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dnpbeats · 3 months

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(Almost Solid) Proof That Dan Ran PhilsLion

I'm convinced that Dan was the person who ran the PhilsLion twit and I have receipts. For anyone who doesn't know, PhilsLion is a twitter account that tweeted from the POV of Lion. It's commonly thought that this account was run by Phil. Besides the fact that he would interact with the account, there are multiple tweets that seem to be about him and dan. Unfortunately there's good reason to believe it wasn't Phil running it. HOWEVER there are many reasons that lead me to believe it was Dan who was tweeting from it, some of which is evidence based and some of which makes logical sense.

DISCLAIMER: All tweets I've included that are ostensibly about dan and phil's relationship are in reference to things that are confirmed by d&p themselves (e.g. the fact that d&p were romantically involved when they first met). I will not discuss anything that is not supposed to be public knowledge.

First let's look at when the Twitter was created. (Note: I am in UTC-8 so all screenshots will be in that time zone. I will say what time it would've been in UTC+0 (d&p's time zone) for clarity.)

Dan’s twitter account was created in May 2009. The first tweet from him (assuming he did not delete any older ones) was May 15 at 1:18pm. Presumably this is the day he got twitter.

On May 16 2009 at 3:19am Phil tweeted that he uploaded “I was kidnapped.”

In this video he mentions his own personal twitter account, and there is an annotation of Lion saying “i want a twitter” (20sec into the video)

About 3 hours after the video was posted (6:26am UTC+0), we get the first tweet from PhilsLion (presumably this was right after the account was created)

May 16th 2009 was a Saturday. We know from Dan’s video “THE POWER NAP” that he worked at ASDA on Saturdays and Sundays from 5am-10am. So he would’ve been awake shortly after Phil posted the video. Also note that Dan presumably had an iPhone at the time (he tweeted something about iPhones in June 2009 and had no previous tweets before that about getting a new phone). He specifically tweeted in Sep 2009 about tweeting from his iPhone. Based on the fact that Dan literally showed up to work drunk and took a nap, I don’t think he is above going on twitter at work.

While this is not proof that Dan created the account, we can see that it’s definitely possible for him to have created the account. We know he would’ve been awake at the time the account was created, and it was approx. a day after he created his own twitter account, so making a twitter account would've been fresh in his mind.

We do have proof that Phil did not create the account. First, he edited the description of “I was kidnapped.” to say that someone [else] created PhilsLion:

He also tweeted May 16th (10:35am UTC+0 if that matters to anyone) basically saying the same thing as the video desc, implying that someone else made the account:

Finally in “AmazingJason” (posted May 26th) he mentions, again, “someone [else]” creating the Twitter account (about 20seconds in, the timestamp is linked). He encourages everyone to follow it and links it in the description of the video:

So unless Phil was really pushing that someone else created it even though he himself made it, it wasn’t him.

If you want to skip to Proof™ scroll down to the next photo of Phil. Before that, I’d like to debunk the 11:11/different time zone thing–I think this is the biggest reason people have claimed that the account was not run by Phil or Dan but rather some other random fan. On May 30th at 4:12pm UTC+0 and June 3rd at 4:19am UTC+0, PhilsLion tweeted about making wishes at 11:11. In order for these tweets to be made at ~11:11 local time, they would need to have been made in either UTC-5 or UTC+7. UTC-5 is US Eastern Time. UTC+7 is a time zone mainly consisting of Southeast Asia. This includes parts of Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. I have an explanation for this, which is certainly the biggest reach of this whole thing, but it is a plausible explanation :p

It’s very possible that it was Dan who tweeted this if he was on vacation with his family at the time. We know Dan and his family have vacationed in Asia many times (at the very least they went to Thailand in 2006, India in 2010 and 2013, and Sri Lanka in 2016). So while there’s no proof (that I know of) that Dan was on vacation at this time, it’s certainly possible that he was. The location of the tweets would fit with where we know his family likes to go on holiday. Additionally, the second tweet talks about water skiing, which tends to be a fun vacation thing rather than something people do regularly (note this tweet would be at 11:19am in UTC+7)

There’s further proof that PhilsLion was not always in UTC+7. On Christmas 2009, PhilsLion tweeted “goodmorning” at 6:21am UTC+0. This would be 1:21pm in UTC+7. It makes a lot more sense for this to have been tweeted in England.

Then fast forward to January 8th 2011. PhilsLion tweets “I was up all night” at 8:05am UTC+0. This would be 3pm in UTC+7. So again, it seems that PhilsLion was not in UTC+7 at this time.

Okay, now onto much more solid evidence. First, the handwriting of PhilsLion. This is the most tangible piece of proof. On June 25th 2009 Phil posted “AmazingAlex,” where Lion can be seen behind him in one of Phil’s shoes:

Lion tweeted a photo the next day, saying “I’m on a boat :)” in reference to being in Phil’s shoe

Note that the drawing/writing does not appear in the video and therefore was done by whoever runs PhilsLion. Here is some of Dan’s writing (found in TABINOF) for comparison:

This is from the “how to draw cat whiskers” page. Notice how the As all have the crossbar quite high up, just like in the twitter picture. Additionally, the top loops in the Bs are all very skinny compared to the bottom loop. Here’s another one of Dan’s capital Bs from the blindfolded portrait page, which is similar to Lion's writing:

I’m not a handwriting analysis expert, and yes it’s different drawing on MSPaint vs. a piece of paper, but the handwriting certainly has similarities.

And now, the more circumstantial evidence, but things that seem (imo) to be too big of a coincidence to not have been written by Dan (FYI these are going to be added in order of how much of a reach they are, not chronological order, lol). First we have “I month you”:

This tweet is proposing an alternate word for “love” and ends with “I month you” (i.e. is replacing the word love with month), and was tweeted on November 19th 2009. AKA exactly a month after dan and phil met IRL for the first time.

Another one that seems very related to Dan and what we know of his situation is this tweet about “Lion’s” dad:

In Dan’s own words in BIG: “I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would 'die of bum cancer.' Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home[.]”

Note that Dan was still living at home at the time, so if this tweet was made by him, it wouldn't have meant literally “getting away.” Also, Dan was at home when this was tweeted but it was 3 days before he was going to see Phil.

Next there’s this tweet:

The “admirers” thing could be referring to anything really, but was tweeted during the time that Dan (and Phil) were in the Clipstar video contest. Also, Dan posted this dailybooth two days before this tweet, and most of the comments are just gassing him up, so lol (the pic doesn’t load but based on the comments I think it was a screenshot from his clipstar vid).

This tweet from Christmas Eve 2009. Dan and Phil were together and filming the interactive Christmas adventure:

Proof they were together if anyone needs it:

This tweet (tweeted November 26 5:45am UTC+0)

Many things to note here. The song linked is called “When I See You Again.” It’s by Dave Bullas (one of the founders of SiTC), whom d&p were/are friends with. (They had other friends who were friends with him as well. PJ has the top comment on the video.) The lyrics of the song are not really happy as they insinuate a breakup. But it’s interesting to think about them in the context of wanting to see someone who you are not able to. This tweet was 3/4 days after the “I wonder how biology…” tweet and 3 days before Dan went to see Phil.

Also, Dan just LOVES recommending music to people. He does it a lot.

(^ Proof Dan was seeing Phil on the 29th if anyone needs it)

Now a tweet exchange which doesn't technically prove anything, but I thought was curious. Phil tweeted December 29 2010 about getting a new camera:

Lion tweeted in reference to this 20 minutes later:

I find this interesting because Phil made no comment anywhere about manuals or ignoring them. So it could just be PhilsLion making schput, but a lot of the other Lion tweets are in direct reference to something Phil said/did. It would make sense if Dan ran the twitter acc and he was talking about something that he witnessed Phil do that we don’t know about. Also note “my new camera is here” vs. “phil picked up his new camera” (Lion giving more specific detail than Phil in terms of the manner in which he obtained the camera).

Some Tweets (1, 2, 3) which aren’t proof of anything but just sound like things Dan would say:

For context, this is about floods that happened in Queensland. Again, I have no way to prove Dan said this. But if you’ve ever read, like, anything Dan has said in a print interview ever or watched any of his liveshows, you know that he often tries to say stuff with superfluous/pretentious language and then ends up not making a whole lot of sense. Things that he’s said have been misconstrued so many times, or just outright don’t make sense to anyone but him. So this series of tweets checks out, if it is Dan who ran the account.

This Twitter exchange which doesn’t actually prove anything but is very sweet if it is dan who tweeted it:

The photo is a screenshot from “AmazingJason”:

Note that two weeks later (October 23) in “Life without the internet!?” Phil says the internet led to him “meeting the best friend of [his] life.” The comments all assume he is referencing Dan, but in the video he holds up Lion, so presumably that’s actually who he’s talking about. That is, unless Lion represents Dan :p

Lastly, this tweet which is a Fall Out Boy lyric, but again would be cute if it was Dan:

There's a few more tweets that are interesting to think about being from Dan but don't actually prove anything so I won't put them here lol.

So, at the end of the day, could it be some random fan* who made the twitter account? Yes. But in my opinion there isn’t really anything proving it’s not Dan. On top of that, there are enough things that fit with what we know factually about d&p now, but were not well known at the time, that make it seem much more likely that Dan ran this account vs. a random person.

*technically when the account was started, Dan himself was a random fan. So there’s that too ;)

P.S. best practice is to not interact with old tweets, so pls don't go on a retweet spree

#this has the exact limit of photos you can put in one post lmao #I spent way too much time on this so I hope u enjoy my investigative skills <3 #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #daniel howell #amazingphil #d&p #wordvom.txt #phan #<- lol #idk the last time I used that tag #philslion

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thoughtsfromlayla · 23 days

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Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific.

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined.

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things.

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts.

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off.

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it.

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly.

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world.

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house.

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile.

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food.

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it.

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly.

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move.

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher.

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead.

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene.

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again.

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved.

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you.

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu.

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream.

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you.

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by.

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments.

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead.

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket.

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again.

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?”

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond.

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose.

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you.

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow.

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment.

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens.

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious.

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing.

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again.

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city.

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place.

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor.

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety.

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion.

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life.

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread.

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him.

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude.

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways.

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then.

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place.

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.”

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds.

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card.

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself.

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection.

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer.

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile.

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside.

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval.

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along.

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming.

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions.

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks.

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t.

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself.

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room.

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around.

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway.

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up.

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks.

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news.

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove.

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made.

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself.

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak.

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink.

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie.

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding.

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body.

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open.

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake.

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead.

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body.

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up.

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again.

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back.

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign.

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly.

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth.

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet.

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here.

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water.

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver”

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control.

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief.

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going.

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer.

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words.

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason.

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense.

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you.

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream.

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily.

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks.

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water.

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake.

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you.

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him.

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall.

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream.

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer.

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life.

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment.

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine.

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment.

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.”

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers.

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath.

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?”

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin.

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh.

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead.

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger.

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out.

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave.

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails.

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together.

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in.

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter.

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice.

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside.

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you.

“Help me,” She pleads.

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table.

“Please.” She sobs again.

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring.

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago.

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces.

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her.

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again.

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never…

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five.

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five.

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you.

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you.

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent.

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be.

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face.

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave.

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder.

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again.

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean.

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment.

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here.

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you.

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium.

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!”

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know.

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood.

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight.

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand.

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you.

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver.

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words.

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage.

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.”

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand.

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face.

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade.

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile.

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader

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nanistar · 8 months

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it has been exactly a year since i posted the pre-prologue and started my comic journey! i'm grateful for the support and for the love this comic has received. I never expected it to be a big thing, it was supposed to just be a fun little practice comic but it's become something a lot bigger! I put a lot of time and effort in it so i am really happy that it is so widely received.

we talked in the SBC Discord server for a bit about what do do for a celebration and eventually landed on doing a one-shot comic in a sort of MAP-style; every panel being a different artist/team of artists. Salt&Hollow's first date was the topic we landed on. everybody put tons of love and effort into their panels and i'm incredibly happy with the outcome, the come-together of different styles and mediums is one of my favorite things that the Warriors fandom excels at.

thank you everyone for all of your support so far! Below the readmore is hyperlinks to everyone's social medias. please check out everyone who helped bring this project together

#warrior cats #warriors oc #sbc comic #warriors comic #comic collab

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luvtak · 4 months

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seasons of love, hhj

✦ pairing hyunjin x reader

✦ genre/tw FLUFF! FLUFF! ONE MORE TIME SAY IT WITH ME! FLUFF!!! hyunjin and mc are very much in love! hyunjin is said to be taller than mc and have bigger hands. lots of kisses and i love yous. suggestive in a couple places. in and out of present and past tense lol. overall very sweet and lovely--hyunjin and mc falling in love through the seasons

✦ w/c 2412

✦ a/n okay so! this is a rewrite of something i posted springtime last year and i hated it lol. this time around i am very proud of hyune and mc and they’re love story and i hope you all love it too!! I've spent months adding scenes and taking them away until I got here <3 please like and reblog, and please please reach out if you have any ideas or questions or just wanna talk!! love you guys forever, mwah!!

He came to you in the Summer, bringing with him music and dancing, and so much laughter you forget how serious falling in love can be.

There is just something about warm weather. It could be the sun shining over your beloved, lighting them up like a god or a king, maybe it’s just that the temperature resembles the touch of your lover’s caress, or that the awakened world is made for romance. It was early July, and everything was blue and sunny; days were filled with jokes and getting to know each other over hot days and cold drinks. Confessions given on front porches and whispered under blue skies—a million firsts bundled up as the heat went away.

He tells you he likes you so quietly, whispering in his sweet little voice, “would you like to go out sometime?”

The way his tall frame looked against the paint palette sunset would live in your head forever; pretty hair and long legs, the sweetest smile curving up to his crescent moon eyes. Looking back, you wished you had a camera or shared his talent with a paintbrush–just to have that moment set in stone. The smile that made you say yes.

In the beginning, he was too shy to hold your hand or stand too close. Inching closer and closer until he stood against you–brushing his fingers against yours until his big hands were enveloping your smaller ones.

The first time he kissed you, his hands were shaking.

He was so nervous you could feel the goosebumps rising on his arms, but he asked so sweetly,

“Can I kiss you.” And there was no way you’d ever say no. Not when he stood there in his summer clothes and pink cheeks, not when it was Hyunjin asking.

He held you straight against him, both hands on your face—the first press of his lips like drinking water, so slow as not to choke then gulping it down. His skin was soft everywhere you touched, and his kiss was happy: full of teeth and giggles and coming up for air.

Getting to know him was like walking into your childhood home, everything about him as familiar as the lines on your palm. Some parts of you are certain you’ve known him before—maybe you were lovers then too, or maybe two trees whose roots were intertwined. In any reality, you can’t see how Hyunjin is supposed to be with you. There is just no other reason why he could know you so well already, no other explanation as to why his body fits around you like it was made to.

Late one night you tell him your theories, and the smile he gave you was so bright and shiny you thought the sun came up. You tell him calmly and earnestly,

“Hyun, I’m almost certain we’ve already met thousands of times before.”

August is hot and covered in orange sunsets and long kisses; pink skies the same color as his cheeks when he asks you out again and again. He tells you about his life while you flip through his journals, page after page dedicated to moments he loved and dreams he’s had, and moments yet to come.

The days are long and it’s so easy to care for him, 15 hours of sunlight allowing you to learn all of him and still need more. Sharing secrets under leaves and laughs under covers–it’s too quick to fall in love, too fast for this insatiable longing to rise up in you. But you think you are, you must be, what else could that aching pull in your tummy be?

The first I love you falls from your lips like the leaves around you. A day spent shopping in the Halloween aisles and holding hands to keep warm. He looks so pretty, dark hair standing out against the grays and oranges of the season, and you love him so much you can’t help but tell him. The words float easy, accompanied by wind bitten skin and a warm gaze.

At first, he hesitates, making sure he’s heard you right, until finally the sun breaks on his face and he speaks.

“I love you too, silly.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it is. He’s been telling you with his eyes and his hands for months, it’s the truest he’s ever felt.

Autumn is spent studying each other, learning how and when to touch—how to make him gasp and sigh. His eyes flutter when you kiss his hip and roll when you bite down; He scratches and pulls, he makes your teeth rattle with his skin. Late nights and early mornings mapping each other, he tells you he loves you and swallows the response, touches the words away.

“I love you; I love you; I love you.” You say over and over again, hoping it sinks into his soul like a second skin.

In mere months, he knows your heart like it’s his own, slotting himself into your life like he’s always been a part of it. Your body has become his home; he’s tied his heart to yours in a double knot. You’re made for him, he’s sure of it—molded from the same clay, split-a parts who’ve found each other.

He tells you things he’s never told anyone before, pressing the secrets against your lips and pulling all of your secrets out of you at the same time.

He adores you, cherishes you as a person, a friend, a lover. He feels happier than he ever has, and he wants to show you to everyone he knows. When he introduces you to his friends, the smile never leaves his face and his hand stays wound with yours. They welcome you like an old friend, and he feels like both pieces of his heart are melting together. He watches you joke with Felix and be teased by Minho, and he thinks you’re the piece that’s been missing this whole time.

Months have been spent just the two of you, and it’s been perfect–intimate and so warm, but seeing you among his friends changes things. Almost like it wasn’t yet real, and now it is.

When you go to bed that night, he tells you,

“They love you and I love you.” and the look you give him is so beautiful, he thinks he should bottle it and save it for later.

Winter brings an unwelcome guest, a yearning for him that won’t go away—it’s harder to love him when he’s busy, and you wish you could be stronger and less jealous, but you’re only one person. It gets considerably difficult to wash the harsh feelings away when he isn’t there to help you, too many nights spent feeling too far away from him induce an anger you can’t get rid of.

When he arrives late and smelling of alcohol, you can’t seem to swallow the bitterness—why would he be drinking when he could be here with you?

Hyunjin, never a novice in reading you, picks it up right away.

One quick comment and then yelling.

“Are you just tired of me?” It escapes from your tongue like a lash, pricking invisible scars onto every vein. He wishes you would know he misses you too, but how could you when he’s never around, not physically nor emotionally, so you keep screaming. Yelling so loud about things that don’t matter. You hope he knows you’re fighting to stay, not to leave, but the words leaving your mouths are so harsh, you can’t be certain if he remembers he loves you.

If you were in your right mind, you’d know he doesn’t want it this way. Everyday he longs for the heat of summer and the comfort of autumn. If he wasn’t drunk, he could tell you, but instead he says, “I just can’t do this anymore.” Maybe it’s better to let go and find each other next time, next life.

Recently it’s been too hard, and maybe he’s not strong enough to learn about this part of you, but you are.

You’ve never been afraid to learn his bad parts, sure he’s a dream shaped like a boy, but he’s also whiny and clingy, and sometimes he gives up too fast. Even though it’s hard, and the tears are streaming into the seam of your lips—you gulp down the acidity and tell him you love him.

“It’s never going to get easier, Hyun, you’ll always be busy, and I’ll probably always miss you, but I love you and you said we’re meant to be, and you’re not a liar.” You tell him you’re sorry for yelling, and he says he’s sorry too, and in the morning, he’ll use his hands to apologize and then his mouth and he’ll promise to keep you warm when he can.

Winter is spent learning to love the pieces of each other that are unlikable, to see the invisible boundaries of before and honor them. You remember your theory about the trees with woven roots, and you remind yourself sometimes you’ll have to sacrifice your share of the water to survive, and you hope it’ll be easier when the world reawakens.

Night comes so fast, and it's so cold, but he loves you. It’s been half a year now, and you almost can’t remember where you were this time last year. Were you freezing without him? Or did you only feel the cold now that he’s here?

All you know is his warmth–pressing into you wherever he can.

A silent promise for the spring yet to come.

His birthday arrives with the first of the blooms, the world not yet alive. You wish him happy birthday under warm sheets, whimpering the words in place of presents. He spends the day with the people he loves most and the happiness he feels eases into spring. He tells you it used to be his favorite; and you promise for his day you will bring some of the magic back.

You help him pick flowers to paint, and read him your favorite stories, you kiss him under cherry blossoms and show him your favorite sunsets. It helps some, but not all—even so, spring with you is prettier than without. He’s sure his skin is brighter because you kiss it, and his paintings are better because they’re of you. He doesn’t know if you believe him, but he means it. His world has become technicolor since you walked into it.

He says it’s just better with you, “I mean it, honey, life is unbelievable when you’re around.”

It’s almost been a year, months spent learning and growing just like the flowers scattered around you. He loves you, so it takes no hesitation when you ask him to move in. He feels like it was already in the midst of happening anyway—his one drawer became a dresser, and his favorite snacks found their way to your cabinets.

Months ago, your heart became his home, and now he gets to live in it every day. Sure, you bicker some: many sighs of “That’s not where that goes, Hyun.” Combined with sweet mutters of “Well, it should go there, sweetheart.” But it’s exhilarating to open his boxes and link his life with yours—mitch-matched mugs in the sink and dirty clothes mixed together.

Your home is filled with dancing and music, laughter and love. His paintings cover the walls, pictures of your days held with magnets on the fridge. His life is now yours and your days belong to each other, and every night he reminds you it’s almost been a year, but how could you forget.

Sometimes, when he puts a dish away wrong, or leaves his clothes on the floor, you question why you invited him in. Even so, you wouldn’t take it back. He’s added so much color into your life, spring personified. A lovely romantic boy who sets your soul on fire.

The flowers that line the street remind you of him, and the bees who accompany you on your walk sing a quiet song that resembles his sweet nothings.

Your sweet spring boy, Hyunjin.

Radiant in every season.

Somehow, he looks the prettiest in the July heat. Of course, every season you’ve spent with him he’s been beautiful, but there is something about his smile surrounded by clear skies. His cheeks are the same color as the flowers and his kisses as warm as the sun. Something about the season where you first met, encasing him in a beauty befit of a prince. You can’t believe it’s been a year with him, a year getting to know how to love him and feeling his love back.

Looking at him now, he could probably make you do anything which is why when he woke you up at the crack of dawn dragging you out to see the sunrise you couldn’t say no. It was frustrating at first, when all you wanted was a few more hours in bed next to him, but Hyunjin could make you do anything if he smiled down at you.

He’s doing it now, looking so darling in his light sweater and clips in his bed-messed hair, looking past you at the sunrise. You love him like this, and it takes all of you not to tell him, to keep the peace of dawn.

You’ve loved things before—people, places, things, but never a boy like this.

Hwang Hyunjin is so precious, so dear to you that it hurts sometimes. No one has ever loved you the way he does, his love surrounds you—covers you under a warm blanket of his affection until it radiates into you.

He’s telling you how pretty you are, how you look like the fresh blooms and you’re laughing—which is all he wanted. He only ever wants to make you happy, even if that means being a cheeseball sometimes. Especially if that means waking you up early enough to see the sun come up, and he wants to see that smile again, so he asks,

“Honey, do you wanna know a secret?”

“Oooo, yes tell me.”

“I love you.” It comes so easy, flows so quickly past his lips like a nightly prayer, like it’s something so objectively true he can’t lie about it, which it is. And your smiles is so wide, laughing at how sweet your boy is, and you say,

“Oh, I already Knew that. I love you too.” And he smiles, grinning at the summer sky.

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #skz x you #stray kids #skz

268 notes · View notes

alonetimelover · 10 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x singer!reader (fc: Rihanna)

summary: “Well-known people usually don’t have the privilege to protect their private life. It’s impressive for how long you did it,”

a/n: this one has been in my drafts for months. i just found it and decided to post it before writing for scientist!reader. enjoy!

masterlist

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 15 291 others

harryupdates Celebrating YN's half-time performance at tonight's Super Bowll here's a throwback to 2013 MTV awards.

view all 3 402 comments

hArrysbtch good ol' days when Harry was eating oranges during award shows

ynupdates i still think they look super cute together

harrysfan and then harry made 1D boys sing fourfive seconds on radio 1??? he had a big crush on her

ynsfan01 yn later that night during the interview? 'they had very tasty fruits during performances' girl...

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harrysno1fan

liked by harryupdates, harrysmoustache and 9 201 others

harrysno1fan Harry arriving in Glendale, Arizona a few hours ago. what the hell is he doing in the US???? wasn't he literally wasted at the BRITs like 5 hours ago??? isn't he supposed to be in Australia like tomorrow???

view all 2 291 comments

harryupdates interesting

harryfootball is he there for super bowl???

⤷ harrysbtch i don't think he knows much about American football, most like something to do with the half time show

⤷ harrysmoustache are you saying that he's going to be YN's surprise guest????? im gonna pass out

harryfan82 he's gonna boil in those clothes xd

ynupdates i hope he's there for the half time show

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harryandyn

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 3 201 others

harryandyn remember when this photo resurfaced a few years ago? and nobody said it was a photoshop and no one knew about it being real? I stand by my words then - they're closer than we think. mark my words people

view all 792 comments

ynupdates well, that would be a real power couple

harryupdates a collab would be a dream

hArrysbtch harry did admit having a crush on yn for years, maybe he acted on it?

ynsfan101 you all know that yn has a baby??

⤷ ynsmybestie of course, but she never said who the father is (she doesn't have to, her choice) so it gives you a place to speculate - respectfully!!!

⤷ ynshands babes, yn is super private, so is harry... it could work

⤷ ynsfan101 all im saying its strange not having seen them once together outside of award shows

⤷ ynsmybestie years in the industry teach you that

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, harryupdates and 37 201 others

ynupdates YN DURING THE HALFTIME SHOW! SHE IS PREGNANT WITH HER SECOND CHILD !!! the moment they showed I screamed so loud at the TV...

view all 12 201 comments

ynsmybestie OMFGAKWSK i am so happy for her

ynsmymama yas, im gonna have another sibling 💀

ynshands guys, we're not getting this album, like ever

ynsnextalbum hi guys, I'm not coming till 2040

harrysmoustache did you guys saw harry during the performance???????

⤷ hArrysbtch they're so together, no way

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 21 301 others

harryupdates HARRY AT THE SUPER BOWL !!! Harry attended half time show (YN's performance) and then left with her team...

view all 4 201 comments

ynupdates he looks very comfy 💀

hArrysbtch they're SOOOOO together, no other way

harrysmoustache power couple

ynsmybestie i knew yn had good taste in man

hArrysbtch wait

hArrysbtch wooow

hArrysbtch DOES IT MEAN THAT HARRY IS A DAD ???!

⤷ harrysfan291 no way

⤷ ynsmybestie i mean... it's possible

⤷ harryshands HE IS A FATHER???

harryfan82 let's not spread rumours

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, ynupdates, harrysupdates, violadavis and 24 201 291 others

harrystyles yourinstagram 👶🏾👶🏾

view all 582 201 comments

yourinstagram we make beautiful babies

⤷ harrystyles it's all you, mama

ynupdates no words....

harryupdates congratulations!!!!

violadavis oh, mama. do you ever get some sleep?

⤷ yourinstagram barely, its harrystyles fault

⤷ harrystyles mint ice cream?

⤷ yourinstagram 🧍🏻‍♂️🧎🏿‍♀️

⤷ ynsmybestie girl????? oh, you got it BAD bad

ynsmybestie so she really in love? damn

harrysmoustache he's a daddy?????

ynshands well, now i know your babies are gonna be the most beautiful

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harrysupdates

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 6 201 others

harrysupdates HARRY AND YN AT THE HOTEL IN GLENDALE! i have a feeling after yesterday we're gonna see much more of them

view all 592 comments

harrysmoustache they're in love love, got it

harrysfan290 might go sleep on the highway tonight

hArrysbtch it's too much to process. Harry's taken, he's with THEE YN, he's got a child and another one on the way???

ynupdates so they're that kinda couple? love it

ynshands yeah, it's been long enough since I felt this lonely, fair enough

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, taylorswift, annetwist, ynupdates, harrysupdates and 42 201 304 others

yourinstagram did this photoshoot not knowing little Bee is gonna have a sibling. harrystyles thank you for... you know what, for once i'll keep it PG ❤

britishvogue thank you for letting us be on the cover

view all 729 392 comments

harrystyles thank you for Bee and little Sprout ❤

⤷ yourinstagram love you

taylorswift congratulations you two!

annetwist Can't wait to meet my second grandchild ❤️

harryupdates the joined interview???? babes

ynupdates i cried while reading the interview

hArrysbtch looking good, mama 🧎‍♀️

⤷ yourinstagram making me blush, im taken!

⤷ hArrysbtch what the hell???

⤷ yourinstagram i like your username, relatable

⤷ hArrysbtch JAIL

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https://www. vogue.co.uk/news/article/yn-and-harry-and-their family

British Vogue

On a surprisingly sunny day in London, our writer Tommy Jenkins was invited to the beautiful rural home on the outskirts of the busy capital city. The garden was blooming with spring flowers, covering the better part of the front house garden. On the porch was the whole YSN-Styles family - YN, Harry and their little first child - Bee (nickname, name not yet revealed to the public).

The first time I talked to YN was after the 2014th MTV Music Awards, already struck by her presence, the way she presented herself and treated everyone around her - always kind, helpful and ready to cooperate. This is my first interview with YN, but also Harry Styles, who is YN’s husband.

“We’ve been married, what, about seven months?” YN wondered, looking at Harry, who was cuddling their nine-month-old son.

“Seven months and fourteen days exactly, time flies.”

“He’s better with dates than me,” YN countered with a smile.

The wedding was small, held in this very house, I’ve been for the last few hours. Closest family and friends, sleeping Bee in the first row attended the ceremony, which then transferred to a dinner with Stevie Nicks performing. After my question of why they didn't announce it to the public, Harry took over the wheel, “there was no need to. It was something very private, personal to us. It uhm it still feels wrong to talk about with you, no offence.” No offence was taken. “Well-known people usually don’t have the privilege to protect their private life. It’s impressive for how long you did it,” I responded. “It’s sad. But we made it work.”

Enjoy the rest of the interview and learn about YN and Harry’s relationship, their future plans, YN’s new album and Harry’s next film role.

TJ: Coming back to the privacy, what tipped the weight on the scales to accept our interview?

YN: Good question. I think - well - I think after I decided to do the HalfTime Show it was bound to happen. There was no way I could hide my huge belly. Laughs. It just came up one evening and we were like “fuck it, let’s do it”.

TJ: HalfTime Show, how was it?

YN: Exhausting. It’s not easy dancing with this big of a belly, especially when you know that your child is right there. There - we had some second thoughts when I started to near the seven month mark. Just like with Bee my belly got quite big - which I love to see, hate to manoeuvre - I mean my back and legs are hurting me non stop. But going back to the topic - umm - yeah. The decision was hard, but we made it together.

TJ: Harry, you came to the show right after winning everything you could on the BRITs. Congratulations, by the way!

Harry: Thank you. Blushing. Ehmm, yeah, in the beginning we decided to be together at the show. I actually didn’t want to be at the BRITs but YN bought me a plane ticket. Laughs. Yeah, I just flew to Glendale the day of the show to support my wife.

TJ: How was the dancing on the platforms, YN?

YN: Terrifying. But I was harnessed and secure.

TJ: If you let me, I want to ask you about your first meeting. Was it actually the 2013 MTV awards?

YN: It was. Ten - oh my lord - ten years ago. It’s crazy!

TJ: How was it?

YN: I don’t remember the award show, just eating some oranges form a cute stranger behind me and then giving him my number. Which he lost.

TJ: No, you didn’t!

Harry: I did, I did lose the YN YSN phone number. My mates - my band mates - teased me for months about it. It was scary, actually.

TJ: And when did you meet next?

YN: When was it? December 2015?

Harry: Yeah. I may or may not have made my bandmates perform FourFive Seconds during our Live Lounge set, and it just sprinted from there.

YN: I DMed him after being shown that video by my younger sister. And that DM is actually framed and hang in Harry’s home studio.

TJ: What was it?

Harry: “I guess it took collaborating with Paul McCartney to have you give me a hint.”

TJ: And you started from there?

YN: And never looked back.

TJ: It wasn’t the last time you performed YN’s song, was it? Wild Thoughts?

YN: Laughing. I love this!

Harry: That was our first - let’s say - crumb to give people about us.

TJ: Please elaborate.

YN: I wrote my verses in Wild Thoughts with Harry in mind, let’s be real. He was my inspiration and has been since the moment we’ve started seeing each other. But it was Harry’s idea to cover it. I loved it and he did it beautifully, like always.

TJ: I assume your albums are about YN?

Harry: Smiles.

TJ: Okay, I understand. Let’s move on. YN, when we are in the topic of music -

YN: Oh no. My fans sent you, didn’t they?!

TJ: I’m one of them! When can we expect something? A crumb even.

YN: Two months. I - I have a full album written. Don’t know if my fans will like it, it’s - it’s different from anything I’ve done already. It’s something more rock, I’d say. With R&B of course. I couldn’t abandon my favourite genre. There are a few collaborations, Lift Me Up is there, too, a few notes sprouted all over the tracks maybe meaning something. Smirking. I really want them all to like it, but I wouldn't blame them if they didn’t. That’s just the way of how things could go.

TJ: I love it already.

Harry: It’s very beautiful. Personal and deep.

TJ: Harry, you’ve just won twoGrammy awards. Congratulations. But I want to ask you about acting. Do you have something, a script that you want to take part in bringing up to live?

Harry: Thank you. Uhm. Right now I’m touring and whenever the baby is born, we’re stopping. Time for family is the most important thing in my life.

TJ: Thank you for talking with me and welcoming us to your home.

The day you’re reading this interview - when it is published - YN already dropped her album. It probably is no. 1 on Billboard and breaking records. And if not? Be ready to listen to new music from YN - it’s closer than ever.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fake ig #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #singer!reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction

572 notes · View notes

heeracha · 2 years

Text

## buy one, take me. — l. heeseung

synposis: with his best friend asking him for help because said best friend was scared he wasn't "boyfriend material" enough, heeseung looks for flower shops for his best friend's girlfriend. thankfully, jake knows someone from the university who has an aunt that owns a flower shop, you. now, heeseung messages you and shyly, but shamelessly asks if he can get any promos or discounts to which you shamelessly answered him, "buy one, take me". heeseung doesn't pass on this, of course. after all, you are pretty damn cute.

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

content/genre: college au, slowburn, fluff, angst and crack, smau.

warning(s): swearing, of course. and as always, i'll put it in every chap if there's something you need to look out for.

note: yes, blod-talicized for slowburn because this is already planned out three years ago (but for another idol) anyway !! i'm excited to share this, my ass had been wanting to post this,,,,,, i already have the ending i just really need to do from part eleven up to,,,, that. so here you go. T_T okay, if i suddenly ghost again FLOOD ME MESSAGES/ASKS/IDC WHAT TO FINISH IT. TAGLIST CLOSE.

tags: r.asks: botm, botm updates, botm thoughts

sample texts. / playlist.

profiles. / profiles two. / profiles three.

ep 1. — the pilot.

ep 2. — the bf problem.

ep 3. — the help from jake.

ep 4. — the promo.

ep 5. — the benefit of jeongin.

ep 6. — the availing of the promo.

ep 7. — the two introverts.

ep 8. — the era of reporter sunoo.

ep 8.2. — the dog cafe.

ep 9. — the look. what look?

ep 10. — the panicking of heeseung.

ep. 11 — the time heeseung decides to trust y/n.

ep 12. — the real heey/n friendship era.

ep 13. — the star stamp.

ep 14. — the late night in the flower shop.

ep 15. — the biggest cliché.

ep 16. — the text-snapping of y/n.

ep 17. — the weekend of heeseung without y/n.

ep 18. — the two am ride.

ep 19. — the stupidity.

ep 20. — the time y/n blocked heeseung.

ep 21. — the whipped y/n.

ep 22. — the painful sight (according to riki).

ep 23. — the library.

ep 24. — the dog café pt 2.

ep 25. — the frustration of jungwon and sunoo.

ep 26. — the flowers and bambi sticker.

ep 27. — the pretty dense boy texting y/n.

ep 28. — the message from jay.

ep 29. — the look heey/n give.

ep 30. — the pet name.

ep 31. — the switch up.

ep 32. — the no more denial.

ep 33. — the time seungmin called y/n 'sweetie'.

ep 34. — the way y/n sensed it again.

ep 35. — the talk.

ep 36. — the halfway there.

ep 37. — the another lame line.

ep 38. — the time heeseung accidentally kissed y/n.

ep 39. — the drive-in.

ep 40. — the flour and eggs.

ep 41. — the favorite view.

ep 42. — the one time they used their main accs.

ep 43. — the origami flower bouquet.

ep 44. — the stressed gf.

ep 45. — the plane plan.

ep 46. — the time y/n isn't teasing with heeseung.

ep 47. — the time when everything is "fine".

ep 48. — the time heeseung forgot.

ep 49. — the fight.

ep 50. — the graduation.

ep 51. — the flower arrangement on the cashier.

ep 52. — the favorite flower of heeseung.

ep 53. — the fact that heeseung is still jealous.

ep 54. — the supposed three year anniversary of heey/n.

ep 55. — the bubble chat turned blue.

ep 56. — the dumb flowers.

ep 57. — the time y/n finally replied.

ep 58. — the rehearsal dinner.

ep 59. — the flowers weren't dumb after all.

ep 60. — the lifetime promo.

bonus. — the matching icons.

bonus 2. — the pettiness of flower and seungie.

bonus 3. — the one where heeseung thought y/n's leaving.

bonus 4. — the one with heeseung's doe eyes.

alternative ending. — the one when y/n almost stayed.

marriage discount; p. sunghoon [ fem!reader ]. — after endless of weddings that sunghoon attends to, he's been spending non-stop. so, upon hearing about a discount for married people even if it's just in the dry cleaners, sunghoon tells the employee that the girl, who happens to be you, walked in in the shop is his wife. even if he doesn't know you.

heeracha, 2022.

#OMG SECOND HEE SMAU RAWR LIKE I PROMISED WONT BE AS ANGSTY AS YMTM #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen smau #enhypen social au #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung reactions #heeseung fluff #heeseung au #heeseung social media au #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader

4K notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 5 months

Text

[ 3tan11/3tan12 ] woot woot! final decisions have been made and i’m excited to share them bc my brain and body just took the biggest dang sigh of relief😅

3tan11 will be its own part now, and what was supposed to be the second half will now be 3tan12 to make tagging things easier!

3tan11 will be posted on sunday (12/3), and the word count is 17.7k final draft before serious editing (which i will take the rest of tonight and this weekend to do)

3tan12 is currently 10k and will end up around 15-17k, making both a whopping 34-35k total😭 hence the need for more time to really make sure each part is done the best way possible!

this being said, 3tan12 doesn’t have a definitive posting date bc i wanna post it when i am happy with it, but i have a strong feeling it will still drop within the month or early january🍊

yoongi’s interlude: fugue is still slated to be posted after both 3tan11 and 3tan12🤍

honestly, y’all, it’s just been a week💀 there’s been a bunch of Life happening to sum it up. but i’m realizing that i’m forcing a lot of this out just to meet a deadline that can most certainly move and change. now that i’m giving myself real time, both halves are gonna be infinitely more thought out and cared for before posting. which is better for y’all in the end.

i love you all very much. and the hope is that you will be able to feel even just a sliver of that sentiment with each half of this arc🫂 on sunday, take time to read the first part and digest, and then we can all take a breather before the second one drops❤️‍🩹

#gahhhhh I’m really relieved!#we can have a drop day still!#and then the second part will be a quick follow up drop🥳#thank you all for being so patient #it means the world #*ryenfictalk #3tan11 #3tan12 #3tanotes

171 notes · View notes

the-writer-ofthe-fandoms · 4 months

Text

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

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Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

------

Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917, @trawberry-fire , @dreamy-caramel, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen imagine #twilight #twilight saga #twilight edward #twilight edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #silent cosmos

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machiten · 1 year

Text

thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

#genshin impact #scaramouche #genshin headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #angst #sumeru #kaedehara kazuha #aether #genshin kazuha #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact imagines #wanderer #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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ibtisams · 10 days

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I’m a bit confused abt your hunger strike. I absolutely support Palestinian liberation and understand the point of protest (violent or otherwise), including the self immolation of Aaron Bushnell. What I don’t get is what your hunger strike would like, do? In Bushnell’s case, specifically being a military member publically doing this act of extreme protest can have a clear impact (at least to the public, maybe not policy), but I’m genuinely not sure what a random person on tumblr deciding not to eat for a few dags in the name of Palestinian liberation is supposed to accomplish. I hope this doesn’t come off as too antagonistic, I just don’t get it

I feel like I explained it pretty well in my post that I am doing this for personal reasons and for my own beliefs. Obviously there is no end result where someone says “Okay Ibtisam, now they you’ve been on a hunger strike for 15 days things will change!” This is for solidarity for those in Palestine that have no choice but to starve, and it’s a way to raise money for Anera which is an organisation that is currently getting food into Gaza right now. I just see the photos that keep coming out of children that have not eaten in months while I know that I can eat 3 or more meals a day without even thinking twice. We are all taking so much for granted right now, and if I have an opportunity to change that why wouldn’t I?

If you don’t feel guilty everyday and have the urge to do something about it, then that’s on you I guess. I’m not demanding or asking or even wanting everyone in the world to go on a hunger strike because I am, but I am asking why it’s so hard for you to understand why I would even want to do something like this.

Here’s a link for you to donate to Anera

#this ask did not come across in good faith sorry

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blueballsracing · 9 days

Note

Can u help me understand Lestappen please? I’m trying to get into it because it’s a popular ship and I don’t want to miss out on great fics and stuff.

But I see Tumblr posts of MV and CL that scream “HEART EYES” or “HUSBANDS” and…I don’t see it. I can’t suspend my disbelief. Like I get they’ve been competing for 20 years or whatever but I don’t get anything other than profesh respect. And when we regularly see how they are with other people, like MV with Daniel or Lando, or CL with Carlos, Lestappen looks even worse.

Can you please help me see the Lestappen light?

hi anon! lemme break it down for ya. the reason why lestappen is such a popular ship is bc not only of the mutual respect that they have for each other, but the history they have, and their interactions have been pretty cute and all.

even max and lando don't really interact that much, and lando goes as far as to say that "he's not my bff, don't ever say that again" when asked about him and max's relationship. and max with daniel–well, max has always loved daniel and had a crush on that man since his first days in f1 so... different dynamic for sure. charles with carlos interactions... they are cute and all but i think their racing dynamics are just so awkward? esp i think that the ferrari politics deffo affected their relationship and all. cross-team dynamics between charles and max have a nice dynamic, but i'll break down some of the key events

lestappen lore timeline!

2012 - when the inchident occurs - you just need to watch this video. it's just so funny. no words can explain this 😭

2014 - when max essentially recommends charles to race for his old f3 team, van amersfoort racing, a dutch team. and the team boss had a lot of positive things to say about the two <3

2019 - the singapore flag incident... mr. i know geography and i love flags SOMEHOW doesn't know the difference between the singapore flag and the monaco flag

2019 - when we get to austria 2019. essentially, charles is about to win his FIRST ever f1 gp with 3 laps to go, and max pushes charles off track, overtaking him and eventually winning. charles is FURIOUS on the podium. and then they have to share a plane back home but max is all like "oh yeah we're good! 😊 he's talented and he will have his first win this year for sure! we have at least 15-20 years of racing together still! 😊" and then on the plane charles unfollows max. max does the same 😭

2022 - jumping forward to austria 2022, when charles wins the race! and they have this GAY ASS PODIUM

austria is lestappen holy ground.

2020 - when we get this wonderful clip of sebastian asking whether or not charles thinks max is pretty.

seb: is he pretty? charles: *giggles and then silence* OH WAIT. i thought you said 'is he british?' i was like, that's not physical... *panicked leg shake* i don't know!!! *laughs again*

charles not wanting to answer if max is pretty... we should take that as a yes <3

2021 - the year of their baku love tree <3 according to an old turkish custom, when a couple get married, they plant a tree together, and they water it to symbolize their marriage and their hope for leading a happy and beautiful life!

and then jumping forward to 2023 in baku, they have the SAME IDENTICAL TIME during first runs in q3. only max is first bc he did his lap first.

2022 - cota! before the press conference they talk and max goes "fresh again?" and charles starts GIGGLING. like yeah we know u were drunk celebrating 🙄

2022 - secret santa! when charles has max for secret santa and this guy just. gives him f1 2022. with THREE OF HIS FACES. and has a card and writes "one edition for my BIGGEST FAN." not normal about this at ALL.

2023 - charles admits to drinking red bull after he couldn't say in an interview but then likes a tweet later 😭

2023 - paddelgate. max loses to charles in october

and then they're supposed to play together in december!

but then... Max stays up until 4 am the night before the match (doing a 24 hour charity stream) and sleeps in and misses the entire event. 🙁

ok i could literally go on and on about them but i'm going to end it here with a couple quotes:

"Of course I have a lot of respect for Max. He has done very well and I have a lot of respect for what he has achieved. When we drove in karts, we dreamed of Formula 1 together and here we are now! He has the title I won and I have a lot of respect for that."

"I always thought that, if I'd make it to F1, Charles would also make it."

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #my posts #f1 fandom #f1blr #asks #lestappen lore

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holykratos · 10 months

Text

Professor’s Dilemma

Leon Kennedy/Reader

Summary: Based off an AI audio on TikTok ;) reader’s phone is going off during class, taking pictures of Professor Kennedy without his permission. The ringing is incessant, and Kennedy’s patience can only last so long. (ib: @/xkeiira on tt!)

Warnings: Smut, Rough, 18+ (I know none of yall abide by that but think abt it <3), deepthroating, penetration, degradation, slight humiliation, slight (but not really) unconsensual touching, slight hate sex (but also not really)

(Y/N)’s first day of university was supposed to be all glimmer and shines—almost Elle Wood’s esque, at least in her imagination. The campus dazzled passerby’s like a shiny ring, and students could only marvel at the very buildings they were able to step into everyday. Her expectations were extremely high, and she set her expectations on her professors even higher.

Her eyes scanned across her bland schedule sheet, skimming every class with disinterested. ‘Thompson on English 101, Ford on Communications 113, Kennedy on Criminology 111…’ She thought to herself, head tilting in slight amusement and boredom. College was incredibly important to her, yes, but her schedule for today wasn’t interesting. She lamented over English for days, dreading to her roommates about her professor from hell whom had already assigned essay’s on the first week. Communications was okay—besides the communicating part, she couldn’t complain. Criminology was slightly new: she was aware that another professor had switched in recently, hence making the start of the class later. Originally, she was to start a week ago, but it was offset by the large—and apparently sudden—change.

She groaned haughtily, staring at her watch with disdain. It was 11:00–15 minutes from Kennedy’s first class. She stood up slowly, stretching her bones and shining a small smile to the science building ahead. “Alright, criminology, let’s give this a go…” She whispered, smirking mischievously at the students flooding into the building.

As everyone sat down, (Y/N) grew incredibly anxious. Her Professor was to arrive 5 minutes ago—the lecture was 2 hours long, and she’d immensely prefer to not be late for her daily nap session. Just as she was about to grab her books and ditch the first day, the two wooden doors of the classroom slowly bleared. The creaked and groaned with the weight of a push, a muscular arm protruding from the doorwar. A man slowly sauntered in, large duffel bag in hand and a plain baby blue button-up shirt on. His dirty blonde locks swayed in the wind, tussling along his slightly glistening forehead. (Y/N) was no less than mesmerized, staring into his cold blue eyes that held nothing but discomfort but determination. She could tell he was nervous, but ready to educate nontheless. ‘What a sweet man,’ She thought offhandedly, smiling softly as she watched his arms flex under his bag.

He reached his post, setting his bag down and clearing his throat. “Good morning everyone, my name is Leon Kennedy. I am a previous police officer, as well as a retired DSO agent. I’ve been active in the force generally for more than 20 years-“

A hand raised.

Leon stared perplexed, wondering how a student could already have a question. He pointed towards the girl, dressed in plaid and cheap hairpins, he noted cruelly. “How old are you, sir?”

He grimaced at the title, smiling slightly in discomfort. “I’m 40, and Professor Kennedy is fine. Anyways, I-“

Another hand.

He sighed, pointing to a man in the back, an excited smile on the latter’s face. “Are you married, Professor Kennedy?!”

He groaned, slapping a palm on the side of his face in annoyance. He’d only been speaking for 30 seconds, how could they fire these now? “No, I’m not—but this isn’t exactly an appropriate question now, is it?”

The student shook his head, a small smirk on his face regardless. Kennedy cleared his throat once more, serving a restrained smile to the students. “Now, as I was saying-“

Ping.

Kennedy was about to snap.

He turned over angrily to the recipient of the message, staring at a woman with beautiful, silky hair, textured and defined in it’s own way. He stopped for a moment, staring into the girl’s eyes—she was nervous, understanding that she’d been caught with her phone out. His breath hitched slightly at her parted lips, and he turned away quickly, grasping his jaw in shame. ‘Am I still in puberty or somethin’?’ He thought, grimacing at the thought. He turned back around, a small glare on his face. “Turn the phone off—I better not see it again.” He ordered, staring at her as she embarrassingly shut off her phone, slowly shoving it into her bag.

Kennedy was able to get 15 more minutes into the lecture before he heard a small snap, and a phone ping once more. He froze, turning to the girl from earlier. (Y/N), he noted from his attendance sheet, a small frown forming on his face. “Hey, phone off. What did I say earlier?” He said in a disappointed tone, almost like an unapproving father.

“Sorry, Professor Kennedy…” She apologized softly, tucking her phone into her bag once more. He shivered at her words, unexpectedly reacting to the mention of his title quite well. It sounded different coming from her—more alluring, more telling. He shook his head, turning back to the board and furrowing his brows. ‘Ignore her, she’s a student…’ His brows furrowed harder, the chalk in his hand smashing into bits from his built up annoyance—not only at the girl, but at himself. He sighed, grabbing another piece of chalk and writing messily on the board.

Another 20 minutes passed of peace and lecture, before one last ring was caught. And this time, she was caught mid message, a hand slamming down onto her text almost seconds after the initial ring. He glared at her deeply, veins protruding on his forehead from anger. “Everyone’s dismissed—out, now.” He called angrily, scanning the room as students stood in bewilderment, slowly flooding out of the room. (Y/N) slowly rose from her own seat, slowly gripping her bag before a hand placed itself on her shoulder, a small growl leaving the professor’s throat. “Not you, you stay.”

She gulped nervously, sitting down silently in her seat. When all of the students slowly left, Kennedy beconned her over to his desk, motioning to the seat in front of it. She took a seat, fiddling with the straps on her bag in anxiety. “I-I’m really sorry, Professor Kennedy, it was an emergency and—“

“Shut it.”

This ceased all conversation for a moment as Kennedy tacked at his keyboard, pulling up her file and information. “(Y/N) (L/N), 20, science major…” He read out slowly, scanning his eyes down the entirety of the file. She quirked a brow at him, unsure of why he would be searching her so fervently—and in front of her. “Okay, show me your phone. Let’s see this emergency, shall we?”

(Y/N) froze, a heavy blush forming on her face. “W-What? My phone? I-I can’t show you, it’s personal!” She nervously stuttered, looking away from the man and his domineering aura.

“No, look at me. Let me see your phone, or I’ll fail you for your first day.” He said strictly, reaching a hand out and grabbing her chin, pulling it towards him. “Now, give it to me.”

She frowned, eyes downturned towards her phone. She sighed, unlocking it and pulling up the messages. ‘This might be the most embarrassing of thing I’ve done,’ She thought anxiously, foot tapping against the floor.

He sighed, an accomplished smile forming on his face as he scanned through the messages. This face slowly morphed into one of embarrassment, shame, and heavy—heavy lust. In her messages contained multiple pictures of his backside and front, with replies such as “I’d hit that”, “You think he’d pull my hair?” and “I want him to leave me unable to walk” with various emojis. His face glowed a bright red, clearing his throat in shame as he set his phone down. His pants were becoming incredibly tight, and he couldn’t bear the restriction any longer, an evil thought brewing in his mind. He smirked at her, slowly handing her the phone, brushing his fingers over hers purposefully. “Y’know, I should report you for this—this behavior isn’t normal, and to take pictures of me without my consent is almost abhorrent.”

She frowned, small tears forming at the corners of her eyes. ‘What a baby…’ He thought with a malicious smirk, eyes glinting as he watched droplets fall from her beautiful eyes. ‘She’d look better crying on my cock.’ “I’m so sorry, Professor—I swear, I’ll take any punishment you give, I really am sorry.” She turned her head towards her lap, tears still dripping from her eyes.

The chair ruffled, and Leon sat up properly, patting his thigh. “C’mere—since you wanna take picture so bad.”

She slowly stood, perplexed but body warming as she approached. He grabbed her hands, softly rubbing his thumb along her knuckles almost lovingly. He smirked up at her confused eyes, standing for a moment to push her down to her knees. He grabbed her phone, sliding open the camera app and setting it down as he unbuckled his belt, much to her surprise.

“W-Wait, professor-“

“Shut up. Unless you want to be on academic probation your first year, you’re gonna sit pretty, understand?”

She gulped, face flaming in embarrassment and arousal. Though she was incredibly nervous, she couldn’t deny she didn’t want this. It was her end goal, truly, but she didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. She inched her own hands forward, fiddling with his button and zipper. She released them slowly—teasingly—as she stared at him with a sultry expression, eyes twinkling in mischief. “Alright, professor—let’s make a movie then.” She teased, sliding her tongue along the outside of his boxers. He groaned, fingers maneuvering into her hair, gripping as she pressed light kisses against his covered shaft.

“Stop teasing, you slut,” He growled, pressing her face against his bulge. “Suck it—after all, you wanted my punishments so badly. Do it properly, or else.” He stated strictly, eyes lidded and face red as he kept grinding her face against his bulge. She pulled back slowly, hands still kept on her scalp, pulling his boxers down. His cock sprang free, bouncing slightly against his covered chest. Pre-cum stained his baby blue button-up, soaking through the fabric almost immediately. He hissed at the sudden cold air, a smirk forming. “Cmon now, baby, suck.”

She nodded, almost mesmerized, slowly wrapping her lips around the tip of his cock. She suckled the head, lips and tongue wrapping around the start of the shaft as she slowly worked her way down. Kennedy groaned, hands gripping her hair tightly as he resisted the urge to fully face throttle her. He wanted to enjoy her little licks and teases so he could pay her back tenfold, but he couldn’t bring himself to—not when he’d already been teased for so long (5 minutes). He chuckled, hands gripping her hair tightly and shoving her head down, moaning loudly as she gagged and choked against his cock. Her arms flailed, finding purchase on his thighs and squeezing harshly on his bare skin. He moaned louder as he quickly rocked her head, tears almost filling his eyes at the intensity.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth’s so good—shit.” He cursed, pushing her head down closer to his shaft. She reached the bottom, gagging and choking as her hands slowly lifted to touch his balls. She sucked desperately—whatever she could reach—and moaned as he continuously shoved her head down. She adored the rough treatment, and could only wait patiently as she prepared mentally for the main event. Her core throbbed and her pussy grew incredibly wet, soaking through her underwear. She groaned as she felt a shoe lift underneath her, the tip of a brown martin rubbing against her lips. She squealed against his cock, feeling his shoe rub back and forth, a deep chuckle leaving his lips in response. “Yeah? You like that? Like my dirty shoe rubbing against your pussy?” He laughed, shoving her head down harder onto his cock. He bobbed her head harder, loud moans leaving his mouth as he came closer to cumming. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty whore—my dirty whore.” He moaned out, saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth. He thrusted a few more times before thrusting into her throat hard, holding her head flat against his pelvis. She choked and sputtered, smacking at his thighs as his cum flooded her throat.

She pulled back immediately as he let go, coughing and hacking. The cum in her mouth saturated on her tongue, and she grimaced, ready to spit it out when a strong hand gripped her jaw. She whined, turning towards Leon with her mouth wide open. He gazed at her cum soaked tongue, smiling devilishly. “Swallow it, now. Don’t waste a drop.” He chided, eyes lidded in enjoyment. He spit onto her tongue in addition, tapping her cheek, signaling for her to close and swallow.

She shamefully closed her mouth, swallowing the various liquids in her mouth. She groaned as the salty tastes cascaded against her taste buds, eyes crinkling in disgust. “Salty…” She whispered, rubbing her mouth of the sweat and extra cum. Kennedy only laughed, pulling her to her feet and slowly pulling off her shirt.

“Lift your arms baby, let me see you.” He whispered softly, smiling as she relented and allowed him to remove her shirt. He immediately moved to her bra, embracing her momentarily to reach around. She almost moaned as she felt his bare and slowly hardening cock press against her, and she swore to herself she couldn’t handle waiting any longer. But, it wasn’t worth pissing him off and not getting dicked down at all.

Once her bra was removed, he repositioned them, slowly laying her down onto his desk. He frivolously swiped his arm across the desk, moving a lamp and stacks of papers. She laid down, back aching as she tried positioning herself correctly. Leon wasted no time in undressing her fully, pulling down her pants as soon as she was laid down. He trailed his fingers along her neck, moving to her chest and circling her pebbled nipples. She moaned as he prodded and pinched, a smirk plastered on his face the entire time. “Smug bastard…” She mumbled, moaning as he pinched incredibly hard. “Fuck!”

“Say that again, slut.” He squeezed again, leaning down and taking the other one into his mouth with a harsh suck. “Insult me again—I dare you.”

She kept quiet, moaning as he placed kisses and suckled on her chest and sensitive parts of her neck, slowly trailing down to her panties which he hadn’t removed. His fingers delicately danced around her pelvis, drawing circles on her inner thighs and slowly onto her lips. She gasped, feeling the cold panties press against her. Her core throbbed harder, muscles spasming as immense pleasure filled her. “Sensitive from just a few touches—you’re so cute, baby.” He mocked, pressing kisses to her panties. She moaned loudly as his lips made contact with her covered pussy, eyes shooting open in pleasure.

“F-Fuck… more, please, Professor,” She pleaded, wrapping a hand into his hair and tugging softly. He chuckled, teeth grabbing onto her panties and slowly pulling down. He tugged all the way to her knees, using his hands to finish the rest.

“I want you to be good for me baby—I’m not gonna let you off easy, so just be good and there will be no punishment after, okay?” He smiled softly, stroking her cheek gently. ‘After…?’ She thought excitedly, nodding almost too eagerly.

“Yes, Professor,” She whispered in a sultry tone, leaning up to match the height to his face. She placed small kisses at the corner of his mouth, reaching them towards his neck and ear. He moaned softly, breathing heavily in her ear as she continued her ministrations. He grew tired, resistance faltering, and he couldn’t bear not being inside of her any longer. Preparation be damned—she’d be made to take him. She felt the tip prod at her entrance, and she squealed, slightly drawing back in surprise. “W-Wait, won’t fit—“ She tried to plead, but her cries fell on deaf ears, and he slowly hammered his way into her pussy.

“Fuck, so god damn tight, baby,” He groaned loudly, pulling her into an embrace as he bullied his way in. She almost howled in pain and immense pleasure, a stinging sensation bullying her cunt. She groaned as he finally settled in, practically sitting in his arms. She breathed heavily, trying to regain her strength and sanity as he slowly pulled out. She worriedly looked down, wondering why he had left, before she launched back, head hanging off the desk with her mouth agape. He shoved himself back into her quickly, wildly rocking himself back in forth in her tight entrance.

“God, you’re such a good whore—all mine, baby, I can’t let you go after this.” He laughed sorely, hands gripping her waist so tight it’d have left bruises. She whined loudly, grabbing into his shoulders with haste.

“Fuck, fuck! So big, professor-“ She choked out, moaning as he continued thrusting, balls slapping harshly against her ass. “Too much, fuck!”

Kennedy laughed cruelly, hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing tightly. “Take it baby, take it—you can do it, you will do it.” He remarked, a crazed grin playing onto his lips. His eyes showed nothing but pure lust and admiration, hearts almost forming in his eyes. One lick of pussy had him drawn in, and he wasn’t willing to let go of a gold mine like this. He thrusted harder, loud moans escaping his lips as he gripped her throat hard, watching the breath leave her form. He released her, laughing as she frantically gulped down air before grabbing hold again, thrusting frantically into her.

He could almost cry from how good he felt—both the blowjob and now, he was truly addicted. One taste of an elixir and he was hooked, unable to think of anything else besides the beauty he was inside. He was purely pussy drunk. “God you’re so tight, fuck, this hole’s all mine. You��re gonna be my fucktoy—stick you under this desk and make you suck my dick as I teach the class.” He stuttered slightly, words wavering as he came closer to cumming. He felt her constrict around her, and he almost burst out laughing, a cruel smile appearing. “You like the sound of it? Like the risk of getting caught by your classmates? Naughty bitch.” He hissed, thrusting into her sore body even harder. She cried out, eyes closing tightly as tears streamed down her face.

“M’ gonna cum, please, please, please,” She pleaded, hand reaching down to rub her clit. It was harshly smacked away only moments later, a rougher hand replacing it with slow circles.

“Think you deserve to cum, baby? You’ve been so bad all day—distracting the class with your horny mind. Do bad girls really deserve to cum, huh?” He questioned, slowly his thrusts but still deepening them. He grinned as tears fell down her face quicker, small whines leaving her lips.

“Please, oh god, please Professor,” She cried, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise, please make me cum!”

He shook his head, gently rocking into her body. “Mm mm, not good enough baby. Give me more.”

“Fuck, Leon, please fuck me! I need your cock to make me cum, please, only you could have me like this,” She pleaded, watery eyes staring into his.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before he smirked, pulling back and slamming into her. He pistoned wildly against her hips, moans leaving the pair as they both approached rapidly to their climax. “Gonna fucking cum inside, shit—gonna breed this naughty pussy.”

She almost screamed at his words, walls contracting around his as she came all over his cock. “Fuck, inside, please,” She whined loudly, lower half shaking in aftershocks. He grinned, thrusting harder until he eventually slammed against her, a loud moan ripping from his throat. Cum flooded into her sensitive pussy, dripping down her thighs and onto his pelvis. He groaned, pulling out of her slowly and smacking her ass.

“Best pussy I’ve had in forever. Hope you know you won’t be leaving anytime soon, sweetheart.” He smirked, pulling her hair behind her ears as she blinked in and out of sleep. She only smiled softly back, whispering, “Wasn’t planning on it, professor.”

This is my first thing I’ve posted on heree ;) Would anyone like to see anything else? Might also cross post to AO3!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #re4 leon #leon smut #resident evil #re4 remake #smut #x reader #reader insert

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