#it feels so silly bc i’ll act normal All Day and feel fine but then the second i’m alone i have such sudden meltdowns

[diffenbachiae]

i lost my loop earbuds on monday and have been steadily losing my mind throughout the week and today my coteacher last-minute changed almost EVERY DETAIL of our plans and then unexpectedly had me drive back by myself using a route i’ve never driven before. i just got home, attempted to do the dishes, touched wet food, screamed and threw my phone, immediately felt childish and silly and ridiculous for reacting that way, and then rush ordered new loop earbuds. #autisticteacherthings

[forever-rogue]

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration. 

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts. 

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others. 

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better. 

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him. 

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time. 

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine  - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries. 

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it. 

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed. 

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally. 

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[ayellowcurtain]

Sobbe fight. Robbe regrets it and texts Sander who agrees to forget about it. He then tells Robbe he’s going on a two-week long school trip and distance may do both of them some good. During the trip, Robbe follows him on ista and texts him, Sander replies laconically without the usual doting tone. Robbe feels insecure bc things are still evidently tense between the two. When Sander returns, he still doesn’t reach out. Robbe decides to talk face to face. Sander confesses he’s been having doubts about showing affection so openly, that Robbe thinks his grand gestures are a bit too much. Robbe tells him to stop being silly, he loves him the way he is and appreciates what he does for him. They have a hand on heart talk, they communicate honestly and make up completely.

Robbe could recognize his own symptoms: back to overthinking everything, feeling the urgent need to always do the right thing for everyone. He wishes it was easy to change his mindset and start acting normally again, but everything was pilling up and he exploded with the one person he knows he shouldn’t. It wasn’t even a big fight, Robbe thinks he knows a thing or two about how those ones really are, based on the years he had hearing his parents fight and then fighting with his dad for leaving.

But he could tell Sander didn’t like the way Robbe lashed out on him after another day of Robbe working very hard editing a video for Jens until late at night, watching his friends having fun without even inviting him, just sending him the videos for him to edit for their stupid channel. 

Sander made a joke about how Robbe was still Jen’s horny lapdog and he lost it, saying he was just trying to help his stupid friend get his dumb video uploaded and for Sander to stop acting like Robbe was the one horny for someone else back in the day.

And the look Sander gave him after, and the hours-long silence were more than enough signs for Robbe to understand he had overreacted, and even that’s an understatement. Sander barely talked to him, they slept apart from each other on Robbe’s bed and when he woke up, Sander was gone. No note, no text, he left without saying goodbye.

He was a little upset to be left behind like that, but he didn’t argue, looking at his phone for a minute before sending a few texts to his boyfriend.

to Sander: hey

I’m sorry about last night. I was so stupid and didn’t mean what I said.

I was just angry and lashed out on you

I’m so so sorry,

Let me know when you’re free and if I can go to your place tonight…

I love you, Sander

Robbe waited, bitting his nails, but Sander didn’t respond right away. He checked his phone again when he got up, a few times during breakfast and one time before shower and another one before leaving the house to go to school.

Sander hadn’t responded, he hadn’t even read the messages, any of them. He’s not one to make Robbe wait for a reply, but Robbe tries not to think about it while in school, trying to focus on his classes. He walks to his bike with Jens, but he doesn’t feel like talking. He’s done with the video and today he just wants to fix things with Sander, not bothering to worry about Jens and his worried looks.

He reads the messages he sent again when he gets home, walking around in circles inside his bedroom not to worry his mom. It was dumb to invite himself to go to Sander’s place and Robbe feels self conscious, thinking about deleting that message since Sander hasn’t read any of them yet.

Robbe sits on his bed when he starts getting dizzy after walking for so long in such a small space. He doesn’t want to talk to his mom, to answer her million questions if he tells her what happened.

He does all his homework for the week, check his notes from every class, and checks his phone every five minutes. At least he’s ahead with everything for the next few days, able to spend time with Sander whenever he feels like it and also has the time. It’s almost the end of the semester and he knows Sander needs some free time these days, not thinking about drawing for once.

Robbe eats his food slowly, trying very hard to act normally around his mom, asking how her day went, how was therapy. Robbe tells her his homework is basically done for the week and that his head is hurting a little so he’ll go to bed early.

She grabs their empty plates and kisses Robbe’s head on her way to the sink, saying he can go rest.

“You deserve it, honey.” She says, playing with his hair and leaving an extra kiss before moving on to clean the rest of the table. Robbe would usually help her anyway, but he accepts not helping her for once and drags himself back to his bedroom just in time.

He smiles to his phone, accepting the video call while he locks his bedroom door.

“Hey, you…” he tries not to sound worried about hearing from Sander almost 12 hours since this morning.

“Hi…” Sander doesn’t look or sound too excited to talk to him. Robbe explains to himself in his head it’s because he’s probably tired, overwhelmed with the end of the semester.

“How was your day?” Robbe sits on his chair, paying attention to his boyfriend. His hair is getting a little long again, like an aura around his head.

“Long, exhausting.” Sander sighs, dropping his bag on his bedroom floor, taking his jacket off, changing his phone from one hand to the other. Robbe bites his lip not to invite himself to go to Sander’s place again.

“Did you get my texts...? I think my phone is dying, might have to buy a new one soon.” Robbe smiles, even though his phone is working just fine.

“Hm, yeah, yeah, I did.” Sander throws himself on his bed, sitting, finally giving Robbe his full attention back, putting his head against his hand, messing his hair a little bit to push it away from his eyes.

“What’s wrong...?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I have to go away for a few days. My teacher needed an assistant for this trip for his exhibition.” Sander sounds annoyed, tired, but also like he decided to go, and it’s letting Robbe know about it before leaving.

“When...are you guys going?”

“Tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Sander says, avoiding to meet Robbe’s eyes, busying taking his boots off.

“So you’re leaving...without even saying goodbye.” Robbe swallows his opinions about it, hating how low and upset he sounds and he knows Sander noticed because he looks up, holding his phone right again.

“Robbe. It’s just for two weeks. We’ve been apart for longer.”

“You couldn’t stop complaining about it during the quarantine.” Sander doesn’t answer, he sighs, annoyed, looking elsewhere and Robbe wants to ask him to look at him and tell the truth, but also apologize if Sander didn’t get that he’s sorry already.

“I think it’ll be good for us...two weeks apart.”

Robbe frowns, caught by surprise with Sander’s desire. He never thought Sander needed some time apart, two full weeks apart by his own choice, “You really think that?”

“Like I said, it’s just for a few days.” Sander shrugs, talking a little more softly like he normally would, making Robbe thinks this is just it, nothing deeper like Sander trying to find an excuse to slowly create a distance between them. 

“You need time, okay. Sorry.” Robbe shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second, “You need time and I’ll wait.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Sander breathes out a laughter that doesn’t meet his worried eyes.

“I’m not. What else can I say? Don’t go because I don’t want to? It seems like a good opportunity and if you say you need time, you need time. That’s it.”

Robbe looks at his empty glass on his nightstand, gently touching it, following the circle at the top, trying to keep himself together. He was an asshole, but he didn’t think it was enough for this reaction. 

“I’ll be back in two weeks, okay?” Robbe can’t talk anymore or he’ll cry like a needy baby so he just nods his head and Sander smiles sadly at him, ending the call.

He lets his phone slip to the ground, the thud not even worrying him. He lies back, pressing his palms against his eyes. And just like that, he won’t see Sander for two whole weeks. 

[mandelene]

Arthur is the one who gets sick and the rest of the FACE family freak out? Whether he’s seriously ill or not is up to you. Bonus if he adamantly denies that he’s sick bc I need a character to project onto 🤣. Have a good week! 💕

Here it is! And I hope you have a wonderful week as well! 💖

Why One Shouldn’t Marry a Stubborn Englishman: A Case Study Word Count: 1424

Although Arthur barely touches his dinner on a Friday evening in mid-October, Francis doesn’t immediately see a reason to worry. His husband’s appetite is finicky at best, and there are days when he is simply too caught up in his own mind to remember to eat. It’s relatively normal behavior, and sometimes, if he pushes around his dinner, he compensates by having a large breakfast the following day. 

But then Saturday morning comes and he doesn’t finish his eggs and toast either. Arthur flips through his weekly edition of The Economist, and pretends not to see the look of disapproval on Francis’s face. And that’s when the worry in Francis’s heart begins to set in. 

He doesn’t even take a sip of tea. It’s tea! Arthur can’t live without his tea. Tea runs through the man’s veins! 

“Is something wrong? You haven’t been eating or drinking anything,” Francis points out, and Alfred and Matthew, who are also seated at the kitchen table, stop talking about their English project and shift their attention to a now flustered Arthur. 

“I’m fine. Not hungry,” Arthur replies shortly, looking down at his magazine and away from them. 

Alfred gives his father a little nudge on the shoulder and adds, “You’ve been acting kinda weird. Are you sick?” 

“You do look a little pale, mon amour.”

“I didn’t know it was a crime to not be hungry,” Arthur snaps, rising from the table. He snatches his magazine and swivels around to leave the kitchen, but that’s when a quiet gasp suddenly escapes him, and he grabs his upper abdomen with one hand. His face betrays a pained grimace, and the hand holding The Economist tightens into a fist. 

The scene triggers alarm bells in Francis’s mind. He sweeps over to Arthur and tries to feel his forehead, but Arthur waves him off and pulls away, insisting that he’s fine and “it’s just indigestion.” 

No one is convinced he’s all right, but Arthur’s stubbornness knows no bounds, and confronting him whenever anything is wrong with him, no matter how big or small, always proves to be a challenge. Matthew offers to get him an antacid from the medicine cabinet, but Arthur rejects that offer and chooses to hide away in his and Francis’s bedroom instead to brood. 

“That definitely didn’t look like indigestion,” Matthew whispers once he’s out of earshot. 

“I know. I’m going to have to fight him for a real answer, as usual,” Francis sighs as he’s picking up Arthur’s plate and bringing it over to the bin. He doesn’t like being wasteful, but if Arthur truly is sick, then it’s best to toss his breakfast away. There’s no chance he’s going to eat it later, and he could be contagious. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll talk to him. He needs a little coaxing sometimes. He can be childish and moody when he’s unwell.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” Alfred notes.

“You could say that again, mon lapin.”

----------------------- 

The denial continues for the rest of the day. When Francis tries to pester Arthur into having something for lunch and suggests some soup or saltines, he is met with hostility yet again. “I’ve already said I’m not bloody hungry.” 

And then, the vomiting begins. While they’re all watching a movie in the living room later that afternoon, Arthur abruptly hurries to the bathroom, holding his stomach once more. Francis trails after him, and Alfred and Matthew come along to watch the drama unfold as well, equally as concerned. 

“Oh, mon cher,” Francis murmurs while Arthur retches, rubbing his husband’s back. With his other hand, he finally feels his forehead and is not at all shocked at the warmth he feels under his fingers. “You’ve caught some sort of stomach bug, haven’t you?”

When Arthur is done and has flushed the toilet, he turns to the sink and rinses his mouth. Clearly, he’s too exhausted and miserable now to be in a position to argue because when Francis takes him by the arm and guides him to bed, he follows him without complaint.

“I’ll bring some sparkling water. It always helps me when I feel nauseous,” Matthew offers, and Francis gives him an appreciative nod. 

“You always tell us ‘rest and fluids’ are the most important things when you’re sick,” Alfred reminds his father, but Arthur merely lets out a small groan as he lies down. 

If this is a stomach bug, then it must be severe because Francis can tell by the expression on Arthur’s face that he’s in a great deal of pain—more pain than one would be in from a simple stomach flu or food poisoning. His right hand is wrapped around his upper abdomen yet again, and his eyes are screwed shut. There are beads of sweat on his brow, and when Francis gently pulls Arthur’s hand away to touch his stomach, Arthur lets out a sharp cry that makes him jump. 

Francis doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in this much agony. Even while ill, Arthur hardly ever lets on how poorly he’s feeling. For him to be in such a state…It’s frightening. 

“He doesn’t look good, Papa,” Alfred says, biting his lip. 

“No, he doesn’t…I think I should take him to the emergency room.” 

At that, Arthur opens his glassy green eyes and grumbles through gritted teeth, “No.” 

“I can’t look at you when you’re like this. You need a doctor, mon amour.” 

“…Don’t need a damned doctor…”  

“Arthur. Be reasonable.” 

Matthew returns with the promised glass of sparkling water, and hands it to Arthur. 

It appears the idea of consuming any liquid makes Arthur turn green with nausea, and he places the glass on the bedside table with another groan.  

“Boys, can you grab one of your father’s coats and a pair of his shoes? I need to get him dressed—I’m taking him to the hospital.”

Arthur shoots him a fierce scowl. “Absolutely not.”  

“I’ve been your husband long enough to know when something warrants a hospital visit. Can you stand?” 

“Of course I can stand, I’m not—”

But when he gets up, the pain flares, and he nearly doubles over. All of the color drains from his face, and Francis has him sit down on the edge of the bed. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. The boys and I will help you to the car. Do you want some ibuprofen or something before we go?” 

“No…” 

He should have seen that response coming. 

--------------------------------------------

It was the right call to bring him in—that’s what Arthur’s nurse in the ER tells Francis and the boys. 

Apparently, the silly oaf is severely dehydrated, so he is quickly started on IV fluids and strong painkillers. It’s assumed he could have appendicitis and that the pain just hasn’t localized to the lower right side of his abdomen yet. But then, a CT scan reveals that his appendix is fine. His pancreas, however, is not. 

Acute pancreatitis. That’s the verdict. The doctor says it was likely caused by the medication he’s been taking for his arthritis—azathioprine. The diagnosis is enough to have him admitted because it’s decided he will have to be on a course of IV antibiotics to clear up the infection. 

“Honestly, only you could have an infected pancreas and claim it was indigestion,” Francis chides him, but he can’t be too angry when he knows Arthur must be feeling awful enough as is. “Fortunately, you should feel all better in a few days, you big idiot.” 

Alfred doesn’t hesitate to scold him as well. “You can’t make us worry like that, Dad. You should have said something sooner.”

“Yeah, no one should have to suffer in silence until they get so sick that they can’t move,” Matthew says, holding Arthur’s left hand, which is where his IV is. “It sounds like it could have gotten a lot worse if left untreated.”

“I thought I had it under control,” is Arthur’s lame defense. 

“Well, hopefully, you’ll think twice next time and ask someone for help. Now get well soon, all right? You know how much I dislike hospitals.” 

“Thank you for putting up with me.” 

Francis smiles and kisses his nose, causing Arthur to wrinkle his face. “Anytime, mon amour. Anytime…I love you. Now, rest. You need it. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Given that he’s already been sapped of most of his energy, falling asleep proves to be an easy task for him, and he’s out in no time.

What a troublesome man. 

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

The thing about Peter Pettigrew's character

Obviously this is my opinion and you are free to disagree.

I think Peter was not this shy and unimportant guy that is shown in the books. Peter was not shy, but he wasn't outgoing like Sirius or James.

Peter was this innocent goofy chap. At first when he was eleven, he had to force himself into the group (the group being James and Sirius), since they thought Remus was a bit weird. James was even annoyed by this chubby kid talking too much and being so nosy. But that's the thing they were kids.

I think that finding out about Remus secret bonded them together. The super close group that we know.

James and Sirius didn't treat Peter badly. They never bullied him or used him. But they didn't treat him very well. Sometimes he was the innocent bloke to prank or make jokes about. As I think any friend group has. And the Marauders didn't mean harm. They never intended to hurt Peter. They were silly TEENAGE boys having fun. And they played pranks within each other. Not only Peter. But I think Peter's reaction was funnier, since he was an innocent baby. Peter didn't seem to mind. He knew his friends loved him and it assured he was important to them, part of the group.

After Hogwarts, things began changing within the Marauders as we know. The girls were part of the group as well. James and Lily were a couple. Sirius and Remus moved in together. In fact everyone had a partner except for him. And it doesn't matter that you headcanon him as Ace, aro, Aroace or whatever, Peter still began feeling lonely. Not necessarily bc he wanted a partner but bc he missed his friends.

Everything went dark and they all had to grow up so fast. To mature fast, because suddenly they were in the middle of the war. And if you think about it, being within a war, affects you mentally. Think about what the pandemic has caused us. The war was the same, even worse. So everyone was affected. In a different way, because they are different people with different personalities.

For Peter was the loneliness, the uncertainty, and fear. I think that Voldemort, or a death eater used the opportunity to brainwash Peter's mind with ideas "Your friends never cared for you" "Your friends never liked you" "They are stronger, more powerful. What are you? They don't want to have anything to do with you". Think about what the horrocrux did to Ron. Voldemort was a master legilimence. And partly his mind agreed. He had a very low self-esteem, he was very insecure. And the "attitude" that the Marauders presented, didn't deny it. They all had their worries. James with his new family, the baby. And Wolfstar was a chaos by this point. Everyone was paranoic and scared. But perhaps Peter took it as a reinforce of his insecurities. The Marauders didn't like him anymore.

Peter never intended to hurt anyone. He agreed to pass information to the death eaters. As long as he and his loved ones were safe. He never became a death eater with the Dark Mark, in my mind. That was in the second Wizarding War (I'll explain further). He thought it would be fine, he got guilty sometimes, but in his head it was fine bc he didn't see it as an act of cowardice more of an act of survival, until it got out of hands. He was assigned the Potter's secret keeper at the last time. He tried to hide it from the death eaters or Voldermort. But they found out. Of course they did. And just like they brainwashed him before they did it this time to get the information out of him.

Peter didn't understand what a damage he had caused until Sirius went after him. And he was like "James and Lily are dead! You killed them!!"

Everything in Peter's mind clicked. The pain and guilt he felt was unbearable. But he didn't cry and ask for forgiveness, you're right. But phycologically speaking not everyone does in that situation. In my mind, Peter's mental health was far beyond repair by this point. He escaped out of instinct. And never processed the damage he caused Sirius until he saw it in some newspaper days after.

And I think that something in his mind was broken that day. He decided to live as a rat. Partly because he didn't want to be found, but mainly to reduce himself to an animal, live like one, think like one, survive like one. And so he did. And staying too much time as an animagus in my mind, affects your mind that had been adjusted to live as such.

So the Peter that we meet in PoA is partly a rat, literally. Which main goal (as mainly any animal's is) was survival. That's why he did what he did, and went looking for Voldemort. And thanks to the acts Peter did for The Dark Lord, helping him get his body back, were the actions that gave him the mark.

No longer was the boy that The Marauders used to know. A normal teen full of dreams, desires, interests and friends. A happy boy that didn't know he was happy.

I think that realistically something like this would've happened bc the answer JK gave was not enough (he preferred people in power). Plus despite Peter being a traitor and causing too much damage, he was still human. I think his character was much more than his betrayal. And it doesn't matter if he is hated or not. I think we deserve to explore more about his part and journey.

[deepmochi]

Hello! I’m kinda confused on a relationship I have with a guy who has a leo rising, pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius mercury and capricorn venus- I am an aquarius rising, pisces sun/moon, aquarius mercury and aries venus. Now that i kinda covered that I was hoping it could maybe give you an idea on why I may be feeling this way...somehow?? In synastry pluto conjunct mars and neptune conjuncts the moon in an exact aspect(not sure what that means). Is venus trine pluto important?? This boy’s moon/venus/neptune is in my 12th house *sigh* I’ve heard this kind of placement causes a lot of confusion and can be hard to deal with- and tbh Idk if i asked this question to you or someone else..ig i’ll know when you answer lol but yeah a girl is struggling out here. My moon also happens to be in his 8th house and I think that plays a big role too? This guy is my friend and the moment we first met things were fine and I found that he was pretty chill but definitely on the quiet side- which i didn’t mind because i’m like that as well but things were awkward bc we wouldn’t know what to say. As time went on we spent more time together( we had mutual friends). While we hung out I was the odd one out in the friend group bc I was a new student and just happened to meet them and get close- anyways one day we went to the park and me being me I was friendly but completely shy so I stuck to myself and the guy(let’s call him J) realized this and just stuck with me. He opened up to me quite quickly which was suprising bc we rarely ever talked in school and just met each other, however, I felt comfortable and was able to talk to him normally and there were quiet moments in between but it wasn’t awkward I would say...maybe calm? kinda like relaxing in the silence .NOW LET ME TELL YOU a girl in this group( let’s call her H) had a crush on him and he knew this. When we finally decided to leave and go back to the house, I was walking in the snow with J and I almost slipped and he helped me balance myself with his arms and babyyyy my crush on him was born🥲and because of that awkward moment i decided to take the long way on the side-walk and started going in that direction while J was I think waiting for the others to hurry over. At that point I was kinda far ahead and heard him yelling my name and saw him running my way to catch up and walk with me so I wasn’t alone which made me happy and we were just walking, talking and laughing( mind you in the beginning I barely said a word and I was now all smiley around J)The others were walking in the snow and watched H get upset while I was with J and I didn’t know this until I was told later on. Now fast forward to the present, I’m more confident talking to him and was able to see his silly side a bit more, but I’ve noticed each time we got close the next time he seemed distant? I’ve mentioned to him that he does this a lot but he said I do the same as well... anyways I wouldn’t be able to understand what was wrong with him sometimes but I still stuck around. I later grew the balls to tell him I liked him-with his help👀like he knew what I was trying to say and yeah.that happened. He made it clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship and indirectly said he didn’t like me by saying stuff like “things don’t have to be awkward”, “we can stay friends” and he HAD THE AUDACITY TO SAY “YOU CAN STILL LIKE ME THO” bro what- ever since I confessed I somewhat became detached like when we first met and I think this confused him into thinking I didn’t like him anymore( like at all) but I was just taking time for myself. We talked this all out yet somehow it felt like some things weren’t cleared out even though we covered up everything. He’s always been there to answer my texts when i need help(and he sucks at texting), acts a bit more shy around me when it’s just us but seems more “observant” and either really loud or really quiet in our friend group. Am i just overthinking stuff or is our relationship just weird? You don’t need to answer everything lol I just started ranting😂Hope my suffering was entertaining!😚

Hello honey :)

I read everything; girl, I understand you because I been there. Now,  Leo rising, Pisces sun, Aquarius moon, Aquarius Mercury, Capricorn venus, J, OMG no J lol, Idk, but Aqua moons play de independent card so much, and they like the friends with benefits storyline. Some are fxckboys/girls; they don’t like labels, right!. Pisces sun plus Leo rising he sounds handsome physically and personality-wise. His Capri venus makes me cries; they so slow. They are kinda bad in terms of romance and relationships. In fact, he takes time with his actions towards his s/o. You are Aquarius rising, Pisces sun/moon, Aquarius mercury, and Aries venus, I see that you catch his attention and connect easily. The issue is your moon and sun because you are sensitive and romantic. I think you want to spend time with him, while he wants to talk. The problem is the venus signs; for your Aries, venus wants things to be quicker, yet his Capri sun wants a slow process. You need time and patience. In synastry, pluto conjunct mars mean attraction; you two feel physical attraction (;v spicy). Neptune conjuncts the moon depicts intuitively and spiritual connection. Both understand each other's feelings, no need for words to communicate. Nonetheless, J’s moon/venus/Neptune in your 12th house is pretty complex; you can feel like he hides things and covers your or others' relationships with you. Besides, everything seems like an illusion, but you need to unveil everything because which one is talking your intuition or your fears? Finally, your moon in his 8th house, baby, it’s heavy energy. This relationship would teach you things like intimacy (emotional) or may hurt you. Nonetheless, You two can talk about anything. The 8th house synastry is like venus or moon Scorpio magnetic but quite scary. It’s not bad, but you need to give him space. He senses you as too intense for him. I mean, he was honest with you, so be honest with him again. My advice outside astrology is to talk; he seems to like you, but he hasn’t figured out his feelings. So, if he keeps sending mixed-signal, sweetie, just leave. 12th house can offer secret romances; if you aren’t into that, RUN! I don’t see any use in those relationships. Good luck, take care. Don’t suffer for any man; you are beautiful! 

[imaginethathaikyuu]

I have a scenario request, and I'm not sure how many characters you'd do at same time, but I'll ask for it to Kuroo and Bokuto if i can. The idea is a scenario where both (separately) has a very hot, dirty dream with their crush, which is the Nekoma's volleyball manager? And they can't looking at her face the next day bc they remember everything? Thank you!!

fem reader*slight nsfw*

-

bokuto koutarou

Your touch was so delicate as your hands moved across Bokuto’s bare chest. Hair perfectly framing your face as you loomed over him, hips moving in such a perfect pace. He noticed his hands looked large as they held your bare waist, he watched your perfect breasts move with every thrust of your hips, he felt an ache in his groin that was painful and strong.  

He couldn’t believe this was finally happening - here you were, on top of him, and he was inside of you. And you looked so beautiful naked, just like he knew you would. This felt like a dream come true. 

Actually… it really did feel like a dream. 

The moment he realized that, it was ruined. His eyes shot open to see his ceiling - not you. 

But the ache in his groin was still there - and it was as painful as ever. Remembering his dream only made it worse, and even though he felt dirty and kind of gross and very guilty, he had to relieve himself. And he couldn’t help where his mind wandered, just like he couldn’t control the dream he was just having. 

He thought about that dream all day. There was nothing he could do to make himself stop thinking about it - the way your face looked when you moaned, the way your moans sounded when you said his name. And he’s sure he’s just been coming up with more and more lewd things to add to the dream, but he can’t help it - he wanted you so badly. 

For the most part, Bokuto was fine until practice. Not only did he have a hard-on that just would not go away, but he had to see you there, in person, fully dressed and normal. And he was not prepared for that. 

He had to look away from you, because if he didn’t he knew his eyes would wander lower, and he refused to be so rude. If he just ignored you, he would be fine. Maybe practice would help him forget about the dream. 

Then, he felt a hand on his arm. His body nearly jumped out of his skin because that touch felt way too familiar. 

“Hey Bokuto, do you want me to fill your water bottle? Or do you need me to help you stretch?” 

“N-No, no, that’s fine Y/N, no thank you!” 

His face was beat red as he was trying his best to look anywhere but at your face, because he really wanted you to help him stretch. 

“Are you sure?” 

And god, your voice sounded so sweet. He’d do anything to hear you saying his first name… 

“Yeah, I’m sure - I have to… go over there now, bye!” 

He ran away from you to the opposite side of the gym, adjusting his shorts as he went, and you were honestly concerned. Sure, Bokuto was always a bit silly, but he’d never acted so awkward around you. 

So after practice, you made sure to catch him alone and talk to him about it. 

When he saw you approaching him, though, he only had one thought running through his mind. 

She knows. 

He had no idea how you figured it out, maybe Akaashi had told you, but this made his entire day so much worse. There’s no way he could explain himself to you or give a proper apology without embarrassing the ever-loving shit out of himself. But he had to make things right.

“Are you okay, Bokuto?” 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I can’t help it, I don’t control my dreams! It’s just, I think you’re so attractive and - and I’ve liked you for so long and it was bound to happen but I’m sorry! I wish it didn’t! I’ll try to forget it, I promise! So please forgive me, Y/N!”

“…what are you talking about?” 

He looked at you for the first time that entire day, eyes wide. And that’s when he realized: 

She doesn’t know. 

“Did you have a… a dream about me?” you giggled, and Bokuto wanted to run far, far away and never come back. 

“I… I thought you knew so… I apologized… but you didn’t know, did you?” 

You shook your head, still giggling. 

“I forgive you,” you said, to which he gasped. 

“You do?!” 

“Yeah!” you laughed. “Everyone has them.” 

“Even you?” 

He watched your cheeks blush the lightest bit as you said, “yeah, even me.” 

“Was it… by chance… about me?” 

It was your turn to look at him with wide eyes. 

“That is classified information, but… maybe you can text me and we can compare dirty dreams?” 

Bokuto felt much better now - and flattered, and surprised, and nervous. “Yeah, I’d love that!” 

And later on when you told him all about the dream you had, he was very surprised to learn how similar it was to his own. 

kuroo tetsurou 

At this point, Kuroo has had dozens of dreams about you. Considering you’re his next door neighbor, the manager of his volleyball team, his biology partner, and pretty high up on his list of best friends, it was obvious that he’d dream about you at least sometimes. 

And ever since the two of you started texting more, he started to dream about you more. You were the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep, so he guessed his mind was just hooked on thinking about you. 

He was fine with it - it was normal. Until last night, when his dream consisted of you underneath him, your body pressed against his own and his hips snapping into you as you screamed his name. 

He knew you were attractive and he knew he liked you and he knew he always kind of wanted to have you under him moaning his name like a goddamned prayer, but he did not expect to dream about that. 

He also didn’t think his brain was able to make you look so fucking hot, and that was only adding to his problems. 

When he woke up, he took a cold shower and left his home before you left, so he wouldn’t have to walk to school with you - because he was not ready to see you. 

God, you were hot. Like, the hottest person he knew. Kuroo would give anything to make his dream come true. He’s pretty sure dream you has way bigger tits than real you, but he doesn’t really mind. And he’s also positive that he wants to have that dream again, even if it is embarrassing as hell.

But for now, his main concern was the fact that he had to see you very soon. Like, you were going to walk into class at any moment. And he was trying to prepare himself, but every time he thought about you, all he saw was your naked body with your perfect curves and delectable thighs and kissable chest. He was trying to make those thoughts go away, until you walked through the door and ruined his chances. 

Real you is way hotter than dream you. 

“Good morning, Tetsurou, did you forget I existed or something? We’re supposed to walk here together, you know.” 

Oh, if you only knew. Honesty, he wished he had forgotten about you. 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” 

“Something like that,” he mumbled. He worked up the courage to look over at you, but doing so made him snicker - giving away his cover. 

“What?” you asked. 

Well, it couldn’t hurt to tell you. Right? 

“Nothing,” he said. “I just… had a dream last night.” 

“Ooh, a dream,” you chuckled, “how scandalous.” 

“It was, actually. In fact, it was a very scandalous dream about you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yep.” 

You looked quite shocked, which helped Kuroo not feel too embarrassed. 

“Well, tell me about it.” 

“Pass.” 

“Tetsurou,” you warned. 

“Ooh, that’s a familiar word,” he smirked, “Just say it a few dozen more times and then my dream will be a reality.” 

You gasped and hit his shoulder, “Tetsu!” 

“What?” he laughed. “You’re the one who wanted to hear about it!” 

“You’re dirty,” you grumbled. “You’re telling me about it later.” 

Finally, Kuroo saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe even a silver lining to this embarrassing dream. 

“Okay - you can come over later and I’ll show you exactly what I dreamt.” 

It’s not every day he has an opportunity for such a good pick up line. Usually when he tries to use one on you, he just falls flat on his face - but he was proud of that one. 

“You’re a dork,” you said, popping his bubble. “But I’ll see you then.”

[somenewsarah]

Always Been You

Requested:  Yes: “Hey luv x  I was wondering if you could write an imagine with Dracoxreader where Draco gets in a fight with this dude the reader is dating bc he’s just using her but after Draco beats him up he acts like nothing happened bc he doesn’t want the reader to know he likes her.”

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, soft!draco

Genre: Fluffy Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

It didn’t take long for Draco to notice you; no, in fact, the first time he laid eyes on you was in second year. Professor Quirrell had just announced that there was a troll in the castle, and you’d bumped into Draco in your haste to get out of the Great Hall, and back to the Ravenclaw common room. He’d never forget how wide your eyes were, or how your voice sounded when you apologized for the collision. He’d never forget the way you looked at him, and from that day on, he was almost infatuated with you.

Now, in sixth year, at the height of Lord Voldemort’s return, you find yourself bumping into the Malfoy boy a lot, almost like he followed you wherever he went. You’d find little fixes on a tear in your bag, or a new book addressed to you in your common room. At first, you thought it was your boyfriend, Marcus Belby, who was your secret advocate, but you were beginning to wonder… No, you were being silly again.

 You sit in the common room, reading through that night’s potions homework from Professor Slughorn when Marcus himself enters. He plops down beside you, and you offer him a small smile.

 “Hello, handsome,” you tease.

 “Hi,” he says, giving you a tight smile. “Doing homework? Great, mind if I grab my books and study with you? These potions lessons are giving me so much grief.”

 “Sure,” you say, sighing softly. He ruffles your hair as he gets up. This was normal for you. It wasn’t a secret that you were one of the cleverest witches in your year, tailing closely behind Hermione Granger, but Marcus usually only appeared when you were doing your homework. You didn’t mind it, though. He’d been busy with the “Slug Club”, a club made by Professor Slughorn for his star pupils. You weren’t in it, but you were happy for Marcus, nonetheless.

 “Got it,” he smiles, sitting next to you on the small couch. He opens his books and begins looking over your own homework, fixing his wrong answers and almost copying word for word what you’d written.

 “How’s the Slug Club?” You ask, hoping just for a small conversation.

 “That? Yeah, it’s alright,” he says, pulling his lip between his teeth as he continues writing.

 “Would you maybe want to tell me about it?” You prod.

 “Y/N, we don’t have to talk about everything, do we? I mean, why can’t we just sit quietly and study together?”

 “I suppose you’re right,” you breathe, not wanting to argue. You go back to your own homework, trying to refocus your brain.

 Weeks go by, and soon the ground is covered in snow, the air is frosty, and you wanted nothing more than to stay outside and enjoy the fresh air. You walk towards the Black Lake, one of your favorite spots to read and think because of the seclusion, when you bump into the blond himself.

 “Draco, hi,” you smile, waving at him.

 “Y/N,” he smiles sweetly; it wasn’t a smile anyone saw often, but you were glad when you got to see it. “I was just heading back into the castle, care to join me?”

 “No, sorry,” you say. “I was heading to the Black Lake to do some reading. Maybe some other time?”

 “Sure,” Draco says. He hesitates as if he wants to say something more, but turns on his heels and continues towards the castle.

 As you continue on your way, Draco turns back once to look at you once, then straightens himself up. He walks briskly through the snow, but he doesn’t make it far when he hears your name from a group of Ravenclaws sitting on the stairs.

 “Y/N’s really great,” Marcus Belby, Y/N’s boyfriend, starts. “Honestly, she lets me copy all of her homework and always asks me about my day. I don’t have to put in much effort. I just need to prepare for my N.E.W.T.S and then I’ll be able to get out of this.”

 “Why would you get out of it?” Another Ravenclaw boy, Terry Boot, chuckles. “Sounds like you’ve got it made, Belby.”

 “Oh, I do, believe me. This is my most brilliant idea yet,” he laughs.

Draco straightens himself up and marches over to the group of boys, still laughing and talking about you like you were nothing but a tool for them to move forward.

 “Gentlemen,” Draco starts, clearing his throat. “Might I have a word with Belby, here?”

 “What’s this about, Malfoy?” Marcus starts, standing him from the bench he was perched on. “Anything you need to speak with me about, you can do in front of everyone.”

 “Very well. I couldn’t help but overhearing you talking about Y/N?”

 “Yeah, what about her? Need some homework help? Belby’s got some tips,” David Hilliard roars. The boys laugh, and Draco huffs, trying his hardest to compose himself.

 “No, I came to tell you to keep her name out of your grimy, selfish mouths,” he says, gritting his teeth as he watches them roar even harder with laughter.

 “I don’t know who you think you are, Malfoy, but I’ll talk about my girlfriend anyway I’d like,” Marcus says, puffing his chest out at Draco. His face was dangerously close to the blond boy’s. “Now run along, mate, before you say something you regret.”

 The laughter had died down and now everyone in the group was staring between Marcus and Draco. The air is tense as Draco’s jaw locks. Almost as if he can feel your presence coming from the black lake, he tries calming himself, but the glint in Marcus Belby’s eyes was enough to piss him off.

 You watch from the top of the hill as Marcus shoulders up to Draco, and you cannot bear it to move. You clutch your books against your chest, watching. Marcus says something through his teeth, but you can’t hear what, and lucky that you didn’t, because Draco takes the first swing.

 His fist connects with a loud ‘pop’, and before you know it, you’re running to the scene. Marcus recoils back, but leans forward with all his weight and tackles Draco to the ground.

 “Draco!” You shout, running faster to get to the group.

 The fight is in full swing now, Draco and Marcus are rolling around in the snow, each getting in cheap punches where they can. Marcus is on top now, railing his fist into Draco’s face, but he doesn’t stay there long. Draco pushes him off just as you reach the scene. You grab Draco’s arm, pulling him out of the snow just as Marcus lunges again. You insert yourself in the middle, glaring up at Marcus.

 “What are you two idiots thinking? You’re going to get expelled!”

 “He took the first hit,” Marcus growls, pointing at Draco. “He should be the one expelled!”

 You turn to look at Draco, but he simple spits some blood from his mouth and turns, walking back towards the castle. You move to follow him, but Marcus grabs your arm.

 “What?” You snap, your eyes ablaze as you glare up at him.

 “Don’t chase after him,” he warns. “I mean it, Y/N.”

 “Don’t presume to tell me what to do,” you say. You snatch your arm away, and turn on your heels. “I’m going inside, we’ll talk about this later.”

 You stalk behind Draco, following him as he turns corners in corridors. You turn the last corner, and he’s stopped, waiting for you with folded arms.

 “You’re following me because?”

 “Draco, what happened?” You demand, crossing your own arms and staring up at him.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. Just leave me alone, alright?”

 “No!” You push. “Not until you tell me what happened out there! Why did you punch Marcus?”

 “It’s none of your business. Just go, I mean it,” he says, running his fingers through his blond hair. You sigh and reach up, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek.

 “Draco,” you whisper. He looks down at you, his eyes stormy and grey as ever, his jaw clenched.  “At least let me take you to the hospital wing to get this taken care of. You’re bleeding everywhere.”

 “Y/N, it’s fine. Just let it go. I’ll be fine,” he assures you. “Just go.”

 “Draco,” you finally explode, stamping your foot like a petulant child. “You don’t get to have a full-on fight with my boyfriend, then tell me that it’s none of my business and to just go away. Stop shutting me out, dammit!”

 “You don’t know the things he was saying about you! You don’t know what I stood there and listened to. Trust me,” he says darkly. “He deserved every hit I gave him.”

 “Wha- you hit him because of me?”

 “Just drop it, Y/N.”

 “Draco, please,” you beg, trying a different approach now. You give him your biggest eyes, your lips forming a perfect pout. The pout does the trick.

 “Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “He’s using you. Okay? He’s using you because knows how incredible you are.”

 “Incredible?” You ask, tiling your head.

 “Yes, incredible,” his voice is almost a whisper. “He’s using you to help him study for his N.E.W.T.S, because he knows that no matter what, if he’s using your notes, he’s going to pass because he knows how incredibly smart you are. Everybody knows how incredibly smart you are. And funny, and brave, and stubborn.”

 You look up at Draco, your mind swimming as you process his every word.

 “So,” you start, swallowing hard. “He… he doesn’t like me?”

 Draco shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be. I just thought- I guess I thought that after all the gifts and the little things that kept happening this year, that maybe it was him… But I guess not,” you say, your eyes searching the floor.

 “You gave him credit for that?” Draco asks, a mild taste of disgust in his tone. “Forgive me for saying, but he hasn’t been the most romantic creature.”

 “How do you even know that?” You ask, your voice raising an octave.

 “Because no real romantic would take credit for someone else’s work,” he scoffs, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand.

 “It was you,” you say suddenly, the thought coming from absolutely nowhere.

 “Of course it was me!” He explodes again. He paces the length of the hallway. “Who do you think gave you that green bag you liked so much in Hogsmead a few months ago? How do you think that same green bag continues to be repaired seemingly out of nowhere every time you rip it by putting too many books in it? Where do you think all of those books come from?”

 “Draco-“ He stops in front of you, taking your hands in his own.

 “It’s always been me, Y/N, because it’s always been you. Since that moment in second year- do you remember? You bumped into me trying to get out of the Great Hall because of the troll,” he says, his eyes searching yours.

 “Yes, I remember.”

 “Ever since then, Y/N. Every time something bad almost happened… When Professor Slughorn first started teaching and you couldn’t get the potion right, I dropped the right ingredient in to keep in from exploding in your face while you were in the cupboard. And when your robes ripped because Pansy stepped on them, I repaired them. And when you went with the Durmstrang boy to the Yule Ball and he left you, who was there?”

 “You,” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. He pulls you towards him slowly, and his hand reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “But, why?”

 “Because you’re special to me, darling. You always have been. You intrigue me without even trying,” he says softly, letting his index finger trail down your cheek.

 “Why did you never say anything?”

 “Because I knew who I was destined to be. Who I am now, is not someone I’m proud of- is not someone you can be proud of. Because you deserve more than who I am now,” he says, dropping his hand. He steps away from you and fixes the collar of his shirt. He turns to walk away.

 “Draco wait,” you say. You grab his arm and, dropping the bag off your shoulder, you pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him softly.

 He doesn’t kiss you back at first, almost as if he were still registering that it was even happening. But soon, he’s holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, kissing you back hungrily.

 “It’s always been you,” he whispers, finally pulling away from you. “And it’ll always be you.”

 “I’m gonna hold you to that,” you whisper back, smiling up at him.

 He grins down at you, then pulls your face back up to his and kisses you softly. Finally, your world feels like it’s spinning on the right axis, and you feel at home.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

How about fun sex tropes number 3 w sledgefu? 😊

3. sex on a countertop/tabletop/sink because we couldn’t wait to get somewhere with cushions

I wanted to do something with the quarantine, so this is a modern-ish AU. Also, hopefully you like my chosen hard surface! I love Sledgefu but do find it difficult bc the Sledgefu writers in this fandom are … pretty much actual gods.

I loved writing this though, so thanks for the request 😊

* * * * *

Gene was done.

Completely over it.

His classes had been cancelled for the remainder of the semester, and he was suddenly filled with a sense of purposelessness.

“Gene. If ya don’t find somethin’ to do, I’m gonna have to find somethin’ for ya.”

Normally, Snafu’s words would have been suggestive, dirty actually, except that he really was tired of Eugene acting like a Victorian dandy in distress.

He would sit down to read, then stand up with a dramatic sigh as he tossed his book back on the couch. He’d putz around the apartment, opening doors then closing them, like he was looking for something. He’d clean the bathroom, then the bedroom, grumbling all the while about Snafu’s dirty laundry being everywhere but in the hamper, and in Snafu’s defense, it was usually only an errant sock or maybe the shirt that he had just taken off for the day.

Sometimes, Gene would head into the kitchen and start cooking something, only to have some minor step in the recipe go wrong and the entire dish would be tossed in the trash.

That didn’t just annoy Snafu; he hated it. Food was not ever something to be wasted.

So, when Gene started pulling ingredients out of the cupboard, it was Snaf who snapped his book shut with a sigh.

“Stop, Gene,” he commanded while walking into the kitchen.

“You tooold me to find something to do,” Gene whined.

“Not waste food.”

“Fine,” Eugene snapped and began putting the strewn ingredients back into the fridge and the cupboard.

“Put ya overshirt on.”

“Why?” he said, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that made Snafu want to slap him or kiss him—when Gene was difficult like this, he wasn’t sure which option would actually make him feel the best once it was done considering he’d only ever tried the kissing.

Snafu ran a hand through his curls, which were bordering on wild thanks to the quarantine. Eugene had offered to give him a trim, but he had only eyed his boyfriend warily, thanking him, but deciding to wait for the barber to open.

Gene’s hair was longer than usual, too, but it suited him. Snaf loved to run his hands through it, pushing it back from his forehead and just feeling the way the silky, auburn strands fell from his fingertips as he pulled Eugene’s hair up and away from his face.

“Because I asked ya to.”

Gene huffed but made his way to the bedroom. Snafu grabbed a light jacket from one of the hooks near the front door and checked the pocket for the keys to his truck. Reaching back to make sure he had his wallet, he slipped into his shoes and waited for Eugene to emerge.

“Where we goin?”

“I’ll tell ya when we get there.”

Eugene frowned, but Snafu saw something come alive in his eyes, something he hadn’t seen since the first few weeks of the quarantine when Eugene realized that he was locked inside with his boyfriend without anything to do for days and days except make love.

It was wonderful, a damn near divine experience for them both until the days droned on into weeks, then months, and they both began to realize that something like this was going to alter life as they had known it forever.

Gene followed Snafu out of the apartment, doubling back to make sure the door was definitely locked.

They drove in a comfortable silence for the first hour, the radio quietly singing but not much louder than the sound of Snaf’s truck rumbling down the highway.

During the second hour, Gene started getting antsy: shuffling in his seat, resetting his seatbelt only to adjust it again in a few more minutes, opening the glovebox for no reason and shuffling through whatever Snafu had crammed in there.

Maybe this is worse than wastin’ food, Snafu thought as he watched Gene in his peripheral.  

When Eugene adjusted his seatbelt for the third time in a row, Snaf turned his head to look over at him and ended up smiling at the way his hair caught the last rays of the dying sunlight, looking golden at the edges, like a halo on a deeply ripened strawberry.

“Talk to me, Gene. Ain’t dat wha’ we do?” Snafu asked before reluctantly turning his eyes back to the road.

Gene said nothing for several minutes, and Snaf didn’t push; he knew how this worked, how stubborn Eugene Sledge could be.

After two more sighs and another snap of his seatbelt, Gene started talking.

He fumbled through his words at first, restarting his sentences and trailing off with a frustrated, “You know what I mean,” until suddenly, he found the right metaphor for what he was feeling and then he couldn’t stop talking.

Gene talked for the next hour of the trip, talked until his mouth was dry.

But god be damned if he didn’t feel better, like he had just purged himself of a gut full of rotten meat.

“Can we stop at the next gas station? I’m parched,” Gene asked, his voice raspy, but his tone light.  

“I think ‘bout a lotta those things, too,” Snaf said quietly as he slid his hand over to flick the turn signal, the ticking filling the truck in the silence after his statement.

“How—how come you don’t let it . . . eat at you? I feel like I’m just raw with worryin.”

Snafu was quiet for a moment, his eyes checking the rearview and the side mirror as he switched lanes to catch the exit.

“I jus’ figure as long as I’ve got you, nothin’ else really matters. Sounds stupid, don’t it?” Snafu said with a soft laugh.

No—no it was not stupid at all, Eugene thought, realizing he wanted to do nothing other than to kiss Snafu silly for saying the most brilliant thing he had ever heard.

And once the truck was in park, Gene did just that.

He tore off his seatbelt and slid to the center of the truck, almost smacking into Snafu as he turned to see what the hell had gotten into his boyfriend, but he didn’t have to wonder long because Gene planted his lips on him in a searing kiss.  

He pulled on Snafu’s lower lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth before he tilted his head and thrust his tongue inside, earning a moan of approval from Snafu.

Snafu’s tongue swirled around Gene’s, his mouth open wide, wanting to taste every inch of the man who meant so much to him.

Eugene was almost in Snaf’s lap when Snafu closed their kiss, gently pushing Gene away.

“Thought you was parched?” he panted.

“I am—but I guess not just for soda,” Gene grinned.

Snafu laughed and shook his head. “Come on. We got a long drive back. Let’s get some caffeine.”

Eugene clutched at Snafu’s shoulder. “This is . . . it? We’re not going anywhere?”

“No, cher. I jus’ needed ya to talk to me. Didn’t know how else to get ya to do it.”

Eugene’s face burst into the first genuine smile Snafu had seen in over two weeks.

“You sly sonofagun,” Gene said, still grinning.

“Gotta stay on ma toes with you.”

“I could kiss you.”

“Ya already have.”

“I could kiss you forever.”

“Genie, dat’s all I’m eva gonna need,” Snaf said, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Gene’s lips. “Come on—now I’m parched.”

Stocked up with drinks and snacks, the boys began their drive home, this time with Eugene sitting in the middle of the cab, leaning into Snafu’s shoulder as the conversation flowed freely amidst their glances and their laughter that now filled the cab, drowning out the music.

But after a while, it wasn’t enough for Gene to just lean into Snafu; he had started with his hand mid-thigh, an act of sweet affection more than sexual suggestion, but the affectionate gesture shifted quickly to the latter when Gene’s fingers began to flex, crawling up Snafu’s thigh higher and higher until the Cajun’s foot hitched on the gas.

“Wha’chu doin, boo?”

“Touchin’ you.”

“We makin’ poetry now?”

“Pull over ‘n we can sure make somethin,” Gene said, leaning over to capture Snafu’s earlobe between his teeth.

Snafu made a noise in his throat and took the next exit.

“There,” Eugene said, pointing to the sign that signaled a pull off for a nature preserve.

Snafu drove over the winding roads until he found a secluded turnoff, perfectly bottlenecked by tall, bald cypresses. He drove a ways into the clearing, cut the engine, and cracked the window.

“Nice out he—mmf,” Snaf began before he got cut off by a red head in his lap, squeezing between him and the steering column, the horn emitting a short beep, but neither of the boys caring as they kissed, intense and deep, lost in something they both had been badly missing.

“Want you so much. Need you Snaf,” Gene puffed out between kisses.

Snafu pushed Gene back a little, the horn again reminding them of their tight position.

“Think we need more room?”

“Ya gotta get off ma lap first,” Snaf replied with a smirk, giving Gene’s ass a light smack before he wiggled back to the middle seat.

After his feet plopped onto the dirt, Snafu pushed up his seat to pull out the sleeping bag he kept there.

“Gene,” Snaf spoke up before the red head could slide all of the way out of the cab.

He angled his curly head toward the glovebox, and Eugene popped it open, rummaging through it to find the tube of lubricant.

The boys settled in the back of the truck, and it was clear that Eugene needed to take control by the way he was immediately on top of Snafu, and it was clear that Snafu was open to whatever it was Gene needed by the way he was sighing underneath him.  

Popping open Snafu’s jeans, Gene reached in and palmed his hard cock, rubbing and twisting until there was pre-cum slickening his thumb.  

“I wanna fuck you so bad, Snaf. Bury my cock in you.”

“Do it, Gene. Miss ya so much.”

Popping the top off, Gene smeared lubricant on his fingers and crawled back over Snaf, spreading his legs with his knees and quickly working Snaf’s dick and opening with each hand. Eugene quickly jerked Snafu off, his hand flying over Snafu’s hard cock, twisting at the tip just the way he liked until he was spilling hot cum all over his stomach and Gene’s hand.

Before Snafu’s breathing had time to even out, Eugene slickened up his cock with the lube and positioned himself at his entrance, pushing slowly until Snafu breathed, “Fuck me.”

Eugene groaned, low and animalistic, and thrust into Snaf’s heat, both of their eyes squeezing shut at the intensity of the sensation.

“Gene,” he breathed, laying back on his elbows and looking up at the night sky, his throat bared and Eugene’s eyes raked over Snafu’s body, thinking he had never looked sexier.

“You’re beautiful,” Gene breathed as he began to move, slowly, caught up in everything that was Snafu.

Snafu’s cheeks flushed and he was glad it was too dark for Gene to see him blush. Countering the intensity of his own emotions, he bit out, “Tell me ya wan’ more. I know ya wan’ more.”

Eugene moaned and pulled out of Snafu.

“Hands and knees,” he demanded, watching intently as Snafu shot him a toothy grin that Gene could see perfectly under the night sky before he rolled over and got in position.

Gene pressed a kiss to the base of Snafu’s spine before he straightened and brought both hands down on Snafu’s ass, digging his fingers into his cheeks as he pushed into him again, the growl of satisfaction emitting from Snaf spurring Gene to really let go, to fuck him like he needed to fuck him.

Eugene admired the flexing of Snafu’s ass as he pounded into him, both of them groaning out their pleasure to the trees, to the stars, to the night itself until Gene finally felt like he had purpose again.

This man, so open and willing in front of him, was his purpose. How he could have forgotten that, he would never know, so he swore as his hips stuttered to a halt and he came inside of Snafu’s body, swore that he would never forget again.

Gene collapses on top of Snafu, pressing him into the bed of the truck, distracting the discomfort with the kisses he is peppering across every part of his boyfriend that he can reach.

“Wow,” Gene said rolling onto his back and releasing Snafu.

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” Snaf answered, rolling onto his back, too.

“Did I ever tell you you’re the best boyfriend this side of the Mississippi?”

“Only this side?”

“Well, we’re still young,” he joked as Snafu reached out to smack him. “Once this quarantine lets up . . .”  

They both laugh as they shimmy back into their clothes, sliding out of the truck bed and standing in the dewy grass.

“Thank you,” Gene said, pulling Snafu close to him.

“I love ya, Gene. Jus’ want ya to be happy.”

“I am happy. I really, really am.”

And when he leans in to kiss him, Snafu knows that Eugene means it.

[mccnyoongi]

the yoongi thigh riding drabble 😫😫😫 sis ur tryna kill me alsooo i know u said ur trying not to go for the “riding yoongi in his studio chair” trope however i FULLY support indulging in this trope 😉 i rlly love ur writing tho omg 🥰

+ anon said:  hi im uh read your latest work and rEALLY LIKED IT so can i please request riding yoongi in his studio chair??? thanks if you would posts it!

+ another anon said: yoongi drabble, were where y / n and he have sex in his studio, pls?

hsfjksfh TWIST MY ARm why dont u !! (i told yall id do nasty soon) now i wanna write a multi-chaptered undergroundrapper!yoongi sjkfjsdf 

⇢ word count: 2K+ (lmao)

⇢ warnings: unprotected sex, dom!yoongi, starts SUPER soft then devolves into filth, undergroundrapper!yoongi bc ion like writing idol!au skdfjsdfk, degradation, yoongi’s hands <3, my bias shining through tbh, yoongi may or may not spit in your mouth, oral (m receiving), unedited smut, mild spanking.

Yoongi’s passion has always been one of your favourite things about him- if he cares about something, he’ll give his all to it. Thankfully you fall under that category. The only question is whether you’re first or second on the list, constantly competing with his music.

With Yoongi garnering a fair amount of success from his life as an underground rapper, you understand why it’s starting to take over more and more of his life, you really do. You loved Yoongi, you loved his music. But you couldn’t help but start to… miss your boyfriend. A sad irony that you could miss the man who’s been, as of late, spending the majority of his time in his ‘studio,’ aka the spare room of your shared apartment that he said was about a quarter the size of a proper studio. 

How could you miss someone that was less than fifteen feet away from you, two doors away? You weren’t sure that it was possible until now, lying in bed, Yoongi’s side cold and the offensive red light of your bedside alarm clock telling you it’s far past the time your boyfriend promised he’d be in bed by. You sigh, sitting up, knowing that you wouldn’t get any sleep if you just sat there and stewed in your negativity. So instead you’d seek him out.

Thankfully there isn’t a lock on the door, he hasn’t gotten around to putting one in yet. You know the day will come soon, since last time your friends were over, Jungkook and Jimin had managed to sneak their way in, looking like guilty puppies when Yoongi had caught them. 

Lock or not, Yoongi didn’t even hear you, ears covered by his almost comically oversized headphones, his dyed blonde head bobbing to whatever beat he’s working on at the moment. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight of your sweet boy so immersed in the thing he’s dedicated his life to.

He’s only made aware of your presence when you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind. He finally takes those ridiculous headphones off, pausing the track and letting you rest your chin on the top of his head.

You look at the two monitors in front of him as though you have any idea what’s going on on the screens. “Hard at work, huh genius?”

You feel him cock his head under you and he hums gently, one of his large hands- something about him you first fell in love with when you saw it, pale and slender, gripping a microphone on stage- grabbing at yours. “Sorry,” He mumbles, and you can tell by the timber and the gruffness of his voice that he hasn’t spoken a word since he came into this room a couple of hours ago. “Lose track of time in this room. No windows.”

“S’okay Yoon. Just missed you is all.”

Your words are innocent but they tug at his heart and make him shut his eyes for a moment. He never wants to make you feel like second best, but the way he falls into things sometimes makes him forget that anything else exists in the world. But now he wants to be close to you, to touch you, to make it all up to you. 

“C’mere,” He’s tugging at the hand he has in his grip, and he keeps tugging until you’ve circled around his chair to stand in front of him. “Up on my lap, babe.” An offer you couldn’t refuse. So you don’t.

You’re straddling him now, well-toned but not overtly muscular thighs under you- a familiar and welcoming seat of yours. His warmth is comforting to you and vice versa. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” You don’t want to say yes, afraid of hurting his feelings but the pout that graces your features gives it all away.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” One of his large hands comes up to cup your face, and he coos softly when you lean and nuzzle into his palm, as if he isn’t thinking of all the filthy and depraved things he’s been missing out on with you while he’s been cooped up in his studio. “‘M gonna make it up to you.”

And then his mouth is on yours, and you’re reminded why you love kissing Min Yoongi so much. He’s careful and intense, every movement backed by the same confidence and dominance he exudes when he’s on stage. It’s when you deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, skilled and tactful, that you realize you weren’t just here for a quick visit.

“Yoongi,” You murmur as soon as he’s pulling back, detaching your mouths. You’re momentarily hypnotized by the string of spit that still connects the two of you, staring at it until it breaks. Yoongi notices this fascination of yours, and give you a smirk you regret ever confessing to him you find sexy. 

“Are you getting all desperate for me, silly girl? Hm?” You can’t help but rut your hips against his own at the words, loving the way they fall out of his mouth so lazily but with as much purpose as a presidential speech. “So needy ‘nd squirmy for me… Love seeing you so fucking desperate, you know.” His hands are travelling up your sleep shirt- aka an old band shirt of his that you had staked your claim over before the two of you had even moved in together.

His hands don’t go where more inexperienced ones might immediately go but instead traverse up and down your back, leaving delicious goosebumps in their wake. You shiver both from the feeling, and from the anticipation of what’s to come. You go to take your shirt off but are stopped by two hands circled around your wrists. “Patience,” Yoongi’s voice is next to your ear now, as he’s pulled you down using the grip he has on you. 

He’s made it clear that while you may be on top of him, he’s the one with control. And he’s fucking revelling in it, you can see it in the sparkle in his eyes as he lets go of your wrists. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you, I promise,” You trust him wholeheartedly, and communicate this with a nod. You know he understands when his hands slide down, under your shirt once more, this time staying far lower. 

“Soaking wet and I’ve barely even done anything,” He’s so cocky and you should be annoyed but you can’t find it in you, instead you feel yourself get even hotter at his words. “Panties off, little girl.”

His tone leaves no room for arguing, so you scramble to stand up and follow his demands, panties lost somewhere behind him. You go to get back onto your spot on his lap, missing it already, but are stopped once more by his hands. One is on your waist, holding you steady, only using a portion of its strength and the other is on your face, squishing your cheeks, opening your mouth and pushing your lips out obscenely. 

He looks like he’s still deciding what the hell to do with you, how hard to go. Then he’s cocking his head, brazen smirk back on his face as he pushes you down to your knees. The carpeting immediately makes the position uncomfortable as you feel it grating against the skin of your knees. But any discomfort is immediately quelled, or, at least, forgotten, at the sight and sound of Yoongi undoing his belt in front of you- any thoughts of your knees and carpet burn are replaced with the thoughts of Yoongi’s cock. He had that effect on you.

He chuckled at the look in your eyes, finally releasing himself from the confines of his jeans. He sighs at the release, cold air hitting his skin a shock to his rock hard dick. “Practically fucking drooling for this cock, aren’t you?” You nod earnestly and lean forward, towards his cock where his hand works over it lazily. He grabs a fistful of your hair with his other hand, withholding you from what you really want. “So fucking desperate, you slut. You wanna suck my cock so bad? You better do a good fucking job of it, convince me you deserve it in that slutty cunt of yours.”

You barely have time to think about how quickly he shifted from the sweet, loving Yoongi you normally know to this darker version of Yoongi, the one that comes out whenever he’s properly turned on before his hand that’s fisted in your hair is dragging you toward his achingly hard cock. You open your mouth, ready and willing, and mouth at his tip, letting your spit, your drool, collect and fall over it, dripping down the rest of his impressive length. You pull back to give the tip a gentle kiss, barely holding back a giggle when it jumps angrily at you

He breathes out heavily from his spot above you and yanks you back off his cock. “You wanna be a messy fucking tease? Fine. Open your mouth. Now,” You do as he says, not wanting to anger him further. 

He collects spit in his own mouth, and you're made to sit and wait patiently, hair a mess and mouth wide open. You don’t have to wait long until he spits into your mouth, the act so filthy, so dirty, you can only close your eyes and whimper, so turned on from it all that you can feel your own wetness starting to drip down your thighs. Messy. “Don’t swallow,” He doesn’t need to explain more as he leads you back to his cock.

You let the combination of your and his spit fall onto his cock, the act obscene but astoundingly erotic. You finally start to swallow down his length like you know he wants, your hands coming up to help. Both of his hands are in your hair now, entirely controlling your actions, the speed of which your sucking his cock.

He finally pushes you down as far as he can, your hands falling to his thighs. Your nose is against his stomach, tickled by the sparse amount of hair there. You can barely breathe from this position, but you take it if only for the groans you hear tumble out of his mouth. “Such a good girl, my best fucking slut,” You moan at the praise, the vibrations making his head fall back on his chair. There’s drool covering both him and your face now, tears welling at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, and every second you can feel yourself getting wetter.

His hands fall slack on your hair, but you don’t pull back just yet, instead, taking the opportunity to swallow around him once, twice, three times. He yanks you off of his cock, his breathing ragged and heavy. He looks at you with a half-lidded gaze. “Up.”

It’s only one word, but he doesn’t need anymore, not with a commanding tone like that. You get back on his lap, immediately calmed and comforted by the spot. He finally tears off the shirt, now wrinkled and covered in drool and precum. 

“Now fucking sit on it,” And you can hardly hold yourself back, eagerly lifting yourself up and positioning the head of his cock against your slick entrance. You let yourself fall, the whole of him filling you up perfectly, and so so good.

Yours and Yoongi’s groans mingle together in an unrivalled harmony, the two of you still for a moment as you bask in the feeling. “Being such a good fucking girl,” His hands work up and down your sides. “Now fuck yourself on my cock, and don’t you dare stop. Don’t stop until you full of my fucking cum, ‘till you’re my perfect, messy bitch.”

You start slowly, lifting yourself up until barely an inch is left in your pussy, and drop all the way back down. You continue like this, deep, strong strokes, slowly speeding up until your bouncing on his lap, the obscene sounds of the two of you filling the room, your very own symphony when combined with your groans.

“So good, baby, so fucking good, bouncing on my cock, gonna make such a fucking mess out of you, yeah?” He’s lifting his hips to meet yours, making every downstroke that much more intense. 

He lands a spank on your ass, then another, the sharp pain only serving to make you wetter and bounce on him harder. He chuckles in between moans. “You like that, huh? You’ll take anything I give you, ‘cause you’re my perfect little whore.”

You can feel the crescendo coming, building up like a tsunami. “Yoongi- Yoongi please, please, you have to let me come,” Any other time you’d have reservations about begging, but when it came to Yoongi, all pride was left at the door. “Need it.”

“I have to? I don’t have to do anything, whore,” His hand is back on your face, lips puckering out again. You nod in desperate agreement. He’s collecting spit in his mouth once more and you open your mouth wider in anticipation of what’s about to come. He spits in your mouth again, this time wanting you to swallow. It’s a dirty act, so vulgar, and you both groan at the site.

“You see that, slut? You swallow my spit, bounce on my cock and cum for me, all when I fucking tell you to? You understand?”“Yes, Yoongi I do, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry, jus’ lemme cum.”

“Yeah, yeah, do it, fucking come for me.”

And cum you do, the feeling washing over you like nothing else, eyes closing and your head burrowing itself into Yoongi’s neck, the smell of his sweat comforting. You can hear Yoongi talking himself and you through your orgasms, but the words are too much for you to focus on. You can only feel his cum fill you up, already starting to spill out of you.

You’re both panting in the aftermath, his hands, once harsh, now softly caressing your back. The two of you are slick and sticky with sweat, but it’s the last thing on your minds.

“You still need to work on that song or are you finally gonna come to bed?”

“Please, neither of us are leaving that bed for the next 48 hours, besides to get the door for the take out we order.”

“Sounds perfect.”

[lgcchenglei-blog]

hello friends !! my name is jada, and...i’m so excited to meet you all !! this is my absolute heart and soul zhao chenglei, one of the newest additions to the legacy family !! i am actually...so stoked to be here, this group looks so cool !! i look forward to meeting you all, but i’m going to jump straight into things ! chenglei / lei is 20, a dance fanatic, and a lovebug ! you can find his info as well as a few connection ideas below,  and his profile here !! the other pages are wip, but i’m sure we can figure something out from there !! oh, and don’t forget to like this if my boy’s caught your eye and you’d like to plot together !! 

alright so !! he’s from hong kong, and born to a mom who was a model for a popular skincare company and a father who’s an anesthesiologist !!

his parents are quite ambitious & his name means “become great” since as their first child, they had high hopes !! he’s often called lei for short around friends.

his mom wanted him to follow in her footsteps so for the early part of his life she was obsessed with booking him baby modeling & acting gigs!! he was in a few commercials and an extra in some small shows, but didn’t gain much fame from it.

his family is originally from mainland china (which is why he’s pretty good at mandarin) but moved when he was born because they liked the atmosphere for him better ! also his mom started getting more opportunities to work there and rather than keep traveling when she had a newborn the whole family packed up and left !

to say the least he was raised pretty comfortably !!! his parents had a lot of influence in their respective fields and he lived well, always getting the things he asked for & such !

but honestly, he’s not the type of person that is obsessed money but that’s probably because he’s used to it? like ofc it’s nice to have, but he’d be perfectly fine living a normal life.

his parents don’t feel the same, they’re very invested in getting & keeping money, so they would always get mad bc he had a tendency of giving his friends things if they didn’t have it !!

he’s been really adamant on creating his own lifestyle recently though, so is trying to make his own name for himself & make his own money instead of relying on his parents forever.

he went to a private school in the city, which is where he learned english. it was widely spoken where he was anyways, but there were some exchange students who helped him too. 

also totally irrelevant headcanon but one of the students he became close with was australian & he traveled there in high school, so when he speaks english he’s a bit influenced by the accent !!

a dancing machine for real !! first got into dance 1t 5 when his mom thought it’d be cute for him to do ballet?? he hated it only because his friends made fun of him for it, but the more time he spent doing it the more he was kind of like...oh !! this is kinda nice !!

and then he fell in love with it, and to this day ballet remains his favorite type of dance. the older he got though he took more classes, and eventually joined a competitive dance team the city had !

he first got interested in kpop by a few friends in middle school, and that reflected onto his love for dancing! he began learning all the dances he could, and the more he saw them the more he felt he could turn his love for dance into a real dream.

long story short, his parents were v unhappy to hear he wanted to be in such a risky career, but after constant begging allowed him to audition! they promised thinking that he wouldn’t make it past first cuts, but when he did they were very shocked and kind of just in awe let him start training??

his first few months training were a huge struggle to face. right off the bat he could hardly speak korean, and it’s when reality really set in ?? as much as he said he wasn’t dependent on his wealth it was a big adjustment to go from his life in hong kong to living in dorms with other trainees. it was just...wild!!

not to mention chenglei can be an introvert when in situations he doesn’t know people in,  so he was probably really quiet at the beginning !!

but he definitely opens up once he becomes comfortable around others. he’s still on the quieter side, but definitely v sweet and even a little mischevious around the ones he’s close too !! so by now it can be assumed he’s this way around the trainees he encounters often.

but when he’s in work mode ?? totally different lei !!! he takes training very seriously, takes staff criticism hard, and just kind of beats himself up to work harder !! not the best method, but if one thing’s for sure it’s that he serious about improving and doesn’t put anything above that when it’s time to get serious.

and performing lei !! also very different. he’s definitely a worrier all the moments leading up to performance, but becomes some confident dancing machine when he gets on stage ! he doesn’t worry about looking too weird, just focuses on delivering a powerful performance. very different than his usual self !

he’s currently in his 2nd year as a university student, and it is h-a-r-d !! since he practically goes straight from school to practice, he’s burnt out 80% of the time and lives off of coffee and a prayer.

oh in terms of languages !! he speaks cantonese as his native tongue, learned mandarin through talking with his family in the mainland,  learned english through school, and is still actively learning korean ! he’s only completely fluent in cantonese, but learns korean the most out of all of them on a day-to-day basis.

he’s a little creative boy !! lovesloves to draw and paint and you can always catch him doodling things that went on during the day if he’s bored !!

also plays piano, which he was kind of forced into by his parents lmao ?? but it’s always a plus when he mentions it and it’s fun to play.

he’s quite a softy?? especially for a guy, he’s very affectionate, v loyal, and always looking out for his friends in any way he can ! it probably comes from his dad always being off at work, and his mom ( who is the more nurturing of the two ) being the most present, so he took after her and is very caring & sweet !

i’m not gonna lie...he’s a little bit of an eboy ?? let the sighs of shame arise lmao !! but honestly he’s like if an eboy & art hoe had a baby, but who’s also soft ?? the chaos !

he’s also a bilie eilish supremacist ?? don’t know how that happened since i don’t even stan her that much myslf ?? but like....if you couldn’t tell from his audition video he loves her & will cover each and every of her videos

he’s a baby pan !! he hasn’t really “come out” officially to his friends per se, but has vaguely expressed interest for something outside of a relationship with just girls ! he’s terrified to tell his parents & if he ever will...who knows !! but he’ll become more comfortable with his sexuality soon enough, at least.

his end goal, well semi-end goal, is to become a choreographer !! he wants to be an idol / dancer above all things, but he knows that career won’t last forever so he hopes when he gets out of it to help others achieve their dreams !! he’s very strong on the belief that what’s given to you must be paid back, so he wants to show his appreciation for his eventual debut by helping others reach theirs, too !! 

i think i’ve talked waaaay too much already, so...let’s move onto some quick plot ideas !! i promise i’ll have a legitimate plots page soon. xx

maybe some awkardness ? maybe lei thought he was helping this muse out by giving them presents & money, but they took it a different way as him flaunting his money or treating them like a charity case ? i think it could be interesting !

another foreigner ?? the classic helping each other out duo, but i think it could be really important for the both of them considering they’re still trainees navigating a new country together !

a senior he really admires ? even though they’re all trainees, lei treats those more experienced than him with lots of respect, so he’d probably do everything he could to learn from & get on their good side ! maybe a cute friendship could develop out of it !

on the flip side, someone younger / he’s senior to he can baby ! he’s kind of used to being babied around, but he tends to become a lot more protective & caring over those under him ! please give him someone to spoil & instill confidence in pls thanks

sibling-like friends ?? i need someone he can just be silly with, ruffle a few feathers with, and even have the occasional dispute, but in the end they’ve gotten really close and no one can mess with one without the other ready for a fight !

maybe lei’s got a boy / nb crush he wasn’t expecting ?? he’s a softie so i think it’d be adorable for him to have a little crush on someone, requited or not !

university students rise !! give my boy someone else to share his pain with and complain about how it’s impossible to get good grades and have good evaluations !!

little competition !! he’s mainly a dancer, though he also sings, so i think it’d be fun to have someone he competes with & is often compared to ! maybe they’re actually really close and help each other, maybe they’re true rivals trying to bring each other down !

[cielleduciel]

I have some sensitive questions, and you totally don’t need to answer if they’re too much, but here they are. Did you ever struggle w internal homophobia? If so, how did you manage to overcome it?? And my last question: any tips for softly breaking it to Albanian parents? I know people are individuals but its still the same culture so..

• Same anon as before!! I am an 18-year-old girl that was born and raised in the US. Thank you so much, and take as much time as you need to answer.

• I would also like to add that I’ve struggled with this for a pretty long time now (since I was around 12), so it’s not like I realized my preferences just recently. For years I’ve been telling myself that it’s just a phase or I’m just starved of affection (so I’m looking for it in the wrong place) or that I just haven’t met the right guy yet. I feel disgusted with myself, and it’s very tiring and emotionally consuming. Add in my Albanian relatives on top of it, and I’m just done with it all.

thanks for your patience anon, this last week’s been a bit hectic for me

first off i’m flattered by that first question, bc i was the most self-hating repressed closet gay i knew. i started off as that kid that was like “i don’t have a problem with gay people i just don’t think they should get married and i hate it when they ‘act’ gay”. i went through three boyfriends and two different sexual orientations before i finally accepted i was a lesbian, which took me until april of last year. so if that’s hard to imagine then i know i’m doing good for myself, and maybe it can give you some reassurance too

tbh i don’t think any of us can ever actually avoid or stop struggling with internalized homophobia, given that we’re all inundated with those messages every day in big or small ways. i think at best i just learned how to stop listening to it so much. it took me a really long time though and honestly at your age you’re already way ahead of me than i was, the questions you’re asking yourself now are ones i couldn’t bear to face even in my early 20s

my personal struggle has been very much connected to my family and growing up as a 1½-gen albanian immigrant. if your family and upbringing are anything like mine, then you might understand, and they’re probably just as closely related to your struggle as well. don’t take what i say here as gospel since this is all from personal experience and i’m not even 100% where i want to be yet. but i know how lonely it is for us out there, so i’ll try to be as real with you as i can without getting too personal (idk if this readmore will work on mobile so my apologies and just scroll down really fast @ anyone not reading this)

first thing: don’t be in a rush to tell your parents, even if you’re an adult, and especially if you’re still dependent on them. i assume you’re asking for tips because you already know or have reason to suspect that they won’t take it well. and if you’re still struggling to accept yourself, your parents’ & relatives’ opinions are the last thing you need to be worrying about right now (i know easier said than done we’re albanian i Understand but like. trust me)

second: i really think learning how to stop listening to that internalized homophobia is just a slow process of learning to normalize your feelings in opposition to it. truly the most important thing i did for myself was surround myself with other bi/lesbian women as a way to counter everything else in my life that was telling me to hate myself. the key here is that i did that for years. the logic goes like this: if my world was already and will always be filled with heteronormativity and homophobia, then to fight it, i needed a space i could come back to that’s filled with what i needed to see and could make it feel as normal as i logically knew it was

i didn’t have the freedom to reach out to others IRL so i sought out bi/lesbian women online and immersed myself in those communities. i filled my online spaces with people like me who could show me every day that what i was feeling was genuine, normal, healthy, whole, positive, and worth embracing. when i really began to internalize that, self-confidence and assurance just kind of naturally followed, which made it easier to shout down and ignore the Internalized Homophobia Gremlin in my brain

another thing too, and this’ll sound silly. idk if you’re into video games but they were also a big part of my normalization process. i love role-playing games and for years i used them as a private, risk-free, judgment-free way to “experiment” with women and allow my feelings to “run free” after repressing/ignoring them for so long. i personally know other LGBT people who discovered themselves in similar ways (through DnD, for example). something to consider if that’s your thing. but media of all kinds can be powerful normalizing tools too, if you can find decent ones to your liking 

i had to be really patient and gentle with myself though, and you’ll have to be too bc there really is no quick fix, we’re up against years of internalizing this crap since we were born, basically. do whatever you need to fight against it though, bc there is literally, objectively, nothing wrong with you. you deserve to be happy just as you are, you deserve love and to be able to find it with another woman, and remember you’re never alone in this even if it feels like you are. i think that’s the most powerful reminder

back around to your last question, worry about coming out to your parents when you’re on more solid ground, bc it doesn’t sound like you are rn. everyone’s parents are different but as a general rule i’ve found that when trying to broach a difficult subject, you really need to have your back up against a point that you refuse to budge on, and plant yourself there. you can negotiate or make arguments around it but you need that one point that you’re absolutely sure of where you’ll always hold your ground

in coming out to them, that point needs to be your identity and everything attached to it, so your confidence and sense of self need to be as solid and unmoving as a fucking mountain so that they can’t dig into you and undermine your conviction. esp bc tbh it’s entirely likely that you’ll have to have that conversation several times. so that’s why i stress working on yourself first. for your own sake, don’t jump the gun on this

also, it’ll be much easier on you if you’re not always stuck under the same roof, or at least not totally dependent on them. and i know that’s tough and complicated because a lot of us never truly “move out”, per se, and it’s normal for us to stay with our parents/family for a very long time. but if you can find a way, arrange something with friends, etc., i find it really helps with your general confidence to know you have somewhere else you can go unconditionally, without restrictions. and i don’t mean “rush to move out as soon as you can”, bc like i said, i know that’s hard on us for many reasons and it may hurt you more than you think it will. but if it’s a point you can get to eventually, it does help

after all this, if/when you eventually do decide to come out, i recommend you tell only one of your parents at first. whichever one you’re closer with or find easier to talk to (i’d say ideally whoever’s the least homophobic but like. lmao). do it privately and when you’re both in a good mood. i find altogether this makes the atmosphere less confrontational and more personal, a show like you’re “confiding” in them moreso than making an announcement. depending on how it goes i think you can adjust your strategy from there 

even still, i can’t say with any confidence that it will go over well, but it’s as gentle a way to break it to them as i know. if on the very off chance you have another relative who you know is sympathetic and won’t go telling the entire rest of the family immediately, i’d say try reaching out to them first, as it’ll give you “practice” talking about it and they may be able to advise you about your own parents better than i can, as well as support you directly. but even this i would only do after you’re more confident in yourself and your identity

in the end, keep in mind that you don’t have to come out either. it’s not like a requirement for loving yourself. many of us stay closeted to our families for a very long time simply bc it’s safer, easier, and smarter wrt our situations. again, i know that’s complicated because of how tight-knit our families are traditionally, and how much we may want to remain close to them for cultural reasons. at some point it may make it difficult to hide (my mom started suspecting i liked girls before i even knew i liked girls. it was scary). but like, i’m 27 and i’m still not out to most of my family (my dad doesn’t even know). it doesn’t stop me from being a proud albanian lesbian, or from having and maintaining a happy & healthy relationship with my girlfriend. it doesn’t have to stop you either

and…. i think that’s really all i can say. sorry for taking so long and also for talking so much. i hope i could help even a little, or if not, at least offer some reassurance. it’s a good sign that you’re reaching out and trying to get a handle on your feelings, so keep at it, and remember you’re not alone out there. there are so many of us in the world living our lives and trying to build a future and support each other. i really think you’ll be fine

[corruptedtxt]

so i’m writing/creating my own btd murderer character. i’m still fleshing out his details and story, but i wrote an introduction for him and mc? if anyone wants to give it a read or whatever. i’ll post the link but also post it here

link also posting below here in case the link doesnt work or something it looks better in the doc bc of the fonts and shit but yknow

Happenstance ( mc pov )

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Hearing the ever familiar whirring, eyelids gradually opened, staring blankly at the white wall of their dorm room. Judging from how lit the room was, it could be surmised that it was already morning. Releasing a puff of air, eyes returned to their shut state, burrowing further into the case that sheathed the pillow embraced within their arms. It was far too early to be awake… Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Having forgot about the continuous vibrations, a grunt was released, shifting in bed as hands blindly attempted to find the source beneath the mass of sheets. Why was the phone unable to just stay in one place throughout the night? Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Annoyance further pressed, their body lurched upwards, haphazardly throwing the sheets back to expose the bed. No phone. Reaching towards their surplus of pillows, each one would be raised, searching for the damned phone. Still, no phone. What the hell?

Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt. Vzzt―.

Eyes slowly went towards the foot of the bed, arms sliding beneath the previously thrown sheets. After a moment of blindly swinging their arms around, the back of their hand finally hit a glass surface. Victorious, fingers clutched around the mobile device and yanked it free. How did this happen so frequently. Vibrating in their clutches, eyes stared at the now lit up screen, finger sliding across the screen to shut the alarm off. Once gone, only one thing remained: time. 9:45 AM.

❝ ―Fuck! I’m gonna be late! ❞

Flinging themselves out of bed, their usual morning routine would be cut in half. Throwing on a simple hoodie would have to do. After running a quick brush through their bed head and brushing their teeth, they returned to their work desk, tossing their school books in, all while attempting to stuff their feet inside their shoes. Laces be damned.

Slinging the book back over their shoulder, they briskly exited the dorm room. It was mid-winter, a brisk, cool wild hitting their face as they sped walked across campus. Did they look rather silly? Perhaps, but after being consistently late for this class twice this week already, it had been a personal goal to arrive on time―early, even. So much for that. College campuses were essentially set up to doom any and all late comers with how spacious they were.

Approaching the quad, a chilled hand reached within the pocket of their hoodie and pulled out their cell phone.

9:56 AM.

❝ Of course... ❞ An exasperated sigh pushed its way through their airway, eyes gazing towards the building which held the cafeteria. ...Well, if they were going to be late already, what was a few extra minutes? With how this day had started, a pick-me-up would surely be needed, and coffee was a tremendous ally. Changing course, they now had a new mission.

Pulling the door towards them, warm air melting the frigid layer that encompassed their skin. After observing that the length of the line wasn’t too horrid, they approached, standing in spot, waiting to approach the barista to place their order.

The wait hadn’t been too awful, and it was worth it, especially to feel the heat radiating off of the styrofoam cup, feeling the sensation seep into their fingers. It was almost to the point of burning them, but it was a comforting feeling. Swiftly turning around, their heart stopped momentarily, narrowly managing to dodge running into someone. That would have been bad―especially considering how scolding hot the coffee was. It could have seriously burnt this man. ❝ Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay? ❞ The tone seemed less than sincere, if only because no damage had actually been done. Not to mention, they were on a bit of a time crunch. There was no more time to waste, otherwise they would be extra late.

The aforementioned male’s―actually, would it be more appropriate to call him a giant?―aloof countenance ebbed away any true concern, the corners of his mouth raising slightly into the tell-tale signs of a smile. Was he trying to make them feel better, or was it for himself? It was hard to read, for some reason.

❝ I’m fine, no harm done. You should be more careful, next time.  ❞

While his words seemed a bit condescending, his tone was anything but that. It was almost as if he held more concern for them rather than his own self. Almost as if the coffee would have spilled on him, he would still be the one apologizing for some reason. While tall, he also appeared lanky in stature, maintaining a rather poor posture. Hair longer than most, it also curled around the ends, bangs parted in such a way to cover the left part of his face. His whole appearance gave off a rather ‘edgy’ vibe, but he pulled it off fairly well. His appearance didn’t seem to match his seemingly quiet and tender personality. Granted these were all assumptions they were making of a stranger…

Wait, shit. They had a class to get to.

❝ Right, I will be. I have a class to get to, though. I’m super late. Sorry, again. Uh―later. ❞

Well, as lame as an exit as that was, there was no time to dwell on it. Turning away, they exited the cafeteria, once more continuing their rushed pace towards the art building. Why did they need an art credit, anyway? Well, it wasn’t like they had really chosen a major yet, so dipping their toes in every field was what the adviser had suggested, but…

Art was something you were born good at, right? Drawing something as simple as a stick figure came out completely awful for them. Oh well, it was just for a semester. Maybe the teacher would have pity on them…

Judging by the disapproving glare they received upon entering late for the third time this week, they highly doubted it. Attempting to be as quiet as possible, they tiptoed around portfolios and book bags, getting to their table and taking a seat. With the semester just starting, class mainly consisted of simple vocabulary terms and slight history regarding class assignments and projects that would be accomplished through the semester.

Paying attention proved to be difficult, especially as the classroom door opened once more, and a familiar face walked through. It was that guy―coffee guy. He was taking this art class, too? Why had they never noticed him before? He was sort of hard to miss. After a brief verbal disapproval from the teacher, and having him take his time to arrive at his table and seat, the lecture continued. However, most of it was tuned out, staring at the mysterious, edgy tall boy. Various questions swarmed their mind: What was his reason for taking the class? Had he known it was him at the cafeteria? Why did he not say anything?

Apparently they had been staring too hard, because suddenly their eyes were locked together. Breath caught momentarily in their throat, they felt like a deer caught in headlights. He was staring so intensely...was he just returning the gaze? Had they been staring that hard? Seemingly amused, he smirked, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek, head facing back forward towards the board, zoning back into the lecture.

With their gaze broken, their regular breathing returned, but their heart rate was another story. It was beating rather hard against their chest...from being caught in the act of staring, maybe? Damn, what if they looked like a freak? Maybe it was pretty freaky, though…

❝ ...and so you will need a partner for this assignment. To keep things fun, I’ve put the number of students in this class inside of a hat. Pass it around, and draw a number. I’ll put the number pairs up here on the projector.    ❞

What? How lame was that? Not only did partner and group projects suck, but being partnered with a stranger was so awkward...though, maybe it would be a chance to make a new friend. That was something they were lacking thus far in the ‘college experience’. Once the black top hat finally arrived, they reached in, fishing around for a scrap of paper. Pulling it out, they slowly unfolded it, revealing a hastily written number: 13.

Glancing up at the projector, their eyes scanned for the paired number: 8. So, whoever had the number eight was their partner, right? Noticing that the pairs were already beginning to meet up, their eyes scanned to room for any loners, assuming that by the process of elimination, that would be their partner. Once more, their eyes locked with his―coffee guy. Did...that mean that they were partners? Seriously? Why was life so against them today?

Slowly pushing them self out of the chair, they maneuvered around the room, until they were standing directly in front of the nameless classmate. Once more, their lungs seemed to constrict, making breathing a tad difficult. What were they so nervous for? There was no reason. He was just a normal guy―a classmate.

❝ You have number eight, I’m guessing? ❞

Fetching the paper that was resting on top of his closed notebook, he held it up between his pointer and middle finger, showcasing the number.

❝ Yeah, I do. ❞

❝ It’s a pretty bizarre coincidence, wouldn’t you say?  ❞

They let out a nervous laugh, eyes diverting elsewhere. God, way to be even more of a loser in front of the guy. However, he didn’t seem to mind. Rather, a smile twitched on his lips, chuckling lightly as blue-grey eyes gazing up towards my face.

❝ A coincidence, or fate? ❞

[shultzing]

7/29/2018: did i already say how much of an angel this guy is

8/13/2018: i’m so mad that i’m dating someone so much cuter than me. i never intended for this to happen. my type is usually men who are just above average looking, which I was happy with. now, i have to constantly think about how i look bc I know everyone around us has GOT to be thinking like, wtf is that beautiful man doing w/ that scrubby looking twig in the ancient clothes?? and like... he HAS to know. idc so much if other people are wondering how i got w/ him as long as HE isn’t like... damn, i could be doing so much better... anyways kill me, he is too fucking handsome and this birth control is making my skin break out really bad.

8/22/2018: this whole thing about being in a casual relationship is weird and tbh i’m less and less a fan. maybe i need to grow tf up but like, here’s an example. I’m going to a show friday night that’s literally 5 minutes from his house, and i know he’s free friday, and yet i won’t invite him bc i don’t want to see him there bc i don’t want him to be part of my local music world bc then he’ll mean that much more to me and it will be that much harder to feel and act casual. so that feels shitty. and like, i could totally skip the show and just go hang out w/ him, but I know he’s not planning his life around me, so I don’t want to get myself into a frame of mind where i’m sacrificing my stuff to be w/ him, so i make a point to not plan around him and not cancel plans for him. But getting to a point where i actively don’t want him to come to things w/ me is like some kind of accomplishment but also feels like a battle i don’t want to win? like i’m getting too good at it. at first i was like... struggling w/ it and he could probably tell? esp by how much i texted him and what kinds of texts i sent. but now i’m like, i’ve got a handle on it. i’m good. and it makes me sad. like what is the point of a casual relationship? what’s the point of a relationship you barely care about?

8/26/2018: conflict resolution like bosses >:) i know it’s just a beginning but we didn’t ever even get to a point of real conflict, although we were both approaching the subject at hand from wildly different perspectives and pretty high stakes. no insults or even criticisms, just explaining ourselves, being honest, and both quick to apologize. He definitely gets flustered and then gets a lot less precise about what he’s saying but then he’ll circle back to it when he’s had a minute to process/calm down and can fix whatever he mis-explained previously. It’s good to be back to good. 

8/28/2018: first use of a pet name: drunk text -- “Goodnight cutie. Sweet dreams and I’ll talk to you tomorrow <3″

8/31/2018: the way he reacted when i got suddenly skittish/stressed out was a startling moment in a really good way. He stayed so calm/supportive/reassuring. Who knew that was possible? 

9/1/2018: i think we’re becoming friends :’) meeting someone on a dating app, everything is backward bc the romance and skin comes before the friendship/knowing the person/etc so whenever we hang out for long enough to have time to get into decently long conversations and learn about each other or fight over whether william carlos williams is a good poet or not... it’s nice, and more special. Like, oh! that’s who you are?

9/8/2018: the way that relationships evolve is strange. like, a couple of weeks ago, just getting a text from M or not getting a text from him could change my mood and ability to focus so much bc everything was so new and uncertain and both exciting and stressful. now it’s okay either way. we’ve been dating for a little more than 2 months and things are getting to be sort of familiar and comfortable and less of a constant heart attack. the newness is still strange, there’s always some surprise. The other night he came over w/ his hair down and I was like ???? since when do you have hair like a young eddie vedder?? what is this?? but he was just like... yeah, that’s how it is right after i shower. i had no idea. it’s nice to literally get to watch someone slowly learn to trust you. he doesn’t act shy but it’s also easy to tell that he always has his walls up, I definitely have never seen them down yet, and that is okay. but the more comfortable he gets, the warmer he gets, and that’s really sweet. i’m frequently surprised by how competent of a person he is. he goes to the gym, he eats healthy, he’s a good boss, he’s a good student, he’s a good dog-parent etc. he asks questions like, “reading anything good lately?” and also corrected me instantly when I said KDC died in 93. he communicates clearly/gently/honestly. i’m getting to know some of his flaws, too. anyways i was out w/ a friend (allison c.) last night and we were talking about how shitty men are. i told her that the reason i’m w/ M is mainly just to get a chance to date someone who seems like he can prove that men can actually be really good. told her a story about how M reacted whenever i was having a bad moment and she was like, “I literally have goosebumps rn.” it was cute. reminded me not to take him for granted while he’s in my life. hope i’m not.

9/11/2018: M’s coming over tomorrow and i can’t waittttt. We try to see each other twice a week but sometimes it doesn’t happen and then it feels like forever. But now it’s less than 24 hours until i can hold his hands and kiss his face and i’m so ready.

9/13/2018: If this relationship is going to stick for a while... i can’t wait for the stage to come where i actually know him well enough that i’m not always overanalyzing/overreacting to every little cue. like there’s so much i don’t know that i can learn little things and be like WAIT WHAT? and get really stressed about it and i can’t wait for that to be over. how long til there’s an underlying level of trust/knowledge/comfort? 

9/23/2018: Okay so for the most part this relationship is starting to feel normal. It still doesn’t always feel real just because he is so segregated from the rest of my life. No mutual friends. no school to share, no work to share, no volunteering or show circuit. No one else has met him or even really knows what he looks like bc of a lack of recent pictures. I’m slowly getting more confident and comfortable within it, even though i do still second guess myself a lot more than i usually do. I guess i’m used to being fussed over and spoiled. But this isn’t like that at all. We’re both a) adults and b) busy and c) on opposite sides of the city and he’s still pretty reserved so I know I’m like, low-ish on his priorities list. Like i’m ON the list, but somewhere beneath going to the gym and getting a haircut, and about 10 miles below his dog. It’s fine, it’s only been like 3 months. Less than that. ANYWAY we’ve finally graduated out of the just-casual-relationship category and into the normal relationship category. Or, he said he thought we did a month ago, but I didn’t realize that’s what he was saying. So now I can stop filtering everything I say and do through that ever-present, “is this too serious?” lens and just do what makes sense/comes naturally. or something. I’m super excited about that bc that was getting really tiring and unromantic. 

9/30/2018: Uhhh, we went back into a weird “unlabeled” category where like we’re monogamous but nothing else is defined? Which I think is really lame but I also am trying to be patient and not pressure him and stuff. But I still think it’s silly and juvenile and kind of embarrassing. I mean I know he has his reasons and he needs to work through them on his own and at his own pace but for ME, it’s silly. Anyways. Still feels like there’s so much I don’t know about him or how he works or thinks or feels. But he still is always surprising me by just sheer level of sweetness. I feel like that’s always how I walk away, like, idk that guy but he sure has a kind heart. 

10/4/2018: Ok the back and forth stalling on what we’re even doing and all the associated casual dynamics have kinda killed the romance for me. like it’s cool and all but i’m done obsessing over the relationship and probably won’t be updating this anymore bc i really don’t care and continuing to write about it is just trying to make it a bigger deal to me than it really is.

10/19/2018: Nearly 4 months in and it’s still such a roller coaster, my perspective, optimism/pessimism and level of happiness change like every 48 hours. Sometimes i think we’re on the verge of breaking up because we’re too different or because we overworked the dynamics of our relationship too much. Sometimes i think we’re on the verge of stepping closer because our good days really are good. I’m always surprised by how complicated every little thing is, questioning where my feelings are coming from and whether i’m either getting carried away on good days or paranoid and trust-issues-y on bad days. And there is definitely also a background kind of darkness/heaviness surrounding the fact that the more time goes by, the more i understand that i’m really not even close to being over R. But on Wednesday he and I went to Red Emma’s and then took his dog for a walk and then watched princess bride (both of our favorite childhood movie) and ended up staying up til 5-something in the morning just lying next to each other talking about bullshit. Like it wasn’t staying up all night to work out something serious or anything. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. I remember at some point he started trying to recite post malone lyrics and could not stop laughing for so long. I remember on 9/8 I wrote that i know i’ve never seen him w/ his guard down and i still usually feel like that, but then sometimes lately i think it comes down for a second and it’s always really nice and makes me think it’s worth working/waiting for. It’s understandable that he’d still have a lot of walls up when our relationship has been so rocky and it’s still in the baby stages anyways. I know he must be feeling more and more sure of us bc the way his sister treats me changed distinctly this weekend. Like she was always super nice, but now she treats me like she expects me to be around/expects to and wants to make friends, which is so nice. He’s still incredible when I get triggered. Sometimes I just suddenly can’t anymore and he’s never even hinted at the slightest inkling of being frustrated by that. 

11/4/2018: “do you love me?” “yes. i do love you. its been screaming in my head to say it every time I look at you.” “then why didn’t you get me a seltzer water?” 

11/30/2018: “I’m breaking up with you, and I want to marry you, and I love you.”

---

update: this is going to be a running/updated post for all bullshit things i think about M but should be telling no one and should absolutely not be posting on the internet. 

[serlymurly]

A RANT ABOUT CHARACTERS, CREATION, AND THE PROCESS OF BEING INSANE

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s have a rant. A good, old fashioned rant about something that’s been nagging at my mind. First, paint the scene;

It’s 6 in the morning. The sun is rising outside. The love of my life is asleep in bed, our cat is in a box lined with a fuzzy blanket that I could have draped around my shoulders because frankly, it’s a bit cold. We have no creamer, and I think coffee wouldn’t help this headache that’s pounding away at my skull - and I have four people talking in my head.

Did I lose you yet? Probably not. It’s pretty straight forward. First - the puppy nailed to the wall. Four people talking in my head, what? Well - technically, I think they’re all me. But on a different level, only two of them are me. Got it?

One of me is going on about how this is all, in fact, a terrible idea and that to post any of this is to admit to a certain kind of insanity that I really shouldn’t be admitting to. This isn’t normal, on any level; I’ve never heard people talk about it, and the only person that I’m aware is actually on point with how I do things in writing is asleep.

The other part of me really wants banana bread, and frankly, I can’t fault that. Can you? Of course you fucking can’t, unless you’re allergic to bananas. Fuck yeah, banana bread.

Then, there’s the other two. One is a face that people who follow me are familiar with; James Oaklen. Don’t know who he is? Probably not! I’ll talk about him later. And he’s having a lovely conversation with this newest creation, this newest part of my intracranial house - Aeslen. But I won’t talk about her. Not yet.

So, yes. Four people. All adamantly talking their points, all actively going on and doing their own thing; existing in some level on a scene that I’ve always had in my head. Let’s explain that bit, shall we? Sorry this is disjointed - again, no coffee.

Flash back I don’t know how many years, and I was a young, young boy. I barely had any understanding of how to type; I’d never played a game outside of Banjo-Kazooie and Super Mario 64, games that required a controller.

I will spare the dirty details, but life at home was not perfect. There was yelling; there was hitting, there was strife, and a family that was slowly tearing itself apart. I could see the writing on the wall when I was 7, that’s how bad it was. So - my mom decides it’s a good idea to introduce me to this game she plays.

A game called Ultima Online.

And holy crap, that was amazing! I spent hours doing nothing of any importance on her computer, on our shitty internet in that crappy home in Ohio, just exploring this world with a character that I had created with my own two hands in a whole other world. This was a concept that I had never experienced; this was a new and exciting frontier for me. I named him Krill because that’s a COOL name and it sounds COOL. I gave him flaming red hair, I made him a paladin, and I spent hours just trying to kill skeletons in a really easy area at the start of the game because I kept forgetting how to fight things.

And then, one day, everything changed. UO, it turns out, maybe just the server I was on - had a very active community of this thing called ‘Role Players’. Weird, right? People who actively played out their characters as real, living things - in this world. Personalities, histories, everything. I stumbled on them by accident when I got lost in the big castle in the main town of the game.

There, at the time, was a bunch of high-end guilds. One was the Orcs (it was just people with orc masks on, but they pretended to be orcs and they rocked at it). There was the Highlanders (they wore kilts and I REALLY WANTED TO BE ONE). There was a merchant guild, and - all these other guilds I feel bad not remembering. And I was just this little seven-year old kid with a character named Krill with flaming red hair that walks into the middle of this big, IC meeting they were having. Imagine them responding to me with actual respect?

Imagine them actually… explaining what they were doing? With respect? I was so awestruck, I asked if I could play. They made me door guard. Boy, LET ME TELL YOU, I took that job so seriously. I stood just outside the meeting and I could see all their little talk, all while making sure nobody entered without permission. I was so hyped.

That, that stuck with me. Okay? Remember that. The idea - the concept that they had presented to me, this way that you could live another life through a digital form. That stuck with me.

But - well, things change. People. Lives. I never really got into the RP scene on that game; I wandered around and pretended to be part of things, but it was mostly them politely recognising me and letting me watch them do stuff. I only had an hour each day online, so it just - wasn’t enough. Eventually, my mom stopped paying for her UO account due to issues. So - back to the nintendo and other things.

Flash forward. Divorce imminent between the two parents. The world is collapsing around us children. My sisters are massive assholes, my brother and I feel like we’re alone together in a sea. So… in a desperate attempt to keep his spirits up, I introduce him to the concept. “Let’s pretend to be Link and go slay invisible monsters!”

Stupid, right? So we pick up sticks and start staying as far away from our house as we could. We’d talk about all the things we were fighting, we’d hit each other with ‘swords’, we’d drag our local friends into it! We just - disassociated. I think for him, it was mostly the swinging the sticks that was interesting; always fighting, always smacking things. But for me? I was using my mind to, you know. Envision such grandiose and wondrous things for us to be fighting! I was imagining landscapes, unspeakable monsters, and the type of person that I would be!

That evolved. Stuff happened again. We moved from where we’d been living to a new environment; Michigan. I like Michigan, don’t get me wrong; fucking love it there. But, well - we were young. I didn’t know anyone, and it was 5th grade. And then - more stuff happened.

I won’t go into nitty details, but one of my sister’s had a major incident occur. This lead to the family being put under more strain, which eventually finally snapped the cord. Grandparents died. One suddenly, one from cancer shortly after. A nasty, nasty divorce that left me feeling horrible. I was convinced that I could have stopped it - all of it. I was convinced that I should have; since I wanted to be that big hero, remember? Since I wanted to shoulder all the burdens.

I took it upon myself to never show any problems outwardly, after that point. I just smiled and acted silly and nobody really paid me much mind. “Oh, he’s always fine!” It’s about this time I got into (GASP) UO again. Freeservers, this time; technically, I think that was illegal, but who cares. I got deep into it; I made my first *real* RP character, who was of course a massive dork. Leone, a grey elf ranger that ate lemons - because I’d convinced *myself* that if you ate enough lemons, you could spit caustic spit? I don’t know, I was weird.

Leone would be my staple character for a long time. So long, in fact, that I began to wonder - as maybe we all do - where he stopped and I began. Sure, he was an elf with magic and grey skin - but personality wise, I felt he was a lot like me!

Then I learned that was a cardinal sin of roleplay. Apparently, you should never - EVER - make a character like yourself. You become too attached - which I did. You become too personally involved - which I did.

Games change, years move on. I went to SWG, I played a new character - Stodosmo Oci (horrible name I know). He was a security officer at a hospital! It was great. I loved it. It was a long, boring time of just sitting and watching doctors RP it out with patients in Mos Entha. And then.. I don’t know. Things. Again.

Went from there to WoW. Technically, I’d been in WoW since Vanilla - but the lore had never struck me as interesting enough to roleplay in seriously until just before BC released. I had a series of characters there, all sharing the same last name; Rodetan. Eventually, as Wrath came to a close, I decided to consolidate them into one large family tree.

WoW’s timeline sucks. That’s all you need to know about that.

Who remembers the early days of WRA? Alliance-side, there was a guild called ‘Stormwind’s Army’. Yes, it was just another military RP guild. Yes, we did a lot of patrolling and policing. It was fun, though; my character rose from an unwashed bum to chief recruitment officer. And then - drama happened. The guild split. I followed the ‘rebels’, and we formed the Vanguard of the Alliance (VotA). That was also fun.

Anyways, I’m sparing you all the nitty-gritty details - but this is where the story, once more, becomes interesting. After so long, VotA eventually fell apart. We all went our separate ways, and eventually three of the officers let me know that they’re still RPing in-game with this new group - Blood of Arathor, I think it was called. I’m asked if I want to join them. I say - sure, but not on the character I’d been using.

At the time, I was - kind of embarrassed of that character. I still am. He’s my best success story, yes, but he felt - I don’t know. Too close to me, in some ways that I won’t get into. So I thought - why not make a NEW character?!

OH BOY.

But there was a problem. And this is what most of this rant was building up to.

I had to build a new character.

From scratch.

Alright, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? - Except somewhere along the line of creating him - he came alive. In designing him, in creating his personality - I suddenly found that I was physically talking to myself - and in my mind, this quiet man was responding. James Oaklen, Knight of Stromgarde, was telling me about himself.

His goals. His life. His loves. His interests. All about himself; his world. How he felt about certain foods, how he felt about everything.

At the time - I had very, very acute problems in the real world. I was taking drugs, drinking heavily, I was obnoxiously depressed to the point of being borderline suicidal - and… well, this happened. What did it mean?

Don’t answer that. It’s not a real question, because it doesn’t matter.

I accepted that he was who he was - and he’s become one of my favorite recurring personalities in my characters. And he’s not the only one, anymore. At some point, this - new way of creation, this way to create characters that exist in my own mind - just, settled in.

So.. I wanted to document how it works. Sort of. Maybe you at home can replicate it?

I start by closing my eyes. I think about what races there are to choose from, what classes or skillsets; and then I just… start to see a person. Whoa, weird, huh? Just an outline. A faint outline.

So, we reach out with our mind, and we call to them; and they slowly come forward. We get an imprint, a basic idea for what they look like, in our minds. So - we go to the creator and we try to do that. As close as possible.

Then we look at the character. Scars; how did they get them? Each scar is a story in itself, and as you look - they begin to tell you about each one. As if just explaining casually. James has a scar along his neck, which he earned when he almost died defending his Lady - something that he constantly thinks about as a time that he failed.

Or, other big features? James - again, using him as an example - has a large, bushy black moustache. It’s his family’s staple, a sign of their masculinity and proof that an Oaklen has come of age.

And so on. Then, by the time we get to the point where we have to name them, they’ve already told us the most important things. We don’t just have a vague outline in our little mind shack; now, we have a PERSON. And the name? Well… That’s a limitation of the system, baby. Pick something as close to what resembles the name they called themselves, and stick to it.

I could go into more depth. I could go into the process of creating a video where I create a character, but - well, why? It’s just this vague idea that I want to get across right now. I really doubt anyone will read this five-to-seven page long spiel all the way through. But it’s just - interesting, to me. It constantly is there, this - process, these characters, these people. And not just them; worlds come just as easily. Is that the product of an over-active imagination from a man that was desperately seeking to avoid reality and paint a better fiction for himself to sit in? Probably.

But… I don’t know. When it boils down to it, I just let it happen. I get ideas in my head all the time for wondrous worlds, characters and things - but the most agonizing problem is that they can never seem to translate into text or print. I can’t paint worth a damn, I can barely draw - and the one medium I have for escape, Roleplay, is something that I barely do anymore.

So - how do I make it stop? Do I want to make it stop? Should I? How do I harness this? How do I focus it into something specific?

If you made it this far, congratulations. I don’t know how to end it, so I’m just tagging all the mmo’s I’ve ever played or remember playing for giggles. Kudos if you get all of them!

[folkloreguk]

Pick Me Up (optional bias smut)

(yes I did use ioi’s song as a title for my smut pls don’t fight me) 

warnings: smut, horrible pick-up lines

pairing: reader (fem) x optional bias (male)

A/N: I thought about Ilhoon from BTOB when I wrote this but you can literally imagine anyone! I didn’t proof read this bc it’s late and I wanted to post it, but I’ll do that tomorrow. I hope you won’t find mistakes and even if you do, enjoy reading!! x

(H/N means “his name”)

[I wish I could tag my masterlist here, but if I do this post won’t show up for you guys anymore, but I havea link in my description!]

You were convinced. He was the most annoying fuckboy you had ever met. There were at least 10 other girls in your class, that were just as good looking as you. But for some reason he had chosen you. You didn’t understand why, but ever since he had first seen you, he hadn’t stopped trying to get with you. The amount of times he had asked you for your number was out of control. Not that you were going to give it to him any time soon.

You had to admit, he was smooth. He never seemed to run out of energy when it came to making up pick-up lines and asking you about your previous boyfriend. You had broken up with him after he had cheated on you. It turned out he had only been in it for the sex, and it prompted you to have lost all trust in boys. Otherwise, mr. fuckboy was the annoying but smart kid in class, who every teacher wanted to hate. They simply couldn’t, though, because no matter how many silly remarks he made, he always made up for them with just as many clever ones. He did manage to make you laugh too, at times when you weren’t busy being annoyed at him. All he seemed to think about was sex. And you.

The worst part about hating his acting though, was, by far, his handsomeness. Of course you would never admit it in his presence, but you didn’t exactly think he was ugly. But being attractive wasn’t all it took to make you open up to him. A boy. Boys, of whom you knew you shouldn’t trust them ever again. Sometimes you felt yourself doubting your devotion when you stared at him. When he grinned slyly after having made a smooth remark towards you before he turned around in his seat, facing the teacher who had probably warned him about interrupting the lesson already. But you were strong-willed.

“Shut up,” you muttered at him under your breath, glancing at the clock in the corner of the class room. 5 minutes to go. You can do this. He grinned, not fazed by your comment. He had just showed you an actual screw he had brought from home. “Wanna screw?” had his exact words been. You had never been this done with anyone. Lucky for him, your teacher had no interest in warning his students for interrupting. Especially because no one was listening anymore when there were only 4 minutes of the lesson left.

“I admit, not my best one. Here’s another one,” he said. Oh boy, here we go again. “If I flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head?”

You wished in that exact moment you could slap his smirk off his face. Why did he have to sit in front of you? 3 minutes left.

“Your chances are smaller than zero, how many times do I have to tell you?” you muttered.

“Actually, my chances would be 50%. But I guess you- Ow!” he let out, as you had smacked his arm playfully. “You know you’ll say yes one day.”

“In your dreams,” you laughed ironically. “Can’t you just behave like any other normal student for a minute?”

And so he did. For the last minute, he turned around and shut up. You were almost impressed. Now and then you caught him taking a glimpse at the clock on the wall, eager to leave just like anyone else in the room. At the same time, you caught yourself staring at him. Black skinny jeans, deep blue sweater, some sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary. His hair looked a little messy from where he ran his hand through it earlier (Not that you had noticed that, too). Then, the bell rang. Finally. Voices bubbled up and chairs scratched over the floor. You packed your bag just as he stood up, placing his own bag on his table. Rummaging through it, he pulled his phone out, checking the screen. A second later, his face darkened in concern.

“Crap. There’s something wrong with my phone,” he cursed. You were 900% ready to get out of this classroom, but being the good person you were, you worried at his genuinely stressed expression. When he was being normal for a minute, you couldn’t help but be polite.

“What is it?” you asked. He looked at you for a moment, then sighed.

“Your number isn’t in it,” he said, sounding completely serious. Was he for real?

“And that’s the way it should be,” you caught yourself. “I need my break from you when I’m at home.”

And with that, you left him standing. If you just had his determination and used it for school work, you’d have heavenly grades. You dragged your body home, feeling unusually tired. You didn’t have a big appetite, which was unusual, and couldn’t focus on anything.

The next day you were sick. You were sure it was nothing serious, but decided to stay at home either way. At least in your bed you would be left alone. No pick-up lines for a day seemed like a week of holidays to you. It was a Thursday filled with coughing, sipping hot tea and watching your favorite TV show. You felt better in the evening, but not exactly healthy.

The next day you walked into the kitchen. It was morning and you were ready to leave for school again. The second your mother heard the ugly cough leave your throat, though, she sent you straight back to bed. Fine, you thought. Even though you didn’t feel sick anymore, another day in bed surely wouldn’t hurt. It was Friday anyway, allowing you to be excited about the weekend already.

Around noon you decided to check your phone for messages from your friends. You were sure you had missed homework and other school stuff you didn’t exactly feel like dealing with. To your surprise, none of your friends had messaged you about homework. Instead, you found a text from an unknown number.

unknown number: hey

                                                you: who is this?? 

unknown number: if you were a Pokemon, I’d choose you

                                               you: how the hell did u get my number??????? 

unknown number: we got paired up for a project

                                               you: what u talking abt??? 

unknown number: mr. smiths made us a pair for the history projects so ur friend had to give me ur number. its due to monday

                                               you: what the hell???? 

unknown number: I didn’t come up with the dead line

unknown number: btw what’s with all the question marks

                                              you: it’s called confusion

                                              you: so when do we meet up? 

unknown number: tomorrow? my place

You knew your parents wouldn’t be at home all day, and praying that his would be, you said yes. So there was still a small chance you wouldn’t have to spend an entire afternoon in a house alone with him.

On Saturday afternoon you had thrown on a random sweater with some pants, your sneakers and left your house. When you pulled up in his driveway you instantly noticed the lack of cars. He’s not getting into my pants, you told yourself. Why did you even have to remind yourself? For some reason, you felt nervous.

He ripped the door open around two seconds after you had rang the bell. In surprise, you flinched. The way he leaned against the door frame and grinned smugly made you frustrated. And you hadn’t even entered the house.

“Come in,” he made a dramatic gesture behind him, waving you inside. It almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Okay, first of all, rules.” You entered the house and looked around.

“Rules? What is this? BDSM?” he asked. You rolled your eyes. He nodded his head towards the stairs and you followed him.

“Focus,” you said, making him chuckle even more. “No pick-up lines. We need to get stuff done if this needs to be finished by Monday. I really need a good grade on this. Smiths already hates me for no reason.”

“Do I really distract you that badly?” he asked, smirking and turning around to you. His hair was messy, but in a good-looking way. His collar bones peeked out from under his shirt. You guessed he did distract you a little.

“See? That’s what I meant. Keep those comments in. At least until we’re back at school,” you said, entering his room after him. It looked cozy, and like he had just cleaned up. You hadn’t expected him to be messy, but not this clean either.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s literally my character, if you haven’t noticed yet, sweetheart,” he said, sitting down at his table, smirking again.

“Sweetheart?” you asked in disbelief. You realized that he wouldn’t stop with his comments until you did. And because fighting wouldn’t get you anywhere, you decided to shut up and start working. Your topic was the most boring subject you had ever heard about, making it even more bothersome to research it. It had been at least three hours. He had kept quite calm throughout it all, but you still seemed to struggle to make progress. You had taken your space on the floor, leaning against his bed. Around you, pens and papers were sprawled across the floor while you bit your lip trying to figure out a structure for your presentation.

“I need a break,” he murmured quietly from his desk. You only hummed, your thoughts focused on the presentation. Your hand ran through your hair, sighing in stress. He cleared his throat, making you jump.

“Looks like you could need a break too,” he laughed. “I’m gonna get a glass of water. Do you want one as well?”

Still in concentration, you snapped out of your trance slowly. You got up while nodding, deciding he was right, for once.

You watched the back of his head as he walked. The work had made you sleepy and dizzy, a little as if you were drunk. Crazy thoughts flooded your brain all of a sudden. Your fingertips tickled at the thought of running your hands through his hair, down the nape of his neck. You had always loved his neck, you just never had admitted it. Shaking your head, you asked yourself what had suddenly gotten into you. All you hoped for was for the water to wake you up and let you focus again. You entered the kitchen.

You thanked him when he handed you a glass of cold water. After you had downed it, you still didn’t think clearer.

“I don’t think we’ll get to finish this today. My mom wants me to be home by eight for dinner,” you admitted. It was already half eight. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

For a moment he blinked at you, then he grinned. You already knew what that expression meant.

“I mean…hopefully you…,” he mumbled. When you playfully lifted your hand as if to smack him, he held up both hands in surrender and giggled. “Okay! I don’t have plans, alright?”

“That’s literally all you had to say,” you let out, shaking your head at him.

“Y/N. Be honest for once. You like my pick-up lines,” he urged you. You laughed ironically. “Deep down, you do.”

“You drive me insane,” you said.

“That wasn’t a no!” he yelled in success, putting down his glass. “Come on. What’s so bad about me? What wrong have I ever done to you?”

You were taken aback by his sudden question. What wrong had he done to you? He had never been rude, only his goofy, sex-obsessed self. You glanced at his face. His eyes were waiting for an answer, hands crossed above his chest.

“I’m just not very fond of boys after my ex cheated-” you began.

“Seriously? You compare me to your ex-boyfriend?” he asked, genuinely offended. It was true, he was nothing like your ex. Much funnier, to begin with.

“I’m not comparing you! I guess I just don’t want to get involved with a guy any time soon,” you admitted.

“It’s not like I want to get married to you!” he argued.

“Wow, thanks,” you laughed at his defensiveness. “What do you want, then?”

He tilted his head at your question as if saying “Are you serious?”. Suddenly, he took a step towards you, startling you. Your body backed up against the counter, hands gripping the hard material as he studied your face.

“You know exactly what I want,” he breathed out. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the air from his lungs on your skin. It made your heart beat restlessly. His hand went under your chin, as if telling you. It was you, he wanted. You waited for his lips, but they never touched yours. He was waiting for your reaction. You realized he wasn’t going to kiss you without your consent. The boy wasn’t just determined, he also had one hell lot of self-control. Unlike you.

You closed the space between the two of you, lips colliding. Kissing him felt like triggering an avalanche of built-up frustration and emotions that had only been waiting to break free. His hands grabbed your sides roughly. He finally had what he wanted. In agreement, he let out a low sound when you pushed your body against his, chests touching. His tongue swiped over your lip, and you opened your mouth instantly. He tasted of bubble gum and smelled of cologne. His hands were even more eager than his mind, exploring your hips and waist, tugging at your clothes impatiently. You felt as if a ton-heavy weight was slowly lifting off you as you relaxed against his controlling touch and dominant kisses. He was right. Sex wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Not like your ex-boyfriend had. But your thoughts of him washed away in a blink when the boy in front of you pulled away and turned his attention to your neck. Your breath was shaky when he kissed you roughly, his teeth scraping against your skin. For a moment you let your head hang back, closing your eyes. His lips were soft but so passionate at the same time.

When your eyes opened, they fell onto the clock above the fridge. It was five to eight. Your eyes widened in shock.

“Wait, hold on,” you mumbled, softly tugging at his shirt. The look he gave you resembled a puppy whose food had been taken away. “I gotta get home, or else my mom kills me. She wants to have a family dinner. I’m sorry.”

He pouted, but nodded hesitantly. You wished you could’ve just been that rebel that ignored their parents for once. But that’s not who you were.

“But you’ll come over again tomorrow, right?” he asked, hope in his look as he showed you the way to the door.

“Yeah. To finish the project,” you emphasized.

“Sure,” he grinned, rolling his eyes. For the first time, you couldn’t blame him for thinking about sex now.

“I mean it! We’re not even halfway through, especially the presentation is not even close to finishing. We still need to write the entire text and draw the map. It’ll never work out,” you suddenly started to worry. Tomorrow was your last day and you had to spend it working with a boy that was sexually frustrated because of you. Which you, by the way, were as well.

“I’ll work on it tonight, maybe I get to finish it,” he said, completely calm.

“If you finish the project tonight I’m the princess of China,” you joked.

“And you’d let me have what I want?” he asked, unfazed. Let him have what he wanted. You laughed at him. There was no way he could finish the project by himself, in that short time. But a boy can dream.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, already out the door. “Bye. See you tomorrow.”

The next day at 3 you left your house, your bag full of pens, books and paper. You remembered the way to his house perfectly, and pulled up in front of it 10 minutes later. You chewed on your lip nervously whilst waiting for the door to swing open. You had thought the feeling would’ve gone away by now. But no way. The second you laid eyes on him when he opened up, you wanted him even more than yesterday. His hair looked freshly done but you wished you could mess it up. His lips were parted slightly as his gaze ran over your figure. You hadn’t worn anything special, just casual clothes. Yet he eyed you as if he never wanted to look at anyone else. When his look met yours, you looked away shyly.

“Come on in,” he said, completely relaxed. Without words you followed him to his room. The half which had the bed looked practically untouched. The other half, however, was a tornado-like chaos. Various pens sprawled across all surfaces and paper with messy notes covered every surface.

“Told you,” he grinned proudly. You lifted your eyebrows when he carefully stepped over the paper maze and grabbed a stack of them. Proudly, he handed it to you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. While he watched you, your eyes scanned the text quickly, making sure it made sense. You had known he was smart, but not this smart. Suddenly you wished you could do all of your projects with him.

“You did this by yourself? Last night?” you asked, still surprised. He chuckled.

“Indeed. It took me until three in the morning, but it’s done now,” he said. “Not a big deal.”

“Why didn’t you work that hard yesterday when I was over?” you asked.

“Honestly? I wanted you to stay over longer,” he admitted. His determination was definitely out of control.

“And now you asked me to meet again. If you were finished anyway you didn’t need me to come over,” you noticed. Then you remembered his words from last evening. He wanted his reward. You caught him licking his lips and your stomach flipped. Quickly, you looked over the text in your hands again.

“Is this how badly you want to get into my pants?” you joked, gesturing to the paper.

„Actually I think I just discovered my love for the history of the Medieval and Modern Africa,“ he explained matter-of-factly. You laughed out, and at the sound his eyes crinkled up too.

“Oh, of course, I’m sure of it,” you played along. “You know I could still say no now, and you’d have to accept it, right?”

He thought for a second.

„Sure, you could and I would. That sounds a lot like you’re saying yes, though,” he commented, smirking his famous, way too confident smile. He had never been more right and you knew it.

“Look. This one time, I’ll let you get away with it. But for the record, you can’t buy me with work. I’m only agreeing because I wa-” you started, holding up your finger. Suddenly, he walked over to you, grabbed your sides and attacked your mouth with his. You let out a surprised sound and stumbled backwards. You didn’t fall, though, because his grip on you was tight and after three chaotic steps your back hit the wall. There was no way for you to leave now, (not that you wanted to anyway) as his hands lay flat against the wall on your sides and he kissed you like his life depended on it.

He wasn’t doing anything particularly dominant, but the way he had you caged between the wall and his body and controlled the way you kissed him made your knees feel weak. Your previous boyfriend had made you feel good, but in a very sweet way. The boy that was all over you right now, however, seemed to not have the word vanilla in his vocabulary. You had no problem with him being rough. When you thought about it you let out a low whimper, to which he responded with a low growl.

“I’ve waited for so long, I thought I was gonna go insane,” he breathed against your lips as your chest heaved at the intensity of his kisses. You didn’t know how to speak anymore. Instead, you grabbed his neck and pulled him against you again. The way his tongue moved over yours made you wonder what else it could do to you. Involuntarily, your legs pressed together.

His hands were pulling your hair softly before moving downwards. Almost innocently they wandered over your chest, but you instantly arched your back, wanting more. They continued over your sides, holding you firmly by your hips. Then, they began lifting your top eagerly. You didn’t hesitate. It landed on the floor and meanwhile, he took off his own. You eyes barely had any time to admire his toned upper body, before they closed when his lips attacked your neck fiercely. His hands grabbed your ass and you moaned slightly. The way his lips played with your senses made you feel like melting underneath his teasing touch. They were rough and biting, and a second later soft and soothing. Your head leaned against the wall as he skillfully opened your bra, letting you toss it to the side carelessly. You whimpered at the sudden contact when his lips closed around one of your nipples, his hand playing with the other. His teeth grazed over your skin repeatedly, surely leaving purple marks. At least no one would see them there.

When he pressed his body against yours, you felt the bulge in his pants had grown. That didn’t take long, you thought proudly. On the other hand, you weren’t surprised. He was basically begging you to let him fuck you on a daily basis. You laughed quietly. While he was playing with the waistband of your pants, almost dragging them down, he reacted.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, confused but amused. You blushed, helping him to get rid off your pants, his following afterward.

“I was just thinking about how happy you must be now,” you explained, teasing him.

“I’m in heaven,” he didn’t hesitate to say. You were busy laughing as he took your arm and lead you to his comfortable looking bed. Turns out it didn’t just look the way. First, you admired his soft sheets, but then your focus diverted to him. To his mouth, to be exact. He kissed down your chest teasingly, but you felt how eager he was to get to your lower region. His hands stroking over your hips so tenderly were a massive contrast to his mouth. He licked and bit your skin until he reached the material of your underwear.

“You’re sure about this, right?” he asked. You wondered about his sudden hesitation.

“Of course I am,” you assured him, begging him to continue with your look.

“And you’ve done this before, right?” he asked. You were taken aback.

“What made you think I haven’t?” you asked, getting really impatient by the second.

“I just thought…, maybe you didn’t react to my pick up lines and jokes because you had never-” he explained. You laughed out. He looked puzzled.

“The problem wasn’t that I hadn’t had sex before, which I have, by the way. Your pick-up lines are just really, really bad,” you joked, grinning at him. He was playfully outraged.

“Okay, wait, you’ll love this one. Why do-,” he began, but was cut off by your voice.

“I am laying on your bed, half-naked and you’re trying to impress me with a pick-up line? You can do better than that,” you scolded him, chuckling. The tension between your legs became more unbearable with every passing second of him not touching you, and you couldn’t handle it.

“You’re right. I’ll show you how to be truly impressed, don’t worry,” he was back to being his cocky self. You were almost glad, because finally he pulled down your underwear. You lifted yourself up on your forearms, watching him as he breathed hot air against your wet center. Gently, his arms wrapped around your bent legs, laying on your lower stomach.

“Please, hurry,” you begged. He smirked, and you almost regretted saying it. Then you sucked in a breath when he licked a stripe over your folds, teasing you endlessly. He chuckled lowly when you let out a mix between a whimper and a groan, only leaving you more eager. His tongue was way too gentle on you. Forcingly, he pushed your legs apart further, giving him better access. When his tongue went over your clit, he suddenly stopped the game. While his finger nails dug into your stomach’s skin, he sucked on your clit, first hard, then softly and so on. He hadn’t been lying. Your throat left a breathy moan when he continued with licking, this time stronger than at first. As time went on, his muscle became faster and you felt yourself become weaker. You had to admit, he looked extra good laying between your thighs. You smiled in bliss, forgetting everything else around you.

“You’re so damn good at this,” you said, but the last part ended in a whimper when he payed extra attention to your sweet spot, making you see stars for a second.

“Told you,” he mumbled, barely pulling away. The vibrations his voice sent through you made you grip the bedsheets tightly. “If you would’ve only realized it sooner.”

He smirked up at you, not stopping his actions. Your stomach twisted in pleasure and anticipation. At this point, holding yourself up was no point anymore. You let your upper body fall backwards, the soft sheets catching you as you closed your eyes. You felt like you wanted to get even closer, although his face was basically buried between your legs. You squirmed under his grip when you felt yourself near your release.

“Stay still for me,” he ordered. There was only a little dominance in his voice, yet it made you want to behave. Even though you knew you couldn’t.

“But I’m so close,” you whimpered. He only took your words as a motivation. Faintly, you wondered how he had gotten so good with his mouth. His hands made you shiver even though they were gripping your body with roughness, keeping you in place. As you felt yourself get closer and closer to your release, your hands went to his hair. He slowed down for a second, but then he realized you didn’t want him to stop. The short break seemed to have left you even more sensitive. When he began sucking your sweet spot again, you almost couldn’t take it. His tongue leaped at your clit quickly. All you could do was close your eyes and attempt to control your moans. Within seconds you were coming, squirming underneath his touch while pulling his hair. Your back arched off the mattress and you moaned his name, no one else on your mind. He slowed down his actions and you shook slightly when he licked your over-sensitive clit one last time before pulling away.

For a few seconds you caught your breath, feeling his arms loosening their grip and his hands stroking over your skin soothingly. You stared at the ceiling for a while as your chest heaved, eyes blinking slowly. For some reason, you didn’t have enough of him yet. When you looked down, he was already staring up at you, grinning proudly at your expression. He gave you no signs of being eager, even though you were pretty sure he was. He was simply admiring you. It made you feel slightly weird.

“Are you not gonna take your pants off?” you asked. He laughed at your comment, shaking his head out of his focused state. Then, he got up and did just that. His boner was prominent and looked almost painful. He made a move towards the bed, almost as if he was going to climb on top of you. Then, he stopped in his tracks.

“Wait-” you began. Use protection, kids.

“Condom, I know,” he said, digging through his dressing table. When he finally scrambled onto the bed, he seemed to have lost all patience. Your hands went around his neck while he pumped his shaft a few times, squinting his eyebrows at the built up tension.

“Ready?” he asked you. You nodded before he had even finished the word. He entered you slowly, but wasted no time in picking up pace. At first, you whimpered at how he filled you up and how sensitive you were. Then, you got lost in the way he bit his lip and how his jaw flexed under his skin. His moans sounded like music to your ears. He was holding himself up on his arms while your legs bent a little, making him slam into you at a perfect angle. You cried out when he almost pulled out fully, only to thrust back into you until his hips met yours, his skin hot against yours. Your hands were playing with his soft hair by the nape of his neck, while he lowered his head a little. He wasn’t kissing you, but your lips were touching slightly, your unsteady breaths becoming one. He repeated your name a few times, as if praising you. His arms flexed under his weight, his veins standing out.

His member brushed over your sweet spot over and over, making you clench around him. He grunted at the sensation, only leading you to do it again. You loved seeing the way he shut his eyes tightly, concentrating on the pleasure. His thrusts were quick, but seemed less controlled than in the beginning, meaning he must have been close. Curses left his mouth, while you moaned softly. His motion became even quicker as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips hovering over your skin. His name slipped past your lips when he messily kissed you there, not slowing down his thrusts. When you clenched your walls around him again, he was sent over the edge.

He groaned, his arms giving out and he fell onto his forearms, basically laying on top of you now. His skin was hot and his breaths uncontrolled, face still in your neck. When he looked up at you he looked thoroughly content. You grinned tiredly. He pulled out carefully, making you whimper. For a few seconds you stayed that way, catching your breaths. It was quiet in the room, and you felt energetic and at the same time completely exhausted. Of course he was the first to speak.

“Don’t you wanna hear my pick-up line from earlier?” he asked. You almost smacked him. Then, you laughed.

“Okay, tell me,” you said, leaving him surprised. He was going to tell you anyway.

“People call me H/N, but you can call me tomorrow.”