Roman into his home, but there is an outstanding issue of payment that has him erring on the side of caution. "I would like to discuss payment, if possible, before a conversation about instincts."

Roman's shoulders tense a little bit, but he nods. "The two aren't unrelated but…yes, yeah, we can do this first."

He reaches toward a satchel tucked over his shoulder. Virgil makes sure his gloves are securely fastened as he walks closer.

"They talked me out of offering the cluster," Roman mumbles as he pulls out a small pouch, "which I can explain inside, but this is—these are ardenti charms. Protective charms that will create temporary auras around you in unfamiliar places that should grant you some level of understanding about where you are."

"Elemental? Social?"

"Elemental, mostly. You'll gain any knowledge about the geography, terrain, that sort of thing."

"What cost?"

"What? No, Virgil, this is—this is your payment—"

"What cost would it be to me to wear them?"

"Oh. Uh, I'm not sure. For magic users, it's typically not much of anything, it just sort of…blends in with the other magic we might have going, but Logan thinks that it wouldn't be anything more than wearing a basic protection charm." Virgil raises an eyebrow. "Just because it's simultaneously drawing on your magic at the same time, and since you don't have any, then it's just using the small amount in the charm already."

"I see." He holds his hand out and accepts the pouch. "I accept the pouch of ardenti charms in exchange for keeping you calm."

Roman's cheeks flush. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

"Why do I have to explicitly state the terms of my contracts? You know better than that," he scolds lightly, chuckling when Roman glares at him and raising his hands. "I'm teasing,"

Roman pouts, only to frown when Virgil reaches for another pouch. "What are you doing?"

"Returning your collateral."

"Keep it."

"What? Why would I keep it? One, it's collateral, and two, I think you'd have better use for a resurrection spell ingredient than I will."

Roman chews on his lip, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Virgil's chest twists. He's never seen Roman look this unsure about anything—he's not sure he likes it. "Can we go inside now?"

Virgil nods, gesturing over his shoulder. Roman follows him up the steps into the cabin, lingering just over Virgil's shoulder as he takes off his gloves and places them in the basket near the door. He takes down two mugs and prepares a simple tea, settling them on the table as Roman sits uneasily.

"You're upset," he observes softly, "have I done something to offend you?"

"No, Virgil, you've been perfect."

He balks slightly at the words. A ghost of Roman's typical smirk touches the corners of his mouth before it fades again.

"I—so how much do you know about mers?"

"Not much."

"So you don't—you don't know what mating habits are for them."

"No," Virgil says slowly, and Roman nods, still not looking at him, "why?"

"Well, we—um—oh, for crying out loud, Virgil, we practically did them."

Pause. Stop. What?

"Offering to be a protector during a time of need. Expressing concern over one's school or communal family situation. Accepting gifts. Physical touch." Roman scrubs his hand over his face. "And then I decided to go and offer you a tessarae cluster."

Virgil swallows, sitting forward. "Roman, I'm not going to pretend I understand magic like this or mer instincts, but I—I'm not going to hold anything against you, okay? If that's what you're worried about."

Roman finally looks at him, something playing over his features before he slowly stands up. Virgil watches as he walks around the corner of the table, his hand on its edge, before he kneels down and looks up at him.

"Uh—"

"Please," Roman whispers, "don't freak out."

Which is a great thing to say in order to make Virgil freak out quite quickly, but then Roman's leaning up and closing his eyes and—

Soft lips meet his.

Oh.

It's a soft kiss, a terribly soft and chaste thing, and it's over before Virgil can fully realize what's happening, but then Roman is looking at him with a tender affection that makes his head grow fuzzy and the only thing he can think of it—

"You overheard Bonnie and the Aspen Witch," he murmurs, "didn't you?"

"Perhaps. Though I would never attempt to make this a form of payment," Roman murmurs back, "I'd run up a debt to you so great I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Is that right?"

"If you'd let me, yes, I would kiss you until you could afford any favor from me, or the rest of us, for this lifetime and any other." Roman swallows, eyes flicking back and forth. "And—oh, they might kill me for this, but I think they would do the same."

"Well, then it's a good thing I've got an ingredient for resurrection spells, isn't it?"

Roman laughs, a small and breathless thing. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, you may."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders

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sharpth1ng · 1 month ago

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What do you think of Roman Bridger? Will he ever appear?

I think in isolation from the rest of the original trilogy Roman is an entertaining character and Scott Foley does a good job in the role. There's even a lot I like about scream 3, I think the extremely meta concept of having a scream movie happen on set for a stab movie is pretty clever and there's a lot of potential there.

However, I really really dislike Roman's origin and I think that overall his presence weakens the series, especially the first movie.

Roman's Motive

Literally he's trying to get revenge on Sid because Maureen put him up for adoption after she was sexually assaulted when she was just 19. I get that it's hard to be adopted, I have sympathy for the complicated feelings that would bring up, but Roman is a grown man getting revenge on his birth mom, who was a literally teenager when he was non-consensually conceived. It's pretty vile.

The movie clearly knows this is a gross motivation but it feels pretty played out to bring it back to Maureen's sexual history again. At least in the original she was having a consensual affair with Cotton Weary, but punishing her in the narrative for a sexual assault feels nasty. Leave this poor woman alone, she's been post-mortem slut shamed enough.

2. The Billy & Stu retcon

The second thing I don't love about Roman is that he takes responsibility for the original Woodsboro Massacre, saying that he's the one who gave Billy the idea and basically told him how to pull it off. In my opinion this really weakens the original movie.

Part of what works so well about Scream 1996 is how petty and teenage it is. The slasher villain isn't this omnipotent force of nature that seems able to teleport and survive all wounds, it's literally two 18 year old boys doing a bunch of fucked up stuff for fun. That's unique, it's fun, and its an actual commentary on the genre.

Coming back five years later and being like "Oh wait actually it was this adult mastermind pulling the strings behind the scenes this whole time!" just really cheapens all of that. It weakens the strongest movie in the franchise and I can't forgive that.

So yeah, for me scream 3 isn't canon, or at the very least Roman is lying about the fact that he gave Billy the idea. As of now I don't have plans to include him in the series, but if I do he's going to be in a very different form.

(If you like scream 3 and Roman and all that comes with him, thats totally fine, its just not for me)

#Roman Bridger #scream 3 #wave of mutilation fanfic #debaserverse #ask #queue

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nescaveckwriter · 10 months ago

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Hi there 👋 hope you're doing good? I've been feeling a little down lately. And I were wondering if you could write a one shot or something about Dean/Sam comforting reader, I'd appreciate it so much.💕 Also just want to say I love all your stories. Anyway thanks❤️

💞... Awwww sweetheart, I hope this is what you had in mind, I hope this helps, and also thank you for the beautiful message, 🐞... Just also know, that you can always talk to me, and I sure do hope that this brings a little comfort. Thanks for requesting love...💞

A/N: Thank you all for the love, support and just overly all support 🐞 I love each and every comment and reblog... Also if you want, something written, you can send me requests it's open.

Warnings: None, just super comfort and Fluff 💞

Comforting Arms💞

Trying to hum, to one of your favorite songs, doesn't seem to be working, everyday your the one, who is always positive, always cheerful, always looking forward to a new day, but every now and then, there's this sense of darkness creeping up in your soul, you just can't shake, but of course you always try your best to hide it. But unfortunately today is one of those days, you just feel down, not really a reason too, but its just the way you feel, yeah of course you have a few problems here and there but who doesn't right?

Sam walks into the kitchen, interrupting your thoughts. ''Hey there, want to go for a jog?'' he smiles

Forcing a giggle, but he doesn't notice ''Uhmm no, not today thanks, its so cold'' you say, while rubbing across your arms.

He just laughs, as he runs out by the door. Since they saved you from Dick Roman, the three of you been friends, it's been five years now, and whenever your close by, you'll pay them a visit, making sure they take care of themselves. You and Sam become like besties, sharing the same interest's in reading and other stuff, as for you and Dean, well things, are good between you two, and your not going to lie, sometimes you can feel your heart flutter, while stealing glances at the older brother, but honestly, you know, he'd probably never feel the same, and even if he did, its a bad idea, too get romantically involved, there work is crazy.

Staring over the warm cup of coffee your holding, thinking about everything, trying to figure out why you feel so sad, but no luck, you can't seem too figure out why you feel this way.

His smoky voice, yanks you away from your deep thoughts, ''Morning Sweetheart'' something he called you from day one.

''Good Morning Dean'' a half smile forming on your lips.

You catch the way he looks at you, but just acts, like you didn't notice.

''I need some coffee, want some more'' he gestures to your cup

''Oh no, I'm good thanks'' taking a sip, of the coffee, hoping the little doze of caffeine will give you the energy for today, if it were up to you, you'd stay in bed, covers snugly pulled over you, but no! you've got stuff to do, it's Dean's birthday in a few days and you want to make it special.

Dean smiles at you, taking a sip, of his hot coffee, he starts walking back to his room, but suddenly stops in his tracks, glancing over at you, his voice low ''you okay''

Cocking your head towards him, ''yes of course'' you sound extra chipper.

He just nods, as he strides further down the hallway.

Glad you dodged that awkward conversation, you get up, walking over to the kitchen sink, to do some of the dishes. Realizing you've left your empty cup, on the table you head on over to take it, dragging it closer with your fingertips, not feeling like, walking to the other side, wishing now, you did that extra little bit, as the cup falls to the floor, splatting ceramic pieces across the white tiles.

Its not even that bad, but somehow, it was just enough to sent you over the exact same edge your trying to avoid, tears flooding now, plunging to the ground, cradling your knees, you just sit there, body trembling, the sadness washing over you. All of the sudden you feel muscular arms folding over you, glancing through your wet eyelashes, seeing those beautiful forest green eyes, ''Dean?''

Concern showing on his face ''Sweetheart are you hurt'' you just shake your head ''want to tell me why your crying'' shaking your head once again, a firm ''NO! ''

His voice filled with compassion, ''Everything will be okay, I promise'' he just holds you in his comforting arms.

Your voice brittle ''I'm so stupid..'' before you can let out any words, he gives you a scowled look, placing his finger on your lips, ''don't you ever say that, you hear me, you are perfectly imperfect'' him saying that, makes you cry even more. He thumbs away the tears, giving you a assuring smile ''what's wrong sweetheart?''

You sniffle ''I... I don't really know, I've been feeling a little down lately'' embarrassed you look down.

''Its okay, really, we all have days like those, sometimes we need to wash our eyes with tears in order to see, the beautiful things in front of us'' his voice is soft and low.

Surprised you look at him, your voice breaking now ''That's beautiful, but I'm always the strong one, comforting everyone else''

His hands gently resting on your shoulders now, ''I know and I love that about you, but sweetheart, let me be your strength for a while''

Smiling through the tears, you just nod, knowing that it be impossible to hear anything you say, through your shaky, trembling breaths, you just throw your arms around his torso, a sort of a little hug, to say thank you, knowing that maybe you just needed a little comfort after all, you can be strong tomorrow again.

He pulls you closer , to his chest, your head resting, hearing his steady heartbeat, stroking your hair, his smoky voice, filling your ears and heart, with more than just comfort, ''Sweetheart, I'll always be here for you, talk to me okay, I will never leave you, I care about you, deeply'' he stops speaking for a few seconds, his breath sending shivers down your spine, as he whispers ''I love you sweetheart'' and right there, on that cold winter's day, you found yourself in the loving embrace of Dean's comforting arms. The two of you stayed on the kitchen floor, sharing the moment that would change your lives forever.

#spotify #jared padalecki #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #benny lafitte #castiel spn #dean winchester imagine #eileen leahy #oneshot #requested #dnesca

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