#also like it should be a journal entry. should it? maybe. do i feel like my fellow am! mutuals could relate in some way? yeah

[againstme]

idk man i’m just thinking about against me! and transness, especially cause we’re coming up on ten fucking years of transgender dysphoria blues, on the 21st.

lyrics have been swimming in my head lately.

“what god doesnt give to you, you’ve got to go and get for yourself.”

“if i could’ve chosen, i would’ve been born a woman. my mother once told me she would’ve named me laura. i’d grow up to be strong and beautiful like her.”

“you wouldn’t think something like gender identity would complicate something like asking for some company.”

“she spent the last few years of her life running from the boy she used to be.”

“standing naked in front of that hotel bathroom mirror, in her dysphoria’s reflection, she still saw her mother’s son.”

“agitated states of amazement, never quite the woman that she wanted to be.”

“you want them to see you like they see every other girl, they just see a faggot, they hold their breath not to catch the sick.”

“chipped nail polish and a barbed wire dress. is your mother proud of your eyelashes? silicone chest, and collagen lips. how would you even recognize me?”

“no more troubled sleep, there’s a brave new world that’s raging inside of me.”

“all my life, wishing i was one of them. there will always be a difference between me and you.”

“what’s the best end you can hope for? pity fucks and table scraps?”

“all the young graves filled, don’t the best all burn out so bright and so fast?”

“sometimes at night, i pray to wake a different person in a different place.”

“i don’t want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back. i know you think you’ve got one up on me, that you can see something i can’t.”

“i wanna be so real, you can see the difference.”

“dig up your bones, early graves are not homes.”

“come on, shape shift with me! what’ve you got to lose? fuck it!”

“confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women’s clothes, compulsions you never knew the reasons to.”

“i’m sick of feeling like i’m losing my mind. sick of doing the same things most nights after night. sick of self loathing and self absorption, self destructive narcissism.”

some of these are directly referencing transness, some just alluding to it. some are just ones that i relate to as i’ve grown up struggling with my gender and sexuality and accepting my own transness and dealing with self harm and self destruction and relying too much on drugs.

finding myself buying baggies of coke and just stuffing them in my wallet while i walked downtown, feeling this immense guilt at the bottom of my stomach for essentially just wasting 25 dollars on a drug that wasn’t doing much for me besides making me feel like i was feeling something different than what my life was. getting scared shitless while in the line at the convenience store after picking up, seeing cops come into the store, and the small tied up bag filled with what was more baby powder than coke in my back pocket felt like the the heaviest and most obvious thing in the world.

and then i’d find myself on calls with my friends, with my camera turned off or pointing at the ceiling, suddenly muting my mic holding a cut up piece of a straw in my teeth as i crushed shit up with my library card from a city i wasn’t planning on living in again. just having them talk while i was racking baby lines, tilting my head back and rubbing it on my gums after. i was sniffling all the time. sometimes my nose would bleed when i would wake up. and i wasn’t even really feeling much; i didn’t know at the time that this would be because of having adhd and just basically spending money on overpriced shit that was just like taking an adderall, but it was a drug in front of me, that gave me the idea or the false hope of running away from my life during the short lived high.

“before you know it, here i am again, fucking 6 o’clock in the morning, rolled up dollar bill in my hand.”

“what the fuck are you cutting this with, anyway?”

“how low can you go before you can’t turn around?”

i don’t think that when i was 14 and getting into against me! that i would ever actually get to a point of fully relating to those lyrics. of running away from such a huge part of yourself or your problems, trying to fill the void with drugs that you’d plow through so quickly, faster than you thought you would every time.

the thing is, was that at this point, i had already started my transition. i was already “passing.” but i never got to the root of it. sure, i’m trans, but who am i? and i didn’t know how to answer that question. so i just pushed it away, pushed it under the rug.

“you can pray all night and day, but you’ll still wake up the same person in the same fucking place.”

against me! has been there for me for ten years. throughout so many transformations of myself, so much shape shifting, so much dysphoria, so many late nights wishing i was a different person in a different place.

i found solace in their lyrics. it gave me some small bit of hope, some realization that i didn’t know that i needed; that trans people always have been and always will be here, that being able to be trans and be alive is possible, and that i don’t have to be digging my own grave, spending late nights staring at the mirror and seeing the girl who i used to be.

against me! gave me the courage to be alive.

#this is ok to rb. u can tag w drugs if u need to. #c.txt #wow after typing this it feels corny and long winded #also like it should be a journal entry. should it? maybe. do i feel like my fellow am! mutuals could relate in some way? yeah #hi if y’all are reading this #just been thinking about against me a lot lately #against me!

[mummer]

#i have been doing incredibly bad mentally :-) and idk what to do #my journal entries are literally unreadably cruel to myself lol......... haha 🤙 its fine #im somehow even lonelier and more convinced of my unlikeability than ive ever been which is fucking saying something #keep getting litmag rejections and absolutely no indication or encouragement that i actually have any worth at all #further discouraging me from actually writing or editing anything or even reading because it just makes me depressed #downloaded a dating app and had a panic attack #had a huge fight with my dad and was clearly just in the wrong and mean but our relationship has always been fucked so i cant bring myself #to even start thinking about that when even talking to him about mundane things makes me want to crawl in a hole and die #personal #just not good dawg. so isolated so numb what else is new. #im also doomscrolling really bad bc of the shooting and feeling just incredibly bleak and awful on top of it all. #maybe i should ‘give myself a break’ but i feel like ive been doing that for 6 years #at least i dont have that thing where i cant look in mirrors without crying anymore.

[reki-of-the-valley]

I don't do this often, and I don't plan on often doing this, but I've been thinking about it today so here's a few reflections I will share with yall about writing and creation. Just like a little "talking without knowing if I truly make sense" moment for me. My little Older Sibling moment for any little creative bug out there who's willing to listen to me for just a moment

I'm pretty sure the bulk of y'all know I've been writing and creating stories since before I was even conscious of my existence. Like, to the point where my parents would get fed up with having to watching my little stage plays that I'd put on with my stuffed animals and still remind me of how annoying I was to this day (long story short of that is picture a 4-5 year old putting on a 45 minute production that came with scribbled "instructions" only I could understand. And no, my parents were not allowed to leave until I was done, otherwise I cried.) But that means I've been here for a hot minute. I've been on this wild rollercoaster for YEARS. Which means I picked up a few things, noticed a few little things about it. And a lot of you also know that I have a whole ass degree in literature, which means I've also read a few things, studied styles and the effect of those styles on the reader. And like yeah, I'm not the most well read person out there, I know so many people who have read so much more than me, but this isn't a competition. I just know I've read enough for me to be able to reflect on my own writing. Which brings me to the writer that stands (sits?) here today

Y'all creating is a fucking bitch. It's a painful process, holy shit. Like it's emotionally draining, physically and mentally demanding, it's a fucking bitch. But I also wouldn't trade my ability to create stories for anything in this world. It's a bitch, but it's my bitch. And it's not always a bitch. Like it's never easy per se, but there are things that work better than others. There are some stories that take less time to be put onto a page than others, maybe because they're simpler or I have more of a vision, but they still take up time and energy. Everything takes energy, energy I don't always have, but I'm always willing to try to find. Which might be why I burnt out for two whole years, but that's besides the point. What I'm trying to say is that even if it's hard, creation is rewarding and I love it. And there's no easy path when it comes to creation. It's uncertain, rocky terrain, that's for sure. But it's rewarding.

It's rewarding, but it doesn't mean I like everything I write. And sometimes it's right when I write it, I hate it, but whatever, I still created it so that's worth something? And then maybe I come to love it. And maybe I like something, but then revisit it and hate it. I don't like everything I've made, I know, it's a shocker. And yet, I'm still proud of what I've created. Because it comes from me, from the energy I was able to scrape by. So here's my first thing I want people to remember: Even if you don't love it, even if you don't even like it, you can and should still be proud of what you've made. It wouldn't exist if it weren't for your efforts, no matter how great or little those efforts were.

Another thing is that you will improve. I know we're usually our own harshest judges, I know it's so easy to look at what we've created and go "someone would have done a better job than me" but fuck that shit. No one else can do it the way you did. No one can do your vision justice if you don't do it yourself. Because you're the only person who knows the exact colors you want there, the exact word that will tie it all together. And sometimes it's difficult to express that little thing you're trying to express, but trust yourself. Trust that you know what you're doing, even when you don't have the slightest clue. It'll work out, my dear. I promise it will. And if it doesn't, walk away and try again later. That might be what you need. Or maybe you need to ask for help. You can do that too.

Asking for help isn't proof of your failure. You're not a failure because you can't do a thing all on your own. And I know it's scary to ask for help, or admit that you can't pull everything out of your head, know every secret of the universe, but you can do it. And look, I've been at this writing and creating thing for like 20 years. And I've been at this writing "real stories" (which isn't a real thing, btw. Everything is a real story, but what I mean here is not being 8 years old and writing the many adventures I thought my pets went on while I was at school) for over 10 years. (because yes, I was that teenager that wasn't paying attention in class because I was too busy writing stories and fanfiction in my notebooks. Math? No thanks, I have to write this story about my favorite characters going on adventures and learning about the power of friendship!) I've gone through so much stuff, tried out so much stuff, that I think I can talk about. And I'm still not perfect. I still don't have beta readers for my fics. I'm the only person who edits my work because I'm still so scared of criticism. I've been writing for over 10 years, sharing my stories for just as long, and I'm still terrified of asking for help. But there have been slow steps towards asking for help, little baby steps, and I know they've helped me become a better writer.

Asking for help can come in many forms. This is going to sound stupid, but my first step towards asking for help was getting myself a dictionary. And you might be thinking "Lils, what the fuck does that mean?" and it simply means that I was so scared of correcting my writing, of having any sort of criticism, that I didn't even consult a dictionary. Because the dictionary had the ability to tell me that the word I was using wasn't correct. And I had to be correct. I had to be the best. (Spoiler alert, I was not the best and I still am not, though I do believe I am a lot better than I used to be.) Now, even if I don't have anyone but myself to edit, I at least have someone who can freely point out my typos or when a sentence doesn't make sense. There's no correction on the content itself, I can't bring myself to accept that directed criticism quite yet, but it's a step closer towards that. Learning to ask for help is a slow process, but it's a rewarding, I promise.

Now back to the improvement thing. I've been doing this for so long that I don't remember a life without writing. Writing has been a constant in my life, but I wasn't always "good" at it. If I reread the things I wrote at 13, I would want to burn those pages. Trust me, that writing style was atrocious. Just reading things I wrote maybe 2 years ago, things I know I was so proud because it was the best I'd ever written, I now reread them with almost an air of disgust. Because I'm always improving. Practice makes you better. And this goes for everything. It sucks to hear it over and over again, but fuck, it's so true. If you don't practice, you'll never improve. Because how are you supposed to get better if you never did it in the first place. So forget about that lousy "but what if it sucks?" voice in your head and just go for it. Because maybe it will suck. Or maybe it'll be amazing. And maybe it'll be amazing the moment you finish it, and then you'll revisit it years from now and go "oh shit, that sucked man." But you know what that means? It means you got better. And even if you look back at it and go "well that looks terrible," you can still be proud of it. You can be proud of that moment, because you created a thing no one else was able to make. You did that. All on your own. Like the amazing person you are.

Here's another fun fact about myself: I like telling people I don't know how to read. "But Lils, you have a whole ass degree in reading." You're correct. And you'd also be correct to day that I do know how to read, how to analyze, and all that good shit. So I do actually know how to read. But the reason I stuck to that whole "I don't know how to read" thing is because reading kinda makes me feel like shit. Or at least, it did. It sometimes still does. Because other authors write these masterpieces and I feel like I can never write something that beautiful. I'll never be as good as some of these writers. I'll never come up with a line that makes you close the book and stare at your ceiling for a solid minute, contemplating your life. I'll never write something that will appear in a "top 100 most beautiful quotes from books" list. But also, maybe I am just as good a writer as those authors.

I used to be so afraid to pick up a book and read because I would compare myself to someone who's had years and years of practice. Like, imagine being 14 and thinking you're a shit writer because your writing isn't as gorgeous as, I don't know, let's say Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I guess I'll never be able to have a character as witty as Elizabeth or a man as lovable as grumpy Darcy, so why even try writing? But I love writing, so instead I swore off reading. I didn't read a book unless I had a book report to do on it until I was... fuck, 20? I think the last book I had read voluntarily during my teenage years was The Fault in Our Stars. All because it was too scary to have the ability to compare myself to literal adults who spent their life writing. So I told myself that I would become an amazing writer without ever reading, even if the number one advice all authors gave was "read books." It's not the best advice I'd give anyone who wants to improve their writing, but it is good to read. It helps you learn how words work. But also, there's so much bad stuff (in my opinion, I've become incredibly picky in my reading) that some books are just not what you should be using to improve your own writing. I'd say they're more like bad teachers for people trying to learn how to write, but that might just be my opinion. Not that that's the point of this.

My point here is that you're not born an expert. And I hate failure as much as the next person, and if you know me, maybe I hate failure even more than everyone on this planet combined, but you have to try something to get better at it. You have to try the colors on your page, you have to make them clash to learn how to make them beautiful together. You have to be 17 writing "But when a man is in love, you can't a snap him out of it." to be 22 writing "All she knows is that Claude is beautiful; all she knows is that maybe she too is beautiful." You have to be 13 starting a story with "HEY! My name is Emma Oak, the grand-daughter of Professor Oak!" to be 22, writing broken love letters between lovers who just never had a chance. You have to be 19 and be proud of "Anyways, it was difficult to continue ignoring him when he was kneeling in front of her, his chocolate brown locked onto her face." to be almost 23, knowing the best you can write right now is "Byleth’s damp cheek rested against Claude’s hand, her beautiful green eyes falling shut as he wiped her tears away." You have to be 21 writing "For Reki, he was ready to do anything. For Reki, he was even willing to put his heart on the line. For Reki, maybe he would be brave enough to confess all the feelings that had been overwhelming him." to be 22 writing "For Byleth, he was ready to be on his knees. For Byleth, he was ready to bring the heavens down to her. For Byleth, he was ready to go mad. For Byleth, he was ready for anything. For Byleth, he was ready to end this war." And you might not notice the difference between some of these lines, but to me, they're jarring. Maybe you don't see the difference a year has made on my writing, but I can see it. I can see my own improvement.

So yeah, my conclusion here is that no one is born knowing all the secrets about a good creation. At 13, I was too afraid of people better than me, so I just pretended they didn't exist. I refused to read books. But now, at 22, I know there are writers who are better than me, and I admire their talent. But I also know that my writing, my unprofessional, unedited, unpeer-reviewed work can change people at their core. I'm not out here writing The Song of Achilles, writing "He is half of my soul, as the poets say," but I am here writing "How could he help the pounding in his chest as fair green eyes stared at him, green eyes that were just off from his entire world?" I know I have the ability to write lines that will stick with my readers, but that's only because I was daring enough to put myself out there. It's only because I was daring enough to suck ass at first. It's only because I was daring enough to think I was the shit, that my writing was groundbreaking even if it was corny and terrible. If I hadn't written those silly little stories filled with inconsistencies, I wouldn't be where I am now. And I know in a year, in two years, in ten years, I'll look back at what I'm currently writing, and I'm going to laugh because my writing will have gotten better by then. But for now, this is the best I can do, and I'm proud of it. I'm proud of how far I've come. Any artist should be proud of how far they've gotten.

So keep creating your art. Keep writing, keep painting, keep drawing, keep dancing, keep creating. I promise, you're amazing at what you do, and you'll only get better as time goes on. Improvement is a bitch to spot, but you'll see it. And be proud of what you've created. Because only you can create that. It's yours. It's all yours, and you should be so fucking proud of that.

#I got sappy but hey #I've just been thinking a lot about creative processes #A professor asked the general question of ''what is inspiration? What does it look like? Where does it come from?'' and I had no answer #and I've been thinking about that question for the last week or so and everything that comes with creativity #I still have no conclusion other than creations are truly personal and you should be proud of yourself for creating #i love you artists <3 all of you <3 #even if you don't share what you do. Even if you don't do it often. I love you <3 #Maybe one day I'll write a journal entry type post about what it was like being terrified but also cocky about writing when I was a teenage #Give me a moment to feel like an older sibling talking about what it was like to be young and naive. The mistakes I've made #the lessons I've learned. Things I wish someone had told me growing up. #It's weird being queer and having a hobby no one really recognizes or respected much. #Maybe I'll write about that some day. but for now I'll end this here #hush lils

[lipglossanon]

The Darkest, Most Depraved of Joys

»»————-　★　————-««

{next installment}

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, stepcest, bully Leon, perv Leon, reader is a bit sassier in this so heads up I guess lol, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, strong breeding kink, leaning heavy into the stepcest kink so for real be prepared haha, uhh I think that’s it 🤔

Not proofread; literally banged this out in a few hours this morning 🤣

Title from Monologue by She Wants Revenge

Shoutout to all you lovely readers 😘 😘

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s been a few months since your mom remarried some businessman from the city who decided small town life was more his speed. Everything’s going smoothly for the most part. The only exception to your idyllic home life is the absolute terror that is now your stepbrother. Leon is the bane of your existence. He’s older by a few years and he lords it over you every second he gets. And he’s such a jerk to you. 

It’s not overt bullying cause Leon doesn’t want to get in trouble, but away from prying eyes he likes to pick on you. He tugs your hair or steals whatever you have in your hand and, just in general, behaves like a complete asshole. What drives you even more crazy is he acts like a complete angel around your mom and his dad so you can’t even say anything or else get scolded. 

Your mom laughs and says he’s joking, but it leaves you fuming— especially since you also find Leon ‘the asshole’ Kennedy extremely attractive. Life is so unfair. You’re sick of his bossy attitude and his stupid good looks. 

Because of the utter dismissal of your mom, you’ve taken to jotting down your thoughts in a journal. A diary. Whatever. 

At first it was to vent about what asinine thing Leon had done to you that day. Him purposefully taking your favorite seat on the couch so you’d have to sit in the recliner. Leon throwing his leg out just as you walk by, sending you stumbling into the wall and him smirking at your angry scowl. Volunteering you when your parents asks for suggestions on who should do dishes or the laundry. 

He always seems to follow you randomly throughout the day, taunting you about your choice of wardrobe or how you try to one up him or, sadly, how single you still are. You spin around to argue with him but he just breezes past you, shoving your shoulder as he heads back to his room. 

The list goes on and on. But then the venting in your journal starts to meld into a mix of how good he smells (sandalwood and vanilla) and how pretty his hair is even on those overcast drizzly days where it’s more rain than sky outside. Or how nice his arms and hands look doing something so simple as setting the table. 

At some point even those diary entries devolve into how hot it would be if maybe Leon got a little physical. Maybe pushing you against the wall when no one’s looking and kisses you until you can’t breathe. Maybe he’d drag you into an empty room and convince you to give him a handy. Maybe even corral you into sucking him off or coaxing you into letting him eat you out until you cry. 

After writing some of these you realize that maybe you’re a little more pent up than you thought, but then promptly shrug it off. It’s not like you’re hurting anyone. 

Until one Saturday afternoon that is; you think you’re all alone and as you set your journal on your dresser, it’s yanked out of your hands.

Leon stands to your side making you realize the house is empty save you two, and dangling your diary full of unspeakable thoughts just out of your reach. 

“Give it back,” you grit out, feeling that familiar rage creeping into your posture. 

“Aww, upset sweetheart?” he mocks you, “I’ve always wondered what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Leon, I’m being serious, give it back.”

He smirks holding the diary up higher as you reach out on your tippy toes, hand going to his shoulder for stability. 

“Nah, don’t think I will,” he presses his index and middle finger to your forehead and pushes you until you have to step back or lose your balance and fall. 

“Fuck off asshole,” your voice raises, “that’s private shit. Private? I’m sure even you understand what that means”

His smirk drops and his brow furrows in irritation, “Are you insinuating I’m stupid, princess?”

You give him a sickly sweet smile, “Oh a multi syllable word? That’s a big one for ya,” you simper up at him, “do you need to sit down?”

He glares at you before a slow grin spreads across his face making your heartbeat fast. 

“Well maybe some light reading might strengthen my vocabulary,” he shakes the book in his hand. 

You jump up and try to make a last ditch effort in grabbing it, but he swings his arm up and out of the way.

He clicks his tongue, “Manners, sweetheart.”

You stomp your foot, “God you’re such a dickhead! Give it back!”

He sighs, “Alright,” and goes to hand it back but then yanks it away at the last minute and takes off to his room. 

“I’ll have it back to you later! Thanks, princess!!”

You yell at his disappearing figure, feeling rage and embarrassment warring in your chest. Following him, you slam your fists against his locked door. After a few minutes of getting nowhere, you slowly shuffle back into your room. You might as well go dig a hole and lie in it cause anything would be better than Leon reading that damn journal. 

You morosely flop face first down onto your bed. You scream into the pillow before rolling over onto your back to stare up at the glow in the dark stars that have been stuck to your ceiling since you were seven. Maybe he won’t read it all. It did start out as a hate journal so maybe after the first few entries he’ll get tired and quit reading. God you hoped so. 

Sighing, you raise up and scrub your face until you feel a little less like you want to jump out a window.  You scroll mindlessly on your phone, keeping an ear out for any noise coming from Leon’s room. Giving up after a few minutes, you heave a sigh and get out of your bed and make your way next door to Leon’s room.

Rapping your knuckles on the wood, you call out, “Leon, can you give me my diary back, please? I’ll.. do your chores or something.”

You hear the click of the lock being undone and the door swings inward. 

“All of my chores?” he crosses his arms and props his shoulder on the doorframe, smirking at you. 

You roll your eyes at how stupidly hot he’s being, but bite back your sarcasm, “Yes, all of them. Can I please have my book?” 

You feel a spark of something when his eyes drag down your body and back up to your face. Leon grins at you as he straightens up from the doorframe. 

Flicking your forehead, he steps back into his room, “Okay, princess. Come in and get your book and then I want you to do something for me.”

You bite your lip to stifle any complaint and rub your head as you step further into his room. 

It’s similar to your own, a bed and dresser with a side door that leads to a closet. You frown to yourself; it is pretty sparse considering all the posters and photos you have tacked up on your walls. 

You snap out of your thoughts when Leon waves the diary in front of your face. 

“You good?”

Blinking, you scowl up at him and grab the book. 

“Now I am; what do you want?”

He pouts at you mockingly, “Aww you don’t want to know what I thought about such riveting writing?”

Your heart rabbits in your chest and your palms tingle. 

“You didn’t really read it, did you?”

You know your voice wavers and the mocking look on Leon’s face morphs into a sly grin. 

“Don’t worry your undying hate for me will remain close to the chest,” he ruffles your hair, “after the first few pages of it, I quit reading.”

“Oh,” you duck your head and chew on your bottom lip. 

Looking up again, you give him a shy smile, “Thanks, Leon.”

He stops ruffling your hair and drags his hand down to the side of your neck. He rubs his thumb over the column of your throat. 

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet, sweetheart,” he presses you to step backwards until your back is touching the door. 

You put your hands up on his broad chest, still clasping your diary, “W-what’re you—“

“Think this was about 20 pages in, right?” he muses, blue eyes darkening as he dips his head down to be closer to you. 

The hand not gripping your neck comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back. 

“Just let me,” he breathes out, the motion causing his lips to brush up against yours. 

Your eyelashes flutter closed as he presses a searing kiss to your parted lips. He groans and kisses you harder, his body pressing yours against the door completely. You try to push him away but to no avail; his strength outmatches yours easily.  

Leon moves his hands down to grab your hips, holding you still while he molds himself against you. Your hands are trapped between your chests. You can feel his dick beginning to chub in his sweats.  

"Damn," he murmurs as he pulls away, grinding against you.  

A soft gasp passes your lips, which he zeroes in on. Leon presses against you more firmly before slotting your mouths together. You try to push against him but can feel your resolve weakening under the constant barrage of wet, tongue filled kisses. Arousal pulses in your clit with every wet press of his mouth. 

You’re finally able to pull away from his hungry mouth. 

“What’re we even doing?” you gasp as his mouth finds a sweet spot on your neck. 

“Just trying to make my little sis’s dirty dreams come true,” he snarks, before taking your mouth once again. 

You moan, letting yourself be swept up in the sensations Leon’s bringing out in your body. 

He kisses you slow and deep, tongues tasting each other before pulling away to suck on your bottom lip. He slides a hand along your thigh, caressing softly as his fingers drift closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re so wet already just from kissing him. You cant your hips towards him and his fingers brush against the zipper on your jeans. 

A loud door slam pulls you both apart; you hear your mom call your name from downstairs. 

Leon tugs you away from the door and into his chest. He spins you around and pulls the door open for you. 

“We’ll be picking this up later, ‘kay princess?”

He smacks your ass as you cross the threshold back into the hall. You whirl around but he’s already closed the door in your face. You look down at the diary in your hand, glaring at the inanimate object. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter out loud. 

Walking to your room, you toss the book onto your bed and head downstairs to meet up with your mom. 

:::::::::::

The rest of the afternoon passes by pretty quickly. Luckily for you, Leon keeps to himself so you don’t see much of him until dinner. Your mom is very adamant about having dinner together as a family. 

“It builds those familial bonds, honey,” she pats your cheek when you try to weasel out of it. 

So here you are, sitting across from Leon, trying to eat with him staring a hole into you. When you reach for your glass to take a sip, you raise your eyebrows at him. 

He smirks at you then glances at your parents; seeing that they’re not paying attention to you two, he brings his hand up to his mouth and makes a ‘V’ with his fingers and thrusts his tongue between them a few times. 

You press your thighs together and glare at him. You flip him off and that’s when your mom gasps. 

“No vulgar displays at the table!”

You shoot her a disbelieving look, “What? But he started it!”

“Well, that goes for both of you then,” your stepdad cuts in, “behave you two.”

You take a deep breathe and let it out slowly. 

Leon laughs, “Just joking around, dad.”

Your mom smiles at him, “I’m so glad you two get along so well.”

Leon catches your eye and gives you the fakest smile, “Of course, that’s what a big brother’s for, right?”

You roll your eyes and go back to your plate. 

Pushing around the food, you look over at your mom, “May I be excused?”

“Sure, honey. Just take your dishes into the kitchen.”

Nodding, you gather up everything and head into the kitchen. You scrape what food is left off in the trash and set the dishes in the sink. 

You feel a line of heat press against your back, pushing your hips into the countertop. You see Leon’s hands on either side of you, holding onto the counter’s edge; his thick biceps flex as he ducks down to mouth at your neck. 

“So mean to me, princess.”

Goosebumps race across your neck and down your arms from his moist breath on the shell of your ear. 

“What would they think of you wanting me to stick my cock in your wet little pussy and stretch you out, hmm?”

A bolt of heat flares in your stomach, nipples hardening as you stifle a whine. 

“Leon,” you whisper, “shut up, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

He chuckles into your neck and drops a kiss on your jaw. 

“What? It’s the truth; your little diary will just confirm it.”  

You press back against him trying to get him to move but he just pushes against you harder, grinding his half hard dick against your ass. 

“Don’t be that way,” he coos, one hand slipping from the counter to cup your hot pussy. 

You gasp and toss your head back, “We’re gonna get caught.”

“So?” his voice is low and rough in your ear, “don’t want me to play with this needy cunt? C’mon baby thought that’s what you wanted?”

Using the last of your self control, you elbow him in the ribs and duck around his lax arm. You run from the kitchen to the stairs, aiming to lock yourself in your bedroom. You make it to the upper landing before Leon wraps his arms around your waist. 

You squeal when he jerks you back to his hard chest. 

“You little brat,” he hisses, “I’m gonna—“

“No roughhousing near the stairs,” his dad calls out from the bottom, looking up at you two.

Leon gives him a sheepish smile and drops his hold on you, “Of course, pops.”

You take this distraction for what it is and rush off to your room, shutting and locking the door. Listening, you hear Leon pause outside your door. 

He lightly taps the wood, “This isn’t over, sweetheart.”

You shiver, feeling hot at those words. You hear him make his way over to his room and shut the door. Walking over, you collapse down onto your bed with a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into?

Later in the evening, you make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. When you return to your room, it slips your mind to lock your door for the night. Tiredly, you slip under your cool sheets and drift off. 

You’re slowly coming to, still half asleep. You question what woke you up and right as your about to be pulled back under, you feel a pair of hands caressing and pinching your nipples over your thin sleep shirt. 

“So pretty. Pretty girl don’t even know what you do to me. These fuckin tits just begging me to play with’em.”

You hear a low voice muttering next to you. You struggle to remember who else would even be here but that’s wiped from your mind as the hands keep teasing and tugging your sensitive buds. 

“God I wanna suck’em. Leave bruises all over you.”

Leon your mind supplies. You forgot to lock your door earlier. 

“Always walking around the house wearing those little outfits. Practically begging me to just bend you over and fuck you til you can’t think.”

You feel a warm hand smooth up your ribs before cupping one of your breasts while the other softly pinches your nipples. 

“Wha-“ you groggily reach a hand back to the body behind you. 

“Shh, princess,” his low voice rumbles in your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

You sigh out in response and let him snake his other hand underneath the side you’re laying on to grope your other breast. Your nipples harden to the gentle strokes of his fingers circling the sensitive buds. 

You arch your hips back to grind against the bulge pressing into your ass. Your pussy starts to leak slick into your panties. 

He groans aloud and slips his hands underneath your shirt to glide fingertips across heated skin. You sluggishly shrug out of the shirt with his help. Immediately afterwards, he grabs each breast in his hands and squeezes, the fat dimpling between his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s— you’re so good,” he presses wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulder before scraping his teeth along your shoulder blade. 

“C’mon, roll over for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are heavy with sleep but you can blearily make out his dark eyes as they drink in your half naked body. 

“Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy, baby?”

You’re so tired you can only let out a low whine. 

“I know, sucha sweet girl when you wanna be,” he kisses your cheek then your lips, dipping his tongue into your mouth for a quick taste before pulling away to lie between your spread legs. 

He eases your panties down your legs and tosses them to the floor. You can feel how wet you are when the cool air of the room hits your pussy.  

“Can’t believe you wrote all that shit down where anyone can read it,” he eyes your leaking slit hungrily before meeting your gaze with blown out pupils, “fuckin made me so hard, baby.“

“Leon,” you whisper, voice cracking in pleasure, “‘m sorry.”

He presses soft kisses to your thighs, bypassing where you most want his mouth, laying soft open mouthed kisses to your hips and lower abdomen. 

“Why’re you apologizing? I think it’s hot that y’need your big brother to take care of this sopping wet pussy,” his hands are softly running up your legs, massaging the skin randomly.

“We can’t,” you whisper, pressing your hands against his head to keep him from moving, “it’s dirty. And plus don’t you have a girlfriend?”

He growls at you, “So? I’ll dump her tomorrow once I have a taste of this sweet little cunt. And it might be dirty but doesn’t it get you wet, princess? I read all about your filthy thoughts of me eating you out.”

He grins at you from between your thighs, eyes hungry, “You can even be my new girlfriend.”

Leon finally presses his lips to your mound, “And now I’m gonna eat out my girl’s pussy.”

You sigh out in pleasure as he places sloppy kisses to your clit over and over making your legs twitch. Your hands come down to tangle in his messy hair. 

“Leon,” you moan, “please.”

Ignoring your urging to go lower, he laves his tongue across your pussy lips. He pulls back just to press his pouty mouth softly against the hood of your clit making you arch your hips upward with a moan. 

His tongue darts out to lap at your sensitive bud before trailing down to your leaking hole. He teases his tongue around the entrance, dipping inside briefly, before pulling away to messily kiss your clit. Your thigh muscles jump underneath the palm of his broad hands. He continues to drag his lips across your aching clit, giving it soft kisses repeatedly. 

“Fuck, so good,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “please Leon I need more than just kisses.”

“Nah,” his eyes darken even further, lips ticked into a mean smile, “just wanna give my girl’s pretty pussy lotsa love. She only needs my kisses.”

He presses another sloppy, spit filled kiss onto your swollen clit. 

You whine pitifully, “Such a tease.”

“Oh I’m the tease?” He pulls away from your slick cunt leaving you gasping out in disagreement, “You’ve been teasing me for the longest time, princess. Wearing those slutty shorts, showing off those fucking thighs of yours.”

He shucks his sleep wear off until he’s only in his boxers. You can see a prominent wet spot where the head of his dick has been pressing against the fabric. You whine again, hands scrabbling at his forearms. 

“‘m sorry Leon. I’ll be good, promise,” you pull on his arms, trying to make him move up closer, “I didn’t mean to tease.”

“I bet you didn’t,” his voice is rough, deeper than you’ve heard before, “those flimsy little tops showing me your hard fucking nipples.”

You watch as that mean expression comes back into his face. His thumb presses down on your swollen clit making you gasp in pleasure. 

“But I guess that’s what slutty little  sisters do to their big brothers, huh? You were just trying to get me hard so I can fuck you good later, right?”

You feel tears pooling in your waterline. 

“Leon,” you hiccup, “please.”

His expression softens. 

“Hey don’t worry,” he moves up to cage your head between his forearms, bent so your faces are nearly pressed together, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

You keep eye contact as you ask, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he gives you a soft look. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You bite your lip and run your hands through his hair, “Yeah? Gonna show me stepbrother’s big cock?”

“Fucking hell,” his hips grind down onto yours. You feel the scratchy material of his boxers press against your wet cunt as the heat of his cock drags across your pussy lips. 

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby. Hope you’re ready for it,” he kisses you, thrusting his tongue into your open mouth. 

Leon presses you on your back; he brings your knees up to your chest and pushes you down into the bed as he drags his thick cock across your sensitive clit. 

You look down and watch as his hand wraps around his dick, pulling back the foreskin to smack at your clit and leaky hole. 

“Think I’ll fit, princess?”

He’s so big but that just makes you arch your hips up, angling to get his tip to slide into your clenching hole. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, eyes watching as he glides his cock through your wet folds to tap your clit again. 

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he grins. 

You both moan when he presses the fat tip inside and sinks into your tight, wet cunt. 

He gives you a second to adjust before pulling halfway out to slide back in your hot pussy. 

“Fuck,” you pant.

Your hole stretches to accommodate the thick cock fucking into you. 

“That’s it,” Leon’s raspy voice washes over your ears, “you can take it.”

You whine, “Too big.”

Your hands claw at the sheets, trying to gain purchase. Your cunt drips slick all over the bed while Leon stretches you.. filling you up so good. Sweat begins to bead up around your hairline making your hair stick to your skin. 

You can’t stop clenching down on the thick length spearing you open. 

“Please move,” you choke out, lifting your head to peer up at Leon’s dark stare. 

“You can use your manners,” he chuckles, “aren’t you full of surprises.”

Your eyes flutter as Leon pulls out to slowly slide back in. You moan unabashedly as you’re fucked slow and deep. 

“Please, please,” you chant, “so good. Feels so good.”

Leon’s hands grip your hips, fingertips digging in, “Don’t you make a pretty sight. Such a lovely hole.”

You whine as arousal pulses through you at those words. 

“Please, I want more.”

“Yeah?”

“Please,” you mewl, as his thumb starts to circle your clit.  

“Mmm so fucking sweet,” he moans, using one hand to hold your hips down and the other pinches and strokes your clit. 

“Gonna breed this pretty little cunt,” Leon grunts as he thrusts harder into your pussy walls clamping down onto his thick cock. 

“Leon,” you moan out, nails biting into his shoulders. 

He grins down at you, “Yeah you like that sweetheart? Yeah you do. Want me to put a fat load deep in this tight pussy.”

Punched out moans are all you can manage as his hips piston harder into you, the wet squelching between your thighs getting louder. 

“Shit so fuckin good f’me,” Leon hikes your legs up higher onto his shoulders, “gonna cum in you baby. S’what big brothers do, right?”

“What?” You choke out, feeling the tip of Leon’s dick nail that spongy spot inside you repeatedly. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t dream about coming in my girlfriend, but you? My little sister? It’s the only thing to do,” his mouth drops hot, tongue filled kisses on your bite covered neck. 

“Ohh,” you keen high in your throat, feeling your walls squeezing onto Leon even harder. Just the thought of him cumming inside you has your clit throbbing.  

“Baby fuck yeah only wanna cum in you,” Leon slurrs, “you’ll let me right? Let your big brother fill you up? Show you how much I care.”

“Yes yes yes. Please! Want it so bad Leon.”

You’re drooling from how good he’s fucking your pussy. His fat cock bullies into your cunt on every thrust, spreading you open and filling you up. 

“So wet and tight," he grits out, voice rough. 

You toss your head back in pleasure, "Fuck, Leon. Your cock feels so good."

You can’t stop your hips from meeting each one of his powerful thrusts. Your pussy clenches around his dick like a vice. 

He moans, "That's it, take it, such a sweet girl."

"More, please,” you pant, pushing sweaty hair away from your face. 

He bottoms out in your cunt to kiss you sloppily. 

“You on some kinda birth control, princess?”

You are, but a dark pulse of arousal makes you want to see what he’d do if you said no. 

So, you shake your head no, “I’m not on any.”

His hips stutter and buck deeper into your squelching pussy. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting, pupils blown, “really? Fucking hell. I need to—“

He moans and grinds so deep you can feel his tip kiss your cervix. 

“S’okay that I don’t pull out?” He slips his cock out and slams back into your pussy, making your eyes roll back. 

“But you gotta promise me not to get pregnant, yeah? Otherwise I can’t cum all in this needy little pussy. Promise me, baby and I’ll give you a nice creampie.”

Whining, your nails scratch and claw at his shoulders as Leon rails you into the bed; your bed frame is rattling and the mattress squeaking. You’ve never been more grateful your parents slept on the complete opposite side of the house. 

“Promise, promise,” you gasp out. 

“Hmm yeah, okay then baby. I’ll fuck you raw and cum in this little pussy. God damn,” he groans, thrusting harder, “fuck, don’t even care if I knock you up. So fucking hot.” 

He fingers pick up their speed, flicking and pinching your clit as he hammers into that spongy spot in your pussy. 

“I-I’m gonna cum. Leon, you’re gonna make me cum,” you mewl. 

“Yeah gonna cum on your big brother’s cock?” He kisses you, tongue fucking into your mouth. 

“Uh huh, yeah gonna cum all over my big brothers cock,” you whine, “oh fuck, Leon! You’re gonna have to cover my mouth.”

He grins down at you, hips pistoning harder into your pussy. 

“Gonna get loud, baby? Fuck that’s so hot. C’mon cum all over my cock.” 

Your eyes roll back as your thighs shake with the force of your orgasm. Leon clamps a hand over your mouth as you scream, pussy gushing and clenching around his hard cock.  

“That’s it, fuck me, princess. Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groans, “gonna cum, gonna cream this little cunt.”

He bites down on your shoulder as his dick buries itself deep in your pussy. Your still clenching walls milk his cock until you can’t feel his cum spilling inside anymore.  

“God damn,” he pulls back from your neck, “sorry bout the bruise, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “S’fine.”

He slips out of your cunt with a low hiss. Greedily, he watches as his cum drips out onto the sheets. 

“Mmm so hot, baby,” he rubs the cum into your pussy lips, “do I need to get you the morning after pill?”

You laugh at him, “No, I’m on birth control.”

You laugh even harder at his scandalized expression. 

“You serious?”

You nod, still giggling, “Yeah.”

He huffs a laugh and cages you in against your bed; he gives you the filthiest kiss and when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips. 

“Fucking tease,” he drags his half hard cock over your sensitive pussy, “just means I can cum in you as much as I want though, princess.”

You moan and pull him into another hungry kiss. The kisses turn wet and sloppy, spit dripping down your chins as he sucks on your tongue. 

He pulls back to take in your hazy eyes, “Give me a few and we can go again.”

You run your hands through his messy hair, “Mmm sounds good to me.”

#Stepbro!leon s kennedy #Stepbro Leon S Kennedy #Stepbro!leon #Stepbro!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #Stepbro!leon s kennedy x you #Stepcest #leon s kennedy smut #leon s Kennedy x fem!reader #Fem!reader #resident evil smut #lipglossanon

[nicestgirlonline]

sneaky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: You and Bucky decide to keep your new relationship a secret with somewhat disastrous results…

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Here’s my entry for @the-slumberparty week 2 challenge blast from the past! I don’t really have an old WIPs, I was trying to jumpstart my writing again with this sleepover. So here’s a little sequel to dumb dumb, since you guys really really seemed to like that one! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome! <3 

part 1

That Valentine's Day was possibly the best night of Bucky’s life. He had finally gotten to express everything he had been feeling for you. Friday night bled into Saturday morning, neither of you getting much sleep. The months of yearning and pining all finally erupted into passion, lust and love.

Saturday morning quickly became Saturday afternoon, with lots of pillow talk, telling each other little secrets about yourselves, sharing childhood stories. A simple Postmates order and quick text to Steve meant no one to bother you, and no reason for you to leave his bed. 

Saturday night, or what Bucky was calling round two became Sunday morning and that brought about a little thing called the Sunday Scaries.  

Amidst the bliss and happiness there was a lingering thought that kept bothering you. The two of you lounged in his bed, enjoying each other's quiet company, the moonlight of the early morning making the room glow blue. 

You bit your lip. Time to rip the bandaid off. Real life was going to be starting too soon again. 

“Bucky I’ve been thinking…about us.”  

“Really? Me too.” He started to pepper your face with kisses. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can have fun with my girlfriend.” You giggled as he started to tickle your sides. You wiggled your way out of his grasp. You propped yourself up on your forearms and did your best to put on your serious face. Which was very hard when Bucky was being so cute. 

“I mean it! I’ve been thinking, maybe we should keep this private? For a while?” You tried your best to keep your voice soft, the face Bucky made broke your heart, which was what you were afraid of. He looked extremely scared. 

“What’s wrong, what’d I do? Was girlfriend too soon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, ” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close against him. 

“No, no, you’re my boyfriend now.” You assured him. You took his face in your hands and he leaned into your palm in relief.  “I am really excited to be with you but we do work together. And there’s HR and office gossip and I don’t want that to affect us when we are still figuring out us. I guess I’ve never really thought about the power imbalance between us.” 

Bucky nodded albeit a bit reluctantly.  He untangled his arms around you so you were both lying on your side looking at each other. 

“I mean…I understand. You know I don’t really think of myself as a big superhero or something, but it is a ‘power imbalance’. Does it…bother you?” He asked scratching his face to avoid eye contact. You sat up, suddenly very confused. 

“What are you talking about, I’m the scientist who’s studying you? I’m the one abusing my authority here. It's all very unethical!” You exclaimed. 

“I don’t feel taken advantage of here, Doll. If anything, people are going to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Why?”

“I’m a bit older than you. I’m sort of famous for not so great reasons. I’m also literally more powerful than you?” He held up his left arm as if to show you proof. You dismissed it with a hand wave. 

“You don’t know that you’re more famous than me. I’ve been published in many academic journals.” You pointed out. Bucky shook his head. Gosh he liked you so much. He couldn’t even believe this was really happening to him half the time.  

“There were weeks of press coverage for my trial.”  You just rolled your eyes at that. Bucky was always so afraid that everyone saw him as a villain, but you’d never once felt any sort of danger from this sweet man. 

“Well, agree to disagree. But I still think maybe for the first two months we should just keep it quiet. So we don’t have to worry about anyone but each other. Just lowkey.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re totally right. We will keep things low key.” 

X

“Hey Steve, uhhh we’ve got a problem.” Bucky rushed into the breakfast room, thankful that Steve was the only one there. Steve queried his eyebrow at his panic stricken best friend. 

“What’s up Buck?” He asked. Bucky, seemingly slightly out of breath grabbed the side of the cabinets, he closed his eyes to try and get his 

“So you know how I told you about…on Valentines Day…and then we…so the weekend was…” He waved his hand to emphasis his pauses and Steve nodded along.  

“Of course,  I’m happy for you two, Bucky!” He said brightly, of course this must be some sort of post confession bliss the two of them were in making his friend act so strange.

“Well that's just the thing. Did you…tell anybody else about it?” He asked, his voice a bit strangled and his tone grim. 

“Uhhh was I not supposed to?” Steve asked, his face falling immediately. 

“Can you answer my question?”

“I told Sam about it. The two of you have been dancing around it for so long that we’re all just a little excited for you.” Steve started to explain but he could practically see the fury radiating off of Bucky in waves. His signature death stare was fixed on him. 

“Look, I really appreciate the um, support for my relationship. But here’s the thing, she doesn’t want anyone to know we’re dating.” He ground out, his teeth still clenched. “So we are going to be low. key.” 

“Look who it is. We were about to put out a missing person alert .” Natasha had slunk her way into the breakfast room, her voice dripping with self satisfied condescension.  “Getting provisions for the love nest?”

“God damn it, you told her too?”  He cried out. She shrugged, innocently looking away. Bucky grabbed his head, he was going to throttle Steve. 

“Oh come on, Y/N loves Nat. I figured she already knew.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, the captain certainly hadn't thought this was how his morning was going to go. Bucky turned his attention back to the super spy who was a bit too pleased with the unfolding drama. 

“Nat, did you tell anyone about this?” 

“Please, I’m a spy. I don’t just go around giving out important gossip with nothing to gain.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Romanoff!” He snapped back. 

“I’m still a bit confused why she doesn’t want anybody to know? Is that a modern dating thing, not telling people you’re dating?” Steve asked. It didn’t make much sense to him, what exactly did she think was going to happen if people found out? 

“She just doesn’t want the gossip and the pressure of everyone knowing about us to color the beginning of our relationship.” Bucky explained but his tone belated his true feelings. He absolutely did not want to keep this a secret. “So I told her I wasn’t going to tell anybody but I forgot I already told the biggest blabbermouth on the team.”  He quickly turned back to anger at his teammates. 

“I’m not the biggest blabbermouth…hm crap wait I forgot, Clint knows too.” Steve closed his eyes, wincing, ready for the smack upside the head he sorely deserved. 

“Loose lips sink ships asshole! ” Bucky was exasperated. 

“I didn’t know this was top secret information!” Steve countered. 

Nat stayed at the breakfast bar watching the two super soldiers argue, it was amusing but she had her limits. She had to intervene before Bucky had an aneurysm. 

“It's not so bad, we can do damage control. Tell Sam and Clint to keep quiet about it.” Nat said before taking a sip of her coffee. “And Wanda.”

“AND WANDA--” Steve looped an arm around Bucky’s waist before he could lunge at Natasha. 

x

Bucky Barnes: Hello Sam,  I am texting to inform you that Y/N and I are NOT DATING and please disbelieve the rumors to the contrary. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: please learn to text like a normal person

Sam Wilson: You know I saw you making out with her in the elevator on Friday right? 

Bucky Barnes is typing…

Bucky Barnes: Sam, please disregard my previous message and meet me in the training gym on level 5 ASAP. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: You don't have to sign your name I know it's you 

Sam Wilson: forget it

Sam Wilson: yeah I’ll be there

X Something wasn’t quite right. Your love life had never been better, Bucky was an amazing boyfriend, it was all you could do to not spend all of your time with him. The two of you would meet up after work hours and spend blissful hours back in Bucky’s apartment. But the rest of your work life, well it was starting to feel like people were avoiding you. 

Like the other day at lunch, you were sitting across from Bucky which wasn’t too unusual, you had been friends before you were seeing each other. The very tips of your shoes were touching, a special little secret way of holding hands. The two of you were discussing movies that were coming out, a totally neutral non flirty conversation. But then Steve walked in, looked at you then immediately spun on his heel and walked away. You furrowed your brow. That was a bit weird.

Or when you had bumped into Bucky at the gym on level 5. It had actually been a happy coincidence, you decided to do some yoga as you sorely needed to stretch your body out after being hunched over a microscope all day.  Bucky had been working out with Sam, Bucky lifting weights with Sam on the treadmill. You waved to the two of them and made your way over to say hi and Sam without saying a word jumped off the treadmill and started to jog out of the gym. 

Even Nat, which hurt the most, flaked on the movie night you’d wanted to have in the TV room. Then it was the domino effect, Steve dropped out then  Wanda and Vis dropped out too and soon it was just You and Bucky. 

“Oh nooo. What are we gonna do, watch the movie by ourselves? Just the two of us?” Bucky whispered in your ear as you were pouring popcorn into a large bowl. He grabbed you by the hips and waggled his eyebrows at you. You let out a little sigh and snatched the bowl before heading to the TV room.  You weren’t in the mood to flirt with him. The tv room was ready for what you had thought would be a big group. The lights were already dimmed and there were plenty of blankets and pillows around. 

You and Bucky settled next to each other on the couch. He grabbed a big fuzzy blue blanket and draped it over the two of your legs. He gave your leg a little squeeze beneath the blanket and winked. You just let out a sigh and grabbed the remote to fire up the Roku. Bucky frowned, this was certainly not what he thought their movie night would be like!

“What’s wrong Bambi? You seem down.” He asked, concerned. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. You let him cuddle you, resting your head on his chest 

“It just feels like all of our friends are avoiding me. I mean I thought we were friends. Co-workers I guess, you know I’m not great at reading people.” You sighed and buried your face in his chest. Had you grown more annoying these past few weeks ? He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking up at him. 

“Honey, you’re great at reading people, don’t let your insecurity tell you otherwise. I’m not really a people person anyway so I was excited that it was going to be just us. Nobody’s avoiding you I promise. Want to just reschedule this night?” He offered. 

You shook your head. Rescheduling wouldn’t make you feel any better. Besides it was nice to be able to spend time with Bucky out in the open like this.  You still felt like your friends were all acting weird, but you trusted Bucky enough that you decided to let it go. 

“Well since it’s just you and me, we still have to watch The Princess Bride.” You relaxed into the couch, already pulling it up on the screen. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

X

You were working away in the lab, it was a little past lunch time but you simply couldn’t stop in the middle of your project. You could push yourself just a little bit and finish this in time to actually leave at a normal time tonight. You had a date tonight. You smiled to yourself. A secret date.

You were deep in the process, so much so that you didn’t even notice the secret date, arriving hours early in the lab. He gave your sides a squeeze making you yelp. You spun around to see your smirking boyfriend. 

“Bucky! Um, what are you doing here!” you asked, trying not to sound too excited. 

“I'm here to help you out with those samples you had requested from me.” He projected his voice around the lab. But it was for the benefit of no one, you were the only two there. You smiled, happily playing along. 

“Oh right! Those samples I requested.” 

“Those spit samples.” He grabbed the back of your head and crushed his lips to yours in a sloppy wet kiss. You slapped his chest as you pulled away from him giggling.

“Ew! Bucky, that's so gross, why would you say it like that!” But you couldn’t stop giggling. He smiled, clearly feeding off the laughter. 

“You’re the one who wants us to have this clandestine affair, I’m just trying to keep up appearances.” 

“"Why are you even here? You’re a little early.”

“It's my lunch break and I wanted to say hi and give you a kiss.” He took  one of your hands in his. You reached out and grabbed his vibranium hand as well so you were holding both. It made his heart flutter, how unperturbed by his arm you were. When he was with you it was like he was just a normal guy.

“Hi.” He murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Hi.” you breathed back. This time when your lips met it was sweet and soft. He slowly moved his lips against yours, you opened your mouth just slightly enough that his tongue could slip inside and ---

“So I’m pretty sure the Erskine notes were in here.” It was Bruce! Bucky felt a sudden rush of fear. Bruce wasn’t one of the inner circle who would just pretend not to notice their closeness. They could actually get caught!  

You quickly as hard as you could pushed Bucky away and he clamored backwards. You wiped your mouth, hoping somehow that would disguise yourself. Bruce poked his head in.

“Just looking for the Erskine notes. Uh, everything ok in here?” He took stock of each of you, freshly shoved apart. 

“Yeah, just leaving!” Bucky cried as he raced out of the lab. 

“I’m indifferent to him leaving! I’ll go grab the notes for you Dr. Banner!” You raced to the file cabinet not looking at anything but the ground. 

Bruce cocked his head at the strange interaction he just encountered. 

X

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted cheerfully as he entered the breakfast room in the morning, Steve and Sam in tow. “Morning Steve! Morning Sam!” You quickly added as they filed in. As not to raise suspicion. 

“I get a good morning? Wow. Don’t I feel special.” Sam said with a smirk. 

“I say good morning to everyone. I’m just a morning person like that. How are you doing Sam? I feel like you’ve been so busy, I barely even see you these days.” You asked, trying to sound casual. You still felt like everyone was acting so weird around you. 

“Oh you know, mission after mission. None of them were in Hawaii either, it's all been Nepal, Siberia, whatever frozen wasteland they can dump me in.” He sat down next to you. You nodded along as he continued talking about his missions, eager to connect with your friend again. 

“Good morning troops. Ah and good morning Beaker. Didn’t think I’d see you this early on a Monday.” Tony Stark, sunglasses still on, his closes wrinkled like he’d just come in off a jet. It had been awhile since he was on at the Compound.  

You hoped you weren’t blushing at the comment. Bucky had talked you into another Sunday night sleepover, you were trying to be subtle about it but you were a morning person, it didn't make sense to pretend to show up later.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you at all Mr. Stark. It's been awhile, since you’ve hunkered down with us mole people in the lab.” You always had a professional but good natured relationship with Tony. He was your boss after all, which is why you found it a little weird to call him Tony. 

Tony let out a chuckle and started to make science small talk, about the lab and the projects you’d been working on. 

Bucky and Tony were not great friends. They had buried the hatchet, sure, but it wasn’t like the two drank beer and watched the game together. Cordial coworkers are best. 

Except Bucky didn't feel very cordial with Tony right now. Considering he had taken the only open seat next to you. He gruffly sat down at the table next to them with his coffee. 

You wanted to invite Bucky to come sit with you, or go over to his table, but that would probably be a bit too much for just friends. You peered over Tony’s shoulder to your grumpy boyfriend darkly having breakfast. You tried not to make it too obvious and still listen to his anecdote about building a mini laser. 

The two of your eyes would catch more often than not. Quickly turning back to whatever they were doing. Tony picked up on this immediately, he looked over his shoulder

“What do you keep looking at?” He spun around to look directly at Bucky who was frozen in place.  “What’s going on here? Are you two fucking or something?”

It was like everything happened all at once.

“Tony -- out of line.” “Uh HR?” “No no no you misunderstand.” “Which one of you told Tony?”

Everyone burst into action, all speaking over each other.  Wait what? You swung your head from pleading with Tony to your secret boyfriend.  The three soldiers froze. Sam took a deep breath. 

“I’ve had enough of this! Nobody told Tony. You two idiots are just so obvious that anyone could see it.” Sam said. As soon as he did Steve let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders rolling forward like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  

“I won’t have this, no way, not on my watch. Y/N. My beloved employee. With Mancurian Candidate? Under my nose, in my own lab?” Tony said indignantly,  putting his hand over his heart as if he was scandalized. 

“Tony! That’s really not very funny. You shouldn’t call him that.” You said your face a hard frown. and Bucky felt his heart burst with happiness. But then your gaze turned to him and he felt your icy stare.

“I--I can explain. You see I had actually texted Steve before we decided to be lowkey. It was before so really if you think about it. I didn’t do anything wrong. And Steve and his big mouth told a few people. But it’s just the people in this room. And Nat. And Clint. And Wanda. But that’s all.”  Bucky tried to explain to you as best he could. His eyes were pleading, he felt weak in the knees. You remained silent, your arms crossed. 

“Yikes, you’re in troooouble.” Tony taunted. 

“So basically everyone! Everyone I see on a daily basis. I can’t believe this. So they’ve all known the whole time?” You looked at Sam and Steve who both sheepishly nodded. You turned back to Bucky, you let out a shaky breath. People knew, and nothing bad had happened. Your friends had actually gone out of their way so you two could have some privacy.  “Well I guess there's no point in keeping this up then.”

“Hm?”

“I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend now, so if you don’t mind gentlemen.” You grabbed your breakfast bowl and moved your chair so you were sitting next to Bucky. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lap. 

“Ugh, I'm nauseous you two are so fucking cute. Guess that’s my cue.  Come on, Commandos, take a hint.” Tony got up signaling to the other two who also rushed out of the room, more than happy to get out of the tense atmosphere. Once you were completely alone, you finally spoke. 

“I can’t believe everyone knows. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

 Bucky let out a deep sigh. 

“I mean I kept it a secret from some people. Tony being one of them. I just…I wanted to give you what you wanted. But I mean to be completely honest I did want to tell everyone. I’m all in.”  

“I’m all in too!” You cried clutching his hand and kissing his knuckles. “That's why I wanted to try and slow things down so I couldn’t mess anything up. Now it just all seems so silly. I tried so hard to be sneaky too!” 

He took his hand off yours and gave your thigh a squeeze. 

“I mean…we can still sneak around sometimes. If you want. ” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “I mean, I had plans, Doll, a lot of plans. I was fully prepared to take you on every inch of that lab table.” 

“Sergeant Barnes! ” You gasped. “I think we may be a bit too loud for that level of sneakiness.” He took your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb down your lip.

“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you quiet.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky fanfic #navy and roo's sleepover #bucky barnes #idiots to lovers #fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #winter solider #friday night posting baby #fanfiction

[uplatterme]

a/n: im putting the warnings first this time because the writing style is a bit different. also, it really isn’t clear what actually happened to sohreh so this whole thing is just a fun interpretation is all.

cw: violence, murder, dark content (this is insane, like actually. please read with caution) | sub!zandik, zandik!dottore, gender-neutral terms and pronouns but reader has a cock, exhibitionism, semi-public sex

———

Journal Entry No. XX (Recorded on: ??-??-??)

—Written By: (Dastur Sohreh)

These reports seemed to have been stained heavily with bodily fluids. Certain words are unreadable.

—The team consisted of renowned students of the Akademiya, including; Sohreh, Zandik, XXXX, and XXXX. This team was led by Sage Shanarma and Senior ▇▇.

Each one had brought something new to the plate, despite not getting along at first due to different views on the decisions that the team followed. Notably, from Zandik, whose suggestions seemed to be far too dangerous to even try, that was immediately shut down without even a second thought.

However, Senior ▇▇ always heard him out and always stood by his side whenever there were arguments. Rumors spread throughout the team about their supposed relationship.

Being scholars of the Akademiya meant that we should always rely on facts rather than meaningless accusations. Once I told them of this, the gossip was never brought up.

▇▇ was kind to everyone, even to me. They would always assist me whenever I had trouble walking because of the heat.

I had an ominous feeling that someone was glaring at me from behind whenever I was helped, but when I turned around, there was no one but the forest itself.

Perhaps, it was just my anxiety acting up from feeling as if I wasn’t contributing much to the group. ▇▇ reassured me I was doing just fine.

—I trusted ▇▇’s words about Zandik. I once found myself exploring the jungle with him and even though the start of our expedition proved that we had nothing in common, he opened up interesting topics to discuss, ranging from plants and animals to the current evolution models.

I found myself being taken aback by him, the way he spoke showed off his clearly high intellect. His appearance is also quite attractive. I sometimes matched my gaze with him intentionally and he would return it with a smile that made my heart flutter.

Unfortunately, I grew distant from Senior as I relied on this information to them. They said encouraging words about Zandik and I’s relationship but their eyes looked saddened, almost empty the longer I observed them.

They never approached me after that and the only time they would talk to me is if I approached them first.

Maybe it was true that there was a past relationship between Zandik and Senior ▇▇? If there was, it didn’t seem to matter to Zandik anymore as he agreed when I suggested that we should go on a picnic tonight.

The picnic was lovely but I couldn’t get the feeling off my back that someone was watching us together.

———

The next writings are written with blood, the writing is shaky and incomprehensible as if it was written with pure desperation.

You let out an amused sigh, taking your pen out from the drawer under your stable.

“Such a shame, Sohreh. You didn’t even get to finish this note. Should I help you out?”

You tapped the pen on the table, wondering where to start.

———

You commended your patience at the time. Seeing Zandik with someone else and not doing anything about it? You honestly couldn’t believe it.

It was obvious that he didn’t like the attention he was receiving. That’s what you told yourself, at least. You couldn’t figure out what it was that he was using Sohreh for.

Then again, he was never the one to just simply spit out answers without a price.

There wasn’t exactly a label between you two. So perhaps you shouldn’t even be jealous to begin with. 

Oh, please.

The expedition was going far too smooth for your liking anyways.

The violent and loud mechanic noises rang in your ears. There were screams all coming from the team, wondering what it is that they should do.

Yet, out of all the horrified faces on each of them, one stood out.

A face of shock that soon turned into a gleeful one, excited for something new. Knowledge, that would soon quench his thirst at the moment.

He was truly an eccentric one. 

You smiled as he took a step forward, and eventually, those slow steps hastened, running to the ruin guard instead of backing away.

The scholar beside you, however, still hadn’t reacted. Sohreh’s shaking. The poor thing was terrified, legs giving up and failing to notice the ruin guard eyeing her way.

You could pull her away in time if you wanted to. There was enough time to keep her out of harm’s way.

If only she listened to those rumors.

The ruin guard had attacked Sohreh, her body flopping to the floor. The sound of bones breaking stood out from the screaming and metallic noises.

You clap your hands together, gaining the attention of everyone.

“Zandik’s trying to fix the problem right now. Everyone, focus on your surroundings, don’t make unnecessary movements that’ll trigger more reactions.” You directed, ignoring the groaning of the woman below your knees.

Suffice to say, each one was horrified. There were minor injuries that the others had gotten but nothing severe. You could see how grateful they were that they didn’t end up like Sohreh, who was now laying on the ground, in dire need of medical treatment.

In the end, these scholars only valued themselves.

“Senior? What should we do?” One of them had asked, bearing a pathetic look on their face, avoiding the gruesome state of the body placed on a picnic blanket that somebody had found.

“We will return at once.”

Zandik stepped in front of you, not agreeing with that choice.

“Should we not bring this machine back to the Akademiya? I can guarantee that this can prove to be useful in different ways! It’s the first we’ve seen of this kind.” He enthusiastically said.

The others did not appeal to that thought.

It seemed that these scholars did not value the life that was slowly withering away next to them, choosing to argue instead of seeking the medical attention that Sohreh clearly needed.

“Are you insane? That thing cannot be brought back to the Akademiya! It will spur chaos with the sages!”

“And you have seen my prowess, have you not? I was the only one with the slightest clue on how to keep it dormant while you stood there like cowards!” Zandik angrily shouted back, biting his teeth together.

This silenced the arguing. He was right and everyone knew that. Without his help, who knew what else could have happened instead?

You sighed at the useless bickering. The priorities of these people were laughable.

“We’ll have to hear from the Sages, Zandik,” You reassured.

“Meanwhile, as Sohreh cannot travel. I’m requesting everyone to seek help from the Akademiya, a healer preferably, or anyone that you could reach out to as quickly as you can.”

“Well, aren’t you just as mischievous as before?” Zandik stated, no longer keeping his thoughts as everyone besides you two had left to get assistance.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Is that how you want to take this conversation?” He huffed, walking towards you—no, walking towards Sohreh.

He examined her body, guts almost slipping out of her torso, her right leg dislocated. Her blood seeped to the picinic blanket that they had used during their date.

It was honestly a miracle that she was still breathing at this point.

And almost as if she could hear your thoughts. Sohreh’s eyes opened, directly facing Zandik.

“Z-Zandik?” She mustered out, coughing and spitting out blood from her throat.

“It’s alright, I’ve taken care of the ruin guard.”

“Of course, you would have… You’re the only capable one here.” She joked.

You stayed quiet, listening in on the conversation. You doubted she even knew that you were here.

“Are you…going to help me out?” She asked and Zandik only answered with that picture-perfect smile that he always wore when he wanted something.

The man fixed her hair, moving them away from her eyes.

“Show me.” He said.

“Wha—?!”

Zandik’s right hand went for her throat, pressing deep. Her vocal cords getting too damaged for her to even scream.

She flailed her arms around, trying to escape the scholar’s grip. Sohreh was confused by the man’s new behavior. She was mouthing out several words that fell silent.

Her reactions were quite beautiful. Sohreh had always been expressive, putting everything on her sleeve. It would make sense that he wanted a better view when he finally ended this whole thing.

It was then that she decided that she couldn’t escape from this man alone. She needed someone, anyone to help her. Her eyes scouted the empty forest when she saw a familiar hair color.

“S-Senior!” She choked out, her voice hoarse and ruined.

“Zandik.” Once he heard his name being called out, he stopped.

He stared at you, those eyes that only focused on him. Oh, how grateful he was that you two were the only ones here.

Zandik dropped the woman without a care, her whole body trembling from barely escaping death. She was glad that you had intervened before it was too late.

“You shouldn’t use your dainty hands for something like this, Zandik.” You cooed and got up from your seat, approaching him.

You took his hands, bringing them to your lips, kissing them softly.

Sohreh couldn’t believe what was happening right in front of her eyes. Dainty? He had almost killed her and yet you were treating him as if he was porcelain?

“I missed this. Don’t you also?” You tilted your head as you asked him, Zandik blushing deep from your affection.

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you prove it?”

Sohreh watched in pure agony, she could barely move and even if she did, she wouldn’t get far. The pain was too much to bear to even try. Her wounds grinded against the rocky and dirty ground whenever she breathed too hard.

She could hear her organs slushing as if they were jelly. She didn’t know if it was because the whole thing made her senses more aware or if it was like that in reality.

The worse part was that you and Zandik didn’t pay any attention to her. As if you two were already set that she would die in her state, as if she was a dying cockroach that lay beneath your feet.

“You don’t know how insufferable it was holding myself back, Zandik.” You said, trailing kisses on his chest.

“To think you’d be so touchy with someone else. You really are a slut, aren’t you?” You spat out before biting his skin, your teeth going so deep that blood dripped down to his stomach.

God, Zandik could have finished right then and there.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to.” He apologized, face pouting as he said.

You chuckled at his expression. “You liar, I know you liked the attention.”

“I only like attention when it’s coming from you.” He refuted, snugging his head to your chest.

“Yeah? How could I be sure about that?”

He unbuttoned his pants, showing off everything to you. “Look at what you’ve done. Already so wet for you. I’m your slut, not anybody else’s.”

“Ah, Zandik. You know just the right words to say.” You laughed.

He grinded himself on your leg, rubbing his groin as he stared into your eyes. Lewd noises slipped out of his throat, missing how you took care of him. You pat his head and immediately, you received a whimper from Zandik.

You enjoyed the noises that Zandik made, huffs and breaths of your name as he pleasured himself with your body, begging for more.

Unfortunately, that was hindered by a scream from Sohreh whose throat you were sure would render her to never speak again. Not that it mattered, since there was no way she would be coming out of this forest alive.

You held onto Zandik’s thigh, stilling him in disappointment. “As much as I do love hearing you scream for mercy, I’m busy right now.”

She glared at you, obviously wanting to curse you out.

“However, you do remember that we’re not the only ones in this forest. I hear tigers have pretty good hearing. Ah, but you probably already knew that, being a student of Amurta and all.”

Once you reminded her, you could see fear strike in her eyes. To think she would be afraid of tigers more than you. How stupid really.

Zandik placed his ass on your lap, wanting your eyes on him.

“Need you.” He said.

“I’m sure you can do it by yourself now, no?” You answered, a flustered Zandik coughed, remembering the last time he tried to ride you.

Carefully and slowly, Zandik placed the tip of your cock near his entrance. He grit his teeth together, already feeling your warmth inside him when you’re still not all the way in.

An idea formed in your head. 

“Love, can you face the other way?” You asked him.

Zandik couldn’t believe that you’d only tell him this right now when he’s almost done taking in your whole length. 

Well, he could, being mean to him was your forte and he enjoyed every part of it.

He rolled his eyes back from taking you out, feeling empty.

Zandik’s back is now faced against you. You could see his hole open up as he inserted your cock inside of him.

“I’m feeling nice, Sohreh. So, I’ll give you a lesson on how to properly use Zandik.”

Zandik bounced against your thighs, moaning each time he slapped skin with you. “Haah~” 

“I’ve rammed into him so many times and he’s still just as sensitive. Isn’t he great?”

Zandik whined in agreement, hearing you praise and show him off to someone else extremely turning him on.

Sohreh could only look in horror, seeing the man he admired of, moving like an animal in heat, desperate for his senior’s cock.

“See here, if you give him a slight spank.” You continued, slapping the side of his ass as gently as you were able to.

Zandik yelped, cum leaking out of his cock.

He faced down lower, gasping for air as he could feel another orgasm coming.

“P-Please–! Let me–ah!”! He pleaded your name asking for permission, which you were proud to give.

His entire body shuddered as he came, cum splattering everywhere, even to the half-dead person on the ground.

“You did so good, Zandik.”

“T-Thank you…!” He squeaked out.

Sohreh wanted to vomit, you two were insane. If the Akademiya had access to this information then—!

Her hands searched for the notepad in her pockets. With no other option, she used the blood leaking out excessively from her body.

“What are you doing?”

Sohreh tried to hide away the evidence but it was stolen quickly. 

“You really are amazing. To think you’re still alive right now, even when I purposely let you get hit by that ruin guard.”

She stared in confusion. This whole thing…was your fault?

“Oh, don’t blame this on me. You were the one who went after Zandik. I’d say this makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Your hand reached for her neck, matching the bruises that Zandik had left earlier.

You squeezed hard, Sohreh losing the strength to even fight back. 

Realizing that you had gone too far, you snapped out of your daze, quickly apologizing to Zandik.

“Sorry! Did you have business with her still?”

Zandik swallowed the lump in his throat, amazed at how your muscles flexed when you strangled the body.

He could feel himself getting hard again, everything you do really, sent a rushing thrill to his spine.

“C-Could you do that to me?”

You slammed yourself into Zandik’s walls, the scholar moaning in pleasure as his back laid down on the corpse which was now used as a cushion as he pleasantly received your thrusts.

The body turned into a mess as you continued pounding in him roughly and as quickly as you can, knowing that you two had only so much time before someone else got here.

“M-More! More!” Zandik begged, his head rolling back from the intense sensations.

“As you wish, love.”

#sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub dottore #sub!dottore #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x reader #plattered writings #il dottore x reader

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (Part 5)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

(this continues directly after Part 4, Hob reads the rest of Dream's entry)

Negligence and luck were my saviours in the end. I managed to escape and take my revenge. I have recovered my tools of office and my power. I am free. And yet I feel like part of me is still trapped inside that basement, as unconnected to the world around me as I was before, but in a different way. Before I was captured I felt, if not above then distinctly separate from humanity; I resented that my existence depends on them, on you. I felt detached, outside of what should be intimately familiar to me. Now I am able to recognise that, but to overcome my reluctance to embrace humanity more is still a struggle. I know that not all of you are like Roderick Burgess but the fear lingers, despite logic telling me there is nothing to fear. I know my function is to serve them and my imprisonment caused great harm to many. I see now why I cannot go on like I used to. I hope that you might help me with getting to know humanity again, as you have so many times before. I confess that in my mind you had stopped being simply a human and therefore outside of how I judged humanity. You might have worried I might look down on you, but in fact I have long since seen you as someone apart from the humans I tend to. For that I am sorry, because you are just as deserving and in need of my attention as everyone else. Your perspective was supposed to help me understand humanity better, to grow closer to humans and I failed to learn my lesson. I only grew closer to you, while completely ignoring that you are human and failing to extend my feelings for you onto the rest of humanity. I was supposed to listen to you and learn what it is like to live a human life, but I did not internalise the lesson. I hope that with time I will become able to value human lives in their entirety and show others more respect and compassion. This will not come easy to me after nearly a century spent in a cage at the hand of a human, but I will try.

I apologise, Hob. All this will not make much sense to you because I have still not told you who I am, and I still wish to do so in person. Suffice it to say that you have already glimpsed the truth and noticed changes that are related to my person and what happened to me. Feel free to guess, my friend, but be assured that I will give you my name soon. Maybe then you will understand the scope of all I’ve relayed to you.

I have laid myself bare for you, my friend. I do not think I could have articulated half of this had we talked face to face. Admitting to my faults and insecurities does not come easy to me. My ordeal has left me with some conditions that I did not know I was capable of suffering. As you already know I am struggling with being in enclosed spaces, and I feel especially reluctant if there is a lot of glass. I also do not enjoy being close to humans I do not know, although, as you well know, I know everyone. This is limited to certain aspects of their person, though, and does not include mind reading. Therefore I find myself apprehensive of their goals and possible actions, which is why I prefer to keep my distance. I know that these fears are not logical and that I should be able to “shake them off” - yet I cannot, and I do not know for how long they will impede me. My greatest fear I have so far not articulated, though. If I tell you my name, will you still look at me the same way?

The words stop without a farewell and Hob drops the journal with a choked sob, his eyes wide and watering. He wants to howl. He refrains for the sake of his neighbours and simply slumps to the floor beside the fallen book. It’s still open and Hob rereads the last line through more and more tears welling up. He makes a sound like a wounded animal and gets back up on his knees, searches for a pen on top of the desk and then immediately launches into writing a reply right there on the floor.

My friend, my dearest friend!

Why would you think that I would ever look at you differently? You are more dear to me than anyone else and knowing your name and who or what you truly are will not change that! I believe I have been privileged to get to know you over the few times we met, and even more through these letters we have been writing. Even if your name was Oberon, or Hades, or hell, even Lucifer! I would not look at you differently, except to ask you why you lied when I first guessed that you might be a demon. I don’t think you would ever lie to me, though. Whatever you are, I have thought about it and puzzled over it since I first met you, so you know that the only way I would look at you if I finally got to know your name would be with awe and curiosity - the same way I have always looked at you. You are endlessly fascinating to me and I cannot believe you would think that I might change my opinion on you because of something as unimportant as a name. I already know you, dear stranger, with or without it. So I say, don’t tell me unless you truly want to. Don’t think you owe me a name or explanation. I do not need it. All I need is you, and our conversations. 

Hob pauses his writing and lets the pen drop from his fingers, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing his eyes. He wishes he had planned this better, thought about what he would write before starting, but in the end it’s maybe best to give his stranger this excessive honesty. Hob has a bad feeling about his friend’s entry simply stopping and what he probably needs is immediate assurance. So this is what Hob will lead with, and address the other issues afterwards. He means it, too. He doesn’t care who or what his friend truly is. He’s Hob’s friend, the oldest and best he’s got, and he’s determined to keep him, no matter what kind of being he turns out to be. “My sister, Death.” That's what his stranger wrote, Hob remembers and flips the pages of the journal back, rereading the first part of his friend’s entry. Roderick Burgess tried to summon Death, and got her brother instead. Death’s brother. His friend is Death's brother. What could that possibly make him? One of the four horsemen? Pestilence, or Famine? War seems unlikely, somehow. Actually none of these fit his stranger, Hob thinks and shakes his head slightly. He gets up and sits at the desk, the journal open in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to write next and so he drops the pen and goes to wash his face and make himself tea, trying to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

When he returns to the bedroom he finds he cannot write more without mulling it all over first. He feels empty, the horror of his friend’s ordeal growing more and more clearer in his mind. He doesn’t know what to write besides “Please let me hold you. Please let me make you smile. Please let me love you.” None of that seems even nearly appropriate to tell to a traumatised person that is probably not even remotely attracted to him. What his stranger needs now is a friend (well, actually a therapist, but Hob will do his best), not a clingy lover like Hob.

He goes to bed and leaves the journal open on the desk. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to find the right words. He falls asleep to thoughts of prisons made of glass, his friend stuck inside, looking mournfully at him.

Hob dreams of the White Horse. He wears his modern clothes but the Inn looks like it did in 1589 and with a smile he sits down at the lavishly decorated table, ready to host his friend. When Hob looks up his stranger is standing a few feet away on the other side of the table. He looks like Hob saw him in his bedroom, although his hair is a bit wilder and his black coat looks longer and is speckled with stars. Hob smiles at him and gestures at the spread.

“My friend! Sit, eat! You must be awfully hungry!”

His stranger frowns and takes a cautious step closer, looking at the table laden with food, then back at Hob.

“You offer me sustenance, my friend?”

I offer you everything.

“Of course,” Hob exclaims, “this, and more! If there is anything I can give you, I will! Please, only ask and I will try and find a way to get it for you.”

Hob wants to stop talking but he can’t seem to stop the words. “Be it food or drink, or hugs, or kisses - everything I have, my heart, if you but ask, is yours.” He blushes, knows that his eyes have grown wide in shock and still he cannot stop looking at his friend, staring at him in open adoration. Brother of Death, brother of Death, his mind keeps shrieking at him and Hob feels his smile crumble in dread as his stranger does not visibly react to Hob’s words at all. Too forward, too honest! Fool, you dare, he chides himself and bites his tongue when he feels more words on the cusp of breaking free.

His stranger does not acknowledge Hob’s words, he slowly picks up a strawberry and takes a delicate bite. His dark eyes do not leave Hob’s for even a second, though. Hob feels heat pool in his belly and bites his tongue harder until he feels blood well up inside his mouth. He opens it and a drop spills out, staining his lips as red as the strawberry is staining his friend’s. His stranger’s eyes are black from side to side now, gleaming in the low light like pearls. Hob blinks and suddenly the man is right in front of him, reaching out until his fingertip gently brushes the drop of blood from Hob’s lips, the next moment he is standing at the other end of the table again, a half-eaten strawberry staining his fingers. Hob feels lightheaded and grips the table to remain upright. What is going on? This is the strangest dream he’s ever had. The voice of his friend is suddenly coming from everywhere, reverberating inside Hob’s head.

“I accept your offering, dear Hob. I promise to cherish it…and treat it with utmost care.”

Hob wants to ask what his friend means but he feels very tired all of a sudden, despite knowing that he’s already asleep. He feels himself sink back into what feels like soft cushions and the room darkens around them until all he can see are two twin stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Then there is nothing but darkness, and sleep.

Part 6

#this went in a different direction than I had anticipated but I'm rolling with it #dreamling #1989 au #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes

[petite-gloom]

On your ‘I think April of 2022 Megan had it cracked’ post, are you thinking of the avec system then? Or trying to keep the cousin? I’m just curious! I know when you where in the avec you had trouble cause when you’d turn the page you’d forget to move the tasks over (which was my main problem too when I was only doing 1 day 1 page bujo) so I’m just curious what your thoughts are in this! (Also I am NOT one of those anons who cares about your notebook ‘consumption’. Buy however many notebooks you want, find what brings you joy!❤️)

yeah! so here’s my thinking. i don’t use the weekly pages in the cousin anymore because i don’t find the columns good for to-do lists, and any other journal type notes i already have on the daily pages. i keep my sleep log in the calendar, so when im doing my daily updates, i fill the daily page and the calendar bits and then i flip to the weekly section and im like 😐 you.

i’ve been looking for the perfect “companion” book for my cousin as a portable place to keep my weekly to-do list, but am struggling a bit because the weeks feels like a poor fit, the TN passport feels too small/awkward to write in, i don’t really want to go back to field notes, etc.

i was cleaning yesterday and sorting through my old hobonichi boxes and realised that the a6 avec system that i had in early 2022 could be the solution? daily entries and notes in the dated pages, sleep log in the calendar, no weekly section to worry about now that i no longer need it. im looking at the ‘days free’ as my second book- an extra set of calendar pages for appointments/events/scheduling, blank pages for weekly running to-do lists, lots of room for commonplacing and extra notes (with pre-drawn margins and page numbers, too).

in the video i made in 2022 i was saying that i was having trouble maintaining the two books equally, but after working in a5 for a long while and refining my commonplace practice i don’t think that would be an issue anymore. so im like. huh. maybe past megan had it all worked out and i just wasn’t ready for it yet. but now it kind of seems like it might solve everything? using the avec system also means i don’t have to worry too much about bulking, and i get that archive/fresh start feeling midway through the year, while still having a complete set at the end.

idk i might test it for november and see. i’ll probably rehome my 2024 weeks and maybe the TN passport booklets because neither really feel like the right fit for my needs, disappointingly. then by december i can probably work out if the 2-book a6 system is working as imagined or if i should just stick with the cousin (probably without a companion book). i wish i had been able to work it all out without so much experimentation and so many purchases but unfortunately i’ve always been someone who learns best with hands-on practice so maybe there was no other way 🫠 ig it all led to the knowledge i have now, the refinement of my practice, the clarity of what i really, truly need from my notebooks, etc. so idk. but that’s where i’m at with it

either way hopefully whatever i go with at the end of december will be it. whether it’s the cousin or the a6 pair, i’ll have settled. and that’s a nice feeling

#answers #commonplace

[cassiachales]

Journal Entry One [And A Hot Grayson Hawthorne And Xander Being A Good Friend]

Saturday– Listen. I am not someone who hates people as soon as I have one conversation with them. (Or maybe I am, but that’s not the point.) I have never met someone as infuriatingly calm and poised as Grayson Motherfucking Hawthorne. He’s too perfect, too cold. I imagine his mom gave birth to him after having sex with a very handsome statue. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Charity galas were oftentimes the most boring events.

Though, if you’re being honest, most of these events are boring. It’s just people trying to either one-up each other, or trying to kiss ass.

Or, a secret third option, applicable only if you’re Grayson Hawthorne: watch the show with a cold look and avoid small talk.

Basically, be a statue.

When everyone’s dancing, he’s just standing there, his lips smiling whenever someone comes and talks to him and his eyes bored.

It’s no surprise that you don’t really like him, seeing how there’s no life in that six foot frame covered by the most expensive suits and a glass of whiskey in his hand which he doesn’t sip from. 

And meanwhile, you’re dancing. You’re enjoying yourself because you, ma’am, are not a statue.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I thought, well, maybe he’s lonely and has no friends, how about I talk to him?! Mistake of the year.  He is hot. But he is also the only guy in the gala, in every gala I’ve attended, who’s made me want to strangle him. Fuck him. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So you walked towards him, because maybe, just maybe, he’s lonely, and maybe, just maybe, he has no friends. A rude assumption, but hey, isn’t that how you’re supposed to roll?

You stand beside him, looking at him stare down a couple on the dance floor. 

You knew them, yes, but not personally. Just a few quick google searches and a few tabloids and newspapers.

The girl was a living Cinderella story and the boy was her Prince Charming.

Avery Kylie Grambs, and Jameson Hawthorne.

“So…” You began, nudging his side. Your dress is a bit too loose and threatens to slip, but you quickly adjust it with your other hand.

Curse the world. Why were you about to have a wardrobe malfunction while talking to a hot guy?

“Do I know you?” Grayson asked, his eyebrow raised. 

Oh gods, his voice. It sounded so seductive that if you were hearing his voice on a movie screen, you would’ve swooned along with every girl (and a few boys) in the theatre.

“Well, not really.” You tell him your name and his eyes gleam in recognition after listening to your last name, and to be honest, you’re a little annoyed that your first name isn’t that “well-known”.

“Is there anything you wanted to speak about?” He asks, and you can see his patience wearing thin.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Like, okay man, you’re hot as fuck. So hot, that I’d kiss you if I was drunk enough. And trust me, I’m a lightweight. But seriously? You’re so goddamn emotionless that it makes me feel like I’m talking to character ai instead of a living, breathing billionaire. Maybe you should like, consider buying a nice personality the next time you buy another suit. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Oh, nothing important.” You wave a dismissive hand, and, you assume, if he was less of a statue and more of a person, he would’ve rolled his eyes.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me.” He flashes you a polite smile, before pausing and adjoining a ‘miss’ to your last name as an afterthought.

And then, he walks away.

You don’t know what to make of this. Your dress is threatening to expose your cleavage with how loose it is, and it’s strapless on top of that, and the guy who you wanted to talk to, to maybe help throw a little life in his life, just walked away as though being lively is an afterthought, just like how he said your last name.

You feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn around to see who it is, a flute of champagne is pushed into your hands.

Xander Hawthorne smiles that smile of his, the kind you can’t describe. You’re sort of like good friends with Xander, seeing how he’s the least stuck-up Hawthorne you’ve met.

The only other one was Grayson Hawthorne, but it’s not like there’s any life in his body.

“I saw you talking to Gray, came over to save you from a dull conversation, then saw how annoyed you looked after he left, and got you some champagne. Man, I deserve a friend-of-the-year award. So, what were you two talking about?”

He has nothing in his hands, but you trust him enough to take a sip of the bubbly champagne before you inevitably fall into a rant about how annoyingly maddening Grayson is.

“Does your brother even live? Like yes, maybe he doesn’t like small talk, and yes, maybe he’s a bad dancer–”

“He’s actually a pro at the tango and the waltz.”

You stare at Xander. “He does not strike me as the type to tango.”

He shrugged. “I don’t look like I make random things on Saturdays, but here I am, making random things on Saturdays.” He frowns, and corrects himself. “Unless I’m at an event, obviously.”

“Obviously. Anyway, does he even wear anything other than custom suits? I get that suits are hot, and your brother is hot–”

“You find my brother hot?” Xander says, a laugh threatening to escape him.

You groan. “Forget I said that.”

“Oh, no. We are not moving past that.”

“Xander, you will shut up, or–”

“Or, what?”

You’re silent.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I might have also accidentally told Xander that I find Grayson hot. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You see Xander’s face shift, and gods, do you know that look.

“Xander, no. Whatever you’re planning, no.” You say, but you fear it’s too late.

He taps your shoulder twice, your sign for ‘don’t worry, I got this’, and you have a fair idea of what, exactly, Xander Hawthorne is planning.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── If I was smart, I’d never befriend a Hawthorne and call his brother hot. Unfortunately, I am not smart. Now, I don’t know what Xander’s planning, and honestly? I’m scared it has something to do with a certain Grayson Hawthorne. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry Two

#grayson hawthorne x reader #the inheritance games #fanfic #au #avery kylie grambs #x reader #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #jameson hawthorne

[sleephyuns]

A sharp scream awakes her, nearly sending her toppling off the couch. There’s echoing screams and metallic scrapes that follow, and while she fumbles for anything to hold her upright, two things happen:

First, her hand finally finds purchase on her desk. Second, she realizes the commotion was from the TV.

With a roll of her eyes, she grabs for the remote on the floor and clicks it off, ignoring the way her heart had practically rumbled out of her chest.

On again. Then off. On again. Then off. Just to make sure it won’t happen again.

It’s well after midnight, she also realizes, looking at her phone’s screen. She must’ve fallen asleep while journaling and… yes, her notebook’s currently supine on the floor.

She heaves herself off the couch to retrieve her empty wine glass, and thinks about how messy the rest of the end table is. She should probably clean it… but the thought of having to interact with mess makes her brain feel septic. At least for the moment.

She’ll do one thing, though, and it’s to carefully remove the half-written page of her notebook.

It’s one of her irrational thoughts, the need to start fresh and finish an entry in one go, lest something horrible happen to her come morning.

She’s been having a bit of a spike in thoughts like that lately, not that she lets them get the best of her. That’s mostly because she knows where they come from, the root cause of her stress. Of course it’s…

Jeongyeon.

Jeongyeon reminds her of Mina.

Quiet. Very to herself, even if she doesn’t mean to be.

Well, isn’t she kind of like Mina too? In a way. It’s part of why they hit it off so well in the first place. They both have a habit of observation. Though it’s a mystery whether Jeongyeon is the same.

It’s likely. Jeongyeon wasn’t sly in hiding her wandering eyes, her intensity. She just hadn’t realized someone else was watching her too. And maybe she never would.

Another blatancy about her: she was comically bad at acting with any sort of normalcy. With a plastered smile on her face, actions bordering on robotic. She must’ve thought everything was going fine. And well… she’d tried to make the woman feel like things were going fine, in response. So it’s not completely Jeongyeon’s fault.

But what she can do, is notice this line of behavior isn’t Jeongyeon’s usual.

Jihyo always spoke about Jeongyeon like she’d created the universe itself, told her about her days with the other woman as if they were some kind of great tale. And for the most part, they were. She loved to hear about what made her happy, what got on her nerves. Even-

—

“So, Jeongyeon has this idea that if you put a song on loop during sex, you can use it as an instant switch when you want to get in the mood.”

“…”

“You do psych work so… is it true , you think?”

—

So surely there’s more to Jeongyeon than just a few one worded answers.

One worded answers are the devil. Just the thought of them frustrates her to no end. If she makes tea, though, that’ll fix it. That way she can detox and destress as the inevitable happens.

Her inevitable thoughts about Mina.

She rises from the couch and takes her few steps towards the kitchen. It’s there she resumes her thoughts.

They’re amicable, the two of them, when the situation calls for it. Only two other people knew of their history, and there was no point in making a big fuss during group gatherings.

So they chose to let things be, not bothering to contact each other unless they absolutely needed to.

Of course, she has no real ill will towards Mina. Even at her most upset, she always wanted what was best for her. For the both of them.

Though that doesn’t make the memory torment her any less.

—

“I’m alone, waiting for just a text from you with the very little time I have off that we agreed to spend together and you’re either hanging out with your coworkers or begging to spend time with Momo. Where do I fit in?”

—

She laughs, thinking about the quiver in her voice. It might’ve been a little pathetic, in hindsight. Words said in a desperate need to get her point across.

But “you don’t get to do that analyzing stuff with me,” was what Mina had said. And she couldn’t help it-

—

“Well what else should I do when you won’t tell me what’s going on or how you feel? What am I left with if you don’t give me anything aside from ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’?”

“What is it you want Mina? Answer me honestly. And I promise I won’t get mad.”

—

Her voice had been soft, as she begged. Pleaded. Because maybe, just maybe, she’d hoped that Mina wouldn’t come to the obvious conclusion. The one that stared them both in the face. She hoped that maybe, for once, her perception wasn’t as spot on as it usually was.

But Mina gave her that look. That damned awful look that told her the next few words weren’t going to be ones she wanted to hear.

And that was that.

No she isn’t carrying a torch for Mina anymore, but the memory still stings, nags at her insides. She even considers journaling about it for a fifth time. But she won’t, not tonight. Instead, she clicks the burner of the stove on and off and on again. Four times until she’s satisfied.

But being around the stove like this… she feels the embarrassment of yesterday creep it’s way up her spine.

“Whyyy did I walk into the kitchen like that?,” she asks her reflection in the kettle.

One more click and it’s gone.

She knows she’s going to have to address this soon, if Jeongyeon won’t.

Their current situation isn’t working for anyone. For as much as Jeongyeon’s been walking on eggshells, she, herself, seems to be completely crushing them under her feet. Which, excuse her therapy brain, means it’s time for a new approach.

Because the thing is? Minatozaki Sana no longer gives up on a challenge. Even if she fumbles her way through it, she won’t give up on happiness so easily. There’s probably something to be said about that, but she resists the urge to analyze herself. It’s better not to make herself go mad.

Right now, she’ll take the kettle off the burner and pour herself a mug of hot tea.

The mug she chooses tonight is one of her recent favorites, simply because Jihyo had commented on how pretty it was when she was over days ago. It’s nice to have a reminder of her on nights where she thinks too deeply.

But it also reminds her of Jihyo’s story in response. How Jeongyeon had bought her a beautiful blue-glazed mug in Jeju, just so Jihyo could have one that better suited her grip.

So yes, Sana concludes, Jeongyeon must be the observant type. And thoughtful, at that. Her gaze is as intense as it is tender. She’d known that all along, really. But her brain, per usual, had to work through the evidence to find the answer.

Even when the evidence was presented to her from the start.

—

“Are you cold?”

“Hm?”

“Your legs are shaking. Here-”

“You can use my jacket if you want. I have a sweater on underneath, so it’s all good.”

—

She remembers the beginnings of protest bubbling up in her throat, when the jacket was draped on her, overcome with the need to convince the other woman things were fine. She didn’t need to sacrifice her own warmth in the chilly outdoor air.

She did so anyway.

An insignificant moment to Jeongyeon, perhaps, for several reasons.

Sana was still fairly new to everyone… except Mina and Momo (and Nayeon by proxy) really. And that particular event had gone beyond their usual group of friends, extending to a few people from campus, maybe some coworkers. Lastly? Sana was still in what she had aptly dubbed her “Mina mourning period.”

Sana had been an outwardly happy person for years, wearing her joyousness like a knight’s armor. It worked well to protect her. Harsh words, snide remarks, testy glares. All of it just bounced right off of her.

It still works well for her, as someone who wants people to adore her, to have people know her as one who was “always happy,” rather than one whose despondency made others uncomfortable.

It worked very well… until her heart was broken. When her armor had temporarily cracked.

She’d been on week 2 of stewing in her own misery. Nothing but nights of tears, scribbled journal entries and enough cups of tea to have her running to the bathroom every hour.

That night had been no different, in terms of Sana’s mood. She was quiet and reserved, nursing her second or third beer in her own little section of the circle. She’d forgone her usual flashy colors and habits in order to simply enjoy bask in the night and maybe feel like herself again.

That one simple gesture, that warmth from the fabric, was bright enough to combat the dull drab of everything else.

But then Jeongyeon left early, not even bothering to take the jacket from Sana.

“Fate’s funny that way,” she mumbles, watching the tea leaves dye her water dark. It really is funny. If Jeongyeon had never left her jacket, there would’ve been no need to approach her “best friend” later.

—

“That friend of yours… is she your roommate?”

“Roommate? You mean Jeongyeon?”

“Yes! I think so. She left this with me.”

“Uh, but also… is she seeing anyone?”

—

It’s a memory she thinks on quite fondly. Sana went in expecting the pretty woman with the sharp eyes to mend her broken heart for a just a while. Months later, she’s blessed with the love and affection of said woman’s girlfriend.

And only a fraction of a hair closer to the woman she’d been initially after.

Sana’s going to change that, though. It’s certain. She taps her tea strainer four times against the mug’s rim to insure it.

Of course she has doubts, because what would be worse: Forcing a relationship that leaves all three people broken, or leaving the remaining two behind to salvage the remains of what they have?

Neither is acceptable. So-

“I’ll just have to walk it back.”

She raises the mug to her lips, basking in its warmth while she ruminates on a potential plan.

Minutes later, when she finds herself properly settled for bed, she’s sure of what she’ll do. Now, she’s left to see how Jeongyeon responds.

#lmk your thoughts #tied together au #sana #sahyo #jeongsa #230

[heliads]

Dear Elena

It is hard to keep track of anything when your entire life has been shattered into pieces. You're meant to be writing letters to your best friend, who happens to be in a coma at the moment, but you keep getting sidetracked by the one man who won't leave your thoughts.

masterlist

It is a beautiful morning, the sun is out, and all you can think about is the people you’ve lost. Last summer, you had more friends around than you do right now. Some of them are gone forever, some have moved on and moved out of town, and others are not within your grasp anymore. The endless loss blends together into one dense cacophony of regret, enough to keep you indoors even despite the lovely day outside.

Instead, you’re curled up on one corner of a sofa in the Salvatore house, passing off your suffering as an excuse to write to yet another one of the friends you’re missing. Elena Gilbert is not to blame for her absence in your life; she certainly wants nothing to do with her seemingly eternal coma, but your journal entries to her have started spiraling into irritation as the weeks go by without her waking up.

Case in point, your latest attempt at a happy message to your friend if/when she ever wakes up:

Dear Elena,

Shit has been fucked.

A voice sounds from over your shoulder, just as dry and sarcastic as ever.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be uplifting with these things. Last time I checked, ‘uplifting’ didn’t involve nearly so many bad words.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but it’s a losing battle. “And last time I checked, these journals were for Elena, not you, Damon. Quit reading over my shoulder.”

Damon Salvatore, for of course it is he, spreads his hands in another display of his usual casual bravado. “Maybe you shouldn’t be writing them in my house if you don’t want me looking. Consider me curious, that’s all. I want to know if you’re adequately portraying my great deeds of heroism that I’ve been doing all the time since Elena closed her eyes.”

You take a moment to ponder that, then scrawl in one more line beneath the aforementioned expletives:

Also, your boyfriend is annoying me to death. Again.

Damon swats you on the shoulder. “Rude. Don’t you have anything nice to write other than complaints or depressed musings?”

You laugh bitterly, but the sound only turns more troubled as it trails off into silence. “Not really. Nothing’s going well at the moment. Every time I think I can count on someone, they leave or let me down.”

Damon blows out a low breath. “Tell me about it. I mean, it’s not like Mystic Falls is always a powerhouse of fun and playtime, but I think I even caught Caroline moping around when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

You hug your knees tighter to your chest. “It just all feels pointless. We fix a problem and two more take its place. You think you know someone and you’re wrong about them every time.”

Damon gives you a look, finally serious for once in his extended life. “This is about Enzo, isn’t it?”

You glance away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles. “Of course you don’t.” A beat goes by, and he speaks again, almost an afterthought. “It’s not love, by the way.”

You frown up at him. “What?”

“Why Enzo is on Lily’s side. It’s not love, it’s duty. She turned him. That does stuff to your sense of obligation. He’s helping her because he thinks that’s what he should do. He doesn’t love her. Or, not like that, at least.”

You shake your head. “He doesn’t love her like what?”

When Damon remains infuriatingly silent, you press him again for information. “Wait, Damon, like what?”

He doesn’t answer you, though, just disappears, leaving you only with the fluttering of your notebook pages for company. You groan, muttering silent curses about over dramatic vampires never saying what they mean, then toss your notebook to the side. Damon’s right, you’re never going to get this entry done properly if you’re still in your head about everything to do with one certain Enzo St. John.

After all, how could you? Enzo is Enzo, for better or for worse, and nothing about him has made sense since the day you met. You were there when Enzo was trying to kill Damon, when he did time on the Other Side, even when he was helping the rest of you try to free Damon and Bonnie from the prison world. He’s been your enemy at times, your friend at others, but above all, he has lingered around your thoughts far more than you would care to mention.

Dear Elena,

Do you remember when you first told me you were falling for Damon? How I told you that you were crazy for loving someone who had tried to kill us at one point? I think I might have to join you in that camp. I’m not crushing on Damon, don’t worry about that, but someone else. Someone pretty similar to Damon, actually. Guess that’s why they’re such good friends.

You never counted on falling in love with Enzo. Love is difficult in Mystic Falls– there are always a thousand different things going wrong, enough to tear you from what you’re certain is a happily-ever-after just when you’ve finally allowed yourself to have hope. You had just decided that you were going to use your head and not fall in love at all if you could help it, and then he showed up and just like that, you knew you were done for.

It’s not like you could have done anything else. Enzo flirted with you constantly while he was trying to kill you. He made jokes when you were facing each other off. He sought you out first when he escaped the Other Side, said something about how the worst part of it by far was not being able to talk to you. 

He made you promises you knew he couldn’t keep, and then he joined Lily Salvatore and now it’s like he’s gone from you forever. Technically, he’s still out there, but he’s not yours anymore. If he ever was, that is. Suddenly, you’re not sure of anything the way you once were.

Dear Elena,

Why do boys have to be so insanely difficult?

Your moping clearly isn’t doing anything for you, so you give up and head outside. Most of your remaining friends have taken to camping out in the Salvatore estate at some point or other during the day. It makes it easier to find everyone when a new startling discovery descends upon you all, but it also makes you feel trapped, a bird in a cage who longs to spread her wings.

There is, however, a very good reason why you should stay inside longer, and that reason appears when you’ve hardly taken three steps into the center of town. You were headed for the Mystic Grill, but you do an abrupt 180 on the sidewalk and start heading back towards the residential areas when you spot a dark-haired figure that’s all too familiar to you. You don’t think he saw you, so you might be able to get away if you hurry.

Or maybe not. There’s a shout after you, it makes you flinch. “I missed you, you know.”

A gust of wind rustles the leaves on the branches nearby, and you don’t have to turn around to know that Enzo has just appeared behind you, taking advantage of his vampire speed to cross the street in less than a second.

“Yeah, well,” you say, still not trying to make eye contact with him, “maybe you shouldn’t have joined Lily and her Heretics, then. If you miss me, why aren’t we on the same side?”

“We weren’t on the same side at the start,” Enzo muses, keeping time with you even as you try to walk away, “that didn’t bother you then, now, did it?”

“That was different,” you argue.

“Was it?” He asks. “I was trying to kill you then. I’m not anymore.”

“And how do I know that?” You ask, finally standing still long enough to look him directly in the eyes. It’s been a while since you saw him face to face, you almost forgot how deeply he looks at you, like you’re the only person in this world worth seeing.

Enzo sighs, raises his hand to scuff through his hair but stops himself just in time. It’s been a while since he cut it short and started gelling it smooth, but sometimes you think he forgets that it isn’t the unruly almost-shoulder height it had once been. Enzo has spent enough time in various stages of captivity and death and rebirth that sometimes the lines start to blur. Even for seemingly insignificant things like hair. 

You like it better now, actually. You’re certain you’ve told him that at least once, and if you haven’t, he’s probably picked up on it from the way your eyes lingered on him when he first got the cut. 

“You know because you trust me,” Enzo starts, and holds up a hand when it looks like you’re going to cut him off. “And yes, you can say all you want about how you won’t trust me since I’m with the Heretics but maybe— maybe I don’t want that anymore.”

Your brow furrows. “Why not?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not sure, honestly. I thought it would feel better. She promised me that we’d be like a little family or something, but the lot of them have been together so long that I just feel like an intruder.”

“Then why haven’t you left yet?” You dare to ask. 

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he answers you, “Lily’s control over her little monsters is slipping. At some point it’ll be easy for me to steal away and just never come back. I don’t want her sort of life anymore. I want something that feels right.”

“Like what?” You breathe. 

“Like you,” Enzo says without a second’s hesitation, “it’s always been you, Y/N, you know that. I liked you from the very start. I had hoped that spending more time with Lily wouldn’t hurt us, but I was wrong. I just want you. Not her, not her bizarre idea of a family. You.”

You exhale slowly. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for a very long time, you know that?”

Enzo cracks a grin at last. You missed that smile more than anything, more than it hurt to admit you needed him. “My apologies, love. I’ll try to be better at spilling my heart out in the future.”

He’s joking, though, and his smile only grows when you start to laugh. It is easy, being with him, and although you never really thought about why that was before, you’re glad to know that you’ll have plenty of time to ponder it now, especially with Enzo by your side. 

Dear Elena,

I think, for once, that things actually might turn out alright. 

tvd tag list: @thatfangirl42

#enzo st john #enzo st john imagines #enzo st john x reader #enzo st john oneshot #tvd #tvd imagines #tvd x reader #tvd oneshot #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagines #vampire diaries x reader #vampire diaries oneshot #tvd enzo #tvd enzo imagines #tvd enzo x reader #tvd enzo oneshot #vampire diaries enzo #vampire diaries enzo imagines #vampire diaries enzo x reader #vampire diaries enzo oneshot

[zzzzzestforlife]

Hello 🌼

Do you have some tips about being productive everyday ? (even your off days are so productive to me 😛)

Do you have some non-negotiables/ routines that you do everyday no matter what?

Your blog is so inspirational to me 💫

hi lovely ☺️ thank you for this sweet ask 🥺

the first thing i want to acknowledge is that i still don't have the most healthy relationship with productivity, which is half the reason i'm able to be productive (but often hella miserable) during my off days.

so my biggest tip is to try your best to be productive for yourself first, not the you that you see through the lens of others (i.e. don't confuse wanting to be someone who is liked/loved with wanting to like/love yourself). that way, you stay motivated and consistent for the long haul. it's still something i'm working on myself.

one thing i have gotten good at is giving myself easy wins to motivate me to do more during my off days.

meditate — under five minutes, low-effort, if you can't stand the silence or if it's anything but silent, put on some lo-fi and just sit still, bonus points if you close your eyes or stare out a window or better yet, go outside🚶‍♀️

watch a video — usually in one of my target languages, but if you're not a language learner like me, just watch an video even tangentially related to your interests 👀

journal — sometimes i just write the most banal sentences like "i'm tired and in pain again." if i'm feeling ambitious, i do it in one of my target languages. alternatively, doodle a flower or hearts around your entry for the day. and by "entry," i literally mean the date and day of the week, you don't have to write anything else if you're not feeling it 🤷‍♀️

once i'm riding the high on my easy wins, my non-negotiables are, in order of priority:

hygiene — personal/my home, often this also functions as an easy win because it's just routine for me atp, but i often use it to end my day on a high note rather than as motivation for the rest because i'm always really exhausted after cleaning 😛

meals — in theory, this should rank above hygiene because i think i'll pass away from hunger before being overrun by dust, but often this actually ranks below everything else 💀

exercise — following a guided video makes exercise a super no-brainer task because all you do is follow the video. just make sure you go at your own pace (i.e. pause if you need a break, do fewer reps as long as they remain controlled and safe) and try a bunch of different videos to find ones that work for you OR workout with a supportive(!!) friend

language lessons — or insert whatever thing you need to learn that takes priority for you (bonus points if it's outside of a curriculum)

work — often this is actually the top priority non-negotiable ⚰️ i try to remember that we work to live,,, and then i forget 😅

school — same issue as work 🙃

aaaaand then that's basically my entire day 😂 i try various challenges/techniques from time to time (x days of productivity, pomodoro, time-blocking, etc.), but those are more short-term boosters than long-term solutions, but one technique that has worked consistently for me so far is picturing an ideal, maybe a bit romanticized version of myself/my life and trying to live up to that vision of my personal best. the only only thing i would caution against if you try this is trying to apply other people's ideals on yourself/your life without thinking critically enough about it.

hope this helps! and remember, what you accomplish is a far cry from all that you are 💕

#productivity #productivity hacks #productivity boost #productivity tips #studyblr #anon ask #asks #100 days of productivity #100 days of studying #student life #anon #친구 #study inspiration #study motivation #motivation #100 days of self discipline #working student

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

day 1: A Record of You and I

A diary from the mid 1700s kept by a man named Simon Snow, a farmhand for the Grimm estate. He records the death and the subsequent vampiric transformation of his close friend, and heir to the Grimm estate, Basilton Grimm.

Rating: M

Length: 4,321

Warnings: main character death/undeath. non-graphic (maybe slightly graphic) depictions of violence/blood, mentions of animal death, implied sex

Read on AO3 or below the cut

September 3rd 1742

I've never had a journal before but Basilton tells me it will help with my reading and writing. He's taught me all my letters and wants me to practice on my own now. He says he’ll continue reading to me if I like. He’ll keep helping me with handwriting too, but Basilton insists that having a personal record will do me good. Even so, I do not know what to record. Though I must not waste this lovely gift. Basilton says to write about my day, my thoughts. He must have more thoughts within him than I, for I am already out of things to say, and Basilton adds to his journal at all hours of the day. 

September 6th 1742

Today I milked the cows and took them out in the field to graze. I ate fresh bread with a lot of butter.  I did some other chores. It is late. I do not wish to write more.

September 7th 1742

Today I had porridge for breakfast, and some tasty stew Ebb made for supper. Charlie, the cattle dog, found a new favorite stick out in the pasture today, he hasn't stopped chewing it since this morning.

September 8th 1742

I hope Basil will forgive me for my short entries. It's not as if he’ll read what I put down here. Personal journals are to be personal, he tells me. So I’m just meant to speak to myself? I will keep at it, if only to gain more surety in my handwriting. 

September 9th 1742

It is Sunday, I went to Mass. Basilton came to the cabin after the service. Brought me some scones Vera made. Sir Grimm does not approve of his son spending so much time with a farmhand, Basilton told me of another scolding he got earlier this week. I do not know why he spends time with me, against his father’s wishes, but I will not stop him. We ate lunch together. I enjoyed the food, and the company more. Basilton would call me a liar if he read that, my love of scones is rarely bested by anything, but Basilton is a good friend to me. 

Everything feels so easy with Basil. He can make me laugh no matter what, even when he's poking fun at me. We talked for hours yesterday, and he listened when I spoke about my days, my observations of the cattle. Basil worries I work too hard, but I don't do much really, and I enjoy the labor. Besides, what else am I to do with my time? We discussed a poem Basil had read to me a few weeks ago. I am not usually one for poetry, but Basilton speaks about poems in a way that makes sense to me. I thought him unbearably arrogant when I first started working for his family, speaking of literature constantly and looking down his big nose at me. He still is arrogant at times, but now that we are friends I know he is also kind and caring and truly intelligent. He speaks of his sisters often, and how he worries he won’t meet his father’s expectations. He remains unmarried and this troubles Sir Grimm. 

But Basilton has land to inherit and good social standing. He has many admirable qualities, and it goes without saying that he is handsome. He should have no trouble finding a wife. I said this to Basilton today but he became uncomfortable. Quickly, he brushed it off and picked up a new topic of conversation. This has happened before, I do not know if it’s the subject of marriage, or if he is too modest a man, but many times I have stated his good qualities, only for Basiton to blush and deny them, or leave the conversation. 

September 20th 1742

I ate Turkey for supper yesterday. One of the bulls charged at me today because I looked at him wrong. Bastard. Gareth made me help him till the field today. Another bastard. He said he couldn’t get it done in time without help, despite the crops being his and his sons’ job, and the cattle being mine. 

Went to the pub with Ebb, the goatherd yesterday. She told me a great joke about goats but I was drunk and can't remember it now. I might ask her to tell me it again.  

September 22nd 1742

Today was an easy day, I fiddled with my carving knife while out in the field. Made a little wooden Charlie but when I showed it to him the blasted dog chewed it up. I tried to stop him but then I just laughed. I suppose I’m glad he found my carving nice enough to devour. 

September 30th 1742

Basilton visited today. He brought me some of his books, said I could keep them, since I mentioned how much I liked the last one he read to me. I thanked him for the books, he is so kind to me. I do not know if I will ever read them though. Perhaps I should not have taken them. It’s not that I am ungrateful, I just didn’t know how to tell Basilton I mostly enjoy hearing his voice read to me, more than I care about the contents of the books. I am sad as this probably means he will not continue reading aloud to me. 

October 1st 1742

I’ve not been writing as much as I feel I should. I fear my life is just not that interesting. Basilton tells me it’s plenty interesting. He’ll listen to my stories about cattle and Charlie without complaint. Gareth tells me my stories are boring though. “Who cares if a calf was born with a spot that looks just like a field mouse?” he said to me when I told that story at the pub last week. As if throwing seeds on the ground makes for great stories. 

October 8th 1742

I found some poppies in the field, the first of the fall. I picked a couple of the red flowers. Gave them to Basil when he came round my cottage in the evening. He tried to resist them but I insisted. I told him it was repayment for the books he left with me. That wasn't all true, I just wanted to share the beauty of those little things with him. Basilton accepted the flowers then, I do hope he likes them. I cannot offer him much more, though I wish I had more to give to my friends. 

October 10th 1742

I tried carving a flower out of wood but I cocked it up. I might try again with a thicker stick.

October 12th 1742

The cattle are well. The sun is shortening our days. I heard a bird song I did not recognize today, while out in the field. It was lovely. I must start saving up for a new winter coat, mine is threadbare and has not been keeping me warm enough as the world gets colder. Basilton tells me he’s going deer stalking with his cousins in a few days. He will be gone for at least a month. It will be their first hunt of the season. 

October 15th 1742

Basilton left today. I tended to the cattle. I tried to brush off the sadness that seemed to hang over the day. Perhaps the cloudy days are affecting my mood, or the cold weather. I might just sleep early today. 

October 30th 1742

He died. On that trip he

November 25th 1742

I went to Mass today. I sat alone. I tried to welcome the Holy Spirit but I feel so alone in this world. I grieve Basil every waking moment. I thought this would pass, it’s been nearly a month and still the wound is as fresh as the day I learned of his death. I’ve never had someone to lose before, like this. I loved him deeply, as if he were my own family I have come to realize. I find myself almost grateful that I did not know my parents, that I will not, one day, have to grieve them as well.

The Lord’s Day is the most painful, God forgive my soul for saying so. I cannot distract myself with work. I try to pray, but my mind wanders ever back to my lost friend. I grow tired of writing, but I will not put down this journal forever, Basilton wouldn't want me to.

November 27th 1742

I woke up this morning to something strange. I found one of the cows dead in the field. I hadn’t noticed any signs of sickness in the herd, but there were also no signs of an animal attack. There was no wound I could find, no blood. She looked strange, I cannot say why, though. It was as if something was missing, from beneath the skin. I told Sir Grimm, and the other farmhands, in case there is sickness in the herd. I’ll be keeping a closer watch on the cattle.

November 29th 1742

I visited Basilton’s grave this evening. It did me no good. I only felt the pain of loss much stronger standing there, reading his gravestone. It was as if there were a stake ran through my chest. I could hardly breathe through the sobs that came out of me. It was so strange, knowing Basilton was so close, only two meters or so below where I stood, and yet he was impossibly far. 

It does me little good to dwell on these negative feelings. 

November 30th 1742

I try to fill my days with actions. I inspect the cows twice, three times over, to check for any signs of decaying health. I pace the perimeter of the field while they graze. I help Gareth work the land when I should be resting. I chop enough firewood for this winter and the next two. I stay too long at the pub and drink more than I can afford. I imagine spots in my cabin that need cleaning, and I scrub and scrub and scrub until the pain in my hands is all that I can feel. And yet, I still ache for the companionship of Bailston. What am I to do with myself?

December 1st 1742

I cannot stop thinking of Basilton. Truly, I never stopped thinking of him, even when he was alive and with me. The Grimm family told us he was trampled by his own horse, fell off it while hunting. In quiet moments my mind creates imaginations of his last terrible moments. When I lay in bed, if I am not drunk as a lord, I cannot sleep for hours. I pray to God for a miracle, but my pleas are left unanswered. I know it to be foolish, but I cannot help myself. I would do anything for Basilton. Anything to see him again. 

December 4th 1742

I do not want to write this, but I feel I must. I saw Basilton last night. I know, I know that he is dead, and God willing, he is at peace in heaven. But I came home from the pub late last night, crawled into bed, then, I saw Basil in my room, as if he were alive. He did not look ghostly, no, he looked as if he had new life coursing through him. His skin flush. His smile wide. There were no signs he had ever been dead. 

I cried out, I could not help it. He came to me, to my bed. I sat up to meet him. And he held me. A hand pressed to my chest, the other wrapped around my back. His dark hair against my chin as he rested his face to my collar bone. We did not speak. I feared I would wake from the dream. And it must have been a dream. 

I woke up this morning half expecting to see Basilton about the grounds, as if his death was a nightmare I could finally wake from. But he was not here, of course not. My mind has been so fixed on Basilton it only makes sense he would creep into my dreams.

December 5th 1742

It happened again, last night, I was not asleep this time. I was changing into my night clothes, when Basil appeared to me. I did not hear him come in. My candle cast his shadow against the wall. He must have been standing there as flesh and bone, not as a ghost or a vision. He wore regular clothes, not the burial shroud–made from his own family’s wool–that he was laid to rest in. He had on his purple vest with yellow embroidered flowers. It was one of his favorites, he told me years ago. Again he did not speak, but he touched my hand. He was so cool. a welcome feeling; I was so hot. I pulled him into an embrace. I whispered his name, I did not know what else I could do. I swear to God, he spoke my name in response.

Suddenly I felt so tired, so drained. Likely the day’s work catching up to me. I tried to fight the urge to sleep, but my eyes closed before I could watch Basilton leave, or say anything more to him.

December 6th 1742

Another cow, and one of the bulls have died, for the same mysterious reason as the first cow. The herd was restless yesterday, as if they could sense misfortune in the air, but I could not do anything to prevent their deaths. I do not even know what I need to be protecting them from.  

I am worried, and unsettled.

December 8th 1742

The night before this last I stayed up, hoping to see my old friend again, though he never came. But last night I saw Basilton again. He spoke this time, only my name. My heart filled with joy to hear my friend’s deep voice call me Simon after I was sure we’d never be able to speak to each other again in this life. He sat beside me on the bed. I told him I had missed him. He placed a cool hand on my cheek, looked into my eyes. His were a familiar light grey, but he wore an expression I couldn't make sense of.

Then, he kissed me. I hesitate to write these words. He must be a sodomite. I have always heard such men are evil, but I could never think of Basilton that way. He's always been so lovely. 

And the worst part is that I kissed him back. The best part is that I kissed him back. I have not kissed anyone before. He was so soft against my lips. So cool. His hand held my jaw, and his tongue pressed against my lips. An elation sprung up within me that I cannot describe. I held him tightly, wanting more than anything for this moment to last forever. I couldn’t help but think he should have done this sooner. We should have done this when Basil was still living. 

Oh God! I weep remembering that he is dead. 

Basilton kissed farther down my neck, across my collar bones, left kisses on my chest so hard they hurt. I did not stop him. He didn't go farther than my bosom, but-

I wanted him to. I felt as if under a spell, wrapped up in a world of pleasure balanced by the slightest pain. I wanted more, wanted all of him , but before I knew it I was awake, and alone, as the morning sun shown through my window. 

I was slow in my work today. Gareth noticed, told me I should not be so lazy. My body betrays me, I feel so weak.

December 13th 1742

Basilton visits me nightly now. I welcome his touches, his hard kisses. I walk through my days now, dreaming of night. 

The cows have begun to distrust me, they put up a fight when I try to milk them, and a few are no longer eating. I do not know why. Sir Grimm, despite having experience with livestock, seemed just as perplexed as I when I brought up the strange deaths and behaviors of his herd. Though, I know his mind is elsewhere, the mourning clothes he and Madam Grimm wear are a constant reminder of their loss.

I hear whispers at the pub of ghost sightings. I hear gossip from the house servants that the Grimm children wake up screaming in the nights now. 

December 19th 1742

The weather gets worse. I feel frozen to the bone. My hands hurt daily. My work gets harder, as more animals under my care drop dead, and my strength seems to dwindle with each moment. The waking world has no joy, no pleasure left. But I go through each day, waiting for night. Only at night can I remember what happiness is. Basilton comes to me. He holds me, and we kiss for hours. Basil leaves marks and bruises on my skin but I welcome it. My hands praise the skin he uncovers for me. We commit sins I never knew could bring such pleasures. 

December 20th 1742

I admit, I have not allowed myself to consider how or why Basilton appears to me alive, when I know he was laid in his grave two months ago. I just cannot think of it, I cannot search for reasons to distrust this gift I have. I may be a fool, or a doomed sodomite, but I cannot find it in me to fight what is happening. I cannot consider this to be anything but good or I might truly lose myself. 

December 24th 1742

Last night was disturbing. Basilton came to my room as usual. We kissed, and lay together, and I felt so joyous, but quickly the tides turned. He pinned my naked body to the bed. He sat over me and tore at my flesh with his bare hands. I cried out but I could not stop him. Some dark part of me did not want to stop him. Basilton lapped up the blood that poured from my chest like a starved dog. The unGodly sight did things to me. As if possessed by something, I craved his bloodshed.

I do not know what is wrong with me. 

I awoke with deep wounds on my chest. A mess of horror and lust arose within me as I touched the raised flesh, the dried blood. I know this is not natural, this is not holy. I should seek out a doctor, or a priest, but I can't stand the thought of losing my dear Basil again. I would open up a vein for him. I would tie our hearts together for eternity if it meant Basilton could be mine. 

December 25th 1742

It is Christmas Day. A holiday that should be full of cheer. Basil once told me it was his favorite holiday, so it holds an extra special meaning for me. I wish he had been here, enjoying the day. I try not to be too sad, he will be here soon, arriving with the stars in the sky.  

Ebb spent the day with me. I gave her a small wooden goat I carved. She does not say it but I know she misses her brother most around this time of year. I tried to be there for her, as I pretended not to notice the tears running down her red cheeks. But I found it hard to care. All my thoughts were consumed by anticipation for my next visit with Basilton. I know that is terrible. I tried to fight it, to focus on the friend I had with me at the moment, but I struggled. My mind, and my heart are trapped in a world with only Basilton and myself. A world no one else could understand. 

December 26th 1742 

Basilton attacked me again last night. My neck, chest, and stomach are covered in signs of his violent affection. Oh my dear God, I try to feel remorse, to summon disgust at our actions, but it is just not there within me. My mind is a haze of painful pleasure, my thoughts, along with my flesh and blood, fully consumed by Basilton. He is a fallen angel. He is a monster, and I must be one as well, but I have no will to change that. 

I love him. I’ll love him no matter what we become. 

I found more cattle dead this morning. Now nearly a third of the herd is gone. This time they have markings to match the wounds on my chest. 

I told Ebb about the deaths, she told me a few goats have passed as well. I will tell the baronet tomorrow. 

December 27th 1742

I went to tell Sir Grimm about the dead cows this morning. 

In the manor I overheard the baronet and baronetess speaking of another attack last night. I stopped myself short of the doorway into Sir Grimm’s study. I stood in the hallway, slowing my breath to hear them through the door. 

“Mordelia saw Basilton again last night. He hurt her, picked her up and left scratches on her back,” Daphne said to Malcolm. Sir Grimm stated he’s seen their son some nights as well. I became jealous upon hearing these words, at learning I was not the only one Basil is giving attention to. A foolish thought, of course he would want to see his family. But they spoke of him in fearful tones. They do not know my sweet Basil is only full of love. 

“He is a vampire,” Sir Grimm said. I had to stop myself from crying out. Madam Grimm gasped, begged him no. Sir Grimm mumbled something comforting. “It must be done. He’s not our son anymore, Daphne, he is an evil creature.” 

A vampire. The livestock dying, the frightened children, and my nightly visits from Basilton, all signs of a vampire. Dear God, Basil did not deserve such a fate!! I know what they will do to him: dig up his grave, stake his heart, cut off his head, and burn him to ashes. 

He will be gone forever. 

I cannot bear the thought! 

I know now what I must do, and I must do it quickly. 

Later on the 27th

Hastily, I have made my preparations. I could not risk Sir Grimm getting to Basilton first. I am prepared to go tonight. 

December 28th 1742

I went to Basilton’s grave late last night. I was the only soul awake besides the owls. I brought along a lantern, a shovel, a small pack with all my coin and what few possessions I care to keep, and a small wheelbarrow I took from the barn. The light of my lantern guided me through the familiar trees and headstones, until I found the name Basilton Grimm carved into stone. 

The rain poured down endlessly. The wet earth offered little resistance to my shovel, but digging was not quick work. The wind put out my lantern thrice. I gave up relighting, nothing would stop me. I had a singular purpose. I felt as if I’d been guided here, to this moment, to save my love. 

After hours of labor, my shovel kissed the wood of a coffin, I nearly collapsed from relief, and exhaustion. Prying the lid from my Basil’s prison was harder than I had expected. Once I had it off, I threw it from the hole. 

I wept. There was my dearest Basilton asleep in his coffin. I relit the lantern. I fell to my knees, sharing the cramped space with him. The light revealed a blood-stained mouth and burial shroud. His hair was a little longer, more lustrous than in life, his skin ruddy and plump. I worried I would find his face smashed, his body mangled from horses’ hooves, but he was unmarked and as beautiful as ever. His hands were free from his shroud, also bloody. 

These are all signs of a vampire, but I could not care. I had to reach out to touch his cold flesh.

I had to kiss him. 

My lips met his, and in that coffin, surrounded by earth, over the sound of the attacking rain, Basil softly moaned. I swear I heard it. I swear his lips moved against mine.  

Elated with indescribable joy I tried to wake him more, desperate for proof he really was living. He did not open his eyes, or speak to me, or move. But when I pressed my ear to his chest I heard the drum of his heart beat steadily. 

My sweet Basilton alive! Now that I have him, I will let no harm come to him. I will keep Basil safe from those who want to kill him again. 

It is early morning now, the sun is just starting to peak over the land in the East. This will be my last entry. I shall leave my journal here, in my Basilton’s empty grave, in case anyone is searching for us. I care not who reads these words, they will not find us. I will be far away, with my love, finally happy. 

(A note placed in the back of the journal)

Dearest Simon, 

I hope this journal will be of use to you. I do believe keeping a journal will help you continue improving your literacy. And perhaps it will aid in other ways. I find it helps to have a private place for one's thoughts and feelings. My journals are a great comfort to me. 

Beyond that, I must admit I do enjoy the thought that there will be a record of you and of I. That people may know who we were, and that we were good friends.

Yours truly, 

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm

#carry on countdown 2023 #coc 2023 #carry on countdown #simon snow #baz pitch #vampire #blood #blood drinking #1700s au #simon snow pov #the simon snow series #carry on #the simon snow trilogy #fanfic #corascrap

[silent-sanctum]

Entries from the Sidelines - Jotaro x Reader

Synopsis: A series of journal entries from a random student that is simping over you, not knowing that you were no longer free to date thanks to one menacing delinquent.

November 14, 1988

You won’t understand it at first but there are 2 things that are currently taking over my life right now.

The first one is weird and that’s me being able to see… ghosts? Demons? Spirits? I don’t know but I see them sometimes on a few people and they can do stuff. And then there’s my ghost.

Yeah. Yeah, I have my own personal ghost and I’m not sure if me having one is wackier or others having one is. Though gotta say my ghost is pretty lame and useless compared to the rest. It’s just some sort of magical keychain that doesn’t do anything but transform into ordinary stationary.

But enough of that, there’s still the second thing.

I have a crush. Like a massive crush on this girl who’s my classmate and former groupmate that one time.

Her name’s Y/N L/N and she’s one of the most talked about students around school and for multiple reasons.

Where do I begin about her? She’s really pretty and majority of the guys thinks so too. She does well in her studies. She’s friendly and welcoming. And I’ve heard she can sing too! I wish I could hear what she sounded like.

There must be something she had done for those 50 days of absence last year for her to improve this much compared to when I first saw her.

Talk about her absence was the gossip of the school, together with that scary delinquent who also was absent for 50 days. Many speculated they sort of cut classes together but I believe those were just rumors jealous girls made up so they wouldn’t think of that student as anything but single.

Though honestly seeing a guy and girl absent for the same number of days does seem suspicious, so I don’t blame them.

I should start connecting with her sometime soon, get that social points you know? And maybe by February or March, I’ll be able to confess my feelings to her.

Wish me luck!

December 14, 1988

Oh my god I actually managed to talk to her for the first time since our group project.

I intended to start as soon as possible and so I waited for the perfect time to approach her, and by appropriate time, I meant sometime around our snack or lunch break, or if I’m lucky, I’d be able to finish club activities and meet with her after classes.

So let me tell you how our conversation went.

After I mustered enough courage, I sought her out on one eventful snack break. Evaluating my performance, I did a pretty crappy job.

I stuttered a lot, my cheeks were fuming like crazy, and I couldn’t hold eye contact for more than 5 seconds. Fortunately for me, she was super understanding of my incapability to speak straight and that just made me even fall harder for her.

For that past hour, she picked up all of what I wanted to say through my broken sentences and even I was looking like a complete and utter fool, she wasn’t fazed by it at all and she even smiled at my goofiness. SMILED. Can you believe that?!

What a win, am I right? Well, here’s a bigger win: She can see my ghost thingy!

She called it a “Stand”? For some reason? But she was surprised that I had one, I asked why, and holy crap, she had one too! It was way cooler than mine- indestructible fabrics that she can shoot out or shield her body with.

A double win for me that day!

So, after that break, I was determined to maintain this friendly rapport we had so I urged myself to tell her If it was alright if we kept meeting up like this, and she said it was fine! I am making progress with her in no time. When she wasn’t too busy, we would meet up often on snack breaks and the seldom after-hours period.

Though I gotta say, after every meet-up we had, I always felt like someone was glaring at me from the shadows, but at the same time, it could just be my usual anxiety trying to distract me.

I offered to meet her up during lunch time, since I’ve heard it was a recommended time for people to bond, but she kept refusing the offer and said she was meeting with someone else during that time.

Honestly?... Made me a bit insecure because it could imply that she was meeting with another man, but I forced those thoughts out the drain and came with the rational thought that it was probably with a group of female students. She was a social butterfly after all.

By the time I’m writing this, I have attained “friend” status with her and I consider that win for me, since it was better than staying in the level of “groupmate” or “acquaintance”.

I’m seeing hope for this! Perhaps I’ll achieve that “boy” before the “friend” by March!

January 14, 1989

Valentine’s day is on the next month and the status of “close friend” seems to be in my favor.

I say that but I noticed how every other guy in school approached her even if it was for a minute or 2. I have a hunch they were thinking the same thing too. She was as accommodating as she was with me when we first met that day, but I swear I could see the slight discomfort in her body language when engaging with them.

That discomfort wasn’t present whenever she was with me.

Ha! Good thing I started early! Serves them right for picking on me for being a nerd.

I kept up with our regular meet-ups and I’d say progress with her is going better than expected! She began sharing random trivia facts about herself and I said mine in return and she smiles more too! Yes, all according to plan.

But something came up when I stepped into school for the first time this year.

I had to be extra early for a school project and so by being early, I get to see most of the students arrive to school, including her.

Here’s the thing.

Remember when I said every guy approached her at least once to try and get into her good side? I meant that literally and they were all either the good-looking ones or the troublemakers who always picked on me. However, there was the one student who didn’t bother trying to get close to her.

That very tall, tough-looking delinquent with the ripped hat and golden chain who looks like he could snap anyone’s back anytime with no problem.

He was pretty much the delinquent of delinquents because every other bad student with an attitude who ever crossed his path physically cowered and turned away as if they didn’t want to be in a fight with him.

And because of his infamous nature, of course every female student would congregate around his presence, squabbling for his attention like seagulls.

All except for her.

And it felt like a heavy weight doubled with another weight were lifted off my chest knowing the school’s darling and infamous bad boy weren’t interested in each other.

But going back to that early period before classes bit, she arrived minutes after I did and the second she stepped into the building, all the guys began quietly murmuring to themselves about her, how they’re totally gonna receive sweets on Valentine’s from her. To which I rolled my eyes at.

Then after another few minutes passed, the loud noise of girls from a distance was an enough of a tell that that delinquent arrived as well.

She was standing by the lockers that time, fixing her stuff as he walked by with his flock of fangirls behind him.

And then this happened- A single strip of her Stand’s fabric shot out from her side, and then at the same time, a muscular purple arm manifested out of the delinquent’s back to reach forward and gently grasp the fabric that wrapped itself around the hand.  

The heck? That guy’s got a Stand too?! A cool one at that?! And it’s holding her Stand??!

It was brief but it was strange. What’s stranger is that when that happened, she was smiling with pink on her cheeks the same time that guy tipped his hat over his face. And then they went on their merry way as usual.

Had to up my ante after that happened. Gotta say… she hasn’t noticed my growing insecurities and she’s still pretty close to me.

Like my parents said, as long as I believe in my goals, it’s bound to happen!

February 14, 1989

The day arrived! And even if I admittedly think I did pretty poor job in establishing a bond with her, the events of what had happened turned out quite great actually!

So let me tell you.

When snack break happened, all the girls began their move and started giving out chocolates. Some of my classmates got one, others who are kind of in my level didn’t get any (to which I call foul), the bullies got at least one too though I think they threatened a girl to get it, the male faculty got some appreciative chocolates…

And then there’s the egregious number of candies being given to that delinquent. I’m talking about a full circle of girls either placing their chocolates on his desk or in his locker that came with sticky notes of love.

Just to double check, I kept an eye on both his desk and locker if she did the same as they did. Creepy I know but… at least I’m not actively stalking anyone. Just on watch-out.

And good news! When she began distributing a piece of chocolate to the boys she acquainted with around school, she didn’t leave one at any of his belongings.

When she found me that time, let me tell you she gave me… a small pouch of chocolates! A POUCH! Instead of a piece or two! She had this beaming smile on her face and I, of course, was a proud flustered mess when that happened!

And oh, to see the look of disbelief on those bullies and pretty boys. Man, that felt really good!

I think she’s into me!

It’s pretty much a guarantee that she’ll accept my confessions next month based on what just happened.

 A bright future awaits for me!

February 14, 1989

That clingy bitch!

Who does she think she is showing off like that to Jojo?!

Here I thought I gave the best homemade chocolates in school. Every boy had found them delicious and had said it was the best because it is! I made them myself and I packed them in a neat red box with white crumpled paper fillings, topped with a silk white ribbon.

I had full confidence he’d be bringing that home for sure while he threw away the rest. So, I waited to see what happened at the end of classes. And this absurd shit happened!

Jojo was standing by the gate, cigarette in his mouth like the hottie he was. BUT IN HIS HAND WASN’T MY RED BOX!

Instead, in his possession was a navy-blue bento-sized box with an assortment of sweets inside, wrapped around with a silky rose-gold ribbon. AND THEN, she rushed out of the building towards Jojo and they walked out of school grounds. TOGETHER. AGAIN.  

SERIOUSLY. I’m surprised they aren’t dating yet though I’m pretty sure he’s gonna turn her down because he’s always like that with the multiple others before her.

Good thing that little eyeglass nerd that’s simping over her wasn’t there to see that bullshit. Don’t think he’s gonna handle the sight like me.

I’ll get him next time. Watch out Y/N!

March 14, 1989

I’m sad.

I feel like curling into a ball and wallow in my own embarrassment and sadness from what just happened.

So, if you weren’t aware… today was White Day a.k.a. the day where the guys give the gifts this time. Obviously, my gift was this letter I wrote for her and a rose I bought nearby, all meant to be an aid for my confession towards her.

All the guys I mentioned before had their own little penchants and gifts ready for her, and I watched her receive them with the same friendly smile she’d give to anyone. And I had to steel myself to remember that she didn’t feel comfortable with those guys months ago and she was accepting them out of politeness.

While they were busy with that, I waited for the right to confess.

I read that the best time to confess was when she was alone so when I thought of that, I figured it was around dismissal where most of the students already went home.

Alas, cue to the end of classes period where the sun was about to set and the crowd was minimized to a handful of students. I was sweating bullets when I waited for her by the entrance. I had the letter and rose in hand ready to be given.

When I heard her giggles, I gave one last pep talk to myself and faced her.

I tell you, the moment I saw her, my chest collapsed in on itself. She was still the same pretty girl I’ve bonded with for the past months, but in her arms was a huge brown teddy bear holding a bouquet of roses.

She saw me. And I began coughing nervously. I thought to myself who??? I didn’t see anyone give her anything that big during class hours.

As usual, she smiled at the sight of me standing there like an out-of-place weed and asked why I was still at school. Oh god, I fumbled so bad with my words, nothing was coming out like how I practiced back at home.

I kept saying how much I admired her and everything and so far, she was flattered by my mess of a status, and before I had the chance to confess-

The delinquent stepped behind her, hands in pocket, smoking as he glared straight at me. LIKE FULL ON DEATH GLARE AT MY DIRECTION.

I nearly peed my pants that time.

She wasn’t at all surprised at his presence, in fact she recognized him standing behind her and she promptly apologized for his intimidating aura.

And oh boy, the next bit fully ripped my sensitive heart to smithereens.

She told me a secret since we were “close friends” to which I now find a curse more than a blessing.

She told me that the very same delinquent that looked like he didn’t give a crap about romance and was giving me the look of death… was her boyfriend who gave her his White Day present to her.

Yes. You read that right. BOYFRIEND. The school’s darling and the infamous delinquent being a couple.

FOR HOW LONG????

THEY DIDN’T EVEN SEEM LIKE THEY WERE DATING TO BEGIN WITH???

But then I remembered the whole “their-Stands-were-holding-each-other-as-they-passed-by” scene I witnessed months ago, and those times where she couldn’t hang out with me every lunch time. Because she’s with him during that period. And those bits made sense now given the context.

She still asked me why I was there because she was genuinely concerned. My stutters worsened more, face was burning with embarrassment, and my hands holding the gifts I had for her behind my back turned clammy.

I tried to navigate myself around the whole dilemma of appeasing her concerns while choosing the right words under the pressure of the delinquent’s solid gaze that was still piercing into my soul. Eventually, I hesitantly gave her the rose without the letter.

And even after my whole mess, she still smiled and accepted it.

After saying out goodbyes, they were on their way and I thought I could relax and be free to burst into bashful tears, but I physically tensed when that guy’s Stand fully manifested in its entirety.

Holy crap the thing’s so jacked it was scary. It had one arm around Y/N’s waist while the purple behemoth looked at me with an icy glare much like its user.  

Hence, here we are- me basking in the darkness of my room while my heart’s still recoiling from the reality of being utterly broken due to Y/N L/N’s sheer kindness and relationship status.

Ah great, I can’t see much now because my tears are clouding my vision.

Time to breakdown. Bye.

March 14, 1989

Wonder why that kid’s so flustered today. We’ve communicated with no problems the past days I knew him. Maybe it was because today was White Day and he’s shy? Most likely.

Though, I think a major contributor to his messy speech was Jotaro just being his slightly possessive self standing behind me, even though I told him countless time that the poor kid just needed a friend.

But I understood where he was coming from- he’s my secret boyfriend and he had to watch other boys give me gifts like I was still single. The teddy bear and roses were really sweet of him though. I still engrained the sight of his blushing cheeks and averted gaze in my mind when Star gave me the gifts on his behalf.

He took me out to a park as one last surprise gift. We saw the stars for a moment and then I stayed over at his place, to which he proceeded to rail me into oblivion, and now I’m here writing an entry into my diary while he continues to cutely snooze beside me.

Poor kid though. He must have been scared shitless yesterday. I think I’m gonna smooth things out with him when classes start again.

For now, I’m going to join Jotaro in his arms again and fall into dreamland with him.

 Until next time!

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo

[pepperonidk]

Moon River || j.w.w.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader

Summary:  Soulmates can communicate with each other through journals. When one writes or draws in theirs it shows up in the other’s.

Warnings: absolutely none, it’s PURE FLUFF. so sweet you’ll get cavities ;)

Word Count: 1020

A/N: This is one of the first things I had written soo be gentle with this lmao. Very cozy rainy day vibes, grab a warm beverage, put on some good music, and a fuzzy blanket. (btw this is posted on my marvel blog @capwogers)

Hey soulmate, it’s me again. Today was a great day, even though it was storming all day. I actually really like stormy weather. Do you? I spent all day in bed and finished reading that book I got last week. I wonder what I should read next. Any recommendations?

xx Stardust

The curly loops and feather-light strokes of her handwriting filled the lines of his journal, as Wonwoo read his soulmate’s entry. Her handwriting had become more than familiar to him. He had seen it develop from the sloppy and shaky scrawls from when they were in kindergarten to the neat and compact letters on the page now. Wonwoo couldn’t help but question the whole soulmate thing. How could you possibly know so much about someone without even knowing something basic like their name? It’s a cruel joke, Wonwoo decided. He and his soulmate had tried before, but their names would not show up on the paper, leaving them to create code names for each other.

 But names weren’t the only thing missing. Wonwoo wondered if his soulmate lived near him. He looked out the window and saw the overcast sky, full of dark clouds. If she lived nearby maybe it was possible he’d seen her before. He tried to imagine what she might look like, the slope of her nose, the curves of her lips, the hybrid of colors in her eyes, all the details that could never be described properly with words. Wonwoo was a hopeless romantic and couldn’t help it when his heart sank at the realization that he just doesn’t know. He had always wanted to draw her, and every time he tried to do so in the journal, she would tell him that his sketch was lovely, but he knew he wasn’t drawing her.

Darling, I wonder a lot about where you are. It’s storming here too, so maybe you’re not that far away. I guess I do like stormy weather too, the thunder is oddly relaxing. And you finished it already? You definitely deserve an award, that dedication is unbeatable. As for recommendations, I hear Kafka’s got some interesting work, depending on how you feel about bugs. Today was kind of rough for me, but it’s alright. I’ll take it easy tonight.

Talk soon, Moon River

Wonwoo filled in the next few lines after hers, and signed his code name in his extravagant cursive. Both of their nicknames were references to their favorite songs. Wonwoo had an old soul, and it was evident in his taste in music. He would often let her know when he had found a new old song for her to listen to. Although her taste in music was a lot more current, she always enjoyed hearing Wonwoo's music as she felt it brought her a lot closer to him. 

Shutting the cover of his journal, Wonwoo thought about his plans for the rest of the evening. It had been a particularly stressful day at practice, as it always was when the boys disagreed on anything, and he really did not want to sit alone with his thoughts in his apartment. So he grabbed his umbrella and his journal and made his way to his favorite cafe. The rain had lightened up outside, slowing down to a light drizzle and made his walk down the few blocks all the more peaceful. He took in his surroundings, trying to memorize the details of the signs of life around him so he could draw it all out on paper.

Now inside the cafe, Wonwoo was relieved to see that it was not so full. He didn’t want to be alone in his apartment, but he also didn’t want to be alone in a room saturated with people. He ordered his coffee and sat down at a table by the window. Outside he had a clear view of the small bookstore across the street and people scurrying as the rain started coming down stronger. He pulled out his journal and began to draw underneath his entry a sketch of the scene outside. With his headphones in, Wonwoo didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed his soulmate had written underneath his drawing.

You’re missing something.

xx

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at the writing, and directed his confusion at his drawing. What was he missing? He turned his head to look back at the bookstore. There were the shelves of books, somehow still dry under the awning, which was a shade of green darker in some spots because of the rain, the paintings of white daisies on the window, almost faded out now, and the bench in front of it where a girl sat with a book in front of her. Had she been there this whole time? How did he forget to include her?

Directing his attention back to the sketch, he began to draw her in, not bothering to look back up in fear she might notice him staring at her. Her figure quickly came into being on his replica of the flower shop when he noticed another line of writing appear on the lines.

Those are hearts on the rain boots, not polka dots.

xx

Confident that he saw polka dots, he looked up just in time for him to make eye contact with the girl on the bench. His first thought was simply that she was pretty. His second thought was one of panic and fear that she might think he was creepy for staring at her. His third thought was when he put two and two together and realized he was staring at her. At that point he stopped thinking, dropped his pencil and ran out of the cafe.

 Wonwoo practically ran to her, but came to an abrupt stop a few feet in front of her. She stood up from her seat in the bench and smiled at the incredulous expression etched on Wonwoo's face. “It’s about damn time,” she laughed.

Still shocked, it took Wonwoo a few seconds before he finally replied, “I’m Wonwoo,” he stuttered out breathlessly. “And you’re my soulmate.”

#seventeen #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #kpop fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo scenarios #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #svt #svt fluff

[luyepiaofeng]

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ ways to make your laptop aesthetic feat. some extensions, websites & apps for students

i created this cause i found some time to finally upgrade and properly personalise my laptop, it took me almost an entire day watching youtube videos, researching for these and setting them up. so... i'm basically posting this for myself lol, but i also feel like sharing cause these are actually really good hehe

i'm using a windows laptop but i think most of these should work on mac too. most of these are free but there are maybe like less than five that require to be paid.

those that are marked with an asterisk (*) are the ones that i'm currently using while others are recommended or alternatives!

here is what my home screen looks like now:

i. screen saver

fliqlo (ios & win) * flipit (win, an inspired & alt ver of ^) flix clock (mac & web, paid ver comes with colours other than black) aura gradient clock (mac & web) retro anime desk clock (mac) flocus (web) * studywithme (web) note: remember to right-click the file and select "install", then ensure that the wait time (e.g: 5 mins) is less than your "turn off your screen" and "put my device to sleep after" (e.g: both 15 mins) in power settings

ii. tab themes

kluk: a clock tab theme * angry study helper: a tab theme that gets angy at u whenever u open a new tab gratitutab: a minimalistic tab theme that works as a to-do list prioritab: a tab theme that shows priorities that u had set for the day, week, and month

iii. extensions

tldr this: summarizes long docs, websites, articles, etc. with just a click * paperpanda: download research papers by clicking on it, it searches on domains like google scholar, semanticscholar, aodoi, and more * coffeelings: mainly a mood tracker that also saves mini journal entries colorzilla: an eyedropper colour picker * whatfont: click on it and hover on any text to show what font it is * mybib: an apa, mla, harvard, and more styles citation generator * read aloud: a tts reader that supports more than 40+ languages * notion web clipper: creates a website into a bookmark into notion * noisli: lets u listen to relaxing playlist while u study/work

iv. websites

lofi.cafe i miss the office i miss my cafe i miss my bar i miss my library a soft murmur patatap tomato timers animedoro lifeat coolors blush designs untools fontjoy zenpen decision maker museum of endangered sounds future me

v. apps

virtual cottage chill corner notion *

vi. rainmeter skins

mond * lano visualizer amatical * small clean weather animated * ageo sonder * cloudy harmattan note: if you're new to rainmeter, it can be a bit overwhelming, u may check out this short and simple tutorial on it, make sure to read the instructions if you're using complicated skins like weather (may require u to edit in txt), i also highly rec watching techrifle's videos

vii. misc.

wallpaper engine * (highly rec getting from chillhop) my live wallpaper (free alt of ^) translucenttb * roundedtb note: u can disable your shortcut icons to be invisible by right-clicking on your home screen, go to "view", and untick "show desktop icons", this is optional and i would always enable it whenever i'm working and gaming for easier access, i also set the icons to small

#luyepiaofeng #students #websites #aesthetic #laptop #desktop #customisation #extensions #minimalistic