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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

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Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place.

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional.

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind.

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book.

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you.

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below.

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously.

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out.

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her.

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet.

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him.

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness.

"You're awfully quiet," she tries.

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave.

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right.

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams.

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed.

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?"

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus.

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room?

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug.

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice.

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull.

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders.

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time.

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman.

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met."

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo.

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea.

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist.

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this.

It's her.

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris.

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck.

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv.

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin.

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain."

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust.

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her.

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..."

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are."

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier.

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs.

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine.

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck…

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex.

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…"

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this.

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..."

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering…

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…"

"Yeah? I know."

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength.

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?"

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #cod fanfic

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tsimvkas · 2 months

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camera roll — trent alexander-arnold.

A/N: this is based on this video of tottenham bc i wish lfc would give us this type of content

“Good morning Mo, could you show me the last pic on your camera roll?” you smiled, your work phone already recording. Mohamed Salah took his phone out of his pocket and after a few seconds showed the screen to your camera, a beautiful picture of his wife and daughters having fun.

“I took it yesterday” he said, smiling. “We were watching Saturday’s goal on repeat”

You chuckled, thinking of how much you love your job. Being LFC’s social media was a dream coming true, seeing your favourite players every day, attending every game with them and always thinking about funny stuff to bring them to do.

Of course, some of them didn’t like you that much — not because of who you are, but because of what you represent. The shy ones always try to avoid you when you have a phone on your hand, which is basically always. But during breakfast and lunch, times of the day where you refuse to bring your phone with you, they always sit and have a chat, and that’s how you know they like you — they just hate your job.

One of your favourite players, Trent, certainly hates your phone.

He doesn’t like being photographed that much, or having to answer one of the trends you always come up with and he tries his best not to be rude with you, but even when you’re not using your phone he still keeps his distance, and you wonder if it’s not only your phone he hates.

Trent is a pretty boy, and you wish he would sit and talk to you like the others. Often you catch yourself looking at him, wanting to know him more, wanting him around.

And you feel silly, having a crush on the only guy that runs away from you every time.

That day, after a list of players and their last pictures (Alisson with a picture of his son, Tsimikas with both of his dogs, Dominik with a selfie, of course, and Ibou with a screenshot of a joke he saw before coming to work), you finally spotted him.

He was looking cosy, as always, baggy trousers and a hoodie, and you felt your

Robbo was with him, laughing and throwing his head back. When Trent saw you, he tried to discreetly avoid your camera and let Robertson deal with you.

“Wow, he must hate me” you tried to joke, pointing your phone to Andy. “Can I see the last pic in your camera roll, Rob?”

Andy Robertson likes you very much. He feels this paternal duty, always looking out for you and making sure you’re alright, and you think he and Virgil feel like they’re your parents. That’s why he doesn’t answer you, shouting Trent instead.

“Alexander-Arnold. Come here, right now”

Trent gives him a flat look and you know how much he doesn’t want to come.

“Andy, please. I just need your answer so I can finish it and upload, it’s not a big deal” you smiled.

“Trent, if you don’t then you’ll be in trouble” “Your captain won’t like to know you’re treating the media girl this way”

“I didn’t do anything” he gasped, but obeyed and walked back.

“Repeat the question, Y/N” Robertson encouraged you, already picking up his phone.

“Can you show me the last picture in your camera roll?”

“I can’t” Trent shook his head, looking almost ashamed.

“Trent” Andy groaned, giving you an apologetic smile.

Snorting, Trent grabbed his phone against his will. Robertson showed his picture, the one he took from Trent pulling a funny face on their way to AXA, and Alexander quickly showed you his screen, a zoomed in image of his shoes, the pair he was wearing.

“You just took it” Andy frowned after looking at it, reaching for Tren’s hand. “Give me your phone”

“Robbo, no!” Trent giggled, trying to put his phone higher.

They had a playful fight and you recorded it a bit, before shutting down your phone.

“Thank you boys, you’re good to go” you smiled, heading to your office so you could edit and upload the video.

When the training session ended hours later, Trent looked for you in the media room.

“I’m sorry I tried to sneak out this morning” he suddenly said, scaring you.

“Oh my God, you scared me” you placed a hand over your heart, trying to calm down. “It’s okay, Trent”

“No, it wasn’t nice of me. You’re just trying to work”

“It’s okay. We all know you’re reserved, I’ll try not to bother you too much” you genuinely smiled.

“No, it’s not that. I can deal with cameras, you know” he sighed, playing with his fingers. “I just can’t deal with you”

You raised an eyebrow, not knowing how to answer this. “Oh- wow”

“No! No, not like that. Jesus, see? You make me so nervous I keep switching things. Every time you point your camera at me I get so afraid I might say something stupid or embarrassing ‘cos you keep distracting me and this morning Dominik texted me and said that you were asking about our last camera roll picture and I freaked out because my last picture was you so I thought ‘oh I can just delete it’ but Robertson wouldn’t take his eyes out of me for whatever reason then I tried to go by you unnoticed but this clearly didn’t work”

The way he was desperately gesticulating made you smile.

“You should take a breath, Trent” you smiled. “I’d hate for you to pass out when I don’t have my camera with me”

“Stop making fun of me” he groaned. “I’m trying to tell you something”

“I'm listening”

At first, Trent stayed silent for almost a minute and you could see he was trying to find the words.

“Fuck, I don’t know how to do this” he whined, running his hands through his hair, and it made you giggle.

You walked towards him, pulling him closer by his shirt. “Do what?”

You smiled when his breath hitched on his throat and Trent mustered up the courage to caress your cheek.

“Ask you on a date? Tell you I wanna kiss you?”

“You can kiss me if you want” you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “But the date will cost you a few more smiles to my camera, yeah?”

“Yeah?” he smirked, suddenly feeling like the confident Trent and grabbing your thighs so he could put you on top of the office table. “How much else for a second date?”

You laughed, amused with the way his mood switched. “You didn’t even take me out on the first one, Trentski”

“But I’m sure there’ll be a second. And a third, and a fourth” he distributed kisses along your jail line, making you giggle even harder.

“You talk too much when you want to, Alexander-Arnold”

“Well, there’s a way to make me shut” he gave you a lazy smile, settling between your legs.

He didn’t stop you when you cupped his face and he didn’t stop you when you kissed the corner of his mouth, anticipating the moment.

You smiled when he licked his lips, remembering he told you that you make him nervous. Brushing his lips with yours, you felt goosebumps when Trent squeezed your thighs.

“Please, Y/N…”

“I thought you wanted to kiss me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow but Trent just squeezed your thigh and smirked.

“I’ve changed my mind, I want you to kiss me”

“This will cost you lots of smiles to my camera, Arnold” you murmured, not giving him time to answer before kissing his lips gently.

Trent bit your lower lip, shyly asking you for permission to invade your mouth with his tongue, but before you could allow him to do it a loud sound scared you both, and you looked around just to see that the door had opened and Mo, Virgil, Robbo, Darwin and Dominik had fell inside the media room.

“Well, it was about time” Virgil shrugged, making you chuckle whilst a shy Trent hid his face on your neck.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander x you #trent alexander fanfic #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold

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elliehase-blog · 3 months

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The Valentine's Surprise

It’s just a random day in February and Roman bursts through the door, bringing a blast of cold air from outside into Virgil’s room.

“We have a problem!”

“Hm,” Virgil replies without looking up from his book.

“It’s an emergency,” Roman says more emphatically.

Virgil lifts an eyebrow slightly. “Is the house on fire? Should I run for my life?”

“Much worse.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman unceremoniously flop down on the armchair next to him, burying his face in his arms.

“We have no date for Valentine’s Day,” he says in a tone of voice in which other people say, ‘I only have six months to live’. “Why do I think of this so late every year? Why? Why is Valentine’s Day always so sudden?”

Virgil smirks behind the pages. “Yes, it’s hard to believe that they put it so spontaneously and completely arbitrarily on February the 14th again. Is it no longer possible to rely on anything in life?”

Roman fishes for a pillow and throws it in Virgil’s direction. “Not funny, Mister Sarcasm!”

It becomes more than clear that Roman, with all his pre-Valentine’s heartbreak, isn’t going anywhere else. Virgil struggles with himself for a moment before finally putting the book aside and turning to Roman.

“Why are you bothering me with this anyway? Patton seems to me the right side to contact for your problem.”

Roman sighs deeply and tragically. “No, it has to be you,” he confesses and comes finally to the point. “You’re the one who can push this problem into focus.”

‘Ah’ thinks Virgil, only mildly surprised. No one ever comes to him for advice. Especially not Roman.

“Listen, Princey, weren’t we all agreeing on not psyching ourself out over some day and instead celebrating love in all its forms?”

He knew that the topic would come up again, no matter how well Roman coped with the whole thing on the outside. You don’t have to be a genius to realize that his thoughts still revolve around Nico Flores and the unclear relationship.

“Ugh.” Roman sighs again. “It’s just…,” he starts to explain and his voice sounds husky, as if he had a cold. “I’m Thomas’s romantic side and I should do something, right? Valentine’s Day makes me sentimental, and I want to throw around grand gestures, but… What’s the point of embracing love if you never get anything back?”

That was too much of an exaggeration, even by Roman’s standards. Virgil would like to make a sarcastic remark again, but he can’t. Not when Roman looks like that, so worked up and hurt. It always causes a strange tug in his chest that he can’t quite explain.

“Wow, that’s a gloomy way of seeing it.” Virgil swings his legs over the edge of the couch and stands up. “Come on, you stayed already for too long in my room. Breathe, okay?”

Roman allows Virgil to grab him by the arm and carefully escort him out of this dark corner of the mind.

“Better?”

“Better,” Roman agrees, but still sounding a little helpless.

It’s unbearable.

“Okay, you know what, let me show you something.”

Almost energetically, Virgil manoeuvres them in the direction of the stairs. It’s kind of surprising how little defensive Roman is about all of it. Usually, he is protesting and whining a lot more. For now, he just raises his arms in a questioning manner.

“Virge, what-” he stops abruptly. Roman has the widened, panicked gaze of a deer on the highway that suddenly and abruptly finds itself in the middle of the headlights of an approaching truck.

“Oh my goodness! Are you kidding me?! What’s… Why…?”

Virgil bites his lower lip, amused. “My pet spider wanted a friend, and you’re always into battling monsters, so…”

“No, no, no… No!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Unconditional, requited love.”

Roman looks at Virgil, then at the spider and his tiny self, and finally back to Virgil again.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. To be honest, he’s just a little smug about it. You can’t choose where Cupid’s arrow will land.

“What can I say, you make my spider feel special and awesome.”

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitch. It looks like a smile he’s suppressing. “I will tolerate this nonsense,” he says benevolently. “But it’s not at all solving my problem.”

Virgil should walk away now, leaving Roman behind with nothing but his self-doubts and fears. That’s at least what the old anxiety would do. Damn it, he is not the one who is usually comforting people! But then again… it’s all about family, right? At least, that’s what Patton would say.

“I can’t believe that I have to point it out.” Virgil sighs and feels a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Love always comes around for us when we least expect it. You don’t have to force anything, Roman. Accept and acknowledge what you already have. There’s a lot of affection in different ways and forms around you. You’re just not seeing it clear.”

It’s strange to have said it out loud after it’s been rumbling in his stomach like an ulcer. Strange and relieving at the same time.

Virgil clears his throat. Anyway, it’s not that he meant anyone specific. What matters is, that Roman’s face suddenly lights up with a warm, knowing smile. It makes Virgil feel a whole lot better too.

"I knew I could count on you," says Roman softly, and no one is commenting it.

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

I hope you enjoyed the small (not beta-read) story. I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes my german brain wasn't seeing.

#sanders sides #sander sides fanart #sander sides fanfic #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #valentines day

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loganslowdown4 · 4 months

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Janus: How long have you been sneaking around to make out with Roman?

Virgil: What?! That’s disgusting. And wrong. I don’t even get- why would- I’ve never made out with anyone, anywhere. It’s none of your- you- the nerve! The audacity! Roman is just a friend, technically. And he is terrible, face-wise. And how- how- do I know that you’re not making out with him? Hmmm? Maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off! Check and mate!

Janus: Uh huh.

Virgil: Shut up.

#if lies were sweet #Janus would be in a sugar coma right now #ts prinxiety #prinxiety #thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #sander sides #ts roman #incorrect sanders sides #virgil sanders #Janus sanders #ts virgil #ts janus #roceit #anxceit

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rambling-prince-thoughts · 10 months

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rewatching selfishness vs selflessness for the 100th time in a row and there’s this one detail that i always notice. it hurts like a bitch every time i see it too.

in the scene where janus is questioning logan, he obviously takes advantage of the fact that logan had been forgotten by thomas and the rest of the sides when they all entered the courtroom scenario in the first place. logan was (rightfully and obviously) shocked to notice that they were enacting the scenario without him, logic, the person who would undoubtedly be the most excited to do so and would have the most knowledge about courtroom procedures.

but there is the moment where he says that there’s “always room for him” and janus responds with, “i know, that’s what i said! but patton insisted we leave you alone” and that moment sticks with me whenever i watch this episode.

logan immediately turns to look at patton with a surprised, hurt look on his face because he can’t believe that patton would say something like that about him. it’s true that him and patton don’t usually see eye to eye on things, but patton does value his input and they resolved most of their issues during the earlier stages of the sanders sides videos (although not completely).

i find that interesting because whenever janus targets logan, he always makes it a point to draw attention to the fact that logan isn’t very well liked, mostly because he embodies logic and claims not to feel anything, unlike the rest of the sides (who as thomas once put it, are too zany or relatable). he even calls out logan for this during the events of svs.

his “oh, of course you don’t” is dripping with sarcasm and janus is the lord of the lies, he would know when someone is lying. keeping that aside, it was obvious that a few minutes ago, janus’ lie about patton disregarding logan’s usefulness during the courtroom scenario hurt logan, so much so that it was visible on his face. roman’s comment of “did you see the look on his face?” was a nod to that.

so logan, in saying that he doesn’t feel anything, is lying about his own feelings.

additionally, it’s not the first time janus has used patton specifically to counteract logan and lie to him. the whole episode of “can LYING be good?” featured janus, disguised as patton, playing to logan’s likings via patton’s charm. it was evident from the first minute that logan appeared onscreen.

after that, he simply had patton reference famous philosophers, and logan clearly admired that because he seemed to be quite happy about it, even though virgil immediately became suspicious.

janus picked up on the fact that logan didn’t believe that patton would ever try to hurt him on purpose, and at least patton wouldn’t exclude him from things. that patton would listen to him. which makes it all the more sad that in svs redux, when logan said that philosophers would not agree with patton (after patton asked for his input), patton took the easy way out and pulled logan out of the situation.

it’s also why logan ignored patton when he tried to offer comfort after logan reappeared and said “i’m just here to deliver one last fact, then i will do you all a favour and spare you my company.” in fact, he ended up yelling over patton so he could get his point across and actually be heard.

i love logan and patton’s duo, and i really hope they resolve this during logan’s arc. in the meantime, sending love to our logical boy because he needs it.

(an unofficial part two to this post is now up, delving a little more into logan and patton’s relationship. i’ve hyperfixated on the glasses gays at this point /hj)

#sanders sides #rambling prince thoughts #logicality #logan angst #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #selfishness vs selflessness #logan really needs a break #someone please give him a hug too while you’re at it #the nerd is trying his best and we love him for it

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yerkes-dodson-curve · 4 months

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More Incorrect Quotes

Cause today is a lazy day and my brain aint braining. A ton of Virgil and Logan today

Virgil: Hey, thanks for checking in, I’m ✨still a piece of garbage✨

*Logan and Patton flirting with each other yet again* Janus: And you two are sure you're not dating? Logan: 100%. Patton: Of course not! Why would you think that? Janus: I wonder why that possibility would even cross my mind, Patton. I fucking wonder.

Virgil: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait. Patton: You and me! Virgil: *tearing up* Ok

Virgil: Damn, Logan, are you secretly cool? Logan: Well, poker is just math, so I guess it depends on if you consider the mathematician, Carl Friedrich Gauss, cool. Virgil: I do not.

Remus: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products! Remus: *sprays hairspray in their mouth* Remus: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good.

Logan: Am I right, Roman? Roman: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

Patton: Not to brag, but I can go into the Spirit Halloween without crying.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #incorrect quotes #you can read that there are ships #Or you can ignore some of them all together #logicality #logince #moxiety #analogical

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sasiaucompetition · 3 months

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Fics Submitted to the Event

Okay, so apparently links count as characters, and you can only have so many characters per block of text. That is why the end of the list looks like that.

This is the list of all AUs entered, with links. Originally I was going to do links separate, but then I realized it would be easier to do it this way.

The AUs I know that are Mature and up have been marked, but please contact me if there are others on the list that haven't been!

The Other Side of the Mirror - @/Frejennix and @/Lalijinx (ao3)

Chessboxing AU - @/arealsword (ao3)

What you need - @/Anxiousgaypanicking (18+) (tumblr)

Happily Ever After Universe - @/edupunkn00b (ao3)

Never Met You - @/Nad98 (ao3)

Archduke of Demonic Cultivation - @/ThreeCrowsInATrenchcoat (ao3)

One Coffee, Morally Gray - @/Duckduck_Scribblerswan (Caellie_E_and_Vaye_R) (ao3)

A Dragon's Treasure - @/TypicallyUntipical (ao3)

Fairies in the Forest - @/Ended_Flames (ao3)

Ghost Janus AU - @/SoDoRoses (FairyChess) (ao3)

Logan Accidentally Steals Two (2) Children - @/the-panmixxia (ao3)

The Stowaway's Heart - @/thesympatheticvillain (ao3)

They Share A Kitchen - @/BuddyBuddyPalBuddy (ao3)

100 Seconds to Midnight - @/never_the_rose (ao3)

Touch Transcends Language - @/IfFoundPleaseReturnToJanus (18+) (ao3)

Flores Facets - @/Whiskey_With_Patron (ao3)

Life's A Drag - @/infawrit10 (ao3)

Crown Princes And Butterfly Wings - @/Ended_Flames (ao3)

Where the Lovestruck Bleeds - @/Fangirltothefullest (ao3)

Banding With You - @/glacierruler (tumblr)

Through Hades and Back - @/glacierruler (tumblr)

Deja Vu / Hero Worship AU - @/Greenninjagal (ao3)

Eucatastrophe - @/arealsword (ao3)

Side by Side in the Mindscape - @/edupunkn00b (ao3)

Beside Me - Dee - Thrall - @/edupunkn00b (ao3)

Plea for my New Self - @/VoidDragons (ao3)

Stray Hearts Are Subject To change - @/Queen_Whovian (ao3)

How the Angels got their Wings - @/SunRey1116 (ao3)

don't paint wonderful lies on me (that wash away) - @/codevassie (ao3)

How to Fuck with Humanity 101 - @/Jungle321jungle (ao3)

What You Can Stand - @/ManyFandomsOneLog (ao3)

All of These Stars (Will Guide Us Home) - @/lucernis (ao3)

Virgil’s Guide to Avoid Accidentally Falling In Love With Your Boss’ Boss - @/Jungle321jungle (ao3)

Hidden In Shadows - @/Kaysigns (ao3)

Labeled - @/AdrianaintheSnow (ao3)

Dreaming While I Wake - @/VoidDragons (ao3)

Painful Death - @/VoidDragons (ao3)

Lost & Found AU - @/rollthewhatever (tumblr)

Monsterous Roomates - @/Willowanderer (ao3)

Between Light and Darkness - ORPHANED (ao3)

Pumpkin Spice - @/VoidDragons (ao3)

Pick A Side (i love you and everything is beautiful) - @/arealsword (ao3)

Is there anything left of Patton - @/AdrianaintheSnow (ao3)

if you're going my way, i'll go with you - @/iclaimedtobethebetterbard (ao3)

one chance to change your fate - @/iclaimedtobethebetterbard (ao3)

A Moment with Potential - @/Midniteblue (ao3)

KNEE DEEP - @/plumcat (ao3)

House of Tarot Cards - @/FlowerMeat (ao3)

The Long Road Home - @/warcatscat (ao3)

Punks, Poets, Parents - @/edupunkn00b (ao3)

Flightless Bird - @/AvoSunflowerTea (ao3)

A lesson in practicality - @/ResidentAnchor (ao3)

Endless Sides (Sandman AU) - @/sometimes-love-is-enough (tumblr)

The Ghost and the Reaper - @/thatonelesbianfander (tumblr)

A Bug in the System - @/AwLawdItComin (ao3)

Syzygy - @/arealsword (ao3)

lavender for luck - @/lovelylogans (ao3)

The Starlight Universe - @/iclaimedtobethebetterbard (ao3)

59. Pieces Verse - @/SoDoRoses (FairyChess) (ao3)

60. (Un)Wanted - @/TheAsexualofSpades (ao3)

61. Black Hole Sun - @/coconutcluster (ao3)

62. Vanished - @/red_imeanblue (ao3)

63. Space and Everything In It - @/Greenninjagal (ao3)

64. You Can't Go Back - @/delimeful (ao3)

65. Ghost AU - @/tsghostau (tumblr)

66. Live Without You - @/stormsofstarlight (ao3)

67. Janus Sanders and the Cassandra Fallacy - @/arealsword (ao3)

68. Short Sides AU - @/nachosforfree (tumblr)

69. Plant Parents Dukeceit - @/ThreeCrowsInATrenchcoat (ao3)

70. For the Record/The Sanders Archive - @/VillainVogue (ao3)

71. The Other Side(s) - @/VillainVogue (ao3)

72. genius loci - @/oldkamelle (tumblr)

73. unsympathetic patton au - @/aidensm8 (tumblr)

74. cat virgil - @/its-the-cat-queen (tumblr)

75. murder mystery - @/thecrowslullaby (tumblr)

76. guilty tears - @/not-exactly-laborious (tumblr)

77. ride the cyclone - @/purplecrayonismine (tumblr)

78. Pingverse - @/SoDoRoses (ao3)

79. Spirit Complex AU - @/casart (tumblr)

80. A Series of Silly Questions - @/SoDoRoses (ao3)

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bl00dst41ned · 7 months

Text

*.·:·.✦ chop it off ✦.·:·.*

pairing: virgil van dijk x female reader

summary: in which you let your intrusive thoughts win and virgil is not so happy with it

author’s note: the reader is imagined to have type 4A hair. Got inspired by me cutting a bob on myself when i had to take out my braids and enjoying it a bit too much.

word count: 575

It was a known fact that Virgil loved his hair. Growing up, his mother had taught him how to take care and through the years, he had learned to do it himself.

But something he loved even more than his hair, was yours. He absolutely adored your long curly hair. Whenever you two were close, his hand would automatically be in your hair, twirling it around his finger and letting it go, watching the curl bounce back.

So when you shared your idea to cut your hair, your husband was totally against it.

“Nope” Virgil shook his head, going back to scrolling on his phone.

“But- nope nope NOPE” He cut you off looking up in your eyes with fake teary eyes. “D’you want to break my heart into million pieces ?”

You just rolled your eyes at his childish antics. Virgil could be so dramatic and be a literal man child. It aggravated you sometimes but that was also your favourite side of him.

You eventually gave up on cutting your hair, convinced by your partner’s acting skills. The idea was still on your mind, social media feeding you with constant hair makeover videos. The urge to take scissors got harder to fight everyday. An afternoon alone at home, Virgil at training, was enough for you to loose the bottle.

You sat in your bathroom in front of your mirror, scissors at your left, your iPad at your right, playing a tutorial.

You ended up having enough of over thinking it and went to wet your hair in the shower before starting to cut. You made sure not to cut too short, a little under the shoulder, a bit afraid seeing all the length you had cut.

You had just finished your product and the end result satisfied you. You hurried to clean the bathroom and prepare dinner before Virgil came back. Once done, you sat on the couch, excited to see your husband’s reaction. Half an hour had passed and you heard the sound of keys juggling. The door opened to a loud Virgil, announcing his arrival as if hundreds of people lived in the house.

“Where is my beautiful wife…..”

His voice had lowered as he tried to process what he had saw. You stood in front of him with a shy smile, waiting for his reaction. And you were served.

“Oh my god” He loudly dragged, his hands on his face. “Why wo- babe”

You laughed at his extra persona while going to give him a hug.

“I need a moment” He stepped back from you before you forced him into a hug.

As your bodies were close, you could feel his hand in your hair, pulling on a strand to check the new length.

“In all seriousness, love, you’re beautiful” He pulled a bit away to face you and admiring it.

You blushed a bit at his compliment, responding with a cheerful “thank you”.

You knew Virgil did not like the idea a lot but seeing he loves it just as much as you made your heart melt. You grabbed his face and kissed him repeatedly before finally letting him go.

“Come on, dinner’s ready” You grabbed his hand, leading him to the kitchen.

You two spent the rest of the night lazying around. It was the type of night you enjoyed the most. Just you and the one you loved, on the couch watching TV and enjoying each other’s presence.

like, repost and suggest if you want (hope you enjoyed it besties)

first fic for my man VVD

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #football #football blurb #football fluff #football imagine #football x reader #football x you #virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk blurb #virgil van dijk fluff #virgil van dijk imagine #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk x you

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arrowettexx · 5 days

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DC CHARACTERS THANOS SNAP HCs :

KON-EL :

-Kon-el to nobody’s surprise infact DID NOT survive the mf snap.

- thanos put an order out for Kon-el to specifically be snapped out of existence.(due to pure annoyance)

- bro would lie and say he survived and was just “In HiDInG”

- bro would be in sm denial

-gaslight people into believing he was a threat to thanos and that’s why he was snapped 💀

CISSIE KING JONES:

-cissie king Jones DID survive the thanos snap

-Girl did NOT care that half of the world was gone.

-ends up finding roy harper and Jason when deciding to try and find Tim and any other batfamily members at the Wayne manor

- news flash… bitches were nowhere to be seen so. Ykw that means ? NEW CRIB!

-they all just don’t care that half the world is gone together

- then it hits her. HER MOM IS GONE!?

-she celebrated and in fact again did.not.care💀

- 5 years later everyone came back ..

-bitch.was.PISSED.

-her mom was there to annoy her once more 🥲

ROY AND JASON

-roy and Jason some how SURVIVED the thanos snap.

-they were together when it happened and let me tell you these two boys DID NOT NOTICE FOR A ANTIRE MONTH.

- found out only when jason called the wayne manor for money with no response .. cissie randomly answered with a voicemail saying “hoe the moneys gone. We all poor out in this bitch now” a day later

-but Jason and Roy had already BEEN broke so they took this as a middle ground and went on with they’re merry lives

-Roy and Jason want to the manor because.. they know where home at😖

-5 years later everyone re appears BROS DID NOT NOTICE AGAIN. they were just like “yo”

- Let’s just say the boys weren’t too much help with letting everyone who has vanished in on what tf happened.

BARRY ALLEN

- Barry Allen DID NOT survive the thanos snap

- honestly thank god tho. I don’t think bro could handle another issue.

- bro had to deal with the speed force.Flashpoint,doomsday, and apocalyptic war. Bro took this one off

- when he’s back tho.. awh man. . The boy feels awful

- had to process the fact that he left iris again during that 💀

- besides those factors, he takes the news that he’s been magically gone for five years pretty well, he’s no stranger to time jumps.. just this time it wasn’t on his own accord

- he sure as hell does everything he can to help anyone and everyone get things where they were before.

-he reunites with the Justice League and force them to help in any way possible

-they agree

-he’s so sweet I love him.

SHAZAM AND JOHN CONSTINTINE

-Billy batson DID NOT survive the thanos snap…

-shazam on the other hand DID!

-Billy was starting to vanish and in a panic yelled “SHAZAM”

-no more vanishing!

-5 YEARS HE WAS STUCK IN THE ADULT BODY…

- boy was terrified to say shazam again..

- to his luck Constantine had survived, and begged him to put a spell on him that made him unable to speak the word shazam so he could never turn back on accident.

-John allowed Billy to come back with him to the house of mystery, after all, Billy was technically a magic user

- the world of magic technically had nothing to do with earth and the snap so Billy came in handy when it came to Constantine’s deals and quarrels with demons.

- Constantine saw the snap as natural selection and was okay with it.

- until he found that zatanna had been on earth and did not survive the snap.

- he drank a lot after that.

- five years later Billy got the spell removed and was able to BE Billy again

- Billy was over joyed at seeing everyone again.

-Constantine was… well ..Constantine.

STATIC SHOCK

-Virgil Hawkins DID SURVIVE the thanos snap!

- Virgil was lucky asf in this case bc the power/electricity was def not 100% working

-Virgil was going around using his energy to provide light to homes, power to hospitals ect,

-believe it or not he chose to stay on his own during the blip.

- he figured it would be better not to get attached when the chabce of survival was now somewhat lower

-didn’t even try to contact anyone

-(boy didn’t wanna face the facts on who he would never see again)

-at year four he kinda gave up and ended up somewhere in bloodhaven.

- a part of him was praying that Barry Allen was alive and would (selfishly) turn back time

- when everyone came back? He was kinda angry?

-he lowk was mad that everyone had to suffer through those 5 years and the blipped ones didn’t.

- he found nightwing (he was blipped aka DID NOT survive the snap) and tried to pick a fight with him for being so joyful during all this (granted he didn’t know-).

- he understood it wasn’t the worlds fault tho and just tired to do his best with helping explain to everyone what had happened.

- (at the end of the day he’s just a teenager )

- he took some time to re adjust to everyone being back. But eventually found peace

SELINA AND DUKE

-selina Kyle and duke thomas DID both survive the thanos snap!!

-they were with eachother on a bat fam mission when all of a sudden *POOF* they were all gone except for duke, Selina, Kate and Damian

-Kate and Damian almost immediately went their separate ways without notice

- Selina didn’t panic, in fact she was pretty calm with all of this

-Thomas on the other hand.. HE WAS A MESS

- full panic mode on his part

- after a little calming down they went to Wayne manor to find nobody they’re either.

- they stuck together travelling to metropolis to once again find nobody except for Lois lane who did survive.

- they all co existed together (lot easier to live there than gotham without the bat so)

- when they came back DUKE WAS SO HAPPY he cried .

-Selina was calm as always as they made their way back to gotham where ALL HELL WAS BREAKING LOOSE ON THE STREETS

- people were so confused

- everyone went back to Wayne manor (dick, Tim, Steph, babs and the rest of the blipped batfam) to find Cissie , Jason, and Roy living there and those three were SHOCKED.

- “awh man now we gotta move out!!”

- big family reunion for the batfam 💗

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rats-the-bat · 5 months

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Virgil's Gift: An Analysis on It's Symbolism and Possible Foreshadowing

Obvious spoilers for Thomas' newest Sander Asides video: What Makes the Perfect Gift? Go watch it if you haven't.

So the yearly Sander Sides Christmas special dropped hours ago. (Yippee!) And there's a surprisingly large amount to be said for it to be a 13 minute long Christmas special. In fact, I'd say it's the most story focused episode since Can Plushies Improve Our Health?, and that was an ad for the Sander Sides plushies. There's just so much to talk about this episode. There's the implications of Janus and Remus being invited to play Secret Santa; the mystery to what Thomas' message was with his gift to Nico; the underlying tension between all the sides that reminds us of the angst we've already seen and how things still aren't completely alright and that the worst is yet to come; and, most notable of all, the question as to WHY THE HELL REMUS WOULD WANT TO F*CK ANDREW JACKSON??

But the most interesting thing to me is Virgil's gift to Logan, his reaction, and how it reflects Logan's current situation.

Virgil gives Logan a newspaper, claiming that it seems like something he would like. Logan however, does not read newspapers and is very disappointed by the gift. Remus and Janus make some comments on how unthoughtful Virgil's gift appears. But at the end of the episode, Logan finds out that the newspaper actually has a secret message and is the first puzzle of an entire scavenger hunt, which excites him a lot.

This is by far my favorite part of the episode. Not only is it heartwarming, it also symbolizes how Logan has been treated as a whole, and may even foreshadow future events in the series.

When Virgil gives Logan the newspaper, Logan is very confused, and asks him why he would give him a newspaper. Virgil replies, "Cuz' you're the Mr. Smarty Pants of the group. You like reading and all that." Logan is still confused though. Yes, he likes to read, but that doesn't mean he will read anything. Roman chimes in with Virgil, reinforcing that they think Logan will like it. Logan says, "Is that all I am to you? The reading guy?..." And Virgil replies, "I don't know man, give it a read! I'm sure it has something you like."

This entire interaction represents how Logan has been ignored and misunderstood throughout the entire series. Virgil gives Logan a newspaper, something he doesn't actually want, because he assumes he will like it since he likes to read in general. He made an assumption on Logan's personality based off things he already knew, something Thomas and all of the other sides have been doing since the beginning. Throughout the entire series, Logan is considered the smart one of the group who always provides information and exposition, and little else is expected of him. In ACCEPTING ANXIETY part one, Thomas assumes that Logan knew what his problem was because he provides, "the explanatory exposition in [the Sander Sides] videos because all the other characters are too zany or relatable." And in Selfishness v. Selflessness, Logan is benched after providing information that supports both Patton and Janus' sides because they assume he has nothing else to offer. Time and time again Logan is reduced to his function and the traits that go along with it, such as liking to read. And why these things about him are true, he is far more complex that who they see him as. But, as Virgil didn't seem to care to get him something he would actually like, they don't seem to care to learn more about Logan...

They do care though. And that's shown through the twist at the end. When Logan discovers that it's a puzzle, Virgil jokes, "And you thought I would just get you a newspaper. Tsk. What do you take me for?" Though it appeared Virgil didn't put much consideration into the gift, and though Logan believed Virgil didn't, he did, because he truly cares about Logan. And throughout the entire series, though they don't always listen to him, Thomas and the sides show that they care about Logan. Patton is always nice to him, Roman, while the most harsh to him, does secretly respect him, and Thomas, as shown in the song, "Incomplete," is not only aware that Logan has feelings and is more than just logic, he wants Logan to accept it as well. He also seems empathetic when Logan is disappointed with his gift. This represents how Logan's insecurities get in the way of him being fully accepted. Logan is convinced that Thomas and the sides will only ever see him as his function, and that they do not care about his other traits. This is one of the reasons he represses his emotions, and is shown by how quickly Logan believes Virgil got him a newspaper simply because he likes to read. Though Logan may not realize it, Thomas and the sides love and accept him fully, and Logan needs to see that.

However, it seems that someone doesn't want him to see that...

And that's where the foreshadowing comes into play.

After the conversation Virgil gives Logan his gift, Janus chimes in, saying, "Wow Logan, looks like Virgil put a lot of thought into that one!" He emphasizes how little consideration Virgil's gift seemed to have. In doing this, he reinforces the idea to Logan that Virgil didn't care enough to give him a gift he would like, even though that's not actually true. And if he his doing this intentionally, he may also be reinforcing the idea that they don't care about him.

And Remus soon after joins in, proposing, "Kinda makes you wanna scream, huh?" This is obviously a callback to Logan's outburst in Working THROUGH Intrusive Thoughts. In that episode, Remus showed great excitement towards his outburst, implying that Remus wanted him to get upset. And now again, he suggests that Logan should get angry about it. It is very clear that Remus is trying to make Logan lash out on purpose.

Based off this, I believe that in future episodes, we will see the dark sides, or Remus at least, try to manipulate Logan into believing that Thomas and the sides don't care about him. In doing this, they'll persuade him into joining their side. Perhaps they'll make him a puppet for the Orange Side, or if Logan is the Orange Side, they will make him embrace it. Of course their plan won't work out though. Because even if the do get Logan to join them for a little, the other sides will show that they care. And perhaps if they do, Logan will finally be able to see that, and he will finally be able to accept himself.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #tss #logan sanders #ts logan #logan sanders angst #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #ts sides #tss theory

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