#apologizing for Dave is never wrong

[nerdieforpedro]

Hellooooooooooooo.

Quick question for ya!

Is Dave York a cat person or a dog person?

Sincerely,

Megan, a Dave York apologist.

I too am a Dave York apologist. He did nothing wrong, she should have kept to her own business, that lady who got shanked could have more books out. Just saying, I may have thought about it a bit.

In any case, to actually answer the question, I think at home, he wouldn’t mind a cat. They both scope each other out, play when they feel like, be moody, bat at some yarn. (Maybe Dave wouldn’t be batting at yarn but maybe with the kitty.)

In his profession, he would use a dog for attacks and sniffing out threats. He might even bring it home to rescue it, can go on walks with it and use it to scape places and people out with arousing suspicion. (He may arouse other things and he’s adept at that as well.)

Dave, like in many things is highly adaptable and could be either, but I know he prefers to have things and people that are of use.

Final verdict: Dave can appreciate cats but prefers dogs because he can have an unconditional buddy and a four legged comrade who can help at home and at work - possibly.

No matter if Dave has a dog or a cat or a snake (I mean he does have a snake but I mean the pet kind 😉) I’ll still apologize for this man and act like I was blind. I didn’t see anything and I was distracted by his baritone voice, didn’t understand what he was saying. Plan? Murder? Cover up? Don’t know her? He had a cute dog though. 🐕

Thank your for the question @goodwithcheese ❤️

Thinking more about Dave is always a good thing. 😆

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — six. picket fence dream.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. it's confession time. no use of y/n. word count: 2k+ a/n: you might hate or love me let's see which is it

      Rossi doesn’t usually come to his apartment, especially with no warning on a Sunday, especially at 7AM, so when Hotch sees his less than pleased expression through the peep hole he knows it’s bad.

      “A crying drunk mumbling fucking mess. Porca miseria!” Dave wastes no time, the words finally free after hours of keeping them in.

      “Good morning to you too, Dave.”

      “Don’t. You know what you did.” Yes, Hotch knew. But he definitely didn’t expect this as the consequence. Still, he couldn’t even feign ignorance.

      “So, you took her ho—” Rossi’s eyes are piercing enough to interrupt him and force an exhale. “Thanks.”

      He is truly grateful, he is not usually one to act out like a child, much less one to leave people he cares about behind like that. You brought up his best and his worst. Much of his strength and thinking power went towards controlling himself. The rest got messy.

      “What are you going to do?”

      “Well, I’ll apologize tomo—”

      “Aaron!”

      “I don’t know. I just don’t. And Beth will be over with coffee in a bit.”

      Aaron watches his much too annoyed closest friend pour himself a sip of scotch, drinking it all in a mouthful.

      “You are throwing away a second chance people don’t normally get. Do you even know why?”

      Of course he knows why. There are many many whys.

      Jack needed the stability only someone out of this godforsaken job could give, and he adored Beth.

      Haley wasn’t an agent and he lost her, being with you was accepting the fact you could leave with him for a case and simply not come back. Essentially getting his son, his baby boy, a step mom that could be taken from him the same way as his mother.

      Beth gave Jack a bigger chance of not losing again.

      It gave him a bigger chance to rebuild his picket fence dream home.

      It was logical. It was the right choice.

      The feeling in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste on his tongue shows disagreement with that every time he ponders though. And it’s hard to make the right choice when his body and soul begs him not to.

      Before he can even muster enough will power to argument his way out, Dave comes at him with more questions to shake his belief system to the core. “Is this about Haley? About Jack? Or are you really just incapable of letting yourself be happy?”

      Ouch.

      Rossi doesn’t pull any punches, Aaron knows that, it’s why they get along well, no sugarcoating. Doesn’t make it less annoying to deal with it so early in the morning. Especially after the hell night he had trying to sleep and being plagued by thoughts and worries of you.

      “If anything was to happen it would’ve happened before I met Beth.”

      “How could it when you are both idiots?” Aaron simply sighs, not having a good enough rebuttal to that.

      It was a true, he was an idiot, he could’ve gone after you when he got divorced, or after his grief got less painful. But back then he was angry, feeling abandoned by you when he would’ve never done the same to you.

      He begged you to not forget him, to call him. He waited, he called. It was all fruitless as you made your decision to take him out of your life already.

      Now it all seemed too complicated and to act on those feelings would complicate it even more.

      Aaron is saved by the bell, if anyone could consider hearing the knock on his door he knew to be Beth’s, one of the reasons of his internal conflict, being saved.

      At least Rossi leaves him alone for the time being, excusing himself as soon as the brunette enters the apartment with a quick peck to Aaron’s lips. Surely enough, Hotch has to tell her later that morning that no, Dave has nothing against her, he was just moody from being awake too early.

      Luckily most of the day is spent around Jack and what the wanted to do, making it more about spending time with his boy than a date, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard on being a good partner and on not thinking about you. But it’s all he thinks about when Beth leaves at night and he realizes morning come he will have to see you.

      Your eyes don’t meet his for even one second as Garcia presents the case and he knows it then how truly he fucked up. You aren’t angry. You look tired, not your face, not your eye bags. In fact you look as beautiful and put together as you always do, but in the glimpses he catches of your eyes as you talk to someone else, he sees it. And it breaks his heart. You are exhausted, not because of the job.

      Because of him. And the worst thing is, he can’t even leave you alone, being the Unit Chief meant having to talk to his team, it meant to lead. He sighs to himself as everybody gets out of the briefing room and he wants to brush his fingers against yours lightly like old times and make you smile, but most of all Aaron just wants to tell you how sorry he is that this is happening again.

      He can’t do that, knowing right now it would only make things worse, so he just gets up from his chair, grabs his go-bag from his office and follows the motion until everyone is in the jet. There he does his best to suppress what is going on his mind to focus on the case.

      Galena is a beautiful small town, quite romantic even, too bad it is now suffering with the abduction of two children, the case and the BAU disturbing its peace.

      And that disturbance goes well into the night, when no one is able to work anymore and Hotch has to call it a day, figuring out on the spot that Garcia had to book them in pairs, his key card the same number as yours.

      Hotch can imagine Garcia had someone influence her on the chosen pairs, Rossi was practically glowing with childish glee as everyone got their cards.

      Both you and him are too prideful and professional to make a scene asking to switch with someone. You were stuck with him until the case is resolved.

      The two single beds as you enter the room are a relief, but the distance between them aren’t nearly enough in comparison to how faraway from him you wished to be.

      “Just like the old days, huh?” He’s the first to speak, trying to break the tension as he spread the files of the case on the only desk available.

      “Don’t do that,” you reply quickly, your tone as tired as your eyes have been since the first time he saw you today.

      You drop your bag on the floor close to your bed, the loud noise startles Aaron, but you don’t care, body aching and ready for rest.

      “That what?”

      “Talking. Don’t talk to me,” you clarify. Another loud noise, your body dropping on the bed without ceremony. Eyes closed and focused on pretending he wasn’t there.

      He stays quiet for awhile and you think he might respect your request, so you relax in the clean sheets welcoming the slumber.

      Unfortunately for the two of you, now you are annoyed. So annoyed his shuffling around papers make your skin crawl.

      Just like the old days.

      The complete audacity to begin with that as if he didn’t abandon you drunk just two days before.

      You sigh deeply, putting a pillow over your face to try and muffle his annoying overwhelming presence.

      It doesn’t work.

      “God, please, breathe louder, I don’t think Japan has heard you yet,” you shoot at him, immediately sitting up and catching him working the case files.

      “You want me to stop breathing too, is that it?” He doesn’t look up from the papers, annoyed at the childish antics you’re pulling, which irritates you even more.

      “If you could be so kind to, yes!” Your voice is pure sarcasm and venom, reminding him of just how stubborn and strong-willed you can be.

      Just as he stops his writing, pen left to the desk, you get up in a hurry, attempting to go to the bathroom and ready to slam the door behind you. Hotch is quicker, getting up from his chair and grabbing your wrist to stop you from avoiding him even more.

      It doesn’t hurt. His grip is gentle and you know you can easily get away from it. But you don’t.

      “Hey, I’m sorry.” You nod at his apology, but he knows that won’t be all, so Aaron lets your wrist slip from his fingers and waits for the arguing he’s been avoiding to start.

      One beat.

      Two.

      Three beats pass before your mouth moves in sync with your drowning mind, “what exactly are you sorry about?”

      Right to the jugular from the start. He obviously instantly thinks of the easy answer: Everything. But that’s not the answer you’re looking for. Beyond that, he knows it would be unfair for both of you to gloss over the situation once again.

      You know Aaron isn’t stalling but actually thinking by the way his index and thumb rub together, his lips tightly pursued. Your stomach feels like it’s twirling, nervousness making an appearance now that this was about to happen. The talk. The admissions.

      Both of you are aware now shouldn’t be the time to talk it all over, there is a case to work, a hard day to rest from, but this is 10 years in the making. The flight response was already drained, only fight left.

      “I’m sorry for overstepping and turning our friendship into something confusing and uncomfortable,” he says slowly but firmly, but even so Aaron regrets his choice of words, more regret when he catches you rolling your eyes.

      “Confusing and uncomfortable, sure,” you reply with the same sarcasm you displayed earlier, your arms now crossed defensively over your chest, “I hope that’s not the best you’ve got.”

      “I’m trying here and I would appreciate a little less sarcasm.” His eyes are as piercing as his tone, you scoff at the manifestation of frustration, as if he had grounds for that right now.

      Your feet have a mind of their own and you start pacing around the room, “Hotchner, I changed my whole life around ten years ago for the sake of your comfort.” That wasn’t untrue, although it had a lot to do with your comfort as well, but he needed to be reminded of your sacrifices. “And the first opportunity you had to be a dick to me you not only took it but doubled down on it!”

      Hotch knows you are speaking about the gala and before he can control his tongue like he would in a time like this, " I got jealous! It took over me.”

      It’s good that he doesn’t expect that to stop you or take your breath away because if anything, you’re angrier now.

      “You have a girlfriend! You have no right to be jealous of me! You were married, Hotch! And I never did something like that to you.”

      “You left! I love you and you left,” he notices his mistake and quickly tries to recover, “I loved you. You’re back and I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.”

      He sits at the edge of his chosen bed, elbows to his knees, hands to his face and you finally stop on your heels, not knowing how to react to the confession you both have been denying yourselves from speaking out loud.

      You swallow dry, sitting on the edge of your bed, right in front of him.

      “I loveーI loved you too.” Your hands find home on his knees and his drop to hold them.

      “l don’t know what to do. I want to do the right thing.” He sounds pained and you have to fight that desperate lover girl in your mind begging you to tell him to choose you.

      “I can’t help you with that,” it’s what you actually end up saying, “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m sorry too.”

[ghostofaboy]

... Your Call Is Important

Summary: Dave, Marcus and Javier continue their day together. (Direct Sequel to Hold Please…)

Pairing: Dave York/Javier Peña/Marcus Pike Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 2457 Part 2 of 2

Warnings: Oral sex, anal sex, double anal penetration, threesome - m/m/m

Note: This has not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay/bi characters. Please make sure you’ve read the warnings. Dividers: @saradika-graphics

As he rested on the large hotel bed, Dave found himself watching the tiny dust motes float through the air. Beside him, Marcus lay panting, his head tucked against Dave’s neck as the younger man came down from his stifled orgasm. The cool air of the room sent goosebumps dancing across their skin as their sticky, sweat drenched forms remained tangled together after the activities moments earlier. 

“You doing ok?” Dave murmured into Marcus’ hair, his gazed drifting down to the younger man’s still painfully erect cock, held in place with a black cock-ring.

“Yeah.” Marcus shifted his head to look up at Dave, his beautiful brown eyes looking darker than ever with dilated pupils almost erasing all color. “I’m good. Fuck, I wanna cum though.” Marcus laughed nervously, and Dave couldn’t stop himself from planting a kiss on his forehead. 

“You will, baby boy. You just have to be patient and let us old men get a second wind.”

“Who you calling old?” Javier muttered, striding back into the bedroom and throwing a hand towel over to Dave. “I’ll be good to go soon enough, precioso.” Javier threw Marcus a wink, cheekily waving his soft cock at them both.

“You haven’t changed at all, Peña.” Dave chuckled as he gently began to wipe the cum from Marcus’ face. “Still the same bullshit and swagger as always.”

“I could say the same to you, York.” Javier climbed back onto the bed and settled down next to Marcus, propping himself up on his elbow. “You still have to be in charge, don’t you?”

“You used to like me being in charge.” Dave threw the sticky towel back at Javier, who threw it down onto the floor, glaring. “Or at the very least you never complained when I’d have you cumming on my cock.”

“Listen,” Javier frowned, pointing at finger at Dave. “I don’t need another round of-”

“How did you two meet?” Marcus cut in, shifting to sit up. “You promised to tell me and well, neither of you are perking up just yet, so we have the time.”

“So rude, baby boy.” Dave chuckled, shaking his head, looking down at his still flaccid cock. “But, you’re not wrong.”

“You want to tell the story, I assume.” Javier smirked as he idly stroked his dick. 

“Well, I’ll start.” Dave grinned. “We were both at god awful joint departmental function and-”

“It was for charity.” Javier interrupted. “And it wasn’t that bad. Just, well, you know how these things are… just boring.”

“Right.” Dave rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I’m trying not to drink myself into a coma just for something to do when I spot this one.” Dave nodded his head towards Javier. “He was flirting up a storm with a very disinterested intern, and so-”

“She wasn’t an intern.” Javier scowled. “Fuck York, you make it sound like she was just a kid. She was a junior administrative aid, and for the record, she was very interested.”

“I thought you were letting me tell this story, Peña.”

“Well, you’re fucking telling it wrong.” Javier shrugged.

“So what happened then?” Marcus gave a small laugh. “After Dave spotted you?”

“Look, long story short, we ended up blowing each other in a side room.” Javier waved his hand dismissively. “After that we hooked up every few weeks until… until we didn’t.”

“Well, that’s a shitty version.” Marcus shook his head. “I want the long story, not the cliff-notes.”

“And I want to fuck you again.” Javier reached over to pinch Marcus’ nipple, before locking eyes with Dave. “And I’m ready to go again, viejo.”

Dave’s eyes wandered down Javier’s body and sure enough, jutting out proudly, was the other man’s growing erection. Glancing over at Marcus, Dave was just in time to see the young man lick his lips in anticipation before smiling at Javier. 

“I’ll tell you the full story next time, baby boy.” Dave purred into Marcus’ ear, kissing the younger man softly. “And fuck you, Peña, I’m ready.”

“Please let me cum this time.” Marcus gestured down to his trapped cock, his smile growing in relief as Dave nodded. 

“I got you.” Javier stroked a hand down Marcus’ face, gently cupping the younger man’s jaw, before leaning in for a long tender kiss.

Dave watched for a moment as his two lovers melded together, Javier’s tongue darting into Marcus’ mouth, all the while pumping his cock. Dave shook his head, allowing himself a smirk at Javier’s determination to get hard before him. The man never changed. And that was enough to wake Dave’s own member, and as he reached over to free Marcus from the cock-ring, Dave felt his dick twitch awake.

Marcus sighed into Javier’s mouth as Dave released him, tossing the ring onto the nightstand. Settling back onto the pillows, Dave watched and waited for the other two men to part, trying to push away the feeling of jealousy that tugged at the back of his mind. The softness that Javier poured into Marcus was something he and Javier never had, and something Dave could never allow himself to give to the younger man. Finally, Javier pulled back, smiling down at Marcus, their eyes locked on each other before they eventually turned to Dave.

“You good?” Dave forced himself back into the moment, pushing down any bubbling feeling, instead tugging on his erection.

“We’re good.” Marcus smiled back at him with flushed pink cheeks, while Javier simply gave a quick nod.

“Wonderful.” Dave reached over, pinching one of Marcus’ nipples hard, pulling a gasp and soft moan from the young agent. “Now, why don’t you come ride this cock and let me fill your ass. Let me add my cum to Peña’s.”

A low groan sounded from behind the grinning Marcus as Javier’s eye roamed down his body to Marcus’ ass, and Dave knew what he was thinking. He was thinking of the load he’d left inside Marcus’ already sloppy hole a short time ago. Perhaps once Dave added his own seed Marcus would be able to hold it in or perhaps, Dave hoped, he wouldn’t.

Swinging a leg over Dave’s torso, Marcus swiftly straddled him, his red leaking tip dripping onto Dave’s stomach as he moved. Over to their left Javier watched with dark, lust filled eyes, his gaze fixed on Marcus as he lined Dave’s cock up with his entrance. Then with a long, obscenely deep moan, Marcus sank down, engulfing Dave in his heat.

“Fuck baby b-” Dave pinched his eye shut for a moment to collect himself as Marcus immediately began to move. “In a rush?”

Placing his hand firmly on Marcus’ hip to still him, and after one final roll of his hip, Marcus stopped, staring grumpily down at Dave. Javier chuckled, shifting on the bed to kneel beside Dave’s head and nudged his cock against his lips. 

Locking eyes with Marcus, Dave slowly parted his lips to allow Javier entry, more than a little proud as both men groaned in response. Javier thrust lazily into Dave’s mouth, who flattened his tongue and sucked the tip hard. Held steadily in place, Marcus watched the show, his eyes flicking between Dave’s steely gaze and the sight of seeing the older, sterner agent with a thick dick in between his lips.

Releasing Javier’s cock, Dave began to kiss and lick along the length, pulling hisses and moans from Javier. Still holding an impatient Marcus with one hand, Dave beckoned him forward with the other, flicking the tip of his tongue across the slit of Javier’s cock. With a smirk that made Dave twitch inside the younger man, Marcus slowly leaned forward until he was face to face with Dave. 

Then quick as a flash Marcus pounced forward, his lips meeting Dave’s to kiss him sloppily and clumsily with Javier’s girth trapped between their lips. 

“Mierda.” Javier growled above them, thrust his cock toward to fuck between their mouths. “Both of you lick it. That’s right… fuck.”

Dave swirled his tongue around the tip while Marcus focused on the shaft, reaching out to fondle and tug on Javier’s balls. Dave kept his eyes fixed on Marcus, watching as the younger man sucked along the length before finding Dave’s lips to give him a slobbering kiss before working his way back up towards Javier's bush.

Satisfied that Marcus wasn’t going to blow his load the second he started to move now, Dave released Javier with a pop, turning his head to look up at the other man.

“I think it’s time to fuck our boy, don’t you?”

Javier frowned for a moment, before a single eyebrow quirked up as he caught onto Dave’s meaning. Glancing at Marcus planted on Dave’s cock, Dave could see the uncertainty in Javier’s eyes. Frowning again, Javier shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

“He can take it.” Dave playfully slapped Marcus’ ass, pulling a surprised yelp and laugh from the young man. “Can’t you, baby boy? Should I send Peña the pictures of you with that red dildo in you?” Looking back over at Javier, Dave grinned, dropping his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “I could fit both my hands in him afterward.”

Javier growled, pulling his cock back and away from Marcus and Dave’s lip, and climbed swiftly along the bed until he was behind Marcus again. From his seat atop Dave, Dave felt Marcus shudder in anticipation as Javier busied himself squeezing out more lube.

“You can take it.” Dave soothed, rubbing gently circles on Marcus’ hip. “We’re both going to fill you and it’ll feel so good when you cum.”

Marcus nodded, making a soft needy sound as Javier placed a hand on his back to push him forward slightly. As Marcus folded himself over, resting his face in the crook of Dave’s neck, Dave watched as Javier lined himself up. Dave could feel the other man’s heavily cock resting against the base of his own. Then slowly, achingly slowly, Javier began to push in.

Marcus arched his back and groaned, a low throaty sound that had Dave biting back his own moans as Javier continued to ease his way in. The sensation of Javier’s cock sliding against his own flooded Dave with a dizzying rush of heat that steadily built as the other man stretched Marcus’ entrance, splitting him open until he was fully buried alongside Dave. 

Marcus was panting into the crook of Dave’s neck, making soft whimpers and moans while his hole spasmed around them both. Javier’s face was flushed as he locked eyes with Dave, and Dave understood immediately. Despite all the swagger and bullshit earlier, Javier wanted, perhaps needed, Dave to take the lead.

With a simple nod from Dave, Javier began to slowly and cautiously move. Keeping his eyes fixed on Dave, Javier dragged his cock along Dave’s length, the two men held snugly inside Marcus’ ass. The feeling was electrifying, pulling a strangled cry from Marcus along with a muffled curse.

Javier began to roll his hips, tenderly at first, still wary of hurting Marcus, his eyes gazing into Dave’s. Eventually, Marcus lifted his head up, gasping as he looked over his shoulder towards Javier.

“Please.” His voice caught in his throat as he begged. “Fuck... fuck me. Hard. I want it hard.”

“You heard him.” Dave’s eyes never left Javier’s.

Baring his teeth, Javier bucked forward sharply, plunging his length deep into Marcus before withdrawing and jolting forward again. Grabbing Marcus by the shoulders, Javier began to fuck the younger man, taking control of the pace for him and Dave. All the while, Dave met his eye, feeling the lust inside him build as he watched it inside Javier's dark eyes. 

Despite his cockiness, Dave had never done anything like this before, and it was taking everything he had to keep his composure. Every nerve sang with Javier’s thrusts. His head throbbed with the intoxicating fog conjured by Marcus’ soft whimpers. All he wanted to do was throw his head back and howl as he came as the heat took over his entire body. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. So Dave held Javier’s eye and watched as the gruff DEA agent came undone. 

Red-faced with his breath coming out in bursts from between gritted teeth, Javier pounded into Marcus, the friction of his cock against Dave’s pulling both men closer to the edge quicker than either had anticipated. 

“F-fuck.” Javier stuttered, his hips faltering for a couple of strokes. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna…”

“Me too.” Marcus cried out as he came with a shudder, his muscles tensing around the cocks in his ass. With a cry, Dave felt Marcus spilling himself over the older man’s stomach, before collapsing boneless on top of Dave.

Javier kept his eyes locked with Dave as he came, his hips stuttering as Dave felt his cum flooding into Marcus. Dave was almost sure Javier mouthed something to him, but as his own climax hit, Dave’s vision blurred as he tumbled over the edge. Gripping the bedsheets, Dave arched his back as he emptied himself into Marcus. 

“How was your meeting?” Carol’s voice was soft in his ear as Dave looked out of the hotel room window out onto the city streets below him. The sun was just beginning to set, sending streaks of orange flaring out into the sky. “Do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“We ran over.” Dave glanced over to the bed and the two men fast asleep in each other’s arms. Shifting the phone to his other ear, Dave wandered over to the hard, modern looking chair, running his hand along the smooth gray fabric. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Afternoon at the latest. The hotel is nice, though.”

“Well, that’s a plus.” His wife laughed before a noise in the background caught her attention. “Oh! I have to go, Cindy’s back with the girls.”

“Ok.” Dave sighed at the mention of their neighbor’s name, the woman Carol had been fucking for two years. “You two have fun.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Carol teased, the sounds of the girls in the background getting louder. “You have your fun, I have mine. Say hi to Marcus for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. I love you.”

“I will.” Dave couldn’t stop himself from giving a soft laugh. “Love you too.”

Hanging up, Dave looked over to the bed and the two naked men, finding them both still sleeping soundly. Marcus resting his head on Javier’s chest smiled contentedly as Javier huffed in his sleep. Climbing into the large bed to sandwich Marcus between him and Javier, Dave settled into the pillows, watching the dust motes dance through the warm beams of light while he waited for his lovers to wake.

taglist: @aurorawritestoescape, @vabeachazn, @perotovar, @morallyinept, @for-a-longlongtime

[loppsided]

hi lovely 🤍 i apologize for the very detailed request i have lol but can i ask for a fic or headcanons of dave’s best friend (fem!reader) accidentally finding out he’s kick-ass?

like… maybe the reader confesses she has a crush on kick-ass, and decides to send fanmail to his myspace page despite dave trying to convince her otherwise. she doesn’t understand why he’s so insistent about it until she sends the message and dave’s phone immediately goes off 🫢

i’ll leave the rest to you from there! again, thank you so much lovely 🤍 your writing is wonderful, don’t ever doubt that!

WARNINGS: dave lizewski x best friend!reader, f!reader, fluff, typical nerdy and nervous dave lol, lots o cussing, classic teenage girl!reader shes very bubbly, first kiss NOTES: the end is such a mess im so sorry! stop thank you so much i really appreciate that. and no worry's, i actually prefer longer requests with detail because it helps me set the scene. so if u have any others that are long, send them my way! also this is such a cute scenario ugh i love his nerdy ass. i donnnnnttt really think i like this buts its not completely terrible so ill post it lol. likes and reblogs appreciated! WC: 960

"because you just shouldn't, ok? god!" dave's whiny voice echoed throughout your room which almost made you giggle before you realized your parents were sleeping. you and him had been going back and forth for what seemed liked hours, all because you wanted to send your new celeb crush *kickass*, a few words of encouragement through his myspace page.

"that's not a good reason, weirdo. your such a baby, its not cringe to send him something. everyone deserves nice things said to them." you pulled your chair into your desk, a slight smile creeping on your lips at the thought of the green vigilante.

dave sat in silence, a little more nervous than he should be. i mean, what the hell was his problem? its just a comment on a damn board, and! its anonymous. dave knew you had a slight crush on the masked crusader, but you would never meet him so who cares?

you began to type, biting your bottom lip as you did. you caught a glimpse of dave out of the corner of your eyes and noticed he had scooted his chair farther away from you. whatever.

'dear kickass, i just wanted to comment about how much i appreciate you, well everyone does. so keep up the great work and keep kicking ass!' you re-read the message before hitting send. your internet had been a bit slower than usual that night, and while you waited for the message to send, dave excused himself to the bathroom. "um ill be uh right back, gotta piss." but as soon as he was about to open your bathroom door, you had noticed the message sent. and a slight *ding* could be heard from daves phone. who texted hi- your thoughts interrupted your own before you whipped your chair around and yelled his name.

he froze, nervous as ever and sweating profusely. "come here." you said calmly, even though you had put the pieces together in your head. you didn't want to overreact before you knew you were correct. he walked over to you, trying not to seem suspicious. "yeah? whats wrong." he said, but his voice cracked in the process which was a dead giveaway. "give me your phone, mines dead and i have to text someone." he paused for a moment before coming up with the most obvious lie ever "uh, um mines dead." you raised a brow, biting back a smile. "but i just heard it ding." he froze again, looking around your room dumbly.

you stood up quickly, startling him as you lunged towards his pocket and grabbed his phone. he tried to grab it but you held it high in the air with one hand, as the other pushed him away roughly. you jumped on your bed and turned it on. and lo and behold there was a notification from myspace. *to: kickass from: *user* 'dear kickass, i just wanted to comment about how much i appreciate you, well everyone does. so keep up the great work and keep kicking ass!'*

you gasped loudly, finally confirming your suspicions. "oh my god! oh my god! oh my godddddddd." you sat down while kicking your feet. "ok i know how this looks but i swear im no-" he started to tell another lie before you cut him off. "why didn't you tell me?! dave lizewski you are such a d-bag, im your best friend and you didn't tell me? this is fucking major!" he sat down slowly. your smile faded as you caught his expression. he looked...sad. like he was embarrassed. he spoke softly, "i just didn't want you to think-" you cut him off again, "that your a famous fucking superhero who kicks peoples asses for fun?!" you both laughed before he begun to speak again. "no....that i was a costume wearing loser. i mean i know im your best friend but your cool. cooler than any 'famous fucking superhero' and i like you too much to seem like a weirdo around you." his voice was barely above a whisper, he probably thought you wouldn't be able to catch that last part but you absolutely did.

you and dave had known each other for what seemed like forever, and despite your crush on kickass, your crush on dave trumped that completely. but you kept it to yourself out of fear of rejection. you two sat in silence for a few seconds as you calculated what you wanted to say. you wanted to be bold, and to tell him how much you liked him. you took his hands in yours and he looked up slowly.

"listen here, you could be wearing nothing but a speedo and a pink wig and i would still think your the coolest guy in the world. i wish you told me sooner, because i want you to trust me dave. and i like you too much to be kept in the dark." you repeated his words back to him as your faces were inches apart and his hands were sweaty in yours. but in this moment you didn't even care. you stared at his lips before pushing your face into his. he was still for a second before he ran his hands up your arms and cupped your face. he pulled back quickly leaving you confused, "so does this like mean you like be back? or am i wrong cuz like i dont-" you laughed at his ramblings "yes idiot, i like you back. and if you wanted..we could make this official. you and me." he smiled as a blush creeped onto his cheeks. "like girlfriend boy- wow. um yea totally. do you like wanna be my girlfriend?" you mirrored his smile quickly, "yes, kickass i would love to be your girlfriend."

[andreafmn]

Running in Circles | Chapter 11

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: mentions of death and illness

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: slowly but surely rolling this story out... i refuse to DNF a WIP

<- Previous

David Rossi’s house had always been grand. At least for the better part of his life. But for (Y/N), it had always been massive. Even once she had grown up and moved out, she saw it as too big. She never had the feeling that she had imagined it bigger as a child. It had always been gigantic, and it would always be.

“You know, I made some fresh tagliatelle for today,” David smiled as he opened the car door for his daughter. “And I think it’s the best batch I’ve done in a long time.”

“It better be,” she teased jokingly. “Mom wouldn’t have accepted any less.”

“You’ve got that right,” he laughed. “She’d turn over in her grave if I ever made her pasta wrong.”

The Hotchner duo were already waiting by the front door when the Rossis arrived. Jack was the first to run into the house, claiming he was starving and needed to be fed. But as soon as the TV was on, it was like his hunger had vanished.

While the boy was entertained by some cartoon on the television, David ushered the other two outside. He took his cooking seriously and did not like much interruption when it was possible. So, with two glasses of red wine and a lit fireplace, (Y/N) and Hotchner sat on the back porch to talk.

“Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss are coming by later,” (Y/N) muttered out, trying to fill the silence. “JJ had a family thing, and Garcia is out of town.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly. “Dave told me when I was on my way to the cemetery.”

“God, I never want to think about today again.” Warmth crept up (Y/N)’s neck as embarrassment filled her veins. “I can’t believe I threw a tantrum like that at my age. I am absolutely mortified.”

“You don’t have to be, (Y/N). Grief isn’t always a pretty thing,” Hotchner said, taking her aback. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel, and sometimes it comes out in an ugly way. But it’s perfectly reasonable to have a break like you did. I mean, if it took this long, it was bound to happen sooner or later. And it was, in all honesty, not as bad as you think.”

“I yelled at my dad for simply being religious,” she sighed. “It was completely uncalled for. And I even did it in front of Jack. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I don’t think he’ll even remember after today,” he chuckled as he took a sip from his glass. “Seriously, (Y/N), it’s not something you even need to apologize for. I’ve seen and been worse than that.”

“I seriously doubt that,” the young woman snorted. “At least not the way I exploded today.”

“I’ve had my moments, (Y/N). We’re only human, at the end of the day,” the man shrugged as he absentmindedly slipped his hand over hers. “But you don’t have to feel bad for feeling strongly, and I know your dad definitely doesn’t hold it against you. All he cares is that you’re okay, and so do I.”

“I’m okay now,” she smiled softly, trying her best to conceal the red that was creeping up her neck. Thankfully, it was cold enough that she could blame the weather for her sudden change in complexion. “And I wanna thank you for coming today. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Oh, Jack wouldn’t have let me live it down if we hadn’t gone,” he chuckled. His fingers interlaced with hers, squeezing softly and making her wonder. “He said we couldn’t leave you alone today. I mean, he was up long before I was.”

“God, I love that kid.”

“Yeah, he loves you too.”

There was a moment when their eyes met, and they couldn’t drop each other’s gaze. (Y/N) tried to find meaning behind the brown of his irises. Because he always left her wondering. Whether his lingering touches meant something more than comfort. Whether he showed his carefree side to her because he felt a different connection to her than the rest of the team. Whether stares like that one meant he was thinking the same way.

But the sound of David’s voice scattered the thoughts away, making the pair jump away from each other, their hands returning to their respective laps. “I brought some blankets to keep you guys warm,” he said as he placed the blankets on the arm of the couch and a tray on the edge of the fireplace. “I also brought you some cheese and crackers while we wait for the rest of the team to get here. They shouldn’t be long.”

“Thanks, dad,” (Y/N) smiled. “Did you have something to eat yet?”

“Oh no. I can’t spoil my appetite for later,” he chuckled. “I wanna make sure I savor tonight’s dish. I’ve been braising a chuck roast since this morning, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it.”

“Well, if there’s not much to do inside, why don’t you join us, Dave?” Hotch offered, much to (Y/N)’s dismay. “No point in you being by yourself.”

“As intriguing as that sounds, I’m not interested in spending my evening out in the cold,” the older man said before the sound of the door squeaked behind him. “But I think someone else might join you.”

“Hey, Jack. What’s up, buddy?”

00“I’m bored, dad,” the kid whined, draping himself between (Y/N) and his father. “And I’m hungry. I wanna go to (Y/N)’s house. She has toys there.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” David chuckled as he cheersed the man before disappearing back into the house.

“We can’t go to (Y/N)’s house right now, Jack. I told you we were gonna have dinner with David tonight.”

“But he doesn’t have any toys,” the boy complained. “His house is really boring.”

“Tell you what, little man,” (Y/N) interjected. “My dad may not have toys here, but he has a lot of stories about my mom, and today is about her, right?” The kid nodded eagerly. “Well then, let’s go invade his personal space.”

Jack grabbed (Y/N)’s extended hand, walking into the house with Hotch trailing behind with the platter that had just been set before them. They rushed through the kitchen and past the living room, looking for the one person who could talk about Iris’ past.

They had made it almost all the way to the man’s study before they found him in the hall, staring at a painting. Without turning his head, David started talking. “This is one of the first paintings Iris made in her garden,” he said. Before him hung a realistic painting of a small girl, a bird in her cupped hands, and an array of colorful flowers on the background. “I think it might just be my favorite.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s me,” (Y/N) smiled at the boy. “When I was really, really little.”

“And your momma painted that?” Jack questioned excitedly. “It’s really pretty.”

“She did,” David responded with a sad smile. “She painted almost all the art in this house. She was a very talented woman, my Iris.”

“What happened to her?”

“Jack,” Hotch reprimanded his son. “I’m sorry, he…”

“It’s alright,” the man smiled. “She got very sick while she was pregnant with our little (Y/N). But the doctors didn’t catch it until it was too late because of that. After she gave birth, we started her on the most aggressive treatment we could, but it had spread too much, too fast. A little after (Y/N) turned three, she passed away.” “She was getting weak at the end, and a single painting would take her weeks,” he said. “You can see that they get smaller here by the end of the hall. But even if she couldn’t hold the brush for too long, she would…”

David’s voice drowned out as he continued walking with Jack, not noticing that his daughter stood frozen in her spot while he went on. There were things she knew about her mother’s past, but there were others he had kept hidden. Much like that one sentence, he had muttered absentmindedly to tell the tale of her mother’s demise.

Tears welled in (Y/N)’s eyes once more, this time sprouting from a deep well of emotion that she had trapped inside herself a long time ago. There was a part of her that always knew, that always felt as though she had been the reason her mother had died. But there had never been any confirmation, not a single word spoken to confirm what she had thought. All up until that day. Without even meaning to, her father had opened one of the deepest wounds she thought had healed.

She felt Hotch’s hands on her arms before she heard his voice, her mind hazing over as the thoughts flooded her head, making it close to impossible to focus on reality. “Hey, (Y/N),” he whispered as he cradled her face, bringing her back to the moment. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s my fault,” she whimpered, her eyes meeting his through a watery gaze. “My mom’s dead because of me.”

“Of course not,” he stated. “She was sick, (Y/N). The cancer got to her, and there was nothing anyone could do. That’s all that happened.”

“They would have found it sooner if she hadn’t been pregnant with me,” she cried. “She could have treated it earlier if it wasn’t because of me!”

Hotchner wrapped his arms around her before she could crumble to the ground, watching as her emotions overtook her. With an already overwhelming day, learning more about her mother’s death had tipped her over. It was then that he could see just how young she still was. As mature and intelligent as she was, she was still starting off in life—not even thirty yet.

“What happened to your mom is not your fault,” he said, his chin resting on her head. “Having you was the choice she wanted to make, and most definitely the right one. From what I can tell, she loved you very much, (Y/N).”

“You were her greatest treasure,” David added, startling the pair apart. “She wanted nothing more than to have you, mia bella. Iris would have given up everything so you were born, and I would have as well.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Hotch whispered to (Y/N), motioning to Jack to get closer. “Let’s go see what’s on TV, okay?”

Once the Hotchner boys were gone, the young woman fell into her father’s open arms, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing him to comfort her in the way she so desperately needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whimpered quietly. “You always said she got sick after I was born, not while she was still pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, little bird,” he sighed, drawing comforting circles on her arm. “I never wanted you to feel guilty for your mother’s death. All I ever wanted was to protect you, sweetheart.”

“She would have probably been alive had she not been pregnant, right?” (Y/N) said. “You’d still have her if it wasn’t for me.”

“I carry a part of her with me every day of my life,” he smiled. “And neither I nor Iris would have it any other way. I couldn’t imagine my life without you, little bird. You are my entire life, just like you were hers.”

David gently led her to the other room as the doorbell rang, kissing her head softly before going to open the door.

Soon enough, the house was filled with more familiar faces sporting flower bouquets and wine bottles, saying hello because there were no other words on a day such as that. All they could offer was their presence and their love, and whatever else they could need.

And at that moment, what they needed was a warm meal and lighthearted conversation. Being with the team was enough to calm (Y/N)’s sadness. At least for the time they were there, she could pretend she was okay.

She sat between Morgan and Hotchner with a gorgeous plate of pasta and roast before her and no appetite. She had spent so much energy already crying that she had nothing left to eat.

“Everything okay, pretty girl?” Derek whispered to her as he noticed her demeanor. “You not gonna eat?”

“I’m not really hungry,” she sighed. “Can’t really stomach anything right now.”

“You wanna get some air?” 

“Maybe after. I don’t wanna interrupt everyone’s dinner.”

“If you’re sure,” he said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “But you let me know if you need to step away at any point.”

“Thanks, Der,” she smiled. “I appreciate it.”

What neither of them noticed was the piercing stare Hotchner kept on their joined hands. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but he could feel it bubbling deep inside his gut. Without even thinking, he slipped his arm behind her chair, his fingers softly drawing circles on her shoulder.

“You doing okay?” he found himself whispering to her, his heart quickening as her eyes met his. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she smiled. “Just not very hungry.”

“Do you want something lighter? I can get you some crackers and cheese instead.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” she said. “I’ll probably just take this and eat it later tonight.”

“If you’re sure,” he conceded. “Just let me know, and I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It didn’t go over anyone’s head that the unit chief had kept his arm behind (Y/N)’s chair while they finished dinner. But to them, it was simply a way to keep the grieving woman at bay. No one thought that he was staking a claim on her after that green emotion settled in his chest at Derek’s comfort. Not even he did.

Even after they had all finished eating and had gravitated to the backyard for the last glass of wine, Jack dead asleep on (Y/N)’s lap, Aaron remained close to her. Back on the couch they had been hours before, he kept a protective arm around her back. It didn’t mean anything, he told himself. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay.

Still, his eyes memorized the way the light of the fire danced on her skin, painting her with a warm hue that made her look heavenly. He felt it then, as he watched her take a sip from her wine glass, a smile on her face and his son asleep against her, that flutter in his chest he thought had died with Haley.

At that moment, he blamed it on the alcohol. Aaron couldn’t be feeling what he thought he was for (Y/N). Not only was she his subordinate, but she was the daughter of one of his oldest colleagues and friend—not to mention she was almost half his age. No, he had simply drunk too much, he told himself. His quickening heart rate and the flush that warmed his skin were because he couldn’t tolerate booze like he used to. Nothing more, nothing less.

Suddenly, David tapped on his glass with his ring, calling everyone’s attention and breaking Aaron out of thought. “Well, I want to take a moment to thank all of you for coming over tonight and celebrating Iris’ life with (Y/N) and me,” he said. “I know none of you got to meet her, but I can say with great certainty that she would have loved each and every one of you. Iris was an extraordinary and beautiful woman, and I am glad her legacy lives on in the form of (Y/N). “She was, in a way, the second greatest love of my life. And I say second because she gave me my first,” he said, smiling warmly at his daughter. “I am grateful for the time I had with her and I am immensely blessed to be able to have a piece of her with me for the rest of my life. But I will say, my biggest regret in life will always be not getting the chance to show her just how much I loved her in life and asking her to marry me. If I had to do anything over again, I would have married her the day I met her. I had already bought a ring by the next week, but somehow, I never got the courage to ask her. So, tonight, I wanna raise a glass to Iris Cassidy on the 25th anniversary of her passing. I loved you then and I love you still, mia fiore. Until we meet again, my darling Iris. Salut.”

Everyone raised their glasses, echoing the cheer before taking a sip of their wine. As they did, David pulled out his phone, and a minute later, colorful fireworks adorned the night sky. One after another, they illuminated the darkness in various shapes and colors, marking a true celebration of life.

It was at that moment that Aaron noticed the fresh tears falling from (Y/N)’s eyes. The lights of the fireworks reflected on the streaks of her cheeks, glimmering in an array of colors as she stared at the sky. But it was the first time in the day that her tears were accompanied by a bright smile. And when she found him staring, he couldn’t help but smile back as he hugged her closer to him. Completely ignoring the pitter-patter of his heart as he felt her warmness seep into his body.

The scene was almost like out of a movie. As the fireworks lit up the sky, gentle music played through the backyard speakers. The group talked amongst themselves quietly, engrossed in whatever conversation was important at that moment. It was almost as though the world had stopped. There was no evil lurking behind their doors waiting to be caught. There was only them and that moment in time—frozen, preserved.

But it wasn’t the team that caught the unit chief’s attention. No. It was the young woman next to him who had seemed to drift off to sleep just like his son. Jack had wrapped his arms around (Y/N), resting his head in the crook of her neck while she rested hers on his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, finally comfortable enough to rest—or too tired to stay awake. Still, she looked calm, at peace. And she looked beautiful.

They were thoughts that shouldn’t have been running through Aaron’s head. Not about (Y/N), at least. And definitely not while her father was only a few feet away.

“Guess the day finally caught up to her,” David whispered as he sat next to them. “When she’s like that, all I can see is the little girl that always asked me to read her to sleep. Granted, those days didn’t last long. She learned how to read on her own, and Good Night, Moon, and Oh, The Places You’ll Go didn’t cut it anymore. Treasure those moments, Aaron. They go quicker than you can imagine.”

“Thankfully, Jack has yet to grow out of his kid’s books,” he chuckled softly, highly aware that any move he made could wake (Y/N). “But one thing’s for sure, once they’re down, they’re down, huh.”  

“That’s true,” he laughed. “I want to thank you, Aaron, for being here today. She needed someone, and it wasn’t me. (Y/N) always seems so strong, but she carries her heart on her sleeve and so much hurt on the inside. She needs someone she can rely on.”

“Today was the least I could do after all she’s done for Jack and me,” Aaron smiled, looking down at the sleeping woman. “I owe her a lot.”

“What she does, she doesn’t do it for anything in return,” David said. “She got that from her mother. She’d give the clothes off her own back for anyone that needed it.”

“She really would.”

“I just wished she found someone who could see just how amazing she was. I know this job makes it hard to meet people, but she deserves someone who treats her as special as she is.”

The words made the man tense up, causing (Y/N) to wriggle in her sleep. If he hadn’t known any better, he would think David had read his mind. But coincidences, rare as they may seem, were real.

“You do too, by the way,” the man teased as Aaron thought of a good enough answer to give him. “It’s about time you start dating, too, you know.”

“Here we go again,” he chuckled softly. “I don’t need to date.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. Especially since the one he was most interested in was not an option. “I’m just focusing on work and Jack. That’s enough.”

“For now,” the older man grinned. “But I guess you’re young enough to still take your time. Just not too much.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Good,” David said before taking a beat. “But you better leave (Y/N) at home. Looking at you two right now, anyone would think you’re a couple.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Wouldn’t want anyone to make that mistake.”

But oh, how he yearned for it to be his reality.

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[lanaswritingbook]

I can’t tell you 2/2

oh wow guys this is embarrassing… I’ve been in a bad writing block for like months now. And I felt really bad for not finishing this part 2 bc I hate when ppl do that to me so I hope you enjoy 😭 (it’s rushed but i’m trying to get started again)

Dave Lizewski x Black!Plus Size Reader

Pt. 1- https://www.tumblr.com/spenceswife/712542712672452608/i-cant-tell-you-12

-

The gym door slammed loudly as Dave watched Yn storm out the gymnasium.

His chest tightened as he thought over their conversation. How could she think he was cheating?

But could he blame her? The scene was… misleading.

Dave shook his head while combing through his curly hair anxiously. He had to make it right.

-

It had been 3 days since Yn spoke to Dave. He texted her everyday and tried to get her attention in school but she constantly blew him off like he did to her previously.

His friends wondered why they didn’t see the touchy couple together anymore so they decided to confront Dave and the comic shop.

When the bell rang hinting someone entered Dave found his group at their normal table arguing about something.

“Hey guys” Dave spoke swinging his backpack in the booth.

“You look like shit.” Marty spoke making Todd slap his chest.

“Wrong approach but he’s right. What’s wrong with you dude” Todd crossed his arms ready to listen.

“Yn thinks I cheated on her…” they both look at each other surprised.

“Well did you?” Marty asked in shock

“Hell no! I love her with all my heart I could never. It was really a misunderstanding I just can’t say what.” he took a breathy sigh clearly in distress.

“I mean I believe you dude, but that’s some sketchy shit. I don’t know she’ll forgive you.” Todd furrowed his brows.

“How about this you know Jessica?” Marty raised his brows with a smirk

“Yeah why…” Dave asked more confused

“Well she’s at Yn studying and gonna meet me here in about 30. So how about you trap your girl and apologize the right way.” Lizewski stared his friend down thinking of the idea.

“… I have nothing else to choose from so fine. Wish me luck” He grabbed his bag standing up accidentally bumping into a counter while walking towards the door.

-

Dave snuck through her window, luckily she had a fire escape so it was easy for him to enter.

She wasn’t in her room but her bathroom light was on meaning she was still home.

He passed shortly back n forth thinking about what he wanted to say until he heard a voice breaking through.

“Why are you here Dave?” Yn walked towards her bed sitting not even looking him in the eye.

But Dave couldn’t help but stare he missed seeing her like this. Comfy.

She was wearing a long shirt and shorts with her curls going every direction. She looked perfect to him

“Look please listen to me. I would never hurt you and that includes never cheating. I love you so much and I would love to tell the reason of what you heard, but I just can’t right now it’s too dangerous. I’ll tell you eventually but I just have to figure this out first I promise i’d never hurt you intentionally baby please…” Yn saw the glint in Dave’s eye that he was telling the truth.

And she didn’t see the nervous tic he does when he lies so she caved and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He closed his eyes thanking the angles above for giving his own back.

“You’d never hurt me?” Yn whispered playing with his loose curls as her face was stuck between his neck and shoulder.

“Never in my life, you’re the one I protect the most. Literally…” her face scrunched at the last part but quickly forgot about it as she was happy he was in her presence.

[whositmcwhatsit]

Since this started out as a birthday fic, I really wanted to get Chapter 2 done in time for my birthday, but I missed my deadline by 4 days.

Never mind.

Thanks, as ever, to the cheerleading and alpha-reading of @thatbanditqueen, who bestowed the glowing critique of 'tolerable' to this labour of love.

Anyone needing to catch up, here is Chapter One

Chapter Two

For two weeks after the night Aurora barged into Elvis Presley’s house and somehow didn’t get chased out by security, the ladies at the hair salon would ask her every day if she had heard from him. 

At first, when she told them no, they would smile gleefully and say it was going to happen any day, after all he must have asked for her number for a reason. Then, the smiles began to dim and they would start to make excuses to make her feel better. She felt like she was letting them down each time she had to answer in the negative. There was no space to feel her own disappointment because she was carrying enough for other people. 

After that two weeks, it petered out into sympathetic looks and attempts to ‘cheer her up’. Honestly, Aurora didn’t need the cheering up, though of course she took all the free food and extra tips that were offered. It had been a strange, fun, surreal experience, but men like Elvis didn’t call back girls like her. She had already got way more than she deserved. 

Joanne showed up just before closing one Thursday when even the sympathy was beginning to fade and Aurora was sadly eyeing the dip in her tips. Joanne threw herself into Aurora’s chair, studying her Farrah bangs with a critical eye in the mirror and trying to rake the volume back into them with her fingers.

Aurora nudged her legs out of the way with her hip as she swept under the vanity, feeling tired, hot and impatient after a long day. She was envisioning a cold shower and laying flat on the back porch with the noisy fan, maybe sneaking a beer from the ice box before her mama got home. 

“You’ll never guess who I bumped into last night,” Joanne began. 

“Probably not,” Aurora agreed, shoving the broom into the closet and going to collect her purse from the poky kitchen in the back. 

“That guy Dave? Elvis Dave.” Aurora wondered how he would feel to know that he had that nickname while ignoring the way her stomach swooped at just the ‘e word’. “I was at the gas station with Beverly from work and he pulled up in that sweet ride of his and blocked me in.” 

Aurora was trying to feign nonchalance as she felt Joanne’s eyes studying her intensely in the mirror. 

“Why? Did he even call you after that night?”

“Nope, and I didn’t expect him to since I didn’t give him my number and we’re not in the book. You guys aren’t either, are you?”

“No, Mama thinks having a lady’s name in the phone book is like advertising that you’re easy pickings for creeps and weirdos.” 

Joanne nodded, because they had known each other long enough that Aurora’s mama and her ‘interesting’ ideas were not a revelation. 

“So, giving Elvis the wrong number, was that a brush-off?”

“What?”

“Dave said that the number you gave Elvis was for a store, a hardware place or paint… something like that.”

Trying to force her brain back through the hot sludge of the days since, Aurora was sure that she had written down the right number. Or had she? Her penmanship was not going to win any awards on a good day. At dawn after an eventful night… 

“So, it was a mistake?” Joanne asked as they stepped out into the dripping heat of the late afternoon and walked across the parking lot to Aurora’s busted old Pontiac GTO. Aurora eyed the dented fender ruefully and ran her hand over the dusty hood as if in apology. 

“Oh my God!” She covered her burning face with her hands, laughing slightly manically. “I’m such a loser!” What must he have thought of her?! Wait, he had called her! A dam had broken in her brain and all the thoughts were rushing and swirling around, taking out any sensible notions in their path. 

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause I gave Dave the right one.” 

“What?”

“You made a mistake giving him the wrong number?” Joanne was a smart girl. Street smart anyway, but that was probably the dumbest question she had ever asked.

“Yes!”

Despite the overly airy way Joanne said it, it hit Aurora like she had put force into it. The way her stomach swooped was unexpected since she had even been denying to herself that she was upset by the radio silence. For a brief, quavering moment she let herself get excited, maybe even a little bit hopeful, before practicality rammed down to crush those emotions into tiny specks. It was stupid, it was all so stupid: her jolting whenever the phone rang, the relief at realizing she had given him the wrong number and that he had tried to call her, the excitement that he might try again.

At no point in Aurora’s years on Earth had anyone or anything ever been cruel enough to lie to her about her station in life or what she should expect from it. No, God had been kind and straight with her from the get-go: His plan for her was basic, a very rough draft if you will, a couple of words scribbled on an old envelope. 

“So, you gonna come out?” Joanne asked, fiddling with the fringe of her purse. “Or you thinking you’ll head home and wait by the phone?” Aurora rolled her eyes as she opened the creaking car door and dropped into the oven-like interior. 

“I am gonna go home, take a cold shower and probably pass out in front of the tv,” she corrected. 

“Sure you are.” Joanne leant in the window and poked her index finger against Aurora’s forehead, laughing as Aurora swatted it away. “Drive safe rushing home to wait by the phone.”

“Only thing I’m in danger of is cracking a headlight driving it into your smart ass!” 

Joanne’s cackle traveled across the mainly deserted lot, the nail polish of her extended middle finger catching the light just beautifully. Aurora snorted as she turned over the car, praying through the warm-up grinding and growling. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t let me down,” she murmured to the dash, patting the wheel appeasingly. “You can do it.” 

It took a few more seconds of sweat sliding into uncomfortable places before the engine finally caught and the car revved. Aurora let out the warm, stale air she’d been holding in her lungs and peeled out, eager to catch the breeze through her open window. 

The phone was ringing when she pulled up at the house. 

Without thinking about it, she left the car in neutral and shot inside, leaving all the doors open between her and the receiver.

“Hello?” She was afraid that she might not be able to hear the caller because of the swirling whooshing sound of her blood pumping around her body and her heart pounding in her ears, but her grandma came through crisp and clear, complaining that her fan wasn’t working properly and that Aurora’s cousin Denny had promised to come round and take a look at it, but had not shown up yet. It was all Aurora could do to keep the disappointment out of her voice. 

Tapping her fingers against the formica surface of the telephone table, Aurora willed Denny and his lazy ass to show up so that Grandma would get off the phone to yell at him instead, but of course that little shit was probably already out, fumigating some bar or disco with his Old Spice.

Biting down on a sigh, Aurora reached out with her leg and hooked a chair from the kitchen with her foot and dragged it over so that she could rest her weary legs as her grandma started talking about which of her friends had died, lost their husbands or bailed their grandkids out of jail this week.

Nearly an hour later, still cursing Denny, Grandma announced that she didn’t want to waste any more of Aurora’s time, because no one wants to hear a silly old woman prattling on, and Aurora of course told her she wasn’t silly or old and she loved her and loved talking to her,  which earned her another thirty minutes on the phone before she finally managed to hang up. Her elbow ached, her hand was numb in patches and the hair around her ear was damp with sweat. And Elvis had probably called another girl by now, some beauty queen whose grandma never tied up her phone line.

Weary in every way, she trudged through the little one storey house, returning out front to grab her car keys out of the ignition and shut the door. Brian, who used to go to school with her brother, lifted his beer bottle up at her from where he was sitting on the steps of his front porch across the street and she threw up her hand as she turned to go back into the house. 

Mama got home later, complaining about her manager and the new girl whose cash desk hadn’t come out even at the end of her shift. 

“It’s not like she even has to add up the change in her little pea brain!” she ranted, leaning over the pot of spaghetti that Aurora had thrown together earlier. “Spaghetti, in this heat, Rora?” 

“Nothing else,” Aurora shrugged. “I’ll pick up some groceries after work.” She fought very hard not to point out that her mother worked in a damn store the size of a warehouse full of food that she could easily buy after work, because that sort of back talk never ended well. 

“I thought you’d be out tonight,” Mama said later, sipping from a beer as she pushed the congealing spaghetti around her plate on the little stand, eyes on Barnaby Jones on TV. “Betty was saying that Joanne was going to Ladies Night over at Sal’s. They got a new bartender that looks like that boy from… Lord, what was it, ‘Shazam’?” 

“Yeah, maybe in the dark with your eyes closed!” Aurora snorted. 

“Betty’s always had her work cut out for her with that one. Back in my day, her folk’s would’ve been hurrying to get her tied up with some nice boy before they ended up having to send her away to family in the country for a few months, if you get my drift.”

“Mama! She’s not that bad. You can’t tell me y’all didn’t go crazy about boys when you were kids. Aunt Margie told me about how you never sat out any dances when you were our age.”

“Yeah well, Marg should mind her own business and pay more attention to that son of hers. You know, he promised Grandma days ago that he’d take a look at her fan and she’s still waiting.”

“I know,” Aurora sighed. Boy, did she know. 

Admitting defeat, Aurora finally climbed into bed just before midnight, checking the screen of her open window before settling down with a huff. Maybe she should have gone out with Joanne. As much as she knew that Thursday nights at Sal’s were a horror show, it didn’t stop that nagging feeling in her stomach that maybe she had let something slip away, and ignored possibilities. At the very least, she would have laughed until her sides hurt as she and Joanne danced to the jukebox. 

Tomorrow night, she told herself as she drifted off, her blurring eyes fixed on the shard of moonlight that sliced into her dresser. 

The moon had set by the time she startled awake a few hours later. Her mother was hunched over her, a silhouette of curlers and rounded shoulders, fingers tight against her shoulders. 

“Rora, wake up!” 

“What’shappeningisitbad,” she mumbled as the pieces of her conscious mind tried to converge and accidentally passed one another, blurring even further. She jolted as her mother shook her even harder. 

“Wake up! There’s someone on the phone asking for you.”

“What? Why?” Aurora squinted at her mother who seemed flustered, fiddling with her headscarf and the neck of her nightgown over and over. 

Trying to blink sleep from her eyes, Aurora let her feet drop heavily to the floor and shoved herself up into a seated position. With her eyes half closed, she shuffled out into the kitchen and picked up the receiver laying against the counter. 

“Hmmmello?”  

“Hi, is this… Aurora?” Whoever was on the phone said it like a substitute teacher trying to take attendance, not sure whether they were being played. 

“Uh, hmm, yeah. Who’s this?”

“I’m gonna ask you to hold one for a minute.” There was fumbling, which she might have found intriguing if she hadn’t been sprawled with her cheek against the counter, eyes squeezed shut against the brutal overhead light. 

More fumbling. 

“You are one difficult chick to track down, Tiger, you know that?! Goddamn.”

“Elvis?” she said, even as her brain was processing the voice.  At the same time, her mother prodded her sharply in the back, whether to get some sort of explanation or to make her stand up straight while having a conversation with the King, who knew, and Aurora was not about to pause the proceedings to find out. 

“Yeah, Elvis,” he returned, miraculously making a drawl drip with sarcasm. “You were taking ‘seek and ye shall find’ a little too far, weren’t ya, sweetheart? Almost called out the US Marshals trying to track you down.” 

It sounded like a fifty-fifty split on whether he found the mix-up amusing or annoying and she couldn’t help cringing into her hand yet again, but he was calling. He was calling!

“Not sure, early… or late, one of the two. Goddamn, I can’t believe I finally got you. I bet you didn’t think I’d be able to do it, right? I tell you, ain’t nobody won money betting against me, honey, really.” 

“Hello?! Sonovabitch, d’I lose her again?” She giggled at his mumbling and quickly interjected:

“Hello! No, I’m just trying to wake up. What time is it?”

Aurora opened her mouth to explain that she hadn’t given him the wrong number on purpose, that she wasn’t the sort of girl that set a scavenger hunt for anyone wanting to call her, but he was talking fast and leaving no place to jump in. 

“Anyhow, the reason I was really callin’ was to make sure you’re takin’ care of Cupcake. You looking after him, feeding him, petting him and all that?”

“You mean Muffin?” She glanced up over the counter at the large tiger ornament sitting in pride of place on top of the TV. “Course I am.”

“Hot damn, Muffin, that was it! Well, are you sure? I feel like maybe I should barge into your house in the middle of the night and find out for myself, you know?” 

Aurora couldn’t force a laugh, couldn’t even inhale as her dismayed eyes surveyed the sagging couch and faded wallpaper. If Elvis Presley set eyes on her home he would know everything there was to know about her within ten seconds and lose interest. 

“You don’t even know where I live,” she prodded with a shaky wheeze. “And even if you think you do, you’re wrong. I could bring him to you? You want to check on him so bad, I’ll send him on over to you.” 

There was a long pause, Aurora’s turn to wonder whether she had lost him, and when he spoke again there was an odd intonation to his voice, a knowingness that made her feel flayed open for all to see. 

“Yeah, you should come here, bring ole Cupmuffincake so I can check you’re treating him right. I’d send someone over to pick you up.” She heard murmuring and the edge of Elvis’ voice cutting through the muffled sound like he was having a conversation with his hand over the receiver, and it hit her what was happening.

“Hello? Elvis! Hello?!”

“Honey, I’m just-”

“I can’t come now. I’ve got work in the morning- soon!” 

There was another long pause. Each time, she balanced on her toes, wondering if this was the time, this was the final straw and he would hang up, give up, and drop her. 

“I- I understand, your- your job’s important.” He sounded like a bad actor at a table read. She suspected that he had long forgotten quite how important a job was if you wanted a roof to stop the rain falling on your head and food in the ice box to stop you starving to death. “What time d’you get off work, honey?”

“I can finish at five,” she replied, knowing she could reschedule her last appointment. “And I can drive over. You don’t need to send anyone. I know where you live after all.” She forced a little laugh, but his voice was subdued when he replied:

“Yeah, I guess you do. After five then? You’ll come straight over?” 

“Sure, I’ll come straight there.” She was reassuring him, like she was doing him a favor by showing up at his mansion all sweaty and messed up after a day of work. She wasn’t sure how this situation had come about, but had no doubt that it was wrong. A man who has a wall with gates around his property and security guards, cameras and barbed wire on fences did not have to make anyone promise to come to his house. 

Elvis then told her that he had been planning on going for a ride on his motorcycle. He asked if she had ever ridden one before and when she admitted that she had, because she sensed that he had wanted her to say no, he assured her that his was better than whatever souped up 

bicycle she had tried before. He made her promise that she would come dressed for a motorcycle ride. 

“You know, one time this one little girl showed up here in a cute little dress. Hair done up all pretty and everything, see, and-” He laughed to himself. “You should’ve seen her after we’d gone out on the hogs. She was all mad and I said to her, I said, I ain’t the kind of guy that just sits around, you know, having a damn tea party on a date. I gotta, I gotta be doing something, going somewhere, otherwise I’m gonna get bored.” He sighed loudly into the phone and Aurora half imagined she felt it against her cheek. She wondered if he was telling her this because he didn’t want her to think that she was visiting to sit on his bed and read books again, or to let her know that their night together had been a rare occurrence and she shouldn’t expect more of the same. 

“Well, I promise not to wear a cute dress or make any effort with my hair.” 

“You are trouble,” he laughed. “I knew it the moment I saw you, man. Trouble with a capital T! I’ll tell ‘em not to let you in, you see if I won’t.” 

When they finally hung up, Aurora again had an aching elbow, stiff elbow and partially numb hand. She turned slightly and faced her mother, who had been walking in and out the kitchen throughout the whole conversation. She eyed her pointedly over a cup of coffee. 

“I know he’s Elvis, but I think that means he owns a watch or two,” she remarked. “And some of us need to be getting up at a decent hour to get to work.” 

“I know, Mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it.” 

“Just…” Her mother sighed, lowering the coffee cup from her mouth. “Just be careful, honey. Remember Memphis is chock full of girls that Elvis used to call at 3AM.” 

“I know, Mama.”

Afterwards, Aurora would have no recollection of her day at work, and was surprised that she received no complaints about uneven bangs or stripey dye jobs. Her mind was definitely not on her tasks. She kept planning and replanning and unplanning what she was going to wear. What outfit would look like she had made some effort, but also wouldn’t have her showing her underwear to passing motorists on a motorcycle? She needed to look like she belonged with Elvis, but couldn't afford the time and money that would require. 

Although, maybe that was the point? Maybe he was making a show of slumming it, maybe he wanted her to look ordinary? She couldn’t think why that would be, other than some sort of publicity strategy? She imagined herself, wide-eyed, her waves flattened after the heat of the salon, eyeliner caking in the creases of her eyes, staring out from the front page of the National Enquirer as it screamed: “Elvis drops his standards!”

When work finally ended, she sped home, ignoring the ringing phone and performing a hop, skip and jump into the shower that would have qualified her for the upcoming summer olympics. She brushed her teeth and blow dried her hair at the same time, shaving her legs and layering on the eyeliner like a motivated octopus.

She was pulling up at the gates of Graceland by 6.30, both annoyed and relieved that no one would ever know the heroic efforts she had made just to be there. She gave her name to the guard at the gate house, maintaining eye contact like a crazy person as if this would convince him that she wasn’t trying to sneak in without an invite. You know, like she technically had done a couple of weeks before. 

When the gates started to swing open, she hesitated a little too long, not quite believing that it was for her, and also a little frightened that it was. The guard came back out and directed her up the right hand side of the drive as if she was unsure of where to go. 

After Aurora pulled up in front of the famous portico in her grubby, dented Pontiac, she waited. She had no idea what she was supposed to do next. Ring on the doorbell like a nervous prom date? Ding dong, Avon calling? Hi, can my friend Elvis come out to play?

When she had come before, they had parked around the back of the house, but that seemed too familiar. She smiled as she thought of fans standing at the gates and glimpsing her rusty old lemon through the trees parked in front of a millionaire’s mansion. It just summed up this whole silly situation.    

Finally, she climbed out of her car, grabbing her jacket and purse as she stared up at the looming fieldstone walls with their barred windows. The windows gave off a strange vibe, a sense of seeing and being seen, and she glanced away, the loser in the staring competition. 

Aurora had barely rung the bell when the front door swung open and a short, older guy, who may or may not have been wearing eyeliner, stood beaming at her like they were best friends.  

“Well now, you must be Aurora. Everyone said you were a pretty little thing. C’mon in, darlin’, don’t be shy. I’m Charlie.” 

Aurora thought of herself as a pretty good judge of character, a skill hard won through bad experiences. And this Charlie made her think of the uncles you knew to avoid at family gatherings, especially once they had a few drinks in them. Something about the amount of teeth in his smile compared to the lack of warmth in his eyes. She trusted her gut and took a few steps away from the arm he had wrapped around her back. 

“Well, Elvis is right upstairs. I think you know your way around up there, right, darlin’?” She forced a smile a second too late and they were stuck in a toothy standoff as Aurora wheeled round in a wide arc and headed for the stairs, her cheeks burning at Charlie’s insinuation. She wondered what Elvis had said to him. 

As she climbed the stairs, Aurora’s mind was strobing with thoughts. The first, obviously, was marveling at how thick and soft the carpet was. It would be very difficult to have an argument and stomp down the stairs here. The second was that she was walking up to Elvis Presley’s bedroom, invited, and that would never stop being surreal. She caught sight of herself in the mirrored panels on the wall and checked her teeth for lipstick and wiped beneath her eyes.

Reaching the landing, she heard the resonating sound of an organ being played and she faltered, but reminded herself yet again that she had been invited. 

When she reached the doorway of what she vaguely remembered being an office she had passed through last time, she caught sight of Elvis, just his back and side profile as he sat at the organ. Another man, slight and shorter, was standing by it as an audience of one. 

It seemed rude to interrupt the intimate concert, so she waited in the doorway, listening as Elvis sang a hymn, putting in as much effort as she imagined he did when performing to thousands. It made the hair on her arms prickle the way his rich voice enveloped her and an odd stillness fell upon her, in spite of her nerves and the awkwardness of the situation. Somehow he managed to distract her into forgetting she was anxious without even being aware she was watching him. 

With a grand flourish of his hands on the organ, Elvis brought the song to a close with a tremulous plink of the last key on the keyboard and then laughed quietly to himself and his one man audience, mumbling something only his friend could hear. 

‘Go in!’ Aurora silently instructed her feet. ‘Just walk forward!’ They picked the worst time to launch a mutiny. 

Sliding his fingers across the keys again, Elvis sang, “She thinks I don’t know she’s there” to the tune of the George Jones’ song ‘She Thinks I Still Care’. She could feel her cheeks heating up as he looked over his shoulder straight at her, a playful grin lifting and lighting up his face so that she was smiling before she could think. 

“Look, there she is, Billy, the damn fugitive. Tell her- Tell Tiger what you said to me, man-” 

As Billy went to open his mouth, Elvis gripped his shoulder while rising from the organ bench and spoke over him like a little kid who couldn’t wait to share the secret.

“See, man, I told you she was real! Y’all think I’m crazy- and I am- but not this time. Come in here, honey, come let us all have a real look at you.” 

“I had him and some of my other guys searching high and low for this girl called Aurora, and after a while, ole Marble Eyes here says to me- Tell her what you said-” Billy managed to get one word out before they finished in unison:

“Elvis, I ain’t so sure this girl really exists!” The two men laughed, and Aurora was glad that the annoyance that had been dripping from his words on the phone seemed to have evaporated. Elvis slapped Billy in the chest with the back of his hand and gestured at her. 

Apparently Aurora’s feet paid more attention to Elvis than to her, because they walked her right into the room like the traitorous traitors they were. 

“See?” Elvis said to Billy in a low voice, seemingly settling an argument that extended beyond whether or not she really existed. Billy shrugged, a little grin on his face, but Aurora didn’t miss the way his eyes, though not as jarringly dissonant as Charlie’s, followed Elvis almost anxiously as he crossed the room to meet her. 

Even though Aurora was wearing a thin jacket, she still thought she could feel the heat of Elvis’ touch as he squeezed her shoulders and leant in to lightly kiss her cheek. In fact, the temperature of the air around her seemed to shoot up as she breathed in his spicy citrus cologne and squinted slightly to stop him blurring around the edges.

“Yeah, you’re real alright,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her arm and his fingers tangling with her own as he stepped back and brazenly looked her up and down. It was a struggle not to recoil, attempt to cover herself or blush, but she sensed that this was what he was testing, pushing to see if she would crumble or curl up under the weight of scrutiny. 

“Honey, I know you came after work and all, but don’t you think you could’ve dressed up a little?” His tone was teasing and he was smiling, but the question was clearly genuine. She looked down at her red cotton flares and then back at his baby blue leisure suit with the racquetball court logo on the chest. That was the moment the cushiony awe and anxiety wore through; she could almost hear the -pop- of the bubble and then it was just her. 

“Watch your damn mouth,” he laughed. “Remember who pays all the bills around this goddamn place. Keep on and I’ll take that fucking trailer and give it to the dogs, man. Edmund’ll be pissing up the walls by next week!” 

“You were the one who told me not to wear a dress!” she returned spiritedly, looking him square in the face for the first time. “You said we were going out for a ride and not to get too dressed up.” He paused, his expression uncharacteristically blank, and she almost started questioning herself, until Billy, who she had forgotten was still standing there by the organ, put in:

“Oh, hell, you don’t listen to what he says. There’s a reason we all call him Crazy, you know.” He had a soft, slightly country, soothing kind of voice and almost like magic, Elvis’ cloudy expression burst into radiant sunshine again as he feinted an attack on Billy. 

Aurora stood stock still as Billy darted around her, jerking out of the way of a reckless and, judging by the way that Elvis grunted as he did it, forceful karate chop that cut through the air so close to the side of her head that her hair ruffled.  

“Boys, no roughhousing in the house!” she said with forced playfulness. 

They were all playing along, Aurora realized. Even she was acting out a script that she had not glimpsed, but had immediately started reading her lines and hitting her marks just as readily as Billy with his teasing words that masked worried eyes, and Charlie with the wide easy smile that tried to outshine something slightly twisted and angry beneath the surface. And Elvis? Either he was one of the greatest actors of all time, or this was him. It unnerved her the way that she couldn’t read him like she read most people, that he had no tell she could easily discern.

Billy edged backwards towards the door and Elvis slowly advanced on him. Aurora decided to choose self-preservation and step out of the way, but Elvis moved too and scooped her up against him, suddenly losing all interest in Billy. Aurora found herself with her face pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist to stop herself from flailing backwards and one of his palms hard between her shoulder blades, while the fingers of his other hand gripped her hip. 

“Oh, what do we have here,” he murmured in a soft little boy’s voice that should not have caused her to shiver and break out in goosebumps as his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Got myself a tiger by the tail.” His hands slid slowly down over the curve of her ass, thumbs kneading into the muscle and she took a sharp inhale, but then he started patting around frantically, practically spanking her. “Uh oh, no tail.” 

Aurora threw back her head, almost choking on a laugh as his sideburns tickled against the line of her throat and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. When he pulled back, pink-faced with his hair all rumpled, she found herself reaching up to smooth it without hesitation, only pausing when her fingers were tangled in his inky black locks. They stared at each other in a freeze frame, her, wide-eyed and panicked at her over familiarity; him with his eyes sparkling and his cheeks brimming as his lips twisted into a little smirk. She dropped her hand awkwardly, though her other arm was still gripping his waist as she remained draped across his chest and stomach. To stop herself from falling, she reminded herself. 

“I brought a dress,” she blurted. “For after we went for a ride.” His smile spread wider and she could almost feel it cracking her wide open even as all her defenses battened down the hatches. 

“Well, we ain’t going for a ride right now, honey,” he informed her. After taking a momentary study of her face with his head tilted pensively, he added, “I’m gonna give you the tour.” He nodded to someone behind her and she twisted slightly to see Billy still leaning in the doorway. Elvis, it seemed, needed an audience to his flirting just as much as he needed one for his singing. 

It would have seemed impossible to her a couple of weeks earlier, the thought of her being led by the hand around Elvis’ mansion by Elvis himself, listening and laughing as he swung between genuine pride and mocking himself. 

“And this here is the whore house,” he announced as they stood in the archway looking over the living room. She took in the overabundance of red, gold and white, feathers, velvet and shag, glad that he had said that first. She was beginning to notice that about him, his ability to predict reactions and pre-empt them with a joke or a sly comment, like he was somehow with you as you viewed him, making it impossible to feel enough distance to gain proper perspective, or really any distance at all. 

“Where are they?” she asked, since feeling predictable didn’t quite sit right with her. “All the ‘ladies’?” She made a show of looking around. 

“Oh, honey, we don’t talk about that,” he replied, moving ahead and tugging her through the living room towards another doorway curtained in chintzy red and being guarded by glass peacocks. “All of this was white before that fateful night.” 

The unexpected laugh exploded out of her and she yanked her hand away from the loose grip of his fingers to slap both of her hands across her mouth. Smirking again, that naughty little smile made her stomach try and wrench itself into ringlets, he glanced over at Billy, who was laughing. “Little Billy here still has nightmares.”

“You’re…” She scrambled for the words, silly, naughty, crude, funny, amazing, unpredictable, so much better than I would have thought. “Crazy. You’re just crazy.”

Through the music room, they passed through a hallway into what Elvis called the ‘Trophy Room’. Aurora was overwhelmed by all the items to look at. There were toys, clothing, paintings, ornaments, photos, plaques, citations, actual trophies and then the records, endless shiny metal discs with little plaques recording unimaginable achievements. Aurora slowly traversed the long room, peering into cases, lips moving as she read so many declarations of admiration and adoration. 

Glancing up from a trophy that recognised him as ‘The World’s Greatest Entertainer of All Time’ from ‘The Loving You Fan Club of Murcia and Alicante’, she looked over to where he was talking quietly to Billy by the door. He glanced over too and winked as they locked eyes, so she had to turn and stare very intently at a creepy doll thankfully encased in a glass cabinet until she could feel the blush cooling from her cheeks. 

“It’s like a whole museum of you,” she marveled, finally wandering back in their direction. 

Elvis seemed to misunderstand, mumbling awkwardly about needing to have somewhere to store everything because someone took the time to give it to him, so she risked interrupting him. 

“I mean, having this solid proof of everything you’ve done and how much you’re loved. It’s amazing, it must make you smile just walking in here. It’s unreal!” 

The clouds that threatened to beset his mood drifted back and he shrugged diffidently, this little smile diametrically opposed to his naughty smirk. He looked positively bashful. 

“It is unreal, man,” he murmured. “I keep waiting to wake up and find out this Elvis fella wants his life back.” He shrugged again and absently grabbed her chin with his fingers. “Well, we gotta make the most of it before he does.” He moved her head up and down, a strange little mime reflecting him back. 

Aurora tried to ooh and aah in the right places as she was led through Elvis’ plush, sleek racquetball court. Having never even heard of the game before, Aurora mentioned that she had never played and he squinted at her cryptically and assured her that she would, sounding like a fortune teller who could foresee oddly specific destinies. 

“I’m pretty good at pinball though,” she offered, eyeing up the machine with all its shiny chrome and flashing lights. No greasy fingerprints and rust to be seen, unlike the one at the bowling alley that she used to feed her lunch money when she was hiding out from spelling tests or book reports. 

“Maybe later, Tiger,” Elvis murmured, ushering her past Billy and back out into the darkening night. 

Aurora looked around as the inky shadows started to claim the white fences and golden fieldstone and let out an awed breath. Imagine having all of this at your fingertips, so much to look at, to entertain you, to enjoy just right there for the taking. It was just so titillating that she couldn’t even bring herself to feel any envy. It seemed an impossibly perfect existence, something too good to even yearn for. 

“Over there’s the barn and the horses and so on,” Elvis said, waving his hand flippantly. “I’ll show you some time.” That, at least, she was glad to postpone since horses had frightened her since she was a kid. Her head was still on a swivel as they walked back along the little walkway to the house, her eyes desperately trying to drink everything in. 

Ending up in the kitchen made Aurora smile, thinking back to her last visit. During the past couple of weeks she had been regretting how fast it had all happened and how little she had taken in. The next morning, she could barely answer the breathless, demanding questions of her customers as they quizzed her on what colors the carpets were and how many cars were in the carport. This time, she was determined that she was going to take note of everything, just in case it was her last opportunity. 

“You got eyes as big as this ‘un here,” Elvis remarked, jerking a thumb at Billy, who shrugged and smiled good naturedly. “You've seen all this before.” 

“No, you were distracting me too much before,” she returned. “I didn’t take it in.”

“Me distracting you?! That’s rich when you- you showed up in your little shorts with your legs and everything.” 

“Oh, the shorts did it for you?” she smirked. 

To her surprise, Elvis gave her an almost stern shake of his head, and she hesitated, finding herself on unstable ground. Brusquely, he informed Billy he would call him later, told the cook to send up some drinks, and then headed towards the stairs Aurora now knew led up to his bedroom. It was only when he turned and flashed her an impatient look that she realized he expected her to follow him. 

As she trailed after his broad back, trying not to look at the way the chains hanging from the belt peeking from beneath the hem of his jacket were swaying and bouncing as he slowly climbed the staircase, she replayed their exchange in the kitchen, trying to understand what had made him switch so suddenly. He had started it with his comment about her shorts, she had only been repeating what he said.  

They stepped back into the office and then through into the bedroom, where Elvis whirled round and kissed her. It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to prepare, nor get flustered. Instead, her body did what came naturally and melted like ice in a furnace. It was as if he enveloped her, the warmth of him, the smell of him, the feel of him all around her and, as his tongue lapped tentatively against her pliant lips, within her. Her forearms were just beginning to slide up his chest, hands scrambling to touch and grip, when he stepped back. It took her a while to register that he was talking, her eyes fixated on the sheen of his puffy, wet lips as he spoke. 

“Been waiting to do that again for, what is it now, a month, two months?” 

“Two weeks,” she corrected cautiously. 

“Two weeks, shit. Every time I close my damn eyes, I keep seeing those itty bitty shorts and thinking-” He cut off as his eyes fell upon her mouth and his lips curled slightly. Leaning forward to nibble on her lower lip, he let out a small grunt at the back of his throat as he pushed in to deepen it. Aurora didn’t react. A long second passed. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” He was so close that she could count individual eyelashes and examine the crease between his brows as he frowned. Her heart gave a weird flutter at the concern she saw in his face. “Are you okay? Did I-”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just… Did I do something? Before in the kitchen?”

He shook his head, trying to jostle away her confusion along with his own awkwardness as he replied:

“I don’t like to do that kind of thing in front of the staff, especially the ladies in the kitchen. It ain’t respectful.” 

Aurora swallowed a giggle upon seeing the sincerity in his face, but somehow, again, he read her mind and gave her side a poke with a long finger. 

“You think that’s kinda old fashioned and silly, huh,” he remarked, teeth clenched in a playful show of irritation. She jerked at the painful poke, but let out the laughter she had been trying to suppress. 

“Not silly,” she soothed. “It’s cute.” 

“I ain’t cute, goddamn it!” he snapped. “Get on the damn bed, woman! I’ll show you how cute I am!” 

Aurora raised her eyebrows, but before she could scoop together the words, he clutched her waist and kissed her hard to the point where her lips were almost painfully jammed against her teeth. He could only seem to bear to do this for so long however before he adjusted, and his soft pillowy lips kneaded hers. His breath fell light upon her cheek as his hands reached up to cradle the sides of her face. 

“Get up on the bed, baby,” he murmured gently this time. “Please.” 

“Since you asked nicely.” 

She used her feet to pry off her shoes and clambered up onto the center of the expansive bed, where she dropped onto her back with her arms and legs spread like a starfish. She noticed the two television screens mounted in the ceiling and rolled instinctively, hit by sudden claustrophobic dread that they were pushing down on her. 

The roll was just in time to meet Elvis joining her on the bed, and he caught hold of her by the shoulder and hip and slid her closer to him with practiced ease.

How many girls had lay in this bed, she wondered, even as she succumbed to his embrace and flexed her fingers up into the fine, silky hair at the back of his head. Did he ever wake up and not remember who his companion was until he pulled back the blankets? Did his memory ever shuffle through them all like flicking the pages of a photo album? 

She was thinking too much, she was definitely thinking too much. Here she was, laying pressed up against Elvis Presley, his tongue caressing hers while his fingertips stroked a path down her neck and into the opening of her shirt and she was imagining other more beautiful women spread out in her place. 

WIth effort, she emptied her mind and smeared her lips across his round cheek and down to his jaw, scrunching up her nose at the tickling from his sideburn. She tasted the salt from his skin as her mouth journeyed down his warm neck, pressing kisses against the rough, burgeoning stubble and flickering pulse beneath. 

He growled a little at the back of his throat and submitted. No, submitted was not the right word, because he was practically pushing his neck against her mouth, hungry for more, reveling in the caressing care of her lips and the teasing of her teeth nibbling beneath. 

Aurora could feel sweat beginning to bead at the small of her back and across her chest pressed beneath the weighty, hot pressure of his torso still covered in layers of clothing. 

Blind and dumb with eagerness, she pulled back slightly and reached for the zipper of his jacket, already halfway down, trying to gain further access and salivating at the thought of his chest that she had glimpsed through the deep open vee of his shirt, adorned with damp, curls of hair. He grabbed her bicep wordlessly and pushed it back, pressing it up onto the pillows at the side of her head. The weight of him followed and she felt her legs forced apart by the pressure of a solid thigh slotting between them and pushing against the tingling, eager nexus where she was nudging her hips to meet him.   

Swollen and tingling, her lips nonetheless widened into a smile as she felt him pressing his neck and his cheek against her mouth, demanding her kisses, caresses and attention even as his hands grazed over her breasts, the edge of his thumb teasing over her cotton covered nipple. 

Aurora clenched her jaw, biting down on a whining sigh as he thrust his hip with celebrated skill and nudged all the right places, sending a spidery web of tingling electricity deep down and along the inside of her thighs. Her toes curled appreciatively as she hooked her leg over the back of his, squeezing them both together to a duet of moaning. 

“That’s it, let me hear you, baby,” he whispered in a direct line from her ear down to her aching, tingly core. She tried to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to pull him closer to cover the shivery coolness of her exposed decolletage, but he held fast to her arm, pinning the other down beneath his side. 

Aurora’s brain was too foggy with pleasure and yearning to be embarrassed or self-conscious about the noises she was making, or was trying to make, since he kept forcing her lips to perform supplication and worship different parts of him. Her whines were muffled by the soft, fullness of his bottom lip as he tasted and teased her, then the salty, slightly metallic tang of the broad pad of his thumb as he pushed it against the flat of her tongue, and his body, heavy and hot, thrusting against every willing, needy inch of her.

Like an opera singer sliding up the scale, the way her body answered his nudging and rubbing began to heighten. A thousand icy vibrations resonated through her, building and building until all her nerves sang in the same, piercing crescendo, threatening to shatter her as she tensed, squeezed, curled into herself and then broke apart. 

With a weary but satisfied sigh, he sank back onto his side, leaving her shivering and exposed despite the fact that she was still fully clothed. Listening to her own slightly labored breaths, she was finally able to lift up her arm from the pillow and she tugged at her rumpled, damp clothes, trying to make herself more comfortable and presentable. 

Rolling onto her side, she let herself bathe in the warm, affectionate glow of his eyes as he smiled at her, reaching up to smooth her hair. She leant down and kissed him chastely on the lips, still delighted at the way he pushed back, eagerly taking what she was giving. 

“Can I? Could I… Do you need me to-” Unable to bring herself to say it, she let her hand slide down his chest, over the curve of his stomach, past the hem of his jacket, where he hastily caught it and tugged it back up. 

“Whoa, let’s hold fire on that, Tiger,” he said, lifting her fingers to his lips. “I wanna take my time with you.” She tried to hide her uncertainty as she smiled and nodded in response. “I- I tell you what we’ll do. How about you go put on that dress you wanna show me and we’ll get some food sent up. You want to watch a movie? You know who Peter Sellers is, honey?”  

Floating on a cloud while still immersed in mists of uncertainty, Aurora took her bag into Elvis’ adjoining bathroom and marveled at the gold fixtures and the shine of everything. It took a lot of money to make everything look so effortlessly shiny. 

When she caught sight of her hair reflected in the long mirror framed in lights, she gasped and brushed it vigorously. She considered rooting around in the cabinets for a hair dryer, but got distracted by all the products on the counter. It was as if a drug store had exploded; every minor ailment from indigestion to dry eyes to, oddly, nappy rash could have been cured with items on the counter. 

There were quite a few amber pill bottles too, she noticed, though she didn’t recognise any of the long names nor know how to pronounce them. She could read, however, that some of the patient names were not Elvis. It struck her as odd that so many different people would keep their medicine in Elvis’ bathroom, but her brain stretched to understand it by wondering if maybe all these people worked at the mansion and needed it be kept somewhere safe while they were working.  

When she finally emerged, now clad in a floaty, pale pink peasant dress with a bardot neckline that showed off her tanned shoulders and back, Billy was back and accompanied by a woman with dark hair parted in winged curtains, apparently his wife Jo.  

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Elvis nodded as Aurora stood awkwardly in front of the bed. “Turn around, honey, let us get a good look at you.” 

“It’s the same at the back as it is in front,” she replied tightly. 

Goosebumps were breaking out across her shoulders, both because of the icy air conditioning and the discomfort of being stared at by so many people. For some reason, having a woman sitting there looking at her, sizing her up, made her enthusiasm circle the drain. 

“No, really, give us a twirl, baby,” Elvis instructed with a tone that did not encourage refusal. 

Billy grinned and looked to his wife like he was trying to lessen some of the pressure, but Jo continued to watch her. Women were not fooled by hair and make-up tricks and they saw through the illusion of a good dress bought on sale. Jo likely knew exactly how much of an impostor Aurora was, and her knowing made it impossible to continue the charade. Aurora turned in place with all the grace and enthusiasm of a zombie, helplessly watching Elvis’ eyes narrow with annoyance. 

He didn’t even look her way as she perched on the other side of the bed to the rest of them, instead talking to Billy about the pizza they had apparently ordered while she was in the bathroom. Elvis was complaining that he was hungry and it had better not take too long or he was going to take away someone’s new car. BIlly suggested they start the movie to help take their minds off being hungry while they waited. 

It was while Aurora was watching Billy set up the betamax that she had a moment of clarity that it did not matter whether she was good enough to be there, the fact was that she had evidently tricked someone into thinking she was and that might not happen again, so she had to make the most of it. Besides, she thought back to the taste of him in her mouth, his touch on her skin and realized that acting like a sulky teenager was not going to get that back. She knew that she wanted, no, needed to get that back.

Leaning on the little information she had picked up about what Elvis liked, Aurora shuffled across the bed to where he was half-reclined against his pillows and tried to kiss him in apology. She timed it badly because he was taking a swig of water when she hurriedly smushed her lips into his cheek and he instinctively turned towards her, the water pouring onto him instead.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” She clasped her hands over her mouth, mentally preparing herself to be frogmarched to her car and escorted to the gate. 

There was a pause, the other two people in the room seemed to go very quiet and even the sound of the television was muted, but eventually Elvis forced a weak chuckle and made a comment about being given a warning next time she wanted to start a water fight. He placed his glass down with a decisive bang on the nightstand and went into his bathroom to get changed.

Aurora cringed and shrugged sheepishly at Billy and Jo, already mentally editing all of this out of the story she would tell everyone of her one and only date with Elvis Presley.   

The arrival of the pizza coincided with Elvis’ reappearance, now clad in navy blue pajamas and a gray robe, both of which were monogrammed in white. There was a beat when she reflected on how he had just made her dress up for him while he had decidedly dressed down for her and she wondered if this was a signal on how the date was going. 

Thankfully, his mood picked up considerably as he ate his food and spoke along with most of the dialogue of the movie. He and Billy joined together in unison on their favorite lines and sometimes even Jo joined in. She tried not to feel too left out, smiling appreciatively whenever Elvis slipped her a sideways glance, his eyebrow slightly raised, like he was trying to be sneaky. 

The appreciation dimmed when Elvis ordered the movie be started over from the beginning again once it was done. Aurora scanned the room for signs of a clock and cursed her poor decision making for removing her watch. Instead, she had to exaggeratedly stretch and fake a yawn. 

“Gee, it must be getting pretty late,” she remarked. “I guess I should be going soon.” 

If it had been a movie there would have been a loud record scratch, but she didn’t need a sound effect to know that she had messed up yet again. After a minute or two of loud silence, Elvis asked if he could speak to her in the bathroom and he retreated to find more privacy than he could get in his own bedroom. 

At his request, Aurora closed the door behind her and watched him glare at himself in the mirror, before smoothing his hand down the lapel of his robe and turning to face her. 

“How was your food?” he asked, glancing away again, this time out the window. 

“It was good.” It had been a little greasy, but the view more than made up for it. 

“Good… good.” He inhaled deeply and also quickly. “Well, you’re right, it’s getting real late and the streets can be dangerous, especially for a sweet little girl like you. I- I don’t like the thought of you driving around, sweetheart, you never know who could be traveling those roads at night, all kinds of weirdos and sick motherfuckers. I think you should stay here.” 

“And how’d you like the movie?”

“It was great, really funny.” Especially the first time round, what little of the dialogue she could hear. Again, she couldn’t fault the view and the company. 

“Stay?” The word yes surged into her brain, whizzing around her body like a pinball before finally emerging through her mouth as something completely different. “I don’t know.” 

It was the old song and dance, sounding like the good girl she was supposed to be while acting like the girl she really was. She had to argue that she didn’t have anything to wear to bed or toiletries. He countered this by promising to find her everything she needed. She considered that her mother might worry if she didn't show up after her date, and Elvis volleyed this back by saying that she was welcome to call Mama to let her know what was happening. He even offered to speak to her mother himself. She finished the back and forth by reminding Elvis that she was a good girl that didn’t do this sort of thing normally, but she would make a reluctant exception. 

And with that they went back to watch the rest of the movie, Aurora now nestled up against his chest, listening to the forceful thump of his heart caged up beneath. His voice rumbled through his body and into her ear, a steady stream of movie quotes, innuendo and cheeky, foul-mouthed asides about the film. 

In what seemed like a blink of an eye later, she was sitting upright in bed with the bed covers draped across her legs. Elvis had already pulled the blankets back twice, a boyish little grin on his face as he peeked at her long, tanned legs. The silky pajama jacket he had tossed to her after she had brushed her teeth using a brand new toothbrush from the seemingly endless stock in his bathroom cabinet barely covered anything, the sleeves hanging limping from her hands while the hem brushed her ass. 

Steve had brought Elvis a package about twenty minutes before, an awkward reunion, and Aurora had watched Elvis carefully take the pills that were contained within. He smiled at her, and for the first time, she spotted the charade, recognising a script. He explained that he took lots of vitamins and health supplements to keep him fit and healthy for all the touring he had to do and that accounted for most of the pills, but he also took a little sleeping medication because he found it difficult to get to sleep. Aurora had nodded, but it was not an Oscar worthy performance. 

The medicine kicked in with a surprisingly sudden punch not long later when he was reading aloud from one of his books and pausing to check she understood and to clarify words. Both his breathing and his voice abruptly deepened as well as slowing down. She frowned as she watched his usually animated and expressive face fall slack and blank 

“Elvis?” He took a long time to register her voice, even longer to respond, his slow smile following on after. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” he managed. Adorably, he pursed his lips and she realized that he was waiting for her to kiss him. She dipped down and pushed her lips against his, and she missed the way he pushed forward to meet her. He was too groggy for that. Instead, he mumbled:

“... Been looking for you for so long…”  She didn’t know if he meant in the past two weeks or more generally. It was sweet either way. 

With her mama far away and Elvis’ soft, pouting face restful and beautiful right next to her, Aurora sank down and lay her head against his chest, pretending that maybe, just maybe, she might be different. She might be special. 

As his thick lashes dropped down onto his lower lids and he released a big sigh of an exhale, Aurora thought of her mama’s words:

“... Memphis is chock full of girls that Elvis used to call at 3AM.” 

I really appreciate everyone who reads, likes, reblogs and comments. If you wish to be added to a tag list, or removed, let me know.

Tag List

@ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, @peskybedtime, @from-memphis-with-love @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782, @wildhorseinkansas, @atleastpleasetelephone

[daddy-dins-girl]

CAN YOU DO A PEDRO BOYS IDEAL FIRST DATE

Ok well I don't have an alignment chart for this one, but I can provide some headcanons!

And apologies, I didn't get ALL the boys in here, but I got a lot. Feel free to reblog with HC's of any of the boys I missed.

Hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

PS: My ask box is always open.

Headcanons under the cut!

Joel Miller - Joel takes you to a bar. It’s a little divey, but not without its charm. There’s live music and all the furniture is made of rich mahogany that gleams even under the low lighting. Joel looks amazing, foregoing his usual flannel for a black button-down shirt that’s tucked into dark jeans and a brown leather belt. Once you’ve gotten your drinks from the bar he takes you to a round booth and slides in right next to you, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and over your shoulders so that there’s no question to anyone else in the establishment who exactly you came here with (and who you’re leaving with). The table he picked is close to the stage so that every time you want to talk to each other you need to lean in real close just to hear what the other is saying. You think he did that on purpose, and you think you like Joel. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Pike - Marcus has planned everything ahead of time. He has a reservation for a restaurant he knows you’d love, based on just the few short conversations you’d had previous to setting up this date. After your meal you take a romantic walk along the pier at his suggestion and you wonder why Marcus keeps checking his watch every few minutes until suddenly fireworks start bursting high in the sky above your heads and you realize he wanted to time your walk perfectly so that you wouldn’t miss the scheduled show. He’s literally so adorable you could melt. You pretend to be cold as you watch the colorful display in the sky so that he’ll maybe put his arm around you. He does, but not until after shrugging out of his suit jacket and laying it across your shoulders first. You have a second date on the books before the first one even ends. scorcher score:🌶️

Dave York - You’re certain it’s no coincidence that Dave picked a restaurant that happened to be inside of a fancy hotel. And to his credit, you’re at the concierge desk before dessert has even been served, pawing all over each other while he hands the clerk his AMEX card and reminds them you do not wish to be disturbed this evening.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Jack Daniels - Jack takes you to the rodeo. You’ve never been before so it’s actually really fun and exciting as he explains all the events to you and you look around in wonder at everything happening around you. Jack failed to mention, however, that he’s in the fucking rodeo. You don’t mind though because the whole bucking bronco thing? Kinda hot…  Later you make sure to tell him that, and to leave the hat on. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Max Phillips - Max called it a “date” when he’d invited you. You (and literally everyone else including Webster’s Dictionary) would actually refer to what he’s brought you to as an orgy but… tomato/tomahto.  Max Phillips is an absolute menace, but you knew that already. scorcher score:🚨 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🚨

Javi Gutierrez - He takes you to the movies, of course. You half expect him to have rented out the entire theater for just the two of you, but once the movie starts playing you watch in awe of how into it he gets, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. And it's not just the movie, but the joy he seems to get from sharing the experience with the hundred or so people around you. It’s sweet. He’s sweet.  scorcher score: 🌶️

Frankie Morales - He picks you up from your place and drives for a good hour up the coast line until he stops finally for what he tells you is the absolute best taco truck you’ll ever experience (and turns out, he’s not wrong). After dinner and an ice cream cone from another nearby food truck he holds your shoes (and your hand) as you take a walk down the beach on warm sand while soft summer waves lap at your feet. You absolutely let him get to 3rd base in the cab of his truck before he drops you off. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Javier Peña - It’s not exactly a date, but you do get a text to your phone at 2am. “U up?” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Maxwell Lord - Maxwell wants to show you off. He takes you to a swanky party that is crawling with Washington’s social elites. Politicians, Diplomats and business men and women make up a majority of the guest list and he’s eager to have you on his arm when he makes introductions. The party is a little stuffy, a little boring, so when the entertainment portion of the evening begins and everyone is distracted, you and Maxwell happily sneak off to the back of the coat check room for your own private party instead. Maxwell turns out to be a little spicier than you originally gave him credit for.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Oberyn Martell - see “Max Phillips”. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Moreno - Marcus takes you to a carnival that happens to be in town for the weekend. You shove cotton candy in each other’s faces like complete dorks in love, share your first kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, walk the fairgrounds eating snow cones, and before the night is over Marcus wins you a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck that is literally so huge you can barely get it through your front door later that night when he drops you off.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️

Dieter Bravo - very similar to Javier Peña, except the text he sends is all in emojis... “🍆 💦 🍑 ❓🥺” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Choose your first date! It's a tough one but... gun to my head, I think I'm going with Frankie.

[the-guilty-writer]

Never Grow Up

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: The role Gideon played as Rossi-Reid grew up.

A/N: This is sad. This is really sad. I don't apologize. Embrace the sad.

Based off Taylor Swift's Never Grow Up

CW: typical criminal minds talk of murder, very sad and angsty

---

Your little hands wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

---

Dave looked down at the little bundle of blankets that rested in his arms. It was a big day for the newest Rossi family addition- the team had come over to meet you for the very first time. It had been a lot for Dave, too. He thought profiling was the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking, job in the world, but you had proved him wrong. Turns out that the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking job in the world was being a parent.

But the joy you brought him made up for it all.

For about an hour the BAU agents had passed you around and Dave was grateful that after all the action you were dozing off in his arms, one of your impossibly small hands wrapped around his pointer finger. He smiled tiredly, knowing he had to put you down in your crib soon before he spent another night admiring your adorably tiny features. He sighed quietly and sent you down, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. Your eyelids fluttered- hopefully with good dreams- but other than that you didn’t stir.

He walked over to turn on the nightlight; it was a gift from Gideon. The tiny plastic sparrow illuminated the room the perfect amount, but Dave couldn’t get over his closest colleague’s strange fascination with birds. Of course, you loved the little plastic bird- when you awoke at night you’d cry at first, but by the time your dad got to your room you’d be goggling at the feathered figure.

“Mio Passerotta.” It slipped out before Dave even had a chance to think about it. The Italian nickname was common enough that no one would think it was odd, but it felt more right than that. Gideon had named his son Stephen, in honor of Dave. It only felt right that your term of endearment- something your dad had thought about more than your actual name- was an ode to his friend. “Sogni d’oro, my sparrow. Ti voglio bene.”

---

To you, everything's funny You got nothing to regret I'd give all I have honey If you could stay like that

---

“Uncle Jason!” Your little legs carried you towards Gideon’s desk as fast as they could. “Uncle Jason look!”

“What is this?” he said in an exaggerated voice as you handed him a piece of paper and climbed into his lap. Your preschool and daycare were closed due to a holiday, but work never stopped at the BAU, meaning your dad had no choice but to bring you into the office. None of the agents minded- you brought a joy to the space so pure that it almost made the horror of their jobs disappear, even if it was only for the day.

Lucky for them you were now three years old and had recently discovered a love for drawing and coloring, which meant scrapped preliminary profiles that were blank on one side could be recycled into canvases for your artwork. Gideon couldn’t decide if it was right or not- having you put images of rainbows and butterflies on papers that had lists of victims names on the other side- but he tried not to think too hard about this.

“Wow!” Gideon held you steady on his lap with one hand and your drawing of… something… in the other. “Is this for me?”

“Yes!” You smiled up at him. “It’s a bird cos you like birds.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll hang it right here.” He tacked the picture up on the bulletin board that sat on his desk, next to the other three drawings of birds you had done that day for him.

“I should draw one wearing a hat!” you giggled. Gideon wasn’t sure what was so funny about the idea of a bird wearing a hat, but it made him chuckle anyway.

“(Y/N)!” your dad called for you.

You turned to Gideon. “I have to go, but I’ll be back!” You ran off towards your dad’s desk.

Gideon watched to make sure you didn’t fall. He opened up the file he had been so careful to close before you came over. Inside were pictures of young women with your same hair and eye color, each assaulted and murdered in cold blood. With a heavy heart, he looked over to you, innocently drawing another picture with your crayons.

Oh what he would give for you to stay like that.

---

You're in the car on the way to the movies And you're mortified your mom's droppin' you off At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

---

Aaron Hotchner was a man known for his calm and cool demeanor, but he was also known for his ambition, and occasionally that ambition made him more excited than normal. Recently, his ambition had led him to become an agent at the BAU. It was something he’d wanted since he first heard about the unit, and though he managed to make himself look poised on the outside, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was probably shivering in his suit. They really should warn the new agents that the basement, which served as the unit’s headquarters, could go from being a sauna one day to the arctic tundra the next day.

The heavy metal doors of the BAU opened, letting the cool air from the hallway sweep across his desk. He shook off the need to chatter his teeth and went back to his paperwork. It was beginning to feel tedious, doing the grunt work of all the agents above him. He knew that next week he would get to start looking at actual cases. After a few months he would be allowed to consult on simple profiles over the phone with small police stations that called for help. Maybe even if he worked hard enough he could make it into the field before he hit his first year-

“Agent Hotchner, over here!” Someone called to him from the outskirts of the space, where the senior agents had their desks. He suppressed a groan at the idea that another file would be added to his seemingly endless pile, but when he looked over at the person who had called him, they weren’t holding out a file.

David Rossi, the senior agent who approved Aaron’s request to join the unit, was walking towards him. Next to the senior agent was you. Aaron had seen you before of course, but he had never taken time to really look at the 14 year old that came into the BAU around 4 PM every day. But now there was no doubt in his mind that you were David Rossi’s daughter- your facial expressions, posture, and the way you walked was nearly identical to your dad’s.

“Agent Rossi,” Aaron stood up from his desk as the two of you approached.

“Please, Aaron,” Rossi said. “Just call me Dave. Now, this is my daughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Agent Hotchner. Now, I have a flight to catch for an emergency case and the TSA is going to be a pain in my ass like they usually are.” He handed Aaron a key. “This is for SUV number 4 in the parking garage. Don’t crash it, but (Y/N) has to meet her friends in 25 minutes and the movie theater is 30 minutes away. Thanks.”

Dave gave Aaron a quick pat on the shoulder and then walked past him, his go-bag in hand, leaving the young agent alone with his daughter. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.

“Sorry you got put on babysitting duty,” you said, though you didn’t sound apologetic. “But we have to go.” You began to walk off.

Aaron blindly shoved papers into his brief case before following you out the doors of the BAU. “I’ll uh-” He looked down at his watch. “I’ll have to ask where the SUVs are kept-”

“No need.” You walked easily into the elevator and pressed a button. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

You seemed confident enough in your manner that he didn’t question you. Aaron took a deep breath to try to compose himself. He was usually good at working under pressure, but something like this had never happened to him.

The elevator stopped and you walked off. Aaron followed you. Surely enough, you knew exactly where the SUV was kept. As he drove, you tried to get him to take short cuts to the movie theater, but he refused to listen. Still, you got there on time. He was about to pull up to it when-

“You can just drop me off here,” you said. The theater was about a block away. “I’ll just walk.”

Aaron shook his head. “Your dad trusted me and-”

“And I get made fun of every time I get dropped off somewhere in a government vehicle.”

Aaron looked over at you. The confidence that had shone through before dimmed just a bit. Aaron remembered being 14… thinking about all the things he wished he could do but he couldn’t. He knew that teenage desire to have independence; to be able to call the shots in your own life. 

Honestly, he was experiencing a bit of it right now being new at the BAU- having this need to look good for everyone, wanting to impress those around him, hoping that they’d loosen his leash just a little bit…

“One day what the other kids say about you won't matter,” he said and pulled up in front of the theater to drop you off. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, my actual babysitter will be here soon,” you replied. “Thanks for the ride, Hotch.”

“Don’t call me that,” he retorted.

You smirked at him before shutting the car door. You walked into the theater, but saw that Hotch was lingering around, just to make sure you really were okay, before finally leaving.

You hurried out to the payphone in front of the theater and dialed the number. “He stuck around for an extra seven minutes,” you said into the phone. “Trusted me enough to follow me to the SUV but didn't budge when I told him it'd be quicker to take the short cut. I'd give him a B+. Maybe an A-.”

You knew that Jason Gideon was smiling on the other end of the phone. “I guess he passed,” your uncle said. “I'll be there to pick you up soon.”

You hung up the phone, your part in the BAU new agent hazing ritual complete. Agent Hotchner had taken enough command, trusted you but not too much, and followed through with your saftey.

Part of you wondered if there was more to the "test" than just a good laugh for Gideon and your dad. Maybe you'd find out one day.

---

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

---

After finding the letter at Gideon’s cabin, you held Spencer for what felt like hours as he cried. You wanted to cry too, but the shock of it all was too much. It wouldn’t sink in, like your body and mind refused to accept that it had happened.

Spencer left for the bathroom to take a shower. You knew he was probably standing under scorching hot water, trying to wash away the pain of it, or feel something other than grief. Normally you would have gone in and turned the temperature down, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

Right now, all you wanted was some sleep.

You slipped on your most cozy pajamas, tossing your tear-stained clothes in the hamper. The entire apartment felt colder than normal. You went to tuck yourself into bed, but stopped before you could get comfortable. Spencer would get out of the shower eventually and being the gentleman he was, he wouldn’t turn on the light in an effort not to wake you. You slipped out of bed and padded over to the nightlight to turn it on.

The little sparrow had faded in color, but it was still your favorite nightlight. You went to flip the switch, but it didn’t turn on; and for some reason, you knew that it wouldn’t matter if you changed the bulb or not… it wasn’t going to light.

It would never light again.

Whether your heart or your legs crumbled first, you weren’t sure, but you were on the ground. Your body shook and tears fell, but you made no noise. You stayed there, on the cold wooden floor, your head buried in your arms and your legs tucked up to your chest, until a hand fell on your shoulder.

You looked up in the dark to see Spencer, and then turned back to the sparrow that had lost its light forever. He sat down next to you and let you lean into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. It was his turn to take care of you now, and he knew that. Sometimes that meant asking you if you wanted to say something, even if you said nothing at all.

You looked at the bird in the darkness, remembering your life… your childhood room, the sound of the door opening when your dad got home, the way your footsteps had grown against the concrete floors of the old BAU headquarters, the wise words that Gideon always spoke. It was before your heart had been broken, before you had been hurt and scarred, before you had been deserted; back when everything was simple.

“I-” you started. “Sometimes I wish I never grew up.”

---

Taglist:

@doctorsteeb@saturnluvvr@padsfirewhisky@staygoldsquatchling02@mycoolusernamesstuff@reidstileschishiya

[absurdthirst]

Married to the Mafia {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 33.2k

Warnings: Forced marriage, dub-con, virgin reader, threats and intimidation, talks of infidelity, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of anal sex, talks of infertility, breeding kink?, allergies, pregnancy, angst, heart break, medical emergencies, childbirth

Comments: Dave York never has anything pure, his life as the mafia leader for the York family pretty much assures that. But you are pure, and he wants you. Erasing your father's debt if you marry him to have his children, he finds himself fighting against the inclination to fall in love. How can the leader of the mafia love, after all?

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave hates being kept waiting. One of his biggest pet peeves. He is a man who lives on a schedule so if one minute is off, he is annoyed, and when Dave gets annoyed...God help the people around him. As the boss of the biggest mafia family in America, undercover in the D.C area (which he says is full of crooks just like him except he knows who he is and doesn't pretend to be a martyr), he has to ensure that his operation runs smoothly. His father, God rest his soul, had taught him that letting anything slip leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to being caught...or killed. He checks his watch just as the double doors to the hotel suite open and Dave shifts to stand, buttoning his suit jacket. 

"Mr. York, apologies for being late. Traffic was awful." The man says but Dave barely listens. his eyes on you. He's seen you before. During poker games between his men where you are serving drinks at the casino. He wanted to fuck you as soon as he saw you. When he found out you were a virgin, he wanted to marry you. Dave has always had the desire to marry but not for love, no, he wants an heir. He wants an heir from a woman who has never been fucked by anyone other than him. You are perfect. Beautiful, smart, pure. Everything he has ever wanted. His eyes meet yours, scared and confused. No doubt your father didn't tell you what you were doing here. 

Your father, as good a man as he is working for the York family, has a gambling problem and Dave took advantage of that. Deciding to offer to pay off your father's debts in exchange for you. It took some convincing, the man pretending to be hesitant in essentially selling his daughter, but he agreed after some persuasion. Now, here you are and Dave is ready to take what is his. "Hello sweetheart." Dave smiles, wanting you to relax a little. No one likes a stiff broad. 

"Mr. York." You almost whisper, certain that you are here because you did something wrong. Working in one of the York casinos was always risky - you never knew who would react badly to a loss - but you don't think you have done anything wrong, at least not to be fired or killed.

Your father looks stiff beside you, never explaining why you need to come with him to his meeting with his boss. You had just been told to get dressed in the outfit he had tossed you and make sure you wore minimal makeup. Apparently Mr. York had strict rules about the women who were allowed in the meetings with him if the modest white dress was anything to judge by. Nervous, you wonder why you are here, wracking your brain to try to think of what you had done that could have drawn the man’s attention.

Dave steps towards you, reaching out to grip your chin so he can look into your pretty eyes. "Did your daddy tell you why you are here, sweetheart?" He asks and you can't shake your head so you whisper, "no." Dave tuts, looking over at the older man who is sheepish. 

"I'm sorry sir, I thought it would be better coming from you." 

Coward, Dave thinks, but he doesn't care. He knows what he wants and he will do what it takes to get it. "Your daddy has allowed me the honor of marrying you. You're going to be my wife."

“What - no.” You want to shake your head again, but you don’t. “I- I don’t know you, not personally. You don't want to marry me, we aren’t - what about love?” Your eyes seek out your father, praying that this is some kind of trick. A joke between the men or perhaps a bet on how you would react. Your father would gamble on anything so you don’t put it past him. “I- I promised myself I would only sleep with the man that I love after we get married.”

Dave wants to scoff. What a juvenile concept: love. As far as he is concerned, it doesn't exist. People marry for convenience. People marry for money. People marry to fuck. He doesn't believe in love. His parents married to bring two mafia families together. An arrangement. He needs you to be on board. He's not a monster, he won't force you. He caresses your cheek, letting go of your chin, "that's why I want you. You are perfect. Pure enough to give birth to my heir. I want a child...children. You are the woman I want." He knows he has to entertain you if you are to agree. "Love...comes later." He nearly spits the word but he forces himself to practically coo it.

You aren’t naive, you know that there is something else going on. Dave York didn’t just decide that you are the woman he wants as his wife one day. Not when women throw themselves at him. “What else is going on?” You demand, looking over at your father who looks guilty. “What did you do?”

Before your father answers, Dave speaks. "Your father is a very lucky man. I have decided to pay off his...extortionate gambling debt in exchange for you. He agreed and I expect you will be resentful of me but I do plan to look after you. You will want for nothing. Whatever you desire, it will be yours. As long as you do as I say, you can have the world."

Jesus, you’ve been sold. Your eyes widen in horror and you almost start to cry. You have no choice in this, you are marrying Dave York whether you like it or not. “Dad….” You whimper and your father winces. 

“He promises he will take care of you.” Your dad assures you. “He is a man of his word.”

Dave sighs softly, stepping away from you to give you a moment to process and he knows this must be a lot to process. He is a monster but not that kind of monster. "The wedding has been scheduled for next month. I organized a wedding planner. You can pick whatever you want, cost is of no consequence. Pick whatever dress you want. It is your day and, despite what you might think, I want you to be happy." Dave offers, not liking the tears in your eyes. He shakes that thought away, knowing that softness is not a good thing. You will be his but he can never be yours. Not truly.

Feeling numb, you merely nod your heat meekly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t want much.” You murmur, knowing that you won’t have a wedding with a man you love. You won’t be an excited, exuberant bride like you had imagined when you were a little girl. “I will make sure that it’s worthy of you.” You add, knowing that he is an important man, and people will expect a certain level of sophistication.

Dave knows this is going to be difficult, trying to get you on side, but he will do it. He has to win you over to ensure you have his child. You’re the perfect candidate to be the mother of his child. “I will have my men go to your home to gather your things. You’re coming home with me now. Say goodbye to your father. You will see him soon.” Dave promises, wanting you to know you’re not his prisoner.

You turn to your father, angry and hurt that he would sell you to pay his debts. He has always been reckless, but this is over the top. However, he’s your father, your only living parent left. “Goodbye, I’ll see you soon.” You offer woodenly, only hugging him when he pulls you into his arms for a hug.

Dave watches the exchange, knowing your father feels guilty but the money...he owed a million dollars. He was gonna be killed if he didn't pay it off. Dave waits until you step back before he offers his hand. "Come on sweetheart, let's take you home." He can't wait for you to see the room he has set up for you. He knows you wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed as him right away until you adjust.

You bite your lip as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you from the hotel room where you had met him. “Why did we meet in a hotel room?” You ask curiously, wondering if he conducted all his business in the hotel or if it had been for some other reason.

Dave sighs again under his breath. The truth is that he had a woman in the hotel room. One of the women he fucks around with on a regular basis. All of them know the arrangement - it’s just sex. Dave York doesn’t do emotions and if they got a new purse out of it, they are happy. However, that’s all over now. He will have to be more discreet if he fucks around. He doesn’t need you hearing about it. “I had a meeting. Wanted privacy.” He answers smoothly, hoping you don’t notice the wrinkled sheets despite him having the room made up after his escapade. “Don’t worry about that now, let’s get you settled.” He insists, guiding you out of the room and away from your waste of space father.

You sigh, knowing that he’s lying and he won’t tell you the truth. You had noticed the bed was mused and he obviously had been fucking someone in the room before you had arrived. Probably the woman who had been waiting for the elevator when you arrived on this floor. Your stomach flips, unhappy with the idea of your husband sleeping with other people, although you know that you won’t have a say in what he does. He owns you. You will just have to continuously get tested to make sure he doesn’t give you something. You don’t want to hurt any potential children you have. Instead of saying anything, you just bite your lip and watch your feet as he leads you down the hall to the elevators, trying to figure out how to handle this.

Dave sees his men trail behind and he gets into the elevator with you, just you. They will take the other one. “I know this is a lot to take in but we will have a fulfilled life together. You can have whatever you want. Jewelry. Purses. Clothes. Shoes. Cars. Whatever your heart desires.” He promises and you let go of his hand, swallowing harshly as tears sting in your eyes. 

“My heart wants love.” You choke, a tear escaping as reality hits. 

Dave steps towards you, reaching up to gently wipe the tear away. “Don’t be a silly girl. Love…it’s just what people say to each other when they want to fuck. Have you ever been in love?” He asks and you shake your head. “Exactly. How do you know it’s what you want?”

You blow out a sigh, knowing that he won't understand. "I want to be with someone because I cannot bear to be away from them, not because they can buy me jewelry and purses. Just like I want them to only want to be in my bed and not have liaisons in hotels with whatever woman they fancy." You murmur, batting his hand away so you can wipe away your own tears. "I want laughter and happiness. Jokes and dancing in the kitchen. I want butterflies when he kisses me. For him to be able to come to me for comfort when he's upset or stressed."

Dave pauses, realizing he has never seen that kind of companionship. His parents were very cold towards each other. Civil but practically lived separate lives. His mother raised him and served on several charity boards while his father ran the family business, being kept away at all hours. “Sounds like a Disney movie. It’s time to grow up. Face reality. This is real life, sweetheart and you’ll realize that sooner or later, all that shit is just a dream.” He’s harsh but you are pissing him off. He’s offered you things that most women would be humping his leg for and you want things he can’t buy you. Things that, quite frankly, don’t exist. The elevator doors open and he wraps his arm around your waist. “Chin up. Don’t want people to see you’ve been crying.” He orders quietly, guiding you through the lobby to his awaiting car.

You realize that this is your life. You can either make the best of it, or you can wallow in misery. Wallowing can be saved for when eyes aren't on you. You lift your head and lean into his side as if you want to be there when the doors open, plastering a brilliant smile on your face. As if you were the luckiest woman on earth for what is happening. Some might think that you were, but you don't.

Dave smiles at a few of the staff who greet their boss, and he guides you towards his awaiting car. The driver opens the door of the town car and he helps you into the backseat before sliding in beside you. The door shuts as his driver and guard get into the front seat and he looks at you. Christ, you're gorgeous, even when you've been crying, and he swears he will do what he can to make you happy. Within reason. Dave doesn't do emotions.

You don't remember most of the car ride, looking out at the world as it passes by. Once in the car you feel his eyes on you, but you don't acknowledge it, knowing that he would talk if he wanted. It wasn't as if Dave York needed permission to do anything. If anything, you needed permission. Since you were technically his property, bought with the sum of your father's gambling debt. Soon enough, you are pausing at a large set of gates and they swing open ominously, the walled estate of his is now your prison.

Once the car comes to a stop outside of the main building, Dave exits the car and holds his hand out. You ignore it, helping yourself out of the car and he swallows down the urge to roll his eyes at your childish move. He plasters a smile on his face, guiding you into the house and his housekeeper. Mrs. Jenkins is waiting for your arrival. "Welcome home sir." She greets Dave. "Sweetheart, this is Mrs. Jenkins, my housekeeper. She is going to show you to your temporary room. I have some work to attend to so I will see you for dinner." He kisses your cheek and walks off, knowing that this transactional engagement doesn't require all of his time.

“Hello.” You offer, nodding politely at the housekeeper, she looks like she is a nice lady. She’s not in charge of Dave and can’t make him change his mind, so there is no reason to be rude to her. “I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused.” You offer. “I will try not to be too much trouble.” As much as you hate that this is happening, you wish Dave had stayed so you at least could have a familiar face. 

Mrs. Jenkins tuts, "trouble? None at all. You are going to be the lady of the house. Come on honey, let me show you to your room." She gestures to the hallway. "And you can tell me what foods you like and what time you eat breakfast. I want to prepare something special to celebrate you being here. It's about time we had a woman in the house."

“Oh.” You brighten up and bite your lip. “I like making french toast.” You admit, knowing that it takes awhile for the custard casserole that you make to set up. “Would it be…okay if I used the kitchen sometime?” You ask. “I love to cook and perhaps there can be a night where I cook for the staff instead of them taking care of us.” 

Mrs. Jenkins smiles, already liking you. “You don’t have to do that. We are here to look after you and Mr. York. Please, you can use the kitchen whenever you wish. This is your home now. Whenever you need something, you tell us and we can get it for you. I will have the chef make you French toast for breakfast tomorrow.” She declares as she opens the door to the biggest guest room of them all, already set up with your things since Dave had his men get it all from your home.

“Wow.” You gasp breathlessly, looking around the ornate room. Your things look out of place, as if they don’t belong, but you had not lived in opulence. Your father’s house was modest and you hadn’t been concerned with having the best of everything. “It’s beautiful.” You look over at the housekeeper, knowing she had set everything up. “Thank you so very much for arranging everything.”

She smiles, pleased you are happy. She has missed having someone else in the house. Dave tends to keep to himself and she wants children to run around after and assist with so she’s eager. “I hope you’re happy here.” She pats you on the shoulder. “Dinner will be ready at 6pm.” She announces, “I will leave you to settle in.” She steps back out of the room, leaving you as she shuts the door.

You look around the room and sigh. It’s a beautiful gilded cage, meant to distract you from the fact that you have been bought by a man who doesn’t love you. He bought you because you are a virgin, untouched by anyone else. Sighing, you walk over to the book shelf that was loaded down with your favorite books and pick up one of the sweetest romances you had been reading. Maybe there was some way to find a way out of this. Before you were married. 

Dave walks into the kitchen, his suit jacket and tie abandoned and his sleeves rolled up. His home has a big dining room but he hates eating in there unless he has a party. It’s too big and he feels stupid. When you come into the kitchen after Mrs. Jenkins went off to get you, Dave is once again taken back by how pretty you are, even as you glare at him. “Glass of wine?” He asks, reaching for the bottle of red he had the cook air earlier.

“Why do you want me?” You demand, ignoring his question in favor of one of your own. “Is it just because no man has touched me? That’s the requirement to carry Dave York’s heir?” You ask sarcastically. “Why not use one of the women that fall into your bed?”

He bites his lip, keeping his eyes on yours. “I want you because you…you are gorgeous. I know you’d be a good mother. You aren’t greedy or flashy. You aren’t desperate for wealth and you don’t want to show off. You want to live a simple life and be happy. The fact that you’re a virgin…it’s what I have always wanted. Someone pure since I’m…I’m not. In any way shape or form. I picked you because you’re perfect.” He answers, hoping you will accept his response and he pours you a glass of wine.

You take the glass and nod. “I’m not perfect.” You correct him. “Far from it. But I know that I am what you want because I am pure.” You take a sip of the wine. “Does that mean that you won’t want me once I’m not pure?”

Dave shakes his head. “No. I want the mother of my children to only have my cock inside of her, filling her up, impregnating her.” He says it nonchalantly but his cock twitches at the mere idea of you being the mother of his children, cumming on his cock and no one else’s.

You snort and send him a narrowed eyed look. “While you are trying to impregnate me, you won’t be sleeping with your floozies.” You tell him. “I’m not catching something that I pass to the children.”

Dave clenches his jaw, the retort that threatens to spill over his lips nearly escapes but he stops himself, offering you a soft smile instead. He has to pick and choose his battles and you just said you’d let him knock you up. “Of course sweetheart. Just you. Until you’re pregnant.” He promises, offering a compromise and the guard brings over the large velvet box. “What is that?” You narrow your eyes. “You get to pick your engagement ring.” He declares, opening the box to display the five ornate rings.

Your eyes widen at the size of the rings. “I- they are too big.” You tell him, sure that you would never wear something so big and ornate. “I - is there something simpler to wear? I would never wear these beyond events you want me to attend.”

Dave sighs, knowing that most women would kill to be given one of these rings, let alone be allowed to pick one. He does know of a ring that is simpler, but he didn’t think you’d want it. “I do have one. I- it’s my mother’s ring. Wait here.” He stands up, making his way to his office and the safe, quickly opening it to grab the small velvet box and he returns with it, sitting down then opening the box to show you the simpler ring.

“Oh.” You sigh softly and your eyes go slightly dreamy at the simple ring. The diamond is still bigger than you would like, but it’s a solitaire with a thin band. “It’s beautiful.” You reach for it and hesitate, looking at Dave for permission. “May I try it on?”

Dave nods, taking it out of the box, and he can’t stop himself from staring at your dreamy eyes as he slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit. He inhales sharply, admiring how the ring looks on your hand, his hand still holding yours as he cradles your fingers.

Dave realizes that all the money he has could never replace this ring and he hopes you care for it. It looks perfect on your finger and he swallows harshly, knowing his mother would’ve loved you already. “It’s yours now.” He rubs his thumb over the ring before he lets go of your hand, just in time because the cook sets the dinner down in front of you. He snaps the other box shut, he will have someone return those rings tomorrow.

You feel weird with the weight of the ring on your hand. Unable to keep from glancing down at your hand continuously as you pick up your fork and knife. “Dinner looks delicious.” You comment. “I’ve asked if I could perhaps cook sometime.”

Dave is shocked. The kitchen hasn’t been cooked in by anyone other than a chef since his mother died. “Uh yeah. You can. Of course you can. You cook?” He asks, cutting into his food and he is pleasantly surprised. Yet another reason why you are perfect for this position.

“I do.” You nod quickly. “I normally cooked for me and my dad.” You tell him, cutting into your own food. “I love to experiment with new dishes. Love to bake. I routinely bring in cookies or cakes to the others when I work - oh, does that mean that I am not working anymore?”

Dave immediately wants to say no to you working but he can’t take your entire life away from you. He can keep an eye on you at work and he can let you have some freedom. “Until we are married. You can continue working until we are married.” He compromises.

“Good.” You are relieved at that, giving him a genuine smile and you reach over to touch his arm without thinking about it. “I am glad that I can keep working, I want to be able to say goodbye to the friends that I work with.”

“I will have a guard keeping an eye on you though. I’m a powerful man, sweetheart. I have enemies. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me so a guard will always be near you while you work.” He adds, cutting into the chicken before taking a bite.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you will have someone watching you at all times. However, he could have just told you that you wouldn’t be able to work at all, so you will take the win where you can get it. “As long as they don’t interfere with me working, we will be okay.”

“They will just be watching you…unless they need to intervene. You’re going to be Mrs. York. You’ll be the wealthiest woman in this cesspool of a town. Those asshole politicians think they run shit but they don’t. I do. And you will be beside me, my beautiful wife. I will have the wedding planner come tomorrow so you can start telling her what you want.”

You nod, wondering what he would want for the wedding. “Is there anything in particular you want?” You ask him, wanting to know more. You just know Dave York, the boss. But he’s going to be your husband and you want to know him as the man.

He thinks about it for a moment, remembering the photos from his parent's wedding. "I want red roses. Lots of them. Everywhere. Money is no object." He tells you, and you nod, "why red roses?" He smiles, setting his knife and fork down since he has finished eating. "They are beautiful but have thorns that can hurt, make you bleed. They are the best of us both. You, sweetheart, are the rose. I am the thorns."

You lift your brows at the surprising sentimental viewpoint. Nodding again, you give a wistful smile. “That will be the flowers for the wedding then.” You decide. “Blood red roses and white baby’s breath.” It would look striking of course, classic. The comment that he had made gave you a small amount of hope that he might be a secret romantic. You smile at Dave again, your eyes softer.

Dave hums with agreement, your soft smile making his stomach twist and he forces himself to ignore it, reminded once more of what connections can do. He has to keep his distance. Mrs. Jenkins gathers your plates once you've finished eating and brings in the dessert. "I thought you might like something special since it's the night of our engagement." He hadn't even asked you but he wants you to think he somewhat cares for you. You won't be open to having him inside of you without him being nice somehow. He hopes you like the delicate cake he had asked the chef to prepare. His favorite...raspberry and vanilla.

“Oh thank you.” You bite your lip and look down at the cake that is brought out. It’s beautiful and it looks delicious. Except…you won’t eat it. It looks like it has raspberries and you are allergic to them. “It looks beautiful. Is this your favorite?”

Dave nods, eagerly digging into the cake and you hesitant, not picking up your fork. "Is something wrong?" He asks and you bite your lip, nervous to say anything. 

"It has raspberries and I'm allergic." You declare and Dave immediately regrets not asking you if you had any allergies. He should know this stuff. 

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't know." He stands up, taking both your plate and his and walks into the kitchen. 

"Dave." You call out and he ignores you, coming back a few moments later with a plate of the chocolate cake the chef had prepared earlier alongside the raspberry one. 

"You're not allergic to chocolate, are you?" He asks hesitantly, cursing himself for not asking you beforehand. There's so much he has to learn.

You smile at the new cakes in his hand. “No, I think I would cry if I was allergic to chocolate.” You joke. Dave nods and sets down the cake in front of you and sits down. “You didn’t have to give up your own cake.” You protest softly, hating that he was giving up eating his favorite cake because of you. “I would have been fine being around it, I just can’t eat it.” 

“Oh.” He flushes slightly, realizing that he should’ve asked that first but he knows people can be allergic just from airborne particles. “It’s okay. I like chocolate too. More indulgent.” He winks at you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible and he finds it’s not as hard as he thought it was going to be. “I can eat that tomorrow. Now, eat your cake.” He orders softly.

Picking up your fork, you feel a bit more relaxed. He had shown more heart than he realized in that small little action and you feel better about this idea. You really wish that you had a choice about marrying a man you love, but maybe Dave is right, maybe love will come with time. 

Dave watches you dig in, happy you are eating the cake, and after you’ve finished, Mrs. Jenkins comes in to clear the plates. “I have emails to respond to. Get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. Night sweetheart.” He says, standing up, and he drops a kiss to your forehead before he strides off, reminding himself that this is an arrangement. Nothing more.

****

Rushing around the craps table at the casino, you drop off the drinks at the blackjack table like you had been ordered to. The last few days have been a whirlwind and honestly the scheduled day of work was a nice break from picking out colors and arrangements, music and all the small details that go into a wedding. Dave hadn’t lied when he said there was no limit to what you could spend, but you were trying to go for elegance and yet have it feel like you were actually in love with your intended. Fulfilling drink orders and caring for the gamblers, even with the security that was shadowing you, was a needed change.

Dave enters the casino, deciding to visit you. He had accepted yesterday that he is looking forward to marrying you. You are smart as a whip, funny, and ridiculously sweet. Far too sweet for his murdering ass. He has learned about your interests during dinner and he plans to get you the cooking things you want but could never afford. Like a pasta maker. Who makes pasta? Apparently you do. The staff are always on edge when he enters one of his establishments and that’s just how he likes it. 

He strides over to the table you’re serving, just about to greet you when he sees the asshole put his hand on your ass. His pace quickens and he grabs his knife from his jacket, opening it and in a flash, he grabs the man’s hand from your ass and slams it on the table, his knife going through his palm within seconds. “Fuck!” The man screams. 

“You never touch her again. Otherwise the knife will be going in your fucking chest. You understand?” Dave growls. The man’s gurgled wail of pain isn’t good enough. “Do you fucking understand?” Dave hisses and the man nods, crying out in pain and he screams when Dave withdraws his knife, turning to you.

Your eyes are wide and you are stunned into silence. It was quick and brutal. You know what kind of man Dave is, you’ve heard the rumors but you’ve never witnessed anything like this. Security always drags off the people who are causing problems, but Dave had not only done this very publicly - since all eyes are on this table - but he also ruined one of his busiest tables. Your mouth drops open in shock and you look back at the man before looking back at Dave. He had just stabbed that man, for touching your ass. Granted, you didn’t want him touching you, but you don’t think the action warranted a knife through his hand. 

Dave looks at you, seeing the horror in your eyes, and part of him feels guilty you had to witness that, the other part feels happy you’re horrified. Reminds him that you could never love a monster like him. “Come on sweetheart. You’re done.” He says, grabbing your waist and guiding you towards the staff area, feeling pent up enough to fuck but he can’t.

“Wait, I have to finish working.” You tug on his hand but he ignores you, continuing on towards the doors that are clearly marked ‘Employees Only’. 

“No, you are finished.” Dave growls. “You are not working here anymore.” 

You huff and tug on his hand again. “You said I could work until we get married. I haven’t said goodbye to everyone! It will leave them short staffed.” 

“I will make sure they hire someone else. You can get your goodbyes now without going back on the floor. You are done here. No one touches what is mine. Tell me, how many fucking times does that happen?” He asks, furious that this could’ve been happening without his knowledge.

You bite your lip, looking up into his dark eyes. He’s livid and you know you shouldn’t lie to him. Right now, you see why everyone is scared of Dave York. “At- at least once a shift.” You admit softly. “Although it happens to other girls more.” You add, as if that makes it better. “We just deflect or joke around with them so that they stop trying to grope us. We have a symbol for marking the ones that are handsy in the system. Put it next to their names to let the other girls know to be on the lookout. Since the manager says that it’s a part of the job serving drinks here.” 

Dave shakes his head. He might be a murderer but he’s never been a perv. He’s pissed, shaking his head. “I am going to tell security that anyone doing that will be thrown out and banned. No one should be pulling that shit. You aren’t gonna be working here anymore sweetheart. If you want a job, I’ll find you something else. The next person that feels you up is a dead man. That fucking manager of yours is a dead man. Get your stuff, you are leaving after you say your goodbyes.”

Gathering up your things, you feel Dave’s impatient gaze on you. He’s irritated and it’s because you opened your mouth. Yes, the servers and drink runners here had continuously gone to the manager about people sexually harrassing them until the man had simply stated that it was a part of the job and if a high roller asked you for sex, to consider it a compliment - but that didn’t mean the man deserved to die. Once you have your things, you turn to him quietly and walk over to where he is standing. 

Dave is practically vibrating with anger as he guides you back into the main hall. Some brave men look around at him, others try to avoid his eye and therefore his wrath. "Say your goodbyes sweetheart." He orders, grabbing your things and handing them to his guard standing nearby. He crosses his arms, knowing that he could easily kill that motherfucking manager, but not today, he wants to take you home first. He won't allow anyone in this sewer of a town to touch what belongs to him.

You quickly say goodbye to the girls that are standing around, word going out on the floor and others rushing over to hug you. You had made a lot of friends here, some of those attending your wedding, but you wanted to say goodbye. You wish you had more time, but Dave is tapping his foot and you rush back over to him. “I’m- I’m ready.” You offer quietly,

Nodding, he reaches for you to pull you close, a protective hand around your waist, and he glares at anyone who looks his way while he guides you out of the casino and to his awaiting car. Once you're inside, he pulls out his cell and dials his right hand man, Resnik. 

"Boss?" Resnik answers immediately. 

"I want Liam Pollock in the building this evening. He's the manager for the casino on Fifth. I want to have a chat with him." Dave declares, "make it 8 o' clock. I want to be on time for dinner with my fiancé." He hangs up the phone, sliding it back into his jacket and he doesn't look at you, not wanting you to see the monster that lures in his eyes.

You bite your lip, wondering if you’ve made a mistake. Wondering if you should have lied to Dave about what was happening in his casino. Instead of dwelling on it, you decide to watch the people passing. “Since I’m off work, why don’t I fix dinner tonight?” You offer, turning to look at his side profile.

Dave is surprised that you want to cook dinner for him. “You’re not gonna poison it, are you?” He jokes, smirking at you. “If you want to work, I can find you another position in the business. Something behind the scenes. I just - I cannot have you out on the floor. I’d kill too many men.” He says without any humor, deadly serious.

Your eyes widen and you almost laugh, thinking he was serious. Until he doesn’t laugh at all. Then you choke slightly and cough. “Oh, uh, I guess whatever you want me to do.” You murmur, feeling a bit uneasy. “Do you want me working? I know that I will be worried about having my own money.”

“You don’t have to worry about money when you’re a York, sweetheart. I am having a pre-nup drawn up that you can review with your own attorney, paid for by me, picked by you, which offers you a very good alimony in case we divorce. As for while we are married? You will have your own credit cards, you could spend a million bucks and it wouldn’t make a dent.” He reveals, knowing he had to have this conversation at some point.

You shake your head. “I don’t want your money.” You insist. “I don’t have to have a lawyer read over anything. Your money is yours, I just- I can’t even imagine you allowing a divorce.” You reveal, knowing that despite what he said, once you’re married, the only way that you are leaving the family is in a casket.

Dave doesn’t argue with that. He won’t divorce, absolutely plans not to, but shit happens and who knows? He wouldn’t leave you in the lurch. Especially since you’d be the mother of his child. “The child would remain in my care, of course if we were to divorce.” He says, like it’s obvious. “You will hire an attorney of your choice and you will review the pre-nup. Then we will get married and you will give me an heir to my empire.” He declares like it’s easily done.

You bite your lip, not willing to say that you would never abandon a child that you had. “Fine.” You huff. “I will hire an attorney to go over any paperwork that you send over.” You don’t feel like he will drop this and you don’t care about money, but he seems obsessed with making sure things are settled. Maybe it was because you’ve never had money.

Dave hums with contentment, pleased that you didn’t argue. The car pulls into the estate and Dave’s door is opened. He turns to look at you before he gets out, “you are to be my wife. I won’t have anyone saying I don’t provide for you. I will give you a credit card and you will go shopping for new clothes. I want you to get whatever you want. It’s the least I can do since you are mine.” He says, getting out and buttoning his jacket as he enters his home, making his way to his office to prepare for beating your moron manager.

You don’t appreciate the way that he simply walks off from you, but you hold your tongue. Instead you walk into the kitchens and smile at the cook. “I want to give you a night off.” You tell him with a smile. “Is that alright with you?” The cook nods with a smile. 

“Of course it is. It’s your kitchen.” He tells you, although you don’t argue that you aren’t married to Dave yet.

****

Dave enters the house, the smell of whatever it is that you’re cooking hits his nose and he inhales deeply. He groans, his stomach rumbling and he walks into the kitchen. Your ex manager, Pollock, will be ensuring that no one touches anyone inappropriately in his casino and that involved teaching Pollock is a lesson. Dave usually has his men take care of such…messy interactions but this time was personal. His knuckles are bruised but he had cleaned up enough to return home to you. He walks into the kitchen after hanging up his jacket and he sees you at the stove, barefoot and wearing an apron. It’s adorable and sexy at the same time. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck but he doesn’t. You aren’t open enough to him yet. “Something smells good.”

You turn and notice the specks of blood on his shirt and the bruises on his knuckles. You bite your lip and don’t say anything about his appearance, just turning back to the stove. “I’m making roast chicken and vegetables, mashed potatoes and gravy.” You offer him. “And I made a pudding for dessert. It’s not fancy, but it was a last minute meal.”

Dave is impressed and he walks closer to you, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. “Sounds delicious, sweetheart. You want any help?” He offers, “maybe I can open a bottle of wine.” His eyes drift down to your ass, those leggings you changed into making his cock twitch.

“That sounds good.” You glance back over at him and your eyes drift down to his knuckles again before you stir the boiling potatoes again. “Whatever you want with the chicken. Did you kill him?” It’s the first that you’ve acknowledged his disheveled appearance and you are trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Dave chuckles, admiring how ballsy you are to ask him. He shakes his head, shifting away from the counter and he walks over to the resting chicken, grabbing the carving knife. “I didn’t kill him. He, however, won’t be allowing any handsy fuckers to touch the staff.” Dave replies just as nonchalantly.

“That’s good, the girls don’t deserve that kind of treatment.” You firmly believe that. “I believe that he would have had us sleep with the men if it meant they spent more money in the casino.” You fork up a potato and check that it’s perfectly tender, flipping off the burner and moving the pot over to the sink to drain the potatoes to mash. Watching carefully as you pour off the seasoned water and move over to the counter to start adding butter and milk and more spices to mash in with it and whip them to a creamy perfect consistency.

Dave clenches his jaw, “knew I should’ve killed the motherfucker.” He hisses under his breath, grip tightening on the knife as he cuts the chicken and puts it on the awaiting tray. He sets the knife down and walks over to you. “No one…you didn’t - no one has touched you before?” He asks, wanting to double check.

“No.” Shaking your head, you stop stirring the potatoes before you turn to him and frown. “I haven’t ever done…anything. I mean, I’ve been kissed, but nothing beyond that.” You grab the bowl to transfer the potatoes into and sigh, “I’m sure you want to have that verified by a doctor?” You ask.

Dave trusts you but he wants you checked out by a doctor for your overall health as well as your virginal status. He walks over to you, stopping you scooping the potatoes so he can grip your chin, making you look at him. “Who kissed you?” He asks, wanting to know.

Your breath catches, staring into his dark eyes and you wonder if he will try to kill the man who had kissed you. “I- it was in high school.” You admit quietly, telling him the name of one of his own men. “It never went beyond that. I swear.”

Dave hums, content that it was a while ago. No doubt that teenager had kissed you poorly. He wants to kiss you now, slide his tongue into your mouth and show you how good it can be. “I want to kiss you.” He declares, his dark eyes focused on yours, never shifting and it’s intense.

“You bought me, didn’t you?” You ask softly, knowing that he could do anything he wanted with you. The fact that he was marrying you was surprising now that you think about it. He could have just taken your innocence instead of making you the wife of the most powerful man in the city.

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I won't force you. I may be a bad man but I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. I would hope that I am not repulsive to you, that you would want me to touch you eventually. Let me kiss you, show you how good it can be." His voice lowers, his eyes focusing on your lips.

You bite your lip, watching his nostrils flare slightly in response and you swallow. Nodding, you watch his eyes meet yours again. “I- you can kiss me.” You know that you have no clue what you’re doing and perhaps when he sees how unskilled you are, he won’t want to go through with this.

Dave leans closer, his lips brushing yours until he tilts his head, kissing you properly. His hand cups your cheek, his other hand gripping your waist to pull you closer and he hopes you enjoy the kiss. He wants you to marry him, to have his child. It will make his life easier if you are on board. His tongue slides along your lower lip and you whimper when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. His stomach twists as he realizes this is the first time he has kissed since his college girlfriend. He never liked kissing his dalliances since it was too intimate but you are to be his wife so he needs to offer you some intimacy. He pulls back after a moment, pecking your lips. "Food is getting cold. Let's sit down." He says, trying to ignore his long frozen heart as he turns back to the plate of carved chicken.

You stand there for a few moments in shock. Awed at how your stomach had flipped and dipped when his mouth covered yours and his tongue caressed inside your mouth. “Yes. Dinner.” Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you dish up the gravy into a boat and rush to bring everything to the table while Dave brings the platter of chicken. Now dinner feels intimate, like you were cooking for your fiancé. Which you guess you were, his ring still on your finger.

Dave watches as you sit down after he’s taken his seat and he hates how his lips tingle from the kiss. He hasn’t had that happen before. He clears his throat and starts to serve the food, placing some chicken on your plate. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable. “Did you get the flowers ordered?” He asks after several moments.

“I did.” You nod and spoon up some of the mashed potatoes and pass the potatoes to him. “I think we have ordered every red rose within two hundred miles.” You laugh quietly and give him a small shrug. “There will be plenty of flowers for the wedding and reception.”

"Good. I want it to be the wedding of your dreams...well almost." He adds, knowing you want the ridiculous addition of love but since when has love ever been good? Great men have failed, some died, because of love. It's insanity. "You have your appointment to go dress shopping?" He asks, "you have no budget. I want you to pick whatever you want."

You open your mouth and then close it, wondering what he would say if he knew what you really wanted. “I made an appointment, but I - I would like to see if they can alter my mother’s wedding dress. I’ve always dreamed of wearing it.” You reveal, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. “With modifications, of course.”

He’s taken back that you want to use your mother’s gown. It’s sweet and he already knows the best tailor to send you to to have it adjusted. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want. This is your wedding. Perhaps you can buy a dress for the reception?” He suggests.

You nod eagerly, happy that he would allow you to have your mother’s dress. “That would be nice. The wedding dress can just be for the ceremony and I’ll change into a party dress for the reception.” You decide, giving him a sincere smile.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Do you want to have anyone at the wedding? Your father of course is invited but any other friends or family?” He doesn’t just want it to be all his associates. He doesn’t really have friends. All of his “friends” would step on him the moment he slipped up and they had a chance to get above him.

“There are a few from work.” You admit quietly. “I don’t have a lot of friends. I was busy working and trying to keep my father from gambling too much.” You huff, “I obviously failed on that front.”

“Invite your friends. Whoever you want. As for your father…he is invited but I will not fund any more gambling. He got up to a million bucks in debt. He was gonna be killed by his other lenders.” Dave reveals, wanting you to know that he did something good even if you aren’t happy with the result.

“Oh my god….” You whisper, feeling sick to your stomach at what could have happened. Your father would have been killed. Men had been killed for much smaller sums than that in the gambling world. You sigh and for the first time, you thank him. “I appreciate you saving my father.” You hum quietly. “Even though it was for selfish reasons, you still did something nice.”

Dave finds that he likes you thanking him. He likes your praise and that unnerves him. Usually, he only appeases himself, does what he wants, but he finds himself - for a moment - wondering what you’d expect from him. Shaking it off, he nods and digs into the food, trying to ignore that nagging feeling. “That was delicious, sweetheart. Thank you.” Dave hums, rubbing his belly. He should go for a run tomorrow morning, and try to trim up for the wedding.

“Oh, thank you.” You fluster slightly and bite your lip as you try to suppress the happiness that surges through you at him enjoying your cooking. You love cooking too much to have to never do it because your husband hates your food. “Maybe I can do it again sometime?”

“Anytime you want. God, it was amazing. I haven’t had a meal that good since my Mom died. Shit, don’t tell the cook that.” He pleads, knowing the cook won’t be pleased by that statement but it’s true. The cook is too fancy sometimes. You giggle and wink at him, making his cock twitch and he huffs at himself, reaching to gather the plates to distract himself.

You are in shock that Dave is picking up his own plates and yours to take into the kitchen. It’s the picture of domesticity. The only thing that is missing is music playing and laughter, followed up by the two of you dancing. “I’ll have to make you some of my favorites.” You promise as you bring the rest of the dishes into the kitchen behind him.

Dave watches you as you begin to wash up and he helps, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this but he can’t allow you to cook and clean up. “Go get the pudding, I’ll finish this up.” He orders, loading the plates after rinsing them.

Drying your hands off, you turn away to go into the refrigerator to pull out the two dishes of chocolate pudding you had made, along with the homemade whipped cream. “I know it’s almost childish, but-“ You shrug as you bring the bowls over to the counter near the sink. “It reminds me of desserts with my mom. She loved chocolate pudding.”

Dave groans, “I do too.” He follows you to the table and sits down, taking the dish with eager eyes. “Can I- I saw a summary but…what happened to your mom?” He asks, wanting to hear the story from your lips.

You sigh and your spoon drags through the whipped cream. “Mom and dad wanted lots of kids.” You explain, looking up to give him a small smile. “Did you know that?” Dave shakes his head, unaware of that but he knows you are an only child. “They promised me a brother or sister for Christmas but mom went to the doctor when she was late and they both came home crying.” You scoop up some of the pudding and examine it so you don’t have to look at Dave. “She wasn’t pregnant. She had cervical cancer. She- it was quick. Spread throughout her body rapidly and by Christmas, we were visiting her grave and dad was losing himself in the casinos and card games.”

Dave stares at you for a moment, looking into your eyes that are watering, and Dave wants to take all of that pain away. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. That - there’s nothing I can say to make that better but I promise you, when we are married, you can have as many kids as you want. If we have a daughter, you can name her after your mother.” He vows, reaching for your free hand. He squeezes and sighs, now understanding why your father is the way he is. 

“My parents…they were killed. I was, God, around twenty two and my mom wanted me to attend this stupid political gala and I refused to go. I was young, wanting to go out and party. I didn’t want to put on a suit and go make small talk. They went without me and on the way home…their car skidded on black ice. Turned over and went down a hill and hit a tree. Both of them, their driver, and their guard…dead. I still remember getting that call.” He shivers slightly, “and then I had to take over the family business. I didn’t have time to grieve, I had to get to work. So I did and here I am today.”

“I’m so sorry.” You don’t think, reaching out and covering your combined hands with your free one. “That is horrible, you didn’t have time to mourn and you should have.” You don’t like the fact that you are marrying a man you don’t love, but you hate that he has been alone and unable to process that grief. “Were they - was it a good relationship?” You wonder if that is why he doesn’t put any stock in love.

Dave sighs, looking down at your hands. “My parents were arranged. My mother’s father knew my dad’s father and they arranged their marriage. It was a good choice based on political and financial factors. Love? Didn’t apply. They barely spoke. My mother was always busy with charity events and my father was running the family business. They didn’t love each other. It was convenient to them both. I admired my parents but when they died, I realized that admiration couldn’t save them. It didn’t help me run the business at such a young age.”

Understanding now what made Dave York think that love wasn’t necessary, you pat his hand softly. “I’m sorry.” You murmur softly, your heart breaking at the younger Dave not having the loving home you believe all children deserve. Yours hadn’t been perfect, but it wasn’t cold. It sounds like they had little time for the child they created together. “I- I know you speak of heirs, and they are the future of your dynasty, but…” you shake your head. “My children will know love.”

With a sigh, Dave pulls his hand away from yours. He doesn’t want to argue about fucking emotions anymore. If you want to believe in that shit, who is he to stop you? He wants you to be there for his children, to be a good mother and give them what he couldn’t have from his own mother. “The President will be attending our wedding. I gave a lot of money to his re-election campaign so he will be attending with the First Lady. I want to keep the President in my pocket. He knows to leave my…less than legal business alone.”

“Okay.” The moment has passed obviously and your own sigh is much quieter. Looking back down at your pudding and trying to ignore the pang of hurt and sadness at the coming lifetime of loveless interactions. “I will make sure that you are not embarrassed.” Your chair scrapes back from the counter as you stand, suddenly not wanting the sweet dessert. “I am tired.” You announce, dumping the bowl in the sink. “Goodnight.”

Dave watches you go, forcing himself to ignore the way his stomach twists at the sad look on your face before you get up. He stands up, grabbing his own dish and washes everything up, cleaning down the countertop and table so Mrs. Jenkins doesn’t have too much work to do, and he makes his way to his study. He didn’t even get to thank you for dinner. He wanted a business only marriage…so why does he want to go and see you? To make you smile. “Fuck.” He huffs, slapping his cheek softly to make himself see sense. This is an arrangement. Only an arrangement.

****

Taking a deep breath, you try not to cry. Not tears of happiness as you stand in the altered perfection of your mother’s wedding dress and look at your reflection. In a matter of minutes, you will walk down the aisle to marry a man who doesn’t love you, and you don’t love him. Everything is picture perfect and it’s all a farce, an image for him to project to the world. The powerful mafia boss with his virginal bride, pure and innocent, to bear the future generations of his dynasty. You look away from the mirror, blinking quickly so you don’t ruin your makeup and straighten your spine. Today is the result of the last month of careful planning and you will not ruin it for him. You will give him what he’s bought. “I’m ready.” You tell the coordinator, nodding for emphasis.

Dave adjusts his bow tie as he stands at the altar. Waiting for you, he’s anxious, especially since the crowd is large. Pretty much all of D.C are in attendance. The President sitting with his security, and Dave’s own security are scattered throughout the room. He worries for a moment that you have run away, decides to try and escape him. His worries are assuaged when the music begins and the doors open. You didn’t want any bridesmaids and Dave doesn’t have a best man so your father walks you down the aisle and Dave’s stomach twists when he sees how beautiful you look. He can’t look away as you make your way down the aisle to him and he knows he made the right choice. This past month, you’ve been civil towards him, cooking meals now and then but he wouldn’t let you break down his walls. Staying away almost every day to ensure he wouldn’t want to get attached. He shakes your father’s hand when he approaches, taking yours after letting go to escort you the rest of the way to the officiant.

Dave leans in as the officiant begins to ramble. “You look beautiful.” He whispers and you offer him a small smile, “thank you.” He truly means it. Your mother’s dress is gorgeous with the alterations and the red roses in your hand highlight your complexion. You look like an angel and he guesses that that makes him the devil. When it’s finally time for the vows, Dave repeats what he has to say, barely paying attention to them. They don’t matter. He won’t be obedient and loyal. Never has been. He slides his finger into your finger, his dark eyes meeting yours as the officiant turns to you for you to say your vows.

“I.” Your voice is clear, without a waver in your voice to indicate any nerves, is picked up easily by the microphones for the video and the guests in the back of the large church. “Take you, David Anthony York, to be my husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and health, to forsake all others, for as long as I live.” You know your husband will not be faithful, having gone to the hotel where you had been told you were marrying him, several times in the past month. You have already told him what you expected and if Dave didn’t listen, there was nothing you could do about it. There was a ring for Dave, the thick gold band fits perfectly on his hand but you aren’t sure if it will be worn beyond tonight. You slide the ring on his hand and turn towards the officiant again.

Dave doesn’t listen to the rest of the speech, not really interested until the officiant declares you husband and wife. Announcing that Dave can now kiss his bride. He hasn’t kissed you since that night in the kitchen so he steps closer, reaching out to cup your cheeks and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that declares to everyone in the ballroom and the world that you belong to him.

You feel the possession in the way that his lips cover yours. He’s not kissing you in love and joy, it’s to show status. You are now his completely. Your eyes flutter closed, knowing it will look better on camera, as if you are melting into the kiss. Listening to the applause from the guests as Dave breaks off the kiss.

He smiles, grabbing your hand to walk you down the aisle as everyone cheers for the newly wed couple and once you’re beyond the double doors, he drops your hand. He ignores your hurt look and the photographer comes over so he wraps his arm around your waist. “Come on sweetheart, let’s take some photos.” He hates taking photos but it’s necessary for his heir to have photos of his parent’s wedding day.

It’s hard to smile for the photos when it’s obvious that Dave is putting very little effort into making this day enjoyable. You are stiff in his arms and any hope you have for the future dies. You stand how the photographer tells you to and smile when they say smile, plastering the look on your face - one that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Dave is grateful when the photos are over. He fucking hates taking photos and his mind hasn’t been changed. He takes your hand once more, guiding you into the ballroom that is being used for your reception and the crowd cheers as the band announces Mr. and Mrs. York. Dave guides you to the dance floor, not even knowing what song you picked for the first dance but he is a surprisingly good dancer. All those years of fighting made him coordinated.

The guests are already starting to drink, several open bars that are scattered throughout the reception hall are already packed with people to get booze. Waiters are gliding around the room with canapés and champagne to those that don’t want hard liquor. You try to focus on the crowd, instead of the man that is guiding you through the dance. After this, you will go change into the dress you had picked out for the party, packing your mother’s dress away carefully.

Dave smiles as he twirls you around, leaning in to softly kiss you once the song ends. He doesn’t listen to a lot of top 40 music nowadays, but he knows Adele and you picked one of her songs for the dance. He wants to roll his eyes but he doesn’t. 'Easy On Me' isn’t exactly romantic. “Strange song choice sweetheart.” He comments as he pulls back, knowing he has to go mingle while you go change. He wants your wedding dress on for the first dance for photos but now you can go get out of it. He’s hoping you picked some of the lingerie he sent you to wear under it.

You don’t answer him, instead you walk out of the reception hall and hurry with the coordinator back to the room you had used to get ready. The next dress is sexier, more flirty than the wedding dress and it matched the white lingerie you had picked out. You have no doubt that Dave would want to consummate your marriage tonight and you were honestly scared of it. You don’t know what kind of man, lover, he is and you’ve only shared three kisses.

Dave greets people as they approach him, business associates both legal and illegal all gathered in the same room to celebrate his wedding. He waits for you to get changed and when the band announces your return, his cock twitches at the new sexier dress you’re wearing. A perfect virginal white and he immediately wonders what you have underneath it. You approach him and he kisses you again, pressing his lips to yours to show his intentions. “So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close while the crowd cheers.

Dave grins, turning you around so he can guide you over to the President’s table. “Mr. President, Ma’am.” He greets the couple, “this is my beautiful wife.” He introduces you, wanting you to have the honor of meeting the only man possibly as powerful as Dave in this country. He can easily whisper in the man’s ear to get shit done, he’s just gotta offer a few million towards his campaign.

It’s a bit surreal, the idea that the President is at your wedding and you shake his hand, trying not to grimace when he kisses the back of your hand in a wet, opened mouth kiss. Barely resisting the urge to wipe your hand off, you turn to his wife and greet her warmly, wondering if she accepts what kind of man she is married to.

Dave clenches his jaw at the way the president kisses your hand. He wraps his arm around your waist, dragging you back towards him after you’ve greeted the First Lady and he turns to the President, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You ever touch my wife again, I’ll make sure no one in D.C even remembers your name.” He threatens, knowing that even the secret service won’t intervene in his threat. Dave pulls back and plasters on a fake grin as he turns to you, “shall we go eat, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You aren’t hungry but you want to get away from the President before something else happens to cause a scene. The last thing you needed was your wedding to be surrounded by scandal. “Is it what you wanted?” You ask as the two of you are seated at your wedding table.

Dave smiles, nodding. He’s not sure if you mean the wedding or you but he knows he’s happy with both. “I am very happy. The wedding is incredible and so are you. My beautiful bride. I can’t wait for tonight.” He reaches down to squeeze your thigh.

You bite your lip, staring down at your plate as you try to hide how worried you are. You know what to expect, you aren’t naive, but you had always imagined giving yourself to a man you loved.

Dave noticed your hesitancy and sighs. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll look after you.” He promises, leaning closer. “You’re gonna cum on my cock tonight.” He coos, squeezing your thigh before letting go.

Your cheeks heat up and all you can do is nod as you try to eat a little bit of the beautiful meal the caterer has made. It’s easily a dinner that is easily better than any state dinner. However, you are so nervous, you can barely stomach anything.

Dave watches you barely eat and he isn’t happy about that. Wondering if it’s anxiety. He will ensure you eat later. He will get you whatever you want. “It’s time for the cake cutting.” The band singer announces and Dave guides you over to the huge cake, smiling as he cuts it with his hand over yours, the cameras flashing. He kisses you before feeding you a piece of the cake. Wanting you to be fed and comfortable. He feeds you another piece of cake, happy you chose chocolate. “Now it’s time for the garter toss before the bouquet toss.”

Shivering slightly, you allow Dave to guide you over to the chair that had been set in the middle of the dance floor while all the single men are invited on the floor to try to catch your garter. You’ve never had a man touch your bare thigh where Dave is going to be reaching and it embarrasses you that it’s going to be done in front of all these people. Sitting down in the chair, you’re shocked to see Dave kneel down and give you a smug wink before he starts sliding his hands under your dress. 

Dave ducks under your dress, his hands sliding along your thighs - clad in silk stockings - until he finds the garter. He shifts closer once he is between your legs and he inhales deeply the heady scent of your body and it makes his cock twitch. When he looks up and sees the pretty white lace covering your virgin cunt and the matching garter belt he groans, loving how sweet and innocent it looks. He knows he can’t take advantage so he finds the garter on your leg, gripping it with his teeth and slowly, so slowly, drags it down your leg.

Your gasp of shock makes everyone laugh, your new husband’s head under your dress. You hear some vulgar comments, but you are too busy burning in embarrassment from him seeing you under your dress. Cringing and trying not to when you feel the grade of his teeth on your skin.

Dave emerges from your dress, victorious with your garter in his teeth, and he winks at you before he shifts to stand up, his cock semi hard and he discreetly adjusts himself before turning back to the group of single men. “Ready fellas?” He asks and all of them cheer. Part of him doesn’t want to give up your garter but he knows this is good for show. He tosses it, rolling his eyes when Resnik catches it. He turns back towards you, holding his hand out to help you up and he notices your flustered appearance. “Nice panties sweetheart.” He murmurs with a smirk.

“Oh my god.” You huffs, ready to just melt into the floor. This man was your husband by law and had every intention of taking your virginity tonight, but you are so flustered by the fact that he just saw your panties. “Shut up.” The coordinator saves you from saving anything else, bringing over your bouquet while the DJ announces that the single women should come to the dance floor for the tossing of the bouquet. Giving you something else to focus on besides the fact that you hadn’t missed the way that your husband had to adjust himself right in front of your face.

Dave watches you toss the bouquet, one of your coworkers catches it and flushes when she has to dance with Resnik. Dave wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your neck. “They’d make a good couple.” He murmurs. 

You scoff, “pretty sure murderers aren’t her type.” 

Dave snorts, “yet you married one.” He is anxious now to get this reception over with so he can get you back to his home. He can’t wait to see you. All of you.

“It wasn’t as if I had a choice.” You remind him, pulling away and giving the excuse that you wanted your glass of champagne. While you were tossing the bouquet, you noticed a lot of your guests were well on their way to being drunk and it sounds like a perfect way to survive your wedding night. You don’t want to remember it. Tossing back your head, you down the rest of your champagne and motion to a waiter to take this glass and give you another.

Dave frowns, grabbing the glass before you can take it when the waiter returns. "Don't you think you've had enough?" He reprimands, setting the glass down on the nearby table then he grabs your hands. "Why are you trying to get drunk?"

You snort, annoyed that he has taken away the glass from you like a naughty child. “Perhaps I wanted some liquid courage, this is my first time.” You remind him, as if he had forgotten. “Forgive me if I just don’t trust that it will be an amazing experience.”

Dave feels himself get pissed at that. He reaches to grab your chin, making you look into his eyes. “Don’t you ever think that I am a selfish lover. Tonight, you might be losing your virginity but I will be good and make you cum. I want you to enjoy having sex with me. We need to have sex multiple times to make sure you’re pregnant, so why wouldn’t I make it good for you? Don’t ever fucking assume sweetheart. You’re done with the champagne. I want you to remember tonight.” He orders.

Your eyes prick with tears and you know that this - everything - is what Dave wants. If he wants you sober, he will have you sober. “Yes sir.” You hiss spitefully, furious that you have no say in anything in your life. You will be fucked regardless of your own wishes and get pregnant when he wants you to be. Your doctor’s appointment proved to him that you are indeed a virgin and fertile.

Dave caresses your cheek, leaning in to kiss your forehead despite you shoving lightly on his chest. “Go say your goodbyes. We are leaving.” He orders, stepping away from you to bid goodbye to the important people and he tells the wedding coordinator that you are leaving so the guests can see you off.

You stall as long as you can, making sure to make every person feel like they are special. You see Dave coming back over to where you are, going through his goodbyes much quicker and taking you by the elbow to hurry you along. You want to cry, but they will see that and you can’t have that. Instead you plaster a smile on your face as people file out of the hall, ready to shower you in bird seed before you climb into the car to take you back to Dave’s house.

Dave takes your hand and smiles as the bird seed is thrown over you, people clapping as he guides you to the car and helps you in before he slides in beside you. “You ready?” He asks. You don’t even look at him, staring out the window as the car pulls away. Dave sighs when you don’t respond, leaning back into the seat .

Your knees tremble, your nerves getting the best of you. You wonder how he is going to touch you. All the porn that you’ve watched is geared towards women and Dave - despite what he might say - is going to be concerned with his own pleasure. You don’t need to cum in order to get pregnant. “Why are we going home? Wouldn’t the hotel be more appropriate?”

Dave looks at you, a smile on his face, and he reaches out to stop your knee bouncing. “I wanted our baby to be conceived in my home, not my hotel. Plus…I don’t want any interruptions. I want it to be just us.” He removes his hand from your knee, looking back out of the window.

You bite your lip, even more nervous now that you know that you will be alone in the house. Often there are plenty of people roaming around but if Dave wants it empty, it will just be you. “How long are you having the house to ourselves?” You ask, trying to make it seem like you aren’t terrified.

“As long as I want.” He answers without looking over at you. He knows you’re nervous, can feel it in the air, but he won’t allow you to use that as an excuse. You are nervous of the unknown but he knows he can make you relax. He meant what he said. You need to enjoy sex with him and he wants to fuck you to get you pregnant. Once you’re pregnant, he’ll go back to his women. Not wanting even more attachments. The car pulls into his estate and he thanks the driver once the car has stopped, opening his own door and making his way around to open your door. 

For a split second, you consider jumping in the driver's seat and stealing the car. It’s completely ridiculous and it makes you snort, slightly panicked as Dave opens the door and holds out his hand for you to take. Swallowing, you let him guide you out of the car and into the house.

Dave unlocks the unusually quiet house and turns towards you. “I’ll go wait in my room for you. I’m sure you’ll want to get ready, freshen up.” He tells you, “I’m going to get a scotch. You want anything?“

“You don’t want me drunk.” You remind him as you turn towards the stairs without waiting to see what he has to say. You climb the stairs and sigh. You are going to strip out of the dress and put on the robe that you had bought with the lingerie. You know Dave will want to see what you are wearing underneath. Maybe after it’s over he will send you back to your room.

Dave ignores your sass and makes his way to his office, pouring himself a scotch, then he makes his way upstairs to his bedroom, leaving the double doors open so you can come in when you are ready. He didn’t want any staff in the house for this moment, his cock already half hard with the fact that he is going to be taking your innocence tonight.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of your bedroom and make your way down the hallway to Dave’s suite. The master suite was larger than yours and you pause when you see the doors are open in invitation. Making you swallow again before you slink into the doorway. Watching him stare out the window while he sips his scotch, you wonder if you will ever come to love the man you call husband.

Dave turns when he hears you enter his bedroom, feet bare and robe swaying around your ankles. He’s never seen a more angelic sight, especially since you are wearing virginal white. Your face is pinched but he shifts to sit down on the plush seat by the window. “Sit.” He orders, grabbing the chair to drag it in front of him. You frown, confused as you sit down in front of him. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, the scotch sloshing as he grips the glass. “Take your panties off and spread your legs. I want to see what I paid for.”

Your face burns and you close your eyes in utter humiliation. Swallowing again, you turn around, knowing you will have to unclip your stocking to slide your panties down. The fact that this man bought you is never more obvious than right now. Fingers shaking, you unclip the delicate clasps that keep your thigh highs up so you can do as he orders.

Dave watches you as you roll your thigh highs down after unclipping them and you seem to take a while but he doesn’t rush you. When you’re done, you reach up, hands shaking as you hook your fingers in your panties, lifting your hips so you can push them down to your ankles. You kick the lace aside and inhale deeply, face on fire as you open your legs to display your cunt. Dave’s eyes focus on your pussy, untouched and fucking perfect. “Christ.” He hisses, fingers flexing against the glass he’s holding. “Have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?” He asks, voice raspy.

“Y-Yes.” Your voice is low and you wonder if he will be upset that you’ve touched yourself. Wondering if he wanted you completely innocent. “I’ve just- I’ve never  put more than a tampon inside me.” You admit quietly. You hadn’t ever wanted to stick your fingers inside yourself, but you had the standard doctor’s visits.

Dave’s nostrils flare as you confess you haven’t really touched yourself. “Have you ever made yourself cum?” He asks, sipping his scotch while keeping his eyes between your thighs, loving the thatch of curls above your pretty folds.

“I think so….” You whisper, your cheeks burning. “I- it felt really good.” You try to explain as you think about the times you had touched yourself in the dark. “It’s not like I’ve really…talked about this with anyone else. Not even my friends.”

“You will with me. I’m your husband. I want you to spread your folds for me, use your fingers to show me the pretty pussy that’s now mine.” He orders, shifting to set the glass of scotch down on the table beside his chair.

You bite your lip, shuddering slightly and taking a deep breath before you try to follow his orders. Fumbling for a moment before you pull your lips apart, your index finger pressing against your clit and you gasp and close your eyes so you don’t have to see him watching you.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” His voice lowers even more and you reluctantly open your eyes and look across the room. He tuts, shifting closer and he grips your chin to keep your eyes on his. “Keep looking at me.” He orders, licking his finger on his free hand and he brings it down to your clit, slowly rubbing the bundle of nerves.

Moaning quietly, your hips squirm, away from his touch or seeking it - you don’t really know. Not that Dave York would allow you to refuse his touch. Your eyes are watching his darken with desire. “Fuck.” You whimper quietly, shuddering when a burst of pleasure rushes through you.

He watches you as you whimper and he rubs your clit a little harder, wanting you to get wet enough for him to open you up a little. He releases your jaw, leaning in to kiss along it instead. “That feel good, baby?”

You can’t help but breathe out a little sigh of agreement. You bite your lip to try to keep from making too much noise. Even though it’s not like the house isn’t empty.

“Good. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make this pussy mine in every way.” He rubs your clit, wanting you to cum like this before he starts to open you up for his cock. He doesn’t want you to be in a lot of pain. His cock is hard in his pants but he doesn’t adjust himself, wanting to focus on you.

Keeping your eyes on him, his fingers make your hips start to move again. Rolling against his hand on instinct and your own moans getting louder. Watching the pride bloom across his face and your breathing speeding up.

“Good girl.” He coos, needing you to cum, so he rubs your clit a little harder. Loving how you are already so responsive. “Want you to cum for me. Want that pussy weeping for my cock.” He tells you, pressing his lips to your jaw again.

The feeling of his mouth on your jaw makes you fall over the edge. Crying out loudly, you feel your entire body tense up. You’ve felt that before but not nearly as intense as what you have been able to do. Feeling your cunt start to clench down around nothing.

Dave fucking loves watching you cum. Already addicted to it. He rubs your clit to work you through it for a moment then he slides his finger lower, circling your entrance and he slowly pushes his finger into you.

“D-Dave.” You gasp out his name, feeling his fingers start to push inside you. It feels foreign and fantastic. “I- oh god.” You moan, reaching down and grabbing his wrist. You don’t know if you want him to stop but you need to touch him. Wishing you had something more than just being married between you.

He pauses, watching you to see if you wanted him to stop but you don’t. He continues, pushing his finger into you, groaning at how fucking tight you are. “Jesus. I’m gonna have to work you open. You’ll never take my cock otherwise.” He murmurs, pumping his finger in and out of you.

Cheeks burning, you whimper at the way he talks to you. It’s different than being talked to by men hitting on you, you would never have let them touch you. But this man is touching you. He’s your husband. “Just-“ you bite off the order to tell him to get it over with as you moan again, his fingers curling up and pressing against something wonderful inside you.

"There it is, baby." He murmurs, pleased you are moaning and relaxing. He works his finger into you, curling it into that spot and he adds a second finger, wanting to slowly open you up. "This okay?" He asks, pumping his finger a little deeper on each movement, his dark eyes. watching your face.

“I- don’t stop.” You had meant to tell him that it didn’t matter if it was okay. That he had bought you and this was what he wanted. Instead you beg him not to stop, but it feels so good. Your eyes flutter every time he pushes his fingers deeper and you moan his name quietly.

Dave wants to make this good for you. He scissors his fingers, working you open even more and he curls them. His thumb pressed against your clit. He wants you to cum on his fingers, he wants to see you fall over the edge again. “Cum for me baby. Cum again.”

The way he orders you around should piss you off. But it doesn’t help that his tone is low and raspy, helping that fire in your belly burn brighter. It only takes a few more pumps of his fingers and you are crying out again, this time your walls squeezing his fingers while you try to grind down on them as much as you can with your legs draped over the arms of the chair.

Dave hums in delight, working you through it and he shifts off of his chair, withdrawing his fingers and he kneels in front of you. “My beautiful bride.” He murmurs, kissing your inner thigh, his dark eyes looking up at you as he kisses along the sensitive skin until his tongue slides through your folds, groaning at your tangy taste.

His words makes your traitorous heart leap in your chest. Right before your entire body turns to melted wax at the touch of his tongue to your cunt. You never expected him to do something like this. Your head drops back against the chair and you moan out his name again. “Oh Dave, oh shit.”

Dave caresses your thighs, squeezing the flesh while his tongue flicks your clit. He loves how you taste, knowing that he isn’t the type of man to go down on women but this is your wedding night, your first time. He wants this to be special for you. His tongue delves into your tight pussy, curling and he shifts closer to press his nose to your clit.

Whining is definitely not a sound you thought you would make during this, but you are. Loudly and enthusiastically while you experience something that you’ve only read about or watched. It is as good as everyone says and your hand reaches for the back of his head and your fingers tangle into his hair to hold onto.

Your whine is music to his ears, his tongue delving deeper, and he shakes his head so his nose rubs your clit. One of his hands slide up your body, cupping your lace clad breast, pinching your nipple through the material while his tongue curls deep in your cunt.

You whimper from the pressure against your clit and give a soft cry at the surprise of his tongue piercing into you. Making you shudder and rock your hips. It feels strange, but not unpleasant, but his nose against your clit feels amazing.

He needs you to cum one more time. His hand sliding higher to take over from his nose, his thumb rubbing your clit while his tongue keeps curling deep inside of you. He loves how you taste, mixed with the scotch he’d been drinking, you’re a fucking treat.

Your eyes slip closed again, not to keep from looking at Dave, but because the pleasure is starting to get to be too much. One hand in his hair and the other clawing at the chair, you feel your body start to shake again. Crying out as the rush of heat spreads through your core and you hear Dave groan into you.

He loves hearing you cum. It’s music to his ears, and he works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your cum. He smacks his lips when you push his head away when it becomes too much, and he kisses your thigh while you come back down from your orgasm.

Panting softly, you try not to jump when Dave’s hand squeezes your breast again. “Get up, sweetheart.” He orders. “We are moving to the bed so I can strip you down.” Your stomach flips and you nod, moving so you can stand after Dave rocks back away from you.

He helps you over to the bed, his lips pressing against your jaw as he reaches around you to unclasp your bra. You whimper and he chuckles against your neck as he drags the straps down and steps back to look at your tits. “Fucking perfect. Shit. I can’t wait until those are full of milk.” He groans and reaches out to squeeze your breast.

You shudder and look away, fully aware that his plan for you includes being pregnant just as soon as possible. Swallowing, you stand in only your garter belt, letting him touch you how he wants. Your breathing is shallow, almost panting but it’s mainly from being nervous.

Dave wants you completely naked, so his hands slide down to unclasp the garter belt, tossing it aside so he can see every single inch of you. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groans, cock now throbbing and he reaches up to tug on his bow tie, starting to undress himself

Laying down on the bed, you try to keep your eyes off of him but you are curious as to what your husband looks like. After all, this is the man that you are married to, the man whose children you will bear. Biting your lip, you watch him strip off his shirt after removing the cuff links and unbuttoning it. You wonder if the other women he slept with anticipated sex while watching him undress or if they were merely giddy about the things he could offer them. Right now, you feel like you are going to be sick. 

Dave takes his time to strip off, setting his clothes over the back of the chair you had soaked. He finally gets down to his briefs and pushes them down, allowing you to see his hard cock for the first time. The first cock you’ve ever seen and if he has his way, the last one you’ll ever see.

“God.” Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of Dave’s heavy, thick cock. You’ve only ever seen one in a porn and it looks a lot more intimidating in person. “I- I don-don’t know.” You stammer, sitting up and shaking your head. “It- that is - oh God.”

Dave can’t help but feel a little smug at your reaction but he won’t let you get too anxious. He shifts to kneel on the bed, grabbing your waist to lift you up onto the pillows and he kneels between your thighs. “It’s gonna fit baby. Don’t worry.” He slides his hand along your thigh before pushing two thick digits into you. “It’s gonna hurt for a moment but then it’s gonna be good.” He promises, curling his fingers until he withdraws them, shifting to position his cock at your entrance. He slowly pushes in, just the head, and gives you a moment.

You gasp and your eyes close, turning your head away. “Look at me.” Dave huffs, gripping your chin lightly and turning you back towards him. You want to refuse him, but you shouldn’t. His lips slide over yours softly and you whimper again, opening your eyes to look up into his dark ones. It feels different, but he doesn’t hurt you and your walls clench around him experimentally.

He pushes deeper into you. You’re so fucking tight and the fact that you are completely his has his ready to cum but he doesn’t, wanting to savor this moment. He pushes deeper, rocking his hips to work you open. “Relax.” He orders, feeling how tense you are beneath him.

You try, gripping the sheets under you as you try to force your body to relax. It’s impossible though. It’s pinching slightly and it’s nothing like you had imagined. No soft, loving words or whispers of adoration. You get the feeling that he’s being more gentle than he normally is, but there no love in this. You choke back a sob and try to remind yourself that he promised you that it would be okay.

Dave caresses your side as he pushes into you, wincing when you gasp at the final push to seat him fully inside of your tight, wet cunt. “Oh fuck.” He groans, trying to control himself while he presses his forehead to yours. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect and all mine.” He rasps, slowly rocking his hips now that you seem to relax beneath him.

You take deep breaths, trying to focus on the way that he feels inside you. His body is hovering over yours and you feel the slow grind of his hips. Your body seems to know what to do, your walls fluttering around him and squeezing down on him every time he pushes deeper when he pulls his hips back. “Yours.” You gasp out, knowing that you are his.

He fucking loves hearing you say it. He grabs your hand, lifting it above your head so he can admire the beautiful rings on your finger that display the fact that you are his. He grinds deep, rocking his hips, and when he thinks about getting you knocked up on this first time, he loses it. With a low groan, he cums. Painting your walls with his seed.

You feel the heat, hearing him groan and stiffen over you. He’s cum. Closing your eyes, the tears squeeze out and you turn your head away while his face is buried in your neck while he continues to rock into you. It’s over. He’s taken your virginity and possibly filled you with his baby. Making your heart ache knowing that there is no way you can ever tell your future child that you created them with love.

Dave grunts as he finishes rocking inside of you, kissing your neck. "God that was good. Sorry you didn't cum. Next time." He promises, shifting to pull out of you. "I'll clean you up then I gotta go to my office and do some work. You should get some sleep." He says, shifting off of the bed to walk into his bathroom, wetting a rag and carrying it back in.

You cringe and try not to flinch when he wipes you clean with efficient swipes of his rag over your cunt. Disappearing back into his bathroom while you lay there for a moment before you bolt off the bed. If his room is like yours, the closet is inside the bathroom and you hurriedly gather your lingerie and the robe before you rush out of the room for the safety of your own room, trying to hold back the tears.

****

Dave never came into your room. You had cried and then soaked in a bath after you had calmed down. You were stuck in this, it was too late to regret it and there was nothing that you could do change it. You just have to make the best of it, but it hurts to know that he hadn’t even cared enough to come to you after he had finished his work. He was probably glad you left his room, his dismissal clear from his attitude. Dressing quickly, you slip out of your room, eager to eat something and hopefully make it back before Dave ever woke up.

**** 

Dave looks up as you enter his office, tears in your eyes as you avoid looking at him, and he frowns. You look relieved. "What's wrong?" He huffs, not having time for dramatics. "I got my period." Dave sighs, knowing that it would take more than one fuck to knock you up. Since hearing you cry, he left you alone, but he needs to fuck you again. "When your period ends, we will have sex until you are pregnant. I want you to track your fertility. I will have the doctor help you to ensure you are pregnant before your next period." He says before turning back to his computer. The discussion is over.

You stare at him for a moment and huff. “Maybe you should get checked by a doctor.” You hate the way that he is just dismissing you. It’s obvious that you are nothing more than his little pet. The virgin (not anymore) bride to keep to breed his spawn. “You should get tested, that way if you are sterile, I don’t have to endure being in your bed.” You hiss before you turn around and stalk out of his office, angry at the bastard now.

Dave rolls his eyes. He had already been tested. He knows he is fertile. He’s a man who lives for the details. He tries to keep away from you, knowing you hate him. He doesn’t need you to love him, he just needs you to have his child. 

****

“Don’t forget we have the charity dinner tonight. I am having Manuel come over to do your hair and makeup. Theres a new dress hanging up in your closet.” He says while he eats his breakfast opposite you.

“Whatever you need.” You answer, poking at your own breakfast. You aren’t very hungry, it’s been days since the scene in his office and he has barely spoken to you. The house stays quiet and you hate it. “I will be ready when you need me to be.” You finished your menstrual cycle last night and you are hoping to get a few more days before he makes you come to his room.

“Tonight. I want to fuck you so be ready for it.” He says like he’s discussing the weather. “We will need to have sex every night until you are pregnant.” He declares, not willing to negotiate. This isn’t a negotiation and he wants to show you off tonight. His beautiful wife.

“Of course.” Your jaw clenches slightly but you don’t say anything else. You are just his brood mare and the sooner he gets you pregnant, the sooner he will leave you alone. There’s nothing between the two of you beyond the fact that you are married. “Anything else?”

“Make sure you don’t have this attitude tonight. I need to make sure no one questions this marriage. I need my associates to believe you at least like me.” He can’t say he isn’t bothered by how much you hate him but he can understand. “I didn’t pay for you to hate me.” He quips as he sets his coffee cup down, looking at you.

“Hard to like someone I don’t know.” You mutter under your breath and narrow your eyes at him before you change into a bright sunny smile and look adoringly at him. “Is this better, honey?” You coo mockingly, knowing he he could care less about how you actually feel about him. He’s made that clear.

Dave shakes his head, grabbing your hand. “Don’t mock me sweetheart. You might not want to be married to me but you don’t want to know what I’m capable of. I can break you down. I can destroy you. Destroy your father. Don’t ever fucking forget that.” He squeezes your hand before he lets go and stands up. “Be ready for six.” He orders then strides out of the room.

“I fucking hate you.” You hiss quietly, tears forming again and you feel completely alone even though you know that there are people around. 

****

At six, you are ready. His stylist had come to fix your hair and makeup. It was flawless and the dress that had been picked out was stunning. You would be the Belle of any ball, although you would not be on Prince Charming’s arm. After breakfast, you had walked outside for hours, talking to yourself before you had gone into the kitchen and started baking. Muffins, cookies, and cakes were all piled up on the counters as you thought about your dilemma. You decided that while you would never love Dave, you wouldn’t fight him anymore. It wasn’t doing you any good. So tonight, you were going to be the perfect dress up doll. Give him exactly what he paid for.

Dave adjusts his bow tie, making his way to the foyer to wait for you. The car is ready and he is anxious to see what you look like in the dress he had picked out. When you appear, walking down the stairs, his cock twitches and he holds his hand out. “You look gorgeous sweetheart. Perfect.” He kisses your cheek and is surprised when you don’t wince. “Come on, let’s get in the car. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can leave.” He’s excited to strip the dress off of you.

You hum in agreement and let Dave escort you out to the waiting car. Thanking him as he helps you in and closes the door behind you before he climbs in on the other side. “I asked the stylist to do my makeup in a way that you preferred.” You offer by way of conversation. “Which charity event is this tonight?”

“Who the fuck knows? Probably something to do with orphan children. Or animals. I don’t know. I just show up, write a check, smile for some photos and leave. I get sick and tired of these events. My parents used to drag me to them constantly. We will go, give the check, have a dance, and come home so I can fuck you. Your period is over?” He asks for confirmation.

“Yes.” Apparently charity work isn’t his favorite thing. But you remember that his parents died while attending an event such as this. “It ended last night. They don’t last long.” You aren’t going to lie to him, knowing it’s useless to do so. “So don’t plan on making small talk, good to know.”

Dave looks out of the window, watching D.C pass by until the car pulls up to one of the hotels. Not one of his. He sighs as the door is opened and Dave helps you out, wrapping his arm around your waist as he guides you into the hotel and to the ballroom. “You do look beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest man in this entire place.” He tells you as he notices the stares of other men.

You flash Dave a smile, one meant to show everyone that he was the best man in the room in your eyes. “Thank you, honey.” You reach up and smooth the lapels of his tuxedo. “I have to make sure that I am suitable for the most powerful man here.” You coo, knowing others will hear and spread gossip about how Dave York’s wife simpers over him.

He grins, loving how you coo over him and he leans forward to press his lips to yours, claiming you in front of every men and woman who dares to desire what belongs to him. His hands slide down to almost grab your ass, his tongue dipping into your mouth before he pulls back and kisses your lips once more. “Let’s get a drink and drop off the damn check.”

You are going to have to get used to the way Dave operates. He can just turn off the charm like a switch, blowing hot and cold so much that you are reeling from that kiss. Instead of protesting, you tuck your hand around his arm and lean into his side like the dutiful wife, determined to make sure he has nothing to complain about tonight.

Dave guides you over to the host of this evening. Some old politicians wife who loves to throw a party and call it a fundraiser. Dave knows they pocket a large chunk of money but doesn’t dispute it as long as they vote the way he wants them to when it comes time. “Janice. How are you?” Dave charms the old woman who kisses his cheek, leaving her old fashioned lip color on his skin. “Wonderful Dave. How are you? Is this your new bride? Our invite to the wedding must’ve gotten lost.” Janice offers you a fake smile. Dave chuckles, just as insincere. “It was an intimate wedding.” Janice snorts, “with most of D.C in attendance.” Dave wants to roll his eyes but he offers her a charming smile and hands her the check. “Here’s my donation. Now, I am going to take my wife on the dance floor.”

Dave guides you away before you can do more than smile and nod to the older woman. “Should they have been invited?” You ask, knowing Dave had produced the list of people attending beyond those you wanted to come.

“No.” Dave scoffs as he strides out to the middle of the floor with you on his arm. “Her husband won’t be re-elected next year.” He tells you confidently before he pulls you against him.

“Oh.” Your hand slides up to wipe away the woman’s lipstick off his cheek. “Then I won’t worry about it.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it. These people think they run the show but they don’t. The man who has the money runs the show…me. I won’t let these sneaky fuckers ruin my business, my country. I control their asses with my money so she can bitch all she wants but her and her husband are of no use to me.” He loves the way you wiped the lipstick from his cheek. “I hate that shade. Like your lipstick more.” He murmurs, his eyes dipping down to your lips.

“It goes with the dress you picked.” You fluster slightly, even with your feelings towards your husband not the best, he was very handsome and it is disconcerting to have his attention on your mouth. “I assume it was you. And thank you, it’s gorgeous.” He does provide many expensive things and you know he could make you pay for them if he wanted to.

Dave smiles, starting to move you around the dance floor. “You’re gorgeous. Every man in here wishes he was me. I am so proud to have you as my wife. When you’re pregnant…Christ, you’re gonna be the most incredible woman in this town.” He promises. “I know…I know you hate me but I do want you to be happy with me. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I don’t….hate you.” You turn your head and look across the dance floor, noticing a lot of eyes on the two of you. Photographers are snapping photos and you know it will end up in the society section of the newspaper. “I don’t know you.” You turn back towards your husband. “I just - I wish that it wouldn’t seem like a business deal.” You confess. “Why do you want me pregnant so badly?”

Dave sighs, his hand caressing your back as he turns you away from the photographers. “I-” Before he can answer you, his name is called and he turns his head to see old Oliver Platt. One of his father’s associates who has since retired to allow his son to take over. Dave continues dancing with you as Oliver guides his wife over, swaying her to the music.

“How are you, son? This is your beautiful bride we have heard so much about from everyone.” Oliver beams and Dave nods, offering the old man a smile before introducing you. “She’s gorgeous. Your old man would’ve been proud of you, ya know. Always said he couldn’t wait to see you married with kids of your own, running the show. Look at you now.”

Dave’s smile falters but remains in his face. “It’s good to see you sir.” Dave offers him with respect, his heart aching, and Oliver winks at you.

“You got a good man there. Look after him.” He orders then dances his wife to another associate.

Dave stares at a blank spot across the room for a moment until his dark eyes come back to you. “To answer your question….I want a child because I don’t have a family. My parents are dead. I have no siblings. No aunts and uncles or cousins. My grandparents are dead. It’s been just me for long and I want a family to protect and who loves me for who I really am. Not just what I can give them. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He knows he sounds vulnerable and he avoids that at all cost but right now, you’re his wife and he trusts you. Even if you do hate him.

Your heart aches for Dave, knowing that admitting that must have been very hard for him. He’s not a man who likes to expose weaknesses. He’s lonely, a feeling you can understand and relate to. Your own life was lonely and filled with worry about your father for so long. Maybe this could be a fresh start for the two of you. Taking a deep breath and deciding that you will make the first move, you lean in and press your lips to his. It’s a gentle kiss, more comforting than passionate but you know it catches him off guard. “Take me home, Dave.” You ask him softly, accepting that you are going to willingly go to his bed until you are carrying the beginning of the family he wants.

Dave is shocked by the soft kiss and your words, certain that you loathe him, but here you are, looking at him like that and asking him to take you home. He nods, reaching for your hand, and he doesn't bid goodbye to anyone as he guides you through the ballroom and out to his awaiting car. He wants to touch you, to kiss you, to make you moan his name. He wants you to want him. When you're in the car and driving home, he shifts closer to you, kissing your neck, the scent of your perfume driving him crazy. "I want to fuck you." He groans, his hand on your thigh where the dress slits to expose your skin.

“That’s why we are going home.” You remind him breathlessly. His lips on your skin makes your pulse jump and you know that your attraction to Dave isn’t linked to your heart. It makes you sad, but you push away the thought. “Or we can fuck right here.” You offer, taking his hand and sliding it up further. “I’m not wearing anything under this dress.” You reveal.

Dave groans at the feel of your bare pussy. Wet but not wet enough for him to fuck you. He kisses your neck again, biting down on the sensitive skin, and he slides his fingers through your folds until he finds your clit. "Want you to cum on my fingers first." He murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly.

You are biting back a soft moan, closing your eyes as his fingers work over your sensitive skin. Whatever else can be said about Dave, he doesn’t mind touching you. You know enough about men that most would have already been pulling their cock out and getting ready to slide inside you. “Dave.” You whimper, knowing that he won’t stop until you are cumming for him. 

Your whimper has him hard as a fucking rock and eager to make you whimper his name again. He rubs your clit a little harder, remembering what you liked before, and he groans when your hips buck into his hand. "Stay still." He orders, kissing along your jaw. "You looked so beautiful tonight. Every man in there wanted to fuck you but they can't because you're mine. Only I get to touch this pussy. Only I get to make you cum."

He loves to remind himself and you that you are his. But instead of rolling your eyes or making some kind of snarky comment, you give another soft moan. “Yes you do.” You agree breathlessly. “Make me cum. I want to feel good, Dave.” You reach up to stroke his cheek and turn your lips to his. 

He groans into your mouth, tongue immediately plunging in to caress yours, and he slides his fingers lower to push two thick digits into your tight cunt, his thumb pressing against your clit. "So wet for me." He murmurs, loving how wet you've become, and he begins to pump his digits in and out of you.

In a move that is shocking to even you, you push your dress up to your hips and move to straddle your husband. Your neck is bent down so you don’t hit the top of the car but you don’t care. For the first time since you had married Dave, you want this. Maybe it’s pity, or acceptance, you aren’t sure - but you want to have sex with Dave, and you grind down on his fingers shamelessly. 

Dave is shocked at your sudden move and he is fucking hard as a rock, his fingers pushing deep into you as he kisses you, his tongue tangling with yours. He curls his fingers, his covered cock pressing against your thigh.

The kiss becomes heated, frantic and your hands move from his shoulders where you were holding them for stability, to his hair. Tangling into his locks and tearing apart the carefully styled look that portrayed his power and status. You tug on it, moaning into his mouth when his other hand grips your hip even harder and his fingers push a bit harder into your cunt. “Dave.” You pull away from his lips and your teeth nip down his jaw. “Can I- can I touch you?” 

"Yes. Yes. You can touch me." Dave permits and you reach down to work on unbuckling his belt. "Eager, are we sweetheart?" He teases, making you huff until he curls his fingers just right to make you moan and grind down onto his digits. "That's it baby. Want you to cum for me."

You squeeze his cock, not too rough, but you grin when you are rewarded with a quiet moan from your husband. “I want to-“ you break off, embarrassed by the thought you had of kneeling down and sucking his cock in the back of the car. “You know.”

"Jesus. You never have to ask if you want to do that, sweetheart." He promises, "but you need to let me cum inside of you. Not down that pretty little throat." He orders, withdrawing his fingers to help you release his cock from his pants.

“Okay.” Nervous, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Looking up at his dark eyes and then back down at his cock. Your fingers wrap around him again and you give him and experimental pump. “I’ve never done this before.” You confess, aware that he knows this. “I don’t know if I’ll be as good as the other women you have.” You don’t say more, not wanting to anger him so you lean forward and take the tip in your mouth.

Dave's retort that you are his wife so this will automatically be better dies on his lips and he groans at the way your lips look wrapped around the head of his cock. "Jesus baby. You look so pretty." He hisses when you experimentally take him deeper. "Do what you want. I can guide you but I want you to do what feels right."

Surprised that you aren’t being urged to take him deeper, you do just that. Realizing that Dave has done nothing but make sure that you aren’t hurt during sex or that you are ready for him has you dripping. He might not love you, but he cares about you in his own way. You know that other women aren’t given the same courtesy instinctively. Moaning around him, you squeeze the base and give him a gentle suck. 

"Shit. You are a natural." Dave hisses, watching you as you experiment with his cock. "Such a good girl. Such a perfect wife. You are doing a good job. Taking my cock in that pretty little mouth. You gonna do what you want to me?" He rambles, glad the driver is paid to keep quiet.

You hum, feeling powerful as you feel your husband’s control slipping. Right now you are in control and you feel like you could tell him to do anything and he would. Instead of testing that theory, you think about all of the things you had read and watched, pulling off of him again to kiss the tip and kitten lick it before you take him deeper again. Pushing him to the back of your throat, right before you gag and you slide a hand down to gently explore his balls. 

"Careful. Don't - shit - don't hurt yourself." Dave orders, reaching down to cup your cheek despite the urge to thrust down your throat. He won't hurt you, won't add that sin to the neverending list of reasons why you hate him. "Shit. You are a dirty girl, aren't you? Where - fuck - did you learn this?" He pants.

Satisfied that you are pleasing him, you pull off his cock with a smirk. “I might have been a virgin, but I still read and watched porn.” You admit, rolling his balls around in your palm and your other hand slowly jerks off the base of his cock. “Plus, I love eating bananas.” You tease before you lower your head again and take him back into your mouth.

Dave's cock twitches inside of your mouth and he lets you bob your head a few more times until he grabs the back of your neck to drag you off of his cock. Reaching for you, he pulls you up into his lap. "You're gonna tell me what you read and watched while you ride my cock." He says, reaching between you to grip his cock and he checks you're wet enough before notching the head at your entrance, groaning at how hot and wet you are as he thrusts up into you while pulling you down.

“Dave!” You cry out as he stretches you. There isn’t the pain that there had been the last time, but you feel him just as vividly. Instead of trying to squirm away, you grind down on him, your head falling forward onto his shoulder while he grabs your hips. “I- I don’t know all the porns.” You admit breathlessly. “A website. Bellesa House.” You whimper when you pull your hips up by bracing your knees on the seat and then quickly sink back down on him. “B-books are in my- my room.” 

“What do you want? What have you seen in the porn or read in the books that you want done to you? Or to do?” He asks, his voice low and raspy as he tries to control himself. You are so tight. He grabs your ass, helping to guide you as you rock on his cock.

“I want- I want you to cum down my throat.” You know he won’t, not this time. But you want to taste more than the salty spurt of his pre-cum. Dave groans, and you think he’s going to say no, but you keep talking. “I- I want to be- to be taken from behind.” You admit, cheeks burning as you try to voice what you had seen. It had turned you on and you imagined being fucked like that but you couldn’t imagine it realistically. 

He loves hearing you talk like this. “Not so innocent. That sweet little virgin rubbing her clit while thinking of swallowing cum and getting fucked from behind. What a little whore.” He teases, kissing your neck. “We can do that. Just want you pregnant. You can swallow my cum after you’re pregnant. I can fuck you from behind when we get home. I want you to ride me now. Cum before we get home.” He smacks your ass.

Squealing, you move a little faster on his lap. Bouncing on his cock unsteadily before you start finding that natural rhythm that makes it feel so good. “Dave.” You moan softly, ducking your head down and biting his bottom lip. “Slap my ass again.” You demand, enjoying the sting so much more than you thought you would have. 

He obliges you, slapping your ass again, and he hisses when your walls clamp down on him. "So beautiful." He murmurs, kissing your chest and he reaches up to tug on the gown, breaking the strap so he can pull it down and wrap his lips around your nipple, biting down on it.

You whine, having played with your nipples before, but Dave hadn’t sucked on the first for long. It makes you clench down around him again and roll your hips fast. “Oh god.” You whimper, making him chuckle. “Not God baby, your husband.” He corrects you and you tug on his hair harder. Pulling him towards your breasts more. “Fuck.” You gasp out, not even worried about the driver up front, too engrossed in the way that he is making you feel. 

To see his previously virginal wife ride his cock like a pro and moan like a whore, it has him ready to cum. You are a fucking angel and devil combined in one beautiful package and he knows in this moment that he has made the right choice. It would be easy to love you but he won't allow himself. Love gets people killed and he won't do it. He switches to your other breast, ripping the other strap of the expensive gown and he groans when your walls flutter around his length.

“Fill me up.” You gasp out, feeling your cunt start to clench down around it. It’s dirty sounding, filthy - but right now it sounds like the sexiest thing ever. “P-please Dave.” You beg, grinding down on him as your hips stutter. “Fill me up, want to feel it.” 

Dave wants you to cum first, you haven't cum from penetration. He clenches his jaw, willing himself to hold off from cumming, and he reaches between you to rub your clit. "Cum first baby. Need to feel you soak my cock."

It only takes a few more rolls of your hips before you are crying out. You stiffen in his arms, your walls shaking around his length and you feel the hot rush of pleasure flood your core and hear the squelch the next time you slide up on his cock. 

Dave loves seeing you cum, the way your mouth opens and your brow furrows, it's fucking art. He lets himself go, grabbing your hips to pull you down onto his cock, pushing into your tight walls before painting them with his hot seed, a low groan escaping his lips while he buries his face in your neck.

This time, you don’t cry. Instead, you drop your cheek onto his shoulder and sigh, trying to catch your breath. “Oh wow.” Giggling, you can’t believe that you just fucked your husband in the back of the car. Feeling free and slightly thrilled about that. Feeling him throb and your walls randomly flutter around him as you both relax. 

Dave kisses you softly, praying that you just got pregnant, but he knows it’s unlikely since you aren’t ovulating. He sighs and shifts you off of him, grabbing his handkerchief to clean you up and he just straightens himself up as the car pulls up to the house. He can’t allow himself to be fully invested in this marriage. Love causes distractions which cause mistakes which ultimately lead to death. He refuses to be his parents. Getting out of the car, Dave helps you out and you lean against him until you’re inside. “I have work to do.” He declares, gently pushing you away.

You stare at him for a moment, unable to believe after that he is pushing you away. “Okay.” You watch him walk away as you hold onto the straps of your gown. He obviously wants a family that he can pay attention to at his leisure. When he decides that he wants to give you more attention, you will have a headache.

Dave sighs, shutting down his computer, and he knows you hate him but what can he do? It’s better this way. The less attachment the better. Especially when you demand a divorce. You wouldn’t want to stay married to a man like him. Dave bites his lip and remembers the way you felt around him and his cock twitches. “Fuck.” He groans, rubbing his thighs, and he stands up, malign his way to your room. “Sweetheart. Can I come in?”

You had been reading when your door knob turned before the lock stopped him from opening it. Huffing, you set aside your book and stand. After he had left you, you had taken a bath and changed into your sleep clothes. Walking over to the door, you fling it open. “No.” You state firmly. “You cannot. I- I don’t understand you. You blow so hot and cold and I’m not putting up with it.” You tell him. “We have a fantastic time in the limo and then you just push me aside. I’m your wife, not some whore you fuck in that hotel room.” Tears gather in your eyes but you ignore them. “You want to treat me this way? Fine. Your sex for the day is already accomplished. There’s no need for you to come inside or touch me again tonight.”

Dave wants to push past you and enter your room but something inside of him tells him that it will do damage to your somewhat reasonable relationship. Dave slams his hand on the door frame, leaning in slightly. “Fine. I’ll go to the hotel and find one of those whores if my wife won’t let me fuck her.” He growls, pissed off at you for thinking he’s cold when you are like the damn arctic. “I won’t touch you tonight. I’ll touch someone else. Enjoy your evening…sweetheart.” He adds sarcastically and stalks downstairs, calling for his driver to take him to the hotel.

You swallow, heart plummeting as you hear him slam the front door of the large house and you are left with the ringing silence. You have lost this round. He doesn’t care enough about you to even hide the fact that he wouldn’t be faithful to you. Tears in your eyes, you start walking down the hall towards the kitchen. It’s not like you will be able to read your book tonight while you listen for him to come back. You might as well do some baking. Maybe you would drop off treats for some of the local food banks or soup kitchens around the city. Something to make you feel better than you do right now.

Dave enters his home, pissed because he couldn’t bring himself to fuck another woman. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to risk catching something and passing it onto you and therefore a baby, but in reality he couldn’t do it. He stalks into the house and he frowns when he walks in to the kitchen to find you baking. “What’s all this?” He gestures to the cupcakes and muffins and cookies covering the countertops.

“Baking.” You answer as you turn around to slide another tray of muffins into the oven. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep, so I decided to be productive.” You turn around and take the oven mitt off before you look over at him standing in the kitchen doorway. “I’m planning on taking them to the soup kitchens and orphanages tomorrow. Give them a treat and credit the York family.” You are surprised he’s home, having anticipated him to be gone all night rather than a few hours. “Was your night to your satisfaction?” You ask politely.

Dave is taken back by how kind you truly are. He knew that before he married you but for you to bake cookies for orphans? Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking angel. You deserve to be treated as such. “No. I am not satisfied because my wife wouldn’t let me touch her. I spent the entire night imagining spreading her legs and burying my tongue in her cunt but I couldn’t do that because she barred me from her room.” He steps closer to you.

“You didn’t find someone else’s pussy to lick?” You ask with an attitude and Dave chuckles.

“No one else’s pussy seems to do it for me now. Tell me to stop.” He orders, his fingers trailing along your arms and he spins you around. “Tell me to stop and I won’t put you on the counter and bury my tongue in your sweet cunt.”

“Stop pushing me away the second you finish with me.” Your demand, looking into his eyes and then at his lips. His tongue is good, even as inexperienced as you are, you know that. “I just want to feel like I’m more than a trophy and brood mare for you.”

“What do you want from me? I can’t give you love. I know you want it but I can’t - I can’t love you. I can give you anything else in this world. I am a killer, a cold bastard who doesn’t even know how to cuddle. Can’t you accept me as I am?” He pleads, looking into your eyes.

Your heart breaks, hearing that he will never love you. At least it’s honest, and that’s a start. “I want faithfulness.” You admit. “I- you won’t love me, I’ll- I’ll accept that.” Your voice wavers slightly but you continue on. “Just- when we are done, talk to me. Even if it’s about your work. Share it with me. A marriage is supposed to be a partnership, so share your burdens with me.”

He nods, reaching for your hands. “I can do that.” He promises, squeezing your hands. He knows he should work on his aftercare. “I can be faithful to you, I don’t - your pussy has honestly ruined any other for me.” He admits, blushing a little.

You snort and lift a brow, not quite believing him. “It’s because it’s a new toy.” You remind him. “I’m sure you won’t feel the same way when I’m fat and unattractive carrying that child you want.” You reach up and poke him in the chest. “Speaking of - you may not be able to love me - but our children will never know that their father doesn’t believe they hung the moon.” You tell him fiercely. “They will brag to their friends that they have the best dad in the world.”

Dave chuckles at your ferocity, it’s sexy and admirable. “I’m sure they will tell everyone their mama is the best in the world more than me. You’ll be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to witness it.” His hand slides down to your stomach, wishing you were already pregnant. “Besides, I think you’ll be the most beautiful pregnant woman. I think I’ll want to worship you.” He murmurs, his cold heart thumping when you offer him a bashful smile. “Now, are you gonna let me lick that pretty pussy?” He hums, kissing the side of your head.

“You really didn’t touch someone else?” You ask quietly, looking at him solemnly and Dave shakes his head.

“I didn’t.” He promises you, making you lunge forward and press your lips to his. Your marriage is tumultuous and there have been some hard feelings, but you want this to work, because you are his. Yes, it will hurt that he will never love you, but you will worry about that later.

Dave groans at how eager you are, his hands squeezing your ass until he grabs your thighs, managing to lift you onto the countertop that is covered in flour. He reaches for your shorts, dragging them down your legs along with your panties until he pushes them apart. “Best fucking pussy in D.C.” He growls before he dives in, sliding his tongue through your folds.

You giggle at his actions, plopping you down into flour without a care. “I- you only have ten more minutes Dave.” You tease, looking over at the timer on the counter top. “Think you can make me cum that quickly?”

Dave pulls back to smirk at you, “please baby. I’ll have you cumming in seven.” He dives back in, sucking your clit into his mouth and he has never been a man to give oral unless he’s going to receive too but fuck, you’re so sweet. Just like you, sweet and a little sour. He loves it. His tongue flicks over your clit and his finger circles your entrance before he pushes it inside of you.

“Cheater!” You gasp, tangling your fingers into his hair and sliding down the counter, pushing some of the flour onto the floor. “N-not f-fair to use your fin-gers.” You pant out, smirking the entire time. You love the smirk he had given you and the playfulness in his tone. That is what you want from him.

Dave chuckles at your protest but suck’s your clit into his mouth. He never said he plays fair. He always gets what he wants and that will be him making you cum in less than seven minutes. He pushes another finger into your cunt, curling them before he resumes sucking your clit.

You whimper, whine and moan your way closer to an orgasm. Every suck if his mouth is paired with a curling of his fingers and you are just barreling closer to falling apart every second he is touching you. Rocking your hips again this face, you lean against the cabinets and moan out his name, hoping the housekeeper doesn’t come into the kitchen.

You cry out, pulling at his hair while your entire body bows up and you start to cum. Flooding his fingers with your release and your thighs close around his head. “Dave!” You cry out in pleasure.

He hums, making your thighs shake, and he works you through it, loving the way you cry out his name. He pumps his fingers a few times until he withdraws them, sticking them into his mouth to clean them up while your chest heaves as you relax from your orgasm.

“Jesus.” You sigh, blissed out. “That is so much better than what I could do.” You admit softly. Taking a few breathes, you open your eyes and look at Dave. “How do you want me after I pulled the muffins out?”

Dave waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle, and he loves the sound. He winks at you and reaches for your shirt, glad you didn’t put a bra back on. “I want you to bend over the kitchen table, I want to fuck you from behind.”

You pull the muffins out of the oven completely nude, with Dave behind you trying to pull his cock out of his pants like he had in the limo. You set the tray down on a cooling rack and bend over the counter, laughing when your breasts are dragging through the impression of your ass from earlier. You look over your shoulder and shake your ass at him playfully. “Hurry up.”

He chuckles at your impatience, slapping your ass then he grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing in without premise. “Fuck.” He hisses at how tight you are, his forehead resting against your back as he looms over you.

“Oh fuck.” You feel him from the sex in the car on the way home, but he feels amazing right now. Even larger from this position. “Dave.” You whimper quietly. “I- I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses your spine and he starts to move, a quick, hard pace that has your hips slamming against the edge of the counter. He groans your name at the way your cunt grips him and he can’t believe he ever thought any other pussy could compare. This is his cunt. He owns it. He just wonders if you are starting to own his cock. “Shit.” He hisses to himself as he realizes he is starting to care.

“Fuck.” You reach back and grab onto his hip, urging him on. You love the way he feels shredding up into you. Wondering if tonight in the kitchen is the night you get pregnant. “Fuck Dave.” You whimper, collapsing forward and your breasts press into the flour.

He grunts, sweat beading on his brow from the force of his thrusts. “So fucking good. So good baby. Jesus, such a good pussy. The best. And mine. God, gonna knock you up right now. Just - just need you to cum again.” He pants, squeezing his hand underneath you to rub your clit.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” You whine, pushing back against him and gasping when he finds your clit with precise accuracy. “I- oh god, I’m gonna cum again.” You slap your hand down in the flour and wail his name again, clenching down around him.

“Good girl. Good girl. Fuck. Gonna make me - you’re so - oh fuck.” He growls, burying his cock deep inside of you and painting your walls for the second time that night.

You pant, feeling him continuing to grind into you as he rides out his high. As you catch your breath, you wonder if he will push you away again or actually try to open up slightly. If he doesn’t, you will just try to get pregnant as quickly as possible.

Dave sighs, kissing along your neck. His instinct is to pull out of you and rush off to his room but he can’t. Even if he wanted to, he can’t leave you right now. He grabs a clean dishcloth from the nearby drawer and he pulls out, gently cleaning you up. “Gotta shower with all the flour that’s on you. Or do you want a bath? I can go run it once you’re done baking.” He offers, wanting you to be happy and not sad with him.

“Shower.” You decide, biting your lip and looking around at all the food. “Will you take one with me? Then I’ll put this stuff away.” You will let him escape after the shower, knowing he doesn’t want to spend too much time with you.

Dave nods, knowing it's getting into dangerous territory but he can't refuse you when you look at him like that. "Okay baby. Let's go shower." He takes your hand and decides to let you guide him. "Yours or mine?" He asks, not caring about the flour that's all over his suit and the house.

“We can use mine.” You offer softly. “It will give you a reason to have to leave.” You squeeze his hand in yours to let him know that you aren’t upset about it. You asked for time after sex and he’s giving it to you. You wouldn’t be bitchy because he didn’t live up to romance novels.

Dave appreciates your acceptance that he won't be your prince charming. He lets you guide him to your bedroom and he watches you lean in to turn on the shower. "You've got flour all over your ass." He chuckles, slapping your ass playfully and he works on undressing himself.

You giggle and turn around to watch him undress. “Flour on my tits as well.” You remind him, watching him reveal inch by inch with every article he takes off. You step into the shower and adjust the spray, watching the flour start to stream down your body in white rivulets. “Maybe you did it this time.” You murmur, mostly to yourself as you run your hands over your body.

Dave hears you and he is torn. Part of him wants you to be pregnant, anxious to see you grow with his child. The other part of him wants to keep trying to get you pregnant. He kicks his boxers aside and steps in behind you, groaning at the hot water hitting his chest. "Are you ready to be pregnant?" He asks.

“I- I don’t know.” You confess. “Our relationship is very…precarious, but then again - it is what you married me for.” You step to the side and reach for your body wash. “I think I’m- I’m afraid.” You sigh softly. “Who knows what will happen while I’m pregnant. Most women are hormonal and you aren’t known for your patience.”

He watches you, knowing that your fears are valid, but he would never reprimand you for your hormones. He reaches for your cheeks, bringing your eyes to his. "Sweetheart, if you are - or get - pregnant, I will worship the fucking ground you walk on. I have wanted this, a family, for my entire life and for you to give it to me...I could never thank you enough. Please don't be scared. I'll be there for you." He promises.

You swallow and nod, hoping that he’s telling the truth. “You say that now, but wait until I’m crying because the pickle and chocolate chip muffins don’t taste like I imagined.” You joke, wanting to lift the atmosphere a bit.

He chuckles, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. "Ice cream and pickles was what my mom craved. Anything you want...it is yours. I can give you whatever you want." He promises.

You sigh, handing him the body wash, "except you." Dave doesn't respond, working on cleaning himself off.

The rest of your shower is quiet, not uncomfortable, but it’s clear that the two of you are lost in your own thoughts. Once both of you are clean, you turn off the water and brush past Dave to reach for a towel for him as you step out. “Have a good night Dave.” You offer softly. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen and then go to bed.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “Sweet dreams.”

He wraps the towel around his waist, watching you go and he wants to drag you back into his arms. Shit, he’s already in deep and he doesn’t know how to pull himself away from you. He needs to stop feeling like this. He grabs his clothes and makes his way back to his room, determined to not go back and crawl into your bed.

It doesn’t surprise you that Dave is gone when you come back to your room. The baked goods stored and the kitchen cleaned, it’s been at least two hours. Climbing into bed, you sigh softly. You’re probably never going to know what it’s like to sleep in the same bed as him. 

****

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Mr. York?” Mrs. Jones asks as she frets. “He should be awake soon and you can have breakfast together.”

You smile at the older woman and continue to put the boxes of goods into the car that the driver had pulled around to the kitchen door. “No, I want them to have them while they are still fresh.” You explain. “Mr. York knows I am delivering them. He won’t even notice that I’m not at the table.” You promise with another smile. “He’ll be reading his paper or answering emails on his phone.” Turning to the driver you nod. “I’m ready to go. You have the list of addresses.” You had woken up early and written cards to go along with the treats, explaining who they were from and why. It was a gesture that you hoped makes Dave’s family name shine.

Dave comes downstairs dressed in a crisp suit, ready for his day of meetings, and he frowns when he doesn’t find you sitting at the kitchen table. He looks at his housekeeper. “Where is my beautiful wife this morning?” He asks and she tells him that you’ve gone out to deliver the baked goods you made last night. With a sigh, he resigns himself to breakfast alone until he makes his way to his office, driving himself since you have taken the driver.

You come back home, feeling better and happier than you have in quite awhile. You had delivered the muffins, cookies and cakes to surprised and grateful directors on behalf of the York family. Early enough for breakfast to be able to watch the kids in the orphanage enjoy the rare breakfast treats that made them all think it was a special occasion. You had cried when you had gotten back to the car, vowing that you were going to get Dave to either donate to them or arrange a charity event to bolster their stretched budget. Feeling a little disappointed that you had completely missed Dave, you decide that you will take lunch to him at his office to make up for it and surprise him.

Dave is surprised when his secretary pages in to tell him that you are here. He tells her to send you in and stands up, his jacket already removed and tie loosened. “Hey sweetheart. What are you doing here?” He asks, kissing your cheek. He thought he wouldn’t see you today, knowing that it’s going to be a long day.

You hold up the large bag you had packed from the kitchen with a sweet smile. “Since I didn’t make it back in time to see you before you left, I decided to do the wifely thing and bring you lunch.” You bite your lip and look at him playfully. “Is that okay? Or do you have a lunch routine I shouldn’t interrupt?”

Dave thinks about his schedule and remembers he has a phone call with a CEO of some new tech company who wants his investment. Dave picks up his phone to dial his secretary. “Hey Sally, can you reschedule that tech kid for another time. I am going to have lunch with my wife instead of speaking with that little Zuckerberg wannabe.” He orders and when she says “no problem sir,” he hangs up and turns back to you. “What has my beautiful wife brought me for lunch? Herself?” He teases, wanting to be a little less formal around you now.

That thought had crossed your mind, so you send him a smirk. “That’s for dessert.” You tease, happy that he hasn’t sent you away. “I packed up some sandwiches and some soup that I had made last night between baking batches.” You know it’s not the most formal lunch, he probably at five star restaurants for lunch, but there had been something very sweetly domestic about fixing the lunch yourself. “A fruit salad, some tea. Just something to power you through the day.”

Dave is taken back. He doesn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that he hasn’t paid as a cook or a restaurant. “I- Wow. You made all of this?” He asks when you start to unpack it. You nod, biting your lip and he is in awe of you. “Thank you.” He kisses your cheek and guides you over to the table in his office so you can eat together.

You set out all the food, happy that he is impressed with the simple fare. You had made the sandwiches thick, fresh vegetables and avocado on them along with meat and cheese. “So this morning, I dropped off the treats to the orphanage that is close to our house.” You tell him after taking a sip of your tea. “Dave, their budget is so stretched that can barely make the necessities.” You tut. “The kids thought it was Christmas morning to have the muffins and be told that there would be cookies for dessert tonight.” You look over at him. “I was thinking about either setting up a charity event to raise extra funds or seeing if you would make a donation.”

He can’t help the impressed noise that escapes his mouth. Your charity is unusual. Sure, he donates to charities but that’s mostly for tax credits and for political gains, not for actually caring about the cause. He decides then and there you can give to whatever charity you want. “Whatever you prefer. If you wish to throw an event and plan it, the money is yours. If you want to just donate, the money is yours.” He promises, sitting down and admiring the sandwich you made. He groans and picks it up, taking a bite and moaning at the simple but delicious food.

“Why not both?” You ask with an excited smile. ��Set a budget for me to use or donate and whatever doesn’t go into the event, will be the first donation check for them.” You immediately start thinking of ideas that would both draw in some of the wealthy politicians and perhaps allow the kids at the orphanage to come and enjoy themselves. “Would that be okay? And would you allow me to open up our house? I am thinking of a fair, or carnival type of atmosphere? Family friendly and good PR for a lot of politicians.”

Dave ponders it. He’s always been a private man and doesn’t like strangers in his home, especially considering it’s not common knowledge about his less than legal dealings. He considers it and the hope in your eyes has him saying yes. “You can do whatever you want sweetheart. You can have whatever you want.”

You can’t help it, jumping up out of your seat, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I will make sure the event stays to the grounds. The house will be off limits.” You promise, understanding he might be wary for strangers to be milling around his house. “We just have a lot of green space that would be perfect.”

Dave pulls you into his lap, cupping your cheek so he can press his lips to yours. “I will hire an event coordinator to help you. I don’t want you to stress about it.” He murmurs against your lips. It’s far too easy to be intimate with you, you seem to bring it out in him.

You smile and kiss him again, pecking his lips happily. You are the wife of a wealthy and influential man, you want to make changes where you can and his approval means at lot more to you that you had first anticipated. “Thank you.” You whisper softly. “Eat your lunch so you can either go back to work or have dessert.” You tease.

Dave keeps you on his lap, not wanting you to move as you eat your sandwiches and he kisses your neck after you’ve finished eating. “I do believe I was promised dessert.” He coos, sliding his hand along your thigh.

“You want a quickie in your office?” You ask as you twist around in your seat and press your lips to his. “A nooner before you have to go back to boring business? Or do you…” you bite your lip and grin at him. “Do you want to take a call while I’m sitting on your cock?”

Dave groans, "shit. I want both. Next time...next time you can sit on my cock." He reaches for your dress - thank fuck you're wearing a dress. "Want you to ride my cock here."

You are thrilled that he’s already talking about a next time, meaning he enjoyed you coming to bring him lunch. You moan softly when he hooks his fingers under your panties and starts pushing them down. You’re already wet, having anticipated this happening, your slick is already coating your lips and his fingers slide through your folds easily.

He groans at how slick you already are, quickly finding your clit to rub the bundle of nerves while he fumbles with his belt, wanting you to cum on his cock. He is so happy you want him, are eager for him. He manages to unzip his pants, "take my cock out." He orders with a pant, his fingers pushing into you.

Moaning quietly, you reach into his pants, and pull his thick cock out. “Fuck, someone is eager to get inside me.” You tease, rolling your hips on his fingers while you spit in your hand and reach down to start stroking his cock. “You want me to ride this cock?” You purr softly in his ear before you nip his lobe. 

Dave hisses when you bite his ear and he groans when you twist your wrist. "Please baby. Need - need you to fuck me. Please ride my cock." He doesn't beg but right now, he feels like he's gonna die if he doesn't get inside of you. 

The begging catches you off guard and there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him when he use that tone with you. It’s sexier than his demanding tone and you’ve come to find that you enjoy it. Batting his fingers away from your cunt, you scramble to get into position and you don’t even wait, sinking down on him quickly with a moan loud enough that his secretary hears you.

“Oh fuck.” Dave groans, his head going back as he closes his eyes. Your pussy is so wet and tight around him. He doesn’t know if anyone else would compare. He grabs your hands, securing them behind your back to arch your figure so he can bury his face in your tits, kissing along the flesh. “Want you to ride my cock.” He orders. “Please.” He begs a little more.

Planting your feet on the floor, you push up off his cock almost completely before you sink back down. Moaning and leaning back to give him more access to your breasts while you start to ride him. It makes your thighs burn, but you love the sounds that he makes, that your cunt makes as you take him again and again. Starting to become addicted to the way that Dave feels inside you. You know that you will want to do this again and again. 

Dave watches you, enraptured by your very being, and he grabs your dress, shoving it up so he can watch his cock disappear inside of you over and over again. Fuck you look gorgeous. "That's it baby. Shit, look at you riding my cock. My sweet little wife is actually a dirty little whore." He teases, looking into your beautiful eyes.

“Your dirty little w-whore.” You pant out breathlessly, trying to keep the pace steady. You know he will like that. “O-only yours.” It’s true, and you know it makes his cock even harder to know that he’s the only one that has seen you this way. “Oh fuck, Dave.” 

"Jesus." Dave lets go of your dress, reaching to grab your ass and he spreads your cheeks, pressing his finger to your puckered hole, loving how it flutters under his touch. "So good. All mine." He groans, cock twitching inside of you and he kisses along your neck.

“Only- only cock to be inside me.” You moan when his cock twitches. “When- when I’m pregnant,” you pant. “I - I want you to fuck my ass.” You admit, cheeks burning with excitement and embarrassment. He wanted to know what you want, so you don’t feel bad about telling him that.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” The very thought sends Dave over the edge and his cock throbs while he paints your walls with his hot seed. He buries his face in your chest as he slowly thrusts up into you until he relaxes beneath you. You are a little disappointed, realizing that it’s gonna be a repeat of your wedding night. That is until Dave shifts his hand to rub your clit. “Want you to cum on my cock.” He orders, kissing along your chest.

“Dave.” You whimper and your walls clench around his spent cock, making him hiss. You had expected him to be done and this has you eagerly rolling your hips, careful to keep him inside you, “fuck, I’m gonna cum all over you.” You pant, leaning in push his face into your breasts harder. “Fuck baby, rub it faster.”

He bites down on your nipple through the thin material of your dress and your lace bra. He groans when your walls squeeze him and he rubs your clit a little harder. “Cum for me.” He pleads, wanting to hear and feel it.

You throw your head back, following his order and soaking his softening cock with your juices as you cry out his name. Gasping and trembling in his arms as he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

He loves it. Wrapping his arms around you after working you through your orgasm to pull you close. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too dangerous, but you seem to make him want it all with you. It’s both scary and exhilarating. “So good.” He murmurs, kissing you softly.

You hum against his lips, smiling in pleasure and kissing him back multiple times before you pull away. “We should clean up, and then I need to let you get back to work.” You murmur softly, aware that he would want space after this. Cupping his cheeks, you kiss him one last time before you start to stand, groaning softly as he falls out of you.

He grabs the napkins you’d brought with you to clean himself up, tucking himself away and he reaches for you, gently wiping you clean. “I hope you’re pregnant. I can’t wait to see it. See you full of my baby.” He caresses your stomach after pulling your dress down and replacing your panties.

You smile again and lean in to kiss him. “We’ll keep trying until I am.” You promise, knowing that is his greatest wish. Quickly packing up the remnants of lunch, you shoulder the bag. “I’ll see you when you get home, honey.” You tell him. “Have a good afternoon, okay?”

Dave nods, kissing your cheek, and thanks you for lunch. It’s weirdly domestic but he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he can’t wait to get home and see you. Shit, what is happening to him? He wants to be inside of you again, and he realizes it’s not just to get you pregnant.

****

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that the timer hasn’t gone off yet. You need to wait until the full three minutes is up and not get your hopes up too much. Only a day late for your period, you are already freaking out about the possibility of being pregnant. Not that it would be a bad thing. You’ve been trying. The once a day edict that Dave had set down after your last period had quickly turned into several times a day. You going to his office for lunch more often than not, sex when he gets home and sometimes, even before he goes into the office. The timer scares you, making you jump and you brace yourself, turning the test over and gasping when you see the word ‘pregnant’ clearly on the digital readout. Laughing happily, you race out of your private bathroom to get ready to tell Dave when he gets home. 

Dave walks into the house, setting his briefcase down and he shrugs off his jacket, placing it over the chair in the hallway. “Honey, I’m home.” He calls out. It had originally been to annoy you but now he loves saying it and you love hearing it. The marriage he had forced for an heir is slowly becoming real and it terrifies him but he can’t seem to stop. He walks into the kitchen to find you icing a cake. “Baking again?” He teases, loving how you love to cook.

“Your home!” Your smile is brilliant and you rush over to hug him, piping bag still in your hand. Your lips easily land on his happily, loving how he immediately wraps his arms around you and kisses you back. “I sent everyone home tonight.”

He smirks, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Why? You want me to eat you out on the kitchen counter again?” He coos, kissing your neck. You fluster, unable to believe that the poor housekeeper walked in on you both before she was due to clean up the kitchen.

“No.” You huff, burying your face against his neck and inhaling the muted scent of his cologne. He always smells good and you wish that at least one night you could sleep in his arms, but that isn’t the deal. “I- I have a surprise for you.” You admit softly, pulling away and walking over to a beautifully wrapped gift. “I was going to wait for dessert tonight, but I can’t.”

Dave frowns, “you didn’t have to get me anything sweetheart. I don’t - have I missed a half anniversary or something?” He tries to figure out what he has missed. When you hand him the gift without an explanation, he frowns even more. He carefully opens it, eyes on you until he looks down.

You had gone out and bought a cute little onesie, proudly proclaiming ‘Daddy’s My Favorite’. You had placed the positive pregnancy test on top of the onesie right below the words. Your grin is wide as his brow furrows for a second, obviously not understanding right away.

“You- you’re - you’re pregnant?” He chokes out and you nod, still grinning. Dave stares at the test again, caressing it and there’s a lump in his throat which he chokes on. For the first time since his parents died, Dave cries. He sets the gift down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms as he cries with joy because you’re pregnant with his child. It’s his dream come true.

Surprised that your husband is crying, you wrap your arms around him and stroke his back and neck. You don’t doubt that he is happy, you know they are tears of joy but it still takes you off guard. Your own tears spill over and you cling to him. “I’m pregnant. It’s happening. We’re having a baby.”

Dave pulls back, grinning at you and he cups your cheeks, leaning in to kiss you. “You’re incredible. I- I am so happy.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. His lips pressing against yours again.

You lean into the kiss, happy that you can give him what he wanted. He’s wanted this from the beginning, it’s why he married you. “I made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. Just to get the ball rolling.” You tell him after you pull back. “I know you can’t take off to come, but I will let you know what they say.”

“You can FaceTime me so I can be there even if I can’t physically be there. You’re going to relax. I don’t want you stressing or doing too much. Feet up all day. You’re gonna be a queen during this pregnancy.” He orders, wanting you to be looked after and cared for beyond anything else. “God.” He reaches for the test again, tears stinging his eyes again. “I can’t believe it.”

You want to roll your eyes at how bossy he’s already being, but you understand him enough that you know it out of concern for the pregnancy. “You can’t believe it?” You ask playfully. “So you weren’t trying to knock me up multiple times a day?”

Dave chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Thought we were just having fun." He teases, stepping back to place his hand on your lower stomach. "I want you to have everything you want." He tells you and your eyes meet his, showing him what you truly want, and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. "Almost everything." He murmurs, avoiding your eyes, no doubt full of pain. "What have you been baking?" He asks, changing the subject.

You sigh and move back over to the cake. “I was making a double white chocolate cream cake.” You explain. You had noticed that he did love your chocolate cakes and you wanted it to be good. “One layer is pink, one layer blue since we don’t know the sex.”

"I don't care if it's a boy or a girl. As long as it's healthy." He promises, watching you continue working on the cake. "What do you want?" He asks you, knowing you must think he wants a boy. He honestly doesn't mind.

“A healthy baby.” You don’t care if you have a boy or girl either. You are sure that you will be having another, Dave won’t want there to be just one child and you want your child to have playmates and siblings.

The words would be too easy to say, they'd slip off of the tongue like honey, and it would be right for the moment, but Dave cant' say them. Love is...it's not what he's feeling. Or is it? He doesn't really know how love feels. He's never been in love before. He can't love you though. Love destroys, love causes mistakes. He can't handle mistakes. Therefore, he clears his throat and steps away from you. "I'll, uh, leave you to your baking. I gotta - I have work to do. Let me know when dinner is ready." He rushes out, making his way to his office.

Your heart drops, although you know it’s Dave pulling back. He had promised you that he wouldn’t love you. He was intent on keeping that promise, for whatever reasons were his own. Instead of crying and feeling heartbroken, you go back to decorating your cake. You figured out that you would have to love enough for both of you, because you had fallen in love with your husband over the past month.

****

Dave holds your hand, watching the doctor move the wand around your stomach, and he’s nervous. You’re finding out the gender today and he is anxious. He isn’t one for reveal parties and he wanted to find out with just you, looking at the screen. “Congratulations. It’s a boy.” The doctor announces and Dave swears his entire life has been leading up to this moment.

“Oh my god.” Your eyes water instantly and you can’t wait for the doctor to clean the jelly off your stomach to be able to caress it again. Looking over at Dave, you love the look of awe on his face as he watches the monitor. Squeezing his hand gently, your heart swells - falling deeper in love with Dave. “We’re having a boy.” You whisper, smiling at him when he looks at you.

Dave leans down to kiss you softly.“Thank you. Thank you.” He murmurs, wanting to tell you what he can’t say but how can he? He promised himself he wouldn’t. “You’re incredible.” He whispers, kissing your lips again. “A boy. Our baby.”

“Our baby.” No matter what, you had created a life with Dave. Your child would be a new life in the world. To love unconditionally. The doctor cleans up the gel and prints off picture while you look down at your belly. “I love you baby boy.” You murmur softly. “Your daddy and I love you so much.”

Dave swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears and he covers your belly with his free hand. He kisses your forehead, wanting to silently tell you how he feels without actually saying anything. Dave won’t even admit it to himself, he can’t. He won’t.

****

You can do this. You take a deep breath and push the door open to his office, knowing that he might tell you no. Dave looks up and gives you a smile, his eyes immediately drifting down to your swollen belly with pride. “I - I was wondering if I could ask you something. I request of sorts?”

Dave tilts his head and sets his pen down. “What do you want sweetheart? You want that ice cream again? I can send out for it.” He says and frowns when you shake your head, moving closer to his desk.

“I want…I want you to sleep in the bed with me. At night…I get cold and I want - I want you to hold me.” You bite your lip and Dave sighs, standing up.

“Sweetheart. I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I’ll get you some blankets but - but I can’t do it.” He wishes you could understand.

You shake your head, tears filling your eyes, once again wishing that you didn’t have these feelings for Dave. “I’m just asking you to sleep with me.” You protest. “You- you told me I could have anything I wanted when I was pregnant and you- you barely touch me now.”

“You can have anything. I can buy you an entire fucking McDonalds if you want a burger and fries. I can buy you a spa if you want a massage. You can have anything you want.” He counters, annoyed that you’re upset with him when you know the deal. It’s true he hasn’t touched you since you got pregnant but honestly, it’s because he is terrified of hurting you. He doesn’t want to harm the baby and he definitely doesn’t want to delve into ‘making love.’

“I don’t want a fucking burger.” You growl, tears streaming down your face. “I want my husband! I want you to touch me, to make me believe that you didn’t lie to me.” You choke back a sob. “You- you’re going to the hotel aren’t you? You decided that I’m not what you want and you’ve started sleeping with those women again.”

Dave shakes his head, placing his hands on his desk. “Goddamnit woman. What I do, who I do, is none of your fucking concern. You don’t own me. I own you. You’re mine. I don’t belong to you so if I decide to go fuck some whore in a hotel room, that’s my choice. You need to calm down for the baby.” He reminds you with a hiss. Hating himself for what he said but he can’t tell you what he really feels, how he wants to grab you and worship you, make you feel every fucking emotion he feels for you.

Your heart shatters, making your shoulders drop and your sob springs from your throat. “I- I was wrong.” You choke out. “I- I thought me loving you was enough. That- that- that I could love you enough for both of us.” You shake your head. “I was wrong.” You turn and rush out of the room as fast as you can manage with your pregnant waddle. The confirmation of him sleeping with other women has crushed you and you need to get away from him.

Dave slumps down into his plush chair, his heart aching for you. All he wants to do is run after you, pull you into his arms and tell you how he feels. He knows that most people would think he's being crazy but it's better this way. If something happens, he can protect you. You hating him is better than you loving him, it will protect you both. His mind runs over the words "I thought me loving you was enough." You love him. His heart aches even more he's certain it's shattering to pieces in his chest.

Rushing out of the house with your purse, you brush off the driver’s offer to take you somewhere. You can drive yourself and you need to get away, clear your mind. Driving through the streets of D.C., you find yourself in front of the orphanage. The charity event had been a great success and you were proud of the improvements that had been made. Making your way to the door after making sure you don’t look too upset, you knock, knowing that you can check up on some of your favorite children to take your mind off the fact your husband doesn’t love you.

“Mrs. York. What a pleasure to see you. Please, come in.” The orphanage manager greets you, ushering you inside. “Gosh, look at you. When are you due?” She asks, a soft smile on her face as she guides you towards the staff room so you can sit down for a moment.

“It seems like any day, but I have another month.” You tell her with a small laugh. You already feel better, the atmosphere had become very homey with the upgrades. The sounds of feet pounding upstairs makes you smile and you look around. “Things seem to be going well. How is everyone?”

“Oh wonderful, Mrs. York. We- we cannot thank you and Mr. York for your generous donations. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your kindness. Would you like a cup of tea? We have pastries too. Strawberry danish.” The older woman offers, grabbing the teapot she was drinking from and a new cup to pour you some then she gets the tray of baked goods. “Please, help yourself. I’m sure you’re starving.”

You give a small laugh, selecting a delicious looking danish and setting it on a napkin. The tea is a very welcome thing, taking a sip of it before you speak again. “It’s fate that this all started with me bringing you baked goods.” You offer, smiling as you reach for the danish and take a bite.

“Yes. You are an excellent baker. Our pastries simply don’t compare.” She replies with a soft smile, watching you chew on the danish until you choke. “Mrs. York? Is everything okay?” She asks and your eyes widen, dropping the danish onto the table. “Mrs. York?”

The tingle in the back of your throat had instantly turned into your throat starting to close. Gasping for air, you manage to croak out, “all-er-gic. Rasp-ber-ies.” Your reaction is terrifying you, not sure what would happen with the baby. Your purse is in the car and you feel like your drowning, unable to pull in a breath. “D-D-Daaave.”

“Oh my God. Do you- do you have any epipen? I think - I think we do. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I thought- I need to call an ambulance.” She fusses, unsure of what to do first so she calls out, telling another woman who immediately rushes to get the epipen and demands the manager calls an ambulance. She pushes the epipen into your thigh, “it’s okay dear. We are gonna get you help.”

You feel the roaring in your ears getting louder, your vision starting to narrow and get fuzzy around the edges. A clear indicator you’re going to loose consciousness. You grip the table and feel your body become even heavier, praying that no matter what happens, the baby will be okay. Dave can lose you, but he wants his son. Maybe it will be better if it works out that way. That is your last thought before your eyes roll back and you slump back in the chair, unconscious.

****

Dave is typing an email when his cell rings. It’s an unknown number which usually he ignores but something tells him to answer it. “Mr. York?” The voice says. “Yes.” Dave answers hesitantly. “This is Sibley Memorial. I’m calling because your wife was brought in with an allergic reaction-” Dave doesn’t even listen to the rest of what she says. He hangs up and sprints to his car, speeding out of his estate like a madman and not giving a fuck about any speed limits as he drives to the hospital. He leaves his car outside and rushes in, slamming his hands on the desk and demanding to know where you are.

You can’t open your eyes. They’re too heavy, but you feel people moving around you. The wild beeps on a monitor makes your lashes flutter. Your chest feels heavy, aching even, but you still can’t seem to force yourself to respond to anything.

Dave listens to the doctor, wondering what the hell happened, and when the doctor says "emergency c section due to lack of oxygen" and he chokes on his own breath when the doctor says "I need you to give me permission and...decide which one to save if the situation calls for it." Dave frowns, not quite understanding since his heart is hammering a mile a minute. "Do you want us to save the child or the mother?" The doctor asks, "if needed."

Dave feels sick. He knows that if he was asked this before you got married, he would've picked the baby without question. Now, he can't imagine his life without you. "Both. I want you to save both." He demands, starting to panic.

"Mr. York...if we can't save both..." The doctor trails off and Dave pinches his nose, trying to stop himself from crying.

"My wife. I want you to save my wife." He whispers, knowing that he couldn't live without you, he wants you more than he wants a baby. Something he never imagined he'd say. The doctor nods and calls for a nurse to prep for the emergency c-section, telling Dave to wait in the family room until they come to get him.

Your lashes flutter, hearing doctors and nurses moving around you. Talking and yet not able to make out what they are saying. You try to reach out, lift a hand but all you can do is move a finger. Your head lulls and you feel a mask come down over your mouth. More time, more mumbled talking until suddenly you hear a loud voice.

You hear Dave’s voice, making your brow furrow. What is he doing here? Where are you? Your blood pressure spikes, panicked and upset. You don’t know what is going on and all you can do is try to move but you can't. Breathing fast and your heart rate climbs.

"Sir. We need you to wait outside." The nurse pushes on Dave's chest. "Code blue! Code blue!" The doctor shouts and everyone starts to rush around you.

"What is going on? What the fuck is going on?" Dave shouts, trying to remain in the room but he is pushed by a few nurses outside of the room. "What's going on? What the fuck is happening with my wife?" He shouts, slumping when the doors shut behind the nurses as they go back into the room. He tries to get back in until he finds the door is secure and he chokes, tears in his eyes and he is scared. Terrified for the first time in his life. He's going to lose you. He's going to lose you before he ever truly had you.

Alarms beep, loud and intrusive. You hear shouted orders before the black consumes you again. The last thing that you manage to think of before you slip under is that Dave won’t have to worry about you. Your needing him to love you will be over and he can keep himself closed off.

Dave paces, his heart pounding in his ears, and he wants to demand the very best doctors for you, demand that they do something. Anything. When the nurse comes to find Dave, she says that you are stable but they are monitoring you and he can't see you yet. Dave wants to stomp but he doesn't. The nurse asks if he wants to see the baby and he nods, nearly crying. He follows her to the nursery and the nurse shows him how to hold the newborn baby that is placed in his arms. "He's healthy?" He asks and the nurse nods.

"Perfect. He's absolutely fine."

Dave chokes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks down at his child. The very thing he has wanted for so long but it's not enough. He wants this moment with you. "Hey buddy. I'm your daddy. Mama is - Mama will be here soon to see you. She is gonna be such a good mom. You're gonna be so spoiled and loved. I already love you so much." He murmurs, kissing the baby's forehead.

It’s hours later that Dave is allowed in your room. You’ve been cleaned up and moved to a private room, wires and IVs running all around you. The nurse brings the baby down from the nursery to stay in the room, telling him that the baby being here will be good for you. Perhaps wake you up sooner when you hear him cry. Your breathing is steady and the beep of your heart monitor is the only sound in the room when she closes the door behind her.

Dave just watches your chest rise and fall. He can't believe he nearly lost you. You're here and he grips your hand while his eyes flick over to the baby who is asleep. He wishes you were awake to hold the baby, he wants to see it. "Sweetheart." His voice is raspy from his tears. "I need you to wake up. Please. Our son needs you to wake up. You are- I love you. I love you so much." He finally admits, resting his head on your joined hands. "Please wake up."

You’re dreaming. You have to be. You are in a place where Dave is murmuring for you to wake up, that he loves you. Wrapped around you in bed, his hands caressing your swollen stomach and promising that he loves you. Tears leak out of your eyes because you know that it’s not true, he won’t love you. Not because he’s not capable, you know he is. He won’t just because he doesn’t want to.

Dave squeezes your hand, looking up and gasping when he sees tears rolling down your cheeks. "Hey hey sweetheart. It's okay. It' s okay. Please, open those beautiful eyes. Show me those pretty eyes and wake up." He pleads, kissing your forehead and cheeks, tasting the salt of your tears.

It takes you a long time to open your eyes, fighting not to leave the dream where Dave loves you and wants you like you want him. You groan quietly, your entire body sore and blink against the light that overwhelms your eyes before your vision starts to clear. “D-Dave.” You whimper, wishing that he was with you.

“I’m here baby. I’m here.” Dave cups your cheeks as your eyelashes flutter until he can see your beautiful eyes. “Oh thank God.” He exhales deeply, kissing your forehead. He knows he should call for the nurse but he can’t believe you’re awake. “I’m here.” He repeats, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones.

“Wh-what happened?” Your groggy and unable to remember much. “I- I had a- it was raspberry.” You remember the danish and the worry on the director’s face when she injected you with the epi pen. Looking over, you see Dave, relief and worry mixed on his face and it confuses you. “I- the baby?” Your eyes widen and you look down, your stomach flatter than it had been.

"He's fine. You - they had to do an emergency c-section and - and he is healthy but they asked - they asked me who to save." He chokes, unable to imagine a world without you or his son. Especially you. "He's healthy. You - fuck - you were into code blue and they - just - you're okay." He chokes, kissing your forehead again, just breathing you in.

Your heart aches, hating that you didn’t know that you had given birth. That you didn’t get to hold your son the moment he came into the world. “It’s okay.” You assure him, knowing that he would choose his son. You were replaceable. “You don’t have to explain. I know how you feel. Of course you would choose him.”

Dave frowns, looking at you with pain in his eyes. He could’ve lost you and it would’ve killed him. “I didn’t choose him. I chose you. I wanted them to save you. I’m - he’s here and he’s healthy thank God but losing you? I wouldn’t have survived it because - because I love you.” He admits, knowing that he can’t stop it anymore. Love is weakness, love destroys, but love also makes him stronger and he has created a son with you so how can he possibly believe it’s wrong? “I love you.” He declares, looking at you, begging you to believe him.

You shake your head, frowning at him because you don’t want to get your hopes up. “Don’t- don’t say that because I had an allergic reaction.” You beg him, “I can’t - it would kill me if you changed your mind.” You rasp out. “I love you, and I just- please don’t say it unless you mean it.”

Dave shakes his head, "no. No. It's because I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it - I was terrified because you are - I love you so much it's scary. I have never felt like this before and our son...he's so beautiful and you gave him to me and I nearly lost you." Dave chokes on a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I love you. Please, you gotta believe me. I love you."

You are so very tired and your body aches, but you pull your hand out of his and reach up, cupping Dave’s cheek. Trying to wipe away his tears. “I believe you.” You whisper, crying yourself because you never thought you would hear those words. “I love you so much.”

Dave grins, turning his head to kiss your palm. “Do you want to meet our son?” He asks, lowering his hand from yours. You nod and he walks over to carefully pick the baby up. He places him on your chest, wanting you to be as close as possible.

“Oh my god.” You gasp out, cradling hun close and running your hands over his little body. Checking fingers and toes and stroking his cheek. His eyes are closed, and you look up at Dave in complete wonder. “He’s okay?” You ask, needing to make sure. “My - it didn’t hurt him?”

Dave shakes his head, tears in his eyes as he thinks about how you didn’t get to see your son be born. “He’s absolutely fine. He’s early but healthy. No issues. It didn’t hurt him.” Dave confirms, leaning down to kiss your forehead before kissing the baby. “Thank you. I love him so much. I love you so much.” Dave murmurs in awe.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both to Dave and to your son. Leaning down, you press a kiss to your son’s forehead. “I- She thought they were strawberry danish and I was upset. I just wanted to feel okay for a few minutes.” You look back over at Dave guiltily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put him in jeopardy.” You had been so cautious about dealing with your allergy so you didn’t accidentally hurt the baby. And now this happens.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault. How were you to know? You’re both okay. That’s all that matters. I - I nearly lost you.” He chokes again, resting his forehead against yours and looking down at the baby. “I was so scared.” He admits in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You close your eyes and stroke his hair as you hold the baby close. “I’m not going to leave you. Not when I know you want me here.” You promise softly. “Besides, we have to give our son a sibling.”

Dave smiles, knowing that you need to discuss you having another child after such a traumatic experience. He isn’t fussed about another one if it means keeping you healthy and safe. “I don’t want to just be married in name anymore. I want to be your husband. I want to sleep in bed beside you and kiss you properly and tell you I love you.” He reveals, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.

****

"I want to drag you off and take advantage of you." Dave growls as he presses a kiss to your jaw, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You always say that.” Leaning into his embrace, you sigh happily as he scatters kisses down your skin. Despite the years, and five kids changing your body, Dave still found you irresistible. The kids are growing up with their parents constantly flirting, kissing and sneaking off for some alone time when you can manage it. “What has captured your attention this time?” You ask playfully, swaying with him as he continues to grope you.

“This dress. I want to just duck under it and suck on your clit.” He slides his hand down to your stomach, “and then I want to put our sixth baby inside of you.” He kisses your bare shoulder. “Kids are busy and there’s enough adults here including their nanny. Let’s sneak into the house so I can touch you sweetheart.” He pleads, pushing his hardening cock against you.

“Dave York.” You sound scandalized as you turn around in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “Are you proposing we sneak away from your eldest’s birthday party so we can have a quickie?” His grin is unrepentant and even after seven years and five kids, your cunt clenches. Leaning in, you kiss his lips. “Meet me inside in two minutes.” You order him breathlessly. “I’ll go first.”

His grin is wicked and he playfully smacks your ass as you walk off. He searches for the kids and finds their nanny racing after them along with the housekeeper and he is reassured they will be safe. He practically counts the seconds and rushes into the house, finding you in the guest bathroom downstairs. “Fuck, you look so sexy today. Must be some kind of glow from the kids.” He groans, immediately pulling you into his arms so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

You giggle into the kiss, your own hand sliding down and cupping his already hard cock. “Someone is excited about the quickie.” You tease, already tugging at his belt so you can touch him. “I fucking love you.”

His hands side under your dress, groaning at your lack of panties since it’s a maxi dress, and his fingers immediately find your clit, rubbing soft circles while he kisses you. “I fucking love you too.” He declares against your lips.

After DJ’s birth, the two of you had learned that sex could be even better when your true feelings were involved. The sex before had been great, but now it is amazing. “Dave.” You moan quietly, even though the house is empty except for the two of you. Your hips push forward to his hand and you hold onto his shoulders as your knees start to tremble.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw and he slides his hand back to push two fingers inside of you, his thumb pressed against your clit. “So goddamn tight even after five kids.” He whispers in awe.

You chuckle and squeeze your muscles around him. “All those Kegel’s I do.” You tease. “I have to have a strong pelvic floor for all the kids we have.” You don’t regret a single one of them and love teasing about how many more you would give him. “Ready to give me number six?”

“You ready?” Dave asks, knowing you have talked about it and you had the IUD removed last week. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t had a chance to touch each other. “You want me to fill you up with another child? Want me to get you knocked up again so I can worship you?” He asks, pumping his fingers a little faster.

“Fuck.” You and Dave had discovered that once he allowed himself, he had a very large breeding kink. And that transitioned to a pregnancy kink. “Yes baby.” You pant, body racing towards your first orgasm. “I want you to put another baby in me.” Your eyes slip closer and you let out a soft cry when you cum around his fingers when he presses them against that spongy spot.

Hearing you consent to putting another baby in you has Dave ready to fuck you and when you soak his fingers, he fucking loves it. “Jesus.” He growls, working you through it until he removes his fingers, rapidly working to pull his hard cock out of his pants. “Pull your dress up and bend over the bathroom counter. Want to look at you in the mirror while I fuck you.” He orders, pumping his cock a few times.

Whirling around, you stick your ass out enticingly and shake it at Dave. Giggling when he slaps your ass and then grabs your hip with one hand as he shuffles closer. Your eyes meet in the mirror and your mouth opens when he starts to push into you. Moaning loudly. “Daaaaave.”

He loves your face when he pushes inside of you. The way your brow furrows and the little pout you have when you moan his name. It’s gorgeous. He pushes deep, already on the edge at the thought of getting you pregnant, and he loves how you clench around him. “So fucking perfect. Mine. My beautiful wife. All mine.” He declares, kissing your neck as he leans over you. “Watch me fuck you.” He orders, gripping your chin to make you look in the mirror and he starts to move inside of you.

You watch, loving the way that his jaw sets, his eyes darken every time he pushes deep inside you. He still loves that he is the only one that has ever gotten to touch you. That everything you have done has been with him. “Fuck.” You lean back against him and watch your body bounce forward as he thrusts into you.

Your whimpers spur him on and he keeps his eyes on you. “I love you sweetheart.” He pants while his other hand squeezes your hips, sliding up to cup your breast. “Want to see these full of milk again.”

You chuckle, considering you had just weaned your youngest off your breast less than eight months ago. “You just want fresh milk again.” You tease.

Dave grins against your skin, “maybe I do. Love fucking you and tasting it.” He admits like you didn’t already know. “Want to see you round with my baby again. Let everyone know you’re mine.” His hand caresses your stomach and he slides it lower so he can rub your clit.

“Ev- oh shit - everyone knows I’m yours.” You pant, walls clenching around him as he pushes you towards the edge. You feel it building and it’s going to be a rush of pleasure. A few more thrusts of his cock and swipes of his fingers and stars burst behind your eyes. “L-love you!” You cry out, soaking his cock with your juices.

When you cry out, squeezing him tight, he knows he won’t last long. Never does when he’s trying to knock you up. With a groan, he thrusts a half dozen more times until he is burying his cock deep inside of you. “Fucking love you too sweetheart.” He chokes out, biting down on the back of your neck to smother his loud growl.

You whine in pleasure at the feeling of him filling you up, shuddering because you know that it’s possible that he just got you pregnant again. You love the thought of it. When he stops biting your neck, you turn your head and kiss along his jaw while he shallowly thrusts into you. “God, I love when you do that.” You giggle against his skin. “It’s so sexy how much you love getting me pregnant.”

“Love seeing you round with my child. Love seeing you be a mother.” He admits, pulling into of you after softly kissing you. “I thank God every day that I picked you to be my wife. You’re my greatest blessing sweetheart.” He declares, kissing you once more before he reaches for a hand towel to clean you up. “Now we gotta slip in these quickies while the kids are distracted until you’re knocked up.” He grins and you giggle, “you’re insatiable.” He pulls you into his arms after tucking himself away. “For you. My beautiful wife. I love you Mrs. York.” He declares.

“I love you.” You whisper, kissing him softly, unable to believe you adore this man when you hated him so much to begin with. After checking your appearances, Dave smacks your ass and takes you hand to guide you back out to the party. Dave York finally has the family he has always longed for.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend shortly after his mom died?

This was over 10 years ago, but it still weighs on me often. I feel like a terrible person for it.

Me (15-19F) and my boyfriend (15-19M) who we'll call Dave had been dating for a little over four years. He was my first and to this day only boyfriend, and he was great. The only thing was that he regularly ignored my boundaries and would touch me or make me do things I wasn't comfortable with. If I didn't immediately agree or pushed his hands away, he would keep trying or guilt trip me until I gave in. It was never anything too bad, mostly just intimate touching and kissing, but it was enough that it made me extremely nervous to be around him. He also thought my shyness and anxiety were cute and would often joke that he would embarrass me in public by making out with me in front of my parents or that he was going to propose to me. Again, nothing bad, but he did a lot of things that made me deeply anxious just to get a "cute" reaction out of me, and it caused me a lot of stress to the point that sometimes I would get a sick stomach before going on dates. I ignored it though, because I loved him and I knew he loved me.

Then there was Dave's sister and friends at school. One of the girls, we'll call her Mary, was in love with Dave. But since he was dating me, she hated me, despite that she never met me because I had left for another highschool. This also meant that her friends and Dave's sister hated me. They stole my number from his phone and constantly sent me texts calling me terrible things and trying to threaten me into breaking up with Dave. I tried to reason with them and apologize if I had done anything to make them so angry but that only made it worse. Eventually I told Dave and his reaction seemed to imply he already knew, but he said he would do something about it. It stopped for a little while but went on for about a year before I guess they got tired of harassing me. Dave never said anything beyond "I'll do something" and I always wondered why he never comforted me or never said anything else. We were around seventeen at the time, maybe we were just stupid teenagers who were bad at communicating. But the year of stress around his sister and friends didn't help my anxiety around dating him.

During these four years, dates or phonecalls with Dave, which I had to tiptoe around because my dad didn't like him and didn't want me to date at all, became so stressful that I now realize it triggered anxiety attacks. I realized during the last year that I wanted to break up with him, but it was around that time that his mom, who had been diagnosed with cancer for several years, worsened. I felt I couldn't break up with him then because he had too much on his plate and I needed to support him. So I did, and when he called me to tell me she had died, I talked with him on the phone for hours, and I went to her funeral.

I don't remember how much time passed after that before I decided I had to break up with him. That time is a blur. It was several months, at least, I think, and a decision I finally made because I couldn't take the stress anymore. We were mostly long distance at that point, just starting college, and I'm ashamed to say that I broke up with him over email saying that long distance was too hard and that we didn't have as much in common anymore. I apologized and told him I would still like to be friends. He was sad about it but seemed okay, except between normal chats, he would ask me over and over again why we couldn't get back together and what he did wrong. In hindsight, I should have told him. But I was stupid, scared, and not as good as communication as I am now, so I doubled down on my reasoning, which wasn't a lie, but it was only a half truth. This went on and off for about a year until a friend at school told me I should block his number. I did. I feel bad about that too.

I don't regret breaking up with him, but sometimes I think about this and I feel like a complete monster for it anyway. I should have told him "no" more firmly when he would cross boundaries, and been more up front with how he made me feel. Maybe he just didn't know?

If I'm the asshole here, please be nice, but be honest. This guilt eats me alive some nights and I wonder if I should call him to tell him the truth and that I'm so sorry. I haven't dated anyone since because I'm scared I'll hurt them, too.

What are these acronyms?

[motionlessonigiri]

Hi Sabezra community.

Am I an English speaker? No. That's why I apologize in advance for the crimes against the English language that I'm going to commit next. But I still hope you can understand me. I'm not even sure anyone will see this.

It's been a while since I came here to find people who love the same things as me. Like a refuge from the outside world. I planned to post something only when I had something interesting to share with you all, like a video edit or fanart. Things so we could have fun together.  The current circumstances didn't allow me to do anything for now, so I was just following things as a spectator.

Seeing all this ship war going on, made me feel like I wanted to get away from all social media, so I wouldn't see these things anymore.  I also felt scared to express my love for this ship too. I'm scared to post this now.

Even my mother noticed that something was bothering me.  She asked me several times what I had.  I didn't want to tell her, because she's also a Star Wars fan and I don't want her to know everything that's going on. I want her to continue watching our favorite shows without thinking about negative things.

I want to get the hell away from it all, but for once, I would like to post this to all the Sabezra shippers who are receiving free hate. I think you guys need some love after suffering so much hate and I need to get out how I'm feeling. Because that's all I can do for now.

This whole time, I saw your fanart, I saw your video edits and I read many of the beautiful fanfics you wrote (I confess that I haven't read them all yet, it's due to lack of time, but I loved everything I read).

I see everyone putting so much love into what they do. And I can't ask you to continue, because I myself don't know if I'll ever be able to post anything in the future. But to be honest, I don't want you to stop.  Am I being cowardly and selfish? Perhaps, but it's the truth.

But I'm here to remind you that not all Sabezra shippers are so active on social media, but we exist.

I've been a Star Wars fan for a few years and only watched Rebels during the pandemic. I started shipping Sabezra since then.

I was so happy that the Ahsoka series exists. And now I couldn't even watch Ahsoka or Rebels (I tend to rewatch the things I like many times). Because every time I try to watch it I'm reminded of this whole ship war that's going on.

So I decided to talk to a friend. He is also a Star Wars fan (and a fan of Rebels, which I recommended to him), but he doesn't follow things that happen on social media. We always talk about Star Wars, but we never talked about ships.  But today I asked him what he thought of Ezra and Sabine.

He is my childhood friend and we practically grew up together, so I thought: "If he sees Sabine and Ezra as just friends/siblings, just like he and I are, maybe I'm seeing too much in the interactions between Sabine and Ezra and and I should just stop shipping them." 

But to my surprise he also ships Sabezra. He said that you can see in the exchange of looks between them that there is something (In fact, my friend and I never look at each other the same way Sabine and Ezra look at each other). And he thinks Sabine is in love with Ezra.

The same case happens with my mother, who also loves Rebels and watches everything from SW since when she was young, but without following all the discussions that happen on the internet.  When we watched Ahsoka, she said she thought Sabine liked Ezra since Rebels.  She said this without me saying anything about shipping them.  And when I asked her if she thought it was wrong to ship them, she said no and said she thinks they will be together someday.  (I know, this may never happen, but hearing this from my mom warmed my little heart)

Even a friend of mine who isn't a fan, just watches casually, asked me if Sabine had a crush on Ezra.

Talking to these people from outside made me feel better, because this may not have been the intention of Dave and the others, but you can see that, based on common sense, no one can blame us for shipping them, it seems natural to many people. And not all Sabezra Shippers can be seen expressing this around.

I have nothing against anyone who ships wolfwren.  But I won't lie and say I wasn't sad that the cast supported it so openly, while we are accepting crumbs. I confess that at first I felt betrayed. I haven't shipped Sabezra for as long as many of you, but I feel like I have. But thinking clearly, I understand them. Besides thinking that they can to ship whatever they want, just like us, I see it as a way for them to show support for the LGBT community. It is to be expected that they will do this. And it's okay.

Needless to say, I'm just posting this to express what I was feeling, I have no intention of hurting anyone.  I am completely against any type of hate.

I don't regret watching Ahsoka, nor do I regret that the series existed.  But I'm sorry to have seen so much fighting and hatred for something that was made to make us all happy. I wish I had followed everything in ignorance, as well as my friend and my mother. I think I'll start seeing things that way from now on.

I had a lot more to say, but I still don't know how to express them in words and this was turning into a mile long post.  My first post and this was huge.  I'm sorry for this. I needed to get these things out because I want to sleep and focus on the more important things I have to do.

And I want to be able to enjoy watching Ahsoka and Rebels again without feeling sick out remembering all the discussion surrounding it.

For now, I want you to know that I've been loving all the Sabezra content you've been posting. What I want to say is that I'm here and that I will continue to ship Sabezra until the end. Even if you don't see me interacting here.

Maybe later I'll regret posting this. 

Maybe I'll delete it right away. 

Maybe I'll never come around here again. 

I don't know.

Too late. But everything is fine. 

At least now you know I'm here.

I love you all.

[fritz-federleicht]

begging for more kurt one shots please please please <3 if it’s not too much trouble some hurt/comfort would b super cool but honestly i would take ANY kurt content lol

Take my sunglasses/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Notes: Thanks for your request. I don't know why but you somehow come across as incredibly likable to me. Hope you like it x

Summary: a fan insults you, Kurt comforts you

Words: 762

In a few minutes you leave the hotel. You hear loud shouting. Fans are calling for their idols Dave, Krist and for your boyfriend Kurt.

You are pretty sure that there will be photographers too. And you don't feel like that. They will just ask you some hurtful questions again. But the fans are no better, if not worse. According to them, Kurt is theirs alone.

Kurt snaps you out of your deep thoughts. "Our luggage is already on its way to our apartment." He takes your hand. "Shall we go?"

You exhale loudly, closing your eyes briefly to get ready for what's happening outside the hotel. "Yes."

Kurt opens the door to the room. You walk down a long hallway until you reach an elevator. It opens.

"We only have to walk a short distance. Then our car will come. I'll always be with you. Ignore everyone who approaches you." He squeezes your hand.

"It's hard. People love you out there. Me, they hate."

"Honey just try okay?" You nod and lean your forehead against his chest. Kurt combs his fingers through your hair. "You'll be fine." He tries to encourage you.

The elevator opens. You step off. Outside a large glass door, you see the crowd.

"Where are Dave and Krist? Aren't they coming with us?" You look around searchingly, trying to stall for time.

"They're in another car." Kurt pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. "You ready?"

You shake your head. "No, but otherwise we'll never get out of here." You smile in anguish.

You walk to the door, someone opens it for you. Immediately the noise doubles. You leave the hotel.

People are shouting for Kurt from all sides. But also for you. You shield your eyes with your hand, protect yourself from the flash. Kurt wears his famous sunglasses.

"Kurt, Y/N please one picture."

"Y/N is it true that you're pregnant?"

You stop, stunned. Pregnant? This is the first time you've heard this rumor.

Kurt pulls on your hand. "Love, ignore people." You nod and tug at your top.

He notices the flash is bothering you. "Here, take my sunglasses."

You smile weakly and thank him. Hand in hand, you walk past a group of girls.

A brown-haired girl grabs Kurt's arm. "Why are you with her? She's way too ugly for you. And so fat!" At this, she looks at you in disgust.

You can't believe what you're hearing. How can you say something like that directly to a person's face. You're glad to wear Kurt's sunglasses. Tears gather in your eyes. You try to hold them back, pulling on Kurt's hand. His physical contact is the only thing that prevents you from bursting into tears here and now.

Kurt tears away from the girl, giving her a nasty look. "Who do you think you are?"

He always tries to be nice. But if someone says something against you he can't guarantee anything. No matter if someone likes his music or not. He protects you above everything.

She realizes that she said something wrong. Her idol is angry with her. Her expression shows slight sympathy. She mumbles an apology.

Kurt tries to catch up with you, but you're already sitting in the car. Kurt sits down next to you.

As soon as the doors are closed and the car has started moving you tear off Kurt's sunglasses. You put them in his hand.

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Fortunately, the windows are darkened, no one can see you.

Kurt pulls you into a tight hug. "Don't think about what that girl said." He kisses your forehead. "Tears don't look good on you." He wipes them away.

"She's right I got a big belly."

Kurt pushes you gently away and looks deep into your eyes. "Y/N, honey, it's for other reasons. You know that. It's not your fault."

"Yeah I know." You put your hands on your stomach. "She called me ugly."

"You're not. You're the most beautiful person I know." He gently puts his hand on your belly, stroking it. As he does so, he looks so happy.

You watch him and smile. "I love you." You are so happy to start a family with him.

Kurt looks up from your belly. "I love you too." You snuggle up to his shoulder and try to forget what happened earlier as soon as possible.

Soon the whole world will know that the rumors are true.

You're having a baby!

[thelavenderflamingo]

Night Shift

Fictional Interpretation/Short story of the Song Night Shift by Lucy Dacus.

Summary: Y/N goes through a horrific breakup with her now ex-girlfriend, Julien Baker. Instead of seeing Julien everyday at Y/N's 9 to 5, she decides to get a new job.

 I felt it in my bones that this was wrong. The spit of the man I was kissing was almost drowning me. Actually, it was. I pushed my tinder date harshly off my body and coughed into the floor. My date laid on one end of the couch where I had pushed, while I keeled over, coughing on the other side. “What the fuck? Are you okay?” His gruff voice only made me cough harder. “Julien I’m sorry” I regretted the name the moment it came out of my mouth, my head slowly whipping around in hopes the man would be replaced by a more comforting figure. He wasn’t. “Okay, you’re fucking crazy. I’ve got to go.” I quickly got up. “Hey I’m sorry. Julien- I mean Jacob please come back!” The door shut in my face. 

“I’m doing fine.” My hands rubbed against the soft fabric of my pants. “I’m just trying to derail my one track mind, you know how I get.” I looked up, trying to gather whether my therapist believed me. “You  know I’m regaining my self worth back in just record time.”  She let out a quick chuckle. “You’re not doing fine, Y/N. You choked when you kissed someone other than Ju-” “My ex.” “Do you see my point? You can’t even hear her name.” I was silent. “Have you spoken to Phoebe or Lucy?” I shook my head. “I almost reached out a couple of times, but it felt wrong. They belong to her. Not me.” My therapist nodded. “Have you been keeping up with what she's been up to?” I slowly nodded in sadness. “She comes back into town this weekend.” “Oh that's interesting! Will you see her?” “Oh no! Absolutely not!” She set her notebook down. “Well why not? You could gain a lot of closure by going to have coffee or something with her.” “She’s already moved on.” “Well this isn’t a get back together Y/N, It’s closure. Don’t entertain the thought.” “But I just can’t help but think of the other girl in the bed that was once mine every time I see her.” “Just try it.” 

I wondered if I was a masochist. That was my only thought as I stared at the brown eyes before me. The woman I once looked at as the sun now resembled a burnt out street lamp. She wore a backwards hat and slouched, like she always fucking did. Always trying to seem small in public so people wouldn’t realize she was Julien fucking Baker. In my head, I imagined myself punching her in her teeth. Her big ‘Dave Grohl’ smile, as Lucy once put it. I was so fucking angry. How dare she move on. She moved on in the four months of silence while I had been grieving the three years of love. “You’re a fucking bitch Julien!” My arms shoved her back so hard she slipped out of the metal chair. Her mop of beige hair flew into her face. “I fucking loved you! I never meant what I said in the breakup! I always assumed you’d come back! But you fucking moved on!” I kicked the table so violently the glass cups fell and shattered on the ground. Laying next to my broken heart. The glass crunched under my boots as I walked away. 

“Y/N. You okay?” My eyes blinked back into reality. “Hm?” “You went somewhere for a second.” “Oh yeah, I’m sorry about that.” “You know you never needed to apologize.” There was silence between us. The tension cut both of us off from talking. “I regret my part in the downfall of us, but you truly left me no choice, Y/N.” I felt sick. “I mean what was I supposed to do? Beg you to come back when I knew neither of us was happy? I certainly wasn’t happy.” Why did I come here? To sit and watch her stare at her fucking feet and absolve her guilt and just shake hands as if she didn't destroy me? I felt no need to forgive whatsoever. But as I looked into her eyes I figured I might as well. It would take time but I couldn’t live my life being angry at the woman I once adored. As I gazed at her I felt the urge to connect our lips. She looked at me with the same intensity she always had, eyes analyzing every part of my being. I need her lips on mine.  I just wanted to feel her one last time. No. I had to stop. I cleared my throat, shattering the moment. A crumpled up bill was in my pocket, I grabbed it and threw it on the table, paying for my part of coffee. “I gotta go Jay.” “Wait.” She grabbed my arm. “Say it again.” I turned around, confusion consuming my eyes. “Say what again?” “My name. It’s just been so long-” “I can't, I truly have to go, Julien.” My arm was ripped from hers as I quickly made my way towards the street. 

The sun was making its way down behind the tall buildings, the neon lights of Memphis slowly replacing it. I walked for hours on end. The last time I had checked my phone it was when I was waiting for Julien at 5 o’clock, checking my phone through blurry eyes, I saw that it was now 12 am. I sighed and turned the corner with all intentions of returning to my new, empty apartment, but when I rounded the brick wall I saw a small bar, nestled in between a Law office and a Record store. The bar looked cozy enough so I popped in through the red door. 

“Hey love, it’s four am, you have to leave.” The blond behind the bar spoke to me sweetly while trying to pull the vodka soda out of my hands. “Wait-no please. I need it.” “Here’s some water. Please sober up. You gotta leave here in the next 45 minutes.” I nodded sadly as I took the water out of her hands. I finished the water and my hands grew idle. My phone had sat neglected next to me, so I picked it up, tapping through stories. My eyes landed on what only could have been described as my worst nightmare. It was one of JUlien and I’s mutual friends' private stories. My eyes were glued to the image behind the two men posing. It was Julien, with the girl she had been seen with mere hours after I ended things. I grew angry and dialed the all too familiar number. The ringing stopped. “Hello?” The groggy voice that came through the line cut my heart.” “You know what Julien-” I was completely slurring my words. “Don’t hold your breath. I hope you forget you EVER saw me at my best. You know, you don't deserve what you don’t respect. You don’t deserve what you say you love and then you neglect.” “Avery I-” “Now bite your tongue! It’s way too dangerous to fall so young.” I took a well needed breath. “Take back what you said. You can’t lose what you never had.” I hung up just as the girl’s hand took my phone. “There will be no calling of exes.” “Whatever.” I sighed, slouching down. “Come on girl. Let's get you home.” 

I got over it the best I could over the next few weeks. I eventually ended up getting a job at the bar I had solemnly stumbled into. I was serving one of my regulars when he looked at me in my eyes. It wasn’t just a glance, but a look. It was almost like he could see my entire life in this look. “What are you doing here?” I laughed. “What do you mean?” “I mean this job obviously isnt you.” “Well that’s a bold statement.” “Im serious.” He grabbed my arm. “Tell me why you’re sad.” Looking at the him, I decided to give into it. “My ex, well we met at the recording company I was working at. I fell for her instantly, but after we broke up i couldn’t stand to be there anymore. She was there 9 to 5, so I just assumed it would be best if i took the night shift, somewhere else.” “You left your job because your ex recorded there?” “If i can help it, I’ll never see her again.” A slow love song that used to be ours started playing from the speaker. He waited for my commentary, “In five years I hope that all of these songs feel like covers, almost very distant, and I’ll dedicate them to new lovers.” 

The questions from my regular never stopped coming until we finally had to kick everyone out at closing. The floors were sticky with spilled alcohol, and my coworker had left me to close the bar by myself. I was mopping the floor when I heard it. The soft sound of Julien’s voice over the speaker consumed the entire building. I let the song devour me, dropping the mop and throwing my arms around myself as I swayed with the music. I was so consumedwith the sound around me I didn’t hear the soft sound of the door opening, but I did hear the steps of boots I had known so well. Instantly I whipped around and made eye contact with the person who broke me and engulfed me all at once. I took a breath. “Julien.”

Thank you for reading! This is my first work so pls be nice!!! Suggestions and critiques are welcome!!!

[ilovepapahet]

Sweetheart

Chapter Seven

Your wasting your tongue with your excuses and lies

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, drugs, mentions of sex, vomiting

Let me know if I missed anything

————————————————————————

After a few days of exhaustion from work you were home, you could now sit back a relax with your cat. You hung out with Kirk yesterday… or well went out with him. Not in a date way just a friend way nothing more. He told you he talked about you to his friends. They thought you seemed cool and would love to meet you.

Kirk said his best friend would especially love to meet you, but warned you before he’s the kinda guy that fucks any girl who looks his way or seems like his type.

You laughed because he reminded you of Lars. Always infatuated with the girls telling you all the time, “I think she likes me”.

God he was too much. You put a movie on and snacked on some chips, you loved this you needed this. You were gonna call Dave but he had a date with the girl he had been talking with. You didn’t mind.. you finally had peace and quiet. Then your door bell goes off.. fuck off. You get up off the couch with a groan, people show up at the worst time… or the worst people show up. You open the door expecting Kirk or a delivery guy who got the wrong house, nothing out of the ordinary.

You open the door and see… what the actual fuck. Lars. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops for a quick second.

“Lars?! How’d you find me how’d-“ your cut off quick with a suffocating hug from Lars, you could practically feel your ribs crack from the squeeze. “Lars… you’re hurting me”.

He quickly pulls away and brush’s you off “Sorry sorry sorry”. He looks a little different from the last time you’d seen him. “What are you doing here?” You step outside and close the door now at eye level with him.

He picks at the skin of his fingers, a few scars faint from playing the drums. “I… I wanted to apologize”.

You’re a bit taken aback, but nonetheless let him continue. “I wanted to apologize for everything… everything I’ve done” he was a bit shaky with his words being careful with them.

“I was an asshole.. and you were hurt. You didn’t deserve that and due to my selfishness I lost a friend.. my best friend my sister”. His words hung in the air not in a bad way, but nor in good way. You’re kinda neutral.

“You don’t have to forgive me I just want you to know that I’m sorry.. I’m not apologizing just so I can consider myself a good person, I’m apologizing because I fucked up” he paused for a second “I just want you to know how sorry I am and I’ll regret for the rest of my life”.

He looked at you his hands shook with anxiety, overthinking that you’d turn him away.

You didn’t know how to feel or what to say or do, you just sat there looking stupid and so did he. The silence was painful and awkward you both just standing there looking at each dumbfounded.

You wanted to slam the door in his face and never see him again, but another part of you wanted to welcome him in and to regain that trust and an old friendship. Without thinking you opened your door and stepped aside to let him in. What were you doing? What the fuck are you thinking?

With a sigh you spoke “… Come in” you were probably going to regret this.

Lars hesitated for a second before walking forward taking his shoes and leaving them at the door. He looked around your house taking everything in, Phoenix’s tail puffed up at seeing Lars obviously spooked by the stranger in his home he scurried off to some part of the house. “You got a cat” Lars spoke softly not knowing what else to say.

You shut the door slowly, “Yeah… wanted some company”. Lars nodded his head “What’s its name?”.

“Phoenix”, “Cool”. The awkward silence was there again. “You never answered my question” you looked up at him.

“What was it?”

“How’d you find me.. did dad tell you?”

Lars took at deep breath “No.. no he didn’t. Uh Kirk told me actually”

You’d probably beat the shit out of Kirk if only he knew you both knew each other, but that’s for another day. “Oh.. I guess you were the friend he was telling me about”, “Yeah I guess so”.

You had so many questions for Lars but couldn’t word them, too much was running through your mind. “Have you been holding up ok?…. I worry about you a lot”, your heart broke at his words.

He still worries about you despite everything he, always has though. You could now fully understand how he was so sorry for what he did and you wanted to sob in his arms and tell him how much you missed him and how you regret cutting him out of your life. “I could be better” you sigh out. Lars chuckled lightly “couldn’t agree more”.

You both sat down on the couch and talked for what felt like years, Lars has a habit of talking to much it was probably his anxious nerves that were making him talk more than he already did. Could you blame him though? You told Lars everything that had been going on with your life after you left and asked him about Dave and why he kicked him out like he did. Lars listened to everything you had to say like he used to, not him cutting you off to tell you something that you probably couldn’t give two shits about. After talking Lars’s ear off he asked you a question, “Do you still think about James?”.

You kinda expected the question you weren’t to irritated by it “No” you lied. “I don’t think about him at all” that was such a big fuckin lie. You thought about him a lot because of the dreams you’ve been having.

“That’s fair” Lars nodded understandably.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to know… Cause he still thinks about you”

It came as a shock to you that James still thought about you. Really? After everything he put you through? Sure he most likely didn’t play victim you knew he wouldn’t but it still surprised you.

“Really? I thought he was done with me completely”

Lars let out a long sigh “Yeah same. I thought he wouldn’t care anymore mostly because he broke up with you. Although he doesn’t admit it he kinda just will bring you up then drop it quickly”

This was still a lot for you to take in. Lars just randomly showing up, you finding out that Kirk was the new bandmate of Metallica technically Dave’s replacement and that James of all people still thinks about you. You should also probably tell Lars you saw Cliff. At least you and Cliff didn’t end off on bad terms.

“He really isn’t the same after the breakup” Lars admitted.

despite you wanting to know you knew you shouldn’t ask, it be better if you dropped the topic and changed it to something else. “Oh.. ok” you say sheepishly.

“I really think you should maybe-“ you cut him off knowing what he’s going to say “No no, I’m not going to talk to him”.

“But-“

“No Lars” you say firmly.

Lars let’s got a sigh knowing you’ll never talk to him again, he didn’t blame you of course he feels bad but he just wishes you’d change your mind.

You both sat there in awkward silence for a big before he asked you a question and you replied starting up a normal conversation, just like you both used to. You both talked for hours about you lived new interests if you had any new boyfriends or if Lars had any new girlfriends. Lars told you that everyone is now making their own money, enough to move out of the small old moldy home they all used to live in.

It made you happy and all the stories Lars was telling you of all of them being in that house. From what Lars was telling you is that it’s basically just him and Cliff left as that house, James is slowly moving out and Kirk was the first to leave. He still doesn’t know how.

Later that night Lars brought up James again. “I really do think you should talk to James”. “Lars please” you sigh closing your eyes in frustration.

“Please hear me out”

“Lars I don’t want to talk about him”

“He’s been getting worse”

Those four words got your attention quickly “What do you mean? He’s been getting worse”. There’s a hint on concern laced in your voice, you can’t help but worry about him. Theres sometimes drawing you to him.

“How is he getting worse?”

“He’s been drinking a lot more, more than usual I slowly started noticing it about a month ago”. Goddamnit Lars you genuinely thought he was drinking more after the break up not from a month ago. You were still worried about him but you could just be overthinking.

“Oh Lars than if it’s just from a month ago than I think he’s ok” you try to reassure him, but in full honesty you can’t tell if your trying to reassure Lars or yourself.

“I think I should probably head on my way though” Lars said standing up “I’ll spend the night at Kirk’s than go home tomorrow”.

“Alright” you stand up with him “it was nice seeing you Lars really.. it’s been awhile”.

Lars smiled at you “Yeah.. it’s nice seeing my sister again”.

————————————————————————

yay chapter 7 is done I hope you all enjoyed it there is still more to come, I’ll try my hardest to get the chapters out faster

@metalupyourass699

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

Made incorrect quotes for Temporal Transcendence(WIP). Why am I so obsessed with incorrect quotes.

-

Wilbur: You love me, right, Tommy?

Tommy: Normally, I'd say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don't like it.

-

Tommy: This is such a bad idea.

Wilbur: Then why are you coming along?

Tommy: One of us needs to be able to talk the other Mages out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

-

Techno: Here's some advice.

Dave the Blood God: I didn't ask for any.

Techno(been a statue for a whole century now): Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who can hear me.

-

Young Tommy: You saved me. I owe you my life.

Techno: No thanks. I've seen it and I'm not very impressed.

-

Techno: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.

Wilbur: You need to stop.

-

Tommy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

The Time Mages: Wasn't Supreme Time Mage Jacobs with you?

Karl: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

-

Wilbur: HELP! I TOLD TECHNO I'D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN'T COOK!

Phil, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

-

Wilbur: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Tommy: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Wilbur: Yes!

Techno: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

-

Tommy: *Screams*

Sapnap: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Wilbur: Should we do something?

Karl: No, I want to see who wins.

-

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Phil: Shit.

Techno: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Tommy: OH MY GOD WILBUR FELL OFF!!!

-

Quackity, a Time Mage, about Tommy: Apparently we're getting someone new in the group.

Sapnap: Are we stealing them?

Karl: New or used?

Quackity: Wonderful responses, both of you.

-

Techno: Bianca, I'm sad.

Bianca Nihachu: *Holds out arms for a hug* It's going to be okay.

Tommy: Bo, I'm sad.

Bo Underscore, nodding: mood.

-

Karl: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Tommy: You and me!!!

Karl, tearing up: Okay.

-

Wilbur: I turned out perfectly fine!

Tommy: Wilbur, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast.

Wilbur: I DIDN'T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN'T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

-

Phil: Hey, you want some leftovers?

Techno: What's that?

Phil: You've never had leftovers???

Techno(grew up poor): No, because I'm not a quitter.

-

Tubbo: On a scale from "damn Daniel" to "fre sha vaca do", how are you feeling?

Ranboo: In between "it's an avocado, thanks" and "how did you defeat Captain America", but as a solid answer I would say "I don't need a degree to be a clothing hanger". How about you, Tommy?

Tommy: Probably "road work ahead".

Techno: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

-

(These are for the sequel if I ever get around to it)

Wilbur, pretending to be General Soot of L'Manburg: What's up guys? I'm back.

Nemesis Nihachu: What the- you can't be here. You're dead. I literally saw you die.

Wilbur, sweating: Death is a social construct.

-

Tommy: You have to apologize to General Soot.

Wilbur: Fine.

Wilbur: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

-

General Soot: I really like this whole 'good guy, bad guy' thing you guys have going on.

Wilbur: It's not an act, it's just that I'm mean and Tommy isn't.

-

Wilbur: I think we're missing something.

Tommy: Teamwork?

Techno: Cohesion?

Nemesis: A general sense of what we're doing?

-

Tommy: Have you seen a person named 'Technoblade' around here?

Antarctic Empire Citizen: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Tommy: It looks fine to me?

Citizen: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

-

General Soot: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Tommy: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Tobias: I got distracted about halfway through.

Nemesis: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

-

Techno: Why is Wilbur so sad?

Tommy: He took one of those "Which L'Manburg-Era Historical Figure Are You?" quizzes.

Techno: And...?

Tommy: He got General Soot.

-

Tommy: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor.

General Soot: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

-

General Soot, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Tobias: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Soot, with the tone of someone who is used to Tobias: Outstanding.

Soot: This is what I’m talking about people.

-

Wilbur: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you.

General Soot: 10 times 0 is still 0 though.

Wilbur: Joke's on you, I can't do math.

-

Tommy: Just be yourself.

Wilbur: 'Be myself'? Tommy, I have one day to win the L'Manburg soldiers over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Tommy: Couple weeks.

Phil: Six months.

Techno: Jury's still out.

Wilbur: See, Tommy?

Wilbur: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

-

General Soot: I'm an idiot.

Wilbur:

Tommy:

Nemesis:

Techno:

Soot:

Wilbur: If you're waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

-

Nemesis: Whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

Tommy: *sighing* "General Soot".

Wilbur, trying(and failing) to talk like Soot: Fuck shit up out there, but don't die.

Tobias: *wiping away a tear* So inspirational.

-