#single dad Dave

[wardenparker]

Countdown to a Kiss

Dave York x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: None to speak of, really? Food and alcohol, brief clothing/outfit mention. Single Dad Dave and Single Mom Reader. Flirting. Fluff. Implied sex. Summary: Attending a New Years Eve fundraiser at your daughter's school doesn't seem quite so daunting when you get to spend the night with her best friend's single father - Dave York. Notes: Happy 2025, everyone! A little festive fic to ring in the new year 🍾🎆 (As always, the gif is just for vibes, not for physical representation of the reader.)

Dave doesn’t move like he used to. There’s muscle weakness. He sometimes limped. His grip strength in his right hand - his dominant hand - is significantly less than what he was just a year ago. It was better than it had been right after the hours of surgery he had endured, but he would never be what he was. Be it a blessing or a curse, Dave York was different.

However, how could he say no to those warm, gentle brown eyes when they look up at him with so big a pleading? Looking so much like his own without the cynicism and rancor he had developed over time. Little Molly hadn’t had the hard life lessons he had, and he hopes she never does. Alice, older, more observant, is slightly more jaded but she had been old enough to understand that someone had hurt her daddy when he had been trapped on that hospital bed for weeks. He had avoided telling her the truth, but she was also smart as a whip. She didn’t believe him when he said it had been an accident.

“You girls really want to go to this New Year’s dance?” He asks, glancing at both of them as the three of them stand in line at the grocery store with the supplies for the grilled chicken dinner he had planned. Since Carol had left, grilling had been his go-to for meat, since he hated the dry, pan fried pork chops she had served him for years.

“Yes!” Both of them immediately answer, nearly shouting and Dave sees several people glance his way and shift uncomfortably at the sight of the deep, ugly scar over his eye. He had just been lucky to keep the damn thing, so it doesn’t bother him. His girls still look at him, so that’s all that matters. “Please? Please, daddy?” Molly begs, making Dave soften, even though he had already decided to go.

“Alriiiiiiiiiight.” He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes because it makes them giggle. “We’ll go to the New Year’s Dance.”

Carol had been the shrewdest of the three women in his life. As was her right. He had married her for her beauty and her brains, but it seemed that when it came to her heart, even Carol York had limits.

The divorce had been ruthless, with Carol keeping the house in DC and two of the three cars. She combed the accounts -- the ones she knew about -- for all the assets she could possibly lay claim to. And she'd thrown away the girls just as quickly as she had their marriage. It was her claim that she wanted nothing to do with them in case they turned out like him.

So that was it. Dave, Alice, and Molly were on their own.

He had moved them away. Away from the mother that didn't want them and memories of the past. Mainly moving away so that he could make sure that Robert McCall didn't know he was still alive.

He didn't want to deny them much, so he had enrolled them in a private school. The best in the area. Hoping that the structure would keep them on track after Carol had let their schooling slip when he was in the hospital.

The first few months seemed to go alright. Molly had made several new friends, always being the outgoing type, but more reserved Alice had made only one. Still, Dave counted that as a positive. One new friend was better than none, and it boded well for her.

Dave had accounts Carol had never known about, would never know about. She had signed away all of her rights in exchange for no child support. He didn't need money from her, able to buy a house that was better than the one in D.C., even if it was smaller. He could hire a sitter for the girls if he needed but his business allows him to work from home and take the girls with him when necessary. He didn't kill anymore, but he didn't need to.

As a security consultant, he was able to navigate his business and his family life as needed. The newest piece of that puzzle was the girls’ school. Because of the nature of the school he was sending the girls to now, with its occasional political family, old money benefactors, and celebrity children all in the mix, they did require a level of finesse that he wasn’t much used to from a school. Their barbecues were practically Michelin star and their talent shows could have been Broadway caliber. The annual PTA fundraiser was a New Years Eve party that was so swanky it could have been mistaken for a Hollywood soirée.

"I guess we will have to find dresses for you girls." He muses, making a face that makes Molly giggle and Alice roll her eyes. His girls are beautiful and he hates that they are growing up far faster than they should.

"And you a pretty suit!" Molly reminds him.

"Daddy has pretty suits." Alice reminds her sister, and he can see the wheels of her clever little mind turning already. "The one that has the two rows of buttons," she tells her father, chin turned up to look all the way up at him. "Makes you look like a black and white movie."

He lifts a brow, the one that isn't scarred, at her comment. "That one, huh?" He asks, amused, although she has always had a flair for fashion. Her dress up clothes were always neat and coordinated. She hadn't been one to wear the same princess dress for months at a time. "You think I should shave?" He asks, rubbing the slightly unkempt stubble on his chin. Growing out a beard wasn't working for him, it was growing in patchy.

"Yeah!" Alice nods enthusiastically, but then seems to think better of the idea and frowns. "Shave your chin."

"Shave my chin." He barks out a laugh and nods, "message received." He hums as the three of them move up in the line to start putting their groceries on the conveyor belt. "I'll shave my chin."

"Marnie's gonna wear pink to the party." Alice reports, solemnly and with an air that said it would definitely affect the decision of what she would wear. But to her father, she adds, "Our party is different from your party."

"What happens at your party, baby?" He reaches out and strokes her back. He always wants her to be able to talk to him, to confide in him.

"It's called a Sock Hop." Her tone implies that since she had never heard the term before, she's absolutely certain her father hasn't either. "And there's gonna be pizza and ice cream and the teachers are gonna play games with us."

“That sounds like fun.” He offers, knowing he would like that party more than the one that they want him to attend. He doesn’t have much in common with the wealthy parents so he won’t have much conversation during the party.

"Do you know what your party will be like, Daddy?" Molly asks, equally excited to go to a sock hop with all of her new friends.

“No pizza.” That he knows for sure. “But I’m sure there will be music and dancing.”

"No pizza?" His younger daughter looks positively affronted at that idea. "How do you have a party without pizza?"

“I don’t know.” He nods to the cashier, watching her glance at his eye and then at the girls warily. He’s used to it, but it still stings sometimes, before this, he has been a pretty good looking guy. Nothing astonishing, but he had more than a few women giving him an interested glance. Now they just look at him and wonder what happened to his face. They wouldn’t even know how to react to the other scars he wears from that day. “I’ll have to report back if I survive.”

"Daddy." Alice scolds with a very serious expression. "You'll be fine." Sometimes she sounds so much like her mother that it stings. Sometimes, like now, she sounds like his mother.

“Are you sure?” He asks, pulling out his wallet to pay. “Because I’m not so sure.”

"Alice is always sure," Molly reminds him. The air of a little sister admiring the hell out of her big sister is obvious, and Dave can't help but grin.

The cashier seems to soften slightly, seeing his interaction with his daughters and she doesn't seem so hesitant when she gives him the total. He pays and loads up the groceries, letting the girls chatter between themselves as he wheels the cart out to the parking lot and nearly runs into a cart rushing into the store. "Whoa!" He yanks it back just in time and looks up, about to say something snarky when he sees that it's you. Marnie, your daughter, already lunging forward to hug Alice while letting out an ear piercing squeal that only pre-teen girls manage. It makes his tinnitus flare up sometimes.

The commotion drowns out your gentle scolding, and Marnie isn’t listening anyway. You’ll remind her afterward that she has to stay safe and aware of herself in parking lots — right now she’s too busy hugging the life out of Alice York and won’t listen to a thing that comes out of your mouth.

Frazzled single mom isn’t normally the look you go for but today has been a doozy, and you know your hair is a bit unkempt and your clothes not as neat and tidy as you would prefer. It wouldn’t matter to you except that you’ve run into your daughter’s best friend at the supermarket — which means he is here too. Alice’s father, Dave. Ridiculously hot, mysterious, definitely has seen some shit in his life but loves his girls so much, Dave.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you joke, lamely, and wish you had just stopped to run a comb through your hair before you left the house.

"Odd thing, that need for food." Dave always thinks that you are nervous around him. Little tics showing up every time you run into each other. Shifting, sometimes tripping over your words. He tries to be friendly to put you at ease, but it seems to never help. "You two busy today?" He maneuvers the cart over a half a foot and reaches out gently to guide yours to the side as well the man behind you can slip past. Not ready to let the conversation die just yet, his excuse will be the girls, but that's not completely it.

“The usual Saturday chaos,” you tell him, letting out a poorly disguised nervous laugh. He’s so stupidly attractive that it makes you flighty. Like a teenager with her first real crush. It’s probably that he’s the first person you’ve been genuinely attracted to since the divorce and that also makes you nervous. “Errands, swim lessons, going to grandma’s house. How about you guys?”

"Karate, lunch out, going to the park." He shrugs. "Now the age old question of 'what's for dinner?' has been answered." He motions to the bags. "Grilled chicken and asparagus, mashed potatoes and a salad. One of those caesar kits Molly loves."

“That sounds positively gourmet.” From everything you know about Dave York — which is admittedly not much — he dotes on his girls completely and takes incredible care of them. Which frankly, only makes him more attractive. “I think my mom was talking about meatloaf tonight.”

"Meatloaf is delicious." Dave agrees. "I've just never been able to make it." He misses Carol's recipe, but she wouldn't give it to him to make for the girls. All the ones online didn't sound similar to it so he had essentially given up the search.

“It’s not easy. My Mom’s is always infinitely better than mine.” You glance at your daughter and laugh. “Or so I’m told.”

“Oh yeah. I love the comparisons.” Dave snorts, rolling his eyes.

“So, um…” Watching the girls chatter excitedly for a long moment, you bite back your nerves and decide that you’re asking for Marnie. That’s it. Just for your daughter. And not at all for your own selfish interest. “Did you get the annual fundraiser notice?”

"I did." He nods, wondering if you will go. He knows that you aren't quite like the other parents either. He's always assumed that’s why you are a little more friendly with him than the other mothers. Your daughter attends the private school because it was a part of your divorce settlement. At least, that was what was whispered behind cocktail glasses at the first and last PTA meeting Dave attended. "The girls just begged me to go. So I have to ask, what shade of pink is Marnie wearing?" He had been informed there are many types of pink when he had gotten the wrong one once for the Barbie movie he took the girls to see.

“Ah, yes, I heard about the Barbie movie debacle.” It eeks a grin out of you, because despite Dave being a girl dad you don’t see him as a pink kind of guy. “That would be baby pink. I managed to unearth an old Pink Ladies costume from many moons ago and I’m altering it for her.”

"Baby pink." He nods and pulls out his phone to make a note. "I'm going to take them dress shopping tomorrow I guess." He looks up. "Are you going to the adult party?" He tries to keep the question casual, like he's just curious.

“I thought I might put in an appearance.” It makes the most sense for you to go. It’s better than spending New Year’s Eve at home with a bottle of wine and take out, anyway. Or, at least, you tell yourself it is. All those gossipy PTA parents know far too much about your divorce and all sigh about how much they miss seeing your ex-husband at events. The best you can figure, the Moms all miss drooling over him. You don’t want to think about how many of them he actually might have slept with. Keeping the girls in that school is good for them, but it’s a punishment for you.

"Me too." He sends you a commiserating look and shrugs. "Beats being alone and then having to pick the girls up later." He reasons.

"Daddy!" Alice's eyes widen like she's just thought of the greatest idea ever. "Why doesn't Marnie spend the night?" She asks excitedly. "After the dance. Please? Please? It would be so much fun!"

Marnie immediately jumps on that idea, pleading along with Alice the way only best friends can. You never really mind sleepovers, but you don’t know how Dave feels about them. “That’s a long night sweetie. The party is late at night.”

Dave is a sucker for the girls, maybe a little too soft, but after everything he thinks they deserve a little bit of spoiling. Nearly dying had truly put his priorities in order. "I don't mind." He offers. "If you don't." He shrugs. "Give you a night off if you want."

“As long as that’s okay with you.” It won’t be too much, after all. The girls will crash soon after getting home and you’ll come by early to pick up Marnie the next day.

He teases the girls by making them wait for a minute more, Alice and Marnie practically bouncing on their toes and Molly is just as excited because her older sister doesn't leave her out of fun with her friend. "Well, I guesssssss." He draws out, grinning when they start cheering and dancing in the entryway to the grocery store.

“You know what that means, girls,” You remind them in your best mom voice. “It’s still three weeks away, and Christmas is still coming, so we’re all going to be extra good. Right?”

He approves of the bribe, it's a good one and he nods in agreement when they glance over at him. "Gotta be good." He tells Marnie. "Help your mom out, m'kay?"

“Okay, Mr. York!” She’d do just about anything in the world to be able to spend time with Alice, so it isn’t much of a stretch to have her agree here.

Now that there is a plan, he hums. "We should probably go get dinner started, girls." He tells them, ignoring the whining groans and looks over at you. "Have a good night."

“Have a good night.” Your voice echoes his with a hint of a smile, bundle your daughter into the store to let the Yorks get on with their day. If you take a second glance behind you as you walk into the store…well…that’s perfectly fine. He didn’t catch you checking him out and you’re a grown woman. You’re allowed to have impure thoughts now and again.

******

It's a hassle, tying a perfect double windsor knot but the girls had insisted that he wear the polka dotted tie with his double breasted suit. He has to admit that it looks good with the crisp white shirt and pocket square against the dark charcoal of the suit. He had scrapped the hair off his chin but left the mustache, giving him a slightly darker, cleaner look.

Alice and Molly are in complementary pink and white dresses — Alice’s is more pink and Molly’s is more white, at their insistence — and their hair is done up in painstaking curls. Dave has had to learn, but the curve was unforgiving and steep.

Together they look exceptionally smart, and Molly giggles in the living room as her father adjusts his appearance for the eighth time in as many minutes. “Daddy looks handsome,” she points out to her older sister, who had very definite opinions about their father’s appearance tonight.

"You forgot cologne, daddy." She points out, arching a brow to look just like he used to when he would give her that look. He huffs slightly. "Why do I need to smell good?" He argues, although he is already starting to head towards the bedroom again to put some on. "It's not like I'm impressing anyone." He mutters to himself.

The ride to the girls’ school is full of upbeat pop music that Alice had picked out. She decided that she wanted to get excited but instead of listening to the 50s and 60s music that will get played at the party, she opted for the Barbie soundtrack yet again.

The music is definitely not to Dave's tastes and it makes his ears want to bleed, but he focuses on driving so he can ignore it. Now he understands how some targets caved under the pressure of torture. This is torture.

The girls sing along and giggle happily, keeping the volume in the car high all the way to the school. The kids’ party is in the gymnasium so he parks the SUV in the lot there and gathers them up, fully expecting that Alice will bolt the second she sees Marnie.

Dave adjusts his tie and suit jacket before he takes Molly’s hand. Proud of how confidently she walks towards the entrance to the building where he will drop them off for their party, he runs into you and Marnie.

The girls squeal, running to each other and wrapping up in enthusiastic hugs, and you’re left laughing with Marnie’s coat in your hands. “Well that’s certainly one way to say hello,” you admit, shaking your head a little as you turn to say hello to Dave. The word sticks in your throat, though, when you get a glimpse of him. All cleaned up in a double-breasted suit with a beautiful silk tie, clean shaven except for an incredibly debonair mustache…Dave York looks like a 1940s matinee idol. He could give Humphrey Bogart such a run for his money that Bogey would be broke on the sidewalk. “H—hi.” You finally manage to stammer out, instinctively hugging your long wool coat a little tighter around yourself.

“Hi.” He nods respectfully and sees you shiver. “Come on girls.” He calls out. “Let’s get you checked in.”

“It was so sweet of you to offer to take the girls tonight.” The five of you go in together, finding long tables set up in the school gym for check in with smiling teachers who are hopefully being paid a whole lot of overtime. “I have Marnie’s bag in the car and I promise I won’t be late in the morning to get her.”

Dave frowns and shakes his head. “You should sleep in.” He huffs. “The girls will either sleep in like the dead or be up at the crack of dawn. Either way, I’ll be up.” He chuckles. “I promised them New Year’s Day waffles.”

“You’re a miracle.” You laugh, knowing waffles are your daughter’s favorite food on the planet. Waffles, chicken tenders, and carrot sticks would be the only thing she ate if she fixed her own food. “How about I give you a call when I wake up and you can let me know how the girls are managing?” It had become necessary to exchange numbers ages ago when the girls had their first playdate, but you have never abused the privilege. Even if you had started at his contact info a little too intensely once or twice after an extra glass of wine at night.

He chuckles, ignoring the startled looks from the teachers checking in the girls. Some people find it amazing that he laughs or can joke around. “That sounds good. And if you’re hungover, a waffle bar cures all ills.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll avoid that,” you murmur, momentarily averting your eyes so he doesn’t see how damned soft you get at the sound of his laugh. It seems to you that Dave York doesn’t laugh nearly enough. “I do have to drive myself home, after all.”

“If you need a ride, you just let me know.” He murmurs seriously. He wants you to enjoy yourself. He might have a drink but he never drank much before either. It wasn’t a good idea in his former profession.

Before you can get too flustered or trip over your words at such a simple show of manners, it’s suddenly your turn to check Marnie in for the kids’ party.

Her teacher flashes you an expectant smile. “Marnie and Alice, my dynamic duo. Come on over!”

Dave has to check both girls in, so he sidles up behind you. It almost makes the five of you seem like a family, eager to enjoy the night.

The same thought occurs to you, but it feels dangerous to dwell in it. You’ve had this lingering whatever this feeling is for Dave since you met him a few months ago and you can’t let it get out of hand.

Once the teacher has checked the girls in, they give Dave a hug, only because he insists. Both of them are eager to get to the fun. “Have a great time, girls.” He tells them. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

Marnie gets the same hug and cheerful goodbye, and for a second it really is like you’re here with Dave instead of just at the same time. The silence lingers for a moment before you chuckle under your breath. “Somehow I think the food is going to be better at their party than ours,” you joke. The list of pizzas that have been ordered is out on a nearby table and you just know the food for the adults will be pretentious fine dining.

Dave snorts and nods. “I’ve never liked escargot. No matter how many times someone tries to convince me that it’s good.” He sees you playing with the edges of your coat. It seems to be a nervous tic. “Come on.” He offers his arm since it’s the polite thing to do and those heels look dangerous. “Why don’t I buy you the first of the overpriced  gin and tonics made with mediocre, well quality gin?”

“Sounds absolutely perfect.” The offer of his arm is downright gallant, and though you’re loath to make the comparison, for a moment you struggle to remember a single time your ex ever did something as chivalrous as offer you his arm or even open a door for you.

The two of you walk down the lit path towards the social hall of the school. Where the adults party was being held. It’s romantic with the white lights wrapped in the bushes and around the trees. Making him wonder if you wish you had brought a date.

Struggling for anything else to latch on to, you glance up at the man beside you and offer him a smile. “They did a nice job with the decorations this year.” Along with the silver lights all around you, there are golden lanterns near the entrance of the social building and you can see shimmering decorations inside along the hall.

“They know how to throw a party.” He agrees. “The last school the girls were in, they would have multicolored lights and handmade baubles.” He tells you. “Not bad, but a very different vibe.”

“Honestly?” You shrug a little. “I miss that kind of stuff. Marnie was in public school when she was little and loved all those homemade events. I did too.”

“Yeah.” Dave sighs softly. “I didn’t get to keep any of the homemade ornaments from when the girls were younger.” It didn’t make sense, since she didn’t want the girl, but he hadn’t argued. He just wanted to be done with everything.

“Neither did I.” Absolute bullshit that that was, but it’s a whole different story. “Divorce brings out the fucked up tendencies in people, if you’ll excuse my language.”

“Nothing to excuse.” He promises. “I completely agree with that sentiment.”

“Your girls are great though.” You can promise him that, even after a few months. “You got the good end of the deal with them.”

“I wasn’t going to let them be anywhere else other than with me.” Dave assures you. “Carol didn’t want custody at all.”

“Nick wanted just summer vacations.” You roll your eyes about the ridiculous way your ex had approached custody during the divorce. “Luckily for me, the judge wasn’t having any of his nonsense. She told him that Marnie was his child, not his accessory. I got full custody.”

“Good.” He nods and steps forward to open the door for you. Hating to lose the contact, even if you were holding his arm, but it’s good manners.

“Thank you.” It seems silly to be flustered over something so basic, but here you are. Swooning at common courtesy and letting him sweep you inside like a paper doll. “That’s…um…you know you don’t have to do that?”

“What? Hold the door open for a pretty lady?” Dave asks, smirking slightly. “It’s my pleasure, believe me.”

In your wildest dreams you can pretend that he’s flirting with you, so for now you will simply take the compliment and pretend. “Well…thank you. Here, um…” Suddenly you’re nervous and it feels so silly. “It looks like they turned the first room over here into a coat check.”

Dave doesn’t have a coat to check, but he goes over with you, watching as you untie the belt and his mouth dries up the second you slide the jacket off your shoulders. You look stunning. A blue dress, covered in gold stars, hugging your curves in all the right places and dipping down between your breasts. Now the starburst earrings make sense.

"What?" He's staring at you when you turn around and you panic. "Do I have something on my face? Have I had lipstick on my teeth the whole time?"

“No, uh, no.” Dave shakes his head quickly, feeling bad that he had made you panic. “I just- I was -“ what was he doing? Other than staring? “You look great.” He offers, feeling foolish for gawking like a teenager peeping on the girl’s locker room.

"Oh." Without your coat on, you feel a little shyer, but considering you played out a little fantasy in your head of Dave complimenting you in this dress and then it happened? You're just going to go on smiling and feeling good about this decision. "You clean up pretty well, too, you know."

“The girls dressed me.” It’s true, Alice had told him what to wear, so she had essentially dressed him.

You can't help but laugh at that, knowing how opinionated those girls can be. "She did a very good job."

“Thank you.” The signin desk is more of a payment station. ‘Donations’ for the party suggested. There are also drink tickets for sale and Dave decides he will buy some, even if he’s not drinking.

The tussle of protest ends with Dave the victor anyway, but at least you're satisfied that you made enough of an offer that he didn't feel obligated. He offers you his arm again and the gentle fantasy of this being an actual date seems closer with every step. "Maybe we'll get lucky," you offer, chatting because you're nervous. "And there won't be escargot."

“Pizza rolls.” He leans over and murmurs quietly. “Pray for pizza rolls.” It’s a joke, but his girls could live off of them if he let them.

"Ooo, yes." The snack food was never anything you had a taste for before, but now they are a welcome lunch option with a salad. "Or a bacon grilled cheese." You flash him a grin. "No crust, obviously."

“Of course not.” Dave rolls his eyes playfully and wonders if you are finding the conversation just as easy as he is. It was never just this simple to laugh and joke with Carol. “Crust ruins it.”

The main room of the building has been decorated just as well as the rest of the grounds, and as you walk through the door you're greeted with hundreds of glitter twinkle lights. The room seems to drip with them, like fantastical icicles in a winter fairy land. Whoever organized the decor for this party seems to have been told that everything should fall in the middle of a Venn diagram of Frozen and Bridgerton, so while there are delicate things and somehow it became magical instead of cheesy.

It’s a little ostentatious for him.  ‘Froufrou’ as his grandmother would say. Brass bells and real fern sprigs make up the centerpieces, along with  tapered candles, already lit and burning down. The tables are set with gold, and silver plates, crisp snowy white napkins that will be grease splatter and stained by the end of the night, and a bar that is presumably well stocked off to the side of the dance floor.

"It's so pretty," you breathe, completely by accident. You definitely meant to keep that thought inside just in case he disagreed, but it's out in the open now.

“And expensive.” Dave chuckles, catching the view of you discreetly gawking. “But, it’s pretty.”

"I'm sure they had decor leftover from previous Christmas parties and winter formals." It's too late to disguise the expression of delight on your face, though, so you just down play it with practicality. "Saves on the decorating costs."

“It’s okay to like it.” Dave promises, hating that you seem to deflate a little. He doesn’t want that. “I think they hit their target.”

"Sad single moms?" You laugh it off, putting that smile back on your face. No one likes a morose girl on their arm, your mother's voice says in your head. "How about we hit the bar?"

“That sounds like a plan.” He doesn’t offer you his arm, but his hand slides around you to your back as he starts to guide you towards the actual bar they have hauled in. “Gin and tonic?” He asks, knowing they are your favorite.

"Please." One word is all you can manage, but at least your smile is far more genuine with the feeling of his warm hand against you. It feels surreal and has you bordering on giddy -- practically forgetting that you had just been edging on embarrassment seconds ago.

Dave hums. “I’ll have one drink with you and then I’ll be the responsible one.” He makes it sounds like you’re a couple, but even if you wanted to venture out, he would make sure you got home safely.

"Don't let me spoil your fun," you insist, so used to the way your ex used to be so vocal about needing a few drinks to unwind.

“I don’t drink very often.” Dave admits quietly. “I’ll probably carry around this one until the ice melts.” He shrugs. “I don’t like not being in control of myself.”

"That is...a solid point." And a comfort that you hadn't been aware you would be glad to hear of. "I usually don't have more than one or two when I'm out," you tell him, getting into line at the bar when you arrive. "There's always someone else to take care of, or I need to be able to drive, or any other of a million reasons not to have more."

“So if you want to let loose a little tonight….” He lifts a brow. “Feel free, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “I’d say you deserve it.”

"We'll see." Although you can feel something deep in your chest fairly flutter at being called 'sweetheart'. "Do too much and I'll end up crashing the sleepover by sleeping it off on your couch."

He smirks slightly. “Don’t think that would be a bad thing.”

Before you can demure or tut, the pair of you reach the front of the line and the cheerful bartender defers to Dave to take both of your orders. Even with -- or perhaps sometimes because of -- his injuries, he has an air of a man who is in control no matter what the circumstance. And frankly? You've always found that as comforting as it is attractive.

“Gin and tonic for the lady and a whiskey sour.” Dave orders, sliding two of the overpriced tickets over to the bartender and then pulling out cash to put in the tip jar. Just because the drinks are expensive doesn’t mean the bartenders are getting a cut.

Generosity is rewarded with quick service and heavy pours, and soon enough you have your drinks in hand so you can wander away to join the quickly growing party. Waiters make their way through the crowds with trays of appetizers and a few people are already making their way out to the dance floor as couples and groups begin to arrive in earnest after dropping their kids off in other parts of campus.

“I don’t see any slimy snails.” He leans in to whisper in your ear, smirking slightly. “So far, so good. But not a pizza roll in sight.”

His breath in your neck makes you shiver unexpectedly and you’re not at all sure you hid it well. “We’ll have to file a complaint with the PTA,” you whisper back.

“What I wouldn’t do for a jalapeño popper.” He groans. “Or a plate of chicken wings.”

“I think we would both just rather be at a sports bar,” you observe, laughing at the obvious difference between that setting and this. “For no other reason than the snacks.”

“Sounds like.” He shrugs, knowing this is for the girls school, so it’s supposed to be a good cause. Just because it’s not his scene doesn’t mean others - you - won’t enjoy it.

"Maybe another time." It's just a thing to say. It's not necessarily an offer, or even a request, just the acknowledgement that you would both enjoy it. And that is enough.

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by that. It sounds like you’d like to go to a sports bar with him.

"I mean..." You could swear there is hope in his voice, and you look up with raised eyebrows. "If you want to? I mean stuff like this is beautiful once in a while but...I don't know. I think you can only go to these things all the time if you're fancy at heart. And I'm pretty sure that I'm comfy at heart."

“Comfy.” He chuckles at the way you describe yourself. “There’s this place I go to where the girls can come too.” He tells you. “Great potato skins and they love the fried pickles.”

“Yeah?” This time it’s your voice that holds hope, like he could actually be wanting to spend time with you and not just because your daughters are best friends.

“Mister York.” The excited tone of voice makes him wince slightly, turning to find the headmistress of the school barreling towards the two of you. She is the only one that knows that Dave wired the payment for the year for both girls directly, so he’s sure she’s hoping to lighten his pockets considerably. “So glad you could make it!”

“Whoops,” you mutter under your breath, obviously implying that avoiding this woman for the night is now a goal that cannot be met. There’s no reason Janice Harritt would want to speak to you, especially at a fundraiser, so you smile politely but aren’t surprised when she can’t manage to summon your name right away despite Marnie having attended her school for four years.

“Mister York.” Despite the smarmy tone, he sees the way her eyes flicker over his scar and there is a slight bobble to her throat where she swallows slightly before her hawkishly charming smile is plastered on. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She asks, obviously fishing for compliments as she gestures around. “The food is incredible. And the bar is stocked. What more could you ask for tonight?” She asks, looking back at him for approval.

Dave is an asshole. He knows this, and he’s quite proud of it most times. He sticks his tongue in his cheek and represses a grin. “Pizza rolls.” He answers seriously.

You snort, unable to contain the sound, and cover your face with one hand immediately to try to cover it with a small cough. A cough which isn’t really fooling anyone, but at least you manage to hide the fact that you’re trying not to laugh.

“I’m…sorry?” Harritt’s eyes betray her confusion, but she plays it off with a laugh. “Perhaps next year, hmm? We look forward to many years with your delightful girls, of course.”

“Of course.” Since he’s thrown her off kilter so badly, she quickly rushes off, calling out to another important parent. Leaving Dave to turn to you and arch a brow. “What did I say?” He asks sarcastically.

"I don't think she even knew the words 'pizza' and 'roll' could go next to each other in a sentence," you laugh, snorting again because you just can't help it.

“And she’s supposed to teach kids?” Dave snorts. “That’s making me question her credentials.”

"I don't think she's set foot in a classroom except to scold for a decade." A shrug of your shoulders is casual enough, but you're relaxed with Dave. Even if your belly is fluttering like a teenager with a crush, that's still more relaxed than you are most of the time. "Headmistress, remember?"

He rolls his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah yeah.” He grumbles. “Best leaders get their hands dirty.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But people like that are rarely into getting their hands dirty.”

“Very true.” He points over to a table. “Want to sit or do you want to mingle?” He asks, sure that if you want to go your own way, you would.

"Honestly?" The impulse to just tell him the truth comes out of left field, but it's there and it's strong. So you have another sip of liquid courage and offer him a smile. "If you weren't here tonight, I would probably only show my face long enough for it to register with the PTA that I was here, and then I would sneak off and read in my car until the kids' party was over. So mingling is...not in my plan, so to speak."

“No to mingling.” He nods, feeling a little proud of the fact that you would want to spend time with him. “Since we’re being honest, I have a question for you.” He sees you frown in confusion. “You don’t seem afraid of me? Why?”

"Why would I be afraid of you?" You ask honestly, not at all understanding at first. About two seconds after the question is out of your mouth, the realization dawns on you and you wave one hand to brush the question away. "Because of the scar? I just...I might be wrong, but I just assumed you might have been military? My uncle had a nasty limp and burn scars from Iraq. So I didn't--I guess I didn't really think about it after the first assumption. Which I now realize is stupid, because we always teach kids not to assume, but I did."

“I was in the military.” He acknowledges that. “Got out when a building collapsed with my team inside.” He chuckles, “but that didn’t cause this.” He tells you, gesturing to his face. “You just never seemed to be intimidated by my silence or the fact that I have resting asshole face.”

"Well...?" Taking another sip from your drink, you step up to a high top table just big enough for two when he steers you toward it and set both your glass and purse down comfortably. "You've always been nice to me, and you're sweet to Marnie. That's all that matters to me."

“She’s a good kid.” Dave assures you. He wouldn’t have let that friendship blossom if he thought she wasn’t.

"She's the best thing I've ever done." His commendation will stay close to your heart and you wouldn't mind admitting that at all. "And she has great taste in best friends."

“Alice is amazing.” He agrees, biased and not even a little ashamed of it. “Marnie is right there with her. Smart and compassionate. Honest to a fault sometimes.”

"I always told her that being completely honest was better than fibbing even a little. So...yeah. That one is my fault."

“That’s not a bad thing for now.” Dave chuckles. “Although sometimes you have to fib.”

"Well, sure." You chuckle along with him. "But I don't want to teach her that. They're still so young."

“They are. However, they are smarter than us already.” He snorts.

"I know, it's crazy." It's just so damn easy with him. Easy to stand together and drink and laugh. It's so easy that neither of you notice the party has been going on around you for quite some time while you have just been focused entirely on each other.

It’s getting later. Ever so often, the DJ will announce the time between songs and all the parents are getting more and more intoxicated as the drinks flow from the bar.

Smiling waiters with trays of hors d’oeuvres give way to a buffet of fine food, and Dave insists you indulge in a second drink if you want it, after you spent literal hours nursing the first.

Dave switches to Coke, the real crime here being that he still has to use a full drink ticket to get a half a glass of the soft drink. He doesn’t grumble, but it’s a little ridiculous, but glances over at you to see if you want a new drink.

Taking him at his insistence, you order a second gin and tonic and decide that that will be the last alcoholic drink of the night. Relaxing is one thing, but you have no desire for Dave to see you sloppy or out of control. He seems to appreciate maturity and intelligence, and you’d prefer he doesn’t see you any other way.

Now that the drinks are acquired, he leans in. “Shall we go see what they have on the buffet?” He asks. “I’m getting hungry and they have to have something good.”

“Let’s go find out.” You swear if he leaned in and breathed in your ear like that every time he made a request, you would jump off a damn bridge or something. Going to get food is the least of it.

He can’t stop putting his hand on your lower back. You look gorgeous and he’s noticed more than one discreet glance towards you. Appraisal by the women and approval by the men. For now, you are with him and he is more than a little happy about that fact. You are charming, kind, you love your daughter with your entire being.

“Same things as always.” Which is not bad, considering the food around here is excellent and the school inevitably chooses the same well-regarded caterer. At least this year there seem to be better vegetarian options for the few parents that apply to. You choose your entree and your sides by what is likely to cause the least mess — your velvet dress would not do well with a sauce spill — and before too long you and Dave are headed back to your little table with dinner in hand.

“They should do a Mac and cheese bar.” He knows his tastes have assimilated to the tastes of his kids, but it would be good. “That could also be classy.”

“Oohhh, I should make mac and cheese for dinner tomorrow.” The idea makes you light up, even more than the first bite of your dinner. “Marnie had cauliflower with cheese sauce at her grandmother’s and now I can actually get a veggie into her mac and cheese.”

“Add some carrots in there too.” He chuckles. “Tell her it’s extra cheesy.”

“Sneaky,” you commend with obvious admiration. “I’m going to have to try that.”

“Gotta be.” He snorts. “Sometimes I think I’m fighting for my life with both of them ganging up on me.”

“My ex used to claim that’s why he only wanted one,” you shrug and fork up another bite of your food. “He was already outnumbered with me and Marnie.”

“It was three against one in my former household.” He flashes you a sardonic grin. “I didn’t get my way often.”

“I think that’s what he was afraid of.” And after dipping into your second cocktail, you add, “Probably why he ran off with his secretary. She always did what he told her.”

“So he’s one of those assholes.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna say I never looked. I’ve got eyes.” He huffs. “But I don’t need my ego or anything else stroked by someone hoping for a raise. Especially when I was married.”

“Everybody looks,” you reason, knowing you had too from time to time. But you never would have acted. Never. “That’s completely different.”

“It is.” He sighs. “What kind of fucking example is that for your kids? ‘Hey it’s okay to fuck around on your partner’.” He curls his lip, making his thoughts on the idea perfectly clear.

“I’m lucky.” That’s something you know completely. “I didn’t have any of the agony of being aware while it was going on. It blindsided me, I got divorced, and I got Marnie. It could have been so much worse.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” It’s posed as a joke, since you have no clue that Dave is actually capable of doing it.

That draws an unexpected laugh out of you, pushing out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and you pick up your glass again to sip. “Ask me that question a year ago and I might have said yes,” you admit. “But I’m okay now. Though I do appreciate the sentiment. What about the former Mrs. York? Does she need taking care of?” Not that you ever could, but the joke seems soothing in an off kilter way.

“Not worth it.” He grunts, although he had thought about it. In the end, as long as she kept her mouth shut, she kept breathing.

“As long as they stay away, they can do whatever,” you say, guessing he feels the same way as you.

“I’ll drink to that.” Dave raises his coke to tap against the rim of your glass and takes a sip. “Hopefully the new year is our year, huh?”

“Maybe so.” The gentle ching of glass against glass is musical. A bit romantic, if you want to pretend that way. No matter what, the thought of anything being yours — for you and Dave — makes your face burn. “Hopefully.”

The two of you eat and while the duck is tender, the roast beef is a little dry for Dave’s taste. Talking easily like you have all night until the plates are pushed away and there’s only minutes left until the clock strikes midnight. “Wanna dance?” Dave asks, glancing back at you after looking at the floor filled with couples.

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. As stoic as he is, you had kind of assumed at this point that Dave was not a dancing kind of guy.

“Why? Do you not want to?” He asks, wondering if your heels are bothering you, or if you just don’t want to dance with him.

"What? No, no, I absolutely want to." It takes you a second but you shake off the surprise and move away from the table. "I just didn't think you would want to."

He huffs and reaches out to offer you his hand. “I’m not stupid.” He teases. “Dancing with a pretty lady would be a stupid thing to turn down.”

That isn't the first time tonight that he's called you pretty, and every single time you feel like your whole being is instantly set on fire from the compliment. "Some men just don't like to dance," you excuse. "I didn't want to assume."

“And those men are idiots.” He walks you out onto the dance floor and turns to pull you close. “It’s an excuse to hold a woman close and move with her.” He rumbles softly.

There is no damn way in the world that he missed your eyelashes fluttering at that light growl in his voice, not with as close as he's holding you, and you clear your throat slightly out of pure nerves. "I guess I never thought of it like that."

There’s a part of him that wonders if you would be this flustered if you knew what he was in a previous life. If you knew the marks that are on his soul. It’s at that moment, his leg decides to buckle and he stumbles slightly, tightening his hold on you, but he recovers quickly with just a quiet curse. “Sorry.”

"Are you okay?" You panic a little but hold onto him tightly, not letting him fall or even really lose his balance except for momentarily. There was one time that he came to pick up Alice from your place that you saw a handicapped placard in his car and a cane on the seat next to him so you're not totally surprised. It is the first time you've seen it in action though.

Dave has the decency to look embarrassed, although the reason why he nearly tripped still pisses him off. “Yeah.” He grunts. “Muscle weakness.” He explains quietly.

"We don't have to dance," you offer gently, not wanting to make him feel guilty but also not wanting him to put undue stress on his leg.

“No, I’m fine.” He insists. “It’s good for me to work the muscles.” He doesn’t let go of you, wanting to dance as the clock counts down to midnight.

"I'll keep you steady." It's almost too quiet when you say it, but he's close enough to catch it and you smile when the corner of his mouth turns up, too.

“My hero.” He teases softly, looking at you in true amazement. You are just naturally considerate and that surprises him.

"Oh hush." Teasing goes both ways, of course, and you're perfectly tickled that he would initiate it even a little. "It's the least I can do."

The two of you start to slowly dance again, fitting the music that is being played. It is not the heavy party music that might be in a New Year’s party for younger people, but this is intimate. Sensual.

It's so easy to sink into. Into the intimacy of the moment that could so easily be mistaken for romance. It's sweet. And gentle. And Dave's face rests at something far away from asshole right now.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the New Year’s countdown.” The DJ announces, making Dave smirk slightly as he tugs you closer.

Your heart does a little leap up into your throat that makes your whole chest ache, and you have to remind yourself that New Year’s kisses are for the young. They’re not for middle aged divorcees at their kids’ school fundraisers.

“Ten, nine!” Dave watches as you join the countdown. Eyes floating around the room and coming back to him. The two of you are still clinging to one another. “Eight, seven!”

It's too much of a fantasy for you to not let your gaze drift to his lips, even if you avert your eyes immediately. "Six, five!" Your stupid heart is pounding like anything could ever matter, and the room seems to slow down around you.

He notices, he’s noticed every little thing about you tonight. He sees the way your eyes touch his lips and it makes him grasp you just a little tighter. “Four, three, two!” Right before the room shouts ‘One!’ Dave ducks his head down and captures your lips in a kiss.

A half-squeak, half-gasp shakes from you but you're too absorbed in returning the unexpected kiss to even really register that you've made a sound. It may be chaste and relatively quick, but it's still better than half the other damn kisses you've had in your lifetime, and by the time Dave pulls back a few seconds later you feel like it's your legs about to give out this time.

“Happy New Year!” Dave pulls back to make sure that you didn’t object, only to find you looking completely bemused and he smirks slightly before he leans in again to claim your lips.

This time the sound is most definitely a moan when it comes out of you, and you cling a little more desperately as your arms wind around him and he deepens the kiss. You feel dizzy and disoriented, but in the most dreamlike way possible, and if it ever stops it will be far too soon.

You cling to him, making him deepen the kiss. One hand coming up to cup your jaw and encourage you to open up for him. Sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you yield.

The whole room has dissolved around you. The other dancing couples, the upbeat party music, the noise and the lights and everything in between. There is nothing else anywhere except Dave York kissing you, and the fact that you've been harboring this fantasy for months without ever thinking it could go anywhere. When it's finally necessary to breathe again -- what a nuisance -- you have to take another second with your eyes closed just in case the whole thing has been a dream.

“Happy New Year.” Dave whispers, smiling at the way you still have your eyes closed. As if you are dreaming.

“Happy New Year.” Hearing that he’s still there — still real — gives you enough courage to actually open your eyes. Like some kind of miracle, his arms are tight around you and his lips are swollen plush from sharing a kiss.

******

“We have strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips, pecans, whipped cream and those little marshmallow things. Molly wants those and chocolate chips in hers.” Dave rattles off as he pours the batter onto the hot waffle iron. “What would you like?” He turns towards the older two girls to get their orders as they sit at the bar in their pajamas.

"Strawberries and chocolate and pecans, please, Mr. York?" Marnie sits up at the bar with her legs dangling on her stool and hot cocoa clutched in her little hands. The party had been so much fun and the girls are still all chattering away this morning. She's dreading being picked up to go home, just because she hates being away from Alice. Those two girls have been attached at the hip since they met.

"Can I have blueberries and chocolate chips, Daddy?" Alice asks, knowing that adding a fruit will increase the likelihood of her father saying yes. "And whipped cream?"

“Anything you girls want.” Dave chuckles at the surprised look on his eldest daughter’s face. He shooks her a wink. “It’s a new year. The first day should be the best one so far.” He starts to add the chocolate and mini dried marshmallows to this waffle for Molly. “I’ll fix them all exactly how you like them.” He promises. “Anyone want eggs?”

“Do we have bacon, Daddy?”

You can hear Molly’s little voice from the other end of the hall as you creep down the back stairs. You had left the party separately from Dave and the girls last night, shooting back over to your house for a change of clothes and arriving at the York’s house a little after the girls had been put to bed.

Dave hadn’t waited too long to put you to bed either, and now you’re sneaking out like a teenager trying not to get caught by your boyfriend’s parents.

Dave tilts his head as he hears you. The girls don’t, but they also haven’t been trained to listen for unusual sounds. “We sure do, baby.” He hums. “Do you want some?” She nods eagerly and both Alice and Marnie quickly agree that they would want some bacon. “Let me get it on a pan.”

Out through the back door that goes into the garage, out the side door of the garage, and over to your car, you pop the bag that you brought a change of clothes in -- and now contains your dress and heels from last night's party -- into the trunk. That leaves you with just your purse on your arm but you tug on your coat and tie the waist to make it look like you're just arriving. And then, with flare, you slam the driver's side door of your car shut and walk up to his front door to ring the bell.

Immediately Alice and Marnie are groaning, not wanting to be separated so early. “Quit fussing.” He chuckles. “I invited your mom over for waffles this morning.” He explains to Marnie. He technically isn’t lying, he’s just not telling them that you spent the night in his bed last night. “Alice, watch the waffle, I’ll get the door.”

"Okay!" Delighted not to be separated so early, Alice pops up from her stool to stare intently at the waffle machine while her dad walks out to the hall in his pajamas.

Dave pads to the door, opening it quickly. “Fancy seeing you here.” He teases as he opens the door and drags you close for a quick kiss.

"Weird, right?" A little giggle bubbles out of you, and you steal another kiss, even boldly dragging your fingers through his short hair like you now know he loves. A second later, you add, "I'm not late, am I?" with more volume.

“Right on time.” He winks and squeezes your ass before he pulls away from you. “How was your night?” He asks, loud enough for the girls to hear. “The girls went to bed and I was quickly behind them.”

"Oh, same." The fake airiness in your voice is borderline laughable, but thankfully the girls are young enough that you would be absolutely shocked if they picked up on anything. "I was ready for bed right after the party. What a late night."

“Yes it was.” There’s only a little heat to his words and he manages to suppress the smirk by the time the two of you walk into the kitchen. It had been an amazing night if he had to judge. “You want some coffee? I have a fresh pot.”

"That sounds great." You're dying for a cup, if you're honest, but you set your purse on a chair as you walk into the kitchen and drape your coat over the back along with it. "Did you girls have a good night?"

The girls immediately start to chatter to you, leaving Dave to plate up the waffle and set the bacon in the oven to bake before he gets out another coffee cup for you.

They tell you about the weird music that got played, the food they ate and the games they played. How Courtney Schofield finally got told off by the girls she's been bullying and how Bobby Thornrite got a bloody nose because he tripped over his untied shoe and went face first into the boy in front of him.

Dave watches you with the girls as he starts on Marnie’s waffle next. Pouring syrup on Molly’s although he knows that she will want to wait until the older girls eat. It’s heartwarming to see how they enjoy talking to you. Basking in your attention.

"So I was wondering..." Leaning against the counter with the girls, you sip your coffee and try not to look over at Dave too often because you know you'll end up a giddy mess if you do. "If you girls wanted to just move this sleepover on over to our house tonight? We can watch movies and make popcorn and have some tacos for dinner?" You and Dave had bounced the idea around before you got out of bed this morning, figuring the girls would be ecstatic to keep hanging out and it would enable you and him to be able to spend the day together. A winning situation for everyone, as far as you're concerned.

Dave winces as the girls immediately start to screech in joy and excitement. Bouncing around the kitchen like Tasmanian devils and hugging each other like they’ve won the lottery. “I think that’s a yes.” He tells you dryly.

"Okay you two, okay." You can't help but laugh. They're such sweet kids and Molly is very nearly as excited as the older two. "Breakfast first, huh? And then we'll help Mr. York clean up the kitchen before we go switch houses. Does that sound like a deal?"

“Everybody is having a waffle and bacon.” He reminds them. “Then we brush our teeth, right? No cavities.”

"Right!" Chorus back all three girls, who could not be more thrilled with the way this morning is going.

Dave grins as he continues to make waffles. It was a great start to the New Year.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave, to Bro: if youre gonna be an absent father could you be at least absent

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Gryfflepuff in the Tardis' Masterlist

All my Works, characters are colored by which Hogwarts House I think they're in. I am a Primary Hufflepuff, Secondary Gryffindor and I genuinely think Hufflepuff is the best and most underrated house. (Since Tumble removed the yellow color, Orange will represent Hufflepuff, except in the condition of Good Omens' Crowley who I am stuck between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. If you disagree, please give me your best argument and I'll offer my insight of David Tennant's Crowley... Since I have nothing written for Crowley and I'm still conflicted about the news on the new "season" (THERE SHOULD BE SIX EPISODES, NOT ONE!) I've added him and other characters I haven't written for YET to my "Who I'm Willing to Write For" post.

I don't do reblogs, just because I feel that when you're searching through the posts, the reblogs clutter up the blog and get mixed with original posts but I am willing to do fan fic recommendations if requested.

You can call me either Gryfflepuff or the Eccedentiast (Not to sound by Lemony Snicket but "a word that means 'someone who hides their pain and tears and sadness behind a smile'.").

Ninth Doctor - Brooding Time Lord Who Tries To Hide His Light with Darkness

Supernova Series/Season One Masterlist (Ninth Doctor/Tenth Doctor) (Delilah "Lillie" Tyler/Princess Supernova played by Katherine Langford)

Campbell Bain - Bipolar Nineteen-Year-Old Walking Ray of Sunshine That Somehow Doesn't Do Well With Girls

Sweet Jane Masterlist (19-year-old Campbell Bain x 18-year-old Traumatized Reader)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things) - The Hair; Nomenee for Mother of the Year

Killer Queen (Cassandra "Cassie Dare" Henderson played by Zoey Deutch; Pan Henderson played by David Tennant)

Trauma (Emilie Henderson played by Hailee Steinfeld)

Devil Town (Imogen Henderson played by Katherine Langford)

Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf) - The Abused Puppy With a Heart of Gold Who Only Wanted the Power to Defend Himself and To Not Be Scared

Embers in the Sky Season One (Milo Stilinski played by Katherine Langford)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - The Genius Pretty Boy

(I have created so many ideas for the initial character, Zoe that I may have to split them up among Spencer Reid main character love interests and because of more complicated reasons I will explain in Valentía)

Valentía (Zoe Noble-Valdez played by Selena Gomez)

Valentía Season Masterlist

Valentía Season One

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

I have created an OC to be the Henderson!OC and Dustin's father and I always choose David Tennant, he just really gives off protective I-will-kill-anyone-who-hurts-you dad vibe and I have a soft spot for an overprotective dad for his daughter (I never had that. My dad wanted a boy--granted the disapproval that's implied is possibly because my mom told me this--and he is ADHD and was always sleeping and then he moved two towns over which was an hour's drive but seemed longer in my ADHD mind but so he could sleep and I could play video games on the Xbox that's memory wouldn't save the game so I continuously had to start over. Oh, and also, there's the fact that a TV fell on me when I was five/six because I didn't understand gravity and I locked myself in the dryer when I was seven/eight. What, is that not normal? 🙄) I'm not a big crier but a father that's willing to do anything for his daughter is your best bet. Sorry for this rant.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

While I think a romantic arc involving Simon and anyone other than Betty would like cheapen his overall arc about moving on and finding purpose for yourself in a world which doesn't accommodate you or whatever i DO like to imagine. Possible options. For comedy

[glooomtownbrats]

s6 and s7 gilmore girls writers be like

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[rebelliousstories]

Again and Again

Relationship: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Brief Mentions of Death, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,425

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: Age is just a number with them. And now Aaron is frustrated about putting her as their emergency contact.

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind it, it doesn’t matter.” Mark Twain

Aaron sat alone in his office as he did many nights. For once he seemed to have finally filled out all of the forms that usually kept him from getting out at a reasonable hour, but there was a single form that held him up. His emergency contact form. Ever since Hailey, that form had remained empty seeing as the people he would want to contact in an emergency are usually right next to him.

His life had been flipped upside down for the last year. The one secret he had kept from everyone on his team, including Dave. His girlfriend, a young, hard-working lawyer from Virginia that was twenty years his junior. He was not able to bring himself to put his pen to the page though. Even though she had practically moved in to his apartment already, Aaron had a difficult time to tell anyone about her.

Jack loved her, and loved when she was around almost as much as Hotch did. The age gap between them was severe, but she was unlike any other woman her age he had met. She was wise beyond her years, and was one of the youngest practicing attorneys in the history of the state. It was a complete accident that they had even met and began talking.

Hotch sighed as he closed the file and placed it in a secure spot on his desk to take care of tomorrow. Packing up his briefcase, he gathered his effects and began to make his way home. Once he left the building, Aaron decided to phone his girlfriend while starting up his car.

“Hey darling. I’m on my way home. Holding down the fort?” He asked, letting a smile grace his face as he heard Jack in the background.

“Of course, honey. We’re just finishing up dinner prep while Jack is doing his homework. Here you go. He won’t stop asking for you,” a commotion came. There was some shuffling before he heard a new voice. He kept making turns and completing his drive home.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled excitedly from the other end of the line. Aaron chuckled as he heard his son.

“Hey buddy. You behaving for her right?” He asked, and made sure to keep his eyes on the road.

“Yeah. She’s helping me do my multiplication tables.” His son answered.

“That’s awesome, bud. I’m going to be home in about twenty minutes, okay? Can you pass me back?” Jack made sure to tell his dad that he loved hm before doing what he requested and passed the phone back to his dad’s girlfriend.

“Did you hear what I told Jack, darling?”

“I did. We’ll see you when you get here. We’re having spaghetti tonight so you may want to change as soon as you get home.” She teased to which Aaron let out a laugh.

“Did you get that recipe from Dave?” He asked, turning down a road that would take him straight home.

“What can I say? I love and trust that man’s cooking when you bring home leftovers, with a recipe sheet so you can make it again. Drive safe, dear. We’ll be here when our get home.” Aaron exchanged his own goodbyes with her. He was only five minutes from home now, and he may or may not have sped those last few miles just to get home faster.

The man flung himself out of the car as soon as he arrived at his apartment complex. Taking the stairs two at a time, Aaron joyously placed his key in the slot and stepped inside. Disarming the alarm, he set down his briefcase and unclipped his firearm on his hip before he was being attacked by a set of small arms from behind.

“Daddy’s home!” Jack exclaimed, hugging his father close. He chuckled as he turned in his son’s arms and picked him up for his own hug.

“Hey buddy.” Aaron greeted looking to where a chuckle was coming from. His girlfriend was wiping her hands on a towel while leaning against the threshold of the kitchen. She was wearing his apron, which was just making Aaron love coming home to her more. With his son on his hip, Hotch made his way to wrap her up in his arms and give her a welcoming kiss.

“Ew.” Jack groaned, trying to push himself away from the display of affection. The two adults began to break apart as they laughed at his innocence that only a child could muster.

“Did you finish your multiplication tables, sir?” She teased, tickling his stomach lightly. The boy giggled but nodded his head in conformation. “Well go get it so we can go over it.”

He took off with the speed of a star and left his dad and his girlfriend alone. Aaron turned fully to face his lover that was just a step away from the door. With a smile on his face, he drew her in closer and captured her lips in a much deeper kiss than before. Her arms came to rest on his broad shoulders as she relaxed with his hands around her waist. They pulled away for some much needed oxygen with grins on both of their faces.

“Welcome home, darling.” She whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Mmm, it definitely is very welcoming.” Aaron teased, bringing her in closer as she chuckled. Her head rested on his shoulder and they swayed slightly without a sound in the air.

“My emergency contact form came across my desk again.” He finally whispered after a few minutes. She pulled away just a little so that she could see his face.

“Oh?” It was all she could say. That emergency form had been a sore spot for him throughout the years. After Hailey, Aaron did not even put his girlfriend’s name down in his personal address book as he never wanted someone to use her against him again.

“Do you want to put someone down?” She asked, scratching her nails gently through the cropped hair at the base of his head.

“I want to you to be my contact. I’m just…” a sigh broke up his words.

“You’re afraid of me being a target?” Aaron nodded with his eyes downcast. Placing her hand on his cheek, she brought him back up to face her.

“It’ll be alright. You can put me down. Besides, I’m a high-profile lawyer. I’m already a target.” A chuckle tore itself from their throats at the joke, but it was quickly brought down by the weight of the subject.

“What’s the other reason, Aaron?” Another question that the man was reluctant to answer.

“I’m not sure what my team will think about our relationship.” He admitted.

“Because I’m young enough to be your daughter?” She blurted out, causing Aaron to look up in alarm.

“Never phrase it like that again please.” Hotch let out a sharp breath. However, she just laughed at his unease.

“Sorry, too good to pass up. But whenever you want to tell them, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plus, Dave’s been married and divorced three times. I don’t think anyone is going to have room to talk.” Teasing once more, the couple was broken apart by the little boy in the house running for their feet.

“I did my tables.” Jack declared proudly. They each went off to do their own thing; Aaron and Jack were reviewing the math practice sheet, and she went off to finish up dinner. Dinner was a lovely affair, and the little family ate happily. The cloud of darkness was lifted from earlier, and all that was left was joy and laughter.

The next morning, Aaron unloaded his briefcase as soon as he stepped into his office and a note slipped out. Picking it up off the floor, and returning to his desk, he could only smile as he read it. On the note was his girlfriend’s full name, phone number, address, and any relevant information he needed. Plus, a non informational tidbit on the bottom.

Here you go. I expect to have one of Dave’s recipes straight from the man himself when you tell them. Have a great day, dear. Love you.

Aaron smiled to himself, got out his pen, and began to fill out his emergency contact file.

“Trust is the glue of life. It’s the most essential ingredient in effective communication. It’s the foundational principle that holds all relationships.” Stephen R. Covey

[guiltyasdave]

nothing lasts forever

chapter 4 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're both worried about the prospect of you leaving soon. Also, just a lot of filth lol

word count: 5.3k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave grabs, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, use of restraints, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

David is becoming a problem. 

When you’re not with him, you’re texting him, having evolved from mostly suggestive messages and pictures to sharing almost every thought that pops into your heads with each other. He knows your friends’ names, your favorite subjects. You watched his favorite movie, sending him your every reaction in real time. 

When you’re not texting him, you’re thinking about him. About his broad hands, about how good he feels inside of you, about the filth he spits into your ear, but that’s not all of it. More often than not, you’re daydreaming about how good his arms feel wrapped around you, engulfing you in his scent, about the feeling of his chest when you rest your head there. About the way he sees you, hears you, makes you laugh. Makes you feel important. 

You’ve pushed the fact that you’re gonna leave again soon into a far away corner of your mind, but as the end of your break is steadily growing nearer, it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. 

You haven’t talked about what you are to each other, but you’re not delusional enough to think that he’s gonna wait for you. Gonna visit you once every few months and exchange late night messages in the meantime, like you have some kind of future together, like he’s your boyfriend.

He already has a life, has done all the things that you have yet to experience, is miles ahead with no way for you to catch up. You know all this. Which is why it was supposed to be just one time. Until it turned into two times and now into more times than you can count and into something that has grown strings, attaching you to each other. 

No one’s ever had you before, not like this. 

You’re lost in daydreams, sometimes about the things that you’ve done together, but mostly about the things that you wish you could do. Going out together, without worrying about being seen. Cuddling up on his couch for movie nights, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping in his bed. Things that he doesn’t let you do. Because, unlike you, he hasn’t lost sight of what this is. 

You’re so deep in your thoughts, filling the days when you don’t see David with nothing but fantasies about him, that even your father notices. The resulting lecture about focussing on your studies, working on job applications, and to under no circumstances become lazy over the break, washes over you. You nod obediently, promise to get right back to it, not bothering with excuses that you know he won’t listen to. Then you retreat back into your daydreams. 

Dave has fallen into the pit much deeper than he had planned to, deeper than he had thought possible, honestly. He’s in his forties, not some lovesick schoolboy, but that’s exactly what he feels like. 

Once he’s started seeing you regularly, talking to you, thinking about you, he finds himself unable to stop. He likes talking to you, likes the way you actually listen to him, the way you seem to care about every single thing that he has to say. You’re funny, and smart, and quite frankly the only person that he really likes being around these days. Seeing your eyes light up when you tell him about your interests, laughing about the way you almost constantly outsmart him, knowing the person that you can be when you feel safe enough for it, with him, has his heart clenching in his chest. 

He still can’t shake the knowledge that what he’s doing is wrong, the feeling that he’s taking advantage of you. You’re the vulnerable one and he’s the adult and he should be the one who makes reasonable decisions. For both your sake’s. It’s just– you make him happy.

He can’t quit, not when you look at him with those wide eyes, your lashes fluttering, so often flustered about the things he says to you, the things he makes you do. Not when you remain so open and trusting of him, so willing to please. It’s a heady feeling and he can’t seem to let go of it. 

You have plans this Friday, something about drinks and dancing with your friends, and you roll your eyes at him telling you to be safe, but there’s something else too, a sadness below the surface that gives him pause. He briefly wonders if your father doesn’t make you promise the same thing every time you go out. Probably not, he bitterly thinks to himself. 

He doesn’t necessarily dislike Jim, not really. Jim hasn’t been a bad friend to him, not in the way that Dave is with what he’s doing. He just can’t witness the way you’re being treated and like him, either.

“Do you want me to pick you up? You can stay over if you want.” 

He had been battling himself on this one, but he doesn’t think he can go through a repeat of the last time you were out late and couldn’t go home. He watches your eyes grow almost comically wide on his phone screen. 

“Y–you would do that?” 

He knows you’re thinking back on the last time too, on how he turned you down and he hates how small your voice sounds once again. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Just call me, okay?” 

You nod eagerly, thanking him profusely, a smile slowly growing on your face in unison with the warmth in his chest. 

A little after 2 AM you do call him, all giggly and sweet and just fucking adorable. 

His heart swells when he sees you stepping out of the club, hugging your friends goodbye and exuberantly waving in the direction of his car before you make your way over. Your heels are clicking against the pavement and he can’t keep his eyes off your approaching figure. Off the way your dress is hugging your body so tightly, off the expanse of your bare legs, and least of all off your beaming smile that only grows when you can make out his face behind the car window. 

“Hi David,” you giggle, plopping into the seat and pulling him into a kiss almost instantly. You’re rarely bold like this, letting him take the initiative, but he likes this, likes how uninhibitedly you want him right now. Your mouth tastes sweet when your tongue flicks against his, a combination of fruity cocktails and the remnants of your lipgloss. 

When you finally part, you’re panting, your lips are already swollen and your pupils blown wide. His cock twitches with interest at the sight. 

“Let’s get you home,” he suggests, not missing the way your lips part wider at the breathless husk of his voice. You nod wordlessly, eyes still glued to his face. 

As he starts driving, you’re fidgeting in your seat, stealing glances at him, biting your lip. 

“What is it, baby?” 

You avert your eyes, teeth digging deeper into the soft cushion of your lips. Still so shy for him. He raises an eyebrow, throwing you a hard glance. 

“Tell me.”

The short display of dominance is enough to force a whimper up your throat. You gingerly reach out towards him, running your hand over the curve of his belly before you cup his length through his sweatpants. He sucks in a breath, rapidly hardening under your touch. 

“I want to– I want to suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all soft and needy.

Chuckling, he grinds his hips up into your touch.

“Of course you do. Such a desperate little whore for me, aren’t you?”

He does his best to appear unimpressed, to play up that persona that he knows gets you both off so much. Still, his cock is already rock hard, leaking at your eager nod in response to his words, at how much you want him. You look so gorgeous right now, your sparkly skirt slowly inching up your thighs, and there’s no doubt in his mind that you could have had anyone in that club. And yet, here you are, begging to suck him off. 

He relaxes deeper into his seat, reaches out to fist one hand in your hair and tug you closer.

“Well, if you need it that badly. Fucking greedy.” 

You whimper again, louder this time. Your body is pliant under his touch, following the direction of his hand pushing your head down to the pronounced bulge in his lap. With your fingers sneaking under the waistband, you throw him a cautious glance. 

“Can I–?”

The proud smile he gives you in response has you glowing.

“Go ahead. Good girl for asking.”

He raises his hips slightly to help you slide his sweats down enough to let his cock spring free. You audibly moan at the sight, and it drives him wild, to elicit this reaction from you. 

Your mouth sinks down on him eagerly, enveloping him in wet heat, and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes and at least part of his focus on the road. He feels the way you’re squirming, can picture the way your thighs must be rubbing against each other right now. 

You swirl your tongue around his head before you start sucking, and he hisses through his teeth, his hold on your hair tightening further. 

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back against the headrest. “You’re so fucking good, baby.” 

You whine in response, sinking your head down further, until he’s nudging at your throat. 

When Dave pulls up to his building, he’s already embarrassingly close to coming. Reduced to nothing but burning want by your mouth within mere minutes. 

You’re insatiable as he’s leading you up the stairs to his apartment, hands frantically grabbing at him. He tuts at you, but there’s no bite behind it. 

Once the door falls shut behind you, you’re on him, your lips seeking his out with heated intensity. You only pull back when he tugs your hair sharply, forcing you to look at him. You look wrecked, your lips still swollen and tears sticking to your lashes, pure desire written all over your face. It gives him an idea. 

Grabbing your shoulders, he turns you around abruptly. You whine in protest at losing the proximity to his mouth, but still obey willingly, letting him direct your body until he has you in front of the full length mirror in his hallway. 

You’re a vision, watching with wide eyes as he looms behind you, his fingers trailing over your scantily clad body. Your ass presses against his front, grinding against the hardness of his cock when he circles your nipples over the fabric. A high pitched whine escapes you and your eyes slip closed, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder. 

He clicks his tongue, his hand finding the back of your head and forcing it up again. Your eyes flutter back open and your brow furrows in mild confusion. 

“Watch,” he purrs into your ear. “Watch how beautiful you are, all desperate for me.”

You gulp, but your gaze obediently meets his in the mirror. He smirks, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as he wraps one hand around your throat. Only applying a hint of pressure, but you melt into him, your eyes glued to your reflection.

“Look at you,” he coos, his grip tightening. He nips at your earlobe, relishes in your responding shudder. “Want you to see how beautiful you are.” 

You nod weakly, and he knows how far away you already are, how hazy with pleasure you get when he has you like this. Still holding onto your throat, his other hand splays over your upper thigh, causing the hem of your dress to inch up higher and higher as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He lets his hand climb, expecting to find your panties soaked with your arousal, but instead he’s met with nothing but bare skin, coated with your slick. He can’t stop the growl building up in his chest and you grind against him harder.  

“Fuck, have you been like this all evening? Whoring yourself out, huh?” 

It doesn’t bother him, at all. The idea of you surrounded by people, with nothing underneath that little skirt, and still patiently waiting for him, has his blood running hotter. He feels you swallow under his palm, feels the movement of your throat as you try to form words, the small shake of your head. 

“T–took them off. After I called you.” You bite your lip, your pleading stare searching his reflection. “I wanted to be ready for you.” 

Dave’s head falls forward at that, his groan muffled against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he sighs, lips moving against your body. “You’re such a good girl.”

His fingers toy with you, featherlight touches caressing your cunt, giving you only the tiniest bit of friction. When he brushes over your clit, you respond with a needy little sound, akin to a sob, that goes straight into his cock. Rutting his hips against yours, his touches get more intense, fingers nudging at your entrance. 

“Please,” you whine, your eyes falling shut once more as you get lost in his touches. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dave tuts, his fingers pausing their ministrations. Landing a slap on your clit instead, one that has you jolting in his arms. Would have probably made you scream too, if he wasn’t holding your throat so tightly. “Thought I told you to watch. If you can’t listen, I’ll stop.” 

You sob again, desperation lacing the sound, but you force your eyes back towards the mirror. He sinks two fingers into you while his thumb swirls over your clit. Your lips part in a loud moan, your frame trembling against him. 

“Look at how good you are for me. Watch yourself falling apart for me,” he grits into your ear, tightening the hold on your throat, forcing you to the edge with his touches. 

Your breath catches, your pupils dilate, before you both watch you shatter around his fingers. Your knees buckle, body collapsing into him. He holds you tightly, helping you ride out your high, transfixed by the image of you, falling apart for him so beautifully.

When you come down, he turns you around in his arms, lips seeking each other out, a mess of tongues and teeth. Devouring each other. He wants you like this, this close, this open. His. Always his. 

“Come here,” he murmurs against your lips, tugs you into his side and holds you close as he finally, finally opens his bedroom door for you. 

He should have done this sooner, he thinks to himself, as you’re on top of him, your gorgeous tits bouncing with every movement. Should have had you in every possible position, should have let your presence fill every corner of his place, should have committed it all to memory. 

He knows that the image of your head on his pillow, drifting off into sleep with a content smile on your face, will be burned into his mind forever, even after you’re long gone. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Shit!” 

Dave stirs awake to your voice, frantic and nervous now, so different from the sounds he pulled from you mere hours ago. You’re sitting beside him, hunched over your phone.

“What’s going on?” he asks, inching closer to you, one hand rubbing over your back in an effort to soothe you. 

You wordlessly turn your phone screen towards him. It takes him a few moments of squinting before he’s able to make out that you’re showing him your message thread with your father. Several missed calls, several messages demanding to know why you’re not home. 

“But–” He furrows his brow, his brain only slowly kicking into gear. “Did he not know you were going out?”

“He did,” you murmur, eyes still glued to the device in your hand. “I’m just gonna–”

You tap the screen and hold the phone to your ear, anxiety still painting your face. Dave sits up beside you, unsure of what to do. You’re both feeling it, he thinks, the sudden realization of how fragile this thing is that you have. How quickly it could go up in flames around you. 

He doesn’t agree with Jim on a lot of things, but he can’t stop his mind from thinking about his own girls, about how quickly they’re growing up. About how, in a few years’ time, the roles could be reversed. How murderous he’d be if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

“Where the fuck are you?” your father’s voice barks through the speaker immediately when he picks up, interrupting Dave’s train of thought. 

You flinch at his tone, your shoulders hunching forward. 

“I went out with Jess and Kristen last night. I– I told you.”

He huffs, a dismissive sound. 

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

Biting your lip, you shoot Dave a wide-eyed glance. He reaches forward, hand coming to rest on your knee, desperate to comfort you in some way. 

“You– last time you said you didn’t want me to come home drunk, so I figured I’d just stay over–”

Your father interrupts you with a loud sigh, like you’re making him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dave silently watches you deflate further.

“You realize that we wouldn’t need to have this conversation if you didn’t get plastered every weekend, right?”

“I’m not–”

“I don’t know why I’m spending all this money on your education when you act like you can just waste it. That’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m on–” Defiance sparks in your eyes for a split second before you exhale sharply, your head bowing down. “I know. I’m sorry dad, I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Without bothering with a goodbye, your father hangs up. You stare at your phone for a second, sighing deeply. 

When your eyes find Dave’s again, they are flooded with shame. 

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you whisper. You’re concealing it well, but he’s seen and heard enough of you by now to recognize the slight wobble in your voice. “He’s right, I shouldn’t have… I’ll just get going.”

You sit up straighter, scrabbling to get out of his bed, your knee slipping away from his touch. 

“Sweetheart–” 

David’s voice is raspy, still thick with the remnants of sleep. He reaches for you, one arm wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest. You feel so safe, so comforted in his embrace, sinking deeper into it immediately. He kisses the crown of your head and it takes everything in you to not start crying. 

You don’t want him to see you like this, to experience first-hand how incapable you are of standing up for yourself. None of this can possibly be what he desires from a relationship, from a woman. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he mutters into your hair. 

You don’t know if you agree. You’re being selfish. Too reckless for your own good, too quick to believe that nothing would go wrong, that there’s no way your father could find out what you’re doing. And you’re pulling David down with you. 

You believe that he likes you, that he enjoys being with you. You have to believe that. But in moments like this, you wonder if a part of why he keeps meeting you is that he pities you. 

Shrugging him off, even as your heart is screaming at you to sink deeper into his touch, you get up and start getting dressed.

“I can drive you home,” he offers softly, his eyes following your every movement. 

When you look up at him, you could swear that you see something like hurt on his features. You’re probably mistaken though. It’s much more likely that he’s just annoyed with the sudden complications that being with you brings.

“No,” you murmur, your voice thankfully more steady than before. “That would be… suspicious, I guess. I’ll just call an Uber.” 

He hugs you tightly before you leave, slotting his lips over yours. They always sting, the small goodbyes. Especially knowing that they’re gonna evolve into one big goodbye soon.

At home, an extended version of the lecture your father already gave you over the phone awaits you. You let it wash over you, nod at the right times, apologize over and over, promise to do better. No point in arguing.

Only a few more weeks.

Before David, that prospect would have filled you with joy. Now, it’s not that simple anymore.

Once Dave’s had you in his bed, he’s addicted to it just like every other facette of you. You’re reluctant to sleep over again, always slipping from his arms eventually, and while he understands, he hates it. 

Still, he has you in it as often as he can. The golden hue of the late afternoon sun is falling through the open blinds, bathing the room in warm light, painting your skin with it. Another image to add to his collection of memories. Another image that he hopes will never fade.

You’re writhing underneath him, spread out over his sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. He loves when you get like this. All rational thoughts blown from your mind, your focus solely on him. On his touches, his commands, his wishes. 

No one else makes you feel like this, no one else has ever shown you pleasure like this. Only him.

He wants to make you happy, but he doesn’t know if you’d let him. He also wants to drag you down with him. That, he suspects, you would let him do.

“Please, David,” you whimper, tears already brimming in your eyes. He’d been teasing you for what felt like an eternity. Positioned you the way he wanted, your hands over your head and your legs spread wide to fit him between your thighs, and told you to not move.

He has kissed his way from your lips down your neck, his teeth digging gently into the skin, then further down to where your breasts were heaving with your breathing. He’s sucked one nipple into his mouth and pinched the other between his fingers, making you keen and arch off the mattress, pushing your body closer into his touch. 

His responding chuckle and the way he shushed you, his lips still moving against your skin, drove you wild with desire. 

His mouth had continued traveling down your body, stopping between your legs where you could feel his breath ghosting against your feverish skin, his teeth nipping at you. It all felt so so good, but not enough, never enough, the need to feel him inside of you nearly overwhelming. 

But he hadn’t budged, alternating between gentle kisses and stinging bites, pulling whines and moans from your throat in an almost constant stream. 

Your hands had moved down on their own accord, fingers twisting into the strands of his hair, trying to pull his face up to yours. Trying to get him to finally, finally fuck you.

He growls at that and leans back onto his haunches, regarding you with burning eyes. His hands come up to his tie, the first piece of clothing that he takes off. He’s still fully dressed, impeccable as always, while you’re bare before him, no doubt already looking thoroughly ruined. It’s such an obvious display of power and it never fails to make your head dizzy with need.

He undoes the tie and leans towards you again, gathering your wrists in one of his large hands, his fingers easily wrapping around them. 

“Disobedient today, are we?” he smirks, clicking his tongue. “I taught you better than that.”

His condescending tone is enough to cause another wave of slick to flood your pussy and you whine, your eyes trained on his handsome face above you. 

“I’m s–sorry, it just– it feels so good.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he coos, gently placing a kiss on your pouting lips. “Still– looks like I need to teach you a lesson, hm?” 

Your wide eyes and your timid, obedient little nod have his cock straining against his pants. 

If he could, he’d keep you forever, just like this. In his bed, his to touch, his to hold, his to defile. His, his, his.

You let him pull your wrists higher up the bed, like a doll that he can move however he likes. The tie’s fabric is soft between his fingers. He holds it up to your face, sees the glimmer of excitement in your eyes.

“Kiss it,” he demands, pushing it closer to your mouth. 

You hesitate for just a second before you raise your head to obediently connect your lips with the piece of dark blue fabric. 

“Good girl.”

The corners of your lips raise at the praise, the warmth of your smile washing over him. He’s gonna make this so fucking good for you. You crane your neck, watching eagerly as he wraps the tie around your wrists and connects it to his headboard, securing the knots until your hands are sufficiently trapped over your head. 

“Now what did I tell you?”

You shudder at his tone, pouting up at him, a small crease between your brows. 

“Y–you told me not to move.” 

“I did,” he nods, casually flicking your nipples hard enough that he knows it’s gonna send pinpricks of pain through you. Just the way you like it. Your responding wail doesn’t disappoint, and neither does the way you’re writhing underneath him, trying to grind your dripping cunt against his thighs, but to no avail. 

“Please, I’m sorry, please David–” 

He shakes his head, presses another chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back. 

“You need to learn to be patient. To do what you’re told.” 

You nod silently, biting your lip while you watch him moving down your body again, until his head is situated between your thighs again. 

“Now, don’t move.” 

He knows that you’re trying, trying so hard to be good when he starts kissing your inner thighs. Knows that you want to move, want to chase the pleasure that he’s kept just out of your reach for so long already. But you’re not, your body almost vibrating with the effort. Because he fucking told you to. Because that’s all it takes.

He licks into you, savoring your taste, savoring the sweet sounds that you reward him with. Alternating between tongueing through your folds and sucking your clit into his mouth, he watches you closely, keeping an eye on your every reaction, waiting to drive you right to that point. 

He knows when you’re close, feels you tensing up, hears the higher pitch of your moans. He keeps you right there, balancing you on that edge. Then he pulls away. Your whine is downright pitiful, a broken sound of desperation that feeds deep into his own arousal. 

“Patience,” he reminds you, stealing a glance up at your face. Tears are brimming from your eyes, but when you catch his gaze, your lips still curl into a smile. Reminding him that you love this game, just as much as he does. 

He builds you up until you’re at the brink of an orgasm two more times, only to let you down again and again. You’re openly sobbing, but keeping still, just like he asked. Patient.

When he finally sinks his cock into you, the sound of him moving through your wetness is downright obscene. It’s heavenly, how hot and slick you are around him, engulfing him tightly. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to go slow. To tease you just a little bit longer. 

Pure bliss overtakes you when David finally thrusts into you. He’s still moving torturously slow, giving you nothing more than shallow thrusts. It doesn’t matter, the stretch of him breaching you almost enough to get you to your climax. Almost.

Before he notices, more tuned into your body than you had thought possible. Before he stills completely, raises an eyebrow at you, almost challenging you to protest. You don’t, determined to prove yourself. 

“What do you say, sweetheart?” 

“Thank you for teaching me patience, David,” you whimper, pouting up at him. You must be a sight by now, your face streaked with tears and your expression most likely as fucked out as you feel.

“Exactly,” he growls. Then he really starts fucking you. 

Each thrust hits almost impossibly deep inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. The coil of your orgasm is already wrapped around you, having been tightened again and again, ready to snap at any second. 

David swipes his thumb over your clit, applying just a hint of pleasure. It’s enough to catapult you straight into your climax.

It rolls over you like a storm, waves a pleasure crashing over you, feeling like they’ll never let you up again. You’re only just coming down, breathless moans falling from your mouth with each of his thrusts as he’s fucking you right through it, never letting up. 

“Give me another one,” he pants, wild eyes trained on your tear-stained face. “Right now. I know you can.” 

His fingers stay on your clit, rubbing over the bundle of nerves while his cock keeps hammering into you, forcing you right back to the edge. It’s like you’re falling apart at the seams, your body disintegrating, melting into the sheets. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” David grunts above you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning into yours, the only thing tethering you to reality right now. 

He stills, his cock buried deep inside of you, shudders running through his body, before he collapses on top of you. He holds you close, one hand quickly working to undo the knots around your wrists, before he pulls you into him, placing kisses all over your face. 

“I’ve never–” he begins, but pauses, like he’s not sure how to phrase it. He doesn’t have to. You know. 

“Me neither,” you murmur, pressing your face into his neck. You want to breathe him in, want that warmth, that feeling of being safe with him to envelop you. 

It has gotten darker, barely any light falling into the room from outside anymore. Eventually, you stretch out your body on top of the bed, relishing in the sweet burn of soreness that David has left in you. 

“How would you feel about pizza?” he asks from beside you, looking down at you with a fond smile. It’s so easy, to imagine this as your everyday life. 

“I’d feel amazing,” you yawn, finally untangling your limbs from the sheets. 

He places the order while you traipse around, putting your underwear back on and using the bathroom, before you crawl back into bed beside him, curling yourself around his still naked body. He wraps an arm around you, starts drawing shapes on your back with his fingers.

A knock raps against wood, much quicker than you both expected. 

“I’ll get it,” you say, since you’re at least wearing underwear already. You’re moving towards David’s front door, pulling on his discarded work shirt to appear at least somewhat decent and looking for his wallet. 

“Hey David, where’s your–” you shout in the direction of the bedroom, opening the door in expectation of being met with the sight of some grumpy delivery guy. The words die on your tongue. 

Instead, you stare straight into your father’s stony expression. 

.........hehe

come yell at me, it would bring me a lot of joy lol

[mothandpidgeon]

P Boy Podcasts

I was swapping podcast recs with @schnarfer and asked her what kind of podcasts would each of the Pedro boys host? (I’m a bit of a podcast junkie. I'm literally listening to one right now.) Well, we were brainstorming and I went and created episode art for each of their shows. Which ones are you subscribing to?

Nic on Nic Get a peek into the brain of legendary talent Nicolas Cage. Cage collaborator (and fanboy) Javi Guttierez is watching everything from Con Air to National Treasure 2. Take a deep dive into the films of Nic Cage and hear exclusive interviews with the man himself.

The Unfortunates There are spies living among us, everyday people living double lives. What makes them do it? And how do they keep their secrets? Each week, Dave York shares a true story from the clandestine world of espionage. 

Foundlings Din Djarin’s parenting journey has never gone to plan because he never planned on becoming a dad! Come along as he navigates the challenges of single parenting a 50 year old son. Each week Din leads insightful discussions with a range of guests— pediatricians, parenting experts, and  other parents that are just trying to figure it all out.

Declassified Drugs, danger, and dames. The fall of Escobar made way for the Cali Cartel. Hear the story from  Agent Javier Pena as he recalls the hunt for the Cali Cartel and reveals details that have never been heard before. 

Tales from the Green Ezra shares spooky fales of distant worlds on this anthology fiction podcast. All set on the Green Moon, these bizarre and enthralling stories introduce you to a lush world filled with intrigue and danger. 

Heist The Mona Lisa only became a cultural icon after it was stolen in 1911. Learn about the greatest capers in the art world with host Marcus Pike. Hear first hand accounts going undercover during his time in the FBI. 

No Cap 4 best friends chat about anything and everything. Hear Santi, Will, Frankie, and Ben give their takes on dating, travel, and current events. You’ll love listening to them react to r/aita. 

UNKNOWN ZONE Alien encounter? Evidence of the lost city of Atlantis? Ghost fucking? Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Join celebrity host Dieter Bravo for real life brushes with the unknown!

Joel’s Construction Corner Have a burning home improvement question? Or maybe you just like a southern drawl? Host Joel Miller has 30 years of experience in contracting and he’s here to share his advice with you. As soon as he figures out how to use this damn computer. Ellie does the ad reads with a pun for every one. 

Hungry History What does the invention of margarine have to do with Napoleon? Did Marco Polo really introduce pasta to Italy? Which Founding Father had a craving for ice cream? Follow your stomach to discover the origins of your favorite foods as we travel back in time with host Pero Tovar. 

--

I might've gone overboard. But I wish these all existed???

If you reblog this please rec me your favorite podcasts in the tags.

[punkshort]

A list of Christmas stories I've written for various Pedro Pascal characters:

I'll Be Home for Christmas [Joel Miller series]: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Palm Trees [Joel Miller one-shot]: Sometimes love can be found unexpectedly in the aisle of Home Depot's Christmas displays.

A Christmas Miracle [Joel Miller one-shot]: Years of tension after a failed hook-up attempt with Joel boil over at your office Christmas party, but not in the way you expect.

Sweater Weather [Joel Miller one-shot]: A famous popstar's Christmas Eve concert brings an unexpected love into your life.

Red Lace & Holiday Cheer [Joel Miller one-shot]: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early. - roommates!joel

Christmas in the City [Javier Peña one-shot]: As if your holiday season couldn't get any worse, you get lost on your way to the first day of your new job. Lucky for you, a handsome and flirty stranger finds you on the verge of tears and walks you to your office building, turning your day around instantly.

Just Friends [Javier Peña one-shot]: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.

The Holiday in Vermont [Dave York one-shot]: A much needed escape after a brutal breakup to Woodstock, Vermont gives you much more than you ever bargained for when you meet Dave York.

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

don't you worry your pretty little mind

pairing: Dave York x fem!reader

rating: PG for 1 (one) ass squeeze but otherwise just all the fluff

word count: ⁓ 1.3k give or take

warnings: none, i think?? teeny tiny smidge of angst at the very beginning, Dave being an adorable dad, one singular ass squeeze as mentioned above, reader has no physical description besides being called "wife"

a/n: my contribution to @happypedrohours's Charcuterie Board Challenge!! thank you Mel and Sara for putting all of this together 🥰 my pairing was Dave + feta cheese. the event doesn't technically start until Friday but i have another wip scheduled for that day 👀 and i was just too excited to wait to share this. happy belated father's day to our favorite murder daddy 💛

“Honey, have you seen the feta?”

Dave wanders into the kitchen to see your entire top half buried in the open fridge. He laughs at the sight and you whip around with wide eyes.

“Well?”

“It should be right there on the shelf in front of you.” Dave leans on the counter beside you, chuckling again as you dive back in.

“You’re right, it should be. But it’s not.” You slam the door closed and begin pacing around the kitchen, opening various cabinets in a frantic search.

“Sweetheart, it’s not going to be under the sink with the sponges.” Dave tries to reason with you but you’re set on your task. He finally sighs and gently takes your wrist, halting your movement. “Hey, relax. It’s just a stupid plat-”

“David York, I swear to God if you say ‘stupid platter’ one more time, I will hit you over the head with the cutting board,” you threaten only half-seriously. “This is the one thing your mother requested for this party and it’s ruined.”

Dave fights the urge to roll his eyes as you’re already on edge and he knows it would only piss you off even more. “It is not ruined because there’s one thing missing. Look,” he wraps his arm around you and directs you to the center island where your meticulously designed charcuterie board lays out, “there is plenty of food here already. Grapes, olives, bell peppers, pitas and hummus. Carrots and ranch for the girls.” He turns to you and lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “My mother is not going to miss one thing out of all of this.”

You huff despite your appreciation of his attempt to reassure you. “Yes, she will. Because she hates me.” You cross your arms, deflating as Dave scoffs and backs away, rubbing his forehead.

“We’ve been over this. She does not-”

“Yes, she does, Dave! She literally told me herself that I’m the reason you and Carol split!”

“And we both know that couldn’t be further from the truth!”

“Yes! I know that. You know that. But she is convinced that I’m a homewrecker and she’s on a mission to destroy me by nitpicking every single thing that I do.” You match Dave’s stance, rubbing your own forehead to stave off a headache. “I just…she’s your mother, Dave, and I…”

Dave sighs and closes the distance between you again, rubbing your arms soothingly. “I know, baby, I know. I appreciate you wanting to impress her but in the end, it won’t make any difference.” Your head shoots up, brows furrowed in confusion. “I love you. You’re my wife. And nothing my mother says or does is going to change the way I feel.”

You relax at his clarification. Scrunching your eyes closed, you groan in defeat and lean your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. You hold each other for a moment, Dave rubbing your back. Finally, Dave lets out a deep relenting breath.

“But if it really means that much to you, I’ll run to the store and get more.”

You squeeze him tight and peck his lips, a cheesy smile breaking across your face. “Thank you.”

When Dave returns 3 hours later, the kitchen is even more a mess than it was before. It looks like the fridge vomited all of its contents across the counters and dining table. Your charcuterie board, however, still sits untouched in the middle of the island. You’re nowhere in sight.

Dave sets the plastic grocery bag containing your cheesy trophy next to the culinary creation and opens his mouth to call your name, but the doorbell cuts him off. He goes to the door, welcoming in his daughters and ex-wife. Carol bears a tray of brownies and follows Dave to the kitchen while Molly and Alice race upstairs.

Carols lets out a low whistle at the tsunami of food items. “Doing some spring cleaning, Dave?” she jokes.

Dave just shakes his head in exasperation as you enter in from the garage. “I thought I heard the door!” You cross over to give Carol a quick, friendly hug and take the dessert tray from her.

“Baby, what…is all this?” Dave turns in a circle, motioning to the room around him.

You crouch down and rifle through a cabinet for a plate to set out the brownies. “I turned the entire fridge inside-out looking for the feta. No luck.” Standing, you see the grocery bag on the island and gasp delightedly. “You got it! What took you so long, anyway?”

Dave groans and drops his head back tiredly. “You would not believe the trials I endured to find that for you.”

You and Carol laugh at his dramatics. She pats his shoulder and ventures over to the stairs in search of the girls. You round the island and place your hands on his chest. “My hero.”

He looks down at you, smiling at the appreciation in your eyes and pulling you into his arms. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah, I am.” You lean up to kiss him and he happily accepts, cupping your cheek with one hand to deepen it. You pull away slightly to mutter against his lips. “I’ll have to figure out a way to thank you later.”

A rumble emits from deep in Dave’s chest as his other hand slides down to cup your ass, earning a soft squeak from you as he squeezes. “I might have a couple ideas.”

You pull apart from each other as a shout from upstairs warns the impending arrival of Molly and Alice. You unpack the cheese and begin slicing it as the thunder of small feet spills down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dave steps forward and catches Alice in his arms as she runs in, followed closely by her sister, lifting her with an exaggerated groan as she squeals in excitement. “You’re getting too big for me, baby girl.”

You laugh and smile fondly at Dave interacting with his daughters. Carol enters and quietly offers to help you arrange the platter, careful not to interrupt the heartwarming scene in front of you. You start handing her pieces of cheese as Molly walks over and plops her chin on the countertop with a disappointed huff. “Awww, you found it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows and look up at her. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I hid the cheese, but you found it anyway.”

This catches Dave’s attention as he looks over, putting his hands on his hips in a typical dad stance. “Where did you hide it, Mol?”

The young girl crosses to the fridge but opens the door to the freezer instead. She digs to the back of the bottom drawer and emerges with a rock-solid brick of feta cheese. “Right here.”

Carol’s jaw falls open in surprise. You press your lips together, stifling a laugh. Dave stutters out, “W-why…why would you put it there?”

Molly shrugs, unconcerned. “Because it’s gross and I didn’t want it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles at the innocent statement and Alice joins in. Carol simply sighs and drops her head in exasperation before devolving into soft laughter as well. Dave, meanwhile, still stands with his hands on his hips, blinking repeatedly as he tries to comprehend his daughter’s words.

He finally looks over at you incredulously and you try to smother your amusement for his sake, but the look on his face is too priceless and only makes you laugh even harder.

“Happy Father’s Day?”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Secret’s Out

[A/N: Some fluff in honor of our favorite man’s birthday 🖤]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

—————

You love celebrating your partner’s birthday. An excuse to pamper your favorite person more so than usual, and they can’t refuse because it’s their special day? Amazing.

Your partner, on the other hand, is less than enthusiastic about the day. “It’s just another day,” he always tries to play it off. “Another year around the sun gifting me with more grays and wrinkles to prove it.”

You’ve adjusted to his understated manner, toned down your celebratory whims to make his day special in smaller, less overt ways.

“I’m not making a big deal about it,” you’d promised your first birthday together with a smile, catching the raised eyebrow you were greeted with when he spotted the lavish breakfast spread out over the kitchen table.

“Still not making a big deal. You needed a new one,” was your excuse some birthdays later when he opened a carefully wrapped box to find a new watch with words from your wedding vows engraved on the back.

“This one is so not-a-big-deal,” you’d affirmed just last year, presenting him with two tickets to a five day island getaway. “It’s November in DC and I miss the sun, that’s all.”

And so the years have gone, keeping Aaron Hotchner’s birthday under wraps much to the chagrin of his team. Garcia, to her credit, has made a Herculean effort to keep the date quiet as requested, or perhaps she’s sworn everyone to secrecy by now. Inexplicably, Aaron finds a single cupcake waiting on his desk annually.

Aaron’s birthday was a quiet affair, that is, until this year.

The case your husband had been on had spanned many more days than expected, and you’d been forced to postpone the family trip you had planned to celebrate his birthday. So here you are, waiting in his office for the team’s return. Chatter suddenly breaks the silence of the bullpen, the unmistakable sound of Aaron’s baritone mixed with the many voices of your found family.

The kids are tearing out of the office before you even rise from the couch.

Your toddler reaches the BAU team first, and Aaron’s quick to drop his go-bag in favor of catching the pig-tailed bundle of energy midair as she squeals out an excited, “Happy birthday, Daddy!”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, and your stomach swoops at the FBI’s best kept secret being so blatantly revealed by the littlest Hotchner.

But then Aaron’s propping your daughter on his hip and pressing kisses to her cherubic cheeks while she giggles at the onslaught, and Jack is wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist, mumbling a “Welcome home, Dad, happy birthday,” into his dress shirt, and Aaron is squeezing both of your kids like their very presence imbues life into him, and all is right in the world. You take note of money quietly exchanging hands behind Aaron greeting your kids. Evidently, Garcia had kept the date a secret.

The team splits up to drop luggage and paperwork on their desks, and Aaron looks up to the stairs leading to his office then, his smile somehow growing wider when he spots you standing there, a blush dotting your cheeks. “You know there’s no stopping these two when their hero comes home,” you offer sheepishly, and he angles his head to beckon you closer. You’re by his side in an instant and pressing a kiss to his lips even as your children- spurred on by Uncle Derek and Uncle Spencer- protest with a chorus of ews and elaborate gagging noises.

“You were just giddy about me kissing you,” Aaron points out to your daughter whose face is screwed up in feigned disgust from her front row seat on Daddy’s hip.

“It’s not the same as you kissing Mom,” Jack huffs with the gusto of an all-knowing pre-teen, so his dad rolls his eyes and pecks your lips again for good measure.

“May I propose,” Rossi interjects, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your husband’s, “dinner at my place to celebrate?” Aaron opens his mouth to protest, but Dave lifts a hand and clarifies, “Ah- celebrate closing the case, Aaron. It’s not all about you.” He shoots you a wink and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Up to you, birthday boy,” you murmur, lightly running your hand across his chest, but your kids and his team are looking so hopeful that Aaron knows it’s really not up to him, after all.

“Okay,” he relents with a laugh, nodding his head. “Thank you, Dave, that’s really kind of you to offer.”

The night turns out to be an absolute blast full of good food, great drinks, and wonderful company. Your little one is currently sound asleep in her Uncle Spencer’s lap while he stumps her older brother and JJ and Will’s sons with his latest magic trick. Penelope and Derek are out on a secret mission (they’re getting a cake) that Aaron is completely in the dark about (he totally knows). The rest of you are scattered about the living room, chatting and sipping your drinks while you await the secret agents’ return, and Sinatra croons on in the background about having a love to keep him warm. Sidling up to Aaron, you rest your head on his sturdy shoulder and murmur a simple, “Hey.”

He turns to press his lips to your forehead and utters a, “Hey, you,” in return.

“Sorry the cat’s out of the bag after all these years,” you say, absentmindedly toying with the collar of his tie where he’s loosened it a bit.

“Oh, honey, don’t apologize,” Aaron admonishes lightly, shifting his position so he can snake an arm around you and you can settle more snugly into his side. “Honestly, I’m amazed we kept it under wraps for so long.”

You let your hand drift further upwards, now tracing a little heart into Aaron’s cheek with your index finger. Emily clearly used a heavy hand in her role as bartender. “Really?”

Your husband curls his hand around your wrist to guide it closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to the pad of your finger. “Really,” he affirms. “Y’know, these guys had a bet going about my birth date but…” He leans closer like he’s about to let you in on a secret, and you sit up straighter, all business. “Dave and I had a bet going about who would spill first. That little chatterbox,” he murmurs, inclining his head toward your sleeping toddler, “or her chatterbox mom.”

“I resent that.”

“I know.”

With a huff, you kiss his cheek, then his nose, and then his lips. “But I’ll let it slide since it’s your birthday.”

The lights in the living room grow dim then, and Penelope enters with a small cake in hand, her face lit up by a ring of candles. “Derek said we shouldn’t mortify you by singing, but I couldn’t resist at least getting candles, sir.” She sets the cake down on the coffee table before taking a step back as the rest of your family gathers around. Your little girl barely stirs in Spencer’s arms when he approaches, while Jack slips into the spot next to his dad and instructs, “Make a wish!”

“Oh, buddy,” Aaron laughs warmly, looking around at your big family with a smile before kissing the top of his head and affectionately squeezing your knee, “what more could I wish for?”

__________

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

[noxturnalnymph]

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales  x  F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) 

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749  (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig. 

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle. 

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge. 

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time. 

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination. 

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping. 

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck. 

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit. 

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits? 

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you. 

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to. 

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips. 

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers. 

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too. 

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt. 

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given. 

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back. 

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.” 

There it is. It’s out there now. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help. 

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year. 

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that. 

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time. 

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam. 

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music. 

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you. 

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

.

3:03am

Hey

Hi

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

Hi

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother 

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

Oh

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Who I'm Willing To Write For

I don't know if I'm being paranoid but people seem to be not liking my posts as they usually do. So I'm going to simplify my Masterlist because I haven't written for most of these.

So I'm going to add these here. Remember the characters are color-coded by what Hogwarts house I think they're in and since Tumblr removed the yellow color, Orange will represent Hufflepuff except in the condition of Good Omens' Crowley who I am stuck between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. If you disagree, please give me your best argument and I'll offer my insight of David Tennant's Crowley.

Ninth Doctor - Brooding Time Lord Who Tries To Hide His Light with Darkness

Tenth Doctor - Hyperactive Time Lord Who Is Always Being Slapped Born From His Love For a Human Who Tries To Hide His Darkness and Trauma With Light

Metacrisis Doctor/TenToo (My Headcanon is that he chose the surname "Noble")

Fourteenth Doctor - The Face That Returned, now arguably more Hyperactive and Traumatized

Campbell Bain - Bipolar Nineteen-Year-Old Walking Ray of Sunshine That Somehow Doesn't Do Well With Girls

Alec Hardy (Broadchurch) - Grumpy and Broody Scottish Detective With a Heart Condition yet a Heart of Gold (Doesn't Know He's a DILF)

Emmet Carver (Gracepoint) - The American Version of Alec

Crowley (Good Omens) - A Hyperactive Drama Queen "Vaguely Sauntered Downward" Angel Turned Only Demon with an Imagination

Barty Crouch Junior - The (Possibly Bipolar) Misunderstood Boy Who Never Got His Father's Love and Was Manipulated By Voldemort (I think I read that he was actually a Ravenclaw but I do see a lot of Hufflepuff in him, his insistence of a fair fight and honesty and loyalty)

Peter Vincent (Fright Night) - Hyperactive Alcoholic Magician/Vampire Hunter with a Heart of Gold

Dave Tiler (Single Dad) — The sweetheart dad with too many children with so much love in his heart who fate was so cruel to.

Kilgrave (I've never seen Jessica Jones, I just feel like with him having the same accent and looks the same, it might ruin David Tennant's Doctor for me, and I love David Tennant as the Doctor.)

Cale Erendreich (Bad Samarian; Haven't Seen This Either)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things) - The Hair; Nomenee for Mother of the Year

Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf) - The Abused Puppy With a Heart of Gold Who Only Wanted the Power to Defend Himself and To Not Be Scared

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - The Genius Pretty Boy

Raymond Wadsworth

Chip Taylor (68 Kill)

Kyle Orfman

Lesley Juniment-Smith

Thornton "Thorn" Adams (King Knight)

Joe Harper (The Band of Robbers)

Fred Weasley

Yes, there are a lot of David Tennant characters. I don't want to write for the actor himself, I just feel a little creepy doing that. In my numerous Steve Harrington fics, the more recent ones (The OC is always Dustin's older sister, except in one) I think he is the best Doctor and I think he should officially be titled as the biggest Doctor Who Fan ever. (He became an actor because of Doctor Who, he says he thinks he underplays how much he loved Doctor Who, he became the first regenerated Doctor and the first one to last more than one season on the revived Doctor Who, he met his future father-in-law, like a year before he met his wife, Ty Tennant, Georgia's oldest son and David's now adopted son, in 2008, considered the Tenth to be his favorite, and hilariously, his grandfather was nowhere on the five-year-old's list--then David Tennant met Georgia (at the time) Moffat on the set of Doctor Who as she, the daughter of the Fifth Doctor, played the daughter of the Tenth Doctor, I heard that David Tennant met Ty on the set, and according the Peter Davidson, Georgia didn't even realize that he liked her when they started going out (apparently he was offended when she said she hadn't seen any Shakespeare), then David Tennant counts as the unofficial twelfth regeneration (there was the War Doctor who the Doctors deem as not worthy of having the name of the Doctor), then he adopted Ty Tennant and married Georgia; he returned for the 50th and 60th anniversary (and I hope he never stops returning), now is the Fourteenth Doctor, that's three official regenerations, and Good Omens is full of Doctor Who references. I don't think anyone can beat him for the biggest Doctor Who fan. His life like revolves around Doctor Who in a way that every fanboy/fangirl dreams of. *(Can't pinpoint what house Alec Hardy and therefore Emmet Carver would be in, the only blog I've found on it, discussed how he may be a burnt Hufflepuff (just google it, it'll send you to the tumble immediately) but discusses his desperation in season two suggests Gryffindor, also implying his ignoring of his heart condition but he's aware that he has it, so he's gone to the hospital and he takes pills, he's just aware that the doctors told him that he may not survive his surgery to have the pacemaker put in and he feels like he owes it to the families to get the closure they deserve, so it doesn't strike me as impulsive but more dedicated, determined, and "unafraid of toil". Then the blog argues that his need to protect people he views as in his care and how he related to the Sandbrooke case as Slytherin but I don't see that. I think perhaps a "Burned Hufflepuff" is accurate.*

[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother (Pt 2)

Summary: it’s your first morning in Scarlett’s house and after an argument with your dad you find yourself leaning on Scarlett

Word Count: 2.1k

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You flopped down dramatically onto your mattress, hitting it slightly harder as it was only laying against the floor. “Thanks Dave” you said as you rolled onto your back “no problem darl” he smiled. Dave was one of the movers helping you and your dad move into his girlfriend’s place, he had single handily got all your furniture up to your new bedroom on the second floor. In just a few hours you had got to know Dave well, it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t see you as the girl whose mom had died. Dave picked up the last of cardboard boxes on the floor “welcome home darl” he said. You smiled politely but couldn’t quite thank him, because this wasn’t your home. It was Scarlett’s home. Yes, Scarlett Johansson. “Bye Dave” you waved as the mover gently closed your door. You sat up slowly on your mattress, looking around at all the furniture you would have to re build tomorrow. In reality, the size of the room made it look like a lot less work, you were worried about how you would fill all this empty space. You heard laughter from downstairs, reminding you of the two love birds down on the first floor. Colin, your dad had managed to fill his empty space, but you weren’t quite so open. You didn’t want a new mom, you wanted your mom.

It was late by the time everyone was someone settled and Scarlett decided to treat the three of you to takeout, as if it was a dent in her purse spending $30. You decided to eat in your room, wanting to be alone for a while. Your dad had tried to convince you to sit with them but you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop the gag in the bag of your throat seeing them so lovey dovey. “Ok Kid, we’ll come say goodnight in a bit” Colin said as you trudged back up the stairs. “She hates me” Scarlett sighed, looking down at her engagement ring. “She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t know you that well yet” Colin said as he wrapped an arm around his partner. “It’s not been easy since her mom, she’s not as adaptable as me. It’ll take time but one day you and her will be the best of friends” he said. “Do you think so?” Scarlett asked “I know so. She’ll never admit it but when she was little I tried to get her into superhero’s. Black widow was her favourite before she watched Harry Potter and decided that that would be her entire personality” Colin smiled, Scarlett smiled as the little story. “I know deep down she’s excited to get to know you, she’s just scared. She thinks I’m replacing her mom, I just wish I could tell her that would never happen. But I have moved forward, and I’m happy. I’m so happy with you” Colin said as he lent forward to kiss Scarlett’s forehead. “Let’s eat, then we can say goodnight to y/n and snuggle up in OUR bedroom” Scarlett said with a wide smile.

Waking up in a new unfinished bedroom felt strange, what felt even more strange was the sound. At your old house, you would wake up to the birds singing, no matter the time. Living next to a large field had its perks and you loved the fresh air that came rushing into your bedroom every morning. You felt stiff having slept on a thin mattress against the bare floor, stretching out your sore muscles felt so good. You checked your phone briefly, seeing it was still very early. Your stomach growled as you looked over at the untouched takeout from last night, food had been the last thing on your mind sitting in your new room. You figured it would be a bad idea to eat next day cold chicken, so you ventured down to the kitchen in search of breakfast. It had only just gone 6am so you were surprised to hear cluttering coming from the kitchen. Shuffling in slowly, you saw Scarlett at the stove, pouring what looked to be pancake mix into the pan. Your heavy footsteps alerted the blonde to your presence “morning y/n” she said as she turned around to give you a warm smile, making you cringe internally. “Morning” you said as you crossed the room.

Scarlett continued her actions until she noticed your confused glance “thought I’d whip up a little something for breakfast, I’m a bit of an early riser so was gonna surprise your dad with breakfast in bed” she said as she flipped a pancake. The sweet tone of her voice infuriated you and without thinking you spoke your true thoughts “my mom used to do that for dad, she made her pancakes from scratch though” you coldly said, not missing the slight frown in Scarlett’s features. “Well I’m not the best at cooking” she said as she painted a smile back on her face “I did get a vegan mix tho, your dad told me you don’t eat dairy” she finished. “You’re making me pancakes?” You questioned, feeling slightly guilty at your earlier outburst. “Oh if you want something else feel free to help yourself. I have oat milk for cereal and there’s some eggs if you’d like those” Scarlett said, delicately moving the hot pancake from the pan to the plate. “I could make you some bacon if you’d prefer or perhaps some sausages?” Scarlett continued as she listed off the long list of breakfast items she had. “Can you just stop!” You yelled out suddenly, Scarlett froze at your outburst. “You don’t have to do…all this! I can take care of myself ok. I know you weren’t expecting some random teenager to be dumped with you when you got involved with my dad but I wasn’t exactly expecting a new mom. And just so we’re clear, I’m not looking for one either!” You yelled as you stormed out of the kitchen and stomped back up the stairs.

The noise from downstairs had woken Colin up and you brushed past him on your way back to your bedroom. “Y/n?” He said as you stormed past him with tears coating your cheeks. Your dad decided not to press you straight away, he’d learned early on after your mom passed that it was important for you to let out your emotions. Colin headed downstairs to see if his fiancé might be more open to talking. Walking in slowly, he saw a saddened looking Scarlett standing by the stove “honey?” He said softly. “You’re supposed to be in bed” she said as she turned to Colin “I was making pancakes for you” she said sadly. “What happened?” Colin asked as he made his way over to Scarlett. “Does y/n think I’m gonna replace her mom?” She spoke quietly. “Is that what she said?” Colin asked “well sort of” Scarlett said with a large frown. Colin ushered his fiancé over to the kitchen island where they sat together hand in hand. “She just said that she’s not looking for a new mom. She got upset when I was giving her some ideas for breakfast” Scarlett said. “Oh my god she’s so dramatic” your dad sighed “I’ll have a word and get to her apologise, she’s not gonna get away with being so rude” Colin said angrily as he rose from his seat. “I don’t think she meant it like that” Scarlett called, pausing Colin’s movements “she just got…overwhelmed. Maybe I came on too strong, I just wanted her to feel welcomed” the blonde frowned.

Back in your room, you sat in silence letting the guilt consume you. It was only when you heard the thumping footsteps outside your door did you finally return to reality. “What the hell is the matter with you!” Colin shouted as he threw open your bedroom door “I told you that you would be respectful to Scarlett and then you go and talk to her like that!” He yelled. “I’m sorry” you whispered under your breath “I’m not finished!” your dad screamed as he interrupted you “I am running out of options with you y/n, this behaviour has to stop! You are not the only one who lost your mom and it would be nice if you could just appreciate that I am happy. You may not like it but I am with Scarlett now and you are just gonna have to get used to it because this is reality now! I’m getting sick of you.” Colin said as you just sat and took your medicine. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain or apologise before he was out the door, bumping into Scarlett on the way. “You’re supposed to be taking a shower” she said with a disappointed glance. “I’m now going” Colin said in a huff as he brushed her off. “If that’s how you talk to her it’s no wonder she gets riled up so quickly” Scarlett said softly “what would you know? You’re not a mother are you” Colin said as he slammed the bathroom door closed.

Your door was gently pushed open and you glanced up cautiously to see Scarlett carrying through a tray of food. “Brought you some pancakes” she said brightly, slowly depositing the tray atop your desk. You could see the glimmer of sadness behind Scarlett’s eyes “I heard what my dad said to you, I’m sorry” you said. “It’s not your fault y/n” Scarlett said as she sceptically came to sit with you. “If I hadn’t made him angry he wouldn’t of said it, so I’m sorry” you sheepishly said “and I’m sorry for what I said too” the blonde placed her hand on your shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting touch “does he usually speak to you like that when he’s mad?” She asked. “You heard?” You said in an embarrassed tone “could hear him from downstairs” Scarlett replied. “He expects a lot from me, especially since mom died” you frowned. Scarlett had never seen such an angry side to Colin, she found herself feeling somewhat protective over you, despite her unconditional love for your dad. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you like that” the older woman said “he’s just going through a lot” you said, trying to find excuses for your dads behaviour. “So are you” Scarlett said as she rested her arm around your shoulders. You felt tears well up in your eyes and couldn’t resist but to lean into Scarlett’s embrace. You didn’t expect it to be so warm and so comfortable, something that felt almost like home. You forgot for a second that you weren’t basking in the comfort of your mom and sat up quickly to wipe your eyes. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with me being all hormonal and teenagery” you said while rubbing at your nose with your sleeve “thank you for breakfast” you said ending the conversation. Scarlett smiled as she stood up and left your room.

It was lunchtime when you next dared to venture out of your room, once again in search of food. Silence followed you throughout the large house as you journeyed towards the kitchen. You helped yourself to an apple from the spotless fruit basket on the corner counter. “Hey kiddo” your dad said from behind, startling you slightly. “Hi” you said questioningly over your shoulder, you watched as Colin took a seat at the island counter and assumed he wanted you to do the same. “Y/n I’m sorry about this morning, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that” Colin said “it’s no excuse but I guess the move has been harder on me than I thought it would. I know you miss your mom sweetie and so do I but I just want you to get along with her” he finished with a face full of regret. “It’s okay, I forgive you” you said quietly before taking the first bite of your apple. “Scarlett said you got a bit upset, it was her who made me realise I was wrong, she was really mad at the way I spoke to you” Colin said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh mother of the year everybody” you said sarcastically, making your dad raise his eyebrows at you in a warning way “sorry” you huffed. Assuming the conversation was over you made a break for your bedroom “fancy a movie night later?” Your dad said pausing your movements “the 3 of us, your pick first?” He said as he walked up next to you “I think Scarlett might like another little hug” he said with a cheeky grin. you watched as he went into the living room, slightly annoyed that he knew about your slip up. Deep down, you knew the hug felt nice, but you remained decided - Scarlett isn’t your mom, she never will be.

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[piarelei]

Scars

Once again, needed to write something low commitment. Can be seen as a Bullseye sequel. All you need to know is that Jake's dad knows about the Gay Thing, it's Hangster established relationship and that's it.

When he was 14 years old, Jake jumped the fence to follow after his big brothers and scratched his hip badly enough against a nail that he had to get stitches for it. His brothers told this story for every single friend that Jake brought home. Bradley, coming over on false pretense of needing to get away from California during leave, is no exception. 

Jake had hoped that Bradley would fit right in, home turf close enough to a locker room that it would still feel like familiar ground, but he didn’t expect how much. Jake, the ugly (queer) duckling, consequently felt a bit out of touch with his own family. 

“And then,” continued Dave over his siblings’ laughter, “he hid in his emo hoodie the whole way home, like we wouldn’t know he was crying if we couldn’t see it.” 

“Jake? Emo?” Bradley asked, scrunching up his nose. 

Jenny cackled. “Oh yeah! Big emo phase for this one.” 

“Come on, it was barely a few months!” Jake protested. He knew better than to deny it completely. 

“Please,” Sam said, punching Jake in the shoulder. “I spent several summers home from college trying to drown out your music. A few months, my ass!”

“Language,” their father corrected tiredly, watching over the chaos without participating. 

Bradley looked unfortunately delighted by the idea. “Does Javy know?” 

Jake made a face. “Yes, but I have enough blackmail on his ass that it’s never getting out.” 

“Language,” their father tried again, sighing. 

“Well, the emo phase stopped soon after Sophie Rivers joined bible study, didn’t it?” Dave pushed on, tongue in cheek. 

Jake shared a look with his father, who held his gaze with his usual gravitas. 

Jake cleared his throat. “Right, about that…”

“Who wants something?” asked their mother, coming from the kitchen with oven mitts on and something delicious between her hands. 

The clamor of yeses drew the moment away from Jake. He sighed forcefully and reached for a plate of peach cobbler. There would be other times. 

#

His mother, having an uncharacteristically full house, had profusely apologized to Bradley when she had announced that they would have to share Jake’s room. Jake had tried not to combust with maniacal laughter at the news. 

She would get a mattress ready on Jake’s floor, of course. Of course. 

The moment she had been gone, Jake had locked the door and pushed Bradley on his bed, feeling filthy with lust, but unable to stop the wicked desire of having his boyfriend in his childhood bed. It had been a short, but incredible bout of cardio. By the time his brothers had come back carrying a mattress and linens, they were red-cheeked but free of sin. 

At night, curled together despite the heat, Bradley traced the scar on Jake’s hip. 

“You told me you got this bull-riding,” Bradley said, words like a kiss on Jake’s collarbone. 

Jake hummed. “Well. I was following them to a rodeo.”

Bradley laughed. “There’s exaggerating and there’s that.” 

“Well, I couldn’t let you win with all your cool scars stories.”

Bradley snorted. “My scars don’t make me cool. They make me scared of dogs.” 

Jake blindly found Bradley’s head and patted his hair back, soothingly. “We’ll adopt a cat, then. Call him Whiskers.”

“Whisky, for short.” 

“Atta boy.”

Jake was falling asleep when Bradley spoke again. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to come out earlier.” 

Jake fought Morpheus to blink back into the darkness of the room. He sighed. “Well. You could still kiss me at breakfast.” 

Bradley snorted. “Sure, I’ve made bigger sacrifices. If that’s what it takes.” 

“This might kill my mother, actually.” 

Bradley’s arms tightened around Jake. “No reason. She loves you.” 

Jake snuffled Bradley’s hair, breathing in the comforting smell of his shampoo. “You don’t know the kind of stuff they say at church here.” 

“Your dad had no issue.” 

“My dad knows better than to decide things for me. He was never for the whole Navy thing, but he trusts my decisions… My mom, on the other hand, she wants to write the entire story.” 

Bradley caressed his back, his broad palm suffusing comfort. “Sorry.”

Jake remembered with a sudden sense of shame that Bradley still mourned the loss of gus parents. “God, who the fuck am I complaining to. This is stupid, forget it.” 

“No… Sometimes, I think it’s easier to not have any parents. Not often, but… I’ll never know, yeah? I’ll never know so I might as well.”

Jake hummed, shifting impossibly closer. “But you have Mav now, yeah?” 

Bradley smiled in the dark. Jake couldn’t see it but he knew. 

“Mav invented bisexuality. He has no opinion on us dating over than he’s grossed out by his kid having sex.” 

“Gross. Now I’m thinking about Mav having sex.”

“Please, this is nothing compared to my trauma. He gave me the Talk. Twice, when he found me kissing a basketball teammate.” 

“Fuck me, that’s something.” 

“Yeah. Well, it was useful, but it put me off any sort of sex for months.” 

Jake chuckled. “Well, you don’t seem scarred.” 

Bradley’s hands pulled Jake closer for a kiss. “Well, you know. Some things are just too good to resist.”

Hope you liked it, I needed to create something. Show some love with a reblog!