mrschiltoncat - Tumblr blog

[mrschiltoncat]

LOL funny and sexy love it 

October Writing Challenge: Day 24 - Not So Innocent Candles

Prompt: Fire with Max Phillips Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Vampire!Reader Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 2,149 Warnings: nudity, wax play, implied oral (f receiving), unsafe use of wax play candles (y’all please be careful with fire of any kind. Open flames are dangerous), no y/n

Summary: You indulge Max’s request for trying out wax play, only for the whole thing to be upturned when an overzealous Max forgets about a still burning candle. 

A/N: Gotta be able to suspend disbelief on this one a little bit in terms of fire safety and vampire senses lol 

Masterlist Directory | October Writing Challenge Master list | Ao3 | Ko-fi

“Really?” you question with an arched brow, arms folded across your desk as you look up at your partner in both business and life. Well… unlinfe, technically. He’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and you can practically feel the excitement coming off of him in waves. “You wanna get wax all over my brand new sheets?”

Max lets out a huff, turning to perch on the edge of your desk as his grin turns into a pout. “C’mon, babe, it’ll be fun! You know we feel temperature differently than the bloodbags do.” The scowl you flash at him at that has him back peddling. “Sorry, humans.” You huff and turn to look back at your computer. “Baaabbbeee, please? My birthday is coming up.”

“Max Phillips, you and I both know that Halloween is neither your birth nor death day.” You don’t even look at him as he rounds your desk, making to spin your chair so you’ll look at him. When he does, he’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes he can manage, on his knees in front of you. It’s a good look for him, you think.

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[mrschiltoncat]

Soooo adorable I love it!!!

October Writing Challenge: Day 4 - Mommy, Daddy, and Baby Bat

Prompt: Bats with Baby Fever AU Max Phillips Pairing: Max Phillips x Female Vampire Reader Rating: G Word Count: 2,493 Warnings: food mention, blood mention, light swearing, slight innuendo at the end, no y/n

Summary: It’s Halloween and your 3 year old daughter  is determined that you all go as bats this year, much to Max’s disdain. 

A/N: I’m so behind~ But this was really fun to write! 

October Writing Challenge Master List |  Masterlist |  Ao3 | Ko-fi

You dig your fangs into your bottom lip as you watch your little girl argue vehemently with her father. The object of the argument? Halloween costumes.

“Come on, little thing, we could be anything. Anything! Money is no object, you want it, I get it.” Max begging is a rare sight anywhere but the home. Here, his little girl has him wrapped around her little finger so tightly, that it seems like he’s always begging or negotiating, completely oblivious to the fact that children can be tiny terrors, and sometimes, it’s best to not negotiate with them. “C’mon Genny, baby girl.”

The little three year old crosses her arms and huffs, shaking her head. Her pitch black curls bounce all around her face. “You know, I don’t think toddlers have a concept of currency, baby. They still run on the barter system.”

Max tosses you an irritated glare as you bring your cup to your lips, taking a long sip before he looks back at Genevieve and smiles. “If you pick something else, we’ll go get ice cream.” Your daughter takes a pause at that, and you see Max’s shoulders pick up hopefully before falling again as soon as she utters a sharp “no!” You do your best to not spit out your lunch. Getting blood out of carpet, while you have mastered it, is not something you want to deal with right now. 

“Bats!” Gen demands, as obstinate as her father. “I wanna be bats!”

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[mrschiltoncat]

SOFT DAVE IS LIFEEEEEE love this

Surprise {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Food? Alluding to Dave’s dark job, fluff, allusions to spiciness. 

Comments: Yes I know, a Dave York fic that isn’t filthy. This is for @wardenparker and I hope that she has a fantastic birthday today!!!! Your husband Dave can’t be home for your birthday, and you try to make the best of it. But you realize when you wake up that morning , that somethings not quite right.

“It’s okay honey, I know you have to work.” You lie into the phone and are thankful that for once Dave hadn’t wanted to FaceTime, knowing that he would have immediately known you weren’t being truthful. “It’s honestly just another day.”

Dave huffs and you immediately imagine that crease in his brow, the way that his lips flatten when he doesn’t like something that he hears. His eyes wouldn’t have gone cold, they rarely did when he was home, but he would have given you a look that clearly told you that you were full of shit. “It’s not just another day. It’s your birthday.”

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[mrschiltoncat]

I don’t see this as harsh at all. And personally yes you can write for yourself, I do ! But you don’t always need to share your work. Some I don’t Bc it’s tailored specifically for me. Nothing wrong writing and not posting it. Or putting it as an oc. You can also course do whatever you like, but when I read reader fics I want to escape and even if it’s written for writer, I want to pretend it’s me. Ya know ?

Tho I was re reading this and I disagree on the relative thing, only Bc my brother is adopted, we don’t look alike, he’s another race. Yes, I can see what you mean, def don’t say you look like so and so, but looks aren’t always indicative of relation

How to be More Inclusive in Your Reader-Inserts

I finally made something for fanfiction writers to use as reference on things to avoid when writing. if you are making a reader-insert story, be sure as most people as possible can see themselves fufilling the role you want them to in your story. 

I became a POC fanfiction writer after years of feeling excluded in reader-insert fanfiction. It’s important as a job as a writer to know your audience—some of which may not always fit in your “view”.

Please take the time to read this to help better yourself in the future. I know I didn’t hit every issue, but I’m willing to update it in the future. 

I apologize if this isn’t the prettiest thing, but it was important for me to create.

[mrschiltoncat]

Omg this ! Even if an author makes the reader an oc, I can usually still put myself in but if there’s a moodboard with a photo it takes me out of it, many fics I’ll read if they’re on here and on archive just on archive since rarely do they have photos.

How to be More Inclusive in Your Reader-Inserts

I finally made something for fanfiction writers to use as reference on things to avoid when writing. if you are making a reader-insert story, be sure as most people as possible can see themselves fufilling the role you want them to in your story. 

I became a POC fanfiction writer after years of feeling excluded in reader-insert fanfiction. It’s important as a job as a writer to know your audience—some of which may not always fit in your “view”.

Please take the time to read this to help better yourself in the future. I know I didn’t hit every issue, but I’m willing to update it in the future. 

I apologize if this isn’t the prettiest thing, but it was important for me to create.

[mrschiltoncat]

This is great ! I can attest the more description of the reader the more I’m taken out of a story. I try as best as I can to leave reader non descriptive although sure there’s things I’ve missed

How to be More Inclusive in Your Reader-Inserts

I finally made something for fanfiction writers to use as reference on things to avoid when writing. if you are making a reader-insert story, be sure as most people as possible can see themselves fufilling the role you want them to in your story. 

I became a POC fanfiction writer after years of feeling excluded in reader-insert fanfiction. It’s important as a job as a writer to know your audience—some of which may not always fit in your “view”.

Please take the time to read this to help better yourself in the future. I know I didn’t hit every issue, but I’m willing to update it in the future. 

I apologize if this isn’t the prettiest thing, but it was important for me to create.

[mrschiltoncat]

Aww he GOT A BUNCH OF HAND WARMERS FOR READER !! At first I was like he wore the puffy coat to make reader laugh but it was Bc of the warmers OOH MAX YOU SWEET VAMPIRE love this

The Warm Hugs.

Pairing: Max P + Reader

Summary: Max is worried you think he’s too cold. You come home crying, and he tries out new strategies.

Notes: this guy has made a killing (literally) from having empathy issues out the fucking wazoo, so it’s natural that he has to remind himself you’re a person to do... person things with. For a guy who thinks of comforting as “damage control,” he’s doing his best.

Warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, hurt/comfort (if that counts), and the very sanguine menace himself.

For once, he was grateful you were human. Crying blood would have been a real inconvenience, especially because his suit was new and bespoke and devastatingly sexy.

Why him?

The last time he’d had to confront a crying person was when he was firing some slowpoke from logistics, and he’d ended up eating the lady in pure annoyance. And even that was unpleasant. She tasted like decades years of incompetence and hereditary dementia, with an aftertaste that could only be described as elderly.

This time, however, he could not kill the problem away.

This time, he was completely out of his depth.

He’d just gotten off of a phone conference when you came home. As soon as he heard the door open, he grinned, sliding out of his chair and sneaking down the hall.

It was a thing he’d do. Every once in a while he’d wait, grinning, for you to come home, sneak up behind you, and pounce with an obscenely campy “BOO!” 

The worst part was that it’d work. Every time. You’d jump three feet in the air with a reliable shriek and a “FUCK YOU,” and you’d both end up laughing on the floor (which led to fucking, but that’s not the point).

But today, when he crept down the hallway, he didn’t hear you humming or whistling or opening a bag of chips. He heard crying. No, not crying.

Sobbing.

You were sobbing.

His buddy. His pal. His tiger, even.

Fucking sobbing.

So he did what any reasonable person would do: he turned and speed-walked the other direction until he was far enough down the hall to be out of eyesight, and froze.

Just a moment to think and he’d be fine!

…

...Well. Uh.

So far, Max had come up with zilch. And he actually tried.

He’d considered paying you to stop crying. Straight up cash, too. But he that’s a tactic for worse situations. People being eaten alive, for example. And still, that’s a maybe at most.

He tried to think about what he would want you to do if he was crying, but every time he thought about it it always seemed to culminate in a blowjob. And, he reasoned, it would probably be hard for you to give a blowjob with a stuffy nose.

See? He’s a caring guy.

He’d give you one of his classic handshake-to-hug-to-pat-on-the-back moves, but his skin was freezing, and it was cold enough outside, and he had a hunch hypothermia wouldn’t improve your mood.

Well, you know what? Crying is stupid anyway. He scowled petulantly. The fact that he of all people had to deal with this shit was stupid. You’re stupid. Everything’s fucking stupid.

...He’s stupid.

He let out a small sigh, deflating a little.

He wasn’t built for this.

Simply put, Max was an asshole. He did it well, and with great relish. Indiscriminately. Methodically. Efficiently.

Not that that was the issue. No. It was you. Because now he had someone who he wanted to be an asshole with, and not an asshole to. Because now he cared.

As previously stated, stupid.

But even though he’d rather do nothing than do something and fail at it, his legs spurred into action as soon as a particularly broken sob echoed down the hallway.

And halfway there, he had an idea.

——————

You heard him before you saw him, which was a common symptom of being a loud, obnoxious, sexy little shit. But it wasn’t the talking that alerted you to his presence.

It was the crinkling.

You wiped your tears away, putting your dignity ahead of your crinkle curiosity, and rubbed your eyes even more frantically as the crinkling approached. When you were sure your face was now only puffy instead of puffy and tear-stained, you put on a forced smile and turned to him.

“Hey M-”

You stopped short at the sight that greeted you. He was wearing your puffiest coat, the ugly monstrosity with the billion pockets, and reminded you of… well, nothing. It was a one-of-a-kind sight.

He looked at you, crinkling hesitantly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Max, what the fuck are you wearing?”

With an indignant glare, he straightened and plopped down next to you on the couch.

“Method to the madness, sweet cheeks. I,” he paused dramatically, “am consoling you. Some gratitude would be nice.”

“Ah. Well, consider me indebted,” you said dryly. “How… exactly have you managed to console me, by the way?”

The smile that spread across his face was nothing short of gleeful as he opened his arms and gave you a pointed look and a crinkle.

…

…Yeah, you had no idea what that meant. You stared at him, dumbfounded, prompting a rather melodramatic eye roll.

“A hug. I’m… offering you a hug.”

“…Oh. Um. Yeah, it’s- it’s a deal, man-” Wow. You’re even worse than he is with this shit. What a team you two make.

You looked at him, this strange, hungry, horny man perched on your sofa, and were bowled over by the sudden rush of affection that hit you. You launched yourself into his arms, squirming into him until you found the space under his arm that fit you just right. You sighed shakily, allowing yourself to finally relax after a long day wrapped in the broad warmth of his body.

God, on days like this you could almost fall in lo-

Wait.

…Warmth?

What in the fuck?

You shifted a little closer, making sure you weren’t imagining it. You weren’t. Max, the living corpse, was positively toasty. 

You looked up at him in complete bewilderment, wondering if you had a fever, or lost half your nerve endings, or were just plain hallucinating. He stared right back, grinning toothily.

“Ta-daa!” He said smugly. “Like it, babe?”

“…How?” You managed to squeak out, eliciting a look that was disgustingly self-satisfied. With a flourish, he unzipped one of the pockets on the puffy monstrosity, reaching into the parka to pull out…

“Hand warmers,” he stated complacently. “Twenty-seven hand warmers.”

“Max…”

“Because that’s what you always do for me, so I was thinking…” to his horror, Max began to falter. For once, he forgot what he planned to say. “That, uh…” Think, Max. “Well, the point is that… well… uh… yeah.”

…Nice one, slugger. Reaal smooth. Not lame at all. Fuck, where’s a wooden stake when you need it?

Gathering up his courage, he looked at you, wincing, only to find… tears.

TEARS?!?!

“Babe, I’m so sorry please don’t crypleasedon’tcry-” He was on the verge of crying himself. And as previously stated, tears of blood would be just awful for his new three-piece.

You just sobbed harder, curling into him as he pulled you closer.

“Y-you idiot,” you sniffled, “happy tears.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly covering it with a laugh.

“Hold on, nope. You’re the idiot,” he countered. “Really, who the fuck invented happy crying? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever-” You cut him off, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you.”

He blinked, your words taking a good few seconds to process.

“You’re sweet.”

His brain was fizzling out.

“And I love the jacket. Lemme in.” You unzipped the tent-sized parka and slipped in with him, sighing happily. He stayed frozen.

You love him. Holy fuck.

Holy FUCK YOU LOVE HIM YOU LOVE HIM YOU LOVE HIM!!!!

Holy fuck. He loves you too. Fuck.

“…I love you too, toots. So much.”

Grinning giddily, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, pulling you fully onto his lap as you squirmed and giggled until you both sighed contentedly. To his surprise, he found that his next words slipped out naturally.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?”

The smile on your face made his undead heart flop in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this stuff after all.

The end.

[mrschiltoncat]

If there’s more please tag me I love this so sweet the whole they loved each other before they met my heart

truly, madly, deeply - a hollywood au - part iii - with every breath

moodboard by me

part 2 | epilogue

summary: after you think you hear marcus laughing at cruel taunts directed at you, you’re heartbroken. how are you ever supposed to face anyone on set again? and can you ever trust marcus again?

rating: E [warnings: PIV sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, squirting, body worship, unprotected sex, fluff, heartbreak, yearning, angst, marcus calling reader sweetheart]

pairing: actor!marcus pike x fem! reader 

word count ~5.9k

taglist | masterlist | series masterlist | spotify playlist

note: PART 3 IS HERE. uh, it got spicy. after this we’ll have an epilogue to see how it all turns out for this disaster couple. these two idiots. they’re both very good. i’ve enjoyed writing this SO much, and i hope everyone enjoys reading it just as much. BIG shout out to my best gal and writing partner @starlightmornings​ for her unending tolerance of my inability to STICK TO ONE TENSE. reblogs always appreciated, tumblr hates putting my fic in the tags! :) ~~~

Marcus watched you round the corner to the bathroom and couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face. He was giddy. He was a 40-year-old man, and he was actually giddy. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. 

While he stood there, waiting impatiently for you to come back, he heard loud voices coming from the dance floor. Some of the people he’d come in with, including Jessica, came into view. He pulled his phone out in an attempt to look busy. 

It didn’t work.

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[mrschiltoncat]

Hey Marcus what the hell???

truly, madly, deeply - a hollywood au - part ii - tears devour you

moodboard by me

part 1 | part 3

summary: you’re still having a hard time fitting in on set, but marcus pike seems to have taken an interest in you. at least, when it’s just the two of you. things start looking up when you and stormy decide to go out dancing until you overhear something that hurts more than even your words can describe.

rating: E [male masturbation, almost kissing, yearning, angst, PAIN, poor communication, two pining idiots…like, it hurts]

pairing: actor!marcus pike x writer!fem reader

word count ~5.7k

taglist | masterlist | series masterlist | spotify playlist

note: thank you to everyone for the response to this so far! i hope this lives up to your expectations because holy shit, do they feel high! shout out to @starlightmornings for the SPEEDIEST beta ever, she’s a treasure. also, this gets better, i promise. also, i’m visiting friends all for the next couple of days, so idk when i will get to work on part iii, but again, it’s mostly written.  reblogs always appreciated, tumblr hates putting my fic in the tags! :)

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Marcus was as cool to you as he’d been during the welcome breakfast. You sat at the back of the soundstage with your laptop most of the time, answering questions and watching the process. Your heart caught in your throat every time Marcus messed up a line and laughed. You could listen to him laugh forever, you were pretty sure. He clearly did not feel the same toward you.

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[mrschiltoncat]

Oooo like this really cool au !!

truly, madly, deeply - a hollywood AU - part i - i’ll be your wish

moodboard by me

part 2 summary: you’re a writer who’s finally made it to the big leagues—an NYT bestselling author with a consulting gig on a movie adaptation of your most recent book. in a rom-com-style turn of events, you’ve had a huge crush on the lead actor, marcus pike, for years. it’s a dream come true, right? then why can’t you even get him to look at you? 

rating: T [for now, there will be smut in the installments]; no real warnings unless you count self-doubt. which, yeah.

pairing: actor!marcus pike x writer!fem reader

word count ~5k

taglist | masterlist | series masterlist

note: okay, so full disclosure—i wrote a lot of this back before i got anywhere near the fandom. it was most a daydream about pedro, but i decided to rework it and put our sweet baby angel marcus pike as the leading man. this is like all our dreams come true, i think. i’m thinking this will be in three parts. i really love this story, it’s so self-indulgent and it was so much fun to write, and i hope you love it as much as i do. thanks to @starlightmornings for the beta and the encouragement! ALSO, i don’t know shit about how any of this works. please suspend disbelief and come along for this ride with me. 

reblogs are always appreciated!! :)

~~~

Your first day on a film set was not exactly what you imagined. You weren’t sure what you imagined, but not that.

You’d never been so excited about anything in your life, though. You’ve given up most of your life to pursue your love of writing. You were giddy when the studio sends a sleek black SUV to pick you up from your hotel—the hotel they paid for.

You’d done meticulous research on the entire cast. You gave your input on who you’d imagined while writing, but you knew it was unlikely that you’d get Yara Shahidi or Ryan Reynolds. You’d given your blessing to an up-and-coming young actress named Stormy Palmer and, by some wild stroke of luck, Marcus Pike. He was well-known for his artsy, indie roles and you knew he’d be perfect as Alexander, your leading man.

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[mrschiltoncat]

Soft Dave is LIFE I need moreeeeee

When Somebody Loves You

Dave York x fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), discussions of assault, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

I was craving some soft husband Dave and decided to write a few little vignettes, so here they are! Four little snippets of reader's life with Dave. I'd consider this pre-murderer Dave or perhaps he never starts? Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Likes, comments, reblog appreciated.

Masterlist Dave Masterlist

Permanent tag list: @sergeantbannerbarnes @artsymaddie @spideysimpossiblegirl

*If you wanna be added to a tag list, lemme know!*

Before You Get Married

He turns the corner into the living room, intent on asking you a question about the way the garage door is sticking when he tries to close it, but you’re not there. He’d left you there maybe 20 minutes ago and you were watching tv, so he’s surprised you got up.

A flash of movement catches his eye and he sees you’re outside, staring at the covered pool with your arms folded.

Carefully, he pulls back the sliding door and approaches you. It’s so cold he feels goosebumps rise on his arms. He calls your name softly and you jump slightly. He frowns at that and comes to stand beside you.

The look in your eyes is familiar to him, but he hates to see it all the same.

“What’s going on?” he asks, moving slightly so your arms are pressed together.

“My mom called,” you say flatly, “dad’s not coming to the wedding.”

“Our wedding?” he asks, hoping you’ll look at him and not the yard so he can get a better read on you.

“Yeah,” you say, voice tight with emotion, “he told mom to tell me. He wouldn’t even call me himself.”

Dave sighs and turns to pull one of the patio chairs up to sit on.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for your hand and squeezing it.

“It’s okay, it’s just-“ you trail off and Dave pulls on your hand. You finally look at him and his heart sinks. You look so sad.

“Just what?” he asks and then waits patiently while you think of what to say.

“I just thought that maybe he’d want to see his only kid get married,” you release Dave’s hand so you can pace while you talk, “but apparently not! I wish I didn’t care. I want to not care. But I do.”

Your voice cracks on the last word and Dave motions for you to come over to him. You do.

“Can I say what I’m thinking?” He asks and you nod, not looking at him just yet.

“He’s a piece of shit. And I hate him,” he states plainly and your eyes find him immediately.

“I hate him because I know if I had a daughter, I can’t imagine letting her feel as abandoned as you do.”

You smile a little despite the tears forming in your eyes. He’d come with you to a few therapy sessions because, as she put it, having him understand your parental issues will build a better relationship. He was listening.

“Thanks,” you say, and when he stands up to hug you, you crush yourself to his broad chest, breathing in his soothing cologne mixed with the laundry detergent lingering on his sweatshirt.

“Love you,” he says, giving you an extra-tight squeeze.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shoulder.

On a Good Morning

Considering the busy events of the day before -and last night- you should be sleeping as hard as your husband was at the moment.

Husband.

You looked over at your rings, sitting together on the bedside table. Later today, you’d put them on and catch your flight to your week-long honeymoon, but you and Dave wanted to spend your first married night at home, in your bed.

After sliding your ring back on, you flipped back to look at Dave again. He always looked slightly grumpy, even in his sleep. But you think that this time, you wore him out completely because he looks so peaceful. Unable to resist any longer, you reach out and trace your fingers down his prominent, beautiful nose. If he were up, you’d kiss it, but you don’t want to wake him just yet.

Dave is usually a hard sleeper, and today seems no different. So you decide to lift his arm gently so you can slide under it. You’re both still as naked as you were last night, not bothering to put on any clothes once you were ready to pass out. You lay your ear over his heart and listen to its beating: steady and strong and constant, just like your husband.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice Dave’s awake until you feel his arm around you tighten and suddenly, you’re rolled onto your back and underneath him.

“Morning,” you say, smiling up at him softly. He drops down onto his elbows, letting more of his weight press you down into the bed before he kisses you, morning breath and all. When he pulls back, he glances at the clock next to the lamp and grins that dangerous grin down at you.

“What?” you ask with faux innocence, knowing full-well what he wants to do.

“We’ve got some time,” he informs you, “and I want to make love to my wife.”

“Your wife,” you say back dreamily and he kisses you again.

“Mine,” he says with a growl, leaning down to worry your earlobe between his teeth.

Soon, you’ll have to get up. Shower. Finish packing. Call a cab. But for now? You’re allowed to just be Dave’s wife, at home, in your bed. And that’s enough.

On a Bad Night

The sharp ringing of your phone pulls you out of your haze, and you realize you’re still sitting in the parking garage adjacent to your office. Before you answer, you look at the clock and realize you’ve been sitting here for nearly half an hour. You should’ve been home by now. Probably why Dave was calling you.

You answer on the last ring, knowing he’ll worry if you let it go to voicemail.

“Working late?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Umm,” you try to start, voice shakier than you intended, “no I just.” Dave interrupts you before you can attempt to explain.

“What’s wrong?”

How does he always know, you wonder? Most people wouldn’t suspect that of him, just by looking at him. But they’d be wrong, he’s incredibly perceptive, especially of your subtle shifts in mood and tone.

“I, uh, I was trying to leave, and, uh,” you trail off, “the new guy cornered me. He wouldn’t let me leave, Dave.”

You started breathing faster and faster, gripping the steering wheel tightly in your hands. Dave called your name and you snapped back to attention.

“Can you drive home safely?” he asked, that commanding tone in his voice you imagined was useful to him when he was in the service.

“Yeah,” you promised, trying to breathe normally.

“Come home,” he told you sternly, “I’m here. Come home.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see and he disconnected the call.

Dave was standing on the front porch as you pulled into the driveway. And he waited patiently for you to gather your things and walk toward him. He took your bags from you and ushered you inside, shutting and locking the door promptly behind you. You watched numbly as he hung your purse on the hook by the door and sat your lunch bag on the counter before turning to you.

“What happened?” he asked, planting his hands on your shoulders. You swallowed hard before you answered,

“Technically it was nothing. But, but.”

“But what?” he asked frowning down at you, rubbing your shoulders a little.

“The new guy at the office. I, I barely know him but he kept following me around today. Asking me questions and getting in the way. He followed me when I tried to leave. He blocked the door. He asked me on a date, and when I said no and that I’m married, he called me a frigid bitch and pushed me. I know it sounds silly, but it hurt. Look,” you lifted your hands and showed Dave your scraped-up hands from where you’d fallen onto the concrete.

The dark look that took over your husband’s face was not one you’d seen often.

“He put his hands on you?”  he asked and you nodded. Dave leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“That’s not nothing, baby.”

He took your hands in his and stared at them for a moment before ushering you into the kitchen, next to the sink. He pulled out a first aid kit and started dabbing at your hands gently, blowing on them when he used the antiseptic spray that made you jump at the sting. You watched him work silently, tears building slowly in your eyes. For some reason, you couldn’t quell the feeling you’d done something wrong; that you’d encouraged your coworker’s behavior somehow.

Dave said your name and you looked up, his frown only deepened when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“C’mere,” he said, opening his arms to you, and you tucked yourself into his embrace immediately. Dave’s big, warm hand rubbed up and down your back as you sniffled into his shirt. He let you take comfort in him, as long as you needed to.

“It won’t happen again,” he told you later that night, turning to face you in bed right after you turned out the light.

“How can you know that?” you asked, tucking your hands under your head while you looked back at him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked back, his steady gaze unwavering even in the moonlight. You nodded and he leaned forward and kissed you, soft and sweet.

“Then don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it for you.”

A week later, you’re surprised to see that the new guy’s cubicle is cleaned out. When you ask your boss, he shrugs and says,

“Kid just stopped showing up. Who knows.”

When He Needs It

You hear the car pull into the driveway and smile to yourself. It’d been so hot today that as soon as you got home, you immediately threw on your swimsuit and jumped in the pool. You hoped you could convince Dave to join you as you hadn’t had a lot of time to yourselves over the last month or so.

Dave had taken on some extra work, something with his old army buddies. He didn’t go into a lot of details about what his “contract” position entailed, and you didnt feel the need to ask. All you knew is that every spare moment had been spent with the boys and hardly any at home with you. He’d promised, though, to be yours after this week. To take some time to spend just with you.

When the back door slid open, you floated to the edge and waved. Dave raised his hand to you in greeting, but didn’t come all the way to the pool yet. He was staring off into the distance again, deep in thought. You called his name and his attention snapped back to the pool. He came to stnd at the edge and you leaned on your forearms to peer up at him.

“Hi there,” you said with a grin, “how was your day?”

Dave rubbed a hand across his face before he answered,

“Long and probably not over yet.”

You sighed and he sighed. Finally, he looked down at you and gave you a little wink. His way of letting you know he knew what you were thinking. And that he wasn’t ready to talk about what was bothering him yet.

“I’ve got dinner in the oven,” you told him, “it’ll be ready in like half an hour.”

He nodded, reaching in his pocket to look at his phone.

“You gotta go?” you asked before he could speak. He looked down at you with that stern, indiscernible look. Like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. But then, he smiled, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I won’t be long,” he promised, “but you might have to leave me a plate to reheat.”

Nodding, you asked him to grab you the long pool floaty off the deck and he did, watching appreciatively as you got yourself situated to soak up the sun for a little while longer. His phone rang and you heard his footsteps retreating before the sliding door closed again.

He wasn’t done in time for dinner, but that didn’t surprise you. You caught up on your favorite podcast while you ate, and fixed him a plate to reheat later. When you walked past his office, you pressed your ear to the door and heard him speaking lowly, sounding stressed.

After a shower, you decided to just go ahead and get in bed and watch a movie until he joined you. It was getting late enough that you were pretty sure he’d just skip dinner and make up for it at breakfast. The clock beside your bed said 8:15 PM by the time Dave dragged himself into the bedroom.

“ ‘m gonna shower,” he mumbled before closing the bathroom door behind him. He was quick, back out with a towel around his waist in just under 10 minutes. You watched as he got out a new pair of boxers and slide them on before you spoke.

“Come lay down, Dave,” you requested, patting the bed next to you. He sighed, hands on his hips and didn’t move. He just stared at you for a few minutes, then relented and joined you, laying down on his back with his hands behind his head.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, turning on your side to look at him. He took the remote from you and flipped the channel to the news before he looked back.

“It’s too much to explain,” he said, sounding frustrated, “it’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

You nodded and flipped on your back too, thinking for a minute before you decided what to do.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, reaching out to rub his arm, “it’s okay.”

Dave said nothing, but he squeezed your hand reassuringly. You scooted closer to him, laying your head on his pillow and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He turned to capture your lips and you released his hand so you could cradle his face, running your thumb along his jaw soothingly.

“I love you,” you whispered when you finally broke apart for air.

“Love you too,” Dave said back just as quietly before drawing you into the circle of his arms, holding you as close as he could get you. You rubbed his back and breathed in his freshly-showered scent. That woodsy bar soap he always used that made him smell so good.

There wasn’t anything else you could say, so you just stayed still and quiet in his arms, rubbing his back until you started to doze. Eventually, he turned the tv off and pulled the covers up over the both of you. The last thing you felt before you drifted off was his lips on your forehead, kissing you softly before you both fell asleep, safe in your house together.

[mrschiltoncat]

Awww this is lovely.

You’re My Comfort // (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Warnings; depression, anxiety, sooo much self-projection 

Word Count; 1759

Summary; You suffer from anxiety and depression and Frankie does everything he can to help you feel better.

It was looking to be another sleepless night, one of many for the past month. For some unknown reason, your anxiety and depression had spiked and took over your mind. There was no known trigger that you could identify and you’d been able to cope or manage it the past 6 months. You believed you’d reached a new stability but, now it feels like it’s been building up over the past 6 months.

You roll over to face Frankie, you meet his relaxed face. Soft snores escape his lips and you can’t help but reach out towards his warm body, resting your hand against his face. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone. A smile crawls across your face at the man you love. However, the pit in your stomach remains and a pang of unavoidable guilt fills you. You live a good and comfortable life with love and support so, why do you feel the way you do?

A stray tear rolls down your cheek and you snap out of your thoughts and pull away from Frankie. You want to confide in him and nuzzle in closer to him but you also don’t want to be a bother. You pull away from the warmth your shared bed and move to the cold unwelcoming couch in the living room. You wrap the throw blanket around your shoulders in hopes for some warmth and security and lean into the corner of the couch. Staring out the window, getting lost in the darkness.

Your heart is beating rapidly yet it feels heavy with dread. Your stomach feels as though it’s lurching to your throat yet is held down by a pit. Worst of all, your mind feels empty and clouded yet, panicked and clusters. It’s all so overwhelming. Your anxiety is heightening your emotions while your depression is making you numb. How can both take over your body, it just doesn’t make sense to you. You’re dying to reach out but, you don’t even know what’s wrong or how to explain how you feel. You feel alone even when surrounded by loving people.

You silently cry, the salty tears burning your cheeks. Your chest tightens but you face remains relaxed, like it’s unaware of the tear and emotions falling from it. You’re only pulled out of your pity party when you hear a rustling and Frankie softly calling your name. You quickly wipe away your tears as if that would get rid of all the evidence.

“Sweetheart?”, he finally sees you, “What’re you doing up?”

You don’t answer his question in hopes to redirect the conversation.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No no, you didn’t wake me. I woke up and noticed the cold sheets beside me.”

Frankie sinks next to you, “So, what’s wrong?”

“Trust me, if I knew I’d tell you.”, you let out an airy exasperated giggle to try to lighten the mood but it didn’t work. If anything it just gave away how broken you were.

Frankie pulls you into him, his arms wrapping your shoulders while you let your head fall back onto his chest. Frankie presses his lips to your head, kissing your head and humming against your scalp for a few minutes.

“Then, best describe what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You close your eyes, scared of the tears that might spill. You focus on his calming rhythmic heartbeat.

“I feel cold and empty, but guilt and anxious. I don’t have a reason to feel the way I do, I don’t deserve these emotions. My life is good but my emotions don’t reflect that.”

What you were saying was breaking Frankie’s heart. He wasn’t new to these feelings at all, he had experienced them himself. There’s nothing that could be said or done that will instantly cure you of this cloud but, there are certainly ways he can help relieve even just a little bit of it.

“You don’t need a reason to feel this way. You can’t control how or when or why your anxiety and depression strike. You can’t feel guilty for feeling this way because it’s out of your control. Anxiety, depression, they don’t care how good your life is or how loved you are.”

You nuzzle further into him.

“Rationally, I know that. It’s just hard to grasp and believe right now. I just need to distract myself.”

“The Little Mermaid or Beauty and the Beast?”

That small question warmed your heart, they’re your 2 go-to feel-good princess movies.

“Beauty and the Beast, please.”

Frankie kisses your head before getting up.

You’re unaware of time. Your too numb to understand the seconds that pass, nor do you care. You want to care but you simply don’t have it in you. Frankie is getting the movie ready and making you tea but you have no idea. Any noise and movement went completely unnoticed. It was only when Frankie’s reassuring presence returns to your side and pulls you into an embrace that you return from whatever daze you were in. Frankie quietly hands you a steaming mug and starts the movie. You let yourself get lost in the movie and Frankie’s warmth. The familiar song and dance eases your anxiety and overall, brought you into a child-like trance.

Frankie can’t help but let a small smile crawl onto his face when he watches you hum and nod along to the movie. He knows this isn’t a fix, or that all is good right now. He knows that this is only a band-aid and some temporary comfort. Frankie understands that he can’t ‘fix’ you, that you only want him to listen and comfort you. He knows how difficult it is for someone to understand these things; it’s hard for people not to blame themselves or to try ‘fix’ them. Luckily, you and Frankie have each other. You both understand that neither of you needs ‘fixing’ or want it. You both understand that your moments, high or low, aren’t personal or directed at one another.

You weren’t even halfway through the movie when Frankie noticed your overly relaxed posture. He leaned over to see that you had fallen asleep; so he carefully took the half-empty mug of lukewarm tea from your hands and places it on the ground. Frankie kisses your head and plays with your hair until he lulls himself to sleep.

“I love you, Princessa/Príncipe.”

Whatever sleep you did get during these times was always restless. You woke up on the couch laying down and tucked in. Light started to flood the living room, the sun was started to rise. The clock read 7:07 AM; you sit up groggily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

“You’re up earlier than U anticipated. I will have breakfast for you in 5-ish minutes. But, in the meantime I do have a hot cup of coffee with your name on it.”, Frankie calls forms the kitchen.

Frankie comes over with said cup of coffee made just how you like it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Love”

You watch Frankie move through the kitchen; you must admit he be quite clumsy but, that just makes you smile.

Some time passes and before you know it he’s coming towards you with 2 plates in hand.

“My world-famous breakfast burritos.”, he says while handing you yours.

“It smells amazing.”

Your nose didn’t do justice to the dish. It was so good you could eat it until you threw up. You took both plates and made your way to the kitchen.

“You did the honours of blessing me with that meal the least I can do is clean the aftermath.”

“Don’t you dare. Because we have a date with that nature trail 20 minutes from here.”

Frankie was familiar with this behaviour of yours. You’d pretend everything was fine, but it was always forced and excessive. He wasn’t going to let you do that and sink further into the dark hole inside your head. So, he was determined to comfort and distract you until this cloud passes.

“What do you mean?”, you ask while putting the dishes in the sink.

“Well, the morning sun has just come up and it’s early enough that it’ll be quiet. Plus, I found this beautiful little nook off the path and thought we could check it out. I’ve already got a bag packed.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Good. Now, go get changed or I’m leaving you here.”

You made your way to your bedroom but, not before kissing Frankie. While changing, your mind seems to have a moment of clarity. You had to thank Frankie so being — well, for being himself. Once you were changed Frankie was quick to push you out the door with a backpack hugging his shoulders. The walk was quiet and filled with stolen glances. You stop to blabber about something you found cute or pretty. Frankie was happy to see you so carefree and gush over the small things, like a flower you thought was pretty that was actually a weed.

The fresh air and beauty only cleared your headspace further. You need to say what’s been on your mind, let Frankie know how thankful you are. So, when he pulled you aside into the nook and set down a large blanket from the backpack, you were quick to cuddle him and speak your mind.

“Thank you, Frankie. And I don’t just mean for today. I mean thank you for always helping me when I need it, even if I don’t want it. For, understanding and not blaming me or yourself. For always being my rock no matter what. For learning my habits and ticks and learning how to curve them. You know exactly what to do and when to do it. But, best of all you understand without judgment.”

Frankie had tears in his eyes because to him this was just love and you always did the same for him. To hear you say how thankful you were made him emotional. He wanted to tell you a million comforting things and telly you that he was just as thankful for you, but all words left his mind. You could of course tell Frankie was at a loss of words, so you nuzzled closer in kissed his cheek.

“I love you.”, he said while looking down at you and letting a tear run down his cheek.

“I love you more.”

The two of you just cuddled and watch the sun continue to rise and the nature around you awake from their slumber.

[mrschiltoncat]

Ooooo an almost kiss!! And LOL she picks game of thrones damn girl ! And yessss Dave told off that prick Ryan.

An Offer You Can’t Refuse

(4/?)

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

warnings: age gap (legal), slight harassment, protective!Dave, mentions of divorced couple, mentions of sex on tv, sexual tension

word count: 1000+

“Sir! Sir!” Rachel, one of the secretaries from the front desk yelled, catching my attention.

Standing up my heart dropped to see Ryan walking over to my desk with a bouquet of roses.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?" 

Keep reading

[mrschiltoncat]

Oooooo also yes the audacity indeed to Ryan !! Ooo he doesn’t know she lives with murder dad....

An Offer You Can’t Refuse

(3/?)

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

warnings: slight sexual harrassment, bad date, unwanted advances, language, light fluff? Protective!Dave, sweet!Dave

word count: 1.2k+

A/N: I’ll try and make the chapters a little longer from now on but my weeks been busy. Thanks for all the support :))

Adjusting my dress again I have myself a once over in the mirror. The dress was pretty but I wasn’t sure I felt the most confident in it. It was tight with little spaghetti straps and it hugs my curves nicely, but I must have bought it was I was feeling exceptionally great about my body because it was unlike anything else in my closet. As I was trying to push those insecure thoughts away, I heard a knock on the front door making my heart drop. I’d texted Ryan earlier that I’d meet him at his car to avoid any awkward situations with Mr. York. I was never one to mix personal and private life and I could just feel the tension rising as I ran up the stairs as fast I could in heels. To my dismay Mr. York was already at the door and all I could see was his broad body taking up most of the door frame. Clearing my throat as I got closer, both men turned to look at me.

Keep reading

[mrschiltoncat]

Awww doting max

Low Iron // (Max Phillips x Reader)

Warnings; none, just soft!Max. This is for my iron deficient peeps, like me.

Word Count; 1030

Summary; Max keeps harassing you about your low iron.

You make your way up to your dark and cool office building. Being one of the only humans in a vampire corporation has its downfalls. You always dress warmer than necessary for outside so you’re comfortable at work. But it’s not all bad, the lack of fluorescent lights ensure you don’t get any migraines.

Not to mention everyone is finally doing their job! While you were around for the take over you weren’t turned because your work ethic was already sufficient. Which you were thankful for, you didn’t want to work here for all of eternity and murdering people to eat just wasn’t for you.

Somehow, all of this wasn’t even the most surprising part. Dating a vampire not only is a fantasy cliche but you believed was 100% impossible. But before you knew it, a vampire was your boss and somewhere between the quick fucks at the office Max Phillips became your boyfriend.

Dating a vampire was… new. In a good way! Max was the most sensual person you’d ever met. It took some time to get over some of the new kinks, like murder and bloodsucking and the whole undead thing. One thing that totally caught you off guard was Max’s sense of smell.

Max loved smelling you, which sounds creepier than it is. Being a vampire, he has a heightened sense of smell and he thought you smelt devine. Not in a ‘I want to murder and eat you kind of way’ kind of way but a ‘I want this smell everywhere all the time’ kind of way. He found you simply intoxicating. With this oddly sweet gift however came one downfall, Max picked up on bodily changes. Normally, there were things you were aware of like if you were dehydrated or coming down with something. In those cases Max was sweet and simply wanted you to be in the best of health, however you have chronically low iron. You know you have low iron, your doctor has been harassing you for years about it and not to mention you constantly live through the symptoms of anemia. 

At first, Max was secretive about his desire to increase your iron levels. He’d randomly cook dinner, specifically with red meat. He’d offer vitamins and supplements with some poor explanation. Your personal favourite is when he’d stop by your desk with a handful of nuts. While his actions were sometimes odd you found them endearing. You thought this was just his weird vampiric way to show affection, and it is.

You remember confronting him about his oddities and when he couldn’t come up with a cover story he told you the truth.

“Your iron is chronically low and I want to help you increase it.”

This frustrated you. You know it was irrational but after suffering with anemia your whole life and having a handful of professionals harass you about it, you were fed up with hearing about a condition you were well acquainted with.

“So, what? You want to fix me so that I taste better?”, you responded snarkily.

You knew immediately after you said it that it was a low blow. You knew that that wasn’t his intent and to insinuate that you believed those were his intentions was cruel. 

“Max, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I know you’re not going to eat me. At least, not in the murdering way, more the devouring kind of way.”, you joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I just worry. I can pick up on these things and it’s like seeing you sad, I just want to help. I don’t mean to annoy you or belittle you. I just want you to be healthy and happy.”
“I know. Again, I’m sorry. Being chronically low in iron all your life, it gets annoying having people on your case about it. I know you mean well and your care and concern is heartwarming. I promise I’ll try harder to increase my levels, so long as you don’t kill me after.”

Max chuckles. “You’re too delicious to kill and eat. I want to be able to taste and eat you forever.”, Max says with a smirk. You laughed at his joke, that still holds some truth.

“Then I’ll be sure to do my best in ensuring you can suckle my blood for as long as possible.”, you replied coyly. 

Since then, you’ve kindly accepted all the ways Max has offered to help you. In fact, it had become a joke between the two of you. If Max had smelt you you’d ask “So? How’s my iron?’’. Sometimes he’d laugh, other times he’d answer truthfully; “You’re low today.”. After some 6 months and a visit to your doctor, you had blood taken. When your results were in, your doctor celebrated that you had finally gotten your iron levels up. So, you asked to have a print out of your blood sample, as a sort of certificate of excellence.

You made your way home with nothing but a big smile on your face. When you got home you called out to Max, with the printout hidden behind your back. When he appeared he asked, “How’d you appointment go sweetcheeks?”, while kissing you on the cheek. 

“Good but they had to take blood.”
“Sucks, I could’ve done that myself.”, he says with a smirk. 

“That would’ve saved me the two hour wait in the waiting room. But, nonetheless, I got good news.”
“Good news?”
“I passed”, you said while handing him your blood sample printout. 

Of course the printout was filled with medical gibberish and was nearly incomprehensible. But, it was enough for Max to piece together, “Your blood levels are normal?”, he asks excitedly.

“Yup! I just have to keep up with the supplements.”

Max is quick to swoop you up in his arms and attacking your neck in kisses. You giggle and laugh at his childlike manor and the sudden ticklish sensation on your neck.

“I think this means you deserve a reward.”, he says while bring you to the bedroom. 

“Is that so? Like ice cream maybe?”, you ask sarcastically when he puts you down.

“Not quite.”, he responds before closing the door.

[mrschiltoncat]

Aww I get this totally, even when I relax which I do, there’s always that voice saying you should be doing things! Sweet Marcus. Loved this

Easy Love // (Marcus Pike x GN!Reader)

Summary;Marcus gets you to take a break from work (on your time off) and snuggle up with him

Warnings; none, just fluff. I think I made it GN but let me know if theres any mishaps!!!


Word Count;481

Time off stresses you out. You’ve never been good at the whole ‘relaxing’ thing. You always tried to keep busy because if you weren’t busy you felt like a waste of space. There was a constant need and urge for you to prove your worth and value. Being given time off was a blessing and a curse because while you were anxious and exhausted due to work, you also didn’t know what to do with yourself besides work. You always knew this was a bad thought process but you hadn’t thought much of it until Marcus.

When Marcus met you he was envious of your work ethic. He’d never met someone who was so dedicated to their job; even if you hated the task at hand, you worked at it  tirelessly. While he found you physically angelic, he wanted to know you beyond the work front. He asked you out for coffee, lunch and dinner countless times, all of which you refused because you were too busy working. Marcus had to essentially trick you into spending time with him, because while the two of you became close you were always working. Marcus started staying late with you or joining you at your desk during lunch. During the months of weaving himself in your life, he realized your work ethic was not only unhealthy but came from a place of self-hatred and low self-esteem. He loved you too much to watch you bury yourself alive. You’ve been dating for two years now, and there was still some work to do.

For most people, the first day of their time off consisted of sleeping in and lounging all day;  but to you it was just another day you absolutely had to get stuff done. You woke up, made coffee and sat at your computer trying to find more work. You had let Marcus sleep in, and while it physically hurt you to leave the warmth of his arms and your shared bed, the voice in your head had forced you to. You sat at the kitchen island quietly working on anything and seemingly everything. It was now 11 am and Marcus strolls out of your bedroom in his boxers and well-worn t-shirt. His hair forming soft curls in random directions from sleep.

“Coffee’s on”, you say.

Marcus walks up behind you and hugs you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“Well good morning to you too, princess”

He kisses your cheek and you turn into it, placing your lips on his. The kiss doesn’t last long as you break into a smile.

“I’m sorry. Good morning. How’d you sleep, sweetheart?”

“Okay up until you left my arms.”

“Did I wake you?”
“No. I just miss you when you’re not with me.”

“I love you, Marcus.”

“I love you more.”

He kisses your nose before letting you go and making his way around the island and further into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.

You’re quick to get back to work. Typing away at your keyboard, emailing coworkers and secretly working virtually. Marcus had made himself his cup of black coffee and leaned against the counter opposite of you. He just watched you. Your face had gone from a loving smile, to a slight frown and furrowed brows. It seemed to him that he no longer existed in your world at the moment. He could only take so much of your dispirited face before he slowly closed your laptop. Slow enough for you to move your fingers and to give him a questioning look.

“What’s today?”, Marcus asked as if that would answer your confusion.

“Today?”

“Mhm”

“It’s 11:23 am on a-…”

“Nope. That’s not what I meant.”

You cock your head in confusion at what else he could mean. Mentally going through all the important dates.

“Well, it’s not either of our birthdays or our anniversary. So, I’m out of guesses. We didn’t have anything planned today, did we?”

“We didn’t. Which is exactly what you’re doing wrong. Babe, it’s your time off from work. Not to mention, we’re off together. This is when we’re supposed to do nothing, together.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, allowing all the tension in your shoulders to release. Marcus is right. You shouldn’t be working, nor should you feel guilty for enjoying your time off. You can’t argue with him because you know he’s right and that what you’re doing and why is irrational. You look up at him with a soft and thankful smile.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”, you get up from your chair and walk around to Marcus, “I just couldn’t help it this morning.”

You hug Marcus to further apologize, which he gladly accepts and kisses the top of your head.

“It’s fine. I just want you to relax and enjoy your time off, especially if it’s with me.”

You’re not sure how he does it. Marcus makes you feel at ease and effortlessly happy. Even if you feel like shit, you feel instantly slightly less shitty when around him. He’s the only one that can make your worry dissipate and bring a painfully bright smile to your face without even trying. With your laptop closed and Marcus in your arms, your spirits are lifted. 

“So, with nothing on the agenda. What do you propose we do now?”, you ask.

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Nope. Pancakes?”

“Mmm, while pancakes do sound delicious, I’m thinking of something a little easier and quicker. Eggs?”

You smile into his chest. The hum in his chest from his voice soothing you and bringing you joy, “Eggs it is.”

You look up at him, both of you seemingly unwilling to leave each other’s arms. Marcus read the situation and came up with a great solution.

“How about we eat real quick and then go back to bed.”

“Yes please.”

[mrschiltoncat]

Ooooo here comes jealous Dave! This is so good can you add me to the tags plz thanks

An Offer You Can’t Refuse

(2/?)

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

warnings: slight language, mentions of anxiety, jealous!Dave?

“Ready!” You said to Dave as you walked out to his car parked on the side of the street out of your apartment.

Dave looked confused as his brow furrowed with his hands on his hips, “is that everything?”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “I travel light.”

As he grabbed both of the suitcases from you and put them in the trunk, you looked back at your apartment for the last time. In some ways you were going to miss it. The cracked, red bricks which lined the outside and the chipped paint of the fire escape were subtle details that made up your home for the past year and a half.

Keep reading