#so for you to stand there with zero fucking words written to your name and you come at me with petty bullshit

[vully-andthegoose]

whenever someone comments something along the lines of “well actually that probably couldn’t happen/is wrong” or whatever and i get to put my countless hours of research to use and be like “it’s literally canon” and reference my sources down to the chapter or minute i feel like that gif of aslan when he’s like “do not cite the deep magic to me, witch, i was there when it was written”

and regardless, did u not see the gigantic CANON DIVERGENT in the tags or did u just choose to ignore it

[skz317cb97]

Work it Out

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 3.1k (DRABBLES I TELL YOU!)

Synopsis: Chan asks you to come check out the new pilates machines the guys just got but poor Channie is not very bendy, unlike you.

A/N: Look.... I dunno I have no excuse I hope you enjoy regardless! If you do please reblog, comment, slide into my asks, like, feedback is the ultimate motivation! As always warnings and smut below the cut! 4/8

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Cursing/strong language, oral (f receiving), overstimulation/forced orgasm, squirting, unprotected piv sex (please use protection always but ESPECIALLY if you have multiple partners!), cum shot, cum eating, rimming, lots of dirty talking, alluding to having unprotected anal sex and cream pie, praise, pet names (baby, of course baby girl), rough sex, slight dumification, spit play (a little), I think that's it, there's a lot in this so if I missed something please do let me know so I can add it!

After Jisung made you cum three times on his tongue, which is not an easy feat to do, he helped you try to not look quite so fucked out when you were getting ready to leave. You went to walk out of the studio so Jisung could get back to work and he gently grabbed your wrist and stopped you.  

“Are you... are we...” He looked so worried. You smiled and hugged Jisung then pecked his lips and took a line from Minho’s book. 

“Don’t think too much okay? We’re two friends that wanted to screw around and so we did. Did you like it?” Jisung let out a deep breath and laughed. 

“Fuck yes!” You smiled sweetly at him. 

“Good I did too, maybe we can do it again some time.” Jisung seemed much calmer seeing you so relaxed and after hearing you say that. 

“Absolutely!” He said, his smile beaming. 

“Good now I’ll see you this Monday for board game night. Tell Seungmin I said no Monopoly it makes Felix sad when he has to go to jail.” You pecked his lips one more time and left the studio. The Monday night game night ended up being chaos as usual. Since Seungmin couldn’t pick Monopoly he picked Life instead and when Felix lost his job and got a lawsuit he started to get those big sparkly anime eyes. You made a mental note to remind yourself to put salt in Seungmin’s next cup of coffee for making Yongbok sad. Chan who was sitting next to you during the board game, leaned over and whispered. 

“Don’t put salt in Seungmin’s coffee...” You giggled a little and whispered back. 

“How did you-” Chan laughed and his eyes scrunched up. 

“It’s practically written on your face. He found a loophole fair and square.” You pressed your lips together. 

“I’m not convinced. What about mayo in a donut?” Chan shook his head no. 

“Toothpaste in his orange juice?” Chan cringed. 

“Remind me never to make you mad.” You laughed. 

“Oh yea! I almost forgot! We got a couple new pilates machines set up in the workout room now. Haven’t got to use them yet why don’t you come over tomorrow and we can check em out!” 

“Sounds good to me!” You looked over at Seungmin who was smirking as his eyes were zeroed in on poor Felix just as he realized he was getting divorced in the game. You leaned over to Chan and whispered again. 

“Oh that’s it me and Felix are baking him a batch of salted cookies together.” Chan laughed and shook his head.  

The next day you met Chan to do pilates as discussed. When Chan answered the door and saw you he lagged for a second. You were standing there in a sports bra and spandex shorts, hair pulled back, water bottle in hand. Chan of course was in his signature shorts and tank top with a pair of under armor leggings underneath in addition. He quickly caught up with his brain and moved aside to let you in. 

“Hey y/n! You ready?” You walked in bouncing on your toes. 

“Oh yea already did some stretching. I’m loosey goosey.” You bent over and touched your toes. Chan cleared his throat and tried to not look at your full round ass, unsuccessfully. You popped back up and so did Chan’s eyes. 

“So let’s check these things out. Maybe you’ll be able to bend a little easier with the machine’s help.” Chan nodded.  

“Maybe I guess we’ll see.” He led you to the room they designated for the gym equipment and when you walked in there were two pilates reformers set up right next to each other. You ran over to the first one. 

“Okay it’s super cool that you guys have these. Let's get going Channie boy, hop on.” Chan raised his eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes but giggled. 

“Get your head out of the gutter and get on your machine.” He laughed and his dimples appeared as he got onto the machine next to yours. You started with a few simple exercises first and Chan seemed to be keeping up okay. You tried one a bit harder and you could hear Chan starting to grunt, which did things to your body at the most inappropriate of times. You pushed those thoughts and feelings down and moved into another position that really bent and stretched you out. Chan screamed out dramatically in pain and let go flopping down on the machine. 

“Oh come on Channie we just started.” You stretched into the pose deeper. He was red and sweaty and the veins on his neck and arms were popping. Focus. 

“No way I can’t do that, I’m not bendy. I’ll just help you. You can spot me on weights later.” Chan winked at you and you felt your body betray you and flush again. Chan looked you over in your position. 

“Wow you’re really bendy!” You again tried to pull yourself together and started the next exercise. Chan placed his hand on your leg and helped you stretch and lean into the new pose while keeping you steady. His hand gently squeezed the soft flesh it held onto as your leg came back down. 

“I saw this really good stretch for your adductors. Move and get on like this.” He guided you to lay on your back, hips at the edge of the carriage, legs up, and bent at the knee. Then he grabbed the pully straps and helped you place your feet in them. 

“There now push into the straps on your feet.” You did. You grunted and you could feel the muscles of your inner thighs contract. You relaxed back into the resting position which you couldn’t lie didn’t leave much to the imagination with your shorts on, you just hoped they weren’t wet with all that moaning and groaning Chan was doing earlier. Suddenly Chan stepped over the side rail of the machine and was between your legs. He put his hands on the insides of your thighs and your whole body buzzed. 

“Push again.” You pressed into the pully straps and felt Chan squeeze as your thighs tightened. 

“You feel that?” His voice was an octave lower. You blushed and nodded, a little sweat starting to bead on your forehead. You relaxed and slid back into your original position and Chan’s crotch was perfectly lined up with yours. His hands slid from the insides of your thighs to the outsides and started massaging up and down, getting dangerously close to your ass each time. 

“I need to tell you something but I need to preface this something by first saying I’m not just a pervert or anything.” You scrunched up your face and looked at the position you were in and then him. 

“Yea okay but seriously.” You laughed and nodded. 

“Okay let the record reflect that Chan is in fact not just a pervert.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“Just tell me what you need to tell me Channie.”  

“Okay so I was going through unnamed files on the computer at the studio and I came across one that was really long, which was weird. So I put my headphones in and clicked it and... well... it seems as though Jisung accidently hit studio record when you guys were uh...” Chan did not even need to finish the sentence you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Oh my fucking god you heard us!?” Your head thunked down on the carriage and your hands covered your eyes. Chan kept rubbing your thighs trying to reassure you. 

“No all of it! Well at least not at first.” You looked through your fingers as Chan stood nervously between your legs. 

“What do you mean not at first?” Chan bit at his plump bottom lip. 

“Well I went to click it off right? And I accidently skipped ahead and maybe might have heard your moaning.” You looked at him waiting for the rest of his explanation. 

“So you know I turned it off quickly after that but your moaning was echoing in my head after hearing it through my headphones. I’m not proud but I clicked it back on and listened to Jisung eat you out. Your moans were so fucking pretty and my dick has been rock hard every time I’m around you since and I just really want to taste your pussy and fuck you right on this machine, make you moan like that for me. Make you scream for me.” He slid his hands down your thighs again but this time he gripped your ass by the handful. You would be a bold-faced liar if you said your cunt didn’t clench and gush hearing Chan say those words and grabbing you. If your shorts weren’t ruined before they definitely were now. You were apprehensive regardless of how your body was reacting. 

“Chan I... I have to be honest Jisung isn’t the only one of the guys that I’ve... well... done stuff with...” Chan nodded.  

“I know baby girl you were with Minho.” 

“And Changbin.”  

“Oh.” You looked away embarrassed and covered your face not wanting to see how Chan was surely looking at you, waiting for the disgust and slut shaming that was sure to come. You had fucked or sucked three of his friends and now look at you, dripping and clenching for him. Chan leaned over you and pulled your hands away. 

“Hey, I don’t care if you’ve messed around with them. That’s none of my business. My business is here between these sexy legs.” Chan palmed and rubbed your pussy with his whole hand over your tight shorts and you let out a choked moan. 

“Should I stop?” You should say yes. You definitely shouldn’t be fucking a fourth friend but your brain wasn’t making the decicisons anymore. 

“No...” You said breathy as he pressed his fingers harder against your cunt rubbing you up and down slowly. 

“Don’t stop Channie.” He hummed and smiled. 

“You gonna let me eat that pretty pussy?” You nodded as you started panting. 

“Yes Channie.”  

“Mhm... you gonna let me fuck your tight little hole on this machine yea?” Your shorts were completely soaked with your juices as Chan rubbed your whole pussy faster. 

“Mmmm! YES CHANNIE! Want you to fuck me so hard on this!” Chan knelt down in front of your wet shorts he gripped the seam of them and ripped them apart exposing your perfect glazed cunt.  

“So fucking pretty, god damn baby girl, such a pretty little pussy. Needs cleaned though.” Chan’s tongue swiped through your folds. 

“Taste so sweet, sweet little cunt, gonna eat it so good.” Chan hooked his arms around your legs that were still suspended in the pully straps and started to go crazy on your pussy. Licking sucking slurping, he’d stop long enough to spred your pussy lips and spit on your cunt before rubbing it all over your clit hard and then diving back in and slurping on you more. You could feel his saliva and your arousal dripping down your ass. Chan’s tongue swiped lower collecting your juices and his spit and when his tongue gently brushed against your asshole you clenched hard. Chan’s grip around your thighs tightened. 

“You like how it feels when I lick your ass baby girl? Want me to eat that too you pretty little thing? Come here give me that tight little hole.” Chan let go of your legs and pushed your thighs back so your asshole and pussy were easily accessible. Chan spit on your sensitive pussy then on your asshole and started gently teasing it with the tip of his tongue. He was eye level with your cunt and saw how hard you clenched when he teased it. It egged him on and he started eating your ass with enthusiasm, licking a broad stripe from hole to clit from time to time, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves before tonguing your ass again. Chan’s fingers started teasing your clit as he continued to circle his tongue around your asshole and you came so hard you were screaming Chan’s name, thankful none of the other guys were home. 

“CHAN OH FUCK... CH-CHANNIE FUCK FUCK YES!” Both of your hands rested on Chan’s head and pushed his face against your ass and pussy harder. He fucking loved it he wrapped his arms around your legs again and was ravenous the way he continued to push you through your orgasm into overstimulation. 

“CHAN FUCK CHAN F- YOU GOTTA ST-FUCK GOTTA STOP!” He only hummed shaking his head no. He was hell bent on making you cum again. He slid two fingers inside of you and started pumping them deep and hard as he drank everything your dripping cunt gave him. He stopped eating your pussy long enough to coach and praise you. 

“Such a good girl, don’t squirm now baby girl fuck so good, taste amazing, can’t get enough of eating you. Want you to cum for me again baby girl, want you to squirt on my face.” He started sucking on your clit hard, pumping his fingers into you with precision hitting that detonate button inside you over and over again. He hummed as he sucked hard on your clit and you were glad your feet were in those straps. Your body contorted, your back arching as you came as hard as you ever had and started squirting. Chan finger fucked you harder slurping at your juices until your legs trembled in the straps. Finally Chan pulled off of you. You laid there chest heaving up and down legs shaking still being held up by the pully straps. Chan stood up, whipped his shirt off and wiped his face before tossing it then dropping his shorts, pants, and briefs all at once. He leaned over you and you could feel his warm hard cock press against your extremely sensitive cunt. He grabbed your sports bra and ripped it apart freeing your breasts which he immediately started sucking on as he continued to rub his throbbing cock against your slick folds making you twitch and shudder. He squeezed your tits and pushed them together. You laid there still in a haze from the mind-blowing orgasms. 

“Condom baby girl?” You just shook your head side to side. 

“B-I’m on... I’m on birth control.” Chan bit his bottom lip so hard he drew blood. 

“You’re gonna let me fuck you raw baby girl?” You took another deep breath still trying to come down and nodded. 

Chan grabbed his cock and lined it up with your drenched hole. 

“Such a good girl letting me take her hole raw. I’m gonna fuck you so hard and then I’m gonna cum all over your cute fucked out little cunt.” You nodded and Chan slid his cock in and bottomed out in you immedetly. 

“CHANNIE!” He cooed at you. 

“I know baby I know shh shh, I said I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy hard and I’m going to fuck you hard.” He held onto your hips and started fucking you hard and deep, his hips slapping into your plump ass over and over as he railed you on the new pilates machine. 

“Tell me baby girl how’s that feel huh? You like the way my cock feels raw inside you?” You nodded babbling back to him unable to control the level of your voice and shouting. 

“Raw! YES RAW! Fuck me raw Channie! SO FUCKING GOOD CHANNIE! CH-CHANNIE I’M GONNA...” Your orgasm came out of nowhere as you continued to scream Chan’s name over and over. 

“God fuck yes squeeze my cock baby, cum all over it. I’m not done with you yet baby keep going.” He started teasing your clit and electricity buzzed through your whole body. The grunt that came from you was guttural as Chan pushed you past overstimulation again. 

“Can- ca-can't Channie fuck fuck I can’t.” Chan pushed sweaty fly aways out of your face and made you look at him. 

“You’re gonna.” With that Chan gripped your hips and started fucking you just as hard as he had been before. You laid there limp on that machine letting it hold your legs up for you at that point as Chan absolutely punished your pussy with his cock. 

“Next time you’re gonna let me fuck that tight little ass yea? Give me that little hole? FUCK have you ever been fucked in your ass baby girl?” You shook your head no unable to speak. 

“Oh you’ll be so tight baby I’d blow so fast, then watch you squeeze out my cum OH FUCK! You’d let me fuck your ass raw too right baby girl. Pump my cum deep in your ass and make you squeeze it back out.” Your whole body moved with his relentless thrusts, you nodded again. Chan spit on your pussy and then took four fingers and started rubbing them firmly and quickly over your clit as his cock filled you again and again, his spit and your juices dripping down his dick, your legs and ass. He rubbed your pussy as he fucked it hard and you started to squirt again. The moan that came from you turned into a whine and then just heavy breaths. Your cunt tried to force Chan’s cock out as you came hard but he held on to the base and kept shoving himself in deeper, again and again as your cum kept squirting out of you with each thrust. You were twitching, legs shaking, pulling at your hair and breasts. Chan’s hips started to falter. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it fast and hard right over your dripping swollen pussy.  

“Gonna paint this pretty cunt white... FUCK! Watch me cum on you baby, watch now watch me cum!” When you forced yourself to lift your head just to watch Chan cum on you he moaned and his cock twitched in his hand and he started coming. Stripes of his hot seed shot across your tummy and pussy lips and started to drip, Chan kept stroking his cock fast as more cum streaked across your slit and dripped down. He held on to his cock tightly and walked over by your face, presenting his it to you. 

“Suck it baby girl, get it all.” He put the tip of his dick in your mouth as you laid there completely fucked out again. You gently sucked on it collecting his taste and swallowing it.” Chan rubbed the tip of his cock across your pouty lips twitching and shuddering from his own overstimulation. You ran your fingers through the cum on your tummy and licked it off prompting Chan to run his fingers through your sensitive cunt and collect more before shoving three fingers in your mouth and making you suck them clean.  

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“Come on, let’s go shower. Wanna see you wash that pussy real good for me and I’ll let you eat all my cum you want baby girl.”  

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[inklore]

pretty when you cry.

— stepbro!patrick zweig x f!reader

premise: you hate him. hate how messed up the both of you are. can't stand how the two of you have been weened off of spoonfuls of poison force fed to you by your parents and the only antidote you've ever been able to stomach has been each other.

contents: messed up step sibling with benefits dynamic, p in v, plot and backstory heavy a lil, abusive parents, oral, marking, blood mention, dirty talk, degradation, dacryphilia | wc: 1.4k+

note: the demons i have inside of me when i think of this man are absolutely batshit and i should seek help. enjoy!

“What’re you gonna do?” The look on his face is aggravating. Obscene in the way it makes something burn beneath your rib cage and singe its way down between your thighs.

Your eyes ache from your efforts to not let the tears that have gathered at your ducts fall onto your cheeks. To roll down only for him to mock—lick away with the tongue that peaks out from his lips as he smirks. 

“You’re going to cry? Really? I thought you were better than that.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You can see the puff of air that ghosts through the cold night air as he laughs under his breath. Pulling out a cigarette, inhaling twice before it’s lit, and releasing the smoke from his lungs into your face. 

“No more tough girl act, huh?” 

“No more ass kissing for money, huh?” 

This time, his laugh is deeper. The look of arrogance on his face more menacing with the way the street light is beating down on the two of you. 

Family dinner. 

What a fucking joke. 

It barely took five minutes before Patrick was getting into it with his father, and your mother had a mouthful of words to berate you. You hadn’t known why they even invited you, let alone Patrick, to this wannabe Partridge family shitshow. 

Patrick’s father, having washed his hands with his son long ago, finding zero use in someone who wasn’t making him money. 

And your mother barely able to look at you without disappointment written all over her face because she can’t live vicariously through you anymore. The day your athletic career ended, so did her pretending that she actually cared about you.

“Shitty parents build character,” someone once told you. Had patted you on the back and gave you that tight lipped smile people always did when they didn’t want to pity you, but also had no idea what to say to the shit end of the stick you were dealt. 

A smile you’d love more than to smash your fist into. Over and over and over. 

It’s really no surprise the way you and Patrick turned out. No surprise, the two of you have been at each other's throats since day one. Your parents turned the two of you into their own little competitive rivals they could bet against, give love and money to when the other came out on top. When one was knocked down and the other was spitting blood with their fingers curled in the asphalt. 

Which is why it was also no surprise when Patrick found his way into your room one night. No surprise when your face was pushed into your pillow, his mouth at the back of your ear daring you to scream his name loud enough for your parents to hear. 

“Let them know who’s winning, baby.” 

And it’s no surprise how the nightly visits turned into rough encounters in the kitchen with you bent over the counter, your mother within earshot in the other room, or the countless hookups in his father's car. 

If you had good parents, maybe they would have noticed. 

Maybe your mother would have questioned you more about why your knees were all skinned up. And you would have to tell her some lie about tripping during practice when, in reality, Patrick had you on your knees in the gravel, gagging on his cock, before he fucked you against the chain link fence when he visited you at university one night. 

But instead, your mother grabbed a handful of your hair and told you not to lose her money. 

And while, yeah, you did hate Patrick. Have always hated Patrick—maybe even a stronger word that portrays the burning sensation you get in your chest and the urge you have to pick and chew at your own skin, or his—when he’s around.

There’s still a part of you that’s almost grateful that he ruined your tennis career. 

Fucked it up for you only for him to become a waste himself. 

You’ll never tell him that, though. 

Especially not with the sickening look he keeps giving you now. 

The end of his cigarette put out against the brick wall his shoulder leans against. You can smell the nicotine when he steps closer to you. Your nostrils filled with the cheap cologne you hate actually works for him. 

The tip of his nose ghosts against your cheek when he whispers in your ears, “if you want a real reason to cry, just ask, baby.” 

You hate him. 

You hate how causally cruel he can be. How it’s easier for him to bite you in bitterness and animosity than it was for him to pretend he isn’t repulsed by wanting you—just as you are him. 

Except your bites sting and mark up his pride until he’s half way across the country trying to prove himself, if only to make you bite him harder. 

But what you hate most of all is how good it feels. 

How his words make goosebumps prick your bare legs. How when he pulls back to look at you, his mouth centimeters from your parted lips, he’s blurry from the tears that have yet to fall. The tears that your mother caused. Tears that would taste so much sweeter if they were coming from him. 

Because of him. 

Your cheeks stained way too many nights with tears and come from Patrick. 

There’s a silent communication that happens when your scowl wavers and his eyes flash to your mouth. A confirmation not needing words when you feel his fingers run up the side of your thigh, getting just below your skirt before he’s gripping the back of it to pull your thighs apart. The indent of his fingers hard and throbbing when he’s let go and pushed his palm around and up to cup you through your panties. 

The nicotine on his tongue pushing its way through your open mouth as his lips feather yours as he speaks, a hitch of your breath when his index finger runs along the wet patch on your underwear, makes his mouth pull up. 

“God, why are you so fucking pathetic?” The pad of his finger pushes against your clothed clit. Your mouth twitching open in a moan you refuse to let slip out. “I bet you’ve been wet all night, trying not to rub your greedy pussy against your seat in hopes I’d let you have a taste of my cock tonight.” He smirks, “no wonder mommy’s disappointed in you.” 

His mouth finally presses to yours just as the tears left in your eyes fall. When his words make your body collide into his like a moth to the flame that’s going to burn it alive. Kill it. Relieve them of a bitter, shitty life. 

Your underwear is ruined by the time Patrick has it pulled down your thighs. Torn and stretched out, marking bruises and rashes into your skin that remind you of the nights he purposely made your skin bleed just to lick his tongue over it and smirk when your mother yelled at you the next morning for not looking like her perfect show pony. 

Only for the two of you to meet in the hall wet, hard, fucking against the wall that displayed your seemingly perfect family photos. 

Your nails dig into the brick wall. Bring dirt under them and skin the beds of them when you wrap them around Patrick’s hand against your throat. 

The sound of his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you hard and fast fills the alleyway. The pain of your pussy never having the opportunity to truly accommodate his size—to prepare for it—is exhilarating. Your inner thighs coated in your own slick. Your own shame. Your own pain that Patrick pulls out of you, causes you, eases into you, and adores you for just as much as he hates you for. 

“I hate you.” You choke out, swallow your moan, and hold it in until tears run down your cheeks. 

He groans against your cheek, “yeah? Fuck, say it again. Tell me how much you hate me. How much you hate how you can’t finger this little cunt without thinking of me even after all these years.” You can feel your knees grind against the brick; you know you’ll have scraps. You know you’ll press your finger into them for days, weeks, while they heal, and you think of Patrick. Fuck yourself from how wet the thought of him always makes you. 

Cry into your pillow in pleasure at how much you hate him. Hate yourself. Hate how fucked up the two of you are—how the two of you need this fucked up mess in order to live, breathe, come. 

Fuck, you’ve missed him. 

You clench your eyes shut as a hoarse cry is strangled from your lungs by his hands, cock, mouth against your jaw. 

“No one cries as pretty as you do, baby.” 

[roosterforme]

King of the Road | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley picks you up from a night out, you thank him orally on the ride home.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral sex, cursing

Length: 1900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series. But it can be read as a stand alone! Check my masterlist.

"Go have fun, Baby Girl. Call me when you want me to pick you up," Bradley told you, kissing your neck and nipping at you.  You leaned across the center of the front seat of his Bronco and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll call you around midnight," you whispered, before gently kissing the long scar on his neck. Then you hopped out onto the sidewalk, adjusting your short dress as you went. There was a line to get into the club for Ladies Throwback Night, with zero guys in sight.  "This is going to be so much fun!" Phoenix told you when you spotted her, and you both waved to Bradley as he pulled back into traffic. 

You recognized a lot of naval officers as you and Phoenix danced for hours with some other friends. The open bar was perhaps a little bit too enticing, so you kept going back for more drinks. Then your dancing got a little wilder, and you got to thinking about your boyfriend and how enticing he sounded at the moment.  "It's almost midnight!" you shouted over the music. "I'm going to call Bradley to pick me up soon. Want a ride home?" Phoenix shook her head. "Nah, I'll stay and get a Lyft later." ---------------------------------------- Bradley jumped up from the couch when you called. "Ready for me to come get you, Sweetheart?" "Yeah!" you said, but he could barely hear you over the music. "Come get me, sexy! I'm ready for you!" "On my way," he replied with a smirk. You were either tipsy, or horny, or both. He would deal with whatever you needed, based on what he found when he arrived at the club. But he was hoping you were horny.  When he pulled up to the curb in the club district about a half hour later, he saw you and Nat waiting further up on the sidewalk. And of course there were two guys chatting with you. "Thought this was supposed to be ladies' night," he muttered, putting the Bronco in park and turning the key. Bradley shook his head and looked at you in your skin tight red dress with your flushed cheeks. Your hair was messy now, and he was dying to touch you. He jumped out and walked around to the sidewalk. These guys were so obviously trying to pull you and Nat, he had to laugh. When you spotted him, your face lit up. "Bradley!" you called, wobbling a bit on your high heels as you took a few steps toward him. Oh, you were definitely pretty tipsy, and Nat didn't look much better.  The looks of dejection on the guys' faces as they turned and saw how big Bradley was made that smirk return to his face. "Bye Cooper! Bye Jackson!" you called to them, and they turned to slink down the sidewalk. You threw your arms around Bradley's neck and pressed the entire front of your body against his as you kissed him. He ran his fingers along your mostly exposed back before he pulled away and let his eyes dip down to your chest. You leaned back and pushed your tits harder against him, gazing up at him and biting your lip. Yeah, Bradley was getting lucky tonight.  "You girls have fun with Cooper and Jackson?" he asked sarcastically.  Nat giggled next to him. "They offered to take us to Pleasure Town." "What the fuck?!" Bradley asked, tightening his grip on you.  You and Nat erupted into laughter. "It's the name of a club around the corner," you told him, high fiving Phoenix when she raised her hand for you. "I told you it would piss him off," Nat said with a grin. "I'm going to head back inside. Night!" Bradley rolled his eyes and said, "Come on, Sweetheart. I'm taking you home. And then to Pleasure Town," he whispered, and you literally climbed him like a tree.  You were all giggly and grabby as he palmed your ass and carried you to the Bronco. "How much did you drink?" he asked as you started sucking on his Adam's apple.  "I mean.... I didn't keep track, Roo. It was nice, because it was all girls in the club, and I knew you'd come pick me up, so I didn't have to worry about it." Bradley held onto you possessively for an extra moment before he opened the door and set you down on the passenger seat. "I'll always take care of you," he promised, buckling you in and kissing the tops of your tits. "In every way." He heard you moaning as he closed the door and walked around to his door.  Bradley started the Bronco and pulled out into traffic, as you told him all about dancing with Phoenix. "So she was dancing like this," you said, shimmying back and forth. "And then I was doing like this sort of thing," you added, jerking around to a nonexistent song.  Bradley laughed; you looked absolutely ridiculously adorable. And now the strap of your dress was sliding off your shoulder and down your arm exposing even more of the tops of your tits. Bradley was pretty sure you weren't wearing a bra, and when you danced around again while he was at a red light, he leaned across the seat and kissed you there.  "Roo," you whispered as he licked as much of you as was exposed. He felt you thread your fingers through his hair just as the car behind him started honking.  Bradley shook his head before pressing the accelerator. "You looked too cute dancing like that. I'm happy you had a good time." Bradley had to reach down to adjust himself, and your eyes tracked his movement.  "What's wrong?" you asked, your voice dripping with innocence. Bradley adjusted his jeans again. "Nothing's wrong. You're just making me hard, Baby Girl. Dancing around in that tiny fucking dress with your tits on display. Your hair's a mess too. You look sexy." You scooted yourself a little closer to him, and soon he felt your hand on his thigh. He grinned as he drove, trying to maneuver around the late night traffic in the entertainment district.   "Thanks for picking me up. But you know, Roo.... sometimes it's nice when I get to take care of you." He felt your hand slide along the denim fabric of his jeans before your palm came to rest on his dick. He groaned loudly when you squeezed him and giggled again.  When you removed your hand from his throbbing cock, he let out the breath he'd been holding. But he glanced over to see you pulling your hair up into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic. Oh, he knew what that meant.... but surely not while he was driving. Then you were leaning toward him again, pulling his seatbelt up a bit, and reaching for the fly of his jeans. "Oh fuck," he moaned. He'd only been dreaming about getting road head for basically his entire adult life, but he never felt comfortable enough with a woman to ask for it. But here you were, already the perfect woman, and he didn't even need to ask.  You unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled his dick out. "What are you doing?" he asked breathlessly, changing lanes in traffic while you laughed and stretched out on your belly low along the seat. He already knew, but he wanted to hear you say it. "Gonna suck your cock," you said while you giggled even more. He felt all of his blood rush down south at your words. Bradley felt your hand wrap around him and he jumped against your palm. "You think that's funny, Baby Girl? You're awfully giggly down there." When he glanced across the seat, he saw the bare backs of your thighs were exposed almost up to your ass as your dress rode up higher. Then your lips touched his tip, and Bradley thought he was going to explode.  "Yes actually, I think sucking your cock is a lot of fun, Lieutenant," you told him as you stroked him with your hands and licked around his tip.  He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road instead of looking down to watch you kitten licking his dick. "Shit, Sweetheart. Okay, okay, this is hot." "Mmm," you hummed as you sucked on the head of his penis like it was a lollipop. "Better keep your eyes on the road, Roo," you told him before taking more of him between your lips.  "Fuck! And you better keep that seatbelt on," he warned as he stopped at another red light. He tilted his head to the left and leaned down to watch you bobbing your head up and down, sucking him hard as you took his entire length. "God damnit!"  More honking from behind him had him shifting his gaze back to the road. He made a left turn, swerving a bit out of his lane in the process. Your mouth felt somehow even better than usual as you swirled your tongue around him. He lifted his hips a bit as he drove to give you better access to him, and you hummed a bit in response. When a pickup truck pulled up next to the Bronco at the next stoplight, and Bradley tipped his head back, he was a little afraid someone would see what you were up to. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting and thrusting up into your mouth. "Feels so fucking good!" he grunted. You just bobbed faster in response, and Bradley grabbed the back of your neck and stroked you with his thumb. "Hey man! You're the king of the road!" shouted the passenger in the pickup as he caught a peek of what was happening in the Bronco. As soon as the light turned green, Bradley accelerated quickly with a smile on his face. "They definitely saw us," he informed you as you started bobbing faster. Then you started laughing again, and even that felt good to him. "Shit, Baby Girl," he grunted, making the final turn onto your street. You had worked your fingers gently inside his jeans and started gently massaging his balls. "Oh fuck. I'm really close." Bradley stopped the Bronco roughly in front of your house, slightly blocking the neighbor's driveway. He put it in park and leaned back a bit as you licked his full length, propped yourself up on your knees a bit, and went harder.  When he felt himself hit the back of your throat, he grasped you by the neck again and squeezed a little bit. You moaned as he filled your mouth with his cum, and your movements slowed as you lapped up every drop. With one final swirl of your tongue, you popped him out of your mouth and sat up. "Did you like that?" you asked, wiping the corner of your mouth with your index finger and licking it. Bradley pulled you closer to him, his hand still at the back of your neck, and kissed you hard, swiping his tongue into your mouth. He could taste himself faintly there. "That was incredible," he murmured against your lips, pulling back just slightly to look at your pretty face.  You licked your lips and smiled at him, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. "I always wanted to try that. Seemed like a fun time to do it, especially since you're a very safe driver. All about those seatbelts." Bradley smirked before putting the car in drive and moving the Bronco into your driveway. "Let's get inside so I can show you just how much I appreciated that."

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, nonny! And thank you to @bradshawsbitch

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[blossom-hwa]

memory lane | j.yh

I'm nearly two years late but in my defense I had this written for months already, I was just too lazy to create a graphic for it until now. anyway, this was sparked by the memory lane trip that dr. strange took in multiverse of madness - there are definitely spoilers (check the warnings below) and this story might be confusing if you haven't seen the dr. strange and spiderman movies so keep that in mind!

I made some changes to the plots of both movies, so bear this in mind - y/n instead of mingi (ned's counterpart) is the one with sorcery potential and later joins dr. strange at the sanctum, so y/n is the one who goes universe hopping with america chavez and ends up replaying memories they'd forgotten from when dr. strange erased all memories of spiderman (yunho). this story takes place after they've defeated wanda and returned to the sanctum. this should sum up the biggest changes, hope it helps :)

Pairing: Yunho x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst (happy ending), Spiderman!au

Warnings: spoilers for the last Dr. Strange and Spiderman movies

Word Count: 5.3k

When you return to the Sanctum, armed with a name and the knowledge of a love you don't remember, you go searching for answers. 

Ateez Masterlist

When the dust has cleared at Mount Wungadore and they’ve all made it back to the Sanctum, it takes Strange a few hours to realize that there’s something wrong with his apprentice. Not just the exhaustion, not just the trauma of universe hopping and fighting the most powerful witch in all of the infinite number of universes in existence—that would be normal. This is something different. Something darker.

Something more broken.

“Dr. Strange,” you say later that night when it’s just the two of you, everyone else gone to bed. Flames crackle in the fireplace, glowing weirdly on your face. “Do you remember what happened with Spiderman?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spiderman?” He knows you were there, remembers that’s how he became aware of your potential for sorcery, but you’ve never really talked about it.

“Yeah.”

He tells you what he remembers. A spell, rips in the universe, a vigilante who wouldn’t let the aberrations die. The mirror dimension, hanging over the Grand Canyon for way too fucking long, and a second spell to right the wrongs of the first.

You take it all in silence, not a single question asked until the end. “Do you remember what the second spell was?”

He looks at you. You don’t look back.

“No.”

“…Okay.”

He ends up leaving first, exhaustion pulling his eyelids down to the point he can barely keep them open as he climbs up the Sanctum’s stairs. He tells you to rest, and you nod, but he’s still not quite certain you heard.

You probably didn’t. Because in the morning when he wakes, you’re gone, only a text left on his phone to give any clue as to where you went.

Gone to visit a friend. I’ll be back. I’m fine.

Please don’t follow me.

. . . . .

Standing in front of the apartment door, an arm raised to knock, you feel like time has been frozen still.

“Memory Lane. Replay your significant memories, now at a discounted price! We remember, so you don’t forget.”

A boy in the spider-suit, face bloodied, eyes broken. A wavering smile on his lips that couldn’t disguise the tears rolling down his face. Hugging you and Mingi with arms so strong but trembling so much you could—you could almost feel them shaking around your shoulders. Eyes zeroing in on the wound on your head, a short gash that left the scar you could never for your life remember where it came from—

He saw it. And asked about it. And heard your babbled reassurances, instinctively steadying you on your bad leg (how did he know? How did he know if you never knew him?) as you and Mingi tried to speak, before saying the words you don’t remember.

“You’re going to forget who I am.”

You swallow hard, trying to reconcile the smiling boy you’d met during your third fight ever with the broken, bloodied man standing before you in that moment. They had the same suit—nearly. Not quite. But they had the same face. The same eyes.

And though you didn’t have a name then, now you do.

“I love you.”

“I love you, Yunho Jeong.”

You loved a boy whose name you don’t know. And he—

He loved you too.

Nausea rolls in your stomach. Your arm has begun to ache from holding it up for so long, but you can’t bring yourself to knock. What if he refuses to hear you? What if he doesn’t want you to remember, doesn’t want you to ask? What if he just isn’t home? You don’t know if you could find the courage to come back again. You can already feel the adrenaline high of the past few days beginning to fade, that initial burst of anger and courage (or was it foolishness? Right now you can’t quite tell) falling away to reveal your confused and broken core.

Your sight blurs, the four numbers marking Spiderman’s door (Yunho’s door, your brain corrects you, and it’s unsettling how easily the name seems to roll off the tongue of your mind though you know you never knew it until the trip down Memory Lane) swimming in your vision. One zero two four. You remember it from the day you walked him back, one of his arms slung around your shoulders, one leg broken and propped up by a cast of your own magic.

The moment had felt—familiar, you remember. Vaguely. At least in the way his tired laughs left his lips, in the way he joked about the villain who had left him in this state, in the way he thanked you as he lay on his bed, the magic cast fizzling out of sight, his reassurance that he’d be healed by morning. It had felt easy, somehow. Like you’d done this before, or something similar.

At the time, you’d brushed it off as Spiderman’s charisma with everybody. The times you interacted with him, watched him fend off villains and help the elderly cross the sidewalk in just two breaths showed you enough. That infectious laugh, the witty barbs, his charming easiness with every person he encountered, villain or no, weren’t special somethings reserved for you, which you reminded yourself in the moments you thought that might be true.

But maybe it was true. That trip down memory lane told you that you knew him even before you did. Knew Spiderman, knew him deeply, knew him well enough to know his name, Yunho Jeong—

Knew him enough that you could kiss him and tell him you loved him, twice, even without the promise of a response.

“Wait. Wait and tell me when you see me again.”

He’d promised. With a nod, and a smile, and words said before that you know from the memory but still don’t remember. He’d said it, sworn it—

“It’s okay. I’m gonna come and find you and—and I’ll explain everything. I’ll make you remember me.” A deep, rattling breath. “And it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

Yet he never came to find you. For what reason, you don’t know. But you found him. Over and over, you found him—during fights, on trips to the bodega, several times in the Sanctum. And he never said anything.

The ache of a memory that is yours but isn’t thuds dully in your chest. You need to know if it was real. And it if was…

You need to know why he never returned.

Your knuckles rap the door sharply—once, twice, three times. Something clangs and there’s a loud curse in a voice you properly remember, not just know from your trip down memory lane.

Footsteps sound. Something clicks in the door. You have just one moment to prepare yourself before it swings open—

Yunho Jeong’s face stares at you, confused, kind, smiling. If you hadn’t been watching so carefully, you would’ve missed the millisecond of hope and panic that flashed across his eyes that confirms everything you’ve conjectured so far.

You’re not sure how to feel about it.

“Good morning?” He laughs a little, and he’s so good at acting—so damn good, did he take acting classes before? Not that you would’ve known since you only got that one significant memory before you shoved America Chavez on, but you want to grab his shoulders and shake him hard enough to tug those memories loose and plant them back in your own damn head—

“Yunho Jeong.” You take a step forward. “We have a lot to talk about.”

. . . . .

His eyes are guarded when he lets you in the door, but he lets you sit on the couch before he lets loose with a question, more of a statement, of his own. “You know my name.”

You probe his gaze carefully. For once, it flickers as you stare at him, a shard of that steady, easy confidence he’s always had (was there a time he didn’t have it? Were you there when that was the case?) chipped and dropped into somewhere unknown. He doesn’t flinch away, though, not like you originally expected him to.

Maybe it isn’t just paranoia and caution behind those guarded walls, your mind whispers. Maybe there’s a bit of hope, too.

The thought is too much for you to handle, so for all your original bravado you’re the one who looks away first. “I do.”

Spiderman’s—Yunho’s—voice nearly trembles with how carefully he measures his next word. “How?”

You take a deep breath. How do you even start?

“I recently took a…trip, of sorts, with Dr. Strange.” Not really—it was more so just with America, but Spiderman doesn’t know America and you probably shouldn’t be telling anyone about her until Dr. Strange gives the okay. “Went universe hopping. Mostly unintentionally.” Ignoring Spiderman’s—Yunho, Jesus fucking Christ—sharp intake of breath, you continue. “One of them had a curious feature called Memory Lane. For a price, it would replay your most significant memories.” You swallow. “I got a…free trial, of sorts.”

The silence that follows your statement hangs heavily in the air. Never, not once in the time you’ve known him (at least not the second time you knew him, if the first time even existed) did you think Yunho (it’s still strange how not strangely the name flows through your mind) could have let such a tension weigh the conversation—he’s always been so charismatic, so ready to smile and laugh and joke away any heaviness that came. Hell, even when he had a leg snapped into so many pieces only a cast of glowing golden threads was holding it together, he wore a smile on the way back. But in the face of your words, Yunho’s head has fallen, the strong shoulders tensed to snap, his clasped hands trembling underneath his chin…

He looks up, straight at you. His eyes have fragmented and the shards you see in them frightens you—that’s just not a look that belongs on Yunho’s face. He looks ten, twenty, thirty years older than he is (your age, he’d told you with the perfect amount of surprise and warmth on his face the day you’d told him, the first time you’d had more than a few minutes to get to know each other more), with the tortured memories of someone who’s lived through millennia. And, you realize with a pang, there’s a reason for that. Because if you forgot him, if Mingi forgot him, how many others did?

And if you meant so much to him in that life you don’t remember, how much has he had to keep to himself in order to keep you from knowing?

“What did you see?” he asks quietly, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white. “If it’s okay to tell me, of course.”

Tears bubble in the corners of your eyes. That gentleness, that consideration, feels so warm. So very warm and familiar.

“I was with you. And Mingi. We were hugging.” You swallow. “You looked…beat up, but you still asked about a wound on my head.”

Yunho’s gaze flutters in the direction you knew it’d go, just to the side of your right eyebrow. Your fingers itch to rise, to touch the scarred flesh that’s still there, but you hold your twitching hands still.

“And then you said we were going to forget who you were.”

He goes still at that, still as a statue. It’s funny—there have been a few times where you mused, internally of course, that Yunho’s face—just Spiderman at the time—could have been sculpted by one of the gods, should they exist. A beaming statue of a hero, waiting for thousands to thank and worship him. But now, as he stares at you with no expression on his face, stone still and truly a human statue if there ever was one…

You promise yourself never to make the statue comparison again, because the warm Yunho, the alive Yunho, is the only one you’d ever want to know.

Swallowing hard, you open your mouth. And close it. Not because you don’t know what to say, because you do—it’s just recounting a memory that isn’t yours, basically a scene from a movie, how hard could it be—but because when you try to speak, you can’t. Your voice is gone.

Yunho’s eyes are shiny. A little too shiny. And there’s a little too much hope in them, now, a hope that makes you want to dig yourself into a hole and have someone cover up the dirt behind you. Because—it’s not right, that hope, it’s not right because you know what Yunho wants isn’t what happened.

He speaks first. “You…remember?”

“I—” You dig your fingernails into your palms so hard it hurts. “I don’t.”

His face falls. Crumbles. And this time, unlike all the other times you didn’t understand before when he’d see you and you’d do something—anything—and his face would do something strange for a second before his easy smile came back up—

He doesn’t try to pull it back together.

“I—saw it.” Your mouth moves on autopilot, trying to patch up a situation you’re not sure you can but anything, anything to bring something back to Yunho’s face. Even the terrible hope was better than this. “I saw it—and—I can’t say I remember it, exactly, because I don’t, but it—it felt like it explained things.”

Yunho looks up. Just barely. But he does.

“You—I’m comfortable with you.” Once it’s out in the open, you realize how stupid it sounds, but you barge forward because who the fuck cares anymore. “And I know—I know a lot of people probably say that, but—even at that first fight, it was like…it was like I knew you a little. Somehow. Even though to my knowledge I had never seen you before.” You wince at how that must sound but Yunho doesn’t, his eyes now fixated more firmly on yours. “A lot of things felt…familiar. Just stuff like your laugh. Smile. The way we could banter and talk and I—just—fuck!” Your own vehemence startles you and you slap your palms to your eyes and to your surprise, you find tears meeting your skin.

Damn it, you really hadn’t intended to cry when you came here.

“Y/N?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, scrub at your eyes with the heels of your palms. “I’m sorry,” you say, and wow your voice sounds so much more ragged than you thought it was. “I’m sorry. I—it all sounds stupid. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that…sometimes, being around you felt like déjà vu. In some weird way.” The lump in your throat seems bent on returning so you swallow hard again. “The memory that I saw. It made some things, like that, make sense. But other things didn’t.”

“…What didn’t?”

It takes everything left in you to meet Yunho’s gaze. The adrenaline rush of yesterday’s fight has finally faded away fully and you think you might collapse soon, but you force your voice to remain steady even as a stray tear makes it cold way down your cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

. . . . .

For a long moment, Yunho doesn’t speak.

“I…was going to tell you,” he finally says. “I was. When you still had your job at the diner, I was going to go in and…tell you everything. Like I’d promised to. I was—” He laughs a little, broken and fragmented. “I was right outside. I could see you. Mingi was at the counter, too.”

There were many days like those. You’re not sure which one this was. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yunho agrees. “But I saw you. And I saw your scar.”

This time, you can’t stop your hand from touching the warped skin on your forehead.

Yunho’s eyes track the movement. “I had a whole speech written out, you know.” That same broken, fragmented laugh from before. “It was on a piece of paper. I was going to read it to you two. But I saw your scar and…you were laughing. You looked so happy. I couldn’t ruin that.” He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. “When you knew I was Spiderman, all it did was cause you pain. And harm.”

You open your mouth to refute, but you can’t. Because you don’t remember anything. Not at all.

“Something happened to just about everyone I cared about who knew my secret.” Yunho’s voice drops. “So I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. It would be better if no one knew. Just the way it was after that day.”

“But—Yunho, I—” Words trip over your tongue and for a moment you still can’t speak, not for lack of thought but for too much. “We—you didn’t give us a choice. How did you know we wouldn’t—”

“You were at the battle.” Yunho’s words cut through your own like a knife and you almost flinch. “A battle I caused because I was an idiot. You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

“I went to Dr. Strange with a request. To wipe everyone’s memory of the fact that Yunho Jeong and Spiderman were one and the same. So many shit things had happened to me—and us—because of Mysterio’s stupid fucking video. College admissions, people taking potshots at us across the street…” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “He almost did. But I kept interrupting with exceptions. People I still wanted to remember me. You. Mingi. Aunt Mei. Happy. And that…that messed the spell up.”

You sit silent, quiet as Yunho tells you about the multiverse, about the other villains who knew him but whom he’d never faced—at least not in this world. He tells you about Aunt Mei, how Osborn had found her, how she’d pressed it into him that all of them needed help, not just to be sent back to their respective universes to die, and how he’d decided she was right.

She had been right, Yunho stresses. But she’d paid for it. With her life.

There, Yunho stops talking for a moment. Puts his hands over his face and breathes deeply once, twice. When he finally looks up, his eyes look redder.

“I’m sorry.” You wince as soon as you say the words, how flat they fall in the silence. But the thing is—you knew Mei. Somewhat. You remember her face, her smile, her burned cookies—you remember her, if not necessarily her nephew. She was a good woman, one of the kindest people you’d ever had the luck to meet. “I…remembered her. Somewhat. Probably not as much as I would have…before, but…”

“Yeah,” is all Yunho says. “Yeah.”

He continues. Two Spidermen, two Yunho Jeongs from separate universes. They looked nothing like him and apparently you summoned them with rings stolen from Dr. Strange himself (so maybe some things are best left not remembered, because if Dr. Strange doesn’t remember this you’re not sure you want him to). Back in their own worlds, they’d faced the villains he’d failed to corral here. They worked together and there was a fight at the Statue of Liberty and you and Mingi were tasked with keeping the unbroken spell safe from Norman Osborn and later, Dr. Strange, too.

You failed.

“Osborn freed the spell,” Yunho says, grief and fury etched in every line of his face. “Broke the casing with one of his stupid little toys. And so all these people—villains, friends, I don’t know—from other universes started coming into ours. Dr. Strange couldn’t contain them.”

You’re starting to feel a little faint. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Yunho breathes. “There was only one way to fix it. Everyone had to forget Yunho Jeong.” His eyes bore into yours.

Forget feeling faint. You think you’re about to be sick. “Everyone.”

“Everyone,” he repeats. A little dark laugh falls from his lips. “No exceptions this time.”

For a long moment, you sit in silence. All of this information—your brain was already exhausted from universe hopping and dealing with a crazy, grief-driven witch, and you got maybe three hours of sleep last night before you found your way here—it’s so much. Almost too much. Maybe you should’ve waited to confront Yunho, should’ve given it a couple of days of thinking before coming here all tongue-tied and stupid—

“But—Yunho. You promised to tell us. You promised to tell me and Mingi.” You can feel your face scrunching up like you’re about to cry again and you don’t need that, don’t need that right now at fucking all. “You could’ve told us—you didn’t have to go through this alone—”

“Yes, I did,” Yunho snaps. “It was my fault. All of this was my fault—”

“No, it fucking wasn’t!” you retort. “It was Mysterio’s fault—hell, it was mine and Mingi’s for not protecting the stupid spell enough—”

“No, it was mine, for trying to change something that couldn’t have been changed!” he yells. “I got the villains into our universe because I couldn’t think of anything beyond our fucking college admissions! I did a fuck up job of keeping the villains in line! I got Mei killed, I got you and Mingi injured, I caused so much trouble for Dr. Strange because I wasn’t thinking—”

“You were a kid!” you yell back. “We all were! Barely fucking eighteen! Not even college students, not even legal adults! And—Yunho! I may not remember anything, but I do fucking know that we never would’ve been coerced or something into helping you. You wouldn’t have done that! If we were helping you in that fight, it was because we agreed to, because we wanted to!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Yunho snaps. “It doesn’t matter that you wanted to! Because in the end, this was a fight that I started and that I should have ended myself! Instead, I got a whole bunch of other people involved and people were injured for it, people—people died for it, Y/N.” His face crumples, and he turns away.

All the fight leaves your body. You reach towards him, slowly take his hands in yours. To your surprise, he doesn’t tug them away.

“I wasn’t going to get you and Mingi killed off because I wanted you back,” Yunho whispers. “My fights were going to be on my terms and only mine. I know you fight now, as Dr. Strange’s apprentice—don’t bring that up with me. Those fights are your choices and on your terms.” Teary eyes look into yours and you can barely fight the urge to brush the wetness away. “It kills me to watch it happen, but that’s your choice. And I can’t interfere with that.” He takes a deep breath. “But I can interfere with the stuff that shouldn’t happen because it’s my fault.”

The anger starts to rise up in you once more. “You didn’t give either of us a choice in deciding that—”

“Right before Aunt Mei died, she told me something.” Yunho’s hands tremble in yours. “She said, ‘With great power, there must also come great responsibility.’”

You swallow hard.

“I don’t think I ever understood until then,” he says quietly. “Sure, I’d always known I had power, and I tried to use it well by being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, you know. Protecting the little guy while others fight the big battles. But the responsibility…my lack of that is what started this whole thing in the first place.” Yunho swallows. “When I saw you and Mingi in the diner, and I made that choice. That was my responsibility. I wasn’t going to purposefully involve anyone else in my fights, my issues. Not now. Not anymore.”

One of his hands releases itself from yours. It rises toward the puckered scar, brushes it with a gentle touch. His fingertips tremble against your skin. “Do you know how you got this?” he asks, whisper soft.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“One of Osborn’s…gadgets, sliced you.” Yunho takes a deep, shaky breath, and you grip his hand harder. “And because of that, you—you fell. Right off the statue.”

You couldn’t speak right now, not even if you tried.

“You fell.” The words seem to rip themselves from Yunho’s throat and he looks away, his free hand covering his face for one, two awful moments before he turns back to you. “You fell, and I tried to catch you but Osborn knocked me out of the way midair, and it—it was only a miracle that one of the other Spidermen caught you. A miracle,” he repeats, almost as though he still doesn’t believe it.

This time you do reach up to brush the tears from his eyes. The movement feels so remarkably natural that you have to wonder how many times you made the same motion in a time before.

“I saw you with the scar. And suddenly I was there, watching you fall with no way to stop it.” Yunho squeezes his eyes shut. “I couldn’t have that happen again. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

His eyes open, and between the tears, all you can see is the certainty of his choice weighing dark in his pupils.

“Not because of me.”

. . . . .

Silence falls in Yunho’s studio apartment. The sun has risen, slats of pale light filtering through his windows, illuminating his face. In the glow of morning, Yunho’s young face only looks older.

And suddenly you feel guilty. So very guilty. You came to his apartment unannounced with a name in one hand, news you were certain he wouldn’t like in the other, and caused him pain. That was it. You forced him to relive all these memories, made him explain things he perhaps wasn’t ready to speak of, and yelled at him for a choice you’re not sure you would’ve made differently had you been in the same situation.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, throat suddenly choked. You drop his hands and step back, desperately trying to swallow your tears. “I—I shouldn’t have come.” Yunho’s eyebrows furrow, but you refuse to look at him. “It wasn’t my place to demand answers of you and I shouldn’t have yelled—”

“Y/N.”

This time it’s his hands that take yours, large and warm and gentle. You look down at your joined fingers, then up at his face. If you had loved each other as much as your memory would have you believe, this must have been a common occurrence.

No wonder it feels so safe.

“I don’t blame you,” he says, and it’s the steadiness of his gaze that convinces you he speaks true. “You had questions, and no one else you knew had answers.”

“Even so.” You blink a tear away. “Even so, Yunho.”

“No.” He grips your hands more tightly. “Do you know how I felt after I saw you the first time after? When you showed up with Dr. Strange in the middle of fighting the drakon?” You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. “I was terrified, obviously, but watching you…” Yunho looks down at your joined hands and you think he’s going to start crying again, but when he looks back up, there’s a smile on his face despite the faint tears in his eyes. “It was good to see you, Y/N. Just so…good.”

You look down at your hands. Back up at Yunho’s face. 

Eyes so soft with tears, so warm they could melt.

“I was happy to see you,” he says quietly, and for all his words are unbelievable you have to believe them because of the way he says them. “So happy. I mean—I’d made the decision. And I’d come to terms with that I probably would never see you again, or at least never be close with you again. But seeing you then, healthy and happy and just—you—”

A choked noise escapes your throat. Something like a laugh. Something like a sob.

“I thought I’d gotten over it, you know.” Yunho smiles and it’s beautiful and broken and brittle, echoes of joy bittersweet on his lips. “Thought that I’d be able to move on. And I did, in a way, but before I thought that I would forget it all. I thought that I could. But that moment just showed me that I’d really never be able to, and that I would be okay with it. Because seeing you like that—it was good, Y/N.” The smile grows. “Even now, seeing you in front of me like this…”

Oh. Oh, damn.

You’d thought that you were all cried out, but your eyes betray you once more. A headache is starting to build up in the back of your head but you force yourself to focus, to decipher Yunho’s words for what they are. “So—” You swallow. Try to speak. “Do—do you—”

“I still love you,” he says quietly. “Every time I see you, it feels like I’m a little more whole.”

Your face burns. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” Yunho smiles, and even on his teary face he looks so handsome, so steady, and if it’s true that you were in love with him before it’s not difficult to understand why. “I know it’s a lot, and that you’ve only just begun to figure some things out. I’m not looking for an answer when I tell you this.” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. You look at your interlaced fingers, think about how natural it feels to have his hands in yours, to have come to him in this hour of answers and need. Briefly you think of Mingi, and it doesn’t surprise you to think that they could’ve been good friends too.

“I’m not…closed off. To anything.” You swallow hard, looking back up at Yunho. “Yet, at least. I can’t say I—that I love you, not now, but I do believe I loved you once, and I could be there again. Someday.”

Yunho’s eyes fill with tears again, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I just.” Tears of your own start to squeeze down your cheeks, past your lips and chin. “I don’t know if I will ever remember everything,” you finally warn, voice wobbly. “I think it’s more likely that I won’t. But if you’re willing, even then…”

“It’s okay.” Yunho’s smile is warm, and it’s what finally sends the rest of the tears spilling out of your eyes. “This is more than I ever could have hoped for in my life.”

“I want to remember,” you choke. “I want to remember, I want to so badly—”

“I do too,” he says, pulling you into his chest. His warm heartbeat thumps quietly against yours and you take comfort in its steady pace, one, two, one, two. “But even if you don’t, I want you to know that’s okay. And it always will be.”

“…How do you know?”

Yunho’s arms, warm around your body. His hold so gentle yet so firm, so safe and steady as he murmurs reassurances in your ear.

“Because,” he says, pulling away. You look up at him with your sticky, aching eyes, feel all of your trust in him only grow as he smiles.

“Because we can always make more memories of our own.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[absurdthirst]

Immortally Human {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: Vampirism, suggestive banter, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of child planning, hypnotizing, sacrifice, witch's protective spells, violence, throat ripping, staking, gore

Comments: When Max falls in love you, a human, he must get permission from his sire to tell you about his true nature. When he tells you, he must turn you or kill you and you don't want to be a vampire. Leaving Max to protect you at the cost of his own immortality.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

“Babe! Are you ready?” Max calls over his shoulder from his spot on your sofa. He knows you are running behind, but the reservations are hard to reschedule and he pulled a few favors to make sure he got a table tonight. He has a very important question to ask you. “I’m coming, almost done!” You yell back breathlessly, making him grin as he checks his watch. If you had told him six months ago that Max Phillips would be in a committed, monogamous relationship, he would have called you an idiot. Laughed in your face right before he went about doing whatever he wanted. But that was before he had invited you out for a drink and fallen head over heels. Most who know him would call him egotistical. A frat-boy douche has been thrown his way several times when he’s smoozed his way into a promotion or stolen an important client. Business was what mattered and he was good at it. Leaving his private life a series of hook ups and perpetual bachelorhood until you had flipped his world upside down. 

Max was faithful. He was trying to be kind and thoughtful. Loving. Bringing you lunch or taking you out to dinner. Even sitting through movies he had zero interest in. Not because he was looking forward to getting laid after - although the sex is mindblowing - but because it makes you happy. Even though you don’t live together, he’s positively domesticated and is ready to take the next step with you.

When you come out into the living room, Max whistles. “Daaaaaaamn baby. Look at you. Looking fucking delicious.” He stands up and reaches for you, pulling you up against him to inhale your scent. He hears your blood pulsing beneath your skin and his mouth waters but he pushes that aside. Your relationship is perfect…except for one thing: you don’t know he’s a vampire. He hasn’t had the guts to tell you. Scared that you’ll reject him or be terrified of him and he only wants to see love in your eyes, not fear. He will tell you. He has to tell you. Max murmurs your name and you slap his chest playfully when he asks if you have to go to dinner. 

“Yes. It took forever getting ready and we need to eat. You can devour me later.” You say and Max waggles his eyebrows, “is that a promise?” You snort and slap his chest again but he catches your hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. “Come on baby, let’s go eat.” He says and lets go of you so you can get your purse.

Hustling you out to his car, Max races around it and slides behind the wheel. “Hang on, baby.” He tells you with a smirk. “Gotta rush to get there.” He prefers to drive fast, in complete control of his reflexes, but you always seem to worry when he’s zooming through the streets. “We don’t want to miss our reservation.”

You grip the handle on the door and squeeze as Max rounds a corner too fast. “We aren’t indestructible. I don’t care if we are late, I just want us to make it.” You wince as the tires squeal as he accelerates and Max snorts, wanting to tell you he’s indestructible apart from wooden stakes to the heart. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll be fine.” He promises and reaches for your hand that isn’t gripping the handle.

You snort in disbelief beside him and Max takes his foot off the gas for a split second, allowing the speed to go down by a few miles per hour. He still can’t tell you why he’s so confident, but soon he will. “I know you’ve been looking at the menu. Tell me what you want to order, baby.” He knows talking will keep your mind off his driving.

You snort again, amused that he knows you look up the menu beforehand and already know what you will order. You squeeze his hand, "I was thinking about getting the duck. It's not something you see on a lot of menus. I want something different. Then they have this Death by Chocolate cake that is to die for, according to the reviews." You say, and Max smirks slightly at your choice of dessert.

“Then that’s what my girl will have.” He hums as he turns a corner sharply and wheels protest again. He’s only a mile from the restaurant and the reservation is in five minutes. It means he will pull up to the valet in time to escort you inside and be seated. “And we have to have a bottle of good wine to go with it.” 

“I’m gonna need a drink after your driving, Phillips.” You chuckle breathlessly as he screeches to a stop at the valet booth. “Thank God we made it in one piece.” You exhale shakily as the valet opens the door for you. Max is there in a blink of an eye to take your hand and you are always so amazed at how quickly he moves and you take his hand to let him guide you into the restaurant.

Max winks at the valet and slips him a fifty. “Take care of it.” He asks as he guides towards the door. “Was there any doubt that I would take care of you, baby?” He sends you a pout and a grin that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him when combined. Leaping forward so he can open the door for you to enter the building and biting his lip as your ass shakes in front of him. At the host stand, he gives his name. “Phillips, party of two for seven o’clock.”  

His commanding presence has always turned you on and to see him like this has you eager for him already. You are escorted to your table where Max holds the chair out for you and you sit down. “This place is gorgeous. You didn’t have to spurge like this, baby.” You say with a slight tut, knowing Max likes to spoil you but you never ask for it.

“Of course I did.” He winks at you and sends you a small air kiss. It might look smarmy to some, but he adores you. “Tonight is special. And there’s nothing like spoiling my girl.”

You wonder if you've forgotten an anniversary or something but you've been with Max for just over a year now and every day he seems to spoil you despite your requests that he saves money - you are happy to sit down at home with take out and watch a movie. You reach for his hand after he sits down, "you're too good to me. I'll have to make it up to you." You smirk, stretching your leg to nudge his ankle.

“Hmmmm, I know you will.” His own smirk is knowing, loving how uninhibited you are and how you just want him. Not anything else. You are addicted to him and he doesn’t have to do anything more than what he does now. The waiter comes up and Max looks over at you. “What kind of wine do you want, baby?”

“Mmm I think red.” You say, having decided on the duck before even sitting at the table. Max takes the wine list and scans it, selecting a Cabernet and you squeeze his hand. “Excellent choice sir.” The waitress says and says he will be back to take your order. “What are you going to order?” You ask him, “do you want to get an appetizer? I think I just want to have the entree.”

“No, no appetizer.” Max decides, sending you a suggestive smirk. “I want to save room for dessert.” Waggling his brows suggestively, he knows he will have your thighs spread wide and his tongue buried in your cunt tonight. “I’m going to just have a steak, rare.” He decides, barely even looking at the menu, too busy staring at your beautiful face. 

You fluster at the way he stares at you. Still unnerved by the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world for him. “That’s what you always get. And you never eat it. I swear…you always make me take it home for lunch.” You shake your head, concerned about him paying for a steak and never eating it. Before Max can explain, the waiter comes back with the bottle of red and opens it, allowing Max to taste before pouring your glass. He takes your orders and leaves you and Max to enjoy your drink.

“To us.” Max offers, holding up his glass as a toast. “To our future together and tonight is the beginning of happily ever after.” He offers, giving you a sincere smile as he waits for you to react to that. 

Your heart flutters at his words and you clink your glass against his. "To us." You practically sigh with contentment. Part of you wonders if Max is going to propose tonight and that makes your stomach twist with happy anticipation.

Taking a small sip of the wine, he makes a noise of appreciation and sets it down. Much preferring to watch you until he can capture your hand again. “I love you, baby.” He starts softly. “I’ve never felt this way, about anyone, but you - you’ve completely changed me. I can’t imagine my life without you.” 

"Max." You gasp softly at his speech. He's a very physical lover, cocky with his words but never emotional. This is rare for him to say and you are shocked but happy. He loves you and you are so in love with him, all of him. You look down at your joined hands, "Max. I- I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine."

“I want to ask you something serious.” His brow furrows slightly and he squeezes your hand. “I want you to go away with me, meet my family.” He’s never mentioned you meeting anyone in his family and while it’s not exactly a proposal, this is serious for him. “Would you come with me to Romania?”

You’re surprised again. A little disappointed if you’re honest. You thought he was gonna propose. You soon gather yourself, replacing your slight frown with a smile as you tilt your head. “Your family? I- I thought you said your parents are dead.” You frown again and Max nods, “yes, but I have an uncle. I want you to meet him. See where I’m from.” You bite your lip and think for a second, seeing the desire in his eyes and how can you resist? You nod, squeezing his hand. “Of course I will. I’d love to meet your uncle and see your homeland.”

He can tell that you are disappointed that he didn’t pull out a ring and propose to you. Knowing that you are unaware that he has to get permission from his uncle - his sire -  to marry you, and to tell you that he’s a vampire. “I love you baby. I promise that you won’t regret it.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours. “He’s going to love you.” 

**** 

It’s cold when you land in Romania and you are escorted to the black car waiting for you outside of the airport. “How the hell did you deal with the cold when you live in L.A?” You ask Max when the car is moving along to your hotel. You’re nervous to meet Max’s uncle. You haven’t heard much about him other than Max wouldn’t be who he is today without his uncle.

“Jackets.” He jokes with a grin, although he really isn’t affected by the cold like you are. It’s one of the perks of being a vampire. “You need me to keep you warm, baby?” He asks, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I can warm you up just as soon as we get to the hotel if you want.” 

You giggle, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “I wouldn’t mind that. After all, this is our first vacation together. We might as well make the most of it.” You smirk and nudge your nose against his jaw. You and Max don’t live together. It’s been over a year of dating but you’ve never pushed it, knowing he might just want to do things traditionally and get engaged first. “When are we meeting your uncle?”

“Tomorrow.” Max knew that jet lag would affect you, so he had told Serge that he would bring you by tomorrow afternoon. He didn’t want you to be tired or less than your best when you meet the man who had turned him into a vampire when he was here in college. “That way you can get a good night’s sleep.” 

You snort, “a good night’s sleep with you around? I doubt it, Phillips.” You nudge him and he squeezes your arm, “I want you to like each other so maybe best if you don’t look like you got your brains fucked out all night long, huh sweet cheeks?” He hums and you smirk, “you say that now but wait until you see what I brought with me to sleep in:”

Max groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of you in lingerie. You love wearing things that make him feral to touch you, although he’s never shown you how feral he could be. Carefully keeping that side of him contained, so he doesn’t hurt or scare you. “So you want me to fuck you all night, got it.” He smirks. “Besides, it’s gonna be on the floor in shreds within minutes of you showing me.”

“That’s why I brought more than one.” You smirk and kiss his jaw, making him growl softly under his breath. 

****

“Max. This isn’t a hotel, it’s a goddamn castle.” You gasp as you enter the impressive abode, the drapery and stone imposing but warm as you step into the foyer followed by Max.

“Did I forget to mention that?” Max squints as he looks at you questioningly. Of course he wasn’t going to admit that it was a castle, he wanted to see your face as you experienced it for the first time and you didn’t disappoint him. “Sorry if it’s not romantic enough.” He pouts.

"Are you kidding me?" You chuckle humorlessly, walking over to him to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down to press your lips against his. Your fingers running through his hair. "I love you Max. This is - it's incredible. Where on earth did you find this place?"

“It’s actually…” Max sends you an apologetic look, “not a hotel. This is my uncle’s house.” He explains. “But don’t worry.” He assures you. “I told the housekeeper we were going to keep to our room tonight. They will send up dinner and we can just crash…or…whatever.” He hums, waggling his brows again.

You are a little taken back that this is his uncle's place but you don't argue it, knowing that this place is incredible and Max likely didn't want to make you more nervous. "Uh, sure. That works babe." You nod, sliding your hands down his back. "Of course there's a housekeeper." You giggle, looking around the foyer in awe. His uncle must be important to have a home like this. "I think I'd like to try the 'whatever'." You tease, sliding your hands lower to squeeze his ass through his jeans.

“Yeah?” He leans in, growling playfully and he scrapes his teeth over your pulse. Never allowing himself to let his fangs descend, he tortures himself with the alluring scent of your blood. “Come on, baby,” he groans. “Let me show you where we’ll be staying.” His sire has already had his old rooms prepared and he knows that he won’t intrude on the two of you.

You let him guide you through the impressive hallways, walls lined with portraits, and you gasp when Max opens  the large double doors. "Max. Wow. This is - wow." You look around at the large four-poster bed, the heavy velvet drapes. It looks like a vampire's lair and the thought makes you giggle. "What's so funny?" Max snorts after setting down your bags and you spin to face him. "Nothing. Just can't believe this is real. You are - I am so lucky to have you." You turn sappy, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him.

You slide your fingers through his hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and he slides his tongue into your mouth. You know you need to shower after the long plane ride so you pull back before it can get too hot and heavy. "I want to shower baby. Can you lift my case onto the table? I gotta find my toiletries."

“Of course, sweet cheeks.” He pulls back and gives you a little wink before rushing over to the bags. You don’t know about his vampiric strength, so it’s always fun to show off how strong he is. Lifting the heavy case easily and setting it on the table. “While you search for your toiletry bag, you want me to call down to the kitchen for anything? Something to drink? A snack?” Having a human lover means taking care of your needs, far more demanding than his own.

"Some water would be nice. A snack too. I don't know what your uncle likes or has. You know what I like so just pick something, okay?" You kiss his cheek, "thanks baby." You say as you rifle through your things for your toiletry bag and the bag containing your nightwear. You shower, glad to wash the hours of traveling from your skin, and after you dry off, you put the lacy little number you bought with Max's reaction in mind. You open the bathroom door and find Max sitting on the edge of the bed.

Checking his emails, Max looks up and freezes at the sight of you in the doorway. The lacy lingerie has his cock immediately hardening and he flips the phone out of his hand behind him, letting it land carelessly on the bed as he stands up. “Fuck, baby.” He growls. “You look good enough to eat.” He chuckles. “Fuck a snack, I want the whole damn meal.

You giggle at his hungry gaze and his hands find your hips, squeezing them, and you gasp at the strength in his grip. "Damn Max, you're gonna leave bruises." You warn him playfully and he has a guilty look in his eyes that you haven't seen before. "Hey. It's okay. I liked it." You promise, cupping his cheeks.

“Sorry baby.” He’s a little out of sorts, being here. The scent of vampires is concentrated, seeped into the stones and you don't even know. He’s feeling more possessive of you, and his more animalistic side is simmering just under the surface. “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises, guiding you back towards the bed. “By eating your pussy until you scream.”

"Now that's more like it, Phillips." You let him lay you down on the bed and you look up at him as he shrugs off his button-down and exposes his chest. He's not chiseled but he's built, a strength simmering beneath the skin that takes your breath away. He slides his hands along your legs, making you stare at him, chest heaving as arousal dampens your panties. "I love you." You sigh when he kisses your knee.

“I love you too.” He’s certain that he does and he wants to prove it to you. He wants to remind you of how good it is between you before you meet his sire. Starting to shift to his stomach, he kisses down your thigh, inhaling the scent of your wet pussy and the sweet blood in your veins with a loud, pleased groan.

You whimper when his mouth presses against your panties, mouthing at your clit through the lace, and it's enough to make a moan escape your lips. Loud and echoing off of the stone walls. "That's it, sweetheart. Lemme hear you." Max murmurs as he pulls your panties to the side and you watch as his dark eyes meet yours while he drags his tongue through your folds. "Shit." You pant, toes twitching as he dives in.

Max had been good at oral before, but it was always given selfishly. It was so the girl would suck his dick or brag to her girlfriends about how good he was. So he could possibly bang them later too. This is just because he wants to. Because he’s addicted to your taste and sounds. His tongue curling up inside you and then coming back out to flick over your clit as he devours you. Groaning into your cunt like a man starved, he could spend all night between your thighs just like this and be happy pulling orgasms from you.

You whimper as he happily eats you out like a man starved. You can never complain that Max isn’t a giver with the way he licks your cunt for hours. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair and he growls into your flesh. His fingers digging deep and you know he’s going to bruise you but you don’t care, too caught up in the feel of his tongue curling inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit. “Fuck, Max. So good. Always so good.” You praise him, “love this. Love you so much.”

Max loves when you praise him, soaking it up and it makes him work even harder to pull an orgasm out of you. His eyes are dark and lust blown as he watches you, just shy of turning yellow in his desire.

You see that dark look in his eyes that he gets a lot and you love it. The hunger there makes your stomach twist and pushes you closer to your orgasm. He pushes his tongue deeper, curling it inside of you and you fall over the edge. “Max!” You squeal, thighs squeezing his head as you cum, soaking his tongue and you throw your head back as your orgasm shakes your body.

Max growls, the sound vibrating into you and he eagerly drinks down every drop of your release that you will give him. Loving how completely undone you are because of him. You’ve told him how powerful the orgasms are and he gets drunk on the pleasure he gives you as he strokes you through the high with his tongue.

You reach down to run your fingers through his hair, a lazy smile on your face as you melt into the mattress. “Shit. I fucking love you, Phillips.” You sigh happily, licking your lips and you beckon him up to you by tugging on his hair. “Want you inside me.” You request softly.

Despite the fact that he is hard and aching, Max takes his time to kiss you. Pressing his lips to your gently and licking into your mouth when you open for him. Not minding your taste, you kiss him back eagerly as he starts to slowly cover your body with his own and slide his hands down to lift your legs up onto his hips. “I love you too, sweet cheeks.” He promises when he pulls back, looking into your eyes as he notches himself at your entrance and slowly starts to push inside you. 

You moan his name as he pushes deep inside of you. "Shit Max, feels like you're in my guts." You groan in bliss as he nudges the back wall of your pussy. He is longer than any other lover you've had. You caress his back as he kisses along your neck, making you tilt your head until his lips are over your pulse. Unaware of the danger he poses as he scrapes his teeth over your skin. "Hmmm Max." You hum as he starts to move.

“You feel so good, baby.” He groans, pretending to pant because he doesn’t need to breathe. Sliding his arms underneath you, he pulls you closer as his hips start to rock fast and deep, making sure you feel every inch of his cock inside you . “Love you so much, you’re perfect for me.” 

You know you’ve never felt like this about anyone. It’s gonna always be Max. He’s your forever and you don’t know how true that rings for him. Your hands caress his shoulders as you lift your thighs a little higher, allowing him to sink deeper inside of you. “Yes, baby. Oh shit. I’m gonna - you’re - I’m close.” You tell him, amazed at the ability he has to make you cum so fast.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He groans, eyes rolling back at the way your cunt clenches down on him. “Cum for Max, show me how wet you get when I fuck you.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. “I love you. Cum for me.” 

You moan into his mouth, unable to stop your orgasm from hitting you hard and your nails dig into his skin as you cum, toes curling against his ass as you clamp down on his cock with a moan.

He loves it. Moaning your name, he can’t help but fuck into you a little harder. Not too hard, he can’t hurt his little human, but enough that it enhances your orgasm and makes you squeal again. Max buries his head against your neck, hiding the way that his face starts to shift, feeling his own end starting to build. It only takes a few more pumps of his cock before he’s growling, pushing deep and filling you up with hot ropes of his useless seed. 

You sigh as Max fills you up, loving the way he relaxes on top of you, and you kiss his hair as he grunts against your neck. “I love you Phillips. So much.” You murmur, caressing his back and you feel his muscles beneath the skin.

“I love you too.” He turns once his face has morphed back to normal and presses his lips to yours, making sure that he pants so you will believe that is out of breath. He slowly pulls out of you with a groan and nudges his nose against yours before he rolls off of you onto his back so you can cuddle against him. “Didn’t tear this set.” He muses as he slides his hand up and down your lingerie clad back. “Must be tired.” Turning, he kisses your forehead. “Do you want to soak in a bath baby, or take a nap?” 

“Nap.” You murmur, shifting onto your side so you can look at him. “Definitely nap.” You close your eyes and you smile when Max kisses your shoulder as he leans over you. “Get some sleep.” He orders softly and you hum, knowing he will clean you up before he goes to sleep. He always falls asleep after you.

It never takes long for you to fall asleep after he’s fucked you. Watching you as your breathing starts to even out and before too long, you are asleep. It’s one of the reasons that you aren’t living together yet. You would notice that he never sleeps if you lived together. He could always pretend to have slept for the few nights you stayed over, but if you were constantly together, you would figure it out. You aren’t stupid. When he’s certain you won’t stir, he slowly shifts out from under you, moving towards the bathroom to get a washrag to clean you up. Smirking to himself when he sees the cum on the inside of your thighs and dripping out of you. While nothing could ever come of it, it makes him incredibly possessive to see it. 

Max sighs as he lays down beside you, watching you sleep, and he wonders what you are dreaming about until he hears his name across the castle. He can hear his sire calling him from anywhere and he groans, shifting off of the bed to dress and make his way over to his “uncle’s” suite. “Max.” Serge greets Max when he opens the door. “It’s been a long time,”

“It has.” Max admits, knowing he has not been back for years but he doesn’t apologize for it. He had been busy making his way up the corporate ladder. “And this time you have brought a human.” Serge’s expression is amused and he watches his protegé carefully. “The entire east wing smells of her blood. She is sweet.” 

Max swallows down the growl that threatens to make its way up his throat. “I’m assuming you’re here to ask me for permission to turn her?” He asks, knowing that Max needs the authorization of his maker to turn what some would call “his mate.” Max nods and stands straighter. “I’ll need to meet her of course. Tomorrow. I need to see if she’s suitable.” Serge hums, wiping some invisible lint off of his shirt.

“She will be suitable.” Max assures his sire, forgetting how abrupt he could be. “I- I love her.” He admits, knowing that Serge will take Max’s wants into account when meeting you. “She is perfect for me.” 

Serge chuckles, “I’ll be the judge of that. She smells delicious so I’m sure she will be sweet. She has tamed you, Maxwell.” Serge playfully tuts, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He bristles slightly but allows himself to relax. “She has.” He admits. “She balances me out. Keeps me from being outrageous like I used to be.” He wants this to go well. “A perfect mate for me.”

Serge nods, “we will see tomorrow. I just wanted to see you when you arrived. You may go back to your human. She must be tired after all that traveling.” Serge says and looks out of the window at the moon that has risen high in the sky.

“Tomorrow.” Max nods and lets himself out of the suite to walk back towards his rooms. Hoping that Serge is impressed by you and allows him to turn you.

****

To say you’re nervous to meet Max’s uncle is an understatement. You know you need to impress the only family Max has if you have any chance of your relationship continuing and you focus on making sure you look good this morning so that Max’s uncle is impressed by you. You exhale shakily when Max calls you from the bedroom to let you know a breakfast tray is here. “I can’t eat, Max.” You admit, “what if your uncle hates me? I can’t ask you to choose between me and your only family.”

“Don’t worry baby.” He reaches out and wraps his arm around you to pull you close. “He’s gonna love you.” He nudges his nose against yours before he kisses you. “Please just eat a little? For me? I don’t want you to be hungry.”

You nod, kissing him again, knowing you should probably have something to settle your stomach. You reach down to take a piece of buttered toast off of the tray and bite into it, watching as Max prepares your coffee the way you like it.

“Don’t think of him as someone scary.” Max tells you, turning and handing you the coffee. “He’s just my uncle. I’m introducing the woman I love to him. He’s gonna be thrilled. You’re far too good for me.”

You take the cup and playfully roll your eyes. “Sure, Phillips.” You snort and take a sip of the coffee. “Says the man who brought me to a fucking castle.” Max chuckles and you set the coffee down after finishing it. “Okay let’s go.” You brush yourself down and try to ignore the hammering of your heart as you prepare to meet Max’s uncle.

Max holds your hand after leaving the suite, wanting to reassure you. “You look beautiful today, but you look beautiful everyday.” He compliments, lifting your hand up to kiss the back of it. “We are going to meet Serge in the drawing room. Nothing too formal, baby.”

“The drawing room isn’t formal?” You snort and Max smirks as he squeezes your hand to guide you through the ornate house to the drawing room. You exhale shakily, unaware that both men can hear your heart pounding as you enter the drawing room to find a man around Max’s age standing in the room already. That confuses you. Unless he looks really good for his age, Max can’t have an uncle that’s the same age as him.

Max beams, guiding you close to the other man. Saying your name, he motions towards Serge. “This is my uncle, Serge.” He explains. “Serge, this is the woman I want to marry.”

Your heart flutters and you turn to smile at Max as he says that. You figured he wanted to take the next step bringing you here but to hear him say it aloud has you grinning from ear to ear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You hold your hand out to his uncle who hums as he takes your hand in his. “She’s a pretty one, Max.” He says with a wink towards you, squeezing your hand. “Do you think she’d make a good vampire?” He asks and you can’t stop the confused chuckle escaping your lips.

Max doesn’t laugh, just nodding seriously. “She will.” He tells his sire. “She has amazing self control and she’s smart as hell. If you allow me to change her, it will be good for our coven here and in the States.” Serge cares that he chooses wisely when turning people now, the unfortunate fiascos that can occur when you turn too many has been a lesson learned over the decades. He turns to look at you with a proud smile. “She would be amazing.”

You turn to look at Max with confused eyes, waiting for him to say “ha, gotcha,” but he doesn’t and that makes you gasp. “Wait…are you joking? Or - or are you for real? Like- like vampires exist and I- you are one?” You ask Max, still waiting for him to burst out laughing and say it’s all a joke.

“It’s real sweet cheeks.” Max reaches for your hand again. “It’s the reason that I’ve not been able to move in with you yet. Serge isn’t my uncle, he’s my sire. He made me a vampire and I have to get permission from him to tell you about all this.”

You pull your hand away from his reach and stare at Max in shock. He's a vampire. He drinks blood. He wants you to become a vampire. You feel sick and dizzy and have a thousand different emotions. Your vision goes fuzzy and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you collapse.

That had not been the response Max was expecting. His inhumane speed keeps you from hitting the ground and he scoops you up to move you towards the sofa. Serge tuts and shakes his head. “Does she do this often?” He asks, unsure of how well you would take transforming into a creature of the night if you fainted at the news. 

“No. She’s shocked.” Max huffs, caressing your cheek and looking down at you worriedly once he’s got you settled.

“Well she might be shocked but you have two options now. Either she’s changed or you kill her. You know the sacred rule…no human can know about us. It’s one or the other and if you can’t make a choice, I’ll have to kill her.” Serge declares.

“I’ll change her.” Max promises, knowing that he can’t kill you, not when he loves you like he does. “When she wakes up and accepts what I am, she’ll want to be changed.” 

Serge nods and turns to walk out of the room, bored with the scene. “See that she does, Maxwell.” He warns his vampiric offspring. “Or I will destroy her.” 

****

You wince when you come around, the bright light hurting your eyes and you hear Max shut the curtain as you open your eyes properly. “Max?” You croak and Max kneels beside you.

“I’m here baby.” He promises and you swallow, your throat dry. “Here.” Max says as he hands you a glass of water and you shift to sit up. 

You take a few gulps and hand the glass back to Max. “I had the weirdest dream. That you were a vampire and you -” You glance around the drawing room and back to Max. “Oh God. It’s true. You - oh my God.” You choke, trying to back away from him.

“It’s okay.” He soothes you, keeping his voice low. “Nothing has changed. I’ve been a vampire this entire time and nothing’s happened, right? I just can now offer you one hell of a health plan, eternal life.” He jokes, sending you a reassuring smile. “I love you baby, and I want to be with you forever.”

“I thought - I thought you were proposing.” You choke and Max chuckles, “I kinda am. This is the vampy way of proposing.” He winks at you and you shake your head, “that’s why- you don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You - oh God. How didn’t I see something was off?”

“Because I didn’t want you too, baby.” Max reaches for you, wanting to caress your face, but you rear back from him. Making him frown, upset that you think he would hurt you. He’s never wanted to hurt you and he never would. “It’s okay baby, I’m still me. The same man you love.”

"I - I need time to think." You murmur, head hurting from trying to process that Max is a fucking vampire, and you struggle to reconcile that the man you adore also kills people. "I - what would - if you were to change me...what happens?"

“Well….” It’s good that you are asking questions. “You would be a vampire. You’d be extremely thirsty for a few days, but I will make sure you have exactly what you need.” He promises. “You’d have better hearing, vision, and strength. You wouldn’t need any sleep. You would be the best version of yourself.”

You bite your lip as you process his words. "What about...what about having kids? Would we be able to have a family?" You ask him. You had never discussed kids. You've tried but Max has always distracted you and now you know why he did.

“Baby….” Max sighs, blowing out a sound even though he doesn’t need to breathe. “I can’t have kids. I could never have kids. Not since we met.” He won’t mention that it’s because he’s technically dead. “But we could have our own version of kids. Anyone we change.”

“Oh." You sound so defeated, almost devastated. You have been so focused on your career that you always put the children talk on the back burner but you wanted the choice. Now that's being taken away from you if you want to stay with Max. "What - what would happen if I wasn't changed?" You ask and Max closes his eyes for a second, "I have to change you...or kill you." He barely breathes out the second part but you hear it. "If I don't, then Serge will." He admits and you nod slowly. 

"I love you. I do. So much. I- I don't know." You confess and Max knows he made a mistake bringing you here. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'll take you home. I'll - I can sneak you out and hide you. Serge won't find you." He promises and you reach for his hand, reminded that this is Max. 

"What would happen to you?" You aren't stupid, you know there'd be consequences. 

“I'd be killed but I've had a good life. I - you made it better than I could've hoped." He reveals and you feel your eyes sting at the thought of him being killed. 

"Max. No. No. I - I'll do it. You can change me." You tell him and he shakes his head, "I can't. I know you don't want it. I can see it in your eyes. I can't change you and see you hate me in a decade when you realize how lonely this life can be." He admits and you squeeze his hand, "I want it." You try to convince yourself and him, "don't you want to spend forever with me?" You ask, wondering if he's changed his mind.

“I will have spent forever with you.” He’s grateful that Serge had disappeared to do whatever so he could talk to you. “My last days will be with you. That’s all I want.” He promises. He knows he can’t turn you against your will and you don’t love him enough to give up your humanity. “Quick. We need to leave now.” He tells you, standing up and pulling you up with him. “I’ll keep you safe.”

"No. No. Max- I won't - I can't let you die because of me. Please. Change me now." You beg, pushing on his chest as much as you can and tilting your head so you can display your neck to him. "I can't let you die baby. Just bite me, now. Please. Before I change my mind and freak out. Do it."

Max loves you even more for begging him to change you to save his life. He cups your cheek and smiles at you gently, ignoring the panic in your words and leaning in to kiss your lips. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He orders you, looking deep into your eyes and hypnotizing you with his powers or persuasion. “You will sleep now.”

You collapse into his arms, passed out as you unwillingly fall asleep. Max carries you through the house, abandoning your things to prioritize your safety and he is quick to get into the car and drive you to the airport. He needs to get you out of Romania before Serge realizes you are gone. His sire has always had such a strong conviction to vampiric law and Max knows he won't rest until order is restored. 

Max keeps you asleep until he's laying you down in your bed and he pulls out his phone to call that witch girl who he fucked a few years ago. He needs a protection spell on your apartment. When you wake up, you're extremely confused to find yourself back in your bed and Max nowhere to be found. "Max?" You call out, throat dry, and you start to sob when you realize what he's done. He's going to be killed and it's all your fault.

Max has been listening outside your apartment door, waiting for you to wake up. Since the witch has placed the spell on your dwelling, even he can’t cross your threshold. A horrible side effect, but he knows he will do whatever he needs to keep you safe. He can’t even touch the door to knock. “It’s okay, baby.” He closes his eyes and sighs, standing back a few feet from your door. “You’re safe.” He hears you rush out of your bedroom and fling the door open. “Don’t step outside!” He barks harshly. “You’re safe inside. Serge can’t reach you there.”

You don’t cross the threshold but you stare at him with tears running down your cheeks, “why? Why did you do this? I- I wanted you to change me. Now you’re going to be killed. I can’t lose you. I love you, Phillips and I - I’m so sorry. I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you change me from the get go.”

Max shakes his head. “I love you too, sweet cheeks.” He promises you. “That's why I can’t change you.” He shrugs slightly. “You want kids, and to grow old, and I can’t do any of those things.” He swallows harshly. “I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure Serge doesn’t hurt you, even if it means that he has to kill me.” He wishes he could kiss you one last time, but the kiss he gave you while you were asleep will have to do. “Don’t be sorry, and don’t blame yourself.”

You shake your head, "don't do this. Please." You choke, clinging to the door frame as you stay in the apartment and Max blows you a kiss, "I love you, baby. Be good." He says and walks down the hall, letting you know he's going to sacrifice himself. You sob, falling to the floor and you can't let him do this. You rush out of your apartment down the hall towards where Max just disappeared down the stairwell when the elevator dings. 

"Silly girl. He was trying to protect you and you just ruined his plan. Nevermind, it makes my job easier." Serge chuckles, speeding towards you to grab your neck, making you cry out. "Max!"

Max hears Serge, growling and whipping around to race back down the hallway. Fear and anger when he sees his sire holding you by the neck makes Max snarl. His face shifting and transforming in the truly horrific visage of his true self, eyes yellow and bone structure heavy. “Let her go.” He growls, wishing you had never left the safety of the apartment.

“You can’t kill her, Max and she has to die. She knows the secret and she can’t be left alive. Either she dies or you do and I can’t lose you. You’re like a son to me. Just let me kill the silly girl. You’ll forget all about her in a few years and you’ll find another human.” Serge scoffs, squeezing your neck a little harder and you reach up to grab his forearms.

“No.” The growl is low, furious as Max speeds towards you and his sire. Reaching out and grabbing the older vampire’s arm, he twists it to make him drop you, lowering his shoulder to push the threat away from you as he hisses, his fangs descending, deadly sharp canines on display.

You gasp, backing up into the wall as Max grabs his maker and shoves him against the wall in your hallway. The drywall cracks and Max growls as he manages to wrap his hand around Serge’s throat. “You motherfucker.” He growls and squeezes as he fumbles to open his jacket. 

“She’s worth this, Max? If you kill me, you’ll die.” Serge reminds him.

“I don’t care.” Max snarls. “As long as she lives, I can die a happy man.” Instead of tearing Serge’s head off, Max lunges forward and sinks his teeth into the man’s throat, tearing it out and then pulls out the stake he had put in his jacket. Plunging it into his maker’s chest, fully prepared to die to keep you safe.

You scream as you watch Serge explode, blood covering the walls of your apartment hall and you shake your head. “Max no!” You cry, scared that he’s going to die because of you. “Why did you do that!” You shout, “You are going to - oh God. Max.” You fall to the floor when he turns around and you see him covered in blood.

He’s getting a few more seconds. Seconds he doesn’t want to waste. Grabbing you, Max hauls you close to him and presses his blood covered lips to yours. “I love you.” He promises, right before the pressure in his body builds to the point where he screams.

You cling to him, uncaring that he’s likely to explode in a spray of blood. You want to be close to him in his final moments, the life he sacrificed for yours. “I love you.” You cry as he screams until he slumps down beside you. He doesn’t explode, he collapses onto the floor unconscious and you sob, reaching for him to caress his cheek. His bone structure is still heavy, depicting his true nature until it starts to shift under your touch. “I’m so sorry, Max.” You sob, leaning down to press your face to his chest, mourning the man you love so dearly.

Long minutes pass. His body is still and unmoving. Changing back to the body of a normal man and not exploding into a bloody pile of goop like you had expected. You continue to sob against his chest until a strange sound captures your attention. One that you realize you had never heard before despite laying on his chest after sex. A tiny thud. Repeating again and again until it starts to resemble something you never thought you would hear. A heartbeat.

You pull back, looking down at Max in shock, and he inhales sharply after several seconds, spluttering as he chokes on a breath. "Max!" You cry, thinking something is wrong until he opens his eyes. "Max. Are you - are you okay?" You ask, hands covered in blood as you cup his cheeks.

Max grimaces, his head pounding in the first headache he’s had in…..since he was turned. “I- fuck-“ he gasps out, feeling his lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen. “I’m- I’m human again.” He whispers, realizing what all of that must mean. 

You are in shock, your palm on his thumping heart and you look at him. “Max. You’re human.” You gasp, helping him to sit up and you know he has to be feeling everything all at once. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like shit.” Max admits and after he thinks about that for a moment, he starts to laugh. “Baby, I feel like shit!” He repeats, aware that he’s never felt like shit as a vampire. “Serge must have known that killing him wouldn’t kill me.” He realizes. “Motherfucker lied.”

You caress his cheek, “you’re human.” You are in shock and You surge forward to hug him. “You’re alive. Baby. Can I - you hungry?” You ask, wanting to look after him as much as possible.

Max wraps his arms around you and frowns slightly as his stomach growls. “I- yes?” It’s more of a question since he’s only experienced thirst since being changed. “I- oh my god, baby, I’m human. I-“ he chokes up and buries his face in your neck.

You caress his back, wondering if he’s happy or angry that he’s human. “Are you- are you upset that you don’t have - that you aren’t a vampire anymore?” You ask, unable to believe how warm he feels beneath your touch. You’ve never noticed that before.

“I don’t care about being a vampire.” That’s true, he realizes as Max pulls away to look into your eyes. “I want to be with you. Forever, for twenty years, it doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you.”

Your lower lip trembles as you stare at him with tears in your eyes. “I love you Max. I want to be with you. I would’ve spent forever with you but I’m happy to spend the rest of my life with you.” You promise, “I just - I hope you don’t regret this.” You sigh, leaning in to softly kiss him.

“I’d never regret you, sweet cheeks.” Max promises you. “But I’m starving.” He groans. “And I’m so fucking sore. And my head hurts.”

“Do you want to shower and I’ll make you something to eat?” You ask, running your fingers through his blood soaked hair. “And I’ll get you some Tylenol.” You promise, knowing that he’s going to have to adjust to human life again.

Max grins, leaning in and kissing you again. “I fucking love you.” He breathes out. “That sounds like heaven. And then I want it see what human sex is like with you.” He teases, happy that he didn’t become a Jackson Pollock painting and he gets a second chance at being human, with you. “See if those swimmers work now.”

You chuckle, “well I have an IUD. Didn’t realize it was a waste of time, but let’s go get you that shower.” You say, shifting to stand up. “I love you, Max Phillips.” You say when he’s standing up and you guide him into your apartment, leaving the blood in the hall to deal with later and you shut the door, guiding Max to your bathroom. You turn on the water and work on stripping off his blood soaked clothes. “I’m so happy you’re alive. I- I should’ve stayed inside. I nearly lost you.” You choke, cupping his cheeks once he’s bare before you.

“Baby, I would do anything for you.” Max reminds you, holding onto your waist. “Even die.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad that didn’t happen.” He admits, leaning in and sighing softly.

“Me too.” You murmur, working on removing your own clothes and you guide him into the shower. “Temperature okay?” You ask and he nods. You grab the body wash you’ve kept in your shower for him and you work on washing him, loving the way he groans when you rub his head. “My hero. Saving me. Sacrificing for me. You are incredible Max.” You whisper, wanting him to know how much you adore him.

Max hums, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat of the water and your hands on his skin. “You are worth it.” He murmurs quietly. “You’re worth everything, baby.”

You smile and kiss his chest, right above his now beating heart. You owe him your life and your humanity and you will love him until the day you die. You shift to rinse him off, working fast to clean yourself up. This isn’t sexual, purely comfort and you work fast until you are handing him a towel. “Get some sweats and I’ll make you some food. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup sound good?”

Groaning, his mouth practically waters at the idea of the simple meal. “That sounds amazing. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had that?” He asks. “I will eat anything that you want to fix happily.”

You smile, happy to look after him after he’s taken such good care of you. You quickly dress in your shorts and tank top and make your way into the kitchen to prepare dinner for you both. You are surprisingly hungry after nearly being killed and it doesn’t take long for you to have the meal on the kitchen table. “Max. It’s ready!” You shout as he comes out of your bedroom.

Max stumbles out of the bedroom, his headache still a dull throb and he’s actually used the bathroom for the first time in years. “It smells amazing.” He’s drooling as he sits down and looks at the deceptively simple meal. “Thank you, baby.”

You know it’s a big adjustment for him but you’ll be there every step of the way. You set the Tylenol down with the bottle of water and tell him to drink. “Drink, baby. Take some Tylenol. You have been through a lot.” You say and he follows your order, taking two pills and swallowing them before he digs into the meal.

It tastes so good that Max can’t help but moan and groan over the meal. “Oh my god.” He moans, chewing his bite of grilled cheese and taking a spoonful of the soup. “I could eat this everyday for the rest of my life.”

You chuckle, “you can if you want. Maybe we can go back to those restaurants and you can actually eat your steak. Or try something different.” You suggest, loving the way he’s enjoying the food. You’ve never seen him like this before. You finish your meal after he does, full and suddenly exhausted. “I’ll put this in the dishwasher. Go get ready for bed. I’ll be right in.”

It’s strange to be tired after years of not sleeping. Pretending to rest while he lays with you to make you think he had just woken up. Now, his entire body feels like it’s about to shut down and he still wants to touch you. He follows your orders and goes to get ready for bed, using the tooth brush that he leaves here.

You watch him come back into your bedroom and you pull the covers over, letting him get under them with you and you shift to pull him close, throwing your leg over his hip. “You have freckles.” You murmur, tracing his chest. “You didn’t have those before.”

He chuckles a little self consciously, wondering if the human version of Max Phillips will be exciting enough for you. “Yeah.” He hums. “I used to go to the beach a lot. Oh shit, I can be out in the sun for more than ten minutes again.” He realizes, eyes widening. “Can we go to the beach this weekend?” He asks excitedly.

You smile, “of course babe. We can go.” You promise and lean in to press your lips to his collarbone. “I’m so happy you’re alive. Vampire or human. I don’t think I could ever survive without you, Phillips. I love you so much.” You confess and lean in to kiss his jaw. “You saved me.” You murmur against his skin, “let me - I want to suck your cock.” You say, grinding yourself against him.

“Baby….” He whines, loving the idea. “Okay but you can't let me cum.” He tells you breathlessly. “I don’t know if I can stay hard. And I want you to cum too.

You nod, knowing that Max’s endless fucking isn’t possible now that’s he’s human but you don’t care. You love him more than anything else. You shift to pull the covers back, loving that he’s already half hard as you carefully pull down his sweats after he lifts his hips. You settle between his legs, spitting into your hand and you grip his cock, looking at those beautiful dark eyes as you lean in to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

“Baby, I fucking love your mouth. It’s so good for so many things. Kissing me, sucking my cock, telling me that you love me.” He groans. “I want to tell you everyday how much I love your mouth.”

You moan around him, loving how he twitches inside of your mouth, and you work the base with your fingers, letting your saliva drip down to your digits. You groan when he grabs the back of your neck and you think he's going to push you further down his cock but he pulls you off. You whine, saliva dripping down your chin, "baby. Why?" You huff despite your cunt dripping for him.

“Want to be inside you.” He pants. “Want to feel you around my cock when I cum.” There’s enough time later on for him to let you swallow his cum. Right now he’s wanting to live every day like it’s his last and make sure you know how much he adores you.

You shift, pushing your shorts down and moving fast to straddle him, wanting to take care of him after his body has gone through so much. You reach down to grip his cock. "I love you." You murmur as you start to sink down onto his cock.

“Oh fuck baby, oh fuck.” Max groans, his toes curling up. “I love how you feel. It’s so, it’s so good. You're hotter. Wetter somehow.”

“You are hotter.” You tell him, “you feel - you feel so good Max.” You moan, caressing his bare chest to place your palm over his pounding heart as you start to move. You moan his name and he hisses when you clench around him as you start to bounce on his cock.

It’s crazy to feel lightheaded and out of breath. Feeling more now that he was human again. His fingers curl into the flesh at your hips and he moans your name. “Fuck baby, your so pretty.”

You preen at his praise, making you whimper his name and you rock a little faster. He is so soft beneath your touch and you never realized how cold he was until you feel his heated skin beneath your fingertips. “God, I love you Max. So much. Need - gonna make me -” You reach between you to rub your clit, so close to your orgasm.

He watches for a moment, obsessed with how you look. Then he’s slapping your hand away to rub your clit himself. He wants to be the one to make you cum. Loving the way you immediately buck when he takes over.

Your mouth falls open as you rock on his cock. “Yes baby. Oh shit. Yes. I’m gonna - fuck. You’re gonna make me cum.” You hiss, your thighs shaking as you grip his cock inside of you. Soaking him as you cum and you slump forward into his chest.

“Oh god, oh god, that feels so good.” He moans, wrapping his arms around you and sighing softly. He’s almost content to just stay like this but he wants to feel an orgasm as a human again so he starts to rock his hips up slowly. “I love you, baby. Nothing’s gonna keep us apart.”

You know there’s so much that could keep you apart but you’ll fight tooth and nail to make sure you spend the rest of your lives together. He rocks up into you and you get yourself together so you can rock down onto his cock, loving the way he hisses when your walls grip him. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel it.” You tell him, “wanna feel you cum inside of me.”

Max whimpers, eyes closed and he gasps out your name. Knowing that he should have died today, but he’s been given a new lease on life. “I love you.” He moans, thrusting up into you and painting your walls with his hot seed.

You moan, loving how it feels and you caress his chest as he twitches inside of you. “I love you.” You murmur, wanting to say it over and over now that you’re both safe. You aren’t sure how long you stay like that, just breathing each other in as he softens inside of you

Max’s eyes close almost immediately, his arms wrapped around you and he breathes you in. Smiling softly as he truly gets to inhale your scent. He might not have eternal life or everlasting youth anymore, but he has something much better, you.

[thrawns-babygirl]

would you be comfortable writing pegging for crosshair? if so, uh 😳 something femdom like in your collared fic

if not, feel free to ignore. have a wonderful day!

Hey so uh I'm really sorry that this took so long. I have had a lot going on irl atm and tried my hardest to get this out for you within a reasonable timeframe.

Crosshair calls reader sir in this and i consider that entirely gender neutral because like, the clones call Ahsoka sir in the show so im still considering this femdom but its still relatively gender neutral despite the fact that it's afab reader.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Pegging, sub!cross, pet names, cross calls reader 'sir' Word Count: 2000+

Masterlist

(I apologies in advance for the quality of this one I have never pegged anyone irl or written pegging before so like..... sorry lmao)

There was a single word in the entirety of Galactic Standard Basic for what Crosshair was being today.

A fucking menace.

He has been snarky, rude, mean, downright unbearable all day. He turned the scathing remarks up to eleven, he was being entirely insufferable. The rest of his squad had absolutely zero idea what came over him so when you turn around in medbay to see the entirety of Clone Force 99 standing there sans Crosshair you knew they were there with a single request.

Control your man.

You let out a sigh as Hunter explains he’s at the shooting range at the moment, blowing off some steam with direct orders not to return to the barracks unless he’s lost his maker forsaken attitude and to probably expect him in your quarters after you finish your shift.

While you and Crosshair had never exactly made an announcement or made anything official, the rest of the Batch weren’t oblivious to the fact the two of you had a relationship of sorts. Him disappearing all night and coming back to the barracks the next day with marks and bites on his neck that mirrored yours was a pretty big hint. They all agreed not to push him about it, he would talk about it in his own time, and they had never brought it up to you. Until now that is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about his behaviour, you know as well as I do that when he’s in one of his moods only he can get himself out of it” you sign off a report, marking a group of cadets as medically fit for battle before turning to face the men in front of you.

“Nah you mellow him out big time” Wrecker states as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. You simply raise an eyebrow at the large man before turning to the others. They simply nod in agreement before Hunter speaks up again; “Look we don’t care what’s going on but he’s being an absolutely insufferable di’kut today, and I know it’s not your job to settle him down, but if you could, I don’t know, do something to help calm him down before he comes back to the barracks we would appreciate it” he’s rubbing his temples. Damn, maybe he has been worse than usual.

“He means sex!” Wrecker belts out. Earning a chiding “Don’t be so crass Wrecker” from Tech before he also looks at you “he is correct though” he adjusts his goggles, somewhat uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. You sign off on the rest of your reports before logging off your terminal for the day before gathering your things, looking up at the batch you let out a sigh, “I’ll do what I can but I have no promises that I’ll be able to do anything about him” you power down your terminal and move towards the door to your office, Hunter opening it and ushering his brothers through before throwing a thankful look in your direction and following his squad back towards their barracks.

Its two hours later that there is an alert at your door signalling that you have a visitor. You make your way over to the entrance to your modest quarters, lights turned low, clad in only a thin robe as your door slides open revealing Crosshair, still in his armour, 773 Firepuncher resting against his hip as he taps his foot impatiently against the floor before barging past you into your room.

“Well hello to you too Crosshair” you close the door and turn to face him, watching as he leans his precious rifle against the wall of your room and begins shedding his armour, dropping the hard plastoid haphazardly to the ground before he’s standing before you in just his blacks. “Single braincell sharing di’kuts locked me out of the barracks” he huffs before removing his boots and laying back on your bed.

You chuckle at that, if there was one thing Crosshair could do, it was be very creative with insults. Usually however they were being thrown at the regs, not his own squad. “Well from what I’ve heard you’ve been a little abrasive today Cross” you smile at him, sitting down on the bed next to his stretched-out form, running a hand along his clothed thigh as he relaxes against your pillows, arms folded behind his head as his eyes track the movement of your hand against him. He just huffs, not bothering to deny it.

“Wanna talk about it?” you move fully onto the bed now, kneeling between his legs as your hands continue to soothe circles into the tense muscles.

“No.” he deadpans, eyes tracking the movement of your hands working their way up his calves to his thighs.

“Do you think your brothers deserve to be on the receiving end of your shitty attitude?” you side eye him. You do hate nagging him, but sometimes it does take a gentle nudge for your grump kinda-boyfriend to get the hint.

“No Sir” its almost a whisper, and your eyes widen slightly. Oh, so this is how he wants it to got tonight? Sir is only ever used in one context when it comes to you and Crosshair, usually its Doc or whatever name he chooses from a plethora of pet names he has for you.

Sir only means one thing.

You smirk down at him as he avoids eye contact with you. Crosshair is an experienced man, you knew this when you first started whatever this thing is that the two of you have going on, however he still sometimes has trouble giving up control without feeling well… embarrassed for lack of a better term.

You continue running your hands up his thighs, towards the growing tent in his undersuit, purposely avoiding it and moving your fingers into the waistband of his blacks, peeling the tight fabric from his body. “Blacks off, then hands by your sides. You don’t touch me or yourself unless instructed, understood?” ordering clones around comes rather naturally to you, considering the number of soldiers that seem to dislike medical exams more than separatists, you’ve developed a ‘no nonsense’ tone over your time working on Kamino that also happens to work very well in situations like these.

You move over to your bedside table, retrieving all the necessities, before turning back towards Crosshair who is now naked, hands by his sides and staring up at the ceiling just as you ordered. “Hm, looks like you can follow orders” you sneer at him, and you don’t miss the shudder that wracks his body as he finally makes eye contact with you. You pop open the bottle of lube, coating your fingers with a generous amount before tossing the closed bottle onto the bed. His cock is throbbing, beads of precum shining in the low light before rolling off the tip of his length and leaking onto his toned abs.

“Wider” is all you say, all you need to say as Crosshair opens his legs, allowing you access to his puckered hole. You run a single finger around the rim before slowly breaching him, pushing it inside ever so slowly. You watch his face for any signs of discomfort but his parted lips, rapid breathing and throbbing cock indicate anything but. You add a second finger, slowly scissoring his entrance open, trying to find that perfect spot that will have him coming apart at the seams.

He's writhing and moaning, fists still clenched obediently at his sides as he screws his eyes shut. You’re hitting that perfect spot inside of him over and over again but he knows he can’t cum yet, the two of you have done this enough that he knows he needs your permission to cum.

You run your free hand along his body, avoiding his weeping length, the pads of your fingers glide along his tensing abs as your didgets continue working him open. Once you’re satisfied that he is adequately prepared, you remove your fingers, earning a low groan from the man beneath you as you wipe them on the sheets next to you. “What do you want tonight? You’ve been such a good boy, no touching or talking out of turn. I’ll reward you by letting you decide what you get” you give him a sweet smile as he pants atop your sheets, sweat clinging to his body as he looks over at you with blown pupils.

“I… I want your cock…” you frown down at him, trying to look as disappointed as possible as if the sight of Crosshair looking entirely debauched beneath you wasn’t slowly eroding your dominant façade. “Now here I was about to reward you for being a good boy… that’s no way to ask for what you want” you stand up off the bed, moving to tie the robe tighter around you as you hear him whimper out a soft apology. “Sorry, Sir, please let me have your cock Sir” he looks like he’s about to move his arms to reach out for you before he steadies himself, keeping them firmly balled in the sheets of you bed by his sides.

You smile, he really was getting the hang of it. Removing the thin robe around your body and retrieving the leather harness from where it was placed on your bedside table, you slide it up your legs before securing it tightly around your body. The entire time Crosshair’s gaze is transfixed, as if he’s enthralled by the sight of you. You smile down at him again, face softening slightly as you take in his form. He’s absolutely ruined and you haven’t even gotten to the main course yet. Eyes blown wide, cock flushed and leaking, chest rising and falling with rapid ragged breaths.

“Hands and knees pretty boy” you order and him and he obeys immediately, shifting into position with a strangled “yes sir”.

You kneel behind him on the bed, resting the faux cock against his prepared entrance, teasing him before breaching him with the thick head of the strap. His eyes flutter shut, fists clenching and unclenching as he lets out a loud moan. You take a handful of his ass as you slowly feed the thick toy into him as he writhes and groans beneath you, head shoved into the pillow muffling his sounds as the stretch of the toy overwhelms him.

After what feels like an eternity, you’re fully sheathed inside of him, stretching him out before setting a brutal pace. “Does this feel good baby? Is this exactly what you needed to take your mind off things?” you’re panting now from thrusting in and out of him, hips pounding into his as you repeatedly hit that spot inside of him that has him whining and moaning your name. “Y-yes Sir kriff- Thank you sir” his voice has been reduced to a course whisper as he nears his peak at an alarming speed, his neglected cock leaking a steady stream of precum onto the sheets beneath him as he fists the sheets.

“Sir can I cum… Kriff sir please” his voice cracks on the last word. Usually you would make him work harder for it, beg more, but he seems to already be holding himself back and you can’t bring yourself to torture him anymore, especially since he’s been so good tonight. “Let go baby” your words send him over the edge, ecstasy washing over him as he lets out a string of ‘thank you’s before you pull out and he collapses onto the bed beneath him.

You rid yourself of the toy before turning on the shower. You walk over to the bed and hoist Crosshair up, carrying most of his weight on your shoulder as you lead him towards the running water.

“feeling better?” your voice is soft, its teasing edge from before nowhere to be found. The soft smile he gives you is proof enough that whatever mood he was in before has passed and you feel your chest swell with pride knowing that Wrecker was right, you do mellow him out. You watch him stand on unsteady legs under the warm water before leaving to change the sheets.

Despite being locked out of the barracks you always knew he was going to be staying in your room tonight.  

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for future Crossmut

[charlottedabookworm]

Hey! I hope your exams went well and ngl I wondered of you have some snippets written for the and i didn't like the ending verse. or some headcannons for aegon and/or his relationships with and to people?

lets not talk about that exam

the exam went far better than i thought it did and this has definitely not been sitting in my drafts long enough that I got the results no nope definitely not

anyway i gave Back Lack and Blue Boy birth names, the same way that Wet Stick is Ser Tristan, and this is very cracky cos I basically wrote it when I first thought of this au and so it makes zero sense but it's here

He drops his head to the table.

“Are you hiding from something, lēkia?” Helaena asks as she slips gracefully into the chair beside him. “Your sword perhaps?” 

Aemond snickers as he takes his own seat, not understanding the joke but content to laugh at him anyway, and he loves his siblings. He loves them dearly but he understands now in a way he hadn’t before that younger siblings are annoying.

How the girls had never screamed at him Before, he doesn’t know.

“Fuck off,” he mutters instead, using Valyrian so his mother cannot snap at him for his language. If she doesn’t understand his words then he cannot get in trouble-

“Have care what you say before my sons, Aegon,” his elder sister says evenly and there is a wildfire raging beneath her words.

He swallows and lifts his head. “My apologies,” he says; even he can admit that six and seven are still young, even his sisters had attempted to keep the swearing away from him at that age and he’d been raised in a brothel. “It will not happen ag-”

A glint of metal, in the corner of his eye.

A gentle rasp of steel as it brushes wood, buried beneath the pounding of his heart.

A familiar hilt, parting the table like water as it rises.

“I threw you out of the bloody bastard window,” he hisses as his family falls silent, staring in shock at the sword seemingly growing out of the dining table, and he is so fucking tired of this. 

Excalibur pulses before him. Waiting.

Always fucking waiting.

“No,” he tells the sword. The sword is supposed to be bound to Pendragon blood, not to his soul, so why the fuck does it keep turning up? He hadn’t spent years working with the Mage to bind the blade to Blue’s bloodline for it to do this. “No.”

The sword rises further out of the table. 

Forget screaming at his siblings; he wants to strangle Merlin and Uther who decided to pour so much magic into a sword that this happened.

“I gave you to Blue!”

Excalibur rattles, pulsing with magic, trying to draw him in, to get him to reach out and pull- He snaps.

His chair topples backwards, crashing to the floor with a crack as he stands, slamming his hands upon the table.

Aegon glares at the sword. “You are supposed to be with Blue,” he snarls, rage bubbling in his veins like fear as he thinks of Blue. He thinks of his son, of Back Lack’s son, without the protection of the Sword. And he knows that Tristan and the Mage will look after him, he knows that his nephew-son has the loyalty of the Knights of Camelot. He knows that Blue Boy, son of Back Lack, is in a far better position than Art was when he seized the throne but-

The Sword is supposed to be protecting Ector Pendragon, son of Kay, son of Arthur, King of Camelot. That it isn’t is-

“If anything has happened to my son while you followed me after my death, I will melt you down,” he tells the enchanted blade and means it. He has dragonfire now. He’ll manage.”I will melt you down and pour the dregs into the depths of the ocean and never look back,” he swears, low and fierce, four-and-ten and nearly forty in the same breath.

“Egg.”

A hand, gentle as it covers his own.

He closes his eyes. “It was supposed to keep him safe, Hel,” he says, a whisper against the pounding of his heart.

Blue is supposed to be safe, the greatest King that Camelot has ever known, protected from his enemies by the sword of Uther Pendragon. His son is good, great, but Arthur was the brothel-boy turned king, once; Ector is more prepared than he was, but less for the lack of royal blood in his veins. Excalibur was supposed to-

“Your son is a man grown and you raised him well.”

He laughs. “I had no idea what I was doing. I just-” Blue had always been the best of them: of Back Lack, of Art, of Wet Stick. That boy was his nephew, his brother’s son, and he had held him in his arms as Kay was murdered, had listened to Ector’s screams and curses as blood flew. “I-”

“Aegon Targaryen! Explain yourself!”

Egg opens his eyes to see his grandfather, a furious frown upon his lips and his mother pale at his side. His nephews look confused and his older sister-

Rhaenyra’s gaze upon him is sharp, considering. Something alike to understanding sparking within her eyes. He wonders if the Valyrian stories his mother refuses to let them hear have a word for what he is.

He thinks he might ask her, after.

Meeting his grandfather’s eyes, he doesn’t flinch at what he sees there. The disgust, the greed and wanting are hardly hidden in Otto Hightower’s features. Egg has seen that look before, bound in a cell in Camelot, Vortigern towering over him and-

“Go fuck yourself.”

[earthstellar]

In the G1 episode “Trans-Europe Express”, we are given this incredible map of the Europa 2000 race.

Now, I don’t often call out animation fuck-ups, especially not relatively minor ones or one-off errors; Especially in the 80s, it’s just a fact of the way these shows got made that you’re going to have errors at a much higher incidence rate than any modern animation, for a lot of different reasons.

But I love this map. LMAO 

Spelling Words Good, or Not: Language is, in fact, difficult

I don’t know which element of it is my favourite; I like how the slight shadow on the misspelled “I” in “Ciech” seems to suggest that it was spelled another way before they rubbed it out on the cel and then wrote over it with another letter.

Which means that there is a non-zero chance that at some point, it may have been spelled at least somewhat more correctly, but then made incorrect in someone’s self-doubt around their spelling skills.

Special shout out to “Rumania”, which historically was actually a correct spelling of Romania in English for quite a while-- Just not in the 80s when they were making the show! :’)

I can understand having a hard time trying to draw an outline of Europe if you have about 15 seconds to get a cel done and just have to put it through to get the show made, but the spelling is something that could have likely been checked in a dictionary or encyclopaedia (this was the 80s, so no Wikipedia yet) fairly easily-- But that’s assuming they had one nearby, and had the time to mess with it if they did. 

(I’m aware that some studios/individuals did have a stray dictionary floating around in order to help check English words that needed to be added to background elements like store signs etc., but not all studios did this, and who knows what the situation was when this map had to be made.)

To be fair, it is worth noting that the letters themselves are legible, and although I can’t remember which animation studio handled this episode specifically, they are absolutely writing letters that they may not be super familiar with writing out, so I definitely give this some points for being fairly easy to read, errors and spacing issues aside. (It’s hard to write in a language you may not be all that familiar with, using a writing system that is very different from your native language!) 

The rubbed out “I” shadow in “Ciech” also tells me that someone was at least trying and considered it long enough to try to fix it/doubt their spelling, so there was effort here. It’s just unfortunate that the end result is somewhat chaotic, but I do respect that someone at least sort of tried! 

Time Constraints: Much like the race itself, they gotta goooo

I think the biggest issue here was most likely some kind of extreme time constraint in getting this done, because this feels more rushed than actually half-assed to me (the shadow on that “I” tells me there was at least an attempt made, lmao, I have to believe that someone was genuinely trying to get this right), but the end result inevitably gives the same feeling as someone drawing a map on a napkin for a tourist quickly while standing on the curb outside a café.

That having been said, this map is a shit show, and I love it.

I like to think that this map was made by a spectator of the race for a non-local friend of theirs so that they could have a general idea of what the race route is, which would explain why it looks like a napkin map and why the country names are all in English. 

I have to say, I also loved the mixed capital cases on “BuLGAliA”.

The “Switz” crammed into the tiny space but then “Albania” being fully spelled out and just written across borders is also extremely funny to me, for some reason.

Regardless of anything, this had to get made at lightning speed and it was only intended to be on screen for a few seconds, so that’s worth keeping in mind; At a very brief glance, a kid who has never been to Europe and has no understanding of geography would probably take this at face value without any issues at all, and G1 was a toy advertisement for children, after all. Kids in Europe may have very well gotten a good laugh at this, so it might be one of those errors that ends up being win/win. 

But I love this map so much. Just look at it. Hell yeah. 

Geography is Probably Important to Note Here: History Matters 

Also, for those less familiar with European geography, it’s worth noting that this episode went into production in 1984/85, so maps of this region might look a liiiiiittle bit different nowadays compared to the mid-80s, lmao. 

For comparison, here is a map of Europe circa the 1960s, which still isn’t the mid-80s, but for some reason this is the best map I could find that isn’t hyperfocused around one sub-region or the other and it’s generally more accurate to the mid-80s compared to a map from today: 

So they had the general idea more or less right, it’s just that the Europa 2000 map is what happens when you don’t give animators enough time to fully reference stuff! (Or even enough time to trace an actual map outline.) 

Anyway, Tumblr crashed on me twice while I was trying to make this post, so I’m leaving it here-- But shout out to those of you who live on or near the Europa 2000 race route! :) <3 

[eolewyn1010]

Farewell, Darkover - part 7

There's a real piece of sugar I found in the process of writing my Darkover reminiscences: MZB's own Darkover reminiscences, a retrospective she had penned down in 1980. Oh, darling, do tell. From the mouth of the beast herself. Time to get nasty.

First of all: When she writes in her own voice, she sounds mind-bogglingly similar to Stephenie Meyer, of all people. I cackled. MZB was a fucking Suethor. The same self-importance, false modesty, immaturity, the same condescension toward "cruel editors", the endless "oh, look, how special I am, how educated I am, how many important people I know!" It would be cute if I didn't wanna stomp on her face. Admittedly, it feels good to be able to talk about her like that - what's she gonna do, climb out of her misty sepulcher of oblivion and haunt me? It's a relief that she isn't someone I would have held in high regard, even without knowledge of her crimes. But let's look at some tidbits of this.

"I have referred to the Darkover books as "the series that just growed"."

So, I found zero hints at all that "growed" was ever the correct past tense for to grow. It's always been grew. Am I petty? You bet I am.

"A good part of the credit for encouraging the Darkover series to continue must go to Donald A. Wollheim"

I feel bad for the poor man, having his name attached to yours. I have great respect for Wollheim, and if I thought the Darkover books were way better written than the Avalon series, I have zero compunctions to credit your editor for it.

"with a sick husband and two very small children to support"

I wouldn't exactly call your husband sick. That implies an absence of responsibility, and I think he should very much be held responsible for his actions- oh, you were talking physical health. Carry on. And quit acting like the caring, loving mother; the sheer mention made me grab for a knife. I read what Moira wrote. I can't stand that hateful, homophobic fury, but I have a pretty good inkling who made her that way.

"when I protested, rather diffidently"

Aw, she wants us to think she has a shred of humility. Meanwhile, I think I should go poop on her grave.

She then goes on to tell us how she doesn't actually think her books in terms of series and prefers self-contained stories and thus didn't write Darkover in a way that one book had to rely on its predecessor to be understood (I hope she has to watch the entire MCU in hell ad nauseam), which is fine; just her overblown style of talking about herself is annoying to read. She also shoves in a quote about oatmeal that she doesn't bother to give credit for and I don't recognize; I suspect it's to make her look smart and to make those look dumb who are not in the know. Well, shove it.

Next, she gets really patronizing to fans who'd love them some consistency. Because she can't be arsed.

"Admittedly the inconsistencies are many. Some are minor, and they occurred simply because I have a very faulty memory with a self-correcting mechanism."

...

Bitch. I started to reconstruct the Comyn family trees and a timeline for Darkovan history at age 11. Surely you could have helped your faulty memory by writing things down??

More about how she doesn't like writing series, how she hates cliffhangers... my God, Bradley, this is a retrospective! You don't need to pad your word count here, too! Then a long story about how she had to give up on becoming a singer (which puts her hang-ups in the Darkover books about female singers constantly in peril of being considered better prostitutes in a very strange context; any complexes there, by chance? Gonna go with yes, as there are numerous female characters in her books that put everyone to awe with their singing in ways that more conventionally beautiful women couldn't with their looks), and how she always wrote, from childhood onward. Yeah, so did I. So did many. It's not that unusual. Almost everyone I know on tumblr wrote from childhood on.

"Well, in my middle teens, [...] I started to write fantasy novels with a framework of science fiction."

Heh. I also liked to call what I wrote in my teen years "novels". I assume it's nice when you get published and can feel verified in your blown-up presumptions.

"[Around age eleven, I did] an ambitious project called Ten Tales of the Ancients, which had a short story about a girl in ancient Rome, and one in ancient Greece, and one from an Arabian-nights kind of world, and then I ran out of ancient civilizations and gave up."

...Is that a shoutout to the American education system or what? Not sure if I would have gotten to ten civilizations at that age, but come on! Mayans? Ancient Egypt? Ancient China? Mesopotamia? I feel like her interest in ancient cultures may have been limited. Research is haaaaard, you guys!

Then a lot about the Fantasy and Sci-Fi writers that influenced her. I don't recognize most of the names, might look into those at some later point. The development of the whole Darkover idea via cannibalizing her older stories, that's fairly standard.

"During this time I also managed to read a few books on writing and began to get some foggy notions of what a plot was [...] I was beginning to learn how to plot, and how to tell a story"

By the time she wrote The Mists of Avalon, she had already forgotten it again.

...and I'm setting a cut here. My God, she's being wordy. Next up: her introduction to writing smut!

[donexmiras]

All of the questions for the ask game you reblogged

Putting under a cut for being long

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

Bowser my beloved (couldn't find the original)

🍫 Cheese or chocolate? Chocolate, cheese can sometimes just be straight up gross to me

✨ Do you have any nicknames? I have a few, Kuvvy is the one who started calling me Momo, but my coworkers call me Bluey or Blues clues

🎵 Last song you listened to? Happier in Hell by Royal and The Serpent

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction? I've tried, I love roleplaying at least, but I have absolutely zero confidence in my writing so

😏 Are you on discord? Yeah, I'm honestly on there a ton more than I'm on here nowadays, I just can't engage with groups much (I don't have much to say)

💛 Do you have any piercings? Used to have my ears pierced but they closed up, but I do have my septum done and I have snakebites with plans for plenty more later down the line

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person? I honestly can't give a straight answer, I just like people who are chill and don't give me an irritated response when they don't understand something right away

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be? Chocolate chip, I'm basic as fuck

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? Cat, I've had dogs, but I've never bonded with them as strongly

🎧 Headphones or earbuds? Headphones a million times over, I can't stand earbuds

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud? "Have a good one!" (Was leaving work)

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know? Maybe not a weird one, but gators can run

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl? I'm a night owl who's been conditioned to be a morning person

🧸 Favorite place to nap? My bed 💙

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community? I've identified as genderfluid for a long time, but within the last year that's changed to being a trans man, and a hella gay one at that ✨🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 (I still use they/them though, but I don't like when people use it just to avoid calling me he/him)

🦋 Describe yourself in three words. Tired, stubborn, niceys

👖 Jeans or sweatpants? Jeans for outside, sweatpants for inside

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order? Not a Starbucks fan, there's this cafe though I like to order from that has nice ice lattes, I usually get it with caramel cold foam and a few pumps of brown sugar

🧡 A color you can’t stand? Doo doo green

💎 What’s your most prized possession? My laptop, it's been with me for a decade now, it occasionally has its problems but we're ride or die at this point

☕ Coffee or tea? Coffee, though I've been much less obsessed with it nowadays

🦖 Favorite extinct animal? Not dinosaur wise, passenger pigeons, just something about them, otherwise therizinosaurus

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr? Too long (legit answer though probably 5-6 years with an account)

🌴 Desert island item? Cast iron pan, it's multipurpose

🐸 Describe your aesthetic. Spikes, black with bold colors (usually blue and gold), romantic goth in theory, soft boy in practice

🔮 What’s your dream job? Animator, in depth though probably more of a keyframer or storyboard artist

💙 Relationship status? Yoinked

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit. The one I generally wear everyday is usually just a black hoodie and blue jeans with sneakers

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to? Hm that's a hard one, but I do know the lyrics to Face Down by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus pretty well

🤎 What color is your hair? Currently it's plain ol brown right now since I shaved it again, but I do plan to dye it black again eventually

💌 Do you talk to yourself? I was talking to myself this morning XD it helps me regulate my thoughts more clearly, and helps me vent without the anxiety of oversharing

💄 Do you wear makeup? I used to, but I can't even stand eye makeup on me anymore, so I just go bare face

🌸 Best compliment you ever received? That I am speed, move aside sonic 💅 but also being complimented on my name

💞 @ your favorite blog. This is hella bias cause we talk all the time but @kuvvydraws

[yinyuedijun]

🍉 – fics for gaza

hi all, I am currently accepting wip sponsorships as part of the @ficsforgaza initiative! please note that I’ll add requests and update the wip sponsorships available on a rolling basis. stay tuned for updates!

🕊️ 06/16 – added a new wip (chapter 2 of night flower) updated bluebird sponsored wc, updated "completed sponsorships" section

🍉 – sponsor a wip for gaza

rate: $1 per 100 words – e.g. $10 for 1k words

how it works: please make a donation to a verified fundraiser and send me an ask with a screenshot with proof of donation (with your personal information censored) + a link to the fundraiser + the name of the wip you want to sponsor. for every 1USD you donate I'll write 100 words for the wip you've chosen! the asks will not be published. I will either DM to confirm or, if you are on anon, I will make a separate post to let you know that your request has gone through.

wips available for sponsorship:

✧ night flower ch.2 – omega!aventurine x gn!alpha!reader – omegaverse fic, ch.1 here

Sometimes he feels like a defective product, like sixty Tanba was actually an inflated price. He's not just a Sigonian, but a fucked up omega that can't stand alphas—one who can't let you hold him, or kiss him, or touch the scent gland that’s been scarred by his commodity code. No one would want to gamble for something so broken. Not even someone as good as you.

When you offer to mate him, Aventurine can only laugh and assume that it's some kind of joke.

– words sponsored: 4,670/10,000

– words written: 2,300/4,670

✧ there's a bluebird in my heart: chapter 2 – aki hayakawa x fem!reader – prev chapters here

On November 18th, 1988, the Gun Devil kills 57,912 people in Japan and displaces thousands more.

In a gymnasium full of grieving, starving strangers, you meet a boy who is as alone as you.

He’s the only thing you have, and the only thing you’ll lose.

– words sponsored: 3,000/8,000

– words written: 14,000/14,000 (chapter locked until we reach our sponsorship goal!)

✧ art of the bedchamber – dan heng il x gn!reader – dual cultivation pwp, part 1 here

Dan Heng dreads the thought of outliving you and will do anything to help you achieve immortality. If that means fucking you in his dragon form, then so be it.

– words sponsored: 2,000/2,000 ✅

– words written: 0/2,000

✧ paradise lost – sunday x gn!reader – tragedy, concept here

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.” — John Milton, Paradise Lost

(Or: When the Aeon of Philosophy peers into Ena’s Dream, HE sees your greatest wish and understands what HE has lost.)

– words sponsored: 3,000/3,000 (est.) ✅

– words written: 0/3,000

🍉 – completed sponsorships

zero-sum game (previously another man's treasure on this list)

night flower ch. 1

‼️– please DO NOT send me any donation funds directly for this event. for the purposes of fundraising, I will only accept proof of donation (screenshots) to write any fics!

[cyclonesyndicate]

you are not a human being | firebug | trial 6.1 | re: ragnarok

Firebug has been listening. How could they not? The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been, and this time, they’re here to find answers. Real answers. Ones they could never hope to learn however many people died. They’ve gotten so sick of it, watching death, facilitating death—

To be honest, they were so focused on the relief of the death game finally ending that they completely forgot to consider how they’d feel when faced with the one who started it in the first place.

They feel, of course. All they ever do is feel. But identifying it, understanding it— every emotion that bubbles up hits a flat ceiling of iron, forcing it down further. Because, written on that ceiling, is something they couldn’t forget. Something that was an afterthought, a line in that glitched-up list of final impressions, written below their own name:

“Didn’t expect them to last.”

It’s not an achievement that they survived this long. It’s a fluke.

It’s zero effort to remember their name amidst an ocean of other future failures. It’s blinking when you see who’s asking you for a letter of recommendation because you never thought they’d be considered for anything that would require one. It’s disbelief when your child gets an all-expenses paid work vacation after years and years of them vocally hating their job. It’s not even bothering to kill them because there’s someone you hate more, someone who scares you more, someone in a worse place at a worse time.

It’s all they’ve been able to think about, this whole time. And when they look in Beowulf’s eyes, and they hear the words in his voice, and they feel their entire frame shaking with enough force to bring a thirty-story building to its knees—

“I... quit my job… which just gave me six percent 401(k) matching… so I could come join this stupid villain syndicate…”

Their voice is low. Their hands, sweaty in their gloves, clench into tight fists.

“Spent months of my life… thinking I was going to die here, stuck with some of the most unhinged people I’ve ever met…”

They don’t name anyone. They don’t need to. They’re looking at the most fucked up of them all.

“And now you’re just, standing there, with that, that outfit, and you just, you’re telling us, this was your master plan, and you’re just giving up? You’re just DONE?? WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?!?!”

Firebug’s voice is shrill now, small flames bursting from their hand as they jab a finger to point at Beowulf. They’ve felt rage before, but it feels like it’s all boiling over now, and they can’t stop.

“You know how, how many NIGHTMARES I’ve had here about finding all these BODIES lying around?! I had a dream I found Greg Abbott dead, and I woke up crying because I knew we had to do an investigation and murder trial and all that for him! Who cries over GREG ABBOTT?!? You RUINED ME, you, you just, I—!!”

They cut themself off, bursting into a delirious laugh. They’re losing their mind, surely. That must be it.

“God, you are so, so lucky that everyone who died is fine now— was that your plan, just kill everyone but keep their ghosts around somehow in order to— to I don’t know what, whatever it is you were going to do to delete evil from the planet with the meteor, or whatever the hell?!”

Flames curl around their fist, red in their vision. Red from the roses. Red from—

“I can’t believe you!! I HATE YOU!! I hope you EXPLODE!! And I REALLY hope you don’t DIE because I’M SO SICK OF PEOPLE DYING!! I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU DIE!! JUST— JUST— FUCK YOU, MAN!!!“

Didn’t expect them to last. Didn’t expect them to last. They’ve never felt so insulted in their life, and they’ve been insulted a lot. They’ve never felt so angry. They’ve never felt so betrayed. They’ve never felt so—

(He didn’t expect them to last.)

— worthless?

No. They’re worth something.

With nothing else they’re willing to say, Firebug sits down a bit too aggressively, before regret and doubt over their outburst can seep in.

[todoscript]

you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

���yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.

[absurdthirst]

The Bodyguard: My Protector {Dave York x F!Popstar!Reader}

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 18.5K

Warnings: Enemies to lovers? Teasing, angst, creepy photographers, controlling behavior, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, obsessed fans, stalking, violence, mentions of blood/blood broken bones, death, mentions of marking

Comment: As a pop star, you are being kept in the dark about the threats that surround you. Your security being led by Dave York, one of the best in the business. Driving you crazy as he restricts your freedom and still makes you burn for him.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

A/N: The mood board below is not meant to indicate the race or ethnicity of the reader. Mood board by @pedropascalsx

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

‘You speak to me. Through every word you sing. ‘Take my heart and cherish it forever, I’ve never known true love until you’. I know you wrote that for me. Baby, you know I would never do anything to hurt you. You are my world, my soul. I don’t understand why you didn’t see me last time, maybe your people were rushing you by too quickly? I screamed your name and told you it was me, but you just need to tell your people to let me in backstage. I can just wait for you there.’ 

“Jesus.” Dave slaps the copy of the rambling, startlingly concerning, letter down and sighs as he leans forward and reaches for the scotch bottle that he had hoped he wouldn’t need. “This 'Martin' sound fucking insane.” He snorts to himself. Resnick, his right hand man, was on his way downtown with the original copy, to take it to a lab that was willing to run an analysis on it. Dave York didn’t gain a reputation as one of the best bodyguards in the business by cutting corners or being sloppy. Now he’s protecting, you - one of the newest and hottest performers - and his gut feeling is that this person is fucking dangerous.

He’s doing it again, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes. The rest of the team are being let in on some secret he has clearly made them agree to keep from you. His eyes dart towards you a few times before he passes something to Resnick, and you have to fight the urge to stomp your feet, charge over there and find out what it is. He’s keeping something big from you and you’re not going to stand for it much longer.

“You keep your fucking eyes out.” His tone brokers zero room for error. “No one without a picture ID pass gets by you.” That had been one of the first new rules that he had implemented on your tour. There were pictures on every badge around everyone’s neck or they don’t get near you. He’s seen too much to risk it. “And you keep your fuckin’ mouths shut around her.” His job is to worry, your job is to get up on the stage and perform.

‘Asshole.’ You mouthed as you watched him order everyone around. Your father had insisted on hiring him about a year ago after an incident involving a ‘fan’ climbing over your  gate and somehow going undetected. Thankfully you were out of town visiting family, but seeing the security footage of him sleeping in your bed made you physically sick. After that day your father took control and hired Dave York. Signing every contract Dave produced without even discussing how much and how impacted your freedom would end up being.

You hated him. He was rude, demanding, controlling and the thing that made everything 100x worse? He was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. The competence and effortless way he captivated a whole room was mesmerising to watch. 

You found yourself riling him up on purpose on a few occasions just so you could secretly watch the way the material of his shirt would get all taunt across his strong shoulders and back. But most of all you wanted to hear the way his voice got raspier and raspier as he got angrier. The sound of his voice going straight to your core as dampening your panties as he cursed out your bratty behaviour.

Dave looks around the room, his eyes meeting every one of his team and he finally nods. “Okay.” He grunts, motioning them to leave. “Get the fuck out of here and do your jobs.” Every single man on his team had been carefully vetted by him and he only took the best. Men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if necessary and die when warranted. Some scoffed at the idea of dying for some pop star princess, and they had quickly gotten their pink slip.

“How am I getting to my photoshoot this afternoon?” you asked your PR manager who was furiously tapping on her phone screen, “I’m happy to drive myself.”

Dave walks up to you and the vapid woman who runs your PR. He swears that woman would sell your fucking soul for a good headline. He hears the end of your comment about driving yourself and chuckles. “Funny, princess.” He tells you dryly. “You’re not driving yourself anywhere. I’m taking you.” He doesn’t know what it is exactly, but you aren’t going anywhere without him.

You turn to face him and scoff, “No. You are not. I am fully capable of driving myself and I am not a princess.” The urge to storm away grows stronger but the look on his face tells you that he wouldn’t let you if you tried.

“Oh so US Magazine didn’t call you ‘this summer’s bonafide pop Princess’?” Dave taunts, rolling his eyes at how fucking immature you can be at times. He’s never had a grown ass woman so willing to fight him on *everything*. “You are capable of driving yourself, doesn’t mean you’re going to.”

“Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader of trashy magazines, Dave, you should have said! I would have signed a copy especially for you.” You counter back to his mocking. “I don’t need you to drive me, so I will be driving myself.”

Dave’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “Not today, princess.” He growls, his voice low enough to have most cautious men stepping back, but you aren’t a man and you aren’t cautious.

“You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming,” you grit out from behind your teeth. Your lack of freedom since Dave's takeover has started to really piss you off. If it isn’t him that’s always a stone's throw away it’s one of his goons and you’re tired of being treated like you're incapable of looking after yourself.

“I’m a grown woman, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Obviously you do.” Dave snorts, stepping closer to you and sending you a withering glare that would make most men cower. “Otherwise daddy wouldn’t have hired me.” It’s better that you hated him than started playing fast and loose with your safety. As much as he wants to drag you over his knee and spank your ass until you can’t sit down, he cares about your well-being. “Just…let me drive you. It’s my job.” He’s noticed you’re all woman, but he can’t think about that now.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth, “But I have to make a few stops on the way.” You hate the way your stomach twists at the way he’s looking at you. If you weren’t 100% convinced it was hatred you might have considered it was a hunger burning in those dark eyes. “And by the way my Daddy doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” He quirks a brow up and gives a low chuckle, knowing your father controls everything to do with your life, including your career. “Too bad, although what you really need, I doubt your daddy would be up for giving you. He's too…soft to do it.”

You raise a brow to match the expression splashed across his face and take a small step forward until you’re toe to toe and ask him, “And what is it that I really need, Mr York?”

“A firm hand.” Dave smirks. “Applied liberally and quickly to the bottom of your spoiled ass.” He could get fired for talking to you this way, but you won’t. Your father wouldn’t allow it because he knows that Dave is needed, even if he keeps you in the dark on why.

“I’ll make sure to tell my next hook-up to pay special attention to that area just for you,” you reply with a sugary sweet smile. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Dave huffs, watching you turn and flounce off, trying to pretend that you didn’t get under his skin. You sleep with such pretty boys. None of them are even remotely capable of being able to protect you beyond making sure you don’t drop your purse. He huffs to himself, turning around and striding out towards the garage. He needs to make sure your SUV is ready for your little errands.

With less than an hour to get ready and get out of the door you bounced off to your bedroom and locked the door behind you. Resisting the urge to take care of the pulsing in your little bundle of nerves that had been steadily growing since he felt the need to involve himself in your discussion.

Instead you had a very quick shower, throwing on a quick outfit that was cheap and worn enough to not worry about it getting ruined in hair and make up and grabbed your purse before making your way back downstairs and towards the front door.

Dave is waiting for you when you come downstairs, on his phone and scrolling through the different emails that he has already sent to the lab about the letters. Another letter fired off to your publicity to screen all your mail and any more from that person should be brought to his attention immediately. Your popularity is growing and with it, the number of security threats.

“Let’s go,” you simply murmur at him as you push past the door and make your way towards the waiting car.

You slide into the passenger seat and immediately go to plug your phone into the aux cord.

Dave shakes his head, huffing under his breath. No matter how many fucking times he tells you, you refuse to sit in the back unless you are arriving at an event.

“Any requests?” you ask with a grin, knowing full well that he’s pissed at you for sitting in the front. Also remember I wanted to stop off somewhere first, I have a craving for a milkshake.”

“Yeah…” Dave shuts his door and grabs his seatbelt. “Move to the back and buckle your fucking seatbelt.” He knows you won’t, so he is already starting the engine.

“Temper temper, Mr. York,” you reply as you switch on a random playlist. You look at the window and watch as your house gets smaller and smaller as he makes his way towards the studio. “I have no idea what magazine this is for.” You admit and you start pulling at your sleeve.

“They didn’t tell you?” He asks, not even taking his eyes off the road. “Figures. Do you want Baskin Robbins or Cold Stone?” He asks, acknowledging your desire for a milkshake. “Or McDonalds?” He doesn’t tell anyone about your craving for the fast food milkshake even if he knows Arby’s is better.

“Nope. I just get told where to go and when to be there.” You reply with a shrug, “Anywhere closest with a drive-thru, please. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t turn towards you, just scanning the road for the closest restaurant that has milkshakes before he finds one about a quarter of the mile up the road.

“Weren’t you like a Marine or something? Why would you want to waste your time doing this?”

“Would you rather I just killed people?” He asks, tossing you a glance as he pulls into the parking lot to circle around and enter the drive through. “It’s not wasting time protecting someone. Just traded my country for a person and use the skills they taught me.” He smirks. “Plus the pay is better.”

“Ohh please,” you scoff back, “You hate this job. You hate me. You’re keeping god knows what from me!”

“I don’t hate the job, or you.” Dave pulls the car up to the window and turns towards you expectantly. “Chocolate or strawberry?” He demands, wanting to know what flavor you are craving.

You scoff again, “Sure, you don’t. Strawberry.”

Dave turns back towards the window. Once the person behind the speaker finishes their greeting, Dave orders your strawberry milkshake. Pulling forward when directed and instead of using the credit card he’s supposed to use for any purchases for you, he slips his own to the bored teenager at the payment window. It’s something he’s done when you just want a bit of junk, knowing your dad would object to you eating like crap when you are on tour. He doesn’t see Dave’s personal credit card bill and you’ve never noticed, so it’s his little secret.

“Thank you,” you say as he passes you your drink and you immediately take a large sip. The moan that leaves your lips is sinful as you indulge yourself in the sweet treat.

“You’re welcome, princess.” He pulls off from the window and moves to the exit. “What other errands do you need to run?” He demands, still unsure why you think he hates his job. He’s gruff, doesn’t take shit, but he’s never taken anything out on you. He’s just….rigid in his methods.

“You want a sip?” you offer, slightly annoyed he never orders anything for himself. You move the cup in front of his mouth and place the straw on his lips. A smile curling up on yours as await his reaction. “No other errands today. Just this goddamn photoshoot.”

Instead of pushing it away, Dave wraps his lips around the straw and sucks. Groaning at the sweet taste of the strawberry milkshake bursting on his tongue, he takes another gulp before leaning his head back. “Photo shoot, got it.”

“Taste good?” You ask as your thighs clench together at the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “Yeah! Get ready to sit around and be bored out of your mind for three hours.”

“Tastes good.” Dave can’t say that he particularly cares for the photo shoots, a lot of the shit is just pretentious bullshit to him, but he does like seeing you in the little outfits. “I have plenty of emails to go through to keep me busy.” He tells you as he starts to drive towards the studio where the shoot is taking place.

“Mhmm,” you hum back at his tone. Clearly ignoring your attempts to flirt or at least make the atmosphere a little less… boring. “Sounds like you've got it all figured out.”

You spend the rest of the journey in silence, occasionally sipping on your milkshake and tapping on your thigh. The studio is in a surprisingly residential part of LA, tucked away somewhere quiet and away from the flashes from the herds of paparazzi that swarm the busier parts of the city.

He orders you to wait and you roll your eyes as he rounds the car to open the door. He ushers you into the studio and immediately starts asking a million questions about how can or can’t access the studio and ensuring that no one without a keycard or pass will be able to get in.

You offer the receptionist a small smile and mouth ‘sorry’ as he continues to whittle off all of his demands. Never before had someone been so thorough… Even he seems to be a little over the top today, you think to yourself as you stand quietly next to him.

Dave is moderately satisfied when his questions have been answered but he’s not thrilled at the security for this place. Instead of working on those emails like he had claimed, his head is going to be on a swivel. Finally, he turns back towards you and motions you over. “We’re ready.”

“Hair and makeup?” you ask the receptionist and she dutifully points you in the direction. You glance over and Dave and he nods his head as you make your way down the hall. “I wonder what the hell I'll be wearing in this one.” You say with a smirk.

“Maybe they will actually put some damn clothes on you.” He grunts, appalled at how little clothes they wanted you to perform in. You were a fucking singer, not a stripper.

“Doubtful,” you say with a shrug as you make your way to the makeup chair. A hoard of people immediately emerging towards you with thousands of dollars worth of makeup that’ll make you look almost unrecognizable when they’re done. “Enjoy your emails.” You shoot back at him over your shoulder.

He huffs, slowly following you but keeping his eyes out for any potential issues. You don’t seem happy with this photo shoot, and if he needs to, he will tell them that you are leaving. You are a pain in his ass, but you deserve consideration. It should have been your choice to be here to begin with.

The interview is brief, she sits and asks the questions whilst you’re poked and prodded in hair and make up. Dave had set a few more ground rules than usual and banned them from asking ANY questions about your personal life and the interviewer is clearly pissed at the lack of artistic freedom she’s left to work with and after about twenty minutes of generic questions she pretty much gives up and announces that the majority of the interview will be focusing on the new album rather than gossip.

You roll your eyes as you're presented with your first outfit of the shoot, it shows more than you’re comfortable with but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you pull on the almost see through body con and make your way into the studio.

The photographer wastes no time walking up to you and grabbing at your waist, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug.

Dave always tries to hang around the edges of the photo shoot. Keeping a cup of ridiculously expensive - yet somehow horrible tasting - coffee in his hands in order to keep from looking like a hulking thug. He is there to be intimidating, yes, but it does no good to make people try to skitter away and hide. He frowns when the photographer’s fingers dig into your waist and he takes a step forward. His job is to protect you from unwanted threats and fans, but he has no problem telling a self important prick to get his fucking hands off you. “Okay.” He snaps. “Take the damn pictures. We don’t have all day.”

You spend the next ten minutes being contorted and molded into the most uncomfortable positions known to man. Your eyes seek Dave as the photographer makes a comment that makes you shudder and your stomach twist, before sending you off for your second outfit change. 

“Jesus,” you murmur as you look at the two piece swimsuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was supposed to be ironic, the set decorated like it was the middle of winter and you’re parading around in summer gear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before putting on the swimsuit and covering it with a robe and making your way back out to the studio.

Desperate to keep away from his judging glare you kept Dave out of your line of sight and dropped the robe with a grimace and exhale that screamed, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ The material had barely hit the floor before the creepy photographer was making a beeline straight over to you.

Dropping the coffee into the trash, Dave can see how uncomfortable you are. His face twisting into a deeper scowl as he charges forward and reaches you right as the twerp reaches you and grips the waistband of your outfit to yank the hips holes higher to show off more of you and damn near exposes your fucking cunt. “You’re done.” He spits, grabbing the man’s hand and twisting it around so that the fucker is helpless to move any way but where Dave directs him - which is away from you. “This is fucking done.” He growls again, ignoring the shouts and curses from the photographer and the people rushing over. “Go get dressed, princess.”

You nod your head at Dave and almost run back to the dressing room, unable to hide from the sound of Dave and the photographer yelling at each other.

You pull off the swimsuit and quickly dress back into your casual clothes before stepping out the door and calling Dave’s name. You know you’re about to be in for a world of hurt when your PR team and your parents hear that you didn’t complete the shoot, but you push down those worries and start making your way to the exit.

“- I don’t give a rat’s ass who the fuck you think you are.” Dave shouts, not backing down from the prima Donna in front of him. “You don’t fucking touch her. The shit you were making her do was boarderline sexual harassment and you aren’t going to do shit about it. Otherwise the local PD might get a tip about the fucking pound of coke you gave in here.”

You stand by the desk in reception waiting for him to come to you. “Dave,” you yell back towards the studio before deciding to go wait by the car.  The air feels thick and you’re not ready for the fall out that’s to come.

The photographer jerks back and Dave smirks a very pleased smile. One that says he’s gotten his point across. “Use what you’ve got, or fuck off. And don’t worry, I’ll tell her people myself.” He turns around and strides off, rushing towards the door to find you.

The sound of the studio door slamming makes you jump, you turn around to see Dave making his way over to you. “I’m so fucked,” you say as you pull on the door handle seconds after he unlocks it with his key fob, “My dad is going to be so pissed. He worked for months to get me a photoshoot with him.”

“He is a fucking coked up pervert.” Dave snarls, snatching the door from your hands and watching as you climb into the seat. “I’ll take the heat, don’t worry, princess.”

“Good luck with that,” you sigh, “Thank you though. I’ve learned to accept that kind of behavior and it was nice to have someone on my side for a change.”

"No one will touch you like that while I'm working to protect you." Dave promises darkly. "Fucker is lucky I didn't break his arm."

"Yeah?" you ask with a slight smirk, "You'd really protect me, huh?"

Dave rolls his eyes and turns to look at you when he goes to shut the door. "It's what I'm paid to do, princess." He reminds you, shutting the door and walking around the SUV.

You watch him as he rounds the car, before opening the door. "Is it too late to run another errand? I'm sure there's some dry cleaning we can pick up somewhere before dealing with this." 

He snorts and tosses you a smug smirk. "Someone's not ready to face daddy?" He asks mockingly before he starts the car. He doesn't answer you, but he pulls out of the parking lot and turns the opposite way from your house.

"Nope," you say putting extra emphasis behind the 'P' "You wanna go eat?"

Dave chuckles and looks back at the road after glancing at you. "It won't be five stars, Princess, but l'll take you to eat the best fucking food you've ever had in your life.”

"Sounds good." You say with a smile before looking over at him, he seems the most relaxed he has all day and you wonder if it's because you're not at his throat for once.

It's not an incredibly far drive, but Dave pulls off the main boulevard and enters a gated community, slowing at the wrought iron fencing and pressing a button on the little pad inside the SUV to allow the gate to swing open silently. Nodding to the man in the guard shack as he drives through and down the street.

You raise an eyebrow as you take in the rows and rows of houses with meticulously kept lawns, "Where are you taking me, Mr. York?"

"Oh it's Mister York now." He snorts. "Told you, I'm taking you to have the best damn food you've ever had in your life." He reminds you. "At my house."

"Something tells me you like being called things that assert your authority." you giggle, "Do you cook? Or do you have a secret wife you've never mentioned?"

He rolls his eyes again and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, reconsidering this entire thing. It was stupid to bring you to his house. "You think I have a wife?"

"I don't know," you say with a shrug, " know three things about you. Your name, your job and I learned today that you like strawberry milkshakes."

Dave grunts and pulls up to another gated driveway and presses the next button on the panel. "Now you know where I live."

You hum in content. His house is beautiful, the lawn is meticulous and clearly he takes pride in every aspect of maintaining his home. "It's a beautiful house.”

"It's secure." Despite the fact that Dave took pride in maintaining the type of home he had always dreamed of when he was a boy, the security was the most important thing. It takes some doing to get to him. The car pulls up into the garage and he cuts the engine after closing the door behind it. "Let's go inside."

You climb out of his car and follow him into his house. It's just as meticulous inside and as it is outside. "You have a beautiful home Dave. What's for lunch?"

"French onion soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." It doesn't sound fancy but he learned it from the girl he had been sleeping with when he was in France and he would never eat it a different way. The soup was already made, he had done that last night and it would be quick and easy to reheat it and make the sandwiches. 

"That sounds incredible," you say as you take a seat, "Never pegged you as a cook." You look around the room and note that lack of personal touches, no photos, nothing to indicate a wife or kids. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"When would I have time for a girlfriend?" He asks, striding over to the fridge to start pulling out the necessary ingredients. "I'm with you, and when I'm not with you, I'm reading reports that says I need to spend more time with you"

You hum in response, "Does that bother you?" You ask as he hands you a glass of water. "You must get... frustrated."

"I get frustrated when you are mouthy and obstinate. Not caring about your own safety." Dave grunts, removing his jacket and showcasing the double pistols under each arm from the holsters he wears.

"Fuck," you say out loud. "Is that really necessary?" You try to ignore the way your clit begs for some attention at the sight of his broad shoulders stretching the material of his shirt.

"What? You want perverts grabbing you and trying to kiss you?" He asks, lifting a brow. He knows you don't know about the stalker so he keeps it generalized. "Rooting through your trash can for your used tampons?"

"I don't think anyone's rooting through my garbage." you say with a shocked giggle. "I appreciate that you care... about the job that is.”

"That's because I had them change the procedures." It's shocking how much was being kept from you, but that was his job as well.

"What procedures?" You ask before taking a sip of water. And taking another glance around the room. 

Dave sighs slightly. "All your...intimate trash is either taken off property and disposed of, or incinerated. Personnel are monitored to make sure that they aren't taking items and selling them."

"Oh." You take another small sip of your water, your throat feeling extremely dry all of a sudden and then you raise an eyebrow, "What else are you keeping from me?"

"Do you really want to know all the details of your tour, princess?" He asks sarcastically as he spoons soup into bowls and shakes his head. "No, you don't." He answers for you.

"No wonder my Dad wanted to hire you," you murmur under your breath, "Two peas in a goddamn pod." You're pissed but you can't ignore the way your stomach growls at the smell of the soup, you can't remember the last time you had a meal that wasn't green and crunchy.

"I'm more dangerous than your father." Dave tells you simply as he slices a loaf of sourdough so he can make the sandwiches.

You scoff loudly and roll your eyes at him, "Right."

"Think what you want, princess." He huffs. "I doubt your father has a body count."

"A body count?" You ask with a confused look in your eyes, "What's yours?"

Dave turns around and levels a bland look at you. "I've killed more men than you'd want to know, princess."

"When you were in the military?" You ask. Surprising yourself at how calm you are after his shocking admission.

"Before I started protecting wealthy celebrities." He chuckles. "Pays better."

"Mhmm," you hum back, "Can't imagine protecting 'spoiled princesses' gives you the same thrill though." Your fingertip coats around the rim of your water glass as you watch him finish up the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Tell me something else about you."

Dave snorts and rolls his eyes. "Less people shooting at me." He offers dryly. "Well, you know I've killed people, I cook, what else do you want to know?" He tilts his head curiously. 

You giggle at him. The serious expression paired with the adorable head tilt makes your insides heat up, "I don't know. What do you like to do when you're not working?"

"I don't have much free time." He's with you nearly twenty hours out of the day and only had a few days off a month. "A lot of the time is spent in bed."

"Oh," you mumble. You know you're pushing it, and you know he's likely to completely ignore your question or scold you for being so invasive but the question slips out before you have time to stop it, "Not just sleeping I suppose?"

Dave snorts and shakes his head. "When would I have time to find someone to fuck, princess? I can't just pick someone out like you can." He growls, unhappy with the lackluster choices in men you've paraded through your bedroom. Discreetly, of course, so daddy wouldn't find out.

Your laugh loudly at that, "Like it would take much. I can't imagine you're short of offers," you hate the twang of jealousy that you feel at the thought of anyone throwing themselves at him. "You probably walk into a bar and before you can sit there are multiple women begging you to take them home.”

"I don't go to bars." Dave knows what you're trying to ask, but he just keeps on avoiding telling you what you want to know. Enjoying the increasing look of frustration on your lips.

"Okay, so you use hook up apps?" You ask. Intent on not letting this go.

"Hell no," Dave snorts, shaking his head. "I don't fucking use those things, they invite trouble."

"Bullshit," you snort, "You're telling me you're not inviting a new lucky lady into your bed every night?"

"Why?" Dave smirks at you in the most condescending way possible. "Is the princess jealous?" He laughs, shaking his head. 

"Curious. Not jealous," you say ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. "So, you're what celibate?"

"Not celibate." Dave turns back to his sandwiches and flips them over in the pan. "I do alright when I want to.

"Anyone I know?" You ask, unable to hide the jealousy in your voice.

"Miranda makes it easy enough to get together when we need to release a little steam." Dave shrugs and doesn't even look over at you. He knows your face will be a sight but he wants to see what you say about him fucking your tour assistant. She was a beautiful woman and knew that it was just sex, so it worked.

You're pretty sure he saw the exact moment your heart stopped. "Miranda?" you croak out. "Wow. I guess you do make an attractive couple.”

"Couple." Dave scoffs. "No, we aren't a couple. We just fuck. Scratch each other's itches."

"Why her?"

"Convenience." Dave looks over at you and notes how you look like you're going to cry. "She wanted to cum and so did I, so it works when we want it to."

"So what? If someone wants to cum you'll provide that service as well? Or is it just my assistants that you feel the need to fuck?" Jealousy drips from every word spilling from your mouth.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Dave asks mockingly. "Someone's feeling neglected?" He knows you have a weird attraction to him despite hating his guts.

"Nope," you spit back completely unconvincingly, "Just interesting to find out what I'm paying you both to do."

Dave chuckles. "We fuck off the clock, princess. I don't steal time from you." It's laughable since he's not an hourly employee.

"Whatever," you mumble with a shrug. Annoyed with yourself for being so affected by this. He's made it clear that he doesn't have any desire to fuck you and you chide yourself for letting it bother you so much.

Dave snorts and just hums as he pulls the sandwiches off the heat and starts to plate them up. The last thing to do is melt the cheese on the soup and it will be done.

You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, ignoring the list of missed calls from your Dad and your PR team. You scroll through your unread messages and your fingers linger over an unopened text chain from a guy who you were briefly seeing, Chad, and you consider asking him if he's free to hook up later than afternoon. 

Needing to blow off some steam and try to rid yourself of the jealousy that has made itself home in the pit of your stomach. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Dave calling your name.

"Come eat." Dave slides the plate and bowl in front of the stool at the island.

"Smells good," you say before digging in. "Oh wow," you say with a moan after taking a large bite, "This is phenomenal."

Dave smirks slightly and stands across from you. "Of course it is." He murmurs, even though your praise makes his heart quicken.

"Holy fuck," you moan as you taste the soup. You're so used to eating the same thing pretty much everyday that you have to internally remind yourself to slow down. "This might be the most delicious thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Dave smirks and doesn't say what he is thinking. He can offer you something better, but he just hums and nods as he dips his sandwich in his soup. 

You stir your soup a few times before looking up at him. "Why not me?" you ask before dropping your spoon, "Why don't you want to fuck me?"

That makes him pause for a moment, staring at you and waiting for you to laugh. When you don't, he tilts his head and instead of answering you, he asks his own question. "Why would you want me to fuck you? I'm an asshole."

"Wasn't it you who recently said that all the guys I fuck are assholes?" you reply with a smirk. "You don't find me attractive?"

Dave grunts, knowing this is getting into dangerous territory. If you know how sexy he finds you, you will try to manipulate him, so his answer is just a shrug of his shoulders. "You wear too much fucking makeup."

"I can take it off," you say, looking directly in his eyes. "I can take anything you want off."

"Are you that desperate for a good fucking, princess?" Dave taunts. "You'd be a good girl and so anything I'd say so l'd fuck you?"

You feel conflicted. Your clit pulses with need from his words, but he's clearly mocking you. "You're a fucking asshole, Dave." The urge to get up and storm away from the table grows steadier but you refuse to give. Instead your eyes burn into his as you await whatever taunt he has next.

"I am a fucking asshole." Dave's grin is smug and cocksure as he leans in closer. "But obviously you like an asshole and I'm a bigger one than any of the little pussies you fuck." He shakes his head. "You let fucking losers touch you."

"Go fuck yourself," you spit back at him. Hating the way your body betrays you and despite his words being cruel they make you drip with arousal. "You know what... I'm pretty sure I heard Miranda talking about some limp dicked asshole she fucked once, I wonder who that could have been." You lie, wanting to piss him off in return.

Emotion slides off his face and his eyes flash with anger before they go carefully blank. You're trying to rile him up and you’re doing a good job. "Good thing she begs for my cock every chance she gets." He sneers. "Believe me, you'd feel my dick for days.

"I'm sure she does," you say with a roll of your eyes, knowing how much it pisses him off when you do so. You scoff loudly at him, "Is that what you tell yourself after you give whatever poor soul that finds its way into your bed a shitty orgasm?"

Dave growls for a second before he shakes his head. He knows you are trying to taunt him and it's working. "Keep it up, princess." He warns, jaw rocking in anger.

The growl he makes goes straight to your throbbing pussy, and despite the look on his face that tells you he's not playing with you, you can't help but throw out another jab, "How old are you now, Mr. York? Are you able to keep it up?"

It's the desire to shut your smart mouth that makes him snap. Coming around the island before you can react and grabbing your arms. "You want to find out, princess? I'll make that voice of yours raspy and hoarse for your next show."

"Fuck," you moan as he presses you up against the table. "Yes... Fuck, yes. Show me." you half whimper half plead as his body boxes you in.

This should be the point where he pulls back. Rejects the idea as impossible and takes you back to your people to rail about him being ridiculous and overbearing. But he doesn't.

Not when he sees the naked need in your eyes. Instead, Dave crushes his mouth against yours in a kiss designed to punish both of you.

The kiss is almost bruising, his hand twists around your hair as the other one possessively digs into your waist. He swallows every moan that you let slip into his mouth as his tongue battles yours from dominance. It's too much but not enough at once. You've never been kissed like this before and the only thought you're able to pull together is that you never want it to end.

He likes that you are still fighting him. Even if it's the stroke of your tongue against his. Demanding more of him, and pushing him. Growling into your mouth, Dave slides his hand around your hip and plunges it inside your stupid sweats that you are wearing and into your panties to find you hot and already wet.

You whimper into his mouth as he slides a finger into your slit, seemingly avoiding your bundle of nerves on purpose. "Fuck me," you murmur against his lips before reaching up to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His chuckle is dirty, leaning in and nipping the skin behind your ear to make you shiver as he slides his finger back to tease your entrance. "Maybe I can keep it up." He huffs in your ear right before he sinks his finger into your tight cunt.

You almost scream his name as one of his thick fingers pushes inside of you. "Fuck," you manage choke out as he curls it up inside of you. You're pretty sure it must be hurting him with how deep your fingernails dig into his arms, desperately grabbing onto him as your legs threaten to give way beneath you.

He chuckles and hums his approval for how vividly you react to him. "You want to go into the bedroom, princess? Stretch out on my bed and let me have you?"

"Yes, please," you mumble as your face nuzzles into his chest. "Ne-need you to fuck me."

He gives a dirty chuckle and pulls his finger out of you, enjoying the way you whine and your hips chase his hand. He doesn't guide you to the bedroom, instead he scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a heathen claiming his prize.

You yelp at the man as he manhandles you, taking the stairs with ease before laying you down on his large plush bed. Something tells you that you should wait for him to give your permission to speak in here, so you look up at him all wide eyed and patiently, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Why don't you put those stage moves to use? Strip for me." Dave growls, wishing you didn't have that fucking makeup on, but he's not going to make you wash it off right now.

"You want a show, Sir?" you tease, as you move to kneel on the bed. You slowly reach for the bottom of your shirt and inch it up slowly.

"You gonna tease me, or strip off so I can fuck you?" You've already started unbuttoning his shirt so Dave finishes it, shrugging out of the jacket and shucking the shoulder holster for his guns.

"Both," you reply petulantly before pulling your shirt the rest of the way off, and sliding off your bottoms. "I want you to taste me.

"Fucking brat." Dave growls, shaking his head as he peels off his shirt. Always trying to dictate things. "Taste you." He sneers. "You mean lick your cunt? Eat your pussy? Tongue fuck you?"

"Aw, have I struck a nerve? Does Daddy not like being told what to do?" You ask with an exaggerated pout, "Yes, Dave. I want you to lick my pussy."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bet none of those pussies actually made you cum, did they?" He challenges.

"All of this talk, Dave," you tut, "Yet you're doing nothing to prove you're any better."

"I’ll gag you." He threatens, even as he's kicking off his shoes and reaching for his belt.

"Bullshit," you counter back, "You wanna see if you make me scream your name too badly for that." You remove your bra and slowly remove your panties, making extra effort to bare yourself to him. Before laying back and spreading your legs for him. "Hurry. Up.” 

"Keep it up and you'll not even cum." He growls. "I'll fuck your throat and blow my load all over that pretty face of yours.”

"Doubt I'll cum anyway." You know you shouldn't keep pushing him, but you can't help yourself. "Sounds like that's not the first time you've thought about doing that, Dave. Would you want me to eat it or just lay there covered in your cum?"

"Eat it." Dave grunts, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swoop. "If you were just wearing it, I'd want to take a picture of it. And that can't happen."

"Oh wow," you gasp at the sight of him, and you don't need to look at his face to know he's wearing the smuggest smile right now. "I'd let you take a photo." You admit quietly whilst biting down on your bottom lip. 

"Never let anyone take a picture of you like that, princess." He growls as he stalks over to the bed. "Not even me.”

"I wouldn't let anyone else, but I'm just saying that I'd trust you. Are you going to touch me now?"

"Brat." He kneels on the bed and slaps your inner thigh before grabbing your ankle to drag you closer to him, instead of lowering himself to the bed, he is pulling your legs up over his shoulder to bring your cunt to his mouth.

Your hands scramble to find purchase on the bed as he lifts your hips up towards him, "Dave," you moan as he breath coats your inner thigh, "Please." The second his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds, you start to lose it, chanting his name over and over and he dives into you like a man dying of thirst.

There's never a civilized way to eat pussy and Dave doesn't even try to pretend there is. His sole goal is to make you eat your words and make sure you never forget when he touched you. Sucking your clit into his mouth while he reaches down and slaps one of your tits.

"Don't stop," you plead as he does something magical to your clit, you whimper at the sharp stinging on your breast but you want to beg him to do it more. You brokenly sob out a pitiful 'please' as he brings you closer to your high. 

Dave doesn't acknowledge you beyond a grunt. Doubling down on the flicks of his tongue and watching you. This can only happen once and he isn't going to deny himself seeing you shatter for him.

"I’ve wanted this so bad," you croak out before everything goes black. Pleasure ripping through your body as his arm tightens around you to keep you still, his tongue continuing its delicious assault on your bundle of nerves as you're reduced to a whimpering mess.

Your choked cry of pleasure is loud, ringing out and he groans against your clit. Slowing his tongue down and working you through the buckling of your hips with the most profound sense of smug pride that he could have. Watching your face as it rapidly cycles through expressions as you cum.

Slowly everything starts coming back into focus, your thighs still shaking from the way he just completely shattered with your earth. "Oh, that was... wow." You say with a giggle. 

"Thought you said I wouldn't make you cum?" Dave huffs with a smirk on his face.

You want to hit him back with a witty retort but it dies on your tongue, instead you push yourself up when he drops your hips and smash your lips to his. Moaning at the taste of you still clinging to his lips.

It's a little too easy to wrap his arms around you and kiss you. Letting you set the tone of this one as he holds you. Dave grunts and he cups the back of your head and pushes his tongue into your mouth just like he had to your cunt.

You moan into his mouth and sink your fingernails into his shoulder blades pulling him closer to you. His cock throbs against your stomach as you bite down on his bottom lip.

"Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering in your chest. The way you're unable to stop looking into his eyes already tells you that you're fucked, but you ignore that feeling and concentrate on just feeling him. 

Humming, Dave pulls away from you. Watching you for a moment before he nods and pushes you back down onto the bed. Climbing over you to straddle your waist and he looks down at you with his cock pressing against your stomach. "Beg me." He orders, smirking at you. "I want to hear you beg me to fuck you."

It's unbelievable to you how quickly you're at his mercy, the urge to please him outweighing the urge to challenge him and so with absolutely no fight you're like putty in his hands. "Please, Dave," you whisper, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes, "Please fuck me. Fuck. You can do whatever you want to me, be as rough as you need. Use me however you want. Please. Please fuck me. I need to feel you. I.... I need you. Please."

Reaching down, Dave squeezes your breast before he starts to circle your nipple with his finger. Flicking it over the peaked tip and making you moan. "You look good like this, princess." He shuffles back and pulls your thighs out from under him to wrap around his waist.

The noises he so easily plucks from you fill the room, as you continue to be entirely at his mercy. "Yeah?" you ask, keening at his praise, "You like me spread out naked in your bed, huh, Mr. York?"

"What do you think?" He takes his cock and grips it tightly while he slides it through your folds, teasing you with it. Making sure he presses against your clit as he wets himself with your cum.

"I hope so," you reply as he makes you hiss. Your clit is still pulsing and a little overstimulated from your orgasm. "You gonna make me beg some more or are you going to push that big fat cock inside my pussy, sir?"

Dave chuckles at the quick way you try to push him to fuck you. Debating on drawing it out, he decides against it. Instead, he lines up and rather than sinking in slowly, he snaps his hips forward and splits you open in the space of a heartbeat.

The scream of pleasure that falls from your lips as he fills you to the hilt is sinful. It's overwhelming, the thickness of him is something you've never experienced. Even the few toys you've experimented with haven't been as girthy as his cock, and it takes a few moments for your pussy to adjust to the size of him. You whimper as he grits something about how 'he knows it's a lot to take,' as you involuntarily clench down around him. You give him the signal to start moving after pressing your lips to his collarbone.

He grunts as he pulls his hips back, feeling the way your walls drag against his cock and you are possibly the tightest cunt he's ever fucked. He knows he hurt you, his cock is thick, but you're squirming under him and wanting more. "Such a little whore." He chuckles darkly, looking down and watching your lips spread wide as he moves. "Want me to wreck you? Make it hard to sit down, princess?"

You simply nod your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continues to stretch you out. You feel completely overwhelmed by him but in the best possible way. "Please, Dave," you beg as he notches against something incredible inside of you.

It makes him grin when he sits up so he can push your legs back. Change the angle even more plus it gives him the distance to keep from kissing you the entire time. Your fingers dig into his arms and he hums. "Hang on."

You feel a little disappointed that his lips are no longer hovering over yours, but the feeling is fleeting as it's replaced by something extraordinary. The angle of his cock rubbing up something inside of you that you weren't aware existed.

Every thrust pushes you further into the mattress, pushing you up the bed as he snaps his hips forward with a single determined goal, making you scream his name.

The room is filled with the sound of your moans and whimpers, "Please," you mumble over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but being unable to stop. You've never cum without clitoral stimulation before now, but the way his cock drags against nirvana inside of you has you threatening to fall over that cliff at any moment.

He grunts, shifting. his hips and he reaches down between the two of you. Rubbing your clit goes against what he wants to do, but he's overheard you talking enough that he knows it's what you need. "Fuck- fuck you keep squeezing me." He pants out, his thumb rubbing hard circles around your bundle of nerves. "You're gonna soak me. You know you wanna."

The added addition of his thumb on your pulsing clit makes you shiver with anticipation, your orgasm is already teetering and you know you're about to be thrown over the edge. "Kiss me," you plead and he simply shakes head no and increases the pace of his thrusts, his thumb doubling down on its efforts as you start to come undone beneath him. Your pussy clamps down around him hard and you scream his name as you cum, flooding his cock and soaking him as he demanded.

You have gotten to him. He's broken his own self imposed rules of never getting too close to the client. He was supposed to care about your safety, your well being. Not give a shit about your orgasms, or the way you look when you cum. He bares his teeth and takes it out on you. Speeding up and making sure that his thrusts are punching the head of his cock against the spongy cervix deep inside your cunt as he tries to fuck away the realization that he's in too deep.

He pounds relentlessly into you, chasing his own orgasm as he mindlessly starts to build another up for you. Every drag of his cock makes your legs tremble more and more. You never want him to stop and you want to feel him buried deep inside of you whenever he needs relief. "Fill me up," you plead as your third orgasm washes over you. It takes you both by surprise as you clamp down hard around his throbbing cock. As he continues to thrust into you the realization that he may have ruined all other men for you hits you like a tonne of bricks.

"Can't." Dave growls out, twitching at the idea of filling you up and the next swing of his hips nearly makes him cum, but he can't risk getting you pregnant. He would ruin you and he can't do that. "You- it's too- too risky."

"IUD," you whine in response, "Wanna feel all of you."

That does it for Dave, the sound of need rumbling in his chest as he flattens himself over your body and drills his cock as deep as he can work himself. Watching you as he starts to pump you full of his cum with a groan of your name.

"Holy shit," you pant as he fills you up, "That was... you're incredible." You giggle. He stills inside of you and you think you'd be content to stay here in this moment forever. You want to ask him to kiss you again but you don't, instead you just look up at him and bask in the afterglow. "No one has ever made me cum before," you admit with another giggle. "I thought I'd just have to rely on my vibrator forever."

He throbs inside you for another moment before he chuckles and starts to pull out of you. "Then you have been fucking the wrong boys." He groans at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt, taken by it. Wanting to push it back into your cunt and keep it there with his fingers until he realizes that he can't do this again. Shuffling back and standing, he runs his hand through his hair. "Use the bathroom or whatever you need, I'll get ready to take you back."

"Oh, okay," you reply, feeling your face fall at how quickly he moves away from you. You push yourself up off the bed and scramble around looking for your clothes. You pick up your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way into the bathroom. Once in the bathroom you clean yourself up and start to get dressed. Realizing that you left your panties somewhere in his room but deciding not to bother him as he clearly wants you out of his house. So you pull on your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way downstairs to find him. Forgetting about your discarded panties in the process.

Downstairs, Dave sighs, redressed in some clothes from the dryer and mentally trying to put back up the barriers between you and him. He needed to be objective, not emotional and he had realized while he was fucking you that you've gotten under his skin. You are his client, not his girlfriend.

"Hey," you mumble as you enter the kitchen and see him standing there waiting for you. "Did I do something wrong?" you ask before slipping on your shoes. He barely glances over at you as you do so.

"No." Dave continues to clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. "Are you ready, princess?" He asks, closing the door to the machine and turning around to look over at you. "We need to get you back."

"Yeah," you say quietly, "I'm ready." You pick your phone up from his kitchen table and follow him out to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for his incoming speech about how it's safer for you to be in the back but it doesn't come. He doesn't glance over in your direction, he simply switches on the ignition and waits for you to click on your seatbelt and starts to drive away. 

The drive back is quiet. He doesn't look over at you but he feels your eyes on him every few seconds. Refusing to start a conversation with you when you clearly want to. It's better this way, especially since this cannot happen again.

Your fingernails dig into the meat of your arm as you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from trying to gauge what he's thinking. His demeanor is stiff and you can feel tension flooding the air but you can't bring yourself to say anything to diffuse it. Deciding that you'll wait to see if he speaks first.

Once he has pulled up, Dave puts the SUV in park and cuts the engine. Getting out of the driver's side, he walks around the car to open your door, staying silent as he waits for you to start pitching a fit or yelling at him.

"Thanks," you murmur with a fleeting but polite smile before walking past him. The second you open that door you know you're in for a world of hurt so you take a large inhale before twisting the doorknob.

"Where the hell have you been?" Your father booms at you before both of your feet are in the door. 

"Avoiding this," you say with a small gesture of your hand, "I'm not going to argue with you. And before you mention it... that photographer was a fucking creep." You walk past your father and your tutting PR manager and up the stairs.Listening to the cruel taunts your father bellows at you and leaving Dave to deal with the fall out. 

"Before you say anything, the asshole you chose to photograph her was pawing her." Dave growls, scowling at your father. "It was disgusting."

You close the door behind you. You don't want to deal with this right now, you just want to get into your comfiest pajamas, so you do just that. Before climbing into bed and thinking about today, thinking about how his lips felt as he crashed them against yours. Since the drive home your pussy has started to ache from the way he fucked into you. You close your eyes and focus on the way you can still feel him.

"Do you know how long it took me to land that photographer?" Your father demands, puffing up his chest and looking at Dave in annoyance. As if the man thought he could actually intimidate Dave."Who fucking cares?" Dave hisses. "The contract you signed states that I have complete control over your daughter's safety and that includes killing any sessions or events that I see fit." He reminds him. "I think her being assaulted by a fucking man who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself posed a threat to her safety. Or would you rather there be a story about how her manager and father wouldn't protect her from sexual assault because the photographer was popular?" Dave wasn't above leaking a story for you, another clue that he was too involved with you. 

You can hear Dave's voice echoing through the house. His words are muffled but you're confident that he's standing his ground and sticking up for you. Lack of sleep and the events of today catches up on you and you let yourself drift off into a comfortable nap.

Dave watches as your father turns around a strides off, unhappy with his decision but there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it. Not if he wanted to keep Dave protecting you and he knows he can't change your security. Not with the threats that he has been keeping from you. 

Instead of going to his office, he climbs the stairs to see what you are doing. Opening the door to your bedroom, he finds you asleep sprawled over your bed and he huffs. Smirking with pride at wearing you out, he walks over and picks up your throw blanket and covers you up. Watching you sleep for a moment before turning around and walking out. He can't have another lapse in judgment, not when your safety was in jeopardy. 

*

It's been three days. Three days since the disastrous photoshoot and three days since Dave. You weren't sure what to expect from him afterwards, not that you were expecting anything, but the way he's clearly avoiding and ignoring you makes your heart drop. You've seen him a handful of times, using finding an excuse to dip out of the room or watching him start a conversation with someone else. You sent him three texts and all three have gone unanswered. This morning you walked into your living room and he glanced over at you before making his way across the room to Miranda and your stylist Luna. All three of them then disappear from the room as you stand there awkwardly.

"Before she uses anything, you verify where it comes from." Dave has gotten more letters and the results from the lab have him on edge. There have been traces of poisons on the paper but they can't tell if it was from the sender or something that had been contaminated in transit. There was even something off about the postal marks. That was still being investigated.

"Every bottle of water, every coke. If it doesn't come from us, she doesn't get it." He glances between the two of them. "Luna....you need to make sure that no one has access to your supplies."

Eventually the three of them emerge from the room and Luna gestured for you to follow her upstairs. You were briefly appearing on some tv show via video link and she was there to get you all glammed up.

Dave doesn't watch you as you climb the stairs but he does grab ahold of Miranda's arm when she moves to follow. Holding her back until everyone is out of earshot. "Hey." He frowns slightly. "Tonight. Get a drink with me?" He asks, watching as the pretty woman breaks into a happy smile. She wouldn't if she knew that he is planning on telling her that he's not sleeping with her anymore. "What do you say?"

You make a deal to ask Luna to go light with the makeup. No smoky eye or bold lip today. Wanting to keep it light and natural. She works her magic with your hair and uses minimal makeup, only enhancing your natural beauty and glow. Just as she's finishing up your door swings open and Miranda comes bouncing in.

"Hey babe," she greets you with, before turning all her attention to Luna, "You remember that guy I told you about, the one I've been kind of seeing for a little while? He asked me out tonight." She gushes with a wide smile plastered across her face.

"That's great," Luna gushes back before going off on some excited rant about how she should wear some off the shoulder dress that some magazine had lent to you, because they'd never notice that it went missing for just one night.

You feel tears spring up in your eyes, acid rain threatening to spill down your cheeks and you bite down onto your lower lip to avoid them breaking free. Luna and Miranda are too busy excitedly chatting about her upcoming date to notice how quiet you are.

You slink out of the makeup chair and pull the outfit set out for you from the hanger and make your way into the bathroom to get changed. "Fuck him," you mutter to yourself as you look in the mirror, he'd only touched you once but you were hooked. Never in your life had you felt more comfortable, safer and more alive than you did in those moments that he made you his and you hate yourself for losing yourself in him so quickly.

Dave strides back to the office and closes the door. He's tried to stay away from you, afraid that he will reveal too much. This has gotten complicated and if there's one thing he knows is that complicated gets messy. Pretending to ignore your hurt eyes has given him problems and he's picking up his phone. "Resnick." He greets the other man as soon as he picks up. "Need you to watch the princess tonight." He grunts, looking down at his calendar. "Need to take care of something and she's gonna be here all night. Easy work."

The interview goes by smoothly, the late night host asking you a few questions about your upcoming tour and your plans for once it's finished. He teases you about your plans for a much needed break after it's finished and he reminds you that the last time you said that you'd dropped a surprise album.

It's early evening once you'd recorded your segment for the show airing later that night. You have a few texts from friends saying they're meeting up at a bar tonight and how you should come.

After realizing that Dave will be too occupied on his date, you text back one of your friends for the address of the bar and say you'll swing by after escaping your babysitters. You see the rack of loaned dresses still untouched from earlier and run your fingers across a few of them, settling on a short black backless number and tucking it under your arms before heading back upstairs.

Dave represses a sigh when he sees that Miranda has obviously taken pains with her appearance tonight. He recognizes the dress as one that had been brought in to loan to you, but he doesn't know if you might not have encouraged her to take it. You knew that he was fucking your assistant and you might not care. Instead of frowning, he reaches for her and gives a tight smile. "I thought we could go to a bar." He offers, the real reasoning is that it would be public enough to prevent a scene, something Dave despises.

Once the coast is clear and you're happy that Resnick is too busy to notice you slipping out, you grab your keys from the drawer and make your way to your car. Slipping into the drivers seat for the first time in ages and punching the address to the bar into your GPS. Once out of your driveway, you switch on a playlist and drum your fingers against your steering wheel, singing along loudly as you navigate your way through the LA traffic.

Blissfully unaware of the car that's been trailing behind you since you left your gated community.

Almost 25 minutes later you're pulling up to the bar your friends are in and searching for a spot in the parking lot out the back.

You groan a little when you notice the only available spot is the furthest one from the bar. You pull in and switch the ignition off, taking a few minutes to look in the mirror and fix your hair.

You grab your phone and purse before stepping out of your car and locking the door, taking a few steps forward and almost crashing into a person emerging from the back of your car.

You start to apologize but he just stands there, staring at you with a smile splashed across your face that fills you with unease.

"Did you get my flowers?" He asks, taking a step towards you, "I'm a little upset that you haven't been writing back to me, but I know that you've been busy, sweetheart."

Your heart starts to slam in your chest as he takes another step towards you, you scan the parking lot for signs of another person but you're all alone with him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asks with a frown, "It's me. It's Martin. I know you've been reading my letters. I hand deliver them to your mailbox everyday."

“I’m so glad that you invited me out." Miranda reaches out and touches Dave's arms, squirming on her high top seat at one of the last remaining tables in the bar. "I didn't think we would ever do this." The sex has been fantastic but it's only sex and she doesn't try to push for more since Dave isn't the type of man who is pushed around 

"Yeah." Dave's head is on a swivel, glancing around the bar as they both wait for the drinks that had been ordered. Frowning slightly at the rowdy group of people in the back corner. 

You remember the one thing Dave warned you to do if you ever found yourself in a situation like this. 'Do NOT panic. Try to remain level headed.' You take a small inhale and plaster a fake smile on your face, "Of course, Martin. Hi. How are you? The flowers, oh, they were beautiful. Thank you. What are you doing here?"

He tuts and takes another step towards you, "I saw you leaving, sweetheart, wanted to see where you were going to in such a hurry. It's been so long since you left your house without that guy," he snarls and you realize he's talking about Dave. "It's been so hard to get close to you.”

A shiver runs through you as his words bounce off your goose-pimpled skin. "He's not here now," though he says with a creepy smile.

"We should go inside," you say as he continues to inch closer to you, "We should get a drink."

You don't want to go anywhere with him but you figure the second you're in the bar your friends will spot you and you can signal for some help but he just shakes his head "Oh, sweetheart, it's so loud in there. We have so much to talk about. So much to do.”

You breathe out a shaky exhale before an anxiety shiver rips through you. "Just a quick drink and maybe afterwards we can grab a bite," you suggest. Trying to remain calm as he starts to box you in.

"I don't think so," he says before shaking his head, "We've been waiting so long to be together, angel, why would we waste our time with those losers in the bar. Don't think I don't know who's in there. I've seen their pathetic instagram stories... They're not your friends, they're using you... can't you see that?" He rants.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, but you don't look down at it. Instead you attempt to unlock the screen with your passcode. Keeping your eyes focused on Martin as not to draw attention to what you're doing. Your phone lightly vibrates a few times, letting you know that your attempt to unlock your phone had failed. You take another deep breath as he continues his unhinged rant and you enter it again. This time correctly.

Without looking down you tap the bottom left hand of your screen and pull up your call list, pressing one of the names at the bottom of the list knowing that Dave number occupies the majority of the list. 

His drink is wrong. How they could fuck up a whiskey on the rocks and give him a tequila and water, he will never understand but that isn't important. His hand curls around the drink and he leans forward as Miranda sips her. "Listen, there's a reason that I invited you out tonight..." He starts, huffing when the phone in his breast pocket starts to vibrate. 

"Of course." Her lashes flutter and Miranda looks positively smug. "You wanted to get laid again. Don't worry, you're getting lucky."

Dave ignores that and lets go of the drink to pull his phone out. Seeing your face pop up, he frowns, wondering why you are calling him. "Princess? What are -"

"-you got all my letters. What did you think?" Dave's eyes widen when he hears a voice that doesn't belong to you, sounding like it's several feet away and he can hear the background noise. Obviously not in the house.

His face snaps into a fierce scowl and the chair screeches against the hardwood floors as he stands. He can't shout to get your attention, you might just have the phone in a pocket. Instead he's placing you on speaker phone and immediately starts to pull up the tracking app he put on your phone as he looks at Miranda. "Call Resnick now." He orders her harshly. "Ask him where the fuck your boss is and why he isn't with her."

Your eyes continue to dart around the parking lot, searching for any sign of life as it becomes clear that you're not making it into the bar. You pray Dave has picked up the phone but you're unable to sneak a glance, terrified that Martin will notice and take your phone off of you so instead you ask him another question, something to placate him and keep him from trying anything. "Oh the flowers," you gasp, "Gosh, Martin, you are so thoughtful. How did you know they're my favorite?" You ask. Making an effort to emphasize his name.

"You told me, silly," he says with a laugh that makes you skin crawl, "On Fallon. You said that tulips were your favorite. I know a hint when I see one. Let's get out of here, sweetheart. We don't want the paparazzi getting sniff of you being in the area. I don't want you photographed dressed like that."

"Fuck...fuck...fuck!" Dave rages as he hears the comment about leaving. If it's Martin and he gets you into a car, Dave might never see you again. "Stall him, princess." He hisses, cursing the app for taking so goddamn long to pull up your location. Fucking cell service is shit downtown.

"Why don't you get in your car and I'll follow behind?" You suggest. Not wanting him to get in your car and definitely not wanting to get in his. "I don't wanna leave my car in the lot."

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." Martin hisses, "We will take my car. The last thing I want to do is get stuck in some god awful LA traffic because you got turned around trying to follow me somewhere."

"I have GPS, I'll just punch in your address and if I lose you it's fine, I can just follow the navigation system.”

Come on Dave, you think to yourself, praying he's on the other end of the phone and/or coming to your rescue.

"But really I think we should go inside and get that drink before we go anywhere," you say again, desperate to hold off for as long as possible. But you see the impatience in his eyes, you see the way his eyes go dark as he realizes that you're stalling for something. For someone.

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he snaps at you, "And neither are you. He will arrive any minute and take you away from me if we don't leave now and I know you don't want that. I hear the words you're singing to me in your songs and I can't bear to spend another night being kept away from you."

"Fucking finally." Dave growls, moving towards the door when he sees the dot pop up on the map. His eyes widen when he realizes that you are right here. In the parking lot. You are right in the fucking parking lot of the same goddamn bar he is in. He doesn't bother to say anything to Miranda, just shoving past people and running out the door as he listens to the increasingly agitated Martin start to scream at you.

Your stomach twists as you listen to the delusional words he's now screaming at you, occasionally quoting some of your own lyrics at you in between the unhinged ranting.

"Martin," you plead as he boxes you up against your car door, "We're friends, right?" you try to calm him down by saying but the sudden burst of rage that flashes in his eyes tells you that you've really fucked up.

You squeeze your eyes shut after his hand comes out and strikes you across your cheek. It's only after the immediate throbbing from the slap that you realize that you're crying. Tears streaming down your face as you attempt to placate him. You squeeze your eyes shut again and you let the one word that you've wanted to scream for the past ten minutes fall from your lips, "Dave."

The phone in Dave's hand falls to the ground but he doesn't even bother to pause. Too busy running towards the parking lot and he hears a sharp cry. Eyes narrowed as he spots you, a man pulling his hand back and Dave hisses.

"You fucking bitch! You're mine! You're mine, you're mine! You belong to me!" You cry out again when he brings his hand down, slapping you across the face as he screams at you.

Pushing his body to move faster, fury floods Dave’s veins and makes him scream out a yell as he barrels towards the attacker who is trying to hurt you. 

You whimper as you feel his hot breath coating your face as he moves closer and closer, screaming louder as he does so. You prepare yourself for another strike as he repeats over and over than you're his property, keeping your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Lowering his shoulder, Dave slams into the assailant like a freight train. Driving him to the ground and away from you in a burst of rage that has him immediately hammering his fist into Martin's sides as he pushes up off of him to get a better angle to beat the motherfucker to death.

It's over as quickly as it started. The sound of someone crashing into another, followed by a sharp cracking noise as a fist slams into a jaw. Shattering the bones at immediate contact. Your eyes briefly flicker open and close again at the sight of Dave. 

Safe. You think to yourself as you crumble to the concrete ground. The ringing in your eyes drowning out the sound of each blow Dave delivers to your attacker. You don't hear the sharp squeal of a car tire as Resnick, Ari and Kovak pull up in the parking lot. You don't hear Dave screaming in fury at them as they pull him away from Martin. You don't hear Miranda calling your name as she drops down to your side and gently caresses your throbbing cheek.

Dave's focus narrows to just the target. The ten inch by five inch oval that comprises Martin's face. Bloody now that he has hit him multiple times but he just keeps whaling on him, again and again and again despite the other man not fighting back. The image of your terrified eyes and the welts on your cheek that he had gotten a brief, split second glance are all he can imagine as he tries to inflict as much pain on your attacker as possible. Screaming and fighting when hands drag him away from his target. Lunging for him again and scrambling to shake off his team in his bloodlust to get back to the man who had dared to touch you.

You feel unfamiliar hands on you and you shudder before everything comes back into focus. Miranda. She's kneeling in front of you, your face resting in her hands as she checks out the painful welt throbbing on your cheek. 

It takes Dave well over a minute but he finally calms down enough that the team lets go of him. Jerking his shoulders free of their hold, Dave spit towards the prone man, "fucker." He hisses before he turns and rushes the few steps towards you and drops to his knees in front of where you are sprawled on the ground beside your car. "Move." He orders Miranda roughly, needing to see you are okay himself. 

"She's fine," you hear Miranda shoot back at him, still holding your face in her hands.

"Move." His voice is harder, more forceful and his own bloody fists push her hands out of his way. He wants to make sure of that himself and even then he will have a private doctor come and check you out.

"Dave," you mumble as he inches towards you, "I didn't... ! didn't listen to you. And I'm so sorry. All of this is my fault."

"Shhhhh shhhhhh it's okay. " He will yell at you later, when you aren't in shock. But for now, his hands are slow and gentle as he reaches for you. "You're okay. He's not going to hurt you."

"He's not going to hurt anyone." Resnick huffs, coming over to stand in front of you and Dave. "He's dead."

"Oh God," you squeak out, "He's dead because of me."

"He's dead because of himself." Dave tells you sternly, his dark eyes focused on you. He was the one who had killed Martin, and he would do it again. "He chose his own fate. He could have walked away. He died because he didn't."

You nod a few times just to acknowledge that you heard what he said, before a new stream of tears start to flood your cheeks, "I need to get out of here."

Dave can't leave. He’s killed a man. He will have to wait for the police so he looks up at Resnick. "Resnick is going to take you home." He tells you, starting to draw you up to your feet. "But don't shower. Don't do anything. The police will come and they will need to see you exactly as you are."

"Okay," you murmur, looking up at Dave. "Don't be long, please."

"I won't." He breaks, seeing the fear and sadness on your face. Leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead briefly before he turns you over to his teammate and watches him escort you away to the waiting car.

You climb into the back of the car, knowing it'll give Dave a little peace. Resnick speeds out of the parking lot and towards your home. The journey passes in a blink of an eye and before you know it he's rounding the car and helping you out, leading you into the living room and onto the sofa. Before disappearing into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water.

When the cops arrive, Dave answers their questions as succinctly as possible. The bar's cameras on the parking lot confirmed Dave's version of events and the team had scans of the threatening letters in the vehicle. It takes an hour to get the body loaded up and the crime scene photographed.

Dave tells them to follow him to your house so they can collect evidence from you and get your statement.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. The cops ask you a million questions, some over and over again as you're forced to replay the evening over and over. You feel drained, your face is throbbing and your hands haven't stopped shaking for hours.

Dave walks over to you about another hour of questions and breaks in. "That's enough." He tells them. "She's given you her statement, you can collect her clothes but we are done." He insists. "Any other questions should be directed through the legal team. She's been through enough tonight." 

It seems like eternity for them to leave. Even after Dave tries to hurry them up. Eventually you're ushered up the stairs by somebody as Dave answers the last few questions. Someone stands outside your bathroom as you pop your clothing into an evidence bag and pass it out to them through a slight crack in the door. Immediately closing it back up again and slipping into a much too hot shower. And letting the tears you'd been holding back fall freely.

Once the police have left, Dave sighs and locks the door and sets the alarm. He's sent everyone home and even had a short conversation with Miranda. It hadn't been pretty, but she hadn't really put up a fight after learning that Dave had killed Matin. Apparently the idea of a deadly man was more appealing than the reality. Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to your bedroom and hears the shower going in your bathroom. You've held yourself together with nothing more than sheer determination and even though his hands are bruised and cut, bones obviously broken, Dave doesn't hesitate to start stripping outside of your bathroom and once he's naked he opens the bathroom door to join you.

You don't hear or see the bathroom door open. Your skin is sore from the way you've scrubbed it raw. Trying to remove every trace of this evening from your skin.

Opening the shower door, Dave steps into the shower and his heart aches when he sees you curled up on the bench. "Shit, come here, princess." He moves over to you quickly and scoops you up into his arms, taking your place on the bench and holding you in his lap.

You're not sure how long he holds you for, his voice gently soothing you as you sob brokenly into his neck. You feel him gently wash the conditioner out of your hair before lifting you up and out of the shower.

"It's okay." Dave murmurs, grateful that he's able to carry you instead of insisting that you need to walk on your own. The only time he lets you stand is as he dries you off. Gently rubbing the towel down your body and wrapping your hair for you. Picking you up again to carry you through to the bedroom and tuck you into bed.

"Stay with me?" You ask as he tucks you comfortably into your bed. "Please." You feel a twinge of guilt for asking, knowing that he had gone on a date with another woman a few hours before, ignoring the feeling that he doesn't want you.

“I’m not going anywhere." Dave promises, rounding the bed and climbing in beside you before he plasters himself to your back and wraps his arms around you to drag you closer to him. "I fucked up." He whispers into your hair. "I'm so sorry, princess. I didn't protect you."

"I ruined your date," you murmur into the pillow, placing your hand on top of his, "I got jealous and I fucked everything up." Tears spill out onto your pillow as you start to sob again.

It's news to Dave that the reason you were there was because you were jealous. He pulls you to him and turns you around so you are facing him. He doesn't care that both of you are naked, he's trying to comfort you. "You didn't ruin anything." He promises you, rubbing your back as you collapse against his chest to cry. "It's- it doesn't matter. Miranda knows now that I was ending our arrangement."

"I'm so sorry, Dave," you sob into his chest, wrapping your arms even tighter around him. "Promise me you won't leave, even once I've fallen asleep?"

"I'm going to be here, princess." Dave tightens his hold on you, just shy of squeezing the air out of your lungs. "I'm gonna be right here, I promise." He doesn't know how to soothe you, just rubs circles on your back and holds you tight, letting you sob out all your fear and anger and disappointment. 

Sleep comes quicker than you anticipated. The warmth of his skin seeping into yours as he holds you plush against him. You wake as the early morning light breaks through the crack in your curtains and beams down directly on your face. His gentle snores vibrate in your ear as you press a kiss to his shoulder. He kept his word. He didn't leave in the middle of the night as you feared. He looks peaceful, his usually tense shoulders slack and his brow not burrowed for a change. You slightly shift up and press a kiss on his lips, before nudging your nose against his.

"Hmmm." Dave frowns slightly and his hand slides up your back. "You're awake?" He mumbles sleepily, opening an eye and looking at you. He had anticipated that you would sleep for a lot longer but you look better. Your eyes have bags but you don't look like you are about to cry again.

"Mhmm-hmm," you hum across his lips before pressing another kiss down on them, "Your voice is sexier when you've just woken up.” Exhaustion still lingers in every bone in your body, your face still throbbing from the blows it took the night before but you feel safe. His arms still protectively caging you in from any harm and it makes your heart flutter.

He lets out a slightly rusty laugh, sliding his hand up and down your back protectively. "Because I haven't woken up enough to be an asshole yet."

You giggle back before pressing a third kiss to his mouth, still remaining cautious about the situation you're in but not wanting to ignore your need to touch him. "Dave," you quietly moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

"What do you need, princess?" Dave rasps out, his eyes opening again and focusing on you.

"You."

His cock twitches and his fingers dig into your hips. "How do you need me?" He growls out.

"However you want," you croak as he pushes the head of his already hard cock through your folds, "Just need to feel you."

You are sprawled on top of him and he shifts his hips, starting to fill you up as he pulls you down onto his cock. "This what you need? You need to sit on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you moan as you sink down onto him. He feels even bigger than last time from his angle, "I want to ride you, Mr. York." 

There's a moment where he watches you close your eyes and smirk. He slaps your thigh and pushes you down harder onto his cock. "Then ride me, Princess. Show me how needy you are for my cock."

"Yes, sir," you tease as you start to rock your hips. He's a lot more vocal in the morning and it makes you keen down around him. You find your rhythm after a few moments and slowly increase your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to leave little circular bruises.

"Good girl." He grunts, his hips starting to shift up to meet your pace. Making you bounce harder on his cock and enjoying the way that you clench around him.

  You grind down on him slowly after his praise, his words making your neglected clit pulse with need. You pull him into a fleeting but bruising kiss before you increase your pace again, dragging one of his hands up to one of your tits. "I want you to fill me up," you whisper as your hand grips the bottom of his chin, "Fill me up and then eat your cum out of my cunt, Dave."

He groans, grabbing your tits harshly and rocking his hips to flip you over. Losing control at the neediness in your tone. He leans in and bites down on your shoulder. "Hold onto the bed." He orders harshly.

You grip onto the bed ready to take what he's about to give you, you clench down around him as his teeth sink into you. "Make this tight little pussy soak that fat cock."

He already knows that your next concerts are going to be canceled. He's not going to allow you to perform until at least a week goes by. So he doesn't hesitate to bite you again a few inches over. Giving you a hard thrust of his hips as he slides back so he can put your legs on his shoulders.

"Marking me up?" You giggle before a particularly hard thrust knocks the wind out of you. His cock slamming against that spot inside of you that only he had managed to find and the room is echoing with a lust filled scream of his name. The position your in allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before and he continues to rut into you.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears, although there's no one in the fucking house. He would have gotten an alert on his phone. He knows it won't stay that way for long so he makes sure that his hips snap forward with a determination to make you shatter for him, watching you closely every time he rocks forward.

With every sharp snap of his hips you're being pushed closer and closer to that delicious edge and you know he can feel just how close you are. Your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, sucking him back in every time he moves back. "Gonna cum," you garble incoherently as you start to fall apart beneath him.

Instead of slowing down, he rocking his hips faster. Hissing and grunting curses as he fucks you frantically. Loving how tight you get and how your legs go tight, just making him lean into you harder.

"Oh, fuck, Dave," you choke out as he fucks you harder and harder throughout your orgasm, ripping it from you with ease as you soak the sheets with your arousal. You clamp down on him hard as your body convulses with pleasure, every little sound that you're desperate to unleash getting trapped in your throat as the whole world goes black. And all you can feel is him.

He sees the moment where everything fades away. Where all you can do is feel nothing but pleasure. Groaning, he pushes deep one last time, reaching up and wrapping his hand around your throat, not to squeeze, instead he tilts your head up to press his mouth to yours as he pours himself into you.

“That may have been the best way I’ve ever woken up in my life,” you say honestly but with a giggle. Nudging your nose against his. “Thank you for staying.”

Dave gives himself another moment, kissing you again before he closes his eyes and starts to pull out of you gently, his fingers let go of your throat and caresses the skin softly as he opens his eyes and looks down at you. “I quit.” He announces, staring at the swelling on your cheek from where Martin had hit you. It’s gone down, but he can still see it. “I didn’t do my job, I didn’t protect you.” He shifts off of you and onto his back.

“Oh,” you utter, feeling the happiness that you’d been floating on fleeing your body and being replaced with hurt, “No. You can’t fucking… no. What is this? You regret this again? Just like you did last time? No. I won’t touch you again but you can’t quit.” You feel your eyes burn as tears spring into them, threatening to stain your already bruised cheeks. “I don’t want to feel unsafe.”

“I can’t do my job.” Dave hisses, hating the fact that he is making you cry. You have to see that he’s doing this for you. Sitting up, he cups your cheek, hating how it’s still swollen. “I did this. It’s because I had to have some clarity. To stop things with Miranda. I wasn’t with you. I should have been. But I wasn’t. Because I couldn’t keep sleeping with her when I wanted you.” He growls angrily.

“Bullshit,” you snarl back, pushing his hand from your face. “You want me? So the solution to that is to just leave me? Make it make fucking sense, Dave.”

“I-“ Dave’s breath shudders. “I was afraid.” He confesses softly. “Afraid I couldn’t get to you, afraid he would hurt you.” He closes his eyes. “I failed you, princess. Why would you want me here? You got hurt and it’s all my fault.”

  “Can you stop pretending like I’m not a grown woman?” You say with a scoff, “I made the decision to go out last night. Am I pissed that you didn’t warn me about him? Yes. I’m fucking furious. But you didn’t fail me. But if you walk out on me right now, you will fail me, Dave.”

“You would have frozen.” Dave argues. “Every fan that comes up, you would wonder if that’s him. Every time the doorbell rang. You would have become a wreck. It’s my job to protect you from that. To let you do your job and keep the monsters in the shadows.”

“And now you don’t want to do that job?”

“Why would you want me to keep doing the job I failed at?” Dave frowns, shaking his head. “You should scream at me, kick me out, tell me you hate me.”

“You didnt fail, Dave,” you scream back at him, “If you want to go, just fucking go, just don’t pretend it’s because of the job.”

Dave hisses, grabbing your arms and the only way he stops himself from yelling at you is by doing what he really wants to do. Kiss you. He kisses you roughly, every fucking fear and emotion he had last night pours into the kiss. Hard and unyielding until it isn’t. Until the softness breaks through and the other emotions show.

You attempt to fight him off for a few moments, your efforts futile and not convincing to either of you. Before giving in and sinking into his arms, letting his kiss consume you both emotionally and physically. “Please don’t go.” You whisper as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not.” Dave admits, shaken by the depths of his feelings for you. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks into your eyes and sighs. “I could never leave you, princess. Never.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you murmur against his chest, terrified that he’s a flight risk. “Just please don’t push me away.”

“Princess, I love you.” He murmurs quietly. “I killed a man for touching you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes search his for any sort of sign that he’s not telling the truth, but the way they soften as the way he holds you tells you that he’s being honest. Your mouth crashes against his as his grip around you tightens, your kiss is possessive and messy and filled with hope. 

“I want to release a statement, tell the world what happened and then I want to take a much needed break. No touring right now.” Obviously some details will be left out but you want a brief statement out there. Something that’ll explain to your fans what happened, but keep the darkest side of how it ended hidden.

“Then that’s what you’ll do, princess.” Dave nods, knowing your label and your father will be furious, but he doesn’t give a shit. Your safety and well being is too important.

“Thank you for always being on my side. Even when you’re being an asshole.” You mumble into his neck.

He snorts and rubs your back gently, turning his head and kissing your hair. “I’ll always be on your side, Princess.” He promises softly. “That’s why I’m your bodyguard.”

**

Eventually, you had to get up and dress. Your entire team was going to descend on your house in a fury of questions and concerns. He had held them off for as long as he could but barely an hour after you had put on a pair of leggings and a sweater and Dave had put on his gym clothes, your father walked into the house, calling your name. “She’s in the kitchen!” Dave has you seated at the bar, drinking a coffee while he makes you breakfast.

“Hi,” you offer meekly to your father, whose face is twisted with fury. There is no concern for your well-being, no checking that you’re okay or asking about the night before. He just screams at you. Furious that you’d already posted a video on your social media account and gave as much detail as you could in regards to the night before and offered full refunds to everyone who had bought a ticket to the tour you had now indefinitely postponed. 

“What do you have to say about all of this?” He bellows at Dave after finishing his expletive filled rant and Dave just shrugs and makes a comment about it being your life before squeezing your shoulder gently.

After many failed attempts to placate him and explain what had happened the night before you simply shrug, and tell him to leave.

Dave is the one that herds him out the door, not even listening to the man as he screams that he hired Dave and he will sue him for breach of contract. He obviously didn’t read the contract, he can’t. Only you could fire him. When the door is closed, Dave shakes his head and turns around the walk back over to you, giving you what looks like a much needed hug. “It’s okay.” He promises again. “He can’t make you tour.”

“I know,” you murmur against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. “Dave, he’s in control of all my finances. I need to figure so much out today.”

“So call in your business people.” Dave murmurs into your hair. “I can call in a lawyer I know. Have him look over everything.”

“I don’t know who to call,” you admit, feeling yourself get all heated from embarrassment, “I just got called into sign shit.”

Dave has participated in this, feeling guilty about it now. “He will treat you right. Get it all figured out.” He promises.

You take a step back from him and awkwardly giggle, “Guess you were right about me being a princess,” you try to joke to hide your embarrassment.

“You were concentrating on your music.” Dave argues. “Letting others take care of the details. I did it too.” He won’t deny that. “Now, you just need to decide how hands on you want to be.”

“Yeah,” you half heartedly agree with a shrug, “But mostly it just seemed easier to let other people deal with it.”

“So you still let other people deal with it.” Dave tells you. “Just have them answer to you.”

“Like you do?” You say with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk, “Clearly, I’m great at keeping you in line.”

Snorting, Dave shoots you an unamused look. “Just try it, Princess.” He warns darkly. “I’ll do exactly what I wanted to do the first time you pitched a fit.” He pauses for a second. “Throw you over my knee and spank you until you are crying.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenge him. “I think you’d do whatever I told you to do. No argument.”

“Not if it compromises your safety.” Dave will stand firm on that. Loving you will not make him just give in to you to make you happy.

You take a step forward and whisper in his ear, “So you’re telling me that if I said really nicely that you’re to wrap those thick fingers around my throat and rail me as hard as you can… you wouldn’t? Because you’re all for safety?”

“Shut up.” Dave hisses, narrowing his eyes at you as he pulls back. “You know what I meant, princess.” He growls. “Keep it up and won’t get my cock at all until I decide you can have it.”

“We both know that I’ll be getting it exactly when I want it, sweet boy.” You know you should be focusing on your never ending list of chores but teasing Dave is too much fun.

Dave doesn’t answer, instead he draws his hand back and slaps your ass harshly. “Go eat.” He demands. “I’ll start making calls.”

“Fine,” you mumble, knowing that he’ll want to get the ball rolling and that the ache in your pussy will have to wait. “I’ll eat and then deal with myself after.” You shout back to him as he makes his way to his office.

“No you won’t!” Dave shouts back, smirking to himself as he shakes his head. You are going to continue to be a pain in his ass, but he’s not quite as annoyed by it now.

You giggle as you take a bite of the eggs he cooked you. “Oh yes, I will,” you say to yourself as you think about the way his cock feels as it drags across heaven inside of you.

**

It had been a rough three weeks. Your father had dug his heels in and made everything as difficult as he possibly could. But Dave had kept his word, the lawyer he had put you in touch with had worked tirelessly and for the first time in your life, you were in charge of your future.

Your team had agreed that you were due a break, and agreed to let you take a few months to recharge. The minute it was final Dave had pulled out his phone and booked two one way tickets to St Lucia and found a private villa on the beach that had a chef come in three times a day to prepare your meals. He paid for everything, packed both of your bags and kept everything a total secret until you were pulling up to the private jet that would be flying you to paradise.

For the past three days that had been in heaven and he’d taken you more times than you could possibly count.

The first time on the flight with his fingers, then his mouth and finally with his cock.

“See Princess? Relaxed.” He groans, slowly rocking his hips up as you grind down on his length. Sitting outside in the warm sun, the breeze trailing over your skin, you look like a fucking goddess riding him on the surprisingly sturdy lounger by the infinity pool that overlooks the ocean. No boats were allowed in this private cove and you had free reign to do whatever you want. “Just like I promised you.”

“So relaxed,” you moan as you keep the pace slow. Loving the way he completely fills you up. Your walls hugging his cock as his thumb draws slow circles on your clit. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, hearing those words every time he fucks you. You’ve become addicted to him being inside you and he’s not complaining. Dave’s other hand comes up and squeezes your tit. “Even more relaxed when you cum.” He coos. “Lay out in the sun and nap after?”

“Oh God, yes,” you say as you press a kiss to his lips. “As long as I get to lay on you.” You slightly increase your speed, wanting your high to come quicker. Needing to feel the warmth of his cum coating your walls.

“You’re like a leech.” He jokes, squeezing your breast again and pinching your nipple. He knows as soon as you cum, you’re going to collapse against his chest and fall asleep with his cock still inside you. It’s become your favorite way to sleep since that second night he had spent in your bed. 

“And you love it,” you say with a giggle, knowing that he loves the way it feels when you giggle on his cock. “Make me cum, Mr York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dave grunts as he leans in and nips your bottom lip. “Have to follow the princess’s order.” He lets go of your breast to grab your hip and braces his feet on the lounger slats to thrust up into you harder.

“Yes you do,” you giggle back. Your mouth captures his as he fucks up into you. You bite down on his bottom lip before licking your way into his mouth. He swallows every moan you unleash as you wrap your arms around him tighter, “I’m gonna cum,” you garble as he starts to lose restraint fucking you harder and harder as you come undone on his cock.

Watching you peak has become his favorite view. Watching your mouth open and your entire body spasm in pleasure while you cry out is what sends him over the edge himself. Letting you burrow your way deeper into his heart as he cums, filling you up with his cum until it’s pushing out with every shallow thrust to slide back down his shaft and pool in the curly hairs in his groin.

His lips press against yours as you come down from your high, and his hand rubs comforting circles into your back. The world comes back into focus and absolutely everything becomes clear, his dark eyes find yours before you rest your forehead against his. “I love you, Dave. I love you so much.”

It’s the first time you’ve said those words to him and he sighs softly, reaching up and cupping your cheek. “I love you too, Princess.” It’s only the second time he’s said the words, but he’s shown you how he feels everyday since that morning. “That’s why I’ll always protect you.”

“My protector,” you say against his lips. “Now, I think you promised me a nap.” You nuzzle your face against his neck and snuggle up to him. His softening cock still inside of you as you feel his protective arms wrap around you.

"That's right, princess." Dave rubs your back gently and leans back against the lounger as he brings you with him. Knowing that you will be asleep in minutes. "You sleep." He urges you softly. "I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you again." He promises, looking around even though he knows the two of you are completely alone. He's still your bodyguard after all.

[inklore]

more than a spark.

premise: your first five dates with druig seem more disastrous than anything and still sparks fly.

pairings: druig x (f)reader

warnings: none unless you count badly written fluff, pet names (love), vulgar language (mild swearing), and the worst slow burn ever written. but please still respect that my writing is not for minors.

word count: 6.04k

etc: i had to use that picture of barry, it was calling to me! i also changed a few things in the series masterlist, such as this is now going to be a three part mini series with time jumps to make my life easier.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Of course this would be your idea of a nice date, watching me fall on my ass.” You sneer down at Druig as he helps you tie your skates, with much protest from you you might add. You had tried at least four times to bend down and tie the used death traps yourself and had almost fallen over each time. The two of you had grabbed the grubby things from a less-than-enthusiatic teenager behind the counter. And you would have sat down to slip them on and save yourself the frustration but every bench had someone sat upon it or a child crying perched on their mothers lap whipping away snot.

Druig seemed to have no problem slipping his on with ease and zero trepidation, walking through the light snow on the ground with a gracefullness that made you want to push him over. “It’s not that bad, trust me.” He smiles up at you as finishes the last of the laces. Standing up and reaching his hand out.

Which you glare at, “I can do it.” You say in a huff as you walk past him on slow wobbling legs towards the ice. You don’t miss his low chuckle as he follows close behind you.

Your fingers grip the cold wood of the side of the enclosed area, chewing on your bottom lip as you debate on your best course of action—every single outcome that plays in your head ends with you landing flat on your ass or a facefull of ice and some snot nose kid laughing down at you. It could have all been an irrational fleeing worry, much like the ones you got before going to the grocery store or doing other adult tasks. Realistically how hard was it to just move on ice? You were wearing footwear that literally made it easier, quicker, it couldn't be that hard. You had a clutch, you were halfway there, you could do it.

But as soon as you put one bladed toe onto the ice and feel how it easily glided and slipped, you knew that your fears were indeed not irrational and you were most definitely going to land on your ass. Your first thought after this revelaton is to turn around, say fuck it and chalk this little ‘date’ up to Druig failing and call it a night. Because there was nothing romantic about bruising yourself.

And then you look and he's there, on the ice and standing with ease that—incredibly annoying—smile on his face as he reaches his hand out to you once again. You reluctantly place your palm in his, his hands much warmer than your own, easing some of the bubbling nerves in your belly.

As he slowly pulls you onto the ice you are sure if you could look at yourself right now that you looked like a newborn deer walking for the first time, your legs feeling more jelly than bone. And you expect to see a wide smirk on Druig’s face, but instead you see a soft smile as one of his hands holds your palm and the other comes to rest at your forearm to help you. It only takes a good minute for your legs to stop wobbling and then the two of you are stood still on the sides of the ice rink, other skaters breezing by you as if they were in the Olympics.

“See, easy.”

“Druig we are not even ten steps away from the gate.” You point out in a huff that makes the both of you laugh, Druig trying to conceal his by ducking his head into his leather jacket. “How do you even know how to do this? Do they even get snow in North Dakota?”

“More often than you think.”

“And I suppose you excelled in such a cold skill, much like you do everything?”

Druig smirks at your playfully annoyed toned, “Something like that.” You knew he wasn't one for talking very openly about his family unless someone prompted it and even then, unless he trusted you enough to let you peek into his world, he didn’t reveal much. You always got the sense that he was protective over them, that there was an underlining fear that not many would understand his blended family. But you loved hearing the stories he had told you of his own accord. You had even met a few of them when they had visited him, and you had gotten along with each easily. Even so much so with Kingo that Druig made him leave his apartment after a few too many mimosa’s shared between you and the infamous movie star, and the several show tunes the two of you wouldnt stop belting out driving Druig and the neighbors up the wall.

“Thena had a knack for ice skating.” He clarified, “if you think I’m good you should see her.” The soft smile that came across his lips as he fondly spoke of his older sibling made your chest feel fuzzy. And if it wasn't for the group of teenagers who zoom past almost knocking you on you over, your skates sliding out from under you making you squeal, Druig quickly pulling you to him, your hands wrapping around his neck to stop yourself; you would of told him how cute he looked when he was being sappy, but now that you thought about it the word cute and Druig in the same sentence tasted weird in your mouth, especially since you meant it wholeheartedly and not in your normal jabbing-teasing tone.

But you didn’t have time to really get to the root of why that caused you pause, when your heart was beating a mile a minute from almost bruising your tailbone—and the fact that you were now pressed close, too close, to Druig that you were sure he could feel your beating heart through your chest cavity and the soft reassuring smile on his lips, indicating that it was okay made you want to scowl. To quip something sarcastic. But all it did was ease you to breathe again as you stared back at him.

You don't know how long the two of you stand there as you try to slow your breaths and feel grounded again before he asks, “ready to move?”

You really weren’t. You would of been fine if this was all you experienced from ice skating; standing, almost getting knocked on your ass, Druig gripping onto your hips. . . heart feeling a little weird as you found yourself nodding, and he maneuvered himself so he was behind you. Hands still holding onto your hips, his soft “relax” in your ear followed by a chuckle as he slowly glided the both of you across the ice—at the slowest pace possible you were certain. But it didn’t matter. You were moving and relaxing into his hold, letting him lead you around the ice.

“This is very smooth of you.”

“What?” You can sense the smirk in his tone.

“Taking your date ice skating when you know for a fact they don’t know how, only to get them in this position.”

“Yeah?” Druig squeezes your hips with the tips of his fingers, “and what position would that be?” You want to turn and give him a look, but know you’ll fall on your ass if you even try.

“Are you always like this with your lady friends?”

“I have no idea what youre talking about.” It’s whispered in your ear and it makes goosebumps go up your spine, that you quickly shake off and smack one of his hands playfully for.

“Only the first date and you’re already being unbearable,” you sigh.

Druig shifts a little causing you to flail for a second before he’s moving himself so he’s beside you instead of behind. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other holding onto your hand. When he turns to look at you you glare at him, the look on his face smirking as if he’s truly enjoying seeing you act like a fish out of water. “What? Afraid you’re going to fall?” You roll your eyes at him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. If you fall,” the next thing you know the two of you are doing a small spin—that makes you squeal a little obnoxiously. The cold wind whipping lightly against your already cold cheeks, and you think maybe—after you’ve stopped spinning and you’re now facing Druig in his arms once again, that your cheeks hurt because of the cold breeze. But once you’re grounded again you realize it's because you’re smiling so hard. The boy in front of you matching your big smile, “I’m going with you.” He finishes his thought and it takes you a second to comprehend what he said after your laughter dies down and the two of you are moving normally again.

If you fall, I’m going down with you.

And you’re too busy to read into the look he has when he says it, or anything else other than what's happening right now; Druig picking up speed a little bit the two of you moving throughout the rink as if you weren't clutching to him with a death grip. Each squeal you let out making him laugh harder. And then he’s convincing you that you’re ready to try it solo and you assure him that that's the last thing you are ready for. But then he’s letting go of your hand and you’re begging him to come back.

“Druig, I swear to god!”

He smirks, crosses his arms over his chest and skates in place.

“You are the worst!” And you move your wobbly legs out of spite, if anything, to reach him and give him a jab in the ribs. But you’re moving at a snail's pace and you’re almost certain that your legs are going to go every which way and make an uncomfortable splitting of your pants happen.

“Stand up straight.” Someone suggests as they skate by you, their pity making you grumble.

You look to Druig and he just shrugs nodding his head, his infuriating smirk still present. You scowl at him, but heed the advice given. Taking a slow breath in as you try to straighten yourself up. Try to ignore the nerves in the pit of your stomach, try to focus on staying still. Try to remember what it had felt like when Druig was behind you, how he had steadied you, how his legs moved, how he kept his balance. And it’s that thought alone—and your determination to be petty once you reach him, that has you moving a little faster. Less on shaky legs, steadiness finding you slowly but surely.

And you can’t help but smile wide, your mouth agape in shock as you move along.

“Beautiful,” Druig says as he watches you move making your way to him. Your smile faltering ever the slightest when you hear the word, notice his cheeks are red from the cold and his smile is warm and it’s making you feel even warmer. Distracting you just enough that you forget to pay attention to the fact that you’re trying not to fall, and the next thing you know your arms are going ever which way and your ass it hitting the ice with a thud.

You don’t miss the way Druig tries to reach out for you before you hit the ice and when he quickly skates over to your side reaching down to help you up, you don’t miss his stern face of concern and you find yourself laughing.

“Shit,” You groan, laughing up at him as he puffs out an airy sigh shaking his head. Your body is too fuzzy with laughter and joy to feel embarrassed or pain—until Druig is pulling you up and you feel the throbbing at your tailbone.

And it feels even worse once you are sat down. The two of you making your way off of the ice and changing back into your own shoes. Grabbing a hot chocolate from one of the many food stands around the rink, finding and an empty table to rest at.

Druig’s hands are in his leather jacket as he sits across from you, periodically taking sips from the cup in front of him. His look of concern still etched on his face as you feel him watching you. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” your reassurance is flat as you sit up straight to emphasize the point and you wince. “Nothing a massage won’t buff out.”

“I could help with that,” he smirks, bringing the cup back to his lips. “M’pretty good with my hands.”

“Only the first date and you’re moving to second base,” you play with the side of your cup, picking at the cardboard. “How overzealous of you, no wonder the ladies keep coming back for more.” You tease.

Druig smirks, shrugging, “what's a date without a perfect ending?”

You can’t help your mouth gaping open at his words, feening shock. Fake shock that is. You can’t remember a steady girlfriend Druig has ever had that wasn’t one who mostly just shared his bed with him. For as long as you knew him he hadnt been in a committed relationship unless that commitment was casual sex. Which thats all some girls wanted from him, a pretty boy to fuck them and move on.

But there had been others that had wanted the Irish boy to open up to them, show himself, be more than just something to fuck. You had really never had the inclination to ask Druig why he never let them in, opened up himself to the ones who really showed interest. You had never been interested much in his dating life, nor his yours. And where Druig kept himself closed off from everyone else he had let you inside. Opened the doors to the parts that he didn’t let just anyone see. The complexity of him was not something everyone would take as something more than what they saw on the surface; a brooding stoic face. But knowing him for as long as you had you knew that the distance he put between trust and friendships, relationships, and you were sure even sex was something you found heartbreakingly tender.

But maybe that was just because you were on the other side of it. It hadnt taken much for the two of you to click when you first met, your friendship sliding into place as if that it was always there. As if in a past life it had already been known, written, fated. And life was just waiting for the right moment to make it happen in this reality.

And you had almost forgot that this was supposed to be a date. That the two of you had made a silly little bet. Everything feeling ever the norm between the two of you. Druig suggesting going ice skating would be something he would tease you about not knowing how to do over sharing a pizza in your apartment. And then he would drag you down to actually do it. It almost made you laugh at how this whole bet was going to turn into one big joke at the end of the day. Because the both of you knew deep down that the friendship the two of you shared together, the connection, it was nothing more than just that. You weren’t like every other girl who looked at Druig as if he were some Irish God. He was just Druig to you. Your best friend, your annoying best friend who took you on an ice skating date just to see you fall on your ass. Jerk.

There wasn’t going to be a perfect ending, at least not the one he continues to tease you about as the two of you drink your hot chocolate to combat the cold. But you were sure there would be a happy one, one where Druig losses miserably of course.

“S’don’t understand why we don’t go get a real one.” Druig sighs as he stands back to take in your tiny plastic tree the two of you just spent an hour putting together. Snapping in branches and trying to fluff up the fake pine needles so they give the tree a fuller look—something that was a waste of time as it looks more bare than anything.

“And watch every girl go gaga over you swinging an ax at the tree farm? No thanks.” You press your lips together and give a fake look of sincerity.

“I don’t think that would be that bad.” He smirks shrugging.

“As your date I’m offended, as your friend I’m disgusted.”

You had expected Druig to pull out another big—this could humiliate you by falling on your ass—stop with the second date as well. So when he showed up at your apartment unannounced with a pizza in hand and declared the two of you were going to put your Christmas tree up, you were surprised. You're still bruised tailbone very thankful.

So now here the two of you were picking out bulbs and ornaments and placing them on your sorry excuse for a tree, while both of you snuck bites of pizza. Banter and conversation flowing between the two of you as usual.

“You still have this?” You smiled as you looked at the ornament Druig held up.

“Of course, why wouldn't I?” It was a small snow globe that housed a small replica of a town in North Dakota, ‘I Visited North Dakota’ printed across the bottom in large letters. Druig had brought it back to you as a late Christmas present after he came home from spending the holidays with his family one year. It had been a silly gag gift that the both of you had laughed at, Druig insisting that his mother thought it would be a cute present and, in her words “everyone deserves a little something from someone else's home, it’s special” he had said she was all but insistent on it and so he gave you the tacky little snowglobe and you’ve treasured it ever since.

“I’m surprised it's lasted this long, who knew gas station ornaments were made to last.” The two of you laugh as he places the globe right next to your other just as tacky—but less special—ornaments.

When the two of you have finished putting the rest of the bulbs on, and are done arguing about which way the lights should be placed on the tree.

“You can't go right with them when I'm going left.”

“They're just lights, they can go anyway.”

“It’s not going to look right.”

“Druig the perfectionist.”

“The tree is ugly as it is, let's not make it worse is all I’m saying.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him.

“Love, I can see right through the damn thing,” Druig points pointedly at the large gaps in the tree and the both of you start to laugh at the ridiculous plastic evergreen.

And when the two of you are sat in front of it finishing up the pizza, the greasy box sat between you on the floor, neither of you have stopped laughing at it.

“It’s not that bad. What's that film? Charlie and the Christmas tree?”

“Charlie and the-What?” You try to cover your mouth so as to not spit out the pizza in your mouth.

“Is that not it?” Druig laughs, “with the white dog and the shitty tree?”

“A Charlie Brown Christmas!”

“That's it!” He shakes his head, “Gilgamesh made us watch it every year. He would laugh throughout the whole thing.” You watch and listen as he talks about his family again, that fuzzy feeling as you watch the softness that takes over his face as he does—something you think you’ve noticed before, but can’t put your finger on if you really had. Can't remember catching yourself paying more attention to the set of his face, the way his smile comes and goes so light and sweet, the fondness in his eyes. Instead of holding onto every word like you usually did you found yourself distracted by his face and for whatever reason it made you inwardly cringe at the way your stomach starts to flutter.

Making you quickly turn away and feen more interest in the slice of pizza in your hand. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you finish up the remaining slices and continue to admire your handy work. The tree didn’t actually look that bad, and once you got the garland on it kind of hid empty spots—kind of.

“Shit,” you jump to your feet, “we forgot to put the star up!” You rifle through the boxes of extra, and too tacky, ornaments and bulbs. Pulling out the small white star that was meant to top the tree.

“Will it fix the appearance, do you think?”

“Druig.” You try not to laugh at his teasing and the continuing degrading of your dear old tree. “It’s half your fault it looks like this.”

“I wanted to go out and get a real tree, not this Charlie tree.”

You sigh, “His name is Charlie Brown. If you’re going to insult the tree please get it right.”

“M’sorry but there is nothing right about this tree, love.” He’s laughing again, his smirk ever the annoying as you try to hide your own laughter with annoyance.

“Will you just help me, please?”

“Fine, fine.”

Druig stands, dusting off his fingers of any pizza crumbs and comes behind you. The tree isn’t that tall but you can’t reach it even on your tippy toes, so when you feel his hands at your waist lifting you just enough to reach up and place the star on top, you definitely don’t notice the way his hands are actually not really on the sides of your hips but on the back of them, his palms very close to gripping your ass.

You also definitely don’t let out a short puff of air once your feet have returned to the ground and you hear the softest “beautiful” brush past your ear as Druig sets his chin on your shoulder. His arms now wrapped around you as the two of you stand in front of the tree. And it definitely doesn’t make you feel weird inside your chest at all…

“This is the worst date by far.” Your breath is coming out in heavy pants, the cold puffs of the hot air burning your lungs visible in the air as you stop for what seems like the tenth time.

This had been your fifth date, the third and fourth seeming to blur together; the two of you attempting to put together a gingerbread house which didn’t go as either of you planned. The two of you having two different opinions on the structural dynamics of how a cookie house was supposed to look. And the fact that Druig spent half the time eating the frosting and mints that by the time you got to the roof there was barely anything left to hold it together.

“Maybe they like open concepts,” he shrugged, licking frosting off of his fingers.

“Open concept doesn’t mean a missing roof!” You snatched the frosting out of his hands, the pouty smirk he gave making you—annoyingly—smile.

“S’our house, it can be whatever we want. A roof doesn't matter,” he tries to reach for the frosting again but you quickly move out of the way.

“No!” You point your finger to his chest in a show of fake dominance, it only makes him chuckle and grab your wrist pulling you into him and trying to grab the small tub of frosting out of your grip. Your back pressed to his chest as you squirmed against him, raising and pulling your hand this way and that way out of his reach. “You don’t need anymore! We need to do the roof!” You try to sound stern but you’re laughing too much. “How are you constantly hungry, your mouth is always busy eating something I swear!”

“Then maybe you should occupy it with something else if you think that’s the case,” and any other time you would turn around and slap his arm playfully. Tell him how absurd he is. But there’s a moment that after he’s said the words that something in you shifts, the mood, the vibe, that has your body tensing. And you’re sure it’s because you didn’t expect it, didn’t expect to hear those words so close to your ear, up against you, or in that low teasing tone.

That’s definitely it, no other reason could be applicable.

And when Druig finally grabs the frosting from your hands, his finger already dipped in a little glob of the bottom, pulling it out and bringing it to his lips. You turn in time to meet his gaze as he does so, his finger sliding past his lips, his mouth and tongue going to work on cleaning it of the sugary mess that coats his digit. You can’t look away from his gaze and the way he’s staring at you gives you that weird feeling again. . .and you open your mouth to tell him how ridiculous he looks, you swear you do. But nothing comes out and then he’s smirking as if nothing happened and asking you where the gumdrops are.

The fourth date had just been a simple dinner at your favorite restaurant. Druig insisting that you dress up because it was definitely a real date, and when he showed up in his signature leather jacket and dark jeans and you stood there in the nicest black dress you had—one that was a little too short for your liking but the only good one you owned—you wanted to be angry at him.

Especially when he smirked as his eyes looked you up and down, the notion definitely not making you move around antsy like. Or want to quickly grab your jacket because you suddenly felt shy.

But then he pulled out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and your anger was soon replaced with something fuzzy and way more annoying.

“Druig.” You could feel the heat rising to your face, “why did you-“

“It’s a date. Or have you forgotten?” He grins handing you the bouquet and after some more playful banter and denying that you were definitely not flustered, and Druig insisting that he saw a fluster, the two of you made your way to the restaurant and spent the rest of the night eating your favorite dishes and joking and carrying as you normally would.

The atmosphere didn’t change until the two of you had returned back to your apartment and Druig took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to give you the smallest of kisses on the back of your hand.

“Seriously?” You almost want to laugh because it’s cheesy and comical but all you can do is smile stupidly at him.

“M’quite the romantic I know.”

But this, your fifth date? It was definitely the worst.

Druig had dragged you to the suburban side of town where there was too many hills and not enough sidewalks. And that alone told you you were in for trouble.

Exercise was not something you enjoyed doing willingly let alone as a date, and yet here you were trudging up a hill with Druig ahead of you dragging a sled behind him.

It seemed the higher up you went the more breathless you became. And when you finally reached the top you couldn’t stop yourself from doubling over to try and catch your breath.

“How are you not dying? I never see you workout.”

“Athletic family.”

You shake your head huffing and puffing, “I swear you guys are like superheroes, so good at everything.”

Druig chuckles, “not quite, love.” He reaches over and grabs your hand, “you okay?” His thumb rubs across your knuckles soothingly.

You wrench your hand from his, “I’m fine, wasn’t even that steep. Totally cool.” You say, trying not to give him the satisfaction of snickering at your suffering. But it’s too late. He's already laughing softly and giving you that ‘I love winning’ look. He hasn’t won anything, if anything this is making his chances of you falling for him even worse. This kind of physical activity was the least romantic thing anyone could have done. It's absurd.

Once Druig has set up the sled; which means he moved it a dozen times to get the angle and trajectory just right, he’s sitting himself on it and reaching out to pull you down in his lap.

“You go first, I’ll go second. Just in case you’ve miscalculated and end up in that tree over there.” You insist backing away from him.

“Are you scared?” His tease makes your blood boil ever the slightest, this was a competition after all, that’s what bets were right? A competition to saus out a loser. And you refused to be the loser, in this instance, or any.

That’s what you told yourself as you sit between Druig’s legs, there being no other reasoning; the way his smirk turned into a soft smile when he reaches his hand back out to you, or that same trusting look and reassurance of ‘I got you’ that he gave you on the ice definitely having nothing to do with it. Because you weren’t scared, tired from climbing up the damn hill? Absolutely. Not wanting to slam into a tree or hit a rock? Also correct. But not scared.

And the only reason you find yourself pushing your back up against his chest, nestling yourself tight between his arms is because if you do hit said tree you were sure he’d be able to protect you better if you were so close to him. Not because he felt so warm against your back, so safe.

You hadn’t gone sledding since you were a kid, you pretty much forgot people even still did it. You resided in the city after all, there weren’t many people sledding up and down the streets.

“Ready?”

“As I’m ever going to be, this close to death.” You joke, sort of, the slight prickle of anticipation anxiety hitting the pit of your stomach.

Druig chuckles lightly, “I’ve got you.” Both of his hands grab the rope at the head of the sled, using his foot to ground in the snow as he pushes with maximum effort to move the two of you and the plastic contraption closer to the edge of the hill. Until you’re tittering atop it and then you’re plummeting down the hill—that seems a lot longer, and steeper than when you climbed it, shockingly.

And you can’t help the childish squeal that leaves your lips as the wind whips past you and the two of you are flying down the hill. The two of you hitting the bottom with a soft thud kicking up snow from the head of the sled, chunks of it raining down on the two of you and slipping into your shoes.

But you can’t seem to really care because the two of you are laughing, the childish joy of when this is all you wanted to do as soon as snow hit the ground in your youth. Not finding your way home until your nose was runny and cheeks were burnt from the cold winds, but it being worth it. And as Druig tries to stand from the sled, his boots slipping on the snow and plastic mix in the bottom, toppling over into the snow on his back, you laugh harder.

“At least I’m not the only one who’s fallen on your death trap dates.” You rest your hands on his bent knees as you try to use him as a clutch to get up, not wanting to end up on your ass for a second time.

“Oh yeah?” And before you can retort any kind of remark he’s grabbed your wrist and pulled you down face first into the snow next to him. It’s not hard enough to hurt, or do any damage—except the fluffy snow that coats the lower half of your face and has now gotten into your gloves.

“You are the worst date ever!” You shriek, pick up a handful of snow and throw it at him. Making him laugh and roll away from you to quickly stand from the snow, grabbing his own handful and nailing you atop of your fluffy hat.

Your mouth falling agape as it rains down on you. And if you hadn’t noticed Druig gathering up more snow as he doubles over in laughter you would surely give him a death glare. But you’re too busy making quick work of getting to your feet and matching his actions; snow gathered in your already wet gloves, arm moving behind you, setting aim, and ready to fire at him.

And so it goes like that for you don’t know how long. The both of you out of breath laughing and trying to hit the other with snowballs; you getting him in the side, the back when he’s bent over which he lets you know is a cheap shot. Even once right above the forehead, in which case you say, “Oh no, your precious face. How will you occupy your Friday nights now that the bait is ruined?” You tease and he smirks at you sinisterly and starts to chase after you, hitting your back with several soft throws of snow until he’s reached you by your hips. His arms wrapping around them and dragging you down into a snow pile.

You wrestle in his arms the both of you laughing and trying to grab the snow around you to throw at the other until your faces are freezing and surely close to being frostbit. And all you can do is stare at each other and try to help the other get the snow out of your vision.

And then you can finally see him and he’s looking at you with that fondness you love so much. He’s swiping the last bits of snow off of your cheek and letting the softness of his gloved thumb stay there for a bit rubbing your skin that you’re sure looked as burnt as it felt.

And you wish you could say you know how much time goes by but you’re both seemingly lost in just laying there catching your breath and staring. The cold and wetness of the snow melting under your weight dampening your clothes. You try to move your gloves fingers and it aches, a soft wince puffing from your lips.

“Cold?”

“Freezing.”

Druig sits up pulling you with him, taking your hands and ripping the gloves from your shaking fingers. The cold of the outside doing little to add to their already burning numbness. He removes his own gloves in the same swoop, presses your palms into his, rubbing them together for some kind of heated friction.

“This would probably work better if both of our hands weren’t freezing.”

“You’re probably right,” you agree with him and the both of you chuckle softly.

And then he’s bringing your hands up to his lips and you hold your breath for a beat, a second, a minute, until you feel his hot breath being blown from his redden lips. The heat from his mouth helping the numbness dull within your fingers. He switches between that and rubbing your hands together. And you don’t realize you’re staring at him, like really staring, watching every move of his lips as he blows air onto your fingers. Watching every twitch and frictioned twist of his hands against yours.

You don’t realize how clouded and content you are with just watching him until he’s got your fingers so close to his lips and he looks over at you through his lashes. You expect him to smirk, be his teasing self. But he doesn’t. He just continues to blow, eyes never leaving yours. Then pressing the softest of kisses to the backs or your fingers, then the top of your hand. And it makes your stomach flutter and if you weren’t in utter shock at the sparks flying through your veins right now you would have ripped your hands from his clutches and pushed him over into the snow.

“All warm?” He asks softly, a sweet smile slowly spreading across his lips.