#a fucking tag nav page

[elvenking42]

Gave this tumblr a little bit of a face-lift since the poor theme was A MESS! Just broken links and code everywhere and just boring aesthetics i didnt like anymore. BUT NOW ITS NICE AGAIN hurrah!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to 

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon. 

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap. 

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium. 

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag. 

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds. 

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.” 

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up. 

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment. 

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people. 

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms. 

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.” 

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.” 

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core. 

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.” 

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him. 

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state. 

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies. 

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?” 

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.” 

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.” 

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed. 

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.” 

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone. 

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.” 

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started. 

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms. 

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile. 

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?” 

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits. 

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense. 

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.” 

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.” 

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!” 

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other. 

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.” 

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.” 

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.” 

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued. 

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions.  You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots. 

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing. 

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.” 

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

[nottsangel]

ur whole page brings me joy i didn’t know i had omg. can i request one where the reader is mad at jj over something but he makes it up w sex 😋 ty i love ur fics

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: smut, dirty talk, mentions of sex

nav. // m.list // taglist

not my gif. credits to owner.

You let out a sigh as you tossed your bag on the table when you got home. You made your way to the living room before your attention was drawn to the dishwasher— more specially the fact that it wasn’t unloaded. You cursed quietly as you plopped down on the couch, annoyed at JJ since this wasn’t the first time he forgot to do his chores at your shared house. Just as you were about to text him, you heard JJ rushing down the stairs like an excited puppy, happy to hear that you had arrived home.

“There’s my girl!” he said with excitement, coming up to hug you but you swiftly pushed him away. He gazed at you confusedly before his facial expression shifted to one of realisation as he looked over your shoulder and noticed the dishwasher.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I-“ “So what’s the excuse gonna be this time, JJ? I’m so fucking sick of it” you spat out with more annoyance than you normally would. It had been a very long day and you simply couldn’t deal with anything right now.

You got up from the couch and made your way to your shared bedroom as JJ stood motionless, unsure of what do to. You were well aware this wasn’t the right moment to argue, given your state of exhaustion and your desire to avoid letting your emotions get the better of you.

From your peripheral view, you could see JJ following you upstairs, causing you to let out a deep sigh as you tried your hardest not to snap at him— but you lost all control when he grabbed your arm.

“I swear to god JJ! I’ve already asked you, what, five times to do the chores this week? Can’t you do anything in this house?” you snapped at him. You felt your anger intensifying when he gazed at you with a slight smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

“Seriously? Are you enjoying this?” you asked, your brows furrowed while he eyed you up and down. “No. But you look hot when you’re angry. Kinda scary, yes. But very, very hot” before you had the chance to react he abruptly lifted you by grabbing your thighs and encircling your legs around his muscular torso. Your breathing quickened as he kissed your neck and pushed your back against the wall.

“There is one thing I can do, baby.” he whispered, sucking on your earlobe as his hot breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine. “How many times did you say you had to ask me, sweetheart?” “Uh-uhm… 5 times, J” you stammered, feeling yourself lose control as he continued nibbling on your neck and marking you with hickeys.

“I see, I see… I’ll make it up to you, pretty girl.” with each kiss on your neck, you felt the anger inside you subside. “I’ll give you an orgasm for each time you had to ask me” he whispered in your ear as his hands squeezed your ass.

“B-but-“ “No buts. Gonna make you feel so good, baby. From now on I’m only gonna make you scream my name in pleasure”

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated since they keep me motivated to write more!!

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[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XXI: Baby, What Did You Expect?

summary: it’s the mid tour finale, and of course nothing is as it seems. i’m horrible at blurbs pls forgive me

cw/tags: alcoholism, addiction mentions, probably some improper AA etiquette, angst per usual, lots of tears. gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, estranged lovers, mutual pining, angst

a/n: hehe haha hehe. this is probably my best work thus far. i really hope yall enjoy it, this took a LOT out of me

—

January 1991

Steve’s POV

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He taps his foot on the linoleum, the buzzing overhead lights causing him to squint through his already painful migraine. Your phone goes to voicemail again, and Steve all but slams the payphone down onto the receiver. “Fuck!” He huffs, turning back down the hall, defeated.

In his room, Eddie sleeps on the hospital bed under a thin blanket. There’s a tube in his nose, but the doctor said the word stable, leaving Steve some time to call you. Not that it mattered. Even if you had answered, what would he have said? Would you even want to know?

–

July 1991

Eddie’s POV

It’s been a whole year since he’d seen you, but there you were. Right in front of him, dancing with a small redhead covered in tattoos, a plastic cup in one hand, the other in the air. He already knows he won’t go over, won’t approach you, or even try to violate your field of vision. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you, the way your shirt clings to your body perfectly, the way your skirt lands right below the curve of your ass, your exposed legs going on for miles. He drinks you in from afar, without caring how creepy it feels, seeing you without your knowledge, It’s day eighty nine, but Eddie turns to the bartender and orders a drink.

–

Present Day

Your POV

It just doesn’t make sense. If Steve had known about Eddie’s problem like he claims, then why on earth had he let him drink himself stupid? Your brain tries to rationalize your best friend’s choice, but you come up with nothing. There is no good reason for what Steve did. Didn’t he pride himself on taking care of his friends?

You sit up as the bus starts moving, preparing to confront Steve before quickly remembering he’s on the other bus. Instead, you find Robin reading a beaten copy of On The Road in the breakfast nook, and drop down beside her, sighing.

She glances up but doesn’t speak, eyebrow cocked as you pout for her full attention. She dog ears her page, making a show of sitting up straight, like a proper catholic girl in class.

“I’m having a dilemma.” You state, refusing to let your voice crack. “I need an outside perspective.” Really, you need someone to tell you what you want to hear, but you can’t say that.

“I’m all ears, babe.”

“This whole thing with Eddie,” You ignore her not so subtle eye roll. “Something’s just not right. Steve knew, y’know, about Eddie’s drinking. He told me himself he’d been aware, even before I was.”

“Okay…”

“But Eddie had been drinking, when tour started. A lot. And Steve definitely knew, because he’d been the one to carry him to bed most of the time.”

“What exactly is your dilemma in this scenario?”

“Why was he watching his friend backslide? Why didn’t he do a fucking thing to help him?” You can’t keep your voice from weavering, and you choke on your breath. “I don’t get how he could claim to care for Eddie, to love him, and let him do that to himself. Not after-” You stop, not knowing what Robin should and shouldn’t know.

“After what?”

“After everything, I guess.”

“Listen to me, honey. Eddie is a grown man, so’s Steve. Sure, we’re all buddy buddy, but when it comes down to it, we can’t always play heroes.”

“What, so we’re supposed to be okay watching Eddie slowly kill himself?”

Robin pinches between her eyes, deep in thought. “No, of course not. But at some point, talking to a wall is gonna get old. But, hey! Eddie hasn’t had a drink in weeks, right? So why the worry now?”

You shake your head. “I guess I’m just nervous. We have a month off, and I don’t know where i’m gonna go. I could go to my place in Boston, or go back to Seattle. I just-”

“You’re worried about Eddie.” For once you’re grateful for how easily she can read you.

“I am.”

“You want my advice? Play it by ear. No one said that you have to stay away from him now that business hours are over. You can afford to reconnect with him, in the real world.” She makes a point, but what exactly is the real world? The world you know is barely real, and the one you’d known before it felt even less so. Sometimes you wish you’d died in the Upside Down, at least then you wouldn’t have known such a profound kind of pain.

–

Eddie’s POV

“Tomorrow night, we play our last show of the first leg of the Freak Show Tour,” Eddie announces to his bandmates crowded around the small breakfast table of the tour bus. “We will rock this house like we have rocked no other, a grand finale they will wish they televised!” The response is various whoops and cheers from his friends, and a small smile from Steve as he stands aside with his arms crossed. “Let’s make sure the state of… uh…” Eddie places a hand to his mouth, stage whispering to Steve, “Where are we?”

“Delaware.”

“Let’s make sure the state of Delaware can’t prepare for what we’re about to give ‘em!” Eddie hollers, and his friends join in as the bus pulls around the back of the hotel parking lot.

–

He swipes his key card as he catches you unlocking the door next to him. “Hey neighbor.” He winks, feeling awfully bold after a long trip without seeing you.

“Hey, Eds.” You send him a smile that makes his heart skip, and he curses himself for being so easily bent out of shape. You and him are friends. Friends with a long, frustrating history, but friends nonetheless. “You ready for the mid tour finale?” He asks, awkwardly shifting to lean against the doorframe.

He catches as your face falls the slightest bit. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s gonna be weird, I think.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “I dunno. We’ve been on the road for like a month now. It almost feels normal. I won’t know what to do with myself when I’m back at home.”

He must be mistaken, but your words sound almost like an invitation, a cracked door. “Where’s home for you?” He asks, ignoring how tacky it must sound.

–

Your POV

It takes a lot to bite your tongue before you blurt, “You,” but you manage.”I uh, I think I’m going back to Boston. Might as well, it’s where we start back up again.” It will be August then, and you’ll have heard for sure whether you’re playing one of the biggest music festivals of the year. You still haven’t told Eddie, and at this point you aren’t sure what you’d say. “What about you? Where are you headed?”

Eddie sucks his top lip between his teeth in thought. “Maybe LA, or I’ll hold myself to my promise to visit Wayne. Depends.”

“On what?” It sounds like a challenge.

“On if I want to face my guilt or keep running from it. Or something equally dramatic.”

You snort, pretty eyes rolling back into your head. “Please.”

“What?”

“Don’t be shitty. Let yourself feel guilty, god knows you deserve to. Visit Wayne, at least for a while.”

“Why does it matter to you what I do?” He doesn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they do.

“Believe it or not, Ed, you still matter to me. Very much. And if you let yourself be miserable, we’ll all have to put up with your bullshit when we come back. Do us all the favor. Go home.” You swipe your card again, entering your room before Eddie can respond.

–

It shouldn’t matter. You and Eddie aren’t what you used to be, no matter how hard you delude yourself into thinking you can get back there. That possibility feels long gone, completely unreachable at your current status. You have to settle.

You walk over to the big window in your room, drawing back the heavy shades to reveal the setting sun and city of Dover below. You lay back on the bed, the fluffy pillows soothing you quickly to sleep.

–

A knock on your door rattles you awake. The digital clock on your nightstand reads 11:30 PM, and you groan as you roll onto your feet. Another round of heavy knocking makes you scurry faster to the door.

“What?!” You demand, flinging the door back to reveal a disheveled Steve clad in a wrinkled tank top and linen pajama pants. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Steve shoves past you and into the room without an invite, causing you to spin on your heel to face him.

“Well, I am now! What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t find him.”

“Who?”

“Eddie!”

Good fucking god. “He’s not in his room?”

Steve looks at you like you’ve asked the dumbest question in the world. You suppose you have. “No. He went out. Didn’t seem like he was okay.” Steve holds his face in his hands. “I’ve called all the bars in the area, no one’s said they’ve seen him. He could be on the street somewhere, he could-”

“Okay, enough!” Of course he’s worried, but you’re fed up with Steve’s inability to be consistent. “Where was this attitude a month ago? When he was drinking himself silly before every show, when he would beg for whiskey the mornings after? You let him relapse, and now you’re worried?” You don’t realize you’re yelling until someone next door bangs on the wall, demanding you shut up.

“What are you talking about?” Steve sniffs, lifting his head to look at you.

“Steve, you’d known this whole time that Eddie has a problem. You’ve been letting him indulge in it, doing almost nothing. Now you’re surprised he’s gone out without telling you? Seriously?”

“There is only so much I can do to stop him, Y/n, you have to know that. I had to watch him vomit all over himself while I waited for the paramedics, I had to watch him detox in that hospital bed. Then I had to watch him relapse. Not just last month, but last year. He fell off the wagon after eighty nine days, Y/n, eighty nine. You wanna know why?” He waits for you to answer, but you’re not sure you want to. “Because he saw you at a gig. In New York, last July. He called me that night, told me everything. Told me he was sorry, that he was a waste of my time, all that shit. Made me promise to never try to save him again.” Steve’s in tears when he finishes, and you feel your own start to fall. “I have kept my mouth shut because I promised, but I worry about him every day. Well, until lately. He’s been so much happier, and there’s no use even arguing why that must be. But he’s not your responsibility either, I know that. It’s not fair of me to be putting any expectations on you. I just thought you might know where he is.”

You drop onto the mattress beside Steve, resting your head on his shaking shoulder. “I think I might know where he is. We can’t go there, though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s supposed to be anonymous.” You hope to every god that you’re right.

–

Eddie’s POV

“I haven’t been to a meeting in about a year,” Eddie starts, addressing the small group in front of him, sitting in a circle of folding chairs in the basement of a church. “But today is the two year anniversary of the worst day of my life. I guess it’s getting to me lately.”

“What happened two years ago?” The woman running the meeting encourages Eddie. She’s an older woman, with sandy blonde hair and a wrinkled, kind face.

“I ruined the best thing I could have ever asked for. I lost the love of my life, walked out on them for the last time after months of doing whatever I felt like with their feelings…

–

July 1990

“We can’t do this anymore.” You’re talking to the ceiling, arms resting on top of your chest, you don’t look at him. He’s next to you, stuck to the bed with sweat, breathing in your scent that begins to suffocate him. He knew this day was coming. You’d been seeing each other for about a month now, after half a year of not speaking.You’d fallen victim to his drunken pleas, as well as what Eddie suspects is your own self hatred.

“What are you talking about?” He plays dumb, hoping you’ll chicken out of leaving him for a second time.

“This,” You motion to the room around you. “I can’t see you anymore. It’s too much.”

“Too much?” Eddie sits up, and wills the room to stop spinning.

“Every time you come over, you’re wasted. You’re miserable most of the time, and the times you aren’t you’re hopped up on blow. It’s like you’ve added me to your list of fucking bad habits. I don’t want to be that for you anymore.” Your tone is ice cold, not a hint of sadness or anger in your voice at all. It chills Eddie to his core.

“Fine.” Eddie huffs, shoving himself out of bed. “Makes perfect sense, you telling me all this after I fuck your brains out. Made sure to get what you wanted first, right?”

“Eddie, come on,” You go to move, but Eddie tucks the blanket back over you.

“No, really, it’s fine. Ten minutes ago you were telling me how much you missed me, how good it felt. Now you’re cutting me off? Just like that?” Eddie shoves his legs clumsily into his jeans, cursing under his breath when his toe gets caught in a hole. “We talked about this. This was supposed to be purely physical, remember? You agreed to that.”

“I did, I know. But I agreed before I could understand that you’re… well, different.”

“Different how?” He snaps. You hesitate, picking anxiously at your fingernails. “Y/n?”

“You’re mean, Eddie. You’re cold. You don’t care how you make me feel, or rather, how you don’t make me feel when you sleep over. I’ve had to fake it. Beyond that, I can’t even make conversation with you. I feel used. It’s lonely.”

He sees red. Eddie gathers up his jacket, and his still half full beer bottle from the nightstand. “Fuck you,” He spits, tossing things aside as he searches for his keys. “Y’know what, yeah. We’re done.” He gulps the rest of the drink down before slamming the bottle into the bin.

“We can’t be done if we weren’t anything to begin with.” Your words bite, despite them originally being his own from when he’d come up with such a stupid agreement. “And we won’t have to break up, because this isn’t a thing.” He’d seduced you after a show one night, high out of his mind. He’d never expected you to agree to it.

“Perfect,” He snaps, daring himself to look at you. Your eyes are wet, but you’re stoic. You don’t tremble, you don’t heave or scream or shudder. “I don’t ever want to see your face again.” He doesn’t mean that, and he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. But he can’t take them back now. “We don’t know each other.”

“I don’t think we ever did.” Your final words ring loudly in his ears as he slams the door behind him.

–

The group waits patiently for Eddie to finish, and he wipes a tear he hadn’t noticed from his cheek.

“You say you see this person frequently now?” The woman asks, and Eddie nods.

“We’re on tour together. Tomorrow’s our last show ‘til next month. Needed a meeting a little extra tonight, I guess.” It’s past midnight, this group being one that meets in the late hours to cater to night shift workers.

“Well, we thank you for sharing with us tonight, Eddie.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” The group responds as if on cue. The meeting is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie makes his way to the table for complementary stale coffee and doughnuts.

“You’re really brave for coming here.” The voice is small, taking Eddie a second to register. He turns around to face a girl who can’t be older than seventeen. “I’m Macy. Addict.”

“Hi, Macy.” Eddie greets her like he’s reciting a script. “I dunno about brave. That’s probably the last thing I feel right now.”

“Well, think of it like this. You could have gone to a bar, or a club to try and score. You came here instead. That’s brave.”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”

“And they still love you, y’know. That doesn’t just go away.”

“How would someone your age know so much about something like that?”

Macy shrugs. “I follow the tabloids. I know who you are. I won’t say anything, obviously. But I’ve been watching you, with them. I’ve seen the photos, and the music doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“You can’t believe everything you read.” He’s not sure whether to take her word, she seems so genuine.

“Maybe not, but I believe this.”

Eddie gives her a sad smile before saying goodbye. She waves him off with a warm smile.

Once outside, he lights a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he closes his tired eyes. The exhaustion has washed over him, and he’s ready to be dragged under when he hears footsteps approaching.

—

Your POV

He opens his eyes and meets them with yours, heavy from lack of sleep. “Hi.” You wave shyly, like you’ve never met him.

“How’d you find me here?” He flicks ash onto the concrete.

“Saw the flier in the lobby when we came in. Checked it again and saw one less tab on the bottom. Minor detective work.” You smile, despite the exhaustion written on your face. His cheeks warm.

“You alone?”

You nod. “Took a world of convincing Steve not to come with me. I think I’ve sedated him, though.”

“Shit, he that worried?”

You shrug. “You know how he gets. He’ll be glad to know you’re okay, though.”

“What, did you think I’d gone on a run too?”

“No, actually. It was my idea to check here. Relieved as shit that I’m right.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You stretch your hand out to hold as the doors swing open, a herd of people filing out. A small girl with a sweet face sends Eddie a smile, and winks at you before getting into a cab, and you turn to find him blushing.

“Friend of yours?”

He chuckles. “Guess you could say that.” He entwines his fingers with yours without waiting for an invitation. All too familiar touches, worlds away from where you’d stood only a month ago. “So,” He starts, swinging his arm and yours as you start back toward the hotel, “were you worried about me?” His tone is teasing, tinged with what can only be described as hope.

You can feel your cheeks warm and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. “Guess you could say that.” You squeeze his hand. “But that’s nothing new. I’m always worried about you.”

—

July 1990

Your POV

“It’s over,” You’re sobbing into the receiver, barely able to hear Steve’s sigh on the other end. Relief? Disappointment? You can’t tell, your senses are blunted only by the thought of him.

“Are you okay? Wait, stupid question,” Steve stumbles on the other line, unsure of how to comfort you. “Can I do anything?”

You shake your head before you remember he can’t see you. “No, no. I’ll be alright. I ended it. I had to. He’s not the same person I fell in love with. I know that now.”

“Maybe, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Do I want to know?”

Steve waits a beat before answering, the static of the line filling your head. “No, I don’t think you do.”

You talk for an hour before you feel your eyelids grow heavy, and say your goodbyes before hanging up. You are once again in silence. Alone. In a fit of rage— or of heartbreak, you’re not sure, you fall to your knees and let go. You haven’t cried like this in months, the kind of cry that leaves you hoarse and tired, but tonight, in the dark of your bedroom, you cry for the person you used to know.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Thank you, Denver! Goodnight!” The crowd erupts into cheers, pleas for a second encore, and Eddie’s sure he can see women in the front row tearing their bras off to throw onstage. The house speakers blast Talking Heads Burning Down The House as kids make their way to the exit. Eddie slides through the crowd of techs and stagehands backstage, making his way to the green room to collapse on the weathered couch.

“That was fucking incredible!” Jeff exclaims, clapping his calloused hands together. “Best show so far, I think.”

“Psh, that was nothin’, wait ‘til you see what Boston can do.” You’re sitting in the rickety recliner, a cigarette between your fingers, still dressed in your stage clothes. Your skin shines with sweat and glitter, cheeks rosy from exertion. You’re most stunning like this, Eddie thinks.

“Yeah? You willing to bet on that?” He jokes.

“Oh, more than willing!” You chuckle, stubbing out your smoke in the ashtray next to you. “But tonight, I turn in early.” You make a point to stand up, stretching your arms above your head. Eddie’s eyes fall to your midsection, exposed to him while you sort out your limbs. You’d think he’d never seen skin, the way he feels his skin burn at the sight of your stomach.

“Aw, it’s our last night together!” Sylvie whines, shoving you playfully. “One drink?”

Eddie waits with bated breath, and swears your eyes dart to his before you answer.

“Fine. One drink.”

—

Eddie doesn’t follow you to the bar, he knows better. Tonight has already been difficult, knowing he has nowhere to go after tonight, nowhere he wants to go, anyway. He digs through his duffel bag until he finds his long ignored copy of Tighten Up. He wants more of you, somehow. He’s still desperate to know how you’d felt, those horrible years apart.

He skips to the title track, tucking his hair behind his ears before equipping the headphones. The song greets him with the static of an amp, followed by the clicking of drumsticks. When it kicks in, the song is full, clearly a whole band effort. Robin’s bass cuts through with a funky riff, layered underneath dirty guitars and heavy drums. He’s sure the song can’t get better until your voice slices through the music

Dared myself to stand back up, / After all these wasted tears, / Felt my heart sew itself together, / After all that wear ‘n’ tear. / I let you turn your back on me, / I watched you walk away, / And ‘til now I let myself believe / I was supposed to die that way. / But now I’ve tightened up my heart, / I’ve locked away the pain, / and I don’t have much left to give, / without asking for the same.

You tell a story of a broken soul, fighting its way through the dark on its own. The music swells as you belt the chorus, and Eddie can almost feel his fingers hurt during your guitar solo. Robin’s backing vocals fill out your lead, and the buzz of the snare drum carries out the bridge.

When the song fades, Eddie takes his headphones off, needing to digest what he’s just heard. This one might just be his favorite on the album, at least so far. It feels like the pinnacle, the turning point of the story told by the tracks. He’s heard it live, sure, but something about hearing the way it’s produced gives him more of an idea of what you’d been feeling in the moment.

He has an overwhelming urge to see you. He launches himself out of bed, gathering himself as best he can for being so frazzled. He’s in sweatpants, a tattered t-shirt draped loosely over his form, hair pulled into a low ponytail to keep from tangling. He goes to turn the knob, but stops when he hears voices in the hall.

“I can’t believe it.” You’re wasted, words slurring together between hiccups and giggles. Eddie can picture you, rosy cheeked and stumbling, clawing for his arm to support your swaying weight, and his heart lurches as if to grab you through the door. “We’re playing fucking Lollapalooooooza!” You howl the word, and he hears Steve shush you as Robin cackles.

“Hey, hey!” Steve stage whispers, trying to silence you. “Don’t go gloating about it.”

“Why not?” He can almost hear your pout, and he chuckles to himself.

“I don’t wanna deal with you pissing Eddie off.”

“Y’know, Stevie, he’s gonna find out one way or another. Might as well come from me. Besides, he’s different. He’s happier, I think. I dunno. I hope he’s happy, he deserves to be happy.” Eddie’s heart swells as he listens to your tangent, but you’re not done yet. “I wish I could make him happy again. I feel like, whatever I do, I make it worse.” Your voice is cracking, whether from overuse or from trying not to cry, Eddie can’t tell. Now he has to see you. He goes to turn the knob again, but there’s a knock on his door at the very same moment.

Eddie opens the door almost as soon as you’re finished knocking, wafting your scent of lavender and vanilla into his nostrils.

“Hi,” You exhale the word, and Eddie can’t help when his lips twitch upward before he lets his grin free. “Needed to see you.”

“What a coincidence.” He tries not to let his excitement show, standing aside to let you in. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I have to tell you something. Well, I don’t have to. But I want to. You were the only person I wanted to tell, actually. I hope you’re not mad, though. I don’t know what I’d do if you were.”

“Hey, whoa, slow down,” Eddie rushes to where you sit on the edge of his bed, spiraling as the liquor tightens its hold on you. “Why would I get upset?”

You shrug lamely. “I dunno. Just, need you to be happy for me right now. Please be happy for me.” It’s a hoarse whisper, a plea meant for his ears only.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he settles for resting one clammy palm on your leg. “You can tell me anything you want.” He knows what’s coming. You’re playing the biggest festival in the States. Something he’s dreamed about since the festival came to be. Of course it hurts, but Eddie can push that aside to be happy for you. He knows better.

You don’t continue, though. Instead, you scoot further into his side, nuzzling into his shoulder like a needy cat. Despite his aching heart, Eddie wraps his arm around you, letting you further into his hold. Your breathing slows back to normal, and Eddie has no desire to move from this spot. Tomorrow, you go back to Boston, and Eddie fucks off somewhere to wait out the month until he gets to see you again. He can indulge for one more night.

“I do have stuff to tell you,” You say finally, “but not right now. Right now, I sleep.” You hum, and he scoffs. Surely you won’t remember this tomorrow, so he decides not to push you. Eddie slides out from where you rest, laying you back into the mattress. He slips off your shoes and jeans, careful not to tug at anything else. He then tucks the blanket up to your chin, and starts to make a place for himself on the floor when your hand shoots out, snatching his wrist.

“Please, sleep here.” You pat the bed next to you, and he melts at the gesture. Your eyes are almost completely closed, hair wild from dancing, sweating, whatever you’d been doing tonight.

“You’re drunk, sweets. You’ll be upset in the morning.” He doesn’t want to deny you, especially in your softened, sleepy state.

“No!” You shake your head vigorously, wincing at the movement. “No, I won’t. Please, Eddie,” and he’s a goner. Of course he surrenders, and tucks himself into the warm bed next to you. You snuggle into him like it’s instinct, making a home on his chest as he lay stiffly with an arm around you, waiting for you to get comfortable.

You let out a sigh, your breathing slowing, arms wrapped around him with surprising strength. Eddie’s mind starts to wander back to the song, how someone is capable of two such wonderful emotional extremes.

Your mumbling tickles his neck, pulling him from his head. He doesn’t quite catch the words.

“What was that?” He coos, enjoying your touches, your breath on his skin. He could live here.

“I said, ‘I love you, Eddie.’” The words come out strung together, but to Eddie they puncture with each syllable. “G’night.” And before he can respond, you’re snoring.

Eddie, once ready to retire for the evening, is now completely wired, feeling you drift into dreamland next to him, as if you haven’t just upended everything.

—

chapter xxii

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpie @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 9. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.9k (whoops)

Warnings: SMUT, Sex Pollen (and therefore non-con), homophobia

Summary: McLaggen tries to apologise. Reader lets off some steam at the end of year party in the Prefects' Bathroom.

A/N: I am nervous as FUCK about this one. I cried real tears writing this. I hope I got it right. Some recommended listening: Daylight, Possibility, Habits

Masterlist

Tag list: @pretendfan, @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer,

Chapter 9: Real

“He’s still out there,” says Cho, entering the common room. It’s late. You, Cho and Marietta are the only three who haven’t gone up to bed yet. “He says he’s sleeping out there if you don’t come out. And I refused to tell him the answer to let him in.” 

“Good. He’s too thick to get in here on his own,” you say, sitting on the sofa and flipping through your Charms textbook. You’re not really reading it - you couldn’t concentrate if you tried. You just keep turning pages angrily for something to do.

After a thorough dressing down in McGonagall’s office where you pleaded with her not to expel you, she eventually settled for banning you from Quidditch, stripping you of your Captaincy and giving you detention every Saturday until the end of the year. 

Now you wonder if you’d rather have been expelled.

“Aren’t you even going to speak to him?” asks Marietta.

“I heard everything he had to say in the dressing room earlier and it’s the last thing I ever want to hear coming out of his stupid mouth.”

“Eddie said -”

“Don’t talk to me about Carmichael either. I can’t believe you’re still seeing him after what he and McLaggen said about you too.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Eddie said he didn’t say anything like that and I believe him.”

You tut and don’t bother looking up. “More fool you then.” You turn the next page and are greeted with a Polaroid of you and McLaggen sitting on the Quidditch stands - it must have slid between the pages. You took the photo yourself, of your head and shoulders with Cormac, you mean McLaggen, nuzzling into your neck. Your stomach twists looking at the giddy expression on your face.

The Polaroid. Your face flushes hot as you’re reminded of the topless photo you gave to him. The way he talked about you makes you wonder how many other Gryffindor boys have seen it by now.

You snap your book shut. “Actually, I will go out and speak to him.”

“You are?” asks Cho, surprised. “Do you want me to come? You know, for moral support?”

“And to make sure you don’t say something you regret,” mutters Marietta. You ignore her.

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, adrenaline already coursing through your body as you ready yourself for confrontation. “I just need to return his jumper. And he has something of mine.”

You quietly creep up to the dormitory to pick the jumper off the chair where you keep discarded clothes and head back downstairs. Marietta and Cho are huddled next to each other whispering.

“Good luck,” says Cho looking up. You stop in front of them and hand Marietta your wand. She might have a point about you doing something you’ll regret.

“Take this. I don’t want to be expelled.”

When you close the common room door behind you, you find McLaggen sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“Here,” you toss the jumper at him. “I’m only out here to give you this. So you can fuck off back to your common room.” You turn to go back inside.

“Wait!” He jumps to his feet. “Please, just talk to me.” He puts a bandaged hand on your shoulder and winces. It looks badly burned.

“Don’t touch me. Either go to bed or go to the hospital wing. I don’t care. Just keep it away from me.”

“I’m sorry - ”

“Save it, McLaggen. Wait, I forgot you can’t save shit.”

He doesn’t take the bait and for some reason, this annoys you even more. Come on, you think, argue with me - give me an excuse to scream at you. He just looks down at you pleadingly, with those green eyes you’ve spent countless hours gazing into. You look determinedly away, refusing to be drawn in.

“Please, listen to me. It was just locker room talk after a shitty game. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then why did you say it.” The plea makes your voice crack. And you feel another flash of annoyance, this time at your own emotions for betraying you, making you sound pathetic. You swallow, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat.

“Look, if I got too defensive or took it too seriously they’d have just ramped it up.”

“So, what, you just went along with it? Do you not have any respect for me at all, talking about how I ‘fucking love it’? Talking shit about my friends too?”

“Is that any better than what you told Cho and Marietta?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” you seethe. “For telling Cho and Marietta that we had a nice date and that you… that we…” That he treated you right. That when you had sex you shared a connection that you’d never felt before. That you told each other how you felt. Or at least how you thought you felt. “I never talked about you like that,” you finish.

“Come on, we weren’t being serious. They were just taking the piss - they don’t actually think you’re only going out with me to sabotage the game.”

You can’t believe he’s minimising this. The hurt you feel rises up in your throat and you spit it at him before you can stop yourself. “Well, they were right.” McLaggen’s eyebrows knit together, trying to make sense of what you’re saying. “None of this was real.” You shake your head and take a step away from him, towards the door. “This was all just so I could fuck up your team’s chances for the cup.”

There’s a moment’s silence. “That’s not true.” He chews on his bottom lip, searching your face. “This was real. It still is real.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” You twirl your hair in a mocking imitation of yourself. “‘Oh Cormac, I’ve never felt like this before. Please fuck me.’” You cross your arms. “As if you ever did it right. As if I ever felt anything for you.”

“I -” His face falls and you’re surprised when immense guilt hits you like a tonne of bricks - you’ve tried to hurt him on purpose and it’s worked. Too well. There’s no taking it back. You try and force yourself to remember the stupid grin he gave you when he left the dressing rooms, to reignite your anger. 

Say something worse back. Give me a reason to hate you more than I hate myself for saying it. 

But instead, he just takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry you had to pretend for so long,” he says flatly.

Your remark was a low blow. He set the fire but you stomped all over the embers. Your heart feels like it’s cracking down the middle. You’d rather relive every loss on the pitch a million times over than feel the way you do now.

“I am too.” Your eyes burn so you turn towards the door quickly before the tears start rolling down your cheeks. You pause as you’re about to touch the handle and look back over your shoulder. 

He’s facing away from you, his broad shoulders slightly hunched looking down at the jumper in his hands. 

“I want my photo back.”

McLaggen clears his throat. “Yeah, sure.” His voice is thick. “No problem.”

You whisper the answer to the riddle and Marietta and Cho fall backwards when you push the common room door open again.

You wipe your eyes and look down at them on the floor. You don’t even want to tell them off for eavesdropping -  you just sink to your knees on the patterned blue carpet beside them and start sobbing into your hands. Marietta puts an arm around you. Cho tucks a wet strand of hair behind your ear.

You’ve lost everything - except for the two people comforting you now as ugly tears stream down your face, into your hair and soaking the carpet.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spring merges into summer, each day passing into the next seamlessly like a flipbook. Incremental changes that you barely notice as exams draw closer and closer.

The only real difference is the sun setting later and later, making it increasingly difficult for you to sneak out at night, alone, with your broom to practice Quidditch. You need to keep up your training if you still want to impress the Holyhead Harpies at tryouts in the summer. McGonagall can ban you from Quidditch at Hogwarts but she can’t ban you from that.

You’ve become exceptionally good at enchanting the quaffle to fly towards you, in lieu of you and McLaggen taking shots at each other. But you soon predict the patterns the charm forces the quaffle to take and saving the shots gets too easy. 

It doesn’t stop you from spending hours in the dead of night, tormenting yourself with the same repeated mechanical saves over and over and over. It’s a suitable punishment for getting yourself banned. It’s somehow linked to the cup in your mind. If you can just keep practising, forcing yourself to carry out save after save until your wrists ache, your legs are bruised and you can barely stay awake on the seat of your broom - maybe your team will win the cup in your absence.

Your groin feels numb as you take off your robes and examine the nasty, painful contusions on your inner thighs in the dim dawn light before falling into bed. Welts from your broom handle and bruises from the quaffle so painful that you need to sleep with a pillow between your legs.

You fall asleep, exhausted, instantly. And you’re grateful for the release of sleep - the less time you spend lying in bed awake the less time you have to think about McLaggen.

During the day, when you’re somehow operating on three hours of sleep, you spend every free second either in detention, in class, doing homework or studying alone. You decline Marietta and Cho’s offers to join their group studying with the other seventh years, including their boyfriends. You’re becoming increasingly anxious that you need to do well in your exams - a backup plan if you can’t play Quidditch professionally.

And the less time you spend around Cho, Michael, Marietta and Eddie being loved up, the less frequently you’re reminded of McLaggen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Inter-House Quidditch Cup Final is scheduled for the last weekend in May. Even though you’re not playing, you feel sick to your stomach just thinking about it. 

“I wish you didn’t have detention,” says Cho, tying up her long dark hair as she gets ready for the match. You sit on the edge of your bed, putting your shoes on. “Who else is going to scream at me when I’m playing like shit?”

“Well, it’s your job to do the screaming,” you say, picking up your - her - Captain’s pin and putting it on her chest. “Go out there and give them hell for me, Captain.”

“You’ll always be the Captain. To me… to the team. We miss you.”

Your heart weighs down on your heavily. You miss them too. There’s only one person you miss more. All you want is to be comforted by him. Have him pull your face into his chest and stroke your hair, tell you everything is fine. Losing your Captaincy would have almost been bearable if you still had him.

Cho as usual seems to read your mind.

“Sometimes we don’t realise what we had until it’s gone.”

“It’s just a badge. I’m okay… really.”

“I’m not talking about Quidditch.” She takes your hand. “I know he made a mistake. A bad one. But things are changing outside of Hogwarts.” You’re reminded horribly of the story in the Daily Prophet about the five your old boy who was mauled by a werewolf last month because his mother wouldn’t give information to Death Eaters. “I would give anything to have had one more moment with Cedric.”

You hold your breath. Cho hardly ever mentions him. “He never would have made a mistake like that,” you say finally.

She shrugs, tears welling in her eyes. “I guess I’ll never know. He wasn’t perfect either, even if other people would rather remember that he was.”

“Well, I know one thing - he would have been proud of you.” You close your eyes. “You’ve got this. Bring it home.”

They lose spectacularly. You left the cup for them on a silver platter and they lost 450 - 140. Like you, Potter was stuck in detention and didn’t play but losing their Captain seemed to unite the Gryffindor team whereas Ravenclaw crumbled.

You thought you’d feel something. Anger, bitterness… anything. You just feel numb. It’s like you’ve been desensitised. Extreme exposure to your entire spectrum of emotions these past few weeks.

You’re sure the Gryffindor common room will be a riot right now. A slashing sting of pain cuts through your emotionless daze, picturing McLaggen in celebration. Maybe he’d have a few Firewhiskies and wrap his arms around another Gryffindor girl, picking her up and spinning her the way he so often did with you. 

The mood in the Ravenclaw room is sour. You wonder if they blame you. If they do, it’s nowhere near as much as you blame yourself. The only two people behaving normally are Marietta and Carmichael, neither of them has ever been particularly interested in Quidditch.

“Do you mind a third wheel?” You ask, approaching them at the airy window seat. Marietta moves her legs from Carmichael’s lap so you can join them. They don’t notice you discreetly clench your jaw when your bruised legs, hidden by your school robes meet the hard surface.

“Where’s Cho?” 

“Still down there, I’ve heard. I think the team is avoiding me. Did you watch the game? How was it?” You hope they didn’t, you’re not sure you’re ready to hear details yet.

“We stayed for a bit,” answers Carmichael. “But we came back early when we saw it was going tits up. I’ve got stuff to be getting on with - namely the old seventh-year hale and hearty.”

“The what?”

“My job as Head Boy, innit? Need to organise a big do after the N.E.W.Ts”

“It’s going to be great,” says Marietta fondly, touching his leg. You resolved to respect her decision to continue seeing Carmichael so you try to appear interested.

“Nice one. What have you got planned?”

He leans in to explain. “Right, listen to this. It’s gonna be a pool party in the Prefects’ Bathroom -”

“A pool party?” You wrinkle your nose. “Aren’t the teachers supposed to come to the end-of-year celebration?” 

“Nah, nah, nah.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve not got to the most ingenious bit yet. I’m planning a second decoy party for the next day. Y’know the official one with all the teachers. This one they won’t know about. Loads of booze and some other er, illicit substances.”

“What, like drugs?” you whisper eagerly. You could really, really do with blowing off some steam after the term you’ve had. Where would you even get those in the wizarding world? Class A’s aren’t exactly the kind of thing someone would sell down an alley in a quaint little wizard village like Hogsmeade.

“Yeah, right. These wizard-born ones wouldn’t be able to handle that,” he grins, jerking his thumb at Marietta who rolls her eyes. “Made of softer stock than you and me. I’m talking banned potions and suchlike.”

Interesting.

“And you’re alright with this? I thought you were against rule-breaking?”

She shrugs. “It’ll be after exams so if we get caught it won’t matter. Besides, they’re not going to expel all of us, are they?”

“How are you paying for this? Haven’t the teachers noticed you siphoning galleons off the official party budget?”

“Funny you should ask. McLaggen’s footing the bill. I mean, you know he’s minted.”

You wonder if McLaggen’s funding the party because he’s desperate to get wasted for the same reasons you are. You swallow and try to sound casual. “How - how is he anyway?”

Marietta’s eyes widen. It’s the first time you’ve even mentioned him since the night outside the common room. 

Carmichael sighs and takes his eyes off his parchment to look at you seriously. “He looks the same as you - like shit, by the way,” he adds as if you haven’t noticed the bags under your own eyes or the way McLaggen looks tired and withdrawn in Potions, even from your new desk, alone at the other side of the classroom.

“Did he tell you about - ?”

He cuts you off. “I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

You nod. 

“That’s fair.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the second last week in June, you sit your final N.E.W.T. -  your Potions practical. In the Great Hall, you find yourself at a single table adjacent to McLaggen’s.

The examiner, Professor Marchbanks, gives her usual preamble before the exam and instructs you to turn over your exam paper.

‘AMORTENTIA.’

You breathe a sigh of relief. You know this one well. There’s a list of ingredients and partial instructions. The rest is up to you.

“You have ninety minutes. Good luck.”

She turns and conjures a giant hourglass sand timer and with a flick of her wand flips it so the golden sand starts cascading, counting down the time left in the exam.

You get to work lighting the fire underneath your cauldron before making a start on grinding up your rose petals to a fine powder.

An hour later, the room is filled with the heady scent you recognise intimately as the one that reminds you sorely of McLaggen. There are new notes this time. The scent of toasted cinnamon marshmallows, the smell of grass on a frosty December night and just a hint of Firewhiskey all complement the amber and jasmine fragrance you know so well.

You hold a moonstone over your cauldron, ready to drop it in and the memory of the first time you brewed it swims clearly in your head. You remember the spark of electricity when you grabbed McLaggen’s wrist.

“That’s quartz - not moonstone.”

“Shit, thanks. Good catch - you could be a seeker.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You discreetly look at McLaggen to find he’s already looking at you. The corner of his mouth turns up slightly and he holds up the iridescent blue moonstone between his fingers. The small gesture brings a lump to your throat. You wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. You give him the tiniest nod before returning your attention back to your exam.

At the end of the ninety minutes, when your potion has been brewed. Professor Marchbanks walks around the tables, asking each pupil a selection of questions before dismissing them. You feel extremely confident about this one - the pearlescent colour and spiralling steam coming from your cauldron look perfect.

Your ears prick up as she reaches McLaggen. 

“McLaggen, Cormac.”

“Yes, professor.”

“Very nice,” she says peering into his cauldron. “Can you please tell me, when did MACUSA ban Amortentia?”

“Er, 1922?”

You hear the unmistakable noise of a quill ticking parchment.

“And what is distinctive about the scent?”

“It smells different to everyone depending on what attracts them.” 

“Care to indulge me for an extra point?” She says in a simpering sort of voice that makes your mouth twist into a frown. Surely the old bat isn’t flirting with McLaggen? 

“Yes, professor. I can smell freshly laundered Quidditch robes, coconut shampoo and warm toast.”

“Well, that sounds lovely.”

“It was.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You, Cho and Marietta manage to sneak to the Prefects’ Bathroom undetected later that night which is lucky considering how giggly they are from your pre-drinks in the dormitory. You too are in a better mood now that both your exams and the Quidditch season are over. A small part of the weight that you’ve been carrying has been lifted from your chest and it’s as if you can breathe a little more deeply again. 

And even though you try to tell yourself that you don’t care, that you never want to speak to him again, you do want to see McLaggen tonight. You know you shouldn’t. Maybe the fumes in your potions exam got to you but tonight you feel open to clearing the air, or at least having a cordial relationship rather than ignoring each other.

You also know you should apologise for what you said. He was able to apologise to you, after all. The way you hurt him when you told him you never cared about him at all. Could you forgive yourself if you parted ways at graduation forever without him knowing that you had never really meant it?

“Sandalwood,” Marietta tells the door and it swings open. You shut it behind you quickly when you’re met with loud music. The room is dark, lit by a hundred candles and the moonlight outside pouring through the stained glass mermaid mural.

The seventh-years congregate in their various groups and cliques, some sitting around the edge of the swimming pool which has been filled with blue foam. You immediately spot McLaggen at the edge of the pool, talking to Katie Bell and Leanne. You could recognise those bare, broad shoulders anywhere. The ones that you’ve kissed and bitten and gripped onto tight while he fucked you.

‘She fucking loves it. Said I was the best she’s ever had.’

It was true. You loved it. And he loved it too. But the problem was that you also loved each other.

The three of you squeeze into a changing cubicle together and start stripping from your robes down to your bathing suits. Marietta removes the half-empty bottle of mead from her bag.

“One more for good luck?” She asks and you each take a quick swig before giving each other a once-over. Cho fixes Marietta’s hair and then shrieks with laughter when Marietta tugs the front of Cho’s bathing suit down to show more cleavage. 

Cho turns to you and winces when she sees your legs. Marietta claps her hand to her mouth.

“I told you you need to take a break.”

Your inner thighs remain conspicuously covered in bruises from your late-night Quidditch practice. 

“It’s fine, it’s dark out there. Besides, nobody’s going to be looking at me tonight. Although I am going to talk to McLaggen,” you add seriously. 

Cho beams but Marietta purses her lips.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she says.

“What? You’ve both been telling me to speak to him.”

“I just… Maybe not tonight. I think everyone could do with a drama-free party. You don’t want to bring down the mood.” She’s clearly worried about you ruining Eddie’s big night.

“No drama. I promise. I’m…” You swallow. “I’m going to apologise and just leave things as friends. If anything it will lift the mood. It means we can all mingle without it being awkward.”

“And you’re sure he’ll accept it? It won’t be a screaming match?”

You hesitate. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he wouldn’t. “We’ll behave.”

The three of you emerge from the cubicle and make your way over to a table being used as a makeshift bar where Eddie Carmichael and Michael Corner are mingling. They greet Marietta and Cho respectively while you busy yourself and grab a drink.

“This looks great, Eddie,” coos Marietta. It does. He’s made some effort - it looks more like a nightclub than a student bathroom tonight. Your eyes land on McLaggen again.

“Back in a sec.”

You slip into the water and wade over to the far side of the pool where McLaggen, Katie and Leanne are chatting, waist-deep in the water. Leanne waves and smiles warmly. McLaggen looks apprehensive.

“Hey,” you say sheepishly to the group. “McLaggen, have you got a minute?”

“Yes,” answers Leanne immediately. “No, you two can stay here.” She tells McLaggen when he looks around for a quiet space to talk. She grabs Katie and drags her away. 

You rest your arms on the edge of the pool, looking at the mural of the mermaid. McLaggen leans on the wall next to you.

“How’s the hand?”

He lifts it out of the water and flexes it - you can’t help but notice the way his forearm muscles contract. “It’s alright now. I went to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey sorted me out.”

You drag your gaze from his hand to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I deserved it.”

“I didn’t mean the hand.” Another pang of guilt. “Though I actually am sorry about that too. I wanted to apologise for what I said outside the common room.”

He reaches over you to grab a bottle of beer from the side. He still smells good, you can notice it even surrounded by the sickly sweet smell of the periwinkle foam. He doesn’t say anything so you continue.

“I was trying to hurt you. On purpose. I feel like shit.”

“Well… that makes two of us.” He takes a sip of beer and stares across the pool.

“I thought if I convinced myself I never cared about you, I’d feel better about what you told Dean and Peakes.”

“I get it,” says McLaggen, who eventually turns to look at you. “It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I know I said it was just banter but I wish I’d stuck up for you. For us.” He spins his beer bottle in his hands. “I told myself it was fine because you had told Cho and Marietta about our date but I knew I was kidding myself.”

You swallow. “McLaggen, you ruined it.”

“I know,” he says simply and you both stare at the mermaid quietly for a moment while she brushes her hair.

You take a deep breath. “Anyway, I came over to see if we could still be friends.”

He looks into your eyes. “You know I can’t be your friend. I just can’t,” he says in a low voice.

You’ve hurt each other so badly that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nod. “I’d better head back.” You grab your drink. “I mean, we can at least be around each other without fighting, right? If you want to hang out with Carmichael you don’t need to wait for me to leave.”

McLaggen hesitates like there’s something else he wants to say but thinks better of it. “Yeah… sure.”

He follows you to the group where Marietta and Cho are laughing so hard they’re crying. Carmichael has a wide grin on his face.

“That you two made up then?”

You and McLaggen look at each other. “Not really.” Marietta and Cho clutch each other, gasping for air between giggles. “What’s got them?”

“Elixir of Euphoria,” says Carmichael. “It’s expired so it’s extra strong. You want some? There’s one left.” He jumps out of the pool and kicks his bag over to you before going to get himself another drink.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. You open the bag and you’re not sure what Carmichael is on about - there’s about two dozen pink bottles left. 

“You want one?” you ask McLaggen, who shakes his head. “Michael?”

“I’ve had one - just waiting for it to kick in,” he says, obviously unaware that he’s beaming from ear to ear.

Honestly, you could do with cheering up, you can’t remember the last time you smiled the way Michael is right now. You take a vial and down it in one go, discarding the bottle at the pool’s edge beside your drink. Immediately your skin starts to tingle pleasantly. This is nice. You wonder when the giggles will kick in.

Warmth spreads through your body, right to your fingertips and toes. It’s like all your senses are heightened - the sensation of the warm water, the dim light dancing across the pool. You’re suddenly aware of how good McLaggen smells, the smell of amber and jasmine coming from his body is strong. Even stronger than the cloying blueberry scent of the foam.

You step away from him and lean against the wall, trying to get relief from the overpowering, intoxicating smell. You feel good but you don’t find it funny at all. Quite the opposite.

“Did you get it okay?” asks Carmichael, returning with a drink. You look up and realise for the first time ever that he looks fucking great, standing there above you in his swim shorts. You can now see why Marietta likes him. Your eyes linger on his body.

“Yeah,” you say in a barely audible whisper. 

“Are you…?” He gives you a strange look. You feel impatient waiting for him to finish his sentence. Are you what? Ready to end the party early and go upstairs to Ravenclaw Tower with him? Yes! “Oh, shit.” He spots at the empty vial at his feet. “That isn’t Euphoria Elixir.”

“You - you said it was in your bag.” You say, feeling slightly panicky now as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Didn’t you read the label? I thought the heart-shaped bottles would give it away.” Cho and Marietta look over at the commotion as he bends down to pick up the bottle. “It’s a love potion, mate.” He says to McLaggen over your shoulder.

‘Oh, shit’ is right.

You take deep gulps of air, trying to calm yourself. You feel burning hot. A bead of sweat drips down your chest falling between your breasts “What?! You were going to spike someone?”

He looks offended. “What? No! It’s for couples who want to take it. Consensually. A bit of added spice, innit? I’ve got loads of it.”

It’s like a sauna in here, you feel the back of your neck - it’s sticky with sweat. But not as hot and sticky as you feel below the waist. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you whisper quietly, trying to stop yourself worked up.

Cho notices you panicking and it seems to sober her up a little. She’s still smiling to herself as she swims over to you. God, she’s so pretty. The way her hair is so shiny and wet at the ends. She’s more beautiful than the mermaid on the mural.

“What happens if you take a love potion that hasn’t been enchanted by someone?” McLaggen asks Carmichael, taking a step towards you. You hold your breath, trying not to inhale any of his stupid pheromones.

Cho steadies you and takes your hands. “Don’t hold your breath. Lots of air. Let’s get you some water.”

You look into her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. And you notice she has freckles. You could stand here and count every one. You suddenly realise, it’s never been McLaggen or Carmichael. It’s Cho.

“Kiss me!” You blurt out, pulling her hands towards you. She bursts out laughing again. 

“Well, that answers that question,” says Carmichael.

“Cormac,” says Cho urgently, trying hard to restrain you as you try and wrap your arms around her. You can’t help yourself. She smells so good. Clean. You need to get close to her. “A little help?”

“What am I gonna do? Can’t you just put her to bed?”

“And have her going down the corridor like this?” says Cho, struggling, and Marietta rushes over to help her. Maybe Marietta will kiss you. She doesn’t. She dodges your lips and holds onto your wrist while Cho holds the other. “Clearly she wants to fuck anyone. What if she bumps into a teacher?”

You groan. “Oh god, I hope it’s Firenze -” Mortified, Marietta claps her free hand over your mouth. God, it’s boiling hot. The water is making everything below your waist throb.

“Please, Cormac.” Marietta’s eyes dart around the room. Nobody else seems to have noticed your condition yet. “She trusts you. More than anyone.”

McLaggen groans and drags his hand down his face in exasperation before looking up at Carmichael. “How long do these last?”

“Half an hour? An hour? Two? I’ve got no idea mate, they’re expired.”

McLaggen looks at Marietta and Cho struggling to hold onto you. He sighs and heaves himself out of the pool. “Right, come on then,” he extends his hand to hoist you out and you eagerly grab it when Cho and Marietta release you. He looks so fucking beautiful in this light, with his wet hair and sharp, angular jaw.

“Where are you taking her?” Asks Cho.

“Cubicle. Don’t let anyone down this way, alright?” 

Cho looks uneasy. “Cormac… you’re not-?”

He screws up his face, offended, looking back at Cho as he helps you to your feet. “Going to take advantage of her? Cho, come on.”

You stopped listening after he said he was taking you to a cubicle. A cubicle. Alone. You’ve never considered it to be a particularly sexy place before but just thinking about it makes heat emanate from your every pore - between your legs feels like it’s on fire. You squeeze his hand as he drags you quickly around the corner to the door furthest away from the pool.

“After you,” McLaggen says, holding it open and you practically skip inside. He steps in and locks the door behind him.

The smell of him is overpowering. The way he towers between you and the door makes your pussy leak. You barely have time to register the serious look on his face before you throw your arms around him. 

“Nope!” He says, catching your forearms and wrenching them from around his neck. He pins them to your side.

“Fuck, Cormac. Touch me,” you whine, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. He swerves your lips. You exhale shakily. “Wha- why are we in here? Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“Absolutely not.” He looks down at you with concern. “Your skin feels like it’s on fire.”

“I - I’m fine,” you hiccup. “P-p-please, I want you so badly.”

He pulls you tight to his bare chest and you whine, your face smushed against his muscles. With one arm, wrapped tightly around you, he turns on the shower. “We don't have supplies in here to make an antidote so we need to cool you down.” You squeal when icy water hits your back.

You clench your thighs together. Everything is pulsing, begging to be touched. 

“Can’t you just - ?”

“No.” 

Cormac keeps you firmly pinned to his body, holding around your shoulders with both arms as he forces you both under the bronze shower head, cold water cascading down your bodies. You sob into his chest, your mouth pressing against his wet skin, inhaling the familiar smell of his aftershave. It turns you on so much that it hurts.

“Fuck, I need to - ” you turn your face slightly, taking gulps of air to steady yourself. “I- I, fuck.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers gently, bringing one hand up to stroke your wet hair. “Do what you need to do.”

The way he strokes your hair and tells you everything is okay grounds you temporarily. You know what you need to get rid of it from your system.

You move your hand between your bodies to find your throbbing clit with your hand through your swimsuit. You start rubbing in circles furiously, moaning into his pectoral muscles. Your walls clench desperately around nothing, wishing they were gripping his cock as your fingers urgently work on your small bundle of nerves. 

The back of your hand brushes something rigid and you pant in excitement. “You’re hard - fuck me, please.” 

He jerks his hips back away from you. “Nope. Just keep going. Come on,” he urges through gritted teeth.

Small flashes of lucidity come to you, brought forth by the icy water. Fuck, you’ve missed him so much, you think during a wave of unclouded clarity. Even just being close to him like this. Your orgasm builds, swelling from deep inside as you take deep gulps of the smell of his skin. Your clit pulses underneath the pressure of your fingers. 

“Fuck, why is this happening to me?” you whimper, in a brief moment of intense embarrassment that comes as quickly as it goes again. 

He says nothing. Instead, he soothes you with a gentle shushing noise and presses his lips to the top of your head. A tiny token of affection that sends you over the brink. You silently gasp for air as pleasure engulfs you. All you can hear is the echo of water on tile ringing in your ears as you reach your climax. 

The ecstasy that flows through your body is beyond intense but over in a few short seconds. Your knees shake and your dead weight drops into McLaggen but he’s holding onto you so tightly that you don’t fall. You whimper, feeling bliss spreading across your skin, only for it to evaporate completely, instead of it nestling and purring in your chest like usual.

Suddenly you’re cold.

Oh fuck.

Your thoughts become less hazy, less dreamlike and your teeth start to chatter.

“C-can you t-turn it off?” You shiver. He looks down at you and, obviously feeling like it’s safe to do so, releases his hold of you and turns off the shower.

His lips are blue. 

“Are you okay?” He curls his finger under your chin, tilting your head up into the light. “Your pupils are back to normal.”

You nod and both stare at each other silently. 

“Thank you for…” You’re not sure what to say. For restraining you? Making sure you didn’t make a fool out of yourself? 

He gives you a tight-lipped grimace. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” He turns to unlock the door.

You can’t let him go. Not now. Not ever.

“Cormac…” You reach out and touch his arm, feel your eyes welling up. “Cormac, I think about you every day. And I’m sorry I hurt you so badly that you don’t even want to be friends with me anymore.”

McLaggen breathes a heavy sigh and turns back around to face you. “It’s not that I don’t want to be friends with you. It’s that I can’t be. I can’t be your friend and see you move on with someone else. I’ll always be in love with you. And I’m sorry I ruined it.”

You blink and feel tears falling down your face. “I love you too. I miss you. I miss us.”

He comes closer, his freezing cold hands cup your face as he brushes away a tear with his thumb. “I miss us too.”

“I don’t want to be your friend either,” you whisper, looking into those devastatingly beautiful eyes.

He leans down, pulling your face close to his and kisses you. And it feels so much better than the orgasm you had under the influence of the love potion. Time stops, and the concept of everything else that has ever existed vanishes. It’s just you and him. You link your arms behind his neck. Hot, damp tears land on your cheeks and you taste salt when they fall across your lips. You’re not sure if they’re yours or his. You kiss his top lip, his stubbly chin, his eyes - every wet part of his face.

Cormac picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, desperate for every inch of your body to touch his. You grab his face and run your fingers through his hair. He parts his lips and you moan when his tongue enters your mouth - not from pleasure, from longing. You’ve missed the taste of him. 

He holds you in a vice-like grip and pushes your body against the cool, tiled wall. When his hips press firmly between your open legs, you wince in pain at the pressure on your bruised thighs.

Cormac pulls back. “You alright?” His lips are slightly swollen and thankfully, no longer blue.

“Yeah, just a few bumps and bruises from Quidditch practice.”

He puts you back down and looks at your body. 

“Ouch…” He kneels down to get a better look. “When were you playing? I’ve been looking for you on the pitch in the evenings.”

“I’m banned. I’ve been going down after midnight so McGonnagall doesn’t catch me.”

“Fuck… How much training are we talking about here?” He raises an eyebrow and looks up at you.

You don’t answer. And you don’t really think he expects you to. He can tell you’ve been putting yourself through the wringer. He softly kisses every nasty bruise, welt and scratch before getting up to hold you close to him again.

You’re not sure if you’ve been in here for minutes or hours. Either way, you’re sure people will have noticed your absence. You sigh and break apart and he watches as you adjust your swimsuit and fix your soaking-wet hair.

“We should probably go and enjoy the rest of the party,” you say, feeling slightly flushed again. 

“Give me a second,” he grips the top of the wooden door and determinedly looks at the ceiling. “I can’t go back out there like this.”

“Do you want me to…?” You look down at the hard bulge in his shorts.

“I think what you need is rest,” he says and you laugh. “Nah, let’s go back - it’s probably the last night we’ll all be together. But you and I have… well, all the time in the world I suppose.”

You wait until he’s in a fit state to be seen in public again before opening the door.

He puts his arm around you, it sits comfortably on your shoulder the way it always has. “So, what’s this about Firenze?” he smirks as you walk back together.

“Oh, you know he’s the only one who can compare to you in that department.”

“Correct answer.” He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Chapter 10: Electricity

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

✰ about me ✰ ao3 ✰ fic masterpost ✰ send me zosan fic requests<3 ✰ spotify ✰ goodreads ✰

small very tiny intro: Navya, she/her (they/them is chill too) adult, in name if not game fair warning: there are a Lot of spoilers on here (especially one piece since im on my rewatch) a more expansive intro's here

Tagging system was so far non existent, but i'm trying to be a Little bit more organised so here's some tags:

#my beloved - for things i like- art, fanart, some beautiful post etc

#one piece rewatch 2024- the tag im using to tag one piece posts bc im rewatching it

#toe & aftg hell yeah

#things im so fucking grateful for - self explanatory

#letters - for asks

#imp - for things that are important

#save- for. stuff? interchangeable w imp

#whoa (for whoa)

#nav shenanigans- a tag i will be using when ive done something (it could be funny or horrible or something im proud of, def one of those)

#later- for stuff i need to read/ watch later

#avi shenanigans- for stuff my brother does

#cute

#nav rants lowkey- for tiny rants

#nav rants highkey- for major ones (there will be colourful hindi cussing involved in both most times)

#art ref

#achievements

#writing ideas

Links I find important under the cut >:]

Daily click for palestine

Fundraiser masterpost

Resources for palestine, sudan etc

Dealing with executive dysfunction

important reminder wrt creating

Hacks to feel better physically quickly

basic cooking

A bunch of very very important links

Life advice??

expressing frustration

Pain scale, Fatigue scale, mental health pain scale

cute little VERY important writing post

essay writing

i. dont know how to explain this. cat and writing

writing advice

writing fight scenes

more writing advice (imp)

something (writing)

ao3 filter guide more ao3 filtering

how to google effectively

commenting on ao3 when you dont know what to say

murder strut

dealing with worst case scenarios

this blew my mind. multiplying kudos on ao3!!!!!

you can leave FAN ART in the COMMENTS of a fic on ao3

becoming an adult cheatsheet

interesting games to play improv

what to do when you see reposted art without credit

FREE online courses

things to eat when u dont have a lot of food at home

cute pokemon reminder stickers

WRITING NEEDS this looks very promising

stuck on a writing scene

kudos crab for when you need it (to bless ur writing endeavours)

how to format your story, a crash course

bongo cat

resources? for artists i think

cat candleholder

dialogue tags

for writer's block

colour thesaurus!!!!!

writing skin

southern accent

gemstones

CRACK PROMPTS SNDXWS D

how to navigate web pages having paywalls etc

documented historic names

search engine alternatives

pro tip for trans ppl that kinda changed my life

disney + pirating

things u can do on ao3!!!!

[tgirlsunshine]

sometime I want to write an essay about Harrow the Ninth

Because it is a fucking MASTERPIECE. Reading Harrow almost entirely blind, which I did, was an experience unlike most other books.

@nav-ix tagged a post of mine a bit ago saying that the narrative "points at the hole where Gideon should be"--i love that phrase--and wow, it puts so much trust in the reader to just GET it

And the reward for doing that is you get this heart wrenching gorgeous exploration of grief over 500 pages of just this HAUNTING writing, and you don't even know that that's what's happening until it hits you--it does such a good job putting you in harrow's shoes, because as the reader, you (like Harrow) are lost, and confused, and overwhelmed, and through it all is the absence of Gideon, an absence that speaks so much more profoundly than presence ever could

I love Harrow the Ninth.

I'll write the essay sometime

[myassbrokethefall]

Well I've got the new layout, @staff, and I don't love it or anything but I've weathered all sorts of dash tweaks before and gotten used to them. But above all there are two things that are SO alienating and disorienting to me that I'm really not sure if I can — or why I should — adjust to them, because it feels like I don't know where I am or what I'm reading. And those two things are:

After scrolling for about a page and a half I don't see user icons anymore. Maybe this is a glitch (I fervently hope it is), but like, not seeing the user icon, I do not know what I'm looking at or where one post ends and another begins. I kept having to scroll back up because I got confused and lost. I orient myself as to whose post I'm reading by whose little picture is up there. (Yes, in my circles like 80% of them are Gillian Anderson, but they're DIFFERENT Gillian Andersons and I know what my mutuals "look" like.) I realized I was reading one post from a friend of mine only when I recognized her writing style in the tags. I hadn't noticed (a) that the post was from her or (b) that I had even started looking at a new post.

I no longer see who the poster reblogged the post from, or in fact anything to indicate that it is a reblog at all. I don't understand the thinking behind getting rid of this — a reblog is VERY different from an original post! I know I'm using the same words over and over here, but it is EXTREMELY disorienting to just see... posts, floating by, untethered from any context. It doesn't even say if it was reblogged from ME, like — this is a staple of the site! How can you just... not know where something was reblogged from?? I don't even understand how to ingest posts this way. It is so fundamental that I didn't even know how fundamental until it disappeared. I feel like I went outside one day and all the houses were turned to face away from the roads.

The site needs to be user-friendly for randos, because we need more randos to sign up and spend time on the site to approach solvency and even, dare we hope, profit. I completely get this. I often roll my eyes at all the hyperbole of people saying they are going to leave because the dash got less blue or whatever. I'm not planning to leave and I'm not going to pretend I am, but — I am feeling SEVERELY thrown for a loop and unmoored by the combination of these two changes, and I sincerely do not understand how either of these things makes the site MORE user-friendly or comprehensible. I found myself hurrying through my post-lunch scroll through my dash because I was getting anxious, and I could not focus on what I was reading because I kept trying to orient myself.

I also don't like the nav shit on the side (and it is also disorienting but not insurmountably so) but who cares! I will get used to that!

But what the fuck!! I don't know who I am looking at! Who is talking to me! What am I reading! Where am I! What day is it!

[magnoliabutters]

who art thou?

• who the hell are you •

my name is katrina (she/her), nice to meet yah! i am a pansexual queen, welcoming to all my fellow lgbtqia+ babies. i hope to create fanfics for a variety of readers! currently, i am obsessed with my mans, eddie munson. i like to write smut&fluff balanced series, but may send out the occasional smut post to keep things interesting! i also am a big fan of action so i tend to include that in there with my fluff&smut if the universe permits.

i write 18+ content. please do not interact if you are a minor. seriously. not for you. also please don’t plagiarize, it wasn’t cool in school and it isn’t now. i am open to your feedback and would love to hear your thoughts on my writing! promise you won’t get sass if feedback comes with pure intentions 😈 i'm hoping to improve my writing when it comes to describing the scene and making you feel as though you are truly within the story! i want to provide you with an opportunity to escape real life, if you happen to need a quick break. i may include some resources in posts to better support this concept (e.g., playlists). my writing usually has a word count between ~1-10k, but there may be some outliers.

also also, i am always looking for mutuals and more writers to interact with! please feel free to hit me up in the chats <3 i’d love to get to know you! also also, i try my hardest to read other posts out there and give feedback reblogs. i’ll be honest after a day of work, reading past 2k is rough but give me a follow if you want some recs 💖

• when and why do you write •

i am still working to consistently post weekly. lately, I’ve been getting hit hard with a writing bug and then my brain is dormant for like 2 weeks. anything i write during that time is literal poo-poo on fire. hopefully it doesn’t last haha updates and recent posts can be found on my nav page. i will update when i’m writing a post and when i plan to post ✨

if any of my posts suit your fancy, please reblog, comment, message, or anon request that you want a part two. if y’all want it, i’ll write it. like literally i will have like next to no likes on a post and if someone asks for a part two, hoe you getting it. 🫂 also, a “small” bit of why i write is to get some hoes horny. that is a huge compliment for me and like lmk. anyways, i like to lean more into the “smut or porn?” type of writing too…

i am best supported by reblogs!  + comments really keep me encouraged to write 🥹 follows and likes are also much appreciated. i’m not uber comfy with tips but like if the thought pops in your head, and then you take like a day to think about it, and it’s still there, and then you take one more day after that and it’s still there, then like here’s my cashapp 🫠 i

will continue writing as long as someone out there is reading 🥰 reading your comments and feedback gives me so much joy! but like not too rough of feedback cause i'll cry ☺️ also, taglists are awesome, but please feel free to let me know if you want to be taken off. no judgment here, i promise you. i understand not wanting to be notified constantly! 

oh! and here is my view on #tags. warning may not be a popular opinion 😬 in the first few days of a post, i will use whatever tags are needed to get your eyes to see it. i work really hard on my writing and i want to make sure it’s seen. however, my posts always include the appropriate pairing right at the top so you are more than welcomed to say “fuck this” if it doesn’t match the tag you were looking for. with that being said, once the hype goes down on a post, i will make sure to appropriately tag my pieces. also in the cases of my oc’s, i still consider the oc as the reader. we are all becoming the oc in my posts ♥️ time to escape to another universe!

• what do you even write about •

i am looking into exploring characters and experiences within: (1) the tv universes of stranger things, the walking dead, the boys, buffy the vampire slayer, the l word, z nation, supernatural, true blood, game of thrones, house of dragons, shameless, etc. (2) the video game universes of left 4 dead 2, resident evil 6, the last of us: parts 1 & 2, dead by daylight, etc. & (3) the movie universe of the hunger games, top gun (rooster is very special to me), twilight, avatar (ma’jake 🤤), mcu, harry potter, etc.

i pretty much am hoping to write about whatever i am currently obsessed with haha as we all should. each series is written within their own universes, so some things might not match up. apologies in advance! also as some of these universes can be quite violent, i write a little violence but always disclose in the warning so check those out! i am starting to dip my toe into the ideas of requests. please feel free to send me your thoughts on what you'd like to read ✨

my reader povs will always be 18+ and consenting adults. we also support and promote safe sex here, despite the shenanigans that may be happening in my smut series 🤤 i explore different areas of mental health, but anxiety is a common theme amongst my series. i'm an anxiety queen so i am making us all queens. my warnings will also include any triggers associated with smuts, as well as mental health (i.e., trauma). i write my series to bring you nothing but happiness, so please check out the warnings before reading! also sometimes my smut my just be down right porn, so please do enjoy. that is my intent 😚

• inspirations • 

tags to the authors who have left a lasting impact on me and my writing. these are my favorite posts from them so far! most of which either make me feel something (which is rare lol) or give me a writing bug. these are also the most wonderful humans who are willing to help my noobie ass. i encourage you to check them out as much as possible because if i’m over here tagging and reblogging, they must be fucking legit. send them my love.

✨ @theoreticslut • celebrate good times • eddie munson •

✨ @seidenbros​ • there’s no one like you • eddie munson • 

✨ @indouloureux • bloom later • steve harrington •

✨ @ghosttownwherenoonegoes​ • a look to open the skies • eddie munson •

✨ @fandomxpreferences​​ • macho man • bradley “rooster” bradshaw •

✨ @hellfirebabes​ • scream for me • eddie munson •

✨ @mcplestreet​ • bartering • eddie munson •

✨ @darkworkcourier • ghost request • simon “ghost” riley •

✨ @nackrosor • slutty feline jester • eddie munson •

✨ @sunflowersteves • another day, another dollar • bradley “rooster” bradshaw •

✨ @fairysluna • little wolf • aemond targaryen •

• nav • requests open •

[cr-noble-writes]

Title: By The Stars

Series: I’ve Got You

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Alex Shepard, Reyes Vidal, Chief Green (OC)

Relationships: Shepard & Reyes, Shepard/Reyes (pre-slash)

Tags: preslash, basic training, land nav test, impromptu rock climbing, celestial navigation, near death experiences, overuse of biotics, food shortage, best friends, spanish, arabic, egyptian, stolen supplies, hypoglycemia, i know i am pushing the bounds of reality with a couple of things here, military exercises, physical danger, rock climbing, biotics to the rescue, worried Reyes, stubborn Alex, biotic drain induced shock, huddling for warmth, there was only one blanket, sabotage, caretaker Reyes, short rations, navigating by stars, fuck the man (the bad man, not the sexy Chilean one), running on spite, unspoken feelings

Summary: Alex Shepard and Reyes Vidal are nearing the end of basic training, and it's time for their land navigation test. Unfortunately, Alex’s biotic field interferes with the compass, someone’s stolen most of his rations, there’s a cliff between them and the extraction point, and no one packed climbing equipment.

Notes: This was supposed to be a 1k-ish snapshot of part of Alex’s experiences in basic training to be included in another fic. But apparently that wasn’t enough for these two jackasses. Anyway, as a result of having to write this fic, Reyes and Alex’s relationship has developed into something significantly more serious than it was originally intended to be. It was always intended to be more than friends, but it was supposed to be something resembling casual and then Alex had to go and have feelings.” Hope you enjoy :D

I do have several 1k-ish snapshots of other things in basic training, like Alex and Reyes meeting for the first time, etc, but this really felt like the most important bit, so I wanted to get it out there! Plus, it's gonna be a hot minute until I have any more of Alex's canon story ready to post, so I figure those little snapshots can fill the void in my soul while I am working on the next big part.

Thank you to all the people in the various ME servers I’m part of on Discord for all of the encouragement and help! Special thanks, as always, to @imbiowaresbitch​ for always being willing to let me talk at her, and also for making me like Reyes in the first place, and additional thank yous to @nickelkeep​ and @bleuzombie​ for putting up with me just constantly ranting about Mass Effect and Alex, in particular!

Like Growing Pains, there is some Arabic used by Alex, and translations will be provided in the end notes. Likewise for the one actual Spanish phrase Reyes says.

Make sure you check the A/N on AO3 for links to the AO3 pages of everyone who helped me with this fic!

[glitterdustcyclops]

figured i should probably have a pinned post so this is that post

Olo~ I’m Chocolate and I am a big gay emotional mess 100% of the time. I play D&D, cosplay (rarely), liveblog everything, and get emotional over moths. I love pastels, puns, and glitter and I don’t take myself too seriously.

My interests change pretty much all the time, but some common topics are: fandoms, dumb text posts, photos of myself/my life, things that make me happy, things that are pretty, food porn, cool tunes, and anything else I find helpful, interesting, or otherwise thought-provoking. And pictures of dogs.

The nav page has my most frequent/most consistently used tags is now horribly outdated so I'm editing this post with my most frequently used tags if that's helpful. But as always, feel free to invite yourself into my inbox & make friends with me.

Edit: I didn’t think I would have to ever say this, but for the record if you are an ed/“thinspo” blog or whatever I will be blocking the holy fuck out of you. I make it a policy not to police who follows me but for this one exception. Like look, if you somehow missed this, I am a VERY FAT ANGRY non binary queer person and I don’t want your rancid vibes to touch me with a 10-foot pole.

Other than that tho, have a wonderful day and I hope you enjoy my blog darling~ (◡‿◡✿)

[thatprolificauthor]

i’m so tired

I just spent the last, idk, hour or two, trying to redo tags and edit my nav page (which, if you’re on desktop, is the tree icon). 

ANYWAY, here is some other shit on my to-do list that i’m putting here as a reminder to myself:

- do the fucking tag games

- do the fucking masterlist posts

- do the fucking excerpt posts

- do the fucking headcanon posts

- do the fucking shit you need to do

[lascapigliata]

the primary issues i still have with storygraph are as follows. yes some of this may be because i'm used to gr but i still think if they want to compete with gr, storygraph has to get on its level in these areas lol. i grant, none of these would be as annoying if i wasn't trying to manually add like 100 books in one go, but it all is still annoying

adding a rating - just a rating! - takes way too many clicks. the minute you say a book is read you should be offered a way to rate it. having to select a review then first scroll through all the moods and pacing and whatever for the rating is irritating. and it's so buried and small that it's hard to find at a glance when you are scrolling for it.

related but there are just too many multiple choice questions. stop making it feel like work!! both by putting it below the rating And review as above, but also by decreasing the number or putting some of them below an accordion or something.

too many clicks in general. imo anything that i am adding as metadata - review, rating, tags, dates read, dates reread, etc, should be easily accessible all together as opposed to being siloed into three or four separate processes, even if there are Also ways to do them independently

let me just see my own books. home screen shows to-read and recommendations (which i don't have generated because i don't want them, so it's just dead space) but not recently read, and "my books" is not a main nav item. i'd expect a workaround in "my stats" but it also doesn't show you any fucking books (more on this below). so you have to click THRICE - avatar > profile > reviews. pourquoi?!?!?! am i missing something?

minor issues:

ik their stats are their cool thing but selecting a time period for which to see statistics and then having to click inside all the charts just to remember what you read? not into a pop-up/modal either but taking you to a brand new page in the same tab navigating AWAY from the stats page to see the list. so you have to totally reload the stats page when you return? annoying! annoying. just let me see the books on hover

categorization on the stats page doesn’t follow the selections YOU put in. if YOU say a book is medium paced it’ll show in the slow pie slice anyway. why? why ask me for those decisions then ignore them on my own stats?

have tried to add books to the database as they promise you can and can't seem to actually make it happen! not a HUGE deal except if you're going to have the function, make it work or provide a legit estimate as to how long it takes to put in the system

as i’ve said elsewhere the question “is the cast diverse” is annoying. i suspect what they’re asking is “are there marginalized characters” or “are minority groups represented” or something; it rules out things like books set in other countries (not diverse, but not white)

seeing/editing your own review of a book in general is not intuitive. you click "add a review" on the right side of the screen but then when you're done it's moved all the way to the right. why? and why is there no clear "edit" button from either the book's item page OR YOUR OWN BOOKS LISTINGS as opposed to having to see the review first THEN press the tiniest little edit icon on earth?

i have a lot of ui/ux/design issues with the site in terms of hierarchy etc. but that's to be expected. (in fairness i have design issues with goodreads too.) such as "activity" below the book cover just saying "you read this 2x" or whatever on the book item page. this is wasted space that could house, say, my rating review or even just read dates, all of which are more valuable pieces information given that i took the time to add them

included in those issues is that when you DO find your way to your own books, you can EITHER see your books with the pretty covers OR your reviews, which take up so much real estate for those without anything written. put the pretty covers next to the reviews. this is not rocket science

other small design/ui nits include how it looks to add more tags to ones you've already added, and lack of distinguishing style for links that are pretty important like book titles that will get you back where you need to go when you've added dates read, kind of thing. (the latter is an accessibility problem on top of being a design issue)

the favicon is not consistent between pages which so doesn't matter AT ALL except it's an absurd problem to have and it's the kind of thing i'm paid to notice

give me a bugherd snippet and a dream and i could go hog wild on this site i tell you

[bleakfated]

i've been in a funk where i feel like everything i write is meaningless/stupid and i can't possibly be any good at writing my characters since i have so damn many. that on top of resting after surgery has left me with zero social/writing energy

but i have officially gotten tags redone, the carmichaels posts updated with teegan's fc change and the newest drama point and verses for sidney joining the saviors, and a new muse nav page since dumblr wasn't letting me edit the post.

i still have to update some other characters with new verses but i'm tired of fighting tumblr with not understanding how to color a bold link consistently on my fucking theme.

hopefully i'll be able to work on drafts a little bit tonight and get a queue running with those and open starters.

[training4theapocalypse]

Pushover Ch. 2 (Jeffrey Steinberg x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Degradation, Dub-con, Dom!Jeffrey, Sub!Reader, Oral sex F receiving, Overstimulation, Jeffrey getting slapped in the face

Summary: Jeffrey's reign of Evergreen begins and you're not sure where things stand between you.

A/N: Just like @stealsteels, I had to get this out before Jeffrey inevitably becomes irredeemably evil on Thursday. This has a lot of non-con elements so proceed with caution (there's some emotionally stunted aftercare though). This takes place immediately following Ep7 of Hidden Signal: Evergreen.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @pretendfan, @countlambula, @chiaraanatra, @stainedpomegranatelips, @navs-bhat, @daisydark, @ohnoitsrosie

Chapter 2: Nice Guy

You thumb the page of your book anxiously, reading and re-reading the same paragraph, trying to take it in. The clock on the control panel at your door reads that it’s nearly midnight. Jeffrey, Hannah and Axel should be back from their search for the servers by now. 

Jeffrey had ordered you to wait in your quarters, to protect yourself from the storm raging in the ecosphere while they went on the mission to the depths below Evergreen. He shot down your protests that you wanted to look after the control room, insisting that it would be safer for you to be as far away from Cortex as possible in case anything went wrong on their search.

You look up when the door to your room beeps, locking electronically. Fuck. Did it go wrong after all? Is this Cortex confining you? 

“Hello?” says Dagney’s voice over the intercom on the control panel.

“Why is my door locked?” asks Axel.

“Can anyone hear me?” asks McKenna as the collection of voices stampede over one another on the electronic system.

You walk over to the panel to get a closer listen.

“I’m gonna mute all of you.” 

Jeffrey. Thank God. He did it. He fixed Cortex.

Your knuckles turn white as you listen intently. Jeffrey reveals that Finn had been tracking the asteroid that hit Earth for ten whole years and didn’t do a damn thing to stop it. As if you couldn’t hate Finn anymore.  

“It’s sweet really, the attempt at democracy. ‘We’re equally important, equally valuable’ - of course, I’m using Finn’s words here.”

He sounds as pissed off with Finn as you feel. He’s right, you think.

“But what’s funny to me is if I didn’t fix Cortex, you’d all be dead. From now on, Cortex will provide all basic functions but direct orders will come only from me.”

Oh, this is interesting. 

“I’m enforcing a nightly curfew, hence the locked doors. Each of you will do the jobs that you were chosen for but you will no longer do as you please. You will report directly to me every eight hours so I can assess your progress.”

You feel your chest rising and falling. But with what? Nerves? Or is it excitement? Jeffrey is in full control now. What does that mean for Evergreen? What does it mean for you?

“And finally, as far as Finn waking up? Don’t worry - I’ll take great care of him.”

Good. You hope Finn rots in hell.

Your door beeps again, unlocking itself, and your control panel lights up again. This time you can see on the display that Jeffrey is speaking only to you.

“Be a good girl and wait in Finn’s quarters for me. I’ll be there shortly.”

His name disappears when he disconnects, not bothering to wait for your response. You slip your heels on and make your way to Finn’s room where you find the door is already unlocked for you.

Your hatred towards Finn surges tenfold when the door slides open.

His room is opulent - at least double the size of yours - and it’s decorated just like the speakeasy upstairs. There’s a fully stocked drinks cabinet, and a luxurious kitchen complete with a refrigerator just for wine. And sticking out like a sore thumb is the large circular king bed with gold and black satin sheets. You rub your neck, from where it aches because of the measly single you’ve been sleeping in. 

You open the wine fridge to find a chilled bottle of vintage Dom Perignon. What was Finn saving this for? You wonder. You shrug and - mostly out of spite - open it, toss the cork aside carelessly and pour it into two champagne glasses. 

The door slides open and you smile, welcoming Jeffrey as he enters, removing his jacket and throwing it on the leather sofa. He looks flushed. Exhilarated.

“God, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he says when you walk towards him with the glasses of champagne in hand. 

“I thought you might want to celebrate,” you hand him one and raise your own glass. “The new era of Evergreen.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgement and drains his glass. He licks his lips, examining the empty champagne flute. “This is good. Really good.” His eyes find the bottle on the kitchen island behind you. “Did you know that that’s a twenty thousand-dollar bottle of champagne?”

“Isn’t money kind of meaningless now?”

“Yes… but that’s almost definitely the only bottle of that left in existence.”

“Oh.” You’re unsure of what the pained expression on his face means. “Are you mad at me for opening it?”

He pauses and then shakes his head. “No, God no.” He walks past you to refill his glass. “I didn’t even know it existed until a few seconds ago. Besides, you’re right - we should be celebrating.”

You perch on the chrome and leather bar stool next to him as he leans lazily against the island. “Shouldn’t I go back to bed? It’s past curfew after all.” You smirk.

“You know that message doesn’t apply to you. Well, mostly. I do have a job that I’ve assigned to you, though.”

“Have you decided to make me your assistant after all?”

“No. Hannah’s going to be my assistant.”

Your eyebrows knit together. Hannah? He wants Hannah as his assistant over you? What the fuck are you supposed to do here then?

“If you’re willing, I want you to be my right-hand woman. Second in command. My lieutenant.”

Oh. His green eyes look at you sincerely. So sincerely it makes you blush. You blink a few times. “You want me to help you run things?” 

“Surely you’re not surprised? I need someone who can code in case anything goes wrong with Cortex again. And I need to win hearts and minds - they like you a hell of a lot more than they like me.”

You are surprised - to say the least. Not because you don’t think you’re competent or clever enough. But because you’ve spent years working for Finn with no recognition. Not even promoting you to equal standing with Hannah. And now, after a few days aligned with Jeffrey, he wants to give you the responsibility - the power - you know you deserve.

You put down your glass and kiss him, pulling him close by his shirt, opening your legs and feeling his warm body between your thighs. He cups your face, holding your jaw open so his tongue can delve into your mouth. He tastes sugary sweet like champagne. Really, really expensive champagne.

“Is that a yes, then?” He asks when your lips break apart. Your heart flutters in your chest with the thrill of the burning hot idea forming in your mind. His hips are still pushed into yours and you can feel his hard cock pressing against your lacy underwear under your dress. Of course, you want what he’s offering. But there’s something else you want even more right now. 

You look up at him with wide eyes and twirl the end of your hair between your fingers. “I dunno, it sounds kind of hard.”

“What do you mean ‘hard’? You’re the most capable -”

You cut him off. “I mean, I had a different job in mind.”

“Oh really? What kind of job?” He murmurs, a coy grin appearing on his face when he picks up on your tone.

You swallow thickly when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just want to be a hole for you to fuck.”

There’s silence. 

You feel his cock twitch against your wet underwear. He inhales and exhales deeply. “Fuck.”

“Mmm,” you sigh. “I was hoping when you told me to wait in your room like a good girl, that’s what you wanted my job to be. That you’d want me in here before curfew, warming your bed with my legs spread.” You look past his shoulder at the bed behind him. “So we can make a mess of the bed Finn never got to use.”

“You know, now that you mention it -” He tilts your chin up, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “I think you are better suited to just being a hole for me.”

“Two holes.” You open your mouth and tilt your head down, letting his thumb slip inside. He presses down on your soft tongue and drags his thumb down your chin, trailing wet saliva across your jaw when he squeezes your face roughly.

“Such a little tease.”

Jeffrey takes the Dom Perignon with his other hand and swallows a large swig of champagne directly from the bottle. He holds it to your lips, tilting it up so you can drink. Too much pours out too quickly, and dribbles down your chin and onto your dress.

“Look at you, making a mess,” he tuts, letting go of your face and lowering the bottle between your bodies.

“I can clean it up.”

You lean forward and run your tongue up the neck of the bottle, tasting the spilt champagne. You pause when you reach the top and look up at him with your tongue resting on the rim.

“Don’t half-arse it. If you’re going to act like a slut, do it properly.”

You close your lips around the opening of the bottle and lower your head, deep-throating the neck until the opening reaches the back of your throat, maintaining eye contact with him.

“Better,” he says watching you fellate the bottle. 

He pushes the bottle deeper, and you grip the edge of the kitchen surface. The corners of his mouth turn up in a dark smirk when you choke a little. God, those dimples are distracting. You blink back tears and gasp for air when he removes it from your mouth.

“Not again with the Bambi eyes. They might fool everyone out there but I know you’re not all that innocent.”

Jeffrey leans in to kiss you again, threading his fingers through your hair and holding the nape of your neck. You can’t stop the whine that escapes your lips as you throb with arousal between your legs. He takes your hand to help you off the bar stool and over to the bed where he sits down and looks you over as you stand in front of him.

“Go on then.”

You know what to do. It’s been part of your routine for the past few nights. There’s something about the power of watching you undress for him that drives him wild. 

Jeffrey Steinberg is used to being in control, in a way that only a CEO can be. A former CEO, you remind yourself. But every single day in Evergreen thus far has been chaotic. Unpredictable. Not under Jeffrey’s careful management. 

Until today. 

Now everything down here is under his command. And you’re sure he’s desperate to begin exerting that power. Starting with bending you to his will.

You pull your tailored black dress over your head and toss it on the floor unceremoniously as he slowly unbuttons his shirt sleeves and rolls them up. Your eyes linger on his muscular forearms, freckled and covered in dark blonde hair.

“Keep those ridiculous shoes on,” he instructs, looking you over from head to toe as you stand in front of him in your lingerie.

You unhook your bra and toss it on his lap, your nipples hardening in the cool, recycled air of the air-conditioned room. When you slip your panties down, your heels click on the stainless steel floor as you step out of them awkwardly.

He silently gestures for you to come closer with the crook of his fingers and you do so obediently, standing naked in front of him between his open thighs.

You look down at him sitting on the bed. Now what?

In answer to your silent question, he grabs your hips and kisses along the soft skin of your abdomen.

You let out an exhale of surprise when he presses his face into your mound and the velvety texture of his tongue rolls over your clit. His hands knead the flesh of your ass, pulling your body into him. 

Jeffrey does many things - he talks dirty, he makes cutting comments, he fucks hard.

But as far as you know, eating pussy is something he doesn’t do.

Aside from a perfunctory lick or two to make sure your pussy is wet enough for him to fuck, he’s never done this.

Not the way he’s doing right now.

You run your hands through his hair and bite your lip to stifle a moan when he sucks on your clit. As if automatically, your hips roll with the tip of his tongue tracing gentle circles around the bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Jeffrey - oh, shit!” Your pleasure is interrupted when you stumble in your heels and hold onto his shoulders for balance to stop yourself from falling.

“Get on the bed. No - I said keep them on,” he adds when you go to step out of your heels.

You crawl onto the bed, feeling Finn’s luxurious satin sheets under your body. Jeffrey grabs the bottle of champagne and takes another drink and you lean back on your elbows, watching the muscles in his neck contract as he swallows.

“Open up,” he says, kneeling beside you.

You look uncertainly at the bottle of champagne. Surely he doesn’t want to fuck you with it.

“I don’t think-”

“Your mouth.” He smirks at the relief crossing your face. You part your lips to let him pour more into your mouth. You feel the bubbles on your tongue as he overspills and champagne drips down your neck and between your breasts. “So wasteful,” he tuts, looking over your body. 

Jeffrey drags his tongue down your neck, following the beads of liquid running down your chest. “It does taste better like this, though.”

He holds the bottle above your body and slowly pours the last few splashes of champagne onto your breasts, the chilled liquid splashing and fizzing on your nipples and pooling in your navel. He tosses the empty bottle aside onto the mattress and laps up the sparkling alcohol from your body, starting at your stomach and licking a long and winding trail up to your breasts. 

This is nice. It’s almost sweet, in Jeffrey’s own twisted way. But of course, the first time he��s cherishing your body like this is when he’s desecrating Finn’s bed and squandering the last bottle of expensive champagne in existence. But it doesn’t make you like the feeling of his tongue on your body any less. Fuck, you’re soaking wet for him. And it’s not the champagne that’s coating the inside of your thighs.

He looks up at you and grins when he finds your stiff nipple between his teeth. When he bites down on the hard peak you let out a whimper.

“Has anyone ever told you before that your tits are perfect?” Those green eyes penetrate your very soul and for some reason, you feel obliged to answer honestly.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re actually more accustomed to men appreciating your body than simply using you the way Jeffrey does.

“Yeah?”

“Believe it or not I’m used to men being… being nice to me.” Your stomach twists somewhere between nervousness and being extremely turned on by his lips kissing the sweet, sticky remnants on your tits.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You specifically asked me to disrespect you. You said you wanted to be a hole for me. You don’t want that?”

You look into his now slightly concerned face.

“You can disrespect me and still go down on me. That is if you want to. I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, I want to alright.” The corners of your mouth turn up at this. He wants to. He wants you. “It’s just that your request regarding my treatment of you… confused things slightly.”

“And all this time I just thought you were selfish.” Your smile is wiped from your face when you see he looks deadly serious.

“I am selfish. I want you all to myself. And if I need to force you to spend a night cumming on my tongue over and over again until you can’t even remember that other men ever existed then that’s what I’ll do.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as he slides down your body, settling himself between your open legs. Jeffrey traces his fingers along your damp inner thigh and around your pussy, not quite firmly enough to feel any friction. 

“Is this champagne or are you just happy I’m down here?”

“Very funny - ah-” 

You’re cut off when the flat of his tongue licks a single broad stripe along your entrance up to your clit.

“It tastes sweeter.”

Fuck.

He shifts his weight to better position himself, and his muscular forearm wraps under your thigh to free up his other hand. His middle and forefinger push through the resistance of your throbbing cunt, easing into you. He moves them slowly in and out and you feel the wetness being pushed out of your throbbing centre, leaking all over Finn’s bedsheets.

“Shit, Jeffrey,” you pant, feeling everything coiling up impossibly tight around him.

There’s heat like a furnace, searing and wet as his lips envelop your clit. He looks up to gauge your reaction and must like what he sees because he groans needily, sending vibrations over your clit that make you lift your hips up, rolling over his mouth.

You run your fingers through his hair, your fingernails gently tickling his scalp in reassurance that you like what he’s doing. He’s fucked you before, sure, but this is intimate. This is personal. The way his fingers bury themselves into you and how his tongue flicks firmly over your clit has you quivering and panting already.

Everything seems to short-circuit inside you when he picks up pace, your soft caress of his hair turns into a tug and he responds by drilling into your g-spot. It’s like your servers are overloaded - every signal receptor crackles and jolts with electricity as he works diligently, his logical brain processing and responding to your every whimper and twitch of your muscles.

“Fuck, I’m - ah, fuck.”

Hearing him moan in encouragement, you dare yourself to look at him. His eyes are closed and he groans against your cunt in raw, unembellished pleasure and it sends your body into overload. Everything comes tumbling down as he cracks your code. It’s so good. It’s fucking great. Your pussy muscles tighten and release around his thick fingers and you grind yourself into his mouth, feeling the current of your orgasm surging and crashing over you.

You gasp and pull his hair, trying to fight the oversensitivity but he doubles down and just keeps going through your orgasm.

“Jeffrey, I’m done, I’m done, I’m finished - fuck-”

He lifts his head up giving you respite from the abuse his tongue is putting you through but your eyes widen in alarm when his grip around the back of your thigh tightens. A sinful smile breaks over his face, his wet chin glistening in the dim light as his other hand keeps sliding his fingers in and out of your soaking wet cunt.

“What’s wrong? Don’t nice guys eat your pussy like this?”

His mouth sucks your clit before you can answer and you squeal, struggling against the overstimulation. His fingers bear down harder and your muscles tense again. Quicker than lightning, another orgasm flashes at the surface of your consciousness. You arch your back and squeeze your eyes shut, you’re not sure if your body is fighting or welcoming the sensation. 

Until you feel the drop.

Your irritated cry turns into a scream of pleasure as Jeffrey’s tongue flutters against your clit, sending crackling ecstasy flooding your veins.

“You sound like a whore when you cum, by the way,” he says when your twitching subsides and he pulls back to lick his lips. “Right, cum for me again and then I’m going to fuck you like the little slut you are.”

“No, Jeffrey. That’s enough, I-”

“It’s not a request.”

His tongue meets your pussy again and when he tries to grab you as you squirm away your hand instinctively cracks down, hitting him across the face. Hard.

Shit.

He sits up slowly on the edge of the bed and you feel your chest rising and falling as you gulp shallow breaths in anticipation. Jeffrey brings his hand to his cheekbone and opens his mouth, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. 

“I’m bleeding,” he says, tasting iron on the soft flesh inside his mouth. His eyes lock onto yours. 

“I told you to stop.”

The corner of his lip turns up in a wicked smirk. “Hit me again.”

“Wait- what?”

He stands up and slowly unbuttons his shirt, taking it off. God, how are you supposed to say no to those abs?

“I’ll rephrase that for you, shall I?” Jeffrey unbuckles his belt with one hand and removes it, tossing it on the floor in one swift motion. It clatters on the floor and the hair on the back of your neck prickles. He takes off his pants and you can see the bulge of his erection in his boxers. “Try and hit me again.”

“Like, right now?”

He crawls over your body. “Yeah, right now.”

You know eight other people who would love the opportunity to do what you’re about to do.

You touch Jeffrey’s face gently then bring your hand back to slap him again but he grabs your wrist just before you make contact. You look in surprise from his strong hand circling your wrist to his eyes. His pupils are blown out like a wild animal as he pins your wrist to the bed.

“Now, struggle,” he hisses, bringing his mouth to your ear before biting your neck.

Holy shit.

You feel like prey being devoured from all angles as he reaches between your bodies to pull his cock out and shove it inside your slick entrance. It happens so fast you don’t have time to react before he’s pushing his hips down, pressing your body tight against the mattress and stretching your pussy.

With your free hand, you push at his shoulders but he’s too heavy, too strong. You try and leverage your knees but you can’t get the right angle wearing these stupid stilettos. Instead, the way you lift your knees up only allows him to thrust deeper.

You’re completely trapped under him. You cry out, your hand that’s pushing yourself away from his chest turns into a grip as you brace yourself, the searing heat in your abdomen pulling up and tightening as your walls clench around his cock. Your heels dig into his back - the sharp stiletto must hurt but it seems to spur him on.

“Did any of those nice guys fuck you like this?”

“N-no,” you choke, gasping for air as he pummels your g-spot. Your poor, over-exerted nerve endings are lighting up like burning stars in the night sky.

“Pity you’re trapped here with me, then.”

It happens again before you can fight it off. The squelching of wet skin, the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear, the feeling of his balls slapping your ass so hard it stings - it all hits you at once harder than the fucking asteroid. He drives so deep, you see the world going up in flames and entire oceans emptying themselves behind your eyelids as your orgasm is ripped from you. 

He keeps fucking your aching pussy through it. You squeeze down hard, wanting to bring him his own relief too.

“I don’t want a nice guy,” you whimper in his ear. “I want you. Only you.”

You kiss the red welt on his cheek tenderly and it’s that that does it.

Jeffrey shudders violently, a string of curses leaves his lips as his throbbing cock pumps hot spurts of cum inside you as your cunt convulses around him.

His dead weight falls on top of you as he slumps in exhaustion, letting go of your wrist. Laboured, heavy breathing tickles your ear and you stroke the nape of his neck, feeling the sweat-soaked hair under your fingers.

He pulls out of you, letting the cum drip from your swollen pussy onto Finn’s bedsheets. He rolls over onto his back, his other arm still trapped under your neck.

You look at his open chest, still rising and falling gently. The unmarked territory in the crook of his arm looks inviting. Anyone else and you’d snuggle into the space there, plant sweet, little kisses on their neck and ask about their day.

But this is Jeffrey. He doesn’t do sweet, little kisses.

So instead you lift your head, releasing his arm and he clasps his hand behind his head as you both stare at the ceiling.

“You’ve got some right hand,” he says eventually. “Do that again and I’ll deactivate you like Hannah.” He looks at you, grinning.

Hannah. “What?” Your stomach twists sickeningly.

“I’m just joking,” he says when you don’t return his grin. “I wouldn’t deactivate you”

“What do you mean like Hannah? What happened?” You bite your lip.

He sighs like the question is inconveniencing him. “She hacked her room door open so Cortex deactivated her.”

“On your orders?”

“Yes.”

Until Greer arrived, she was the only person you knew from before. Even though you didn’t always see eye to eye - she was the closest thing you had to a friend down here. At least until you started whatever this thing with Jeffrey was.

And now she was deactivated. Because she had ended up on the wrong side of the guy you’re sharing a bed with. 

“And you didn’t tell me? I thought I was supposed to be your second in command?”

“It happened so fast - she disobeyed direct orders and then she attacked me,” he says in exasperation. 

That doesn’t sound like the Hannah you know. But then again… 

You have noticed her and Axel whispering together - stopping abruptly when you entered the room. And then she tried to have Aida sectioned. And the whole deal with Finn’s incomplete message? Recently you’ve felt like you know her less and less.

“Should I be afraid of you, Jeffrey?” you whisper.

“You know I would never do that to you.”

“Why? Because I let you fuck me?”

His eyebrows knit together and he gives you an offended look. “Is that what this is? You let me fuck you? As in it’s some kind of strategic manoeuvre on your part?”

You shake your head. “Not to me.”

“It’s not to me either.”

Your eyes find the space on his chest again.

“You swear she attacked you?”

“I swear.” You look at the ceiling again but you feel the mattress shift when Jeffrey gets closer to you. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of me, right? If this stops… I’m not gonna… do anything. I’m not going to deactivate you if we stop fucking. You don’t have to ‘let me’ fuck you to feel safe down here.”

You turn to look at him and see that he’s on his side, eyes searching your face.

“I’m not afraid of you, Jeffrey. I’m fucking you because I actually like you.”

“You don’t think I’m a power-hungry, egotistical maniac?”

“No, I do. But for some reason, I like that about you.”

For the first time, he pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. You sigh in quiet adoration, smelling the sweet musky scent on his chest.

“You know, I like you a lot too. I just always second guess peoples intentions because I’m never sure if they’re with me for me or the money.”

“So all it took was the world’s economy to disappear for you to trust that I do?”

He laughs. And it’s a beautiful, warm laugh. Not his usual semi-entertained scoff of derision that he lets out whenever something goes inevitably wrong in Evergreen.

“I’m still not sure I believe I deserve you,” says Jeffrey after a few beats. He looks down at you, nestled there in his chest as he combs your hair out of your face with his fingers. “You’re beautiful, kind, everyone down here likes you… you should be with someone nice.”

“I already told you - I don’t want someone nice.”

This makes him laugh again. God, it sounds beautiful.

“You know, you’re supposed to tell me I am nice - deep down.”

“Try harder to show it then,” you giggle.

Jeffrey gives you a tight squeeze before peppering the side of your face in kisses. 

Sweet, little kisses.

[poptartmochi]

girlies i think i have to throw the android tumblrinas (myself included) to the wolves... I’ve adjusted the hyperlinks for the multi-word tags to variations that use _ and - in lieu of spaces, which work on the desktop and apple versions of tumblr. On Android, these tags either pull up nothing, bring you to the hyperlinked tag verbatim (ie “trans_resources”, instead of bringing you to the trans resources tag, brings you to the trans_resources tag), or show you my posts as if you weren’t in a tag at all... 🌋

I think I’m just going to leave a note about this on the mobile nav post + tag the broken tags on the post itself so you can hopefully still access them.. i can’t really think of any other workarounds to this 😭😭😭