#and just to be clear Jesse is the bottom here

[puppy-bird]

I need to fuck Jesse Pinkman while Gus watches, fully clothed, no reaction other than a slight smile of approval

[kenyummy]

✰ 01. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 01. sparkless life.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: guys i couldnt resist posting criesssss . also master is used as a gender neutral term!!!! couldn't be bothered to put master/mistress every time so

prev. ✰ masterlist. ✰ next.

When you wake up, your eyes are permeated by a hard light. Your eyes are squinted hard and you're having a difficult time getting your eyes to focus.

Your brain is fuzzy and feels like melted candy in your head. What was going on, again...? This bed... it's really comfy. It's like laying on a bed made of clouds, fairy dust, and your hopes and dreams.

(Nothing like your lumpy mattress back home... May told you it built character.)

You reach your hand up, to try and block out the harsh glare directed right into your retina. It dims in a second, and for a moment—you think you've finally developed mutant powers of telekinesis. You sit up—only to discover you were not actually the one who turned off said lights.

"Apologies, Master [name]." An older man with a distinct British accent stands in the door—a few feet away from the bed you're resting on. "I did not realise you had awoken already. I would've turned down the lights, if I was aware."

You blink, surveying the room around you. It's big. Unfamiliar, as well. Modern. Really big. Wait, did he just call you—

"Master [name]?" Your mouth moves faster than your mind, and your brows furrow deep. "What... where am I?"

The older man looks genuinely puzzled at how defensive your stance is. "Oh dear. Perhaps you did end up getting lead poisoning. Or a concussion. ... No matter. This recent amnesia is common within traumatic injuries."

He clears his throat with strict elegance and straightens his posture, "[name]. I believe you were attacked in an alleyway, when your brother found you. You were in the hospital for a few days, and brought back here—back home—this morning. You're currently in one of your father's guest rooms. The doctors said you were healing miraculously fast."

You hiss lowly. You really hope they hadn't gotten a blood sample—you haven't had the best of experiences with people getting your blood.

"You seem to be alright now. A bit..." He looks at your exposed, scarred shoulders. "Scuffed up—but better than when Master Jason had found you."

Your brother... Jason...? Who even...?

What's going on here?

Your heart seems to skip a beat as the calculations start going off in your head. A world you had never heard of... a place you'd never seen before—perhaps you weren't on a different world, and like you had suspected... it was definetly some multiverse shenanigans again.

You knew you should've made Jess take that mission instead of you. Damn. You and your dumb rivalry with Doc.

But you couldn't understand why this random man knows you. He speaks as if you've lived a life with him—like he's known you since...

You chew down on your bottom lip. "... This is... my home. I live here, don't I...?"

You play with words cautiously, speaking slow and methodical. It only serves to confuse the man even further.

"Yes, you... do? Master [name], perhaps you should go back to the hospital. You're sounding rather frazzled—"

You almost jump up, out of the sheets, "Uh—no! I... I'm fine. My head's just a bit... messed up right now. Sorry."

It's not—after that flashbang, you're feeling fine. Your shoulder only burns with a stretch whenever you put too much pressure on it—but you're completely okay otherwise. But you don't think you should let him know that just yet.

"If you insist, Master [name]." He bows his head. "Do you require any further assistance?"

You blink, considering your choices.

Eventually, you land on the safest option. Search your surroundings. Find out what's going on here before going all Spider-ham on them. For all you know—they're super skrulls waiting for the right moment to strike. You need to be smart about this.

"Yes... I would like to go to my room... could you... walk me there?" You don't meet his stern gaze. "I'm not sure I'm able to walk on my own two feet just yet. I'm sorry."

You don't see how his stare softens at your words. "Of course, Master [name]."

He walks over to the edge of the bed and steadies you with a hand on your shoulder as you shakily stumble out of the bed. It's bouncy enough to launch you forward slightly—and it takes every muscle in your body to stop your Spidey-instincts from taking over and jumping backwards.

He slips your arm within his and steadies you as you both slowly walk out of the large guest room. If this was a guest room—you wonder what your room looked like.

The hallways weren't anything to sneeze at, either. Decorated with contemporary art pieces—sleek and so shiny you could see your face in the tiles below your bare feet. You felt so out of place—the civilian clothes you sported since you got here still dressed your body, and it wasn't even close to fitting in.

As you stumble down the halls with a bit of overdramacy, a man suddenly appears from around a corner. Deep black hair and the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. His smile is wide and he waves enthusiastically, "Hey, Alfred! I got back from Blüdhaven after uh—I heard what happened."

"Hello, Master Dick. It's lovely to see you back home again." Alfred nods his head. The man in question—Dick, apparently, which makes the immature teen in you giggle—gives you a sorrowful expression.

But... doesn't say anything past that. He continues small talk with Alfred—and you're left propped up in the older man's arms with a lost expression.

Did he... just blow you off?

One—that was pretty rude. Two, did he not just say he came back after he heard what happened? Not to toot your own horn or anything—but you'd assume being shot kind of counts as a "what happened".

You press your lips firmly together. This was getting awkward for you, especially seeing how comfortable this huge Dick (yeah, you're taking it and running with it) seemed to be with leaving this sickly, wounded (maybe you're being a tad dramatic) person to stumble like a baby fawn, in silence.

Alfred, however—catches sight of your one-sided tension, and abruptly ends his conversation. "My apologies, Master Dick, but I must help [name] to their room. I would love to continue this conversation at a later date."

"Oh yeah, no sweat, Alfred." He gives the older man a gleeful thumbs up. Then, his eyes meet yours. "Get better soon, okay?"

You avert his stare and only nod in response. Well, at least he noticed you were there. You're still in mild shock, but you somehow manage to keep a pleasant expression. With one last small smile, Dick walks away—where, you don't really care about.

Alfred slowly helps you up a flight of stairs. He only breaks the silence after you find yourself standing in front of a room with a faded name on it. Your name. "... All these years, and only now, you've suddenly changed. I wonder..."

His words are cryptic, but his expression even more so. What was he talking about? "... Huh?"

A small smile fades on his face. "Ah... no. It's nothing. I was thinking out loud. Call me if you need anything else, Master [name]. I am at your service. And please... get better soon."

Somehow, it sounds nicer when he says it. You smile a little, and give him a nod.

"Thank you..." You test out his name on your tongue. It feels natural. "Alfred. I'll try my best."

He leaves with a curt nod and not another word. You finally slide the door open, and take a look around.

You step inside, and it's like you've entered a whole new world, again.

It's... small. Not by regular standards—it's almost double the size of your room at home—but compared to a guest bedroom in this overly massive home... it's rather small. Like a closet, more than a bedroom.

It's empty, too. Your room at home is decorated with posters and trinkets of your favourite shows, pictures of you with Harry and MJ (sometimes even the four), and memorable items you've collected with your friends and family over the years.

Memories. You had memories.

There is nothing here.

It's like you're standing in a blank slate—in a world where you are nothing and yet everything you've ever had. It sends a chill down your spine.

You walk barefoot across cold wood and take a seat on the bedsheets. Bare white with a childish print. Something a young child would use. It looks pretty scuffed up. Old. The mattress creaks under your weight and you wince.

There's a bookshelf just opposite to you. There's not much in it—in fact, it's smaller than small and is almost completely empty. There's nothing but school textbooks and thick novels. And...

It catches your eye almost immediately. A little pink slip in the midst of deep black and brown colours. You stand up—ignoring the creak that follows—and walk over to the shelf.

You slip the book out, and immediately take in its cover. Pink, and with your name in wonky cursive. It's rather dusty, as if it hadn't even been touched in years.

You flip open the cover. Big bubble letters spelling out My diary flash you and you quickly flip the page before the glitter sears into your eyelids.

The first entry is there. Exactly seven years and two months ago. It's nothing like those entries you've seen on those corny 2000's TV shows for tweens—nor is it like those aesthetic journaling girls on Pwinterest.

It's something, familiarly, you. A short clunk of text about your day, on days that had some sort of exciting event going on—something you'd undoubtedly do. It almost makes you grimace.

This whole multiverse thing might be worse than you thought.

Two days ago I moved into a new house. My mom said she couldn't take care of me anymore, and I had to live with my dad. I've never seen him until today, but he's really busy, so we don't talk much. Alfred is nice to me, and his cooking is really yummy.

There's a little sketch of a baked dinner—and despite your pre-tween art skills, it does seem rather tasty looking.

You flip the page. The next entry is a week after the last.

I still haven't talked with dad yet. But I did meet two new people. Alfred said that they're my new brothers. Mom never wanted any more babies, so I was very excited to meet them! Jason is fun to play with. He's really bad at hide and go seek, though—I always win! Dick is fun too, but he's busy a lot, like dad. But he always makes time for me and Jason. I really like it here.

There's a small picture of three stick people holding hands. One is significantly short than the other two—labelled with your name above. The one on the left to you is Jason, with black curls and a wide grin. The one on the right is labelled Dickie, much taller than the other two and with shaggy black hair.

The drawing is innocent. Cute. Wholesome, if you will. There's even heart stickers pasted (and peeling, by now) between each of your heads.

You flip the page with a small, fond smile. The next entry is three days after that one.

Dad played with me, Jason, and Dickie today. He was really bad at hide and go seek too—but Dad and Jason chased each other all around the house before I caught both of them. I was so happy I won today! Dad took us all out for dinner, even Alfred. Alfred said he only came because I always look very happy when we're together. The dinner was really yummy!!!!

The drawing underneath is a picture of what looked like a smaller version of you, standing triumphantly with a little tiara on your head.

You flip the page. This time—there's a significant gap between the dates. This was a whole 5 months after you last wrote in your diary.

I don't know where Jason is. Dad and Dickie look really sad. They've been really busy for a long time, and we don't play much anymore. The only times I see Dad is at dinner. But we don't talk. Sometimes he doesn't eat dinner, either. Alfred still puts my drawings on the fridge, and he says that Dad and Dickie are just sad now, and they'll be better soon. I miss Jason. I want him back home.

There's no silly-looking drawing to go underneath this entry. This Jason—apparently the man who saved you—seemed rather fun-loving, despite whatever happened to him. You wonder what it was.

You flip the page, again. This entry was 3 months after the last.

I miss Dad, and Dickie. Dickie told me he had to go away for a bit, because he has something important to do somewhere else. Dad is busy all the time. I haven't seen him in 4 days. I don't play with anyone but Alfred now, but he's not that fun to play with, because he's so serious all the time. Dad tells me to go on my iPad and not bother Alfred when I'm bored, but I miss them.

Next one is 2 days after.

I met a new boy today. Dad told me he's my new brother. I was pretty excited because he's my age. But he didn't want to talk to me. He said he was too caught up in important stuff, and that I should just come back later. But he looked real annoyed when saying it—so I didn't come back. He didn't say anything, so I don't think he cared.

A week later.

My dad is Batman, and my new brother is Robin. I'm freaking out. He never told me—I saw them sneaking out one day and I got really mad. Why didn't he tell me? Did Dickie and Jason know? Was I the only one who didn't? Tim got mad at me when I started yelling. I felt really sad so I hid in my room to get away from them. I've been here since. Alfred brought me dinner, but I'm not hungry.

So... this Batman who you saw before, is actually your dad? In this world, this is your father? You almost drop the diary in shock, but you can't tear your eyes away. You can't stop reading.

The next few entries don't catch your eye—it's all teen angst about how you're sick of how busy your dad is, how annoying Tim can be, how Dick won't even visit your room anymore—until something else catches your eye.

3 years later.

Jason is back. He's back home. I don't know why, but he's back. I was so excited to see him again—everyone else has become so busy and won't even talk to me. Nobody else has time for me, but Jason did. But he looked different. He's way older than me, now. He won't even look at me. I tried to hug him but he just put a mask on and walked away. Why is everyone doing this to me? What did I do? It's not fair.

Your writing grows into chicken scratch near the end—as if conveying your frustration. You skim through a few more entries. More teen angst. More about how you can't even hold a conversation with your siblings anymore.

Some were sweet, like how you met some people, unnamed, and treasured their friendship so deeply, but they were few and far between.

I met a girl today. She's my sister now. Her name is Cassandra, and she has very pretty eyes. I tried to talk to her, but dad got pretty mad at me because apparently she doesn't like to talk much. How was I supposed to know that? She didn't even look at me as dad pulled her away. Who even is she? Why does my dad like her better than me? Why does he like them all better than me? It's not fair.

You're bitter. You're upset, and so, so bitter. It's so abundantly clear that as time went on, you became progressively more and more spiteful. It was rather sad to watch.

This stupid little kid tried to kill me. Claimed I was unworthy. I couldn't give less of a shit what he thinks—but my family couldn't give less of a shit about me. They said he's troubled, that he needs patience.

The new few words were less than family friendly. Unkind? Definitely. Deserved? Possibly.

I can't believe this. I'm so sick of this. I want to get out. I can't take this anymore. Jason kills people now, but Bruce still loves him. Even Steph and Babs get more love from Bruce than me. They're not even in the family, but they're better. Because they're superheroes, they're better. Maybe I'll be a hero myself. Maybe then, they'll see me.

You flip the page. That's the last entry. The last page of the book—but behind it, there's a page made of sticky notes on the back cover. Your eyes widen in shock at what you see.

It's all...

"Spidey," you read out the name atop this pasted page in a low whisper.

Your fingertips trace over the detailed drawings. Your costume. Though not made of nanotech—the suit was intricately designed with spider patterns falling all around your arms and legs, with a large spider torso. It looked somewhat like Silk's suit.

Web shooters, with thorough calculations on how much you'd have to bulk up to swing without taking your arm off (which, by what you're reading, was humanly impossible for a regular you), and detailed explanations on what the web fluid was made out of.

More environmentally sustainable than your ones. You'd have to take these notes back home.

It wasn't like your family would go looking—you can't help but think, chewing on your cheek. This was incredible. You must've been a real genius to figure all this out.

Back home, you had Reed and Tony help you with all your spider stuff. Sure, you were the one who came up with all the base ideas and constructed it all yourself—but they helped out a lot with all the technicalities. But to come up with something like, from what you can tell, all on your own...

It was nothing short of incredible. And your family had no idea.

You snap the book shut, eyes narrowing down at the ground. Your Aunt May never would've treated you like this—and if you were correct, this other you must be with your aunt right now.

Good for them, you think. Maybe they'd be happier there, anyway.

A sudden knock at your door brings you out of your stupor. You slip the book away quickly as Alfred opens the door, bowing his head slightly. "Master [name], dinner is ready. If you're feeling better, please come down."

The prospect of a family dinner leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, especially after all you've read from this diary. No matter. You don't know how this you behaved before, but you have bigger issues to deal with than becoming a copy of this sad child.

But despite everything... Alfred really did seem to care for them—for you. You nod, smoothing out your cami. "Thanks. Let's go."

You and he both head down the stairs, and you finally come face to face with the family you've heard so much about.

They're all grinning from ear-to-ear, laughing about something that "happened on patrol" as you take a seat at the end of the table—beside a blonde girl who you think was called Stephanie—chewing on the food.

It was good. Really good. Almost as good as Aunt May's meatloaf. The thought makes you feel a little homesick, but you persevere. The hard glare given to you across the table by this small kid (definitely Damian) isn't helping, though.

Dick catches the look and follows his little brothers gaze to you. He doesn't say anything about it—only ruffles the boy's hair, chuckling, and asks why he seems so glum. The child hisses and starts trying to stab the man with a steak knife, to no avail—of course.

That was the last time you were even glanced at for the rest of the dinner. You almost can't believe it. How could somebody really fade into the background like that? How could such a family let it happen?

How could they be so ignorant? You lose your appetite soon enough, and stand up. The chatter dies down for a second. Stephanie—being the closest toward you, gives you an uncomfortable smile, "Are you not going to finish? You were out for a while... you need energy to get back up and do..."

Whatever it is you do at home, you guess that's probably what she was thinking. Who said you hadn't gotten a telepathic mutation?

She doesn't finish her sentence. You'd just met these people and already you were sick of this. Seriously, you don't think you could get any more uncomfortable if somebody strapped you to a chair and tossed you down a dark well.

You miss the most fantastic of fours you know. They'd never do this to you. Sue was far too sweet.

You shake your head, plate held tight in your hand. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. There's much more important things out there in Gotham, isn't there? Besides—I have more than enough time to heal. Not like I'm doing any hero stuff, huh?"

Your laugh lacks any kind of humour, and you walk out in your typical Spidey fashion. The chatter doesn't spike up for a good ten minutes until after you leave.

You meet Alfred in the kitchen, and he's doing countless dishes alone. There's a stack of plates almost as tall as he is. You roll up your sleeves.

He gives you a confused look. "Master [name]? I have told you before, you—"

"I don't care what you told me." You say, suddenly—but you backtrack when you realise how flat your tone was. Cheeks flushed, you correct yourself, "Ah—sorry. I meant... I don't care what you told me, because it doesn't matter if you don't want help... I'll offer it anyway, you know? I can't help it. It's how I am."

It's why I'm Spidey. Not because I have powers. Not because I'm good at swinging around. Not even because the costume is awesome.

It's because you can't help but help others. You have the power to do so—now it's your responsibility.

You take a sponge, and douse it in dishwashing liquid. You scrub down a porcelain plate beside Alfred in silence.

The pensive look on his face was now replaced by a small, fond smile.

we getting into the typical diary entry stuff okokokkkk but. love interests next chapter. smirks let me cook!!!@

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[limerlove]

WITH GIN IN JULY

❝ ABBY ANDERSON!ONE SHOT ❞

ෆ | pairing. enemies to lovers!abby x female!reader

abby anderson? she's a fucking nightmare. with everyone in her back pocket, she adores all. the golden girl, but to you she's just the asshole not to be trifled with. a kind heart to everyone, except you. you hate her and she hates you. what could possibly change that?

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: 3k wc. smut, oral sex, fingering, no strap so stop complaining ♡ (this is a joke don’t attack me), a lot of fucks said, enemies to lovers, me being in love with abby, yk there’s a recession when i’m throwing fluff in a fic. okay, ray. shut up.

Apprehension runs cold in her veins, ice for blood with a small throttle for a pump — she’s a fucking nightmare wrapped in a devil’s daydream.

To everyone else, she's the perfectly nice, perfectly fine girl. The two of you introduced to one another in the first week of July, the weekend of the forth. All of your friends raved about how kind Abby is, a heart of gold, is what they all said.

In all honesty, you had even been thrilled to meet her. You love your little group of friends, the family you never had but fuck are you sorely disappointed by blonde-brute.

She was anything but kind. Intentional malice laced in her deviously-blue eyes from the first time you met. As time went on, so did Abby's growing irritation. Even as the heat blossomed, she still managed to root her cruelness in rich soil.

"I just don't know what everyone sees in her! She's so mean, all the time, she's barely even human."

And here she is, simmering in the pool with her stupid cocktail and that damn gleeful smile. She taunts, under the radar of everyone else, always making you look like the monster with one evil eye and talons for hands.

“You don’t think you’re making all this up just because—” Jesse trails off but your fury is lasered on to her, not letting up for a single moment.

“Not think, I know." Continuing to rail off your tangent as you see her being warm and fuzzy with everyone else except you.

For fuck sake, she's like a goddamn teddy bear. You might hold her if she lets you but no one else besides you is going to know it.

You decide to cool off inside needing a cool drink in this excruciating heat. The first thing you’re met with is cool air-conditioning and cool white-marble floors, chilling your overheated body back to room temperature.

It’s much better this way, in silence where your disdain can rot like a sour pomegranate. Complete solitude could solidify the vindication you feel every time she throws another insult when no one else is listening.

As you're bent over, digging through the freezer to find your strawberry-lemonade you had placed there earlier you hear a throat being cleared.

You crane your neck just to see it’s her.

Picture perfect Abby, god, you wish you could slap that stupid grin off her pink and pretty lips. Always smirking at you like she knows something you can’t possibly be aware of.

“Need help?”

“Nope. It’s not like you were actually offering.” You’re short and sharp with her, keeping your interactions with Abby to the absolute minimum.

It’s better for everyone this way.

“I could help you out and—”

“We both know you won’t.” Finally, you find it, shoved at the bottom underneath the frozen fruit. But when you rise and turn around, your chest is practically pressed against hers.

She’s testing the waters, normally you wouldn’t be such an idiot. You would push her away, shoulder check her even. Or you would try. Abby’s hard to push around, half of her body weight must be muscle.

Between being a mechanic and her necessity to be a total gym addict, her build was stronger than pretty much everyone. With her strength, she pushes you against the fridge with her pelvis, shutting the freezer door shut with your frozen strawberry-lemonade in hand.

“Do we have a problem?” You pry as she looks like she wants to devour you from the inside out.

“What would make you say that?” She waits for you to respond as she stretches out her arm, palm resting by your head, seeing how far she could push you.

Like she always goddamn does.

“You’re here, hovering. God, you’re worse than my ex.” Trying to push her away, but Abby doesn’t even budge.

“Oh.” And for a moment, genuine interest flashes in her eyes. Clearly, you’ve gone senile. “You and her—”

Now, you’re over conscious in your lack of clothing as she bites her lip, sinking teeth into the flesh. Venomous glances find mercy in you, but you’re not sure why they’ve been replaced with longing.

“Why does it matter? Can you let me go?”

“Yeah, right, sorry.”

Abby apologizing? Weird.

—

The truce lasted for a single moment. Sympathy for a broken heart apparently had an expiration date, or a timer for less than twenty-four hours.

“Were you actually going to hit me?” Abby cocks her eyebrow, the gray in her eyes coming to life as a speck of desire crosses near her heart.

"I wasn't trying to hit you. If I wanted to, you would know."

You can't really say this was entirely her fault. Ever since the unintentional spilling of your forementioned breakup, she'd been looming over you. As if she was waiting for you to crack. All you wished was to forget any of it ever happened.

For a second, you thought she could be capable of kindness towards you and then when you tossed an orange to Ellie, it happened to hit her in the face.

"What do you want from me? What's it going to take for you to exercise one decently kind bone in your body?"

She's sizing you up in your bedroom door with the door shut, the one she chased you down in like you're a wild animal. Everyone in the room knew better than to chase either one of you. The two of you always fought like this.

And every single time, you worked it out enough to tolerate each other. But now Abby was witnessing the steam, the ultimate point of rage pushed past the point of containment.

"Me? What about you? Suddenly I'm the problem when you've been an asshole to me from day one. Day fucking one, Abigail."

You're pacing back and forth in your room, attempting to calm yourself down before you completely lose it and say something you can't come back from.

"Me? Like all of this is my fault? The first time you looked at me you decided you had to hate my guts." Abby catches your arm, stopping you from moving another inch.

"Let me go, now." Your voice doesn't waver for a moment, not one stutter is heard, but Abby can't help stare at your lips. Then you're staring at hers and all of it becomes crystal clear.

"Or what? What are you going to do about it?" Single handedly, her words pierce through you warm flesh, exposing the wound she created. For a moment, just for a second, you wonder if Abby’s the antidote you’ve been searching for. 

She wonders how you would react if you walked out of here, ignoring her obvious advances she keeps throwing your way. But it’s always on your terms. Abby’s too cowardly to initiate anything first. Dangling the carrot in front of you like a desperate rabbit, begging to be satiated with the first crunch. 

Stepping forward, your perfectly manicured hand strokes her freckled check, nails lightly scraping against her porcelain flesh. “I won’t have, you’ll do it for me.” 

The tone in your voice drops, smirking as Abby visibly gulps. The lump she swallows is enough indication that she’s been caught. The mean remarks, your former girlfriend at your side when the two of you met, the jealousy, the snide comments Abby would only say when it was the two of you — all of it a ruse to disguise the feelings she decided to bury deep upon your very first meeting. 

A swipe of your thumb caresses her chin, tilting her lips towards you, as her hot and heavy breath curses your lips like a sin you would be willing to die for. A small whimper falls from her, her bambi blues widen at the audible omission. A mistake, a slip-up, and fuck is it perfect. 

“Show me how much you want this, Abby. Be a good girl.” 

Hell breaks loose with those four words and Abby’s self-control is unshackled with it. Practically throwing you on the bed like a certified ragdoll, you become her own personal barbell to train with. Wedging herself between your legs that are already open for her, you’re met with tongue and teeth as she regains control. 

You have a feeling she’s not one for giving in so easily and the whimper Abby felt embarrassed by would be hard to come by, again. The sleep shorts you’re wearing give her enough access as the fabric bunches on your ass. Abby chuckles as you grind up into her pelvis, desperate for more as you practically feel her tongue in the back of your throat. 

Fingers dig into her golden roots, trying so desperately to have her whine for you again, but all you get is a moan — as pretty as it is, it’s not what you want, but it’s enough. 

For now. 

Abby separates as you help her out of the oversized sweater she was wearing with a thin pair of boxers. Here she is, baby-blue boxers hung low on her hips as your hand smoothes over her defined six-pack, muscles flexing underneath your touch. Freckled and toned, small pink nipples practically begging to be placed in your mouth. 

“Oh—” Your hands sink into her boxers, feeling her bush prickling under your touch, as your fingers slide against her drenched folds, each one fluttering as you stroke her enticing lips. “Fucking knew you liked to be praised.” 

The better part of Abby should keep her mouth shut, but when you’re taking shit all she wants is to give it right back. You’re in luck. There’s a finger slipping inside of her and her brain shuts off, she’s unable to think about anything but the sight of you biting your lips as fuck her with skilled fingers. 

Abby leans her body forward to make it easier for you, slipping deeper into your walls. Almost as if she can sense her lips about to spill, she captures your mouth, letting her moans spill in the back of your throat. Abby coats you with her sweet honey, the sounds she makes could rival an angel’s symphony. 

Hips thrusting against you — it’s a perfect moment to sleep another finger inside her — so you do. 

There’s that fucking whimper. More desperate than her stormy-blue eyes, begging to be loved. To be needed, it’s all she had been wanting from you and it’s clear as day. Abby decides she’s had enough. 

Time to even the playing field. 

Ripping the cotton right of your body, the grey-washed tank top is ruined and discarded in your bedroom. Abby latches her lips on to your breast, her forefinger and thumb pinching the other. As if she was born to do it, she suckles on your pebbled nipple, her tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh. 

Abby didn’t know how satisfying it would feel to watch you fumble with your fingers fucking her, the control slipping from your fingertips with just a suck and a flick of her tongue. All of it gone too soon as she pries your shorts and panties off in a single movement. 

As she removes herself for a second, you’re tasting her on your fingers, saturating the sweetness on your tongue. Only wishing her taste could be permanently embedded into your velvet tongue. A way to rinse yourself clean of all the impurities rotting in your brain, the taste of your cunt could bring the salvation you so desperately seek home. 

“Luck for you—” She pauses as she decorates your soft stomach in kisses, “You’re about to come harder than you ever have before.” 

Abby starts with flattening her tongue, a long and languid stripe of her tongue drags along your pussy, dipping her tongue in your clenched hole before guiding her rolling tongue on your quivering clit. 

“But after this, and mark my words, you’re never going to want anyone else but me after this.” Before you can even argue, the collected spit in her mouth drips over your pussy as she slobbers the natural lubricant on an already drenched pussy. 

“Fuck, Abby, what the—” Pushing your legs forward, knees nearly hitting your headboard as she spreads more of your cunt before she gives it her all. Focused entirely on one thing. 

Like it’s an olympic sport, her mouth wastes no time at all. Sparing no expense when it comes to make you well…come. The muscle spares no restriction when it comes to your cunt, shoving her face in your pussy, the bridge of her nose nudging against your clit as she lets her fingers sink into a weeping hole. 

The moans being released from your magnetic lips, Abby’s never heard before. Not from you or anyone she’s pinned down with her mouth. No regard for your friends who are just down the hall, hearing every word falling from your lips sound like a sanctioned prayer. 

Curses of her name fly out of your mouth quicker than you catch them, sucking the soul out of your body as she claims you in ways you’ll never come back from — true to words — in a matter of moments she’s cockily proven to be better than anyone you’ve had before. 

As you tug on the blonde roots, she glances up at you through hooded eyes, a chokehold of sultry as she divides her lips with her tongue as she doesn’t break eye contact. She holds it, just for you, as she watches and hears you scream when you slip another finger inside her. Abby curling her fingers is the last nail in the coffin as you fuck her gorgeous face. 

Those gorgeous blue eyes rivaling the beauty of sapphires. 

“God, gonna keep you right here forever. Always wanna hear you—” Abby moans into your swollen lips, kissing the sweet spot inside you, making the stars align perfectly in the back of your mind. “Say my name for me again, angel.” 

You don’t want to give in. She’s manhandled the power right out of you, as if it never had been placed in your hands to begin with. Like she had domineered you into this position. Make a dominatrix into a submission princess. But truth be told, you lost focus and Abby was there to pounce on you. Waiting for her perfect moment and capitalizing on it. 

“Don’t— fuck—I-I don’t think you deserve it.” You pause for a moment trying to control the shudder in your breath but you’re starting to believe it’s nearly impossible. 

‘“I don’t?” Without warning, there’s a harsh slap to your lips, all three fingers sinking deeper into your clenching walls. “Want to tell me what I don’t deserve again? Or does my girl want to come?” 

Before you can control it, there’s an animalistic groan pouring out of your lips, causing Abby to double down on her efforts. With deep breaths, you’re incredibly close, and with every stroke of her tongue she sends you closer to the edge. 

A stroke of her tongue, a thrust of her fingers — it’s so close you can nearly latch onto it. 

“You like that, angel? Want me to call you my girl?” You hate how cocky she is about it. Abby gleams with pride as you buck your hips into her face once again, whining at the possession. In this instant, solely belonging to the woman who’s eating you out like there’s no tomorrow, is the only desire you crave. 

“Shut up.” It’s supposed to come out intimidating, a bit ruthless even, but it’s almost comical when Abby hums into your cunt. Not when you’re so close to painting her sun kissed-cheeks with pearly white cum. 

It’s almost like she’s done this before with you, she uses her free hand to play with your nipple, like you told her it’s the one thing that can help bring you over the edge. Abby doesn’t stop sucking, on your clit, her tongue serving strokes to your clit as your thighs shake, squeezing her head as she refuses to relent her pace. 

“Choke me out sweet girl, need my baby to come—” Abby locks her eyes on you, “Keep fucking my face, yeah, good fucking girl.” 

Like a flower budding in the spring, Abby watches as your pussy flutters your stomach clenching, body writhing as she fucks you through it all. 

“Don’t stop, oh fuck me, god, that’s so good. Baby, Ohhh—” She’s practically grinning into your cunt as you hear yourself sloshing against her soaked fingers, not letting her mouth release it’s iron-grip around the clit pulsating against her tongue. 

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” Abby is in amazement, savoring every moment of your body twitching to her touch. Until you’re spent, murmurs of too sensitive causes a small smile to grace her face. “You did such a good job, baby.” 

Abby slips on the side your body isn’t taking up, staring at the ceiling with a cheshire grin as she hears your heavy breath. It’s more than you’re usually given. She only needs to hear you struggling to know how much truth it rings. No faith is needed to see what’s right in front of her. 

Propping her head in the palm of her hand, elbow digging into the silky-satin, she can’t stop smiling at you. Half of you expects her to kick back to her normal routine of hating you — maybe Abby didn’t really like you. She just wanted to fuck. 

“You know this doesn’t have to be a one time thing—” Abby draws random patterns into your skin with the blunt of the fingernail, pawing at the skin, desperate for just a little bit more of you. “If you ever want to see stars again.” 

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Shamelessly, Abby nods. The warmest smile spread on her face, it’s so infectious. Her genuineness rotting through your sourness, making something entirely too sweet for you to swallow but you take it on. 

Even in fear. 

“I thought it was cute.” She’s so bashful about it, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. Almost delicate. 

“Mhm, if you say so.” 

“I do.” She pushes a piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. The love in her eyes can’t lie, you hope it’s genuine. Abby can’t stop smiling so you choose to believe it is. 

“Would you…uh—” She stutters out as you rub circles into her hips, “I wanted to ask you if you would like to go on a date sometime.” 

“You know what’s cute? Playing god with my pussy but then being nervous to ask me out on a date.” You tease her. Immediately, her cheeks morph into crimson, trying to hide as much as she can with her hands but the damage has already been done. And you don’t feel sorry about it for one second. 

“So, is that a yes?”

[ghostyuri]

hopelessly devoted to you

click here!

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…a certain someone remembers your birthday.

before you read…fluff + angst. cutie patootie ellie <3

it was a grueling day. the sky dim from the consistent storming, the rain damping your body and hair, up until you and jesse had taken cover at a moldy gas station. you sat there for an hour, listening to him talk about dina and their separation…their tenth separation? you lost track a while ago.

but you don’t judge, you hummed in agreement to his frustrations and nodded the entire time. you get him, you do. your failed love life could be a ten-minute-long monologue, you think. relationships are hard in the small community of jackson, everyone has their person or keeps to themselves. you prefer to keep to yourself. you don’t necessarily need anyone— not if you can’t have her.

infected that were migrating through had run you out of the gas station, you and jesse dodging branches and heavy rocks throughout the forest as you ran back home. you, of course, tripped over a dead stump and banged your head on nature's floor.

if you were jesse you would have laughed at yourself, but your generous friend could only watch in horror, worry painting his features while he helped you up, practically dragging your stumbling self until you were in the clearing.

every single muscle in your body was aching when you arrived at jackson’s gates, it felt like seeing the gates of heaven itself. you don’t know what time it is, the sky has been dark the entirety of the day, and your head is pounding.

“we should get you to the infirmary, just in case,” jesse tries, however, you are ready to call it a night and worry about your current issues tomorrow. probably a bad idea, sure, but you don’t care that much in the worn out state you’re in. “i’m fine, jesse,” you lie to the man, but the smile you give him is enough for him to back off, “just need a bandage and a very comfortable bed. not one of those cots.”

“you’re stubborn…ellie’s rubbing off on you.”

“shut up,” you jokingly tell him, chewing your bottom lip as your mind goes to ellie. the idea of seeing her sweet face after the day you just had would provide you more comfort than the bed you so desperately yearn for.

to hear her voice, telling you about the day she had, that you know for certain was miles better than yours. and that’s amazing— ellie williams doesn’t deserve a hard day in her life. you would take all of them for her, even if each one felt as cruel as today.

jesse walks you all the way home, an illuminating glow coming from your windows, despite turning the lights off before you had left. or at least, you had thought you did. you say goodbye to jesse, having to promise you will take care of your injury before bed so he would leave.

you open your door with a deep sigh of relief, eager to shred your backpack and soggy clothes, and slip into something comfortable.

you drag your feet down the hall, stopping in place when your shut bedroom door, swings open before you.

“fuck.”

“ellie?” your brows dip, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at the surprise, “what are you doing?”

“i, uh, well,” she scratches the back of her neck, turning around, waiting for you to follow her into your bedroom. you do, mind drifting to the thought of how unkept you left it earlier, not having time to deal with the laundry at the end of your unmade bed. ellie had seen that; you’re embarrassed.

you gulp, stepping inside the room, and the sight you’re met with confuses you. your bed is made. your clothes are gone. instead, there’s a beige teddy bear, one that’s unfamiliar to you, that’s never been in your room before. it’s undeniably cute, even with its left ear ripped and its eye poorly patched back on.

laid against its belly is a large and flat square object wrapped in old newspapers, tiny pieces of duct tape holding it together. where a classic and beautiful ribbon would be, are shoelaces, making a bow. or an attempt at one.

and laid against that, is what appears to be a doodled on piece of paper. you glance at ellie, then your bed, then ellie.

“i…” she begins, the soft expression on her face suddenly hardening when her eyes trail to the single droplet of blood falling from your temple, and down the side of your face.

“what the fuck happened?” ellie takes a few short steps towards you, grabbing your face with her coarse hands, and turning you so she can inspect the area. even when you try to turn your head, she keeps you still.

“gonna tell maria to pair us. i love jesse but—”

“i tripped, ellie, it couldn’t have been prevented,” you cut her off, but her suggestion does make your heart flutter, and you wouldn’t be opposed to it. you’d spend every last second you have in this universe with her.

“you don’t know that,” ellie says, the woman thinking she could do anything to protect you— even simple mistakes you cause yourself. she exits the room for a moment, and you can’t help but walk to the foot of your bed to get a closer look at the objects on it.

you pick up the paper, realizing it’s not just a piece of paper, it’s a card. a makeshift one. and the doodles aren’t just doodles, it’s a dinosaur holding three balloons. three of your favorite colors. happy birthday, it says. birthday…your birthday…it’s your birthday.

it had not crossed your mind once today, this week, or this month. you only thought about it a couple of months back when it was briefly brought up in a conversation. how the community you were born into utilized calendars even if there was nothing to look forward to anymore, and how you almost wish you weren’t informed on the day you were born. there was nothing to celebrate, no one to celebrate with.

ellie was determined to change that, and she did.

you open the card, a paragraph in the center of the paper.

hey y/n, guess what day it is :) if you couldn’t tell by the extremely beautiful dinosaur in a party hat, it’s your day!! happy fucking birthday, y/n. probably doesn’t feel like much of a celebration today. little do you know i celebrate you everyday. don’t tell anyone that. i honestly think i’d die without you so never leave me, yeah? i love you y/n. i could take up this whole page telling you every little thing i love about you but i’m not going to do that because i don't think i could stop. i hope you had a good birthday. if not i hope this helps. love, your ellie.

“sit down,” ellie reenters the room, not noticing the card in your hand, too focused on the medical supplies in hers. when she does, her face heats up, her pale face flashing red. you continue to hold it as you obey her, sitting next to the teddy bear. she waits for you to speak first, and you do the same to her, which causes a moment of silence as she kneels on the floor before you.

you’re taken back, utterly shocked by how fucking precious the girl could be, how good it feels receiving appreciation from her. getting love from her. not the love you have for jesse or dina, something different, something incomparable. she has your heart clutched tightly in her fist.

“thank you, ellie.”

“it’s nothing,” she shrugs, pouring a bottle of water on a bathroom towel, then bringing it to your face. she’s gentle as she wipes the dark red liquid away, dabbing the injury, scanning your face for discomfort so she can stop immediately. she’s definitely going to yell at jesse.

“it’s something,” you tell her, “and it means a lot to me…it really does.”

she halts her movements for a second, the embarrassment that maybe she did too much, vanishing from her body. “yeah?”

“duh,” you laugh slightly, “i didn’t even remember it, ellie. i was too busy having a shitty day. so thank you for making it better.”

ellie smiles slightly, holding back the grin threatening to spread across her face. she continues to clean your injury, knowing she could scold you for not seeking medical attention right away, but she won’t ruin the moment.

she finishes up by placing a clean bandage over the wound, pressing it delicately against your skin, an odd urge to place a kiss on your forehead to signal she was done. she thinks it’s weird, and doesn’t do it.

ellie reaches for the newspaper-wrapped object beside you, taking the card from your hands and replacing it with the gift. “open it.”

“you didn’t have to—” “open it.”

you groan, doing as told, fighting the annoying strong duct tape and peeling the paper off carefully, not knowing what’s beneath it. ellie keeps her green irises steady on your face as you do so, watching your mouth part faintly when you see the uncovered gift. “ellie…”

it’s a vinyl. an old one. one you’d listen to on a cassette tape until it deteriorated, and you had lost access to the heavenly vocals of the band you so greatly adored. ellie’s not familiar with them, but she had told you she would like to be after how highly you had spoken about them.

she hadn’t forgotten that conversation, or that band, and excused herself on patrol to seek out the damn vinyl in every music shop. she didn’t know it would be so hard, but even if she did, she would search again and again and again. it’s not only a gift, it is a reflection of ellie’s admiration of you.

“how— why— i don’t even have a record player,” you point out, eyebrows dipping slightly at the harsh reminder. “so?” she asks like you just said the silliest thing in the world. “i do…we can listen to it together.”

it’s then that you notice her hand on your knee, thumb grazing through the denim of your jeans in a repeated motion. you forget about the throbbing in your head, and you no longer care about the soreness of your body. that, along with the entire world, seems to fade away right now.

it’s not just your heart in her hands. it’s you, your mind, your soul, everything you have is in her palms. everything she tells you makes you feel weightless, like time pauses and you don’t have to worry about a single thing. just her. nothing else. just ellie. no one else.

“i love you.”

ellie smiles, “love you too.”

“no, ellie, i…” you hesitate, sucking in the air and then exhaling. your eyes are on the birthday card next to you, the vinyl in your hands, and then her widened pupils. you realize then, that you don’t need to repeat yourself, you don’t need to emphasize it. ellie gets it. your hands are trembling, and she holds them. but something is wrong.

the moment stretches on endlessly, watching a shadow of sadness flicker over her beautiful features. without her saying a word, that she has yet to do, you understand. she won’t say it back. not in the sense that you wish for her to.

“i…dina came to me…after her and jesse…she…” ellie’s quiet voice drifts off, sparing you the details of the night dina first showed up at her door, a repeated pattern until they finally shared an intimate moment that led to a short-lived kiss.

something you missed, because you weren’t searching for hints they had something. something you crave. her head is down, “i’m sorry.”

your confession now hangs heavy over both of you. you feel sick. you feel dumb. and yet, you force a small, understanding smile. “it’s okay.”

the words feel hollow. ellie feels like shit. she’s never cried in front of you, and she’s fighting back the tears that so desperately want to fall right now. she hadn’t meant for this to happen. she hadn’t met to fall in love with her best friend, all while her other friend was falling for her.

she could’ve waited— she would’ve waited. but it happened so fast, and ellie had made a decision already.

“i’m um…really tired,” you chuckle, trying to ease the tension, but it somehow makes it worse.

“y/n—” “do you mind if we call it a night?”

“you hit your head pretty bad,” ellie says, the sorrow tone of her voice now mixing with worry, “you should stay up.”

“you’re not my doctor, ellie,” you immediately catch the snappy tone you give her the moment the sentence leaves your mouth, biting your tongue in response. ellie doesn’t point it out nor make an argument out of it. she is the most understanding with you. even if the context is her simply looking out for you. you fold in your lips, still holding the gift, ellie finally standing up.

she doesn’t know what to say. at all. she could say sorry a million times but eventually they will mean nothing to you. she doesn’t even know if they do now. “i uh…i’ll leave you alone.”

the worst words you could ever hear from the person you love the most in the world. of course, part of you wants her out of sight after the humiliation you just walked yourself into, but the other part of you wants to go with her, play the vinyl she had gifted you, and lay together in her bed as her finger taps in rhythm to the music on your thigh. but you can’t do that. not when her bed is reserved for someone else.

you barely nod, “okay.”

she gulps, hesitantly walking to your bedroom door, the one she was so happy to walk into just an hour prior. there’s guilt in each step she takes, her cheeks hot and mouth dry. she stops in your doorway, tugging at her bottom lip with her sharp teeth, glancing back at you.

whatever she was prepared to say, dies on her tongue, swallowing it down and opting for something else.

“happy birthday, y/n.”

then she’s gone. and you’re left alone with a teddy bear; a permanent reminder of this night. happy birthday to you.

[freedomfireflies]

Reckless*

Summary: The third part to Knockout*

The one where Harry secretly gets paid to fight, but you're the one paying the price.

Word Count: 9.2k (...no comment)

Content Warning: 18+, violence, mentions of an abusive ex, mentions of blood, smut

Harry’s fist instantly snaps closed around your hand, subtly but pointedly tugging you back. Seeming to want to put a bit of space between you and the man standing before you.

“Oh, do you…know each other?” you ask slowly, glancing between the two rather curiously.

Jesse offers nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow, redirecting his attention back to Harry as though encouraging him to respond.

Harry merely grits his teeth. “We used to. Long time ago.”

It’s hardly an answer, somehow just as frustratingly vague as you expected, yet you nod, nevertheless. “Ah. I see.”

Jesse’s smile somehow stretches a bit bigger. “Are you working today?”

“Uh, no. Just…came by for the keys,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other almost nervously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d…maybe stick around a bit? Catch up?”

Harry’s grip gets stronger.

“Besides, today’s pie is apple, yeah?” he asks. “You know it’s my favorite.”

You force a tight-lipped grin and a hum of acknowledgement before the three of you fall silent. Continuing to stand by the door to the diner as the rest of the room continues on with their lunch. Their soft murmurs and clinging cutlery like white noise in the background of the conversation. 

You clear your throat. “Okay, well…I’m gonna…I’m gonna tell him goodbye, and—”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Jesse says, waving you away before returning to the counter. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

The last word has hardly left his mouth when Harry suddenly spins on his heel and drags you back through the door. Pulling you into the parking lot without so much as a goodbye before leading you around the side of the building.

“Harry,” you murmur hesitantly, almost cautious of his rather silent reaction. In the little time you’ve known him, you’ve never known him to be this quiet when he’s upset. Or this well behaved. “What’s wrong, what is it?”

He continues his furious stride until he’s brought you both into the alley. Releasing you in order to run a hand through his hair with a strained, “Fuck.”

You slow to a stop and stare at his tensed back. “Harry?”

A long pause. Deafening and loud enough to lodge your heart in your throat.

Finally, “How do you know him?”

“What?”

“Fucking Jesse, how do you know him?” he repeats, somewhat viciously.

Your head tilts. “We…I mean we’re friends, but we…we used to date. For a while. Couple years ago. Why?”

He turns, and the pinching of his features together makes your stomach twist. “Was it him?”

“…Harry—”

“Was it…him?” His eyes flick to yours. “The one you fucking told me about. The one who treated you like shit, the one who fucking threw things at you. Was it him?”

You’re almost surprised he remembered. After all, the revelation of your last relationship had been quite a while ago. An off-handed comment made one stormy night as you sat together in his favorite booth, talking about the past and exchanging odd traumas.

But he does. He remembers. And he’s looking at you like your answer is going to break his heart. 

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your chest. “Yes.”

Your voice is small. Timid and weak, nearly carried away with the wind. But it reaches him, nevertheless, and his expression guts you.

He steps back. Trying to get away, either from you or your admission. The truth he can no longer stand to be so close to.

“Why?” he whispers, and your lashes flutter. “Why did you…why would you keep him in your fucking life after he…”

You offer him the same answer you’ve offered everyone else. “I don’t know.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and takes another step. Glancing over your face as if searching for more than you have to give. “Cherry…”

“I know.” You can feel the tears already working their way to your waterline. “I know, but he’s…he’s trying to do better. He’s trying to change—”

“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets almost vengefully. “No, that’s bullshit. He’s not…guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding it.”

Maybe he’s right. But it stings to hear. “I…yeah. I know. But we’re just…we’re friends. We don’t talk a lot, just when he needs help.”

“So he uses you?”

“No, he…” You hesitate. “I don’t know. I don’t think he means to—”

His vile scoff cuts through the rest of your excuse, and perhaps it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, fingers itching to reach for him. You feel naked without his body against yours. “I should have…I should have warned you. Or told you, I just…I didn’t think—”

“Are you safe?”

You stop. “What?”

“Are you safe?” he repeats, a tad softer. “When he’s around you, do you feel safe? Do you know that you’re safe, and that he won’t…that you can leave? If you need to?”

 You consider this for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes. He’s never…it’s never been like that. He’s just…he gets very angry. And sad. And I think…a part of me wants to help, I guess.”

His expression drops ever-so-slightly, as if wounded. “I know, Cher.” He moves closer to you once again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. He places his palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb beneath your eye. Wiping away the first tear. “You always give your kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”

 You take hold of his wrist and bite back a sigh. “Everybody deserves kindness.”

“Maybe.” His voice is quiet. Labored and thick. “But maybe you deserve it more.”

There’s something…heavy in the way he speaks. In the way he feels. As though he’s carrying the entire weight of his world – and yours – on his shoulders. 

You know there’s more to the story. More to this anger that’s so prominent in his heart and more to his background with Jesse. You want to ask, want to understand.

But if he wanted you to know, he would have offered.

Maybe he thinks he’s sparing you. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you in the only way he can, and you feel grateful for him. Grateful for this subtle, unspoken act of intimacy and protection that you’ve become so familiar with in the time you’ve known your handsome stranger.

You choose to have faith in him. In what brought you to him.

“I have to go,” he says now, dipping down to brush his forehead to yours. “Cause if I don’t, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You smile to yourself, but a part of you knows he means it. “Okay. Will I see you again?”

His other hand slips around the back of your neck, keeping you close before he exhales a shaky breath and brings his lips to yours. Kissing you hard and with a thousand unspoken promises. “Of course. M’never gonna leave you, sweet girl. Swear it.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You kiss him until you can’t breathe, clinging to his hoodie as if begging with him to stay. To keep himself close to you.

And when he eventually pulls away, you nearly crumple to the ground.

“Okay,” he whispers, reaching back to slip his hood on. “Okay, I gotta go. Or I’ll never leave.”

You touch your fingers to your lips and nod once. “I know. Just come back, okay?”

He grins, and it’s wickedly delicious. “Always.”

With that, he turns around, and disappears down the alley. Rounding the corner of the building before disappearing from sight.

Leaving you exactly where he found you, only a few hours ago.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, you make your back into the diner and toward the man still waiting for you.

Jesse has never scared you. Annoyed you, but never scared you. He’s been in your life far longer than you care to admit, ever since you were just kids. And maybe that’s why you keep him around. Because a part of you believes you owe it to the people you used to be.

You loved him. You really did. He was cute, charming, witty. He made you smile, made you laugh. He listened when you talked, said all of the right things. Of course you wanted to believe him when he said he’d do anything to make it work.

His anger had taken him away from you. Had changed who he was. Or perhaps merely highlighted who he’d always been.

He was the one to end things. Claiming he could never offer you the life you deserved. That until he had his temper under control, he couldn’t be with you. You had agreed to remain friends and help him when he lost his way.

He seems to lose his way a lot these days.

And maybe that’s the part that scares you…just a little bit.

“Hey, sugarplum,” he calls once you enter, grinning brighter than he has in weeks. “You all right?”

You nod as you join him near the counter, hands disappearing into your pockets as if to hide. “Mhm. Are you?”

“Absolutely.” He leans over to nudge his elbow against yours. “Feel like it’s been forever.”

“Jess, I saw you last week,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I know, but that was last week,” he argues coyly. “Which is like a lifetime ago.”

And even if there’s a part of you that feels cautious of him, there’s also something so familiar about his company. The sound of his voice, the way he laughs. His effortless ability to remind you of the way things used to be.

Despite how it ended, you can’t help but feel calmed. Your muscles unwinding as you grow a bit more comfortable in his presence.

“Ha, very funny,” you tease, stepping closer as though drawn in by his charm. “Well, if you’re waiting for the apple pie, that’s not until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to come back.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you smirk at each other, and for the first time in days, you don’t feel so on edge.

 “Fine,” you agree. “But you can’t come back to the kitchen with me. Not after last time.”

He pretends to pout, but it only makes you smile. “Oh, come on. Everything was going so well up until the flour incident.”

You reach out and shove his shoulder playfully, and he laughs. “All right, enough. Why are you really here?”

“I told you, I wanna catch up. Clearly I’ve missed a lot.”

The mention of Harry is like a sharp needle to your blissful bubble, popping you free of his spell until you come crashing back to earth. “Right. How, um…how again do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, we don’t. Not really,” Jesse explains, shrugging one shoulder up almost casually. “We used to go to the same gym. Spot each other now and then. But we never really knew each other, I guess.”

“Ah.” 

“Was kind of surprised to see him with you, though,” he adds. “But good surprised. I told him he should come check out the diner, and I’m glad to see he listened."

Harry’s previous mention of how he found you suddenly clicks, and you nod, eyes drifting toward the floor. “Yeah, he…he seems to like it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He seems oddly thrilled by this. “And I guess you two are…?”

The implication brings a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly shake your head as you step back. Almost as though guarding yourself from his question. “Oh, no, we’re…we’re just friends. Or we’re…yeah. Friends.”

His brows furrow but he’s smiling. “Are you…sure about that?”

No. “Yeah. We don’t…we don’t really know each other that well, is all. We just…we like to talk.”

“I see.” He studies you for a moment, somewhat curious. “I’m glad he found something here he likes so well.”

The heat in your face begins to burn. “Yeah, he…he really likes the pies.”

Jesse hums, expression mischievous. “Yes. The pies.”

You force a laugh and nudge him again. “Okay, enough. I should…I should probably get back—”

“Wait,” he interrupts, slipping off the stool in order to get closer, “is there…any chance you’d fancy a drive? Thought we could go around the block a few times like we used to. Just…listen to the radio and people watch.”

Truth be told, the offer is compelling. Because you know if you go home, all you’ll do is worry. About Harry, about Jesse. About all the things you wish you could do for them but can’t. 

Maybe a distraction is what you need. One day where you aren’t expected to fix everybody else’s problems but your own.

So, you nod. Tentatively but with a small grin that makes Jesse’s entire expression light up. 

“Great,” he chuckles before nodding his chin at you. “So…do you want me to drive? Like old times?”

Your answer is to dig back into your pocket for the keys before tossing them over. “Think you already know the answer to that.”

He laughs again and spins the ring around his finger. “Then let’s hit it, sugarplum.”

It’s almost too easy to settle back into your old habits. To follow him to your car, hop inside the passenger seat, and allow him to take you away.

And it’s nice. Comfortable and…safe. Windows down, music loud. The two of you singing along with every bad song that comes on. It really does feel like it used to, and for just one evening, you forget about everything else. And you let yourself just…be.

The two of you drive around the city until the sun goes down. He tells you about his new job at this fancy law firm and you tell him about this new recipe you’re working on for the diner. You talk, and you laugh, and you sing until your stomach hurts. 

You forget. And you’re okay with that.

“Okay,” he finally declares not much later after a quick glance at the clock. “I know you have to get back, but I just have one last thing I want to show you.”

Your brow raises. “Oh? What?”

“A surprise.” He begins to grin, almost wickedly, and it makes you smirk. “It’ll just be a quick little detour, and then I’ll have you home. Promise.”

You consider this for only a moment before sighing. “Fine. But just for the record, I hate your surprises.”

He merely winks before taking a left and leading you both out of town.

The further you go, the darker it gets. This part of the city appears to be rather neglected, with very few lights along the street to guide you. The buildings are rundown and abandoned, there’s police tape over half the doors and boards across half the windows. 

Sketchy would be putting it mildly.

Yet Jesse appears undeterred, swinging into one of the large, unkempt parking lots where a collection of cars are already gathered.

“I don’t…understand,” you begin slowly, glancing around the dark space in search of answers. 

However, instead of answer, he merely puts the car in park, tosses you the keys, and hops out. “You’ll see. Come on.”

Despite your hesitancy, you choose to follow, trailing after him as he begins toward one of the shabby buildings just up ahead. 

There’s a strange sort of itch crawling its way up the back of your neck. Blossoming into your cheeks until you feel a twinge of apprehension.  

But Jesse walks ahead as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Nonchalant and relaxed, leading you to the door.

Then, he knocks twice, stops, and adds three more.

A beat passes before there’s a sharp, electric buzzing. Immediately followed by the sound of something rather heavy before the door suddenly swings open.

Your breath catches.

The inside of this disheveled building is divine. Luxury drips from floor to ceiling, a rather stark contrast to its exterior. There’s fresh paint on the walls, towers of champagne in each corner of the room, and a crowd of men and women dressed to the nines in their most elegant and expensive outfits.

But there’s something off. They’re yelling, and cursing, and cheering. Raising their glasses while shouting at something happening in the middle of the room. 

And that’s when you see him.

Even from this distance, you’d recognize him anywhere. The soft, sweaty curls matted to his forehead. The blood that drips from his mouth and jaw. The tattoos and marks that glisten from his chest – the same tattoos that you saw for the first time only hours ago.

Your stranger. Landing hit after hit to the man standing just opposite him inside the large ring. 

You don’t move. You don’t think you can breathe. You can’t think straight or understand…and then Jesse throws his arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s go have a look, yeah?” It’s posed like a question, but he’s already leading you toward the crowd before you can decide on your answer.

Your heart is in your toes as he slips through the collection of onlookers. Pulling you to the front until you have a near perfect view of the violence happening only a few feet away.

A perfect view of him.

You’re not sure how long he’s been at it. Clearly long enough, if the new cuts and fresh bruises are any indication. He doesn’t seem to notice you, instead throwing his arm toward his opponent before ducking down to miss the strike back. 

You hear yourself gasp as you recoil away from the forceful blow, nearly hiding yourself beneath Jesse’s arm while he laughs.

“What’s the matter, sugarplum?” he hums. “Thought you’d wanna see what your little boytoy gets up to when he’s not with you.”

You can hear it now. The vindictive sneer hidden beneath his charming chuckle. And that uncomfortable itch begins to burn as you pull yourself back in order to see him. “What?”

Jesse nods toward the boxing ring. “You see, when he’s not with you…he’s quite busy. Beautifully and spectacularly fucking me over.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Do you know what this is?” He raises a brow. “Do you know what he really does?”

“He…he fights. He gets paid to fight.”

“Right. And who do you think pays him?”

And that’s when it happens. That’s when the final puzzle piece clicks into place, and you understand. You see the whole picture laid out in front of you, and it wears his face.

“You.” It’s a strained, timid whisper that’s buried beneath the loud, vulgar hollering.

Jesse nods. “Exactly. I pay your boyfriend to beat the shit out of anyone dumb enough to get into that ring with him. And all he has to do…is fucking win.”

The cheering grows louder in your ear as he steps closer. Forcing your attention to split between the two men.

“But I have a problem,” he continues. “You see, Harry can win a fight in his goddamn sleep. He never loses. Ever. That’s why I pay him so much fucking money. That’s why I’m his sponsor.”

Your stomach twists.

“So, imagine my surprise when he suddenly started to lose. Night after night. Over and over. Constantly and consistently losing fights he should have been able to win with his fucking eyes closed.”

There’s something trapped in your throat. The room is spinning, and there’s a ringing in your ear that just won’t quit. 

“And then I find out…he’s fucking throwing them.” His hand finds your hip and he turns you toward the ring. “Every goddamn night, he throws the fight. Because, for some reason, he seems to think that these fights are up to him. He thinks that he gets to decide who wins and who loses.”

He leans down now, lips hovering near your ear while his voice settles into a rather malicious hiss. 

“But the only person that really loses…is me,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t win, then I lose a shit ton of money on him. And I don’t really think that’s fair…do you?”

You suck in a quiet breath right as Harry steps back to avoid a massive swing before landing his own blow just beneath the man’s jaw. 

“So, I wondered. Wondered why the switch. Why he’d suddenly be willing to lose so much money and allow his ass to get kicked into his throat…for nothing.”

He leans back now, and your lashes flutter.

“And then I found him��with you.” He tsks almost teasingly while his head cocks to the side. “Seems my best fighter has found himself distracted. Pussy-whipped by a pretty face that serves him fucking pie. And he thinks that if he throws the fights…he can save you.”

A set of knuckles connect with Harry’s left cheek, sending him stumbling back while you suck in a sharp inhale and turn away.

“So…I want you to watch,” Jesse tells you, snaking an arm around your waist in order to keep you in your spot. “I want you to fucking see what you’ve done to him.”

Your features twist into a fearful grimace as you drag your eyes back to the ring. Watching as Harry swipes the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the blood before surging forward. He swings and it’s a miss. Arm flying over the other man’s shoulder before he’s shoved toward the rope.

He’s losing. A few more strikes to the face and you’re almost sure he’ll pass out.

And you don’t understand. Can’t comprehend any of this. Why Jesse brought you here, why Harry does this to himself, and why you’re somehow a part of it.

They lied. They both did. Harry looked you in the eye and told you he didn’t know Jesse. Even when he knew about…all of this.

Jesse being involved in some sort of illegal fight club doesn’t surprise you. Perhaps it should, and yet, it might be the least surprising thing you’ve learned so far. 

But Jesse being Harry’s sponsor…being the one who pays him to do this to himself, who gambles on Harry’s very life…

Another strike is laid to his jaw, forcing Harry’s head to snap to the side.

And he sees you.

You watch the realization pass over his face in real time. The way his eyes widen and his lips part.

He stumbles back from the blow, catching himself on the ropes before Jesse tightens his hold on your hips…and Harry looks over.

The rage that settles into the lines and details of his features is evident. The way his teeth grit together, the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin, the way his fingers flex by his side.

He must understand why you’re here now and he channels this understanding and rage into his next hit.

He spins to the side, flings his arms around his opponent’s waist, and yanks him down.  Throwing him so hard to the floor, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t break his spine right down the middle.

Half of the crowd cheers while the other half yells in disappointment.

But Jesse merely smirks.

And you realize that this is what he wanted. To use you as a tool in his game. A pawn for his pleasure until Harry’s hand was forced.

Harry rears back only to raise his fist into the air. Over and over, he lands his knuckles to the man’s face. Hit after hit after hit until there’s blood everywhere. Dripping from his knuckles, the man’s nose, his mouth.

He doesn’t stop. Even long after he should, and the man has gone limp. He goes and goes and goes until the referee has to physically step into the ring and drag him back.

And the fight is declared over.

They grab Harry’s wrist and sling it into the air, raising his arm in victory while the room hollers their support. 

Your heart is racing inside your chest, going far too fast, and you feel a rush of blood to your head. Your knees are shaking, and your hands feel clammy, and you can’t breathe and why won’t that ringing in your ear stop?

“This is what he’s good at,” Jesse murmurs to you now, lips ghosting down the shell of your ear. “This is all he’s good for. And he fucking knows it.”

The room begins to disperse while Harry is led out of the ring and into the shadows on the far side of the building. 

Your eyes and your heart go with him.

“So, you’re gonna do what you do best,” Jesse continues. “You’re gonna remind him why he has to fucking win. Because if he throws one more goddamn fight…I’ll fucking kill him myself.”

With that, he releases you, and turns around. Disappearing into the crowd before you can stop him.

You stand there, in the middle of this extravagant room, and you stare at the ring. And the blood stains on the mat. And the shadows that dance across the floor from the chandelier on the ceiling. The collection of empty glasses and empty promises that are scattered about the vast space.

Then, your feet are pulling you toward the door Harry disappeared into. Taking you to him, despite everything else. Because even after all of this, you want to help him. To make sure that he’s okay, and…and fix him. Somehow. 

The door leads to a hallway that leads to what you can only assume is a locker room. It’s empty when you arrive, although you aren’t too surprised. The other fighter was taken to the opposite end of the building, and the people who led Harry away don’t seem to be around.

You hesitate for only a moment, attempting to decipher if you truly feel safe being alone with him after everything you’ve seen in the past 24 hours.

But the answer is obvious.

So, with a deep breath, you brave a step inside. 

The shower is running. Steam already beginning to dance through the air as you pass by the collection of lockers and benches. Looking for any sign of him. Your stranger who perhaps isn’t so strange anymore.

You see his clothes tossed toward the floor. See a trail of scarlet streaks leading you further into the room and toward the showers just around the corner.

And you don’t hesitate now as you step past the wall in order to see him.

He’s standing beneath the stream of water, one hand braced against the wall as he stares down at the floor. Watching the blood disappear down the drain.

And he’s…beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him – all of him – and you feel your breath hitch as you step closer. Allowing your eyes to travel along his tall, tensed frame. From his curls to his thighs and everything in between.

“Harry?”

Your voice snaps his head up, and he turns. Instantly pushing off the wall in order to fully face you. 

“Cherry, you can’t be here,” he breathes, and it’s almost lost beneath the heavy stream of water. “Can’t be in here, it’s not safe—”

But you’re already moving closer, toeing off your shoes and tossing your jacket aside before stepping inside the showers. 

His lashes flutter, the muscles in his stomaching quivering as he leans back. “Cher, I mean it. You can’t…I can’t let you see me like this.”

You step up to him. Ignoring his protests and the water pouring from the ceiling, you step up, you put your arms around his shoulders…and you hold him.

At first, he goes still. Deathly still, almost bracing himself from your touch. Afraid of what it means.  

Then, he settles. Understands that you only want to help, and slumps into your embrace while his face buries into your neck.

You reach up and run your palm down his head. Carding your fingers through the wet curls before squeezing the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

He takes in a sharp inhale, arms snaking around your middle. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. And his voice breaks like the cracks of a sidewalk.

You merely hold him tighter. “But I am.”

And there’s so much to say. So much to understand and question, but right now, he just needs you to hold him. To let him know that it’s okay – that he’s okay.

That you’re not going anywhere.

You stand there for what feels like hours. Until your clothes become soaked, and your fingers begin to prune. But you keep your grip on him tight. Offering nothing more than soft murmurs of, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He’s angry. So very angry, and you can feel it in the way his muscles twitch beneath your hands. Can hear it in the shallow breaths he takes and the clenching of his jaw. 

He’s trying to keep himself together. For you. But he’s moments away from slipping, and you can only hope you’ll be able to bring him back.

“Harry?” you whisper, scratching your nails down his bare shoulder.

His head shakes. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”

“Har—”

“No.” He leans back, lip curled up into a snarl. “No, I can’t…I fucking can’t—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrists to keep him close. “Okay, I understand—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says for the third time. “You aren’t supposed to be here, and I can’t fucking believe he brought you.”

“I know. I know, but I’m okay. It’s okay, I promise—”

“What did he say?” His eyes flick between yours. “What did he say to you?”

You feel your insides twist as you squeeze his hands. Taking a moment to find the right words. “He…he wanted me to see what you really do. And…to tell you that you have to win.”

His brows stitch together. “What else?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just…just that.”

And maybe he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he knows there was more to Jesse’s threat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s tugging himself out of your grasp and turning toward the wall before you can argue. Sending his knuckles straight into the tile until it cracks.

You gasp, quickly surging forward to pull on his arm in protest. “Harry—”

Surprisingly, he allows you to yank him away, but he doesn’t look at you. He keeps his venomous glare on the drain, chest heaving with uneven breaths.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you guide him back to you, and lift his hands. Studying the torn skin of his knuckles closely with a sigh. “Harry…”

The wounded waver in your voice makes his expression soften, and he allows his shoulders to roll back. Releasing a bit of his rage. “It’s okay. M’okay, Cher—”

“No,” you argue softly. “No, you’re…”

You can’t find the words. Can’t find the right thing to say that explains this anguish in your heart. That lives within your chest.

So, instead, you bring his ruined hands to your lips, and you hold them there. Kissing the stained, battered skin while he sucks in a quiet breath. 

And you don’t care. About any of it. About the fights, or the lies, or the threats. You don’t care what he really does or who he really is. 

You just want him to be happy. To be safe. No matter what that looks like. No matter what you have to do to make that a reality. 

You want to kiss away his scars, kiss away his pain. Take it and make it your own. Carry the weight he’s been trying to carry all by himself.

You don’t want him to be alone. You want to keep him, you want…

He watches you. Keeps his eyes glued to nearly every inch of your face as you do this. And something changes for him. You aren’t sure what.

But he sets his anger free before slipping his fingers from yours in order to take hold of your face.

And he kisses you. Pulls you to him almost desperately before pressing his lips to your own.

It’s soft, and sweet, and so deliciously him. Gentle despite everything else you’ve seen from him today.

He steps forward, subtly pushing you back. Again and again until your back meets the wet, tile wall.

He holds you there almost hesitantly before straightening up and deepening the kiss. Slipping his tongue in beside yours and savoring everything you have to offer. 

And you let him take whatever he’d like. Allow him to have all of you as his chest meets yours and he cages you there. Hungry kisses now moving for your neck.

His touch travels to your hips, nails curling into your shirt as though resisting the urge to grab hold. And you smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Breath hitching at the way his thigh brushes against yours.

You drop one hand to his chest. Allow the tips of your fingers to dance along the swallows on his collarbone and toward the muscles in his abdomen. Careful to mind his stitching and new cuts.

And he seems to remember now that he’s completely bare to you, his mouth falling still against your wet skin as he steadies himself.

Quickly, you stop yourself from going any further, settling atop his stomach before nosing under his jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

He says nothing, lips ghosting across your pulse point before pressing in deep. 

“All of you,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

His lashes flutter shut while his arm loops around your back. Face burying in your shoulder as though to hide, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or enthralled. 

Either way, you gingerly ask, “…may I touch you?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods. Only once, and then he returns to leaving an array of kisses to your throat. Nipping at the skin until you smile.

So, you continue your search, moving your hand toward his hips and down until you feel him.

And the moment your palm brushes against his cock, you both gasp. Straightening up almost attentively before settling back into the pleasure. 

Your thumb finds his slit and he curses. Hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt, keeping you against the tile as if he’s worried you’ll disappear.

“Shit,” he mumbles, palm moving to your cheek. “Baby, you know you don’t have—”

“Shh.” You wrap your fingers around the tip before smoothing down. “I want to. Please?”

When he says nothing, you stop, and it forces an instant groan. His body seeming to have made the decision for him.

“Yes,” he finally says, nodding again but quicker. “Shit, yes, Cherry. Can do whatever you want. M’yours.”

And it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You chase after his pleasure as though your life depends on it. And perhaps it does, but you certainly don’t mind. Because his grunts and pants are deliciously addictive. And you could spend the rest of your life touching him if it meant you’d get to hear just one more.

And maybe now you understand why he’s also so determined to do the same for you.

You run your hand up and down his cock, squeezing the tip before moving lower. Palming at his balls before dragging your touch back to the top. 

He does his best not to rush you or overwhelm you. Resisting the urge to buck his hips closer in a desperate attempt for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you. A role he seems much more comfortable in.

He kisses you everywhere he can. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, your neck. Below your ear, along your collarbone, and down the dip in your shirt.

Then, his fingers slip down to your jeans. Absentmindedly fiddling with the button before he whispers, “Can I touch you, sweet girl? Wanna make you feel good, too.”

And who are you to deny him?

“Always,” you whisper back, releasing him for only a moment so he can wrangle the wet material down your legs. 

Once he has, he straightens up, and runs his palm along the inside of your thigh. Indulging in the feel of your skin while you take him back in your hold.

And it’s strangely beautiful, this dance you do. The synchronicity of teasing touches and playful strokes that leave you both breathless.

Anytime you gently tighten your fist around him, he curls his finger inside your walls. And anytime you brush at his slit, he brushes at your clit. 

You both share a smile when you realize, and Harry laughs before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Tugging your skin between his teeth to muffle his groan.

“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” he says. And it’s a faint thought, perhaps not meant for your ears. “Fucking need you, baby. Always.”

Your head drops back against the wall. Your body already growing sluggish under the weight of undeniable euphoria he inflicts.

“You always have me,” you tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want—”

“Shit.” He yanks your chest to his, mouth painting warm, wet kisses along your skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t, or I’ll never stop.”

You grin. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

You go faster. Finding a pace he seems to enjoy and zeroing in. You want him to cum – need him to cum. To offer him that release and that promise of more. 

And it works. His tattoos rise and fall under the weight of his frantic gasps for air. He’s tipping over the edge, just needing a final push, and you want to get him there more than anything. Want to see what his face looks like when it’s overcome with pleasure. When he’s releasing into your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt. Want to feel him, know how his body moves when it’s spent.

“Please,” you murmur, almost anxiously as you work him closer. “Please, Har…let me feel you. Wanna feel you cum, please.”

He moves to squeeze the back of your neck before his hand disappears into your hair. Gently but pointedly tugging on your roots. “Baby—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can cum. Can cum for me—”

“Fuck.” He jolts forward, fingers slipping from your cunt. “So good to me, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you. Never deserved you—”

“Yes,” you nearly whine. “Of course you do, Har, please—”

He cums with a soft groan that bleeds into your throat. Woven between his kisses and flicks of his tongue to your skin, and it’s everything. The warmth, the feel, the implication. It covers your hand, and wrist, and even parts of your thighs. 

And you watch it drip down toward the floor almost regretfully, but you’re mesmerized. Addicted to something you only just discovered, and desperate for more.

But he gives you no time to reminisce, instead moving his mouth to yours in order to show you exactly how much it meant to him.

  “Knew you’d be good,” he remarks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before squeezing your waist. “Fucking knew, yeah?”

You release his cock as gently as you can before smoothing your palms up his chest and into his hair. Tugging on his curls in order to bring him closer. “Just for you.”

He smirks to himself before leaning back to study you. Glancing over your body as though in search of something. And the longer he looks, the angrier he appears to become.

Then, he mumbles, “He fucking touched you.”

Your heart wrenches. “…Har—”

“He touched you,” he says again, bitterly, and almost to himself. “He fucking put his hands on you and he made sure I saw. Wanted me to see, and now…now I can’t see anything else.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt a panic like this. “Harry, please—”

He crouches down, large hands curling around your thighs and pulling them as far apart as they’ll go. Which, admittedly, isn’t very far because of the jeans still pooled around your ankles. But he doesn’t mind, instead staring at your legs rather thoughtfully.

Finally, he looks up.

“I need to wash him away,” he whispers, and your stomach leaps into your throat.

“What?”

“I need to wash him away,” he repeats softly, moving closer to ghost his lips along your hip. “Need to erase him. Need to clean him off you.”

Your fingers twitch by your side, and you aren’t even sure what to say. Because the look in his eye is unrelenting, and you can see how badly he wants this.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Okay, erase him. Make me yours again.”

And this is all he needs to hear, wasting no more time before smoothing his lips and his hands along your thighs and waist. Repainting every inch of you with his touch. Washing away the metaphorical marks Jesse left when he held you and replacing them with his own. 

Even if it’s not inherently sexual, it’s the most erotic and wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. The way he feasts on your flesh like a man on a mission. Nipping and licking at you just to make you whimper. He’s nowhere near your clit and it doesn’t even matter because he’s so divine.

The heat of his mouth on your cool, wet skin. The way he gingerly kneads at your ass in an attempt to comfort you. Tenderly pulling you closer as though you’re somehow still too far away.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” you hear him sigh, and it makes your insides tighten. “M’so fucking sorry for doing this to you. For bringing you into this.”

Your expression drops while your head shakes. “You didn’t. You didn’t, I asked. I asked to be a part of you, and I don’t regret that.”

But it’s like he can’t hear you over the sound of his shame. Instead kissing you softer as if to apologize. “It’s my fault. Should have told you the moment I saw him. Should have taken you with me. Shouldn’t have left you with him when I fucking knew—”

“Hey.” You reach down and take hold of his hair. Yanking his attention to you. “None of this could ever be your fault. Do you understand?”

He seems to ignore this as well, nudging his nose against your hip with a crestfallen expression that makes you want to scream.

So, you tug harder, forcing his head back and his eyes on yours. “This is who Jesse has always been. You didn’t change that, and you never will. And I know that. I know him. I know his heart and I know what he’d do to hurt me.”

His lips part, as if going to speak, but you merely tighten your grip in an unspoken order to remain silent.

“And I know you,” you continue. “I know that this is who you are. All of this. The fighting and the bets and the torture you put yourself through. And I know that you would never hurt me. That you have always done your best to protect me, even if I didn’t know what I was being protected from.”

His hands begin to drop down your legs and toward the floor, an act of complete submission. 

“This is not your fault,” you repeat earnestly. “You are not responsible for Jesse’s intentions, and you’re certainly not reasonable for mine. And I need you to know that. Okay? You have to know that. Because I have never felt safer than I do with you.”

His features remain unchanged, and you wonder if he heard anything that you said at all. If he understood and internalized your instance. If he’ll believe it.

And then—

“I love you.”

You feel your pulse skip inside your chest as you suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“I love you, Cherry.” He says it again without pause, without a moment’s hesitation. Proving that it wasn’t a mistake or a trick of the mind. He really said it. And he meant to. “And m’so fucking sorry it took him for me to realize it.”

You aren’t sure what to do. What to say or…what to think, but he’s already shaking his head and offering you a small smile before you can decide.

“I don’t want you to say it,” he says quickly and quietly. Slipping your hand from his hair in order to press his lips into your palm. “I just want you to know. And I wish I could have done it differently, but…I do, I love you. And I will do everything I can to prove that to you.”

You want to tell him that he already has. Want to tell him a lot of things that maybe you shouldn’t, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He merely kisses your hand before moving back to your thighs. Looking for your permission to continue. 

Breathlessly, you give it to him.

With a soft grin and great care, he extends his tongue and slowly drags it up your clit. He’s not rushing this time. He’s enjoying it. Allowing himself to indulge in your taste and your feel as you slump against the tile and let him.

He leaves a trail of apologies and promises along your pussy. Kissing, sucking, and flicking until you squirm. And he’s so focused, so dedicated to your orgasm. To making you understand how badly he needs you.

And you do understand. More than you’ve ever understood anything else.

“Love to see you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment, now running the tip of his finger between your folds and down. Taunting you with the intrusion yet not giving it to you. “Love to see this pretty pussy take me.”

You whine pitifully before he finally pushes in. Allowing your walls to beckon him closer until he hums.

“Can’t wait to see you take my cock,” he muses, thrusting the digit once or twice before bringing a second into play. “Gonna watch you stretch for me. Gonna just sit and watch this sweet, little hole take me in. Get me nice and warm. Till I’m soaking in you. Fucking drenched—”

“Harry,” you whine, overcome by a rather euphoric rush that makes him smirk. “Harry, please—”

“What, sweet girl? You like the sound of that?” He ignores your cries and flicks his tongue against your clit. “S’okay. I do, too. Think about it more than I should. Think about you and this tasty little cunt till I’m fucking my fist in the shower.”

The lewd image that’s painted in your head makes your toes curl, and you imagine you’d give anything to watch.

“But it’s not nearly as good as when you do it,” he says coyly. “Won’t ever be able to picture anything else but your sweet, little hand wrapped around my cock. Making me cum like a good girl.”

He adds a third finger, and your vision goes hazy.

“And this,” he breathes, fucking into you a bit faster. Until the sound of your arousal bounces between the walls. “Replay this in my head every goddamn day. The way you sound when you take my fingers, take my tongue. S’fucking beautiful, Cher. The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

You believe him.

“Wanna listen to you forever.” He laps at you like he’s dying of thirst. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you. Wanna fucking hold you and never let you go. Never let anything hurt you. You’re the only good thing in my life, sweet girl. Need you to know.”

You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from the pleasure or his admittance, but they fall from your cheeks almost mercilessly. And you can’t even wipe them away because, in some strange sort of way, you enjoy it. This pain and this angst that comes with the man on his knees before you.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he asks next. But the lustful undertone is gone. He’s pleading with you now. Begging you. “Not his, but mine. Always mine.”

Your agreeance comes before you can question it. “Yes…yes, I’m yours. Yours, I promise—”

 He groans into your cunt like he’s never been happier. And the reverberation down your thighs and across your clit nearly ruins you. “Say it again. Say it again, baby, please—”

“I’m yours. Just yours, Harry. Not his. Never…never his—”

“Fuck.” He pulls on your thigh in order to bury his mouth into your pussy. And you almost wonder if he’s actively trying to suffocate himself. “Again. Again, Cherry—”

“Yours.” The word drips from your tongue like honey from a honeycomb. “Just yours. Don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”

His entire face is nuzzled between your legs, and it almost kills you. Because he’s so beautiful. You’ve never seen or felt something so ethereal, and you can’t look away. Even when your eyes are desperate to fall shut, you force your attention on him. Watching as he mouths at your clit and drives in his fingers until it hits you.

You nearly collapse onto the floor, but he refuses to let you. Keeping you upright before you can go slipping down the wall and cementing you to his tongue in order to drag you through to the other side. 

“Mine,” you vaguely hear him hum, and your heart flutters. “Always mine.”

When he’s sure you’ve caught your breath, he straightens back up, and takes you in his arms. Kissing you and holding you and keeping you safe. Making sure you understand that he wants more than your orgasms. He wants you. Even without the explicit words, you know his true intentions. Know where his heart truly lies, and you settle there beside it.

Moments pass before either of you speak again. Instead listening to the sound of the running water hitting the floor. 

And you’re afraid to be the first to break this tranquility. Because you know once you do, you might not find it again. Jesse’s threat still lingers rather prominently in the forefront of your mind. And you’re terrified that every time you look at Harry…you’ll remember.

“Cherry?” he whispers minutes later, and your pulse jumps. 

You bury your face in his neck, bracing yourself from whatever he might say next. “Harry.”

He nuzzles his cheek against the crown of your head and sighs. And you can feel the heaviness of the breath leave his body. “I don’t know what to do.”

The vulnerability makes your throat run dry, and you subsequently tighten your arms around his middle. “Don’t have to do anything.”

“Cherry—”

“No, just…we’re okay,” you insist. “It’s okay. You just…you’ll win. You’ll keep fighting and you’ll win, and we’ll be okay. And I won’t have to lose you.”

A beat. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t. Never.”

“But he knows, Cher,” he murmurs. “He knows, and he’ll use you to hurt me. He’ll drag you into this as many times as he fucking wants, and he’ll use you. And I can’t let him – I won’t let him.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t scare me, Har—”

“But he fucking scares me.” His volume rises until it can carry over the shower walls. “All right? He terrifies me. Because now he has the one thing I can’t fucking…”

Your eyelids flutter before you take hold of his hand.

“And he wants to play this stupid fucking game, and I won’t let him,” Harry continues. “I won’t let him use you or threaten you, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, but you’re the one with all the cards. Right? He’s shown his hand. He’s shown how desperate he is. He can’t do anything to me if he really wants you to listen—”

“You don’t know him like this,” he nearly scoffs. “You don’t know what he’s willing to do—”

“Harry—”

“I can’t…I can’t,” he seethes. “I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win.”

He’s unrelenting. Unwavering in this insistence and you feel as though your insides are being twisted around a knife.

All he has to do is win. All he has to do is let Jesse believe he’s still in charge. And he’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.

“Harry,” you try again. Softer this time, hoping to reach him. “We’re gonna be fine. Okay? It’s you and me. We’ll be all right. We have to be.”

His expression instantly drops before he dips down and lays his forehead to yours. 

He says nothing else. Offers no more ideas or excuses. He simply exists in this belief and the serenity it provides.

Even if he knows it’s not strong enough to stand on.

“Okay,” he finally mumbles. “You and me.”

And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Because for the first time all night, you see the way out. You see a future where he can be who he is, and you can be who you are, and it can still be all right. Where you can be together and be free of any threats and complications and just exist in this little world you’ve created.

A world outside of the diner and the backseat of his car. A world where he offers you more than his orgasms but his secrets, too. His life. And you need that. You need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

He leads you out of the shower not much later, digging through his things before offering you his hoodie and sweats to wear home. 

And there’s something so intimate about wearing his clothes. The way the tattered fabric feels against your skin. The way it smells like his cologne and the shampoo he must use. The way it fits your frame as if it was always meant to, keeping you warm despite the frigid air that greets you when you step outside.

You offer to drive him home, but he refuses. Insisting that it’s better if you don’t know where he lives, at least for right now. And you don’t have it in you to argue.

He makes you promise to lock your door the moment you get inside the car, and to lock your apartment door the moment it’s closed. You vow to do both before dragging him closer for a kiss.

And he gives it to you. He gives you five kisses, in fact. One on the forehead, one on each cheek, one on the nose, and finally…one on your lips.

 When he lets you go, you feel empty. Lost. As though a part of you is missing, and it aches the entire way home.

In fact, it aches for the next two days until you can finally see him again. And you busy about your shift, watching the clock like a hawk until midnight finally strikes, and you fly through the kitchen doors. Ready to see him and fill this gap in your chest.

But for the second time this week…booth 505 is empty. 

Instantly, the blood drains from your face. All the way down to your toes, and almost feel faint as your shaky legs carry you to his table.

However, the moment you’re close enough, you catch something just out of your peripheral, tucked just beneath the sugar dispenser. Something that most certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago. 

A note.

With furrowed brows, you slip the folded napkin free and bring it closer. Straightening it out until you can make out the haphazard message scrawled across in black ink.

Meet me at the station after your shift.

Don’t tell Owen.

H.

Next Part:

~ Uppercut*

Previous Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @char112244 @harryscowgirl @hsbabygirl22-blog @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

[tricksh0t]

★ new year's

☾ jesse x male reader (tlou)

𝘱𝘳𝘦-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ guess who watched TLOU s2 ep1 today :) by the way I've watched the gameplay as well

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 547

cw: dry humping ish, no s*x just making out, hard-ons, a church

Desperate hands curl around the side of your face and grasp at your hair, pulling. Pulling at your strands, pulling you far back. That initial strength pulls you off, but you fight it, push through, back to his lips.

He doesn't resist. He kicks himself further up the wall, inching up to his full height so you might kiss him easier; but his knees are weak. You notice it.

It's like you're grappling, when you take the underside of his knee, pull him up to height and push him back against the wall.

It's Jesse's choice, after, to wrap it around your hip and press his body closer.

Your pelvises meet, and fuck, that is not a gun.

In a sudden sprout of awareness, Jesse turns his head. He says in a gasp for air, "We're at a church."

"We're outside a church." You correct, and you won't let his self-restraint stop you. It's his self-restraint, after all.

When you press kisses around his neck, Jesse groans. "Wait. Wait, seriously." He tugs at your hair, but you're like a fucking animal, like a dog stealing food that's not his. "Maria's gonna fucking kill me."

"Not if we don't get caught."

"Seriously, you rabid dog." His hand comes down to your cheek, and his thumb pushed against your top lip, and only then do you pull off.

"What is it?" You press a kiss to his thumb, even after it has slighted you, and Jesse almost melts. "Do you not like it..? I mean, you're into guys aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say I'm into guys, I'm more into you—nevermind, that's not the point." Jesse shakes his head. "It's New Year's."

"That's exactly why we should be kissing." You argue.

"And we're at a party and–"

"–you're not helping your case here–"

"and I'm looked up to. I'm a patrol commander, I've gotta get up early tomorrow, and...and it's a goddamn church.."

"Get up early tomorrow is suggesting a lot—and why are you so hooked up on it being a damn church?" Before Jesse can even reply, you kiss him.

He fights for a second or two, nails digging into your cheek and his other hand pushing into your shoulder, before he finally, finally melts.

All his restraint, all his refusal, is thrown right out the window. He grinds his pelvis up against yours, and that moan he lets out at it is quiet, but only because your mouth muffles it.

You swallow the sound right up. God, he's a fucking treat.

Your hands wander, riding up his shirt. A shiver runs through his body–it's winter and there's wind–but your warm hands are there to make up for it. It has a whimper pulling out of his throat.

You've stared before, at the peak of summer, when he lifts up his shirt and he's all sweaty. Of course, you couldn't touch, then.

"Dina's finally let you go," You chuckle, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing his jaw. "and I finally get to have you."

"Oh shut the fuck up." Jesse breathes out, but it's as much of a threat as a snow bunny is.

You don't know how much farther you'll go. You're both hard, that much is clear, and you're not passing up this chance.

𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵-𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ okay let's talk about casting:

bella ramsey was sooo good first season right? but this deeper voice they've got for season 2 (at least i think they're making their voice deeper) is NOT selling an older Ellie; so I think they should've recasted Ellie

ABBY DESERVES TO BE BUFF! that's almost her whole thing in the game, like, "blonde? arms like mine?" or how she's always described as jacked, that's her identifier but fine if at least the actress built some muscle, i think it's alright; her acting during her introduction scene was good

Jesse's casting was great, Dina should've had her hair up more often than not but that casting is okay, she really sold the Dina voice when she yelled "Ellie!" when Ellie fell through the floor

Rapidfire for the fireflies: Owen and Abby's height difference SHOULD NOT have been that big, and the rest of them are way too hot. Like, Manny should've been chubbier, rounder cheeks and all, it's part of his charm. Also where's the rest of them? The dude with the bitch scar across his face?

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: The night at the lodge was supposed to be all harmless fun until Chris made you a deal: if he helped you get closer to Mike, you'd owe him big. You laughed it off, certain he was just joking like always. But soon enough, you'd realize Chris was dead serious and the stakes had never felt more real.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Takes place an hour before the event of the prologue. Mike and Emily/Jess are not together in this. Make out session. No use of Y/N. Chris being an amazing wingman. Friends to lovers. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex. Reader being called ‘ a good boy’

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 6000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Part 2 of this

You stared out the window, entranced by the snow-covered landscape stretching beyond the glass. The mountain peaks towered in the distance, face softened by thick blankets of snow. Snowflakes danced in the wind, tumbling and swirling, like something out of a dream.

A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. "Pretty amazing view, right?"

You turned, finding Sam standing beside you, her hazel eyes bright and clear as she looked out at the scene you'd been admiring. Her breath fogged up the glass slightly as she leaned forward, folding her arms and gazing outside.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s like we're in some sort of snow globe, you know?"

Sam laughed softly, nodding. "I know. I've been here before, but somehow, every time I come back, it still takes my breath away."

You smiled, watching her for a moment before shifting your gaze back to the view. You felt a sense of quiet contentment that was rare. But it didn't last long, as Sam looped her arm through yours with a grin.

"Alright, enough of the peaceful vibes," she said, giving you a playful nudge. "We'll have plenty of time to be zen later. Everyone's downstairs, and I think we're missing out on some very important chaos"

You laughed as she started tugging you along. "I don't have much of a choice, right?"

"Exactly," she quipped, grinning as she guided you through the hallway and down the grand staircase. The lodge's wooden steps creaked underfoot.

Sam kept a steady grip on your arm, steering you through the open archway that led to the main living area.

You glanced around, taking in the scene. In one corner, Jess and Emily were huddled together, whispering intently, heads close and voices low. Jess was laughing at something Emily had just said.

To your right, the guys were clustered around the TV, where a football game was playing on the massive flat screen. Josh was perched on the arm of the couch, gesturing animatedly at the screen as if the players could hear his advice. Matt sat beside him, his focus glued to the game, nodding along and shouting at the TV whenever a play went wrong. And there, beside Matt, was Mike leaning back casually, but his eyes seemed distant, as though he was watching something beyond the screen.

You blinked as you realized that he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze caught you off guard, and for a second, your stomach did a strange little flip. Mike's expression was unreadable as he watched you and Sam together. Then, as if realizing he'd been caught, he quickly turned back to the game, jaw clenching slightly as he forced a laugh at something Matt said.

Sam didn't seem to notice any of this. Instead, she led you over to the large wooden table where Chris was lounging, a mug of hot cocoa in hand and browsing through his phone

"Look who finally decided to join the rest of us. Thought maybe you'd wandered off to commune with nature or something." he drawled, setting down his phone with a theatrical sigh.

Sam rolled her eyes but chuckled. "Some people appreciate the beauty of nature, Chris. Not everyone's glued to their phone."

"Hey, I appreciate the great outdoors as much as the next guy. With Wi-Fi and a lot fewer bears, of course."

You laughed, settling in beside Sam "Some people enjoy a bit of peace and quiet now and then."

"I'm all for peace and quiet, just not when there are opportunities for... other kinds of excitement."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit wary. “What do you mean?”

"You know... like maybe getting cozy with a certain someone?" He leaned in, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. "This could be your big chance, man."

You could feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly glanced away, mumbling, "Chris, come on”

Chris laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "I'm just saying, if there were ever a time to make a move, this is it. Perfect opportunity!"

"Chris!" Sam interjected, laughing as she gently swatted him on the arm. "Cut it out! He doesn't need you trying to play matchmaker."

Chris feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. "Sam, come on. I'm just trying to help our boy here! All you gotta do is put on some charm, maybe play it a little cool, and bam, he's yours."

"Like you're one to talk," Sam said, jumping in. "You've been making heart eyes at Ashley for all this time. How's that working out for you, Chris?"

Chris groaned, dramatically admitting defeat. "Okay, touché. But hey, tell you what, if I help you get close to Mike, you owe me a favor, or a solid friendship payback, something. Deal?"

You chuckled, waving him off. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Chris" You didn't think he was serious, but it was hard not to laugh at his enthusiasm. You knew Chris well enough to know he was just having a bit of fun.

"Good," Chris said, giving you a mock-salute. "Now that's settled, I'll be expecting my reward once you and Mike are official"

"Official?" You snorted, leaning back in your seat. "I'm pretty sure we're a long way from that"

"Not if you listen to your wingman here," he said, winking. "I know all the right moves."

"Right," Sam interjected with a grin. "Just like you know all the moves to win Ashley over?"

Chris held up his hands, chuckling. "I can be persuasive."

Sam shook her head, laughing softly. She leaned in, giving you an encouraging smile. "Look, don't listen to him. Just be yourself, and if it's meant to happen, it will. And don't let him pressure you into anything."

"Thank you, Sam," you replied, grateful for her grounded advice.

The game wrapped up, the room buzzed with chatter and laughter. Josh turned off the TV and everyone gravitated toward the couches in the living room, drawn together by the warmth of the fireplace and the cozy ambiance of the lodge. The couches were a bit crowded, and as people started finding seats, you hovered near the edge, ready to grab a stool from the table to give everyone more room.

"Hey!" Mike's voice made you turn back. "There's room here." He gestured to the narrow space beside him, barely wide enough for one person.

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks warm as you registered what he was offering. It wasn't much room. Actually, it was hardly any room at all. But he was looking at you expectantly, his gaze unwavering, and you found yourself nodding, unable to turn down the chance.

You made your way over, careful to keep your composure even as your heart raced. Sliding into the narrow space, you were acutely aware of his shoulder pressing warmly against yours, his knee brushing against your leg.

The chatter picked up around you, Jessica was animatedly recounting a wild story from a previous trip, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing laughs from Sam and Emily. Matt listened with an amused grin as she continued her exaggerated retelling. Chris and Ashley sat on the floor near the fireplace talking with Josh, their shoulders bumping every so often, and every time, Ashley's cheeks would flush a faint pink.

"You look nervous," Mike whispered, his breath brushing close to your ear, low enough that only you could hear. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Don't worry, I don't bite... much"

You swallowed, glancing sideways at him. His face was close, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. "No, I'm fine," you managed to reply, trying to sound casual despite how fast your heart was beating. "It's just a bit of a tight squeeze."

He chuckled softly, eyes glinting. "Yeah, real tight. Guess you're just gonna have to get cozy with me."

You felt your face flush, and he seemed to catch it, his grin widening just a little. The conversation around you flowed on but you felt as though there was this separate, quieter bubble with just you and Mike.

Casually, he stretched his arm out along the back of the couch and his arm soon dropped gently onto your shoulder, his fingers grazing the fabric of your sweater. His hand large and warm where it rested.

The others were talking, lost in discussion about various topics but you were barely able to focus on a single word.

You could feel Mike's eyes on you, and when you dared to glance his way, you found him watching you with a quiet intensity, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, his gaze lingering a bit too long, savoring the sight of you flustered beside him. The flicker of firelight danced in his eyes, giving them a soft, molten glow.

You two were, like, five seconds away from sitting on each other's laps and if you wanted to, he wouldn't mind at all.

He looked away then, his fingers tapping lightly on your arm as he settled back, his focus shifting to the others' conversation, smiling at something Jess was said.

"So there I was," Jess said, leaning forward, "freshman year, completely new at school, trying to look cute in gym class which, by the way, is nearly impossible with the whole sweats and sneakers thing." She rolled her eyes, earning chuckles from the group. "And we're playing dodgeball. I'm just minding my own business doing some selfies, when BAM!" She smacked her hands together, emphasizing the impact. "This guy drills me in the face with the ball. I literally hit the ground in front of the entire class."

The room erupted with laughter, Chris practically doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

"Okay, okay," Matt said, wiping a tear from his eye after the laughter had died down. "I've got one, but no judging."

"We're all friends here, Matt," Chris teased, leaning forward with mock seriousness. "Of course we’re gonna do it."

Matt launched into a story about a school dance gone wrong. Something about spilling punch on his crush's dress and then slipping in it while trying to apologize. The group listened, laughing and wincing as he described the mortifying details.

Just as Matt's story ended, Josh turned his attention to Mike, "What about you? Surely you've got some embarrassing memory tucked away."

Mike chuckled, feigning reluctance but clearly enjoying the attention. "You guys want a story? Here's one. My first kiss was not exactly smooth."

The room perked up, everyone leaning in a little closer.

"Alright, alright. So... freshman year. I was at this house party. You know, feeling like a big deal and all that." He leaned forward, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I'm wearing way too much cologne because, apparently, I thought that was how you got someone's attention. And, yeah, I was nervous."

The group chuckled, and you found yourself smiling as you imagined a younger, less self-assured Mike.

"It was one of those moments, you know? I'm thinking, 'This is it, man’ So, finally, I'm like, okay, I'm going in for the kiss." He paused for dramatic effect.

"And I close my eyes... maybe a little too soon. So, I lean in, full of confidence, but instead of a pair lips, I end up kissing a forehead, like I was giving a blessing or something," he said, laughing as he reenacted the awkward gesture, his face breaking into a grimace.

The room burst into laughter, everyone's amusement only fueling Mike's smile.

Emily grinned, tapping her chin to appear deep in thought. "You know, that sounds like it needs a redo."

Mike raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying," Emily continued, her tone playful and a little too serious, "you need a chance to redeem yourself. Your reputation is on the line here, Mike.

"Oh, come on, Michael," Jess teased, winking at Emily. "Emily's just trying to help you out."

Emily crossed her arms, pretending to look offended. "If you're as smooth as you think you are, this should be easy."

Chris voice soon stole the attention of everyone, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at you. “Why don’t you step in and be a good homie? Make this unique for him without hurting the girls’ feelings here. It’s just a way to help a buddy out.”

Heat flooded your face, and you looked at Chris with a mixture of disbelief and horror, silently cursing him for putting you on the spot. He had an exaggerated, almost innocent smile, like he hadn't just thrown you into the spotlight. You could feel the group's attention shift, everyone's curiosity piqued as they picked up on Chris's not-so-subtle suggestion.

Your heart started to race, your mind suddenly split in trying to figure out what to do.

Accept the proposal. Embrace the challenge, let the thrill ignite something between you two, regardless of the potential consequences. It could solidify your feelings and perhaps satisfy your infatuation, or throw your friendship with others into chaos.

Refuse. Protect yourself from vulnerability, avoid complicating things with Mike, and maintain a semblance of control over the situation. It’s safe, but it might leave you wondering what could have been.

You take a deep breath, weighing the options. You looked over at Mike from the corner of your eyes and to your surprise, he didn't seem phased or disgusted at all. In fact, he looked intrigued. Maybe even a bit too eager. He shifted closer, his gaze steady as he looked at you, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Accept the proposal

A faint shimmer seemed to ripple across the room, a barely perceptible wave that was more felt than seen, like the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings resonating outwards, echoing into something larger, something unknown.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"I’ve got no problem," you said, your voice quieter than you'd intended, a slight tremor betraying the excitement that was coursing through you. Your pulse quickened as you realized how real this was about to become. "But no promises on-"

Before you could finish, Mike's hand was on your face, his fingers warm and steady against your skin as he gently but firmly guided you to face him. His touch was confident, the kind of touch that held no hesitation, no doubt. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of excitement in his eyes, a spark that catches you off guard.

His touch was warm, grounding, and you barely had time to brace yourself before his lips met yours.

The kiss started soft, a gentle pressure that deepened soon, his lips parting slightly as he tilted your head, his hand steadying you.

His arm around your shoulder tightened, drawing you in closer and enveloping you in the warmth of his solid frame, effectively caging you against him. Backing away was no longer an option.

The room around you erupted in shouts and cheers, but they felt like background noise to the consuming connection between you and Mike.

You could feel his restraint slipping, his eagerness intensifying. His lips moved with a hunger that was unmistakable, his hand slipping down to your shoulder, fingers pressing into your skin as if to anchor himself.

You felt his tongue slip forward, grazing against yours, a bold, unrestrained movement that took your breath away. His breath mingled with yours as his tongue explored, tracing along your teeth and slipping eagerly into every corner of your mouth. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he angled you closer, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

Emily sat back, her expression carefully controlled, her usual sharp confidence dimming as she watched you and Mike. There was a bitterness in her eyes that she tried to hide behind a forced smile, her gaze dropping as if she couldn't bear to watch.

Sam glanced away from the intensity of the moment, a soft smile spreading across her face as she took in your bliss. She was genuinely happy for you, watching you live out what could only be described as a dream for anyone with their crush. But as her gaze drifted to Hannah, her expression shifted.

She gave Chris a quick punch on the arm, muttering, "Nice going, cupid," as she shot a concerned glance toward Hannah who was looking down, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Chris, realizing what he'd inadvertently stirred up, shifted uncomfortably, murmuring an apology under his breath.

"I swear I thought it'd just be, like, a quick smooch or something. Didn't expect him to... you know, go all in."

You could feel your friends laughing together, their voices blending with the loud beating of your heart reverberating in your ears, all of them no longer paying attention to you and Mike.

Mike's mouth was still on yours, his lips pressing insistently along with the soft cradle of his hand on the back of your head as he leaned in even closer, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, a soft, almost tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of his kiss.

When he finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, he didn't move far. His arm remained on your shoulder, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as his gaze lingered on your face. His pupils wide and there was a spark of satisfaction in the small, lopsided grin that curved his lips. He looked as though he'd just accomplished something he'd wanted for a long time, and his hand remained at your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek, leaving you with the realization that maybe Mike felt the same way.

He winked at you, his grin widening as he took in the sight of your flushed face, pleased with the effect he'd had on you.

The warmth of the lodge felt almost suffocating after this. Your heart was pounding, your skin tingling, and you could feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace. So, when everyone got up to see who could withstand more booze between Josh and Chris, you slipped away from the group, sneaking outside to steady yourself.

Sitting alone outside in the snow, you tilted your head back and exhaled, your breath clouding the air around you in soft, fleeting puffs. The chill from the ground seeped through your clothes, but you barely noticed, too lost in the replay of the kiss that had unfolded with Mike earlier. A quiet smile lingered on your lips, but it was starting to ache from how long it had stayed there. You touched your face, almost laughing at how ridiculous it felt to be so swept up by a single kiss.

The silence was broken by a distant, eerie sound. A chilling, guttural scream that seemed to echo through the snowy trees, too animalistic to be human and too distorted to be familiar. You suddenly became aware of just how isolated you were out here. With one last look around, you decided it was best to head back inside.

Chris and Josh were sprawled across the two couches, completely knocked out. Josh's arm hung limply over the edge, while Chris had somehow managed to slump halfway down the couch, his head hanging back and a gentle snore escaping his lips.

You walked over, chuckling softly as you took in the sight. Chris's face was adorned with various drawings, courtesy of your mature friends. He had a mustache, glasses, and something vaguely resembling a pirate's eye patch.

You leaned in, whispering to him, "I'll make it up to you somehow." Не mumbled something incomprehensible in response, but it only made you smile, glad he was there, even in his alcohol-induced stupor.

As you straightened, your gaze drifted to the table nearby, where a crumpled piece of paper lay. Intrigued, you reached for it, noticing that it had been folded and unfolded multiple times. It wasn't long before you recognized Jessica's handwriting, her signature dramatic flourish over every "i" and "j". Curiosity piqued, you smoothed it out and began reading.

They intended to lure Hannah into thinking Mike was genuinely interested in her, playing on her obvious crush. An idea likely planted by Emily, who you knew was never above using a little underhandedness to get what she wanted, especially if it meant eliminating any ‘competition’ for Mike's attention

Hannah had been Mike's quiet admirer for as long as anyone could remember, and she likely saw you as competition, someone who was slowly claiming the attention she'd always dreamed of having for herself.

And the the kiss you had with Mike happened. Raw, real, with an intensity you hadn't felt before. The memory alone was enough to make your heart race, but now it was tinted with a complicated swirl of guilt and conflict.

You folded the paper and placed it back on the table, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Taking a steadying breath, you climbed the stairs, your heart a chaotic mix of emotions. Maybe you were in time to see what they were up to and stop this stupid idea but, as you reached the landing, you saw Hannah standing in the hallway, looking more vulnerable than ever.

She had changed into a new outfit, this should have been the shirt mentioned on the paper. Her makeup was carefully applied and she'd styled her hair, giving her an air of confidence that seemed fragile beneath the surface. She was trying to be someone else tonight, someone she thought Mike might finally notice.

She greeted you, her voice soft, almost shy. Ber hands fidgeting slightly as she shifted her weight. "Have you, um, seen Mike around anywhere?"

Her question hit you like a blow, and suddenly, everything froze.

Tell her the truth. Take the burden upon yourself, spare her from the cruel joke waiting for her. Show compassion, empathy, knowing it would devastate her to hear that her crush was being used against her. It was the honorable path. But in doing so, you risk losing any chance you had with Mike, knowing she might find some way to make him notice her, knowing she would keep clinging to her hope.

Tell her where Mike could be. Give her the small push that would send her toward the prank, and maybe—just maybe— she'd realize he wasn't hers to pursue. She'd see the truth of the situation, feel the sting of betrayal, and let go of the dream she held onto so tightly. It would be a selfish choice, driven by a desire to keep what you'd found with Mike, however brief, however new it was.

You looked at her, feeling your heart clench. Hannah's eyes held a faint glimmer of smugness, a subtle look that told you she saw you as her rival, someone she'd managed to one-up. There was a quiet triumph in her gaze, like she knew she'd taken a step ahead in this unspoken competition, and it stirred something in you. An ache of jealousy, resentment, a desperation to hold onto that kiss you'd shared with Mike, the feeling of his hand on your face, his gaze steady and unguarded.

The kiss was still fresh in your memory, vivid and electric. His lips on yours, the look in his eyes when he'd pulled back, the way he lingered, his hand resting on your jaw, his thumb brushing your skin. Those moments felt like yours alone. The thought of giving that up, of stepping aside, felt like a painful tearing inside.

It was that memory that tipped the scales, jealousy and desire mingling with fear and longing, stirring something selfish, something raw.

Tell her where Mike could be

You forced a small smile, doing your best to keep your voice calm. "I think he went upstairs. Maybe check one of the rooms?”

A faint shimmer flickered in your peripheral vision, like a ripple in the air, and a twinge of guilt tightened in your chest.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Hannah's eyes lit up, her face breaking into an excited smile, the look of triumph becoming even more pronounced as she nodded, glancing down the hallway with a sense of anticipation. "Thank you," she murmured as she turned, her steps quick and light, eager to reach the encounter she thought awaited her.

You watched her disappear down the hall, your heart sinking as a pang of guilt twisted inside you. The weight of what you'd done settled heavily, an ache that gnawed at your chest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Turning away, you felt the need for air, for space, and made your way toward the balcony. The crisp night air hit you as you stepped outside, the chill biting into your skin, but it did little to shake the lingering weight of your decision. The view stretched before you, vast and beautiful, snow-covered trees casting dark silhouettes against the star-speckled sky.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes, letting the cold seep into you, grounding yourself in the reality of everything that had happened tonight. The kiss replayed in your mind. You could still feel his touch, the press of his lips, the breathless thrill that had consumed you, making you forget the world around you.

You had let jealousy and insecurity guide you, and it left you feeling hollow, a gnawing ache spreading in your chest as you replayed the moment you'd told Hannah where to find him.

You'd let her walk into a setup, into a trap that would humiliate her, and as much as you wanted Mike to yourself, as much as you craved the connection you'd felt with him, the choice you'd made felt cold, cruel.

So much time passed, snowflakes started to accumulate on your hair and clothes and you were still lost in thought when the soft creak of footsteps on the wooden deck broke the silence, pulling you back to the present. Turning, you were surprised to see Mike stepping out onto the balcony.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"There you are," he said softly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I was looking for you."

A pang of relief washed over you at seeing him, even as the guilt returned with a renewed intensity. You managed a small smile, trying to push away the conflict twisting in your chest. "Hey," you replied, watching him as he closed the distance between you.

Mike offered you a small, teasing smile, the familiar cocky grin that you'd come to love. "I've got something a little important to talk about with you."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way his eyes held a playful glint. He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "You know, that little thing that happened between us a few minutes ago... I think we left it unfinished."

You could feel again your heartbeat drumming in your ears, and a small smile tugged at your lips. "Is that so?" you replied, feeling a spark of excitement rekindle.

"Yeah," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, softer tone as he leaned even closer. "I think we might have a few things to clear up about us." His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, as he added with a hint of playful challenge, "Unless, of course, you're gonna tell me that was just a favor, and you don't feel the same way."

The question hung between you, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. You took a steadying breath, feeling the familiar thrill of his presence, the way he seemed to pull you in effortlessly. "I... I think you know what it meant for me, Mike."

"I dunno... you seemed kinda thrown off after. Made me think maybe I did something wrong."

Your cheeks heated, and you tried to roll your eyes, but it came off as more of a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sure, like you ever doubt yourself."

"Hey," he said, pretending to look wounded, though the grin never left his face. "I have doubts. I mean, how else am I supposed to know if I've got a shot?"

He grinned, his hand moving to grasp your waist, "So, tell me," he said, his voice husky and barely audible. "Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Expectations?" you echoed.

"Yeah, you know," he said, his hand squeezing gently. "A kiss is kind of a big deal, right? Wouldn't want you to feel like you got short-changed."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face. "I don't have any complaints," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's eyes lit up, that cocky grin widening as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous murmur. "See, I was hoping for more than just 'no complaints’," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want you wanting more and more... until you're practically counting down the seconds to get another chance with me." He tilted his head, his gaze flickering to your lips for a heartbeat before meeting your eyes again, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The words sent a thrill racing through you, leaving your heart pounding as he inched even closer. His confidence was magnetic, and you could feel yourself drawn to it, the space between you almost electric.

Mike leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, searching your expression as if looking for any hint of hesitation, but when you didn't pull away, he took his chance.

His lips met yours with a slow, deliberate pressure. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, his other hand lifting to cradle your jaw, his fingers gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss, savoring every moment, every small reaction.

His mouth moved against yours with a quiet, unhurried intensity. His breath was warm, and the faint scent of cologne lingered, mixing with the crispness of the winter air.

He pulled back slightly, his face hovering inches from yours, his breath coming in soft, uneven puffs as he watched you. His eyes held a mixture of affection and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private." He murmured, his voice low and rough as he glanced back toward the lodge.

You felt a thrill shoot through you, and you nodded, letting him guide you back inside. His hand stayed at your waist as he led you through the hallway, past the sleeping forms of Chris and Josh downstairs, until you reached the room he usually took when staying at the lodge.

He paused just outside the door, glancing back at you with a hint of hesitation. "Are you alright with this?" he asked, his voice softer now, vulnerable.

In response, you stepped forward, your hand reaching up to pull him into another fierce kiss, pressing him against the wall, your lips moving urgently against his. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and he let out a soft, pleased sound as he responded with equal intensity, his mouth meeting yours with renewed passion. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you felt him guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

You tumbled onto it, and he followed, his hands bracing him as he hovered over you, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours with hunger.

You couldn’t help but revel in the fact that Mike wants you. You’ve dreamed of this, fantasized about it for so long, yet the weight of your choices weighs heavily on your heart. The way Mike holds you makes you feel cherished, and you can’t help but savor every second.

How could something so beautiful feel so wrong?

You could feel the intoxicating warmth of his breath as he moved down near, his lips grazing your jawline and neck with tantalizing kisses. Each gentle bite ignited a wave of desire, making you ache for more as he savored every curve of your skin

With your silent permission, he lifted your shirt, his fingers trailing along your skin as he slipped it over your head. He took a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down to your chest.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back, as if he didn't want to rush this moment.

You felt his hands founding their way to your ass, cupping and squeezing it firmly. His kisses grew bolder, deeper, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

He leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "Been waiting for this... for us." his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more.

Mike is here, right now, wanting you, and the idea of sharing him with anyone else feels unbearable. It’s selfish, you know, but the idea of being the one he craves makes you feel alive, even if it means stepping on someone else’s feelings.

His hands moved lower, unbuckling your belt and sliding your pants down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled your pants off completely, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He moved down your body, his lips trailing a path of fire as he explored every inch of you.

As he moved lower, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

When his lips finally reached their destination, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

Mike's pace was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He took his time, drawing out every sensation, every moan, until you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with need.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with evidence of his work, you were a mess of whimpers and gasps, your body aching for release. But Mike wasn't done with you yet. He moved back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that made you dizzy with want.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you try to form words. "I need you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. "Please, Mike."

"Give me a second" his voice husky and breathless as he got up from the bed with a soft grunt.

He leaned over and opened a drawer, his hand reaching out to open it. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a bottle of lube.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice laced with lust as he looked at you, his grin widening at your obvious embarrassment.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your face burning as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "Y-yeah," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike chuckled softly, setting the bottle aside for a moment as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. "You're so fucking cute when you're shy" he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

A pair of warm and calloused hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you.

His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure and when he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the weight of him grounding you.

He was so big.

He entered you slowly, the stretch and burn of him filling you completely, making you gasp as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was unleashing emotions and desires kept in check for too long.

"You're so perfect for me" Mike whispered, his voice rough as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, across your chest.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps that escaped your lips as he drove into you, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

"Fuck, you feel so good! My good boy... only mine." Mike growled, his voice rough and possessive as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, deeper.

You felt your body respond to his voice, to the way he claimed you with each movement, each touch. You clung to him, your hands clutching at his back as he drove you both higher, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best possible way.

You finally reached that peak together, your body trembling beneath him as you came, the pleasure washing over you in waves so intense that you could barely breathe.

Mike groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. His body shaking with the force of it and collapsing gently on top of you. He was heavy, but there were many other things to think about at the moment.

You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a mix of the lingering energy between you and the warmth of his body against yours. His chest pressed into yours as he leaned down, his breathing deep and even, and you noticed a light sheen of sweat tracing his brow

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his big and muscular biceps flexing unnecessarily, as though he couldn't resist showing off just a little bit.

A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you. He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, his voice still a little husky and a bit of that cocky charm you'd come to know so well.” Just so you know," he murmured, his words brushing against your ear, "I'm ready to make this official... to show you exactly what kind of boyfriend I can be." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the words half-teasing, half-serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that told you he meant every word. "You're kinda stuck with me now. Think you can handle it?"

He wanted this, wanted you and every part of him was showing it, from the gentle hold he kept on your waist to the way his gaze held yours like he didn't want to let go.

"You're not getting away from me that easily," he murmured, his voice still laced with that familiar confidence, but there was something gentler there too, an honesty that left you feeling reassured, safe. "You're kinda stuck with me now. Think you can handle it?"

You laughed softly, the sound warm and light in the quiet room, and you felt his chest rumble in response as he laughed along with you, the two of you sharing a moment of unspoken understanding. "I think I can manage," you whispered back, squeezing his hand gently.

His grin softened into a smile, and he let his forehead rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the comfortable silence.

Note: I’m thinking of perhaps doing a part 2 of this, i feel like there is some potential. Maybe i could take a darker turn with it. Let me know if you would like it and if you have an idea of what could happen next. If you liked this please leave a comment, i love reading them <3

[tiredandoptimistic]

TSC Fandom Survey Results

The time has finally come for me to share my data! For those unaware, I've spent the past week running a survey in which people ranked TSC books, characters, and ships. In the end, 50 people filled out my survey, which is way more than I expected! About 23% of the people who looked at the survey filled it out, and everyone who started finished it.

First off I'll post the simple rankings from each category, and below the cut I'll show the more complex results with explanations for why people voted the way they did.

Best series: 1. The Infernal Devices 2. The Mortal Instruments 3. The Dark Artifices 4. The Last Hours 5. The Eldest Curses 6. The Wicked Powers 7. The Secret Treasons

Best main girl: 1. Tessa Gray 2. Clary Fairchild 3. Emma Carstairs 4. Cordelia Carstairs 5. Dru Blackthorn

Best main couple: 1. Will/Tessa/Jem 2. Will/Tessa 3. Clary/Jace 4. Jem/Tessa 5. Julian/Emma 6. James/Cordelia 7. Dru/Ash

Best side couple: 1. Magnus/Alec 2. Simon/Isabelle 3. Thomas/Alastair 4. Kit/Ty 5. Kieran/Mark/Cristina 6. Charlotte/Henry 7. Sophie/Gideon 8. Gabriel/Cecily 9. Helen/Aline 10. Grace/Christopher 11. Gwyn/Diana 12. Lucie/Jesse 13. Ari/Anna

Best side character: 1. Raphael Santiago 2. Lily Chen 3. Maia Roberts 4. Ragnor Fell 5. George Lovelace 6. Catarina Loss 7. Livvy Blackthorn 8. Jessamine Lovelace 9. Luke Graymark 10. Jocelyn Fairchild 11. Maryse Lightwood 12. Eugenia Lightwood 13. Jordan Kyle 14. Robert Lightwood 15. Jaime Rosales 16. Michael Wayland 17. Amatis Graymark 18. Camille Belcourt 19. Nate Gray 20. Charles Fairchild

Best younger sibling/child: 1. Max Lightwood-Bane 2. Rafael Lightwood-Bane 3. Mina Carstairs 4. Max Lightwood 5. Tavvy Blackthorn 6. Alex Lightwood 7. Zachary Carstairs

Best villain: 1. Sebastian Morgenstern 2. Valentine Morgenstern 3. Annabel Blackthorn 4. Malcolm Fade 5. Axel Mortmain 6. Asmodeus 7. Shinyun Jung 8. Benedict Lightwood 9. Tatiana Blackthorn 10. Belial

Best side book: 1. Tales From the Shadowhunter Academy 2. Ghosts of the Shadow Market 3. The Bane Chronicles 4. Secrets of Blackthorn Hall 5. An Illustrated History of Notable Shadowhunters and Denizens of Downworld 6. The Shadowhunter's Codex 7. Better in Black 8. A Sea Change

Huzzah! Putting this all together has been so much fun for me, and I want to quickly thank everybody who participated! I also want to remind everyone that this was just for fun, and no reason to get mad at anybody. We're obviously never gonna agree on everything, we just need to respect each other's opinions.

If you want to know the nitty gritty of how every character was ranked, how the different series measured up against each other across categories, and why people like or dislike various books and characters, then keep reading below the cut! I made a spreadsheet, please come gaze upon my beautiful spreadsheet.

Here we go, time for the real shit!

Be warned, you will probably read mean things about characters you love and nice things about characters you hate. Angry rants about how you can't believe anyone would think that way belong in DMs to your friends, not the notes of my post. I do welcome discussion, just nothing that's targeted at other people. Also, I will be doing my best to explain people's opinions, that doesn't mean that I agree with them. I'm just trying to document. If I'm sharing my genuine personal opinion on anything, I'll make that clear.

You'll be seeing screenshots from my big spreadsheet throughout this thing. Here's your key: Columns represent characters/ships/series, rows represent a ranking. Each cell shows how many people assigned that rank to that character (for example, the intersection of 3 and Sizzy will be the number of people who voted Sizzy as their second favorite side ship). At the bottom there will be the average rank this character received, which was calculated by the program I used for the survey. I have all the columns color coordinated by which series each character/ship belongs to, and each column will have one box outlined which shows the rank that character received most often (as in, the intersection of Sizzy and 3 is outlined because Sizzy got more #3 votes than #1 #2 #4 or #5). Some columns have multiple boxes outlined, in the case of ties.

Make sense?

Alright, let's go!

First off, it's everyone's favorite series. As you can see, TID was significantly ahead of all the others. TMI and TDA were neck and neck, frequently switching back and forth for that #2 spot. TLH was a bit lower than the other three, and TEC, TWP, and TST all ranked dramatically lower.

To explain why they liked TID, people talked about finding the series nostalgic, enjoying how the characters are woven into the plot, the historical setting, and how it expands the worldbuilding of TSC while still working as a contained story. People also mentioned enjoying specific characters like Will, Jessamine, and Gabriel. By far the most common comment though was just that people love Herongraystairs. The only negative comments came from people who said that they didn't find the concept interesting, and were disappointed by the lack of their favorite modern characters.

Talking about TMI, the most common positive comments were that the series was fun, nostalgic, and had the best cast of characters (specifically Alec, Magnus, and Simon). People also enjoy the modern setting, the interpersonal relationships (especially Malec), and how the world is seen to develop from where it was in the historical era. TMI has the fewest haters, but some people said that they just didn't find it as captivating as later series, or that they were put off by the incest plotline. I also received the criticism that the characters are annoying, and that the story could have been compressed into fewer books.

For TDA, a lot of people mentioned finding the characters relatable, enjoying the plot, and liking the Blackthorn family dynamic. The characters and ships who got specific shout-outs were Blackstairs, Kierarktina, and Mark. People also like the modern setting, found it to be emotional, and think that it effectively juggles a large cast of characters. Plus, people appreciate getting autistic representation from Ty. It has a solid number of detractors too, who say that they don't like Blackstairs (especially Julian), Thule, the Cohort, or the focus on Faerie politics. They also say that it has too many plotlines, takes itself too seriously, and that the last book (Queen of Air and Darkness) made them drop the series.

While TLH was ranked last of the main series, I'd like to point out that it has the same number of #1 votes as TDA, signaling that it has a similar number of intense fans. The difference really comes in with the lack of #2 or #3 votes, showing that people don't tend to be casual fans of the series. By far the most popular thing brought up by TLH enjoyers is the characters, and how they build an interconnected web with lots of fun dynamics (including developed family dynamics). People also like the number of queer and POC characters, the cozy vibe, the historical setting, the drama, and the ships (especially Herondaisy). The most common critiques all come back to the plot; that the main story is weak or even incoherent, and the series is stretched too thin across a number of side plots. People also dislike the lack of communication, and think that the characters don't feel like friends. Another complaint is that the world doesn't feel like a natural extension of TID, especially because the characters are so invested in mundane social structures like balls and reputations.

TEC is our first truly controversial series, and the main divide seems to be between people who think it's unnecessary fan service, and fans who feel serviced. The reasons I was given to like the series are the additional page time for Malec and the TMI gang, and that it fleshed out the TMI timeline. On the negative side, people say that it feels like a cash grab and that LBOTW didn't live up to the expectations set by RSOM. Overall though, the biggest reason that people ranked it so low was just that they hadn't read it.

Here's where we get into the series that were doomed to fail in the rankings because none of us have even read them. While TWP has a solid number of prospective fans ranking it in their top three, most people left it at the bottom because it hasn't come out yet. The people who expect to enjoy the series are the ones who enjoyed Dru, Kit, and Ty in TDA, and the ones who expect to dislike it are the ones who didn't enjoy those three in TDA.

So, TST was probably not fair to include in this list because I got a solid number of respondents who hadn't even heard of it, but I'm convinced that if it were ever to come out it would be in my top two series overall, and I want to see what the people think. While it didn't get anybody voting it #1 based on potential like TWP did, there were still some people saying that they would be excited to read it because of Waywood, the Luke/Jocelyn/Valentine drama, and the morally gray characters. On the other hand, there's the people who just don't care about the Circle and don't want to read about them.

For main girls, Tessa, Clary, and Emma were all pretty close in the average rankings. Cordelia and Dru fell a bit behind, but also had their share of committed fans.

When talking about Tessa, people brought up her intelligence, maturity, and their nostalgia for her character. They also like that she's a book lover, has cool powers, isn't annoying, starts out messy before maturing, and is strong-willed. By far though, the most common comment was that they found her relatable. The downside to this relatability is that her detractors say she feels like an obvious reader insert, and is overshadowed by more interesting characters like Will, Jem, and Jessamine.

Clary had the most positive comments, and people love that she's funny, creative, blunt, fearless, iconic, and handles all the bullshit the world throws at her. (My personal favorite comment was the person who called her "my beautiful unhinged princess"). More than anything though, people love Clary for her development. She starts out as a relatable 15-year-old, but over the course of six TMI books and all her later appearances, she grows into a hero. She's also of course incredibly nostalgic, since most TSC fans were introduced to the world by either her or Tessa. On the downside, people say that she works better as a side character than a protagonist, and that she's overshadowed by the rest of TMI. They also think that she made bad choices throughout the series, and find her annoying.

What people love about Emma is that she's strong, funny, complex, badass, and a bit of an asshole. They like that she's allowed to have an attitude and still be treated as a cool and compelling woman by the narrative and the other characters. Plus, she comes across as having a clear voice that makes her feel like somebody they could be friends with in real life. Most of the people with specific complaints about her either didn't like TDA overall, or thought she was treated as an extension of Julian who never fulfilled her individual potential. Some people also found her badass bad bitch persona to be more exhausting than endearing.

Cordelia is probably the most controversial character in this category, with long lists of both positive and negative traits given by the fandom. On the bright side, she's fierce, badass, kind, and relatable. People also like to see a woman of color thriving in 1903 London, and how she embodies the concept of a warrior. Looking to the negative, people largely just don't find her particularly engaging. They say that she's inconsistant, flat, and had no development after Chain of Gold. They also complained about her making bad decisions and having a weak relationship with Lucie.

Everybody had the least to say about Dru, and most people said that they ranked her last just because they don't know enough about her to like her more than the established characters. What her fans do enjoy is that she's relatable, blunt, sassy, and a fat goth girl who's giving 2015 tumblr emo. The only real complaint people had was that they found her annoying in TDA, but everyone who left comments like that also acknowledged that she was 13 in TDA and will probably be more engaging once TWP gives her time in the spotlight.

Moving into the main couples, TID continues to sweep as Herongraystairs takes the top spot (and came incredibly close to taking the entirety of the top three). After that, the couples are spaced out pretty equally and follow the same pattern established by the previous two categories.

Now, Herongraystairs received arguably the most bonkers majority in this entire survey. Nearly half of respondents ranked it as their #1, and only a couple outliers put it in their bottom three. What everybody loves about this ship is the angst, how willing they were to sacrifice for each other, the raw emotions, how perfectly the three balance each other, and the ideas about fate. They also like how all three of them are compelling characters on their own, have unique relationships in pairs (Wessa, Jessa, Heronstairs), and work even better as a complete unit. Will and Jem already loved each other, but they could only fully develop once they had Tessa; creating this tragic yet beautiful cloud of possibility. People also like the polyamorous aspect, and wish that they were a canon three way relationship. More than anything else though, what was commented again and again was simply "they loved each other so much." What else can you say? Well, I can say why a couple of people dislike the ship. The only reasons I was given was that the person didn't like TID overall, and that they prefer Jem and Will with a purely platonic parabatai bond.

Moving on to Wessa, people like their banter, the crazy build up to their relationship, and how they bonded over books. They also love how gutwrenching the relationship is, especially once you get to the epilogue of Clockwork Princess. The only complaint anybody had was that they aren't Herongraystairs, and the relationship is incomplete without Jem.

People of course love Clace for the nostalgia factor and how it's the relationship that introduced them to TSC, but most importantly people like how the two of them are just so horribly down bad for each other. They're cute, fun, and have good chemistry; forming the heart of the TMI gang and of the Shadowhunters world. What people don't like is that they're basic, getting overshadowed by other couples in their own series. The upside is that they get better in their appearances that came after TMI. There are of course also the people who don't like the incest plotline and felt uncomfortable reading about that era of their relationship.

Jessa was solidly in third for most of this survey, but Clace pulled ahead of them in the last day. Though they came in behind the other TID ships, they're still beloved by the fandom. People like their dynamic and enjoy Jem as a character. The downside is that the ship makes them sad because of the tragedy of their situation, doesn't include Will, and gets overused in the modern series.

As for Blackstairs, people see their relationship as beautiful, a good example of friends to lovers/forbidden romance, and worked in well with the plot of TDA. People also like the soulmate aspect. Their haters sure had a lot to say to counterbalance that though, and complained about how the relationship is melodramatic, overly intense, toxic, and codependant. I also got a few respondants who said that they just dislike Emma and Julian as individuals, and that Julian's behavior towards Emma is alarming.

Herondaisy is continuing TLH's grand tradition of coming in near the end while still maintaining a dedicated team of fans. The good stuff is how much James loved Cordelia, and that he spent so long unable to say anything, but once he was free from the Gracelet he never let her forget his devotion. Their love was powerful enough to break a hellish enchantment, but still felt like a friendship built on a shared interests like books and stories. The most common complaint about this relationship was miscommunication, dislike of James or Cordelia as characters, and not understanding why the two like each other (other than mutual attraction). There's also people who just don't like TLH and generally aren't invested in their story. The other main complaint was that the James/Grace and Cordelia/Matthew subplots felt unnecessary and overly drawn out (which of course connects back to the miscommunication issue).

Morgenthorn suffers from the same issue as the other TWP representatives, and largely got low marks because their books aren't out yet. Some people think they're shaping up to be iconic though, while others still aren't sold on the premise.

The side ships are where things start to really heat up. Based on their average rank, the pairs form a couple distinct tiers. First, is Malec, Sizzy, Thomastair, and Kitty (the fan favorites), next is Kierarktina, Chenry, Sophideon, and Gabrily making up the middle of the pack, then we have the less popular Haline, Gracetopher, Gwynburn, and Ghostwriter, and in dead last with by far the lowest score there's Arianna. (Sorry to the u-haul lesbians). I think it's quite interesting how most of the ships are clumped together with other ships from the same series.

I'm guessing we all knew that Malec was gonna come in first. People love the nostalgia factor, of course, and they also love how the ship is queer, iconic, and just generally sweet. It's a case of opposites attract where the two of them help each other grow and reach for things they never thought possible. Both Alec and Magnus believed that they'd never be truly loved for who they were, and yet together they were able to create a life and family. Not a single person had a bad thing to say about these two.

Continuing the popularity of the TMI gang, Sizzy came shockingly close to beating Malec for first. They didn't get as many #1 votes as the other top ships, but they were still voted highly by more or less everyone. On the surface this couple is cute and funny, but what people really love is how perfectly they match each other. While they look like opposites at first, they're actually incredibly well-balanced. Everyone expected Isabelle to break Simon's heart, but he's able to stand up to her without being a dick and he sees her for who she really is under all her defensiveness. Plus, they're great individual characters and encourage each other to grow. They only negative comment they got was one person who finds them annoying.

Next up, Thomastair comes in to prove that there are at least some parts of TLH that are pretty universally adored. People like how Thomas saw the good in Alastair from the start, and watching his schoolboy crush develop into a mature romance. They like how Thomas helped Alastair accept love into his life, and Alastair encouraged Thomas to become confident in himself. The two of them were able to create their own world in Paris, which allowed them to escape the roles they felt trapped in. The characters are of course loved as individuals, and people got especially attached to Alastair and think that he deserves good things. People also like their communication skills, in contrast with other TLH couples. The only real complains people had with the ship was that it's connected to a series they dislike overall, and falls into the bully x victim trope.

Kitty is another ship that anybody who spends any length of time in the fandom will not be surprised to see in the top quarter of this list. They're beloved as characters, and even people who dislike TDA say that they were some of the best stuff in it. Fans enjoy how Kit understood Ty from the start and Ty felt truly comfortable with Kit. They also like how Kit can't make amends with Ty but still keeps his secret (shout-out to the person who described them as being in "doomed yaoi purgatory"). People also say that they have great chemistry and a lot of potential. What people dislike is really just that they haven't had time to fully develop, since TWP hasn't actually come out yet.

The next top ship is Kierarktina, which is where we exit the "pure adoration" tier of this list. People like the characters and all their different dynamics, and think that there's a lot of potential for growth with them. They also like the fact that they're a canonically polyamorous ship. The complaints I got were that the relationship feels rushed, and that Cristina seems to fetishize Kieran and Mark's relationship.

Getting into the TID ships all nicely chunked together in the middle of this list, people like Chenry for their arranged marriage setup, where both of them love each other but saw their feelings as unrequited for years. They also like Charlotte and Henry's combined autistic swag. What makes people hesitate is their lack of pagetime.

For Sophideon, people of course love the individual characters, and especially appreciate how Gideon adores everything about Sophie. The only downside is how little of them we get on the page.

Gabrily came in lower than Sophideon but did receive more #1 votes and fewer #13 votes, proving that they have a higher number of committed fans despite being less popular overall. Those fans like how the two of them loved each other for what they were and always had each other's backs. Nobody had any negative comments about them.

Haline is another mid-tier ship that didn't get many comments. What I did hear is that people like how their struggles were worth it because they had each other, and ranked them low because of their lack of page time.

Gracetopher is probably the most controversial ship on this list. If we were just going off of who received the most #1 votes, they would be fifth overall (that order would be Malec, Kitty, Thomastair, Sizzy, Gracetopher). Unfortunately for them though, we are also factoring in all the people who ranked them dead last. As this form received more and more submissions, I watched this couple gradually climb from second-to-last to the dizzying height of fourth-to-last in the overall rankings. First off, what people like is how they truly see each other. Christopher was overlooked by his friends for his intensity and Grace was only ever treated as a weapon and a seductress, but they genuinely respect each other and bond over their shared enthusiasm for science. Looking at the negatives though, most people saw their dynamic as underdeveloped and unnecessary. Lots of people dislike Grace and don't believe that she should have received any redemption, and even people who are sympathetic towards Grace still dislike that Christopher was so quick to forgive her after how she treated one of his best friends. A few people also said that they like Grace and Christopher's dynamic when it's platonic, but ranked it low as a romance. People were also upset by Christopher's death, and feel that it ruins the relationship for them.

For Gwynburn, the only positive comment I got was a couple people saying they're cute, and the only negative one came from somebody who didn't like Diana because they felt she was an irresponsible guardian to the Blackthorn kids. Most people ranked them higher than the other ships at the bottom of this list, but unfortunately they just didn't have enough extremely high votes to pull them ahead.

Ghostwriter didn't get any specific positive propaganda, though some people clearly do enjoy them. Most of the negative sentiments came from people who just found them uninteresting and generally didn't enjoy TLH. They also see the pairing as having wasted potential, and felt frustrated by the lack of consequences for Jesse's resurrection. They saw Lucie as boring and dislike Jesse for his mistreatment of Grace.

Despite being ranked last, Arianna fans still came in to share what they liked about the couple. They enjoy the characters and Anna's butch swag, and some people who don't like them together still enjoy the concept. What people largely dislike about the two is Anna as a character, and how she treated Ari and all the other women she had flings with. While not everyone was ready to give up on them because of Anna's flaws, they were frustrated by how she didn't resolve her issues or try to be better by the end of the trilogy. There were also people who thought that the ship didn't get enough page time, or who didn't connect with Ari as a character. People were also disappointed in how Ari was punished by the narrative and by Anna for not being ready to come out of the closet when she was seventeen and dependent on her bigoted parents.

Oh boy, time to dig into the biggest category (which still feels incredibly cut down, my original list was over 50 characters). Side characters are obviously a point of hot debate, since everybody has their favorite guy who the narrative forgot about. The most popular overall characters were all old favorites introduced in TMI, then there's George, Catarina, Livvy, and Jessamine (who all swapped around a fair bit), before we get into a large chunk of characters who either inspire mixed feelings or get forgotten entirely, and bringing up the rear is two of the most hated characters in TSC.

First up, we have what I think is the biggest sweep of the whole survey; Raphael Santiago. He got about a third of the #1 votes, which isn't quite as dramatic a majority as Herongraystairs in their bracket, but far more impressive when you consider the sheer number of characters competing against Raphael for the top spot in this section. People think he's funny, iconic, and relatable. They love his sarcastic and grumpy sense of humor and his begrudging responsibility for the people around him. They also like his relationship with Magnus, as explored in "Saving Raphael Santiago" in The Bane Chronicles. The most common comment I got though was that people appreciate him being canonically aroace, and they remember him as their first experience seeing an aspec character in media. He received no negative comments (and few people left him out of their top ten).

Our second place goes to Lily, who got points for her iconic sense of humor, haunting backstory, and compelling relationships with both Alec and Raphael. She received no negative comments.

People like Maia but apparently don't have much to say about her. The only comments I got were that she's hot and a bad bitch, plus she overcame her difficult past.

Ragnor is appreciated how grouchy and melodramatic he is, and how he fits into the warlock friend group with Magnus and Catarina. I'd also like to shout-out his friendship with Raphael, since I love seeing them bond over their haterism. He received no negative comments.

George also didn't get many comments, but people grew attached to him very quickly and felt strongly affected by the tragedy of his death in TFSA, except for the person who said he felt like he got killed off for shock value.

People like Catarina's relationships with the other warlocks. I also want to point out her incredible selflessness and how she's even committed to helping people who hate her. She received no negative comments.

Livvy got the second most #1 votes after Raphael, and yet she's only #7 overall (ranked choice voting strikes again), and it looks to me like people either love her or don't care about her. What they love about her is the tragedy of her death and her relatable sense of responsibility towards her siblings, plus the continuation of her story in TWP. The only negative comment I got about her was from someone who didn't feel sad when she died.

Jessamine is seen as a fascinating and tragic character with a lot of potential depth who deserves more love. She got some low marks from her lack of page time though, and from people who found her attitude annoying.

Moving into some TST characters, Luke is noticeably higher than all the rest of his high school/fascist cult buddies. People like him for his dad vibes, and dislike him for his holier than thou attitude towards other members of the Circle. (Shout-out to my IRL friend who called him a DILF this morning).

Jocelyn didn't get many comments, and none that were positive. I'll chip in to say that I like how fierce and strong-willed she was when she decided to betray her abusive husband and raise Clary alone in NYC, and appreciate that she always tried to do what she thought would protect her daughter (even if it often wasn't actually what Clary wanted or needed). The people of the survey think she's a bad person and don't think that Clary should have forgiven her so easily for the way she lied to her. She moved up pretty far in the last day of this survey, but that was mostly due to other characters dropping in the rankings.

Maryse was behind Robert for most of the time this survey was gathering data, but her fans came in at the end to bump up her score. They like her relationships with her children, especially Jace and Alec, and are curious about her life before TMI when she had to deal with a loveless marriage and losing her brother to the mundane world. The only negative comment I received for her was someone who disliked how she treated Jace while he was being unfairly accused of working with Valentine.

While Eugenia is generally liked by TLH fans because she's funny, feisty, badass, and has a compelling relationship with Thomas; she scored fairly low overall because most people don't feel super attached to her due to her lack of page time.

The only positive comment I received about Jordan was that it was funny when he spent time with Jace and Simon. Mostly, people think that he was a toxic boyfriend to Maia and an awful person overall. They especially disliked that he and Maia got back together, even though he'd previously assaulted her after their breakup. Despite that, he's managed to make his way up from the bottom five of this list.

Robert is more controversial than his ex-wife, receiving more negative and more positive votes than her. People like his relationship with Michael as explored in "The Evil We Love," and how his personal issues with queerness bled into his relationship with his son. They enjoy both the angst of his difficult relationship with Alec, and the hopefulness that comes from his ability to grow as a person and try to be better for the sake of his kids. Folks who are less compelled by the angst just flat dislike him for his bad parenting. His ranking dropped dramatically in the last twelve hours, since I guess the people who can't forgive shitty parenting all showed up at the end.

People who like Jaime enjoy his attitude and see him as complex, and all the negative comments were about the age gap between him and Dru.

Michael is a character who seems to suffer from being nobody's favorite. No one had anything negative to say about him, but the only positive comments were in regards to his relationship with Robert, and the highest anybody ranked him was #4.

Amatis is somebody else who I believe suffered from not having any real fans. The only comment I got about her was that they ranked her low because they don't know much about her. The highest anybody ranked her was #6, and only one other character on this list has a highest rank that's lower than that. Nobody got mad at her like they did with Jordan or Jaime or Camille, but no one loves her like they love those three, so she ended up lower than them overall.

Camille got a fair number of high votes from people who enjoy her dramatic diva energy, and a lot of low ones from people who think she's just an awful person.

And here we have the first of the two most hated characters in this list. While he was dead last for almost an entire week, Nate finally managed to claw his way up to 19th place. Nobody had anything nice to say about him, and nobody ranked him higher than #7. I'll say that I find him interesting as an extension of Tessa's character and arc. People didn't have particularly complicated complaints, they just think that he's selfish, mean, awful, a traitor, a liar, an asshole, and completely irredeemable. Oof.

Even though he ended up in last place, Charles is distinct from the rest of the characters ranked this low because he actually does have a handful of fans who put him at #2 or #3. They think that he's an interesting character to study, even if he's an awful person. They also find his relationships with Alastair and Matthew to be compelling (though unhealthy) and relate to his place as an older sibling burdened by high expectations. As for the negatives, there's a whole laundry list. People see him as gross, annoying, selfish, awful, and boring. They hate his predatory relationship with Alastair in-universe, and which he was handled better by the author out of universe. I got one comment that said he felt like he was written by a straight woman, and in general people don't like how his arc was written.

Now that we're through with two of the largest and most controversial categories, let's move onto the one nobody cares about. I will admit that I included the children in this survey purely out of an interest in hearing if anybody had reasoning for preferring one small child over another.

Also, since we have two Max Lightwoods, I differentiated them using their middle inititals; Max M for Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, and Max J for Max Joseph Lightwood.

Okay, so what I have in the positive column for every single kid on this list is more or less just their association with their parents. People like the Lightwood-Bane siblings because they like Malec, they like Mina because of Jessa, Tavvy because of the TDA Blackthorns, Max J because of the TMI Lightwoods, Alex because of Gabrily, and Zachary because of Cordelia and Thomastair. Negative comments were also often linked to parents, like ranking Mina low because they dislike Jessa, or disliking the Lightwood-Banes because their existence feels like fanservice and they don't believe Alec would be a good father at age 20. Rafe did get the positive comment that his story in GotSM made the respondant cry.

Positive comments for Tavvy focused on people feeling like they know him better than other kids on this list, and being excited to see more of him and his relationship with Dru in TWP.

Max J got comments talking about how much more character he has compared to the babies, and how the tragic end to his story strongly affeced people. People got attached to him from his love of manga, and appreciate how he symbolized the innocence that Alec, Isabelle, and Jace needed to fight for.

Alex and Zachary were ranked last by almost everyone, though they all made it clear that they bear no ill will towards these kids. Zachary did get one committed fan who loves the way he brings Alastair's arc to a close, and is excited to see more of him on Thomastair's BiB story. I think it's noteworthy that they have the same number of #1 votes, Zachary got more #2 and #3 votes, and Alex got more #4 and #5 votes; showing that once you discount the people placing them in the bottom two, Zachary is in fact more popular. (I'm assuming that most people who put them in the bottom two don't actually prefer one over the other).

The villain category was particulary interesting to me, because reading everyone's comments made it clear that many of us are working off of different definitions of what makes a good villain. The biggest question was whether a character being sympathetic made people see them as a great villain or a terrible one. The other cool thing about this category is you can see that almost all the villains from the same series stayed next to each other in the ranking.

For as high as Sebastian ranked, he got relatively few comments. What people do like about him is that he was more relatable and redeemable than other villains because of how Valentine raised him, and yet he still went on to do unjustifiable things. They also think he was funny. The main complaint he got from several people was that the demon blood storyline made him a boring and badly constructed villain, since he had no free will in his own evilness. Also, y'know, the incest thing.

Valentine may not be ranked as highly as his son, but he did get far more specific compliments from people. They love to hate how logical, strategic, and pure evil he could be; as well as the way the story built up to him by showing the impact he had on the world. He was a skilled manipulator who convinced people to sacrifice everything in the name of his twisted values, and worked as a chillingly accurate representation of fascism. He also served the greater themes of TMI by allowing the leads to deny the violence and hatred passed down by their parents. Some people also just enjoy the Circle era characters. The only bad thing anyone said about him was that he's generic, one of a million bigoted middle aged white men in fiction.

Annabel and Malcom switched back and forth in the rankings a couple times while data was being gathered, since most people voted for the two of them as a unit. People like how tragic their storyline was, and how they served as foiled to Blackstairs because they too were people who loved each other enough to burn down the world. Ultimately, it was their sympathetic anti-Clave motivation that got most people to love them. The two points people held against them was that they're too sympathetic and thus not really villains, and that Annabel's potential was wasted in Queen of Air and Darkness. The folks who dislike TDA also dislike them on account of their association with the series.

Mortmain is our solidly mid tier villain. People across the board saw him as a simple pure evil force that the heroes had to win against, and the main question was whether people loved him or hated him for that simplicity.

The only reason anybody gave for enjoying Asmodeus was his association with Alec. The few negative comments he got were all about either his lack of page time or how his motivation being centered on his inherent evil made him uninteresting.

Shinyun is a more complicated character, and her reception was complicated as well. People like that she's associated with Alec through TEC, and that she showed how evil she was by rejecting redemption when it was offered to her. There were also some mixed feelings expressed about her place as a cult survivor, since that's a very human trauma that was not given enough dignity by the narrative. Negative opinions all came down to her lack of page time, and people who either never read or actively disliked TEC.

Benedict Lightwood might be the lowest anything from TID scored in this entire survey. People who enjoy him mentioned how he created realistic angst for Gideon and Gabriel, as a manipulative father they needed to learn to rebel against. What people think makes him a bad villain is that he's not a villain at all, just a generic shitty dad. Also, multiple people commented "worm" with no explanation.

Sadly for the villains of TLH, this isn't the way they were supposed to be the worst of the worst. While some people enjoyed Tatiana for her chaos and irredeemability, especially the way she abused her own daughter for years, overall she was seen as a boring letdown who could have been interesting if the narrative didn't treat her as pure evil. Maybe she could have had potential if she was allowed to be the main villain or if the story acknowledged the ways in which she felt abanoned by the Clave, but that's not the story we got.

As for Belial, nobody had anything positive to say about him. They thought that his plan was stupid (especially for a Prince of Hell), and that he was boring, annoying, and just generally underwhelming. He also received the same complaints as Asmodeus about how demons are uniniteresting villains because their only motive is their own inherent evil.

And here was have our final category: the side books! It's no surprise to me that the short story collections came in first, and that the unreleased books don't have a lot of fans yet.

Our most popular pick was Tales From the Shadowhunter Academy, which people love because of how it followed up on TMI storylines while also expanding upon the world. It gave readers a look into characters they enjoy like Alec, Mark, and James, and of course the most popular comment I got was people gushing about getting time with Simon. They love the Sizzy moments too, as well as Simon's friendship with Clary and the rest of the TMI gang. It also got points for George's heartbreaking death, and for how much fun it was to read when it was serialized in 2015. The two stories people mentioned as their favorites were "The Evil We Love" and "Nothing But Shadows," showing how people enjoyed getting to look at points in the TSC timeline that aren't explored by other series. The only negative comment it got was from a person who finds Simon and Isabelle annoying.

Coming in at a close second, Ghosts of the Shadow Market is beloved mainly for its connection to Jem and Jessa. People enjoy that it served a purpose in the overall TSC plot, and showed how love can be born of tragedy. The stories people brought up were "Every Exquisite Thing," "The Land I Lost," and especially "Cast Long Shadows." It received no negative comments.

While The Bane Chronicles was the least favorite of the anthologies, it still clearly won the love of the people. They enjoy it mainly on account of Magnus, especially for his friendship with the other warlocks and his romance with Alec. They like how funny it is, and feel like it has the same charm as the early TMI books. The only negative comment I got about it was that it's boring.

Secrets of Blackthorn Hall got points for the wholesome and iconic vibes, and the interesting format of being published through tumblr. Someone also described it as a home renovation show in a haunted house, and people brought up being glad to see characters like Mark and Mina and ships like Kitty and Blackstairs. Some people just didn't find it interesting though, and others disliked it because it had so much Julian and Blackstairs.

An Illustrated History of Notable Shadowhunters and Denizens of Downworld probably got the fewest comments in this category. The people who love it appreciate the stunning art and interesting details about the characters, and all the low votes came from people who haven't read it.

The Shadowhunter's Codex is the oldest companion book on this list, and clearly didn't hit like the later additions to the canon. The only positive comments I got were from people who enjoyed Simon, Clary, and Jace's comments written into the margins. Generally people just didn't find it interesting, and saw it as a textbook that didn't even provide new information about the the world of Shadowhunters. There were also people who either didn't read it or couldn't finish it.

Better in Black of course hasn't been released, but people are excited to see their favorite couples back in action. In this survey, I got specific comments from people talking about Herondaisy and Thomastair. It still ranked pretty low overall, mainly because none of us have read it yet.

A Sea Change was most people's bottom pick, just because it isn't out yet. (My theory is that it ranked lower than BiB because BiB got everyone hyped through fandom engagement when we all debated which couples would be included, and that BiB appeals to fans of ten different ships while ASC only has fuel for Matthew fans). Predictably, the people who expect to love ASC are the ones excited to see the next chapter of Matthew's journey.

And with that, we're done! I'd like to once again thank everybody who participated, especially the folks who gave long or detailed comments. I had to simplify and summarize a lot in this post, but I truly enjoyed reading everything you all had to say.

I also want to take some time at the end here to address some questions I got about why stuff in this poll was set up the way it was. First, I got a lot of people saying that Kitty should have been considered a main couple, either in addition to Morgenthorn or instead of them. I get that we (so far) have a lot more Kitty material and that most of the fanbase is far more invested in them, but I'm counting the "main couple" as the one that includes the main girl. I also got some people confused by my choice to include unpublished works like TWP and Seasons of Shadowhunters, and while I understand that perspective I still stand by my decision. I know it's not fair to the series and that people can't accurately rate things they haven't read, but I wasn't trying for that kind of accuracy; I was curious about how much people love or hate things that aren't out yet. I'd love to see how TWP and SoS factor into these rankings once we've all read them, but for now I'm happy just hearing what people expect to think about them.

Also, everyone who left random silly comments or told me their favorite characters and scenes, y'all are the real ones. I did this whole project out of my love for this series and my interest in learning why people think the way they do, and I've been amazed by the positive response. This series and world is so incredibly expansive, and I love that all of us are able to find the different niches of TSC that make us happy.

If you actually read through all this, you're awesome and thanks for supporting my passion for turning emotions into numbers. If anybody has any additional questions, I am here to chat!

Taglist:

@edwinspaynes @helenofblackthorns @whaliensdream @iovelaces @darcyolsson @sankta-wraith @magnus-the-maqnificent @blue-silver-hammer @ineedmoremalec @kingslayerzzzz @thevagabondexpress @cara0765 @uncertified-shadowhunter-14 @elytrianemrald @thomasslightwood @starrieshq @blackthornobsessed @alastaircarstairsismybff @angeldaisies @dissapointmentsrus @bananacakepie

[rhyrhy]

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Series mlist | moodboards | fourth Chapter (you are here)

Four: Giving in 🩺

⚕️ summary: At St. Mary’s Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stay within those boundaries because of the eyes that the head of cardio constantly directs at you.

The apartment is dimly lit when you and Dina finally step inside, exhaustion hanging off you both like a second skin. You kick off your shoes, groaning as you stretch out your arms.

Dina flops onto the couch, rubbing her face. “I swear, I can still hear monitors beeping.”

You smirk, dropping your bag by the door. “Yeah, that’s called trauma.”

She peeks at you through her long fingers, then grins. “So, Jesse was on fire today. Another attempt at charming me.”

You roll your eyes, making your way to the fridge for a water bottle. “That man is nothing if not persistent.” You sigh deeply.

“Do you think I should let him down easy? Or let him suffer?”

You chuckle, twisting off the cap. “Let him sweat a little. Keeps him humble. Grounded”

She laughs before stretching out, getting comfortable. You take a moment to glance around—boxes almost fully unpacked, pictures starting to go up. This place is yours now. It feels real.

Dina eyes you as you move toward your room. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just need a shower.”

You weren’t okay. Your mind was pulling you in more directions than you had limbs. On one hand, you wanted to stay away from Abby. Keep it professional, respect the resident-intern dynamic. But how could you possibly do that when Dr. Anderson is, well, herself? Beautiful, put together, and had a gaze that weekend that made your knees weak. She was keeping her distance, but you always felt her eyes. Redoing your hair one morning when you got put on rounds assisting her. Chewing on your bottom lip when her arm would flex under her navy scrub top. 

Yeah, you were far from okay. These restless thoughts were taking over.

The bathroom is filled with steam as the hot water cascades down your back. You tilt your head up, eyes closed, letting it ease the tension from your shoulders.

But it doesn’t help. Not really.

Because despite the exhaustion, despite how badly you should be crashing into bed right now, your mind keeps replaying the past few days. The elevator. The teasing. The way Abby looked at you. The way she always looked at you. Like you were still the woman in the bar, the woman whose face she’d pulled into a kiss, stumbling into her bedroom.  But you were her, no matter how much you tried to separate the two. She, that woman, was you. You weren’t sure what kind of stunt the universe was pulling, but it was undeniably you at the end of the day. And with the open invite of hiking still lingering over your head, it was clear Dr. Anderson wanted it to stay that way.

You exhale sharply, pressing your hands to the cool tile. This is stupid. It’s reckless. Unprofessional. 

You didn’t even dare to touch your phone on your newly built nightstand. Afraid of what you’ll do if you pick it up. You repeated those words like a mantra, a prayer for help, some kind of guidance in this situation.

But despite your reluctance when your eyelid shot open at the blaring sound of your alarm filling your ears. Instead of turning it off, your arm shot from underneath your blanket. 

This is stupid, reckless, and unprofessional. You left a mess at home. Not here. Not Utah.

But it doesn’t stop you from reaching for your phone. You wanted to give it; send that text. You hesitate for a second before typing.

“You win.” is all you can manage to send. US the cold screen against your chest. Waiting for some kind of regret to pour in, but a few seconds later, your phone buzzes.

“Told you. Be ready by 8 :)” Is all she typed back. 

It was hard to be regretful when you remembered the woman you just agreed to spend time with, the way she looked at you, the way she made you feel. Ugh. She won. Time to get up.

A Hike Isn’t Romantic, Right? You tell yourself it’s just a hike. A simple, non-romantic, platonic hike. Completely appropriate. You repeat the thought as you pull on your hoodie, but it doesn’t settle the nervous energy in your chest. It’s not a date. You’re just going. That’s it. Except you don’t normally wake up early for people. And you don’t normally double-check the mirror before leaving for a simple, non-romantic hike. You groan, shaking your head at yourself as you sit down to tie your boots.

Dina watches from the kitchen, chewing on a piece of toast as you rush to get ready.

“You’re up early.” She says scanning over your outfit.

You shrug, focused on lacing up your boots. “Yeah, just… plans.”

“Plans that involve hiking boots?” Dina quirks an eyebrow, eyes drifting to the hiking boots before looking back at you with a head tilt.

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your face neutral. “It’s just a hike. You know Utah..mountains.” You trailed off.

“Uh-huh.” She takes another bite of toast, clearly unconvinced.

Before she can pry further, headlights flash through the window. Your heart kicks up a notch. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Gotta go. See you later.”

You rush out before she can say another word. Dina watches you practically sprint to the car, and when she spots the driver, her grin widens. Oh, she’s definitely teasing you about this later.

As you walk up to the car, the morning air crisp against your skin, you catch sight of Abby through the windshield. She’s out of scrubs, dressed in a fitted long-sleeve and hiking pants, and somehow that makes her even more intimidating.

She looks… good. Too good.

The sight of her sends an uninvited rush of memories through your mind. flashes of that drunken night, the way her hands had felt on your waist, the way her lips had pressed against yours, hot and insistent. The way she’d looked at you in the dim light of your apartment, like you were something she wanted to keep. Nope, You force the memories back, burying them beneath logic and professionalism. Abby is a higher-up. Your superior. Someone you should keep a careful distance from. And yet…

Your eyes trailing over the way the fabric of her shirt stretches across her broad shoulders, the way her blonde hair falls a little messier than usual. She looks effortless. Relaxed. Almost unfairly attractive outside the walls of the hospital. You swallow hard and slide into the passenger seat, keeping your face neutral.

Abby smirks, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel. “Morning, city girl.”

You roll your eyes. “Morning, Dr. Anderson.”

She hums in mock disapproval. “We’re not at the hospital. Abby is fine.”Before you can respond, the sound of panting from the backseat catches your attention. You turn, coming face-to-face with a German Shepherd staring at you with big, curious eyes.

Your heart melts instantly. “Oh my God. Who is this?”

Abby chuckles. “Alice. Meant to mention she was tagging along.”

Alice wags her tail, ears perking up.“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping her a secret,” you say, already reaching back to scratch behind her ears.

Abby smirks. “Figured I’d ease you into the whole ‘hiking’ thing before throwing in my dog.”

You shake your head but can’t help smiling. “Riiight. Easing me in.”

The trail is quiet except for the crunch of dirt beneath your boots. The crisp mountain air fills your lungs, making the burn in your legs almost worth it. You pause for a moment, letting your eyes drink in the beauty of Utah. Above you, the sky is a flawless expanse of blue, punctuated only by delicate wisps of cloud that drift lazily, as if in no hurry at all. The mountains, standing tall in the distance, are bathed in the soft glow of early morning light, their rugged silhouettes softened by the clarity of the air.

Every detail around you seems amplified, airbrushed, the vibrant green of the sparse pines, the subtle shimmer of dew on the rocky ground, even the way the light dances off a nearby stream. In this vast openness, you feel both small and inexplicably alive, as if each breath is a fresh start., you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this rugged beauty is exactly what you needed to feel whole again.

Abby, of course, looks completely unfazed. At least, until she doesn’t. Her boot catches on a root, and before she can stumble forward, you react instinctively, reaching out to grab her arm.

“You okay?” You asked, holding onto her arm.

“Yeah..yeah I’m fine” She steadies, but instead of pulling away, her fingers tighten around your forearm, anchoring herself against you. Your breath catches as she looks up, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.

And suddenly, you’re too close. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. Close enough to notice the way her pupils dilate, the way her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something. Your pulse stutters. Memories from that night at the bar crash over you in waves. the way Abby listened to you with a quiet intensity, how her eyes trailed over every detail of your face like she was committing you to memory, how, for a few hours, you weren’t just another intern trying to stay afloat. You were someone she wanted.

She’s still holding onto you. You don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s her, maybe it’s you, but before you can think better of it, your lips meet.

The second Abby pulls you in, your body reacts on instinct, your hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie, grounding yourself in the moment. You don’t know why you kiss her back. maybe because it feels inevitable, maybe because for the first time in weeks, your mind quiets. The tension that’s been lingering between your shoulders and ignites like a spark hitting dry kindling, flaring to life in the press of her mouth against yours.

You force yourself to pull away, heart hammering against your ribs. reality snaps back into place.

“We—We can’t.” You shake your head. closing your eyes for a second. Screaming at yourself internally.

Abby’s tongue swipes over her bottom lip, like she’s memorizing the taste of you. “Right.”

But she doesn’t move away.And you. you don’t trust yourself to stay close, not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the distance again.

“Right,” you whisper, stepping back, creating space, even when every part of you aches at the loss.

The moment lingers, thick and unspoken, before Abby exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “At least I didn’t fall on my face.”

You huff a breathless laugh, trying to pretend like your hands aren’t still tingling. “Glad I could save your dignity.” And as you turn back toward the trail, you tell yourself it was a mistake. Even if your body refuses to believe it.

You finally reach a small clearing, the view stretching out for miles. The landscape unfolds before you like a painting—rolling hills fading into distant mountain peaks, their edges softened by the hazy light of dusk. The sky is streaked with soft blues and oranges, the sun just beginning to dip lower, casting long shadows across the valley below. A gentle breeze rustles the sparse pines, carrying with it the crisp scent of earth and pine needles. The distant chirp of crickets hums in the background, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves as Alice pads forward, sniffing curiously at the ground before flopping down between you and Abby with a contented sigh.

You exhale, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as you take it all in. There’s something grounding about being up here, away from the noise of the city, away from sterile hospital walls and the constant pressure to be sharp, efficient, untouchable. Here, surrounded by nothing but sky and earth, you can just be.

Beside you, Abby shifts, dropping her bag onto the ground before lowering herself onto a flat rock. The golden light catches in her hair, making strands of blonde glow almost amber. You steal a glance at her. the relaxed slope of her shoulders, the way she absentmindedly scratches behind Alice’s ears. It’s rare to see her like this, completely unguarded.

For a moment, neither of you speak. And it isn’t an awkward silence, not the kind that demands filling. It’s easy. Comfortable. The kind that lingers between two people who don’t need to force anything.

Eventually, you sink down beside her, resting your arms on your knees as you gaze out at the horizon. “Hiking, huh…who would’ve thought” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Abby hums in agreement, her eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Mm, Being up here makes it easier to breathe.”

You nod, understanding exactly what she means. In the stillness of the mountains, the weight of the world feels lighter. The expectations, the mistakes, they don’t feel quite so suffocating out here.

Alice sighs deeply, stretching her legs out, completely at ease. You chuckle softly. “She looks like she owns this place.”

Abby laughed , running her fingers through Alice’s fur. “She thinks she does.”

Silence settles between you again, but this time, there’s an unspoken conversation hanging in the air. Something just beneath the surface, waiting. And as the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in deeper hues of amber and violet, you realize you don’t want to leave just yet. Not when everything in this moment feels so right.

You glance over. “So, what’s her story?”

Abby runs a hand through Alice’s brown fur. “Found her outside the hospital one night. Scared, skinny. Figured she needed someone, so… I took her home.”

You smile. “Softie.”

Abby scoffs. “Don’t spread that around.” Silence settles comfortably between you. The kind that doesn’t feel heavy or awkward…just easy. She, was easy.

After a moment, you ask, “Why Salt Lake?”

Abby’s fingers still against Alice’s fur for half a second—so brief you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

She shrugs. “Needed a change.”

Something in her voice tells you there’s more to the story. But she doesn’t offer, and you don’t push. It’s best to try to maintain distance. The sun is lower by the time you both start heading back.

Abby’s voice is quieter when she finally speaks again. “You know why I went home with you that night?”

You glance at her, caught off guard. “Because I was charming?”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I needed someone to look at me the way you did.”

Your stomach flips. She looks at you then, expression open, unguarded. “I don’t usually do that. But you—” She exhales. “You make me feel like maybe I don’t have to have it all figured out.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. Before you can figure out what to say, she smirks, bumping your shoulder lightly. “And I needed a good distraction.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her lightly. “You’re impossible.”

She grins. “You’ll survive.”

There’s a beat of silence before Abby speaks again, more serious this time. “You’re gonna do great in a few days.”

You glance at her. “Yeah?”

She nods. “You diagnosed a case that half the residents missed. You earned this. Just don’t pass out in the OR, okay?”

You smirk. “No promises.”

Abby watches you for a second longer, something unreadable in her expression. Then she nods ahead. “Come on. Alice is getting bored.”

You follow her lead, but your mind is still replaying every word. Soon, you’d have your first real surgery. You earned it, And maybe just maybe, you’d finally stopped fighting yourself on the inevitable.

But that was a tall order.

Taglist! @sevyscoven @flyleaffreak @antobooh

[ct7567329]

Held in Heat

Touch Me Like It's Treason ~ Chapter 6

➜ Captain Rex x F! Jedi Reader

➜ Chapter Summary: A series of unexpected events leads to you exposing much more to Rex than you bargained for.

➜ Word Count: 7.2k

➜ Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Minor injury, Nudity (but not smutty!)

➜ A/N: Posted at bottom!

Join the Touch Me Like It's Treason Taglist

Touch Me Like It's Treason Masterpost

Chapter Six on Ao3

You were grateful for the storm clearing.

A thin mist lingered low along the ground, allowing you to see the tops of the icy ridges above. You moved carefully, your feet squelching through mud with each step. If anything, it felt like you were moving towards a release rather than a retreat. You wanted to be away from the wreckage, the violence, the aching weight of what Ryker’s outpost had revealed.

Rex walked just ahead of you, keeping his typical Captain’s composure. You wanted to reach for him and brush your fingers against his hand. Not romantically, but as a gentle reminder that leaving the planet wouldn’t break what had formed between you - friendship. Because that moment in the cave, his breath against your temple, your head against his chest, all of it. That wasn’t something you wanted to be sealed away or written off as an accident. But you knew it would be best if it was. 

So, instead, you pulled ahead of the men, let your arm swing just close enough to his that it grazed him in the process. It was only once, just barely enough to feel. He didn’t look at you, but you saw the slight shift in his stride. There was a faint twitch of his fingers like he might reach back, if no one were watching.

Behind you, Hardcase’s voice cut through any silent moment you and Rex were having - if you were even having one, “Okay, but seriously, if I don’t get good caf any time soon, I am throwing someone out the side of the Gunship.”

“We’re not even out of the ravine yet,” Jesse sighed, “Save your dramatic threats for when we’re on open terrain.”

“Dramatic? Jesse, I haven’t had anything warm that wasn’t rainwater in three days. This is survival, not drama.”

“You’ve gotten a piping hot development in Rex’s life,” Fives muttered from the back, just quiet enough that you and Rex couldn’t hear, “Plenty of that.”

There was a ripple of amusement through the group. “All I’m saying,” Hardcase hummed, “is that if the Jedi get to take naps in caves, the least we deserve is caf and pillow.”

“That wasn’t a nap,” Jesse said with a grin, “That was a bonding moment.”

You felt the color rise in your cheeks before anyone even said your name, “Oh, don’t start,” you grunted under your breath, but the damage was already done.

Fives, of course, jumped on it, “Hey Rex!” he called innocently, “just curious, were you the big spoon or the little spoon?”

“Fives,” Kix warned, half-laughing.

“It’s a legitimate tactical question! We’ve got to know what kind of Captain we have!”

“Focus boys,” you snapped without looking back, your voice cutting through the light-hearted banter. The squad immediately fell quiet with a few awkward coughs. You glanced sideways at Rex, grateful but wary. His jaw was set again.

You walked a few more paces in silence before you mouthed out to Rex, “You good?”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, “I’m just thinking.”

“About Ryker?” you asked.

His thumb drifted toward the holopad at his hip again. The one with Ryker’s encrypted logs. You know he opened them, but you didn’t press. Not here at least.

Rex exhaled, “He was a good brother. One of the best I’ve known. He did more fighting for us Clones than I ever knew-.”

The comm on his wrist buzzed, cutting him off, “Gunship en route,” a voice crackled through, “ETA one hour. Move to designated coordinates.”

Rex clicked it off and glanced back at the squad, “Time to pick up the pace boys.”

The terrain was uneven and covered with roots, icy moss, and broken branches. The pass ahead narrowed into a steep corridor flanked by jagged stone and thick brush. You took the lead this time, igniting your lightsaber saber for light. The green glow shimmered off wet leaves, casting faint shadows.

Behind you, you heard Echo exchange something with Jesse. You didn’t catch the words, but the tone scraped.

You slowed enough to glance back at him. His helmet was still on, but he turned his head away from you too quickly. The memory of his eyes back in the cave bothered you more than it should have. Especially the way he looked at Rex. 

Kix moved beside you again, watching the exchange, “He’ll cool off,” he assured you.

“You think he’s angry?”

Kix hesitated, “I think he’s caught off guard. We’re all used to Rex being a certain way. Always in control, you know? You’re the first person I’ve seen throw him off.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” you sighed, kicking a pebble across the path.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kix shrugged, then winked “It’s happening whether you like it or not.”

You blinked a few times, surprised by his gesture, “You’re not upset?”

He gave you a crooked smile, “You’ve been different. The way you look at us, the way you collaborate with us, it means something. Especially to Rex”

A sharp whistle came from ahead. It was Rex’s signal.

You moved quickly, ducking under a thick vine, following him toward a curve in the pass. He was crouched low, with one hand pressed to the dirt. 

“Wildlife?” you asked besides him.

Rex shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

Fives and Jesse moved up beside you, “Could be a scout droid,” Jesse suggested, “We’ve gotten almost too lucky thus far.”

“No one cares about this wet jungle ice rock,” Fives complained, “It would be absurd to…” He trailed off as you reached out through the Force. You could feel something, just on the edge of your awareness.

You and Rex shared a glance. He nodded once and without a word, you pushed forward.

The narrow pass grew tighter, the walls of rock pressing in on either side. You gripped your lightsaber tighter as your heart began to pick up speed.

“Tight quarters,” Jesse muttered, “I hate this.”

“Keep moving,” Rex ordered, “Stay close.”

You glanced back one more time, just long enough to see the formation tightening. Echo lingered farther than he should. Kix naturally adjusted to cover him without being obvious.

The forest began to thin as the trail sloped downward, curling around uneven ridges and sharp drops where the jungle hadn’t quite reclaimed the icy cliffs. The rendezvous point with the Republic gunship wasn’t far now. Maybe thirty minutes at most, depending on the upcoming terrain.

Rex’s hand hovered near his blaster. He hadn’t spoken much since setting off from the outpost, but you could feel weariness from him. Your gut told you it was the holopad logs. Whatever Ryker had uncovered was still chewing at him. 

He glanced over once as you maneuvered past a low-hanging vine, offering the faintest nod of gratitude when you cleared the path. Your hands brushed for half a second. You told yourself it didn't mean anything but there was warmth behind his eyes when they met yours.

“Wait.” Rex raised a hand, dropping his voice, “Hold up.”

The squad paused behind you, “What is it?” Jesse asked.

You stepped forward cautiously, stretching your awareness outward. The Force felt warped and clouded with static, like a pressure system just before a storm. Your fingers tightened around your lightsaber hilt.

“Something’s wrong,” you noted, “We’re not alone.”

“Copy that,” Rex echoed, already pulling his DC-17s from their holsters.

But before the others could respond, it happened all at once.

A shriek of metal echoed from the treeline, and then the droids burst out, it was not just a scout patrol, but a full battalion. Battledroids broke through the mist, backed by twin crab droids crawling over the rocks, firing blasts before you even registered the movement.

“Incoming!” Fives yelled, pulling his blasters out.

Blasterfire lit up the ravine like a lightning storm. You dove left, igniting your lightsaber mid-roll and deflecting a shot aimed straight at Kix’s chest. He scrambled behind a fallen log, firing back as soon as he rose.

“Take cover!” Rex shouted, dragging you behind a boulder as bolts seared the air above you.

“We’re pinned!” Echo called out, “There’s too many!”

“No kriffing kidding,” Jesse grunted. He returned fire, managing to drop a few droids with some perfectly-placed headshots.

You moved on instinct, springing from behind the rock and slicing through the nearest wave of droids. Your lightsaber arced with clean, precise movements, but they were far from elegant or textbook - Master Windu would hate this. However, you still dropped three droids before they could lift their rifles, then Force-pushed a crab droid off a ridge, sending it tumbling into a crevice.

Rex was close, honestly too close. His shoulder brushed yours as he ducked and fired beneath your arm, dropping a droid that had looped around your blind spot. “Watch your six!” he snapped, though his tone was laced with more concern than reprimand.

“Got it!” you shot back, swinging to ricochet another bolt into a droid’s chestplate.

The terrain worked against you though. The ravine was narrow and uneven, with slick patches of mud and sharp drops that made movement unpredictable. Jesse and Echo were trying to flank right, but they kept getting forced back toward the center. Kix stuck to cover, scanning for injuries while still firing in tight, calculated bursts.

You then heard a soft thunk behind you. It sure wasn’t blasterfire.

“Grenade!” Jesse barked, searching for the nearest boulder to take cover behind.

You didn’t even have time to see it, just the blur of a canister flying through the air, landing between Jesse and Echo. Echo lunged, tackling Jesse hard, both of them rolling into the underbrush as the grenade exploded, shaking the ground with a concussive boom. You shielded your face, teeth rattling from the shockwave. When you looked up, smoke billowed around the place they’d just been.

“Kriff,” you gasped, heart stuttering as you searched for them. You threw out your hand instinctively, calling the Force. The dust parted just enough to reveal them. They were coughing and would probably have some bruises, but they were alive.

“We’re good!” Jesse shouted from the brush, “We’re good!”

Echo groaned but gave you a thumbs-up. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, but the danger wasn’t over. More droids poured in, forcing you to be pushed back, funneled toward a rocky choke point. If they got you trapped there, you were finished.

“Hold the line!” Rex ordered. He wasn’t yelling but his tone cut through the chaos like a command chime.

Hardcase whooped from behind a fallen tree trunk, hammering the cliffside with return fire, “Come on, you tin cans! Come get me!”

“Hardcase, shut up and keep moving!” Jesse snapped, repositioning to fire from the opposite side of the trail, “They’ve got a flank coming from the west!”

“No, northwest!” Fives corrected, already vaulting over a rock ledge to cover the new angle. “They’re trying to box us in!”

You forced yourself forward again, carving a path through the front line. Sweat clung to your skin despite the cool air. It’s been a while since you fought like this. Your muscles trembled from exertion, but you didn’t let up. You couldn’t. You weren’t going to let these men fall now.

You felt Rex beside you again, moving in perfect rhythm, almost like a second heartbeat. He covered your right, you covered his left in wordless coordination. At one point, you lost your footing. Mud slicked beneath your feet, and your lightsaber dropped a fraction too low. A droid raised its rifle to fire.

Rex stepped in without hesitation, blasting the droid clean through the head and dragging you upright with his other hand.

“You alright?” he asked, eyes flicking to yours for the briefest second.

You nodded, breathless, “Thanks.”

Though wearing his helmet, you know he gave the tiniest smirk before moving forward and reloading in one swift motion. 

Another wave surged from the treeline, with droidekas this time, shields glinting in the light as they rolled into formation. Kix cursed, diving to avoid the sudden barrage.

“We can’t hold this position much longer,” he yelled.

Your lightsaber moved in wide arcs, shielding the squad from the brunt of the droidekas’ fire. With a grunt, you launched yourself at a fallen log, flipping over it to close the distance. A pair of droids turned toward you, but you were faster, slicing clean through their torsos.

The left flank was steep but passable. You turned in time to see Rex following close, covering you as you cleared a landing zone ahead. The rest of the squad followed in staggered formation.

Another detonation went off behind you. The ridge where you had been standing moments ago collapsed into itself, rocks and loose soil cascading down into the ravine. The droids weren’t pursuing blindly, they were herding you up the path.

Hardcase took a second to lob a grenade with a wild arc and an even wilder grin, “Boom, baby!” The resulting fireball took out three droidekas and sent a spiderdroid flying into pieces.

Echo ducked behind cover beside you, “You alright?”

“I think so, you?” Your eyes met his behind his helmet for a brief second. He knew you were pushing harder than usual. 

He hesitated, then gave a small nod, “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Fives slid into place across from you, panting,  “There’s more coming down the hill. You got any Force tricks left in you?”

You glanced toward the slope, there were a dozen more droids, easily. The way the land narrowed and dipped gave you a dangerous idea.

“I can try something,” you shrugged, “Cover me.”

You dropped to one knee. The Force surged at your fingertips. You closed your eyes, reaching out, not for the droids, but for the terrain. With one sharp, precise push, you fractured the edge of the upper ridge, making it give way. Boulders, trees, soil tumbled down in a crashing roar, catching the incoming droids mid-descent.

Fives whistled, “That’s one way to reroute.”

You winked, “Just following the ARC’s orders.”

Time began to blur. You didn’t know how long the firefight had been going on. It could’ve been five minutes or could’ve been thirty for all you knew, but you did know there was the ache in your limbs, blood on your knuckles, and your body screamed to keep going. Eventually though, the tide began to turn.

With coordinated fire and sheer force of will, the squad pushed through. The last wave fell with a whimper, sparks trailing up from a downed crab droid as its legs twitched and stilled. Battle smoke hung in the air. You could hear the faint whine of your lightsaber retracting and your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Rex stood near you, helmet off now, sweat lining his brow and soot streaking his jaw, “You good?” he asked again.

You hummed a confirmation, “You?”

He gave a half-shrug, “Still standing.”

“Echo?” you called out. When he gave you a verbal confirmation he was alive, you called for the others. There were no casualties, but it was quiet. Too quiet. That’s when the rumble started.

It was low and distant, but the deep shift in the ground below you was undeniable, like thunder far off. Your head snapped toward the sound.

“Landslide,” you whispered to Rex.

Rex’s head whipped around, throwing his helmet on and yelling towards the others, “Move! Go!”

There was no time to think. You took off, everyone else following close behind. Briefly, you turned your head to make sure there were no stragglers. Unbeknownst to Rex, somewhere in the chaos, he dropped something - Ryker’s holopad, the one he’s been keeping close.  

You paused, shouting out to the men, “Keep going!” 

They all did as ordered, except Rex, who watched you stay in place and extend your arm, calling out to the Force to pull Ryker’s holopad into your hand. Rex slowed his pace, running back towards you.

When you had a firm grip on Ryker’s holopad, you turned to run again. Instead, you collided with Rex. “I said keep going!” you yelled at him, yanking his arm into a full on sprint. 

He fell into pace next to you while the others remained a few dozen meters ahead. The landslide, however, was catching up quicker than you expected. You turned your head one last time in an attempt to see how much time you had left. 

You were too focused on the incoming landslide to notice the gagged branches protruding from the trees in front of you. When you finally did turn your head forward, it was too late. While still maintaining a full sprint, a low branch caught the side of your chest and yanked hard.

You cursed, trying to pull free, but instead tearing through your robe, top, chestband and a thin layer of skin. Wincing in pain, you stumbled onto the ground. The landslide was close. So close that all you could think of is getting back up - not the fact that your clothing was torn, exposing half your bare chest. 

Before you could swing your hand up to cover yourself, strong hands urgently helped you to your feet before wrapping around you. 

Rex yanked you around a stone outcropping, shielding you with his body as the landslide roared past, dust and debris pelting the air. You squeezed your eyes shut, his palm pressing firm against your exposed breast. It didn’t feel like a groping or grabbing gesture, but a covering and protecting.

The hillside above buckled and gave way with a roar. Rocks and trees tumbled, the ground itself crashing down in a wave of chaos. The sound of grumbling dirt finally silenced. You looked up and around. You were alone, just you and Rex.

His palm was pressed against your breast, warm and unmoving. Although his hand provided warmth, you could swear you felt your nipple slowly peak against his touch. His other hand rested in the crook of your back, pulling you close into him. His eyes scanned the ridgeline, then found yours. You both froze for a moment, catching your breath.

“I think-” you coughed, trying to speak, “I think I should fix my top now.”

His gaze dropped and quickly snapped back up, realization and horror flashing in his eyes. “Right. Sorry,” he muttered, pulling back immediately.

You replaced his hand with yours and turned to cover yourself. Your cheeks were flushed warm but not from running.

Rex tapped his wrist comm, “Jesse? Echo? Fives? Kix, report.”

Nothing.

You turned back to Rex, trying your own comm, but got the same static.

“We’re separated,” you groaned, “They must’ve gotten pushed past the ridge.”

He sucked in a breath, “We’ll find them.”

You exhaled dramatically, resting your back against the stone and sliding down, sitting with your knees drawn up. Dust still hung in the air like a curtain that refused to lift, and bits of broken shrubbery and loose stone were strewn in every direction. Whatever had triggered the landslide, it had done the job well, carving a deep divide into the terrain and separating you and Rex from the others completely.

Your comlink hissed with static, but it was nothing.

“I can try again in a minute,” you thought outloud, rotating your wrist. Somehow It stung. The fall must have not been clean enough. You definitely bruised something on the way down, but the laceration on your side seemed to burn more.

Rex crouched a few feet from you, scanning the incline with narrow, calculating eyes ,“We’re not climbing back up that,” he noted, “It’s too unstable. You saw how it crumbled.”

You groaned, “I know. But perhaps higher ground-”

“No,” He shook his head once, firm but not unkind, “This whole stretch is loose. The next move is to find cover and then establish contact. We’re not going to be any use to them if we get ourselves buried.”

You didn’t argue. He was already returning into soldier mode, calculating fallback points and tapping at the small wrist terminal on his vambrace, eyes flicking up every few seconds to survey the terrain. You stayed seated a moment longer, letting your heartbeat slow and dust settle from your lungs. Around you, nature’s noises were starting to creep back in.

You tried your comlink again. It was still static. The squad was either too far or too buried under interference. You still felt their Force signature. They were alive at the very least.

A sharp inhale from Rex pulled your attention toward him. He had turned slightly, his gaze cutting away fast, but not fast enough. His eyes had landed on you Specifically, on your torn robe.

You glanced down. Blood from your cut was no longer seeping through your shirt, but half our shirt was almost gone from the tear and makeshift repair job. In this moment, you weren’t exactly exposed, not completely bare chested on one side, but the rip left you more visible than standard protocol

Rex cleared his throat and turned his back under the guise of checking what was still clipped onto his belt, stuttering his next words, “Sorry. I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to stare.”

You smiled. The fact that he felt the need to apologize made something in your chest soften, “It’s alright,” you assured him, “Pretty sure you’ve seen more.”

He huffed a laugh, still facing away.

“Oh come on,” you added, “this is probably the most scandalous thing I’ve done since my days as a Padawan.”

That made him glance over his shoulder, “Now that,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “That sounds like you have some stories."

You grinned and stood slowly, brushing dirt from your robes. 

“I’ll happily exchange cadet stories for-’ Rex stopped. He wasn’t smiling anymore and looked back toward the slope, more intently now, “This landslide came from the west.”

You folded your arms, half to keep warm and half to process what he was trying to say.

He continued, “Your little trick back there came from the west. It wasn’t that initial shift. ”

“I threw dirt. This came from something tectonic or planted.”

Rex reached onto the ground to grab your supply satchel and tossed it onto his shoulder before scanning the horizon, “We’ll head south a few clicks. There’s an old root formation I spotted before the slide. If we can’t get through to the others by dusk, we hunker down there until the Gunships find us.”

You nodded, “Lead the way.”

The dust hung thick in the air, its chalky haze dulling Kix’s vision and coating everything in a pale film. The roar of the landslide still echoed faintly through the canyons.

“General?” Jesse’s helmet turned sharply, scanning the settling path behind him.

Fives whipped his head around, then shouted your name, “General?! Rex?!”

But there was no answer.

The squad stood in the wreckage of what had been a tight formation, now scattered by the sudden landslide. Fallen trees lay like snapped twigs across the path, and the slope above was a jagged scar of fresh dirt and broken roots. The explosion of movement had ended just as fast as it had come, but the silence in the aftermath was deafening.

Echo was already raising his arm to the comm, tapping quickly into the 501st’s secure channel, “Rex!” he screamed into his wrist, “Rex, do you read?”

There was still nothing, just static. So, he tried again, panic growing in his voice, “Rex, it’s Echo. Respond.”

Still nothing.

Kix knelt down on the ground and pressed his hand to a shallow cut on his thigh. Wincing through the motion. He was all the while scanning the perimeter, not for enemies now, but for movement, “We need a triage. Check vitals, scanners, something.”

“They were behind me,” Fives mumbled, almost to himself, “I swear they were right behind me.” He turned, his steps crunching through loose rock and damp earth, while he began sweeping the uneven ground. “She was right behind me,” he repeated, his voice rising slightly.

“Then we’ll find them,” Jesse replied, already taking a step forward, focusing on the loose dirt around him.

“No, wait-” Echo stepped in front of him, “We stay close. We’ll fan out just enough to search. We don’t know how unstable the ridge is.”

Hardcase clenched his jaw beneath the helmet but nodded.

Tup struggled to his feet, “Do you think they fell with the slide?”

Echo shook his head slowly, “If they had, we’d see something.”

“Unless they went off-course to avoid it,” Jesse added, pointing to gagged mountains around you, “There’s plenty of places to hide here.”

“Maybe,” Echo shrugged, his voice tight with unease. “But they’d be half-buried or they somehow moved faster.”

“They would’ve moved fast,” Fives huffed, “You know Rex.”

Hardcase pressed against the dirt, “I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t leave without sending a ping.”

Kix was already checking his scanner, “Comm interference from the slide could’ve knocked out local signals. If we move up the ridge, we might get a better angle to boost it.”

Fives was pacing now, shaking his head rapidly, “He had her right next to him. I saw her fall back during the collapse, but Rex followed.”

“Of course he did,” Kix muttered, almost absently, but loud enough to earn himself a pause from the others. 

Kix sighed, “Oh please. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t leave a General behind.”

No one disagreed.

“She’s a kriffing Jedi, but -” Fives hesitated, pausing as Kix looked up at him, “But you’re right, he wouldn’t let her go down alone.”

“Then we better not leave them out there,” Jesse more so ordered rather than suggested, “We’ll backtrack the landslide. Carefully though. I’ll lead.”

“I’m with you,” Fives chimed in instantly, brushing dirt off his kama.

“Hold on,” Echo cut in, raising a hand, “Before we do anything, I’m calling it in. Command’s going to expect that gunship extraction in less than thirty. We don’t want them pulling out before we’ve found them.”

He turned slightly away and switched comm frequencies, tuning into the Republic fleet overhead. The signal was weak, but it was there, “Command, this is ARC-1409, requesting emergency hold on evac ETA,” he quickly got through, “We’ve had a landslide. Our General and Captain are missing. Coordinates transmitting now. Hold position until further notice.”

Tup and Jesse clenched their jaw as static came though. 

Then, by some miracle, “Copy, ARC-1409. Delay confirmed. Standing by for updates,” same through.

Echo exhaled slowly, “We’ve bought some time.”

Jesse gave him a sharp nod, “Let’s not waste it.”

The squad moved quickly but carefully, working in a staggered arc to follow the faint, packed in trail Jesse found. It wasn’t much, just a snapped branch here, or a scuff along a moss-covered boulder, but it was enough to give them some hope,

Jesse crouched near the edge of a toppled log, inspecting it, “Someone has stepped here. There’s footprints.”

“You think it’s them?” Echo asked, moving beside him.

“Maybe. It’s got to be fresh.”

“I don’t like it,” Kix muttered, scanning the terrain, “There’s too much loose soil. One bad step, and the whole ridge could go again.”

“Then we step right,” Jesse answered.

They moved a little further, and Fives paused near a patch of torn cloth caught on a branch, staring at it.

“Is that-” Echo started.

Fives reached out and plucked it free, “Part of her robe? I think so.”

“You sure?” Kix asked, falling in beside him. Fives held up the fabric, passing it to Echo. 

Echo took off his glove and rubbed it between his fingers, “It is. She complained how itchy this was constantly,” A faint smile tugged at his mouth before fading again, “Rex probably grabbed her before the landslide hit.”

“Or pulled her behind cover,” Jesse suggested, “We’re not seeing debris on this path. It means they dodged it.”

“Then where the hell are they now?” Fives groaned, throwing his head back and turning a slow circle.

Echo stared into the narrow ravine, his eyes narrowed behind his helmet, “Maybe they kept moving to look for higher ground. Comms would be easier to go through from up there.”

Jesse nodded, “Or he’s setting up a fallback.”

Kix continued to look down at his holopad, still scanning for life forms, “They wouldn’t just vanish.”

Everyone turned to him as Fives’s voice cracked slightly, “She’s with Rex. Nothing’s going to happen.”

No one spoke, but a few coughs came from the group. Fives sighed, rolling his eyes, “I mean nothing bad is going to happen.”

As a few low chuckles came from the men, Jesse’s voice stopped them quickly, “Let’s go,” he ordered, and started forward again.

Given the chaos that just unfolded, it was beyond quiet.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that soothed though. It was too still, as if the land itself held its breath.

You stepped carefully around a half-toppled tree, glancing behind to make sure Rex was close - even though you knew he was. 

He didn't say much since he pulled you aside, covering your torn clothes with his hand. Almost like he was embraced in some way. The quiet between you two felt suspended  like both of you were waiting for something to crack open.

You caught his gaze briefly, then looked away, brushing the back of your hand across your forehead, brushing off excess dirt. 

Finally, Rex broke the silence, “It's ahead. It's not much, but with enough elevation we might get a signal.”

You nodded, “Lead the way, Captain.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he fell into step beside you, close but not touching. Rex didn’t know what to make of the ache still sitting behind his ribs. It wasn’t from the fight or from the fear when he thought the slide would take you both under. It was something harder to name.

“I should’ve seen the branch,” you admitted suddenly, “That was dumb.”

“You were trying to save something that I should have had a better grip of,” Rex replied, “If anything, I'm the dumb one.”

You gave a half-smile, “Don't blame yourself. It was quick.”

Rex’s mouth twitched, “It's my duty to protect you.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, “Don’t you start.”

He didn’t nudge back, but his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. Rex almost looked scared, really scared. Not just because of the landslide but because the moment his hand pressed into you. It was protective, yes, but it felt personal too. And your skin was warm and soft beneath his glove and-

He shut down the thought and marched it straight out of his head.

“I'm not upset, you know,” you assured him. 

Rex blinked, “What?”

“Earlier,” you clarified, “when you were covering my chest. I appreciate it. It's nice to know someone’s got my back, or, my front.”

That stopped him cold.

You turned to look at him fully now, pausing just long enough for the truth of it to settle between you.

“Anakin was right. You make the right calls,” you continued, “even when it costs you something.”

Rex’s breath caught. He searched your face like he was looking for something to make him know this was real. 

“I don’t always know the right call,” he admitted.

“I didn’t say you did,” you smile, “I said you make it. There’s a difference.”

The path curved ahead, and you motioned to Rex to take the lead. You then started walking behind him, your shoulder brushing his for half a step before separating.

“The men and I weren't expecting this,” he confessed after a few more paces, “With all due respect..” He trailed off for a moment before trying again, “General Windu can be a little abrasive towards us Clones sometimes. We were a little apprehensive to see what would happen when you came in. Given he was your Master.”

You gave him a blank expression. 

“No, that's a good thing!” he said, sharper than intended, “I mean you look at us and talk to us like we matter. That means something to us.”

You adjusted the makeshift knot in your robe and stepped a little closer again, “That’s because you do.”

Rex clenched his jaw. You were approaching dangerous ground with him. It wasn't just sentiment anymore, but vulnerability. The kind he swore to keep buried deep after only a few battles.

“I know us Jedi are supposed to keep a duracrete barrier around our emotions,” you began, “And I know you are expected to do the same, but that's not human. A little compassion goes a long way, especially to those who look around and are met with hundreds of people who share the same face, same laugh.” 

You swallowed hard, “But when I have to leave, I'll remember yours. Your second laugh is a little deeper than the first. That's how I know it's you.”

That made him turn. He looked at you and something gentle flickered in his eyes.

“I caught onto that before we loaded the transport down here,” you noted, mirroring his smile, “Hardcase said something ridiculous, and you were trying not to laugh, but you did anyway.”

“I wish I remembered what he said,” Rex exhaled.

You both stopped walking. The terrain had opened just enough to reveal a root-like structure that was flat and wide enough to rest on. 

Rex glanced around before nodding toward it. “We’ll hold here. I'll try the comms again soon.”

You moved toward the structure, sitting carefully and exhaling as your shoulders dropped. Rex remained standing for a moment. He then sat close enough that your knees nearly brushed.

Above you, the sky showed no signs of storms. The sun and pale sky could convince anyone it was warm, but it was deceiving. The slight wind pushed cold air through your battered robe, sending a shiver down your back.

Rex had one leg extended straight out, his other propped up so he could rest his arm on it. He slowly removed his helmet, placing it on the ground with a sigh. 

You turned your head to look at him again, “Rex.”

He looked back.

“Do you hear that?” you said slowly, dropping your voice.

“Hear what?”

“That soft roar,” you clarified, “it’s echoing. Sounds like running water, right?”

Rex furrowed his brows, “I can't hear it.”

You quickly hopped up and scanned your surroundings. 

“I swear I hear it,” you whispered to yourself. You stepped over a cluster of roots, angling toward the far edge of the slope, “It's coming from that way.” 

“Wait, hold on,” Rex protested, rising after you, “We should stay here, not chase after ghosts.”

But you were already making your way through the underbrush, following the sound that seemed to grow louder with each step. Rex swore quietly and followed, crunching the ground behind you. 

You ducked beneath a low-hanging fauna and pushed aside a curtain of vines. The wall of the ravine sloped sharply in places, worn down by time and weather. Just ahead, tucked between two slabs of stone, was a narrow crevice that was nearly invisible unless you were right on top of it.

“There,” you breathed, pointing towards it.

Rex caught up behind you, his hand immediately catching your elbow before you could slip through, “You don’t even know what’s on the other side.”

You glanced back at him with a small, challenging smile, “Good thing I trust my senses.”

He narrowed his eyes, but his hand fell away.

You turned sideways, pressed your shoulders through the tight space, and squeezed in. The stone was damp and cold against your sides, as you eased through the narrow corridor. Loose dirt fell from above as your fingers gripped the side walls, your body curling inward just enough to make it through.

Rex hesitated. The gap was barely wide enough for you. For him, it was going to be a tight squeeze.

“General, this is a bad idea,” he called after you, planting his hands on either side of the crevice. He followed anyway, there was never any real question whether or not he would. His shoulders scraped the stone, catching his armor in a few places before he finally twisted his body and shoved forward.

The path curved inward with a few sharp turns before it opened at last. You stood just ahead of him, already a few steps into the hollow space. The air was warmer here, and the deeper you moved, the more the moisture thickened.

When Rex emerged fully, his eyes widened slightly. You were standing at the edge of a cavern, the ceiling above open in places where light filtered in through jagged cracks. Various minerals spilled down from the walls in holographic curtains. At the very heart of it was a clear and gently steaming body of water being fed by a narrow stream trickling down the stone wall.

“A hot spring,” you gasped, nearly breathless, “Underground.”

Rex stepped up beside you, quiet for a long moment, “I didn’t think this place could surprise me again.”

You walked toward the water’s edge, crouching beside it and dipping your fingers in. It was warm. Naturally, soothingly warm.

“It must be residual heat from the mountain’s old crust. This whole region must’ve been formed by volcanic pressure once,” you murmured, letting the water roll over your hand.

Rex watched you. His arms were crossed, but his posture softened, “So you're a Jedi turned geologist?”

You gave a tired grin, mesmerized by a fallen crystal in your hand, “Oh don’t tempt me. If this war doesn’t end soon, I'll consider careers.”

He bent down to brush his fingers along the edge of the water where yours just were, “So, you think you’ll be a geologist soon?”

You snapped your neck away from the crystal and looked at him,  “I don’t know. But if I do..,” you slipped the crystal into your pocket, “I'm keeping this so I can start a rock collection.”

Rex let out a chuckle and stood again. His eyes lingered on the pool, then on the space where your robe hung slightly loose at your shoulder. He looked away fast, clearing his throat, “It looks like you might be bleeding again. I can get the supply bag for some bacta patches.”

You shook your head, still crouched by the edge, “I'd rather just lay in here.”

Rex sat on a stone shelf nearby, removing one glove to rub finger in circles along his temple, “It’s cold outside. Wet clothes won't do you any good.”

You stood and began removing what was left of your outer robe, “I'm not an idiot Rex.” You shrugged your robe over your shoulder and  placed it on the ground before motioning to him with two fingers to turn around, “just look that way and we won't have an issue.” 

Rex immediately looked away, clenching his jaw. 

“I’m just going to rinse off the blood,” you said softly, removing the rest of your clothes, “Don’t worry.”

“Didn’t say I was worried,” he grumbled back, eyes laser focused on the ground. 

“No,” you hummed, stepping carefully into the warm water, “but you’re staring at that boulder like it’s going to shoot you.”

Rex huffed once, “Old habits.”

The water rose to your waist as you waded in further. You let out a breath, not from pain, but release. The ache in your body felt  eased, even if just a little, by the warmth.

You finally sank in more, bringing the water level to just under your neck, “Oh this feels phenomenal. You've got to come in.” 

“General-” Though still focused on the boulder, you could see a hint of pink flushing into his ears. 

“I'll turn around,” you insisted, “There’s plenty of room for us to stay apart. Besides, people pay hundreds of credits for stuff like this.” 

He went to move his head, then stopped, “Can I turn around now?”

You laughed, “Only if you agree to live a little and get in here.” 

Rex turned to face you as you continued, “No pressure or anything, but this might be one of the most relaxing things I've ever experienced. I’m sure you've earned it too.”

You turned your back to him, waiting. He didn’t move at first, but eventually, Rex rose and peeled off a few pieces of armor, each piece falling to the ground echoing across the water. After a moment of silence, you heard the water splashing a few meters behind you.

“It’s warm,” he gasped, mildly surprised.

You shifted back around to face him, except he wasn't there, “Where did you go?”

To your left, there was a natural structure in the hotspring, creating a sort of ‘rock like privacy wall’. “Hm, just back here,” He answered, from behind the rocks, “You were right, this is nice.” 

You exhaled deeply, throwing your neck back into the water, soaking your hair, “I told you so.” 

Rex let out a soft laugh, “You sound like General Skywalker.” 

“Absolutely not,” you shot back, “Anakin doesn't appreciate the art of chaos free bliss. He'd be scrambling right now, trying to make contact, not living in the moment and taking in the view.” 

Rex also rested his head back, looking at the light filter through the roof of the cave, “The scenic route isn't always the most efficient one.”

You hummed, “Humans aren’t around for long. Why waste what little time we have not living?”

That stopped him for a minute. You heard the water splashing softly, like he was adjusting his position in the water. 

He was quiet for a moment longer, “I've never thought of it that way. We're soldiers, war is all we know.”

You struggled between a frown and smile, “It's not all you, Rex, know,” you gestured to your surroundings, even though he couldn't see you, “you know skinny dipping in a hotspring now.” 

Rex laughed, “I know you're here for General Skywalker, but even when you leave, if we cross paths, you're never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you replied, sinking in deeper. Your hair floated around you peacefully with the ripples of the water. 

The sound of the water shifted again. Figuring Rex was dipping his whole body into the water, you did the same, letting the hot water hug your entire body. 

“I wish the rest of the men could come enjoy this,” Rex sighed, shutting his eyes. 

Instead of a response from you, he was met with silence. Slowly, he cracked open an eye, “General?”

No response. 

He lifted his head up and opened his eyes, calling out your name once. Then twice.

Still nothing. 

“If you don't respond in five seconds, I'm coming over.” 

And those were the longest five seconds of Rex's life.

➜ Next Chapter Coming August 2nd!

➜ A/N: I'm still considering this fic slow burn BUT I was kind of dying and needed to add a little something 😉 once again, thank you for the love you guys have been giving this fic! The idea for this fic came around when I told @bigbadbatch that Rex needs a fic inspired by "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter. Granted, this is not very Juno-ish but (as the kids say these days) let me cook. Also! Why have these last three chapters all been basically the same word count???

➜ Tags: @bigbadbatch @bunny7567 @fireballoveraltanta @tardisgirl420 @olasz-2003 @taina-eny @adamime @generaldumbbitch @addie192 @lugiastark @ktdragonborn

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[fritzes]

and away we go! here are my two cents on the australian open draw. as always I try to be as unbiased as possible... but sometimes that isn't very possible. anyways, here it is:

wta:

I gotta say it's really weird not seeing iga in the top spot on the draw. so massive props to aryna. the fact that she's #1 is indicative of how great she's been, especially on hardcourt. she's the clear favorite, and her draw only supports that. her projected quarterfinalist is qinwen, her known pigeon. mirra is also lurking in this quarter, but when she beat aryna at rg aryna was very clearly ill, and she just beat mirra in brisbane. however, the bane of aryna's existence, donna vekic, is in this quarter but she's on the other side and could be beaten by someone like diana or qinwen. a lot of interesting names in this quarter, but I don't think any of them can beat aryna

coco was in great form at the united cup, but she's got her work cut out for her. her record against jess, the projected quarterfinalist, isn't great, and marta and paula being in the quarter is a little concerning. however, there are a bunch of players who could normally be threats that are completely neutralized by coco (I'm thinking karo, leylah, and penko), so that's a lot of seeds that are out of her way. naomi is also in this quarter and obviously has a great record at ao and has shown that she can do some damage at slams. if she's healthy, she can potentially make a run here

aryna vs coco is so interesting right now, and I think they can both get to the semifinal. aryna is #1 and this is truly her tournament, but coco's improvement over just the last few months has been great, and she was beating aryna even before that

I've already been seeing people write off jasmine, and I think that's a mistake. people forget that her first slam breakout was at ao24, not rg24, and she proved at united cup that she's very competent on this surface. that being said, a healthy elena is a pretty bad draw for her. she beat elena at rg and the wta finals, but elena wasn't fully fit and those were slower surfaces. I think this quarter has the weakest field (not to say there aren't good players, but the other three quarters have more). maybe dayana will make a surprise run again, or madi will have one of her random slam runs, but I'd for sure take the top seeds over the field here

and finally, iga's quarter. at the bottom of the draw. I'm still getting used to that, it's weird. it's interesting because if this draw came out a few months ago, I'd say emma navarro is super dangerous and could be a threat, but she's been in legitimately terrible form lately and I could honestly see her losing first round. if this draw came out a few years ago I'd say maria would go far, but she's been so lost for months now. I think ons jabeur could make a surprise run in the top half of this draw, she's been having some good wins lately and we know how capable she is at slams. I also think there's an opportunity for anna here, as well as vika who is known for being great at this tournament

jasmine has steadily been making her matches with iga closer, and this is a surface iga isn't comfortable on, so I think if that match did happen it could be pretty close

interesting r1 matches: sabalenka/stephens, tomljanovic/krueger, gauff/kenin, osaka/garcia, bencic/ostapenko, navarro/stearns, osorio/sakkari, alexandrova/raducanu, siniakova/swiatek

atp:

I swear they're giving jannik meme draws now. adm? bvdz?? holger??? hubi???? matteo????? TALLON GRIEKSPOOR????? strangely enough, the person who is the biggest threat to jannik is somehow stefanos tsitsipas, but he's on the other side of the draw and I highly doubt he will make it too the quarterfinals. besides, the last time he beat jannik really shouldn't have happened because of that line call in monte carlo. other than him, everyone in this quarter is someone jannik can comfortably, convincingly beat. I don't like to jinx players but he's the world #1 and this quarter is his to lose. on the other side, I do think adm can make the quarterfinals but based on that h2h with jannik, I'm not sure if he wants to

I think the second quarter is the most up in the air. taylor and daniil are both strong contenders to go deep in this tournament but with a lot of question marks around them. daniil because of his recent form and because his wife just had a baby, and taylor because of his mentality. we just don't know how he's gonna handle being a top 4 seed. this quarter is pretty stacked, with gmp, ben, lorenzo musetti, rublev, frances, and alexei. there are also some snaky contenders, like nakashima, shapo, arnaldi, and marozsan. to me, this is the hardest quarter to predict

I don't think I need to say anything about the projected semifinal. just look at the us open final scoreline. taylor has improved a lot since then, but he's just not at the level to beat jannik right now

djokovic/alcaraz quarter. I never thought we'd see the day. but there's a lot to get through before either of them can get there. opelka, who novak just lost to, is very close to him in the draw, as is tomas machac who beat him in geneva. grigor and jiri could also potentially make things difficult for him. on carlos' side, he has to deal with jack and korda who, despite his self-proclaimed greatness at wimbledon (and first round flopping), has actually done pretty well at ao. jack has some injury concerns, but when does he not? if we did get the projected quarterfinal and carlos and novak did play, I'd have to favor carlos but I'm honestly not sure? we haven't seen carlos play this season and ao is easily his worst slam, but novak just lost to opelka so. who knows

the last quarter is very frustrating and you know why. frankly I'm not in the mood to analyze it. I will focus on the top part though because there could be a major upset with felix and casper

interesting r1 matches: hurkacz/griekspoor, zhang/rune, tsitsipas/michelsen, shelton/nakashima, arnaldi/musetti, rindreknech/tiafoe, struff/auger-aliassimee

[flemingsgirl]

Enough pt. 3

Masterlist

For the opening ceremony you dress in the uniform you got before you left for Paris, personally you thought you were going back to school, but you kinda liked it, causal yet significant and holds bites of your nationality. With America being second last to be presented you had a long night however your time was spent valuable as you messaged back and forth with Jessie.

As the cameras were pointed on the American boat, you packed your phone into your bag, giving your attention to the crowd around you and the people in front of the television. Smiling, you wave to the viewer as you pass them, having an arm around your best friend and jumping up in your spot. Your phone was long forgotten, so when you hit the mattress as you were ready for the night, you had a glance at the device, flooded with several notifications from your family as well as from Jessie.

Tonight, I’m an American myself. GO USA! (and Canada ofc)

Oh, wow, they mixed up the names of north and south Korea…

Damn I see red, how could they. Relieved I’m not there it’s like much and roaring. Nvm go CANADA! #1

OMG!! Look who I spotted!!

Wow she’s kinda pretty, who’s that? Can you get me her number?

Don’t mind the Canadian athlete in the background with his outstanding tracksuit XD

Seems like you’re busy... :/ have fun and be careful. Let me now when you’re back so I know you’re safe! Good night beauty.

Here to say I’m back safe, already in my bed and ready to sleep. Nighty night.

Just moments later your phone rings and you’re quick to accept and stumble into the bathroom, not wanting to wake Avery. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” her voice raspy.

“Why’d you called?”

You could hear some rattling in the background, indicating that Jessie’s fidgeting with something. “Just checking in.”

“It’s late. I thought you were already asleep.”

“I know, but I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I can sleep better or so I could even sleep at all.”

“Oh Jess. What’s wrong?”

The Canadian gulps. “I have troubles sleeping these past days. With all that happened. I can’t have a proper meal cause I don’t have that much appetite and I miss you like crazy and… and…” she rambles on.

“And what? Trust me, I’m on your side.”

“It’s way too soon.”

“About what? Jess, bebe talk to me.”

She stays silent a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Jessie tucks on her earlobe. “Like a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.” You lick your lips, rubbing your forehead. “Look, Jessie. I don’t mean it in any bad way or so. With those new standings maybe, we should wait until all the stressful and anxious days are over to take the next step.” You let Jessie assimilate the information. “Those games aren’t how you imagined them and it’s a hard pill to swallow. But I’m with you. You are enough just like you are, Jessie, don’t forget. You’re perfect in any way. If it gets too much call me, I’ll always be here. Okay?

“Yes,” she mumbles into the phone.

“I’ve got an offer.” You don’t hear any answer. “Jess?” a soft sob is audible. “Hey, hey, Jessie, it’s alright. I got you. Do you listen to me?” the line stays silent. “Jessie?” worry grows in the pit of your stomach. “Hey, hey, Fleming, you’re not ignoring me, you understand?” you chew on your bottom lip. “I suppose you lay in your bed… it’s okay if you fall asleep, yeah. I’ll take that credit. Close your eyes for me, would you?” you give her a second to adjust her position. Soft sobs still lingering in the air as she shuffles under her blanket. “I’ll lead you through the opening try to put your phone behind you at best next to your ear.” A moment passes. “Okay. So, before we were let onto the boat, we had a really dope kinda party in our village. Oh, your little shy self would’ve wanted to burry yourself in the ground. It was even too much for me,” you let out a laugh and one side of Jessie’s mouth turns up, her sobs dying. “It was so loud and there were so many people I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was there for like half an hour and it was scheduled for two hours,” your voice a soft whisper. “Fast forward to our boat tour it was so humid. I send you a pic from before, right? Five minutes later I put them into a ponytail cause they were clutched on my skin. I think we were like three hours on this boat and I’m glad we could message this time otherwise I would’ve died of boredom. I small talked with Simone Biles, LeBron James just to name some. yeah, it was great but a special someone has been missed.” Jessie doesn’t respond, the only sound audible are steady breaths. You wander back into your room and cover yourself with the blanket. “If it’s not clear. I’d like you to be here by my side. To see you and to hold you. I can’t wait to see you again Jessie. Good night until tomorrow.”

Three days later your first game in the tournament was scheduled. Your opponent was the Chinese team, a favoured aspirant for a medal. The start was rough the Chinese women pressured and lead the play. Roundabout an hour into the game your team was down two sets, only one set for the Chinese squad to win. In a matter of time the tables have turned, and the teams were tied, leading to a last set which decides the winner. At the score of 8:10 for the Chinese your coach had to switch you out. Five points before your opponent at the net crossed the foul line so that you landed on her feet and your knee twisted, a pain shot through your leg, but you kept playing. You communicated with your coach, and he took a time out for your team to discuss the matter and how you’ll switch on the field. Your heart scattered as you limp to the sideline where your roommate and best friend stepped up next to the referee and took your place. She gave you a quick hug and reassured you, drying a tear that left your eye. On your way to the bench, you exchange high-fives with the team officials. Taking a seat the physio makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you. By the time you shield your face with your hands and every now and then you dry some tears with the hem of your shirt. In the end your team is defeated which is another heartbreak for you and another wave of tears escape you. Teammates huddle around you and embrace your shaking body. Shortly after you find yourself in the changing room getting ready to shower and put on your comfy clothes for the night.

“What did they say about your knee?”

“It shouldn’t be something serious, but they want to give me a break the next game and maybe the one after.”

“That’s promising.”

“Kinda. Hopefully it works out. If not, they want me to get examined.”

“Reasonable.” You just nod too exhausted and gloomy, only wanting to be in your bed and talk with a special Canadian.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you? You played so well.” You burry your face into the cushion, hiding the blush that grows. “Hey, hey, no hiding here, show me your pretty face.” Her chuckles fill the air, and your heart skips a beat. The past days Jessie’s quite outgoing, charming and offensive.

“Thank you I tried my best, but it didn’t work for us. I’m okay, I think.”

“It’s the thought that counts. Next time will be better. Oh Y/N.” Jessie’s eyes dart over your face. “Tell me.”

“Yeah hopefully.” you stop, a shaky breath escapes your lips, “I... it’s…”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my knee.” You let out a sob. “It just happened and it.”

“But you played on. Were you already in pain?

“Not much, it was kinda unstable and stiff. I don’t know what you’ve seen.”

“At some point you were on the ground and then you stood up and played on. After a few points your trainer took the timeout.”

“For tactics. He sorted the team with the substitution he was going to make. The other player crossed the line and I landed on her foot and mine gave in twisting, and I fell, that was embarrassing.”

“Nothing about it is embarrassing. It’s not your fault and things like that can happen to anyone… I mean the falling, not the injury. How many times am I thrown to the floor or challenged?”

“But it’s part of your game.”

“Are you trying to make my argument unreasonable?” she lowers her eyebrows. “I dare you.”

“What if I do? Try me,” you giggle afterwards as she gives you an evil eye.

“You wouldn’t want that,” she winks at you while she licks her lips, a smug placing itself on them afterward. The heat creeps into her cheeks but Jessie ignores it, holding the stare at you.

You are the first to break the eye contact covering your face with your hands. A grunt finds its way out of your mouth, and you claps your pillow over your head. “Hey, hey, hey shooow youuurself,” the Canadian drags out and you can hear how she pokes her screen.

“Stop it,” you groan and roll your eyes when your face comes to display again as you set the pillow down.

She beams at you, eyes closed, and her nose scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“You being cheesy. A whole new side of you.”

“Oh, stop complaining. I know you like it.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’re still talking to me.”

“I really like this new confident, keep it Fleming.”

[doyelikehaggis]

25 Days of Sleighpairs: St Hudson | Jesse St James x Finn Hudson (Glee) + “Music”

Finn startled when Jesse plucked his phone from his hands and crossed his arms, obviously demanding his attention. He looked up at him, frowning.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Jesse started, "but I need to ask you something. Why are you still here?"

Sitting up a little straighter, Finn said, "I'm not sure how to take that the right way." He dropped his gaze and swallowed. "But I get it. I said I'd only be here a few days, I should be gone by now. Don't worry. I'll get my stuff and I'll get out of your hair."

He went to stand up, but Jesse raised a hand between them.

"That's not what I meant."

Finn frowned again. "Then what did you mean?"

"I meant... why are you avoiding going home? You still haven't told me what happened when you finally went to see Rachel, either. I assume nothing good since you came right back here."

"Oh." He dropped back onto the couch, deflated. "Right."

Jesse took a seat beside him. He sighed, and it sounded like the kind only a performer would use in the most casual situation. Everything he did was sort of exaggerated and theatrical, like a camera crew was about to appear out of thin air.

Although, he had noticed that the act dropped every now and then when he wasn't paying much attention. Like, sometimes he'd start talking before he had finished eating, or when he passed him on the upstairs landing on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night and he was half-asleep, his hair a mess and wearing just a T-shirt and bottoms, or when he'd get really invested in a reality show. It was weird. He had never really seen him so... human.

"Is this about your injury?"

Finn had forgotten how direct he could be, despite living with him for two weeks. He just gaped back at him while trying to ignore how aware he suddenly was of the slight twinge in his leg. It didn't hurt so much anymore, but it still flared up every so often.

"No," he said, his brow furrowing. "Well, it's not... it's not just that."

He glanced at Jesse, expecting him to already have lost interest. Instead, he raised his eyebrows the tiniest bit, silently prompting him to go on. He was watching him so intently, so expectantly, that Finn flushed hot with embarassment and had to look away.

"It's all of it," he finally said defeatedly. "Rachel. The injury. I was discharged from the army before I even did anything - aside from shoot myself in the leg, that is. I was supposed to go there and - and do something, make a difference, for my dad. Instead, I just... made a fool of myself."

He stared into the bowl of cereal in his lap, but he wasn't hungry anymore. Actually, he felt sick.

"So, you think that hiding away is the solution?"

"I'm not hiding," Finn said defensively, "I'm just..."

Not ready. The words lodged in his throat, and he swallowed.

Jesse sighed, and finally, he got up, presumably bored of the pointless conversation. To Finn's surprise, he turned to him and motioned him to his feet.

When he didn't move, Jesse said, "Come on. Prove it. If you're not hiding away out of some stupid shame, then you're going to leave this apartment. I need to do some last-minute shopping and there's a market a few blocks away. You're coming with me."

"I don't..." he started to protest, but Jesse's face made it clear that if he finished, he might as well be admitting defeat. As much as that thought appealed to him because at least it meant he didn't have to go anywhere, he couldn't do it. It wasn't true. He didn't want it to be true.

Sighing, he asked, "Can I at least get dressed and finish my breakfast first?"

Jesse's mouth quirked into what Finn used to think was an obnoxious smirk but he now realized was more of a smile.

"Don't be long," he told him, pointing at him sternly. "I have a very strict schedule for today."

"I thought we were just going shopping?"

"Oh, no," Jesse said, his features crinkling in amusement. "Shopping is just one stop on what is going to be an eye-opening adventure for you, courtesy of me. Think of it as my gift to you. Although, if you stay here any longer, I'm going to be obligated to get you an actual gift."

He slinked away and over to the piano, declaring that the only way to get him truly inspired was, of course, a song. Finn found that he was smiling for the first time in a month as Jesse started playing the opening to a song he hadn't heard before; it was almost comical how alike he and Rachel were at times. Something in Finn’s chest ached a bit, and he wasn't sure why. It was better than the ache in his leg, though, so he didn't mind too much.

[limerlove]

#001.5 TOUCHING YOURSELF!

❝ ABBY!ANDERSON SERIES ❞

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: lowkey loser!reader, voyerisum, dub-con, dildo penetration (abby!r), minors hop off my shit, friends to lovers (eventually), nerdy!abby.

....AND THEY WERE ROOMATES, she’s always been just abby to you. best friends and thick as thieves. sweet as can be, breathing shy naivety with ever inhale of oxygen — a walking angel on earth. a gentle remainder of what’s good but looks can be so convincing? can’t they?

The college bar is no busier than it would have been any other thursday night. Any other night, you would have been able to handle the rowdy college kids, the old men checking out your ass with a lingering promise of a nightcap you would never attend but the promise of more kept the tips rolling into now deep pockets. 

Two regulars going at it, again, leaving you and Jesse to split them up. Frank, the alcoholic with violent tendencies reaches for the visible switchblade attached to your carabiner. With a swat of his hand, Manny catches his limp wrist before shoving the chaotic pair outside. 

God to honest truth, you should have been able to handle them on your own but your mind happens to be occupied elsewhere tonight. 

You catch glimpses of her tonight. Abby’s tucked in the black leather booth, her laptop and books laid out in front of her. She insisted on coming here tonight, not caring to be alone in your shared apartment so there was no saying no to her sweet smile. 

Soft, slushy braid lightly woven together, but it hardly held. Blonde strands framed her face beautifully, accentuating her soft jawline and supple cheeks. When she wasn’t looking, given you had a moment to breathe, you would take her in. 

Abby sheds herself of her vest, a loose white button up disguises her figure along with the navy trousers fitting her loosely around her muscular thighs. 

Adorable. 

Quietly, you sport a smile, wishing it could be suppressed but it can’t. 

It’s been a few weeks since that night. You’re sure you’ll never forget the way she moved, her beautiful hair you were goddamn obsessed with at this point, watching her hamstrings succumb to the pleasure, and the way her body writhed as she came. So, naturally, you hid here. With your loose lips, you were bound to spill. 

But this? You couldn’t. 

There wasn’t anyone you could talk about this with, especially not Abby. In your mind, you’ve run it over a few times, none of them end well. She’s always been a sensitive girl. Taking everything to heart since grade school. Her big heart remains on her sleeve and you adore her for it but now? It’s the demise of your doom. 

You want to have her. It’s a craving in your blood, but you’d just tear her to pieces. So, what if she knew how to fuck? Emotionally, spiritually, mentally - you’d only ruin her into bits until she didn’t even know where you ended and she began. Abby being so woven in your day to day, the friendship the two of you shared, it’s all so complicated. 

You did the only thing you know how to. Avoid. 

Luckily enough for you, the first week is easy. Abby is busy enough with her schedule, the thought never even crosses her mind that you're avoiding her intentionally. Until you change the time you’re going to the gym, and you’re picking up extra shifts on the days you’re normally off. Still the saint she is, nothing is uttered. A hum, short and crisp with just a hint of disapproval laced in her tone. 

She’s smart…careful.

Abby asks to come when she knows you’re unable to deny her request. Here you are, behind the bar, distracted. Again, with her nose buried in her books, pushing up her glasses to the bump in her nose ever so often. She sips the iced water, a lemon wedge and a couple cucumbers sinking to the bottom of the frosted glass. You offered her beer, something to help with her social anxiety but she refuses like she always does. 

Need to keep my head clear, she says with a small smile. 

Your shift is nearly over, thankfully. There’s a few stragglers in the bar, regulars who are often here every Thursday night make their way out as you clear off glasses, wiping down the countertop. Jesse’s words keep echoing in your brain. 

“What’d you do to her?” Jesse raises his eyebrows, subtly nodding his head in Abby’s direction. 

“Nothing! Why would you assume it’s me?” You shrug off as you make another cocktail for a woman tucked in the corner. “Because Abby’s as innocent as a fly. Some might find her annoying, but it’s her. Abby looks like a puppy who's been kicked. Stop being a dick to your girl.” 

“She’s not my-” Jesse runs off before you can complete your sentence. Leaving you to huff alone, pouring another shot of tequila into the drink. “Fucking men…” You curse to yourself. 

You waltz your way over, picking up her empty glass, removing the apron tied around your waist. “Sorry, didn’t mean to take so long, Abs.” The apology slips from your lips, but inwardly you find yourself apologizing for something else entirely, not that she would ever know that. 

“It’s alright. I really don’t mind waiting. I, um, got some work done anyways. It felt good to get out of the house. Thanks for letting me tag along.” Fuck, she’s so sweet. 

“You don’t have to thank me, loser.” You playfully wink, causing a light giggle. The tension in her shoulders dismisses as you help her pack her things. Instinctively, you wrap her books in your hold as she carries her bag. 

The ride home is silent again, leaving room for your mind to wander. Your mind can’t help but end up here for the past week, occupying every second of every day. You ignore the wet patch forming beneath your trousers. The way your cunt is sticking to the fabric, your clit thumping its own heartbeat because of her. 

Hardly do you sleep and if you do, you’re dreaming of your best friend. Sometimes, it’s delicate. Soft moments which feel like memories but more intimate. It’s Abby and you, hands cupping her jaw as the pad of your thumb soothes over her chin. Bottom lip tucked between both of hers as you savor her taste. Hints of raspberry balm and something minty invade your senses. 

She’s perched on your lap, hips grinding into you as you slip your tongue inside her mouth. Exploring every inch of her, dominating her every step of the way. It’s almost harmless but it leads to more. 

Just like tonight. 

You’re able to sleep for once. Even if Abby and her perfectly sculpted, bare body is imprinted on your brain, you find rest. Or so you thought. 

Really, you don’t know how you even got here. But she’s on top, the strap fucking up into her as she rides you like there’s no tomorrow. Abby’s freckled body facing away from you. Her palms resting on your strong hips, as she fucks down on to you. 

The harness rubbing against your clit, watching the baby blue dildo sink into her aching hole as she chants your name like she’s praying to some god. Instead, it’s you. All she needs is you and fuck all you crave is her. There’s no one else nearly as special as her. The way she rides as if she was made for you, taking everything you have to offer, even when you thrust up into her, soft whimpers being pulled out of her each time. 

The edges of her are blurry, she never turns around, but fuck can you feel her. Using you for own pleasure, not giving a single damn if it benefits you are not but fuck it does. It’s doing everything to you. From this alone, you could cum. You know you shouldn’t but you crave more. She’s a need that can’t be undone. 

Desperately, you want to sink your teeth until all of her. Whatever she wants, you’ll do it. Even if it comes at the expense of your own sanity. God, you’re not careful enough to think about what it means and your hands speak for you on their own. Greedy palms reach out for her, needing to touch her and just as you do, reality sinks in. 

Quickly sitting up in bed, realizing your alone, finally awake and fucking soaked. Blood rushes to your brain, your heart thumping. Unfortunately, sweat welcomes nearly every part of your body. You can feel damp hair sticking to for forehead as you feel utterly suffocated by the duvet. 

You need to take care of this. She can’t know. She can never know. 

The heavy heart beat in your chest, threatening to pump out, doesn’t stop. A sports bra clings to your sweaty chest as you attempt to catch your breath. Flashes of the dream plague your mind, intoxicating your brain with her. You see glimpses of her sparkling golden hair reflecting in the moonlight, entranced by the complete control she has over her body. Each moment calculated with purpose as she lets you fuck her. 

With images of only her in mind, fingers sink deep within, a choked moan echoes out as you see the defined muscles in her back clench. You imagine the dream is real, it’s you taking what you please from her. It’s Abby sitting herself on your cock taking what she’s owed. 

The thought alone has you slipping in another finger, severely lost in the thought of her, you’ve yet to clock your door open. Too lost in wondering how her face crumbled when she tumbles over the edge. Does she like to be fucked through her orgasm or does she prefer a gentle voice, whispering sweet affirmations in her ear? Both? 

Curling your fingers into your g-spot, drenching your fingers as you find the one spot as you picture Abby, fucking herself on the dildo as it brings your closer to the edge. All you see is her and as much as you try to rid yourself of the thought, you can’t help how wet it’s making you. 

Trying but utterly failing, you’re getting louder, incoherent moans tumblr before you can catch them. Soft whimpers as if you’re some sex deprived teenager rubbing your clit for the first time. It’s stupid, trivial, yet, you need this. 

“Abby—” before you catch it, it falls from your lips. Tirelessly needy, you grab the vibrator from the drawer, bring the shaking toy to your puffy clit. Over-abused by your ministries but if you don’t finish, your actions are terrifying. The thought alone scares you. 

“Please, Abs, I need you.” It’s then, you feel it. The tight band in your stomach being released from it’s strong hold. Deep pools of blue and golden waves haze your mind. As your eyes shut, you ride the wave as if you’re riding her. 

As if she’s the one to bring you to completion, coaxing you with the soft rasp in her voice as sweet little nothings are whispering into your ear. It’s impossible to stop the way your body shakes, just when you watched her come undone the first time, you can’t stop it. 

Maybe you would have if you’d know the truth. 

Your blonde nerdy best friend wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. No. 

Not when she leaned against the wall, your bedroom door opened as she got off along with you. Abby’s pussy swallowed her fingers as she pictured they were yours bringing her to the edge.

Fuck….No.

All the sins were piling up, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up to the both of you.

This is what roommates are for, right?

lmk what you think! mwah! ♡

[charbon-et-eau]

Hey, I'm Jess!

Welcome to my art blog!

I'm a hobby artist. Pok��mon and Zelda are two of my favorite things, so you can expect to see a lot of fanart for those two series. I tend to obsess over one thing for a while, but I have other interests that may sneak into my art from time to time. And on rare occasions, I might even draw some original art!

I use this blog mainly for sharing finished artwork, but I'll also sometimes post sketch dumps and respond to asks related to my art. I don't want to clutter this blog with reblogs, so if you don't want to miss anything, I recommend clicking on the "get notifications" button for this blog or following my main blog.

Anyone is welcome to follow, but please be aware that I sometimes post nsfw art (I always put it behind the filter). Also, I am very liberal with the block button and will not tolerate bigoted, entitled, or generally hateful behavior. I will also block anyone who spouts pro-censorship rhetoric and/or supports harassing creators over fiction.

Main blog: @charbon-et-feu

Other socials:

🐘 Blorbo.social (Mastodon)

☁️ Bluesky

Commissions are open!

I also have a Discord server for my art where I share sketches and WIPs. Sometimes I stream and chat in vc while I draw. Please DM me for an invite link if you're interested in joining the server. (18+ only please)

More about me and my interests and some handy links under the cut.

I may add to this later, so it can be a masterpost for my favorite art and fandom thoughts. But this works for now.

Pokemon

Currently obsessed with ✨️Wallace✨️

Favorite ships

Volo/Akari Cogita/women Cynthia/Dawn Volo/Cynthia/Dawn Steven/Wallace/Brendan May/Lisia Cynthia/Diantha Geeta/Rika

Age headcanons for some of the ships I've drawn the most

Hoenn Boys (Steven/Wallace/Brendan)

Sexuality and top/bottom headcanons

Mer!Wallace AU

How often does Steven kiss Brendan?

Does Steven workout? (body type hc)

Who has more spicy thoughts?

Contest Star Brendan: X X

Volokari (Volo/Akari)

Distortion Volo AU (aka Gira!Volo)

Reversal AU (Akari betrays Volo)

Zelda

Favorite ships

Urbosa/Zelda (BotW) Midna/Zelda (TP) Sidon/Link (BotW) Ghirahim/Link (SS) Link/Zelda (SS is my favorite version) Link/Malon (OoT) Kafei/Anju (MM)

Majora's Mask mini comics(WIPs): 1-3, 4

Fire Emblem: 3 Houses

Favorite ships

Linhardt/Lysithea Mercedes/Constance Caspar/Hilda Leonie/Marianne Balthus/Lysithea Edelgard/Lysithea F!Byleth/Edelgard Claude/Petra

Misc

I try to avoid discourse and drama, but since I like to draw characters kissing, I have unsurprisingly received asks about character ages and whether or not certain characters should be allowed to kiss, and I'm sure I'll get more. I'd prefer not to answer the same question twice so here's what I've already answered.

My response to being called a "fucking proshipping bastard"

My thoughts on people assuming the ages of anime/cartoon characters

Also, I want to make it clear that the proshipper ask is the ONLY ask of that nature that I will ever respond to on my art blog. I will most likely delete any future similar asks, but if I do decide to respond to one, I will do so by making a post on my main blog and including a screenshot of the ask. I refuse to clutter my art blog with aggressive asks from people who just want to be mad at nothing.

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 17 thoughts:

Travelers backstory!!!!!!!!! WOOOO!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT THEY ARE FROM EARTH ALEPH! That really explains the mysterious nature of their backstory up to now.

Would have loved to get some PoV's from some people who aren't Trickster but I'll live.

He's just such an asshole! Like I already knew he was but god DAMN did this arc remove any doubt.

Just the worst type of asshole that can be found in MOBA games (I say this as someone who played MOBA games for years). And then given superpowers. Ugh.

THE SIMURGH FUCKING HELL OH MY GOD I LOVE HER!!!!!!!!!

SHE IS MY FAVORITE ENDBRINGER AND ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS EVEN IF SHE IS SUPER DUPER EVIL AND TERRIBLE! BUT SHE JUST SINGS IN EVERYONE'S HEADS AND THEY SEE THINGS THAT SHE WANTS THEM TO SEE AND SHE SEES THE FUTURE AND CREATES A CAUSE AND EFFECT PLAGUE BASICALLY AND I LOVE HER!!

Just the level of planning ahead she does, the number of moves ahead Simmy is playing. After the first few times she shows up they start quarantining where she attacks. Which ends up being exactly the right situation needed to push the Travelers to the choices she wanted them to make. Like, is quarantining even a counter to the Smurph or is it exactly what she wanted?

Sure precogs mess with precogs. That makes sense. But I don't know that it is as clear cut as Coil presented to Trickster. He implies two precogs just cancel each other out, but I assume it's more of a strength thing - a strong precog will cancel out a weak precog, but a weak precog will only make things a little fuzzier for a strong precog. So having Dinah would have helped against the Simurgh but I don't think it would be enough to just cancel out the Simurgh's power. Coil and Tattletale would probably also help. But I'm not convinced the last few months in Brockton Bay hasn't been more or less what Simmy wanted to happen.

Cody is the only person here that is probably more of an asshole than Krouse. Just could not get over the fact that Noelle didn't want to date him. Unbearably entitled dick. Possibly dead now, if Accord got his way. But very possibly not. Won't be surprised if he shows up again.

Cody's power is fun. I think it's the first "time travel" power I've seen. I mean Clockblocker does time freezing which is basically the same category but still, curious to see if we get any more level of time travel than this.

Marissa needs someone to make her some cookies and give her a place to hang out that isn't the house her mom lives in. I mean, I guess the current situation handles that but not how I meant.

I already liked Jess and now I like her even more. She's a cape geek! Wonderful.

Luke is interesting cause he was the only person besides Noelle who was close to Krouse at the start, but he's the first (well, aside from Cody I guess) to leave him. Really went through a character arc. Also Krouse lists Luke's "individual tragedy" as "not getting to fly" which is hysterical.

Oliver is a trans girl. Headcanon 100% established. It just fits so well. She just needs to find herself! And once she does and realizes what she actually wants to look like her power will get her there and won't need to keep adjusting! Right now Oliver's power is doing performative masculinity for them.

Noelle has had a bad time. God damn. She was having a bad time before everything happened and now she's having a very bad time. Damn. I had some guesses about her correct. Figured she was like, monstrous bottom half and normal top half. And figured touching her was bad. But I didn't foresee "touching her creates mutated evil clones". I'm sure that won't be a major problem in the next arc or two. I'm sure there won't be evil mutated clones of a bunch of capes to deal with . . .

I had long figured Travelers had Cauldron powers. It just fit with their power levels and such. I had also figured whatever Noelle's condition was, it was related to having a Cauldron power. I had a lot of guesses. None of them were "only drinks half a vial". For some reason I thought everyone would be too smart to do THAT! (I have no idea why I thought that.)

Current guess is Noelle is sort of in a never ending "trigger" event. Her power is constantly in the "building and gathering" phase and is not reaching the "lock things down" phase that normally happens (Bonesaw talked about this). Definitely a lot of other things it could be, this is just the best fit I've found so far.

This goes for Oliver too, which is why their power keeps changing how they look. Oliver just got lucky and has much less significant troubles compared to Noelle.

Got to see lots of new Case 53's. That was fun.

I expect to see more of Accord in the future. Just cause like, he gets smarter the more complex the problem. And the world is supposedly going to end due to (I think) the actions of higher dimensional entities. That is a very complex problem. And at the same time, he seems like the kind of person that might see "billions die" as a good way to reduce chaos. To simplify the world. Not saying that is what he will do, just that it seems a shame to not bring him up again.

I knew 40 people had died due to actions of the Travelers. I did not know Noelle had eaten them all! Because she tried to starve herself. I can see why it's important to keep her well fed. And why it's going to be an issue that there is no longer someone providing her with thousands of dollars of meat a week. No waste though, she has a very efficient digestive system.

The ending, with Trickster just staring at the bloodstain left behind by Coil's body while Genesis stares out at the ocean ... very good. I mean, really sucks for them, but it was a very evocative arc ending.

I wonder who won the Ransack tournament? One team disconnected because the building they were in disappeared into a space hole. I wonder what the rules are for that?