#Snickerdoodle Dip

[morethansalad]

Snickerdoodle Dessert Hummus (Vegan)

[brightyor]

I made snickerdoodles :D

[munson-blurbs]

Hi bug! I’m asking in anon bc it’s a bit of a sensitive subject for me to discuss but could you possibly write something about Eddie and reader being close(hopefully turning into lovers) and he sees her self harm scars for the first time and she is really embarrassed and tries to just stop speaking to him but he finally catches her alone and it turns into soft smut? I feel like your writing would do a story like this justice, but if it’s a heavy subject and you don’t want to write about it I understand ❤️

Hi! I kept the premise but changed a few details. I hope that's okay.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering, unprotected p in v, mentions of self-harm (cutting) but no descriptions of blood or the act itself, parental conflict, Reader celebrates Christmas, angst to fluffy smut WC: 2.5k A/N: This fic is not meant to romanticize or promote self-harm of any kind. This is a comfort fic where the reader-insert character has a history of self-harm. That being said, if this subject matter is triggering for you, please keep scrolling. Sending all of you love, always.

Divider credit to @strangergraphics

“Okay, first we need two and a half cups of flour.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose when you handed him the measuring cup and a butter knife. 

“So you can scrape off the excess,” you explained. 

Your boyfriend scoffed and plunked the knife onto the countertop. “Have you ever heard of guesstimating, Sweetheart?”

“There’s no guesstimating in baking, Eds.” You dragged the bag of all-purpose flour away from him before he could ruin the recipe. “Everything has to be precise.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear,” he grumbled. But there was no missing the smile playing on his lips. 

Spending time with Eddie wasn’t new; you’d known each other since he’d moved to Hawkins as a kid. The friendship had survived the ups and downs of junior high and high school, not to mention the years you were away at college. 

What was new was the romantic relationship that had only developed six months ago. Now, Eddie was your boyfriend. Your regular movie nights ended in heated make-out sessions rather than nervous hugs goodbye. Eddie held your hand while you walked rather than playing air guitar. And your sleepovers often involve much less clothing than before. 

It was different, but it was nice. 

“Can you hand me the cream of tartar?” You asked him, holding out your palm. 

“The what?” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the stuff you dip fish sticks in?”

You snorted. “No, that’s tartar sauce. Cream of tartar is a spice that will give the snickerdoodles a little tang.”

Strong, tattooed arms wrapped around you and pulled you toward him, his lips finding the crook of your neck in an instant, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“How about I give you a little tang?” Eddie’s words vibrated against your skin. 

It took all of your willpower to focus on the task at hand and not give in. “I’m about to ban you from my kitchen.” You pinched some flour between your fingers and flicked it at him. It dusted his chin and the U-neck collar of his Metallica t-shirt. 

Eddie gasped in mock-offense, reaching over and taking a handful of flour. Before you could protest, he opened his fist just above your head. The powder plopped onto your scalp and cascaded down your cheeks. 

“Gotta go!” He bolted from the kitchen, nearly flinging himself up and over the counter. 

You were fast on his trail, knocking over the yellow-and-white box of granulated sugar. It toppled off of the counter and landed on its side with a thud, leaving a crystalline trail in its wake. 

“Dammit.” With an exasperated sigh, you rolled up your sleeves and cupped your hand, brushing the spilled sugar into your other palm. 

It was suddenly too quiet—and not the kind of quiet that preceded a prank. The only sound came from the thunk of the trash can lid as you dumped the wasted sugar into the bag.

Eddie froze, his widening eyes the sole movement across his lithe body. 

“Sweetheart…are those…?” 

You follow his gaze to the thin lines along your wrist. Most had faded over time and were ones he had seen before, but there were a few new scars that you’d forgotten about.

“You’re…you’re still doing…that?” Eddie’s voice was laced with palpable nervousness, but there wasn’t an ounce of disgust. It might have been easier if there was; you were disgusted that you’d relapsed into self-harm, even if it was just once. 

No, this was genuine concern and love. 

“I…” You struggled to find the words, feeling like the teenager you were when you’d first cut yourself. Now you’re an adult–an adult who’s supposed to have better, healthier coping mechanisms–yet after a conversation with your mother led to an argument, you’d turned back to old habits.

Eddie took your hands in his. The slight tremble broke your heart into a million pieces and filled each crack with shame.

His thumb grazed over the new marks, careful not to reopen the wound. “When did you do this? W-Why did you…?”

“I don’t know.” 

A flicker of frustration sparked in his deep brown eyes at your lie, a silent plea for your honesty.

And so you shoved that shame aside, your body caving into his as you told him everything, starting with the phone call from your mother. 

You’d tried to explain that you were splitting Christmas between their place and Wayne’s, and since Eddie’s uncle worked the night shift, you’d go over to his trailer in the morning and your parents’ house in the evening. 

A solid compromise as you navigated the balance of your relationship with Eddie. 

Or so you thought. 

Because the moment you laid out your plans, Mom was blubbering about the family tradition of opening presents on Christmas morning and how it won’t be the same and why is Wayne working on Christmas, anyway?

You didn’t have the energy to break down the older man’s finances—not that it was her business—but it didn’t matter. Mom already began tossing around terms like ungrateful and disrespectful. 

Suddenly, you were no longer an adult in an apartment of your own. You were a teenager trapped under your parents’ roof with nowhere to go, no way to escape the chaos. 

You couldn’t stop apologizing—to your mom then, and to Eddie now. Tears streamed down your cheeks, drawing hot rivulets over your skin. 

But with Eddie, there was no disgruntled huff and abrupt end to the conversation. He grabbed a tissue, wiping at your eyes and beneath your nose.

“You could’ve called me,” he said. “I would’ve been over in a heartbeat. You didn’t need to do this.”

You shook your head. This was beyond him, and he knew it, too. 

You didn’t realize that your eyes had glazed over, that your rumination had taken hold and kept you locked inside your brain, until Eddie spoke again. 

“Look at me.” 

You blinked, allowing yourself to re-enter the space. When the haze of anxiety began to clear, you felt his touch before you saw his face. His hand was noticeably warm and sweat-slicked, forefinger tucked up under your chin as he lifted it. Whatever stray tears remained on your face trickled down, sneaking into the crevices of his rings.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip. With utmost tenderness, he leaned his forehead against yours. His exhale tickled your own nose. “Please just tell me when you’re sad or mad or…or anything.”

And then you were fourteen once again, confessing to Eddie the real reason why you only wore long-sleeved shirts while he stood there helplessly, nearly dropping the can of Chef Boyardee in the middle of Wayne’s kitchen. Though you were a decade older now, Eddie’s face fell the same way it had in 1980. Confusion and defeat warred for prominence, his brows knit together and his shoulders slumped. 

“You can’t fix me,” you said finally. 

“I know. Because you’re not broken.” Eddie’s hands fell to your wrists, gingerly clutching them. “A little battered, but not broken.”

He meant it, though you didn’t know how. Besides the physical scars on your wrists, you carried a world of pain on your shoulders. You were buried in the weight of inferiority and the inability to measure up to expectations. 

Eddie sensed your hesitation to believe him. “I love you,” he said softly. “I loved you when we were seven and you gave me a Band-Aid after I fell off of my bike. I loved you when we were thirteen and you used the peanut butter from your sandwich to get Tommy Hagan’s gum out of my hair. 

“I loved you when we were eighteen and you went off to college, but you still called me every Thursday night. I loved you when we were twenty-four and I finally asked you out, and you kissed me before I could finish my sentence.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling through his t-shirt. “And I’ll never stop loving you. So, please…please don’t hurt yourself again.”

You nodded, hoping it was a promise you could keep. Hoping that this was just a slip-up and not the beginning of a full-blown relapse. 

Exhaustion fell over you as your tears slowed. “I should probably clean myself off.” You shook your head for emphasis, some of the remaining flour clouding as it fell. 

“Let me help.”

Eddie followed behind you, just watching as you picked out the residue over the bathroom sink. The yellow-tinged vanity lighting emphasized the worry that he wore like a mask. 

You turned to him. “I’m okay,” you said with a timid smile. “It was just a one-time thing. I swear.”

His tone was firm when he spoke. “But if it isn’t—if you want to do it again or think about doing it again—you need to tell me.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I won’t run away. I’m right here.”

You melted into him, flour-coated scalp be damned, and wrapped your arms around him. “I promise.”

“Good.” A small relief, but relief nonetheless. 

Your fingers tangled in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “It’s like my brain gets too loud, and I can’t shut it off sometimes.” You swallowed, not able to look at him yet. “But sometimes it helps when I…when I think about you. About how safe I feel with you.”

He brushed flour from your shirt collar. You could tell that he wanted to say something despite the ensuing quiet. Yet he just shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back out to the kitchen wordlessly. 

It wasn’t until that evening, laying in bed with one tattooed arm wrapped around your waist, that Eddie posed the question that had been sitting on his lips since the afternoon. 

“You feel safe with me?”

You rolled over to face him. “Of course. You’re, like, my safe place.”

Eddie held you tighter. “You’re my safe place, too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose. “And maybe I’m a little selfish because of it, but I really need you around. Okay?”

Even in the darkness, you could see his eyes shining with worry and fear. That he would wake up without you. That you’d be gone when he least expected it. 

“I never meant to scare you,” you promised, your voice a whisper even though it was only the two of you. “I wasn’t…”

I wasn’t thinking about you, you almost said. Not that you didn’t care about him—your mind was too occupied with Mom’s stinging words to think of anything else. Of anyone else—including Eddie. 

His reassurance came swiftly. “I know,” he said. “And I want you to know that you deserve to be happy. You deserve not to worry about anyone else’s bullshit. Even your mom’s.”

Eddie took your hand, lifted one scarred wrist to his lips, and kissed it. There was a slight sting from the newer cut, but it disappeared as quickly as it presented. 

“You deserve to be happy,” he continued, kissing another scar. “You deserve to live a life where you know that no one is worth hurting yourself over.”

You brought your arm back to your side and shifted even closer to him. Your nose bumped his when you leaned in to kiss him, eliciting a giggle from both you and Eddie. 

“Sorry—” You started to apologize, but his hands flew to your cheeks as he kissed you harder. His tongue flicked over the seam of your lips, asking for entry that you granted without a second thought. 

“God, I fuckin’ love your laugh.” Eddie shook a rogue curl from his eyes. Instinctively, his leg slotted between yours. It was only when you ground your core against his flannel-clad thigh that he realized what he’d done. 

He moved back an inch, though that one leg stayed in place. “Baby, we don’t—I know today’s been a lot. I’m fine kissing you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m a big boy; I can jerk off in the bathroom if you’re not in the mood—”

You were tired, but an invisible thread inside you had been tugged, awakening an ache that only Eddie could quell. 

“I know,” you repeated. “I want this, too. I…I need it, Eddie.”

His teeth grazed your neck. “What do you need?” He growled, a primal edge in his tone. 

“I need you to show me I’m safe.” 

With those words, you let go of the control you clutched like a precious stone. The relief would be temporary—everything in this world was—but you felt the burden ease with each article of your clothing that Eddie removed. You could have floated, your body weightless, when he kissed each millimeter of your skin. Even the parts you preferred to keep hidden. 

His middle finger was what anchored you to reality. It found your clit, rubbing circles on it while his other hand gripped your hip. 

Slowly, torturously, his finger inched inside you, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. 

“S’good?” He looked down at you, waiting for confirmation. “Do you need more?”

More. More sounded perfect, and you told him so. 

There’s no teasing tonight. Eddie didn’t make you beg before he slipped his ring finger inside you, curling both fingers to stroke that sweet spot. 

Your back arched, taking him in deeper. He obliged, murmuring your name and sweet praises as he touched you. 

“There you go.”

“So good for me.”

“That’s it.”

“You’re gorgeous like this.”

Wetness slickened his fingers and dripped down onto the bedsheet. He let go of your hip for a second to palm himself over his pajama pants, stopping only when you reach for him. 

“Eds.” You tried not to pout when he paused his ministrations. “Y-You can…”

With a quick nod, Eddie shucked off his clothes and tossed them to the carpeted floor. They landed with a plop, a noise drowned out by his moan when he pressed his erection against you. 

Safe. With Eddie, you were safe. 

Your breath hitched as he entered you; it was a fullness that felt so natural yet like each time was the first. 

Eddie groaned as your fingers dug into his back, reveling in the mutual desire. He braced his forearms on either side of you, caging in your head.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “There’s nothing else. Just us, okay?”

“��Kay.” There was no time to say anything else; he leaned down and kissed you, moaning into it with unbridled need. 

If the alarm clock on your nightstand wasn’t counting the minutes, you would have sworn that time was suspended. Each thrust, each kiss, each murmur of your name was a second and a day. 

Eddie’s lips brushed your ear. He whispered, “you’re so beautiful,” sending an arrow of need straight to your core. “My sweet, beautiful girl.”

“Yours,” you agreed in a whimper. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in further, as pleasure washed over you. It claimed him a moment later, his face buried in your neck. 

When the sun rises, your scars will once again be visible. And the lingering sadness and frustration won’t have completely dissipated. 

But you’ll handle it. With Eddie by your side, you’ll power through until getting through each day is no longer a chore. 

You’re safe. 

--

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. v

pairing(s): Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader summary: You try to navigate the complexities of a relationship involving Art and his wife, Tashi, as well as their boyfriend, Patrick. warnings: smut 18+, like three different sex scenes at least, masturbation, threesomes, consensual voyeurism, piv, everyone is bisexual, the trio kinda shares reader, adults (parents even) running around like horny college students, a bit of domesticity, silly poly adventures, hastily proofread word count: 6.5K prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s feels like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You quickly snatch your hand away from Tashi’s neck. She clears her throat, and you bring both palms to smooth down your thighs. 

The sun isn’t shining as brightly as it was before, but it’s enough to feel exposed under the scrutiny of Art. 

Though, you can tell that he isn’t angry about what he just walked in on. Instead, he looks like he wants to get a closer look, but stayed back out of fear of interrupting.

He’s still standing in the doorway when you remember the reason you were there in the first place. 

“Wait—where’s Kaleb?” You gasp.

“He’s uh,” Art stammers. “I left him back in the kitchen. He wanted a post-training shake.” He’s got his hands on his waist as he continues to assess the two of you. “I told him I was gonna go find you guys…” he trails off, finally making his way closer to the couch that you two are occupying. 

You peer up at him like a child about to be corrected. 

“So, uh, what’s this?” He says dragging his hand under his chin like he’s amused. 

“Um,” you glance at Tashi. She’s sporting an equally amused expression as she takes in Art’s still evident bulge. You go to answer, but she beats you to it. 

“What’s it look like?” 

Art’s eyes cut to hers, and they appear to have a conversation between their gazes that you aren’t privy to. You decide that’s your cue and stand to leave the room. 

Just when you think you’re going to slip past, Art catches your wrist in his hand. 

“Where’re you going?” His voice comes out in that gentle, calm tone that you’ve come to expect from him, but his eyes are sharp. His gaze alone making you feel like he’s holding you down with a hand wrapped around your neck. 

“I was gonna go get Kaleb,” you murmur. 

“Alright,” he brings a hand to your waist. “Just a second?” 

You nod despite yourself. 

His thumb rubs over your hip, making you shiver slightly. He drags his eyes down your figure before looking over to Tashi. You follow him.

She’s staring at the both of you, lip tugged between her teeth. Her legs are crossed neatly. The hungry look in her eyes does nothing to deter from the regality she’s currently exuding. 

You’re still staring at the visage of Tashi when you feel Art’s lips capture yours, pulling your attention back to him. 

You melt into him, instinctively bringing your hands to trail up his arms. His skin is slightly damp and cool to the touch as your fingertips trace the muscles that flex as he wraps his arms around you tighter. He presses the palm of his hand against your spine as your head tilts back to allow him into your mouth. 

The way Art kisses you is familiar, yet the feel of him still ignites something in your belly. It’s almost violent, the way it completely takes you over. Nothing else exists. Just his lips, his tongue. His hands that pull you closer to him. His teeth that nip at your skin. Just him. 

You gasp out his name as he dips his head down to press open mouthed kisses along your jaw. He has you fully pressed up against his front, one hand cradling your head and the other holding you in place by the hip. You release a shaky moan when you feel his tongue lave at the skin below your ear. 

There’s an almost imperceptible creak behind you, but Art’s ministrations keep you fixed on him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs continuing to place kisses onto your skin. “Y’know that?” 

Before you can respond, you feel a hand snake around your waist. It’s not Art’s. 

You look down to see their slender fingers traveling down your hipbone and shudder when you feel stiff nipples press into your back. 

Tashi carefully pulls your hair away from your neck, placing a delicate kiss to the skin there. The motion makes you arch your back into her, which she takes as an indication of your consent. 

Your breathing starts to dramatically increase as you take in the feel of Tashi’s hands sliding over your body along with Art’s. He wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours as she takes over nipping at your neck from behind. 

Tashi seems to enjoy pinching your skin between her teeth and watching as it makes you squirm in their hold. One bite in particular makes you whine into Art’s mouth. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently shushing you as she rolls her tongue over the stinging skin to soothe you. 

You whimper, but relax into them once again. 

Art cups your face in his hands, whispering “good girl” against your plush lips. Your pulse quickens at his praise. 

You want to fuck him so bad. Both of them. 

And when Tashi lithely brings her hands under your top, trails her nails up your skin before pinching your nipples, you almost give in. 

But you remember the reason you’re here. 

“Wait,” you reluctantly pull away. 

Tashi releases her hold on you, and Art steps backwards to give you some space. But he grabs ahold of your hand instead, not ready to let you go just yet. 

You rub your thumb over his hand in yours. “I need to go,” you say softly. “I’ve gotta get Kaleb home.” 

He nods, allowing you to release his hand. 

You clear your throat. “And, um, I also think I need some time to…think about all of this.” 

Art looks confused by your statement. As if reading his mind, Tashi answers for you. 

“Yeah, of course, you probably need some time to process,” she reassures you, but her gaze is locked on her husband. Her eyes telling him “let her have this, don’t push her.” 

When you find Kaleb, he’s knocked out on the sofa, clearly worn out from the day. His protein shake from before sits half full on the coffee table. Art tells you that it’s more banana smoothie than anything. He offers to carry him to the car, buckling him into his booster seat. After softly shutting the door, he makes his way to your side. 

“You’re not upset are you?” He’s giving you that look. The one he makes before resorting to groveling. 

You sigh. “No, Art, I just,” you glance at your son through the window. He’s still sound asleep. “I just found out some things today that surprised me. About our relationship.”

He swallows before leaning his side against your car, head hanging low as he takes in your words. 

“I didn’t know Tashi knew about us.” You say simply. 

Art raises his head. “I—I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoff. “Of course it was, Art! You know that would’ve made things easier for me.” You cut a glance at Kaleb again as he shifts in his car seat. You wince before lowering your voice. “I felt like I was your mistress, Art, why didn’t you tell me the truth?” You ask. “And I don’t buy it’s because you didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You raise your eyebrows at him as he picks at his fingers. “Art?” 

He sighs, stepping away from the car before turning to face you fully. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into that.” You furrow your brows. He stammers to fix his statement. “I mean I didn’t know if you would want to get involved in a situation like ours. It was almost easier to just not talk about any of it,” he trails off. “And I could pretend I was just a normal guy who met this wonderful woman. And I didn’t want to ruin it.” He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. 

Art’s voice softens. “But I know it was selfish of me to avoid it because of my own comfort. I should’ve been transparent with you from the beginning.” 

You only cross your arms. 

Art steps closer to you. “I promise I was going to talk to you about it—about everything…especially now that I—“ 

“Even about Patrick?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Were you planning to tell me about that as well?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “I was also going to tell you about Patrick.” He reaches for your hand that’s tucked into your arm. 

You’ve learned that, for Art, part of the communication process is maintaining a physical connection. It’s like if he isn’t touching you in some way, the words won’t resonate. So, you let him take your hand in his. 

“I also wasn’t sure how’d you’d react to that,” he mumbles. “Not everyone is keen on finding out that the man they’re sleeping with is also attracted to men.” 

You almost can’t believe him. “Art—“ you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “It’s me. Of course I don’t care that you aren’t straight, hell, neither am I.” You laugh lightly. It brings a soft smile to his face. 

“If anything, it would’ve been good to know before I slept with him,” you say, quickly looking off before he can process your words. 

“Wait, what?” 

You sigh internally. 

“When did this happen?”

You try to wave him off. “Oh it was just a random thing a little while ago. We were both high, and I’d ran into him at a gas station one time, and it was my anniversary week, and you were busy and it just happened…” you say, stringing all your words together. “You know how it is.” 

He shakes his head. “When were you planning on telling me about this?”

You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze. 

Art sighs at your lack of response. “You know what? Let’s save that for a later conversation.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say as you turn to check on Kaleb. “I’d better go,” you nod your head in his direction. 

Art takes a look at your son before agreeing. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He lingers in his driveway until you’ve buckled your seatbelt, making you promise to text him when you’ve made it home safely. 

ᯓ

You take some time to process the situation you’ve ended up in. It’s harder than you’d expected. You’d gotten so used to Art’s presence in your life that not seeing him makes you feel like an addict going through withdrawals. Your fingers itch to text him when you see something he’d like, and you yearn to at least hear his voice at night when you’re alone in bed and devastatingly horny. 

Some nights, when you're at your lowest, you wonder if Art is also thinking of you, if he ever touches himself to the thought. You bite your lip, maybe he buries himself in the warmth of Tashi to cull the ache, or maybe it's Patrick he turns to.

You ease the throbbing between your thighs to the looping thought of him and Tashi and Patrick, and Art and Tashi, and Patrick and Art.

Despite it all, you reluctantly ignore Art’s requests to meet up, emphasizing that you just need a bit more time. You don’t think you can handle seeing him. 

In truth, you’re feeling scared again. Although Tashi had effectively shown you that she was a willing participant in this, your nerves still get the best of you. Your anxiety working to come up with all types of catastrophic outcomes. 

Worries triggered by deeply rooted insecurities fester in your brain like what if Art and Tashi really are using you? What if this is just a temporary thing? Something to spice up their marriage. Maybe the Patrick thing wasn’t enough for them. Will they drop you once they’ve gotten their fix? 

And even worse, what if it’s not just a fling? What if you can’t ever imagine going back to how your life was before Art? How would it even work? How would Kaleb react? 

It's evidently clear how much Kaleb adores Lily, but you're not sure how he'd approach the idea of possibly being step-siblings. God, how would you ever begin to explain the the complexities of your relationship to an eight year old?

Thinking about it makes your head throb and your stomach churn. So, you settle for avoidance. You don’t have to confront the unknown if you never encounter it. Easy. 

ᯓ

Unfortunately, your attempt at going cold turkey with the Donaldson’s is thwarted when you see them at a PTA meeting. You’d gotten there early, as usual. Nancy’s husband, Frank, had helped you carry your cookie-filled containers into the building. You think he might just enjoy getting first dibs on whatever goodies you've decided to bring.

You’re surprised to see Tashi as she’d stopped regularly attending them after Art retired. She chooses the seat next to yours, placing her purse down before draping her Burberry coat over the chair. Art pulls out the seat beside her, stealing a glance at you as he settles in. 

For the entirety of the meeting, you’re completely distracted. You keep glancing at Tashi’s long legs that are crossed beside you, your eyes trailing from the pointed toes of her shoes up to where her hands are clasped in her lap. You think you’re being discreet, but when Tashi stands to greet amigurumi Cynthia, who’s eager to tell her about the new options on her Etsy shop, Art catches your eyes with a sly smirk. 

Most of the parents have started to leave, but you remain seated, unable to free yourself from this obvious trap.

Art takes the opportunity to slide into Tashi’s empty seat, smug smile still stamped onto his face. You look down at the napkin he’s holding with a half-eaten snickerdoodle cookie. “So, how are you?” He asks before taking another bite. He's trying to ease his way into it, you can tell. He presents the question so casually, but underneath that cool collectedness, you know he intends to ensnare you.

Your chest rises as you inhale. “Hmmm, it’s a Monday night, and I’m stuck here,” you tease. “But I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yeah, and at least we have good snacks.” He offers. 

You nod in agreement before gesturing for his cookie. He holds it out to you and you pinch off a piece before bringing it to your mouth. Art watches as your tongue darts out to lick the crumbs that stick to your lipgloss. Whatever is swirling around in his gaze is exactly why you’ve been avoiding him lately. 

You swallow when Art turns to face you. His hair has gotten longer, making his curls drape over his forehead as he leans against the chair. He gives you a soft grin. “So…how do you feel about going to get dinner tonight?”

And there it is.

“Oh…um,” you start, searching for an excuse. 

“Before you start, I know your mom keeps Kaleb on days like this.” 

You curse internally. “Okay, well what about Lily?”  

“She’s at home with Patrick.” 

You glance over at Tashi, who’s attempting to end her conversation with Cynthia, and begin to open your mouth. 

“And Tashi’s fine with it. It was her idea.” He says, absolutely beaming. 

You sigh and stand up from your chair. 

He leans forward, elbows pressed into his knees. “So, what do you say?”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll come.” 

The two of them help you pack up your containers, patiently waiting as you open the trunk and instruct them on where to place them. When you turn around from shutting the trunk, Tashi steps forward, closing the distance between you two.

It feels eerily similar to a night, mere months ago, in that very same parking lot. 

“Thanks for agreeing to dinner,” she says softly, reaching out to rub her palm down your arm. Even through the sleeve of your puffer coat, you shiver at her touch. Thankfully, it’s cold out, so you can blame it on the temperature. 

ᯓ

About an hour later, you’re seated at a cozy restaurant, tucked into the corner booth. It's not especially busy, but a delicate clatter of voices and clinking utensils accompany the soft jazz that's playing. You’re sandwiched between Art and Tashi as they talk about the first time they met. 

They tell you about the Junior U.S. Open, how both Art and Patrick asked for Tashi’s number, how she had promised not to be a homewrecker. You smile wistfully, the thought of them young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed making you feel a sense of nostalgia on their behalf. 

Tashi places her hand on your thigh for emphasis when she tells you that Art had been so adorable and polite. “All he wanted to talk about was how amazing my tennis was.” She grins at him before taking a sip from her glass. “That’s probably why I kissed him first.” 

“First?” You lift your brows. 

She nods. 

“So, did you like all kiss at the same time or…?” You ask, glancing between her and Art. 

She hums out a laugh. “Look, I was eighteen, you can’t blame me for not wanting to choose.” 

Art chuckles. “Well, what’s your excuse now?”

He’s joking, but you see the way his mouth slightly twitches. 

Tashi scans his face and purses her lips. “Two parasites latched onto me when I was young, and I still haven’t figured out how to remove them.” 

This seems to bring a genuine smile to his face. He looks at you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You shake your head at their antics. You think that maybe you can relate to eighteen year old Tashi. 

It should feel odd. Being on what feels like a date with the man you’ve been having an affair with and his wife. Yet, when you all leave the restaurant, and they walk you back to your car, one of them on each side, you think that it feels surprisingly natural. 

When Tashi leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, you sigh into the cool night, eyes fluttering shut. 

And when Art inevitably presses his forehead to yours before kissing your tingling lips, you know this is something you won’t be able to avoid any longer.

ᯓ

Before long, you fall into a routine with the two of them. They take every opportunity they can to wine and dine you, and when Tashi is working, Art has no trouble keeping you occupied. 

The time you spend with him is not much different from before. Except now, instead of coming to your place every time, you spend the night with him on your free weekends. 

Art lets out a deep sigh that reverberates through him when he finally sinks into your cunt in his marital bed. He presses you into downy pillows that smell like his wife and whispers words of praise. Telling you how perfect your pussy is, how you feel so good around him. You get high on it, head almost exploding from the rush of it all.

Maybe it’s the freedom that’s come from you all being on the same page, but sex with Art ascends to a higher level. Without the guilt weighing you down, the only thing you feel in your gut when you’re with him is his cock as he pounds into you. 

Art fucks you like he’s determined to make you never want to leave him. Every stroke feels purposeful. Every motion communicating something you’ve feared confronting. 

After Art coaxes a third orgasm out of you one night, you cling to his tacky body as hot tears spill from your eyes. 

He’s quick to wipe them with his thumb, asking if you’re alright. You can only nod and sniffle as you let him hold you and press kisses to your tear stained face. 

He says something to you, but the words don’t register as you give in to the seduction of sleep, your body having been exhausted beyond repair. The three words he’d uttered float over your head and disappear into the dark.

ᯓ

Art and Kaleb continue their tennis lessons. Apparently, he’s showing a considerable amount of potential. And Art’s eyes light up when he boasts about how much Kaleb has improved since they started. 

He wins his first junior tournament, and you swear you see Art wipe a tear. He ignores your taunts and asks Kaleb how he’d like to celebrate. Without reservation, he excitedly asks to get ice cream with Lily. 

It’s late November, and the night air is likely too brisk for it, but you and Art agree to take them to their favorite ice cream shop. You hesitantly let Lily order for you, as she’d asked you to pick out a table for them and urged you to “trust the process.” 

You watch them with a smile on your face as Kaleb all but presses his face to the glass obnoxiously, which makes Lily pull him by the arm and say something that you can’t hear. Whatever it is makes your son roll his eyes, but he uses his sleeve to wipe the spot where he’d left condensation on the glass. 

When the three of them join you at a table next to the window, Lily instructs Art to feed you her surprise concoction as her and Kaleb await your reaction. You close your eyes before playfully glaring at them in suspicion, then let Art place the spoon in your mouth. 

“How is it?” 

“Hmm…chocolatey.” You answer. “I like it.” You take the cup and spoon from Art as you dig into your chocolate ice cream with M&M's sprinkled on top. Lily grins as Kaleb insists on trying yours. Art chose strawberry flavored, to which you wrinkle your nose. 

Later, the two of you sneak a kiss after the kids fall asleep in the backseat, and you decide you can’t get enough of the taste of strawberries.

When Art drops you and Kaleb off at home, he tells you goodbye with a quick kiss to your hand. You’re smiling from ear to ear as the cool wind whips your hair around. He attempts to say those three words again, but he’s interrupted by Lily groaning loudly from the car that her tummy hurts. When he turns back to you, you’re already chasing after Kaleb who’s run to the front door holding his trophy over his head. 

ᯓ

“Don’t look at him,” Tashi tuts at you. “Keep your eyes right here, baby.” She tilts your chin up with her index finger, forcing you to look at her.

You tear your eyes away from Art where he kneels on the bed next to Tashi. Like her, he’s completely naked. His cock is bobbing between his milky thighs, still shiny from your spit and his precum.

Tashi had rubbed your clit as you sucked him off moments ago. But, she pulled you off of him before he got a chance to cum, making you lay down under her.

You toss your head back when she aligns her pussy with yours, mouth falling open. 

She starts gently rocking back and forth, your clits bumping and sticking to each other.

She turns her head in Art’s direction and takes his mouth in hers. You cant your hips up to meet hers as you take in the way their mouths move against one another. 

“You like seeing me fuck your little toy?” Tashi whispers into Art’s mouth. He groans her name, mouth open wantonly against hers. 

“Look at her, baby, she’s so pretty like this, huh?” 

Art nods and tries to reach out a hand to touch you, any part of you, but Tashi places a hand on his wrist. 

“Hold on.” She looks at you. “You want him?”

You keenly nod your head. 

“Say please,” she murmurs, still grinding into you. 

You choke out a moan. “Please, Tashi can I—can I have him?”

She looks at Art and nods her head down at you, giving him permission to touch. 

Art leans down to grab your face between his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.  

Then, he’s shimmying himself down to the bed to lie down beside you. He finds your neck and starts trailing kisses there. You arch your back as he tweaks your nipple with his thumb and forefinger before skimming down your stomach. 

He replaces his fingers with his mouth as Tashi continues to use your cunt. Art’s eyes flutter shut when he closes his mouth around one of your nipples. He releases a muffled moan, and you realize he’s grinding his dick between the space created by your hip and the mattress. 

He tries to inch his hand down lower, where yours and Tashi’s pussies are kissing each other. When his fingertips brush your clit, you shudder, and Tashi slaps his hand away. 

He easily recovers, bringing his palm up to caress under your breasts. 

Art seeks out your mouth again, moans into it as the rutting of his hips begins to sync with the motion of Tashi rocking against you.

You gasp. “It’s too much—m'gonna—”

Art whines against your mouth, and you feel his hot cum coat your thigh as his hips stutter against you. Tashi releases a guttural moan that makes you reach out for her. She presses her fingers onto your tongue as you begin to convulse below her. 

You can feel her throbbing against you when you come down from your high. Art’s head is pressed against yours as he stares at where you and his wife are still connected. 

Before climbing off of you, Tashi splays her palm over Art’s face, pushing him backwards, mumbling about how he “made a mess.”

You giggle in agreement, making him bite down onto your bare shoulder with mock annoyance.

Tashi walks to their large master bathroom, her nude hips swaying. You peel your eyes away from her as you turn your head to face Art. 

He smiles softly before rubbing his nose against yours. You’re giddy, and your eyes are twinkling, and Art feels like his heart is beating too fast to breathe. He has your full attention, so he says it. 

“I love you.”

The words have no place to go but to your ears. Without thinking, you pull him in by the back of his neck, press your forehead against his, your eyes locking. “I love you too.”

ᯓ

“You know I think it’s really unfair that you make me babysit while the three of you fuck without me.” 

“Oh, please, spare me, Patrick,” Art says as he bumps his shoulder against his on his way around the kitchen island. 

“No, I’m serious, you two’ve basically been courting her,” he points at Tashi and Art. “As I stay at home playing Stepford wife,” he pouts. “When do I get my turn with her?” 

“Wow, Patrick, your turn?” You sneer at him. “I’m not a pony.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” he says, grinning at you. “When do I get my second turn?” 

“Oh, screw you!” You say shoving him by the arm. “Is that all I am to you?” 

Tashi tries to hide her laugh in her cup of coffee. 

You attempt to maintain your scowl of disapproval, but the steam seeps out of you when Patrick envelops you in his arms from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Of course not. You know I like you for your big…brain.” 

You roll your eyes at his inability to be serious about anything, but instinctually lean back into his chest. 

The two of you hadn’t slept together since your rainy day way back when, and not for his lack of trying or your lack of desire. The tension between you two threatened to boil over at any moment, but you thought it was a good idea to ease into this thing with the trio.

So, you had refrained from fucking Patrick, but you did spend time together when possible. When he wasn't busy with tennis, which wasn't very often.

Despite his foolishness, Patrick makes a good friend. He’s surprisingly easy to vent to. You never have to worry about the risk of him passing judgment.

Like the time you’d gone on a rant about your ex-husband and his fiancée.

“I mean it’s fucking sickening the way she acts so polite now! The bitch had the nerve to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids, Patrick! Her bridesmaid.”

He frowned at you around his cigarette. “Ugh, that’s fucked.”

"That’s what I said!"

“I hope she has a freak accident before the wedding,” he murmured. “Maybe not fatal, but like a coma or something so you don’t have to deal with her.”

“Ugh, no, that would only delay the process and give Chris a reason to play victim for however long,” you said dismissively. “I can hear him now,”you deepened your voice to imitate him. “I can't believe you’d try to hold me accountable for my wrongdoings at a time like this. My freaking fiancée is in a coma.”

Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, true, but honestly, that bastard would probably ditch her anyway. It’s hard to be a trophy wife from a hospital bed.”

ᯓ

He has a way of looking at you and seeing through all the layers. In a way, you think you two were bound to bond, both being connected to a married couple.

During moments like this, when you’re all together, it feels like you’re less outnumbered. Though, you suppose Art clings to you too much to ever really be free of him, not that you’d want to anyway. The two of you had been attached at the hip ever since he told you he loved you. Patrick had joked that you were in the honeymoon phase.

Tashi leans across the marble countertop, and pats Patrick on the cheek. “Aww do you feel left out?” She coos to him before pushing herself up from the barstool. 

He brushes off her derision opting to focus on eating the rest of your breakfast croissant.

Art can’t help but snicker as Tashi gushes to Patrick about how good you taste coming on her tongue. She goes to place her mug in the sink before grabbing a handful of your ass, making you gasp as her nails poke into your skin. Patrick groans around his croissant and glares at Art, his face already tinted pink. 

Tashi leans her forehead against yours, the two of you giggling before she pecks your nose sweetly. “Okay, I have to go,” she sighs. 

You nod, but pull her in for a kiss on the lips, dreading the end of your time together. You had been spending the weekend with them while Kaleb stayed at his dad’s. But, Tashi would be leaving for the day as she had an event to attend. 

“Maybe the three of you can catch up while I’m gone,” she winks before squeezing Patrick’s shoulder. Art rolls his eyes at the implication, but he smiles when Tashi whispers something in his ear on the way out. 

ᯓ

After debating about how to spend your day, you begrudgingly agree to join Art and Patrick on the tennis court. The sun is offering enough heat for you to feel comfortable as you chase Patrick’s serves. You start out teaming up with Art, the two of you playing against him. 

Patrick quickly figures out that he can win by aiming between the two of you. Art, ever the gentleman, only returns the ones Patrick serves directly to him, leaving you the opportunity to hit the ball. While you, on the other hand, assume that Art’s going to get it, leaving no one to actually return the ball. Once the two of you get on the same page, Patrick has won enough games to win the entire match. 

When you switch, and Art later beats you and Patrick, you start to think that maybe you’re the problem. 

You feel like a kid again, the three of you running around as your laughs ricochet against the court. You cheer when you manage to actually place the yellow ball where you want it to go. You had served an ace, but you're sure Art had purposely let you have it. By the time you’re done, you’re sweating and beaming. Art dabs your forehead with a towel, and Patrick gives you a piggy back ride back to the house. 

You swing your legs back and forth and place a kiss to his ear. It should gross you out when you taste the saltiness of his sweat on your lips, but it only makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

It occurs to you that you might’ve forgotten how to have fun as an adult. It’s been so long since you’ve felt true joy in a relationship. Your marriage to your ex had sapped you of your gleeful youth, and for awhile, you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. 

You hadn’t had the official “what are we talk” yet, but you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

So, when Patrick later dumps you onto the bed, after you’ve all had lunch and cleaned up, you sink into the mattress and let him press kisses all over your face. 

“I wanna eat you up,” he groans, the vibrations making you laugh as his beard scratches your jaw. 

You extend your arm out for Art who is already making his way towards the two of you. Both men hover above you, moving in sync as they mouth over your skin. Every so often their lips meet each other, tongues darting out to get a taste. 

Patrick promptly pulls the oversized t-shirt you stole from Art over your head, making your messy curls even more chaotic. 

“I’ve waited so long to fuck you again,” he says before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You try to tell him he’s being quite dramatic, but a moan interrupts you when he starts twirling his tongue around your hardened bud, at the same time as Art drags his wet mouth down your abdomen. 

He’s on a sure path toward your underwear, stopping to admire your face before dipping his fingers into the hem. 

Patrick gets impatient and places his hand over Art’s, making him tug your panties down faster. But before either of them can get their mouths on you, you raise your leg up and place the sole of your foot against his abdomen. Patrick looks up at you, his pupils dilated and eyebrows scrunched together. 

Art’s wearing a similar expression, and you can barely contain your grin as you push your foot forward, making Patrick raise up on his knees. You push yourself up and lean back on your palms. 

“Not yet, I wanna do something different,” you say coyly. 

“Yeah?” Art, always eager to please you, leans forward and plants a kiss on your collarbone. “What do you wanna do, baby?”

You trace the side of his face with your fingertips before tucking a few loose blonde strands behind his ear. “Show me what you do when it’s just the two of you.” 

Art almost chokes, clearly not having expected your request. Patrick smirks. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, crawling towards you. “Who would’ve taken you for a voyeur, huh?” 

“Shut up, Patrick,” you say, grabbing his jaw in your fingers. You level your face with his. “Just show me.” You say as your lips brush against his. “Can you do that for me?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says and pulls you into a rough kiss. You moan into it before pointedly shoving him off. 

With your heart thrumming and your lip tucked between your teeth, you inch backwards, propping yourself up against the headboard. You meet Art’s gaze, and all it takes is a short nod from you to snap him out of his trance. 

To your surprise, Art grabs for Patrick first. He leans down over him, pulling him in by the back of his neck. He uses his thumb to tilt Patrick’s head back as he deepens their kiss. You think you can feel the butterflies in your own belly as you know just what it feels like to have Art kiss you like that. 

He strips Patrick of his shirt, barely breaking the kiss and slowly lowers himself into his lap. They continue to make out sloppily for what feels like hours before Patrick brings his hands around Art’s waist and pushes his shirt up as well. It’s then that you notice, Art has been lazily rolling his hips into Patrick’s. The sight makes your clit throb, and you drum your fingers on your knee in an attempt to withhold from touching yourself.

Art laces his fingers through Patrick’s dark curls as he starts to plant sloppy kisses along Art’s jaw. He eventually licks a stripe up the side of his neck before nipping at his earlobe, to which Art bucks his hips forward. His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Just Patrick’s touch alone seems to be getting him off. 

Once they’ve rid each other of their remaining clothes, the two come back together. This time, Art traces figure eights along Patrick’s skin with his tongue as he lets his large palms roam over his body. When he gets to the small of his back, he bites down into his neck gently before spreading his cheeks apart and dipping his middle finger between them. 

You think they’ve both forgotten about you as they get lost in each other. Patrick takes both his and Art’s hard cocks into his hand, slowly jerking them.

You can’t resist it anymore. You bring your hand between your legs and start rubbing circles over your aching clit. 

The action must catch Patrick’s attention as he glances over at you with a sly smile. Suddenly, he leans over and cups his hand under your chin. He sticks his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, and motions for you to spit. 

You obey him and spit into his waiting hand. Patrick then takes your saliva and uses it to glide over his and Art’s members. 

Art releases a broken moan as Patrick’s hand moves around them faster. They start to take turns pushing their tongues into each other’s mouths. And at the same time, you dip your fingers into your slick and spread it over your clit. 

When Art starts circling his middle finger around Patrick’s hole and humping into his hand, your head falls back against the bed frame, your eyes still glued to them. 

Before long, they’re spurting white ropes of cum against each other as you follow behind in quick succession. 

You finish with a whine, your knees drawing together as you clench your thighs. 

Patrick is slumped against Art, his head laid on his shoulder as they both watch you. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he laughs, making Art also release a full bellied laugh, his eyes crinkling.

ᯓ

When Tashi comes home later, she flicks on the light to find the three of you in a pile on her bed. 

You’re halfway straddling Art, cheek pressed against his chest. Patrick’s heavy arm drapes over your back, his face shoved into Art's shoulder as he softly snores. 

She sighs at the spectacle. Yet when she goes to turn the lights off again, she wears a smile on her face. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I had to fight through a bout of writer's block and the pressures of being a senior in college to get this done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. <3 as always, my asks are open!

Tags: @fallout-girl219

[freedomfireflies]

Uppercut*

Summary: The fourth part to Knockout*

The one where Harry is fighting everyone. Even you.

Word Count: 9.1k (I mean at this point it's just tradition)

Content Warning: 18+, angst, smut, exhibitionism

The halls of the subway station are quiet. Empty. A light flickers overhead, casting odd shadows across the concrete floor that lead you toward him.

The hooded figure sits on a lone bench, face downcast toward the ground. His leg is bouncing anxiously, a nervous habit you’d recognize anywhere. His fingers are curled around the seat below, as if holding himself back. Keeping himself still.

And then, he looks up.

Those soft green eyes find yours, and suddenly, everything is okay. Your limbs no longer ache from the strenuous shift at the diner, your heart no longer feels weary. You feel energized and alive, and you’ve never been happier to see his face.

Harry smiles when he recognizes you, instantly leaping up as you approach, and pulling you into his arms.

He hugs you. Pulls you directly into his chest and keeps you there as you laugh and whisper your hello.

“Hi,” he whispers back, lips nestling into the crown of your head. He releases a deep sigh. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” You cling to his sweatshirt and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Indulging in the scent of him. The warmth. Stability. “Are you all right?”

“Better now. Are you?”

“Mhm.” You nod but refuse to let him go. “Was a little surprised to get your note, though.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs before finally pulling away. Allowing himself a good look at your face that makes his dimple pop free. “Figured it was the safest way. Don’t wanna risk somebody seeing us out there. And I thought maybe this could be our thing.”

“Our thing?”

He chuckles to himself and brings his palm to your cheek. Cradling it gently while running his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. “Yeah. Meeting up in the dark subway in the early morning hours. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Forbidden love and all that.”

Love. There’s that word again, and it makes your head spin. Dizzy in the best and worst way possible.

“How romantic of you,” you tease instead, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “All right. This can be our thing.”

“Good.” He dips down and kisses you now. Slow and hard, exactly the way you like it. Keeping you against his lips for far longer than he should, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Might steal you away every night.”

With a soft grin of your own, you kiss him back. “You better.”

After allowing you enough time to catch your breath, he leads you back over to his bench. Curling up beside you while simultaneously tucking you into his side. Hiding you away from the rest of the world, and the few stragglers that are entering and exiting the subway. 

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your temple as he speaks.

You nod, keeping yourself snug under his arm. “Mhm. Wasn’t as busy as it usually is.”

“Yeah? You make anything good?”

“Snickerdoodle cookies.”

He gasps, rather dramatically, and it makes you laugh. “Cherry, you know those are my favorite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really, really.” He kisses your cheek almost absentmindedly before continuing. “Especially the way you make ‘em. Told you that, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. Don’t know if I was really listening, though.”

“No? You don’t listen when I talk, sweet girl?”

You smirk. “Sometimes I get a little distracted.”

“With what, baby?”

“Your…mouth,” you admit somewhat sheepishly. “Sometimes I just like to watch your lips move. And then I forget to listen to what’s coming out of them.”

He laughs now, and the sound is infectious. Bouncing around the concrete walls until you giggle. “Is that right?”

“It’s not my fault,” you pout playfully, reaching up to brush your thumb along the pretty, pink fibers at your disposal. They’re healing nicely from the last fight, and you feel relieved. “You have such a pretty face.”

He hums against your finger before pressing into it, leaving a soft kiss. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“So do you,” he whispers, dropping his voice into something soft and seductive. “See your face in mind every time I close my eyes.”

And it shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does, but you find yourself biting back a sigh as you scoot impossibly closer. “You’re silly.”

“Am I?” Another kiss to your thumb before he moves down your hand and toward your wrist. Leaving a trail of them in his wake. “What if m’being serious?”

Your breath catches and you watch his mouth move closer and closer. “Then you’re seriously silly.”

His lips twitch up. “If I am, it’s because that’s what you make me.” Another collection of gentle kisses along the inside of your arm. “Think about you every hour…of every goddamn day.”

You feel lost on him. Drowning in his aurora, and this hypnotic haze he’s lured you into. Unaffected by the people around you, or the way this might look. 

All you really notice…is him.

“And believe me, sweet girl,” he continues in a huskier murmur, “the things I think about are anything but silly.”

Your pulse skips from somewhere beneath your chest while a whimper bleeds from your throat. You brace yourself against his stronger frame as his kisses reach the sleeve of your uniform, just beneath your shoulder.

He only stops once to meet your eye. “D’you wanna know what I think about, baby?”

Your first instinct is to nod, but you catch yourself just in time. Forcing yourself to finally say the one thing you’ve been meaning to all evening. “I wanna know what you’re gonna do about Jesse.”

He leans back, and the devious expression falls away.

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Harry,” you rush to explain, allowing him to drop your arm only so you can take hold of his. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please,” he snorts. “Jesse can’t fucking hurt me. Couldn’t hurt me even when he was in the fucking ring with me.”

Your eyebrow cocks up. “…what?”

A nonchalant shrug, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s said. Or he doesn’t care. “Few years ago, back when he wasn’t such a little shit. He was one of the fighters."

And suddenly…it hits you. Slaps you across the face and leaves a permanent palm print. “How many years ago?”

He seems to realize around the same time you do, eyes softening as he rolls his shoulders back. “Three or four, I think.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Feel your hands grow shaky and your heart begin to wrench. “He was…he was fighting. When he was with me.”

Not exactly a question. Rather a conclusive statement you both stumble onto as the picture becomes clearer.

There were a lot of things about Jesse you never learned. His anger always being his biggest question mark.

You saw the subtle scars that were occasionally smeared along his knuckles or painted across his back. But his excuse was always a vague, mumbled explanation of, “Oh, just this buddy of mine at the gym. We like to box sometimes. I’m fine.”

And that was that.

You figured what he did at the gym was his own business. And you had no reason to believe it was anything more than a few rounds with a friend. Had no reason to believe it was something bigger. That he was lying to you.

And perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t lying. He was boxing, just not at the local gym. And certainly not for free.

“Cherry,” Harry calls to you now, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Tugging your hands onto his lap to recapture your attention. “Baby—”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, a bit airier than you mean to before clearing your throat. “I’m fine. I always knew he was doing something, I just…this makes sense.”

He’s unconvinced, frowning to himself before squeezing your palms. “You might not have known him very well, but I do. Okay, I know this side of him, and I know that he’s nothing more than a bunch of empty threats and a checkbook. And I’m not gonna let him hurt me. Or you. Never you.”

And even though your stomach is turning, you believe him. “I know. But what if…what if he tries to do something? To you, during your fights? What if…what if he sends somebody after you?”

To your surprise, he smirks. “Come on, do you really think I’m scared of some hitman? I know you haven’t seen very many of my fights, but believe me, baby, I can handle it.”

You, however, don't smile. “Harry, I’m serious.”

“I thought I was serious.”

“Harry.” You pout again and tug on his hands. “You didn’t see how angry he was—”

“I did,” he argues, the smug grin slipping away. “I know exactly how fucking mad he was, and all because I lost him a couple of fights. And I don’t give a shit because he’s nothing but a fucking rat.”

“Yeah. But he’s a rat that’s threatening to hurt you.”

The darkened expression returns, and his frown makes you want to cry. He’s far too beautiful to look so anguished. “I don’t care. I told you, he can’t hurt me—”

“But he can hurt me,” you interrupt, and his jaw snaps shut. “By hurting you, he hurts me. I mean, just the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you, it just…it…God, it made my fucking skin crawl, Harry.”

The crasser language that slips from your tongue seems to entertain him and disappoint him all in the same moment.

“Okay,” he mumbles in a lower volume, almost as though hoping to talk you down. “Okay, I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” you argue. “You…you don’t want him to hurt me, and yet he is. And he doesn’t have to, okay? You just have to win, and he doesn’t care. As long as you win.”

The frown seems to get deeper. “Cherry…it’s not just about winning. He’s put a fucking price on my head and expects me to pay it. And I told you, I’m tired of playing his fucking games.”

You squeeze his hands a bit harder, desperate to understand. “Is that why you threw the fights?” you ask gently. “To piss him off?”

Another shrug. Angrier. “Not exactly. I just figured he’d drop me if I wasn’t doing the one thing he wanted me to.”

Your eyes flick between his. “But it’s not that easy.”

“No,” he agrees. “Because he’s a fucking weasel that thinks he can use you to get what he wants from me. And I won’t let him.”

Your heart drops into your toes as the two of you grow quiet. Undeterred by the sounds of the subway entering and exiting the station, the screeching lines and opening doors. You’re immersed in your own little bubble here with him, unable to hear anything past the pounding in your ears. 

“So what do we do?” you dare to ask.

He sighs again before bringing your entangled hands to his mouth. Kissing your fingers as he thinks. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it looks like he wants to say more…but he stops.

So, you finish for him. “Let’s leave.”

“What?”

You nod quicky and glance toward the tracks. “Let’s leave. Let’s just get on the train and go somewhere. Start a new life. No more Jesse, no more fights, no more threats. We can just leave.”

A hint of a smile is all you’re afforded before he chuckles and kisses your hands once more. “And I thought I was the silly one.”

“No, I mean it,” you insist. “We could, we could leave, we could start over. We could be happy. Just you and me. And a bunch of pies.”

There’s a gentle beat before his brows begin to furrow. “Cherry,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart sink.

You knew it was a long shot. Knew there was really no logic behind the suggestion, only the need to take action. And for just a moment, you liked the picture you were painting. Of you and him in a sweet little house somewhere out in the country. Working your typical 9 to 5 jobs before coming home to make dinner together.

Perhaps it's a little old fashioned and a bit mundane, but it looks so beautiful compared to what you have now. And you imagine any life would be exciting with him at the center of it.

“I know,” you finally whisper, allowing your shoulders to slump. “But…I had to try.”

His amused grin returns before he tugs you closer in order to kiss you. And it’s quick and playful and everything you’ve ever needed. An almost perfect fix for this ache in your chest.

“And I love that,” he tells you, and the second use of the forbidden word leaves you breathless. Even more so than the kisses. “But m’gonna be okay, sweet girl. I won’t let him hurt us.”

And you want to believe him. Want to be sure that Jesse is nothing more than a footnote in this new chapter you’ve opened together. 

But something doesn’t feel right. 

Because there’s this look in his eye. The same look you saw that night in the ring. Animalistic and unrelenting. Like he could split somebody in half and never think twice about it.

“And how are you gonna do that?” you whisper, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hoodie on his chest. “Huh? Are you just gonna beat him up until he changes his mind?”

“Maybe.” He’s smiling, but there’s something serious in the way he speaks, and your stomach wrenches. “What? He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him.”

“Harry—”

“Cherry.” He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. “Don’t have to worry, okay? I’ll be all right.”

You’re ready to argue with him, another excuse already locked and loaded, but before you can fire it, he brings his hand to your temple. Sweeping his thumb along your forehead with a much softer expression.

“You know, you get the cutest little wrinkle when you frown,” he tells you, brushing his finger down the space between your eyebrows. “Right…here.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from giggling. “Oh, do I?”

“Mhm.” He smooths his touch along your skin before moving to your jaw. Tracing the line almost reverently. “There’s a lot of things about you that are cute.”

“Is that right?”

He nods once before he’s dropping both hands to your hips in order to lead you over to his lap. Placing your knees on either side of his waist and holding you there while you squeal.

And he doesn’t seem to care about anything else but you. Not the people walking by or the chilly gust of wind that dances through the station. He gazes up at you and brushes a bit of hair behind your ear. Taking in the details of your face as if memorizing every inch of you. 

“I think you’re beautiful, Cher,” he tells you, and not for the first time. “And I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle, finding stability in more ways than one. “Well, I think you’re being silly again.”

“Yeah?” He smirks as you dip down to brush your nose with his. “Then maybe I need to prove to you just how much I mean it.”

One of his large hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing you just over your uniform. And you laugh as you playfully swat at his chest, although you can’t deny there’s a part of you desperately searching for more.

Ever since the other night, you’ve felt rather insatiable. Distracted by the memory of him in your hand – of the weight and the feel. You see his body when you close your eyes, see the tattoos, and ridges, and lines. The curve of his spine and his hips and his thighs. 

And you’re reminded again of exactly how thrilling it was when you feel him beneath you. A gentle, subtle graze of something hard as you’re rocked over his lap. And it makes your breath catch.

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

His lashes flutter closed before he ghosts his lips along the edge of your cheek. “What, baby?”

Another pull to your hips makes you sigh, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “This isn’t fair.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You stumble over a whine before bracing yourself against his chest. “Because we can’t. Not here.”

“Not here?” he repeats, almost teasingly. “Why not here? Don’t want them to watch, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the strength to shake your head.

“Don’t want them to watch you grind yourself against my lap, like my desperate little bunny?” He grins and it’s so very devious. “Don’t want them to see just how needy you really get for me?”

And maybe…there’s a small part of you that does.

Common sense evades you now as you pant, “I do. I do, Harry, please.”

He’s amused by this. At your determination to take whatever he'll give. Soft, gentle hands slipping their way beneath the hem of your uniform, stroking and groping as though playing with you. Taunting you with the idea of more only to take it away with a kiss.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you now, eyes flicking to yours.

It’s the easiest answer you’ve given all night. “Yes. Yes, I do. Always.”

He smiles, filled with relief before he’s nodding his chin at you. “Okay, baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”

A bit confused, you rearrange yourself over his lap. Settling down with your back against his chest while his hands sneak around your waist to keep you still.

Those beautiful fingers land on your thighs, just above the hem of your dress. They toy with the fabric almost absentmindedly and you whimper beneath a strained breath as you wait.

“Shh,” he coos, resting his lips along the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you. Told you I’ll always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod as your head falls back onto his shoulder. Unable to hold itself up any longer while he does this to you.

Your attention lands on the train just a few hundred feet in front of you as it slowly begins to roll down the tracks before taking off. A gust of wind follows, sweeping across your cheek, and sending a chill down your spine.

Your small shiver makes him smirk. “Relax, Cherry. You’re all right.”

There are only three other people in the station, all scattered about on opposite ends, checking their phones, and reading their newspapers. None of them close enough to see what he’s really doing to you, and you imagine even if they could, they wouldn’t care. 

Yet the idea that any one of them could look up and glance over is thrilling. Worsening the ache between your thighs as Harry’s thumb finally slips beneath the hem.

“Breathe,” he instructs gently, instructing you to take a deep breath which you shakily do. “If you want me to stop, you tell me, yes?”

You bite back a whine. “I don’t want you to stop. Promise.”

“But if you do,” he insists, slowing the stroking of his hand until you nearly wilt, “you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you agree quickly. “Yes, I understand, I promise.”

Satisfied, he continues. Slipping his touch further up your legs while making sure the edge of your dress doesn’t move. Keeping you covered while he does this, offering you just an ounce of privacy. And you’re so grateful for him. 

He crawls higher and higher until he finds the soft lace of your underwear. Tracing the band almost lazily, running up and down the curve of your thigh without ever giving in.

“Harry,” you sigh, reaching for his wrist to compel him. “Harry, please—”

“Shh,” he hushes again, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Said I’ve got you, and I do. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise. Just wanna play with you first. Wanna feel you.”

You’re tempted to argue that he’s nowhere close to actually feeling you yet, but you realize then that he means more than that. He wants to take in every inch of your skin at his disposal. Wants to feel the softness of your hip, the goosebumps along your thighs. Wants to learn you, study you, memorize you. Simply exist with you in his arms.

You unwind in his embrace, allowing him to indulge in you exactly the way he wants. But the coil in your stomach grows tighter at the tender implication, making your desperation for him that much stronger. 

Finally – finally – he moves closer. Brushing the tips of his fingers down the front of you, just over your covered clit and down.

He does it again. Over and over, albeit idly, while effectively worsening your need, making you whimper.

He only grins. “S’that bad, baby, huh?”

And you don’t need to answer for him to know that it is. He can feel it. Can feel exactly how anxious you are to be touched as he continues his soft strokes.

Then…he hooks his finger around the band and pulls.

The brisk morning air instantly finds the inside of your warm thighs, and you gasp. Squirming over his lap until he has to use one hand to hold you still. Shushing you once again while squeezing the top of your leg soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, allowing you no more than a few seconds to adjust before brushing his thumb down your pussy. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that, sweet girl?”

You nod, thankful that your outburst didn’t draw too much attention from the others in the station. But it seems that was only the start as Harry continues his playful flicks and pulls. Attempting to unravel you as quickly as possible, despite your muffled whimpers for mercy.

He starts with your clit. Circling it a few times with his large digits until he can really wind you up. Slow touches that turn fast, his lips trailing from your cheek and to your neck.

He kisses you as he does this. Nips at your skin, tugs it between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue. Marking you – claiming you. In more ways than one.

“Oh, Cherry,” he hums after a moment, and your insides wrench. “You’re all wet, baby. S’it that bad? S’it hurt that bad?”

You’d like to nod, but you don’t have the capacity. Only enough strength to squeeze his wrist and whisper, “Harry—”

“Mm. I know. Gonna let me have some?” 

You finally convince your head to move up and down while he chuckles and brings his other hand into play. One, large digit slipping between your folds and down to where your arousal has collected while the others continue stroking your clit.

And it’s almost too much. This screaming in your head for more. To be filled and fixed by the only man who can help you. 

And it’s not his cock, but his finger does feel beautiful. Pushing in to your tightness while your walls are quick to draw him in.

It’s ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Happening right in the middle of this dimly lit subway station and the people who might see.

And yet…you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more alive and in control of your own experience. Even if it’s slightly dangerous and perhaps not something you previously would have considered. With Harry it feels…different. Destined. Because you know he means it when he says he’ll take care of you. After all, he always does.

When he reaches his knuckle, you keen, releasing a strangled groan that’s much too loud.

He takes the hand on your clit away in order to smack it against your mouth. Keeping you quiet until you finish.

“Baby,” he warns, but it’s sympathetic, “gotta try for me, okay? Gotta try to stay quiet.”

You nod again as you swallow the rest of your noises. But he keeps his palm against your lips, wet fingertips stroking your cheek. Painting you with your own arousal.

He begins to pump you slowly. Retracting almost all the way only to ease back in. It’s a steady pace he sets, but it’s addictive. Keeping you on the brink without ever actually offering you what you really need. Never scratching that itch.

“Harry,” you try, the sound of his name muffled by his hand. 

But he understands, nevertheless, kissing just below your ear before finally lowering his arm. “What? What do you need?”

More, more, more. One, singular word that’s ringing between your ears, loud and insistent. “Please…”

He hums. “Please,” he repeats. “Please…what?”

“Need…need—”

“Need? What do you need? Need me?”

“Yes,” you nearly gasp. “Yes, Harry, please. Hurts…”

And it does hurt. You’ve never felt an emptiness like this. Never felt so hollow and depraved. But he’s the only one who can fix it, and your eyelids grow heavy as you push yourself further back into his chest.

The tip of a second finger begins to tease your opening before he’s pushing both in. And it’s almost too easy, the sound of your arousal being pulled in and out rather loud. And so very lewd. Too much eroticism for you to handle, and it feels as though your limbs have turned to jelly as you slump in his hold.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Just give me one. Just need to feel you around my fingers one time.”

And it’s an easy instruction. You can already feel the seams of your sanity coming loose as he returns to your clit and pinches it between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure from both of his hands is almost cruel, and it makes your heart wrench. Because it’s so close, you can taste it. Can swallow it whole, and you’ve never felt so insatiable. The urge to just have him rather prevalent and undeniable. You imagine if you could, you’d wrap yourself around him and never let go.

And you don’t think he’d really mind.

Your hips buck up the moment he curls his touch, a soft sigh fighting its way between your parted lips. 

And you’re so enamored by him. So endlessly addicted to the man doing this to you, and you can feel the way your orgasm barrels closer. The way he teases you with the thought of release, dangling it directly in front of you.

“There you go,” he breathes, and you can feel him against your back. The groan that sits in his chest as he works you closer. “So good, yeah? Love the way you squeeze me.”

As if at the mention, you feel yourself clench around his large digits. Pussy fluttering until he’s dropping his mouth to your shoulder in order to stifle his own sounds.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles before repeating the action again. “God, you’re so tight, sweet girl. I’d fucking ruin you, wouldn’t I?”

You nod fervently, the image of his cock painting itself behind your eyelids. The length, the girth, the way it looks between his thighs. He would, he’d ruin you. In the best possible way. And you’d thank him for it. 

You can feel him beneath you, just below your ass. And he’s glorious. Cursing to himself whenever you squirm over his cock, taunting him about the same way he’s taunting you.

It’s clear he’s losing the battle for control. Whispers of, “Oh, my sweet girl. My fucking girl. Aren’t you? Never knew how good he had it, did he?”

He doesn’t need to say Jesse’s name for you to know exactly who he’s referring to, and your stomach lands in your throat. 

You don’t want to imagine him when you’re with Harry. And you don’t think Harry does, either. But he grits the insinuation out through clenched teeth before settling into a faster rhythm.

“Could fucking kill him,” Harry seethes. “Could pull his heart out of his goddamn chest just for fucking looking at you.” 

He presses hard into your clit until you’re forced to bite your tongue. Drinking down your whimpers and cries as one of the men across the station folds his paper and begins to stand.

You pray he doesn’t look over, pulse thumping wildly against your ribcage. And yet, at the same time, you want him to know. Want them all to know what your stranger is doing to you. To watch you fall apart by his hand until you’re nothing but a pile of pants and sighs.

“For touching you,” he continues in your ear, a disdained hiss that makes your eyes roll back. “For putting his fucking hands on what’s mine.”

You squeeze his wrist so hard, you’re sure you’ll leave a bruise. But it doesn’t seem to matter because he goes faster. Harder. Plunging his fingers in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting pace. Needing you to cum more than he’s ever needed anything else.

“Come on,” he urges, kissing down your neck with a faint grumble. “God, come on, Cherry. Come for me. Let me feel you, just one more time.”

You’re almost there. Can feel the beginnings of your orgasm brightening the edges of your vision. You need far more than he’s giving you and yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt so satisfied.

“Show me how good you are,” he murmurs. “Show me how good you’re gonna be for me, taking my cock. All laid out in my bed. Tears down your pretty, little face.”

And you can see it so clearly. Sweaty bodies writhing together, tangled in the sheets. The way he holds you to the mattress, using his weight to keep you good, keep you open. His hard thrusts, his strong thighs. His hands pinning yours just above your head, his hips slamming into yours.

You clamp down around his fingers once more and he’s mesmerized. Sliding all the way to the knuckle and holding them there to feel every flutter of your pussy around him.

“Shit, that’s it.” His arm flexes from beside you, and you wish he wasn’t wearing that goddamn hoodie so you could see every pull of his muscles. “Know you’re close. Gonna get you there, baby, I swear.”

And you know he will. He almost has, and maybe there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want this to end. Wants to keep feeling this indescribable rush as he sits with you until the sun comes up. 

With all the frantic fumbling, the hem of your dress has slowly begun to ride up. Revealing the disappearance of his hands and the tops of your thighs until there’s no question about what’s really happening underneath.

And maybe you should readjust yourself, but you don’t. Can’t. You’re almost there and all clarity seems to fly right out the window as you decide that you don’t care. Onlookers be damned. If they see, they see. 

This is what gets you there. This realization that people can watch him touch you. Even if nobody is looking right at this moment, they could. And it’s wrong, and it’s strange, and it’s so not like you.

Yet you’ve never felt more at ease.

The moment it takes hold of you, he zeroes in. Fucking his fingers into your cunt rather mercilessly while the other hand returns to your mouth. Already anticipating your noises.

You moan against his palm while he tugs you impossibly closer to his chest. Attempting to shield you from everybody else as you experience the come down. 

“Shh,” he repeats for a third time, the soothing tone a stark contrast to the unrelenting movement of his fingers. “Don’t want them to hear you, sweet girl. Wanna keep you to myself. Cause your noises are mine, yeah, Cherry? They belong to me?”

Posed as a question, but you both know it’s not. You’ve never belonged to anybody the way you belong to him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, you allow yourself to whimper against his hand through every second of it. Riding out his thrusts until your stomach nearly caves in. Until you have no further strength to hold yourself upright or keep yourself composed. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Just like that. Want it all, baby. Every fucking drop.”

You give it to him. Give him everything you have, everything he asks for. And the soft grunts in your ear nearly bring you to the edge for a second time, but he’s pulling away just before you can find out. 

Your exhale is strained when he finally lowers his arm, but he remedies this by wrapping it around your middle and straightening the hem of your uniform. 

“How’s that, hm?” He tucks his chin just over your shoulder. “Feel better? Y’gave me a lot tonight, sweet girl. M’so proud of you. You were so good for me.”

You offer a lazy smile at his tender praise.

Soft strokes are circled around your thigh as you both sit in the new silence. Indulging in these few moments you have left.

And just the idea of having to leave him nearly crushes you.

He’s rather addicting, you realize. This man – this stranger – that comes to your diner and sits in your booth asking for pies. Even without knowing much about who he is, you’re so endlessly drawn to him. Hypnotized by his charm and his face and his past. The scars that litteried his hands and body.

And now, after everything else…he’s the only one you truly feel safe with. Comfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s nothing but question marks, he’s…Harry. He’s your Harry. And you don’t ever want that to change.

You watch his fingers brush at your skin, and your heart feels so full. It’s never felt like this with anybody else. Not during the sex, not during the tender moments. You thought you felt that way with Jesse, but it pales in comparison to how you feel now.

However, the fleeting memory of Jesse sours your smile as you’re forced to remember the reality of this delicate moment. 

Even when Harry was touching you, he was so angry. He is so angry. You know he’ll never be able to tame that demon that lives within his heart, but you aren’t sure there’s enough room for both.

You want to believe him when he says he’ll figure it out. But it’s becoming much too clear that he believes the only way to fix it…is to hurt Jesse.

And therefore get himself hurt in the process.

There’s so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that he clearly doesn’t want you to, and you’re devastated. You feel helpless. Because you want to protect him the same way he wants to protect you. You want to keep him from making these rash decisions just because he thinks they’ll protect you.

Because you don’t want to have to lose him or let him go. You want to take him away from all of this and make him happy. Find a way to keep him safe.

You want to find another way.

“Harry?” you venture timidly.

He hums.

“Why did you tell me not to tell Owen where I was going?”

There’s a brief beat before he sighs rather heavily and tightens his hold on you. “When I drove by the diner earlier, I saw Jesse.”

Your eyes widen.

“He was talking to Owen, and my guess is that he was looking for you.” Another pause. “Does Owen know where you live?”

You glance down at his fingers before tangling them with yours. Playing with them as though to prolong your answer. “…yes.”

He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”

The heavy sound makes your chest ache, and you quickly sit up in order to glance back and see him. “Jesse would never do that.”

“You don’t know that,” he nearly scoffs. “He’s a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way, and if he thinks you’re still seeing me—”

“Well, he won’t,” you retort. “He won’t know. We’ll meet down here, and we’ll figure out what to do. And it’ll be okay.”

His eyes flick between yours, and even in the soft light, that gentle green is breathtaking. “I think you have more faith in him than you should.”

Your stomach sinks.

“And I think you have the wrong faith in me, too,” he whispers, reaching out to cup your chin. “M’not sure I’m who you think I am.”

The implication makes you frown. “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re strong. You take care of me, you protect me. I know you, Har.”

His expression falls ever-so-slightly. “Not as much as I should—”

“Harry—”

“You want to save him, and I want to fucking kill him,” he says. “You think he’s worth saving. You think I’m worth saving, and I’m not. We’re not—”

“Stop,” you nearly gasp, surging forward to take his cheeks between your palms. “You are always worth saving. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to keep you?”

He nuzzles his face into your palm before releasing a deep breath. “Because you’re good. You’re so good, Cherry. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

You tighten your hold. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and I deserve you. Okay, we’ll figure this out. We’re fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

You know he wants to argue. Has about a hundred excuses and arguments ready for use, but he bites his tongue. Allowing you to have this victory as you dip down and kiss him.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he says, and you understand more than he’ll ever know.

“But I am safe,” you argue, reaching down to tug his hoodie pleadingly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m safe.”

His sigh is gentle as he squeezes your chin. “I know. Just wanna figure some things out first, yeah? Make sure I can take care of you.”

You say nothing as his thumb sweeps across your parted lips, but you’re gutted. Touched by the thought, yet empty without him.

This is how you leave each other. After Harry helps you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady. And it’s quiet as you say your goodbyes. As he holds you against his heart until he has to physically take himself away. Leaving you with a lingering kiss that you feel all the way down in your toes.

“Tomorrow?” he makes you promise before you can slip away.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach very far. “Tomorrow,” you agree. “Right here.”

“Right here. Find me.”

“Always.”

And with that…he drops your hand and walks away.

However, the image of him follows you all the way home. The way his features fell, the way his voice cracked. The anguish so prevalent in his insistence, and the unmistakable rage behind his eyes.

He’s unrelenting. He doesn’t see a way out that keeps him safe. He’d rather risk his life in order to protect yours. And you don’t want to understand it, but you do. Because a part of you wants to do the same for him.

Jesse made his instructions clear. And it should be easy. It should be so easy for Harry to do the one thing he knows he can. To win.

But he won’t. He won’t win as long as Jesse’s his sponsor. And if he won’t win…

You know he can. Saw it happen just the other night. The way he threw his opponent onto the mat and held him down until he could hardly breathe. He’d been losing – he’d been throwing the fight – until he saw you. And once he saw you…the fight was over.

This is what Jesse wanted, and you know it. He wants you to be the reason Harry changes his mind, but it’s clear now that you’re the reason he won’t.

He’ll never change his mind as long as he’s convinced he’s protecting you. As long as he’s sure that his pain is proper payment for your comfort. 

And it ruins you. It ruins you this idea that you can’t help him. That he’ll allow himself to be beaten to the brink of death in order to keep you safe. To keep you untouched and unscathed.

Jesse’s threat is real. Frighteningly real, and there’s this ache in your stomach that can’t be mended with kisses and kind words. You can’t convince him, you can’t change his mind, and you can’t find another way.

There’s only one.

It taunts you as you go about your night. It wakes you the next morning. Follows you all the way to work. 

Perhaps the only way to solve the problem is to take yourself out of the equation. To force Harry’s hand exactly the way Jesse wants. To show him that it’s okay to save himself. That he doesn’t have to put you first.

But in order to truly take yourself out…you have to take yourself from him. And the thought of removing yourself from his life nearly wrecks you. It’s violent and unthinkable, causing a hitch in your breath before you’ve even decided. 

You can’t imagine a world without him in it. You don’t want to. You’re so irrevocably happy with him, and you imagine he feels the same for you.

But if you ever lost him…if your selfishness took him from you, you don’t know what you’d do. And it’s exactly the way he feels for you, but you realize then that you’d rather push him away than lose him forever. 

You’d rather have his life than his love.

Your shift goes by far too fast, and when you finally clock out and head for the subway station, your insides are in knots. 

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only exit you see. Right alongside the memories of each of Harry’s bruises and cuts. Reminding you of how much worse it could really get.

And when you step up to the subway and see his shadow just across the way…the decision finds you.

A grin splits his face as he strides toward you, instantly wrapping you in his arms and pulling you back into his chest. Exactly the way he left you the night before.

“Hi,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair as though he hasn’t been able to breathe without you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, throat already growing dry. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be, sweet girl.” He leans back in order to study you, fingers stroking across your cheek rather affectionately. “Owen didn’t give you trouble, did he?”

“No. No, it wasn’t him—”

“Jesse?” The sound of his name is sharp, and it makes your eyelashes flutter.

“No.” Your voice has gone quiet. Far too quiet, and his brows pinch together. “No, I just…I have something I have to do. And I’m not sure that I can.”

He steps closer. “Then let me help, yeah? We can do it together.”

You want to cry.

Your shift in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, and he quickly reaches for your hand in order to drag you toward the bench just behind him. 

“Okay, all right,” he murmurs as he brings you to sit. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me help, what can I do?”

You stumble over a breath and glance down at your lap. If you look at him, you’ll never do it. “I…I…”

You can’t force the words out. Can’t find what you really want to say – can’t even believe you’re saying it at all.

But you have to. You have to protect him; you have to do what he won’t.

He dips down in order to recapture your attention. “Deep breath, baby, okay? Just talk to me. I just wanna help.”

It hurts the way he speaks to you. Hurts the way he’s still trying to help. The way he cradles your face in his hand in order to comfort you.

“I…” You swallow thickly and revel in the feel of his touch for the last time. “I think…I think we should take a break.”

His head tilts, but he appears unfazed. Perhaps he doesn’t understand or perhaps he didn’t really hear you. “What?”

And you almost hate him for making you repeat it. “I want to take a break. I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Now he hears you, but he it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand. Leaning back as his features twist together. “Cherry…”

And suddenly, you feel unsure. Consumed by the idea that you're making a huge mistake. Maybe there's another way, maybe...maybe you just didn't look hard enough.

Because what if letting him go does more harm than good? What if he can't find another way without you? What if you can't live without him?

But then Jesse's threat rings in your ear. The taunt that he'd kill him himself if he didn't do things differently. If he didn't listen.

If you couldn't convince him

And the moment you imagine Harry lying on the ground– dead – you realize that this is truly the only way.

You raise your eyes to his, and it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “I’m sorry.”

But it appears your apology falls on deaf ears. He merely frowns, regarding you almost suspiciously. “He got to you, didn’t he? He’s making you say this.”

“No…no, he just—”

“He what? S’this about what he said? S’this about what I said? Because I meant it. I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No, Harry, I just…I think you were right. I think we’re never gonna agree on how to handle this and…and maybe there’s a reason.”

He considers this before rejecting it with a soft scoff. “We don’t have to agree. I told you, I can handle him—”

“I don’t think you can,” you argue. “And I think it’s better if we just quit while we’re ahead.”

It’s bullshit. All of it. A bunch of empty lies that chip away at your happiness.

The frown deepens. “Cherry…I don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand, and…and I don’t think you ever will.” You force the tears back. “We’re not the same people, Harry. It was never going to work.”

This is what crushes him. This confirmation of your differences and of the very thing he feared. That you’d reject him for being who he is.

You nearly take it all back when you see his expression soften. 

“Cherry,” he tries again, “if…if I did something, I—”

“You did a lot of things,” you tell him. Deciding that the only way you’ll get through this is if you fight him at every turn. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.”

His shoulders visibly droop. “I know, I…I’m just trying to make it better.”

You didn’t think it could get worse. And you want to comfort him. Want to help him understand, make him see. Have this unshakable need fix the desolate expression on his face. Kiss it away, make it better.

But you don't.

“I know,” you echo instead, offering a just hint of kindness as you place your hand on his knee. “But this is how we make it better. By letting go. And saying goodbye.”

He glances down at his leg as though your touch stings, and you retract your arm almost instantly. “You want me to say goodbye?”

No. Never. “Yes. I think it’s for the best.”

He nods once and his eyes become unfocused. As though he’s lost. Completely checked out of his own body, and it sends the knife directly into your heart.

Then, he lifts his head, and regains a moment of clarity. “I love you.”

The knife twists and the first sob breaks free. “Harry—”

“I love you, Cherry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to take a fucking break, I…” He stops, and you can see the torment painted so perfectly across his face. “I love you. I can’t do this without you.”

And you know he won’t. You know he’ll do everything he can to bring you back. To change your mind, remind you where you belong. He’ll never let you go.

So, you do the one thing you don’t want to.

“I don’t love you,” you whisper. “I love…him.”

You’ve never seen him look so miserable.

It’s like you’ve slapped him. He leans back so fast, you’re dizzy. Putting a violent distance between your bodies until you nearly lose your breath.

He takes in a quiet inhale that’s more like a gasp, and you want to change your mind. You want to throw yourself into his arms and apologize and tell him you love him and go back to how things were only 24-hours ago. You want to pretend you never saw that look on his face.

But you can’t. You have. You said it and for all he knows, you mean it.

“You love him,” he repeats, and it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. “You…no. No, you don’t love him, you…how can you love him? How…how?”

“I…I talked to him,” you lie, reaching up to swipe your knuckles across your cheek. “He’s…he’s my Jesse. He’s…I’ve always loved him. I just…I didn’t realize.”

He scoffs again, but it’s riddled with disdain and desperation. “Your Jesse.”

“Yes, my Jesse.” You don’t think your heart has ever broken this bad. “I’ve always loved him. I always will. And he…he explained, and I believe him. I’m choosing to believe him—”

“Oh, fuck that,” he nearly growls, springing onto his feet until he’s towering over you. “No, he…him? After everything he did to you, you fucking…you love him? You want to be with him?”

“Harry—”

“No. How can you…” He steels himself, and another tear falls from your eye. “You can’t love him. You can’t, I know you. Okay, I saw how you looked at him and I saw how you looked at me, and it’s not the same. You don’t love him, you’re just…you’re scared.”

He’s right, you are.

“I’m not scared, Harry, I just…I know what’s best for me,” you murmur. “And he’s what’s best.”

It tastes vile in your mouth. All of it, every lie, every false feeling, and you feel sick.

He steps back, and a part of you almost hopes he simply walks away so you won’t have to keep doing this to him. To yourself.

But maybe this is your punishment. To watch the way you ruin him as you do it. 

“You can do better than him and you know it,” he nearly sneers, but it’s sad the way he speaks. “And it doesn’t have to be me, but…fuck, you have to do better than him. You deserve so much better than him, Cherry, and I don’t…I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap, anxious to reach for him. “I’m sorry.”

He only shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t be. S’my fucking fault for thinking I could do better."

“Harry—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, but you know, undoubtedly, that he doesn’t mean it. “If you love him, then you fucking love him. I’m never gonna be able to change that.”

You feel as though you’re being ripped apart from the inside out. You’ve never experienced a pain like this before, and you imagine it’s still only a fraction of the pain he puts himself through in that ring. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and it’s enough to draw his attention back. “I never want to hurt you, Harry. I really do care about you, I just…”

He looks gutted. “You just care about him more.”

You wonder if he really believes you. You wonder if that small pull of his brows is because he’s hurt or because he knows what you’re really doing.

Either way, he steps back, and takes himself from you. Putting the first few feet of the eventual thousand between you. “It’s fine,” he murmurs once more. “I just want you to be happy, Cher. And if you’re happy with him, then…”

He can’t finish the thought. Can’t force the words between his gritted teeth, and you understand.

“Thank you,” you exhale, and your pulse begins to race. Because you know what comes next, and you aren’t quite sure you’re prepared. “And…I hope you figure everything out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, but there’s something dark in the way he speaks. Something you’re almost afraid to recognize. “I will.”

It’s ominous, but you suppose that’s all you deserve. “Right.”

He moves back even further, and you nearly collapse. 

“Harry?”

He pauses, hands disappearing into his pockets as though to shield himself from you.

“Thank you,” you call quietly. “For…for everything.”

His lashes flutter, and even despite the affliction written between the lines of his face, you realize he’s never looked so beautiful. “Don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

And all you can do is look down at your lap in order to shield him from the influx of tears that break free.

A moment passes of your soft hiccups and trembling hands before you hear his shoes shuffle across the concrete. He’s walking away. He’s leaving you behind. He’s saying goodbye. For good. You’ll never see him again, and he’ll never sit in that booth again, and he’ll never be your stranger ever again—

Two hands find your face. Lifting your head until you’re forced to look up and see him.

He’s here.

And he’s tugging you up onto your feet until he can hold you against his chest and really look at you. Thumbs sweeping just beneath your eyes to catch each falling tear.

Then…he kisses you.

You’ve kissed him before. Many times, in fact, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this…heavy. Never carried the kind of meaning it does right now as he keeps you against his lips for as long as you’ll allow. 

Because this is the last kiss.

You don’t want to let go. Don’t want to let him let you go. But he does all too soon and you’ve never felt so alone.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I couldn’t be who you need.”

And you want to scream. Want to tell him that he is. That he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But he’s already removing his hands from your face before you can.

And you’re forced to watch as the man that you love turns around…and walks away.

For the last time.

Next Part:

~ Outlawed*

Previous Part:

~ Reckless*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @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 @hsbabygirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave

[rangerbarbz]

First Time

Author’s Note: Y’all i am so sorry it’s been so long since i posted a fic. I am a junior in college and i have two jobs so i have been so busy. However expect some more stories now that it’s winter break! Hope everyone is having some happy holidays 🫶🏼

Summary: Reader and Ford go all the way for the first time together

It was a chilly night in Gravity Falls, Oregon when Stanford Pines and you decided to make some cookies. It was the perfect atmosphere for baking: comfy clothes, the temperature had dropped down, and the sun dipped behind the woods surrounding the Mystery Shack. The rest of the Pines family had went on an excursion to break into the theatre for a free movie, so you can’t imagine they would be back anytime soon.

Ford and you were in the kitchen trying to figure out what to make with the few ingredients you had available.

“Hmmm… So I’m seeing cinnamon here,” you said, looking into a cabinet next to the fridge. “I’m not seeing much else. What do you think about Snickerdoodles?” You grinned excitedly and faced Ford who was already smiling.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice resonating in you. God, his voice was so attractive. You remember hearing him talk for the first time in the library where you worked and your heart just melting.

He was in the fantasty section talking to himself when you walked by the aisle to reshelf a book. He was in the same area where the book needed to be relocated. Turns out you were holding the novella he was wanting to read, and you two struck up a conversation. He was kind and smelled delightful. You were too shy to ask him for his number, but a young girl who came into the library once a week for a crocheting club set you up on a date. You were unaware at the time this young girl was his great niece. The rest is history.

“Do you think everyone else will like them? I want to make sure these won’t go to waste,” you asked, scrunching your eyebrows together.

Ford scoffed as he was scraping flour from a measuring cup back into the bag. “Please, those things will be devoured. You have nothing to worry about.”

You laughed softly, standing up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Glad to hear that.” A small smile spread across his face.

While you two prepared the ingredients and mixed everything together, you filled Ford in on the workplace drama. He would never admit it, but he loved to gossip with you.

“I can’t believe Denise would do that,” he said in disbelief, shaking his head. “I mean who does she think she is?” You rolled the last ball of cookie dough in cinnamon and sugar before pressing it into the pan.

“Right?! Like come on, now. I thought we were civilized.” Ford chuckled at your comment and put the cookies in the oven.

“Some people just never learn.” He snaked his arm around your waist and put a hand on your hip, bringing you closer to him. You placed your hand on his broad back and leaned your head on his chest.

“We got about 25 minutes until these are done. Wanna see what’s on TV?” you suggested, looking up at him. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sure. I think that’s enough time to get through half an episode of ‘Ghost Harassers.’”

“Ah, man. Dipper’s got you hooked doesn’t he?” You giggled and began to walk into the living room, him following suit.

Ford sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I know it’s fake, but their reactions to these so-called ghosts are so funny.” He sat down on the recliner while you fiddled with the TV antenna to get it to the right channel.

It finally flickered to a group of men with flashlights running through an abandoned house screaming. “Ah! Got it!” you exclaimed. You ran over to Ford and sat on his lap. Your legs draped over his, feet hanging over the armrest. This time he kissed your cheek, his stubble tickling your face.

“Good job, dear,” he murmured in your ear. Butterflies formed in your stomach from hearing his low voice.

“Thanks, baby.” You leaned your head on his shoulder as one of his arms cradled you. He was so strong; you always felt protected by him. One hand was splayed across your stomach while the other was on your knee.

You were so engrossed in the show you didn’t notice Ford wasn’t paying a lick of attention. You were wearing loose shorts which exposed much of your legs, and he was entranced.

You lifted your head up to look at him, eyes drifting over your thighs. His hand remained still on your knee, however.

“Stanford?” You had a mischievous smile on your face.

He quickly looked over at you like he had just been caught doing something wrong. Since the lights were still on, you could see the blush spread across his face.

“Something catch your eye?” you teased, inching your face closer to his.

“I-uh. My apologies. I was distracted.” He cleared his throat and returned his eyes to the TV. Oh, so he was going to play dumb? You were going to drag it out of him.

“M-hmm. What was distracting you?” You egged on. He glanced over at you and back to the TV.

“Your, um, legs. They just looked very nice.” Ford answered quietly, avoiding eye contact with you. It was so cute to see Ford get flustered.

You had kissed and hugged, but never went much further than that. It was hard to find alone time, and Ford could be hesitant about showing affection. This didn’t bother you, though. You were willing to wait how ever long you needed to for him. He had been through a lot, so it’s reasonable for him to want to take things slow and gain trust.

“Ford, you can touch my legs if you want,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his. “Do whatever you want. I don’t mind.” You gave him soft kiss on his lips and cupped his face in your hands. Your fingers slid through his silver hair and down the nape of his neck.

He sighed into your mouth and you felt his hand slowly creep up your leg. His other was on the small of your back. His hand began to slowly travel up and down your leg, stopping to squeeze every now and then as you continued the kiss.

God, he was being so gentle with you and all you can think about is ripping his clothes off.

You shifted your body so you were straddling him without breaking contact with his lips. His hands started to squeeze your thighs a little harder, his thumbs rubbing your inner thighs.

You whined a little against his lips. You could feel his lips turn into a smile. You decided to deepen the kiss by opening your mouth and sliding your tongue along his lips. You felt him shiver as he welcomed you. What started as an innocent kiss began to turn into a make-out sesh. His hands had moved to your hips and were gripping them. Not tightly enough to hurt you, but enough to feel oh so good.

You broke away from the kiss when you heard the oven timer go off. “Dammit, cookies,” you joked, getting up from Ford’s lap. “Don’t move. I’ll be back for you, handsome.” You quickly pecked his nose and made your way into the kitchen. The Snickerdoodles smelled delicious as you pulled them out of the oven. You placed the pan on the stove top not wanting to damage the kitchen table from the heat. You removed your oven mitts from your hand and placed them back in the drawer where they came from.

“Cookies are done! Just-“ You were cut off by Ford scooping you into his arms and carrying you to his room. You were giggling uncontrollably all the way there feeling like a bride on her honeymoon.

He pushed open his bedroom door and gently placed you on his bed. He sat beside you, his eyes staring earnestly into yours. He took your hands into his, fingers intertwining perfectly together.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he started. “I am tired of dancing around these feelings I have for you. I want to be completely vulnerable.”

You were a little worried as to what he was about to tell you.

“I’m in love with you. I love everything about you, and I know in my heart this is deeper than surface level admiration. And…if you’ll let me. I want to show you just how much I love you.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes. You lifted your hand into his and began to plant kisses on each of his knuckles. “Oh, Stanford. I would be honoured, but are you sure you want to move forward like that? I know you like to take things slow.”

He shook his head and smiled at you while using his thumb to wipe away the tear falling down your cheek. “I’m totally sure. I was holding back my affections for you because I was scared. I’ve never felt this strongly for someone before, and I didn’t want to make careless mistakes. Now all I want is you. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You grinned and nodded your head eagerly. “Yes, please.” His face was pink perhaps from the whirlwind of emotions you both were experiencing.

He leaned forward his hands holding your face now. His movements were more sure than they had ever been before. You laid on your back, letting him take charge.

Your innocent kiss quickly turned rampant, exploring each other’s mouths. Your hands gripping his broad shoulders and moving through his hair once again. His elbows were on either side of your head, his breath becoming more ragged. His lips moved from yours to kiss down your neck. You moaned into his ear as sucked on a spot in the dip of your collarbones. There was sure to be a hickey there in the morning, but you didn’t mind. There was something erotic about having a mark from him.

Ford kissed down the other side of your neck, leaving yet another sign he was there on your collarbone. His mouth went to your ear to whisper, “May I take off your shirt?”

“Yes,” you hissed. That was all he needed. His fingers tugged the hem of your oversized shirt and pulled it over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra which had Ford somewhat short-circuiting. His eyes drank you in, eyes trying to capture your beauty permanently in his mind. He stared for so long you had become a tad insecure, so you crossed your arms over your breasts.

“No, no,” he moved your arms away quickly. “I’m sorry, dear. You’re just so…beautiful.” You felt your face heat up. His eyes were just so full of adoration, and it made you nervous.

“Thank you,” you replied softly. He smiled gently and started to kiss down your chest. They were as soft as feathers. He then kneaded at your breasts, letting out a sharp exhale. His calloused hands felt wonderful against you. His thumb caressed your nipple before he put it in his mouth. You yelped at the contact. His tongue swirled around your aerola as his other hand pinched your hard nipple between his fingers.

“F-Ford,” you breathed, your hands gripping his hair. He had began to suck at your nipple and repeated the same actions to your other breast.

He continued to move down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He got to your loose shorts and looked at you as to ask for permission. You nodded, your face becoming hotter.

Ford’s eyes glinted with lust as he looked into your eyes. “You know, I loved the way you said my name. Can’t wait to hear you say it more.” You could barely register how smooth that line was before he was removing your pajama bottoms. You didn’t wear underwear to bed so you were now completely exposed.

Ford sat up to look you up and down. His lips were parted slightly, and his hands gently rubbed your thighs. He looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N, you are the most heavenly sight I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Ford murmured. “You look like art.” His eyes had gazed down back to your now dripping core, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. He sure knew how to worship his woman.

“But frankly, my dear, I’m about to be very disrespectful to you,” he mumbled, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

“Oh God,” you moaned. He was making his way to your center but taking his sweet time. Ford was a loving man. However, you could tell a primal part of him had been awakened.

His placed sweet kisses along your folds before flicking his tongue along your clit to tease you. You cried out in pleasure as he dove into you. He licked a stripe inside you and moved his tongue back and forth. You heard him moan deeply as he tasted you. Your brain was becoming foggy from how good everything felt and how he enjoyed pleasing you. Your thighs pressed against the side of his head; his hands were massaging your hips.

“Stanford, please. I want to feel you.” You needed him so bad. He lifted his head up from your thighs, slick covering his chin and lips. His hair was a ruffled mess. God, he looked good.

“Of course, sweetheart.” His finger rubbed along your entrance. He breathed heavy as he slid a finger into you. You let out a sharp inhale as you adjusted to him.

“Ford…”

“You feel so, so good.” Ford pumped his finger back and forth in you. Your eyes were closed and your legs had started to shake. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. Seeing you come apart underneath him was almost too much for Ford.

You had decided that he had done enough for you. It was time to return the favor. “Baby, baby. I wanna ride you.” Ford stopped and slowly removed himself from you.

“Are you sure?” he asked. I don’t mind-“ You pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. You grabbed his face and kissed him passionately.

You separated from the kiss to see his eyes wide and a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Take off your shirt,” you demanded. He quickly removed his loose red shirt to reveal a toned, yet scarred body. You had actually seen him shirtless before accidentally when he came out of the shower in just a towel so this wasn’t a shock. You found it incredibly attractive. Although, it took lots of convincing for him to believe you.

You ran your hands over his chest and kissed him once more. “You’re so sexy, Stanford,” you whispered to him before biting his earlobe. You spastically kissed him all over his body, letting your hands now roam over his muscular arms. You couldn’t tell it by looking at him, but he was packing some heat under those sweaters. You were also grinding down on his painfully erect dick which caused him to whimper.

Ford sat up and held you close to him as you fumbled with pulling down his sweatpants. He sprang free and you lowered yourself onto him. He let out a guttural moan as he felt your walls tighten around him. His forehead was against your shoulder while you bounced up and down on him. His strong hands had grabbed onto your ass, his fingers pressing into the tended flesh.

“Y/N…Oh my…” You held his face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes while you fucked him. He had a loving look; you had an animalistic one.

“I’m… Not going to last much longer, darling,” he said between breaths.

“Me neither baby.” It was the truth. He already almost had you with his finger, but now that his length was inside you, you didn’t stand a chance. Your legs had started twitching and you threw your head back, allowing Ford to assault your neck further. His arms were now wrapped around you as you came insanely hard. You thought you were gonna see stars. It only took a couple more seconds for him to fill you up. His chest heaved up and down as he collapsed on his bed with you on top of him.

“That was…wonderful,” he sighed, placing a kiss against your temple.

“Agreed, but I think we need a shower after that,” you suggested.

Ford raised one of his eyebrows at you. “Round two?”

You laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Oh you bet.”

P.S. I didn’t look over this so if you see a typo or bad grammar no you didn’t

[steddieas-shegoes]

Wayne and Eddie are convinced Annie’s got herself a secret boyfriend.

She’s coming up with excuses why she comes home late nearly every night, says she was asked to stay on and couldn’t say no to the money, says she had to stop at the store but never has bags, says she broke down but was able to fix it herself.

They suspect it’s the new full-time clerk at the grocery store, Jerry, the one who started filling in for Joyce when Will went missing and then ended up taking over entirely when the Byers’ moved to California. He was nice enough, always gave Wayne and Eddie his employee discount when they had to get some groceries.

They just don’t know why she’s hiding it.

And then Vecna happens, Eddie’s comatose for nearly a week before he wakes up to his mama and Wayne and Steve and Jerry all by his bedside.

Jerry’s the first to speak: “Oh thank God.”

Annie lets out a sob and crumbles against Jerry’s side.

Wayne rolls his eyes and pats Eddie on the head, like this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with the dramatics today.

Steve smiles at him, waves his fingers, and says: “Not sure we should thank God or Metallica.”

Eddie falls in love in that moment.

Maybe it’s the morphine.

Maybe it’s the fact that Steve was by his side and knew Metallica.

Maybe it’s because whatever love was between Jerry and his mama was rubbing off on the entire room.

She came clean about it the next day when Jerry was volunteering at the school handing out some marked out food from the store.

“He’s great. You’ll like ‘im. Wayne likes him and Steve likes him-“

“Why would it matter if Steve likes him?”

Annie just raises a brow at him, he cowers as much as physically possible being held together by thread and bandages.

“You’ll like him just fine. He’s bringin’ cookies later, asked what your favorite was so he could get it right. Really wants to impress ya.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the most important person to me and he knows if ya don’t like him, he’s gotta beat it.”

“Mama, I’m not the one who has to date him.”

“But if we got married-“

“Woah. Married?!”

Annie at least has the wherewithal to look nervous.

“We’ve been seein’ each other for nearly two years.”

Eddie’s jaw drops, and he immediately regrets it when the stitches in the bite across his cheek pull.

“Two years?!”

“Well, I had to make sure he was decent!”

“It took two years to figure that out? How decent can he be?”

Annie rolled her eyes just as Jerry walked in the room holding a container of cookies.

“I know your mama said gingerbread was your favorite, but they were out, so I brought snickerdoodles. Hope that’s okay.”

Eddie snatched the container from his hand, ignoring the glare from his mama.

He took a bite and melted into the bed.

“Are they okay?”

He opened his eyes to see Jerry wringing his hands in front of himself.

“They’re perfectly decent, Jer. You like Metallica? Ozzy? Judas Priest?”

Jerry gulped.

“I like Joan Jett?”

Eddie sighed.

“Decent enough.” He looked at his mama, who was smirking. She knew he didn’t actually expect everyone to love his favorite bands. “He’ll do. Now let me nap, the nurse said I should sleep at least 18 hours a day like a koala or something.”

When he woke up from his nap, the cookies were on his bedside table, but Steve was sitting in the chair nibbling on one while he listened to a Walkman.

“Whatcha listening to?” Eddie asked loud enough for him to hear.

“Judas Priest. He’s kinda cool.”

Eddie felt his stomach dip, his heart skip.

“You’re decent, Stevie. Real decent.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Let You Go

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Sam Wilson

Summary: you run into an old face as you try to build a new life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Richard, hi,” you approach the table on the cafe patio. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” 

“Oh, don’t fret, I’m always impeccably early,” he stands to greet you and offers his hand, “so good to finally meet in person.” 

“Yes, finally,” you smile. “I really appreciate you coming all the way down here.” 

“I’m of a mind to try new things,” he says. “Especially local places. They put a touch more care into their food.” 

“Have you ordered? They have a great curried egg salad.” You suggest as you claim the seat across from him. He sits as well. 

“Just a coffee,” he says. 

“Sounds great,” you reply. “Could use one as well but if you’d rather just get to business--” 

“Go on, I can wait,” he assures as he checks his watch. “Our meeting is still ten minutes away, technically.” 

“I’ll be quick,” you get up with the promise. 

You head for the door and dip through to join the queue. You’ve been looking forward to the snickerdoodle latte all day and yet Richard spoiled that by being even earlier than you. It’s a good sign at least. It means you’ll probably get the commission. 

You wait your turn patiently. You sway back and forth. You greedily ogle the desserts in the case, your restraint at battle with your sweet tooth. Your eyes are drawn to the paper taped to the glass. ‘Under New Management. Fun changes coming soon!’ 

You come here a couple times a week and you had no idea. You suppose you didn’t ask. You’re always in autopilot; you get in, get your coffee, and go. 

Your turn comes and you step up to order your latte. The snickerdoodle is discontinued. Oh. You get the vanilla bean instead. No use being picky, much more important things to tend to. 

As you pay, a familiar tone catches your ear. It can’t be. The timbre flows through the open door to the back. You take your coffee and go. 

It’s all in your head. You’re not paranoid, just a little... cautious? It’s been months. You’re in a new neighbourhood, you cut all your former clients, well, the ones he didn’t chase away, and you have a new favourite coffee shop. Things are looking up. 

You take your order and return to the table. Richard looks up, smiling over his cup. 

“The coffee is great. I understand they have a new supplier,” he says. “I was chatting with the new owner, he said it’s hand-roasted.” 

“Oh, wow,” you smile. “I didn’t even know it was sold,” you push your shoulders up and set your cup on the table. “Did you want to see my mock-ups?” 

“I certainly would,” he says. 

You bring your bag into your lap and slide out your tablet. You flip back the case and scroll through your folders. You open his file and turn the screen towards him. 

“You can look through,” you say. “I used the pictures you sent me and I applied the changes digitally. I even have an invoice with an inventory of paints, flooring, fixtures. The furniture is separate for ease. And if there’s anything you want to switch out or change or keep, we can do that as well.” 

“Ah,” he takes the tablet. He drags his thumb across. You watch him as he focuses on the screen. “A talented editor too.” 

You turn your head. You don’t want to pressure him. It’s normal for clients to have feedback. You had your initial consultation online and you got his general ideas but it’s different when you can see it. 

“Did you have any alternates? I think this dove grey is immaculate but I’m curious. If we could do around the fireplace in a different colour perhaps?” 

“Oh, I could do something else. I did have another idea for that but it was entirely different. Rustic. The brick was red clay and the walls hardwood.” 

“Interesting, you have that?” He wonders. 

“Sure, it’s in my drafts.” you reach across.  

You take it back and shuffle through to your drafts. You return it to him and he clucks. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he remarks. You wince. “I’ve now brought myself to stalemate. I’m not sure which on I prefer.” 

“Oh,” you chuckle in relief, “well, it’s easier when you see swatches and materials. That could be the deciding factor.” 

“Probably best,” he agrees. 

He gives you back the tablet and you return it to the other file. You offer it again and he continues to browse. He hums and lowers it again. 

“I know one thing for sure. You’re hired,” he grins. “When can we begin?” 

“As soon as you like,” you try to repress your excitement. Admittedly it’s been difficult since your break-up. Relocating destroyed much of your existing client-base. 

“Wonderful,” he says. “Not to rush out but it is such a nice day and I think we are agreed. If you don’t mind, could you forward those images? I could offer more specific notes?” 

“Sounds good,” you take the tablet. “Thank you so much.” 

“Not at all,” he stands and grabs his cup, draining what’s left in the porcelain before setting it back down. “Have a wonderful day.” 

“You too,” you smile. 

He leaves and you watch after him. You’re ecstatic. You don’t have to dig any further into your savings. 

You sit back and grab your cup. You haven’t even tried the latte. It's not bad. Not the sort of vanilla that’s too sweet. 

“Is it good?” The voice startles you. Not only because it’s unexpected, but because it’s familiar. The same one you were sure you didn’t hear inside. There’s no way... “I changed the recipe. Upgraded the machines...” 

You look up and put the cup down. You gape at Sam as he steps closer and puts his fingertips on the wooden tabletop. “Lot of changes, huh, honey?” 

You gulp. “What?” 

“It’s a cute place but the management was a disaster. Tanking. But I made an investment--” 

“Sam,” you croak, “how...” 

“You blocked my number, yeah, I know.” He smirks. 

You blink. You know better than to argue. Disengage. You put your tablet in your bag and stand, abandoning the latte you’d looked forward to all day. 

He as quick as ever. He catches your wrist over the chair. You tug and look around, “Sam,” you hiss. 

“Shh,” he hushes you. “You know what happens when you make a scene.” 

He calmly sits and draws you closer. You try to resist but he’s too strong. You peer around. No one else seems to notice the tense encounter. If you cry out now, it will be just like that night you broke up with him. For the fourth time. 

He forces you down, onto his lap. Now that might catch a few glances. You shift and lean away from him, your hip pressing into the table. 

“Let me go,” you plead. 

“So, you moved on quick.” 

You wince. It’s been almost a year. 

“New place, new coffee, new... man,” he grits the last word. 

“He was a client.” 

“Oh, I know how you are with your clients,” he sneers. “All bubbly. You were never like that with me, baby.” 

“I tried. Sam, you know it’s over.” 

“I never agreed to that,” he snarls. 

“Sam,” you warn in a flat tone. “Let go or I will scream.” 

“You changed a lot,” he ignores the threat. “Your mom didn’t though. She’s still in the brownstone.” 

“Sam,” you repeat. 

“I really did miss hearing you say my name.” 

Your eyes wet with helplessness. How did it come to this? How did that charming, funny man you met all those years ago turn into this? You mourn what you thought he was more than the relationship. 

“You should finish your coffee,” he leans forward, crushing you against the table as he grabs your cup. “Go on.” 

You stiffen as he lifts the cup to your lips. You sip as you feel him watching. He snickers and pulls it away. He presses against you again to put it down. 

He tuts as he sits back, “ah, you got something...” he wipes your lip with his thumb and purrs. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper. 

“Because you’re mine,” he growls and runs his hand up your back, gripping the back of your neck, “you better not forget that again.” 

[elvensorceress]

very late wip wednesday that is not wednesday at all I'm sorry but have snickerdoodles of longing?

@daisyssousa @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @singitforthegirls @bekkachaos @sunflower-eddiediaz @hotshotsxyz @epicbuddieficrecs @daffi-990 @blutterlie @exhuastedpigeon @thelikesofus @livinginsunnyhell 💕 On your left you will see ridiculous pining idiots sharing a bed and being oblivious 👍 and Eddie being Completely Normal about Buck having Feelings(tm) for someone…

Buck lies down and turns onto his side toward Eddie. “Just in my head.”

Eddie reaches out and runs his fingertips along Buck’s forehead. “You still thinking about the breakup? Because he wasn’t good enough for you. No one is. You deserve someone who gets how special you are. You’re a catch.”

Buck huffs but the hint of a smile touches him. “I wasn’t thinking about that. Haven’t thought about him in a while actually.”

That’s something at least. “Good. He didn’t know how lucky he was.”

Eddie doesn’t know why other than his constant urge to be affectionate especially when someone needs cheering up, but as soon as he thinks about how he should withdraw and stop touching Buck, his hand has other ideas. And he has to dip his fingers into Buck’s curls and rub his head.

They’re so soft and so perfect at this length. They could even be longer and Eddie could bury his hand in more of them. 

The look Buck gives him is too piercing. For a second, it strikes through Eddie like lightning. But it’s gone in the next instant. 

Buck noticeably swallows hard. “I don’t know. Maybe he was unlucky.”

“If you’re going to insult my best friend,” Eddie warns and contemplates making a fist in Buck’s hair for emphasis on the warning. He doesn’t. But he does think about it. 

“No, I didn’t mean like that.” Buck leans into Eddie’s hand and smiles, just a little. “Not, ‘he’s so unlucky being with me’ but like, what if— what if he was right? When he said he knew he wasn’t my last. What if he saw something? Or noticed something?”

Eddie’s thumb wanders and brushes over Buck’s cheekbone, all absentminded instinct. “What kind of something?” 

Buck’s eyes flutter and close for a moment before he takes Eddie’s hand and holds it still against his own chest. “S-so-something like, something I didn’t know. Or didn’t realize. I didn’t know I liked him at first. I had no idea that’s what I was feeling. And— a-and what if that happened again? What if he knew I wanted someone else? Or that I have feelings for someone who isn’t him? And that’s how he knew he wasn’t my last.” 

Someone else? 

There’s someone else? 

Eddie doesn’t know why. But he can’t breathe. Or move. He looks at his own hand, happily, eagerly pressed to Buck’s chest over his heart. “You—” he says but loses the rest of the words. All he can do is echo. “Someone else? There’s someone? A new someone? Another someone?”

Buck shrugs, waves it off, doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. “N-no. No, but. I don’t know. Hypothetically. I guess. What if that were the case? What if that’s what he thought? And that’s why he ended it.”

What if his ex thought Buck wanted someone else and that’s why he got dumped? It’s plausible? The more concerning thing about this however is, “You’re not thinking about calling him again. Are you? You’re not going to try and get back with him? Please tell me that’s not what this is. You’ve been working so hard. We’ve baked so many things.”

Buck turns pink and shakes his head. “No, that’s not— it’s not what I mean. That’s not the point. He’s not the point. I was just wondering, you know? Since he realized I was crushing on him but totally unaware of it. Maybe it happened again. Maybe he knew before I did. What I feel. In theory, I mean. He knew I have feelings for someone else, so he had to break it off. So— s-so? That would make the whole situation unlucky. For him. Or both of us. If we were both having unrequited feelings for different people.”

That’s— sensible? Also so much to think about. How can Eddie think about any of it. How can there be another person already? That’s three in less than a year. Eddie’s had three relationships in his whole life. How does anyone manage feeling like that? Feeling and then not feeling or feeling something else while still stuck in the first feeling or trying so hard to feel something when there were no feelings whatsoever and you were already thinking that feelings were horrible— it’s too much. Way too complicated. “I guess. That would be unlucky.”

“Right? Unlucky.” Buck nods. Somehow with the energy of a nervous, twitchy squirrel. 

“Is there someone else? Another someone?” Eddie asks again. Because he can’t stop thinking he’s also missed something. Or everything. When did Buck meet someone new? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned? Why, again, are they back to crushes and this person I just met five seconds ago really sees me and unrequited— wait. “There is someone. How would you know it’s unrequited unless you have someone specific in mind?”

Buck lets go of Eddie’s hand. In fact, he moves Eddie’s hand back to his side of the bed and then deliberately lets go of it. “I was just wondering. It’s hypothetical. There isn’t anyone. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? We should sleep, yeah? Goodnight, Eds.” He turns away and switches off the lights and stays on his side with his back to Eddie.

Eddie pokes him in the back where he’s sensitive and ticklish. “You’re a fucking terrible liar.”

Buck bats his hand away and yawns. “Aaahhhmmmm not. So sleepy. Not lying. Sleeping.” 

Are they the fourteen year olds now? Eddie tugs the blankets around himself and wriggles on his back to get comfortable. “Whatever. You brought it up.”

[crabofthewoods]

no you’re so right

Yap all you want, but oatmeal raisin cookies are actually good

This is to the people who refuse to try it based off of its reputation, if you genuinely don't enjoy it then that's totally cool too!

[kolyasangel]

you've got such a sweet tooth

synopsis: you and sigma bake cookies together...

content: fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff `(˶ >﹏< ˶)′

Ever since you discovered what your boyfriend's favorite food was, you've been on a mission, searching the internet for the world's best cookie recipe to impress him. You found it absolutely adorable how Sigma loved cookies more than any other food. You cherished how his eyes lit up whenever you surprised him with freshly baked cookies, whether because he had a stressful day at the casino or you simply wanted to bake a sweet treat for him. 

Sigma loves all types of cookies- the classic chocolate chip, shortbread, snickerdoodle, the heart sugar cookies with strawberry jam, etc. Of course, he could buy cookies whenever he wanted to at a store or bakery, but his favorite ones are the ones you make for him. Your baking skills are simply unmatched! Nothing compares to the heavenly taste of your homemade treats, especially when you make something just for him. Sigma happened to be free today, creating a perfect opportunity to spend the day with him which also meant finally getting the chance to bake with him. 

So here you both were- standing in the kitchen as you prepared all the ingredients while Sigma was tying his hair up into a pretty ponytail. Though you were distracted from your task by the way his nimble fingers moved delicately through his silky hair. What a heartthrob. He had already styled your hair beforehand in a half-up, half-down hairdo and added a pastel ribbon to give it a lovely touch, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek after he finished. He always treated you like a princess, delicately and with the utmost tenderness. 

Today was Sigma's day off, one he had needed for a while. Sigma didn't like the idea of not being at the casino while it operated- it felt like leaving a baby unattended to him. However, his employees kindly insisted that they would take care of everything and that he should take a day off for himself, which he eventually agreed to. It worked out in the end anyway, as he would be able to spend the whole day with you. As much as he cared about the casino, he would do anything to spend more time with you when he got the opportunity. He let out a grin as he recalled the phone call between you both before his arrival.

"Oh, you're free today? Come home quickly! Pleaseee?"

Home. He had heard that simple word spill from your lips many times before, but it still sends shivers up his spine like the first. 

You had already set the oven beforehand and now you were adding all the dry ingredients together, carefully ensuring that every measurement was precise. While you were busy with your task, Sigma began to prepare the wet ingredients. He began to gather the ingredients, but not before noticing the cookie recipe on the fridge with a note in the corner that says "His favorite ♡ He likes it with an extra dash of vanilla." There was a warm feeling in his stomach, knowing how much you considered and cared about what he liked made his heart full.

"Can you help me open this?" You ask, making his attention turn to you.

"Of course darling." He says as he notices you having trouble opening a jar and takes it from you. 

It was such a mundane task, but your knees still felt weak as you watched him open the jar with ease. Strong hands yet such a gentle heart.

As Sigma mixed the dry and wet ingredients to form the dough, you dipped your finger into the flour and put some on his nose. You knew it would make him flustered, and you were proven right as his ears and cheeks quickly blossomed with red. He stammers your name and looks at you with his soft grey eyes before putting some flour on your cheek and giggling, leaving flour streaks on your face. 

"Hey!"

"You did it to me first!" He continued to laugh.

Sigma's adorable laughter and sweet smile made you feel warm inside. His laughter was like music to your ears. When you first met Sigma, you noticed that he didn't smile often, let alone let out a chuckle. But finally seeing him be comfortable around you makes you feel bliss. You take a paper towel and wipe the flour from each of your faces while still giggling with each other. 

You watched as he rolled up his sleeves and began to form little balls out of the dough. His exposed pale arms caught your attention as his soft muscles and veins made themselves visible with every movement. It was impossible not to stare. You were so mesmerized and wanted nothing more than to amorously trail your lips along his arms covering them with kisses, not leaving an inch of skin untouched. In an attempt to ease your flustered state, you hug him from behind and press your cheek against his back.

"Something wrong dear?" Sigma asks as he continues to work on the dough. He smiles to himself as he feels you pressed up against his body. 

"Nothing, you're warm." You don't dare to speak about how he made you feel hot and bothered by performing such a simple task. Your eyes closed for a second, enjoying the warmth your boyfriend provided. That was until the oven made a "beep!" noise to indicate it had finished preheating, causing your eyes to open again and taking you away from your blissful state.

"All done?" You ask as you notice Sigma finished rolling out the dough balls. He nods, and you let go of him as he carefully places the cookies in the oven.

As the cookies were baking in the oven, you contemplated what to do in the meantime. That is until Sigma pulled you to the couch and held you close to him so he could cuddle you. You lay on his chest and relax against him, enjoying his heat once again.

"Sigma, what's your love language?" You randomly ask him. 

"Love language? What's that? It sounds sweet." He asked as he looked up at you wide-eyed, eager to know the meaning. 

Your heart melted at his innocent curiosity. How was it possible for someone to be so incredibly cute?

"It's a way that you like to receive and show love to your beloved." You explained each love language, to help him understand better. Sigma carefully listened as you spoke, intently listening to everything you had to say. 

"Hm.. I like all of them, but if I had to pick one I would say words of affirmation! It makes me so happy when you tell me I'm doing a good job. I feel more confident in myself and want to continue to improve for not only myself but for you."

You smiled at his heartfelt words and gently stroked his bangs.

"What about you, love?" He asks as he leans into your touch.

"Well.. I like a little bit of everything, to be honest. I've noticed that you show your love in many different ways, and I feel so lucky and grateful to have a guy like you. You treat me so well and I couldn't ask for anyone better."

His cheeks reddened as you uttered praises about him. He leaned closer before his lips connected with yours. You smiled against his lips, enjoying this moment and the closeness between you both. 

Not too long after, a delicious and sweet aroma hits your nose.

"Want to check on the cookies?" You ask Sigma shortly after pulling away from the kiss.

The both of you looked at each other for a few seconds before getting up and racing to the kitchen, giggling like children. You and Sigma end up sitting in front of the oven to watch the cookies bake.

"Oooo"

You giggled at Sigma's childlike fascination. 

"I'm so happy." The sheer happiness on his face was something that couldn't be wiped off whenever he was with you. His eyes had a glimmer in them that told you he was happiest whenever he was with you, and you only. He turned to you as he felt your fingers brush against his cheek.

"When will they be ready?" He asks.

"They still have a few more minutes to bake."  

"Can we stay here?"

"Of course! The cookies will get lonely if we don't sit with them." You say enthusiastically.

The both of you continued to chatter as you eagerly waited, excited to taste the delicious dessert. Before you knew it, the remaining minutes passed, and it was time to take the cookies out of the oven. The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the room as you carefully set them down to cool for a little. While you allowed them to cool, you took the time to prepare two cups of tea to go with the cookies, selecting just the right blend. You chose delicate floral-printed plates and cups, setting everything on the table neatly and with great care. You poured tea into both cups and placed three cookies on each plate.

Sigma couldn't help but grin as he watched you arrange everything on the table neatly and in a cute manner, finding every detail about you so charming. Everything from how you moved oh so gracefully to the way your expressions changed as you were focused on your task. He also couldn't overlook how that ribbon in your hair just had to make you look even more princess-like, making a mental note to buy you more. He wanted to say something, such as "you're beautiful", he would get to see your cute blush once again. But nothing left his lips as words could not do justice to your beauty. He had to wonder if you were really this perfect all the time. 

"Thank you, darling, this is lovely." He tells you as you take a seat at the table. Sigma takes a bite of his cookie, immediately struck by the exceptional flavor. They were perfectly soft and chewy, with just the right amount of sweetness. 

"These taste amazing, love! Your cookies never disappoint." Sigma tells you as he relishes his cookies and tea. He felt like he could just drop down on one knee and ask for your hand in marriage right now. Soon, my love. Spending the rest of eternity with you wasn't even a second thought to him.

You smile at his compliments and playfully wave him off, not wanting him to flatter you too much. 

"Thank you, Sigma.. I appreciate it." You couldn't help but let out a laugh as you felt so comfortable in this moment. Happily enjoying your cookies and tea, spending time with your sweetheart boyfriend, what more could you possibly ask for? There was nothing else in life that could compare to this feeling. The feeling you get when he's with you. 

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 6

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Natasha and Daisy help Amelia bake for her soccer team's bake sale. A man decides to tell the truth.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Amelia’s playlist was full of Harry Styles, Halsey, and Girl In Red, blasting at top volume which had turned baking into more of a dance party. Natasha was spinning me around the kitchen while Amelia snapped a dozen pictures of us, laughing when Natasha dipped me.

“I need to get the brownies!” I laughed, slipping away from Natasha when she tried to dip me again. The counter was filled with cookies, blondies, and lemon bars that Natasha was in charge of packing neatly into cellophane bags with soccer balls printed on them. The toothpick came out clean so I swapped in a fresh tray of brownies, setting the timer. “When is your coach coming over to collect things?” 

“Kate’s stopping for coffee, do you guys want anything?” Natasha and I readily agreed, rattling off our usual orders. “Really, Phoenix, black?” 

“It’s hard to fu-fudge up,” She corrected herself mid sentence, earning a double eye roll.

“Smooth,” Amelia hopped up on one of the only clean spots on the counter. “I’m fifteen, not five, you can curse in front of me.” I gave Natasha an absolutely not look. “You should come to our first game, it’s sometime next month.” 

“We’d be happy to, Ames.” I passed her a cookie for “inspection”  and then another to Natasha. “What are your school colors? We’ll dress up,”

“Red and white, just don’t be embarrassing like Mav is.” 

“I’m betting he yells the loudest, doesn’t he?” Natasha asked, reaching for a second cookie. I smacked her hand away,

“He literally got thrown out for arguing with a ref, not once, but twice! Can you believe it?” From the stories I had heard about Maverick, it did not surprise me in the least that he had issues with authority, even at a high school soccer match. By the time the front door opened, almost all of the baked goods were bagged and ready to go.

“I’m here, you little monster and I brought more than coffee!” A woman’s raspy voice called out, the door slamming shut followed by three sets of footsteps. Coach Kate was not what I was expecting, a short woman with long, dark hair in cut off shorts and a crop top, her tanned skin covered in tattoos. She looked my age or even a little younger, carrying a cardboard drink carrier. “Hey, y’all must be Phoenix and D. I’m Kate,” The two girls behind her looked exactly like her but even the quick math was not mathing with how old the girls were but I didn’t dwell on it as she handed me my iced macchiato. 

“I’m Daisy, thanks for the coffee, Kate.” 

“Yeah, thanks! Do you want a cookie?” Natasha offered her up our rejects pile, cookies that she and Amelia had accidentally broken throughout the morning. Kate snatched one of the snickerdoodles, 

“Thanks. Girls, why don’t you go practice drills while the adults talk.” 

“Alcohol’s in the pantry!” Amelia shouted, hurrying out of the back door with her friends. Natasha and Kate were on the same wavelength, heading straight for the pantry.

“There’s tequila!” 

“Daisy, you’re a girl after my own heart if you love tequila,” Kate announced with a laugh, “Sometimes José is the only thing that helps after a day with the girls.” 

“Are they your nieces?” I asked, pulling the final pan of brownies out of the oven, testing them with a toothpick.

“My sisters but I have full custody,” Kate explained, pouring three shots, “The oldest is Bryley and the youngest is Mariah, they’re sixteen and fifteen.” 

“They seem like good kids,” Natasha noted, glancing out of the window. Amelia, Bryley, and Mariah were taking turns juggling a soccer ball. “But damn, two teenagers at what, thirty? That’s got to be a lot.” Kate shrugged, lining up three more shots.

“I mean, yeah, it’s fucking awful but they’re also amazing. They’re less like my sisters at this point and more like my kids.” I looked out at the yard, watching the girls laugh and play. Did I want kids? I never had before, not even when Harvey talked about how much he loved his girls, something my therapist had hinted at was connected with the trauma of losing my parents. Which, duh. But the idea was starting to sound more appealing the more I tossed it back and forth in my head. My phone buzzed as Kate pushed another shot towards me.

Jake: How’s it going?

Daisy: Ames’ coach dropped by and now I’ve done like 4 shots in ten minutes

Jake: Tequila?

Daisy: Tequila. 

Jake: Phoenix drinking too?

“Tell Jake to leave you alone, it’s girl time!” Natasha protested, easily grabbing my phone from my hands. 

“You don’t know it was him,” I grumbled, thanking my lucky stars that I had managed to hit the lock button. Kate looked between the two of us, one perfectly shaped brow arched.

“Who’s Jake?” 

“Her boyfriend,”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He wants to be your boyfriend and you want to be his girlfriend, you’re just ignoring the situation because it stresses you out.” I flipped her off, not knowing what to say to that. Kate, bless her, passed me another shot. 

“And this is exactly why I don’t date, well, that and the two gremlins I’m raising.” And that was exactly why I didn’t date often either, minus the raising two gremlins part. Being single was simple, all I ever had to do was worry about myself, my friends, and my family. But Jake had just slipped himself so easily into my life that it didn’t feel like the inconvenience of my prior relationships, where I had to bend and compromise to reach an agreement on everything. He was simply there, holding my hand, kissing my hair, sending Natasha home with bags of M&Ms for me at least once a week, and constantly checking in with me over the phone. 

“Give me my phone, Tasha,” I held out my hand, “Or I’m telling the daggers about spring break in Miami.” Natasha practically threw the phone at me, Kate’s boisterous laughter filling the kitchen.

“You guys are a riot but I should probably head out, the team mom wants me to drop off all the bake sale stuff soon.” The three of us got the car packed and thankfully, Bryley had her license and dutifully took the keys from Kate. My head was buzzing from the tequila as we cleaned the kitchen, listening and dancing to Amelia’s music. We were halfway through cleanup when I remembered Jake’s texts.

Jake: ?

Jake: Sweetheart, are you drunk at 11am?

Jake: Do you need me and Javy to come and get y’all?

Daisy: Sorry! Got distracted, yeah we’re drunk but don’t worry. Tasha ordered pizza and we’re going to hang out for a few more hours

X

The metal of the cuffs cut into my wrists as my lawyer droned on and on about how we were out of appeals and that the state had set a date for my execution. I had a month left to live. Somebody had better warn the devil I was coming. 

“Mr. Lance, do you understand what I’m saying?” I hadn’t been listening but I nodded, adjusting in the cold metal chair. “Unless you have something else to offer, the Governor will not be extending a stay of execution.” 

“I’ve got something to offer,” Those FBI bastards would be mad as hell and so would the rest of the soft, sad world when they heard the news. “How does a full confession sound?” My lawyer, a public defender in a cheap suit sighed, rubbing at his wrinkled brow.

“Mr. Lance, you’ve already been found guilty of ten counts of murder.” Ten, that was a rookie number and I was anything but a rookie. I laughed,

“And what would happen if I confessed to more?” 

“Well, they’d have to investigate your claims and if they found them credible, then they would put you on trial.” And with all the information I had to give, I’d be on trial for the next decade.

“Call the FBI and tell them I’ll confess to twenty-one more murders,” The man went white as a sheet and I half expected him to puke on the table, “But I’ve got conditions.” 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @cinderellasmissingshoes @carolina-on-my-mind03

[ch3rryknots]

i can take it┊cl16

*.·:·. charles leclerc x oc ✦ angst ✦ song .·:·.*

note : enjoy ᰔᩚ

calista tucked herself to bed, alone once more. charles had been gone for hours that evening, and it seemed he was rarely home anymore. but tonight was different, as he had disappeared for even longer after a particularly bad race weekend. this one had been worse than before, with him losing control and hitting the barriers during qualifying. calista’s worry for his safety consumed her, pacing back and forth while anxiously awaiting confirmation of his well-being over the radio. his engineers had declared the car unfit for sunday's race, and his frustration was painfully transparent as he walked right past calista. her arms, open and full of concern, waited in vain for his embrace that never came.

as she lay in bed, the memory of how it felt when he had a good weekend was almost slipping away. good weekends were the ones where charles stayed home, and she sat with him, glancing towards him as he laughed lightly to a movie. on those weekends, she would bake cookies — thumbprint cookies, chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodle cookies — but never oatmeal raisin. charles despised raisins and she couldn’t fathom baking them if he wouldn’t enjoy them by her side. honestly she didn’t miss oatmeal raisin cookies all that much; it was okay.

she coveted the smile he would give her after taking a bite of the cookie. this is amazing, cali, he’d say, thanks for making me cookies. sometimes, he’d even give her a kiss on the cheek - but only sometimes.

the remembrance of his touch was slipping away.

calista's ears caught the jingle of keys slipping into the front door's lock. it was as though her hearing had sharpened recently, allowing her to gauge his mood from the subtle cadence of his footsteps – the weight they carried, the haste they conveyed, or often the sorrowful drag they bore.

from where she lay, she watched his shadow make it’s way through the bedroom doorway and veer left. the dim glow of the closet light seeped through the cracks of the closed door and she can hear clothes ruffling and drawers shutting semi-harshly. he switched off the light, and passing by the foot of the bed, seemingly indifferent to calista's presence, as he disappeared into the bathroom.

the sink ran softly, interrupted by a few starts and stops before the door handle turned once more. calista's heart quickened as he drew closer to the bed. he was almost mere inches away, nearly within arm's reach. the sensation was exhilarating, like a high school crush sitting beside you for the very first time.

the other side of the bed dipped, the sheet rising as he slipped beneath it. a cold puff of air accompanied the blanket falling, sending a shiver across calista's skin. although she was facing away, she instinctively knew he was lying on his back, he always said it was better for your spine.

she shifted ever so slightly closer, not until their bodies touched, but just enough for his warmth to swirl across her skin. with her eyes gently surrendering to closure, it was as if she could finally breathe.

turning to face charles, her gaze fell down to his hand — the hand that her own perpetually yearned for. she missed his arms around her terribly. charles had changed, from the affectionate man she once knew to someone who was now distant, showing no desire for physical contact.

unable to resist any longer, she let her hand slide into his, and in that moment, everything felt perfectly aligned—the way her fingers slotted right into his, a reunion that felt natural, as if they were extensions of the same being.

she stole a glance at his weary eyes fixed on the ceiling. there was a time when she could discern every passing thought behind those eyes. he used to love that she could read his mind, articulating things he hadn't even realized he felt. yet, as she sifted through the depths of his gaze, it was as though there was nothing to grasp onto, just a profound, unsettling radio silence.

propping herself up on her elbow, she remained clasping his hand and looked further into his eyes. with her free hand, she cradled his cheek, frowning as she met his vacant gaze. tracing her thumb gently along his cheek, i’m sorry, she murmured softly, it’ll get better, i promise. he was breathtakingly beautiful, and the sight of him so emotionally distant was a wretched ache. she feared he might not fully grasp the depth of her love for him.

she gently lowered her head and planted a kiss on his cheek, something she hadn't been able to do for months. he tasted like starlight. but, the kiss ended all too abruptly, vanishing before her mind could fully absorb it. it felt as though she had just brushed her lips against his skin, yet he was already pulling away. she wasn't ready to let go of him just yet...

she scanned his face, desperately seeking any hint of reciprocation for the overwhelming love she felt when looking at him. it was a love that twisted her stomach in a way that could bring her to her knees in tears; a love that consumed her entirely. she adored every facet of him, every inch of his mind, of his soul. but when she searched and searched for even the faintest glimmer of reciprocation, all she found was the gaze of a stranger staring back at her.

she longed for her husband, aching in his absence.

charles released her hand and turned away, his words barely audible as he muttered that he needed space. he took any warmth with him, leaving behind only her profound solitude to hold her.

calista’s eyes spilled over with hot tears, rolling down her scorching cheeks. she was so enraged. she wanted to scream—she wanted him to scream, to yell at her, for him boil over and explode with rage. she yearned for him to spill out every irritation, every vexation, even if it was directed towards her. she needed him to seize anything within reach and hurl it across the room, to grab the lamp and swing it into the wall, shattering the ceramic into fragments. and if that still wasn't enough, she would have let him use her, to tear her apart with his bare hands until there was nothing left, not even anger. she craved some kind of reaction from him, any response at all, but he simply turned away.

౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ

[mandomaterial]

hey there! I was wondering if you can do a reader who has bright red hair? I'm talking about full blown reeeeeeeed hair.

Like, the reader visits the sully family along side norm and max, tonowari sees reader and is very intrigued by her hair? Bonus if she has freckles! Thank you! I love reading your work! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Ofc my dear snickerdoodle, im sorry this took me so longgggg… sorry if it feels rushed? And i think he’s a little occ… i guess it’s got mor of a “young Tonowari” vibe :3

Masterlist

Tonowari with a redhead

- it was a relatively regular visit for Max and Norm, that they scheduled a couple times a year, but for you? Oh, this was your very first time out of the forest and you were almost bursting with excitement! You had begged and begged them to let you come as well and finally, they let you, even if they were a little hesitant, you didn’t look quite like the standard human and they were quite nervous about the Na’vi’s reaction.

- The anomaly you had? Fire red hair! Your hair was something you’d always been proud of, you could say that you’d always seen the world differently and that the world always saw you differently. No one you knew had hair as vibrant as yours so you always deemed yourself a little more special amongst other kids or teens, some of them had different opinions about your hair, and more than a few times you got asked if you dyed it, some older people also shamed you for it sometimes, telling you that it was unnatural, the color of the devil and that you should dye it black or brown.

- those words and opinions definitely hurt sometimes but you never even considered changing your hair, it would go against everything your parents taught you and against everything you believed. So when you joined the avatar program, you were quite nervous about your team's reaction, but luckily Grace was there. She had red hair just like you and she made sure no one ever even dreamed of mocking her for it!

- but back to present events, you were sitting in the back of the heli, fiddling with your hair as you gazed at the astonishing scenery of the ocean, waves crashing and Ilu jumping over them. Just then you heard Norm yell “We’re almost there, get ready”

- And there it was, the island collection that formed Awa’atlu. Truly a sight to be seen. The landing went over quite smoothly and soon enough you were greeted by the Sully’s, getting bombarded by bear hugs from everyone, even little Tuk that wasn’t so little anymore.

- but even if the people had already seen humans, all eyes seemed to be glued to you. It made you a little uncomfortable but you couldn’t blame them, surely they hadn’t seen anyone with hair like yours. And natural to be interested in something new. but there was one pair of sticking blue eyes that didn’t seem to want to let go, even after all the commotion had settled.

- Kiri showed you to the guest tent that you’d be staying at and all the while she complimented your hair and asked all types of questions, it really made you happy that someone liked your hair this much! But because the two of you talked so much, Kiri totally forgot about what she was supposed to tell you about dinner!

- It was already dark and your stomach was already growling like the one of a starved animal, maybe they didn’t eat dinner? No way, maybe they all eat by themselves? Yea, that’s probably it. Thinking about it like that made you quite sad, no one was thinking of you.

- you decided that it was best to go for a little walk, maybe you’d be able to find some fruit or something. Opening the flap and finding our way to the beach was easy enough so now all you had to do was walk around.

- your bare feet carried you along the shore, sometimes dipping into the water, whilst keeping an eye out for something to eat. The village was already fleeting from sight as you reached the more rocky parts of the beach.

- but it seemed that you weren’t alone anymore, just a few meters in front of you, sat the strong and mighty leader of the Metkayina, Tonowari. He was leaning against a pretty large boulder, looking out to the wild sea. Not sure if you should approach him, you decided that you’d just sneak past him.

- unfortunately for you, the sand crunched under your small feet and of course Tonowari noticed you, but he understood that if you didn’t want to be noticed, then he wouldn’t react, so he just kept on looking forward.

- a relieved sigh left your lips when you successfully snuck past, and as you looked at your surroundings, there you saw it. A large tree, perched on a large boulder that bore wonderful looking, juicy, round, blue fruit.

- You couldn’t stop a little gasp from slipping and you knew that you had to try and get a few! So with a rumbling stomach, you hiked up your let between a little crevice in the rock, grabbed onto a few ragged edges, and pulled yourself up. Truth be told, it wasn’t that easy, you had to change positions a bunch of times and had to really manifest your muscles to even attempt to pull yourself up.

- but in the end, you stood atop the boulder, now facing another problem, why was this tree so tall?!? Slowly the frustration was getting to you but you paid it no matter. You wrapped your fingers around edges and cracks in the bark and tried to scale up the dark brown trunk. To say the least, this was raven harder than the boulder. You slipped and fell more times than you could count but you were determined to not let this stupid old tree get the batter of you! Another reason was that your poor stomach was still growling and grumbling, pushing you to try even harder. It felt like hours had passed and you’d still made barely any progress, only ever getting halfway up before gravity pulled you back down.

- All the while Tonowari kept watching you, he’d snuck closer after just a few minutes and decided to observe you. You were truly a strange being, the first one he’d ever seen with hair like yours, red as the flames that illuminated the shore by night. The day you arrived, you’d captured his interest instantly and he’d thought about how to talk to you ever since.

- as he continued to watch, he noticed that you got higher and higher and soon he’d started to worry about you falling, so he silently made his way up the rock and waited right next to the tree. Not a second later your fingers grazed the fruit, snatching one piece after the other and letting it fall to the ground to keep your hands free, but what you didn’t notice, was that the fruit never came in contact with the ground, instead, Tonowari kept catching them with ease, resting them in the crook of his arm.

- your hand reached up to pick one last piece, when suddenly your feet lost their grip on the little boom in the bark and your fingers slid off the branch you were holding onto, earning yourself more than a couple splinters. In the first few seconds you were falling, your mind started racing, panic flooding your system in fear of getting hurt. You slammed your eyes shut and curled together, hoping to lessen the impact, but it never came.

- instead, you felt something firm yet strong hold you in mid-air, a quick look of confusion washing over your face before you opened your eyes when you heard a little chuckle. You let one of your eyes crack open and what you saw absolutely baffled you, the utterly handsome clan leader of the Metkayina? Seriously? It took a second for you to realize that he was holding you with one arm, his biceps pressed against your back and his wrist under your butt, before your face turned pink, almost the same color as your hair. You wiggled and squirmed, trying to get out of his hold but his hold on you was tight. So with only one option left, you looked up at him “Please let me go?” it came out as more of a question.

- Tonowari shot you a sly grin but gently placed you on the ground nonetheless, keeping his eyes on you. “Thank goodness you didn’t fall, huh?” He tried making conversation as he held out a piece of fruit to you. Your hand, small in comparison to his, gently grasped the fruit, slowly piling one piece after the other until your arms were full, “How’d you catch me anyway?” “Well, when you snuck past me I got curious, you can’t blame me for following such a pretty girl as yourself, can you?” Your face got impossibly redder. He thought you were pretty?

- “Come along, you must be tired” he instructed calmly even though he was clearly smirking on the inside thinking about how he still had his charm going. Of course, you followed the tall blue man as he let you to the water, your feet putter pattering against the sand as you took twice as many steps as he did.

- the two of you sat down, you crossed your legs, and placed all of your loot on your lap. You lifted one up, holding it in front of your eyes, looking at the texture. It seemed rough and thick, how were you supposed to eat this? Just bite into it right? You opened your mouth, just about to sink your teeth into the flesh when a large blue hand suddenly snatched it out of yours.

- “Whoa there, you shouldn’t eat the outside shell, look” he pressed the fruit between his thumbs, and with one hefty crack he split it open, the inside was a gentle pink color and the texture reminded you of a mango. Amazement struck your face and you wanted to try opening one too, it looked so easy! Albeit the fruit was a lot larger in your hands than in his, you held a second one just like he did, pressing your thumbs to it and pushing with all your might, but nothing happened. You tried again but again, nothing. Tonowari couldn’t help but let a little chuckle slip, hearing this you felt a little dejected and embarrassed, turning to face the other way.

- Tonowari instantly stopped laughing and got a guilty look plastered on his face “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad” he reached over and took the unopened fruit from you and replaced it with the two open halves. “Please try it, tastes great” You gave him a little nod and took a generous bite. Your eyes lit up, millions of sparkles shimmering across your irises, showing Tonowari just what he needed to know, you liked it. As you continued eating, his eyes haven’t once left you, he was so curious about you, you looked so different, like straight out of a fairytale where you were the gorgeous heroine.

- he was so curious as to why you looked like that, and the closer he looked, the more he noticed, you also had little spots covering your nose and cheeks, quite like his own, but these didn’t seem to glow. Were they different? Or were you perhaps sick? Concern washed over his face at the thought of you being ill. So with a worried tone in his voice, he asked “Do you feel ill?”

- you shot him a confused glance wondering what he meant because as far as you knew, you weren’t sick at all. You shook your head and mumbled “No, do I look sick?” you asked worriedly. “No, not necessarily, but your spots aren’t glowing,” he said as he gently treated his finger over your nose and along your cheek. You weren’t expecting this at all, so of course you turned cherry red not a second later.

- you started to giggle at the misunderstanding, he thought that your freckles were the same as his bioluminescent spots! Tonowari flopped his head to the side, not quite getting what you were laughing at until you finally started explaining. You told him that you were born with these spots and that they were called freckles. You explained that throughout the year the number of freckles changes, in summer you get more because essentially they’re just little spots that are made from melanin, that gets visible if you come in contact with a lot of sunshine.

- he seemed quite interested and asked further questions about your freckles and your hair, he asked if you’d also been born with your almost magical-looking hair and you confirmed. The two of you talked for hours upon hours, and every second you spent with him, you felt your attraction to the man grow as well. Little did you know that Tonowari also seemed to gain more and more interest for you.

- but as everything good, it had to come to an end. You started yawning and you were barely able to keep your eyes from closing, so you thought that resting your head a little on the sand would be a good idea, just for a few minutes. All the while Tonowari was telling you a story about his childhood and teen years when he noticed that you stopped responding. He looked over to you, checking if everything was alright when he heard the tiniest of snores leave your plush lips. He couldn’t help but let a little giggle slip, without even thinking, one of his hands reached over and gently brushed a few loose strands of red hair out of your face and behind your ear. He thought that your red hair suited you all too well.

- he didn’t want to wake you again, as you had had enough of action for today, so he shuffled over and kneeled next to you, his eyes wandered over your sleeping form for a moment before he gently slipped his hands under your back and the bend of your knees, picking you up just a second later, it surprised him how small you were, he towered over you and he could easily carry you with one arm, that made his pride swell a little, being as strong as he is.

- The people of the village were long asleep, everything silent and almost pitch black, only the stars helped aluminate his path. He walked over to your hut and placed you inside, wishing you nice dreams.

- Bonus headcanons

- The next day he asks if he can braid your hair and ofc you say yes. He sits you in front of him and starts braiding. He defiantly isn’t used to braiding such thin hair but he makes do with what he’s got, he wants to impress you after all.

- it takes a bit but soon enough your hair is done up beautifully with shells and pearls braided into it. You are in total awe and ask him to teach you next time. Since then he starts collecting and making hair accessories that have a nice contrast to your unusual hair color, along with a few necklaces and bracelets of course.

- You often got stared at by the people, which wasn’t new to you, but whenever you were with Tonowari, they certainly minded their business more.

- and since your first encounter, Tonowari makes sure that you have lots of snacks and drinks starched in your hut if you ever miss communal meal times, or forget to get anything door yourself, but soon enough you start bringing your snacks to him and eating them together. Whenever the two of you eat together Tonowari feels like he’s on cloud 9, absolutely elated and almost vibrating with excitement!

- whenever you go for a swim it's very easy to spot you because of your hair and if Tonowari has time, he’ll always join in. He also shows you his skimwing and offers you a ride, which you gladly accept.

- turns out, heights and speed were super fun but diving under and feeling water crash into your face and up your nose isn’t so much to your liking, o you decide to stick with the ilu.

- all in all, you had a great time with the Metkayina, especially with their leader and you absolutely cry when you have to leave. Tonowari is also quite upset because he grew so fond of you in such a short time and now you’re just being ripped away from him. He makes you promise that you’ll visit again soon, and that promise turns into a monthly visit that gradually gets longer and longer.

[thekrows-nest]

Hi im baking gabby and LT cookies. What’s their favourite flavours?

[also cast fav flavour in gen but mostly them]

Gabby isn't one for sweets like. At all. Just never liked them, even as a kid.

But she'd feel like a jerk if she told you to not bake her cookies.

She sometimes has those like... shortbread pecan cookies and dips them into her tea.

LT isn't real picky, but he would definitely have a liking for mint chocolate cookies of pretty much any sort.

For the others, I'll out them under the cut.

Krow would like cookies with cinnamon sugar I think, or are vanilla-y.

Luke is all about peanut butter and chocolate cookies.

Jazzy is a small child and will devour any cookie you put in front of her.

Eliyah would say he really only likes high quality cookies and can tell if they're poorly crafted (not really unless it's like, some Kroger off brand crap). Hilariously pretty simple in that typical chocolate chip is his favorite.

Mary is also not real picky. She'll accept whatever cookies you give her. She is pretty partial to snickerdoodles though.

Camilla likes snow ball cookies

Naila's favorite are no bake cookies.

[baravaggio]

sophia do u have any vegetarian/vegan holiday recipes 🤲🏼

I'm so glad you asked, of course I do!

Some of these things are from my cookbooks, so anything with a book emoji will be shown below the read more just to save space

Starting with desserts:

Vegan chocolate pie (Nora Cooks) - my favorite one to make for thanksgiving, my family (all meat eaters) loves it so much that I end up making two every year! It's really important to use the tofu that comes in aseptic packaging (the kind that's shelf stable) because the refrigerated kind WILL taste like tofu and you don't want that lol...works great in an Oreo crust or just as a mousse too!

Chocolate pecan pie (Isa Chandra Moskowitz)

Cranberry Spice Oatmeal Cookies (Isa Chandra Moskowitz) - these have great flavor but I recommend subbing butter for coconut oil so they don't spread super thin

Vegan Coffee Cake (Vegan Richa) - great for breakfasts! You could easily make them into coffee cake muffins too

📚 Pastry Crust (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's The Superfun Times Vegan Holiday Cookbook) - great staple pie crust that gets its flakiness from a mix of olive and coconut oils! I use this for savory stuff like quiches and pot pies too. Highly recommend the cookbook, it covers everything from Valentine's Day to Passover to Halloween!

📚 Chocolate Gingerbread Cookies (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Isa Does It cookbook)

📚 Chai Spice Snickerdoodles (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Isa Does It cookbook)

Savory Thanksgiving & Christmas things:

Easy Vegan Gravy (Nora Cooks) - really simple & much better than the store bought stuff

Easy Vegan Quiche (Jessica in the Kitchen) - more for lunch/brunch than anything, but I like to make a couple these around the holidays because they're so easy to customize & put together

Vegan Alfredo Sauce (Purely Kaylie) - you can put this on pasta of course but I like to use this to fold into mashed potatoes or make a gratin with during the holidays!

Green Bean Casserole (Isa Chandra Moskowitz) - made this one year at the request of a family member, it came out great!

📚 Maple-Mustard Brussels Sprouts with Radicchio and Pecans (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's I Can Cook Vegan cookbook)

Creamy Polenta and Mushroom Ragout (Good Food) - just comfort food tbh!

📚 Glazed Tofu Ham (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's The Superfuntimes Vegan Holiday Cookbook) - I swear by this and make several before thanksgiving because I inhale them - imo works better as a filling for sandwiches or on the side for breakfast, but could be used as a main dish as well!

📚 Winter Squash Cups with Wild Rice, Hazelnuts, and Cherries (Isa Chandra Moskowitz's The Superfuntimes Vegan Holiday Cookbook) - made this once and used cranberries instead of cherries!

Some Hanukkah stuff! which I highly recommend trying even if you don't celebrate Hanukkah, my family does a mixed holiday celebration so I keep these in my rotation for those occasions:

Latkes and Vegan Sour Cream (Isa Chandra Moskowitz) - can also dip in applesauce or top with caramelized onions if you prefer sweet!

📚 Raspberry Rugelach (Isa Chandra Moskowitz) - classic, chocolate, and raisin variations from her holiday cookbook

📚 Matzoh Ball Soup (Isa CHandra Moskowitz)

And I have to include a couple heavy hitters, these are for if you're serious about spending a lot of time in the kitchen and maybe want to show off a little lol - well worth the effort, but not for everyone!

Succulent Roast Turky (The Gentle Chef) - I haven't tried a seitan turkey that's come close to being as good as this one. Lots of time & ingredients, but well worth the effort

Anything from Miyoko's Artisan Vegan Cheese cookbook - the best vegan cheese you will ever eat. Requires a couple weeks prep because you have to allow time to ferment the base liquid and culture the cheese - I'm starting mine today! I made a detailed post about my experience trying this out here, and there's images with instructions for making the rejuvelac, cashew base, and a Boursin-style cheese in it as well! Of course if you don't want to do all that you can buy the Miyoko's cheese that's sold in stores, those are great too 😅

Peter Reinhart's Bagels (Smitten Kitchen) - if you suffer from lack of good bagels in your area, this is one way to fix that! Bagels are essential to any holiday celebration in my family so I figured I'd include this lol

Here's the stuff from the cookbooks!

Pastry Crust:

Chocolate Gingerbread Cookies:

Chai Spice Snickerdoodles:

Maple-Mustard Brussels Sprouts with Radicchio and Pecans:

Glazed Tofu Ham:

Winter Squash Cups With Wild Rice, Hazelnuts, and Cherries:

Vegan Sour Cream:

Rugelach (Classic, Chocolate, and Raisin variations highlighted):

Matzoh Ball Soup: