#make fun references and jokes and try to make it easy on yourself

[doodlinge]

my writing tips, that i think people will find useful:

- write dialogue first and THEN make a scene around it.

i like to do this sometimes for multiple reasons. first, if you’re in a flow of good ideas, getting dialogue done will be a future GAME CHANGER. you don’t have to be stuck fussing over little word choices because you just do it when you have a good idea, and it works! fuss over it now, save time for descriptions later. second, the characters you’re writing usuuallly wont be able to read eachother’s minds. we people do everything by communication and talking! so, map out what you want your scene to look like through dialogue! i like to do mine as a screenplay or movie script, so that way i can ensure that the characters are speaking Like Real People (tm). and THEN I READ IT OUTLOUD >:)

- map out your chapters before you start to write. seriously, do it.

so, personally, my favorite part of fanfiction and writing is the planning stage. and i like doing it on paper, but we’ll get into that after this. first, you get the idea, the spark in your brain that could make an AMAZING story, comic, or au. that’s the general premise to work off of! write that down, if you need. next, do a VERY rough draft of what you want to happen—specifically, the 3 main points of your story: the beginning event, the middle event or climax, and the ending event, or your point A, B, and C. work off of and build up (or build down) from each of these core events of your story, planning the small events that lead up to The Big Guy (or B). these ideas or premises for each leading event can and probably will be VERY, VERY rough, but once you’ve got the rough idea of what will probably happen done, you can get to work on MORE PLANNING (sorry guys. learn to enjoy it)

- PLANNING PART TWO BABY WOOO (plan out your chapters. and if it doesnt work when you’re writing it, that’s okay!)

this is what you will do before you write your chapters, that works for me way better than just going in with no plan. personally, when i started to write the fic i’m currently writing, i mapped out all the rough details that i want to happen in the climax chapter of my story, because most people find the middle the hardest part. since i already had an rough idea of what would have happened before the climax with my previous planning stage, i already was able to connect how all of the buildup would lead into the climax of the story pretty easily. every action in your story will have a consequence, big or small, and that all will lead up to your protagonist bursting into tears or the main couple confessing their love or the final, epic battle between the protagonist and antagonist! if, when you’re writing, the rough idea you had just isn’t working out, you can either a: redo it completely if it’s a huge problem, or b (my favorite): work around it in the moment and improvise. i ended up making my fic’s climax way better just because of the extra scenes i added in while writing, but since i had my original plan to work off of, everything was a lot easier.

- make every scene with a motive to accomplish

most people know this one, but i thought it was good to add in. whether it’s to flesh out the world around your characters with fun and shenanigans or to give the audience a little more insight into a character who will be useful in the future, every scene and every chapter should have a purpose. when people act, they also like to give their characters motivations, and for a while, i wasn’t sure how that could connect. however, now i understand. let’s say a character is trying to motivate another one to be brave and face their fears, but character a is actually only interested in their own interests. character a’s motivation is to be self-serving—they’re not as concerned with helping character b, but instead, they want to help themself. this shows a lot about character a! when you have a purpose for every story beat and a motive for each character, it can help you flesh out the character much better.

- show don’t tell (and what i interpret that as)

okay, so for a while, i had NO idea what show don’t tell even meant. i LOVE writing about my character’s thoughts, their interests, their perspectives on what’s going on around them. character analysis is one of the best parts, for me! but there are ways to show what a character is thinking without the use of heavy description. for example, take this part from the fic i’m currently working on right now:

the character i’m writing for had not mentioned her mom the entire chapter, but when you go back and analyze her character throughout it, you can see major hints that part of why she who she is stems from her trauma with her mother. when she connects to an older adult female figure and feels understood, the issues she has are shown and not told, clear as day. by using dialogue and trusting your audience to connect the dots about your characters, you can make a better-written story! remember motivations; sometimes, characters don’t even know they have the motivations that they do, and the audience has to figure it out based on context clues. leave room for intrigue and mystery! think; if you were this character in this situation feeling the way they felt, what would you do? what would you say? why would you say it, and what would that reveal about you?

- write one story beat per day and WRITE ON PAPER

the word count, for me, doesn’t matter. if the quality of your writing is good, and the pacing gives audiences room to breathe, then that’s enough! quality over quantity, in my opinion. if you’re not up for writing, PLAN CHAPTERS! plan scenes, plan events! plan dialogue, make it fun! that is writing too. for me, when i have the planning done, i go with the One Story Beat Per Day Rule. if you get one small event done each time you write, you’ll be finishing The Big Event you wanted to accomplish in no time. and if you’re in the middle of a big story beat and you just need a break, i’d say to take one…. and later, come back with a notebook and a pen and think. paper has helped me write better because the flow of thought just keeps going when i’m focused, and i think it might work for a lot of people.

- remember, YOU CAN DO THIS! MAKE IT FUN!

writing and finishing stuff is really, really hard. but if you get one small thing done for the characters in your story, comic or au each day… you’ll eventually have an amazing, finished story. make it fun for yourself. listen to music, act out the scripts, use color theory, analyze your characters and don’t make it a chore! every small step contributes to getting to the top. make something you will love to write, and that you will love to read. make something for yourself, because in the end, if you enjoy it, the audiences will enjoy it.

[sirfrogsworth]

(In reference to this post)

I'm going to be honest, this kind of attitude concerns me.

I've been going over my past lately. I'm writing something about my relationship with my brother. And I found a letter I never sent him.

Here is an excerpt.

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

I was not a good brother to you.

I took you for granted and was an ungrateful jerk. You used to do so much to help me. You did all kinds of manual labor because my stupid failing body could not. You built me things. You helped me fix things. You drove me places I needed to be. When I first got sick at college you came to Kansas City and scooped me up and brought me back home.

I remember one Christmas you even went back to the family gathering and stuck up for me. They didn't understand how sick I was and you explained it to them. I never told you how much that meant to me. I should have hugged you and thanked you profusely on the spot. You believed me even when some doctors refused to. And you used that big heart of yours to defend me.

That was an amazing act of courage. Find that same courage now. Stand up for Mom & Dad. Stand up for yourself. Put your foot down and fix this.

It took me way too long to figure it out, but it is my regret of being a bad brother that helped me realize why you don't like my humor. Why you are one of the very few people I can't make laugh. It's because I used that humor at your expense. I made fun of you. I teased you the same way those betraying bastard fake friends did in high school. At the time, I probably thought my jokes were harmless fun. But I'm sure you felt they were cruel and hurtful. We are such different people and I had a hard time understanding you. I used humor as a weapon to highlight our differences. I have no excuse. I have no justification for being a jerk to you.

All I can do is say I am sorry. Truly and deeply sorry.

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

I didn't send that letter because he was too far gone. His wife read every email and text and I had no way of getting through to just him.

My brother used to be a much better person than me. I often failed to be the good person I thought I was. I didn't realize I was being hurtful at the time. And I didn't do this to just him. I thought I was just making jokes. It was not "pretty easy" for me to realize that. It took years of growing and hindsight.

He used to be nothing but good behaviors all the way down.

And I struggled to limit my bad behaviors.

I was bullied in grade school and realized that if you are funny, people don't bully you anymore. So my brain thought I needed to make people laugh at all times. And it didn't matter if my jokes were at someone else's expense.

Bad behaviors are often easy. They can be tempting. They can require less effort. They can have greater rewards. And sometimes they can protect you. They can be a defense mechanism. Your brain trying to avoid trauma. "I'll hurt someone first so no one hurts me."

There is a reason so many people struggle to be good all the time.

Good behavior requires constant vigilance. You can't do a certain number of good things and then just call yourself a good person. And you can't just not do bad things either. A good person isn't necessarily just "not being evil to other people." That is neutral, at best.

I've learned that being a good person isn't something you just are. It is an ongoing choice. You have to maintain it. You have to actively keep it going. You have to consistently choose good behaviors and limit the bad.

And we all choose bad behaviors from time to time.

Don't kid yourself.

If you know the story of my brother, he let bad behaviors win. He let someone influence him to abuse and neglect his own family. He did it because he was traumatized. He was humiliated by a girl in high school. She said she was his girlfriend. She let him take her to prom. Then she wrote a one-act play called "Prom Nightmare" and performed it in front of the entire school. He was a laughing stock to 2000 classmates.

He is terrified of being alone but he is also terrified that any romantic partner is faking their affections. So obedience is his tool to prevent that. He will do anything his partner instructs to make sure her affection is real. His unmanaged trauma has run amok and led him to dark choices to keep his relationship intact at any cost.

He was such a good person. And now he is not. He has the potential. He is so good with his daughter. He is capable of good behaviors. And I think that is why it upsets and angers me so much. I can still see what he could be.

If you want to see people as just good and bad, that's up to you. I can't do it anymore. I think humans are too complicated. And I worry about getting complacent. I need to check in on my ratio of good to bad behaviors constantly. It would be too easy to say I am a good person and not think about it again.

I mean, sure, I don't kick puppies. I don't taunt the elderly. I don't assault random strangers.

Being good is easy!

Right?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A fun question your opinion: In each arc, what do you think is the theme of each arc? ( It can be a motif, messages, subject)

These are a mix of jokes and serious thoughts ^^ just to avoid the post from being too heavy overall!

The Rose-Red Tyrant:

Breaking free from perpetuating a cycle of abuse

You are your own person, not a puppet controlled by your parent/guardian

At the same time, you have to take accountability for your own actions (your background can explain your poor behavior toward others but it does not excuse that behavior)

Control that is too constrictive will only push away potential connections and experiences, keeping you isolated and complacent

Anger management classes are good for you, guys

The Usurper from the Wilds:

Let’s play fairly and be good sports!

Judging people for their merits rather than by titles or birth

What makes someone worthy to lead is noble behavior and attiude

Standing up for what’s morally right, even if everyone else seems to be against you

You have value, worth, and hope in spite of what others may tell you and put you down for

It’s totally okay to get revenge on the asshole that tripped you that one time/j

It’s technically not a crime if you don’t get caught (except Leona did, in fact, get caught)

The Merchant from the Depths:

Don’t be ashamed of your past self—embrace it, accept it, and use it as a point of reference for self growth

Be the bigger person rather than becoming a bully yourself

Let your accomplishments speak for themselves

There is no “easy way out” or shortcut; be prepared to face the consequences of your actions

Not everything is as it may seem (think about the “trick” with Azul’s contracts)

… Read the terms and conditions very carefully and think things over before you sign a contract 💀

Schemer of the Scalding Sands:

Wow, this baby can fit so much generational trauma!!

Sometimes you just miss each other’s messages or greatly misinterpret the other’s intentions (Kalim giving Jamil the benefit of the doubt, Jamil obviously being the Bad Guy and everyone else has to point that out to Kalim)

There’s a very complicated relationship between those in power and those without power; this can breed hatred for those at the top

Talent and skill left unacknowledged can fester into resentment

Institutions of higher education can and will accept monetary bribes, what are you gonna do about it?

Not everyone wants to reconcile and make friends; this is okay and should be more normalized

A Beautiful Tyrant:

You can try your best and work hard, but life doesn’t owe you anything (depressing thought, but unfortunately true)

Beauty is not limited to just one’s looks; beauty can also extend to one’s character and actions

Your worth shouldn’t come from external forces; if you are satisfied with yourself, you will always be “beautiful” no matter how you look or what losses you may experience

Public opinion and the entertainment industry are brutal af

Screw gender norms 😤

The Watchman of the Underworld:

The grieving process in general

Moving on from the past instead of fixating on it and letting the past consume your present and hold you back from a future

Learning to forgive yourself

Reaching out and making new support systems/opening up to others to help you cope

Bearing the sins of your ancestors (Shroud family curse)

The Lord of Malevolence:

Change is inevitable, all good things must come to an end; we must learn to accept them and bravely move toward the future

Love endures, transcending race (Sebek), blood (Silver), and time (Lilia)

Self-sacrificial love (Maleanor for Malleus, Lilia for the other Diasomnia boys, Dawn Knight for his own family, etc.)

Is it “true” happiness if it is a fake reality, a convenient dream?

We hate and fear what we do not understand, even though we have the capacity to

You cannot live forever in a happy fantasy world where none of your loved ones/favorite characters leave you, your trauma doesn’t exist, and everything conveniently pans out how you want it to; sooner or later, you must “wake up” and face reality (this point is particularly meta; it applies both in-game and in the real world, speaking to us players and our relationship with the escapist fictional content we consume)

Prologue: Welcome to the Villains’ World and Overall Main Story:

The power of friendship :))

Revisionist history (cuz… y’know… Great Seven and all)

We’re stronger together than alone

It’s okay to rely on others

We may be very different people from very different backgrounds, but it is still possible for us to understand one another

[empresskylo]

you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid. pt. 1

⊹ simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

[ warnings ] slightly nsfw. reader referred to as 'she' once. wc 979

part 2

cod masterlist

Everyone shows their love differently, you just so happened to show you cared about someone by relentlessly teasing them. And it was so easy with Soap and Gaz. They would give you shit right back and you’d all burst out laughing. But when it came to Ghost—your lieutenant—you couldn’t justify throwing jabs at your superior. You imagined yourself making a joke about him being ugly under his mask and you shuddered. Even the thought of poking fun at him made you uncomfortable.

But as Ghost and Soap grew closer, you overheard their—crude—conversations on comms. And often, it was Johnny saying something stupid and Ghost’s monotone voice mocking him.

“It's dark in here,” Soap had said. 

“Good observation. S’water still wet?” Ghost’s deadpan voice had made you giggle to yourself, careful to make sure you weren’t doing it over comms.

It surprised you when someone like Lt.—a stone-cold killer—could have a sense of humor. And it made you a little more influenced to act snarky, your tongue loosening around him on its own accord.

But for a while, it still managed to make your eyes widen whenever Ghost would say something silly, like when Price was basically on the verge of coming back from the dead, and Soap said, “Was worried your face was gonna melt off like those other poor bastards.” 

You could still hear Ghost’s low voice in your ears. “If you ask me, it’d be an improvement.”

However, after time, you slowly fell into slipping in snides to Ghost alongside Johnny. You hadn’t even realized how often you teased him…

When you came back to the safehouse with Ghost during a mission, you were both soaked. Your clothes dripped water all over the floors, leaving a wet trail behind you. Soap and Gaz were on their way, but you and Ghost had beaten them there. 

You began to shiver, the damp clothing sticking to your skin making it insufferably cold in the room. You dumped your stuff on the half-broken couch, slipping your tactical vest off. You pried your shirt off with several, strained grunts, getting it stuck over your head at one point, and then tossed it to the floor with a plopping sound. You immediately felt warmer having shed the wet material. 

Your eyes flickered up and spotted Ghost. He, too, had stripped his vest off, holding it in his hand. But his eyes were locked on you, unabashedly watching as you had torn your shirt from your chest. You still had a thin tank top on, but you felt far more exposed with his eyes on you than you expected. 

You smirked, not really thinking there was any intention behind his gaze. You walked towards him, wanting to go around and search the rooms for dry clothes, his eyes following you. When you brushed past him, you spoke. “You wanna kiss me so bad, Lt. It makes you look stupid.” You had meant it as a joke. To tease him for watching you—he was probably just spacing off, deep in thought, his eyes inconveniently resting on you.

His arm stretched out, connecting with the wall, making you halt. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look up at him. 

“So, what if I do?”

Your lips parted in a bit of shock and embarrassment. That wasn’t the response you had expected. You weren’t even sure what you should say to that. You heard Ghost chuckle, watching as your usual cocky attitude faltered. 

“Not so smart, now, hm?” he teased. 

You tried to shake it off, but the sticky feeling of his pupil-blown eyes staring down at you after taking your joke and throwing it back in your face shrouded your insouciant demeanor.

Did he mean what he said? Or was he just trying to catch you off guard?

Before you were forced to either acknowledge what he said, assuming his words were honest or teasing, Soap and Gaz burst through the door.

Ghost gave you one last wistful look before dropping his arm and moving into the living room. You were left a little dumbfounded, shocked that you were so overwhelmed by his one, little sentence. 

When you turned to meet the boys, Ghost was watching you from behind the couch, stripping his clothes off, his eyes unwavering as they suppressed you with their weight. When he finally tore his shirt off, exposing his bare chest, you had to look away. Your cheeks felt hot as you tried to listen to what Soap was saying to you. 

Soap said your names several times before you blinked and refocused. 

“Sorry, what?” You muttered. Soap raised his brows at you in concern. 

“She’s a bit distracted today,” Ghost chimed in from the corner of the room. 

He had a fresh shirt in hand but had yet to put it to use. You scowled at him. 

When everyone was getting situated several minutes later, Ghost strolled past you before lowering his head to whisper in your ear. You got goosebumps all down your neck and arms. “Not s’fun bein’ on the receiving end, huh?”

You swallowed. “Didn’t know my words bothered you so much, Lt.”

He smirked under his mask, his eyes squinting as he did. “I wouldn't say ‘bothered’. More like…” he pondered for a brief moment, “aroused.”

You choked on your spit, trying to play it off as a cough, then spun on your heels to face him. But you were left with his back, he was already walking away. You knew this should have discouraged you—that you needed to just accept defeat from your lieutenant and not mess with him any further. But, unfortunately, this brief fault in your step didn’t deter you. 

If that’s the game he wanted to play, so be it. And a terrible part of you hoped he wasn’t just trying to make you uncomfortable, but was being truthful.

part 2

[thoughtfulfiction]

Social Media QB

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

The reputation of the Chargers social media team was unmatched. They are known for being funny and up to date on all memes and pop culture references while also showcasing players’ personalities. That alone made you apply and this past year on the job had really been a once in a lifetime experience. Working with Megan and the crew was a daily adventure and you were becoming more and more comfortable calling the guys your friends. It even got to a point where you didn’t even call them by their names anymore.

Quentin was usually just “Q.” JK was always “J’Kaylin”, Derwin was ���3” and your favorite nickname was definitely calling Justin “Sunshine.” At first it was a Remember the Titans reference but it became a lifestyle. Everything and everyone revolves around the sun and that’s exactly what it felt like when you were at work. All of the players were important and special but you could just feel the energy in the room shift when Justin was there. It was palpable, it almost took your breath away sometimes.

Off camera he was goofy, funny and had this uncanny ability to make the world stand still for a bit, even just for a few fleeting moments where it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. But then reality would hit and you were reminded that you work for the team and he’d never see you in that way, he was just nice to everyone he encountered. But on camera? It was all fun and games. There was a running joke, mostly based on his real feelings, that Justin hated cameras. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention or having people perceive him so he avoided the social media team altogether when phones were pointed in his direction. 

But sometimes, a rarity, you were able to get him on camera, even if it was just for a split second. The two of you reviewed the questions he was going to be asked before their Hot Ones appearance and there was ALWAYS a discussion, more like subtle begging if you all were going to have him participate in any content.

“We need Justin for this new segment we’re doing, so you’re gonna have to talk to him.” Megan sighs, grabbing her Stanley cup that was sitting on the counter. She’d just finished editing a video where she and her assistant put fart spray on the tiny mic and could still smell the rancid scent until she grabbed some Lysol spray to de-funk the place.

You were going through photos taken during practice earlier that morning and deciding which ones to post and without looking up you asked her, “why do I have to do it?”

Lorren and Allie giggle in the corner, shaking their heads. “You cannot be serious right now y/n,” Lorren gives you a pointed look.

“What?”

“We all know you and Justin have a thing for each other. Even if you won’t admit to us…or yourself. It’s pretty obvious.”

You finally raise your head up from your laptop, staring at them while also wracking your brain trying to figure out when your innocent crush had become so painfully obvious. If the girls knew, then Justin had probably somehow caught on and the thought of that made you want to dig a hole right outside on the practice field and never come out. “Is—am I that easy to read?”

“No one blames you,” Megan runs a loving hand on your shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ve been trying so hard to hide your feelings that you haven’t noticed that he’s doing an even worse job of hiding his massive crush on you.”

The look on your face sends the room into a fit of laughter. “We’re being serious. The way he looks at you and acts around you. Anyone can see he’s into you friend.”

You weren’t convinced, “I need an example.”

��Okay fine,” Lorren stands up to prepare a demonstration. “He wasn’t ready to put the mics on when he was mic’d up until you walked over and helped him get the mic in the perfect spot in his pads. And then he wore the friendship bracelet for six weeks because you handed it to him.”

Allie pipes up to put in her two cents. “And let’s not forget when he had you driving him around the golf tournament and kicked Zion to the curb. There’s no way all of those are just a coincidence.”

“Fine. I’ll go ask him if he’ll shoot the video for us but I’m not going to lose my job because of a meaningless crush on the starting quarterback.”

You waited around for the guys to leave treatment after practice and caught up with him on his way out. “Hey Sunshine, quick question for you.”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he gives you a small tight-lipped smile. “What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a huge favor and be in this tik tok. It’s a short game and it’ll only take like 15 minutes.”

His deadpan face and disappointed dad sigh has you practically begging, saying “please” in your finest sing-song tone.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You knew he’d crack, he always did. “On one condition. You also have to participate.”

You hold your hand out and he engulfs it with his much larger one. “You’ve got yourself a deal Herbert.”

“Okay the rules of the game are simple,” Megan begins from behind her phone screen before hitting record, “we’re going to give you these Canadian snacks and you’ll rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. One being it’s awful I’ll never touch that again and 10 being a solid snack that you’d eat everyday if given the opportunity.”

You and Justin nod, diving in on everything from the ketchup chips to the toffee. The video didn’t take long as promised and the quarterback went about the rest of his day with no further distractions.

In your office a few days later on the team’s off day, you were contemplating your life. Maybe you should take a step back from him so people don't get the wrong idea. Sure, your coworkers were convinced the crush was mutual but what if he was just being nice? He was always so focused on football and making the most out of every opportunity. Why in the world would he waste time flirting with a social media manager? It just made no sense. Instead of continuing to run a million imaginary scenarios in your mind you packed up your stuff and tried heading out to the parking lot. Even after all this time you still struggled to maneuver all the twists and turns of the building and somehow found yourself walking past the quarterback room. You intended to just keep walking but he was in there alone and called out your name when he saw you.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think anyone would be in the building today.” His bright eyes staring down at you made your heart feel like it was beating out of your chest. You desperately needed to get it together.

“I came in to finish up a few things but I’m heading out now. What are you doing? I think you’ve watched enough film to last you a couple lifetimes.” That gets a light chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, the two of you knowing that his quest for perfection would never allow him to believe he’s watched enough film. “Thank you for shooting that video the other day. The fans are gonna love it, they’re always begging us to get you on camera.”

“No problem, anything for you.” He clears his throat after whispering the last part, desperately hoping that you didn’t hear it. Even though you definitely did. You should go home for the day and leave him alone in the office so he can get back to work. You should stop staring at his lips that look so soft and just begging to be kissed. He should turn around and get back to the playbook and the computer but here he is, standing still, right in front of you.

You’re just there, waiting for someone to rip the carpet out from under you, to fall on your face, for someone to tell you that this isn’t actually happening. The space between your bodies diminishes significantly, so much so that you can smell the Dr. Squatch Birchwood Breeze radiating off of him. It’s intoxicating and you swallow the fear in your gut and ignore all of the common sense thoughts plaguing your mind, allowing you to feel.

The kiss is tentative at first, he pulls back slightly, whispering if it’s okay to keep going as you feel his breath against your lips. You don’t respond but instead pull him in closer, hearing a satisfied husky moan from him as he allows your tongue access to his. His right palm rests against your cheek until he’s tilting your head up ever so slightly to deepen the embrace and he pulls you in even closer, holding on for dear life while closing and locking the door behind you. It was so much more than he imagined, these feelings that he’d been pushing aside were being confronted and magnified by the second. This innocent crush that you had on him were genuine, real feelings that created a deep ache in your bones, actively being soothed with his hands all over you as the two of you made out like helpless teenagers.

You didn’t think you’d have the strength to tear yourself away from him…until his phone rings. He ignores it the first time but it’s all you can think about by the fifth ring.

“Answer it,” you whisper breathlessly and you can feel him hesitating to pry himself away from you. The heat that was radiating off of his body that you felt being so close to him sends shivers down your spine at the sudden distance. A thousand unspoken apologies are painted on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps the call short and sweet but the look of devastation is clear when he hangs up. “You have to go don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m so sorry. We can—we need to talk about this I know. And I promise we will. I just—I need to take care of this.” He doesn’t want to leave, not like this. Even if he knows you understand. Justin presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers another “I’m sorry” leaving you in the room to think about what just happened.

You walk around the empty parking lot until you reach your car, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of what the conversation with him is going to look like after this. You need to be mentally prepared for good news, bad news and everything in between.

He is the sun after all. And sometimes when you stand too close, you might get burned. And maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid the burn altogether and bask in the warmth as long as you can.

[training4theapocalypse]

Sweet (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions, GOOEY ROMANCE, Christmas 🎄

Summary: You try to ignore your feelings for your best friend, Cormac McLaggen. Reader and Cormac are both 18+.

A/N: A Christmas fic! The Sabrina Carpenter-fication of Gryffindor Common Room. I know everyone hates Cormac but my full-time job is actually fixing him (lets not look into what that says about me okay thanks). I wrote this for @cinderellasmissingshoes but it's been so long she's deactivated (RIP girl). Also, it turns out, anything can be a one-shot if you just post it all at once!!!! And nobody can stop you!!!!!

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The Gryffindor Common Room is a riot of gold and red, as laughter and music fill the room. Even though Quidditch has never been your thing, a team win is always a good excuse to get swept up in the celebration. You’re dressed the part, of course, with a red bow in your hair and wearing a borrowed, oversized Gryffindor training jumper that by a happy coincidence makes the gloss on your lips pop.

The victory has everyone riding high, but as much as you’re enjoying the party, you can't help feeling a little tug of concern for one person. You’re at Katie Bell’s side, amongst the throng of her teammates happily celebrating as the rest of the party-goers chant Ron Weasley’s name but your eyes search the crowd for a certain someone. You excuse yourself - Katie will be fine without you for a few minutes. 

Cormac McLaggen hasn’t been at all himself lately. And while Katie is adamant that she considers this to be an improvement, his newfound reservation is just plain weird. Katie told you to stop worrying about Cormac, that he was probably just sulking over not being chosen as Keeper for the Quidditch team this year and that he should just lighten up. And you’d probably agree if the change hadn’t been so drastic - usually so confident, even arrogant at times, he’s been acting almost shy lately.

Cormac’s tall, broad figure and golden halo of curly hair are easy to spot from the other side of the room. He’s half-heartedly chatting with Dean Thomas, who, like Cormac, is still nursing the sting of not making the team. 

“Cheer up, boys!” you call. Dean still looks sullen but Cormac's entire demeanour shifts when he grins at you skillfully weaving through the crowd towards them without spilling the two butterbeers in your hands. “Anyone would think we’d lost to Slytherin if they saw your faces,” you joke, slipping into the tight space next to him. 

"Well, we wouldn't have let so many in if I'd -" starts Cormac.

"If you'd have been chosen as Keeper," you finish. His many complaints about Harry Potter's chosen team are easy to memorise and rhyme off back to him. "I know. I know. But we won, right?"

“Since when did you refer to the team as ‘we’?” teases Cormac, accepting the bottle you thrust into his hands. “Big Quidditch fan now are you?”

You smooth down the jumper you’re wearing, so oversized that the hem of it sits just above your skirt. “Well, if I’d known I’d look this cute in the team merch, I might have taken an interest sooner.”

“I don’t care how cute you look, I want it back.” 

He flashes a smile and you can’t ignore the flurry of butterflies you feel. 

“Oh, come on. We both know it looks better on me,” you shoot back, enjoying the fun of prying a compliment from him. 

Cormac presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering you, before finally concluding, “Debatable.”

You both laugh and you feel a warm sense of satisfaction that your attempt to take his mind off his exclusion from the team is working.

“Oldest trick in the book, mate. Don’t fall for it,” Dean interjects with a knowing smile, snapping Cormac’s attention away from you. You almost forgot Dean was there. 

“What’s the oldest trick in the book?” asks Cormac.

“Everyone knows if you give your girlfriend your clothes, they’re hers for good. You’re never getting them back.”

You and Cormac look at each other awkwardly. The flirtatious banter suddenly feels much more complicated by Dean’s assumption. 

Because Cormac is not your boyfriend. 

In fact, in the run-up to Yule Ball several years ago, he made it crystal clear that he wasn’t into you like that. 

Cormac opens his mouth to reply but you spare him the necessity of correcting Dean and hurting your feelings. 

“Oh, we’re not going out,” you blurt before he can. “I was cold when we were watching the game and Cormac was just being nice.” Dean’s sceptical eyebrow rises, flicking between you and Cormac. Attributing the sudden flush in your cheeks to the heat of the room, rather than embarrassment, you say, “Actually, I don’t need this anymore now that we’re inside - here hold this.” You hand Cormac your butterbeer and start pulling off the jumper.

“No, look, you don’t have to -” Cormac starts, but you’re already tugging the woollen fabric off over your head. The scent of him - clean, with just a hint of his woody aftershave - floods your senses, making your heart twist painfully in your chest at its sudden absence. 

You toss your hair back and hastily fix yourself.

“Here -” you say, taking the butterbeer back and replacing it with his jumper. 

“Thanks,” Cormac mutters, but there’s a hint of annoyance as he does. He takes the jumper before throwing a look at Dean.

“Katie’s probably looking for me,” you announce, needing to put some distance between you and this now-too-complicated situation. You turn on your heel, attempting to slip back into the midst of things with your usual grace, but there’s a slight stumble in your step - barely noticeable, but enough to rattle you.

As you make your way over to Katie, you’re distracted by a sudden onslaught of whooping and cheering. Through a gap in the crowd, you see Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown unreservedly snogging.

That’s odd, you think. You could have sworn he was going out with - 

The portrait hole opens and you spot a flash of bushy brown hair exiting the Common Room. 

A hand grabs your arm. “Sweet!” The familiar nickname that you’ve never quite been able to shake off - not that you mind it - there are certainly worse things to be called. “There you are!” says Katie, her eyes sparkling with post-victory excitement.

“Did you just see -?”

Katie rolls her eyes. “The giant squid impression in the middle of the room? Yup.”

“Do you think we should see if Hermione is alright?” you ask, looking back over to the portrait hole.

“Harry’s already on it,” Katie says, nodding toward the door where Harry disappears after Hermione. “C’mon, I need another butterbeer.”

As you follow her, it’s not long before Katie brings up her favourite subject of late - Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party in a few weeks. Neither of you made Slughorn’s elite list of attendees so the only way you’ll get invited is if someone asks you. As much as you’d love the opportunity to get dressed to the nines, you could do without the drama. If the Yule Ball taught you anything, school dances inevitably lead to heartbreak. 

“I don’t even want to go, anyway,” you insist. “See - this is a party. Slughorn’s will be so dry. I mean, there’ll be more teachers and Ministry bigwigs than students.”

“You know, if Cormac weren’t going, I’d suggest throwing our own party on the same night. But we couldn’t do that to him...” A mischievous smile dawns on her face. “Or could we?” 

You hesitate but Katie presses on.

“I bet he’d forget all about Slughorn if you told him we were having a party.”

“You really think Cormac would miss a chance to cosy up to old Sluggy?”

When the two of you make it to the drinks table, she leans in conspiratorially close, lowering her voice just enough to be heard over the noise. “What I mean is, maybe he’d ditch Slughorn’s Party if you asked him to.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” you dismiss the idea quickly, not quite meeting her eyes. “If Cormac was interested in going to a party with me, he’d have asked me to Slughorn’s. I shouldn’t have to plan my own just to - ”

To what? 

Go out with him?

You cut yourself off, but Katie’s sharp eyes catch yours. The noise of the party swells around you, enough to disguise her prying.

“What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

The question catches you off guard. Truthfully, nothing is going on between you and Cormac McLaggen. 

Well, not nothing on your part.

Even if you disregarded the way your eyes sought out Cormac’s reaction whenever you styled your hair differently, or how you sometimes overanalysed his extra-tight friendly hugs that lingered a bit too long, there was no denying you were - at the very least - best friends.

And that was the problem. You were friends. Nothing more. No matter how much you wanted it to be otherwise.

In the run-up to the Yule Ball two years ago, you overheard Cormac firmly assuring Oliver Wood that he did not find you attractive. Like, at all. 

You remember you were waiting on Katie finishing Quidditch practice in the courtyard, sitting behind the fountain in your usual meeting spot when you heard Oliver and Cormac at the other side of the fountain talking about the Gryffindor Team. You didn’t even lift your head from doodling on some parchment - the last thing you wanted to do was be dragged into a conversation about Quidditch.

Then the conversation drifted, from tactics to Quidditch team succession planning when Oliver left Hogwarts the following year and then, your ears pricked up when they started talking about the Yule Ball.

“I can put in a good word with Angelina about making you Keeper next year if you do me a solid,” Oliver said before lowering his voice. “Think you could ask if your mate is interested in going to the Yule Ball with me?” Oliver had asked. Your peacock feather quill paused as you sat up straight and held your breath.

There was a pause. 

“Yeah, I’m sure Katie would be up for that,” Cormac said eventually, his voice steady in reply.

“Not Katie. Team dynamics would get messy,” he said seriously. “The other one. Sweetie or something.”

The other one. Cormac had two best friends. 

That could only mean you.

“Oh,” Another pause, shorter this time, like Cormac was searching for the right words. “Are you sure you want to go with Sweet?”

The way Cormac said your nickname so incredulously made your stomach drop. 

“I’m not stepping on your toes, am I?” laughed Oliver.

You leaned forward discreetly, peering around the side of the fountain to see Cormac shifting uncomfortably as he deliberated on his next words.

“No, nothing like that. She’s… alright, I guess. Decent looking. But, not really my type. She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.”

You remember feeling a sting of embarrassment, sharp enough to make your eyes water as Cormac listed off all your supposed shortcomings. But you blinked it away, hurriedly gathering your things and forgetting your plans to meet Katie before they could notice you had been there the whole time.

At the time it hurt so badly. Because back then you had such a thing for him. How couldn’t you? Cormac McLaggen was the quintessential golden boy - tall, handsome, athletic - exactly your type on paper. Even if you weren’t his, apparently. And not only did he not want to date you, but he actually found the idea so repulsive that he was trying to put Oliver off you too.

In the end, Cormac’s disapproval didn’t deter Oliver. Even though Cormac reneged on his promise and never mentioned that Oliver was interested in you, Oliver still asked you to the Yule Ball without Cormac’s intervention. And you said yes, relieved that at least Cormac’s poor recommendation hadn’t dissuaded him. In fact, you got on so well at the Yule Ball, that you dated for a few months. Until he dumped you when he left school. But, you supposed, that was boys for you.

And it affected you. Between Cormac McLaggen’s lukewarm feelings towards you and Oliver Wood dumping you, you swore off the idea of dating anyone. 

It was easy to forget about Oliver when he left school. You gradually became friendly with Cormac again - you might even call him your best friend, aside from Katie, of course.

But you always kept your guard up around boys, never quite forgetting the sting of either incident.

“So, you wouldn’t go to Slughorn’s Christmas Party if he asked you?” Katie probes, bringing you back to the present.

Even though you trust Katie more than anyone, you’ve never told her about your feelings for Cormac or the utterly humiliating reason that you’ve never pursued them.

He’s just not into you. 

“We’re friends. That’s all. And that’s the end of this conversation.”

Katie sighs. “Okay, okay, I get it.” She spins around to the empty drinks table. “How have we gone through six crates of butterbeer already?” She groans. “Do you wanna come to the kitchens and get more?”

“I’ll go, you stay here,” you say and she immediately begins protesting but you ignore her. “Listen, this is a party for your team. You should stay.”

She hesitates before spotting Cormac across the room.

“Why don’t you go to the kitchens with -”

“If you mention Cormac one more time, I’ll lose my mind,” you warn her. “I can handle a trip to the kitchens alone. I won’t be long.”

Katie laughs, holding her hands up in mock surrender. 

“Okay, Sweet. I don’t know what’s got you so sour.”

You roll your eyes and ignore her comment. As you walk towards the portrait hole, you glance at Cormac and realise he’s already looking at you. You pretend not to notice like you’re scanning the room for someone else, before disappearing through the door. 

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

Later, as you walk back up towards Gryffindor tower, a few crates of butterbeer (that the house elves were extremely eager to bestow upon you) clink behind as they follow you, levitating in the air.

The cool, empty castle offers little comfort. You left the Common Room to clear your head, but all you’ve found since you left the kitchens are your own thoughts, swirling endlessly as you walk.

If Cormac wanted to ask you to Slughorn’s party, he would have done it by now. You’re not getting your hopes up again. And besides, why would he need to wait for a party to ask you out? If his feelings for you had changed since the Yule Ball, he could have told you at any point. 

She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.

Harsh criticism. Not entirely untrue. It’s not like you’re clever. And sure, you take pride in your appearance, but until you heard him say that, you didn’t think it bothered anyone. Especially not him. If you had to criticise Cormac, you’d probably say he was full of himself too. And as far as intelligence goes, it’s not like he’s the quickest broom in the shed either.

As you turn it over, replaying scenarios in your head that you haven’t revisited in a long time  - most notably, ones where Cormac didn’t talk badly about you behind your back - you walk straight into someone hunched over their knees at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, sorry! Wait - Hermione?” you ask. The bushy-haired sixth-year looks up and hastily wipes her eyes. “Are you okay? Where’s Harry?”

Hermione swallows hard and nods, though her red-rimmed eyes betray her. “I told him to go back to the party. There’s no reason for both of us to miss it. I’m fine. Really. It’s silly.”

“You don’t look fine,” you say gently, sitting down beside her on the cold stone steps. After a pause, you add, “I saw Ron and Lavender.”

Hermione’s breath hitches, and she quickly looks away, blinking back tears. “I—I feel so ridiculous. I already asked him to Slughorn’s party, and now he’s… I should have known.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re not the ridiculous one here. Honestly, I think these stupid formal events should be banned.”

Hermione lets out a half-laugh, half-sob - a wet, spluttering sound - but you catch the faintest glimmer of a smile, and you feel a small surge of relief. At least you’ve distracted her for a moment.

“I’m serious,” you insist, leaning back against the wall. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Hermione sniffles, wiping at her eyes again. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make me feel any less foolish.”

“It’s not foolish,” you say firmly, the butterbeer crates you were levitating now drifting to the ground beside you. “And to tell you the truth, I know exactly how it feels to have your heart broken at one of these things.”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide with surprise. “You do?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to your own past. “Yep. And besides, Hermione, you’ve handled worse than this. You stared down Umbridge, for Merlin’s sake. This? This is nothing compared to her.”

Hermione lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel like nothing,” she says quietly. “In fact, it feels… it feels worse.”

“I know,” you admit softly. “And I know it probably feels like you’ll never get over it. Like it’ll never stop hurting. But trust me - if I can get through it, you can too.”

She looks at you earnestly, her brow furrowing. “How?” she asks, her voice small but full of curiosity. “How did you get over it?”

The answer isn’t easy, and the truth is harder still. Convincing others - and yourself - that you’re perfectly fine, even when you’re not, is something you unfortunately have experience with.

You push yourself to your feet, brushing off your skirt and forcing a small smile. “By acting completely unbothered,” you say, trying to sound casual, even though the irony stings. After all, here you are, still trying to bury your feelings for Cormac McLaggen.

“We’re gonna go back to the Common Room and make it look like you don’t have a care in the world,” you say as you extend a hand to help her to her feet which she accepts. “And tomorrow we’ll find someone else for you to go to Slughorn’s party with. Someone better than Ron Weasley.”

“Who?”

Perhaps this is your chance to help Hermione and bury your feelings for Cormac in one fell swoop. Maybe, just maybe, if she went to Slughorn’s party with him, it’d help you finally put Cormac - and the lingering ‘what could have been’ - behind you too. 

If he was going out with someone else, you could draw a line under all this and move on.

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

The following Monday, Hogwarts students arrive in the Great Hall to find a winter wonderland. A whirlwind of snowflakes dances over the enchanted ceiling past icicle-adorned rafters. Enormous Christmas trees - decked in baubles the size of bludgers - flank the room. The usual breakfast smells of toast, bacon, and pumpkin juice mix with the scent of pine and cinnamon, giving everything a festive buzz.

But Cormac barely notices any of it.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Cormac stabs the fried egg on his plate, watching it ooze onto the rest of his breakfast like it might help him decide how to do what he was about to do next. Oliver Wood used to joke that Cormac had the appetite of a Graphorn, but lately, he hasn’t been feeling hungry. His mind is completely elsewhere.

He’s going to ask you. To Slughorn’s Party. Today.

You and Cormac have History of Magic classes together on Monday afternoons, just the two of you away from the rest of your friends. A rare moment alone. You’re always surrounded by people - constantly laughing, flipping your hair in a way that makes his insides flip, and you seem completely oblivious to how nervous he’s become around you lately.

“Can you stop murdering that egg?” asks Katie, jolting him out of his daze and glancing at his half-destroyed breakfast. “It’s making me queasy. That’s the last thing I need before we feed raw meat to Thestrals.”

“Sorry,” mutters Cormac, setting his fork down, though the uneasy knot in his stomach isn’t going anywhere.

Katie studies him for a second. “What’s up with you? You’ve usually asked me if Ron’s playing worse than you at least three times before the bell rings.” She’s grinning, but Cormac just shrugs.

“It’s not that,” he mumbles.

Katie raises an eyebrow. “Then what?”

Before he can answer, you appear, slipping onto the bench beside him with Hermione Granger in tow. You’re wearing a bright red and gold bow with your hair in that half-up, half-down style that he knows takes you forever to do. It’s probably why you’re late - as usual.

“Morning!” you chirp, grabbing a piece of toast off his plate without asking, your fingers brushing his for a second. The contact sends a jolt through him, but you’re completely unaware. “What’s with you two?” you ask, noticing the odd expressions on their faces. “You look like you’ve seen a Dementor.”

“Not Dementors,” blurts Cormac, the excuse coming easily, thanks to Katie’s reminder. “Thestrals.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Rather you than me. Are you doing the N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione?”

Hermione shakes her head. “I’d have loved to but I had too many other subjects this year.”

“Yeah, right. You’re only saying that because you’re friends with Hagrid.” Hermione smiles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t be too bad if we got to learn about nice creatures -” you start but Katie cuts you off.

“Well, life isn’t all Puffskeins and Unicorns,” she says, pointing forked sausage at you. “The creatures we’re dealing with are much more interesting.”

“That’s just another way of saying ‘ugly’,” you laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder. In the process, the bow at the crown of your head slips off and drops to the floor. You don’t even notice.

Cormac does.

“And it’s dangerous too,” you continue. “Remember when your poor arm was burned by those Blast-Ended Skrewts, Cormac?”

“Sweet, you dropped this,” he says, quickly leaning down to retrieve the bow before anyone else can.

You reach up, feeling the spot where the bow was. “Oh, thanks.”

“Let me,” Cormac offers, his heart pounding as he tries not to mess this up. He leans in close, and the noise of the Great Hall fades into white noise. It’s just the two of you, and all he can think about is how soft your hair feels between his fingers.

“It’s kind of tricky,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“I’ve got it.”

“You sure?” you ask, looking up at him in a way that makes his stomach lurch again.

“Easy,” he says, more confidently now as he finishes clipping it into place. “Like putting an angel on top of a Christmas Tree.”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart race all over again. He quickly turns back to the table, trying to pretend that wasn’t at all nerve-wracking. But Katie’s already watching, her shrewd look making it clear she hasn’t missed a thing.

“So,” Cormac says quickly, desperate to change the subject, “What’s everyone doing for the holidays? Assuming no one’s mad enough to stay here?”

“Nope,” says Hermione brightly. “I’m going home to visit my parents.”

“Yeah, same here,” says Katie. “If you ask me it can’t come soon enough.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t wait to go home. My Uncle’s been invited to Minister’s house for Christmas lunch and -”

“You’re going so you can suck up to Rufus Scrimgeor?” asks Katie.

“Well, it has its perks. But mostly it’s because I haven’t seen my Uncle in ages. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” says Cormac. And, he thinks, maybe his Uncle won’t tease him for being single again this year if he can convince you to go to Slughorn’s party with him.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We’ve got more pressing things going on before Christmas, Cormac,” you say. “Or have you forgotten about Slughorn’s party?”

The fork he’s holding clatters onto his plate. “I… er, no, I haven’t forgotten,” he stammers, his face burning as he tries to sound casual.

“So… have you asked anyone yet?” 

Your voice is light, casual, but Cormac’s pulse quickens. Is this… actually happening? Well, it certainly makes things easier. He swallows, trying to steady himself. 

“Not yet,” he starts, the words feel unfamiliarly shaky. He’s normally so self-assured that he hardly recognises his own voice. But you’re already cutting him off, oblivious to his growing panic. 

“Well, I was thinking, if you’re not already going with someone…” You shift slightly, glancing between Hermione and Katie before landing back on him. His heart leaps. Are you about to ask him? But when you finish, your words douse his hopes like ice water. “...maybe you and Hermione could go together?”

“Yeah, I’d - wait - what?” Cormac’s voice cracks, the sound of his own disbelief ringing in his ears. He glances at you, searching for any hint of a joke, any sign that you’re teasing him - but you’re smiling, unaware of the storm you’ve just unleashed in his chest. Didn’t you realise how much nerve he had built up, how many times he had rehearsed this in his mind? 

You don’t even realise you’re wrecking him - it’s just another Monday morning to you. Meanwhile, he feels like he’s accidentally tumbled down one of the castle’s trick steps.

“Oh,” Hermione says, clearly flustered. “I don’t - er - I mean, that’s really not necessary,” she adds, casting an awkward glance at Cormac, her cheeks reddening slightly.

“No, listen,” you insist in a low voice, glancing at the end of the table where Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown are engaged in some more intense snogging. “It’s perfect. Neither of you is going with anyone, right?”

The bell rings and everyone in the hall starts moving, getting ready to leave for the first class of the day.

“It’s win-win. This would annoy Ron the most,” you say.

“What’s he got to do with this?” asks Cormac.

“Long story short, Ron’s ditched Hermione for Lavender. And since you were so clearly better than him at Quidditch tryouts, I thought if she went with you it would piss him off.”

Cormac pauses, momentarily stunned. “...You thought I was better than him?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. The only reason you weren’t picked is because of that last penalty. It was like you were confunded or something”

There’s a thud as Hermione unexpectedly knocks her bag from her seat and it spills open.

“Really?” asks Cormac as you both get off the bench to crouch on the floor and help Hermione pick up her things. 

“Yeah, everyone knows that you’re much more talented at - wait, Hermione are you okay?”

The two of you look at Hermione when you notice she’s turned white as a sheet.

“I’m fine,” she squeaks. 

“You sure?” you ask and reach out to grab a fallen book. You accidentally touch Cormac’s hand as he reaches for it too and the touch sends another jolt through him. “And it works out for you too, Cormac,” you continue. “Maybe if Ron is distracted by the two of you going out, he’ll play badly enough to get kicked off the team.”

Katie tuts but Cormac has to admit that you’ve got a point. But he can’t put his feelings for you aside because of Quidditch. Not again. Not after the Yule Ball fiasco.

You press the book into Hermione’s hands. “Look, just think about it, alright? I’ve got to go - I’m gonna be late for Muggle Studies.”

“I’m going that way too,” says Hermione quickly, stuffing her book into her bag and not looking at Cormac. 

And so, with a swish of red and gold, you and Hermione leave Cormac feeling like he’s just been hit by a bludger,

It wasn’t as if Hermione wasn’t good-looking. Everyone knew she was smart, pretty - she even used to date Viktor Krum. But she wasn’t… well, you. 

So why couldn’t he just say it? 

He walks beside Katie, silently replaying what he should have said in his head, so clearly as if watching it through omnioculars.

“Cormac, do you have a date for Slughorn’s party?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking about asking you.”

He avoids Katie’s gaze, instead busying himself with pulling on a scarf and hat, bracing himself for the freezing cold of the castle grounds. 

Feeding Thestrals feels like a much less daunting endeavour than unpicking this mess he’s gotten himself into. 

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

Later that night, the Gryffindor Common Room is almost deserted. It’s well past midnight, and the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages. As Seventh Year N.E.W.T. students, you, Cormac, and Katie have become accustomed to being the last ones awake, studying long after everyone else has gone to bed. When the clock chimes one, even Hermione bids you all goodnight before heading upstairs to her dormitory.

“So… any thoughts about my idea earlier?” you ask, trying to sound suitably impartial, and not at all conscious of the way you and Cormac keep sinking towards each other on the plush sofa and brushing arms. “You know, going to Slughorn’s with Hermione on Saturday?”

Cormac glances at the staircase leading up to the girl’s dormitory. “I dunno…”

Katie says nothing as the grandfather clock ticks ominously. Instead, she and Cormac exchange a look - one that you can’t quite decipher.

“Well, I think you’d be a good match,” you say, just to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah, well, Hermione’s not really who you want to go with, is she Cormac?” 

Your eyes fly up, looking between them.

Cormac shifts in his seat, eyes on his copy of A History of Magic. "She’s nice enough."

"That’s not what I asked," Katie presses.

Cormac looks at her seriously. “Stop.”

Katie shrugs, leans back in her armchair and flips through her book.

So, Cormac has someone else in mind for Slughorn’s Party. And he feels comfortable enough to make Katie privy to it. But not you. 

Great. 

So not only does he not fancy you, he doesn’t even trust you enough to confide in. And you thought you were best friends.

For some reason, that hurts almost as much as when you overheard him telling Oliver Wood that he wasn’t interested in you.

You don’t know what to say anymore, so you look down at your book again. 

It doesn’t take long for the words in A History of Magic to blur together on the page, as you read and reread the same passage, trying to remember the names of the loyalists from the 19th-century goblin rebellion. The plush velvet of the sofa feels impossibly soft and warm, and the heat from the fire seeps into your bones, lulling you into a deep, drowsy comfort. Your eyes droop heavily as you sink deeper into the cushions, your body slowly surrendering to exhaustion.

You lazily glance at Cormac’s open textbook, hoping he’s made better progress. He’s supposed to be reading the same chapter, but instead, he and Katie are talking softly about their holiday plans. Katie is debating asking her parents for a new pair of gloves after snagging hers during Care of Magical Creatures. Cormac is once again trying to brag about his Uncle taking him to the Minister for Magic’s house on Christmas Eve without sounding like he’s bragging. 

The sounds of your two best friends in quiet earnestness make you feel safe and comfortable - so comfortable that you don’t even realise you’ve dozed off, leaning on Cormac’s shoulder. 

That is until Katie closes her book with a loud snap.

“Right, this is useless. I’m heading to bed,” she declares.

Her voice startles you slightly, but you’re too tired to fully wake. You consider opening your eyes and lifting your head but it feels like too much effort. 

Five more minutes, you think. Just five more minutes in this comfortable position and you’ll make the long journey up the winding staircase to bed.

“I’ll go to bed soon,” Cormac says, his voice lower now, quieter. “I’m still reading. And I don’t want to wake Sweet”

You’re not entirely asleep, but not fully awake either - just hovering in that cosy in-between. His voice rumbles softly in his chest and the warmth of his shoulder feels solid, familiar. You could stay like this forever.

Your eyes remain closed, and you feel yourself falling asleep again listening to the sound of the merrily cracking fireplace and Katie’s footsteps retreating up the carpeted stairs. 

And then you feel a small shift. 

Cormac turns his head, pressing his lips against the top of your head and inhaling deeply, somewhere between kissing you gently and breathing you in. 

Your eyes flutter open, the haze of sleep fading as you realise what’s just happened. 

Did he just… kiss you? 

You look up. Cormac freezes as your tired eyes meet his alarmed, green ones. He opens his mouth - maybe to apologise - but whatever he was about to say disapparates when you look from his eyes, to his parted lips then back to his eyes again. 

He just stares at you, his breath held, searching your face for some kind of response.

You don’t say anything. 

For a second you’re not sure what to do. 

But then you just give the tiniest nod as your heart thuds in your chest.

He leans in, his breath is warm on your face. The clean, woody scent of his aftershave tingles your senses - it’s even better than when it lingered on his borrowed jumper. You close your eyes as he moves tentatively towards you. 

Then the thundering of footsteps as Katie runs back downstairs makes the two of you break apart hastily.

“Forgot my quill,” she announces. “Oh, are you coming up to bed, then?”

You swallow, your heart hammering. “Yeah,” you say, fixing your skirt and getting to your feet. “Sorry, must’ve dozed off.” You hastily grab your book,

“Yeah, same,” Cormac says, his voice strained. He clears his throat, gathering his things in a flurry of movement. “I think I must have too. For a couple of seconds.”

You glance at him but he doesn’t look at you as he gathers his things, his focus entirely on shoving them into his bag. 

You follow Katie up the stairs, your heart still racing as you try to make sense of what just happened. But did it happen? Or were you (like you’ve done more times than you’d ever admit) dreaming about Cormac?

Soon after, you lie in the dark, staring at the hangings of your four-poster bed.

Cormac said he thought he had fallen asleep. You had been so drowsy that now you couldn’t be sure if he had actually kissed the top of your head. Maybe he just rested his head on yours? Or maybe you dreamt it, woke up and immediately tried to kiss him. 

It’s a mortifying thought - that one minute Cormac had been asleep and the next he had woken up to find you practically ready to pounce on him. 

No wonder he looked like a deer caught in the wandlight.

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

In the boy’s dormitory, Cormac has similar thoughts.

You were asleep. And you caught him smelling your hair. Kissing the top of your head. Now that he’s removed from the situation, he cringes - hard, realising that it was extremely weird. 

Together with Katie’s obnoxious hinting that he really wanted to go to Slughorn’s party with you must have made you uncomfortable. Because you didn’t even look at him. So either your feelings towards him are so platonic that you hadn’t realised he was interested in you or you were choosing to ignore Katie’s comments altogether.

But he swears there had been a moment. A split second downstairs when your eyes met his, and he really thought you wanted him to kiss you. He can still feel your fingers brushing his chest, how you looked at him like you were waiting for him to close the gap between you.

And he almost had. 

Almost.

Then Katie had barged in, and you’d jumped away like you couldn’t get far enough, fast enough. Like you’d realised how ridiculous it was - how ridiculous he was.

He clenches his jaw, turning over in bed. You were probably horrified. 

He groans, burying his face in his pillow.

There was a moment, wasn’t there? 

Maybe he’d imagined how you looked at him. Maybe the exhaustion from studying had gotten to him, and now, his mind was just playing tricks on him.

But then again… maybe it hadn’t.

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

You spent the majority of the rest of the week avoiding Cormac. 

You’ve even been staying in the library with Hermione every night just to avoid Katie after she kept asking pointed questions about what happened after she left the Gryffindor Common Room the other night. Hermione is glad of the company - over the past few days, you’ve been talking a lot. Mostly to keep her mind off of Ron Weasley. And without her realising it, it’s been a great help in stopping your mind wandering to Cormac McLaggen.

Being surrounded by dusty books and writing an essay about plug sockets for Muggle Studies, isn’t exactly conducive to imagining yourself back in the Gryffindor Common Room, cuddled up with Cormac, seeing his face inches from yours, wondering whether or not he was about to kiss you.

But now it’s Saturday morning and tonight is the night you’ve been trying not to think about: Slughorn’s Party. 

You’re going to go to Hogsmeade to take your mind off of things. It’s one of your favourite places in the world - especially this time of year. Steamy pub windows, cobblestone streets dusted in white, smugly ordering Firewhisky in front of younger pupils. 

It’s just what you need to distract you from Cormac.

At least he’s not coming with you. Studying, he said. Although you think he might just be as keen to avoid you as you are to avoid him

But there’s no avoiding Katie forever, you think, as you and Hermione walk into the Great Hall for breakfast. As if reading your mind, Katie, who is already almost finished breakfast, waves you over and you have no choice but to sit with her and a few of the sixth years.

“Wait - are you sure you want to sit here?” you ask Hermione under your breath, spotting Ron and Lavender enthusiastically entwined just a few spaces away.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. Just like you said.”

Well, at least your advice is working for someone.

“Morning!” you say brightly, sitting on Katie’s left-hand side, across from Harry Potter and Parvati Patil. At least in front of a group, you should be safe from her interrogations about Cormac.

"Hi, Parvati!" says Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

You help yourself to some cornflakes and as Parvati passes you the milk, she frowns.

"No invite," says Parvati, gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're -"

The jug slips from your hand, milk spilling everywhere. It splashes onto the table, drenching your skirt and soaking your tights. There’s a loud, wet sound as Ron, startled, pulls away from Lavender for a moment. 

"- we're going up to the party together."

Throughout all your nights studying together this week, Hermione had not shared that detail with you. 

You stare down at the mess, your heart pounding as if someone just pulled the rug out from under you.

"Oh, flipping heck,” you mutter, feeling the cold, wet fabric cling to your legs. 

Katie quickly vanishes the milk with a flick of her wand and hands you a napkin.

“No need to start throwing f-bombs - it’s only spilled milk” she jokes, taking the heat off of you but her expression is unusually careful as she watches you. You force a tight smile, but your heart is still thudding too fast, a mix of shock and something else twisting in your chest.

"Cormac?" asks Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

Even though this was your plan all along, you never expected that just hearing his name would sting.

"That's right," says Hermione happily. "The one who almost” - she puts a great deal of emphasis on the word - "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" says Parvati, wide-eyed.

Hermione giggles - a sound that cuts right through you. "Oh - yes - didn't you know?" 

A lead weight sinks to the pit of your stomach.

"No!" says Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrects her, still smiling. 

It’s too much. You think of Cormac and his stupid Quidditch jumper. Hermione wearing it at the game instead of you. Then you feel bad for feeling bad about them being together when it was your idea in the first place. Guilt makes the knot in your stomach tighten painfully, and you push your cereal away, the sight of food suddenly nauseating. 

“You alright?” asks Katie quietly, leaning towards you.

You nod stiffly, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’d just better change before we go,” you sigh. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“You’re definitely still coming, right?” Katie asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she can sense you’re having second thoughts about going to Hogsmeade.

You hesitate. The idea of going upstairs, burying your face in a pillow, and screaming into it for the next several hours suddenly seems more appealing than pretending you’re okay in Hogsmeade. "I don’t know..."

“No, please, you have to come,” implores Hermione, not realising it’s her declaration that has you wanting to retreat upstairs until the end of term.

“Where are you going?” asks Harry, glancing at Ron and Lavender who have once again resumed their public display of affection, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but in their presence.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade. The three of us. Oh, and Cormac, obviously,” says Hermione loudly and for a split second you see the back of Ron’s head pausing.

Harry gets to his feet quickly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“The more the merrier,” Katie tells him before adding to you in a low voice, “We’ll wait in the courtyard - I think my breakfast might make another appearance if I stay around Ron and Lavender much longer.”

This is good, you tell yourself, getting up from the table and following them a few steps behind. This is what you wanted. You told yourself you had to get over Cormac. And now he’s going out with Hermione. Just like you suggested. Your plan is working. This is good.

But it doesn’t feel good. It feels awful.

As you trudge up the stairs to the common room, you find yourself repeating the same mantra. 

This is good. This is what you wanted.

But the more you repeat it, the hollower it sounds.

By the time you come back downstairs to the courtyard, Harry, Hermione and Katie are having a snowball fight. It’s in full swing. And in the midst of it all, Cormac is there. Of course, Cormac is there. Hermione said he would be, didn’t she? And she should know. She’s his girlfriend, now. Apparently.

Harry fires a well-aimed snowball at Cormac but he dodges it.

“I told you, Potter - lightning quick reflexes!” Cormac shouts, his voice brimming with exhilaration. There’s something about the way his laughter fills the air that stirs something inside you that you’ve been trying to bury all week.

Harry launches another snowball, and Cormac, in an obnoxious display of skill, catches it mid-air and flings it back, hitting Harry squarely in the face.

“And the crowd goes wild!” cheers Cormac before chanting his own name. “McLaggen! McLaggen! McLaggen! McLagg - oh. Hi.”

He stops when he sees you. Like he wasn’t expecting to see you here either. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” you say, putting on a brave face. 

He grins at you “You joining in for once, then? I’ve never seen you throw a snowball in your life.”

“Well, maybe you’re about to,” you say, more threateningly than you intended, thinking that you’d quite like to smack him in the face for not telling you that he was going out with Hermione.

He takes a step toward you, misreading the challenge in your voice. “I’d love to see that,” he teases, scooping up a handful of snow and launching himself at you.

Before you can react, Cormac’s arm is around your waist, lifting you off the ground in one quick motion. The world spins as snow flurries around you, your shriek of protest escaping in the form of a half-laugh.

“Cormac!” you say, breathless. But your laughter dies almost instantly when reality sets in - Hermione is bent down, scooping up snow just a few feet away. His girlfriend is right there.

“Put me down,” you say, seriously this time, the joy draining from the moment. Your voice is firm, but not loud.

He stops immediately, setting you down gently, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s up?”

You step back, brushing the snow off your coat, swallowing the tight feeling in your chest. “I think you know.”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, now embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything the other night -”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t worry about it.” You give him a tight smile as laughter rings behind you, the others clearly not noticing or caring about your hushed conversation as their snowball fight continues. You turn away from him and call out to Katie and the others, “Are we going, then?”

The walk to Hogsmeade feels longer than usual. The others chat happily but the conversation is distant, and you keep your eyes on the snow-covered path. By the time you reach the village, the promise of a hot butterbeer should lift your spirits but it doesn’t. You feel disconnected like you’re watching everything through a fog.

“So,” Katie says, as you approach the The Three Broomsticks. “What made you come along, Cormac? I thought you were studying today?”

Cormac shrugs, but there’s a slight defensiveness in his voice. “Just something I had to do before the holidays.”

You wonder if it’s picking up a gift for Hermione. 

Katie raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips as her mind defaults to shopping too. “Determined to impress Scrimgeour, then?”

Cormac stiffens. “It’s not for Scrimgeour, Katie,” he says, his voice edged with frustration. “I just needed to pick something up.”

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes on the ground as they continue their back-and-forth. All you can think about is how wrong everything feels.

When you reach The Three Broomsticks, Hermione opens the door, letting the warmth and chatter from inside spill out into the cold air as you go to file in behind her, Harry and Katie.

“Wait,” says Cormac, catching your arm before you can go in. “Can I have a word with you first?”

You hesitate, glancing down at his hand on your arm, then up at his face. There’s something in his expression - something hesitant, almost apologetic - that makes you pause. You really don’t want to talk but as usual, Katie butts in.

“We’ll meet you inside,” she says firmly, pulling the door closed in your face with a slam.

You have no choice but to follow him away from the door. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk, and the cold air stings your cheeks.

When you stop, Cormac turns to face you, running a hand through his hair, looking unsure of himself. “Look, I… I wanted to see if we were okay. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me too,” you challenge back.

Your breath fogs up in the cold air as you glance down at the snow, trying to collect yourself. It takes a moment for you to find the words, but they come out before you can stop them.

"I'm just... hurt, Cormac," you say, quieter than you'd planned. "You didn't even tell me you were going out with Hermione."

There’s a beat of silence as Cormac stares at you, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? I’m not going out with Hermione.”

You meet his eyes, frowning. “I heard her say it. You're going to Slughorn’s party together.”

“I - yeah, I asked her last night because you told me to. But just as friends.” Cormac runs a hand through his hair again, exasperated. “But I’m not going out with Hermione - are you sure she told you that?”

“She told everyone at breakfast, loud and clear that -” 

“Everyone? Including Ron Weasley, you mean?” he asks, trying not to smirk.

Oh.

“She was… trying to make him jealous. Like I told her to.” You blink, trying to process what he's saying. “So… you’re not - I mean - she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

You let out a shaky breath and he steps closer, closing the gap between you. His voice drops to barely a whisper, but it carries with it the force of something that’s been buried far too long.

“Do you really not see it? Do you really not know?” he says, his tone almost desperate now. “I’ll go with Hermione to Slughorn’s if you want me to. Hell, I’d go with Filch if it would make you happy. Because that’s all I want. To make you happy.”

“...Really?” You can hardly believe what you’re hearing. 

“Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly. “I thought you’d have worked out that’s why I asked her - since it was your idea.”

“Well… maybe you were right when you said I was an airhead,” you challenge. If you’re getting all of your confessions off of your chest, you might as well tell him you overheard this too.

“When did I ever say that?” Cormac asks, taken aback.

You hesitate, the memory is painful but clear. “You told Oliver that I was an airhead. And full of myself. And annoying. It was right before -”

Cormac groans in realisation and finishes the sentence for you. “- Before the Yule Ball.”

“Yep.” You nod, the hurt still lingering after all this time.

“So he told you all that, did he?”

“No… I overheard you. In the courtyard.”

“I -” he groans, looking so painfully guilty that you almost feel bad for calling him out. “I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“Cormac, you don’t have to make excuses -”

“It’s not an excuse.” He shakes his head. “Wood promised that Angelina would make me Keeper after he left school if I set the two of you up. And I wanted to make the team more than anything. Well - I thought I wanted to make the team more than anything.” He pauses, his green eyes locking onto yours. “But I was already planning on asking you to the Yule Ball. So I tried to have it both ways. I said that horrible stuff about you to put him off. And I never told you he was interested because… I was afraid you’d be interested back.”

“But none of it worked,” he continues, the regret in his voice cutting through the quiet. “He asked you anyway, and you said yes. And I never made the team in the end, so… it was all for nothing.”

You don’t really know what to say. How much time was wasted.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice steady but filled with regret. “For saying that about you. You didn’t deserve it. I was so focused on trying to have everything - I didn’t stop to think about what was most important.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you say, your heart pounding. “And, for the record, I would have gone with you. To the Yule Ball. To Slughorn’s… any of it.” You look up at him, your gaze meeting his, and for the first time, it feels like you're both finally on the same page. 

Gently falling snow lands across your nose and cheeks as you look up at him. The space between you is almost nothing now. His hand reaches up and cups your face, his touch achingly gentle, almost reverent, as he brushes a wet snowflake from your cheekbone -

But then the door to The Three Broomsticks bangs open behind him, and Katie storms out, her face flushed and her hands gripping a package close to her chest.

“Katie?” you say, taken aback by her sudden appearance. “What’s going on?”

The door of the Three Broomsticks bursts open again. Harry and Hermione spill out looking frantic but Katie is already disappearing along the snow-covered street, the package clutched tightly in her arms.

“All she said was that she needs to deliver a package,” says Hermione, looking worried.

You and Cormac look at each other in alarm before you both sprint to catch up with her. You grab her arm. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone!” she snaps, twisting to wrench herself free from your grip.

“Katie! What’s going on?” asks Cormac, running to her other side.

“Can you both just fuck off?”

“Woah, woah - what’s with you? And what is that? Who gave you it?”

“None of your business!”

You try to grab it. “Give it to me!”

The two of you struggle, you try to take the package from her and Cormac tries to restrain her.

Then all of a sudden, Katie lets out a scream so loud and so high that it almost pierces your eardrums.

Everything turns black as the snow-covered ground rushes up to meet you.

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

You open your eyes a split second later in a sterile but comfortable room. Have you… apparated?

You try to sit up, but the world spins violently, your vision blurring as an antiseptic smell floods your senses.

“Woah - hold on, let me get Madam Pomfrey,” comes a familiar voice, soft but urgent.

Madam Pomfrey? 

You’re in the Hospital Wing. 

You blink hard, trying to focus, and slowly, Cormac’s face swims into view. He’s sitting at the edge of your bed, worry etched into every line of his features. His eyes, which normally gleam with a casual confidence, are shadowed with exhaustion.

Cormac.

He’s looking down the length of the hospital wing, scanning the empty beds for the matron, but when you touch his hand lightly, he turns back to you, his face softening with relief.

“Cormac, what happened?” You panic as you look at the empty bed next to you. “Where’s Katie? Is she here too? And that package? What was that thing?”

His brow furrows as he tries to find the right way to explain it all. "I promised I’d get Madam Pomfrey when you woke up," he says, glancing toward the door. “It was her only condition -”

“She can wait. Just tell me. Please.”

He studies your face for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to tell you, but eventually, he sighs and moves closer, his voice low. “Katie... that package she was carrying - it was a cursed necklace. McGonagall thinks she was put under the Imperius Curse when she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t herself. You noticed it too.”

You swallow hard, the memory of Katie’s vacant eyes and her erratic behaviour flashing through your mind. “And when I tried to stop her?”

Cormac’s face darkens, his eyes flickering with something that looks dangerously close to fear. “The package split open. The necklace - it should have killed her. The curse was lethal.”

Your eyes widen, bile rising in your throat. “Lethal…”

He nods grimly. “The only reason she’s still alive is that it touched her through a tiny hole in her glove. Barely made contact with her skin, but even that was enough to put her in a bad way.”

Your blood turns cold, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. “Where is she?” you whisper, dreading the answer. “Is she… is she alright?”

Cormac’s jaw clenches, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s at St. Mungo’s. They don’t know when she’ll wake up. But she’s alive.”

The room spins, this time from the sickening realisation of how close you were to losing her. Your mind races, fear wrapping its cold fingers around your heart.

“That curse was dark magic - whoever planted it knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Katie…” Your voice cracks as you press your palm to your forehead, struggling to process it. “If I hadn’t tried to take the package -”

“Hey - no.” Cormac’s voice is sharp but softens immediately. He moves closer, his hand squeezing yours. “This isn’t your fault. None of it. If anything it’s my fault -”

“Cormac…”

“No, listen. If I hadn’t asked to speak to you outside - I mean, when do you or Katie ever go to the bathroom alone? The person who put her under the Imperius Curse might not have tried if there were two of you there.”

“It’s not your fault either, Cormac. The only person to blame is whoever gave her that necklace.” You don’t even remember seeing the package split open. “But… I didn’t touch the necklace, did I? How come I’m in here?”

“Katie, er… punched you. Knocked you out cold.”

You hadn’t expected that. You find yourself lost for words, not quite able to believe what you’re hearing.

“She was under the Imperius Curse… not in her right state of mind,” continues Cormac, watching you carefully and you give him a small nod.

Silence stretches between you. The hospital wing feels eerily quiet - no bustling, no holiday cheer, just the faint sound of the fire crackling somewhere in the distance. No usual sounds of excitement of the last night of term. 

The last night of term.

You glance at the snowflakes drifting down, a sense of dread creeping over you. “Cormac… what time is it? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Slughorn’s Party?” you ask, knowing that he’d hate to miss the opportunity to network with all the people Slughorn would want to introduce him to.

Cormac shifts a little closer. “Slughorn’s party was two nights ago.”

“Two?!”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding more casual than you’d have expected.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

“It’s… it’s Christmas Day, then?” you whisper, your voice hollow, the words barely registering as they leave your mouth. “We’ve missed the train.”

Cormac shrugs again, but the weariness in his eyes betrays him. “Yeah.” His tone is light, but you can see the exhaustion etched into his features, the slight slump of his usually easy posture. He’s trying to downplay it like it’s no big deal.

But then it hits you. You stare at him, your thoughts slowly clicking into place. “Did you end up going to -” You stop yourself, feeling like it’d be incredibly selfish to ask if he and Hermione went after all, considering everything that happened.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away like he’s embarrassed. “Slughorn’s Party? Yeah… I didn’t go. I’ve been here.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be… I - I don’t know if you remember what we talked about in Hogsmeade but -”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as soon as you recall what he said to you. “I remember.”

“Well, I didn’t really want to go without you anyway.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. You don’t know what to say. How do you thank someone for missing something like that because of you? For staying here over the holidays, for caring, for... everything.

Just as you’re about to say something - anything - the doors to the Hospital Wing swing open.

Professor McGonagall strides in, her expression as serious as ever, but there’s a flicker of relief in her eyes when she sees you sitting up. 

Behind her, Madam Pomfrey hurries in and starts checking you over, pouring a large bottle of bright golden Invigoration Draught into a cup for you. At her instance, you drink it in one gulp - it’s sharp and spicy, and less gruesome than you’d braced yourself for. As the heat spreads through your chest, you feel a bit less confused. 

“Well, it’s good to see you awake,” McGonagall says briskly. “Miss Bell is receiving the best care at St. Mungo’s. The Healers are doing everything they can.”

Everything they can. It doesn’t feel like enough.

“Have we missed dinner, Professor?” asks Cormac, hopefully.

“I'm afraid so, Mr McLaggen,” says McGonagall, less sharply than you're used to her addressing him as she looks from his tired demeanour to his hand holding yours. She waves her wand and a tray of sandwiches is summoned on the table beside you. “I’ll notify your parents that you’re awake and both of you can take the Knight Bus home from Hogsmeade tonight.”

“Not tonight,” says Madam Pomfrey. “Another Invigoration Draught tomorrow morning. Then you can go home.” 

Your heart twists painfully, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Katie’s in St. Mungo’s, fighting for her life. Christmas has come and gone, and the world outside feels like it’s moving without you.

“Do I have to stay in the Hospital Wing tonight?” you ask, thinking you’d like nothing more than to sink into your four-poster bed upstairs.

Madam Pomfrey hesitates.

“Oh, please, Madam Pomfrey. It’s Christmas,” you pout. “I’ll come back here after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Before breakfast,” she says sternly. And once you agree, she and Professor McGonagall leave.

Cormac is still here, beside you, his hand lingering on yours, his presence steady and comforting despite everything. 

“When was the last time you slept?” you ask.

“I -” He pauses. “Not for a few days.”

You insist that he go back to Gryffindor Tower and he eventually agrees. Cormac grabs a couple of sandwiches, flashing you a tired but grateful smile. 

“See you at breakfast,” he says softly, and with a quick wave, he slips out of the Hospital Wing, leaving the room quiet and still.

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

The dormitory is dark and eerily silent. Too silent. You’re used to the comforting background noise of sharing a room with four other girls - the soft rustle of sheets, the occasional sleepy murmur, the muffled creak of bedsprings. Tonight, without them, the emptiness feels vast and oppressive, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath.

You had expected Cormac to be in the Gryffindor Common Room when you got dressed and came upstairs. But he wasn’t there. He was in bed - no doubt shattered after sitting by your side in the hospital wing for two days straight. Two long, harrowing days where you were unconscious and he was busy worrying about both you and Katie.

Katie. The thought of her pulls at your chest like a lead weight. She’s at St Mungo’s. Alive but unresponsive. The cursed necklace nearly killed her. And while Madam Pomfrey has done her best to reassure you that she’s receiving the finest care, the image of Katie in St Mungo’s is enough to keep you awake.

It doesn't help that the Invigoration Draught has worked too well. You’re frustratingly alert. You’ve never noticed the grandfather clock much before but its ticking serves as a reminder of how much time is passing without you being able to sleep.

You wonder if Cormac is in the same predicament. He was tired but maybe everything that’s happened is keeping him up too. Cormac - of all people - stayed with you through it all. Missed Slughorn’s Party. Didn’t go home for Christmas - 

He didn’t go home for Christmas.

You sit bolt-upright in bed.

That means he didn’t go to the Minister for Magic’s Christmas lunch with his Uncle today. He missed it. It’s all he’s been talking about since November and he missed it.

All so he could stay here at Hogwarts. 

With you.

Something swells in your chest. A little guilt mixed with, well… overwhelming affection. Did you even thank him properly? You can’t remember - everything after the cursed necklace feels like a blur. You swing your legs out of bed, wincing at the icy chill of the stone floor against your bare feet.

You walk quietly towards the boy’s dormitory. The stone floor is freezing on your bare feet as you tiptoe. Though you’re not sure why you’re being quiet - you didn’t see anyone when you walked through the Common Room earlier. You think that you and Cormac might be the only two people in the whole of Gryffindor house that are here for the holidays.

The door to the Seventh-Year boys’ dormitory creaks faintly as you push it open. “Cormac?” you whisper into the darkness.

There’s a faint stir, followed by a groggy, half-asleep voice. “Hm?”

You cross the empty room, the cold gnawing at your skin, and perch on the edge of his bed. “Are you awake?”

“Wha?” he asks, blearily. 

The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “It’s me,” you say as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

Cormac sits up slightly, blinking at you in confusion, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing? This is the boys’ dormitory.” He pulls the duvet to his chest. You try not to notice that he’s not wearing a t-shirt. “Are - are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Cormac rubs his face, his tired brain catching up. “Katie is going to be fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll visit her as soon as we’re allowed.”

“I know,” you say. She’s getting the best care possible. And it’s not like either of you can do anything about it. “It’s not just Katie. Well, that’s part of it. But it’s that I realised… you missed Christmas lunch with your Uncle - and the Minister.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not fine. It’s all you’ve been talking about for weeks,” you insist, making a conscious effort to stop your teeth from chattering. “Missing your Uncle. Seeing Scrimgeour again. The fact you stayed here with me instead… that’s like, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

Cormac fumbles for his wand on the bedside table, muttering “Lumos.” It lights the nearest lamp. You scoot closer to him on the edge of his bed. The soft glow of the lamp bathes the room in warm light, and he turns to look at you properly, his eyes - greener than you’d ever realised - serious and searching. 

“It was nothing. I told you already.”

“Well… I just wanted to say thank you -” you take a steadying breath, moving closer to him again. “- And… do this.”

Without thinking, you lean in, your heart racing. You close the distance between you and press your lips to his before you can second-guess it or get interrupted again.

Cormac pauses, completely caught off guard. You can feel the surprise in his stillness, but it lasts for barely a second before he responds with a surge of enthusiasm that almost takes your breath away. 

He shrugs his bedsheets aside, sitting up so he can deepen the kiss, his lips warm and eager against yours. There’s no hesitation now, just the full force of his want, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

It’s everything you wanted it to be. He’s a good kisser. Really good.

You try to put a lot of meaning into the kiss. That you’re grateful for him staying here at Hogwarts with you. That you forgive him for his stupid, blundering mistakes before the Yule Ball. 

But mostly, you try to tell him that you’ve been in love with him forever. Ever since you sat beside him on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of school.

You intended to give him a quick goodnight kiss and go back to your dormitory but the thought of leaving quickly leaves your mind when he parts his lips, tender and soft as Honeydukes caramel, as he explores the taste of your tongue. His hands wrap around your back, encouraging you closer, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. 

You were freezing a minute ago but his bare chest and shoulders are warm and he doesn’t seem to mind your cold hands traversing over his body. 

You need him. This is new territory. This is… you’ve never felt like this before. Well, maybe alone in your bed, but not with other people. You haven’t done anything more than kissing before.

But this is already more than just kissing, you think, as your tongue meets his again as he licks into your mouth. This is hot and heavy. You’re already starting to feel like you’re not close enough to him. 

And so does he. 

You feel a firm bulge pressing into your open legs and with a jolt of excitement, you realise he’s only wearing boxers. Everything below your waist throbs hot and sticky as his hips subtly twitch upwards, pressing against your pyjama shorts.

The ache between your legs is too unbearable to ignore. You adjust your hips and the friction against your bundle of nerves is white hot, almost dizzying. He responds to your movements by gripping onto your hips, his cock twitching against your pussy, just two thin pieces of material between you. You’re positively burning up now as he lets out a low groan into your mouth as you kiss him, before pulling back to suck on his bottom lip.

“Fuck…” you murmur, as you wriggle your hips impatiently. But when you say that he pulls back to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “What?” you ask.  

You don’t want him to stop - not now.

“I’ve just never heard you swear before,” he grins and your cheeks burn.

You bite your lip. “It just… slipped out.”

“I like it…” he says, eyes glancing over your chest as it rises and falls rapidly in time with your breathing. 

His fingers hook around the straps of your tank top, pausing just before they drop over your shoulders. The touch is featherlight like he’s waiting for something. Then his voice, low and careful, breaks through the charged silence.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod and then, realising what he’s just said, you blink. “You’re... asking?”

Cormac tilts his head slightly, frowning just a little like something about your surprise bothers him. “Of course I’m asking,” he says, his voice quieter now, but insistent, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You swallow, looking away for a moment, feeling still warmed by the way he’s watching you. Nobody’s bothered to ask you if they could touch you before. It’s…. well, it’s classic him. Considerate. Sure enough of himself that he genuinely would respect whatever answer you gave him. 

It makes you want him even more.

“You can - you can touch me. Wherever you want.”

You place your hands on top of his and help him slip your straps down, pulling your top down over your breasts.

“Fuck…” Cormac takes a deep, steadying breath. He tilts his head up and looks at the hangings above the bed.

“...Cormac?” you ask, uncertainly. “Are you -?”

“Yep,” he tells the hangings. “It’s just - I mean, I’ve just - thought about this moment a lot. And in no version did it involve me - y’know - making a mess of myself just from seeing your tits.”

A mischievous smile creeps across your lips. “Are you about to?”

“I’ll be fine - wha - oh, that is not helping.”

You slowly grind your hips against his and place his hands over your breasts. The underside of his cock twitches again against your now soaked pyjama shorts.

“I’ve thought about it a lot too,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his ear. “You can cum like this. If you want.” 

“That would be - ah, fuck - completely fucking embarrassing,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I think it’s hot.”

As soon as you say that, his shoulders relax and he buries his face between your tits with an agonised groan. Your hands tangle in his hair as you rock restlessly against him, moving your hips in search of the gnawing need between your legs. 

Cormac swirls his tongue, open-mouthed and panting against your skin. He pushes your tits together, toying with your nipples, pinching the hardened buds between his fingertips in a way that makes you let out an involuntary squeal.

“Too hard?” he asks, concerned, and you shake your head fervently.

“Do it again,” you whimper.

You grind yourself along his rock-hard bulge, feeling exceptionally greedy as Cormac toys with your tits. Pleasure swells in your abdomen. God, this feels good. He drinks up every noise you accidentally release, as you hover on the edge - wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be close?

Suddenly, Cormac grabs your hips, stopping you from moving and you almost cry out in protest. He breathes shakily, adjusting himself.

“Did you just…”

“Not yet,” he says, and before you know it he’s manoeuvring on top of you, flipping you on your back and splaying you out on his bedsheets. “I need to find out just how sweet you taste first.”

This is more like the Cormac you know. He’s been so reserved, so unlike himself around you for the past several weeks that you almost forgot how cocky he could get.

And wow, do you like it.

“Cormac,” you whisper, feeling yourself turn crimson now under his touch. 

He plants a trail of kisses along your collarbone, down your torso and pauses just below your navel. Cormac hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama shorts and you arch your back so he can remove them and toss them onto the floor in a pathetic heap.

Cormac drags the pads of his fingertips across your flushed, slick pussy. “Is this… for me?” He gives you the widest, most gleeful grin you’ve ever seen plastered on his face as he laughs once, under his breath. “You’re so wet.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout - although from the way he’s lighting up, you can tell he likes the effect he’s having on you.

“You’ve got to admit, it is kind of funny. How everyone calls you Sweet because you’ve got this ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ thing going on but here you are… sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night.”

Your hips buck as he slides his fingers through your folds, dragging your arousal across your clit. An uncontrollable whine leaves your mouth as his fingers glide up and down, up and down. He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he looks you over. “I wonder what other swear words you know…”

“I - ah - I told you it just slipped out -” you stammer. Goosebumps break out along your arms - this time it’s nothing to do with the cold - you’re burning up, hearing him talk to you like this. But the more you blush, the more it spurs him on. 

Cormac gives you a lop-sided smirk as he drags gentle, lazy circles around your clit. “So… that kind of talk is just for me, right?” he asks. You wriggle again, opening yourself up wider, silently willing him to put his fingers inside you. 

“Yes,” you whimper. He’s got you wrapped around his finger - almost literally. You’ll say anything he wants to hear. Do anything - everything that he wants. Give him anything he asks. As long as he keeps touching you like this.

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss, feeling yourself slowly falling apart at how he’s circling over that little bundle of nerves that makes your eyes fucking roll back. He hisses an inhale through his teeth, watching your reaction. 

And then suddenly, he’s pushing in and curling two thick fingers inside your eager, soaking wet pussy and hooking them tight against your g-spot.

“Oh.” Your hand flies blindly down to touch his face - just for something to feel - and his expression changes from a smug smile to stern concentration. 

Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone, grazing the rough stubble of his jaw. He tilts his head just enough to kiss your palm, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin, sending a spark racing up your arm. 

Then his eyes find yours - those green eyes, darker now, pupils blown out with a burning intensity that knocks the breath from your lungs. The way he looks at you, unflinching, unrestrained, sends a rush of heat through you, making your heart pound and your pulse quicken. 

You almost cry out when Cormac lowers his head and his soft lips envelope your clit. You clench around his fingers and tense your stomach when his tongue swirls even hotter and more dextrous than his fingers.

“Mhmm,” he says, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh before looking up with a wicked grin. His chin is wet. “You are sweet.”

You bite your lip and let your head roll back as he resumes his gentle licking. You can hardly believe this is happening. You’re trembling as you try to suppress another squeal but it’s like he can read your mind - 

“It’s okay to make noise. Nobody’s here. You don’t need to hold back,” he says between sloppy sucking. You remind yourself, that you’ve been best friends for so long he can probably read the nuances of your body language.

“Ah - okay, okay. Fuck - Cormac,” is all you can manage.

“That’s my girl.”

Oh, fuck. Why did he have to call you that? Your pussy clenches tight, neediness swelling in waves in your abdomen.

And then you don’t expect the way his whole arm moves as he picks up pace. At first, you feel jostled, almost manhandled when his fingers don’t go in and out but instead curl into you with such intense pressure that you feel like you can’t keep up. It’s too fast. Too much. 

Until it suddenly isn’t. 

The flat of his tongue rubs against your clit in time with his fingers pressing against your g-spot. Blazing, white-hot heat twists tightly in your pelvic floor muscles. Your hand slides down to the juncture of muscle between his neck and his shoulder as you grip helplessly, feeling the relentless pressure of him stimulating that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Cormac,” you pant, as your walls twitch and tighten around those two fingers. “I’m - ha - that’s - yeah, there.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, sending vibrations across your clit. His eyes move back to your face. You convulse around your best friend’s fingers as he pulls you closer and closer to the edge. You’ve stopped wriggling, chasing your release - you don’t need to. Your whole body goes limp as you just let him drill inside you.

“Yes,” you say, biting your lip, your eyebrows knitting together, losing yourself in the mindless sensation. “Fuck, yesyesyesyes -”

He looks into your eyes while you plead for him as he pulls the orgasm from you. You clutch on his shoulder, feeling his hand working between your legs, pulling you higher and higher and - 

Fuck.

Everything plummets. 

White noise rings in your ears as your insides twist and release, sending agonising pleasure rippling through your whole body, more bright and explosive than anything you’ve felt before.

His hand slows down, dragging out the boiling hot aftershock, massaging your pussy until you’re a trembling mess.

At last, he slowly slips his fingers out from inside of you and lies next to you. 

Cormac can’t tear his eyes from you, watching the way your head falls back onto the pillow - his pillow - as you catch your breath, looking up at the velvet hangings above and raking your hands through your hair. 

You think you must lie there in stunned silence for a full minute before you realise he’s waiting on you to say something.

“What -” you swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “What time is the Knight Bus tomorrow?”

Cormac tilts his head, concerned. “After breakfast, I think. But, I mean… if you need space or something, then that’s fine -”

“No,” you turn your head on the pillow quickly. “No, nothing like that.”

You roll on top of him so that you’re straddling him again and lean down. Your hair tickles his cheek as you lean in close enough to see every detail of his face - the faint freckles across his nose, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, even the flutter of his lashes. Every inch of him feels so present.

“I’m trying to figure out how many times we can do that before McGonagall sends us home,” you smirk and relief crosses his face.

“I thought you were trying to see if there was any way you could leave earlier,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sincerity. 

You shake your head. “I want to stay here forever. I want -” You plant a kiss on his cheek and slip your hand between your bodies, your curious fingers lightly dancing over his hard cock through his boxers. “- I want you. So badly. You have no idea.”

“Pretty sure I have some idea how that feels.” Cormac reaches down to catch the waistband of his boxers with his thumbs and lets you pull out his cock. It’s just as gorgeous as the rest of him. You wrap your palm around him, feeling how warm and thick he is, and slowly jerk your wrist. His jaw tightens and he jerks his hips upwards to meet your soft, clenched fist. 

“That’s - fuck, that’s good -” he says, closing his eyes, his lips slightly parted. He looks so good like this, you think, as you watch him swallow thickly, neck muscles contracting.

You adjust yourself higher up his body so that you can kiss his exposed neck. As you keep working your wrist between your bodies the tip of his cock rests against your wet folds.

“Cormac,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly, “do you want to…?”

His eyes open, searching yours with quiet intensity. “Yeah,” he says softly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your hand pauses stroking him, caught off guard by the steadiness of his answer. “You didn’t even let me finish the question.”

“I don’t need to,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “If it’s you, the answer’s always yes.”

You can’t help it - the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite the nervous flutter in your chest and the fact that the tip of his leaking cock is pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Does it… do you know if it hurts?” you ask, your voice quieter now - hesitant.

Cormac tilts his head slightly, studying you, his brow furrowing - not in judgment, but in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice honest but calm. “I’ve never - ” He pauses for a beat, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I haven’t done this before either.”

Your eyes widen. “You haven’t?”

He shakes his head, his expression softening into something almost self-conscious. “Nope.”

“Really?” The word comes out before you can stop it, your voice tinged with disbelief. Somehow, you’d always imagined him as… well, more experienced. The fact that he isn’t, that this is just as new for him, feels oddly grounding.

“Yeah, really,” he says, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. His gaze remains fixed on yours, unwavering. “It’s not like I’ve never had the chance or anything… just none of them felt right.” 

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And… this does?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” His lips twitch into a faint smile. “It’s always been you, Sweet. And if you want this too, then -”

“I do. Cormac.” You swallow, the truth spilling out before you can second-guess it. “Of course, I do. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old.”

“So have I,” he says, his voice low but certain. “So there’s nothing to worry about,” he says softly, like a promise. “I’ve got you.”

For once, you don’t think, don’t question. You lift your hips back slightly, just enough for the head of his cock to part your folds. Cormac holds the base of his length, positioning himself so that you can balance your weight, one hand on his chest, the other on the bed.

You sink down, feeling pressure as his cock pushes through your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, expecting pain but you open them again when you feel two large hands caressing your hips.

“Still got you, baby.”

A deep heat blooms within you, sweeping through your body like a tide and leaving your thoughts in a hazy, breathless blur. You slide down further - so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch of him filling you up. As you lower yourself, his reassurance becomes a dark, lustful groan and his thumbs press on your hipbones.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck - that’s - yeah -”

The back of your thighs meet his hips as you bottom out and the sensation is all-consuming, a wildfire of longing that burns away reason. 

His cock presses up against every part of your insides in a way that your body has craved for so long while you tried to ignore it. Every smile he flashed you from across the room, every time you brushed past him as he held a door open - it always made something in your core lurch. And now as you feel those same muscles tighten you realise the extent of your primal want for him.

“It’s… it’s in,” you whisper and it feels almost redundant to say it when it’s so patently obvious but you’re trying to tell him and yourself that you’re okay. It hurts a little - but in a good way - like when your legs ache from climbing a long flight of stairs. Except you never feel fire igniting in your belly like this when you ascend the staircase of the Astronomy Tower.

“Yeah, I’m inside you,” he says breathlessly. Then his expression changes, something flickering in his eyes - an intense, unspoken longing that unfurls in the space between you. “I’m fucking inside you,” he says again, the words low and rough, tumbling from his lips like he’s surrendering to a need he can no longer contain. He thrusts upwards and you gasp breathlessly, it’s as though the world tilts on its axis. 

“You good?” he asks, grabbing firm fistfuls of your hips. You nod, your thoughts disapparating around the edges when his cock twitches inside you. “You feel perfect.”

You melt so fiercely under his compliment that you need to look away. But when you look down between your bodies and see him buried to the hilt inside you, you can see why he had to repeat himself. 

This is happening - it’s real and it’s actually happening and it’s everything you ever hoped. 

You lift your hips in slow, stuttered little jumps, experimenting with the way he feels inside you. Is this right? Are you good at this? Should you move more like this? But Cormac helps, his hands on your tentative hips aid your momentum as he decisively guides you forward and back and - oh. 

Now, this is right. 

You know for certain now, as his thick cock glides in and out of your sopping wet folds, your arousal dripping all over him, and you can’t tear your eyes away in an almost enchanted haze. You know you must feel right for him too because in almost rhythmic agreement, his cock pushes against that deep sensitive spot you need as you convulse around him.

“Oh, shit -” breathes Cormac. “Look at me, look at me.” 

With difficulty, your eyes pull up weakly, looking away from his cock driving into you and meeting his gaze. He’s so present and focused - like he’s searching for something. 

Cormac’s hand slides from your hip and his thumb finds your swollen clit. You gasp, realising only now how close you are to the edge. You curse and Cormac grins. This is the answer to the silent question he’d been searching for.

“Fuck -” you whine, your pussy clamping down hard around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck -”

“That’s it, baby. Tell me how good it is.”

“Mhm,” you huff as you pick up pace, bouncing against his lap, chasing every bit of friction he has to offer you. It all melds together, the way his cock fills you up, his wet thumb rubbing against your clit, his other hand roughly guiding you up and down on him. 

“Fuck - it’s good - s’good -” you try and keep focused on his gorgeous look of concentration as your floor muscles clamp down. “You’re so fucking good.” 

He closes his eyes and an agonised groan tumbles from his lips when you say that. 

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Yesyesyesyes,” you whimper, every syllable punctuated with you riding him. Your eyes roll back as everything winds tighter and tighter, your nerve endings alight and sparking pleasure through your body. 

“Fuck, say it again,” he growls, his hips jutting up to slap against the back of your thighs. 

You don’t even know when you say next. All you know is that whatever filthy words spill out, make Cormac laugh triumphantly through gritted teeth as your world shatters. 

He murmurs your name - your real name, not that nickname everyone calls you - as he rubs your clit and fucks you exactly where you need him to, throwing you towards raw pleasure. 

“Are you cumming again, baby?”

“Ah - uh-huh,” you choke and even that little moan in the affirmative is a struggle. 

Every unbridled bounce of your hips sends your mind reeling as your orgasm crashes down over you. Your pussy throbs and twitches around him, squeezing him hard as you ride out the beautiful wave.

Fuck.

It’s messy, it’s aching, it’s blurry, it’s debilitating. You can barely see straight.

You twitch from oversensitivity as Cormac fucks himself up and into you in search of his own high. His hips thrust erratically and his face contorts in pleasure and then suddenly he’s forcing your hips down onto him, and with a guttural moan, he’s cumming deep inside you, holding you in place even as you squirm and shake through the aftershock of your own ecstasy. 

Everything goes dark - you see actual stars behind your eyelids. Vaguely, you’re aware of Cormac tenderly manoeuvring you with strong, safe arms so that you’re lying at his side, your head resting on his chest. He pulls his duvet over you - it's cosy and smells like him. It's wonderful.

“You’re shaking - are you warm enough?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, feeling your eyes grow heavy as you try to keep them open. “Just tingly. It’s… it’s nice.”

Cormac tilts your chin up and he leans down to kiss you, slow and lazy. He’s soft and warm. You’re safe and pliant. His fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and sweetly brush the curve of your jaw.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you say. It's an understatement. You're barely able to lift your eyelids to look at him. There’s something about being nestled here on his shoulder - like you were in front of the common room fire a few weeks ago - that just signals to your body that it’s secure and that you can relax fully. “You?”

“Yeah… I just don’t wanna fall asleep in case I’m already dreaming. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” you sigh pleasantly, feeling his very real heartbeat in his chest as you snuggle in closer. The way he’s looking at you - like he’s seeing something precious - makes your chest ache. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he lies back on his pillow. “Because I don’t want this to end.”

You don’t want it to end either.

“I know you probably want to catch the Knight Bus tomorrow and see your family but -” he starts, hesitating slightly.

You cut him off gently. “We could stay here. For the holidays. If you want to.”

He closes his eyes, the softest smile curling his lips as his thumb brushes your shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, his voice steady now. “I want that.”

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

The Gryffindor Common Room is a blazing display of gold and red. Laughter and cheering fill the room so loudly that you can barely hear yourself think as you weave through the crowd with two butterbeers in hand.

“Cheer up, Cormac,” you say, finding him on a plump armchair in the corner of the room. You hand him a butterbeer and sit on his lap. He pulls you close, his hand resting on the back of your thigh. “We won the cup, didn’t we?”

“I really thought this was going to be my year,” he grumbles. “I might just have to face it - maybe I’m not cut out to play Quidditch.”

“I think you’re brilliant,” you say, although your words are probably meaningless - you don’t know the first thing about Quidditch.

“Oh, come on. You were there - you watched me knock Potter out with a bludger in the last game.”

“Well, Katie was still in St Mungo’s, wasn’t she? You had other things on your mind.”

Cormac tuts, as if he’s annoyed at himself for being distracted by one of his best friends being in mortal peril.

“Besides,” you say, leaning in and pressing your mouth to his ear. “You have plenty of other talents. Ones that are more… useful than Quidditch.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, turning to give you a lopsided grin. His tone is low, teasing, but the heat in his eyes makes your pulse quicken. “Care to elaborate?” 

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you press your lips to his, letting the butterbeer bottle tilt precariously in your grip as his arms tighten around your waist. His hand slides a little higher up your thigh, the warmth of it sending sparks skittering down your spine. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and suddenly it feels like the whole room could catch fire from how hot your skin feels against his.

“Alright, that’s enough of the Devil’s Snare impression” Katie’s voice interrupts, dry and sharp as she drops into the armchair beside yours, looking equal parts amused and exasperated.

You pull back, flustered, trying to regain a sliver of composure. Cormac shifts slightly, but his arm stays around your waist, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

“Do you have to keep doing that where I can see? I’ve had enough trauma this year without adding that to the list,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” you grin sheepishly. 

“Don’t be,” Katie snorts. “Honestly, I prefer this to whatever you were doing before. It was unbearable. I mean, the pining - ” she shudders theatrically “- disgusting.” 

You laugh, but Cormac just raises his butterbeer in mock toast. “Thanks for your support. Truly heartwarming.”

Katie waves a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. “Just get me my next butterbeer so I don’t need to fight through that crowd again, and we’ll call it even.”

Cormac reaches over without missing a beat, handing her his unopened bottle. “Here. You’ve earned it.”

She raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Why, because I nearly got cursed to death and inadvertently set the two of you up?”

“No,” Cormac says dryly, though his lips twitch. “Because you’ve basically just won us the bloody Quidditch Cup.”

You raise your butterbeer in solidarity. “To Katie.”

“To me,” she says smugly, clinking her bottle with yours before taking a long sip.

The three of you settle into easy conversation, as easy and as natural as it’s always been.

Sitting here in the glow of victory, with Katie healthy and whole, and Cormac’s arm around your waist, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Things are pretty sweet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (let me know if you want removed/changed at any point or for any reason - if you just do not want notifications or if your hyperfixation has changed - anything! I'll remove you no questions asked) @aweidlich @xxvelvetxxxx @Dinom @Mgurl @all-by-myself98 @navs-bhat @ivebeentrashsince2001 @intense-sneezing @countlambula @chiaraanatra @daisydark @stainedpomegranatelips @doodlebook14 @il0vebeingdelulu @evabellasworld @xyzstar @lolitstiana @senassn @marmie-noir @lipstickandloveletters

[the-s1lly-corner]

Drawing each other (CRPs 2/2)

I'm probably going to have beaten the game by the time this posts but guys I need leshy follower you dont understand he looks so crinkly (referring to cult of the lamb) this part was originally going to have bloody painter and puppeteer but uhuh... too many characters for me and the need to keep playing COTL is smashing my desire to write

Characters: jeff the killer, nina the killer, laughing jack, eyeless Jack, ben Drowned,

Notes: reader is GN, admin does a coin toss on whether or not the reader is an artist, ben is strictly platonic the others can be seen as any relationship

CWs: none

JEFF THE KILLER

cannot draw for shit, when he passes his drawing of you to you it looks like a total mess- there was some effort though so you do your best to not laugh

though he seems to be a mostly good sport about it as long as youre not actually maliciously bashing his art

a little jealous that youre an artist and thus your piece turned out better than his but it soon shifts into him thinking over things hes good at to make himself feel better

in a "well you cant do (x) but i can so haha" kind of way

will get legitimately offended if you jokingly add something like stink lines on your drawing of him

NINA THE KILLER

draws a lot and adds a lot to her drawings: vibrant colors, stickers, glitter, patterned tapes- anything she can get her hands on really! obligatory her art resembles the old scene and emo art styles from back in the day

she doesnt care if your art of her isnt the best, shes going to love it either way and will keep it on her at all times

hypes you up and compliments the parts of your art she likes- whether it be coloring, anatomy, or general vibe shes going to find something to say in order to uplift you

generally enjoys spending any time with you so shes instantly going to take you up on the offer of drawing each other whenever you bring up the idea- or just drawing anything together

or doing anything together

LAUGHING JACK

cannot draw but does not care one bit, just as long as hes having fun

may or may not purposefully make his drawing of you look as diabolical as possible, you can tell hes up to something thanks to his hushed giggling- of course he doesnt draw anything offensive or hurtful

if youre aware youre not the best artist and often poke fun at it, you both end up just making fun of each others pieces

which sometimes turns into the both of you scribbling on your own pieces to add some exaggerated detail in order to push the joke further

EYELESS JACK

he sometimes draws in order to pass the time when he has nothing to do, sometimes you give him new art supplies when hes running low and you can afford it

or sometimes you just share, since you have your own

drawing him was... easy... given hes more than likely wearing his mask the whole time so you put in effort to add some details

jack on the other hand takes his time to get it down right

leads into you asking him how he can see given his obvious lack of eyes, which makes the atmosphere feel a little off but thats... another idea for another day..

gives genuine and sincere compliments when looking at your work, takes his time like he did when he drew you, in order to take it in

BEN DROWNED

i like to think he used to draw before he drowned and died, usually drawing stuff that matched his interests. the same thing over and over

though i can see him getting a little rusty due to not having the chance or means to draw... you can see him getting visibly upset while hes trying to finish his piece of you

youre not an artist yourself, so your drawing of him isnt the best either and it does make him feel a little better

"oh wow these are both shit" and youre both just giggling over your drawings of each other

its over if one of you gave the other too big of a forehead

[ch1-kasak0]

Nsfw below, Cosmosbullet goofing off🔥👅🔥👅

It had started off as a simple phone- compact? It had started off as a call; he didn't understand how things had gotten.. So unrelated, at first they were chatting about Alice's situation, and how This lady named “Martha” had called “orderlies?” He wasn't sure, Martha had called some people to take a couple of the houses residents away, that's all he knew. And that's all he really cared about at the time, Cuphead had assured him that everything would probably be fine, but neither of them were sure, none of that mattered now; not to them at least

From the compact, Evangelos could hear Cuphead walking; judging by the crunching, he was probably strolling through the woods, like he usually did when they talked like this, the snap of a twig or the crunch of a leaf, eventually cup found a spot to sit, judging by the rush of wind as cup dropped to sit down, then the sigh as he laid down; it was easy to hear every little noise from the other side of the compact, eventually they just started talking about their days, telling jokes and overall just trying to move past the subject cuphead had started with, after awhile things had gotten lighter, and Evan has noticed he was… frustrated? He wasn't used to the idea of being aroused, hell he wasn't used to most emotions, at least before cup but he wouldn't describe this as an emotion, he was beginning to regret allowing that damned library to change his biological properties.

He considered asking Cuphead what exactly was happening to him below the belt but he would die of embarrassment if he tried, and instead opted to just ignore it to the best of his ability; just hoping it would go away on its own, but he doubted it. Instead he focused on Cuphead talking.

Well, he had figured out what was happening, and he now knew how to deal with it, and thankfully managed to withstand cups teasing when he asked, but now he was too embarrassed to touch himself. Cuphead had insisted on them staying on call, claiming that “he didn't want to miss the fun” or whatever, all he knew was that he didn't even know how to do this without dying internally, he just… stared at it, hand contemplatively hovering above the head, he was almost grossed out by it, debating whether he should just shove the appendage back in his pants and hang up, but he couldn't decide, opting to let his arm fall to his side and just let it stand tall, maybe the air con could make it shrivel up like a flower in winter? That would be useful; but that probably wouldn't be healthy. He hadn't even noticed Cup was trying to talk to him when a yell pierced his ears, he flinched as he turned to the compact. Staring at the screen, all he could manage was a hum in his dazed state. Face slightly flushed as Cuphead prattled on about different ways to “get off”, he wasn't really paying attention though, everything sounded muffled to him. He turned over onto his side, holding the compact up to his ear, focused more on cups voice than what he was actually saying, he zoned out a little, face growing more flushed as he curled into himself, wings unfurling to cover himself as best he could; last thing he needed was someone walking in on him in such a vulnerable state, he hasn't even noticed when his hand had hovered back over to the thing, hand wrapped loosely around the head, thumb pressing against the slit, he glances back to the compact.

“Love?” A pause from the other side, a chuckle then- “Yes, sweetheart?”

Evans' wing twitched as a shiver made itself up his spine, a hiss through his teeth “don't- don't call me that, just… talk.. About yourself? I suppose.” another chuckle from the other end that made Evans face flush more, the miniature wings that protruded from under his ears reached up to cover his mouth,

“alright, handsome~” “shut it!” “I thought I was supposed to talk!” “Well, don't refer to me! Just act like I'm not here!” “Fine, fine!” More giggles from Cups end, then he started talking. But judging by how he felt currently; he expected this would take awhile, considering how inexperienced he was in this… field?

[queenlucythevaliant]

Okay, here we go. Rating literary allusions in Taylor Swift songs:

The Outside: "I tried to take the road less traveled by /but nothing seems to work the first few times/am I right?"--Starting off pretty well! She tried to take the road less traveled by, but it didn't make any difference. 8/10

Love Story: Whole song allusion to Romeo and Juliet-- All those 2008 jokes about Taylor not having read R&J weren't funny then and they aren't funny now. It's a fun, satisfying subversion. However, I am going to dock points for the fact that Romeo and Juliet aren't a prince and princess, just rich. 7/10

Love Story: "You were Romeo/I was a scarlet letter"--Is the Juliet character in "Love Story" being publicly shamed? Did she do something scandalous? There are zero other lines in this song to suggest that she did, and a fair amount of evidence that she didn't. This allusion confuses rather than clarifies and tbh this is the one people should've made fun of in 2008. 2/10

New Romantics: "We show off our different scarlet letters/ trust me, mine is better" --Hooray! She figured out what the book is about! This is a beautifully executed allusion, where "scarlet letters" represents a mark of something shameful which, in a fun subversion, is being shown off with pride. Fits the song really well. Most improved award, 11/10

Getaway Car: "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" (A Tale of Two Cities) -- Goes in the category of "fun wordplay, but doesn't really mean anything deeper" 5/10

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: "Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year" --This is a perfectly serviceable allusion, but not a super interesting one. Sub "Gatsby" out with "nostalgic" and the song wouldn't change at all. She could've done a lot more with the reference, given the subject matter of the song. 6/10

cardigan: "I knew you/tried to change the ending/Peter losing Wendy" -- This works! You get a sense of Betty losing her innocence and choosing to leave James and of it being inevitable somehow. Plus, it imbues the song with a lovely fairy tale quality. 10/10

illicit affairs: "take the road less traveled by/tell yourself you can always stop" -- To take the road less traveled by is to do something risky, unpopular, or unfamiliar, not just to take a route through town where you won't run into people. Not totally egregious, but the regression from Debut is disappointing. 4/10

invisible string: "and isn't it just so pretty to think/ that all along there was some/ invisible string tying you to me."(The Sun Also Rises)--Ugggggh. Okay, so "Isn't it pretty to think so?" is this sad, tired, ironic note in The Sun Also Rises. Brett tells Jake, "We could have had a damned good time together" and Jake says "Isn't it pretty to think so?" because their whole situationship was never going to work. It's not a positive thing; it's pure, bitter Lost Generation irony. Completely out-of-place in a song about how two people we're supposed to believe will actually work as a couple. This one drives me nuts, and I don't even like Hemingway. 0/10

happiness: "I hope she'll be a beautiful fool/ who takes my spot next to you" (Gatsby)--Saying this about an ex's future SO is so... off. Like, the reason why Daisy hopes her daughter will be a beautiful fool is because it's easy. The two situations have nothing to do with one another, and not in an interesting way. 1/10

The Albatross: whole song allusion to "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," but most notably "She's the albatross/ she is here to destroy you"--The albatross in the Rime is a good omen. The Mariner shoots is for no reason, and the albatross's death is the ostensible source of bad fortune. I wrote a whole separate post on this here. That said, culturally "albatross=bad omen" is common enough, so whatever. 3/10

I Hate It Here: "I will go to secret gardens in my mind/ people need a key to get to/ the only one is mine" -- I like this one a lot. Exactly the right vibe for the song, trying to escape something miserable by going somewhere pleasant. The key is a nice touch. Poor Archibald. 10/10

The Prophecy: "I got cursed like Eve got bitten" --No Taylor, that's not what happened. Famously, Eve was the biter in that situation. 0/10

Cassandra: whole song allusion -- correct me if I'm wrong (I haven't actually read the Illiad), but my understanding is that Cassandra died fairly far into the Trojan war, and not by burning. 4/10

[tadpolesonalgae]

Give and Take

Feyre x reader

Day 1: Lady of Many Faces

Synopsis: as High Lady, many citizens of Velaris have come to know her as kind; compassionate. Lending mercy where others would falter. As her lover, you bear witness to her more…unforgiving, tendencies.

a/n: I can’t manage a whole week, but I thought it would be nice to participate in @feyreweekofficial for a little 🧡💛

warnings: smut, references to poly!feysand though it’s strictly feyre x reader, slightly mean!feyre, face sitting, pussy spanking

word count: 2,096

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Feyre sends you a dark glance as Mor looks away to check on a friend, a stern warning if you’ve ever felt one.

She pastes a warm smile back on her rosey lips as Mor returns her attention to the two of you, shifting to stand closer, raising her glass to sip from, smoothly concealing her steadily thinning patience. The bubbly blonde gives a wince, making an excuse to slip away and check on her partner, leaving you alone with your mate.

“Enjoying the evening?” You ask lightly, hastily searching the room for a group to escape to, able to feel her tension rippling down the bond. “Not as much as you, apparently,” she replies, blue-grey eyes flicking sharply over the rim of her glass.

You offer her a sheepish half-smile, still searching for your third, maybe the only one who’d be able to spare you from her growing impatience. “Feyre, we were just joking,” you try, reaching to take her hand, “you know, having some fun at a boring party.” She hums, unfaltering from her position, pulling her hand away to pluck your glass away. “I think you’ve been having a little too much to drink. Maybe you should retire for the night.”

In a move of alcohol fuelled stupidity, you roll your eyes, huffing. “Jealousy isn’t a pretty colour, feyre,” you pout, shifting your weight to one leg, folding your arms over your chest. You offer a small smile, stepping into her space, both hands wrapping around her free palm, eyes twinkling. “You could retire with me…?”

Piercing blue-grey sweeps over you, and you press closer, breasts brushing against her ink-laced arm. She moves, lightly but firmly gripping your hip, keeping you still. “You have ten minutes,” she whispers beside your ear, hair prickling at the nape of your neck. “If you aren’t ready when I find you…” Her gaze cuts to you, but it’s not your High Lady, nor is it your mate.

The gaze you meet belongs to the ruler of the Hewn City.

————

Pleasure shivers down your spine, cool air pebbling your skin into goosebumps as you strip away your dress, fabric pooling in a lake of pale silk upon the hardwood floor.

You’d been anticipating a reaction of some kind, but not to this extent, and you find yourself relieved to have slipped into the lace beforehand. Pulling the ribbon from your hair, you allow it free, excitement unspooling in your lower abdomen as you move toward the bed, spine curving as the mattress dips beneath your knee, crawling to its head.

The doors open barely even a second after you’ve settled down, a wolf hunting her prey, herding you to right where she wants. An easy meal, her eyes gleaming with vulpine hunger, sweeping over your bare skin. Greedily settling on the blue-grey underthings you’d slid into while preparing for the ball.

She stalks forward, slowly discarding her dress like a second skin, the kind, adoring mask of the High Lady giving way to starving hunger, those years in the forest not leaving her without scars. Her ravenous touches burn at your skin sometimes, so intense, so set on devouring you whole you’re convinced along with her powers she carries the magic to drink straight from your soul, feeding off your adoration.

“Want to try and explain your way out of it,” she drawls lowly, elegantly climbing onto the bed, crawling toward you. “Or are you going to be quiet and accept the inevitable?”

Your head dips, heat flushing your body as your toes curl, meeting her simmering gaze as you part your thighs, making room for her to settle. Her rosey lips curve, eyes gleaming with menace, “the latter, I suppose?”

“What do you want me to do?” You ask softly, bracing your upper body on your forearms, jaw inclining to peer up at her as she pauses above you. Keeping you in. She angles her head, watching you with predatory interest, sizing up her next meal. “Make it up to me.”

Blinking, your lips part, tongue swiping out over your lower one as heat unravels through your body. “Any way?” You murmur, mind already considering what you could do. “Whatever you think suitable, considering your actions,” she drawls, knowing how all the options will surely overwhelm you. Every fantasy you can create playing out behind your eyes, easy for her to observe.

Feyre feels arousal warm between her legs as your eyes dip to her mouth pleadingly, any sort of abrasiveness melted away beneath her attention, your attitude fading now she’s giving you what you want. She can practically scent how soaked your underwear is, how eager and ready you are to take and give and devour.

Your mouths meet, and former thought is washed away, lips slanting hotly against one another with a familiarity that has both of you fracturing a little. Moving with a swift undercurrent, tension tightening as teeth come into play, growing rougher and hungrier with each passing second. Hands tangle in hair, bodies press tight, tongues lick over one another.

Desire gets the better of you first, your hand sliding down her spine, encouraging her to arc against you, breasts flushing with your own, and you moan into her mouth. Palms settle over her hips and you roll over, her silky hair cascading over pillows like a messy halo, her cheeks warm and flushed, eyes glinting with demand. A queen waiting to be served.

You’re more than happy to obey.

You kiss down the length of her throat, licking and sucking where you can, ultimately focused on your end point as you inch down her wonderfully trained body. The muscle of her arms that helps her handle you into position when you’re being insolent, the thighs that trap and squeeze you when you’re being a brat beneath her, those lovely inner muscles that clamp down around your tongue and fingers when you eat her out.

Teeth drag over your lip, half a thought and the lace over her breasts vanishes, eyeing up her dusty pink nipples with arousal at the feast before you. Without any more pause, you dip down, giving an appreciative lap to one before fully putting your mouth over her as she moans lowly. Fingers tangle in your hair, gripping as her legs wrap around your hips, pulling you closer so she can find friction.

“Sweetness,” she warns when your teeth nip out, unable to resist. You blink up at her with false innocence, and you’re rewarded with a disciplinary tug on your hair, reminding you of your task: making it up to her.

You offer a smile in response, thumbs skating across her nipples before reaching where you want. Palms run over the tops of her thighs before slipping beneath her knees, bending them so she can be spread wider, more than familiar with the mechanics of her body.

You waste no time in dipping forward, pressing your face between her thighs, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure as her arousal washes over you, stark and concentrated. Heat bursts in your lower tummy, both of you moaning as you bury deeper, nosing at her cunt, fingers dancing over the tops of her thighs, ticklish and light. Feyre rolls her hips down, hand still kept in your hair to hold you in place as she gently finds her pleasure.

Arousal dims your mind, wanting to taste her, to lick, suck, and touch everything you can. Your mouth opens over her clothed cunt, dragging the wet heat of your tongue over her sopping underwear, sealing your lips against her, drinking her flavour from the fabric. Feyre groans lowly, foot dragging over your back, raising her hips out of instinct to invite more pleasure into her body.

You moan, swept away as she encompasses your senses, eagerly applying yourself to her until neither of you can take it.

“On your back,” Feyre breathes, hurriedly shifting into motion, causing you to whine as she pulls away. “On your back,” she repeats, harsher this time, and you hasten to obey. To do anything if it’ll return her to you. You need to feel her weight on your mouth, set on your tongue.

The second you’ve settled, she’s swinging her thigh over your head, having already discarded her underwear and you hardly have the time to comprehend that before she’s sat down, rightfully over you. Your eyes roll back, able to feel the heat that rolls from her cunt, her thighs, the wetness that glosses your lips, surely gleaming on your cheeks as she winds over you.

“Fuck,” she groans lowly, thighs spreading wider as her hands roam over your chest, thumbs flicking over your lace covered nipples before she vanishes the clothing. “So pretty. So fucking pretty.” You moan, tongue flicking out, lips sealing against her cunt as you swipe over her, pushing at her entrance, circling her clit eagerly, suckling on the sensitive bud, pressing closer between her thighs.

You gasp as she travels lower, fingers dancing over your abdomen, snapping the band of your underwear back against your hip teasingly, hauling a whimper from your chest. She laughs breathlessly, “should I touch you?” Beneath her you whine, thighs parting, urging her on as you make out with her cunt with a conviction that has more arousal dripping onto your tongue.

She hums, amused by your determination, raising her palm and you whimper at the lack of attention.

You yelp when she brings her palm down, connecting with your heat, slapping your cunt with a sharp, unrelenting motion. She gives you no reprieve before repeating it, unforgiving and relentless, keeping you beneath her as she takes her pleasure. One, then another, and another—unending as surprising arousal and heat gathers in response, so desperate for her touch you’d take pain over numbness.

“How many do you think you deserve, sweet girl?” She muses lightly, rolling her hips down, your mouth remaining open beneath her cunt, licking eagerly, drinking her down. “Five more? Ten?”

Your toes curl, thighs pressing together, heat swirling down your spine as she laughs again, gently plying you apart. “Start misbehaving now and it’ll only get worse,” she reminds, amusement prominent in her tone. “I thought you’d decided to be quiet and accept what’s coming?”

Again you whimper, arms wrapping over her hips to show your conviction, your need for her pleasure, to have her releasing on your tongue.

Feyre pauses, feeling how you’re blindly reaching for her across that mental bridge, stumbling through the dark in search of her. Her lips curve, bringing you in, opening the gates to allow access, curious what you have to offer. It’s not an image, but senses flood her own, the heat, stark arousal, the wetness that you’re licking through, obscene slurping sounds emphasised through the bond, receiving pleasure in both the mental and physical parts of herself, and the high hits her hard.

She gasps, movements increasing in pace, hips grinding over your mouth, pressing her clit to your tongue as she flutters with mind-numbing pleasure. Waves rush her body, rolling beneath her skin, palming her breasts as she sits back on your mouth, indulging in the repetitive flick of your tongue until the heat begins to fade.

You continue lapping gently, desperate to clean the release from between her thighs, to commit her flavour to memory as her hips still, panting softly above you. “That was good,” she pants, smiling faintly as she eases off you, threads of saliva joining from your lips to her heat. “So good for me, hm?”

You lick her flavour away, certain your skin is gleaming, but neither of your care as she crawls over you, pushing her mouth to yours eagerly, lapping at her taste as you share the slice of heaven with her. It’s hot and messy, open and needful as arousal twines gently between you until she pulls away, straddling your hips.

“But you know, you still need a little more discipline,” she breathes lowly, reaching back, loving how you flush when her hand cups your wet heat, underwear drenched. “Are you going to be good and take it?” She asks, smirking.

Your lips part on a gasp as she slips her hand down your underwear, the pads of her fingers brushing against the bare heat of your clit, locating it effortlessly.

Pushing the heat away, you manage a nod, meeting her lustful gaze.

“I’ll take it,” you murmur, hands settling on her hips, and she smiles.

“Good girl,” she croons, palm pulling back. “Just five more.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

[hey-august]

I'll Be Your Whatever - Story Hiatus

Description: Life is full of all sorts of characters - some who come and go, and others that stay. After propelling yourself into a lie you can't (won't) take back, a certain pirate captain may have a reason to come by more often. (Story tag)

Alrighty, I would very very much like to come back to this fic one day, but I truly do not know when that will happen. I think the outline I put together took away some of the drive to write the actual story, but I still want to SO BADLY.

So this story doesn't remain unfinished for however long, I'm going to share the outline I put together using beat sheets and story arcs.

Tag list: @rorywritesjunk @ane5e @venulus @misadventures0fdes You asked to be included in the tag list for the story, so I'm also tagging you here. I'm sorry for dropping the story and this hiatus, but I hope knowing that the ending exists brings some peace!

For reference: CB = Captain Buggy, MC = Main Character (aka, you, the reader!) WC: ~1.4k

As a recap of the story so far, MC tried to get 2 overly flirtatious guys off her back by saying a stranger passing by was her boyfriend. That stranger was Buggy, of course lol. Trying to stay low and play the part, MC and CB kiss. They joke about CB continuing to be a boyfriend and MC mentions having a treasure chest. A few days later, CB shows up at MCs place with flowers and saying he'll agree to be her boyfriend if she promises him the treasure map.

Chapter 4

They go on a mini date, as a way for them to talk about the agreement - they talk about the timeline and how long to "date." They decide to go get lunch.

Hot dog lunch. Hint at CBs favorite food.

CB blows kisses to MC while she’s in line.

Contract: 

Don’t tell the truth -  a deal’s a deal

MC pays for food

Compliments for Buggy

Hold hands

Kissing? We’ll figure it out if we need to

Buggy has to stop by whenever he’s in town

Buggy goes to the town festival - MC tries to convince CB to agree to go to a town festival in a few weeks or whatever, long enough for dudebros to lose interest. Offers a treasure map.

"If I’m being totally honest, that sounds like my worst nightmare."

MC stands up to someone who tries to insult Buggy’s nose. Fiery. They have to leave wherever they were. CB is impressed by her spunk.

B Story - CB inviting MC to visit the ship. 

At some point CB invites her, a shadow passes over her face, he asks if she really dislikes the idea that much.

MC feels stuck to the small town and guilt about her dad missing those kinds of experiences. She looks at Buggy's eyes and sees the draw of the ocean in them. Whatever enticed Buggy and her dad to love the sea, is reflected in his eyes.

Chapter 5

Fun and Games - coming to the weekend market

Oh yeah, no he said he wasn’t able to make it. But! CB shows up unexpectedly. YN blows him a kiss and he catches it.

CB gets into a scuffle at the weekend market.

Rowdy customer, "how about I pay you in kisses, pretty thing? No? Whatever, this shit isn’t even that good."

“no one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? no one.”

They eat fresh donuts, “oh you have to try these, they’re my favorite,” MC dabs some powdered sugar off the corner of his mouth.

Test of love trope! Conducted by a new jewelry shop. Start easy - eye color, fave food, feed each other, draw each other, blindfold and guess their partners hands, winners get matching bracelets. This is their first kiss.

CB putting the bracelet on MC "This means you’re mine. That’s what you wanted, right?" She gets A LOT of butterflies.

Walking back, the pictures they drew of each other blow away and fall into a tide pool. MC wading through water to get the drawings.

He made the day so special and she doesn’t want this to ruin it.

The drawing / picture she made isn’t that bad, he actually kinda likes it himself. So MC gives it to him. He becomes more enamored with it when she goes to save it from the water.

Nearby sailors / pirates laugh at MC in the water (lighthearted), she calls back that it’s not like they don’t get dirty treasure hunting.

CB gets butterflies from her insistence and calling the papers treasure.

Piggy back ride home? Slightly spicy. It was like their skin was calling out for the other's gentle touch.

Chapter 6

Fun and Games cont - MC said she would see CB off the next day but she doesn’t show up because she’s sick from the previous night.

CB comes by, sees that she’s okay but sick. 

He leaves for a moment and comes back with some stuff to help her feel better. He also postponed shipping off until the next day.

She bashfully asks if he’ll stay a little longer. He stays until she falls asleep.

MC calls him pretty boy and he hecking likes it.

She wakes up the next day to a note telling her that he won’t be in the area for a while.

Chapter 7

Mini scene, MC notices that the dudebros seem to have moved on. They asked for a double/triple date, but MC deflects bc who knows when CB will be in town.

MC mentions this to CB in passing.

Midpoint - Next time, MC visits CBs ship. It’s a good visit. Overall a positive experience. There is some real-ness to life aboard the ship.

Cabaji shows unicycling, meet Mohji and Richie, CB shows off knife throwing (maybe a contest between him and Cabaji, CB wins and Cabaji says at least he’s better at unicycling)

Buggy helps rig the new sails

Pirates swap stories. Talking about what it was like adjusting to life on the ship, but how amazing it is. All the sights and experiences. She has stars in her eyes while listening. Her mind sketching images of what’s being described. She’s even comfortable talking about her dad.

How do you tell your fake bf that you're nervous near him because you're starting to fall for him?

MC likes seeing CBs swagger and how his crew adores him. CB puts his hand on her shoulder and kneads.

She stays overnight (one bed), CB doesn’t sleep.

Chapter 8

Bad Guys Close In - As MC leaves, she’s accosted by pirate thugs, who notice she’s been hanging around CB.

Maybe they think she’s a sex worker? Sugar baby? She tries to say that’s not it, then they think she must be something more special. They could probably get a ransom.

Chop chop Buggy comes in to save the day. Or CB throws a knife, trapping them. CB walks her back home, tries to make it seem light hearted, doesn’t want MC to be too afraid.

MC is a bit unphased since pirates are always visiting.

MC kisses CB goodbye on the cheek. “Could you try that again?” “Better?” “Yeah…”

Chapter 9

All is Lost - Break up because CB is afraid MC will become a target. CB breaks up with YN, afraid of putting her in danger.

Even though CB dealt with those other pirates, that doesn’t mean there won’t be others 

He doesn’t want to put her in danger any longer. Besides, the guys she was avoiding seem to have moved on.

MC asks if he found someone else, something more fun, feels cruel because they don't really think that's what's happening.

I guess my expectations were too high.

Dark of the Night - MC storms back and hands off the map. "A deal’s a deal and I don’t want to be in debt to a pirate."

Wrapped around the map is her bracelet.

Chapter 10

Dark of the Night - Why does CB change his mind? - He reads a letter on the back of the map and realizes he should give it back to MC.

Break into Three - CB's waiting for her at the party. A deal’s a deal. He also gives back the map and leaves.

MC probably talking with the art shop owner:"He likes you, I can tell by how he looks at you." "How does he look at me?"

"You think he's really waiting for me?"

Finale - MC reads the note on the map and runs to the dock for CB. 

Note, from dad: “My dearest seashell, I thought being a pirate was how I could see the world, but then you came along and I saw the world through your eyes. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift anyone could ask for. I hope that one day, you find your key to the world.”

CBs not there? He’s by the wading pools, looking at the moon and drinking alone.

CB moping

How long do you think it’ll take for this to become a memory? Do you think you’ll forget about me?

They wanted to be touched, to be missed, to be loved. Was that too much to ask for?

He’s wearing both bracelets.

"Why did you come back?" "Because that belongs to you, it has your name on it."

"Bullshit, Buggy. You’re a pirate. A treasure hunter. Why did you really come back?"

"Why do you think?"

"You actually wanted to go to the festival?"

"That’s not what I want."

Anguished declaration of love - confessing love during a moment of angst

"I don’t want to stay here anymore. I want to leave. I want to draw the world you see."

MC is steadfast and waits for Buggy to respond. “I want that too.”

Big romantic kiss

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Do you want to?"

"Yes, you have no idea how much I've thought about this."

[danandphillussy]

Boygenius, meet Boygenius.

Erm a really really short Spencer blurb that i thought of the other day. I wanna be able to show him new things and force him to listen to my music... sigh. Probably will do a part 2 of his reaction, if only to feed my own delusions. Anyways :3

Word count: 672

Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff and my horrible writing!

“So boygenius, you ever heard of Boygenius?” 

It was a paperwork day; quiet, boring (and quite frankly miserable). Even cool FBI profilers had paperwork, and it was just as tedious as finding a needle in a stack of other needles. Hotch was locked away in his office and the rest of the team were all working at their desks. 

But you, you’ve had enough. It’s been hours since you’ve heard anyone's voice other than the one in your head repeatedly screaming at how boring this is. As Reid is the one closest to you, sharing an opposite desk, you decide to annoy him for at least a little fun. He looks up from the stack of papers he was working on-

 “Huh?” 

“I know your head is buried 6 ft under a rock when it comes to pop culture, but surely the boygenius has heard of Boygenius.” 

You smirked knowing how the gears in his head were probably spinning crazy right now. He never understood a damn thing you were saying, it was endearing really, the way he would look at you and tilt his head in confusion. When you had first met him, you truly didn’t understand the magnitude of his gap in knowledge. He was the smartest person in every room, surely he’ll understand this niche reference… nope. He just stared at you blankly when you tried to make a joke about the latest internet drama and you very quickly learnt that this man only had a phone to text people. Not even a private instagram account to stalk people on. At first, you found it strange and wondered how the hell he kept up with the world. When you found out he still reads the daily newspaper you had to excuse yourself from the room and take a walk before you exploded. So adorable. His confused voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I’m assuming you may be talking about a musical artist, in which case no… you know that.” 

He sounded embarrassed, as he always did when he failed to understand your references or miss a joke. You never intended to make him feel that way, it was just so easy to tease him when most of it went over his head. 

“Well, we indeed must fix this issue as soon as humanly possible… you free tonight?” 

You have to muster up more courage than you have when talking to Reid, knowing he’s far too awkward or nervous to say anything ever. So you put on an act in hopes that he or the rest of the team can't see right through you. But it seems to be working when he is much too busy trying to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks and act casual. 

“Uh… yes I am not doing anything of importance tonight. Why exactly?”

“Because you are coming over to my place and I am introducing you to Boygenius aka the best band to ever exist.” 

You trail off before remembering yourself…

“Only if you want… of course.” 

You begin to think he’s trying to find a way to kindly refuse your offer, the way his eyes are darting around the bullpen with his fingers nervously twisting together before he blurts out-

“That would be great! I mean, yeah sounds good. Do you want me to come straight from work or…”

“You can just come home with me, probably easier. You’re gonna love them, don't worry.”

Satisfied with your conversation, you turn back to your computer and try to ignore the racing of your heart. The work is still as boring as it was before but now you have something to look forward to. The shine in Spencer's eyes when he discovers something new and the part of his lips as he immerses himself in whatever music you’re forcing him to listen to. You have to force the smile off of your face before anyone notices and god forbid puts two and two together…

You are hopelessly in love with the BAU’s boygenius.

[astroreoreoreoreoreoreoreo]

FOR REFERENCE: 

@ stabberryy → Fugo

@ staborangee → Narancia

@ supermegaluckyniceguy → Mista

@ b.bucciarati → Bucciarati 

@ abbacchio1 → Abbacchio

@ giolikesbugs → Giorno

@ unaduetrishquattro → Trish

TEAM GC 

supermegaluckyniceguy: what if instead of fortnite it was called frotnite and we all started frotting

stabberryy: What?

giolikesbugs: ????

Reminder that this is a work group chat, strictly for work purposes.

:b.bucciarati

staborangee: Idk I kinda wanna group frot

unaduetrishquattro:  i can't believe i'm the first to ask.

unaduetrishquattro: what is frotting

stabberryy: Just looked it up. I'm going to give Nara the benefit of the doubt and assume he didn't know what it meant (or that it was a real word)

stabberryy: Mista stop being gross

unaduetrishquattro: BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN

staborangee: I mean Trish can't participate anyway

unaduetrishquattro:  what? why

stabberryy: You don't wanna know.

giolikesbugs: I do :(

stabberryy: I promise you don't…

staborangee: LOL I know what it means and you guys don't :P 

stabberryy: so you're a weirdo too. Congrats 

staborangee:

stabberryy: Bruno can you do something about this

Mista don't make sex jokes :b.bucciarati

giolikesbugs: so this is about sex, somehow. Ok

staborangee: aren't you supposed to know everything, Fugo? How come you don't know what frotting is

stabberryy: One- I'm not an adult

stabberryy: Two- My parents never gave me the Talk

stabberryy: Three-  I'M NOT FUCKING GAY

supermegaluckyniceguy: bro threw in a fun fact

giolikesbugs: ok so it's gay .

staborangee: I'm not gay either you're just stupid LOL

stabberryy: kys

staborangee: you first :P

unaduetrishquattro: oh my god nvm I don't wanna know

unaduetrishquattro: also Fugo your parents didn't give you the Talk?

stabberryy: No. My parents didn't fucking “talk” to me

giolikesbugs: I think I know what it is. Fugo I will get answers out of you

unaduetrishquattro: wait come tell me once you've got them

stabberryy: I'M NOT TELLING YOU YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

giolikesbugs: you won't need to “tell” me. I will know by your face :)

giolikesbugs: also Trish I thought you didn't want to know?

unaduetrishquattro: I changed my mind. I don't want to not know

stabberryy: Why. Why do you want to know

stabberryy: Do you have some bizarre desire to be as disgusted with Mista as I am right now.

unaduetrishquattro: I'm always disgusted with Mista

supermegaluckyniceguy: what the fuck guys :(

stabberryy: I DON’T WANNA FUCKING HEAR IT

giolikesbugs: oh dear

stabberryy: YOU KNOW HOW EASY IT WOULD’VE BEEN TO KEEP YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH SHUT???

stabberryy: BUT NOOOOOO 

stabberryy: HEAVEN FUCKING FORBID 

supermegaluckyniceguy: it is not that deep my guy

stabberryy: I’M SICK OF YOUR SHIT

stabberryy: YOU AND YOUR FUCKING FROTTING

staborangee: Bruno help

No. He's right :b.bucciarati

abbacchio1: Fugo. shut the fuck up

  Abbacchio. :b.bucciarati

abbacchio1: your kids are blowing up my phone. I'm trying to actually work here

You're right, sorry. Fugo stop blowing up Abbacchio’s phone

:b.bucciarati

stabberryy: WHY ONLY ME

staborangee:

supermegaluckyniceguy:

@ stabberryy has left.  

giolikesbugs: I'm going to go calm him down. And ask him if I'm right about frotting

unaduetrishquattro: you probably shouldn't 

giolikesbugs: but I want to know?

unaduetrishquattro:  yes and we want you to survive 

giolikesbugs: I think I can beat Fugo in a fight

staborangee: no the fuck you cant 

supermegaluckyniceguy: what he said

giolikesbugs: No 

@ giolikesbugs has left.

supermegaluckyniceguy: bro just said “no” and left. that's crazy

unaduetrishquattro: rip giogio it was nice knowing him :(

staborangee: if he dies i'm taking his room 

supermegaluckyniceguy: wtf no i want his room

staborangee: ahh too late. go fuck yourself 🤣

abbacchio1: please shut the fuck up. everyone

unaduetrishquattro: just turn your phone off 🙄

abbacchio1:  no. I need it to communicate

abbacchio1: aren't you all in the same goddamn house right now?? just go talk to each other 

abbacchio1:  pretend it's 1856 or whatever it is

supermegaluckyniceguy: m'lord is ailed with only the most disastrous of ailments- ligma 

abbacchio1: I'll kill you in your sleep. when you wake up on the roof in the middle of the night you'll know who put you up there

unaduetrishquattro: oh my god???

supermegaluckyniceguy: fine I’ll stop talking damn 

abbacchio1: that's better 

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

Meanwhile:

Fugo (currently being restrained by a bunch of vines): you can't get me to tell you >:(

Gio: I don't like repeating myself. 

Fugo: From my face, you said? You'll know from my face? Hah!

Gio: Yes. you usually make a face when you're talking about something that embarrasses or disgusts you. this does both of those things

Fugo: Fine. Then I won't let you see my face!

He covers his face with his hands.

Gio: …

Gio turns his shirt into butterflies. On instinct, Fugo drops his hands to cover his chest.

Fugo: GIVE ME MY SHIRT BACK WHAT THE FUCK

Gio: In a moment. First- 

Gio:

Fugo’s face gets really red. He looks disgusted and embarrassed. 

Gio: ok cool i'm right. thank you for your help

The shirt is restored. Fugo is still very unhappy.

Fugo: whatever. leave me alone

Gio: ok :)

Gio leaves to go talk to Trish.

Trish: did you fucking stand battle him???

Gio: yeah kind of. anyway I got the answer

He tells her.

Trish: oh my god that's disgusting I wish I never knew

Gio: yeah Fugo was right I feel rather violated

Gio: I'm gonna go apologize to him

Trish: can I come with you

Trish: I don't wanna be with Narancia and Mista they're being too gross for me

Gio: Sure ok

They go apologize to Fugo. He’s still annoyed but he recovers fairly quickly and they go play Uno or something. Yay the end. 

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

I can’t believe I wrote this much because of a stupid tweet on the internet. I can’t even find the tweet now. This is ridiculous…………………………………………………………

[girlfromflor]

Hello, could you possibly write a osamu miya x reader fic (or idk how you call it) ? For the scenario i don’t really know, but could the reader be rather quiet, reserved but not shy (if that makes sense) has hard time expressing themselves/their emotions, like quite bad at feelings. And could the characters just be asexual please? Anyway, hope you have a nice day

hello, anon! thanks for the request. i hope it meets up with your expectations. if it doesn't, let me know.

wc: 688 | tw: gn!reader and implies jealousy |

being reserved was how most people referred to you. not in a mean way, really, it was just a fact. you liked doing things on your own, were mostly unbothered by other’s opinions of you and never really needed to explain yourself and your actions – it was easy to understand what you meant, usually you were very forward. but not when it came to feelings, however. 

not that you were apathetic to everything, you had friends and did have fun with them and got angry at them - mostly at atsumu for joking so much about you and osamu -, you even missed them sometimes. but it’s not like you could express all of it. it was hard to understand why people cared so much about so many things you usually didn’t. you liked to keep things simple, but sometimes it was so hard to understand what others felt, and why they felt it. but not osamu, though.

you grew up with the miya twins, they were your neighbors and honestly very fun to have around. you and osamu were very fond of each other too, not that it mattered – you were together all the time anyway. he usually understood things faster and for you that was a blessing – you never needed to say things twice –, while atsumu always seemed to misread you somehow. it wasn’t rare to see osamu explaining something so obvious - like the bond you shared - to atsumu, simply because you couldn’t. you had the worst time trying to figure it all out, and it was even worse to try and explain it to someone else. 

you didn’t felt like you had to explain things to osamu, usually he read you very well. he didn’t ask if you were ok, if you were sad nor did he pressured you to elaborate your feelings for him. he knew you wouldn’t know how to talk about it anyway. and it was okay, really. one day he just rubbed your back out of nowhere, kissed your forehead and said “you know, i was surprised that you weren’t rude with that guy earlier today.” 

“what, why?” you had your brows furrowed, confused as to why he was comforting you for no reason – you too were just sitting together at his backyard, talking and joking sometimes after buying ice creams at the store near your houses. you heard his laugh, but didn’t register what was so funny. “i’m confused. why are you laughing?” he was amused to say the least. “he was hitting on you, are you kidding?” he went to touch your hands, only to be greeted with your cold touch. “they’re cold, do you want my jacket?”

you didn’t know how he could jump from topic to topic. “no, i’m okay. thanks, though” you answered. but still didn’t understand what he was talking about “what do you mean he was hitting on me? where did you get that from?” you asked, quite confused still. you heard him laugh harder, you yourself let a smile rest on your face, it was quite funny – all of it. “i should’ve known you hadn’t realized. you were being so blunt i had to tell the guy you were just quiet.” you laughed, thinking that – of all things – osamu wasn’t jealous or whatever.

“weren’t you jealous?” it came out eager, but you were actually curious, trying to understand him better – maybe one day you will read him like he does you. he looked like he was about to explode, red ears and shy smile. “well, not really, no” but you still had a questioning look in your eyes “you were clearly oblivious to his advances, and the whole time you were looking at me. i don’t think i will ever be insecure about us” you nodded, kind of not understanding still. so jealousy comes with insecurities? you were not one to be jealous anyway, when you were it was masked with anxiety too, so you never really knew. but it didn’t matter, you knew you could always ask osamu how he felt – he would always be honest with you, even if you didn’t understand at first.

[yuechihua]

Imagine if Harumasa and reader decided to swap their bangboos for a day just for fun (he suggested it-) and it goes how you can expect it just like in your fic; Harumasa getting ignored by reader's bangboo with him chasing it around to pet it or something meanwhile reader can barely do anything without Asaboo clinging to their leg.

But what if Harumasa got sick during that time?

How do you think he'd react if he took some meds and decided to rest for a while because he's feeling terrible, only to wake up to reader's bangboo just worriedly looking at him with some painkillers, fresh meal on a tray beside him and such? (dunno if bangboo can cook but assuming they can-) more of nonchalant-looking-reader saga!!!

I love your work btw.... Please don't forget to take care of yourself too <33

Thank you so much for your well-wishes, anon <3 I hope you take care of yourself, too!

Anyways, this is an absolutely adorable idea!!! I really love the idea of Harumasa and reader switching Bangboos, and how reader's Bangboo keeps ignoring him while Asaboo is just super attached as usual, haha. Chaos reigns in the Section Six office....

I also think Harumasa, if he was really feeling poorly and reader's Bangboo was trying to take care of him, might not register what he's seeing at first. He probably doesn't have the strength for his usual jokes, but he'd still try to tell it that he's fine and it's worse than it looks.

But if reader's Bangboo still persists in bringing him medicine, in making food for him that's easy on the stomach (I assume Bangboos can cook because Butler can? lol), or even just putting a cold compress on his head, I think he'd let it. It's easier to accept the care of a machine rather than let one of the other Section Six members see him this sick.

I imagine reader's Bangboo would let Harumasa cuddle or pat it as much as he wants! I think he's aware of how reader feels about him, but it's still a nice affirmation that they care for him. And it's just a quiet, tender little moment that Harumasa doesn't really bring up to reader, other than to vaguely reference "how cute their Bangboo can be" and how "they must think about him a lot" in order to tease them LOL

[saelterlude]

Curious about the lc musical cast heights? No? Well here's a very questionable ranking of the CXS and LG actor from tol to avereg to shmol.

(I swear it was a joke, but then @sgdlr-asdfghjkl took it seriously, and then I took it even more seriously, and now here we are)

Disclaimer! I have no ill intent in making this ranking, all the actors are great. I was just presented with a challenge I can't deny. Also, once again reiterating that these are very QUESTIONABLE.

Without further ado, Rankings!

Teng Chunpeng

Wang Minhui

Ji Xiaokun

Wang Yifei

Cai Qi

Guo Hongxu

Wu Yihan

Ding Xingchen

Cao Muzhi

Bai Zhuoming

Jing Yanqiao

Shu Rongbo

Du Guangyi

Zhu Hanbin

Read how I determine the ranking under the cut.

Take note that most of these were done before February 16, so it's mostly using information/clips prior to the new year's break.

So the first thing I did was made this bipartite graph to show which actors have been paired with who. (Ignore the color-coding, it was for an abandoned plan. Also, pre 16/02)

Cheng Xiaoshi actors on the left and Lu Guang actors on the right.

One thing you might notice, is that some actors have been paired with more actors than others. Such as SRB who have been paired with 4 LG actors, thus I will use him as my initial point of reference.

(If anyone asks, why not DGY with 5 pairs? That's only 56% of the CXS actors, meanwhile SRB got 80% of the LG actors. Also, I have a lot of easy to access SRB clips.)

Then I carefully overlay multiple screenshots of SRB with LG actors to rank them, adding both a DGY-DXC duo and a ZHB-DXC duo so I can finish ranking the LG actors.

Here's an example, comparison of WMH and DGY referenced to SRB.

Next is probably the most accurate and logical part. You know those old math puzzles where you go: A<B, and B<C, that means A<C? Yeah, I did that but with 14 variables (the actors) and 18 conditional statements (the pairings).

If you want to try it out yourself, here you go. Have fun! (again, pre 16/02)

With these, I can roughly guess most of their ranking. Then I use more overlaying photos on top of another to complete and get the ranking you see up top.

That said, let me highlight some problems I faced.

I tried my best, but keep in mind camera angles, video quality, actors' postures, shoes/sole thickness, fluffy hair. This is why the overlaying method is unreliable and this ranking is questionable.

I considered using the photo wall (the one with the donghua shiguang scene, that separated the back and the front studio set) as a point of reference, but I can't determined how far away each actor stood from it.

So i mostly took reference from the final part of 'Guiding Light' where they stood in a line or when theyre standing on the table (rock paper scissors and that song's ending)

Contrary to what it might seem, I didn't use much effort doing this legit (Could've literally asked any Chinese fan for help finding their height but I didn't). So yeah another reminder. THIS IS QUESTIONABLE AND UNRELIABLE.

That said, WMH is apparently 188cm tall (lol he's so tall and cool, he intimidates me)

CMZ, WYF, and JYQ is a problem because they've only been paired with the shortest LGs and they're all taller than that LG. Without overlaying, literally could be anywhere from rank 11 up. Even then I only have 1 reference point, ZHB.

Thank god for 16/02/2024 (very fun, they mix well) performance between WYF and DGY.

CQ originally have this problem too but he performed with WYH on 17/02/2024 (very good perf, will be on my next list) so that helped a lot.

JXK too have only ever performed with GHX which means when I have to compare him to WMH and TCP, the shortest path is 3/4 long, which makes the overlaying even more unreliable.

So yeah, it was really unreliable compared to me ranking all the LG to SRB, who's shortest path is only 2 (3 for ZHB)

ZHB and DGY is really close in height, I have to compare both of them to both DXC and CMZ to find who's shorter.

DXC and WYH have the same problem too, so I watched a lot of their clips from multiple angles to find who's taller.

I can't believe you argued DXC is shmoler than SRB, even BZM is smoller.

That said; WYH, DXC, BZM, CMZ are all so close in height it could very much be interchangeable.

Same with WMH and JXK.

For the love of god, JYQ is a PROBLEM. There's barely any performances much less clips of him so it's hard to find one that fits my requirements (Which is a shame, I like his voice and he's cute. Thank god he post on weibo often). In the end, I have to eyeball it so feel free to question his ranking even more so than the others.

The top 4 (top 6 even) is really easy though, they really are just that tall and easy to rank.

There's a very clear, undeniable, drop in height between rank 3-5, JXK and GHX, as well as between rank 6-7, CQ and WYH.

I know there's a lot of CXS actors in the bottom half but I think if you average them, LG is still shorter bcs WMH is a frickin outlier and the others are average.

Anyway, that concludes this (I swear, I'm very sane) post.

Mild congratulations to Wu Yihan, Ding Xingchen, Bai Zhuoming, and Cao Muzhi for being the very avereg.

Little congratulations to Zhu Hanbin and Shu Rongbo for being shmol, with special mentions goes to Du Guangyi.

Big congratulations to Wang Minhui and Teng Chunpeng for being tol, with special mentions goes to Ji Xiaokun.