restricting myself to only do 5 snippets lol i love them all so much
🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (OH!!!!!! @ that last snippet more pls)
➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰(this one has me on the edge of my seat!)(i say as if the others dont lol)
📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖(its new so im requesting more :))
🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷(this one i need a totally normal amount! diaz boys Talking ;-;)
🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(i just love them so much)
You can do as many as you want! Tanis submits 800 million every week.
I'm gonna put Gentle On My Mind at the bottom bc the snippet is sort of smutty, so I'll hide it under the cut.
That being said, 30 for ➰:
Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings
---
His fault. Sure. The naproxen? He shouldn’t have taken it from Rachel. That’s on him, too. Rachel’s kid cracking his skull open? Dumb bad luck. Not on him. But, fair enough… Three out of four.
“That makes sense,” he tells Eddie weakly.
“Why?” Eddie asks.
“Just curious,” Buck mumbles.
“Well, don’t worry,” Eddie replies. “Not like you’ve had to watch them, right?”
Yeah… He supposes that’s true…
“It doesn’t matter,” Buck says quickly. “Sorry.”
Something sad flashes across Eddie’s expression. He cups Buck’s face and pulls him in for a kiss. Buck allows it to happen, although he’s not sure he’s in the mood for their usual morning activities.
“We should get going,” Buck says, breaking the kiss. “Don’t want to be late for kayaking today.”
Eddie nods. “Right. No. No, we don’t.”
---
45 for 📖:
---
“Hi,” the woman greets him with a nervous little wave.
She’s beautiful, Buck thinks. Bright smile. Gorgeous eyes. Eddie is holding her hand.
Buck feels strange. He thought she was out of the picture. Are they back together?
“Shannon,” she adds. “My name is Shannon.”
“Nice to meet you, Shannon.” Buck says, smiling. He feels a little muted and he doesn’t know why.
“Nice to meet you, too, best librarian in the world.”
They chat some more. She’s really nice. Buck can see Christopher in her. Whatever happened there, Buck resolves himself to be happy for the three of them.
Not that it’s any of his business, anyway.
vii.
Life gets busy for a bit. He dates and subsequently breaks up with an interior designer named Ali. In Maddie’s life, there’s a stalking incident. A near kidnapping. Chimney gets hurt. Maddie’s ex ends up in jail. Buck lives in a state of shaky adrenaline for weeks. He takes some time off work to help his sister move apartments again and fight with her new landlord about breaking her lease. Even when he’s back, he doesn’t have as much energy for the job as usual. He feels bad about it, but he just can’t give his all.
All this to say, he doesn’t get to know Shannon Diaz very well. Even though she’s the one picking Christopher up more and more these days. Even though she’s kind and talkative. Even though Chris lights up when he sees her and it’s clear having her back in his life has been good for him.
It’s nothing against her, really. He’s just busy. He’s got a lot going on personally. He doesn’t have the same energy for the parents as he did six months ago. No other reason.
But then…
Well, then she dies.
He only finds out about it through Carla. Christopher stops showing up to after school programming. One day. Two. By the third, Buck starts to worry.
---
60 for 🦷 (YEAH TALKING!):
---
Eddie doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what he’s said wrong.
“What about when you got back from Afghanistan and you were hurt?” Chris asks. He seems insistent.
“Uh,” Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t think I had any ice cream then, Chris. I can’t remember.”
“No, comfort. Who comforted you?”
Eddie’s chest feels tight.
“I mean… I think your mom tried,” Eddie replies weakly. “She had, uh… She had a little kid to think about, though. You. And her mom was sick…”
“So no one?” Chris fills in.
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t try,” Eddie defends Shannon.
“What about…” Christiopher’s eyes dart around. He’s upset. He’s upset and Eddie can’t tell why. “What about when you were shot?”
Eddie nods. Okay, yes. Yes, he can give a satisfactory answer.
“Yeah, buddy. Buck was there for me. Comforted me all the time.”
“Just Buck?” Chris asks.
“I mean, other people were there. You were there. You being there helped.”
“What about Ana?” Chris asks.
“Right, yes. Ana.”
Chris narrows his eyes.
“What is this about?” Eddie asks. “Why all the interest in my own surgeries, Chris? Yours won’t be that bad, I promise.”
“It’s not that,” Christopher sighs.
“Then what?” Eddie tries to temper the edge in his voice. He doesn’t know why he is getting frustrated, too. Maybe it’s just the confusion of it all.
Christopher looks down at his tub of ice cream, then back up at Eddie. He looks like he’s going to cry. It makes Eddie want to cry.
“I… I thought going to Texas would make me feel better,” Chris says. His voice is wavering. Like it’s about to crack.
Eddie freezes. The ice cream is probably warmer than the blood in his veins right now.
“I thought… I thought I’d feel better because you’d feel worse. I thought I’d feel better because I wouldn’t be in your way.”
---
45 for 🚨:
---
“So, uh… So, where is Christopher today?”
Eddie feels a little thrum of apprehension.
“He’s at the zoo,” Eddie answers. “With his stepfather.”
Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever phrased it quite like this before. To anyone who doesn’t know Buck’s role in his life, Eddie might phrase it like… My partner. My boyfriend. Something like that. There’s a different sort of implication behind my son’s stepfather. A permanence. A finality. One Eddie knows is valid and true. But one that catches Ramon off guard, clearly, from the way he raises his eyebrows.
“Stepfather?” Ramon asks.
“Yes,” Eddie replies tightly. Maybe he’s testing him a little. “You saw him. At the funeral. Buck.”
Ramon nods. “My memory of the day is a little fuzzy.”
“Right,” Eddie replies.
“You’ve been together a long time?” Ramon asks.
“A year,” Eddie replies. “Friends for longer, before then. He’s a firefighter, too.”
“That’s good. It’s good to… Well, to really know a person.”
Something in his tone says he’s speaking from experience. Like maybe he hadn’t, so well. Or maybe he feels like he doesn’t anymore?
Eddie nods. “We’re happy.”
He doesn’t know why he feels the need to say this. Perhaps because the implication, when he came out to them all those years ago, was that he could never really be. That he was taking his life in the wrong direction. Well… Here’s the truth. He did right by himself.
---
30 for 🔼:
⚠️NSFW CONTENT AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION⚠️
---
Eddie kisses Shannon as he undresses her. Her mouth. Her cheeks. Down her neck. Her collarbone. Kissing along a line of freckles he has memorized. He knows every inch of her.
He removes her bra and moves his mouth to her breasts, brain short-circuiting at the fullness of them right now.
“God, Shannon,” he mutters uselessly. He thinks she says something back but it’s muffled and a little incoherent.
She’s so beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful. He’ll never stop being amazed by it.
Her chest has always been sensitive. She’s always liked him kissing her here. Applying a bit of pressure. Today, she’s more sensitive than ever. He obviously understands why. But her reaction takes him by surprise. The volume of her gasping. The sharp digging on her fingernails into his back. It drives Eddie forward with confident resolve.
He keeps moving. Kissing further and further down her body. Her sternum. He kisses the firm swell of her stomach. Peppers it with the affection he hasn’t been able to give. He kisses her thighs. Another freckle on her hip. He kisses her everywhere he can, and then he gives her exactly what she needs.
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Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)
Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader
Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard
Word count: ~3k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)
Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)
A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol. It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me. I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!
Dave York Masterlist
Masterlist
Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!
“I really think you’re overreacting.” You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.
“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.”
You sigh. “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star. No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever. This is ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze. “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you. I need you to be safe.”
She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body. “Fine. Send him in.”
“Thank you.” She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway. You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.
Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.
“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”
. . . . . . . . . .
“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”
Dave regards you across the darkened backseat. “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I. The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”
You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features. His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight. It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you. No one has the right to be this handsome.
You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely. You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window. You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh. You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.
You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”
“I’ll be with you during the day. When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team. There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”
“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“I hope you like classical music.”
“We’ll find out.”
. . . . . . . . . . .
And that’s how it goes. Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule. He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions. Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.
You share brief conversations in the car. His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him. He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.
He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.
You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you. That would be inappropriate.
You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.
You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him. Single. No kids. Ex-military. Coffee, black. Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.
You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.
You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.
Definitely not.
. . . . . . . . . .
“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car.
You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”
“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”
You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”
“You like to show off, don’t you?”
The energy in the car shifts in an instant. Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab. The question hangs heavy in the air.
“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly. You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval. “Do you like to show off, Dave?”
He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.
“No, I don’t like to show off. I like to watch.”
His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.
You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants. He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.
You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him. This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona. This time, you don’t cover up.
You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.
He drags his eyes back up to yours. The air is thick with possibility. A line has definitely been crossed. Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.
The moment pops like a balloon.
Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car. In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.
The next moments go by in a flash.
You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator. The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.
You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours. The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain. Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.
The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room. Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.
You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building. It doesn’t hold any answers for you.
Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.
The car.
Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel. So ripe with promise and possibility.
Then you had gotten out of the car.
Oh shit.
You got out of the car yourself. You opened your door yourself. You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door. Dave ushers you out of the car.
It’s all your fault.
Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.
“It’s me. Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door. You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to. At least you can say you remembered to do that. You confirm it’s him and open the door.
“Dave, I—”
He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss. His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.
Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.
Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t. He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”
You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours. You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.
This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need. Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.
Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”
“A man came running toward you, the police have him now. I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”
“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”
“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”
He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders. He licks back up the side of your neck.
You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.
“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you. I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.” You sense the unasked question.
“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.” He chuckles.
“Should I be jealous of your violin?”
“Probably.”
He hums against you. “Fair enough.”
He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room. You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.
He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket. He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.
“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?” His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.
Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.
You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet. You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.
Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze. Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs. It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.
“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need. His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms. His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.
You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips. You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong. You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk. Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.
“Show me. Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”
You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need. Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.
You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.
He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.
Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest. You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you. You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.
You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak. Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.
“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.
“Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself.
“You tell me.”
You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked. His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.
“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed. You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him. You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.
It makes you want to make him lose control. He’s always alert and watching. Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him. Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.
You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm. Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.
“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples. “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”
You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs. He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.
He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he commands. You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.
Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take. When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.
You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.
“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole. You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher. Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.
You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head. Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth. You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core. Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.
He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes. You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you.”
You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses. Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out. He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.
“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster. “I fucking love to watch you. Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”
“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt. “I want to watch you come. Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body. He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.
You both collapse, satisfied. Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts. You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.
“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.
Dave York Masterlist
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