#but flustered dave is adorable

[dms-a-jem]

Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode naming the members of Duran Duran

Pop Quiz - June 18, 1983

(AKA that time Dave struggled with getting those Taylors boys sorted out)

[thewintersbloom]

my love mine all mine | dave lizewski (f)

♡ pairing : dave lizewski x fem!reader

♡ summary : like dave said, ever since you sat down beside him in that literature class, his and your lives have never been the same.

♡ warnings : none, pure fluff.

♡ word count : 2.9k

♡ a/n : hello, posting my first ever work on tumblr, it took me a while to write this out but it's finally done and im so excited to share it with you all, i lovee atj 🥰 thank you, happy reading and please do like, reblog and leave your precious feedback. ❤️

It's been a week since you've joined your new highschool, the nature of your parents' jobs had your family moving often so this wasn't the first time you're the new kid at school but it definitely wasn't easier. You walk into your first class of the day, Literature, looking for vacant seats and there is one next to the jock, Jaden and there's no way in hell you're making the mistake of sitting next to him again like on your second day of school where you had to put up with his tall tales, his narcissism and his absolutely cringe attempts at flirting, You made it very very clear that you weren't the least bit interested in him and changed seats.

There's another vacant seat in the middle next to Dave, Dave Lizewski who's apparently busy doodling something in his notebook. Deciding to take the seat next to him, you walk further into the classroom, feeling everyone's eyes on you.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” You ask him, smiling and Dave looks up with a jump, snapping his notebook shut, clearly not expecting anyone to ask for the seat next to him. The rest of your classmates snicker but you've long learnt the art of ignorance as you smile and repeat your question, trying to put him at ease, for you can see he's flustered as he adjusts his glasses, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Uh, n– no. You can sit.” He replies with a small smile, shifting in his seat.

“Thanks, I'm ________ btw, the new kid.” You introduce yourself and take out a bar of chocolate from your bag, breaking it in half and offering the other to Dave as he chuckles a bit.

“I'm Dave Lizewski, thank you and do you offer chocolates everytime you introduce yourself?” Dave smiles, accepting the half a bar of chocolate.

“No, only to the people I like or feel comfortable with.”

You watch as the tips of his ears turn pink again and so does his cheeks as he looks down at his hands for a moment and then looks back at you, readjusting his glasses as his smile, adorably shy and warm, makes your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes lock into yours, taking your breath away.

“Btw, I know you Dave. I really liked the points you mentioned in the last class about Macbeth.”

“Really? I didn't think anyone was listening.” Dave responds, surprise very much evident in his voice and you wonder why because his points were really good, they helped you in understanding the topic much better and you remember applauding for him after, when he was praised by the teacher for the very same.

“Well, I was and they really helped me with the homework. It's just that we've never had the chance to talk.”

“I'm glad then and well, we're talking right now, aren't we?”

There was that adorable shy smile again, the one that made your heart skip a beat and you blush a little this time, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Your conversation is interrupted as your literature teacher walks into the class and it's filled with the hush of quiet chatter and rustling pages as the lesson begins.

You try to concentrate as your teacher explains the Aristotle's tragic plot structure but every time your foot gently bumps against Dave's and your fingers brush against his on the table while taking notes or when he asks for a spare pen, the butterflies in your stomach has your mind wandering and you know he feels it too, evident in the way you both are flustered and look away shyly when your eyes meet.

You scribble on a piece of paper and slide it over to Dave, who reads it, a smile lighting up his handsome features as he writes something and then passes it back to you.

Wanna have lunch together?

Sure!

Lunch Break couldn't come soon enough.

Todd and Marty share a look as Dave keeps glancing at the cafeteria door every two seconds, checking his watch, adjusting and readjusting his glasses and toying with his food on the lunch tray.

“Do you think he's in love?” Marty asks Todd who takes a sip of his soda.

“Too early to be in love though, he just met her this morning but for sure, he likes her.” Todd replies, pointing his fork towards Dave who rolls his eyes at their conservation.

“I'm right here you morons.” He throws a piece of discarded napkin towards them, “Besides, there's no way she's ever gonna like someone like me. She's cool, smart, funny, beautiful and wayyy out of my league.”

“Then why do you think she asked you to have lunch together?” Todd asks, gently poking Dave with his fork.

Before he could answer, you rush over to their table with your lunch tray, placing it down beside his.

“Hi, Hi. Sorry, I got held up in history class, wanted to clear some points for the project which is due next week.” You smile at Dave as you sit down next to him.

Your arms brush and the butterflies from the morning return in full force.

“It's okay.” Dave clears his throat, smiles and then introduces you to his two friends and you to them.

“It's good to finally meet you, Dave hasn't stopped talking about you since morning.” Marty quipped and Dave kicked him under the table.

“Well, I haven't stopped thinking about Dave since this morning either.” You blurt out as you dig into your lunch but realizing what you just said, your eyes go wide and you cough awkwardly, reaching out for your can of soda.

“What?” Dave asks, eyes wide.

“What?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“You just said—”

“I–”

You know what you just said and you just wish for the earth to swallow you whole, like… that wasn't supposed to be said out so loud!!

“Because I have been–”

“Me too–”

You both try to talk but keep getting shy-er, the longer you look into each other's eyes when the bell rings announcing the end of the lunch break.

“Looks like we were right.” Todd speaks as he and Marty look at you and Dave with matching shit eating grins on their faces.

A week later, Dave is at the library, browsing through the shelves for some reference books that'll help with his economics homework when he sees you walking in. Ever since that day at the cafeteria you both have been talking, hanging out in between classes, having lunch together and have been going over at each other's places for study sessions but haven't really talked about what you both had wanted to say back then.

Taking a deep breath, Dave walks over to the history section where you were looking through some reference books as well. He catches a whiff of your sweet intoxicating scent ~ subtle hints of rose and sandalwood and his mind wanders again, wanting nothing more than to sink and drown in your scent.

“Hey.” Dave whispers and you turn around to greet him with a smile, that sweet smile of yours which has his heart skipping a beat.

“Hey.” You step closer to him, whispering as well. “I haven't seen you since morning and you weren't in class either, even Todd and Marty had no idea where you were. Is everything okay Dave?”

“Yeah.. Yeah, everything's fine, just got caught up in some.. stuff, you know.” Dave nods in response, adjusting his glasses as he shifts on his feet. He hates lying to you and knows that you won't be convinced by his answer, he wants to tell you about his superhero identity, about Kick-Ass but this was neither the right time nor the place.

“I was wondering if we could have a study session tonight to prepare for the big history test next week?”

“That will be perfect, I've been meaning to ask if you want to study together for the test, you can come to my place, my parents will be out celebrating their anniversary tonight, we'll have the whole house to ourselves.”

“So, we'll be alone?” Dave leans on one of the shelves, a flirtatious smirk on his lips. He hasn't flirted much in his life, so this might not work at all but he wants to try, for you.

“Yup.” You reach up to pull out another book from the shelf.

“We can do a lot more things apart from studying if we're all alone.”

You turn to look at him, a soft gasp escaping your lips when you realize how close Dave’s face is to yours as he stands with his arms crossed at his chest. The serene deep blue hues of his eyes sparkled in the soft rays of the sun coming in from the library's skylight, you wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through his soft dark curls, you wonder what it would be like to feel his soft kissable lips against yours, while his fingers draw mindless patterns on your skin.

Unable to accurately grasp the weight of the book you were pulling out, you stumble, about to fall down on your back when two strong arms wrap around your waist, stabling you.

“I’ve got you.” Dave speaks, gently plucking the book out of your hands.

You are pressed to his chest, aware of the rhythmic rise and fall of it, looking into the tranquil blue of his eyes while his breath fans your skin and the heat of his body has your mind conjuring up all the fantasies you've had about him.

Dave tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear as your heart feels like it would beat out of your chest,

“I’ll see you tonight at 7.” He smiles and you manage to nod, thanking him.

Shouldering his backpack, Dave turns to leave but then turns back again, places a soft, sweet kiss on your cheek and walks out of the library, his cheeks and ears an adorable shade of red.

You stand there for a good few minutes, one hand on your chest, trying to calm your racing heart and the other on your cheek where Dave just kissed, he kissed you. Dave Lizewski, the boy you've been dreaming about since the last few weeks, kissed. you. on. the. cheek.

You squeal as you jump, pumping your fists in the air and kicking your feet. The other students laugh and the librarian sends you a warning glare but you really don't give a damn, you are so excited to see Dave tonight.

Dave is running late.

He was supposed to be at your place an hour ago, but at the subway station, two thugs were cornering an old lady and a little girl, threatening them to hand over whatever they had on them or to pay with their lives.

The thugs were taken care of and by that he meant, tied to one of the pillars of the station after he kicked their asses. The old lady and her granddaughter were safe (something he had learned while escorting them to safety) and the little one had thanked Kick-Ass with a hug.

Dave now makes his way to your home, his superhero suit safely concealed beneath his regular clothes as he hears police sirens in the distance, wincing in pain with every step he takes. Though Dave has a high pain threshold due to his damaged nerve endings, he still has bruises and cuts and he's pretty sure both his elbows are scraped and bleeding.

When the doorbell rings, you run downstairs after taking a last look at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath to calm the butterflies in your stomach before answering the door but your smile vanishes as Dave stands in the doorway with a busted lip, cuts and bruises as far as your eyes can see. He gives you a slight smile as he tries to move closer to greet you when he winces in pain and you rush forward to help him.

“Oh my god Dave, what happened to you? You're bleeding! Let me just grab my coat and then I'll drive you to the hospital. Do you want me to call your dad? I can call Mr Lizewski and he can meet us at the hospital.” You speak, trying to clamp down on the panic rising in your chest as you pull out your cellphone when Dave gently holds your wrist, shaking his head.

“Baby, breathe.” He smiles, looking into your eyes. The word of endearment from him coupled with his smile and gorgeous blue eyes calm your nerves a bit as you take a deep breath.

“It's not that bad, I have a high threshold for pain, remember? Damaged nerve endings?”

“It's not that bad? Dave, are you kidding me? You're bleeding! You have a busted lip, cuts and bruises, both your elbows are scraped and bleeding!” You point out the growing red patches on his shirt sleeves.

“Okay, that is bad but it's nothing a first aid kit can't fix. Trust me, I've been injured before and fixed myself up just fine.”

You have a lot of questions and Dave understands that, he wants to answer each and every one of them, wants to tell you about Kick-Ass and put all his cards on the table on the first date when he asks you out tonight, fingers crossed.

“Okay, but we are going to the hospital if anything's serious.”

“Promise.”

You dab a gauze pad in antiseptic liquid to clean the cut on Dave's forehead after cleaning and dressing his scraped elbows and you had to get rid of his favorite shirt to clean the wounds, much to Dave's unhappiness as he pouted a bit but nothing a kiss on the cheek from you can't fix which had him blushing, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“This is going to sting a bit, hold my hand if it hurts, okay?” You smile as you lean in to gently press the gauze pad to his cut. Dave winces a bit, his fingers intertwined with yours as you clean the cut and blow a bit of air to soothe the sting. He chuckles at the cute furrow of your brows, a tell that you're fully concentrated, something that he's come to know from your classes and study sessions together where he just can't keep his eyes off you.

His eyes then trail down your beautiful eyes to the soft curve of your mouth, lingering on your lips, the mole right beneath your lower lip and many a times he has had thoughts about you and him, hanging out after school, you're perched on his lap while his arms are around you, homework forgotten momentarily on the coffee table as you both can't have enough of each other's lips, your hands wandering down his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his plaid shirt.

Dave gently tucks back the stray lock of hair that has been testing your patience for the last few seconds.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He speaks, fingers gently caressing your cheek as you halt momentarily in your task, blink a few times and then blush, much to Dave's amusement.

“And so cute, are you always this cute?”

“I–” You're even more flustered now as you finish cleaning up his forehead cut and Dave laughs. Groaning, you gently let your head rest on his chest.

“Do you know how difficult it is to talk to someone you have a massive crush on? God, Dave Lizewski I like you so so much and all I do all day is daydream about you, daydream about us! You know, being a couple, holding hands, stealing kisses, hanging out after school, making out in your bedroom or mine.”

“Making out in the library?”

“Definitely making out in the library, I've often thought about.. you know‐ you pinning me against one of the shelves and kissing the fucking daylights out of me.”

“Baby, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that.” Dave grins looking down at you, “but before that, I need to do something that I've been wanting to do for so long too.”

You nod, looking up at him.

“I like you too, so so much. All I do is daydream about you, about us too. Ever since you sat beside me in that literature class my life has never been the same. So, will you go out with me next week? We could go to the arcade you were telling me about, grab some milkshakes.”

“I would love to.”

“And I know, I know you have a lot of questions and I promise I'll answer them all, I'll tell you everything about me.” Dave adds, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Do you trust me, baby?” He asks, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your knuckles and you nod, staring into his gorgeous deep blue hues.

“I do.”

The kiss that followed was soft, sweet and full of promises for the future, one of your hands on his chest as you feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, the other tangled in his soft raven curls while his were wrapped gently around your waist, careful of the scraped elbows.

“So boyfriend, wanna order some takeout, do a Pride And Prejudice rewatch and then cuddle with some hot chocolate?” You ask, pressing a kiss to his lips before reaching out for your phone on the table.

“Would love to, girlfriend.” Dave smiles before leaning in to kiss you again.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hey There Jealousy.

You're part of Hellfire with a big crush on Eddie, he doesn't feel the same and you deal with unrequited feelings until a date with someone else triggers unexpected reactions. ✨

Warnings; Angst, jealousy, fighting, fluffy goodness. Not S4 compliant.

Please like or reblog, etc if you enjoyed this ❤️🌸

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

❤️❤️

You had been in Hellfire for the last two years, it was your senior year and things were going pretty great.

When you first joined the group you didn't know what to expect, Gareth was the one who had found out that you were a huge dnd fan and always played with the kids you were babysitting at the time.

One of them happened to be his younger cousin Dave who raved about you to Gareth, it was then decided you would tag along to Hellfire.

None of your friends could understand why you wanted to join but you ignored their doom-filled predictions of it being a cult or whatever bullshit they heard from Jason.

Eddie was hesitant at first until you played your first campaign and knocked everyone's expectations out of the water.

Now you were one of Eddie's valued teammates and the tiny itty bitty crush you had on Eddie when you first met? Now it was full-blown feelings and you were screwed.

Because he didn't think of you like that, he had crushes on Chrissy Cunningham, other cheerleaders, hookups with girls in bands and at The Hideout where he would play with his band Corroded Coffin.

It hurt, seeing him with those girls hurt, it was expected though. You were just his friend, he was older and in a cool band and despite what Jason and his Neanderthal friends thought and called him- "the freak" garnered a lot of intrigue.

He was also gorgeous, with beautiful brown doe eyes, shaggy brown hair, tattoos and dimples. Eddie was fucking hot.

So yeah, you were screwed.

❤️❤️

Dustin never thought he would be speaking one and one with Chrissy Cunningham. He knew you were friends with her and Eddie a little bit too but it still felt surreal.

You and Eddie. That was the reason the two of them were conspiring together in the first place.

"Look, I like Eddie, he's a sweet guy but the fact that he doesn't notice how gone my girl is for him is frustrating" Dustin nods.

"What do you want to do about it? If he's not interested then you can't force him to be Chrissy" she nods.

"I know. Eddie Munson despite what yn seems to think isn't the only guy in the whole universe, others have noticed how cute she is"

This intrigues Dustin. Was it Steve? He knew Steve thought you were hot.

"You know Matt? He's on the basketball team? One of Jason's friends. He's one of them" Dustins eyes widen.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Chrissy smiles.

"We don't have to do anything. Matt is going to ask her out. Either Eddie feels something or he doesn't, either way..."

Either way, you would either get your dream guy or a chance to move on for good. Dustin liked you a lot and wanted you to find happiness, whether it was with Eddie, Matt or whoever you wanted to be with.

He was nervous but ready to see what happened.

❤️❤️

"Hey" You're shocked into silence as Matt comes over, he's like one of the most popular guys in school besides Jason and yeah you're meant to be tutoring him tonight but you didn't expect him to want to hang out beyond that.

Did he want to hang out with Hellfire? Immediately you notice Eddie tense, defences up and you don't blame him, the basketball team has a few jerks in it.

Besides Lucas of course. You adored Lucas as well as Mike and Dustin.

Matt has never been hostile though so you smile encouragingly while Eddie glares at the newcomer.

"Hey, I know we were meant to be studying tonight but I saw on your bag that you like horror movies, there's a showing of some classic horror movies tonight. You wanna go?"

Okay, this you weren't expecting. He rests his hand on your arm and his thumb strokes over your shoulder, it tingles and you feel flustered and also acutely aware of Eddie's raised eyebrow as he watches you both.

Chrissy is watching too giving you a thumbs-up gesture and you make a decision.

"I'd love to" you find yourself saying and Matt grins.

"Cool, I'll see you after class" You watch him go feeling like you're in some strange dream.

"Did that really just happen?" you ask the others who look between you and then Eddie.

"You've been swayed to the dark side. Yeah, it did" Eddie huffs and you roll your eyes.

"I have not. He is cute though" You sigh dreamily, it's nice having someone notice you.

"He was all over you in Ms O'Donnell's class. Someone's got a crush" Jeff teases and the others join in on the light hearted teasing.

Except for Eddie, who's quiet and munching on a bag of pretzels while he glares in the direction of the Jock table.

"We were just talking, he was asking me for help studying. I help Eddie so why not?" Gareth grins.

"Mmm and now you're off to the movies, a horror movie. That you'll not be watching because of all the... He makes a kissy face and you giggle.

"Dingus" would that happen though? Your belly flutters.

"Shut up! " Eddie snaps and the others quieten and your heart rate spikes because he looks so annoyed and you wonder if it's about you and Matt.

"We were discussing the campaign" he points out and your heart sinks, right Hellfire. It was silly of you to think he might be jealous. Why would he be?

After school, you meet up with Matt to head to the cinema.

Maybe this will be a good thing and you will be able to finally move on from Eddie?

❤️❤️

Eddie was invited to tag along with Robin and Steve to see The Blob.

How was he supposed to know that you would be at this movie with Matt? He felt like an idiot for staying and semi-spying on your date.

He tried to leave but the harsh twist of his heart when you laughed at Matt's jokes kept him rooted to the spot as well as Steve and Robin who wanted to see the movie.

Eddie didn't know why the sight of you and Matt together made his stomach bottom out but he was beginning to get a good idea.

He couldn't concentrate on the movie. It felt like that time that you were crushing on Steve for weeks and that kick started Eddie's dislike of the dude.

Until he got to know him and realized he was a pretty cool guy, Dustin's hero-worshipping of Steve too had stuck in his brain.

"Dude you didn't tell me that yn was looking to date someone. Could have asked her myself" Steve nudges him and nods to you and Matt.

Wait so Steve liked you as well? The urge to dislike Steve comes racing back. He kinda wants to hit something.

"You like her?" he asks Steve who shrugs.

"Dude, she's hot. You've never noticed?" he thinks about this and he's always known that you're beautiful, he's never liked anyone noticing you but assumed it was just him being protective.

Eddie doesn't think the pain in his chest could get any worse until Matt kisses you and he finally understands what it feels like to get his heart ripped out.

Stumbling out of the cinema he's joined by Robin and Steve, he feels like he can't breathe and the image of Matt kissing you won't go away.

"What's wrong with him?" Robin panics and Steve pats his back.

"Think he just realised he's in love Robin"

Love? he was in love with you? At first, he's like when the fuck did that happen.

Then be thought about it and maybe it was every time you smiled or you laughed or when you would fall asleep on his bed after helping him study and look so beautiful he was mesmerized.

Maybe it was your kindness, the way you played a kickass game of Hellfire or the way you looked at him on nights when it was just the two of you in his bedroom while he strummed on the guitar and taught you how to play.

Jesus Christ, he was an idiot.

❤️❤️

Eddie had been weird for the whole week and that was all you could think about tonight.

Your date with Matt had turned into a second and now this third date.

It was nice you kept telling yourself along with the fact that Matt was a lovely guy.

That's why you were at this party instead of at Hellfire, though you'd rather be with the boys and Erica in the middle of a campaign.

Despite Chrissy being here which made you feel more relaxed you knew this wasn't your thing at all.

It didn't help that after half an hour Matt was already drunk and he kept trying to feel you up even you told him no.

Your good opinion of him was rapidly fading with him acting more and more like a douche bag.

You had said no three times now and you were pissed.

"Come on babe" you shake your head and when he almost knocks you over and you hit your side on the table creating a rip in your dress you decide you've had enough of the party.

And of Matt.

"I said no! God, we are so done" You snap and tug out of his arms, you ignore him and stalk away, you're so upset that you don't realise how far you've walked into the woods until you can't hear anything from the party.

Shit.

❤️❤️

You hadn't shown up for Hellfire and that was Eddie's first distraction of the night, many more were to come but this was the first and all he could think about was you with Matt.

Jealousy coils around his gut and once again he curses his stupidity for not realizing his feelings sooner. It made him pissed off, it was hard to concentrate and he wasn't happy.

Eddie startles out of his DM mode as Lucas comes running into the drama room, he's just about to unload on him for missing half an hour of Hellfire but the look on his face stops him.

"Sinclair what's wrong?'' that's when Lucas tells him you were at a party with Matt, he's drunk and you're missing.

Then Chrissy comes in and rushes over to Dustin, it's like he's in some episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Dustin! Big mistake with Matt, he's an asshole he kept trying to grope yn at the party and she left and I can't find her" Chrissy was panicking and Dustin looks to Eddie freaked out.

Trying to tamper down the thoughts of beating the shit out of Matt he assures Chrissy, Dustin and Lucas that he will find you.

"Jordan said that she ran into the woods, Eddie" Lucas tells him and Eddie high-tails it to his van.

He had to find you. It was starting to rain and you could get sick or anything. What if you got lost? What if you tripped and injured yourself or you... He freezes.

What if the monster that stalked Hawkins Woods got to you? Normally he would have said that it was a load of rumours and shit but everyone knew Hawkins was one strange little town.

All the deaths. He couldn't risk you being hurt and he drove even faster. Desperate to get to you.

❤️❤️

You're shivering and chilled to the bone but you manage to find a clearing in the woods that leads back to the party.

It feels like you've been lost for hours but it probably hasn't been that long and you're relieved when you see a bunch of parties goers

That's when you also see Eddie, flashlight in hand and he shouts your name in relief.

He runs to you and you stumble into his arms sobbing in relief. The feeling of familiarity of Eddie's arms around you immediately makes you feel safe.

"It's okay princess. I've got you, you're safe" he checks you over and you assure him you're fine.

"You're soaked and look at all the rips on your clothes," he says worriedly and shrugs off his jacket placing it around you. The rain is fiercer now, a storm is brewing and you look anxiously at him.

He will catch a cold just standing in his Hellfire shirt and jeans, you try to tell him that but he stubbornely refuses to take his jacket back.

"Chrissy and Lucas explained everything. If I see that douchebag Matt he better run the other way" Eddie seethes, you've never seen him this angry before. It's not like him.

Well, that's a lie you tell yourself as you know how protective he is of you. How many scrapes he's gotten himself in for you, even if he had no chance in winning, he would defend you.

Even when he knew you could take care of yourself he still protected you.

At that point, possibly in the worst timing ever Matt stumbles over to you.

Eddie stiffens and Matt glares at you.

"You finally decided to have a go after all huh? Instead of acting like a frigid bit... He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence as Eddie socked him in the mouth.

He wines flexing his hand which is now bruised and sore.

"Fucking worth it" he announces, puts his arm around you and leads you to the van.

❤️❤️

You had never been so glad to see Eddie's Uncle Wayne in your life. He takes in the rips on your outfit and the bruise on your arm and scowls.

"What boy is my nephew beating up this time honey?" you would smile if you weren't so cold.

Eddie comes in and you immediately take his hands in yours and inspect his bruised knuckles.

"Are you okay?" you ask him and he nods still looking pissed off. He softens as you clean and bandage up the knuckles.

"Never mind me, sweetheart. Are you okay?" he asks you and you nod still a bit shivery. Uncle Wayne gets you a blanket and you cuddle into it.

"I'm better now. Should have never gone to that party. The whole time I was there I just wanted to be at Hellfire but I thought Matt was a nice guy and wanted to stick around for a bit, then he got drunk and acted like a dick"

Tears fall down your cheeks, frustration and just total exhaustion from the night's events.

Eddie deftly leads you to his room and shuts the door. Once you are inside he holds you close to him.

"I thought I had found a great guy and that he liked me when all he wanted to do was get in my pants. He didn't want to get to know me, not really" Eddie rubs your arm soothingly

"Maybe the next guy will be better huh?" you say hopefully and Eddie goes still which confused you.

"Eddie?" he swallows as he stares at you and you clasp his hand in yours.

"I don't want there to be another guy sweetheart. I want there to be just one guy. I want to be that guy"

What? He continues speaking and you can't believe what's happening.

"I know it took forever for me to realise and I've been so fucking jealous all week of Matt because he doesn't get how special and kind and beautiful you are and how lucky he was to be with you and the dude messed it up? What a douchebag"

"Eddie," you say again and he looks at you with those pretty brown eyes all wide and nervous.

"You don't feel the same right? Shit, forget I said anything and.." you call his name again and this time he quietens.

"Kiss me" He doesn't need to be told twice his lips are on yours and he grins as you kiss him back, he pulls away briefly.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner princess" You rest your head on his chest as he pulls you into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around you as you sit on his knee.

"Hey less apologizing and more kisses" He laughs and kisses you again, his thumb stroking your cheek as he presses tender kisses to your lips.

"I'm an idiot. Should have been kissing you like this for weeks, feels so good sweetheart, it's never felt like this, just so right"

You smile on cloud nine knowing what he means, kissing Matt while nice and all never felt like this. However all thoughts are wiped from your mind when you straddle Eddie and his breathy moans cause the ache in your core to deepen.

"I love you and I'm gonna be kissing you forever sweetheart, hope you know that," he tells you and the thought of forever with the man you love sounds heavenly.

"I love you Eds, and that sounds perfect to me"

❤️

[kiwisbell]

Larks and Katydids [dave york]

There's something sweet about you that keeps him coming back to this little diner. You do not know the dark corners of the world he lives in. But you will.

my masterlist!

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: dom/sub dynamic, age gap (20s/40s), blood, violence, murder, soft!dave, dom!dave, stalker!dave, but in a cute way, it's for your own good, obsession, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (wrapping before tapping etc.), brief orgasm denial, submissive reader, dave is a bamf, protective!dave, possessive!dave, dave is nice but only to you, shirley jackson references, fingering, creampie, daddy kink, sweet girl being a dave york staple, kidnapping, implied innocence kink

word count: ~ 14.7k

a/n: y'know what.. now that i'm looking back it.. this fic kinda gives red light and now i'm wondering if i might need some serious introspection for writing shit like this. anyway ☠️ some of you know may already be aware that my earlier fics were inspired by hozier songs. this one was somewhat of an ode to nfwmb, but that may just be because i listened to it non-stop while writing. anyway, if you haven't already read this one-shot, please enjoy!! xoxo

LARKS AND KATYDIDS

His eyes keep drifting toward the sweet, pretty thing behind the counter. 

Dave has instincts. Good ones. For one, he knows that the idiot sitting across from him is not the type of client he wants to make a deal with. Senator Isaiah Berkeley may have the means and motive to kill his cheating wife, but Dave’s instincts prickle up the back of his neck. Berkeley is flighty, nervous, visibly sweating at the brow. He’ll be a liability. Some men are not built for the jagged edges of this life. The man still wears his wedding ring, for fuck’s sake. He’d regret hiring Dave the second he found his wife’s body after a fall down the stairs.

Dave never doubts his instincts. Now, they sink their claws into his eyes until he cannot help but flick them toward your pretty face. Jesus, you’re pretty. This diner is a hole in the wall, a red-and-white and black-checkered-floor retro nightmare that smells vaguely of syrup, and he’s surprised the staff aren’t wearing fucking rollerskates to deliver the food. But the coffee is good, and the food is real, and there’s not another soul here. Except for you.

He likes the simple black shirt and skirt you wear, and he likes the way you roll up your apron to make it fit the curves of your body. He likes the shape of your mouth, the gentle touch to your eyes, the way you beamed at him when they entered the diner. Best seat in the house, you said when you sat them in the corner. Dave tasted honey when he tried your name out loud and took his order: two coffees, black. You smiled, like you could have guessed, and said, Be right up. You don’t carry a notepad. It makes him like you more: you’re clever. You remember things. 

You’re standing behind the counter and reading a book, your chin in your palm, and he’s fascinated by the speed of your eyes across the pages. He understands why you’re so quick when a gruff male voice erupts from the kitchen, calling a name that must be yours. “Get back to work,” he snaps. 

You scramble to hold your place in the book and scurry around the counter to check up on your only two customers. As if you hadn’t been so good, so attentive. You’re good. He knows it. You should be treated like it. Dave’s fingers twitch, like he can swipe at the faint frown that furrows your brow. Fuck, you’re adorable, even flustered, especially flustered. 

“How you folks doing?” you ask, that sweet smile a poison that festers in his blood. “Sure I can’t get you anything else?”

“No,” says Berkeley shortly, not meeting your eye. Could he be any more conspicuous?

Dave, rubbing his fingertips over his bottom lip, doesn’t want to leave it at that. “What are you reading?” he asks.

You blink as if you’ve never heard the question before, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. He likes that, too. “Oh,” you say, and it sounds like a trembling sigh of excitement. Dave feels himself swell up a little with pride. “It’s called We Have Always Lived in the Castle.”

He hums. “Jackson.”

He likes being the one who dropped that sparkle into your eyes. “You like her?”

“I know her,” he says. Across from him, Berkeley’s fingers are white-knuckling the handle of his coffee mug. He’s staring into the dregs like he expects them to tell him his fortune. “Don’t have a lot of time for reading nowadays. Do you like it?”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the way you lean toward him slightly, as if frantic to answer his question. “I’m reading it for a literature course I’m taking. I think she’s one of my favourites now. But I really shouldn’t have my nose in a book at work.”

Oh. You’re young. You’re young, still in college, and you’re goddamn smart. The interest stirring in his pants mirrors that in his head. 

“Our secret,” says Dave. “I’ll have more coffee, please, honey.”

He certainly does not imagine the way you bite your lip to suppress your grin and hurry off for the coffee pot, a little mouse. You like to please. He doesn’t need more coffee; he and Berkeley are almost done, whether he knows it or not. 

“I can’t take your contract, Senator,” says Dave, still watching your perky ass as you walk away. “You’ll have to find somebody else.”

Berkeley’s mouth opens in preparation for what Dave presumes will be a flurry of feeble threats and reassurances that I can pay you well, but Dave slips out of the booth and walks away—not before slapping down a couple bills that will cover the cost of their coffees. 

He should go back into town, sleep, and get Kovac to reach out to some more potential clients. But he wants to linger for a bit, hang around, see why his instincts are pushing him toward you, you pretty young thing with a smile that dims all other light. You’re on your way back to their table, holding the coffee pot, and nearly bump into him in your rush. “Oh!”

Dave steadies you with a firm grip around your elbow and doesn’t let go. Your skin is soft, prickled with goosebumps. 

You bow your head in instant submission, instant apology, and he tilts his head to the side. He makes you nervous. “Could’ve hurt yourself,” he says softly. 

“I’m sorry. Guess I was excited.” Your eyes flicker up toward him, and he forces them to stay there when he lifts your chin with his finger. 

“Exceptional customer service,” says Dave. Your laugh is breathless. “I was just leaving. Don’t worry about that second cup, sweetheart.” He drops his hand only to dig out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and place it in your palm. “Wrong Jackson, I know.”

Your eyes widen at it. “This is way more than your coffee.”

Dave lifts his brow. “You want me to put it in your pocket myself?”

You slowly pocket the bill. “Thank you,” you tell him. It’s strong and clear, and he likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth. 

“I was in college once,” he says good-naturedly. “In ancient times. I know the costs.”

Your laugh, your real laugh, is the chimes of dawn. You’re so bright. You’re the sun slowly painting the sky orange as it rises. “I’ll be done in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Dave frowns. “What’ll you do after?”

You shrug one shoulder. Your other arm is still burdened with holding up the coffee pot. “Hopefully, get as far away from here as I can.”

“Your parents suffocating you?” He’s good at digging, at unearthing treasures with only words; he shouldn’t have to be, in this line of work, but he likes to know things. Likes the control that comes with being prepared for anything, everything. 

“They’re dead,” you tell him. It’s plain, colourless, and Dave’s curiosity deepens. “I live with my uncle.”

There it is. 

Everybody has a trigger. People are like guns. They are predictable, but if you handle them wrong, they’ll jam. He catches the way your eyes shutter at the mention of your uncle, the way your shoulders round slightly, even though that brilliant smile is still on your face. Dave doesn’t like it. 

“Does he treat you good?”

Your slow blink is trancelike. “He’s family,” you say simply, and Dave knows that’s the answer you give every time the man doesn’t treat you so good. 

He grinds his teeth a little bit, an old habit from his smoking days. “Well, I hope you get the hell out of dodge,” he says. 

“Please come again,” you say. “God knows I’ll still be here.”

Oh, he’ll come again. In fact, he decides, he may not even leave.

~

Dave follows you home. 

It’s a short drive once you pull your beat-up Cooper off the highway and enter a little courtyard surrounded by dilapidated apartments. He knows the area. And he knows it’s not safe. Dave turns off his headlights and idles in the hazard zone, watching as you exit your car and rush to the front door with your purse clutched to your chest. He shakes his head, clicks his tongue to himself. Scared little bird, too pretty to live in a place like this.

He waits a little longer. Eventually, he sees you—he knows it’s you, even five storeys up, from the length of your hair and the way it moves—shuck the curtains open. It’s a small window of orange glowing light in the darkness, but he can see you. A man—your uncle—approaches the window, too, lifting the pane and blowing a cloud of smoke outside. Dave rolls down his window and strains his ear. It’s useless; he can’t hear a thing. And yet, he waits. 

He doesn’t know what he waits for. Maybe he’s expecting him to hit you, to lash out, to do something. Something that would let Dave scratch the itch in his knuckles. Instead, he’s only waiting, until your uncle tosses his cigarette out the window and latches it shut. He is evicted from your world for tonight. But he will not go quietly.

It begins with a phone call. Ari. Need you to track someone down for me. 

Your uncle’s name is Jason. He doesn’t share your last name, having been a half-brother to your father, but it’s him. Felony charges: breaking and entering, assault, possession. Run-of-the-mill, except it isn’t, because the fucker lives with you. As far as Dave has been able to dig up, you’ve never reported a word against him, but it seems you like to stay away most of the time, anyway.

Oh, yes. Dave has been digging into you, too.

Senior in college, majoring in Environmental Science at Northeastern. Long-standing and passionate affair with nature. Event Coordinator for SAF (Students for a Future), where you’ve organised speaker panels with renowned climatologists and planted trees in Franklin Park. You write for the association’s newsletter. 

All of it makes Dave frown, rubbing at his brow, hunched over his desk under the light of a single lamp. You’re so good. You’re clever and optimistic and ambitious, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than living in that shithole and working such a lacklustre job. He looks at the picture that accompanies your file, pulled from your social media, and adjusts the hard length in his pants. You’re photographed in the sunlight, smiling bright, your hair loose and gently blown about in the breeze, wearing a skimpy little sundress. Dave hisses and squeezes himself at the base of his stiffening cock. Jesus, get it together, he scolds himself. It’s a fucking photograph. 

Oh, but he’s thinking about you. He’s remembering the tenderness of you, the kind heart, the way you belong nowhere near him. Your soul is snow-white. He will bloody it. 

You've had boyfriends. Of course you have. A young woman who looks like you doesn't go her whole life without boys clumsily tossing themselves at your feet. It doesn't mean Dave refrains from investigating them, too. Two of them were from high school, short-term, and went to different colleges to live different lives. The third—Jack—lasted a year and a half, and you met him in a first-year sciences course. Both of you were from different towns, fish out of water, and gravitated to one another because you had no other friends. None of your friends were surprised when you and Jack began dating, but they were surprised to discover he'd been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 

Jack said you got busy and couldn't fulfil his needs. According to Dave’s thorough research, the girl he crawled to was his roommate's girlfriend. Dave grinds his teeth as he examines the kid’s picture. He's a fucking kid. He's clean-cut, a trust fund baby, never planted a tree in Franklin Park despite your attempts to convince him. He's never gotten his hands dirty the way Dave has. He's never bloodied them. 

Another sip of whiskey, and his cock won’t rest. Dave grunts, unzipping his pants and whipping his belt off, pulling himself out. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes fixed on your smiling face as he spits into his hand and begins to stroke himself. “Fuck.”

His head tips back against the headrest of his office chair. You’re kneeling in front of him, your sweet doe’s eyes awaiting his instruction. He takes you through it, step-by-step, because he’s a bad man, but he’d be good to you. Your perfect lips wrap around his head, your tongue lapping up the precum that beads out, greedy but obedient. You take him deeper, choking around his length and his girth, your mascara smearing as he cups your face and encourages you to take me, you can take me, sweet girl. You do—of course you do—making a low, satisfied hum around his cock when you manage to take him down your throat, happily swallowing around him as he begins to pump his cum inside you. That’s it. That’s it, baby. 

Dave’s hips jerk as he comes, and splatters his cum across his stomach and his hand. Some of it, though, lands on the picture of you, which he does not remember picking up, clenching in his fist.

Is there a circle of hell darker than the one he’s already destined for?

Dave returns to the diner the next week, and your grin when you see him soaks through his bones. You nearly bruise your hips in your rush to get around the counter to greet him. 

“I loved it,” you tell him right away, “the Jackson book. I think I’m gonna write my paper on it.”

He likes that you want to tell him about your life. He likes that you trust him with the small details. He doesn't want you to trust another man like that. It's a dangerous world and being so trusting will burn you. He can't let that happen. Little bird, with your glass bones so breakable. 

He unwinds his arm from behind his back and offers his gift to you. Your eyes glimmer when you see it, then slide slowly up to meet his. “You brought me a book,” you gasp, “and I don’t even know your name yet.”

“It’s Dave,” he tells you, placing the book into your hand. “I looked her up. Thought you might be interested in more.”

“Dark Tales,” you read, beaming up at him with the same smile from the picture he’d jerked his cock over. Fucking Christ. He’s going to hell. You step closer to him and, tentatively, as if he might lash out at you, lift up onto your toes and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dave.”

He tries to quell the arousal that’s pumping blood double-time to his cock. He really tries. But he cannot quell the memory of your lips on his skin. Why should he deny himself the heavenly indulgence of your attention? 

“I expect a book report,” he says, all stern brows and unwavering eye contact. 

You hug the book to your chest and he wants to shove you to your knees, bend you over the counter, bury his face in your needy pussy. You say his name, and it’s a whispering shockwave that trembles all the way down his spine. “After such a thoughtful gift… I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Yes. Yes, he knows.

Dave knows what you need. He is what you need. 

You need a man who will treat you right. You need someone to handle you properly, assuredly. You need a man who will hold you like you’re precious, shimmering granules of a crushed diamond. You want to be told what to do. You want to be dominated, protected, fucked. You want to be wrecked, and you want it to put you back together. 

You need a man who will treat you right for the first time in your life. 

Dave continues to come into the diner once a week. He steals you away for conversation whenever you aren’t attending to your other customers, and he gets a tick in his jaw whenever you’re whisked away. Your very existence evicts reason from his head. He wants to give you all the money you could ever want just to get you away from those wandering eyes and too-close hands. He wants to come in every single night you work just so he can keep an eye out: your silent, deadly protector. He wants to slash all the tires that aren’t his so nobody can come here and invade his private time with you. He knows he cannot do any of this because it’s something close to clinically insane. 

Instead, he only talks to you. And really fucking enjoys it. 

“And then Kate broke up with Garrett, even though she still loves him, but once she realised it, she realised Emily was totally in love with Garrett, so by the time Kate went back to beg him to take her back, he was already in bed with Emily, and now none of them are talking. And I’m down three club members.”

You speed through all of this while pouring his coffee, and Dave tries to wrap his head around the plot. “So… what did Emily do wrong?”

You click your tongue. “You would fail a test on girl code, Mr. York. We don’t go after one another’s boyfriends, crushes, or exes. We definitely don’t fuck them.”

Dave vaguely shakes his head. “They didn’t teach me that in school, sweet girl.”

“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” you say, and Dave never gets tired of the way your cheeks flush at the nickname. “What did you study?”

“Never went to college. Joined up when I was eighteen.”

“Oh.” You’re flustered right away, opening your mouth to stumble over the words, “Thank you for—”

Dave silences you with a mere flick of his eyes upward. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the shit I did.”

The quiet lingers heavy and stifling, but it’s you who breaks it. “So,” you try, clearing your throat, “what did you do after?”

“Apparently, I thought serving my country was the only way to go. I was C.I.A.” He notes the way you blink in astonishment, and he feels compelled to make you learn that he isn’t good. “Now, I own a security company.”

“Does that mean you protect people’s homes from break-ins, or people hire you to professionally break in?”

The twist of your lips is wicked and shoots right to his cock. Dave leans over the counter. “Wanna take a guess?”

“Sorry, Mr. York. Anyone that secretive about their job description is up to something shifty.” Your eyes still tease him. “And I don’t want to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Bills to pay.”

“You know I’d keep you safe, sweet girl.”

You’re cleaning the counter with a rag and he’s sipping his coffee, but both of you are smiling behind your respective tasks. “I know,” you say, your eyes briefly meeting.

Every so often, he follows you to school. It’s nice: friendly, modern with natural touches, good to look at among the fall leaves that crunch underfoot. And there you are, walking down the steps, wearing a Northeastern sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, your hair loose. You're laughing at something your friend said; in fact, you seem to be surrounded by friends. Dave slips his sunglasses further down his nose as he leans back against the Lincoln. His popular butterfly, so happy and brilliant. 

He doesn't know how your eyes find him so quickly, but they meet across the courtyard. And a game begins. 

You stop in your tracks. Your friend puts a hand on your shoulder (“Are you okay?” he imagines she asks), and you nod, making up some excuse. Dave folds his arms over his chest and watches you continue your walk down the path, departing with all but one of your friends with friendly waves good-bye. 

He knows your class schedule, which means he knows you have to walk right by his parking spot to get to the building. You make it to the end of the path and your friend finally spots Dave. Oh my God, he sees her whisper. The rest is unintelligible, but he's smug as a motherfucker when you bite down on your lip to hide the grin that's tugging on your pretty mouth. And then your hand twitches, and something falls to the ground behind you. 

Dave smirks. Clever thing. He rushes to pick up the key ring while you and your friend keep walking. “Excuse me, miss,” he calls out. 

You turn around, all coy and demure, and he wants to drag you inside his car and sit you right on his cock to straighten out your behaviour. “You dropped your keys,” says Dave, lifting them up with a jingle. 

You feign a gasp. “Oh, thank you, sir.” You make sure to brush your fingers along his knuckles as you pluck the key ring from his hand. “You're a hero.”

Dave lifts his brows in acknowledgement, looking at you over his sunglasses. “I've heard those are good,” he says, eyes flicking down toward Dark Tales, bookmarked near the end and tucked under your arm. Behind you, your friend has her thumbnail in her mouth, enraptured in the conversation that's unfolding. 

He’ll have to rectify your lip-biting habit. “I got it as a present,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the title on the cover. You know exactly what you're doing, and the thrill of knowing you're attracted to him thrills Dave. 

“Very thoughtful,” he muses. “I’m sorry to keep you. You must have somewhere to be.”

“Thank you again.” You look up at him through your lashes and Dave feels his nostrils flare. Your friend tugs on your elbow and he can hear the vague whisper as you both retreat from him: … so hot. 

It's been a few months since he met you. He finds himself following you home and sleeping in his car outside your apartment more than in his own home. It irks him that he can't look inside and see that you're okay, knowing with absolute confidence that he hasn't hurt you. 

The night something goes wrong, you sense it long before he does. 

The diner is occupied by two other customers, one in the corner and the other by the door. Not unusual for this time. Dave approaches the counter and prepares to tease you about your incidental meeting yesterday. 

But you just smile politely at him and ask, “What can I get for you tonight?”

Dave frowns. “Sweet girl—”

“Coffee?” You pick up the pot and Dave starts at the way your hand trembles so badly the coffee spills over the rim of the cup. He wants to touch you, reach out and wrap his firm hand around your wrist, steady your nerves. Why are you so frightened? “I’m sorry,” you say shakily, scrambling for the rag under the counter. 

Dave’s instincts are never wrong. Something, or someone, has put you out of sorts. His blood reaches a simmer at the thought. His job is to protect you. He's supposed to keep you safe and happy. But your eyes are stricken with fear and your posture is stiff. The rag in your hand won't stop shaking. 

It’s the way your apron sits askew, like you've been anxiously twisting it, or it's the way you smile like he's a stranger and hand him something small, “a little something extra,” on the house. 

He unfurls his palm and finds a note. 

The man in the corner has a gun, it says. 

You don’t once stop smiling.

He doesn't recognise the man. He wears a leather jacket and jeans; there's a scar on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose, which is bent from one too many breaks; and he's looking right at Dave with a crooked smile on his face. He lifts a hand and waves. There's a tattoo on his wrist: the sigil of the Lukov Brotherhood. Dave dips his chin in greeting. Cordial. A farce. They both know it.

Dave takes a sip from his cup. “Spill coffee on me,” he says behind the rim, obscuring his mouth from the view of the man in the corner. 

You go to top up his drink and overshoot, staining the front of his white dress shirt. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. 

Dave feigns a mild-mannered annoyance. “Where's your bathroom?” he asks, shucking off his jacket. 

You gesture for him to follow you and usher him into the tiny, one-stall bathroom. You slump against the door and put your hands over your face. A shudder racks your whole body. 

Dave can't have this. He crowds you, taking your wrists and prying them from your face. “Sweetheart.” He brushes a knuckle over your cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

You swallow thickly. “No. No, he just walked in and asked for a table, but he pointed the gun at me and said he was waiting for the right person. Said I wouldn't get hurt if I didn't get in the way.” Your eyes meet his, frantic. “Oh, God, did I just get in the way?”

Dave pulls you into his chest and lets you rest your cheek on his heart. Your breathing evens out as you listen to it beat, strong and steady. “He's a hired killer. He’s probably here for me.”

“No.” You shake your head, shoving away from him. “No, he can't… He can't do that. Why would he—?”

“I lied to you, sweet girl.” Dave cups the back of your head and bunches your hair in his fist. He needs to make you understand. “The first night we met, a senator was asking me to kill his wife for him.”

“You…” For a moment, you trail off, lingering on the silence. He can't tell whether you want to flee or bury yourself in his chest again. To his shock, a small burst of laughter escapes you, and you slap your hand over your mouth to stay quiet. “I knew you didn't just break into houses. Someone with a car like yours, all those nice suits… God, I’m stupid.”

You're trembling a little from the shock, but Dave needs to take care of the problem and get you out safely. “I need you to work with me,” he tells you. “You listening to me?”

You nod vigorously. “I’m listening, Dave.”

“Good. Good girl.” He squeezes your hip. “You need to get out through the back. I’m going to give you my keys; get in my car and lock the doors. Not your car. Mine.” 

“What about you? Dave, what if he hurts you?”

It fills him with a certain courage to know how deeply you care for him. “He's a lackey, sweetheart. Joined a so-called brotherhood just to scratch an itch.” Dave leans in and kisses your forehead. “He's not gonna get me.”

He's certainly not going to get you. 

Dave reaches past you to open the door, but you grab his wrist. “Wait.”

He barely opens his mouth before you're standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his. It's a frantic, hurried kiss, but it's enough. It's enough for Dave. He's going to win because he needs to take you home with him. 

When you pull away, he pins you with a stern look. “My car, sweet girl. No detours.”

He opens the door and lets you flee, and then Dave is rolling up his sleeves, rolling his head around his neck. 

The other customer has left, meaning Dave and the Lukov lackey are alone. “Mr. York,” he greets, toasting his cup of coffee with a grin. He's fucking cocky, thinks Dave, lifting the drink you poured for him. “She's very pretty.”

Yeah, he's going to make this hurt. 

“Let's get this over with,” says Dave, approaching the man’s table and sitting across from him in the booth. “Who sent you? Why did they send you? And how many more are coming?”

“You don't even wanna know my name?” He pouts. “Ouch.”

Dave lifts a brow. “Answer my questions. If you're good, I’ll let you die quickly.”

The man leans back in the booth, acting like he doesn't know enough about Dave York’s reputation to give him the respect he's owed. New to the game. “Well, my name is Jonah, and since I’ve got a gun pointed at your precious bits under this table, I’ll skip the questions. If that's okay.”

He could have killed Dave the second he walked through the door tonight, but he wants to tell a good story, move up the ranks. It’s childish. Dave kicks out his leg and jolts Jonah’s arm aside just as the man’s instincts kick in and the shot goes off. It rings in Dave’s ears and the sound of the weapon clattering onto the floor, safety still off, echoes in the little diner, but he’s diving across the table and grabbing Jonah by the collar. He jerks the killer’s head forward so it cracks against the porcelain saucer next to his mug. Dave picks up the cup and tosses the contents directly into Jonah��s face. The man howls, the blood from the new gash in his forehead mingling with steaming coffee, but Dave is already kicking the gun toward himself under the table and weighing it in his own hand. 

Dave slides out of the booth and drags Jonah with him, tossing him into a heap on the floor. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” says Dave, aiming the gun between his eyes. “But I guess I will, since you’re clearly new to this. Answer my questions, kid.”

“I’m not answering shi—”

Dave lowers the gun and blows off the man’s left kneecap. The resounding yowl can be heard for miles, no doubt. He frantically grasps for the gory heap of flesh, bone, and blood that soaks through his jeans, seething through his teeth and spattering saliva down his chin. It’s almost pitiful. 

“FUCK!” he screams. “It was fucking Berkeley! Isaiah fucking Berkeley hired me. FUCK!”

Dave isn’t surprised. “Better. That’s one down.”

Jonah lifts his hand as if pleading for mercy, his breaths tedious and his face waxy. “Please, please, I—”

Dave fires a shot straight through his begging hand. The bones shatter and the muscles tear, and the blood is a river down the would-be killer’s wrist. He’s a screaming, growling, cursing heap on the blood-soaked floor. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Fucking cunt, fucking son of a bitch, you knew too fucking much, man! He wanted to fucking shut you up, and he wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you! FUCK!” Jonah cradles his useless hand to his chest and his face rapidly greying, going ashen with terror and agony and blood loss. “And if I couldn’t do it, he said he’d sent the rest of the fucking Brotherhood to take you both down. Fucking… please, let me fucking go, it fucking hurts.”

Berkeley wants him dead. Not surprising. He took a risk approaching Dave to fulfil his contract; he knew he would get the job done, but only if he said yes. And because he didn’t, Berkeley’s got his reputation on the line if Dave decides to blab about the plot to have his wife killed.

He wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you.

How interesting. How very fucking curious. 

The third shot tears through the soft flesh of Jonah’s stomach, and he doesn’t even scream this time. He crumples to the floor and stares at the ceiling, every tremulous breath a labour to suck in. 

“You won’t live,” says Dave, cool and detached. “You’ve lost too much blood. Do you want me to kill you, kid, or do you want to lie there in pain a bit longer?”

Jonah shakes his head vaguely. His face is white. His saliva is brilliantly red. “Kill… me. Just fucking kill me.”

Dave ejects the remaining three bullets from the clip and kneels next to the man’s body. He places one bullet in the hole where his knee once was, another in the hole where his limp hand once was, and he digs the final one into the weeping wound in his stomach. “I hope, in your next life,” he whispers to Jonah, “you aren’t as stupid.”

He leaves without firing another shot, but he suspects the life has fled the man’s body by the time the bell above the door chimes to signal Dave’s exit. 

You’re sitting in the car, your hands folded neatly in your lap. They seemed to have stopped trembling. “Dave,” you whisper as he slides into the driver's seat. “You’re covered in blood.”

“It isn’t mine.” He presses the ignition and reverses out of his spot. He allows himself to look at you, and your eyes are already glued to him. “I’m going to take you to my home, sweet girl. Are you okay with that?”

You nod, and his eyes dip to watch the way your throat hollows when you swallow. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “You killed him. I saw it.”

His eyes capture yours again. They’re two beacons in the dark, glowing neon red under the light of the diner lights. “Does that scare you?”

It should. And he isn’t surprised to see you tilt your head forward in another nod. “But—” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and Dave has to look away to avoid veering off the road once he merges onto the highway. “But I don’t want to leave you.” It leaves you all in one breath, like your clothes are suffocating you, the closeness of your two bodies in the car, the stifling darkness.

“Why don’t you want to leave me, sweetheart?” It’s a test, and your eyes glimmer with confirmation that yes, you know it is. 

Your hand finds his, your fingers threading through his and resting on the console between you and him. “Because you keep me safe.”

He lifts your joined hands and kisses your soft, unmarred knuckles. It goes unspoken: I always will.

~

“Wow. I didn’t know assassins paid so well. Maybe I should take it up as a side gig.”

He’s absolved himself of the blood on his hands and changed into a new shirt, but he still smells faintly of iron and sweat from the scuffle. Dave watches you spin in a circle on the spot, staring up at the crystal chandelier in his foyer, your eyes dancing like they’re full of stars. “Sweet girl. You told me you refused to step on ants when you were little.”

“Insects and people are different.”

Dave steps up behind you and circles an arm around your waist, his fingers splaying over your rib cage and tugging you back against his chest. “You’re right,” he says into your ear. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes find the phantom bloodstain on your apron in the shape of a perfect handprint, nor the way you shiver. “People would point their guns at you and splatter your pretty brains all over the wall. People would hurt you. That man…” Dave’s lips press against the curve of your neck. You smell so sweet: rich like coffee and a bit salty with sweat. “He would have slit your pretty throat. You see how I couldn’t let that happen, right, baby?”

Your head lolls a bit, resting against Dave’s shoulder. “I know,” you say, clear as sunshine in a stream. 

“I need you to tell me something, my beautiful girl.” Dave uses his hand on your abdomen to turn you in his grasp. You stare unflinchingly into his eyes. “Has your uncle ever hurt you? Has he ever given you any reason to make you believe he would?”

You blink at the change in subject. “He’s never lifted a finger against me,” you tell him. “But he’s… I don’t know, Dave. It started after my parents died. He comes home late some nights, high on something. He’s despondent most days, but he’s never hurt me. He just…”

“Isn’t there.” You nod your head, and Dave is somewhat glad he doesn’t have a reason to take the life of your only remaining relative. “Would you like me to look into it?”

Your lips twist in a tiny smirk. “Like how you’ve looked into me?”

His clever girl. “You like to play,” he murmurs, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger. “That trick with dropping your keys.”

You tilt your head to the side, brows curving up in that oh-so delicious way, and he wants to shove you onto your knees, right here in his fucking foyer. “I’m not tricky,” you say innocently.

“Reading too many books,” he grunts, his breath hot against your jaw when he leans in close and brings his lips next to your ear. 

“Well, when you keep buying me books…” You gasp when he takes your lobe between his teeth.

He huffs into your skin and sucks at the spot beneath your ear. You taste… Fuck, you taste so soft, tangy with sweat, sweet as the syrup you pour. His brain is hazy with how desperately he needs you. 

“Dave,” you gasp, your fingers greedily grasping a handful of his hair to keep him close. “I need… please, I need—”

He cuts you off with a teasing slap to your ass. Your yelp is music to his ears. You just clutch onto him, trying to pull him closer. 

“You don't know what you need, sweet girl. I know what you need. I say what you need,” he says softly, cupping your chin in his palm. “Understand?”

You're honey in his palm, dripping through his fingers, warm. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Dave cradles the back of your head and watches you melt into the touch, your body like a doll’s in his hands and your pupils eclipsing your irises. His cock is a hard and heavy weight in his pants, twitching at the beast that awakens at the use of your nickname. “You need Daddy to fuck you,” he coos. 

He's thrilled and achingly hard, knowing he was right about you, knowing you want him to take the reins away from you and give you what you need. Your eyes are syrupy. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, pressing your body up against him. 

He takes your hand and leads you up the staircase. Your footsteps are eager as you scurry after him to his bedroom. There's a large mirror next to his king-sized bed, neatly made with neutral greys and crisp white bedsheets. “You need a plant or two,” you point out, but he's pressing his body up against yours and your words diminish to a soft moan. 

“I’ll let you decorate, sweet girl,” he says, gripping your hips and letting you feel the hard line of his cock against your belly. You grind into him, rasping his name. 

Dave chuckles, and you whimper at the way the vibrations rumble through your spine. “So needy.” The stubble on his jaw scratches lightly against your cheek as he continues to kiss his way down your neck, taking his fill of you. “Such a busy girl. Always working, always studying. You must be so tense, under all these clothes…” He nudges his nose against your cheek and reaches around you to tug at the bow that holds your apron in place. “Let me take them off. Hmm?”

“Please,” you whine, letting him manhandle you in front of the mirror and turn you so you’re forced to watch yourself. Dave ducks his head and puts his mouth back on you, drawn to your soft skin and the soft sounds of pleasure he can pull from you. He unties your blood-stained apron in one tug and lifts it over your head, his deft fingers shifting to the zipper that holds up your dress. When he finally finds more of your skin beneath that black fabric, a little impatient in the way he shucks it off your shoulders, Dave eagerly kisses your shoulders, the back of your neck, licking and sucking every new dip and plane he can reach. You tilt your head to give him more access, wherever he wants, moaning his name and begging, begging, “Please, Daddy.”

“Watch yourself,” he says softly, licking up the side of your neck, “in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself. Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes are lidded and your head is being mostly supported by his shoulder, but you keep your eyes on your reflection as he begins to lower himself behind you, taking the dress with him. He’s pressing kisses to each knob of your spine as he exposes you to the cool air, your nipples perking up and your skin erupting with goosebumps. He handles you reverently, on his knees behind you by the time your dress pools around your ankles, his hands reaching up and squeezing your ass. You jump slightly on the spot, and his laugh is rough—like dragging a wet cloth over gravel. “So beautiful,” he says, and it echoes in the cold room. You feel (and watch) two of his fingers slide through your legs until he finds your slit, wet and glistening. He hums, apparently satisfied. “Who did this to you, sweet girl? Who made you so wet and needy?”

You whisper his name, but it’s not good enough for him. Dave bites into the flesh of your left cheek and lands a smack to it at the same time. “You!” you squeal, grateful for the way he holds you, steadies you, before you can fall. You’re so wet it begins to drip down your thighs. “You, Daddy. It’s you.”

“That’s right.” Dave rises to his feet and lifts his two fingers, soaked in your arousal, to your lips. Once you open your mouth, he fixes them against your tongue, forcing your jaw to remain open as you swirl your tongue around his digits. Tasting yourself. His eyes are so dark they’re black in the dim light, and you want to be so good. You want to please him. He’s strong, capable, so gentle with you, and yet you feel yourself cleaving in two under his lightest touch. You’re splitting, wrecked, soft and pliable as velvet in his hands, and this is what you need. You let your mind fade, sinking into the sweet honey of skin and sex and oblivion. 

The man with his body pressed up against yours is a wraith, dealing in death and dark corners and the cool grooves of a bullet—its ever-certain path through the air. He is wrath itself. His hands have squeezed out life and carried it home with him. His hands now caress your body, and you can almost call it worship. 

You twist your heart from your body and place it gingerly in his palm. He will keep it safe. It thrums like a live current through your chest to his. He wraps his murderous fingers around your throat and squeezes gently, forcing your chin to tilt upward. “I want you to get on your knees,” he says, breathing it into your skin as he kisses along your jaw, making the filthy act of it sound so loving, “and I want you to suck my cock.”

Your core is tight with the arousal that soaks your cunt, and you reach behind you to squeeze his length over his pants. Fuck, he’s big. He’s long and thick and you’re dizzy at thought of him splitting you open on it, fucking your throat. “I want to make you feel good, Dave. Please.”

Dave backs away from you and sits on the regal grey velvet upholstery of the chair in the corner. You turn toward him and begin to follow, bared before him, but he leans one elbow on the armrest, still-wet fingers tracing his mouth, the outline of his cock mouthwatering. 

“Don't walk,” he says. “Crawl to me.”

The thrill of the command, clear and uncompromising, sends you to your hands and knees. It should be humiliating, bruising your knees on the hardwood while dripping down your thighs, but the way he’s devouring you with the yawning black of his pupils, thirsty, makes you add a sway to your hips, a prowl to your crawl. When you reach him, you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh, and he tips your chin up with his finger. “My beautiful girl. Take me out. Go on, baby.”

You slide down the zipper of his dress pants and pull his heavy, thick cock from his briefs. It’s weeping precum, twitching in your grasp, and you can’t help but flatten your tongue against the vein on the underside of his shaft. He hisses, “Fuck,” and it’s delicious. He smells like the iron of blood and something wholly him, all man, and your lips meet the tip of his cock in a reverent kiss. He’s being patient, generous in his time with you because he’s finally fucking here: he’s with you, and you’re safe, and you’ve got your lips wrapped gently around the head of his cock. He will not ask you to rush. He will only coax you gently through giving him the pleasure he’s only let himself imagine taking from you.

You let a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock, and it jumps under your teasing touches, the way you lap at him like a kitten at a bowl of milk. You’re so greedy, like he knew you’d be, but he’s so fucking close by the time you tuck your teeth under your lips and slide his cock into your mouth, deep and hot and tight, the girth of him prodding the soft walls of your throat. If you keep this up, he won’t last long enough to do all the things he wants to do with your body.

“Jesus,” groans Dave. His head tips back and his eyes find the ceiling, but that’s not fair, because your eyes are fixed on his. He keeps watching you, the fucking picture of all his fantasies, your pretty eyes wide and smudged with your mascara, your body bare for him. Tears carve paths down your cheeks as you bob your head on his cock, taking him deeper each time, choking and crying. 

Dave’s hand finds the crown of your head and rests there. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re good. You suck cock a lot? Hmm?” His fingers curl in your hair, and you moan around him. “Mine’s the only one you really want, though, isn’t it?” he coos. “Mine’s the only cock you need. You’re my good little slut, sweet girl, on your knees for me.”

Your throat chokes him when you swallow him down, his leaking tip prodding the back of your throat, so fucking eager to please, so good for him even though you’re leaking onto the floor. You love being treated like a slut for him. You love being the one who gets to make his chest heave, his breaths laboured with the effort not to come down your throat. Dave wants to paint your tongue and your face with his cum, but Jesus, he needs to be inside your tight little cunt, and he knows it’s what you need, too. He slips out of your throat, even as you chase his cock with your tongue, and holds you back by the hand that still rests on your head. 

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, and the little whine that pitches up in your used throat makes him drag you up onto his lap and drag his hand between your bodies, his fingers slapping lightly against your clit. You moan, rolling your hips against him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

Dave mocks your pout, yanking your head back so you’ll look him in the eyes. You look positively wrecked, makeup smeared and eyes unfocused with lust. Your cunt leaves a wet patch on his pants. “Poor thing,” he says softly, teasing his fingers through your folds. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“I do,” you say, your throat raspy. “I want to come so badly. Please let me come.”

“Mmm.” Dave acts like he’s pondering it, circling your clit slowly—too slowly—as his mouth explores your throat before he finally makes it back to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting himself in your mouth. He slides two fingers inside your soaked cunt and drinks down your gasp. “That what you wanted?” he breathes into your mouth. “My fingers?”

“Any—nnnngh!” you moan, rocking against his palm as his fingers curl up against a spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble. “Anything you’ll give me, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please, make me come.”

“Such a good girl,” he hums, letting you ride his fingers, licking up the sweat that beads down your neck. “Such a needy whore for me, baby. I want to hear my name when you come.”

“Mmmm, Dave,” you mewl, body keen and wanting against him, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt, grinding into his hand as you near your high. Another smack, this time to the side of your thigh, another soothing touch to the welt forming there, and you’re sobbing his name, coming in a sudden trill of lightning down your spine, freezing you on his hand as your eyes roll back in your head. 

He likes the way you slump against him, your face once again finding solace in his neck, nipping and sucking at him as you quiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He likes you so supple and malleable in his hands as he stands and wraps your legs around his hips, only to deposit you on his bed. “Spread your legs,” he orders. “I want to see the mess you’ve made of yourself.”

His words send new shocks of arousal to your core, and you ease your thighs open for him. You’re fucking soaking. Soaking and ready for him. Too bad he isn’t through with you. Dave briefly tucks his aching cock into his pants and crawls onto the bed, yanking your thighs up around his shoulders and flattening his tongue against your slit. 

Still sensitive from your orgasm, you cry out, pushing gently at his head. “Can’t… Dave…”

“Said you wanted to come, sweet girl.” His hand presses down on your belly as his tongue flicks your clit, and your eyes roll back. “Didn’t say how many times. Be good and let me taste you.”

You can only whimper as he begins to lap up your slick and lavish his attention on your clit, keeping your body flush to the sheets even as you writhe and moan. He's fucking good at this, paying the right amount of attention to your clit and knowing when to pull back when it's overwhelming. He keeps his eyes on you as he eats you out, devouring you the way he likes and making you take it. “Fuck, fuck,” you croak, white sparks snapping behind your eyes. “Daddy, I’m gonna—ah, I’m gonna—!”

He keeps his tongue firm against your clit, wiggling slightly as you soak him, coming hard and fast and without mercy. Dave smacks your thigh again, and you can't tell if he wants to send another surge of pleasure through you or if he just needs to take out the frustration of having not come yet. 

Dave pulls his cock out of his pants again, so hard it looks painful, and manhandles you until you're on your stomach. He slips a pillow under your hips and kneads your ass like he's getting out stress. You moan like a whore when you feel the tip of his cock tapping at your entrance, back arching. Dave covers your body with his and nips your earlobe. “You gonna be good, honey? Gonna let me fuck you the way you need?”

You're so desperate and dazed with lust that you reach back to grasp his cock, take him inside you—

Dave grabs your wrist and, for good measure, your other one too, pinning them at the small of your back. “That… wasn't good,” he says coolly, biting down on your shoulder. “I say what you need.”

You nod your head in absolute submission, your cheek pressed into the mattress. “I’m your good girl,” you tell him. “I’ll be good for you.”

Dave slides his cock through your wetness and notches it inside your entrance. Your moan is breathy and desperate, your cunt clenching around him, trying to suck him in deeper. He wrenches you open slowly, big thick cock splitting you in two, hot and slick and the thick haze of want. “Take me, baby,” he urges, halfway inside you and pushing deeper. “You can take me.”

“I can, I can.” You're nodding, wiggling your hips to take him inside you to the base, wanting all of him filling you, claiming you. Nobody’s ever come close to the way Dave is making you feel, and he knows it. He fucking basks in it like warm sunshine. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, hips meeting the flesh of your ass as he finally sinks in all the way. “So beautiful. All mine.” A short thrust knocks his tip against your cervix, and you cry out with the pain and the pleasure. 

“You're so big, Daddy,” you gasp, short of breath despite doing nothing but lie here.

“Yeah?” He pulls out halfway and thrusts back inside, groaning at the same time you do. “You like my big cock? You like me deep, right in your belly?” His hand slips beneath you and settles at your lower abdomen as he establishes a punishing rhythm. 

You can't breathe. You can't speak. You can't exist like this, ruined and scattered into tiny pieces, your mind floating somewhere above you in the aether. It's glorious and it's agonising and you can't even remember how words taste. 

Dave fucks you. He really fucks you, grinding deep and fast and using your body the way he wants to. You clench around him in your desperate quest to come again, the pleasure all-encompassing, liquid. He drips praise over your body like honey, encouraging your body deeper into that place of blissful nothing. Here, you relinquish control. Here, you feel. He gives you exactly what you need. 

His fingers find your clit and you scream his name. He fucks you like an animal as he lowers his body over your again, biting then tonguing the marks on your shoulder, grunting into your ear. “Dave,” you moan weakly. 

He bites again, like a punishment, his hips angling his cock deeper, somehow, sliding up against your front wall. “Spoiled,” he mutters into your skin. “Spoiled girl, you’ll want my cock all the time now, won't you?” You choke on your groan, and your core tightens as his fingers work your clit. “Who owns this little cunt? Hmm?”

“You,” comes your wrecked moan. “It's yours, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please… Daddy, please, I’m yours… I’m gonna—gonna come!” 

And you do. Christ, you clamp down on his cock, your hips bucking uselessly under him and your eyes squeezing shut as you keep him tucked so deeply inside you with your tightness, milking his cock. It works: Dave pushes your name out of his mouth in a hot breath against your shoulder, hot cum spurting into your needy cunt. You take it the way you take his cock: zealous and whining, his sweet, spoiled thing, your body sucking him in and taking every drop. 

“Dave,” you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. “‘M sorry, I got mascara on your bedsheets.”

Dave chuckles, lifting himself off you even as his body protests, seeking your warmth. “You got a lot of things on my bedsheets, sweet girl. It's okay. Take my hand.”

You turn yourself over and stand with his help, thighs quivering. “Oh,” you gasp, “wow. That was good.”

He presses his lips to your cheek. “Adorable,” he laughs. “Need to clean you up. Get your pretty ass in the shower.”

Your giggle is a little wobbly, a little drunk, but your drunken, beaming face is a reward to him. “Yes, sir.”

Dave smacks your ass as he follows you into the bathroom, watching you steady yourself on the glass doors as you step inside. “I've got class tomorrow,” you grumble. “Gonna have to teach myself how to walk again.”

“I don't know,” muses Dave, purposefully sliding his body up against yours as he reaches into the shower and sends the water streaming down over your head, “I like you like this.”

“Of course you do.” You flip your hair back and get it wet under the water while Dave strips out of his clothes. He steps inside with you and gently swipes a washcloth between your thighs, watching you shudder as he cleans the cum and slick from your thighs. 

You hold onto his forearm and stare, eyes lidded and ringed with smudged makeup, at his strong, scarred body. “You've been through a war zone,” you mutter. 

“A few of them.” Dave wrings out the washcloth and uses the water streaming down your face to wipe away your ruined mascara. You trace a scar on his pec, an old knife wound he barely remembers getting, and your eyes are so full of reverence for his past, his life, that it winds him a little. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” you whisper. 

Dave shakes his head, squirting shampoo onto his palm and lathering it in your hair. He finds he likes this: the quiet mundanity of it, the ease of being close to you, the thrill of being the one who takes care of you. “I’m not the kind of man who walks away from something he wants,” he tells you. 

Your voice is hushed, vulnerable in the wake of all he's done to you. “And you wanted me?”

Dave presses his lips to your forehead. “I still do.”

“They won't stop, will they.” Your fingers finish the job of washing your hair as Dave mirrors your actions, cleansing himself of the blood and grime of the day. “They'll keep trying to… kill you.”

“They will.” There isn't a point in being false. You can take the truth. You deserve it. “That idiot senator wants me dead. He’ll keep sending people after me until he's sure I won't blab to anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” Your throat dips as you swallow down steam and water and the scent of linen. “So he knows… about you and me.”

“He knows that you matter,” says Dave, “and—”

“And that's why he wants me dead, too.”

You're smart. He's known it since the first day. But his vision is a red mist at the thought of some fucking coward putting a target on your back just for knowing him. “He's not going to hurt you,” says Dave, a bit more forcefully than he intended, telling you and himself and the whole world. He softens his voice, smooths it over like icing on cake, kissing you on the mouth for good measure. “He wants me dead because he knows I can fuck his life over in a couple hours. You… you’re…”

You lift your brows knowingly. “Leverage?”

“Good leverage,” he says, his hand resting at the nape of your neck. “If he wants to get to me, you're the best way.”

“I don't like that, Dave.” He wants to eradicate every memory of your frown from his head. “Doesn't it scare you—being hunted like an animal?”

“You know what scares me?” He pulls your body close, your tits pressed up against his chest. His thigh nudges both of yours open. “Someone… some fucking politician… wants to take you away from me. My beautiful, smart girl.” Dave catches the gasp that leaves you when his thigh brushes your sensitive clit and swallows it down with his mouth on yours. “They want to use you. Point their guns at you, the way people do.”

“And insects never do,” you mumble, rolling your hips and sighing at the white-hot pleasure that erupts each time your clit drags along his naked thigh. 

The shower walls are thick with condensation and the closeness of your bodies is immeasurable. Dave crowds you until your back smacks wetly against the cold tile wall, and the hunger in his eyes only makes you feel wanted. His cock is stiffening against your hip, his desire cloying and clotting in your brain. 

“Daddy…”

It’s soft and pitched high, and it gets lost in the relentless pattering of the hot water against his back, the walls, the floor. Dave grabs your thigh and hauls it over his hip, sliding his cock through your folds with no warning, no abandon. You think you say his name again, but he's pushing into you in one hard thrust, cleaving you in two and baring his teeth against your jaw. And nothing matters but this. 

~

You aren't in the diner next week. You aren't at school the next day. Your contact in his phone—something new you both decided to share with one another—yields no new messages. When he calls you, it goes straight to voicemail. He wants to be reasonable. You're sick. Your phone isn't working. No—your phone is brand-new; you just bought it yourself. You were perfectly healthy when you saw him two nights ago, when he made you sit in his lap on his desk chair and fucked you until you were muffling your screams in his neck. He wants to be reasonable, but there's no reason you should be missing. 

So, that night, Dave breaks into your apartment. 

Your car isn't in your parking space: the first alarm bell. The second: your door is unlocked. The place has been left in a haste, the latch bolt sliding harmlessly against the plate as Dave gives the door a shove. It opens without the turn of a knob. He curses when he sees your purse hanging on the hook just inside. 

Dave lifts his flashlight and makes a quick sweep of the room. It’s so small —there’s barely a kitchenette and a single couch, which sits in front of a box-shaped television. He kicks aside a cushion that’s fallen to the floor and investigates the bathroom—he’s horrified to see mould and mildew so blatantly mocking you on the walls—and finds nothing in the bedroom. There’s only one bedroom. Dave opens a drawer and finds men’s boxer briefs, socks, jeans. Nothing of your warm, bright touch linger in this bedroom. What the fuck? 

You sleep on the couch every single night.

Underneath the socks in your uncle Jason’s top drawer, Dave hears a faint rattle. He picks up an amber bottle with a white cap. Blood pressure medication, supposedly. He tosses these aside and searches for more. He needs more. He needs to keep this methodical, or he will explode with anger. 

Dave slides his hand beneath the mattress. A couple more bottles, indicating his forgotten problems are perhaps not quite behind him, and a number of late-notice bills. It’s nothing. It’s fucking useless, useless… 

He wasn’t fast enough. He should never have trusted this man to stay with you. You should be living with Dave. You’ll decorate his home with plants and bright colours and your shampoo will be next to his. His home will smell of you, not just the faint tang of blood that he can’t seem to expel. 

“Fuck!” Dave yanks out Jason’s top drawer and tosses it across the room, somewhat vindicated when it smashes into splinters against the wall. It draws his eye toward the desk in the corner. The little black shape underneath it, tucked underneath the carpet. 

It’s a cell phone. Dave picks it up and finds one message blinking up at him. The battery is almost dead. 

Coordinates. 

Dave fumbles to pull out his own phone and take a picture of the screen. Then, he pockets both devices and leaves. He’s lingered too long already.

~

The coordinates take him next to the Charles River, a shipping dock whose workers seem to have left in a haste. He’s surrounded by large wooden shipping crates, rain-soaked and creaking in the lashing mist that lifts out of the river in the rainstorm that’s begun. Tarps flutter around the crates, not quite pinned down. If you’re crying out for help, there’s little chance to distinguish your voice from the rain and the general din of the city. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Dave’s cell phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. Your face lights up the screen, bright and smiling and posing extravagantly (he took it in the diner, when the two of you were alone, about to exchange phone numbers; “You’ll need a glamour shot,” you said, and Dave was happy to oblige). 

He puts the phone to his ear. “Tell me which crate you’ve put her in, and I’ll make it quick for all of you.”

“I promised I wouldn’t harm her,” says a male voice he doesn’t recognise. Another Brotherhood lackey, he guesses. “She’s being very good for us, Mr. York. Very obedient. Did you break her in for us?”

Dave will not take this bait. “Put her on the phone.”

There’s a faint rustling, and his vision goes blood-red at the sound of your little yelp of pain. “Dave,” comes your trembling voice. “Dave, I’m sorry.”

Dave begins to splash along the rain-slick pavement. Oil runoff stains the water and colours it like a prism. He has a cap on his head and the hood of his jacket is secure atop it. “Shh. None of that, beautiful girl. Are you hurt?” 

“N—no, just… No.” It isn’t a satisfying answer for him, but you’re panicking. “Jason… It was Jason. He took me.”

“Why did he take you, baby?” Dave pushes open a shipping crate and finds nobody inside. 

Your whimper indicates the man is holding you somehow, likely by the hair. “He… please… He told me he would get the money he needed.”

“Your boss offered to pay him, then?” says Dave, directing his attention briefly to her captor as he moves further east along the waterfront. He’s straining his ear for any indication of nearby voices. “In exchange for his niece?”

“More like in exchange for you. I guess he knew she’s the only way you’d come.” The man seems ecstatic with the power of holding onto such a special piece of leverage. “You’ll behave, won’t you, Dave? I know she will.”

“Dave, west! TURN WEST—”

The sound of a hand striking your cheek makes Dave jerk away from the phone and kick his foot through a nearby crate, his heart thundering with the rage that clogs his chest all the way up to his throat. The crate’s door swings open, empty. “If your girl doesn’t shut up, York, I’m going to stuff her mouth with my dick.”

His ears are ringing, the rain spitting and the wind rattling his brain around his head. This man truly believes he’ll get away with taking Dave York’s woman. It’s almost laughable. 

And it’s too late for him. Dave’s already heard your scream from a crate further down the waterfront. 

So the man on the phone can see him. Dave looks up to find a security camera fixed to the scaffolding above him, winking a red eye at him through the mist and rain. He waves, as if to an old friend. “You get off on watching me, huh?” 

“Fun to see you flail around,” says the man, “like a chicken with his head cut off.”

Dave can’t help but grin. “Keep watching.” He stops in his tracks and raises his gun to eye-level. “Sweetheart? You still there?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’m here.”

“Duck,” he commands, and the shot rings out through the rain.

A little hole perforates the wooden crate, and Dave can hear your scream through the phone. He drops his shoulder to force open the door and finds his victim writhing on the floor. The shot struck him in the shoulder, but Dave puts another between his eyes. It’s merciful and too quick for what he’s done to you, but you’re what matters. And here you are, tied by your wrists and ankles to a chair, your hair matted with rainwater and an angry welt on your cheek. You cry out in relief when you see Dave kneel in front of you and cup your face in his palms. “Oh, sweet girl,” he says. “So smart. You did good, baby.”

You don’t cradle your chafed wrists to your chest or shrink away from him when you’re free, the way you should. Your arms wind up around his neck and you nearly knock him over in your rush to embrace him. “Easy,” he mumbles, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent mixed with the saltwater mist. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I knew you’d find me.”

He chuckles. “Your uncle didn’t make it easy for me.”

“That man…” You pull away and gesture toward the dead man on the floor. “He was the one who called Jason. Said he’d be cleared of his charges and given a huge lump of cash if he brought me to him.”

He helps you to your feet. You’re shivering like a leaf in your little dress and apron. Dave almost rips his jacket in his haste to secure it around your shoulders. “There’s going to be more,” he says. “A man as paranoid as Berkeley didn’t just send one asshole to kill me. I need you to run, sweet girl. Do you understand me? Run to the car, near the park, and stay away from the streetlights.”

You dip your chin in a nod, but a flick of your eyes over his shoulder has him stiffening. “Dave, get—!”

He’s pulling you to the ground and covering your body with his before the shot fires. When it does, it cuts clean through two walls of the crate, but another follows in its stead. Dave rolls off you, flipping onto his back, and fires at the man just visible behind the door of the crate. The first strikes his leg, which doubles him over. His brain matter falls in chunks to the wet pavement before his body crumples. Dave stands up as you crawl across the floor and dig around your captor’s dead body, producing his gun. “You know how to shoot that thing, baby?”

“Of course not!” you squeak. “Feel a bit better holding it, though.”

He flicks the safety on. “Good. Stay behind me.”

You’re dutiful in the way you follow him outside, the gun useless in your hands but Dave’s gun pointed and ready in his. The crates make it difficult, but his ears are fine-tuned to the noises of footsteps. He hears them from his left and his right simultaneously, firing one shot at the glimpse of a boot and another at a shoulder. The leftward man collapses, clutching his foot, and Dave puts a bullet in his head. The one to his right makes an almost-impressive shot from around the corner that takes out the bulb of a streetlight behind them. But his skull shatters from the impact of Dave’s flashlight striking him in the head, and he collapses. 

You’re stunned by the ease with which he kills. He's meticulous and he's accurate. The muscles in his face are set, determined, a soldier moving before your eyes. He never wavers. He never flinched nor grimaces. You wonder if he would even hear you if you uttered his name. His mission clouds his eyes and wraps cloth around his ears. It's a murderer you watch at work now, a professional one, a wraith whose eyes glimmer like oil slick in the darkness. The gun clutched clumsily in your untrained hands trembles. 

How can such a man handle you so lovingly?

He ushers you inside his car once you wind your way back through the maze of crates, but a shout of your name makes you spin around and lift the gun you have no idea how to handle. It's a cold, dead weight, trapped between your fingers. 

“Jason,” you warn, “don't come any closer.”

“Kiddo, just let me explain.” Jason lifts his hands, indicating he's unarmed. He's standing by your car, wet hair plaster to his forehead, eyes sunken and cheeks gaunt. Behind you, Dave places a hand on your lower back. He isn't lifting his own weapon. He's letting you decide. 

“You can't explain this to me,” you say through your chattering teeth. “You put me there. You traded me for money. I’ve paid everything, I’ve put up with you being high all the time, and I’ve let you sleep in my bed. Because you were family.”

“I wanted to repay you. I wanted to get a fresh start.” He stumbles forward in his haste to reach out to you, and Dave steps in front of you slightly. 

Jason scowls. “And you. Are you fucking her? You know my niece is still in college? You know you're old enough to be her father? You're fucking sick.”

Dave’s nostrils flare. “I saved her fucking life. I'm the one keeping her safe while you run around with your mouth glued to a joint. How many times has she bailed you out, huh?”

Jason lurches forward, deliberately this time, aiming a fist at Dave’s face. Dave grabs his arm before it can wind back and twists it around his back. “Stay fucking still,” he sneers into his ear. Something inside you coils tight like a poised serpent, the very depths of you inexplicably wound for need of something you cannot yet name.

You stare into your uncle’s face. “You’re the sick one. I hope you get your money, because you're leaving. Dave, can we please drop him at the police station?”

~

You can't sit still. 

Dave’s ordered you to sit on the edge of his bed while he cleans up from his massacre by the river. He hasn't let you leave his sight since last night, which means you've missed two days of school and nobody knows where you are. Your phone shattered when he murdered your captor, but Dave lent you a replacement from his desk. Apparently, he owns twelve cell phones. 

“Which one of these do you use to buy drugs?” you asked. 

“Guess you’ll find out.” Dave smirked at you and handed you a brand-new model. “If they ask for York, say I’m dead.”

You told your friends that you'd come down with a deathly case of the flu and they bought it, dutifully sending their notes to you in bulk through your group chat. Since you shut off the phone and placed it next to you on the mattress, you haven't been able to stop from squirming, your thighs rubbing together as the itch you've been fighting for hours clambers down the knobs of your spine. 

“Dave?”

He emerges from the ensuite, still drying his hands on a bath towel, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his face freshly shaven. You know and he knows that he’s been purposefully torturing you, and now all you can do is straighten up, not-so subtly pushing out your breasts toward him. A soft whine leaves your lips at the sight of him standing above you, so strong and deadly. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you wonder if he’s angry with you. You feel his knuckle brush under your chin until it’s directing your gaze, forcing you to look up at him. “Sweet girl,” he says, thumb caressing your cheekbone. “You’re all trouble. Know that?”

You bite your lip, your desire a pounding, beastly thing, clawing up your throat. “I think you should remind me.”

Dave chuckles, his hand leaving your face only to trail downward, finding the top button of his shirt, which is draped over your own body. “Wearing my clothes,” he says, circling the button with his finger until it pops out. His eyes are black, thrilled by the sight of your collarbones, flexing in and out thanks to your fluttering breaths. “Sitting so still and pretty for me…” He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed in you. “Would you stay sitting here all night if I asked you to?”

“You know I would, Dave,” comes your shuddering sigh. 

“You’d be safe that way,” he muses. Another button comes undone, and the soft skin between your breasts tempts him closer until he’s standing between your thighs. His fingers trace your hard nipples, visible through his dress shirt. “Such a dangerous girl, going missing on me. Do you know how much you scared me?” You go to dip your head in apology, but he grasps a chunk of your hair and pulls it back. “I asked you a question, baby. Answer it.”

“I never meant to scare you,” you tell him, still seeking his touch as you push your tits against his fingers. “I was so scared… thought he would try to…”

Dave shushes you. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Do you know what I would have done to him if he did?”

You shake your head. “Tell me.”

His hand leaves your hair and winds around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing at your pulse. “I would have cut off his dick. I would have made him watch me do it. I would take off each. Fucking. Finger.” Dave’s other hand, done fondling your tits, ghosts along your arm until it finds your hand, which he lifts to the hard outline of his bulge. “I’d make sure you never remember him touching you.” The hand on your throat squeezes, and your core floods with arousal, another whine slipping out. Dave tips his chin toward you. “You trust me to keep you safe from men like him. Don't you?”

Frantically, you breathe out a yes, your brows curving up in the middle in the delicious way he loves so much. He enjoys the delicate curve of your body against him as it seeks his. Your tits are smushed against his abdomen, your face so close your chin nearly brushes his sternum. You're warm and so soft. Dave is nearly doubled over with the affection you show him and the affection he craves to show you. But he knows what you need—to be shown that you're safe in his arms. 

You gently squeeze his length over his pants and Dave hisses, prying your wrist away and pressing your hand to your own breast. “If you’re going to tease,” he says, “tease yourself. Go on, sweet girl. Touch your pretty tits.”

You roll your head back on your shoulders as you squeeze your tits over the fabric of his shirt, pinching your nipples and puffing out soft moans of his name. Dave’s cock twitches in his pants, and he pulls it out swiftly, hard and heavy against his stomach, jerking himself slowly while he watches you. 

“So beautiful. Does it feel good?” Your eyes are fixed on his hand working his cock, another needy moan slipping past your lips. “Would you rather be the one touching me, baby? Is that what you need?”

Your tongue darts out to lick up his slit when he squeezes the base of his cock, and Dave grunts, hips lurching forward, momentarily losing control. You eagerly take the tip between your lips, but he pulls away and slaps his cock on your tongue. “Such a bad girl, not listening. Lie back.”

Your eyes are black holes, and Dave presses his palm on your sternum to guide you onto your back when you can’t seem to think through your haze of lust. He drops to his knees and shucks your panties off your legs so roughly they tear, dangling off your ankle. It only fans the flames licking at your core, and he can see the glistening wetness of your cunt, begging to be touched. “If I ask you a question,” says Dave, blowing on your cunt and making your stomach clench, making your moan pitch high, “I expect you to answer me. I know you want me, sweet girl, but you should learn to listen to me. Hmm?”

He yanks your thigh over his shoulder and parts your folds with two fingers. “I’m… oh, I’m sorry, Daddy. Please… please let me feel you. I want to feel you. I’ll be good. I’ll be—fuck!”

You squeal when he licks up your tempting slit, groaning at the taste of your sweet tang, mingled with the scent of body wash and linen and something ineffably you. “And if I want to taste you,” he says, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt, gripping your thighs so tightly his fingers will leave bruises, “I expect you to lie down and spread your legs for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp at the white-hot pleasure from his warm tongue lavishing attention through your folds. “Yes, Daddy, anything you want, anytime. I’ll do anything—ohhh, fuck, Daddy, please…”

A hand presses firmly against your belly to keep you grounded as he tastes his fill of you the way he wants. This is your punishment, you realise: being at his mercy, spread out like a meal for him, disregarding your pleasure and just feasting on you at his own pace. Always at his own pace. You want to curl your fingers in his hair and keep his face in your pussy, but the idea that he’s between your legs because he wants to just taste you is so delectable that you lift your arms above your head, wrists together, and refrain from urging him anywhere. He’s in charge. He wants to remind you. As if you need reminding.

Dave notices. He sees the curve of your back, your tits straining out of his shirt, your body stretched out for him like a lounging cat. He pulls away from your cunt and bites down on the flesh of your inner thigh. You yelp, the muscles in your legs flexing around his head. “You like this,” he hums, flattening his tongue against your clit. You moan long and low. “Yeah, you do. My good little slut, letting me do what I want with your body.”

“Mmmmoh!” He nips your clit and it makes you tremble, your orgasm clawing at you despite his negligence. “I’m your slut, I’m just a whore for you, your good little whore. Feels so good.”

He and his cock love your babbling. It twitches against his stomach as he laps at you, a cat at his bowl of milk, drinking you down on his tongue. Your moans grow closer together, more frequent, and he knows you’re about to come. So he pulls away from your soaking pussy. 

Your hips chase him until your mind catches up, realising he hasn’t given you your orgasm. It isn’t surprising, but it still makes you pout. “Oh, my poor girl,” says Dave, mocking your expression, crawling up onto the bed and over your body, taking your lower lip between his teeth. You try to kiss him, desperate to be touched, but he pulls away again. “You wanted to come, didn’t you?”

“Only…” You swallow thickly, the desire evident in your eyes. “Only if you want me to.”

Dave grins, his fingers sliding down to your clit and slapping it lightly. “So good for me,” he says, ducking his head again and slanting his mouth over yours. You sigh into him. “I can do whatever I want with this pussy. Tell me.”

“You can do whatever you want with my pussy,” you say between inhaling lungfuls of air as he relentlessly devours your mouth. “I’m yours, it’s yours.”

You look so beautiful spread out beneath him, steadfast in putting your trust in him even as he tore an orgasm away from you, that Dave can’t bear to withhold any longer. He guides his cock to your entrance and slides inside you without warning. You gasp, your eyes unwavering from his. 

It’s intimate like this, and he’s surprised by how much it chokes him. You’re looking at one another as he establishes a deep, grinding rhythm inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist and his mouth connecting with yours in long, sloppy kisses that leave you both breathless. Dave holds you reverently, the way a follower carries offerings to the altar, his hand around your waist and bowing your back to deepen the angle. His other hand, balanced with his elbow, cradles your head as he keeps his mouth close to yours and refuses to let you look away. 

He knows you’re getting close, and he is, too. He takes the opportunity to explore your body, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and sliding his hand up your ribs, tracing them with fascination for the way you breathe. He feels your rapid pulse under his fingers, circles your nipples with his rough fingers, and basks in the curves of your perfect, smooth body beneath him. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, his sweet, clever girl. 

“You’re mine,” he says, whisper-quiet, his hips sliding against yours, deliciously slow and rubbing up on your clit in just the right way. He won’t deny you this time. 

“I’m yours,” you say, your nose nudging against his. He grins. Happy.

You come just before he does, your entire body tightening and quivering, your cunt squeezing him, ironclad around his cock. Your brows lift in pleasure and your eyes droop, your lips parting just enough for a small gasp to escape. He huffs into your hair when he comes, spilling his hot cum deep into you and bucking his hips flush to keep it snug inside. 

His body is a canopy over yours, and he finds he doesn’t want to move. You smooth his hair back, your touch so gentle and calming to his erratic heartbeat that he lets out a chest-deep sound that sounds like a purr. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper to him, and there’s so much more awe in your voice than he deserves. 

He lifts his chin to capture your mouth. His heart is swelling up into his throat. “Stay with me,” he says. 

It’s not an order and it isn’t jagged-edged. It’s him asking, pleading. It’s him opening his palm and offering a key to you. It’s soft as the brush of sunlight over your skin in the earliest hours. “I’ll stay with you,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his. “You need some touches of colour in this place.”

Dave chuckles, rolling you over until you’re lying on top of him. You’re all the colour he gives a fuck about.

~

There’s a skip in your step as you walk to his car and slide inside. Dave traps your jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pulls you toward him for a kiss before you can even tug on your seat belt. “Hi, baby.” He grins into your mouth. “How was class?”

“You know, it’s funny,” you muse, checking your reflection in the visor. “Everyone was talking about it. Apparently, Senator Berkeley was found in his home with a gunshot wound to his head. They said it was suicide.”

Dave makes a noncommittal noise. “Shame. He must’ve been caught up in something he couldn’t deal with.”

You shrug, getting situated as Dave pulls out of the parking lot. “I started reading the book you got me.”

He places his hand, palm-up, on the centre console, and you take the invitation to thread your fingers through his. “You like it?” he asks. 

You lift your joined hands to your cheek and rest it there. “I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

THE END.

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Blond Sweetheart Tourney: Round 1, Poll 50

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Cinderella

She had a shitty life but she was still kind. And she made clothes for the mice and birds!

"Have Courage and Be Kind" She lives a hard life that she did not deserve because her step mother had no affection for her. Cinderella makes friends with the mice (and birds) and treats herself gently in the cruel house. And she isn't expecting more than one night, but she shines and the Prince demands more for her. In the 1950 and 2015 she and the Prince are so cute and perfect, then Cinderella 2 and 3 she is so supportive of Anastasia

Dave Strider

he explicitly starts off as a douche but also he's 13 so like, ykno. it's about the JOURNEY. the GROWTH. the unlearning the extreme-to-the-point-of-abusive toxic masculinity he was raised with. so yeah at first he's a dick but he does love his friends and more than anything loves to joke around and make stuff to amuse himself and others. anyways, yadda yadda three years or so pass in canon and he's just affectionate and adorable. he's getting snuggling with his alien boyfriend(unofficial?) and giving out hugs and fist bumps left and right. he's getting flustered when he meets his bff from online for the first proper time irl then almost immediately tries to have an awkward heart to heart convo about compulsive heterosexuality. he is canonically described as adorable by others and occasionally himself multiple times. by nature he's a thoughtful, creative, and kind of passive goofball who hates fighting, but, as required: will die over and over for his friends (time travel shite), or get into in-depth feelings jams to talk them down from an anxiety spiral, or just clown around and make them laugh. all the things an adolescent superhero/god might need, ykno? also, is a massive mamas boy pretty much immediately after meeting his "mom" (alternate universe teen version of his biological mother who he never even met in the first place). because he's a BABY BIRD. and he's FULL of LOVE.

it's been a while since I read homestuck to be honest and I'm sure in the wider consciousness sweetheart isn't the first word that would come to people's minds for him but trust me. he is. he's my perfect lad, a puppy

[b1llyl3nz]

hiii! can i have cutesy dave x reader headcanons? thanx so much!! have a great day and stay safe :D

i switch favourite characters like every 2 days, dave is currently my fav. live laugh love dave >:)

(this is a draft from aggeesss ago that i forgot to finish, sorry)

♥ it would take dave a while to get used to physical affection

♥ when he does he gives you a lot of back hugs and forehead kisses <3

♥ he still blushes a little though

♥ if you can't reach something on a high shelf he'd tease you about it before helping you

♥ tries to act all cool at first but ends up being a massive dork and he's being all sweet and romantic

♥ he's only like that with you though, he has to keep his "cool guy" act up

♥ just generally teases you a lot to see you get all flustered (he thinks it's adorable)

♥ you could talk about literally anything you're interested in and he's just sit there and listen

♥ even if he doesn't understand what you're talking about

♥ loves spending time with you, doesn't matter what you're doing

♥ he would draw stupid shit on you when you're sleeping

♥ looooves annoying you

♥ like, he'll say your name 10 times to get your attention, just say "hi" and then run away

♥ likes to just chill and play games with you or listen to music

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

live laugh love dave <3 - mod luna/ jane

[lucy-dulap]

Relationship questions for Lucy and Gamigin

(What if their ship name is Gummy? Idk I'll see)

1. Who makes the other blush and who finds it adorable

Gamigin blushes when he laughs too much and since he's constantly giggling when Lucy's around, he blushes the most. Lucy's too dense to notice, though.

2. Who sings in the shower

Gamigin. And he puts his whole pussy into it. He's voice isn't even that great, but the passion on display is adorable. While he was preforming in the bath once he hit Lucy's face and he's still apologising about it to this day.

3. What would their song to eachother be

From Gamigin to Lucy it would be "Romantic Flight" from the HTTYD ost

From Lucy to Gamigin it would be DSaF Dave theme remake. That's their two shared braincells doing a mating dance

4. Who emberasses the other in public with kisses and pet names

Gamigin mostly. He's very touchy-feely and he constantly kisses and hugs Lucy in public. But what really flusters Lucy are the pet names. Being called something painfully sweet makes them emberassed. They start to get used to it at some point and they call him pet names back.

5. Who curses and who repremends the other for doing it

Lucy curses a lot but Gamigin got used to it. If Gamigin even says a small wear word like "damn", Lucy would turn to him and scream "Cum iți permiți, măi, coaie?! Firiai dracu de nenorocit, fututi mortii mati, cine te-a crescut, ma?"

Lucy teaches Gamigin how to say swear words in Romanian though.

6. What small quirks do they love about each other

When Lucy messes up a word they spit and then do it properly and Gamigin finds that adorable.

Gamigin kitten sneezes and Lucy can't hold back the head pats after he does that.

7. Who makes the other laugh more

Whenever they're close to eachother they giggle. All. The. Time. Even during meals they crack jokes. That's why they always are forced to eat seperately, so they don't choke.

I think Lucy makes Gamigin laugh more, but only slightly. The way they say coaie always makes him smile.

8. Who gets jealous easier

Lucy, all the way. You don't get adopted by Leviathan by being a normal member of society. Lucy's very scared that Gamigin will find someone better than them and abandon them just like their parents did. They kind of have to learn to have faith in Gamigin's monogomy.

9. How did they know they were right for the other

Gamigin was hooked the second he saw them hurt and was informed they are human. A human? In hell? In need? He is going to take such good care of them and learn everything he can about humans.

Lucy was first scared of Gamigin's excitability, but they started to loosen up when Gamigin showed genuine interest in them. When they heard he's a dragon he rushed Ppyong to the human world to get the DVD collection. They needed to impress him. And impress him they did.

10. Who brings up the subject of kids first

Lucifer. When Lucifer realised that the two teens in his care get along so well, and since Lucy can ovulate, alerm bells went off in his head. He's not the biggest fan of drugs, but he'll make sure both you and Gamigin take your birth-control regularly. The last thing he needs is an unplanned pregnancy from the least prepared people in Hell.

11. Who's adorable when they're sleepy and who gets grumpy and irritable

When Gamigin is sleepy he can barely hold his eyes opened. He's the cutest little meow meow. He sits himself on Lucy's lap, presses his head to their collarbone and falls asleep.

When Lucy's sleepy they get very fussy. Usually it ends with them crying in frustration and falling asleep from exhaustion.

12. Who's more protective

Both are very protective of the other. Gamigin would call Leviathan 5 different slurs for trying to kill Lucy and Lucy will fist fight Bimet if he complains about 'a lizard' following them in their journey.

13. How do they express their feelings (words, visual arts, a song, etc.)

Infodumping is a love language, I swear. Also, pokémon battling. Lucy loves playing any type of format and they'll introduce Gamigin to pokemon showdown. They probably even have a soulink nuzlock. Gamigin will know how Lucy is feeling depending on what team they use and Lucy can tell how Gamigin is feeling by the jiggles of his staff.

14. Where would they go on a 3AM adventure

Lucifer's private study at first. Lucy is obsessed with Lucifer and they need to see his study. So, while Lucifer is sleeping, they would sneak into the room and mess around.

Lucifer knows this is happening, but he wants to let the two youngsters have fun thinking that he can't hear their crazed giggles. Kind of like a lion pretending to be hurt by its cubs

15. Who has a hobby that only the other knows about

Lucy wants to make a pokemon fangame and they have a lot of ideas around it, but they're too shy to share it with anyone but Gamigin. They both plan it out and both would beg Buer to use his Tartaros knowledge to code it into existence. Little do they know that Buer failed his CopSci and Coding classes.

16. How do they hype eachother up

Both yell like they're at a football match. You know this meme? It's them. They are here to support eachother until the very end as loudly as possible.

17. Who picks flowers for the other

Gamigin brings Lucy berries since he knows its their favorite food. Especially blueberries and raspberries. Neither bring flowers because they don't want to kill the flowers by picking them.

18. Which one wears the "I'm with stupid" t-shirt

Both of them at the same time while laughing about it. The only way they allow to be insulted is if its recicrocle. They'd kiss with this shirt on to make sure everyone knows that they don't mean it as an insult.

19. Who's the better dancer

As I've said here, Gamigin will be the happiest dragon in all of Hell for getting to dance with Lucy, but he won't be good at it.

Lucy isn't a great dancer but they can do a brasoveanca or something very simple like that. Anything harder than macarena and they just stand stiffly in the corner until its over.

20. Who infodumps and who listens with heart eyes

Haha, autism. Both. They both infodump and the other one just stand there like "I can't believe this is my boyfriend. They're so cool." The 'me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic' meme but both of them are autistic bad bitches.

[softhairedhotch]

omg speaking of male ocs/reader . i just wanted to share about this One trope that got me CRAZYYY is secret relationships... the one's where aaron and oc are like pretty much dating but are trying to keep it a total secret from the rest of the team because #professionalism.... but they keep making little slip ups bc they're just so in love 😭😭 i think its just SOOO CUTE 😭😭😭

N THIS ONE SCENARIO THATS STUCK IN MY HEAD is like oc ended up sleeping over at aaron's place then in the morning his phone rings. but male oc doesn't realise that it's AARON'S phone (and not his) so he answers half asleep. but then on the other end of the line is another team member who's like "oh sorry- thought it was... i must have dailed the wrong number- wait... 🤨🤨" then male ocs like HORRIFIED and aaron soon wakes up to the sound and he's also SHOCKED but he tries to put on his #serious professional gruff voice and coming up with some excuse like they drank last night and then dozed on the couch or smth 😭😭 then subsequently aaron n reader have to keep defending themselves by saying it was just a #bro activity and that's they're just Bros n nothing more

my god... just thinking about how cute aaron is when he's flustered 😭😭😭 like how he has the 🥺 eyes but tries to cover it up with a 🤨😐🙄 "i don't know what you're talking about . can we talk about work now". LIKE the episodes when the team teased aaron when he was going out w beth My GODDDD HES SOOOO ADORABLE WHEN HES IN LOVE 😭😭😭😭 like his boyish grin n the way his face crinkles... i cannot deal with this

- 🤲

yesssss i LOOOVEEEE secret relationships sooo much, especially when it's like cute lil gestures during work or getting each other coffee n kissing when no ones around or cuddling at work bc they have to share a room and no one's gonna know <33 (unless one of the team happens to burst into the room bc they think aaron or the oc is in trouble somehow 🤭🤭🤭 and sees them snuggled up on the bed all cute 🤭🤭🤭 as they're holding their gun bc they think they were gonna find an unsub with them or them missing but noooo they're just wrapped up allllll cute in each other's arms 🤭🤭🤭)

OUGH I LOOOOOOVE THAT SCENARIO!!!!! heheh i love the idea of penny calling and being like "hey sir i- wait a moment i thought i called- no i know i did bc he's on speed dial so that means- oh my GOD you and boss man are CANOODLING" and oc/reader is just like "nonono i accidently slept here!!" n she's like "WHY WERE YOU THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE 🤭🤭" and aaron wakes up n takes the phone and is like "he came over to help me with jack and we drank a lil now we're asleep on the couch" and idk if she'd do this fr but maybe penny can track the phone real quick and she's like "then why does it say you're in the bedroom rn 😏" LMAOOO and bless them they're just trying sooooo hard to brush it off!!!

"we're just brooooos man bros gotta cuddle the homes sometimes!!!" 😭😭 it'd be lowkey so funny if oc is just like "don't you think aaron deserves a cuddle or two, guys? it ain't gay i swear man he's just in need of some love from the homies yknow. hey morgan maybe you should snuggle him next-" "absolutely not" "-i'm sure he'd love that! he just needs some loving, man" LMAOOO

and yesssss they'd tease his sooooo much <333 he'd get all flustered bless him and it'd be adorable and he'd be wanting to tell everyone they ARE together bc he wants to show oc off sooo much and give him work smooches and just be like "yeah this is MY BOYFRIEND!!!!" bc he's soooooo cute and in love but for now he just gets used to the teasing from the team (dave and penny mostly, but sometimes emily and spencer catch him off guard) hehe <3 it'd be like that scene where rossi looks at him once and just KNOWS he got a date with beth or something hehe and he goes "attaboy 😏" after he confirms he has!!! OUGH i neeeed him to smile like that at the thought of dating me SO MUCH and for rossi to be proud AHHHHH

and just the idea of a male oc making him all smiley and goofy and happy again <33 he kinda becomes how he used to be again GODDD like he's just happy again GODDDD 😭

his SMILE DJSKDJ GODDDDDDDD I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOOOOOOOVE HIM

also i currently have like 5 male oc's written up for him (like fics planned out or ideas for it) LMAOO they're all mostly from when i was in the fandom in 2021 but i wanna go back to the ideas sooooooo much 😭 and i made a new one a few days ago for a lil one chapter fic i wanna post hehe, it's so dramatic tbh but seems to also end in smut LMAO so hopefully i can get it out sometime 💪just need to write aaron being gay without it being reid or morgan amen (even tho i LOVE hotchgan)

thank you sm for the ask hehe <3

[wheresarizona]

Temptation

summary: You’re just trying to do your job teaching at a private school, but Dave York arrives with his daughter and takes an interest in you.

rating: M (Dave York comes with his own warning, he is a menace, dirty talk, sexual tension, Dave being a DILF)

pairing: Dave York/f!reader

word count: 1100+

a/n: A fic for my follower celebration for @wildemaven, who prompted, “The way you get flustered is adorable.” Let’s say in this universe, nothing from the movie happens, and Dave is just a top-tier DILF and does some murder on occasion. But also, if I wrote more of this, he’d fuck like a god and be a little soft with the reader, and I just think that’s neat. Shoutout to my beta @invisibleismyname!

Masterlist

David York, or Dave as he had insisted on multiple occasions, was a temptation.

A really fucking bad one.

You had a personal rule, and also a professional one stipulated by the private school you worked for, that you wouldn’t get involved with a parent of a child you taught. You wanted to keep a barrier between business and pleasure, and in all the years you’d spent in teaching, you’d never once been tempted. Sure, there’d been a fair share of attractive, single parents throughout the years, some had even asked you out, and yet you’d never given in, never wanted to give in. The risk had never been worth it. That is until David York strolled into your classroom at the beginning of the school year with his darling ten-year-old daughter Molly.

You, of course, thought he was attractive at a glance, in his dark blue suit and light-colored shirt, thinking he was some kind of businessman, maybe.

You’d helped Molly get situated with her cubby to put away her backpack and showed her where her seat was, and David followed, listening intently to his daughter talking excitedly, and replying in a more subdued, but still excited way to try and match her energy. It was honestly endearing, and he was definitely one of the better fathers you’d met—he seemed to actually care about his kid and her feelings. The being a good dad definitely made him appealing, but then you’d catch the looks he sent your way. When Molly’s attention was elsewhere, his eyes were locked on you, and you’d caught him looking, staring at you like he was mentally removing the clothes from your body, and he didn’t look ashamed at being caught; he simply smirked and turned his head to answer a question his daughter asked without missing a beat. The temperature of your body increased, swallowing thickly, tamping down the arousal that was making itself known in your belly. You found yourself eyeing his left hand, a thrill running through you when you saw there was no ring, and you quickly had to shut that down, because he was a parent and off limits. God, his hands were so big.

You’d had to step away from them to tend to the other kids and parents who had shown up, and when the children had been welcomed and seated, happily coloring or talking amongst themselves, and their parents left before the start of class, David was still lingering, and approached you while you filled out the attendance sheet at your desk in the corner of the room, away from the students.

“Mr. York, you’re still here,” you’d said, checking off names to the corresponding seating chart.

“Please call me Dave.”

“You’re okay to leave, David. Molly will be fine, see, she’s made a friend,” you said, pointing your pen at his daughter across the room, talking animatedly to her neighbor.

“Just Dave. I know Molly will be fine.” You looked up at him, his thumb rubbing over his plump bottom lip that you suddenly wanted to bite. You had to shake the thought from your brain, his eyes on you in that same way, like he was trying to get a glimpse of what was underneath the layers.

You swallowed, feeling your skin heat.

“Okay, is there something else I can help you with?”

“Yes, there is. Can I take you out for a drink sometime?”

Your eyes went wide, mouth falling open. You cleared your throat, looking away.

“That’s very, uh, forward,” you said. “I, um, appreciate the offer, but I don’t date parents. It’s against school policy.”

He moved closer into your space, and you could smell his cologne, your heart racing in your chest.

His voice went low and deep for only you to hear.

“Who said anything about dating?” He asked.

“David,” you gasped. He wanted to fuck you, and suddenly that arousal was roaring back to life. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each ticking second that you tried to stop thinking about what he’d be like in bed. Those hands, his mouth. Your eyes glanced down to his waist, and you quickly averted them.

“Still just Dave. I know you want me,” he rasped. “One night.”

“I, um, I,” you were having difficulty thinking and forming a coherent sentence, your heart hammering in your chest. You took a deep breath to collect yourself, finally braving to look him in the eyes. “This is really inappropriate. What if I was in a relationship?” You asked.

He smirked.

“They wouldn’t have to know.” Your mouth fell open. This man was trouble. “Are you?”

“...No,” you answered.

“Then nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

“How would Mrs. York feel about it?” You asked. Just because there wasn’t a ring didn’t mean he wasn’t attached.

“Divorced. She’s happily dating her yoga instructor. Give me one night,” he leaned in close, lips hovering over your ear as he whispered. “Give me one night to fuck your tight little pussy. I’ll have you screaming my name and coming so many times you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

“Fuck,” you gasped out softly. You cleared your throat, was the room hotter? You could feel sweat beading down your back, flustered from his words, as your brain worked to come up with a response. “I…” you started. His offer sounded amazing, but you didn’t want to lose your job over ill-advised sex. You made good money, with excellent benefits, and giving that all up for one night? It just wasn’t worth it. “I…” you started again. “I, um, wow,” he moved back to look at you, that knowing smirk on his face like he knew he had you. “Thank…” you swallowed. Why was speaking such a struggle? “Thank you,” you finally said. “For the offer. Unfortunately, I must decline, David.”

“Just Dave. The way you get flustered is adorable.”

You felt your face heat.

The bell sounded at that moment, and you’d never been more thankful, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

“Well, this has been a great chat, David—”

“Dave.”

“But I have to start class. The day ends at three.”

“I’ll see you then, sweetheart,” he winked. “You’ll give in.”

It was your turn to lean into his space to whisper to him.

“My job is more important than sex.”

He spoke just as softly.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve been with me.”

You sucked in a breath. He moved away from you.

“See you at three, sweetheart.” He walked away, stopping at Molly’s seat to tell her goodbye and give her a hug.

It was the beginning of a man determined to make you give in to his temptation, eat the forbidden fruit as it were, and see all the wonders he beheld. But you knew how that story ended, the consequences if anyone found out, and the ruin it would cause your life. So, you had to persevere and be strong; remember all you had at stake. You could do that, right?

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

[0l-unreliable]

Dave looks so awkward and flustered in your latest drawing. Did a good job with the expressions and pose! It’s like he was laying belly down on his bed and suddenly went upright with the realization of how he feels. I adore the piece!

That's a very apt description, he was probably kicking his feet and giggling too, the whole nine yards. That was just the sketch, hopefully the finished piece is up to par

(Dave is my favorite beta, unsurprisingly)

[making-it-right-dsaf]

Daves hair curls when he’s flustered, that’s adorable!

[crowtechs]

8, 1, 12, and 14 for dave strider and/or ben drowned :D

im thinking heavily abt dave rn because what else do i ever do hejkp

HOWEVER !! yay thank you for asking :]

ask game here!

8. Who gets jealous easier?

i say me but i personally believe us both but i think dave would never admit that in a thousand years so im going with a stretch to say me because uhh... i love him a lot and yeah (good answer i hope)

Who makes the other blush all the time and who finds it adorable?

going to be real with you on this one i was thinking on who then i ended up flustering myself over this question and im sure dave will find it adorable and tease the hell out of me and then i want to throw a pillow at him to shut him up because why me huh i hate this guy (im lying)

12. Who's more protective?

dave <3 i can be protective if i want to be but i think truly he holds literally and figuratively the knight role very well <3 (ive also just seen him as a very protective guy overall so that could also be a reason)

14. Where would they go on a 3am adventure?

erm... i have no idea... i think it would be kind of cool if we both go on a long night drive but i get motion sickness easily but like ... i think going to the playground at 3am together will be such a surreal experience and it could be super cute <3

[gyroshrike]

for send me a character and i'll tell you meme: hmmmmmmmmm -eyes recent reblogs of a certain bronze troll-....terezi! -runs away trollishly laughing-

For the “Send me a character and I’ll tell you…” ask game

Tavros

JOKES ON YOU. SOMEONE ALREADY SENT TEREZI, SO I GUESS YOU’RE STUCK WITH THE BRONZE TROLL. WE DOIN’ TAV, BABEYYYY

My NOTP for them - Flushed Tavrisk! Flushed Tavrisk! FLUSHED TAVRISK! I have honestly never had an stronger notp than this one right here (not including ships that squick me out of course). You know it’s this singular ship that’s keeping me from reading The Serendipity Gospels? I want to read it SO BAD! BUT I CANNOT GET MYSELF TO DO IT. I CANNOT.

My BROTP for them - This might go Nepeta and Tavros. I LOVE those two. They didn’t talk much, but Nepeta was very nice to Tavros and I don’t think that was an off shoot thing. (A pattern I have noticed on how I judge characters a lot is How Nice They Were to Tavros.)

I’m always a huge sucker for characters who love animals and THEY BOTH LOVE ANIMALS. They’re two big sweetie hearts that love animals and playing games and silly artsy-fartsy stuff. Tavros would probably think the fact that Nepeta draws is super cool. They would never make each other feel embarrassed or criticized for any of their interests or idiosyncrasies.

Tavros roleplays with her, even if he’s awkward at it, without any comments or other jabs about it. He expresses genuine disappointment when she can’t be on the red team with him, but he’s also kind and understanding about it.

My OTP for them - Looks up from where I'm buried under a pile of pbj sandwiches. Don't mess with me, flushed Gamzee♥️Tavros is my Homestuck otp of otps.

My second choice pairing for them - Hmm, this might be pitch Equius♠️Tavros, but I'm going to save that one for another answer. So, this one will probably go to DaveTav. I enjoy both pitch and pale, but I think I like pale Dave♦️Tavros better. The idea of Tavros and Dave each thinking the other is the Coolest person, while simultaneously trying to play off that they're cool, is just an absolute favorite of mine.

Imagine if Dave secretly loves and admires that Tavros is wholeheartedly passionate about things, even 'nerdy' or 'cringey' things by Dave’s definition. He is sometimes a little envious that Tavros can just just... not care about irony or pretending something that is cool is uncool because it being uncool makes it cool yadda yadda. He feels like Tavros is so genuine (it’s kind of the same reason why he’s drawn to John).

Then Tavros canonly went on about just how ridiculously cool he thinks Dave is. And I feel like we never get to see Tavros get that hyped up about another person? Aradia said he’d wanted to meet Dave so bad. It’s just insanely cute how much Tavros values Dave, even though all he silly trolling they’ve done to each other, Tavros adores hanging out with Dave? And they really enjoy rapping to together? It’s cute as fuck, man.

Then the two of them both realizing the other has low self-esteem? But I feel like their doubts they have in themselves are different enough that they won’t feed into each other. Dave would have the bravado Tavros needs to shrug off hurtful comments and Tavros is soft and genuine in an unironic way that he would give the kind of reassurance that Dave really thrive under.

Moirails really help each other grow and it’s interesting watching how Tavros wants to rise up and meet Dave’s challenge. He doesn’t seem hurt or scared by the words or teasing Dave does. Flustered and nervous in the moment for sure! But it Tavros goes out of his way to prepare for his conversations with Dave. He’s dedicated to figuring out how to best interact with him (even if most of his motivations are to troll.) But Tavros reaches out to both Rose and Aradia to try and facilitate interactions with Dave.

Dave makes Tavros want to show off his ability as a peer, not as a hero or savior like he wanted to do for Jade.

All this is kind of why I think they’d be great in most quadrants, flushed, pitch, or pale.

My fluffy pairing for them - Not exactly a pairing, but I love how Kanaya seemed to be someone who really stood up for and looked out for Tavros, even so much to harass Vriska, her crush, into being nice to him. Kanaya was the one who told Tavros to name his self-confidence and to not hurt "his" feelings. ;0; I'm really into humanstuck AU's where the Maryam family is really close to the Nitram family. Pesterquest also solidified this with the role Kanaya played in Tavros' route. In my AU, Kanaya's family reached out and helped Tavros' family financially after Tavros' accident.

My angsty pairing for them - Angsty pairing? Oh, hmmmm... I suppose post canon things (no epilogues or hs2) with Gamzee and Gctavrosprite tend to make me very sad. :( Definitely a very angsty iteration of the ship. It has to be done very particularly for me to like it. I also suppose anything that includes Gamzee meeting either dead Tavros or any other timeline Tavros in bubble fucks me uuuuup. Can you imagine Gamzee meeting a Tavros from a timeline where he and Tavros had been matesprits?

Oh! There's also that fan theory that the horrorterrors are eons old, long mutated Gamzee's, and I make myself sad over the idea of a horrorterror meeting Tavros who doesn't really have any memories of being a troll left, but knows instinctively upon seeing Tavros that Tavros was something important. And it's just this massive monster entity that Tavros can hear the dark whispers of like "whoareyouwhowareyouwhoareyou don'tremembercan'tremember buthappyhappytoseeyouseeyouseeyouseeyou"

Now for the last two questions, I'm going to rearrange them because my weirdest ship for them kind of feeds into my favorite polyship for them.

My weirdest pairing for them - I suppose EquiTav isn't THAT weird of a ship, but it felt weird to me for a long while because I just couldn't wrap my head around the possibly of it. But recently, I've really sat down and thought about it. It started with the idea of pitch Gamzee♠️Equius. And I love that ship, but sometimes I get all sad over thinking about Gamzee hating, being annoyed with, or being mean back to Equius.

Then I realized... actually, I could see Tavros getting really annoyed with Equius and the things he does and says. Equius has a bigoted view of the hemospectrum, so check, that's going to be obnoxious. And Tavros does in most cases try to stand up for himself when he's being pushed around (Vriska just doesn't listen and is better at shutting him down.) But I think Equius would be a bit quicker to back down when challenged in a way that would put him and Tavros on a bit more equal footing. (We already know that Equius likes being order around by lowbloods because of the social inappropriateness of it. Also, Equius is stubborn, but he's not... a bully. He's also not violent or dangerous to other trolls that we see.

And something about pitch rivalry is the push to make the other reach their potential. Equius is pretty caught up in bloodcolor, but he also has a few moments where it implies that it's much more of a taught belief than one he genuinely wants to keep feeling. He tells Vriska "EQUIUS: D --> I would very much like to honor my position on the hemospectrum and mistreat those beneath me, and yet..." And we all know he would DIE for Nepeta. So that can be part of his growth with Tavros! Having multiple low quadrants challenges his stances and beliefs. Tavros is also really nice. I feel like having a rivalry with someone so nice (as well as a moiraillegience) could challenge him to perhaps see how to be nicer.

And Tavros would have someone frustrating and stubborn to work on his self-confidence with who doesn't actually put his emotional or physical well-being at risk when he stands up to them. (Well, not intentionally, Equius is very STRONG after all.)

Tavros and Equius have this very interesting specific angle for me of either becoming unintentionally closer because Equius had to learn intimate things about Tavros' body to make him a new pelvis and new legs. They end up spending extended amounts of time together to help Tavros adjust to his robo-legs, be that asking questions, helping him stretch, fixing things that aren't right, adding new features. (There's no way Equius wouldn't give Tavros a nook and bulge, sorry, not with his dedication to quality and also being as lewd as he is LOL.)

Also they'd bond over animals! Tavros having a bunch of horses come and say hello to Equius? Or any other small cute animals? Equius would be so thrilled and happy! Ahhhhhhh

My humanstuck AU, Reunionstuck, has Tavros acting as Equius' dom for a while, as a friends with benefits kind of thing. They end up bonding over bringing their career fields together, Tavros' veterinary focus being disabled animals and Equius' focus being engineering and prosthetics. They work together on professional projects find that they have a very good working relationship, even if Equius is frustrating as heck to work with sometimes.

My favorite poly ship for them - Probably some mixture of Gamzee/Tavros/Equius with some potential mixture of flushed and pitch.

Pasting from my Gamzee ask: Oooh, ho ho ho, love me some Gam♥️Equius♥️/♠️Tavros. Gamzee adores Equius so much tbh. Gamzee was just a huge sweetheart to Equius pre-game and just loved talking to him. Equius seemed pretty pitch towards him, but I think I like the idea of Equius letting himself be loved and recieve soft red affection from Gamzee is so cute.

In my AU, Gamzee and Tavros end up in a romantic relationship, but Equius maintains a close relationship with the two of them. Equius was very attracted to Gamzee back in high school and of course Equius and Tavros now have their shared experiences together. So now Equius joins them in the bedroom every once in a while and the three of them are very affectionate towards each other.

[reidscanehand]

The First Date

An Addendum to The Love Profile

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem!Reader

Category: Fluff 

TW: anxiety from both, mentions of food, cursing...that’s it? 

I really thought I was done. I wrote the original series and then a requested additional chapter. And then a few more stories came into my mind. I might do a few more of these, if you’d like and want them, but this is the first one. And I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but work’s been insane. Plus, you know...life stuff. Anyway: Hope you like it; love you all xx 

~ “It’s dangerous to get calm.” - Bob Odenkirk ~

The moment you walk out of Dave’s office, it hits you: you’re going on a date with Aaron Hotchner. 

It’s something you’ve dreamed about, thought about for far longer than is appropriate, really. Imagining it before he even noticed you, you reckon. And now the most handsome man you’ve ever met, the single kindest man you’ve ever known, the strongest human being you’ll ever have the chance to encounter...is coming to your apartment for dinner. You practically faint at the thought. 

You shouldn’t be nervous. You’re fucking thrilled about this, but at the same time you know why you’re nervous. Because this isn’t just another date. This is you and Aaron. You’ve gotten through what should be the toughest part, really - telling each other how you feel. 

As though he can read your mind, the man of the hour damn near materializes next to you. And it doesn’t help that Aaron Hotchner looks handsome as hell in his work attire. Indeed the white shirt, gray suit, and black checked tie he’s wearing today make him look far too handsome for words. 

“Are you alright?” he whispers, an empty folder in his hands. You look curiously at the folder before meeting his eyes, realizing he brought it more as a prop than anything else in order to distract from the fact that he was checking up on you. The brilliant, handsome idiot. 

“Yes,” you breathe, trying really hard not to sound as stressed as you are. 

“Are you sure?” Aaron asks, his concern far too endearing. “You look flustered.”

“I was just...um...thinking about my plans for the evening,” you admit quietly, taking the folder from his hand and nodding surreptitiously. You flick your eyes to Aaron, only to meet his gaze as he stares down at you in a way that can only be described as adoring. 

“Isn’t that interesting?” he practically smirks.

“What is?” you swallow, trying not to look as flustered as you feel.

“I was also just thinking about my evening plans,” Aaron whispers.

“Ah,” you manage to say around your nerves.

“Yes,” Aaron nods. “I have evening plans I’m kind of...excited about.”

“Yeah?” you question, your heart rate picking back up.

“Mm-hmm,” he grins. “And I know you do too, right? Because if you’re ever not...excited about this-”

“That’s not the issue at all, Aaron,” you cut him off vehemently, but quietly. 

“But you admit there’s an issue,” he rebuttles. You meet his eyes again, regretting it the second you meet his rather piercing gaze. 

“Of course not,” you assure him, your eyes dropping again. “I’m just...nervous.”

The admittance releases a bit of the anxiety, allowing you to exhale a heavy sigh. Aaron reaches over and takes the prop folder out of your hands in order to get you to meet his eyes again.

“You know there’s nothing to be nervous about, right?” 

You swallow, but look at him steadfastly, “I know...it’s just...” 

You trail off, but he seems to get the message. He fixes you with the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You know,” Aaron whispers, flexing his hands to keep from taking hold of yours, “if it’s any help... I think this is the most excited I’ve ever been.”

“Really?” you laugh, trying not to cry. 

He beams down at you, “Really.”

~~~

The moment he’s standing in front of your apartment door, it hits Aaron: he’s going on a date with you.

It’s something he’s dreamed about, thought about for far longer than is appropriate, really. Imagining it before you even noticed him, he reckons. And now the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, the single kindest woman he’s ever known, the strongest human being he’ll ever have the chance to encounter...has invited him over for dinner. And despite his reassurances to you earlier this afternoon, he could faint at the thought. He hasn’t been on a date in ages, and surely never one that felt as important as this one. 

As though you can read his mind, the door to your apartment opens and you beam up at him. And it doesn’t help that you look absolutely stunning. Indeed, the simple black jumpsuit you’re wearing is only enhanced by the precious blue checked apron you’re wearing, you’re hair falling rather charmingly from it’s claw clip. 

“I thought I heard you,” you giggle. You step forward, but seem to lose your nerve. Aaron steps forward, meeting your eyes and staring down at you. 

“Hi,” he whispers, before timidly leaning in, relieved that you meet his lips for a gentle kiss. He wraps his arms around you, deepening it as you relax into him. 

And it’s in that moment that Aaron can practically feel the earth shift beneath his feet - but not in a terrifying way. It’s as though his world is finally clicking into place. You pull away and look up at him with a curious expression.

“That felt...right,” you breathe, as though scared to say it too loudly. 

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. 

“I’m starting to believe that everything feels right with you,” you smile, staring up at him so genuinely it causes his heart to flutter. 

“Really?” he asks, his own lips turning up in a matching grin. 

Your smile only deepens as you tip onto your toes, aiming for his lips again, “Really.”

The two of you kiss for only a moment longer before Aaron pulls away, all nerves forgotten, “So, dinner smells wonderful.”

“Oh!” you giggle, having forgotten the dinner altogether. “Yes, it should be done by now. Shall we?”

Aaron presses a quick kiss to your temple before allowing you to pull him inside, responding only with a delighted, “We shall, my love.” 

~ The sky is perfectly blue, the clouds are perfect too, and here I am with you. What could be more right? - Carl Johnson ~

~~~

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[purebarnes]

‘infinity war cast play: family feud

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ following along the family feud that the cast of the avengers played during infinity war

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 1.8k

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ fluff, sweet/jealous seb, funny marvel moments in general

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ➢ wanted to start this idea but never got to write it, hope it gets love since it was fun to write and i just enjoyed it in general

every time you and the cast would wrap up a movie was great because it meant you guys would have interviews and press tours to attend. for you, the games and trivia games were the ones you all really enjoyed because it just would be chaotic.

still it would a great time, you got along with everyone so no drama would surround you guys which was a good thing when you work with other actors. when you first started working with marvel, you hit it off with mackie at first, during captain america: the winter soldier.

your publicist makes sure you had time to move things around so that you could make it the live event with the rest of the cast.

you and sebastian were together but didn’t live with each other since you two were still waiting for the right time to move in together. anthony would tease you guys, saying you’re both married but not being committed. all jokes aside, you two did love each other but time would take it’s course and you would be happy soon enough.

when you arrived surrounding to the Los Angeles press junket, you met a few co-stars back stage. obviously you saw all the girls—with you adored. when you saw your boyfriend, you ran sneakily behind him before scaring him slightly. he jumped back from his seat where he was talking to anthony and letitia about something.

anthony looked up seeing your face, “you finally showed up. he was getting worried.” he chuckled before getting up to hug you while you hugged back letting go to see letitia and greet her as well. you turned to sebastian seeing that he was wearing something remotely similar to your outfit.

he wore a black and white stripped jacket which you wore one like that but it was a tad different with a matching skirt. he eyes you up and down seeing what you were wearing this time, letitia gawked at the couple matching even if it was accidentally. “you guys look so cute.” she squealed rapidly pointing at both of them as they both chuckled.

anthony hummed, “huh. what’s up with matchy matchy?” he questioned them as sebastian shrugged honestly not getting how they would of done that. the man obviously thought she looked gorgeous in that skirt and jacket so it didn’t bother him at all. “i think you look beautiful.” he admired you as you blushed and buried your head in his crock of his neck while thanking him.

anthony rolled his eyes until the russo brothers came telling everyone that it was time to start the family feud game and start the live broadcast. you walked towards everyone, where the russo brothers went to place you all in teams: blue vs purple.

anthony and joe did anything to keep mackie and seb from the opposite teams to not create that much chaos or to create it which didn’t matter. you went on the blue team with chris, scarlett, letitia, anthony and bautista. then the red team consisting with benedict, zoe, mark, chris hemsworth, pom and sebastian.

you greeted your team waiting for them to start as you made small talk with anthony and dave as you were in the middle of both of them. once the russo’s started—it was all chaotic from that point. “why don’t the blue team introduce themselves.” joe spoke looking at the blue team.

everyone from the team would get and when it got you mackie, he just was being a fool but so hilarious whenever he spoke. “i’m anthony mackie, i’m a libra.” bringing up his sign for anyone. “I’m y/n y/l/n.” you would smile when it would get to you.

the other team would do the same, then making the russo’s to explain how the game would work and all the rules. once you all got the hang of it, chris and zoe ended up being the first ones to make it and compete against each other. “which infinity war character would put on the best concert?”

zoe getting it first because pratt was slow, said his character which she got right being the first one on the answer board. benedict would repeat zoe’s answer not understanding the concept of family feud as the whole blue team would tease him on that. “good answer!” anthony laughed making you look up and chuckle as he defended himself.

“i’m english! whoa, stop.” joe explained it the english man and he looked relieved after he got the idea, getting the right answer again. when it got to sebastian he said dr. strange and got it correct then getting close to three strikes when it was at zoe.

the russo’s giving out clues and hints didn’t make the blue team wasn’t pleased because it was too easy for them. “what! you cheatin, you think steve harvey would give a hint?” chris would yell out to joe then you would agree with him. them all laughing at chris getting annoyed but not in a serious manner.

you would see that they would go and talk and you stopped them as they weren’t exactly playing the right way. “wait? you guys can’t confirm.” you spoke up pointing at zoe trying to talk to pom and the rest of her team. joe would confirm that, that would be true.

zoe trying to get another clue but the blue team interfering with her telling her no more clues. “okay, you know what. basta. i’m going to say rocket.” when her and benedict got them wrong it would be time for the blue team to steal.

chris would pull you guys together to confirm he answer but mackie kept repeating where their clue was—you would remind him that you thought that was the clue. “what? no, that’s their clue! who producing this?” you would look over to see them talking about who to pick. “well if it’s a guardian... then who did we already say? we said drax, already said star lord, we said rocket. so groot?” you implied.

letitia nodded when chris still wasn’t sure if that was the answer looking at the camera trying to get an answer from the fans. “feed me the answer. mackie says it groot but i don’t trust mackie—yes, you do!” mackie would say.

“i say trust him—thank you!” you would say making anthony hugging you when sebastian would glare at him making him laugh out loud looking back at him. letting go and telling joe that, they picked groot for the answer. “do they say groot for the win?” joe asked making the board ding causing the blue team to cheer for the win that they just got.

the next question being who would they take to prom... as letitia would take your answer, you’d have to figure on out when make chose his answer. “as much as i don’t like him. and his great hair.. uh bucky.” anthony paused. obviously getting the right answer and it being number one. anthony would look at sebastian but he would shake his head getting flustered.

it was your turn and you couldn’t say anything because you honestly had no idea, “alright y/n, you are up.” you hummed trying to see if you could think of someone on the spot. “look around.” they would try to help you to get a answer, anthony looking at you grinning.

“come on. imma look away cause you’re thinkin about me.” he would say looking the other way dramatically making you laugh then patting his shoulder clicking your tongue. “okay, i’m going to say uh... the falcon, sam wilson?” anthony grinning at you tilting his head while showing his bicep.

sebastians head rapidly going up when she chose anthony, “boo!” he booed putting a thumbs down and blowing raspberries at her direction. everyone laughing at his jealousy as you frowned feeling bad, “i’m sorry!” you quietly said as joe kept moving on. “alright facebook did you say sam wilson?” he asked the board and it dinged making anthony cheer at his name on the list.

almost finishing the questions, it was between mackie and hemsworth picking who would win in a staring contest. going around the purple team, they all started to get all the answer right and it went to seb. he looked around stoping at you and just staring, “i’m going with y/c/n.” you shook your head then waiting to see the answer. “did you say y/c/n, the sorceress?” he got that right making them all cheer.

they all go in a line getting all the answers right when seb was up again, “don’t screw it up bucky like you always do.” anthony yelled out making him stare up at him intensely, “what did you say to me—you heard what i said.” they kept going back and forth with each other.

you kept trying to contain yourself from laughing as they were so childish between themselves. “i’m gonna go with the falcon.” sebastian said staring at him continuously. when it came on the screen, you put your head down in disbelief.

the next round was you and sebastian and when you didn’t go up because you didn’t know it was your turn, joe told you to go up. you looked at him and walked to him. you put your hands in your pockets, seeing seb waiting for you. “oh oh. this is about to become intense, girlfriend vs boyfriend.” joe teased when you smiled and put you hand over seb’s.

you pulled away getting ready to answer your question and you probably knew it would work out because you hated being pressured. anthony russo looked at both of you and mentioned how you guys were matching, “you guys are matching, just noticed that—isn’t it cute!” letitia yelled but getting shushed by you.

“okay, which infinity war character takes the longest to get ready in the morning?” when he announced it you did your best to press the button by sebastian had quicker reflexes then you. you groaned watching him chuckle, “i swear my button is broken.” you complained but it was all jokes because you just lost.

“i think it works—mmh, no it’s broken. hurry say your answer.” you rolled your eyes wanting to hurry and leave, “downey. tony stark.” when the answer popped up you rolled your eyes, swatting your hand away. seb went over to hug you as you sighed but hugged him back anyway.

the ending was horrible because the opposite team won making you annoyed... you ended up having a good time with your friends. you walked passed all of them to use the bathroom and you went to open the door, you were tackled by some hands making you squeal.

you turned around to see sebastian and you sighed then when you composed yourself, you hit his shoulder. “don’t do that. i was about to hurt you.” he chuckled lowering his hands to your waist and pulling you close. “i missed you.” he mumbled kissing the side of your cheek. “we have to hurry for the press, then you can miss me even more.”

[stuckonscenarios]

Could I request Karkat and Dave with a s/o who’s love language is physical touch?

absolutely!

karkat and dave w touch love language s/o🫂

dave🕶:

-dave likes to pretend he’s cool, but with every single brush of the hand and kiss on the cheek, a fire is set under him.

-he adores you in every way imaginable. he wants you to know that, too, so he tries his best to reciprocate your love language.

-be patient w him; he’s not the best at this. he’s better at buying you things and taking cool photos of you. that’s his love language. tangible items.

-it isn’t in vain either, cause you know he loves you. you appreciate he’s trying.

-he’s just not the best at this.

-when he finally does come around to it, it’s all snuggles. an arm wrapped around you in public, cheek kisses. the whole nine.

-he still does get flustered with the little things, though. the little traces on his hand, writing a secret “i love you”

-it sends him over the moon and out the universe frog.

karkat🩸:

oh boy

-where do i start, um.

-karkat is… not the best at this. he’s very touch starved

-he’s also very boxed in with his feelings. they’re in a box, in a cage, in a cement house, in an even bigger cement wall, locked underground.

-but you, my dear… you have a shovel, a pickaxe, and the key.

-it started off as little pinkies wrapping around his own.

-“what are you doing…”

-“trying to hold hands.”

-“no.”

-don’t be too discouraged. he’ll come around. like after a long talk w kanaya, he finally began to understand. and thus, he began to try.

-without a word, he one day laid his chin on your shoulder while you were looking for something for breakfast.

-“—karkat-“

-he immediately pulled back and walked away, saying he wanted cereal.

-once he got some and you sat on the couch by him, he thanked you and you started watching whatever was on tv

-and he slowly, but surely.. wrapped his pinky around yours.

-see? he’s trying.

-he’s trying, and that’s what matters.

-v🔮