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Aim for the Sky Part 4 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley can't help himself. When he sees cute things for his baby, he buys them. When he craves you as much as you crave him, he makes a complete mess in the garage. Pregnancy bliss is taking his domestic bliss to a new level as he tries to plan the perfect first anniversary outing.
Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, swearing, pregnancy
Length: 4100 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
"What are all these boxes from?"
Your husband clearly didn't hear you come in from work by the look of things. He was still in his flight suit, desperately emptying cardboard box after cardboard box onto the dining room table. When he turned toward you, his eyes were wide like you'd just caught him doing something he shouldn't be. "I have no idea," he said, quickly picking up a smaller one and rushing your way. "This one has your name on it."
You were still trying to look past him into the dining room while he actively blocked you. "Are you joking right now? Oh my god, you went on a shopping spree!"
His cheeks were tinted pink, and he looked like he was going to burst at the seams as he blurted out, "It's for the Nugget!"
"When did you even have time to buy it?" you asked in exasperation. "You just got home on Friday!"
He was raking his fingers through his hair. "There was a special on two-day shipping, and as soon as we found out it's a girl, I started adding things to my shopping cart."
His gaze was sweet and earnest, but you chucked the box you were holding and ducked around him before he could stop you. Then you gasped. There was baby clothing, a folded up pack 'n play, bibs, bottles, and a baby carrier all spread out on the table.
"Do I need to take your credit card away?" you asked him, but even you weren't immune to the little pink onesie that said Daddy's Co-pilot.
"I can behave," he promised. "I'm just excited."
You groaned and looked at his face as he picked up the baby carrier. It was impossible to be annoyed with him right now, and at least it was a bunch of things you were going to need. You nodded toward the hallway and asked, "Do you want to start getting the nursery ready in a few weeks?"
Suddenly you were pinned up against the side of the piano with the carrier pressed between your body and his while he kissed you senseless. "Yes," he whispered against your lips. "Please. Pastel airplanes and clouds." He had mentioned it so many times, you already knew he was still thinking about it.
"Anything you want."
He kissed you one last time and said, "I want my little girl to have the cutest nursery ever, and I want my wife to still agree to cook me dinner after she sees the credit card bill."
Your stomach started growling at the mention of food. "I'm starving," you admitted. "Clean everything up, and I'll work on dinner."
He sprang into action while you unbuttoned your uniform shirt which was way too snug now. You even unbuttoned your pants. You started heating up the chicken casserole that you made and froze while Bradley was deployed before cutting open the box that arrived with your name on it. You already knew what was in it, but you still cringed when you saw it.
The United States Navy maternity uniform was one of the ugliest articles of clothing you'd ever seen in your entire life. You looked out the window at the partially built playset in the backyard and whispered, "You're lucky I love you, little Nugget. Because now I have to wear a weird tent to work for the next four months."
It was too ugly to think about right now. Your stomach was growling relentlessly, so you cut up some carrot sticks and poured out a little bit of the hot sauce you brought back with you from dinner in Del Mar last night. "Mmm, that's so fucking good," you groaned, biting into a carrot stick you dipped into the sauce. You cut up another carrot into sticks and tried to get them as saturated as you could before eating them.
The baby was moving around a lot now as you ate your snack. "Jesus," Bradley grunted, and you turned to see that he had changed into some gym clothes.
"Want some?" you asked, as you dipped more into the hot sauce. A drop landed on your chest above your bra before it made it to your mouth, and Bradley was there to lick it up in an instant.
"Is this some sort of pregnancy craving?" he asked, and you smiled as you fed him the carrot stick. "And are you going to eat in your bra all the time now?"
"Why? Do you like it or something?"
He gave you a stern look and ran his thumb over your lace covered nipple. "Come on, Sweetheart. Your tits make me hard on a regular day, but right now they are doing a little something extra, and you know it."
"My favorite bra barely fits right now," you informed him as you reached for another carrot. "And my maternity uniform arrived." But you could tell he was hardly listening now as he kissed along your bra strap while the kitchen timer told you dinner was ready. "I could model it for you after we eat."
"Absolutely," he whispered as Tramp trotted in, ready to be fed too. They both gave you puppy eyes until they had their food in front of them. Bradley pulled you down onto his lap and offered to share his plate of dinner with you, but you mostly ate the carrot sticks. You were almost tempted to drink some of the hot sauce, so yes, this probably was a pregnancy craving. What you really wanted was to dip some marshmallows into it...
"Baby Girl, I'm going to go work out in the garage," Bradley said, pulling you from your food fantasy. He rubbed his hand along your bare belly and up to your breasts. "Meet me out there if you want. I'll clean the kitchen later."
You watched him slip out the sliding glass door and head for the garage. In fifteen minutes, he would be all sweaty. His skin would be slick to the touch. He would taste incredible. Yeah, you were obviously going to go meet him out there. In the meantime, you should probably try on your maternity uniform.
You wrinkled your nose as you carried it to your bedroom. The pants were nice and stretchy, and they felt comfortable. The shirt had ample room for your belly, and it would definitely accommodate you in your third trimester as well. "Let's have a look," you said to your daughter, but when you glanced in the mirror, you gasped. "Fuck!"
Oh, it was so much worse than you imagined it would be. You laughed to keep from crying as you tried to come to terms with this khaki monstrosity. Your butt looked weird, and there was just so much fabric. You tried to tuck the shirt in, but somehow that was worse.
After you slipped some shoes on, you made the trek out to the garage and stood in the open doorway, admiring your husband for a few minutes while he listened to his gym playlist and did some bicep curls. Then he dropped down to the mat and did fifty push ups while you tried not to moan. You almost forgot why you were there, but then he got to his feet, wiped his forehead with a towel, and jumped a bit when he finally saw you.
"What the fuck are you wearing?"
"Bradley!" you whined. "Is it really that bad?" You knew the question was almost laughable. The answer was clearly yes. But your husband scrambled over to you with an apologetic look on his face anyway.
"You're still beautiful," he insisted, taking both of your hands in his. "I just wasn't expecting you to be wearing this... uniform."
You let him kiss you, but you rolled your eyes and said, "I'm going to have to hide in my office at work until March."
"Okay," he finally said, "it's hideous, to be sure. But I see plenty of officers wearing them on base. And if anything, you make it look a lot better than it really has any right to." Your laughter must have encouraged him, because he wrapped you up in a delightfully sweaty hug and led you to his weight bench. "Wanna watch me do lunges? I'm practicing for the Nugget."
"You're practicing?" you asked as you settled down on the narrow bench.
He was already strapping the baby carrier around his torso and clicking it into place. Then he picked up one of his ten pound bench press weights and slipped it into place where a baby should go. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was, but when he looked at you and lunged down into a squat, you moaned and had to press your thighs together instead.
"Yeah," he grunted. "I'm practicing for when I get to wear my little Nugget around. Actually, do you think we should be calling her Nuggette?"
Once again, his words were comical, but the way he was doing reps of lunges like he was cradling a tiny baby's head with his hand instead of a metal weight left you whimpering.
"Nuggette sounds cute, too," you told him, rubbing your belly through your hideous maternity shirt. She was squirming a bit as you said, "I don't think she's picky about what you call her, Roo. She's just very excited whenever you're around."
He lunged down one more time before getting on his knees on the mat in front of you, removing the weight from the carrier and setting it on the floor. "Is that true?" he asked as he scooted a little closer. He smelled like clean sweat, and his body was radiating heat as he started to kiss your belly through your shirt. "You love Daddy?" he asked, running his nose gently against your bump.
His fingers found the hem of your shirt and eased it up so he had full access, kissing the spot next to your belly button. You brushed his damp hair back from his forehead and moaned, "We both love Daddy."
"Hey," he whispered as he started to unbutton your shirt. "I really want to fuck you, but this thing is a mood killer."
"Bradley!"
"I'm so serious," he told you, shaking his head. "We need to get this tent off of you immediately."
"You're so rude," you said with a laugh as he finally pushed the fabric down your arms and tossed it to the floor.
"That's what I'm talking about," he grunted, unhooking your bra and tossing that aside as well. Then he was still on his knees with his mouth on your breasts, and suddenly you could barely remember your own name.
-----------------------------
Something about pregnancy cast a magic spell on your tits, and if left uninterrupted, Bradley could have happily sucked on them all night long. They were bigger, sure, but they were somehow a little firmer, too. And he couldn't understand it, but they were warmer and smelled so sweet. And your fucking nipples looked a bit bigger and were always furled into pretty little peaks that made his dick so hard, he could barely keep from touching himself.
He was moaning for you, on his knees in the garage while he licked and sucked to his heart's content. His left hand was stroking the underside of your breast while his right was stroking his cock in time with the way you were whining, "Brad-ley. Brad-ley." Your fingers were in his hair, and he was in absolutely no hurry to fuck you, but he was slightly afraid he was going to cum within the next few minutes.
So he carefully pushed you down onto your back on the bench and pulled those ugly as sin maternity pants off of your gorgeous body, yanked your underwear to the side, and ran his cock through your soaking wet pussy.
"Fuck, Sweetheart." As soon as he pushed himself inside you with a little snap of his hips, your tits bounced for him. Mesmerized, he did it again.
"Roo," you whined, trying to find something to hold onto as he fucked you a little harder with his hands cupping your bump.
"Yeah," he crooned, ramming himself deep, thankful he'd already removed the bar and the weights. "You better hang on tight."
He fucked you until you were a screaming mess, gripping the bench above your head for support. He'd never let anything happen to you or the baby, but it was delicious watching you scramble like this as he rocked the bench. The grip of your pussy as you arched your back and pressed your bump into his palms had him clenching his jaw, holding back as long as he could.
"Oh, fuck!" he shouted, pulling out of you while you were mid orgasm and shooting his load all over your belly and chest. "Jesus Christ," he panted, standing while straddling you on the bench, jerking himself off all over those tits.
You looked like you were in a daze as you reached one hand up, grasped his sensitive cock, and dragged it through the mess. Then you leaned up and kept eye contact with him while you licked his cock clean. He was literally twitching, hands folded behind his head as he stood there and let you rub his cock along your nipples again and again before setting him on your plush tongue.
He had to clear his throat a few times before he could manage to say, "I'm really happy you decided to join me for my workout."
Your pretty laughter filled the garage as he helped you sit up. Once you were dressed in his sweaty shirt with your awful uniform in your hand, he followed you out the door, across the backyard and directly to the shower.
"I don't know what happened here," he rasped, rubbing his rough hand all over your soapy tits, "but I love it."
Your eyes were closed, lips softly parted as you whispered, "I'm pretty sure it's just pregnancy boobs, Roo."
"And I'm pretty sure I've never cum quite that much before. You were fucking covered in it."
He had to kiss the smirk off your face so the two of you could finish showering and get in bed. "Hey," you murmured as you draped your arm across his chest. "You haven't read any of the Nugget notebook to me since you got home."
Bradley ran his fingers along your shoulder. "I could read some of it to you now," he whispered before reaching to get the pink and blue notebook from his nightstand. He wanted you to read it. He wanted you to know everything he wrote in there, but there was one page he didn't want you to see quite yet. "Have you thought any more about baby names?" he asked as he opened the notebook.
"A little bit," you said with a yawn. "Nothing I'm totally crazy about though."
Be breathed a sigh of relief and started reading out loud. He could wait for the perfect moment to mention it, and he thought that perfect moment might be on your anniversary.
---------------------------
For the rest of the week, you absolutely refused to wear your maternity uniform to work. You wore Bradley's extra shirt instead, affixing your own insignia pins and name tag to it each morning.
"You're out of dress code," he told you for the hundredth time on Friday morning.
"I don't care," you replied as you ate a granola bar covered in mustard while you both rode to work in the blue Bronco. "If I can go one last week or two before I have to start wearing the uncomfortable tent, then that's all that matters."
Bradley laughed, and you glared playfully at him. "It's not that bad, Baby Girl. I can still get a boner with you in it."
"You could still get a boner if I was wearing a tarp."
He was quiet for a beat before he moaned and asked, "Would the tarp be the same shade of blue as the Bronco? Because yeah, I might actually like that."
"See?" you replied before popping the rest of the bar into your mouth and chewing it up. You'd been craving weird food combinations all week, and honestly the best part of your days was visiting the cafeteria where you could combine whatever you wanted into the perfect meal.
"Hey, don't forget, I won't be at lunch today," Bradley said casually. Had he mentioned that before? You weren't sure. You were starting to have bouts of forgetfulness and brain fog.
"Where are you going again?"
"Uh," he hesitated. "Well I have to go see Nicole."
Nicole was the name on the list you found in the kitchen. Something about a permit. He said he'd never met her and didn't know who she even was. "Why?"
He coasted into a parking spot as he sighed. "It's something for our anniversary. Remember?" He turned and looked at you with those big brown eyes and asked, "Can we please let this be a surprise? I've got some shit planned for that day."
Your parents weren't coming out for Thanksgiving, and the two of you weren't going to Maryland. When you called them a few days ago to let them know the baby was a girl, your mom erupted into joyous screams before starting to cry because she wasn't going to see you until Christmas. Instead, you were planning on having a quiet Thanksgiving at home in the craftsman with Jake, Cat and Jeremiah. So if Bradley wanted to plan something special for later that weekend, you didn't mind.
"Yeah. It can be a surprise, Roo."
He looked relieved when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then he held your hand and walked you all the way to the elevator where he leaned in close. "I'll see you and your tits after work," he whispered, earning him a swat on the arm. He was laughing as he placed a big hand on your belly and said, "Love you, Nugget."
Then you rode the elevator up to your office where you dipped a second granola bar into the container of maple syrup you brought with you and ate it before heading to your lab. You bumped into Maria in the hallway, and when you tried to say hi, she kept rushing by.
"I don't have time to talk," she said. "Bob keeps making me late for work."
You stood there in surprise for a second before you called out, "I mean, good for you though." Your hormones were an absolute mess, because by the time you walked into your own research lab, you were trying to get the image of Bob and Maria doing some nasty shit with his D&D dice out of your head. "Why am I like this right now?" you asked with a grimace.
"Like what?" Cat asked as you sat down next to her. "You're out of dress code." Then her expression melted as she said, "I swear you get bigger every day. You look so cute."
You opened your computer and casually asked, "You think you and Jake will have more kids?"
You were just trying to mess with her, but she cradled her face in her hands and groaned. "He wants to get married."
Your eyes went wide as you spun to face her. "Really? Do you? He's so good with Jeremiah."
"I can't," she whispered, looking around. "I'm still in so much debt. He's already paying for Jer's daycare on base now, and he's paying for a lawyer for me. If we get married, he'll try to pay off everything."
You shrugged. "So get a prenup or something. He loves you and Jer, and you cease to be a hardass now that he's around."
She started to spin away from you, obviously done indulging your antics, but then she said, "Can we keep this between the two of us?"
"Who would I even tell?" you asked as you typed your password.
"Your husband. And he'd tell Jake. And then Jake would come storming in here like a knight ready to save the day once again, and I don't want that."
She wasn't wrong, and you knew it. "Yeah, my lips are sealed. You're still coming for Thanksgiving dinner, right?"
"Just as long as you let me help you cook."
"One again, something I can't trust Bradley with," you muttered. "Deal."
-----------------------------
Nicole was honestly lovely. She had everything ready for Bradley to sign when he got there, and then she made some quick photocopies and sent him on his way. Perfect. The permit was in order, and now he just needed to take care of the food and figure out where to buy non-alcoholic champagne, if it even existed. But he had another full week to think about that.
When he got back to work right after lunch, he headed for the lounge to wait until he was called up by someone in the tower. The room was empty except for Nat and Bob who were eating popcorn and sleeping on the couch respectively.
"Want some?" his best friend asked, and he shoved his hand into the kernels.
"What's wrong with him?"
Nat turned to look at Bob. "Oh, he's worn out from too much sex."
"Love that for him," he muttered before shoving the popcorn into his mouth.
Nat snorted. "You're looking a little worse for the wear, too, old man."
"Am I?" he asked after he swallowed. Sometimes it was glaringly obvious that you were six years younger than him, and other times he kind of just forgot about it. But you had been a bit of a brat since the night on the weight bench. You knew now that you could use your delicious tits against him to get whatever you wanted, and you really seemed to want to get pounded into the mattress at every turn.
When Nat touched the hair at his temple, she said, "You're wearing the expression of a man who is about to be wrapped around his daughter's fingers, and you also have a few gray hairs coming in."
He'd known her long enough to be sure she wasn't joking about either of those things. When he stopped in the locker room and looked in the mirror on the way to the parking lot at the end of the day, he found that she was right. It didn't really bother him. Hell, you hadn't said a negative word about it. On the contrary, you'd kissed him right there and told him how much you loved him in bed earlier this morning. The issue was that it reminded him of his parents and how young the both were when they just stopped existing.
He pushed off from the sink forcing himself to focus on the fact that he was very much alive and very much had his wife waiting in the parking lot for him. When he found you next to his Bronco, you were in tears, and you were unbuttoning his uniform shirt which you kept insisting on wearing.
"What's wrong, Baby Girl?" he asked as he rushed to get to you, and as soon as you saw him, you flung yourself into his arms.
"I got a formal reprimand! By some random admiral!"
"For what?" he asked, even though he already knew.
You sniffed and told him, "For being out of dress code."
He waited a few seconds until you seemed a little bit calmer, and then he said, "I think this means you should start wearing the tent."
"I hate it when you're right."
He guided you around to the passenger side door and unlocked it for you. Then he let you pull his shirt off and toss it onto the seat. He didn't even ask questions as you climbed in, he just buckled your seatbelt for you and let you ride home in your bra.
The Bronco was pretty close to the house when you finally reached for his hand, and he gave it to you immediately while you pouted out the window. "Can I have a little hint?" you asked.
He stroked your soft knuckles, unsure what you were referring to. "About what, Sweetheart?"
"Our anniversary. Please? Today was so shitty, and I miss my parents, and I'm starving for grapes dipped in hot sauce, and I am pissed that I got reprimanded."
Bradley tried not to smile as he pulled into the driveway. You were always so endearing even when you were annoyed, and he was going to get you grapes and hot sauce as soon as he got you inside. "Yes, I'll give you a little hint. What do you want to know?"
He watched you unbuckle your seatbelt after he parked, and you crawled across the seat toward him, practically spilling out of your bra. As you straddled his lap and guided his hands to your bump and his sweet Nugget, you asked, "Where are you taking me?"
Bradley smiled and kissed your lips. "Back to the scene of the crime."
----------------------------
Daddy Roo with some gray hairs along his temple. Sign me and BG the fuck up. The Nugget is growing nicely on her new hot sauce diet. Up next is Thanksgiving with the Seresins and the Bradshaws along with an anniversary dinner. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 5
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obsessed jack mature [1k]
hitting you with all the ‘w’ questions whenever you get up from your spot and leave his side cold and empty.
“where are you going?”
“bathroom”
“why?”
“because? I need- to go-” pointing down there to emphasize
“when will you be back?”
he’s putting his face in the crook of your neck too often in front of audiences, mumbling about how much he loves you.
of course, your face burns with the amounts of affection he throws at you and you reciprocate because who doesn’t want a man thats wholly dedicated to them.
he can’t help but buy whatever you set your eyes on a little too long.
he’s always bending down to strap and unstrap your shoes.
always drinks from his second favorite mug- his favorite goes to you. you never thought it was weird, you would do the same for him if you had a favorite or second favorite something.
always keeping his hand in your back pocket while wandering through a crowd. his brothers and friends give him shit because you def walk him like a dog.
calling you in the middle of girls night, rutting his sweatpants against your bed and rasping out that he needs you. waiting for you to get home and punish him for ‘ruining’ your plans knowing full well that, to you, there’s no pleasure greater than watching your boyfriend fall apart in your hands.
him pointing at you after every goal he scores as if you did it.
carries you up all and every stairs because he can. no one bats an eye at your antics anymore because you were basically best friends that spend way too much time with each-other.
treats you like a princess / fucks you like a whore type guy. (need)
up awake wondering what you’re doing while he’s on roadies. he’s usually less bright during these because you aren’t there to greet him after good or bad games.
roadies are hard for you too, because jack spoils your so much that you forget basic things like opening doors for yourself and carrying in the groceries. you’re more on the clumsy side, so jack isn’t there to save you when you take a tumble and break your wrist. he’s on the first flight back home and goes straight to you in the ER, pale and flushed with worry even after you reassure him that you’re okay. he steps around you carefully for a few days after that, making sure you have everything you need.
it’s embarrassing how co-dependent you both are, but it’s another point that solidifies that you’re in it for the long run.
literally gets lost in your kisses. pulls you closer and closer til he cant and tilts his head to get better angles at drowning in you. loves the way your cup his face during the soft ones and melts every time you sigh in between them. loves how perfectly your lips slot against his. you love his adorable giggles when you’re smacking your stained lips all over his face.
would pass up a night with the boys in a heartbeat if you even hinted that you wanted him to stay.
knows you’re cold all the time so uses that as an excuse to remain attached to you as much as he can.
takes his baseball cap off his head and puts it on yours whenever he sees you.
never misses any of your important events. he always puts emphasis on how your career is as important as his.
posts you on his insta in obvious and subtle ways. sometimes it’s you entirely, other times it’s your shoulder in the corner of the picture, just barely showing the ‘86’ tattoo there. twitter went crazy when he posted pictures of you in your wag jacket right before the playoffs. one picture of your back turned, showing his name, and another with your front where the jacket is open and you’re wearing shades and a black tube top.
“you’re so pretty” and you’re in a fucked out state with your hair clinging to your face and neck, breathing erratic.
knows exactly what type of sex you want and when, and never fails to deliver. sometimes it’s fun and messy, teeth clashing, laughing when his head hits the wall. sometimes it’s hot and rough, edging you to tears and not holding back. sometimes the roles are reversed. sometimes he’s slow with you and takes his time showing your body love.
makes sure that his gifts to you are more thoughtful than expensive because he knows that thats what you prefer.
is absolutely terrified of tattoos but gets one for you anyway.
he would live between your tits forever if he could.
you can’t help the way your uterus explodes when he holds quinn’s son in his hands. he’s just so tiny in Jack’s arms and you would jump him then and there if there wasn’t a quietly sobbing quinn on your shoulder and his passed out wife beside you.
sends you pictures of different things from the store, wanting to buy what you prefer.
never takes off the necklace you gifted him.
you’re more of a hygiene-freak and he’s more of a neat-freak so he leaves the cleaning to you and you leave the laundry to him.
there’s so much unspoken love between you two, physical touch and acts of service are as important as the words you say to each other.
you put a hand to your heart whenever he catches your eyes during a game, so he knows that he has your full support no matter what.
you love nothing more than wrapping your hand around his throat while teasing him other than him doing the same to you.
wears your perfume and leaves your lipstick stains on his neck as they are.
watches you do everyday things with the most lovesick expressions, he’s actually obsessed.
like, people would make fun of him being so enamored by you but he would wear it like a crown.
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Hello there I have another questionable idea 😁
So 141 confusing reader home for a safe house and breaking in and the sleep deprived nurse reader is just like 😐 and patches them up cos they are hurt and that’s the start of an very interesting relationship
Thank you for everything you are doing and remember that you are amazing
Drink water not coffee
🎃anon
Pumpkin! Ohh so this is similar vibes to this which I never wrote because sometimes I love a concept but am rubbish with execution :')
I have, however, tried my best to give you a little bit of your ask <3
Hippocratic Oath
Words: 550
Nah, for real if someone was breaking in you didn't care but they could at least be fucking quiet about it so you could go back to sleep. You had not slept in an actual bed in fucking days, only catching what could barely be described as a nap in the cots at the hospital between emergencies.
“Find a first aid kit, we need to get him stable!”
Oh come on. The people robbing you were injured? Stupid fucking hippocratic oath. Technically it said nothing about having to help people who had broken into your house, it just said you couldn't harm them. So if you laid here and ignored it then Apollo couldn't say shit.
…God fucking damnit. You dragged yourself out of bed, honestly too tired to react to the gun pointed at you with anything but a withering look, and went to pull the first aid supplies from their place.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“This is my house skull mask, who the fuck are you?”
There was a man with a mohawk bleeding all over your couch. You grumbled about that a little but dutifully knelt by him and started to cut the clothes around the problem area so you could clean it out and stitch him up. A heavy tactical vest was on the floor, leaving him in just a t-shirt. The other young man was pushing a wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Good, he was doing a good job.
Kyle looked at Price who only furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, giving him permission to follow your instructions. So that's what he did.
“We get a bonnie medic with safehouses these days Captain? Cannae say I'm complaining.”
“Shush or you'll wind up biting your tongue off when I do the stitches” you said, prepping the needle and thread.
You looked quickly around his get up, seeing he was wearing jeans with a belt and undoing it.
“I've definitely seen a movie like this” the skull mask man said which you elected to ignore.
“Tell me more LT.”
You shoved the belt in the man's mouth and he took it between his teeth immediately. Not his first rodeo then. Made sense, they were probably soldiers. He was a model patient as you stitched him up, not squirming at all.
Your focus overrode your exhaustion for long enough to give each of the others a once over, making sure there wasn't anything else serious you needed to treat. By the time you got to the last man, the one your patient had called Captain, you were completely dead on your feet and your eyes were starting to sting.
“Thanks luv, c'mere.”
Being scooped up by some military man who had broken into your house really should have caused some sort of fight or flight response, but you had nothing else left to give. You were asleep before he even made it to the bedroom, putting you right back under the blankets.
–
Your alarm never went off and you frantically called in to work to let them know you'd be there as soon as possible only to be told in no uncertain terms you were on leave for at least the next week.
It was with some shock that you emerged from your room to find that dream wasn't as much of a dream as you thought.
“Let's have a little chat about the next week hm luv?”
Ah fuck.
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fight night
2.5k words
genre: angst, minor fluff, suggested smut
featuring: auston matthews x female reader
summary: after a fight results in auston uninviting you to the nhl awards, you both end up at UFC 303
“Look, you need to chill the fuck out okay? If you don’t like the people I’m hanging out with here, then don’t bother fucking coming tonight. I’ll just see you when I’m back in town.”
Before you could get another word in, Auston had hung up the phone. The two of you getting in a heated argument about the people he was hanging out with while in Las Vegas for a slew of appearances. The most important being the NHL Awards, which you were supposed to attend alongside him. But not anymore.
You didn’t hate Auston’s friend group per say, but he’d been adopting a new workout routine for the offseason, and they didn’t necessarily seem to be helping that. He’d been drinking a lot, something that wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him, but heavy drinking was not going to put him on good terms with his conditioning coach.
Having just expressed your concerns turning into a huge fight between the two of you. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t seen in each other in weeks, the awards show meant to be the event that brought you two back together. But now here you were, already in Vegas since you’d flown in that day, with your agenda now cleared. Your flight home not for two days as you anticipated spending time with Auston before flying back out.
As you contemplated rebooking your flight, a call came in from your manager, not something you had been expecting.
“Hey y/n, you’re in Las Vegas for a few days right?”
“Um, yeah, I’m in Vegas right now. What’s up?”
“Well, you know how we just closed that sponsorship deal for you with New Amsterdam Vodka?”
Truly you had no clue how your manager landed you that sponsorship, it being one of the best brands you’d gotten a deal with to date. You’d like to think it was because of how much you publicized your love for Pink Whitney, but who really knows.
“Well, they had some things come up. And long story short, can you attend the UFC fight tomorrow night? We’ve got Olivia on a plane flying in as we speak.”
Olivia was your podcast co-host that was also signed to a deal with New Amsterdam. The two of you were the hottest up and coming podcasters who were quickly gaining notoriety for your ability to talk sports and pop culture, while making it entertaining and understandable for all audiences.
“Um, yeah, I can definitely attend the fight. My schedule is completely free.”
“Great! We’ve got an itinerary for the both of you that I’ll send over shortly, because there’s gonna be some brand activation type things needed. And we’ve got stylists coming to your hotel tomorrow afternoon to help you girls with outfits, hair, and makeup!”
After giving you the last few details, you hung up with your manager. A bit shocked at the opportunity you were getting, but thankful to have some sort of distraction to look forward to and hopefully get your mind off the fight you had with Auston.
-
Entering T-Mobile arena, you honestly weren’t sure what to expect out of the much anticipated UFC 303, but it was something to cross off your bingo card for the year. Despite your lack of interest in the fights themselves, you were excited to attend and at least say you were there.
Olivia had gotten in late last night and you had to fill her in on everything. Why you fought with Auston, how he uninvited you from being his guest at the awards show. And how you were thankful for this appearance to get your mind off of him. The stylists had thrown together a more casual look for you: light wash ripped boyfriend jeans, a white tank top, and an oversized black and yellow racing jacket. Elevating the look a bit with some heeled boots. Olivia’s outfit complimenting yours well, both your hair and makeup done just enough to look minimal but still flawless. And with a few New Amsterdam cocktails already in your systems, you were ready to roll.
The arena had all the celebrities attending enter away from the general public, meaning you’d be passing some familiar faces in the tunnels as you were led to your seats. Everyone from Gordon Ramsey to Aaron Rodgers, even-your boyfriend.
“Well fuck…”
Immediately noticing the reason for your reaction, Olivia tried to block Auston from seeing you. But it was too late. His eyes went wide as he saw you, looking you up and down, thank god you looked this good. He was with fellow NHLer Clayton Keller as they awaited an usher to guide them to their seats.
Though shocked to see you at the event, he knew it must have been something your manager had pulled off for you. A soft smile on Auston’s lips as he watched you interact with the New Amsterdam reps, he couldn’t help but be proud of you. He’s seen how much you’ve poured into your podcast, and how hard you’ve worked for moments like these. Despite the argument, he still cared about you and loved seeing you in your element.
He hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything as you were quickly pulled off in the opposite direction. Most likely to film some type of ad for the brand. Pulling out his phone he shot you a quick text, making sure you got to hear from him in case he didn’t see you the rest of the night.
You look so fucking beautiful my love.
The text brought a smile to your face as you quickly typed back a response before you were pulled aside for an interview alongside Olivia.
“Lastly, y/n, I wanted to extend a congratulations to your boyfriend, Auston Matthews of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Winner of the Richard Trophy last night at the NHL Awards.”
“Oh thank you so much.”
The comment was a bit unexpected, though it wasn’t uncommon to get asked about Auston since your relationship was very much public.
“We didn’t see you in attendance last night with Auston, hopefully there isn’t any trouble in paradise there?”
Laughing off the comment you shook your head, “No, not at all! There unfortunately was some last minute conflicts that prevented me from attending. But I’m so proud of him, I wish I could have been there. Luckily we have a night like tonight where we can just have some fun, and celebrate. So, I’m glad we were able to both be here!”
The interview wrapped up and you took a deep breath, Olivia squeezing your arm in reassurance. “I don’t know how you pulled that answer out of your ass, but that was so good!” The two of you laughed as an usher finally led you to your seats.
“I truly don’t even know what answer I gave, my brain was on autopilot. I’m just glad I didn’t say something stupid.”
“Are you gonna talk to him tonight at all?”
Stopping in your tracks as your usher gestured to your seats, your eyes settling on your boyfriend who was standing with his friends just next to where you’d be sitting for the night.
“Well I might not have much of a choice if I’m stuck sitting next to him.”
The two of you set your bags down at your seats, mingling a bit with the people around you. Remembering how your manager always preached to you both network as much as possible at events like these.
As you were talking with a rep from some coffee brand, trying your best to convince them to send some product to you girls to try, you felt an arm snacking around your waist. Immediately knowing it was Auston as your hand entangled with his at your hip.
Thanking the rep for their time, giving them your agents number, you finally were able to turn your attention to Auston. Who patiently stood at your side, a smile on his face as he watched you doing your thing.
“Hey baby.”
“Hi.”
He gave you a kiss before pulling you into his chest, rubbing your back as he knew you were still frustrated with him. Doing his best to try and make up for being an asshole.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight?”
He pulled you towards your seats, his hand immediately resting on your thigh as you sat down. Eyes fixated on you as he sipped his drink.
“Well, neither did I. Until I got the call ten minutes after someone uninvited me from their awards show last night.”
You shot him a glare as he gently squeezed your thigh. “Look, about that, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that and-“
“Auston, it’s fine. Tonight, I just want to have fun, we don’t need to talk about it right now. Especially because I’ve had enough cocktails that you get me riled up, you and I will end up in that ring as the main event.”
He smirked at you as he leaned in close, stealing a kiss from you. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
Pushing him away as you tried to hide your blush, you ignored his horny thoughts. “Auston Matthews, we might need to cut you off. Someone is already feeling themselves tonight.”
A slight whine left his lips as he moved his hand, now draping an arm over your shoulder. “I can’t help that you look so good babe. Plus, I haven’t seen you in weeks, you expect me to not have my hands all over you? Most importantly, I need to make up for being such a dick last night.”
“Well that is very true. I didn’t even get to celebrate your big trophy win with you.”
A pout on your lips as you glanced up at him, deciding that you’d have some fun making him regret not inviting you. “I even brought your favorite blue lace set to wear under my dress last night, but, it just stayed in my suitcase since you didn’t want me there.” Fingers lightly playing with his chains as you spoke, making sure to really get under his skin.
The look in his eyes immediately turning to one of lust as he thought about the set in question. Baby blue lace that hugged your curves perfectly, and while it looked amazing on you he loved it even better on the floor.
“And I said I was sorry baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Tilting your chin up he brought your lips to his, clearly forgetting the two of you were in public as his tongue tried pushing past your lips. A slight chuckle leaving your lips as you pulled away from him.
“Babe, I love that you’re wanting to make it up to me. But maybe not front row for everyone to see, okay?”
He rolled his eyes as he obeyed, simply returning a hand to your thigh as the two of you watched as the main events were set to begin shortly.
You swore Auston’s hand crept closer and closer to your inner thigh with the ending of each fight. The alcohol mixed with the thoughts of you wearing his favorite lingerie clearly having him hot and bothered. And while you weren’t turning down the idea, it having been several weeks since you’d gotten your hand on him, you were still here for work and needed to act professional.
He luckily kept his cool for the remainder of the night, respecting when you had to remind him that you were there for work while he was there for fun. The two of you leaving hand in hand as he definitely was not letting you out of his sight. His mind focused on getting you back to his hotel and making up for not having you by his side at the awards show.
The second the door to his room closed you were pulled into his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed. One hand resting on your hip while the other pulled you in for a kiss.
“You do look fucking stunning tonight baby.”
A smile crept across your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, thanking him as your eyes locked with his. “And, I’m sorry about last night. I should’ve never been that way, I needed you there with me. And, I let some dumb shit get me all worked up. I know you are just looking out for me, and I appreciate that so much. I love how much you care for me.”
Resting your forehead on his, you sighed, not even caring about the fight anymore. Knowing it was stupid, but appreciating his apology.
“I do care about you, a lot. And, maybe sometimes I overstep a bit. But it’s all out of love for you Auston. I wish I could’ve been there for you last night, but I’m here now. And there’s no place I’d rather be.”
“While I couldn’t agree more, I do wish I could’ve gotten to see that blue lace set on you last night. Would’ve been a nice way to celebrate that’s for sure.”
Slipping from his lap as he hands reached out to try and pull you back, you slowly discarded of your jacket. Standing in front of him with a smile on your face as he watched you in anticipation.
“Well, maybe we can still celebrate a day late.”
Pulling your tank top over your head, you revealed that you were in fact in the blue lace number. Auston biting his tongue at the sight of you in the bra, his hands wanting to make quick work of your jeans to see you in the matching thong.
“Fuck…but if you didn’t know you’d see me tonight, why wear the blue?”
“Shut up and just enjoy the coincidence Auston!”
Shaking your head you walked back over to him, pulling him in for a kiss as his hands made quick work of your jeans. Needing to see you fully on display in blue lace just for him. As you kicked off the jeans, he sat back on his forearms, lust filled eyes watching as you did a spin for him.
“God you’re so fucking perfect.”
Without warning he picked you up, lips crashing against yours while his hands rested under your ass gripping tightly as your skin and surely leaving a few marks.
You giggled as he tossed you on the bed, making quick work of his clothes, leaving him in just his briefs as he hovered over you. Tucking some hair behind your ear as his hips ground into your core, earning a moan from you as you felt him growing hard against you. The two of you taking your time, kissing for what felt like hours, no hurry as you wanted to savor every second of your time with one another.
“I love you so much Auston, and I’m so proud of you. But if you ever uninvite me from something like that ever again, so help me god.”
He rolled his eyes as a hand traveled down to the string of your thong, snapping it slightly as his fingers teased at your core.
“Relax baby, I’m gonna make up for it all.”
#auston matthews fic#auston matthews x reader#auston matthews imagine#auston matthews smut#auston matthews#nhl imagine#nhl fics#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine#hockey fic#nhl blurb
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Be Still With Me (Leah Williamson x reader)
A/N: I think we are feeling a little heartbroken today.
You watched as it happened from your sofa in Barcelona with your two England team mates beside you. The way you saw it pop when they showed the replay left you dreading what was to come because it was clear that Leah had tore her ACL. Sure it could have been a twist or a dislocation but your gut went to the worse scenario and you knew it was right.
If you weren’t already booked on a plane to London the following day you would have booked a flight there and then. Leah wasn’t just a team mate or your co captain, she was your best friend and the love of your life. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to be by her side so you can tell her that everything will be ok even though her Champions League and World Cup dreams were over.
After your match day -1 training at Stamford bridge the statement was released, you of course were already aware of the results of Leah’s scans as she called you the moment she had them. You did your duty, completed the training and the press conference but as soon as you were done you left your team to be by Leah’s side. As the team captain and fellow victim of an ACL tear Alexia didn’t argue, in fact she encouraged it stating that she knew Leah would need you now more than ever.
The drive to the house you shared whenever you were home was long and silent. Your mind was trying and failing to come up with words that could comfort Leah. You had been in contact with her mum who told you that her daughter wanted to be left alone so nobody but her would be home when you arrive. There was an eerie atmosphere when you walked through the door but nothing brought more concern than the sight of your girlfriend. Leah laid on the Sofa, her leg elevated and tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh sweet one” it might have been as much your home as it was hers but to you gave her space so you stand in the doorway that connected the hall to the living room.
“It’s over” a defeated expression is etched on her face and you couldn’t blame her.
The only thing you could do is hold her and that’s what you did. You let her cry into the crook of your neck whilst stroking her hair in a gentle motion hoping it would bring her comfort like it had in the past.
“Why is this happening to me? It feels like I’ve just come back” Leah hated being on the sidelines. Her ankle injury was her biggest challenge so far because it limited what she could do, it wasn’t like how she pulled her hamstring the season prior.
“I can’t answer that. The world is cruel sometimes and bad things happen to good people” you felt helpless. The woman in your arms craved reassurance but you didn’t know how to give it to her.
“We had plans this summer and now I’m going to miss it”
You and Leah lead the team to the Euros final and you planned on doing the same in the World Cup. Strategies had already been talked about and after the loss against Australia, you and Leah wanted it more than ever. You didn’t want to feel like that again and you both found comfort afterwards in knowing that you always had each other, in the good times and bad but now Leah wouldn’t be by your side for one of the biggest tournaments of your career.
“That’s not important right now Leah—“
“The world cup isn’t important? You of all people can’t tell me that. You get to go and you get to—”
Leah was venting her frustrations and you were her target but you wouldn’t let her push you away, not now, not ever.
“It’s not the most important thing right now, you are”
Her eyes softened as you spoke. There is a reason why you are her person and it’s because you stay by her side and alway have her back, you love her with every fibre of your being and she feels it with her word you say and every kiss you share.
“Will you stay for my surgery?”
“I don’t know if I can stay but I can come back. Just tell me when and where, I’ll be there”
The distance between London and Barcelona had never been an issue before. You would go back to you home country when possible and Leah took any chance she had to visit you and spend some time in the Spanish sun. Now though the distance felt twice as far and you hadn’t even left yet. The next 7 weeks would be tough but you’d find a way to be there for her even if you were 707 miles away.
“Will the team be ok with it?” The last thing Leah want to do is cause any issues between you and your club.
“I don’t care if they do. I’ll go to training, games and any other team commitments. What I do in my spare time is none of their business”
You could see the sun begin to set; a pink tint covered the once blue sky. Time was ticking down but you didn’t want to leave and it wasn’t as if that was an option at the minute. Leah had fallen asleep after the two of you discussed her surgery and recovery which lead to her crying once again.
She looked so peaceful as you watched her chest rise and fail was every even breathe but you knew once she woke up the restlessness and worry would return. You wanted to protect her from the world, she didn’t deserve the pain she was going through.
“I wish I could take your pain away. I wish it was me and not you” You couldn’t imagine not being able to play football for a long period of time having never has a serious injury you career but seeing Leah so broken, you would happily take her place.
“Don’t say that” Clearly Leah wasn’t in as deep of a sleep as you thought “There has been enough of these injuries, we don’t need anymore”
She was right. There has been 110 ACL injuries in the last year and a half within the women’s game. The anger and frustration that each of these player felt were valid and you hoped that the issue at hand would be looked into.
“But it’s true” you wanted Leah to know that you would rather be in her position because her health came before yours.
“It’s a stupid thing to say. Can we talk about something else? No more injury talk” you quietly hum in agreement “How long till you have to go back to the hotel?”
You look at our watch. Technically you were already late but Alexia said she would cover for you which you were grateful for.
“Not for a few hours. Do you want to watch a movie?” Leah nods her head “Mamma Mia?” Your question earns another nod, of course it did, it was one of her feel good films.
You put the film on and felt comfort almost immediately. The way you both sing along to your favourite songs lets you forget about her injury, the night is just another sing along in the Williamson Y/L/N household.
A couple of hours later the film ends and you know that it is time for you to leave even though no part of you wants to do so. It’s as if you inner thoughts are being said out loud because you feel Leah tap your chest. The action normally comes when the two of you have spent the night on the sofa and it’s time for you to go to bed but the intention is different this time, the two of you know it.
“I don’t want to” you pout.
“You have to. You have a job to do tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me”
“I love you, you know that right?”
“Of course I do now go before I the Barcelona team come knocking”
You hesitantly get up, taking your time not wanting the night to end. Much to your surprise and dismay, Leah holds her hands out and you carefully help her up. The blonde’s arms wrap around you neck once she is on her feet.
The way she looked you caused you to fall in love with her all over again. You would never be able to put into words the power her gaze had.
“Win tomorrow and maybe even score a goal for me?”
“Oh please, the blues don’t stand a chance. Not when I want to put on a show for my girl”
#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso one shot#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson one shot#Leah Williamson imagine#engwnt x reader#engwnt one shot#engwnt imagine#awfc x reader#awfc imagine#awfc one shot
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Nightlife 1
Warnings: dark elements to come. Proceed with caution.
Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.
Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for reading and any thoughts you have.♥♥♥♥
You move with the line of shorts skirts and overpowering cologne. You nervously fidget with your ID, getting closer and closer to the front. The music pumps from inside as loud voices chatter and add to cacophony all around. The lights flashing through the door hold a promise of chaos within.
A girl behind you stumbles and her shoulder hits your back. You sidle away as she doesn’t even apologise and goes back to chirping at her friends. You know you’re a sore thumb amid the tub tops and knee high boots. Straight-cut pants and the same floral blouse you’ve been wearing all day. You’re not there to party. You’ve never even tasted alcohol.
As you get closer to the front, you check your phone, nearly dropping your ID as you light up the screen. Raquel hasn’t responded, not since the massage that had you leaving the dorm to come find her. You’re worried.
Your turn comes and the bouncer looks you up and down as he demands your ID. He’s older than the crowd waiting for admission. There’s a few strands of silver laced in his dark locks and the buttons of his black shirt strain across his middle. It must not be a very fun job to deal with obnoxiously drunk coeds.
He keeps the card between his index and middle fingers, holding it out of your grasp. He tilts his head and looks behind you. He waves the girl behind you past and through the door. He doesn’t even look at their IDs as he hands yours back.
“You should go home, girlie,” his southern drawl drags in the air.
“But…” you bite your lip nervously and gently take back your ID, “I’m old enough–”
“You don’t belong in there. Buncha creeps.”
“But…” you start again, hesitating as you fumble with your phone, “my friend’s in there, sir.”
“Sir?” He raises a brow. Is he amused or upset?
“She texted me, I’m just here to take her home. Please–”
He sighs and looks at the man on the other side of the door. He signals to him and the other bouncer nods. The man turns his attention back on you.
“Let me take ya inside,” he says, “you shouldn’t be wanderin’ ‘round all alone.”
You thank him and tuck your ID into your bag. He glances down at the movement before he waves you onward. He waits until you pass him to follow you inside. As you come into the blaring roar of music, you cover your ears instinctively.
“S’alright, sweetheart, I’m sure we’ll find your friend fast,” he assures you as he keeps close. You feel his warmth behind you, “ah, watch it.”
He grabs your arm and pulls you away as someone nearly collides with you. He snarls, “watch it” to the patron and elbows his way through as he ushers you towards the dancefloor, “what’s your friend look like?” He yells above the music.
You quickly flip up the lock screen of your phone and click on the Insta icon. You don’t post much but Raquel insisted you download it to follow her. You bring up her last post, flashing coloured lights all around her as she dances. You show him and he gives it a thoughtful look.
“Looks like she’s upstairs,” he calls above the thrumming din, “this way.”
He doesn’t let you go. His grip stays firm on your arm but you’re too afraid to pull away. You’re afraid you might lose him if you do. He seems to know where he’s going.
He takes you through a door and up a flight of curved stairs to another floor. The upper level is just as raucous and you find yourself crushed between the bouncer and a couple of dancers. He angles you free of the crush.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” he helps balance you as you stumble, “see, I told ya, little thing like you don’t belong in here.”
“Sorry, sir,” you touch your cheek as the heat gathers there. It’s too crowded, it’s too loud, and there’s so much flashing you can barely see.
“How about this, sweetheart, I’ll put ya somewhere quiet and I’ll go look for your friend.”
“Oh, well, you don’t–”
“I’m here to make sure all you kids stay safe so I can’t have you gettin’ hurt, can I?” He ushers you away from the crowd towards the bar, “there’s a room we got here, no one really uses it. You wait here and I’ll go on.”
“Um, thank you, sir, but…”
“Just in here,” he opens a door behind the bar and points you inside, “give me ya phone and I’ll go find her. What’s her name?”
“Er, Raquel, but–” you look at his outstretched hand as the lights pulse around his large figure. He’s right, you’ll just get stampeded out there, “okay. Thanks, sir.”
“You call me, Lee, sweetheart,” he takes your phone, “you ask for me if I’m gone too long.”
You nod and back into the room. He shuts the door behind him and you let out a sigh as the music is muffled on the other side. You sit on the leather bench along the wall across from a row of empty hangers.
The music changes and you wiggle your foot anxiously. You hope he can find her. It took so long to get there, you wonder if she already left. You hope she’s okay. You still see the text that made your heart leap; ‘at club. Help.’ You don’t know why she’d need help and you don’t even know if you could help her…
The song switches again as the time drags by. How long is it going to take him? You chew the inside of your lip. All the worst possibilities flicker in your mind.
The door opens and you pop your head up. Lee has Raquel on his arm. She’s barely standing on her own as he guides her to the chair in the corner. He sits her down as he head lolls wildly. You get up and come to his shoulder as he squats before her with a grunt.
“Sweetheart,” he looks up at you, “you go ask the bartender for some water, okay?”
You blink at Raquel, she’s pale and her eyes are dilated. You don’t know what to do but he seems pretty certain. He rubs her arm and talks to her quietly. You spin and flit off through the door.
You find your way around to the bar. You can barely breathe as you’re penned in between a tall guy and a pair of girls. You watch as they get served first and feel invisible as the bartender doesn’t seem to notice. You wave your arm frantically and holler as he goes to walk away.
“Hey, sorry, can I get some water?” You ask.
He narrows his eyes and shrugs. He goes and fills a glass from the tap and walks back to you.
“How much?” You ask.
He flicks his fingers at you and moves on. Ah. Guess it’s free. You take the water and nearly slosh it all over yourself as someone elbows past you to get another drink.
There’s a moment of panic as you try to remember which way to go and you manage to retrace your steps. As you enter, Lee has his hand on Raquel’s chin as he holds her head up. He peeks back and reaches out to you with his other arm.
“Thanks, sweetie, just gotta get some water in her,” he says.
You near and hand him the glass. He does his best to feed it to her, easing up as she coughs. She barely gets a mouthful down before spitting it out completely. She grumbles at him to fuck off.
He huffs and shakes his head. He puts the glass on the floor and wipes off the dribble from his hands on his pants. He stands, using the arms of the chair to ease the motion.
“Y’all stay here and I’ll see about gettin’ ya home safe. Just need to chat with Auggie downstairs.”
“Sir, it’s… I… got money for an uber, if–”
“Now, now, how you gonna get her home on your own? You just keep an eye on her.” He squeezes your shoulder and you look over at his large hand. “Can you do that for me? Keep her sitting up,” he goes to the corner and grabs the empty trash bin, “if she gotta throw up, make sure it goes in there.”
“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you take the bucket from him.
He smiles, the first time you’ve seen him do that, “she’s lucky to have a good friend like you, ain’t she?”
He taps the side of the bucket and brushes by you. You go to Raquel as the door snaps shut and she moans as she slumps to one side. You wish she didn’t get like this. You put the bin down beside her and try to pull her up in the chair.
As her eyelids flutter, you reach for your purse only to remember you don’t have your phone. Looks like you have no choice but to wait for him.
#lee bodecker#nightlife#drabble#series#dark lee bodecker#dark!lee bodecker#lee bodecker x reader#the devil all the time#au
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// track 1 - fortnight //
-> welcome officially to TTWD! (kay’s version). first on our track list is some sweet, smutty lovin’ from my favourite lover boy, marcus pike🤍
word count: 2.5k
warnings: drinking, meet-cute, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before u tap it), marcus is a pleasure dom we all know this, kay knows nothing about the FBI LOL
Marcus has always hated paperwork. Finds it tedious, though he knows it’s necessary, but he loathes it, much preferring to celebrate a job well done than to rehash his assignment alone in his office.
It’s that exact hatred that had him sneaking out of the building, heading in the direction of the bar not far from his temporary workplace, one he’d visited earlier in the week with a few friends.
He’s only here for a few weeks, two to be exact. And with the way things are going, he has a feeling he’ll be heading back to Washington earlier than anticipated. He doesn’t mind the travel, it’s always been a perk of the job, though he knows it’s probably part of the reason he has yet to settle down.
After the fiasco in Austin with Robin, he’d sworn off dating for a while. Washington was a fresh start in every sense, but no sooner had he unpacked his bag, they were sending him to Maine on a job, then to Seattle, then Colorado, then Tulsa, the list went on and on. For a stretch of at least four months, he hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, living out of a bag and becoming far too accustomed to sleeping on those godawful chairs in the airport.
Seattle had been a highlight, however.
You were the commanding officer of your division, as much of an art geek as Marcus, and damn good at your job. Marcus had fallen easily into step beside you, and his week-long visit was shorted to a weekend after your success, but he found himself lingering, hesitant to tell his own CO that the job was done. He knew the news would make its way up the flagpole regardless, but he wanted to stay.
Wanted to know you better.
You let him, the pair of you starting with a dinner that was so full of conversation that you didn’t realize the place was closing until your polite-as-hell waiter gently suggested you head across the street to a 24-hour diner with the best cup of coffee in the city. You’d headed over, Marcus holding an umbrella over you both against the sudden downpour.
He lost count of the cups of coffee, enraptured by the way your hand kept inching closer to his on the tabletop, how your gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. On a whim, he reached out, curling his fingers around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.
The rain outside had thinned to a drizzle, and he leaned across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”
It was you who ended up taking him home, to the small house near the coast you called home. “Much nicer than whatever hotel they have you in, I can guarantee,” you commented as you fumbled with the lock.
The moment you were over the threshold, he had your face in his hands and was brushing his mouth over yours, the taste of coffee lingering on both your tongues, Marcus stepping forward so you would step back, until your shoulders hit the wall and he could press himself against you.
You took him to bed, and called in the next day, more content to spend the day with him. You didn’t leave the bedroom much, and the week progressed like that, wrapped up in sex and conversation and coffee, until Marcus’s phone rang and the bubble popped.
“We need you in Colorado. Your flight leaves in four hours.”
He saw it move through your face, then you shrugged and said, “It’s the job. I get it.”
He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. You said over and over that you understood, and when he asked if you could stay in touch, that maybe this could work, your eyes clouded.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marcus.”
Crushed, he got himself drunk in the airport bar, and by morning, he had a new assignment, and knew he had to put you behind him.
Fate, however, seems to have another plan in mind.
Stepping into the bar, he sighs, heading toward the same stool he’d occupied a few nights ago, when a familiar face catches his eye. His heart stutters in his chest as he reaches his seat, letting his suit jacket slide off his shoulders.
Your hair is shorter than he remembers — maybe a trim, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him — but the rest is the same. Better, somehow, like a restored painting in his mind as he drinks you in again like it’s the first time. Perched at the bar, your fingers curled around a glass, one heeled foot floating in the air.
He recognizes those heels. He took you out for dinner another night in Seattle, and when you got home that night, he told you to keep them on. And you did. He felt the marks in his back for weeks, but it was worth it.
He orders a scotch, knowing he’s going to need more than a little courage. But how is he going to play this? What’s the best way to—
“Marcus?”
You’ve made the decision for him, your excited gaze meeting his across the few stools separating you. There’s a light in your eyes he remembers, knows you’ve probably had more than one drink, and that your next will be water. You had a system, he remembers you telling him.
The bartender slides him his drink, and Marcus takes it over to where you’re sitting, sinking into the stool beside you. “Fancy meeting you here.”
You grin wider. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”
His heart does that stuttering thing again. “You finally watched Casablanca?”
“I did,” you reply, nodding, looking up at him through your lashes. “Cried like a baby.”
“Told you.” Tossing back some of his scotch, he signals the bartender to bring you a water. “I can’t believe it.”
You’re still smiling, your head cocked slightly to the side. “You know, I had the strangest feeling I was going to run into you? It sounds insane, I’m sure.”
“Not insane,” he shakes his head, setting his glass down inches from yours. If he straightened his fingers, he could brush the tips along yours. “I’m calling it fate.”
“Fate?”
He nods, taking a healthy sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “I’ve been wanting to call you since I left Seattle.”
You scoff. “It’s been three months, Marcus.”
He leans forward, contemplating putting his hand on your knee but thinking better of it. “I know, and I feel awful. I just…didn’t know what to say. When I left, it didn’t exactly sound like you wanted to hear from me again.”
“I didn’t,” you say bluntly, sipping your drink and mumbling thank you as the bartender brings you your water. “It wasn’t going to work; we both knew that.”
“And yet, here we are.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “Fate, huh?”
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Or something like it. I’ve missed you. A week wasn’t nearly long enough.”
Your gaze meets his and lingers, flickering between his mouth and his eyes. “How long are you in town for?”
“Two weeks,” he answers. “Maybe less. I’m on assignment, but I plan to stay right through. Been slacking on my paperwork. Then once I get back to Washington, I’m hoping to stay in one spot for a while. What about you?”
“Two weeks,” you echo, and he grins.
“Fate, I tell you.”
“We shouldn’t do this again,” you say, leaning back slightly, your brow pinching. “Rekindle what we had just to have it pulled away again? It isn’t fair, Marcus.”
Defeat sinks onto him like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, and he tosses back the rest of his drink, the glass feeling like lead in his hand. “You’re right, it’s not—”
“We shouldn’t,” you cut him off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Before he can get another word out, you’ve got your fingers curled around his tie, tugging him down your level. Your lips are soft, tasting faintly of lime and mint, and Marcus can’t help himself. His free hand dives into your hair, fingers locking around the strands, tugging until your lips part against his and he can kiss you more thoroughly, tongue stroking yours.
You pull back with a soft moan, still gripping his tie. “You wanna get out of here?”
Twenty minutes later, he’s pushing the door of his hotel room open, your fingers linked together.
“Don’t mind the mess,” he starts, but barely gets the words out as the door shuts behind you. It’s his back that hits the wall, a low grunt falling past his lips as you tug on his tie again, using it as leverage to drag yourself closer, closing the distance between your bodies.
Marcus groans as you fit your face into his neck, teeth scraping his pulse as his hands find homes on your hips. Clothes start to fall away, landing in puddles of fabric on the floor until you’re both bare and falling into his unmade bed together. He lays you out on your back, trails kisses right down the front of you, over each hip and along the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t stop until you’re keening, back arching and one hand locked in his hair.
You’re soaked when he strokes his fingers along you, his name sung like a prayer when he presses them inside you. “Fuck,” he grits, curling up and dragging slow, watching the way your body reacts, the way it shapes to him. “Just as tight as I remember.”
You whimper, head falling back as he pushes deeper, seeking out that rough patch inside you, remembering how it made you fall apart before. The hand not in his hair shoots down, fingers wrapped around his wrist, forcing him deeper.
He lowers himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed, surveying how you’re spread out before him, your knee hooked over his arm. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your thigh again. He can feel your muscles twitch, see the way your breath chokes out. “What do you need, sweet thing?”
Body writhing, your head lifts just enough for your eyes to meet.
“More.”
He’s more than happy to oblige, lowering his mouth to your cunt, laving his tongue around the place you’re split around his fingers. You moan loudly, one hand clapping over your mouth a moment later, and he snakes his free hand up your chest, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple between his knuckles.
“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against you, moving up ever so slightly to suck your clit between his lips. It makes your whole body go tighter than sin, bearing down on his fingers as your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop, swirling his tongue against your clit, releasing it only to lap at you over and over, his fingers never stopping until you go tighter still, every muscle going taut as you cum, his name moaned over and over until your body starts to go lax.
He pulls his fingers from you slowly, still tonguing at your cunt as he does, pulling away only when you push lightly at his head. He stands slowly, cock hard as a rock against his stomach, and watches your eyes roam up his body as he licks his fingers clean.
“Come here,” you beckon as he leans over the bed, planting a hand on either side of you. Your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him close. “I still need more, Marcus.”
He doesn’t make you wait long, using his knees to spread your thighs further. His cock taps against your cunt as he lowers his body to yours, and you gasp, finding his mouth with yours. He drinks down your noises as he presses himself inside of you, the pleasure snaking down his spine like a memory.
He’ll be the first to admit that this is what he’s thought of these last three months. You, underneath him, your body soft and pliant and his. It hasn’t been far from his mind, playing like a movie in his mind whenever he’s taken care of himself.
But just like seeing you again in the bar, this is another thing entirely.
Your body accepts everything he has to offer, your heels hooking around his calves, hips rocking up into his. You’re still so fucking tight, and he knows he’s not going to last long, knows that’s why he made sure you came first.
The room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, with your breathy moans and his quiet grunts. You hook one hand under his ribs, the other finding the back of his head and tugging at his hair, putting your gaze to his. “I want to hear you, too,” you tell him, a sly smile on your face, and he nearly cums on the spot.
He didn’t need the permission, but it unlocks him all the same, the quiet grunts growing louder until he’s all but growling your name in your ear, fitting his face into your neck and biting down as he feels the pleasure coil tighter and tighter until he knows he’s about to cum.
It starts to rip its way through him, and he pulls himself from you, painting the crease of your thigh with his cum, chest heaving. You watch him, eyes darting between his face and his twitching cock. The look on your face tells him you have other plans for him.
Good, because he’s got other plans for you, too.
And fuck the two weeks, he’s not letting you go again.
As you both come down, Marcus having retrieved a cloth from the bathroom to clean you up, both of you sharing. a glass of water, your face turns sheepish as you hand him back the water. “What is it?”
Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. “You know how I said I thought I was going to run into you earlier? I think the reason I was feeling that…was because I’ve been meaning to call you, too. Since you left, I wanted to call you, and then something happened and I just…”
“What happened?” he asks, sinking onto the bed beside where you’re laid out, pillow bunched under your arm, head tilted into your hand.
“I got a job offer,” you say, and before he can congratulate you, you lift a hand. “I got a job offer, and you were the first person I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Because it’s been three months and you’re amazing and I kept telling myself you found someone else and that was why you never called. But then I got this job offer, and I…”
You trail off, shaking your head, staring him down. “What’s the job, sweet thing?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hand on your leg, covered by the blanket.
The sheepishness disappears and you grin. “It’s in Washington.”
// TTWD track list //
#my fics#marcus pike#ttwd#the tortured writer’s department#kay’s version#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike smut#marcus pike fic#marcus pike x you
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First and Goal
Hangman hosts a college football day for the Daggers, only to have Payback bring a history making Angel. (Hangman x female Reader fluff, no use of 'you')
Completely self-indulgant college football fic after seeing Glen and Danny at the Texas and Miami games last week. Fic contains some trash talking of Miami and Alabama. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.
Word count: 1.5K
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Jake tore his eyes away from the television when the doorbell rang, huffing as the Game Day announcers stalled on making their prediction of who would win the Texas vs. Alabama game. Phoenix pushed away from the kitchen island where she and Coyote were grazing on the snacks he’d set out.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he grumbled as two hosts picked Bama. Planting his hands on his hips, he pressed his lips into a thin line when Lee Corso called for the fight song to play, and the twang of Sweet Home Alabama started.
“Roll Tide, I guess,” came a sigh beside him. Jake’s gaze snapped to the woman, taking in her crimson shirt, Navy regulation bun, and furrowed brow as she watched the antics.
“Hey, hey, hey! Oh no, wait a minute, wait a minute. That’s not the right song - play Texas’ song!”
“Yes!” He pumped his fist as Corso put on the Hook’em head.
“Thank Christ.”
“Not rooting for your team?” he asked, facing her. She rolled her eyes, pointing towards the logo on her chest - a Seminole head.
“Might wanna get your eyes checked - garnet, not crimson.” A slight southern accent colored her words. “While I appreciate Bama for making Tim Tebow cry, their fans are insufferable. I’m ready for them to get taken down a peg. If the Longhorns are the ones to do it, I guess I’ll put up with more of the Gig ‘em nonsense.”
“Hook ‘em,” Jake corrected, and the smirk curving her lips made him think she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Giving Hangman shit already, Syla?” Payback asked, tossing an arm over the woman’s shoulder. The woman grinned up at the pilot and raised an eyebrow.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she laughed. Jake felt a shot of disappointment at the fond look that passed between the two. “But if you’re Hangman,” she added, turning her attention back towards Jake, “this is for you. Thanks for letting me crash.” She extended a bottle towards him - Wolcott bourbon, bottled in the bond.
“Thanks. Syla your name or callsign?”
“Callsign.”
“You stationed here?”
“Soon, but I’m in town for the show.”
“The…” he frowned, then nodded. “You’re a Blue Angel?”
“That I am.” The Blue Angels were the Navy’s flight demonstration team. Stationed at NAS Pensacola, they were the most high-profile squad that toured across the US. It’d made the news that they finally had their first female aviator on the team two years ago. “At least until the end of the tour, then I’m headed back to TOPGUN.”
“Oh, come on,” Fanboy grumbled, watching as the University of Miami quarterback was sacked. Across the kitchen, Syla pumped her fist and silently cheered while nursing her water bottle. Jake smirked into his beer. Fanboy and Syla had exchanged some good-natured shit-talking since Florida State and Miami were in the same conference and would be playing against one another later in the season.
When she’d shared the story behind her callsign - Syla, short for See Ya Later Alligator - Fanboy had gone red in the face laughing as Jake chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Bob asked.
Heaving a sigh, Syla explained, “My team is FSU Seminoles. We hate the Florida Gators, and there was a Gators fan in FRS with me. Our COs got tired of us shit-talking the whole season and decided to punish us by making our callsigns have to do with our rivalry. So I’m Syla, and he’s Renegade after our mascot.”
“At least it’s not Swamp,” Jake offered, thinking of how Gainesville, where the University of Florida was located, was nicknamed ‘The Swamp.’
“Yeah, that cost me 150 pushups.”
“Run, run, run, run, run!” Syla screamed, jumping off the couch with Jake beside her.
“Come on!” he yelled. When the player was tackled after a 40-yard run, he whooped and held a hand to Syla, who laughed and slapped his palm before leaning around him to high-five Fanboy.
“Fuck. There’s three of them,” Phoenix grumbled.
The afternoon passed into shouts of “He was wide fucking open!”, “No! Sit his ass down!”, “Where’s the damn flag?”, “Pass interference!” and “Find it! Find it!” During commercials, they quickly learned about one another - Syla was a Florida girl born and raised in Tallahassee. She’d graduated from FSU and attended as many games as possible during the last three years she’d been stationed in Pensacola. Touring with the Angels made it hard since she was on the road from March to November, but the constant travel was worth it to be the first female Blue Angel. She was looking forward to the stability of being an instructor at TOPGUN and not living out of her duffle bag.
Syla retrieved her uniform from Payback’s car at halftime and disappeared into the bathroom. “She’s nice,” Coyote told Payback as Jake stepped into his backyard.
“She’s great. Pain in the ass perfectionist, but that’s what got her on the Angels.”
“She’ll be a good trainer,” Phoenix added. “Have you seen that diamond maneuver they pull?”
“So, how do you know each other?” Jake asked, glancing at Payback.
“We met in flight school and kept in touch from there.”
“You guys…” Rooster cocked an eyebrow.
“Nooo,” Payback quickly replied, then shuddered. “She’s like a sister. A sister,” he repeated, pinning the other men with a stern, warning look.
A while later, the door opened, and Syla peeked out, her eyes meeting Jake’s. “They’re about to kick off.”
“Be right in,” he smiled back. After collecting the empty beer bottles from his friends, he jogged back inside. Syla had swapped out her jean shorts and t-shirt for her dress white skirt, and white tank top. She declined another drink - she’d sipped a glass of bourbon earlier before switching to water, saying that she needed to be sharp for work later - but accepted a soda.
The Daggers drifted in and out of the house, Payback sometimes joining them in the cheering squad, but Syla and Jake were glued to the game. When Texas threw a 39-yard touchdown to pull further ahead, Jake screamed and jumped around his living room, much to the amusement of his friends. Syla whooped and clapped, raising her hand for a high five. Their palms slapped, and his fingers curled around hers, giving a quick shake before collapsing beside her. His shoulders brushed against her as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and covering his mouth.
“We gotta head out soon if you’re gonna make the dinner,” Payback said as the game clock wound down.
“Shit,” Syla groaned, glancing at her watch. Between plays, she quickly slipped on her blouse, lower lip between her teeth as she watched the action and did up the buttons. Jake couldn’t help but glance at her legs as she swayed beside him, their knees touching as she tucked in her shirt.
When the quarterback took a snap and dropped to his knee, Jake exploded off the couch, whooping as Texas won. Without thinking, his arms wrapped around a laughing Syla, lifting her off her feet as he celebrated his team beating the Crimson Tide on their home field.
“Syla, we really gotta go,” Payback said.
“Fuck, okay, uh,” she said, stepping out of Jake’s reach and patting his shoulder. “Congrats on the win. It was nice meeting all of you. I’ll hopefully see you in a couple months if I don’t get reprimanded for being late for dinner with the top brass. Oh, and Fanboy - I’ll think of you when I’m in Doak for the game in November.”
Smirking, Fanboy held up his hands, his thumbs touching to make the Miami ‘U’ signal. She gave him a saccharine smile and did the same; all her fingers were down except her middle ones, so she flipped him off. “I’ll walk you out,” Jake offered, grabbing Syla’s bag from the dining room table. Payback narrowed his eyes at the other man. “It sucks you can’t watch your team play tonight.”
“It’s fine,” she shrugged, “we played our hard game against LSU last week, and it’s an easy match-up this week. I’ll just duck into the bathroom and check the score every once in a while.”
“What time do you fly tomorrow?”
“Gates open at 0800, and we’re the closer at 1520. Why, gonna come to the show, Hangman?”
“You never know,” he winked. “Heard the Angels do a pretty impressive diamond formation.”
“18-inch clearance, wingtip to canopy,” she smirked. “If you come, I’ll be in the blue and yellow flight suit.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Chuckling, she took her bag, their fingers brushing and sending a pleasant tingling sensation up his spine. “Good to meet you, Syla.”
“You too, Hangman.”
Payback paused beside Jake when she walked away and hissed, “No.”
---------------------------------------------------
Notes: The Blue Angels are based out of Pensacola and just welcomed their first female pilot in 2023 - callsign Stalin. I miss seeing them buzz the beaches and hear them practice in the afternoons. They tour the US and Canada, and the clips I've seen are phenomenal. If you haven't seen the pilot perspective of the tight diamond formation, I highly recommend it.
The 0800 and 1520 are military time, so it's 1520 is 3:20PM.
Read part 2, Overtime.
#hangman fic#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#Jake Seresin#jake hangman seresin#top gun#top gun fanfiction#top gun x female reader
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Day twentyone: painting spooky canvases togheter. Let Shauna be a good mama (and you a good spouse).
For context, this is set when Callie is a kid and you have taken Jeff's place (RIP).
A blue hue colors the sky outside, shading your office in darkness, your only source of light is the bright monitor in front of you. The silence of the office is interrupted only by the groans of your co-workers and furious tapping of computers keys.
You are nose deep in your work when your clock chimes, signaling that it's finally time to clock off. You let out a sigh, closing your laptop and putting on your heavy coat.
The walk home is more tiring than you'd thought it would be: your feet drag across the sidewalk and your shoulders feel heavy. You cannot wait to get back home, where your wife and her amazing daughter are waiting for you.
When you finally arrive, a wave of heat hits you, almost boiling compared to the bone chilling cold outside. You set aside your coat, your shoes, and walk towards the kitchen, from which you can hear chatter and laughs.
The kitchen's table is covered in old newspapers, tubes of color scattered across it. Shauna sits on one of the chairs, facing baby Callie, who's focusing hard on her paintings.
Shauna has been a mother for six years now. A while after reconnecting with Jeff, she got pregnant. Around three months into her pregnancy, she met you. You saw how she looked at you, how she craved for your warmth in her bed. When she understood that you too had feelings for her, she had pity on the man who was going to be her child's father.
She left Jeff around the first year of her child's life, and his place on their bed had been quickly replaced by you.
You knew what Shauna had gone through. It didn't take a genius to do one plus one: you noticed how, whenever the case of the "Flight 2525 passengers" appeared on any tv channel, she suddenly got very quiet, sweated and left you alone on your couch, wondering why the hell was she so quiet.
After a while, she caved in. She told you everything, and you didn't even need to pry her much: she just let it out. What was truly tragic, other than the countless horrors, was her baby's death. The one true thing she had, despite not wanting him in the first place, was lost, somewhere in the ground of a remote place in the Canadian wilderness.
With Callie, Shauna was strange. Shauna loved Callie. Maybe she loved her too much, always one step behind her, alway checking every little thing that she would feed her, always so terrified of any possible threats.
But the pain she felt was too much. She never seemed all too there, like she was somewhere distant. So, sometimes she would be completely and utterly irresponsible, as if she was a troubled teenager.
But sometimes, a true genuine person would peek out of that tragedy that was her heart. Today, as you see her panting with her daughter, you see Shauna.
"Hi! What are we doing here?" Callie gasps, jumping from her seat ready to hug you, before she realizes that her hands are covered in pain and just sits on stopping at your feet, looking up at you with a big smile. "Hello! I was painting with mom!" she holds up her hands, showing the countless colors smeared on them.
"Yes" Shauna says, smiling at you, "we were painting ghosts. It's almost Halloween".
"Oh, and Callie is so excited!" you say, moving to try and hold her up. "Nooo, I'm not a baby anymore" she murmurs and crosses her little arms. Callie toddler back to her seat, moving to take a brush in between her fingers and continue her paintings.
"Can I join?" Callie chimes up when you say that, giving you a third canvas that was still wrapped up in a plastic bag. "You have to draw a ghost though".
That's how you spend the last hours of the afternoon, painting ghosts with your family.
Callie and Shauna are surprisingly good painters. Callie is using her fingerprints as bases to make the ghosts, while Shauna has a firm hand and managed to make a surprisingly realistic ghost.
A loud sound comes from the oven, and you just now realize that something had been cooking inside it. "Sh- I mean, heck" Shauna bolts up from her seat and hurries to the oven, from which you can smell burnt food.
Shauna sits still for a moment, examining how the food she has made is now burnt in various places. You come over to her, looking from her shoulder. "Is it salvageable?" she lets out a sigh, "Maybe, but I'd have to cut the burnt parts off, and it's already seven and a half...".
"We could order pizza" you half mindedly say, and Callie jolts up at the mention of the magic word. "Pizza?! Yes! Mom, can we get it?!".
You can see the fatigue pouring out of Shauna and place a kiss on her cheek. "Don't worry, I'll handle everything".
Half an hour later, you're sitting on the couch, pizza cardboard on your lap and an old halloween cartoon playing on the tv.
After eating, Callie insists on finishing the movie with you two. Poor Shauna has a hard time explaining to her daughter why she needs to go to bed, but you convince her that, if it's just for one night, it does no harm. An hour later, Callie is sleeping soundly on her mom's lap; you take her in your arms and put her to bed.
You come back down, where Shauna is half asleep. "This has been a wonderful night" you tell her, kissing her cheek. She smiles at you, before finally letting herself sleep. Maybe with you, her family is safe.
#yellowjackets x reader#yellowjackets x you#shauna shipman x reader#shauna shipman x you#autumn writing prompts#halloween writing prompts#fictober
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The King's Queen - chapter 2
Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness/cancer, not the world's best father/son relationship, absolutely pure fucking fluff 🧡 Summary: Your first encounters with the king are somewhat less successful than you hope, but every moment spent with Javi seems to be more and more wonderful. Notes: I have nothing to say for myself...I just really, really love these two 🥰💖👑
Ch 1
“Welcome home, Princess.” He uses the title that will be yours for only a few days between the wedding and the coronation.
Princess. It’s that fairy tale that so many little girls all over the world harbor in their hearts and imaginations. For you it’s been a mixture of dreaming and anticipation over the years. Now that it’s so close, and he is the one calling you by the title, it feels more surreal than ever. “Thank you, your Highness.”
“Come.” Javi decides that he will show you to the throne room to greet the king before showing you the suite he had picked out for you. “My father will be waiting in the throne room.”
“That sounds very official.” The two of you walk side by side, and the way people pause in their step to bow or curtsy to him as you pass by is like something out of a movie. Keeping your head high, you do your best to keep in step with his long strides as he moves confidently through the halls. Turn after turn and hallway after hallway until he stops in front of a broad set of ornate double doors and a pair of footmen in elaborate uniforms open them to admit him – and you by proxy. It’s smaller than you expect, this grand throne room with its dais on the other end that has one great chair in the center with an older man sitting there at attention. The uniform and crown are as imposing as they are obvious, and you’re suddenly shaking with nerves as you stop in the middle of the hall to curtsy as deeply as you can manage.
“Just breathe.” Javi can sense the change in you, knowing you are nervous to meet the man who had arranged your marriage to Javi along with your parents and his mother. “At the end of the day, he’s just a man.” He murmurs quietly.
"He's my father-in-law." You whisper back, shooting the man who will soon be your husband a pointed glance even with your head bowed. In your general experience, fathers-in-law can be more troublesome than any other person in a relationship.
"You may stand." The king's formality is front and center as he sits up rail straight on his throne. When you obey him, you hold your head up tall and square your shoulders: the picture of a daughter who is used to being inspected. He will have to commend your father for that. "Come here," he instructs, motioning to the space in front of him. It takes everything in you to just breathe as you walk, stepping forward maybe six feet to stop at the foot of the dais. You've met multiple presidents, had dinners at the White House and outings with First Children. Photo ops with First Ladies and other Congressional children. You can do this. It's only terrifying because these people – this place – are the rest of your life.
Javi wants to huff and roll his eyes, because formality should be dispensed with, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he comes to stand beside you as the king stares at you. Wanting to ask if you pass inspection.
“How did you find the flight?” A little small talk never hurts anyone, and the king indicates with one finger that he wishes for you to turn in a circle.
“It was very comfortable, your Majesty.” When you turn you glance up at the prince and try to give him even a momentary glance of reassurance. “The staff was wonderful and kind.”
“And how do you find the prince?” He is pleased with your looks, although he doesn’t care for the dress you’re wearing. He’ll have to have a word with your maid about wardrobe choices.
“I look forward to getting to know him better.” This time you don’t have to make the smile small or glance short, and you look to your side with a glowing smile. “He has been a wonderful guide. And, again, very kind.”
“Yes, Javier was quite insistent on meeting the plane to show you in himself rather than our formal introduction.” Miguel’s tone is disapproving, and he doesn’t spare his son a look as he stares at you. Wanting to gauge if you whither under pressure or if the calm look of confidence is genuine.
“With respect, sire, I can appreciate the prince’s preference.” Maybe more people would grovel – maybe you should grovel and cave to a king – but that’s not your style. Your father taught you to obey, of course, but also to be confident in the face of new situations. “Formality and tradition are admirable, but the relationship between a couple, any couple, must have room for some kind of comfort. Especially in the beginning.”
Miguel’s brow raises minutely, fully aware that his willful son is practically beaming beside you. Years of bearing are the only things keeping the riot of pain that flashes through him to run across his face. “Very well.” He grunts a long moment after the pain passes. “We shall dispense with formality tonight at dinner.” He nods and then motions to Javier. “Show your queen to be her rooms, Javier.”
Unsure of what would be correct to say, you simply curtsy and murmur a polite, “Gracias.” Before standing and following the prince out of the throne room. It’s stifling in there, appropriate since it is a room constructed for the sole purpose of being imposing, and once you’re out in the hall again you breathe slowly. “How much does he hate me?” You ask quietly, looking up at the man beside you for some kind of gauge of how you did. It was only a few sentences and the king’s expression inscrutable.
“He is impressed with you.” Javi chuckles. “Less with your dress, but with you? Very impressed.”
“My dress?” With all the thought you put into it, you still managed to make the wrong decision and you close your eyes momentarily against your disappointment in yourself. “I don’t know how you figured that out from just him looking at me, but I’ll change before dinner.”
“Do not change.” Javi implores you. “It will be perfect for a non-formal family dinner. The king is just…proper at all times.”
“I can’t imagine anything in a palace being informal.” With a shake of your head and another deep breath, you nod. “Alright. I won’t change. Since you don’t want me to.”
Guiding you through the palace, Javi starts pointing out different wings and areas. Mentioning where the kitchens and the dining rooms are, alongside the ball room as he makes his way to the family quarters. “Here is where we live, keeping away from the working side of the house. We have another set of kitchens and a movie room over here.”
It’s unbelievable to hear him call this building as big and busy as two city blocks a house, but of course that’s what it is to him. He lives here – his whole family does and probably always has. “Are we ever allowed to cook, or is that considered rude?” The question seems simple, but nothing about your new life is simple. “I mean…you have a screening room. Would it be improper for us to make our own popcorn?” You know he loves movies, so you lean into that to try to give him some common ground to tread on.
“There is a kitchen in our section of the house.” Javi nods. “If you like to cook, no one is going to tell the queen she cannot.”
“It may take me a little time to adjust to all of this, but I assure you I won’t do anything to embarrass you. That’s partly why I’m asking now…so that I don’t misstep.” The titles throw you off kilter more than you expected, but you nod in reciprocation and try to be confident in your smile. He is leading you toward an elaborately gilded set of white double doors that seems to be guarded - or at least watched - by yet another of the endless amounts of footmen in the palace.
“I have chosen your suite myself.” He admits, biting his lip and hoping that he had chosen well. “I made sure that you are close to me, a view of the ocean outside your balcony.” You would stay separate until your marriage of course, but if you wanted to continue to keep your own rooms, he would not object. It would be wrong of him to force intimacy.
“Which way are you?” There is another set of doors at the end of the hallway and a set almost directly across the hall from you, but after passing so many similar closed doors on the way here, you wouldn’t presume to guess which set is his. “I mean…” you stammer, realizing that might sound too eager. “In case you…send for me…or something.”
Javi decides that he will show you his room first, slowing down to the door that leads to his room. “Here I am.” He offers, opening the double doors and motioning for you to enter if you want.
You hadn’t meant to ask for a tour, but when it’s offered you step inside carefully to take in the surroundings. It is elaborately decorated, of course, with a colour scheme of blue and white and dark woods that makes the already high ceilings feel like they reach clear into the sky. Plush upholstered sofas around a low table and a large desk occupy the front room, and the open door to the bedroom allows you just a peak of the four-posted bed in the same dark wood with blue bedsheets and fresh white flowers on the bedside table. “I think I would never leave, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, seeing the books left strewn on his desk while everything else is immaculate. The staff must be instructed not to tidy that particular piece of furniture.
“There are days I would love not to leave my room.” Javi promises, biting his lip when he realizes how it sounds. Your room is mirrored to his, although the color scheme is green. He hopes you like the color. There is also a connecting door to the suites, although it is currently locked. “Shall we see your room now?”
“Please.” You don’t call out the comment because there’s no chance in the world that he would flirt with you after just meeting, but that doesn’t stop your smile from growing when you follow him – back out of the front room of his suite and to the set of gilded double doors right next door.
“This is your home now.” He assures you with an excited grin, looking over his shoulder at you before throwing the doors open and stepping back so you can see the space he had arranged for you.
“Oh…” A small gasp escapes you when he steps back, letting you see the entirety of the beautifully decorated space for yourself. The dominant colour is a beautiful spring green, with white and gold accents to keep it from being overwhelming. The effect, along with the dark, walnut coloured furniture and beautiful paintings on the walls is to be both welcoming and luxurious in a way that steals your breath. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”
“Besides my room, this is a favorite.” Javi admits, striding into the room so he can open the double doors that lead out onto the large balcony. “Coffee out here in the mornings is wonderful.”
The view is of the cliffside that you approached on your way from the docks, but since you’re currently on the second floor you feel like you’re floating in the air as you look out over the scene. “If you ever lose me, I’ll be right here,” you joke quietly, coming up next to him to admire the view. There are no swimmers this evening but a few boats on the horizon, and the trailed purples and pinks of the setting sun to tell you that you are in the east wing of the palace. “Sunrises here must be stunning.”
“They are.” Javi nods, looking out over the beautiful scene for just a moment before he looks back at you again. You’ve gone dreamy eyed and soft as you lean against the railing of the balcony and look out over the water. “I used to jump off the cliffs right over there.” Javi points past your left where the island sticks out at a point. “Normally trying to do it right as the sun broke over the horizon. Thinking I could become a merman and swim away.”
“If any place in the world has the magic to make it happen, I think it might be here.” Yet you can just imagine the heart attack it must have given his mother to discover that her little boy was cliff jumping of all things. The tenacity of it almost makes you laugh when you look back at him. “Thank you.” The words are soft but you mean them. “For not disliking me on principle. I know neither of us asked for this, but I will try my hardest to be good to you.”
“I did not react very well at first.” Javi admits, frowning as he looks out over the water again, ashamed for the first time. “Nothing against you, I was born with my future set. Nothing mattered but the crown. Becoming king. I could not write movies or become an actor. Fly planes or go to the moon.” He sighs. “But I could choose my queen. Or so I thought.”
“I’m sorry.” You are no more to blame for the circumstance than he is, but you hate to see hurt in his eyes. Or any kind of regret. It hurts your heart in the most unexpected way. “I have had my future set for me, as well. But at least I knew who you were. You should have been told, and I am very sorry that you weren’t.”
“My father knows I would have tried to contact you.” He hums. “To find out what you are like. My parents were arranged.” He explains. “They knew each other for one year before they married and he thinks that it is best to not know about the other until we are able to live together.” It didn’t make sense to him, but he doesn’t know if his opinion would have been different if his mother would have lived.
“We don’t have the luxury of a year anymore.” A fact which benefits no one and probably hurts him much more than it seems at first glance. All you can do is what you’ve been told is now your job for the rest of your life - support him. “Well…I’m here now. We’ll make the very best of everything that we can.”
“Do you want to marry me?” He asks suddenly, feeling that is the most important question. Beyond being told to, if you aren’t willing, he will defy his father’s wishes. “I am not— I do not force my will on others.” Ironic since his will becomes law when he is crowned king.
When you pause, it’s not because you dislike him. Or because you necessarily dislike the situation you have found yourself in. “No one has ever asked me that before,” you admit, seeing fear flit behind his eyes when you don’t answer him immediately. “It’s not an easy or simple question. Just like this life is not easy or simple.” Taking a deep breath, you imagine every day of your childhood where you had false friends and assigned playmates. College with its challenges and misunderstandings. The last few years of a career you knew was doing good work but felt empty at the end of every day. All the short relationships that seemed never to mean anything. Here, with him, there might be a chance for meaning. There is hope, at least, and that is surprisingly more than you’ve felt in a long time. “But I’ve spent my whole life preparing myself to do this. To support you, or help you, or even to stand back and be a silent shoulder to lean on if that is all you wanted from me. I—I want you to succeed. And I think that I can help you with that. So…yes. I want to marry you.” But you won’t ask him to love you. That would either come or it wouldn’t, and to force it would be even worse.
“Do you want…love?” Javi asks softly, not expecting your thought-out answer. You had been trained for him. Handpicked by his parents and educated to be his partner, probably even encouraged to adopt passions he enjoys. “Between us? Or do you not think that possible?” He pauses. “Do you resent me?”
“I did. For a time, when I was younger.” You simply can’t see lying to him as having any benefit at all, even if the truth isn’t pretty. Lies are what you’ve seen your father spin time after time, campaign after campaign. They never last and they certainly don’t make a good foundation for a relationship of any kind. “I…” Your eyes drop nervously. “I wish for love. Everyone does. Or at least I would hope that they do. And I don’t think it’s impossible that we could have it, just because we were arranged. I just…I would never ask you to pretend or to force yourself. If we spend our lives as friends, that’s still more than a lot of other people get.”
“I wish for love too.” Javi admits quietly, leaning both arms against the railing. “I did love.” He knows you need to understand the sometimes ugly dynamic of his family. Especially if you are going to be queen. “Gabriela, I asked my father for permission to marry her.” He looks over at you apologetically even if he had not known about you at the time. “He refused for reasons I now understand, but I was heartbroken. My cousin Lucas married her. For spite, to taunt me, who knows? He had never been interested in her until I asked.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think I like your cousin very much.” If that’s the sort of way he behaves, you can’t see liking either this cousin or Gabriela very much. The two of you have inched closer to each other at the balcony railing without realizing it, but when you look up at him again he is closer than you last remember. “Do you…” Breath sticks in your throat nervously. “Do you want to marry me? I know you said it would be dishonorable according your father to step away from this, but I won’t force you.”
“My mother chose you.” He looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks back into your eyes. “I don’t know much about you, but I don’t believe that she would choose someone who she didn’t believe would fit me.”
“I was barely out of diapers when our parents agreed to this,” you remind him quietly. “But…my father says I’m like her. And our mothers were good friends.” It doesn’t necessarily signify anything, but it seems to comfort him, and there’s value in that. “Before she died…your mother used to send me a birthday gift every year. Your father continued the tradition after she passed. I don’t…I assume you don’t know that.”
“No, nothing.” Javi frowns, turning towards you and tilting his head curiously. “What kinds of gifts would he send you? Please tell me it wasn’t the political books he would gift me.”
“No.” It actually makes you laugh a little, knowing you would have devoured whatever was sent no matter what. “Sometimes it was books or films. Other times it was art. Twice it was jewelry. I think…I think they may have been things that you like, but there was never an explanation or letter than came with them. Just the gift and a card each year.”
“I love movies.” His eyes flash with excitement and he leans towards you. “What is your favorite movie?” He asks eagerly.
He lights up with the question, giddy and excited, and it’s possible that he’s never looked more handsome to you than right now. “Moonstruck.” You tell him honestly, wondering if he might find the choice of a love story to be a little silly.
“Nic Cage.” His smile widens and he leans in. “He is my favorite actor. I love all of his works.”
That does explain the heap of Nicolas Cage movies you were sent for your sixteenth birthday. But instead of pointing it out, you nod and return his smile to encourage him. Maybe if you can open up to each other, you can find that common ground that you need. “What is yours?”
Javi bites his lip and shakes his head. “You will think it is silly.” He admits, but your eyes are begging him to tell you and it’s only fair that he return the sentiment since you had told him your favorite movie. “Okay.” He leans into you even more. “My favorite movie is Paddington 2.”
Surprised to not hear a Nic Cage title, you tilt your head in consideration before admitting, “I’ve never seen it. Would you…want to watch it together? Maybe?”
“You’ve never seen it?” Javi shakes his head and looks completely flabbergasted. “Of course we can watch it. As soon as possible. You have to see it.”
“As soon as you want.” Anything that could make him smile like that will be worth it. The magnetism of his happiness is rather remarkable.
“Tonight will be too soon.” He frowns, as if he is reminding himself. “You will be jet lagged, so we will do it another day, sí?”
“I slept on the flight.” You promise him, hating to see the light leave his eyes. “We can watch it after dinner if you want to?”
“I will not blame you if you fall asleep.” He promises, nodding. There is a discreet knock on the door and it is pushed open, the butler for the family quarters bringing in your luggage.
A woman around your own age comes in with your things and glances out at the balcony before directing herself into the suite’s bedroom with your belongings. “Who are they?” It might be ignorant to ask, given that both people seem to be wearing a uniform, but this is your very first day of palace life.
“That is Frederica.” He murmurs softly. “She is your lady’s maid. She is here to assist you. Her mother served mine and now she will serve you, if you approve.”
"I can't see any reason why I wouldn't." Short of having the woman actively sabotage you, which would seem like a terrible choice for everyone involved, all you can think is to be grateful to even have the help. "Is it alright if I go and introduce myself? Or would that be...odd?"
“It would not be odd.” Javi chuckles quietly and thinks that it’s cute that you are so worried about mistepping. “It will be very good. Frederica knows that you are important, but she does not know yet that you are here to be my queen.”
"If I say so, then word will get around." There's a seriousness in your eyes when you look at him again, and you try not to give in to the nervous habit of biting your lip. "I don't really know what I would say of myself, but I won't mention it if you don't want me too." If you're not sure, says the anxiety in the way your shoulders tense.
“No one knows about the king yet.” Javi cautions. “I am sure there are rumors, but I see no problem letting her know that you are my intended. Since we are to be married so soon.”
"I'll be back in just a moment." It's funny to you how you actually don't want to leave his side. You've become attached to him so quickly that you have to acknowledge that it's actually lucky, in a way. But you offer him a smile before slipping away, looking both ways in the suite before you see through the giant double doors that open into your bedroom. Frederica is carefully unpacking your clothes into an armoire when you cross the doorframe and you clear your throat gently to get her attention. "Perdóname." Don't be timid says your father's voice in your head. "Hablas ingles?"
Turning, the young woman sends you a polite smile, standing and the curtseying formally. “Sí, yes, I speak English, madam.” She offers quietly.
“I wanted to introduce myself.” Your name seems so simple and almost small considering there is a prince on the balcony, but you offer it anyway and with a smile. “It must have taken you a lot of hard work to be able to work in the palace. I—I’m grateful to have someone knowledgeable to help me.”
It takes a moment for her to make the translation in her mind and when she does, her smile grows wider, friendlier. “Thank you, madam.” She nods again. “I will help you whatever you need. You just tell me what you what and I will help.”
“Gracias, Frederica.” If you were at home you would shake her hand, but here that isn’t really the same sort of option. You take another step forward out of nerves and bite your lip, knowing that this woman will be the one who lays out your clothes and cares for your things and keeps your life in order as you get busier and busier with things to come. “I will need lots of help very soon. There will be plenty to do before the wedding.”
"Si, madam." She ducks her head and there is slightly straightening to her shoulders in pride. "You will have to meet the potential ladies in waiting. They will assist you with the majority of the planning. I will do whatever you need of me." Her eyes slide towards the wardrobe. "Including assisting you in choosing clothes that are appropriate for events."
“I am more than sure that the king will have opinions on what is most appropriate.” If he is anything like your own father, he will likely try dictating things outright. At least at first. “But the prince’s opinions will weigh more heavily on my heart.” A small smile comes to your lips that you simply can’t stop. “Any gifts from my husband-to-be or things that he indicates he likes best will likely be worn more often.”
Frederica nods quickly, making a mental note of that for you and smiles and whimsy of it. "Yes madam." She agrees. "The prince does have exquisite taste." She offers, glancing back at Javi before looking back at you. It's hard not to admire the prince, or develop a crush on him since he is so kind, but she also knows her place and that it would never be by the prince's side.
“I’m very grateful for your help.” Following her eyes out to where the prince is still standing on your balcony, your smile widens just a little. There is already a kind of pull in you that wants to be at his side. “Muchas gracias, Frederica. Perhaps tomorrow we come have a more lengthy discussion?” For all the things you do know to be prepared for, there will certainly be ones that are a surprise, and for this young woman to be your ally is so, so important.
She is surprised that you would like to talk to her, to perhaps sit down but she nods again. "Yes madam. I will finish unpacking your luggage and getting you organized." She offers before she turns back to her tasks.
“Gracias,” you nod once more and decide to let her get back to work, slipping out of the room to return to the balcony. “She seemed to take that positively in stride,” you sigh with a little bit of relief.
"Our staff is used to dealing with me." Javi explains with a small, sheepish grin. He knows that he has broken them in with his antics and his nonconformity. "I admit that I have been a handful."
“I can’t imagine you ever being unpleasant.” That’s the furthest from what you know of him so far, but you shrug your shoulders a little and glance at your watch nervously. It’s been hours already since you landed and it feels like only minutes. “How long does it take to walk to the dining room?” It’s such an odd question but you feel certain that you’ll be walking miles upon miles every day just navigating the palace. “I get the feeling that your father would not like to be kept waiting for dinner.”
"Only three minutes." He chuckles. "When the elevator is being slow." He had brought you up the stairs, but there is a small elevator that is tucked away in the front of the wing to make it easier to get from floor to floor. He knows that it will take you some time to get used to the palace but he. is not anticipating hiding away from you. Instead, he finds himself drawn to you and he offers you a shrug. "I can leave you to freshen up if you wish? Or we can start to walk towards the dining room?"
“I would rather walk with you.” Being left alone sounds oddly terrifying and you’re glad - not for the first time - that he is the one who came to pick you up today and was so willing to talk with you. It has made things infinitely easier.
“Yeah?” He grins and offers you his arm so you can walk together. “If we get there fast enough, we can manage a drink before my father arrives.” He teases. “I am feeling a good stiff cocktail is in order?”
“What is your favorite?” Taking his arm makes butterflies flood your stomach in the most unexpected way.
"A good gin and tonic is underrated." He admits as he feels you curl your hand around his arm and he knows that it feels...right. There will be thousands of times where you take his arm just like this. This is the beginning. "However, I have fallen in love with an 'old fashioned."
“Have you ever tried a gin and tonic with pink gin?” It had become a favourite cocktail after an event you attended a few years ago and the idea of being able to share something like that with him makes you feel a little giddy.
"Pink gin?" Javi shakes his head and looks over at you curiously. "I do not know if I even know that pink gin existed. What does it taste like?"
“It’s fruitier. Like…strawberries and raspberries along with the juniper flavour.” God that smile. When it’s aimed at you it’s brighter than the sun. No photograph ever could have captured that. “I had it at a White House garden party a few years ago and went out to buy myself a bottle the next day.”
"We will have to keep some on hand then." Javi makes a note of it and tilts his head. "Is there a brand you like? So we can order it if needed?"
“I think I probably buy the low end,” you admit with a laugh. “I’ll write it down for you, or…for whomever does the ordering, I suppose. I hope you like it, too.”
“Hopefully they will have a bottle somewhere in the palace.” Javi muses. “We normally keep all kinds of different liquors on hand for visiting dignitaries.”
“Do you have any favorite visitors?” Turning the conversation away from yourself and back to him, you want to focus on getting all of those little details that can’t be conveyed in a press release or a birthday gift from one of his parents.
“The Americans.” Javi admits with a grin. “There is something about it. I would have loved to visit your Hollywood.”
“Can you not?” That he wishes for it makes you want to find a way for it to happen instantly. “I would think a prince could do whatever he wanted.”
“It would not- I have not left Mallorca.” He admits. “Not since I graduated university.” He shakes his head. “It is tradition that you do not start traveling as a Royal if you are in line for the crown until you are king.” It’s backwards to his own way of thinking, but his father had insisted that he needed to learn how to run the country here. His suspicion was that his father was afraid he would never come back, if he were honest with himself.
“Not even if your brand new American bride-to-be suggested a honeymoon in Los Angeles?” It’s a slightly unconventional choice considering you could go literally anywhere, but it sounds like it’s his dream. He looks soft and starry-eyed at the mere mention of Hollywood, and you know that your job from now on is to make sure he’s as happy as he possibly can be.
“Our honeymoon is supposed to be spend on a yacht along the coast and make informal visits to our islands.” He explains. “Not quite a royal tour but a royal tour.”
“Then we’ll find another time to make your dream come true.” Gently squeezing his arm with your hand, you offer him a soft smile and try not to make too much notice of how muscles the bicep under your touch actually is. “I promise.”
He sighs softly and nods, not quite sure if he would ever be able to make that particular dream come true, but it's a nice thought. "For now, we should focus on pulling off a wedding in just two months." He chuckles.
“I’m sure your father will have a grasp of how to get things done.” The two of you make it to the hall where the main dining room is and he leads you into a drawing room nearby with a footman inside the door and a bar cart at the ready. You seem to have arrived before the king, but the man standing near the cart wastes no time in springing into action, apparently anticipating being asked to make the prince’s preferred before-dinner cocktail.
"What would you like to drink?" Javi asks, curious to know what you prefer drinking over pink gin. "And—" He swivels his head towards Geralt. "Do we have pink gin in the palace?"
The man’s even and professional face hides any hint of emotion, but he nods deeply and politely to the prince. “If not, your Highness, it will be acquired,” he assures Javi. “Should it be found immediately?”
“That isn’t necessary.” The last thing you want is to be seen as demanding or high maintenance. That almost gives you anxiety just to think about. “Whatever the prince is enjoying tonight will be wonderful, I’m sure.”
"Perhaps if it could be available tomorrow?" Javi asks, looking to you for confirmation. He wants to make sure that you are okay with that, although you just said that it wasn't necessary for it to be immediately available. "I was just informed that it makes the best gin and tonic and we must all try it."
“Sí, príncipe.” The man – Geralt – nods accordingly. “I will inform the steward.” He is about to ask if the younger royal would enjoy his usual old fashioned tonight when the king strolls into the room looking like the stroll might have been a heavy effort. “Cava, Geralt.” He instructs without even sparing the servant a glance. “We are celebrating tonight.”
Javi's brows lift in surprise but he nods towards Geralt and pats your arm as he leans in. "We shall have another drink after dinner then." He murmurs conspiratorially. "We might need it."
Stifling a giggle behind a bitten smile, you just nod to him and make a mental note of the name and face of the staff member in the room to lock away for later.
Drinks are poured and served quickly, and the king raises his glass from the plush upholstered loveseat he chose at the center of the room. “We will discuss your future tonight,” he informs you unilaterally, clearly not willing to hear any conversation otherwise. “There is much to do.”
"Of course." Javi nods, aware that his father would want to commandeer the conversation and steer it towards the upcoming wedding. "Although perhaps before we start planning a wedding, I might have a date with the woman I am supposed to marry?" He asks before he takes a sip of his cava. "Or at least present her with her choice of wedding sets from the royal collection?"
“Appropriate choices are being brought to your suite for you to select from in the morning.” The king tells him smoothly, as though it were obvious. “Although I do not know why you want to date a woman who has been chosen and bred for you, I did expect it.” He very nearly rolls his eyes, but manages not to. “You have two weeks to acquaint yourselves with each other and to present her with a ring. I assume that will be more than enough time.” It has to be, but he doesn’t say so. Servants talk and his illness isn’t public knowledge yet.
Javi frowns, shaking his head. If his father is pressing for two weeks, he would rather it be one. Less, if he thought Javi would go along with it. "While I appreciate your very generous terms, I would just like one date." He looks to you. "Unless you would like the two weeks?"
If you were being honest, you might admit that the swift pace of this whole thing has you on edge, but you understand that there isn’t really any luxury for comfort. “I wonder what the people will think,” you say instead, taking a small sip of your drink. “To hear their prince is going to marry a woman they have never even heard of before. The two weeks seems prudent not for our comfort, but for theirs.” Image is everything, that is the lesson you learned being the daughter of an American politician.
“The people have come to expect an arraigned marriage from the crown.” Javi’s father dismissed your concerns with another sip of his sparkling wine. “A press release has already been drafted, highlighting the family connection between your mother and the late queen.”
“Then I see no reason to hesitate.” The feeling of disappointment that your idea was useless is not one you relish at all but you paint on a placid smile and try to get at least one point back with the man you’re supposed to marry. “I am sure the prince will plan a wonderful date for us.”
“I will.” Javi nods, unhappy that his father is so casually dismissing your concerns about introducing you to the people. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” Seeing as you’ve both agreed to go through with the arrangement, you’ll happily have whatever time with him you can get. “The sooner the better.” The king dismisses, rising when a middle-aged man in a crisp uniform steps into the room to announce the meal.
Javi winces in apology at the abrupt way the king is handling this ‘informal’ dinner. Hating that he is not being honest about why he is insisting this happens so fast to you.
The smile you offer him in return is sympathetic, and you take his arm again when he offers it to you to go into dinner. The grand table is anything but informal, and the three chairs clustered at one end don’t afford you the comfort of sitting next to the prince, but you’ll manage just fine. Nothing can be as tedious as a constituent fundraising dinner…right?
Once you are sat down, your pre dinner drinks are whisked away and a fresh glass of wine is placed in front of each plate. “Thank you.” Javi murmurs to the silent staff as they move seamlessly. Setting the first course in front of him.
“There is little time for you to get settled.” The king turns his eyes to you, watching you carefully as you begin to eat. He has already had his first bite so at least you knew to wait for that. “Appropriate candidates for lady in waiting will need to be interviewed tomorrow. You will choose two at most.”
“I understand.” Well, you sort of understand. Interviewing ladies in waiting sounds like taking applications for best friend – an idea that sounds completely off the wall to most people.
“Good. Once my son has presented you with the royal engagement set, we will announce the wedding day. The coordinator will be in to expedite the guest list, have your list ready.”
“I will.” If this is the king’s version of informal, you can only imagine what a formal meal will be like. Even your house growing up had allowed for a little laughter here and there. The prince looks beside himself across the table from you, and you decide to take a chance. Stretching out as far as you can under the table without having to change how you’re sitting in your seat, you just barely manage to tap the toe of his loafer with the point of your heel. It makes him look up at you and you flash him a smile while his father’s focus is on his meal. It’s little more than a friendly gesture, but at least it’s friendly. So he doesn’t have to feel like the two of you have been separated across an ocean at the elaborate dinner table.
Javi nearly jumps when you touch his foot, his eyes darting up to meet yours. Finding the playful light in your eyes refreshing and he nods slightly. Thankful that you are not already screaming that it is too much, or insisting for more detail. “Perhaps we can have a less traditional honeymoon?” Javi asks. “Since we are not well acquainted with one another?”
“How much less traditional?” His father clearly isn’t pleased with the question, but wants to know how much leeway his son is attempting to bargain for.
“Perhaps my bride can show me her favorite places in America?” He offers, looking over at you and nodding. “I think that would be a good experience for us to bond as a couple.”
“Is one of her favourite places California?” The way the king asks is exasperated, fully expecting to know the answer. “Only one of, your Majesty.” The whole idea of going to the States together was yours, and you really don’t want him to get in trouble for it. “But the United States has many beautiful places and cultural sites to visit.” You swallow your nerves, willing yourself to sound demure and hopeful instead of like you’re on defense. “The prince explained that a traditional honeymoon would be a tour of the islands to make appearances and greet the people. It could be an educational and unique experience to tour America as well.”
“It would be good.” Javi insists. “I wish to get to know her, without the press, without the speculation. You had a year with my mother before you married, and you took that from us.”
“Not intentionally.” The king sighs, knowing that it’s true but not liking the accusation. “I will consider it.” Is the concession he makes after a pause, and you’re sure you see him wince. “As long as each location can be made secure. Safety cannot be ignored.”
“Really?” Javi’s brows shoot up and his voice pitches up slightly in hope. “Yes, sí, we can have it secure. It can be planned out.” Hope flares in his chest that perhaps his father might give him something that he had wanted forever.
“I will consider it,” he repeats, stressing that he could still say no if he chose to.
Javi swallows and the light dims in his eyes. “Yes, papá.” He murmurs quietly and looks back down at the plate in front of him. He hates how he is 35 years old and still feels like a small boy being taken to task for misbehaving.
Something like fury ignites in the pit of your stomach, taking away your appetite and making you ache for this man you only just met. A grown adult with a world of responsibilities and being treated like a small child by his father. Right there and then you swallow all your own fear and apprehension. “I will ask the First Lady’s secretary for a list of places that the Secret Service has vetted,” you offer, knowing that making that phone call will be interesting. You’re known to the First Lady but only marginally, and this constitutes a favour. “If that will please your Majesty, of course,” you add, thoroughly sucking up, but with a backbone.
Javi shakes his head, knowing that the more that the idea is pushed, the more the king is most likely to say no. Even after doing everything he wants, Javi still falls short of his expectations. He looks down at his plate and pushes a bite around. “There is no need for that.”
The rest of the meal passes in virtual silence. The king gives instructions occasionally or criticisms, but mainly focuses on his meal. He dismisses the offer of dessert and it is whisked away as he stands.
Javi stands, regardless of if he wanted the dinner to be done. You stand when the king does. Pleased when you do the same as he waits for his father to say something.
“Buenas noches.” He looks down at his hands when he says good night, barely acknowledging the two of you until he finally looks to his son. “Javier, come and see me before breakfast.” He instructs, as though his son would ever be up and functional at such an early hour. “And you, señorita,” he turns his gaze to you appraisingly. “I expect to hear your choice of ladies before noon.”
"Buenas noches." Javi watches as his father turns and stalks out of the room, proud even though he can tell that the older man is struggling to keep his gait steady. He wonders how bad the pain is and wishes that he would have just relaxed some. It might help to not expend so much energy trying to maintain a strong facade.
“Buenas noches.” It’s too little too late, murmured as the king walks away, but you look to the prince across from you with concern written on your face. “If I said something wrong, I apologize.” You must have, otherwise what could have made the monarch so ill-tempered seemingly out of nowhere?
"You did nothing wrong." Javi sighs and looks at the servants as they come to clear the table. "Would you please serve dessert for us on my balcony?" He asks, turning towards you after getting the affirmation. "I figured we could talk some more unless you are too tired?"
“Not at all.” Ending the night now would leave an awful taste in your mouth, and the prospect of spending more time with him actually sounds relaxing, even if things are still so new. “Dessert and then our movie?”
He loves that you are still anticipating the movie and he nods. "That sounds like a perfect ending to a very...different day for both of us." He acknowledges.
"What is different now will become familiar in time." Hoping that his father's irritability won't be included in that, you know that at least your time together will become easier as the days go by.
"Yes it will." Javi sends you a grateful smile and motions towards the door. "Shall we go have dessert then? Perhaps the conversation can be a bit more...relaxed." He knows his father didn't set a very nice tone for the meal and you hadn't eaten much.
"That sounds nice." Relaxation, if it will be possible tonight, sounds heavenly.
"Almost as relaxing as a bubble bath with a very large glass of scotch." Javi chuckles. "Or a lot of champagne in the pool."
No. No. No. Don't imagine him in a bath or the pool... You bite the inside of your lip as you follow him out of the dining room, taking the extra moment to compose yourself. "Have you always liked the water?" It's a natural and innocent enough question, considering he is from a nation of islands.
"Since I could remember." Javi grins. "My mother used to say I could swim before I could walk. I used to sneak out so often to swim that there was a guard at the pool all hours of the night for safety."
"At home we would have called you a 'water baby'." It's a charming image, one that makes you smile when you look up at him. "I promise you won't have to worry on my part. I've been swimming since I was a little girl and I can keep up."
"Then we will have to swim sometime." He suggests, watching as you continue to smile at him. Feeling his stomach drop pleasantly and he wonders for first time what it would be like to kiss you.
"Perhaps an unofficial, very relaxed second date?" You raise an eyebrow at him and smile again, feeling butterflies again. "Just because we don't go out and do something fancy doesn't mean it can't be a date."
"Would you—" Javi stops for a moment, slightly flustered and starts again. "Would you like to be with me tomorrow morning?" He asks. "When I pick out the rings?" He feels like you should have some kind of say in the what you wear for the rest of your life. "Help me chose something you like?"
"If you want me to be, I absolutely will." Some men feel it's their duty to make the choice themselves, but you have to admit that you like that he is asking. That he isn't making decisions for you like your fathers have done for the two of you since you were young. "I might...ask you about some things that you like? For wedding planning? I have a feeling that I will be expected to make decisions about things quickly and I want you to be happy with the day as well."
"I am fairly easy to please." Javi shrugs slightly. "It will be a royal wedding so there will be limited options but I do love anything with honey in it. For the menu."
"Honey." You nod, committing it to memory. "Is there anything that you maybe don't like? Or that I should avoid?" Looking down at the parquet flooring as you walk, you decide to open up a little bit about something personal to show him that you're really trying to connect with him. "For instance...when my parents were married, my mother carried a huge bouquet of flowers and always laughed about how heavy it was and how, when she did the bouquet toss, it went about two feet and dropped right to the floor." Thinking of your mother makes your smile go a little wider and your express a little dreamier. "So whenever I imagined my wedding, I always imagined a smaller bouquet."
"I will have to wear my royal uniform, but I've always imagined that my bride would have two gowns." It's silly to think about, but he had imagined it. Oftentimes with Gabriela, but now he could imagine it with you. "One for the ceremony, beautiful and regal. And another for the reception afterward. Something, uh, sexy." He admits before he realizes how that sounds. "Not that I— I don't expect, uh, sex. Not— I—" he fizzles out and just stops talking.
"Javi." It's the first time you've actually called him by his name, and you reach out instinctively to put your hand on his arm. "Please don't--" You clamp your mouth shut momentarily as two women pause in their journey down the hallway to curtsy to the prince before continuing on. "Please don't be embarrassed." Lowering your voice seems prudent, so you step closer to him. "We're going into a marriage, and we were both very clear about wanting a life with love. To me, sex comes with those things naturally."
"I just don't— uh—" Javi sighs, looking into your eyes sincerely. "I don't want you to feel that just because you are married to me, that I expect you to-" He lowers his voice even more. "Consummate our marriage until you are ready." He finally finished, his skin slightly ruddier with nerves. "I'm not— it's not like I'm inexperienced but it's never been expected of anyone."
"Why don't we talk about this in private?" You suggest, nodding toward the small hallway behind you where you now know that a small elevator is artfully hidden. "It's important to talk about, but it's...it should just be for us."
"Of course." Javi shakes his head at himself and guides you to the elevator. He knows the staff put up with him and are used to his antics, but he doesn't want to make things embarrassing for you.
Up in the elevator and down the hall, the two of you are completely alone once you step inside his suite and let the door shut behind you. "I think it's really important to talk about," you clarify quietly, feeling a little self-conscious about how silent you've both been on the way upstairs. "I just...we met only a few hours ago. So talking about having sex with you with you, with a lot of other people around seemed...less personal."
"I agree." Javi can see how it would be unnerving to talk when others were around to you but he's grown up used to those people. "I guess the entire conversation about sex right now is a little ridiculous but the circumstances we find ourselves in means we need to discuss it."
"We do." Even as you nod, the two of you sort of move automatically toward the balcony off to the side of his bedroom at the back of his suite. It mirrors your own rooms in a comfortable way. "But if you want to talk about dates, or the engagement, or the wedding, or anything else instead I fully understand." Who knows? He may be the sort of man who feels much more comfortable diving in to the deep end of things. You're just trying to give him the choice.
"We are going to be discussing nothing but that for the next two months." Javi jokes, rolling his eyes. "I did not mean to sound so abrupt. I just wanted you to know that I don't expect you to sleep with me now, on our wedding night, or - well, ever if you decided you did not want to."
"I really don't think that that will be the case." You might answer a little too quickly to be proper, but the idea of you never wanting to have sex with him is ridiculous. He's drop dead gorgeous and in just a few months he's going to be your husband - those things alone add up to sex. "That is..." A deep breath hopefully hides the way you fluster at the quick response. "As far as physical attraction goes...it won't be an issue."
Javi frowns for a moment, surprised by your answer. He's never been overly self-assured, but he knows he's reasonably attractive. At least his crown got him laid in the very least. "Me?"
"Yes, you." A flurry of emotions cross his face that you can't read but you tilt your head in confusion. "That surprises you?"
"Is it— is it because of the—" he gestures helplessly for a moment. "The crown? The fact that you are 'supposed' to want your spouse?"
"I—" He holds out your chair for you at the little table that has been set up on his balcony, and it seems the staff took it upon themselves to pour out more sparkling wine for the two of you to enjoy privately. "I don't expect you to jump into my bed right away, either." After all, you had expected it to take much longer to warm up to each other. "I would like to think that it might happen...organically? Since we're actually attracted to each other?"
“Organically.” He nods in agreement after he comes around to sit down in front of you again. “I like that. No pressure. Sí.”
"Some things shouldn't have a schedule." Of course, if that smile stays on his face as bright and beaming as it is right now, you'll be shocked if it takes the whole two months before the wedding.
“So you know,” he picks up his wine glass. “There is a door between our rooms. It is locked on your side, so I cannot open it.”
"How very scandalous." Yet it warms you through that he had enough optimism to want to give you an adjoining suite. It means that he wasn't against the idea of you getting along - otherwise he would have chosen rooms for you clear across the east wing. "You mean I could just unlock it and come say hello?"
“If you wished.” Javi nods and sends you a sheepish smile. “I promise I do not sleep in the nude, so I will not surprise you.”
You grin at the way he blushes and pick up your fork, ready to follow him into digging into the elaborate little tarts that were prepared for you tonight. "I hope it won't take us long before we can feel comfortable leaving that door unlocked," you admit, knowing that the hope is for emotional intimacy as well as physical.
It's almost unnerving, the way that things seem to be organically progressing between you. As if his parents had inadvertently found a person who was perfect for him personally rather than to be his political ally on the throne. He wonders what an American thinks about a monarchy and if you have been taught to believe in the ceremony of it all or if your Senator father had just agreed for his own political ambitions.
Eating in relative quiet isn’t unnerving with him the way it had been with his father present, and you’re not ashamed to be grateful for that. You had thought you would be nervous around him. Anxious or afraid to trip over your own two feet. But the truth is that he is a sweet and endearing man, and that spending time with him in these early stages is no hardship at all. Lost in your own little world of thought, you almost snap back to reality in one very particular thought. “Forgive me,” you put your glass down and shake your head at yourself. “I haven’t said ‘happy birthday’ and it was just two days ago. I hope you had a wonderful day.”
Javi freezes, surprised by the unexpected well wishes and he sends you a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. We had a party, and it was very entertaining." He muses. "I am sure my next birthday will be quite different." He frowns, knowing he will be king by then.
“I’m sure there will be protocols to follow, but we’ll still make sure you enjoy it.” You will make sure of that, knowing that he will have plenty of difficulties adjusting to his new title and that he shouldn’t have to lose out on everything he enjoys because of it.
"I never wanted to be king." Javi admits quietly, furtively looking up at you and then back down at his dessert. "I still don't want to be king."
“People who want to hold power rarely make good leaders.” You offer, thinking of the way your father so keenly wants to be president. “Craving power makes you greedy and ruthless once you have it.”
His brow pulls together as he contemplates your words, knowing that it is a fresh perspective and an honest one. You will be crowned queen no matter what you say, so you have no reason to lie. "You are right. I have no interest in greed or ruthlessness." It's easy to not be greedy when you've lived a life of luxury that most could never even dream of, but the things that he has always wanted were relatively simple.
“And you’ll be a better king than many others could be because of it.” The soft smile that brings out in you is honest, and you shrug your shoulders a little when you realize you’re just looking at him. “And I—I’m here to help you as best I can.”
"What are you passionate about?" Javi asks, leaning in. "I want to know more about you. I am sure that you have been told all about me, but please, tell me something no one else knows?"
“Oh—I—” There’s a sort of horror in realizing that your life has been an open book except for him. Your arranged marriage has been your biggest secret, since they’re not commonly accepted in America, and moreover he might be the first person to ask you about you in years. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I…I miss being called by a nickname. I know that doesn’t seem…intimate or anything. But my mother used to call me Daisy. They were her favourite flower and she…she said I was the only thing she loved more than daisies.”
“Daisy.” Javi smiles softly at the idea and he knows that he will have to come up with a nickname for you. Something that wouldn’t tread on the toes of your mother’s nickname for you. “You should include that flower in our wedding.” He suggests. “Include her in the day.”
“You don’t think it’s a little…informal? For a royal wedding?” His father will likely think so, which is a disappointment. Your own father’s dislike for the flower is because it reminds him of his first wife. “Maybe it could be included in the flowers in my suite sometimes?”
“Hmmm.” You are right, the flower would be considered ‘too quaint’ He will have to come up with something for you, instinctively knowing you would appreciate it. “You can have daisies in your room every day if you wish.” He promises. “It is your private space to do with what you wish.”
“She would have liked you.” Memories of your mother are precious, but since both of you lost your mothers as teenagers you hope he can understand. “She’s the reason I value kindness.”
“I hope so.” Javi chuckles nervously, unused to compliments of that nature. Most of them are obviously surface level and meant to flatter, yours touches emotions he’s been told to ignore for doing what is best. “Considering she agreed to send her daughter to marry me.”
“When I asked about you once, she said that if you were anything like your mother then we were sure to get along well.” That thought had stayed in your mind for years as you wondered what the man would be like when you finally met him.
“I hope you don’t regret it.” He murmurs softly. “I know I am not…what people expect of a prince.”
“With all due respect to your title?” Hoping not to offend him with the way you have been looking at this situation for years, you fold your hands in your lap and twist your fingers around each other instead of shrugging. “I’m marrying you as a man, not a prince. We’re still people. Not only our jobs.”
Javi frowns, never thinking of things that way. He had never had any kind of disconnect between him as a person and his title. It was always an inextricable part of him. “I- I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“A good man can be a poor leader, and a good leader can be a bad man.” Of course someone could be successful at both, but that is infinitely more rare. “My first impression of you as a man has made me think that we could actually be very happy one day. I—I hope that’s not to forward.”
Javi stares at you for a moment, speechless. Nearly not even breathing in shock of your nearly immediate faith in him and what could be between you. “I want to be both. A good man and a thoughtful, good leader.” He admits quietly. “Maybe that is possible, but I wish to be happy.”
"I'll do everything I can to help you." Right now it's the biggest promise you can honestly make to him. You can't know for sure that you'll be happy together. Or that you'll find love. Or that he'll be a brilliant and caring king. None of those things are certain. But you can promise him that you will try - and give it all of your best effort to help him succeed.
“Now that we’ve discussed the non-important issues….” Javi jokes as he forks up the last bite of his food. “What shall we talk about?”
"Whatever you'd like." He had said he wanted to know about you but there isn't really much to tell. Since you are here to support him, your focus is on him entirely.
“What would you want to do?” He asks curiously. “If you could do anything in the world?”
"I've always thought that I would do this." Looking around you, the world that you envisioned is slightly different than what your reality is quickly becoming, but only slightly. The inside of the palace looks slightly different, the people are not exactly the way you imagined, and it is much more beautiful in person than in photographs. But largely...since you always knew that this is the life you would lead, this is what you had always dreamed of. Any childhood fantasies have gone by the wayside. "Come here and be a partner to you. Be a wife and a mother. Whatever you need me to be."
“So you’ve never been able to dream about what you want?” He is the same, his dreams squashed, but he hates that for you. “Do you like animals? Children? Charities?”
"For a lot of girls, my reality is their dream." You point out quietly. "Hallmark movies, like we said before. But...yes. I like animals and children. I used to babysit when I was younger to earn pocket money and I would walk dogs or check on cats for our neighbors when they went away. And I—I worked for a charity. Until yesterday." The visit to your office had been quietly devastating, but your boss hadn't fussed or given you grief. She had just been sad to see you go.
“As a Royal, as queen, you will be able to determine your own focus for your time and effort.” Javi explains quietly. “Often the queen will involve herself in charitable works for the country.”
"I helped organize fundraisers and events for a charity that bought instruments for public schools in New York City." It was good for your father's image, that was the original reason for the choice, but you had quickly started to meet some of the children and teachers who benefited from the program's work and their happiness made you work much harder for them than any Washington press release could. "I admit that I don't know as much as I could about the educational system here, but I enjoyed every moment of helping those students and teachers."
“Then if you would like, you could focus your effort on education.” Javi suggests. “Our education ministry would love the attention of the crown. Especially if it is a subject near and dear to the new queen.”
"If there is something you would rather have me put my efforts to, you only need to say so." He might know something that was close to his mother's heart, or something that needs more attention than the education ministry does. Or he may have a plain and simple preference. If that is the case, you would rather do what will make him happiest.
“I want you to be happy.” Javi says simply. “I want you to enjoy the work that you can and makes the heavy weight of the crowns we wear tolerable.”
"Then I'll educate myself on the Balearican education system before I speak to someone in the ministry." The placid expression on your face cracks to a smile, and you pick up your glass again to have another sip. "It would be good to know about the schools that our children will attend anyway."
Children. The way you say it so causally makes Javi nearly choke in surprise. That it was just a foregone conclusion that you would have his children. In a way, it was, but he had never thought of it quite like that. “Yes. The children all attend public school until they are ten.”
"I'm sorry." His face morphs through a riot of expressions and you panic slightly, thinking you've overstepped when you were only trying to think practically. "I didn't mean to—to startle you."
“No— immediately he is shaking his head, understanding that you think he is upset. “I had just- it’s - I had never thought I would be - it’s just that you’ve accepted that you will have my children so easily. I did not expect that when I learned of the arranged marriage.” He explains. “Some people take years to come to that way of thinking.”
"Except..." you tilt your head slightly, knowing that your experiences coming into this arrangement have been so different. "I have had years already. So if you feel that I am pushing you, or rushing things, please tell me. Because I don't mean to. Everything can be at your pace."
“I had hoped that I would be allowed to chose my queen.” Javi admits. “Just like I assume you have wished you could choose your husband. But I knew, deep down, I knew that I would have an arranged marriage.” It’s probably the first time he’s admitted that to himself. “I know what is expected of me, and I will not shirk my duties, but it is my hope that we will fit well together. Not just for political reasons, but privately.
"I loved fairy stories when I was a little girl." Your mother had read them to you as bedtime stories and you always begged for as many as she would consent to read. "I...I guess maybe it's a peculiarity of American girls. Because we have no royalty, we romanticize it. But when I was little I dreamed of having a Prince Charming." Since he had known Hallmark, he no doubt had seen some of the Americanized romanticism of royalty - and how over the top it can be portrayed. "So when I was told, at seven years old, that my parents had found me a prince for when I was grown up? It...it was actually something wonderful."
“When did you start to hate it?” He asks, knowing there must have been some point where you wanted to rebel against it. His was one day ago. When he learned about it, so he understands.
"When I was a young woman." It feels shameful to admit to him, but you want to be honest. "High school. College. I did date other people for a while. To have those experiences, and...and partially because I was afraid to come into this completely inexperienced and disappoint you." That is the first time you've ever admitted that out loud and you look away so you don't have to see him judge you for it. "When I found dating to be bitterly disappointing, I actually started to think of this arrangement with relief."
“Dating is horrible, isn’t it?” Javi can laugh about it now, but there has always been a sense of wondering when the other shoe would drop. When they would start to make demands. “I- I don’t blame you for wanting experience.” He promises. “I don’t judge you for that or expect- you know. That you are a virgin.”
"I am. Technically." Something about the truth of it - perhaps because it is the truth - makes you want to bury your head in all that beautiful sand on the beach below you. "I wanted experience, but it never felt right to have that experience with someone else." Realizing how that might sound, your head shoots up in distress. "Not—not that I expect the same of you. At all. Especially when you didn't know about me."
You’re gorgeous when you are flummoxed and Javi grins. Reaching out and touching your hand where it is resting on the flute of your sparkling wine. “It is okay, Margarita.” He assures you softly. “I will not judge or embarrass you. I may not please you, but I would like to try.”
"Margarita?" With your heart jumping up into your throat, you find yourself trying to both stare at his hand touching yours and bask in his smile simultaneously. It makes you seem even more flustered, and you can feel your cheeks burn over it. Over maybe because he's touching you. You can't tell.
Javi bites his lip. “Is that okay?” He asks softly.” La margarita…Daisy.” He explains, while you have show you are fluent in Spanish, that might not be something used in the slight Colombian accent you carry. “If not, I will not use it.”
"Oh." Allowing yourself to feel silly for not translating the word immediately, you find yourself smiling broadly and letting your fingers stretch out slightly to touch his. "No, it--it's beautiful. I just...it's silly. A Margarita is also a cocktail, and it's very popular in America. So I was confused at first. But please...please don't change it?" His own version of what your mother called you makes you want to laugh and cry with joy simultaneously. "I love it."
“Okay.” Javi nearly giggles in relief and nods. “Then with your permission, I will call you that privately.” He agrees, rubbing his thumb over the back over your hand as you touch him. “Just between us so it is special?”
"I agree enthusiastically." The soft, tentative way that your fingers tangle together with his is nothing like when you wring your own hands in anxiety. It's gentle and explorative and sparkling with excitement and attraction.
The moment seems to linger in gorgeous silence. Not uncomfortable but seeming building into something memorable between you. Both of you hesitant to stop smoking softly at each other.
"Thank you for suggesting this." The table between you is empty of its treats now, but the candles burn bright in the moonlight and lend an appreciated air of romance to the evening. "And for...for being open with me. And to me."
Javi’s smile turns shy and he squeezes your hand just a little tighter. “It helps that you are nothing like I imagined.” He confesses softly. “I was afraid that you would be cold, rigid and unwilling to look at life as an adventure. As much as royalty can, that is.”
"To be royal is an enormous adventure." At least, that's how you've always looked at it, but your smile quirks into a smirk. "Cliff diving to become a merman is not the only way to have an adventure, you know."
“Huh.” He frowns and then takes on a thoughtful expression. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
"Not growing up with royalty may have given me a different view of it than you have." With your fingers still intertwined, the candlelight flickers on your skin and casts shadows that sparkle off your nail polish whenever it hits just right. "But that might not be such a bad thing."
“No, I don’t think it will be a bad thing.” Javi agrees and the thought of what it would be like to kiss you filters through his mind. “Would you like to watch the movie now, or are you tired?”
"I think it's just the right thing to end our night, if you're still up for it." For you, although it might not technically be a date, this night has had all the hallmarks of a wonderful one. Drinks and dessert with good conversation, a little flirting, a lot of honesty, and a shared experience. Not all dates have to be fancy, after all.
Javi smiles and nods, giving your hand another squeeze as he stands and moves to help you out if your chair. “I love the movie room.” He admits, excited to share his favorite movie with you. “I know it is a movie for children, but it is just so…heartwarming.” He offers, not wanting to cloud your judgement on the movie too much before you experience it for yourself.
"The best children's movies have something for everyone." When he doesn't let go of your hand to lead you back inside, it's a thrill in a way that you didn't quite expect. "National Treasure is technically a family movie, but it's wonderful."
“It is so fun. And some of the facts from your Declaration were real.” Javi adds knowledgeably.
"It's my comfort movie," you admit, walking with him back through his suite to the eat wing's main hallway. "Both of them. When we one day make it to America, I'll take you to see the Declaration in person."
“That would be interesting.” Javi’s eyes light up happily and he motions towards another set of gilded doors. “This is the theatre room.” He explains. “There are not a lot of televisions in the palace, but this is my favorite one.”
The title theater room doesn't quite do the large auditorium justice. There are plush recliners and sofas to seat more than a dozen people inside, with a full-sized movie theater screen and all the accruements of snacks and drinks in clean-looking modern refrigerators and cabinets that extends even into a bar on one end. The other end is spectacular: a large, vintage style popcorn machine with all the necessary supplies in a cabinet underneath. "Oh my god," you gasp, eyes as big as saucers when you walk in. The plush red velvet and gold trim all around you reminds you of an old-fashioned movie theater in the very best way. "Of course it's your favourite. It's mine now too!"
“You like it?” Javi is delighted and points out the speakers. “Perfect Dolby surround sound and it sounds like you are in the movie!” He tells you excitedly. “The recliners have the massagers build in, and heated so it is cozy to curl up.”
He lights up from the inside when he gets excited, and for the first time since meeting him you wonder if a kiss would light him up like that as well. "You didn't tell me when I asked about popcorn that we could make our own right in here."
“Surprise.” He chuckles and moves over to the machine. “There is nothing like theatre butter popcorn.” He grins as he opens a cabinet below the machine and pulls out a jar of kernels. “And the butter? It isn’t really butter. But it’s liquid gold.”
"There's always room for popcorn, isn't there?" If you could always keep him smiling like this, you would do it forever. He positively shines. "With gold, of course."
“Always.” Javi appreciates how you are game for his silly treat. “It’s magic, like you have another stomach for popcorn.”
"I think I actually might. Maybe you do, too. We're medical marvels." Moving over to the refrigerators, you find bottles of soda brands both classic and local, water, and then a plethora of half bottles of all sorts of wine to go along with the liquors in the bar. "What would you like to drink?"
"I think—" He pauses for a moment and then nods. "I think water will be good. I have had a lot of alcohol and I would not want to misstep when tonight is going so well."
"Of course." Two bottles of San Pellegrino come out of the fridge when you decide to follow suit. Although you wouldn't blame him if the bubbly made him a little enthusiastic, you certainly don't want to make him think that you were pushing for something to happen faster than he was comfortable with.
“I don’t want to kiss you if you wouldn’t be open to it.” Javi blurts out, hissing when he realizes he hadn’t just been thinking but had spoken the words aloud.
Pressing your lips together to keep from giving yourself away with a grin, you put the two bottles of water down to look at him. "Would you prefer I pretended not to have heard that?" Never wanting to push, you're actually ecstatic that he's warming up to you as quickly as you are to him.
“Only if you are offended.” Javi huffs to himself mostly but he turns to gauge your reaction. He had told himself that he wouldn’t try to pressure you and here he is doing just that.
"Not at all." The worry on his face doesn't belong there, and you let the grin you were hiding unfurl across your face. "I would be very open to it as soon as you're ready, to be completely honest with you."
“Then you kiss me whenever you want.” Javi offers, the worry giving way to a small smirk.
It tightens in your chest, the way you want to spring forward and take him at his word right now, but hesitate. Your own fear of seeming too eager gnawing on your self-consciousness. "Perhaps it will happen organically," you tease instead.
Javi chuckles and the two of you continue to get ready for the movie. Before you know it, you are seated beside him in a recliner with a bucket of buttery popcorn between you as the movie starts. "If you cry, it's okay." He promises. "I cry too."
"I do cry at movies sometimes." He assurance seems almost conspiratorial, and you naturally lean in to him a little in the massive seat. "If we do, we'll cry together."
“Why do you think I have tissues ready?” Javi asks, motioning to the box on the other side of his chair. “It is coming.”
He is, of course, completely right. By the time Paddington is arrested you are sniffling beside him, smiling sheepishly as he hands you a tissue with a knowing nod.
"See?" Javi loves that you are emotional, wishing that he could hold your hand while you are wiping away your tears. "I love this movie."
"It's so sweet." Little by little, the more you have sat beside him, you have ended up leaning in to him until you are shoulder to shoulder. "I never disbelieved you." It's after you dab your eyes that your head leans against his shoulder, and the intimacy of the moment is that much sweeter.
It’s almost natural to lean his head against yours and he sighs softly. “It makes me want to be a better man.”
If that is the case, you might want all men forever to see this film and be inspired the same way, and you decide instantly that stuffed Paddington bears will be appropriate gifts for any children the two of you have together. You shiver slightly and Javi grabs the blanket that is on the other side of him. Wanting you to feel comfortable as the two of you continue to watch.
The longer you sit together the closer you get, until your heads are leaning neatly on each other with your hands tangled together again by the time the credits roll. Everything that was between you is forgotten or pushed aside and it's just two people together, feeling that rush of quiet excitement that comes from something new.
"I think that we can probably count this as a movie to watch together again?" Javi asks quietly, turning slightly to look at you despite your heads still touching.
"Absolutely." He's so close like this that you could kiss him with almost no effort, but you reach your free hand up to dab away the dampness on his cheek. "It's wonderful."
"Are you tired?" He whispers, still not ready to really give up time with you. He's just met you less than twelve hours ago but with as fast as everything is moving, he wants to spend every moment he can getting to know you. Really know you.
"Not if you aren't." You will happily swallow an occasional yawn to spend more time with him. Also, if he is a night owl then you want to make sure that you adjust to a schedule that he is comfortable with.
"There is a place I would like to show you." He whispers again. "You can see every star in the sky, hear the ocean waves crash against the cliffs."
"Okay." Almost before you can say it, you're nodding. "Show me. Anything. Everything." There's something magical building here that you can feel tingling all the way through your body. Something you want to see through to wherever it will go.
Flashing you a grin, Javi jumps up, reaching for your hands to drag you up out of your seat. "Come, we will take the Jeep." He tells you conspiratorially.
"We're driving?" It's unexpected, but your aching feet still in their heels will thank you for it.
"Yes." Javi's head bobbles quickly. "Up to my special spot. It would kill your feet if we hiked there."
"Well, alright." His energy and excitement are contagious, and you give him your other hand so easily. "Lead the way."
Javi sneaks you out of the palace, even though the two of you could walk out the door and no one would question either one of you. It just adds to the air of adventure as the two of you hustle out of the doors and down to the garage where his topless jeep is waiting.
"How far is it?" He says there is no adventure in his life and yet here he is whisking you away from the palace under the midnight moon to some secret location where you know in your heart you're going to have the world's most perfect first kiss with your literal Prince Charming in a Hallmark-style fantasy that is beyond even your wildest dreams. This is such a beautiful adventure to have together that you wonder if he has any idea how exciting it really is for you.
"Just a few miles away." He plans on taking you to that cliff. The one that he had shown you earlier. The one that he had jumped off of when he was younger. It was the best spot to stargaze around the palace and you can see every star in the sky. He wants to show it to you. Share it with you.
The drive is a chance to see more of the island, even at night and even as he drives quickly through the landscape, it's all breathtaking. Everywhere you look are beautiful plants and bright flowers, at one point there is even a grove of olive trees to the left of the road. The unbelievable trees thin out as you get closer to the coast, giving way to bushes and dustings of wild botanicals as opposed to the manicured gardens close to the palace. "Javi..." you breathe his name in awe when he stops the Jeep. "It's gorgeous..."
"We aren't even there yet." Javi jumps out of the doorless Jeep and grabs the blanket he had tossed in the back. "It's better up ahead." He holds his hand out for you as you climb out of the vehicle.
"How could it possibly be better?" Even through asking the question, you trust his judgement. It's just so much more beautiful than you had expected already. And to see him with so much happiness and that blanket in his hand while he holds his other out to you. "Lead the way," you tell him again, feeling another riot of butterflies erupt in your belly.
He grins, sending you a small wink before he turns to rush up the small hill with you. The adrenaline of the excitement thrumming through his system and making his heart pound in his chest. Hoping that you love the nighttime view as much as he does. The trees block the cliff face and he turns to watch your face the moment you break through the brush.
"Oh my..." It's literally breathtaking, this view that looks out into the Mediterranean Sea with the vastness of starry night surrounding you entirely. It's as if no one could reach you here and yet you can see everything and you cling to his hand as a soft breeze wafts over you from the south. "It's--" You're on the verge of tears, sniffling quietly when you finally tear your eyes away from the view to look at him. "It's magical."
Smiling, Javi stares into your eyes, feeling connected to you in ways that he will never understand but realizes this will be the moment where he knows that everything will be alright. He will be strong and resilient as long as you are by his side.
"Do you want to lay the blanket down?" You're both clinging to each other a little tighter than before, holding that gaze and swallowing with what you realize are honest to goodness nerves. After expecting this moment for twenty years, to finally be here is both terrifying and elating, but your heart has gotten involved. Like it or not – intended or not – you're much more scared to fuck this up than you want to admit.
"Right." Javi jolts, grinning sheepishly as he spreads the blanket out along the rocks. It won't do much to cushion the ground, but it would keep your pretty dress from getting dirty.
The moment makes you both giggle, not breaking the spell of the moment but maybe making it a little less serious. When he gets the blanket set he helps you settle down comfortably, and all at once you're leaning against each other again just like you were in the theater room in the palace – watching the sea this time instead of the film.
"There is so much to see out here." He whispers. "It's like...the world is all right here and endless at the same time."
"I can see why you thought mermen were within reach if you came out here as a boy." There is no reason to whisper. You're completely alone out here and no one could interrupt you if they wanted to. But it's as though the wind could hear you if you raise your voices too loudly, so you both instinctively whisper.
"They are out there." Javi hums. "In the whitecaps of the waves." He grins into the darkness. "Do you see them, Margarita?"
He's so playful. Whimsical and dreamy in a way you never could have expected, and it may be because of that that you look out over the waves and point to one cresting way away from the rocks near the edge of the island. "Right there," you hum, watching the foam dissolve as the wave washes out again. "He came to say good night to us."
"Or he came to say hello to his future queen." Javi offers, turning to watch you as you look out over the water as the waves relentlessly beats against the shore.
“Maybe he’s gone home again after having a look at us.” Your hand finds his on the blanket easily, fingers naturally threading together now like they belong always intertwined. “To tell his family that—” When You turn to look at him, his eyes are already on you, with adoration painted in their depths. It mirrors your own expression so strikingly. “That the prince has a bride-to-be who already adores him.”
"I do?" Javi barely whispers the question, almost fearful of the answer. Also eager to have you tell him again. To feel the burst of pleasure in his chest that seems to completely encompass him.
“Oh, yes. And it happened so very organically.” It takes everything you have to nod solemnly as you lean in a little, wanting him to meet you halfway. To take this step together. “I never…” The breath you take is shaky, wondering if being honest with him right now is too much too soon. But if you can’t be honest with him, who can you be? “I never thought it would be so easy to let myself begin falling in love with you.”
There’s a chance that you are flattering him. That you are telling him what you think he wants to hear. However, he doesn’t believe you can look at him like that and not mean it. The stars are literally shining in your eyes and Javi’s breath catches. Reaching out and stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles before he cups your head as he leans in. “Then it makes our first kiss under the moon and stars very organic, mi Margarita.”
He doesn’t shrink from it, or startle, or accuse you of embellishing like so many others would. He meets you softly, finding that your lips mold to each other as easily and naturally as your fingers twine together. You hum softly when he presses into your space and moves his hand to the back of your neck, encouraging you to come closer. Right now he could encourage you right over the edge of that cliff like a siren and you would go with him willingly – all for the taste of his kiss.
Javi sighs, pouring himself into the rather innocent, yet completely consuming kiss. Unable to believe that he is very willingly kissing a woman he had been furious was coming even a day ago. Yet now he doesn’t want to stop kissing you. He doesn’t need to breathe, he just needs to kiss you.
Your own hand finds the curls at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss but not pushing past any boundaries yet. It’s the most remarkable feeling – attraction seeing your body alight like stardust but the moment staying fairly innocent regardless. It’s not until you both find you need to breathe that you part, but it doesn’t seem destined to last for long.
It lingers, until Javi pulls back so slowly that it takes forever for his lips to separate from yours and his eyes open with a flutter to watch you. “That was…perfect”
“Better than a movie.” The breath that finally catches in your lungs is heavy, keeping you anchored to him securely.
Even though you are still looking up at him with stars in your eyes, you can’t quite smother a yawn. Making Javi smile. “Do you want to lay down?” He asks softly. “Stargaze for a minute before I tuck you in?”
“I am afraid of falling asleep on you,” you admit, though you don’t stop him from leading you down to laying on the blanket.
“I’ll make sure you get to bed.” He promises, knowing he should take you back, but there are always shooting stars and he wants you to see one.
“Lay with me.” The space beside you is empty but for wanting him to fill it, and you pat it with one hand.
With the invitation, Javi lays beside you and nudges closer, looking up at the sky. “Majestic, isn’t it?” He asks softly.
“It’s stunning.” You stand by your description of the place as magical, as the stars seem to dance above you.
Javi hums, watching the sky while he tries to look at you from the corner of his eye. Finding you even more stunning.
“What are you thinking?” It’s an intimate question, but the moment is intimate, and you find yourself curious as to what he could be thinking of so calmly when your mind and heart are rioting for you to kiss him again.
"This is a perfect moment." Javi whispers quietly, turning so he looks at you fully. "There are so few of them in this life, but this one, with you, is one of them." He swallows and licks his lips. "You are even more beautiful than the view above us."
“Tonight has been amazing.” Turning to face him, you’re nearly curled into his side. “I know that…that it’s not big or flashy or anything like that. But dessert on your balcony, the movie, and this?” When you smile it splits your face in half. “It’s the perfect first date.”
"Hmmmm, our first date happened before I could plan it." Javi's arm wraps around you easily, his hand spread across your back. "Does that mean our next one should be flashy?" He asks teasingly.
"It should be whatever you would like." With your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, you're more comfortable than you have been in ages. "Public or private. Flashy or humble. I don't care as long as you're there."
Javi thinks about it for a long minute. Holding you as his head turns back towards the sky. Wanting to make it something good for you, something special.
The quiet lingers between you, comfortable and warm, until he hears your breathing even out on the blanket beside him. Sleep has always come easily to you when you felt safe, and somehow you just know – instinctively – that Javi would never let anything happen to you.
______
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#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanficition#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Javi Gutierrez#Javi Gutierrez x reader#Javi Gutierrez x you#Javi Gutierrez x female reader#Javi Gutierrez x f!reader#royalty au#arranged marriage
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Hi Mona!
I love your rockstar!eddie series!
I know request for him are closed for now, but when you decide to open up request again, I wanted to leave this here so that I won't forget.
Rockstar!Eddie coming back home after touring and he's so touch starved and deprived of you. So, when he comes home he ravishes you. He catches himself asking you if he's too rough and you're thinking he's NOT rough ENOUGH because you're just as deprived of him.
I hope have a winter/December and a great new year!
thank you angel! and you know what? because you've all enjoyed our rockstar eddie christmas request week, i'll give you guys one last fic. don't worry if i didn't answer yours. i will do them all i either A. just didn't get round to it or B. want to do it at a certain point cos i need to cover some other plots first
three fucking weeks (rockstar eddie x reader) 3.6k / mega smut from start to finish / fluff
this is for everyone who got involved in the xmas request week because of that, i've hit 700 followers. so here is my biggest smut fic yet before rockstar eddie goes on hiatus for a couple of weeks. this one ends on a cliffhanger! but you might want to refer to here to work it out... maybe then you'll also know what happens in the next fic
you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola
February 1993.
The last words you'd heard from Eddie were muffled from the other side of a bad telephone line. Although the sound warped by the the airport's tannoy and bustling passengers, you heard his lust filled words clear as day.
'The second I get home, I'm going to ruin that pretty little pussy.'
Three weeks since you'd seen Eddie. Three long arduous weeks since you had felt his touch. Corroded Coffin stowing away in a Joshua Tree music studio, hoping the barren surroundings would inspire new music. The writing process intermittently broken up by a series of gigs at intimate venues around California. Back in New York, the greatest city in the world had become the dullest in Eddie's absence. With damn Steve having swept your best friend off her feet you hadn't even anyone else to occupy your free time. Between your working hours, you'd managed to rearrange the bedroom, paint the living room and spend your months wages in retail therapy. But finally your boy was coming home and you couldn't lie, you were fucking horny.
Left to your own devices for the best part of a month, no toy compared to Eddie. Your touch incomparable to the sparks he could ignite on your skin with just a featherlight stroke. Vibrator redundant now your body knew the sensation of Eddie's mouth humming against your clit. Dildo a mere cheap imitation of the way Eddie overwhelmingly filled your holes perfectly. By now the flight had landed, it was just a waiting game until he came through that door and you could show him how much you missed him.
The front door slams open, handle cracking into the wall, sure to leave a dent but Eddie didn't care - he was eager.
'Sweetheart, I'm homeee!' he sings.
Bags carelessly discarded on the floor, all he can think about is being back in your arms.
'Baby? I'm back!!' he shouts again.
Eddie strips his jacket and kicks off his boots, giving you a chance to reply but to no avail.
'Y/N? What the fuck, where are you...'
When entering the apartment, he'd been too excited to even realise the lights were off, the entire place seeming desolate. Socked feed pad along the hardwood floors as he moves further into your shared home. Kitchen? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. Study? Empty. It's only as he catches himself from slipping that Eddie notices a trail of petals leading from the front door into the bedroom, where the door sits ajar. Too wrapped up in wanting to see you, he'd failed to notice. Now he realises a soft glow seeping through the cracks. Grinning in anticipation as he pushes the door open.
'Mother of god,' Eddie gasps as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.
The lights are dimmed low, only aided by candlelight which together illuminates your reclining figure on the bed. His eyes scan your body, drinking in the sight he'd been longing for. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that sight could improve. Your cute toes wiggle in black stockings that travel up your legs and cut off at the meat of your thigh. Even with your legs crossed, Eddie can see a tiny black material that barely covers your pussy. Then your torso is adorned in a black bustier, hooks travelling up to where a deep v cut finished below your sternum; breasts spilling out of the ruffled cups. His cock twitches at the thought of ripping the hooks open. Your neck and collarbones are exposed, soft, delicate skin waiting to be marked by his lips. And then there's your face. Eyes sparkling at him, full of lust and love. Mouth struggling to keep a grin at bay. The face he went to sleep thinking about every night, woke up from dreams about and spent the day with it in mind as he tried to write music. Your arm reaches out, hand beckoning Eddie forward.
'Hi Eds. I missed you... too much.'
Your head nods down to his crotch now. Too lost in the vision before him, Eddie hadn't noticed the way his cock had hardened to the point of straining against his jeans.
'I think you should probably take your clothes off and come and say hello,' you smirk.
Instantly, he's scrambling. Head barely able to form a coherent thought aside from how he needs to touch you right now. T-shirt flings to one side of the room and socks to another.
'Sweetheart... I - fuck. You look like a dream. I'm scared I'm still on that fucking flight or delirious in the stupid desert,' Eddie pants as he scrambles with the buckle of his jeans. The second his aching cock springs free you let out an inadvertent moan. As soon as his body is entirely freed of fabric constraints, he's hurling himself onto the bed and crawling up towards you.
Eddie's lips kiss every inch of you as he moves upwards. His lips need to reacclimatise to the body he knows better than his own. Kisses pressed from the tips of your toes, your kneecaps, covering your thick thighs and then lingering on your poorly concealed cunt. He hisses as he leans in towards your mound, able to smell your arousal. Lips kiss the satin fabric of your thong and the skin it fails to cover. You're unable to stop your hips from involuntarily bucking as soon as he's near the place that's longed for him. Eddie's hands find yours and your fingers intwine, both of you gripping tightly at the other. Desperate to never let the other slip away for such a prolonged period again. Kisses litter up your sternum then across your pushed up cleavage. Once he reaches the plains of your collar and neck, Eddie indulges himself. Lips sucking marks onto the skin that's looking far too bare due to his absence. Teeth nipping gently causing those giggles that make his heart and cock swell. And finally, your faces are level, his hovering above yours.
The pair of you just stare for a moment. Absorbing the person you'd both been lost without; reacquainting with every freckle, blemish or fleck of colour in each eye. Both of your hands have traveled up to cradle the other's face. Your fingers twirl the curls that frame Eddie's face, pushing them away so you can fully appreciate your pretty boy.
'My pretty boy, I love you.'
Your noses rub against each other. Even this close, vision slightly obscured, you can see the blush that creeps up on his cheeks at the nickname.
'I love you too, sweetheart. Gone crazy without you.'
Humming in agreement, you tug at his hair.
'Feral,' you whine.
Eddie chuckles in a warm, sexy way that travels to your core. His eyes look down at your body beneath him, admiring again the outfit you'd chosen. Retracting a hand from your face, travelling it down your side before he slides it between your thighs. The string of the thong wet with your arousal as he pulls it from between your lips, then pings it back. The brief contact making you whine.
'Yep, I think you are feral, my love. Think I oughta do something 'bout that.'
'Plea-'
Your plea is cut off as Eddie's lips crush into yours. The sweet kisses that had covered your body are gone, replaced by desperate wet ones. It's seconds before the kisses are open mouths, tongues flicking against each other. Hips pressing towards the other, frantically seeking friction. Both of you whine into each others mouth as you begin to hump. You push your hips up, legs spread achingly apart to trap Eddie between. In return, he presses hard against you. Thick length bearing down on your clit, occasionally sliding between your wet pussy. You're both groaning and grinding, transformed once more into hormonal teenagers and whilst it's good, it's not enough.
'Gotta stop,' Eddie pants, 'this isn't - isn't how I wanna cum with you.'
You're unable to reply because your teeth are sinked into his shoulder to stifle the embarrassing moans scratching to come out. Never in your life have you been this pent up. Eddie tears his crotch away from yours, crawling back down your body. His hands, rough from weeks of constant guitar practice, firmly grip your thighs, keeping them apart. Doing so causes the thong to ping between the lips of your cunt which are now spread. His tongue flickers over his lips at your glistening wetness.
'Baby she's desperate... going to eat your cute little pussy now, 'kay? Missed her taste.'
You've been stifled by the built up desire, unable to produce anything but pathetic whinnies. But now you grab his hair harshly, yanking his head back up before his tongue can touch you. Wide eyed at your hard tug, Eddie looks up.
'No!' You snap. 'Spin the fuck around and get on top of me. Need to taste you too.'
The sternness in your voice has the ability to scare him in the way every authority figure has previously failed. Careful not to squash you, Eddie turns around, swinging a leg over so he's straddling you and then slowly reverses until his crotch hovers near your face. Usually you'd be on top so now he's far too aware of his weight. But the firm grip on his ass that tugs him down makes him to cave. Instantly Eddie's thick cock is bottoming out in your throat. Tears well in your eyes but you groan, pleased that his taste and smell now dominate your senses.
The luring natural musk of his skin and the slight salted taste of precum that had beaded on his tip.
The moment he sinks into your mouth, his teeth sink into the dough of your thigh - the pleasure sudden and overwhelming for him.
'Oh fuck-' Eddie sobs into your skin as you adjust and start to bob your head up and down his length.
Resting on his knees allows him to thrust in time with your movements, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. Eddie dives his face into your cunt, hand lifting away the thong that prevents him from burying his tongue deep into your folds. Humming at the taste he's been dreaming of for weeks. The vibrations cause you to gargle against his dick. After a few swipes of his tongue, lapping up the pool of arousal that had formed, he finds your clit. Tongue flickering over the enlarged bud, already feeling better than your fingers and vibrator had. Instantly, you spread your legs wider, granting him more access. Now he latches on, suckling at your clit desperately. The pair of you lie there, contorted to suck feverishly at the most sensitive parts of each other's body. It's overwhelmingly intimate and carnal. Something neither of you would've done for any previous lover.
Now, Eddie lets his hand travel towards your hole that he knows is begging to be filled. Two large fingers plunge inside your cunt and instantly he feels your walls contract against him, eager to maintain the fullness. Your throat contracts in response as you moan at his fingers penetrating you. Eddie continues his assault on your clit as his fingers fuck into you. The pair of you forlorn in pleasure, you whimpering against his cock as he moans against your clit. Mimicking his movements and desperate to reward him, you bring your hand up to his exposed ass. You grab and knead the fat of his asscheek before letting a finger rub gentle circles round the rim. Immediately, Eddie breaks contact with your clit.
'Oh shit, please, baby, please,' he begs.
Now you're warmed up, he slips in a third finger. As if to encourage you to go further with your own movements against his hole. You want to coo at his begging but your mouth is too full of his perfect cock. Applying firmer pressure as you circle his hole, you feel him ready. Finally you finger slips into his asshole, it's hot and desperate for attention. Walls pulsating against your finger.
The pair of you mirror the other now. Fingers fucking into the other at the same pace, growing more brutal by the minute. Your mouths sucking and licking at the other's sensitive spot. Knowing both of you will only last a few minutes at this overwhelming pace, Eddie breaks away.
'Y/N we gotta stop. I'm so close and I need to fuck you. Sweetheart, I gotta be inside you'.
Eddie pulls himself out of your mouth, allowing you to instantly gasp for the extra air his thickness had been blocking. He moves back so your eyes can meet again, large warm hand cupping your cheek.
'You okay?'
You nod as you catch your breath.
'Yeah, Eds. Please, please fuck me. I need to cum,' you beg. Unbothered at the slight patheticness to your tone.
Eddie removes your thong entirely now.
'We both know that was doing nothing,' he laughs.
Without guidance, you're putting your legs over his shoulders; an unsubtle hint that you need him now and you need him deep. He takes his length and lines himself up with your entrance. Then, three weeks of longing are broken as he thrusts into you. Too overwhelmed with wanting to even slowly enter you. Eddie is instantly bottoming out, balls pressed to your asshole as you wail at finally being filled.
'Oh jesus - yes Eddie!'
The volume and anguish in your moan takes even him back. He's never heard you be this desperate and it triggers something primal in him. Instantly he's thrusting into you fast and hard. Each unrelenting push jiggling your breasts further out the corset.
'God I missed - ugh - this tight little pussy,' he grunts.
You need even more. Your fingers yank at the hooks of the top until it parts and your tits finally spill out. Eddie moans at the sight. Instinctively, he's latching onto your hard nipples, folding your body in half to do so. Now he's sucking at your breast and fucking you deeper and it's still not enough. You're greedy in a way you've never been before. Making their way around his back, one hand finds his head, pushing him close to your breasts as your nails scratch his scalp. The other hand seeks his ass, squeezing it until you retract your touch and then crack your palm hard against his soft cheek.
Instantly Eddie bolts up from your chest, staring at your eyes, wild. The warm chocolate of his iris, eclipsed by blown out pupils.
'Did you just fucking spank me, sweetheart?' he chokes out.
Now he's upright you're no longer able to reach so you seek a new method of showing him how you want it. Your hand now clutches at his throat, Adam's apple bobbing against the stretch of skin between your spread thumb and forefinger.
'Yes and I'll do it again.'
You sound like a brat and you have no remorse. Three weeks of pent up frustration is now rearing its head. Eddie puts his hand over yours and squeezes it, encouraging you to tighten the grip at his throat. He's continuing to fuck you but his pace has slowed, intrigued by this turn.
'Sweetheart,' he coos, 'what has gotten into you? I like it.'
With one hand flexing across his throat, your free one takes his and pulls it to your mound. Encouragingly placing it over your clit. Grinning, Eddie's fingers rub firm circles over it as he languidly thrusts into your cunt. Although at a slow pace, his cock plunges deep into you. Hitting the sweetest, most filling spot and then dragging torturously along it. The movements have your hard exterior crumbling and whining under him.
'You- you were gone... I was... was so fucking horny. Couldn't c-cum,' you're gasping now. Eddie's motions along with the way the chocolate of his eyes appears molten at your confessions.
'Not with you. Needed you... Eddie. Tried everything.'
He bends down to give you a deep kiss. Years together and yet he remains in shock that you need him as much as he needs you. He hopes this kiss will wipe away your cute little pout.
'Couldn't even play with your toys?' he murmurs, intoxicated by how fucked out you look beneath him. You shake your head, hands wrapped around his neck, thumbs stroking his skin.
'Okay, baby. I'll make you cum, yeah?'
'Please Eds,' you beg.
The smile that appears from hearing your pleas is heartaching. Then he starts concentrating on thrusting into you again. Speeding up his movements, languid pace abandoned. But it's not enough, the earlier momentum lost.
'No,' your hands tighten on his throat, 'like before. Harder.'
'It wasn't too hard?'
The nails that dig into his Adam's apple tell him the answer before you do.
'No. I want you to make me fucking cry.'
'Fuck, fuck baby, yeah okay.'
Instantly Eddie is folding you again, arms braced either side of your head as he towers over. Your knees press up near your shoulders. His pace quickens, fucking you senseless. The drawn out process of this evening has left you dripping. Sounds of wetness filling the room as he plunges back into you each time.
'Hear that fucking sound, best music I ever heard,' he groans.
Your hand seeks his ass again and you repeat your earlier actions. Spanking him again. The crack against his skin ringing even louder than the squelch of your cunt.
'Oh fuck yeah,' Eddie cries, 'again.'
The spanking repeats, each time you do it, his pace somehow quickens. Your clit is throbbing now, aching for touch again. You hand wedges between your bodies and you whimper as you relieve the ache.
'Wait,' Eddie's shifting over you, 'from behind, wanna fuck you from behind. Only I get to play with your clit.'
His voice is strained, you know he's at the edge of cumming. Eddie gets off the bed, standing and tugging your ass towards him once you're on your knees. The moment he slams back into you, your back caves into a deep arch and you both moan.
'Yes, that's it!' he cries.
Eddie wraps his arm under you, finding your clit and continuing his assault. Fingers pressing harder and covering a greater expanse than you ever could. The fast circles in time with his cock fucking into you. From behind he goes deeper, pressing against that one spot with growing frequency.
'More,' you demand.
He leans forward until his mouth latches onto your shoulder. Like this, he's prevented from pulling out far and instead it feels as if he's humping you. It's dirty and animalistic and it's what you needed.
'Ed, I'm close.'
His teeth sink into you now causing you to cry out, giving you exactly what you asked for.
'Look at you... fuckin mess sweetheart... all cos you couldn't get my cock.'
The tightness in your abdomen increases and Eddie feels how your cunt clenches round him like a warning.
'Shit,' you cry 'please please come inside me.'
Eddie instantly pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest. Fingers still toying your clit that has begun to ache from stimulation. His free arm wraps around you too, hand shaking around your throat to gently grip. Plush lips seek out your neck, pressing encouraging kisses as you near your climax.
'Don't you worry baby...' he grunts against your neck.
'Daddy is going to fill you up good.'
The nickname pushes you over
'Eddie,' you cry as you come. Three weeks have of build up, only worsened by tonight's teasing, come shattering down in a climax.
'Holy fuck y/n,' Eddie chokes.
He's realised before you and it takes you a moment to clock that you've squirted. Spraying over Eddie's cock and the sheets. He grunts like a feral beast at the sensation. An additional wet warmth showering over him alongside the tight clench of your spasming pussy. He takes a few more drawn out thrusts, sloppy from your cum.
'Three... weeks... worth!'
Eddie moans your name as his comes after his final word. You feel the heat squirt up inside you and he suddenly jerks, shooting out another load deep inside.
'Oh jesus...' Eddie whimpers as he humps at you again, 'there's more.'
And again another burst paints your insides. Instantly you flop forward, exhausted. A subconscious part of you whispers to make sure his spend stays buried in your cunt.
Eddie watches as you wriggle back up to the pillows, collapsing with a sigh. Knees bent, keeping your hips angled up. He crawls onto the bed and opens your legs to take in the view. Pussy puffy and blushing and completely full of his cum.
'Tryna keep me in there?' He chuckles.
'Yes,' you blush.
Bringing his forehead to rest against your knee he groans.
'Fuck sweetheart, don't tell me that. My balls ache from how much I just came but you'll get me hard again.'
The desperate look in his eyes makes you chuckle. You tug him on top of you, his head falling to your chest. Stroking his sweat matted curls, you cradle his face. Littering kisses all over him as he hums in content.
'I missed you so much Eddie. It physically hurt.'
'I know, Y/N,' he looks up at you smirking, 'could tell. But I missed you too. Missed home.'
Eddie snuggles into your chest. Exhausted by the sex and blissed out in your arms. This is where he belongs, always. He's certain he'll fall asleep here for the night. The question he was going to ask on his arrival will surely have to wait til tomorrow. But it's okay, he's been waiting since October - so what harm is another day?
my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja
#enam3ls rockstar eddie#eddie munson smut#rockstar!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson × fem reader#eddie munson × reader#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson#munson headcanons#eddie munson × yn#eddie munson X y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x afab reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#stranger things 4#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader
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Shiu Kong: You linger in the office late at night, the only sound a rustling of papers as you work. In a moment of surprise, you find Shiu Kong is suddenly by your side, leaning in and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before wrapping his arms around your shoulder from behind. Despite the fact that you and Shiu Kong aren't dating, it's clear that there's something special between the two of you.
"Why don't we take a break?" Shiu Kong whispers in your ear, his voice soothing and gentle like that of a guardian angel. "Let me treat you. I know you enjoy my princess treatment." His signature charm makes it impossible to resist him.
Higuruma Hiromi: Today is the day you arrived in New York with your co-worker, Higuruma, for a business meeting in one of the biggest law firms in America. You lie down on the bed, exhausted after the long flight, and close your eyes. Suddenly, you hear someone knocking on your hotel room door, you walk over to open it. It's Higuruma. He steps in, wraps his arm around your waist, and drags you to the bed, pinning you down. With his other hand, he loosens his tie, you notice his smirk growing wider. He leans in closer and his voice becomes alluring.
"Finally, we have some time alone, my love. Don't you think we should do something fun?" he whispers in your ear.
Kusakabe: You snap out of your daydream upon noticing Kusakabe standing right in front of you. He has his hands pocketed and sighs softly, then smiles slightly at you.
"Are you listening?" he asks, taking on a gentle tone.
"I don't want to repeat myself, and I'm not a fan of going on missions either. Let's make it quick, okay? I'll treat you to something special later on."
Nanami Kento: Alone in Nanami's living room, you can't help but feel awkward after missing the last train home. Thankfully, Nanami, your co-worker, noticed you struggling and offered you a place to stay. As you fiddle with your fingers, Nanami returns and hands you his oversized t-shirt and shorts. With a gentle smile, he kneels in front of you, speaking with a calming tone that exudes a sense of security.
"There's no need to worry. I won't do anything to you," he says, his words carrying a sense of reassurance. "You can sleep in my bedroom, and I'll sleep here. And if you're hungry, just let me know," His voice is gentle, soothing, and filled with genuine care.
Gojo Satoru: With the students long gone and the room finally empty, you and Gojo are alone in the classroom, cleaning up for the day. Gojo likes to tease you whenever he gets the chance and it drives you crazy, but the truth is that the moment you two are alone, your heart starts racing. He approaches you, leaning against the chalkboard, and smiles softly. Fully aware of your feelings towards him, he's not afraid to use them to his advantage.
"It's just us here right now. You can't deny your feelings for me, no matter how hard you try. Tell me right now.”
This is my first time posting here on Tumblr. It’s from my small series from TikTok which was highly popular, so I will keep posting small fanfics here from now on. I hope you enjoy!
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#nanami kento#higuruma hiromi#shiu kong#kusakabe atsuya#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines
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In the Spirit of Helping
Pairing | Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle
Summary | Lucy has been alone most of her life, having found solace in a single friend long lost she grapples with being taken care of again. She must learn how to hold on and be held.
Or five times Lockwood looks out for Lucy and one time she looks out for him.
Warnings | mentions of suicide, canon typical violence
W/C | 9.6k
A/N | I’ve loved Lockwood and Co. since middle school (I’m in college now) and I even have my first book signed by the author so this is a long time coming. The show really captured the books and I hate Netflix for canceling it so I decided to give us a little more than we have. -smoe<33
AO3 | Link
Donations | Link
One.
It’d been a tough case. Child Type-Twos were always difficult for them but Lucy tended to take it the hardest. Her listening was sensitive and her heart just a tad too big for the job.
While the team had been fighting off ghosts, Lucy’s senses had been overwhelmed by the cries of children. She almost couldn’t hear the boys calling her name over the cacophony of noise. Her own voice had soon joined the begging, hot tears streaming down her face to accompany the desperation. The memory of hands grabbing at her, holding her down; she just wanted it to stop , stop–
“Stop!” She yelled, thrashing around at imaginary hands. “Please leave us alone!”
Muffled cries of, “Lucy!” rang out from her left but she’d already dropped to the ground, holding her head in her hands.
Hands tugged at her shoulders, real ones this time, and she panicked. “Get off me!” She lashed out and the smooth metal of her ring caught Lockwood’s cheekbone, splitting it.
Lockwood took a second to compose himself before he approached her again, hands out and placating as if she were a wounded animal.
“Lucy, it’s alright,” She noticed suddenly that she could hear the comforting lilt of his voice with no interference “George got the source. They’re gone.”
The ghosts had all been tied to the same source: a stuffed bear stored under the floorboards. Lucy threw up while Lockwood held her hair and George called DEPRAC to come to retrieve the source as well as arrest their employer. Lucy couldn’t help but stare at Lockwood as they rode home, the gash on his face tidied up by a medic but there all the same.
Her eyes bore into his–guilt and anger rotting her insides but incapable of feeling it. She couldn’t feel much of anything on the ride home, just a vague sense of what she did and what had happened. She was numb and it was only when Lockwood had finally broken their eye contact that she registered they were back at Portland Row. Languidly, she exited the vehicle, her rapier loose in her hand and a blank expression on her tear-stained face.
Lucy found herself sandwiched between two boys, George in front, keying open the door, and Lockwood behind her, his hand hovering over the small of her back. Her things fell unceremoniously to the ground the moment she stepped in the door and George jumped.
“Christ, Lucy, you could at least–”
“I’m going to sleep,” she announced and sidestepped an indignant-looking George.
“Lucy, how about we all have a cuppa and–” Lockwood didn’t bother to finish his sentence as Lucy was already up the first flight of stairs and working on the next by the time he managed the first half.
Lucy’s legs felt like iron, her body forcing its way to her room through the difficulty. She’d lost control again. She saw the way the boys looked at her: George and his sideways glances, Lockwood with a pity that gripped her heart and tugged every time she so much as frowned. How could she not though? Every day they experienced more than any person should in a lifetime and they were only children, no matter what Lockwood insisted.
More than anything Lucy was angry . Angry at her mother for pushing her into this line of work, angry at DEPRAC for letting kids do this job, and angry at Fitts and Rotwell for profiting off the backs of dead agents. Her hands clenched as she made her way to the bathroom overwhelmed with how dirty she felt. The eyes that stared back at her in the mirror were as dull as her mousy brown hair and the freckles that scattered her cheeks and nose were muddled by smears of mud from her fall. Tear streaks were running down her face as she scrubbed at them furiously, the too-cold water making her feel raw. Grey water swirled down the drain, taking the dirt and magnesium dust with it.
Lucy noticed the hair on her arms had been singed as she removed her dirtied clothes similarly littered with burns and tears. The sensible blacks and blues of her wardrobe left much to be desired, George being the only one to stray into yellows and oranges but paying for it whenever he came out on jobs and ruined his clothes. The steam of the shower began filling up the small room, giving Lucy a reprieve from her reflection as the mirror fogged up and she stepped inside the scalding water.
As she scrubbed her body and massaged her scalp, Lucy felt the anger and sadness slip away from her, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Tears mixed with the spray of shower as Lucy silently let out the day. She was just wrapping a towel around herself when a knock echoed from outside the door.
“Luce?” It was Lockwood. “Lucy?”
Heaving a breath, Lucy wrapped her towel tighter and exited the bathroom just as Lockwood climbed the rest of the way up the stairs. Lockwood was now staring up at her, surprise coloring his face and a blush starting to burn his cheeks. Lucy didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed around Lockwood like she always seemed to be, instead staring down at his red-tinged face.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a step back down the stairs.
It took a second for her to respond, deciding whether to lie or voice a truth she hadn't dared to think on. “No.”
“Wha-” Lockwood blubbered, not expecting her answer and bounded up the last three steps to her room and walked over to where she stood. “Luce, what’s going on with you?”
“Honestly, Lockwood,” Lucy began, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m tired.”
Lockwood grinned, a look of relief flooding his face as he spoke, “Well, a good night’s sleep-”
“No, Lockwood!” She turned around exasperated. “I’m tired of being an agent, I’m tired of risking my life, I’m tired of being tired!”
When Lucy turned back to see the stunned boy behind, her she immediately wished she’d kept her mouth closed. His entire demeanor shifted, eyes not quite meeting hers and Lucy wanted to take everything back.
“Lockwood…” Her mind flashed to him telling her, “everything ends and everyone leaves.”
Lockwood gave her a rueful smile, his arms flailing helplessly at his sides, “I wish you didn't have to do this either. And you don’t but I’ll be here for you…George too–the both of us–if you decide to stay.”
Lucy was suddenly all too aware that she was still only in a towel when she felt herself fluster at his attempted cover-up. “It was just a long night, I didn’t mean it. I’m not going anywhere”
They stood in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other but she didn’t think Lockwood was convinced by her words. Lucy looked to the skull, its swirling green face taunting her as she wracked her mind for a way to tell Lockwood how much he meant to her when a yawn tore its way up her throat, breaking the moment. “You’re tired, I’ll let you go to bed.”
“Anthony…” She pleaded, not knowing what she would say if he stopped and he nearly did before he must have thought better of it.
“I want you to know, you mean a lot to us and we’re always going to be here for you,” He seemed put off by his own admission but added on assuredly, “I would be sorry to see you go.”
Lucy wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she watched Lockwood walk down the stairs. She knew the boys meant something to her, they were all she had left; her mother never meant much to her, and Norrie ghost-locked back north was likely never to wake up. They were all she had and by some strange feat, that was enough.
Two.
Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her body stiff and cold as she lay staring up at the dark ceiling of her attic room. There was a quick moment where she felt the echo of being trapped in ghost-lock but when she realized she was aware of her surroundings, Lucy’s stomach dropped. For many, nightmares were the worst of it, but for her , as the dreams ended the terror of real life began. At least in her dreams, she could do more than just watch.
Her breathing began to quicken uncontrollably. Realistically, she knew none of what was happening was real but the panic clawing its way through her chest and into her lungs didn’t give much leeway toward logic. Lucy felt herself break into a cold sweat as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Ghosts glowed, she saw them every day; they didn’t exist as the void she was experiencing, hell even shades were different than this. Lucy felt a scream bubbling in her throat, waiting to be let out but she was locked still. Her body was not her own, a mind inside an unwilling vessel that was intent on destroying her.
Her muscles ached as she strained against them, trying to force any part of herself to move or latch onto reality, her anchor being Lockwood's necklace but to no avail. Quicker and quicker she was losing oxygen to her heaving, her hands begging to grasp at the invisible noose around her neck that was tightening by the second. She lay there, choking on the air that she was able to inhale into her burning lungs when suddenly, her finger twitched. Another and then another came to until her body shot up out of the bed and a scream found its way out of the lump in her throat.
Once again her vision was clear and the shadow was gone but the fear that had only just consumed her still lingered in the air, electric, leaving her paranoid. Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes, not out of fright but frustration; she hadn’t slept well in weeks and she was growing weary of the constant fatigue she lived with. Between the nighttime cases and overall lack of sleep, she was at her wit's end.
Lucy pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing the tears to stop until she could swing her legs from under her blanket and take the first tentative step out of bed. The dusty hardwood was cold on her bare feet and creaked quietly under her. She didn’t like to walk around at night, knowing that the noise could be heard throughout the house but given that she’d already been screaming, if anyone was disturbed they’d already be awake. She glanced at the dull green glow of the skull on her window ledge and grimaced.
Grabbing her sweater from where it sat in her laundry basket, Lucy pulled it over her head, not bothering to worry about the two-day-old tea stain that marred the front. It was her favorite sweater, often smelling familiarly like lavender and anyway, she had no one to impress at three in the morning. Her hand found the reassuring iron of her doorknob and cursed the house for being so cold; the older construction did not lend much insulation for the chilly weather that plagued London almost year round. For good measure, she hurriedly grabbed the knitted throw blanket George’s mom made off of her bed and wrapped that around herself as well.
She began to descend the stairs, being as quiet as possible, her hand gripped the railing and supported her as she skipped the loose stair that always creaked when anyone stepped on it. The landing was home to three doors, two inhabited and, she could only hope, undisturbed . Her eyes slid past George’s but she lingered on his despite her resolve not to. Shaking her head, Lucy continued down the second flight until she reached the ground floor.
Just as she was going to enter the kitchen, the sound of the stove lighting stopped her. Had she woken one of them? Her heart rate picked up and she couldn't decide who she’d rather have awoken.
With a deep breath, Lucy pushed open the door and saw the clear outline of Lockwood reaching to grab a mug from the cabinet. She tip-toed in but accidentally knocked into a chair, startling the boy.
“Oh, Lucy , it's you,” Lockwood smiled, a defensive hand still clutched to his chest.
“What are you doing awake?” She asked but her voice was unprepared and it came out strained. She knew he needed the sleep just as much as her.
“You know, had to use the bathroom then decided on some tea.” He shrugged, gesturing to the kettle on the stove, mug in hand.
Lucy squinted her eyes in suspicion, “That’s my mug.”
Lockwood’s gaze flitted to the object he was holding and scoffed. “Well, it's hardly yours. Everyone shares these!”
Despite the feeling in her gut, he wasn’t lying; Everyone did share the mugs but that one in particular was different. That mug was the one she had bought specifically for herself after she discovered she was two gulps deep into George’s toothbrush cup. After that, she was deadly clear to never touch it, and to her knowledge they never did. Lucy felt a flare of annoyance, they knew that was her mug and here Lockwood was using it as if it was his, as if–
Her stomach dropped when she finally remembered why she was down here in the first place. That was her mug.
“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Lucy sighed.
Lockwood’s head dropped, “Looks like you caught me.” He set down the mug. “What was it this time?”
“Nothing specific, just shadows.” Lucy rubbed her arm trying to comfort herself and took a seat at the table. “Doesn't help when your brain won't listen to you. I know it’s not real but I can’t stop it.”
“I’m sorry.” He smiled in remorse.
Lucy shook her head and stood, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. “Nothing to be done.” She moved around the boy, blindingly aware of their height difference when she had to strain to reach another mug. One for him this time. “What are you having?” She opened the tea drawer and pulled out an Earl Gray for herself.
“Just black is fine,” He said from where they kept the biscuits.
They met in the middle, Lucy with two cups of steaming tea and Lockwood with the chocolate-coated biscuits they saved for special occasions. Lucy raised her eyebrow in question and Lockwood shrugged.
“Don’t tell George and there won't be a problem,” Lockwood smiled and sat down across from her.
Lucy put the cups uneasily down, sloshing a bit of hers over the edge and burning herself slightly in the process. She hissed through her teeth and stuck the afflicted finger in her mouth. “You know he’ll notice,” She warned, noticing Lockwood’s eyes caught on her mouth.
“Yeah, but that’s a problem for later.” Lockwood chuckled, eyes flitting back up to hers and shooting her a grin before snatching a biscuit from the open sleeve and grabbing his tea.
They sat there for around half an hour just talking. Lucy nearly had forgotten what led them into this position at all and a warm smile donned her lips when Lockwood walked up the extra flight to her room with her to, ‘make sure you get there safely’. Her room felt warmer and she wasn't as afraid to fall back asleep with the lingering promise that he’d be there if she needed him.
Three.
Lucy felt extravagant. Because of their recent press and subsequent jobs, she could afford a new dress that hadn’t seen the bottom of the Thames. It was red and satin and showed more skin than any outfit she’d ever owned. When she had decided on it, the woman at the boutique exclaimed, ‘ If you're going to go red you must go red’ which scared her at first but when she pulled out the matching red heels and a brand new tube of red lipstick she listened to the voice in her head that was telling her to trust this woman. Lucy thanked the other side every day that she did.
After an appointment at the salon, she snuck up to her room past a cooking George and oblivious Lockwood to finish getting ready for the party. Normally she wouldn’t get so worked up over some company fluff but this one felt different. Before, no one bothered a second glance at her, except maybe Quill, but tonight, after a freshly printed front page issue interview about her abilities, she intended to make a good impression.
Lockwood had pushed her to do the interview despite her protests, ‘ Think about the publicity, Lucy! What it could do for the company, Lucy!’ and so she agreed because Lockwood looked so hopeful, so proud . How could she say no? So now here she was, slipping on a black trench and tying a blue scarf around her freshly curled hair like a woman grown instead of one just barely leaving her childhood all the while trying to ignore the snide comments of a disembodied skull that lived in her room.
With one last look to make sure nothing would be ruined between her room and the party, she ventured downstairs. The boys were standing by the door looking impatient and she rolled her eyes.
“Let’s be off then,” She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew they would open their big stupid mouths and ruin this for her.
“Is that you, Luce?” George sputtered, sounding on the edge of hysterics. She couldn’t look at Lockwood so she walked right past them and out the door to the taxi. As she passed, she could see George shrug and take a deep breath.
Of course, the boys were both dressed in basic black suits and to them, this was nothing new but tonight was undiscovered territory for her. She still refused to look at Lockwood throughout the ride and she didn’t know if the silence was a good thing or if the ice slowly forming over her heart was a bad sign.
It wasn’t long before they reached Fitts and were exiting the taxi. Her heart thundered in her chest as they got closer to the door because that meant she couldn’t hide behind the shapelessness of her coat. Lucy had always been conscious of her body, having grown up with six sisters, it was hard not to compare. The woman at the boutique had said she looked beautiful and she trusted her before but now she was starting to think the clerk just wanted to make a sale. Her heart was in her throat when she finally took off her scarf and unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the full effect of her outfit.
“Christ, Lucy, you look like a proper girl!” George exclaimed and Lock still hadn’t said anything .
She felt like she was on display for the world and all she wanted to do was catch the eye of the tall boy standing at her side. Lucy took a chance and looked at Lockwood. To her surprise, his gaze wasn’t on her but instead on the familiar necklace that lived around her neck. As if caught, Lockwood's ears went pink and he finally met her eyes.
“You look amazing, Lucy,” And he said it with so much sincerity both in his voice and in his eyes that she could do nothing more than believe him.
Her voice was small when she found it. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He said as if it was mad she expected any other answer.
She saw George look between them and shake his head. “I’m going to find the food.”
“I think I’m going to go to the loo,” Lucy’s smile was tight and Lockwood just nodded.
She looked around as she walked through the sea of people, noting many sets of eyes on her, and began to shrink in on herself. Quill’s eyes alone were easy enough to avoid but it seemed as if everyone was looking at her. Lucy quickened her pace, remembering the path she used last time they’d been at Fitts but an artful step right into it stopped her in her tracks.
“I believe we haven’t met. I’m Jonathan Davies, and you are Lucy Carlyle of Lockwood and Co.” The man held out his hand and in good taste, Lucy could not refuse.
“Charmed, but I apologize. I don’t believe I’ve heard of you, Mr. Davies?” Lucy asked as more of a question than anything else. It was Lockwood after all that kept up with this kind of thing.
“Please, call me John. But I don’t suppose you would have. I’m a part of the Fitts research team,” He looked it too, old and pale; probably from being cooped up in the library. Lucy made a mental note to apologize to George later for the thought. His smile was too gummy and his breath smelled of champagne. She wanted to leave . “And might I say you look gorgeous tonight, nearly a woman you are!” The comment made her smile waver.
“Not too near, though. Still a good few years away,” Lucy tried to joke but the comedy was lost in her discomfort.
“Oh, don't be like that!” The man bellowed. “I’m just trying to give you a compliment. You’re maturing and it looks good on you. What’s so wrong with pointing it out?” Mr. Davies bellowed and he was getting closer.
Lucy shivered and began looking for outs; her adrenaline strung her out like she was on a case and her mind was switching to fight-or-flight. Lucy did not tend to lean towards flight. She nearly had the thought to hit the man when an arm looped itself through hers and she jumped.
“I believe I owe Ms. Carlyle here a dance. Isn't that right, Luce?” The arm and the voice belonged to Lockwood who held the older man’s attention while she paused to collect herself.
“Yes! He promised me my first one of the night. You understand, of course?” Lucy tried to come off as apologetic but surmised she failed by the look on Mr. Davies’ face. Lockwood nodded to the man and as they walked away, arm in arm, she inclined her head to speak lowly. “Thank you.”
“Always,” Lockwood smiled and pulled her so she was in front of him. He took her hands and at her confused glance chuckled. “I believe I owe you a dance.”
“Oh, you don't have to,” She said, nervous as he wrapped her arms around his neck and fit his hands at the curve of her waist.
Now he smirked, smart-looking just like she hated. “But I promised you your first one.”
“You are being a right arse right now, Anthony Lockwood,” She warned, feeling teased. Lucy was vulnerable around him, stripped bare and out in the open. Now more than ever in that bloody red dress.
His eyes crinkled around the edges and the smirk turned into his mega-watt grin. “And you are looking absolutely breathtaking tonight, Lucy Carlyle.”
“Oh, sod off!” Lucy exclaimed, but her cheeks warmed and suddenly she was red enough to match her outfit.
They danced for a minute or two and she took the time to look past the boy’s head and calm down. She figured he could feel her pulse from where her wrists were touching his neck, by how hard her body was trying to pump the blood back to her brain so she could maybe form a coherent thought. She was suddenly pulled from her stupor when Lockwood spoke.
“I do mean it though. You look better than every other person in this room. I didn’t even know what to say when I first saw you,” His voice was low and only for her.
And here she was, Lucy Carlyle standing in a room full of people whose eyes were all on her and she didn’t notice in the slightest. The only ones that mattered to her at that moment were Lockwood’s. His eyes, and his hands, and his necklace all on her .
Four.
“And who might you be?”
The old woman before them was quite kind looking in Lucy’s opinion, though her pale skin and white hair made her look almost like a phantasm which unsettled her–not to mention the biting tone of her words. Lucy was not fond of the older generation that remembered a time before the dead came back, their holier-than-thou attitudes at the problem they thought they should be exempt from. Lockwood on the other hand was all smiles and unwavering confidence, making him ready to take the lead as always.
“I’m Anthony Lockwood and this is my associate, Lucy Carlyle. We’re Lockwood and Co.”
The woman seemed unamused with the both of them, eyes instead searching for something behind them. “And where’s your supervisor?”
Lucy let out a small huff at the question. More than a few of their cases had been booked by clients ignorant of their status as lone agents ignoring that small detail in favor of the lower-than-average rates they needed to provide to stay in business. Lucy didn’t see why supervisors were needed at all, the bumbling adults just got in the way of their work. It’s what drove her out of her hometown and into the gangly arms of Lockwood and George in the first place.
The rain beating down on their shared umbrella was slowly beginning to drip onto Lucy’s right shoulder and she scowled, silently cursing Lockwood for not bringing his own. He was always trying to be the perfect gentleman, Lockwood, yet he always managed to fall short in some way despite his efforts. Lucy took a moment to compose herself, shutting her eyes and standing closer to Lockwood to try and get out of the rain.
Lockwood’s face fell a millimeter before he went to correct her but Lucy butted in, annoyance evident in her tone, “No supervisors ma’am, just us . You said you’ve just moved in and were feeling uneasy?”
The woman gave her another once-over and looked to be getting ready to slam the door in their faces before a man appeared behind her with a coat in his hand. “Edda, would you just let the kids in so they can get to work?” The man was soft in a way his wife wasn’t but a permanent crease had made a home between his eyebrows though it had been the only plane of his face that hadn’t seemed to possess a wrinkle before.
“These are unsupervised children you’re letting into our home.” The woman’s face twisted as her husband helped her into her coat and handed her her own umbrella before she swatted him away. “Get off me!” The coat was an ugly shade of puce that had Lucy wrinkling her nose unconsciously and wishing she’d never accepted the job.
“These agents are here to do the job we’re paying them to do. You head to the cab, I'll let them know everything they need to.” The woman pushed past Lockwood and herself, forcing them apart and out into the rain despite Lockwood thrusting his arm towards Lucy to try and keep her dry.
The man, whose name they learned to be Morton, told them how his wife had become agitated since moving to the house, the loud bangs they heard at night, and the ice-cold temperatures that seemed to move from room to room. Morton was distraught, insisting his wife had never been like this before they moved and that she was ‘a lovely woman. Truly.’ To Lucy, it sounded like a shade or lurker giving off residual emotions from their death which was–what she supposed–Lockwood had insisted: a quick case involving nothing more than a few harmless specters lurking around the property, no need to bring George.
Lucy and Lockwood were given a quick tour by Morton who walked with a slight limp in his left knee. Lucy tried to focus on the man’s limp rather than the incessant squeak of Lockwood’s shoes every time he took a step. Lockwood insisted on having his dress shoes resoled rather than just getting a new pair even with the extra cost and Lucy had laughed at the quirk merely days prior but now she was grinding her teeth. Finally, leaving them in the living room, Morton bid goodbye and headed out to his awaiting wife while the two agents got to work.
After setting up a home base in the living room, they’d searched all around the house but produced nothing. Lockwood was unable to see the faintest glow and Lucy couldn’t even hear a whisper. It wasn’t often both of their gifts failed them, the remnants of death often wanting to be heard rather than stay quiet as they had for generations before them. It wasn’t until Lucy got to the kitchen and lingered near the door that let out to the back gardens that she heard the distant cries of a woman. She ran a tired hand through her hair, fingers pulling at the roots at the notion of searching out in the downpour.
“Lockwood?” Lucy called out, “I think the source might be outside.”
She only had a moment of hope that Lockwood would call it a night before he rounded the corner, his eyes filled with elation. “Let’s hop on then! You first.”
As she turned, Lucy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the look on Lockwood’s face. Of course, he would have fun trudging around in the rain. As soon as Lucy stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped the hood off her head and plastered her hair to her face. Lucy’s shoe– not her rain boot– squelched in the mud under her feet. Lockwood and her rooted around the garden of the old couple’s estate, pulling back thorny rose bushes that dug into her hands and trying to listen over the hammering of rain. Lucy felt her irritation boil over from where it had been growing in her chest when she managed to slip on a slick rock and end up hands first in the mud.
“I can’t believe you put us in this situation!” Lucy yelled over the pounding rain, “Really, Lockwood, it's like you don’t care about me at all!” She felt something solid in the mud and squeezed it tight in her fist, desperate for an outlet.
She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder, trying to work on grounding herself through the object in her hand, the grooves of the metal, the familiarity. Honestly, where did he get off on making her miserable during every case? He made her feel trapped. With a deep breath, Lucy closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, focusing instead on trying to find the source and getting out of there.
“G-get….”
Lockwood’s unintelligible voice interrupted her from behind and she huffed.
“..out”
“Out where?” She tried asking.
“Hus…band”
“Your husband? What happened with–” Lockwood’s voice interrupted again and she snapped. “ Oh , would you bloody shut up, Lockwood? All you ever do is talk!” She screamed whirling around to look at him only to see that the scene had changed.
It wasn’t raining anymore, or even night at that. Instead, the garden was blooming with life. The trellis were bountiful with pink roses and light shone through a giant willow in the corner of the property. Across from her stood a handsome-looking man much older than herself. And she was afraid.
“All I ever do is talk?” The man asked deathly slow.
Lucy was sure she had no clue who the man was but her mouth was already moving. “Yes! You keep me trapped in this house, I have no friends, and you don’t even listen to me!” She was crying now and the man, her husband , stalked towards her.
“You listen to me woman, you belong to me now. You are my property !” Dolly’s breaths were heaving out at an exceptional rate. “Do you hear me? Mine!” Her husband was gripping her arms, his face mere inches from her own.
“Let go of me!” She pleaded, “ Please !”
“Listen to me, Dolly! Dolly!”
She felt herself slipping away, air caught in her throat. Dolly was frantically scratching at her husband's arm, trying to get him to release her through any means.
“I’ll love you, I promise –”
“Lucy!”
Lucy’s eyes snapped open to see Lockwood wrenching her hand open and snatching something from her clenched fist. Her lungs flooded with life, making her cough as her knees hit the ground; she was unsure when she even stood up at all but Lockwood was immediately at her side.
“Lucy, are you alright?” His shaky voice floated through the rain.
Any previous grievances she had against Lockwood had vanished the moment she looked into his eyes. “What happened?”
“You found the source,” Lockwood opened his hand and revealed a rusted locket covered in mud. Lucy went to touch it but Lockwood jerked his hand away. “Better not.”
Her mind went back to how she’d treated him since they stepped foot on the property and she winced. “Lockwood, I’m so sorry I–”
“No! Luce, it wasn’t your fault.” Lucy was poised to retort but there was a pure and unabashed look of concern on his face and she realized it had been a while since she’d seen his megawatt smile.
“She hated him,” Lucy started, “He told her he loved her and trapped her here…she killed herself.”
Lockwood looked concerned. “I think we should head back to Portland Row.”
They finished up at the house, contacting the elderly couple to tell them that the source had been found and disposed of at DEPRAC. The cab ride home was so quiet; whether from Lucy’s embarrassment because of her treatment of Lockwood or because he was hurt by her words she was unsure. It wasn’t until they were putting their gear away that Lockwood spoke again.
“I hope you don't feel… trapped here.” Lockwood was facing away from her when he broke the silence. “Especially not by me .”
“Lockwood, no .” She rushed to his side trying to meet his eyes with her own. “No, no, no.”
He finally looked at her and his eyes were sunken in, his face as sullen as she felt. “I know it was the ghost…but you were begging me to let you go. You were pleading that I let you leave, telling me you–you loved me and that you’d do anything if I would just let you go and I–”
“I don’t feel trapped here, I promise. You mean more than anything to me,” Lucy’s heart stuttered at her slip-up. “You and George both.”
Lockwood’s eyes flicked to the necklace sitting prettily around her neck and Lucy’s hand flew to it instinctively: a loan she was still indebted to him and went to take it off, her still-cold fingers fumbling with the clasp but he stopped her, gently grabbing her wrists.
“I want you to know the necklace wasn’t–wasn’t whatever that locket was to them,” Lockwood’s hands released her, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind Lucy’s ear then trailing a path to the sapphire that sat in the middle of her chest. “My father… it was important , and I just wanted you to know you’re important to me.”
Lucy smiled, “I know.”
Five.
A shiver rippled through Lucy’s body in the London rain as the week loomed over her like the storm she walked through. Long nights with back-to-back cases–all too small to send more than one of them–had Lucy disheartened. She pulled her blue coat tighter to her body and stuffed her hands under her armpits in order to get some semblance of feeling back in them. Her tights were ripped, her hair soaked, and above all, Lucy was hungry. It took one smell of buttered croissants swept across the street by a gust of chilling wind for Lucy to cross the street and make her way into the warm cafe.
“No weapons!” The clerk shouted as soon as the bell jingled on the door, not even bothering to look at her.
Lucy’s eyes immediately welled up with tears knowing what was coming. “I-I’m sorry, can I leave it at the door?”
“Let me be more clear: no agents .” The man’s sneer was accompanied by multiple sets of cold eyes looking at her from around the room.
It was something she was unaccustomed to but common in London. Though agents were often looked at with a strange sense of gratitude and more often pity in the country, Lucy noticed it wasn’t the same in the city. People thought them unsightly: the children with sunken, pale faces who were typically only out at night mimicked the sight of the dead they were employed to rid the world of. Though somewhere in her head she could understand the adults' aversion to her, in the moment she could feel little more than resentment for the life she was sacrificing to give them the security they themselves could not provide.
Lucy chuffed on her way out, slamming the door and knocking the bell off of its hook in the process. Not bothering to wipe her face, she blinked away her tears and let them drown in the rain as she walked on towards 35 Portland Row.
It was night, and raining, and she was alone. But she was an agent, and Lucy knew how to defend herself. Therefore, in the face of her reservations, she turned down an alley she knew was faster than the main road despite the absence of street lights . She could handle a few shades and lurkers on her own.
The rain was coming down harder then; her mind had wandered to the doughnuts on the counter that sat untouched when she’d left. Lucy was so caught up in imagining the argument between her and George when she inevitably saw her jelly-filled missing from the box that she didn’t notice the man that slank from the shadows until she bumped into him.
Lucy ducked her head in apology and attempted to skirt around the man, “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t–” Then suddenly his hands were on her with a grip that told her this was no mistake. Before she could utter another word, the sharp edge of a knife sucked the breath from her lungs.
“Give me everything you’ve got,” He ordered, voice low and eyes darting behind her at the lit street.
Lucy tried to seem unwavering, after all, it wasn’t the first time she was at the wrong end of a blade and likely not the last. “I haven’t got anything,” Her voice shook and she silently cursed herself.
“How bout’ I take a look for myself?” He hummed, his hands skimming over her body, drifting across her waist, going lower, lower…
“ Please! Help– ” Lucy yelled but his hand was quick to cover her mouth and let the knife start to dig into her side. She thrashed around, trying to free herself from his grasp while screaming into his gloved hand in any attempt to get help.
It wasn’t until she managed to land a well-placed elbow that Lucy was able to escape his grip. “You bitch .” The man sagged over but as Lucy moved to run, his hand wrapped around her jacket and a knife planted itself in her stomach.
She almost didn’t register the pain at first until the man wretched out the blade. The feel of her blood oozing from the wound was stark in contrast to the chilling rain and she shivered. Lucy’s hand moved to the wound and logically she knew she was going into shock; George warned them about it enough should they ever get injured on a case but now she couldn’t think back to even a second ago.
The man looked from her wound to her eyes and sneered. Step by step he retreated deeper into the alley while Lucy stumbled out into the road, clutching her side. Her breathing was ragged as she frantically searched for anyone to help her though she knew the streets were clear because of the rain. Lucy knew she shouldn’t have looked but when she caught a glimpse of blood she couldn't help it. She felt close to hysterics; the blood wouldn’t stop and her teeth were chattering, from the rain or something else she didn’t know. She needed to get to a shop, somewhere that had people . Lucy’s vision was darkening around the edges as she stumbled towards the yellow lights of a restaurant two buildings over. She just needed to get there.
She needed to…she needed…she
- - -
It was the beeping that woke her, but the weight in her hand that made her open her eyes. The lights were blinding as Lucy struggled to open her eyes and the ringing in her ears made it hard to focus on the muffled arguing around her. She heard one final shout and the sound of a door closing before she attempted to move. A gasp tore itself from her lips when she tried to sit up. Her body ached and her mouth was dry but all she could do to ground herself was focus on the worried voice needling her brain.
“Luce? Can you hear me? Luc–”
Lucy cut off the voice with her own raspy words, “Would you shut up?”
Her eyes finally adjusted to the lights and she saw the lanky outline of Lockwood standing at her side. Any other time she was woken up to the sight of him, Lucy was more than often annoyed but somehow, with the beeping of machines accompanied by the smell of alcohol in the air, he was a welcome comfort.
“Lockwood,” She breathed out a relieved sigh, studying his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes sullen, almost bruised looking, and his skin somehow more pale than normal. “What happened?”
“Let me find a doctor.” His hand found hers again, only giving it a light squeeze before leaving the room in his search.
Lucy took the time to look around the room and spotted a vase full of orange and yellow flowers adorning the bedside table as well as a lone strawberry frosted doughnut left in a box meant to hold a half dozen. Based on that alone, she knew both George and his mother had visited at some point but as she looked towards where Lockwood had been it was as if he’d never left at all. His jacket was crumpled on a chair in the corner, with his tie folded neatly atop it and, given his appearance earlier, she could only assume he’d slept there.
Finally, she decided to give attention to the dull ache in her stomach and lift the blanket covering her lower half. Between the wires and tubes hooked up to her from all directions and having to wrestle with the gown they stuck her in, the endeavor was all the more difficult than necessary. When Lucy finally got a look at her bandage-covered abdomen she felt ill.
Her stewing was interrupted when a man entered the room, Lockwood hot on his heels. “Hello, Ms. Carlyle. I’m Dr. Stroud, I’ve been your physician since Monday night and–”
“Wait, what day is it?” Lucy coughed and Lockwood was quick to offer her a water which she gladly took.
“It’s Wednesday morning, Luce,” Lockwood supplied in a small voice. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers and she grew nervous. The angry blinking of the clock on the bedside table read 4:23 a.m. and she suddenly understood Lockwood’s state of disarray.
The beeping which she’d previously grown accustomed to had begun to quicken and she felt a sweat break out. “How bad was it?”
“Based on our limited knowledge Ms. Carlyle, we suspect it was a robbery.” Lucy nodded along, trying to grasp at the last thing she remembered. Shadows of a dark alleyway and the flash of a knife swirled in her mind but when she tried to imagine his eyes her head began to hurt.
“I remember a man and a knife…it was raining?” Lockwood’s hand found its way into hers once again and his thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. She motioned for the doctor to go on and kept her grip on Lockwood’s hand firm.
“You suffered a deep puncture that grazed the top of your liver and you lost a lot of blood. Luckily you weren’t out there too long before someone found you and called an ambulance.” The thought of herself bleeding out in the street forced Lucy to shut her eyes. “We’d like to keep you the rest of the week to monitor but considering you’re up and talking, I’ll leave you to sleep.”
Dr. Stroud left the room with a tight smile and Lucy looked at Lockwood. She’d been there for days unconscious, and Lockwood had been there at her side.
“How is–”
“You were… gone, Luce. You were white and cold and– you put me as your emergency contact ?!” He was incredulous, his grip tightening almost uncomfortably as tears welled in his eyes.
“Who else if not you?” She felt a lump rising in her throat. “My mother didn’t show last time and I’m not close to my sisters. You and George are all I have, you’re…” Lucy trailed off not sure what she wanted to say but knew it was too soon.
“Lucy, when I got that call…George and I rushed to meet you at the hospital. For days I’ve sat here and all I could think about was what if you hadn’t ended up in the road? What if you were in the alley and no one found you? What if–” Tears fell from his eyes and his voice failed him.
“What if I never came to London? What if I had gotten accepted to Fittes or Rotwell? But that’s not what happened. I’m here.” Lockwood brought her hand to his lips and all Lucy could do was watch. She, all at once, realized that it wasn't just her, wasn’t just Lucy who felt like the boy in front of her was her whole world, her whole future.
“You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be comforting you ,” Lockwood laughed shakily and took a deep breath. “Luce, I need you to know that, no matter how far in the future, no matter the distance, I’ll always be there for you. You’re my family now…if, if you want.” Lockwood’s smile was unsure, hope gleaming in eyes.
Lucy sniffled, her emotions finally having caught up to her and smiled back, “ We’re family .”
Plus One.
The case had been cursed from the start. The day started out boiling hot, and Lucy’s usually protective extra layers were stuck to her skin by sweat but now, four hours into the case, a cold front blew in and a massive wind storm had been shaking the house all night. They were constantly unsure if the noises were ghosts or the storm and trying to use her listening had been all but useless.
They had been hired by the city to clear out a long-time vacant house, previously belonging to the lone heir before he mysteriously disappeared. It was uncertain if there were any ghosts on the property and the city wanted to sell so, there they were. She heaved the backpack up higher on her shoulder and a voice piped up.
“Watch it there, you drop me and I’ll kill all three of you.” The glow of the skull brightened on the walls around her. She opted to ignore it and kept on walking through the house.
“Alright guys, let's do one more sweep of this floor and I suppose we can call it a night.” Lockwood scratched the back of his head and George stifled a yawn.
“Lockwood, there’s been nothing the whole case and besides the disappearance, George couldn’t scrounge up anything about anything that would lead to a haunting,” Lucy was aching for a shower and she was tired of carrying around the skull all night because George insisted they bring it but declined to carry it because, ‘ only you can hear it, Luce. It would be a waste for me to carry it. ’ “Let’s just go home.”
“We will…just after we check the ground floor one more time, I–I have a feeling something is wrong.” He seemed more sullen than usual but Lucy attributed that to a boring case and long night.
“Whatever you say. I’m going to check the kitchen.” George walked off without a second thought and she let out a sharp laugh under her breath at the irony.
Lucy headed out, leaving a distant Lockwood in the living room and opted to traverse the dining room once again. The room sported a crystal chandelier, dust-ridden with time and fine silver and china still at their places around the table. Her eyes scanned over the room and she imagined herself in another life entertaining a slew of guests with not even a thought of The Problem on her mind. But then she crashed down to reality and realized that this was as close she's been in her life or ever will be.
“Lockwood, you seeing anything?” Lucy asked, despondent. With every look, the house was more ornate and lavishly furnished than she could stomach, obvious signs of wealth making Lucy grind her teeth.
“ You see something, northern girl?” Once again Lucy ignored the comments and continued on, simply huffing to herself rather than dignifying the skull with a response.
Of course, Lockwood failed to answer as he typically did when he was in the field and she sighed. With hesitance, Lucy trailed her fingers along the objects in the room, trying to detect any fleeting emotion or noise that could be connected but it was to no avail. There was absolutely nothing in this house that any of them could detect and Lucy was almost glad for it. A quiet night in a nice house was a relief that she needed, plus, they were getting paid, ghost or not.
Rolling her eyes, she trailed off to where she knew George was lounging in the kitchen and found him sitting at the dusty table gorging himself on the biscuits and tea they brought.
“Save some of those for the rest of us, huh?” Lucy chastised, snatching the package out of his hands. She took a seat across from him and took two for herself.
“Tell him he’s getting too fat not to share,” The skull laughed and she dropped him to the floor unceremoniously. “Watch it!”
“C’mon Lucy, there's nothing in this house and you know it! Might as well sit and eat while Lockwood fumbles about.” He emphasized his point by grabbing back the biscuits.
“Where is he anyway?” Lucy stole the thermos as well and shot George a challenging look when it seemed he was going to protest.
George waved off absently, more focused on the food before him. “He was going on about checking the perimeter. I just talked to him.”
“I wish he’d take a break every once in a while. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with a normal work-life balance.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair and using the skull to prop her feet on.
“Yeah…normal.” George’s eyebrows furrowed and she threw her half eaten biscuit at him in retaliation.
The skull chose that moment to pipe up again, “There isn’t anything normal about the lot of you.” This time she kicked over the jar and George screeched on about being careful with the Type-Three.
Bored with the situation and ready to leave, she decided to round up Lockwood and get them on their way. “Lockwood’s been gone a while, I’m going to go check on him.”
Lucy stood to leave and she made it just out of the kitchen when a chill shot through the room and her breath became visible before her. She turned back towards the kitchen and locked eyes with George.
“George, I think–” She was unable to finish her sentence when the double doors slammed shut separating them from each other. Without thinking, Lucy grabbed the brass handle with her bare hand and yelped. The metal was so cold it burned her, the skin ripping where it froze to the door. Lucy bit her lip, almost drawing blood at the action and took her handkerchief to press over her hand.
“Lucy, what’s happening?” George yelled from the other side of the door.
“I don’t know! See what you can find. The source has to be in the house somewhere for this to happen!” Lucy yelled back, still pounding on the door.
George sounded hysterical, his laugh high pitched and disbelieving. “Lockwood’s never gonna shut up about this after we get out of here!”
The wind began to pick up even more, blowing through the open front door and through the house. Lucy’s hair whipped in front of her face as she tried to focus on her listening. There was little more than the faint whisper of a man she hardly was able to make out.
Cliff…the cliff.
Lucy glanced outside, the doors still banging in the wind and made her decision. “Stay in the chain circle! I have to find Lockwood, you stay safe!” She yelled to George and turned for the front of the house.
Lucy drew her rapier with her good hand and made for the front door which was left wide open and banging in the wind. Using her forearm to guard her view, she creeped outside looking every which way for an incoming attack while yelling for her friend.
“Lockwood? Lockwood, where are you?” She tried to scream over the storm but her words were literally lost to the wind.
As she made her way further outside, she nearly tripped over something on the ground, the metallic clang catching her attention. When she picked it up, she held Lockwood’s rapier in her hand and felt her heart rate spike at the discovery. Lockwood was somewhere out there with no weapon and a ghost preying on them in a windstorm.
In the distance, she saw a figure moving farther and farther away in the direction of the ocean, a figure she could only assume was Lockwood. Her steps were quick yet strained against the storm and she was forced to sheath her rapier as it was getting too difficult to hold. She was closing in quick, just across the field and getting closer to the cliff's edge by the second, but he continued on.
“Lockwood!” She tried once more but still he seemed to be unable to hear her. “Lockwood, stop !” Her feet were moving faster now, breaking out into a sprint beneath her. She understood his unresponsiveness then, and the sudden activity once Lockwood walked off. He was ghost-locked . She was flying then, racing up the hill to meet him, the grass slipping under her feet and the wind doing all it could to knock her over. He was steps away but his cadence never faltered–the same one, two , of each foot–and she silently thanked the universe that, if nothing else, ghosts were consistent.
Her hands did one final reach as one of Lockwood’s feet went over and she grabbed the collar of his jacket, heaving him off the edge and back into her. Lucy wrapped her arms around his middle so as to not let him escape and began to yell, an action she was regretting as her voice began to go hoarse.
“Lockwood, please , you have to snap out of it! It’s me Lucy!” She felt him strain against her arms and held tighter, thinking he was still trying to throw himself off the edge.
“You think I could forget you, Luce?” Lockwood’s words tumbled out, unsure and attempting to be comedic.
“Lockwood?” She gasped out, wiggling out from under him to get a look at his eyes. When she was met with the familiar warm brown she’d grown to lo– she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”
Lockwood’s eyes searched her own before looking away, a habit he seemed unable to break, and spoke. “He was all alone. No family, no friends, no one left.”
Lucy’s chest constricted in understanding. “Anthony…”
“He killed himself. Right here on this cliff.” His words seemed to choke him and she couldn’t help but bring her hands to cup his face.
“I need you to know that you are not alone,” Lucy brought his forehead to hers and he breathed in sharply, his pulse under her fingertips quickening. “I’m right here.”
His own hand found their way to hers, holding on as if a lifeline and he nodded. “You’re right here.”
When Lucy pulled back, she locked eyes with the boy before her again. They were softer this time but darted down to her lips in a flash. Her cheeks reddened when she noticed as did his in turn. Before she could think to do otherwise she surged forward, Lucy’s lips capturing his in a chaste kiss. It was a bit off and they were both chapped from the wind but it still had her heart pounding in her chest.
The boy before her had gone from stranger to family in the short time she’d known him. Him and George had become more to her than her family had ever been and for that she was eternally grateful. He had taken her in, given her a job, and protected her from everything a gangly teenager could manage. She loved him.
Lockwood’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Lucy–” His hands tightened atop hers and he leaned back in, kissing her slowly, reassuringly.
“You’re it for me.”
#fanfiction#thewordswewrite#ao3 stuff#smoe#lockwood and co netflix#lockwood and co fanfiction#locklyle#anthony lockwood#lockwood and co#lucy carlyle x anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#fanifc#ao3 fanfiction#ao3#lockwood and co fanart#lockwood and co fic#lockwood netflix#george cubbins#george karim
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HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC
AO3: phdmama
Tumblr: @phdmama
STATS:
✤ Number of fics: 208
✤ Posting Since: 2016
TOP 5 FICS:
1️⃣ Hold My Heart {E, 14k}
“Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.” The voice was soft, apologetic, and accented in something a bit unfamiliar — northern England, maybe, Harry thought.
“Oh,” Harry jumped to his feet and moved aside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”
The other man laughed as he swung a bag into the overhead compartment and slid into the seat. “You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?”
Harry paused, wondering how to explain the fact that he was reading an epic and x-rated romance that was the story of a relationship between a prince and the man he’d enslaved. “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to look at the man and froze.
Sitting next to him was Louis Tomlinson.
Or, the one where famous Louis Tomlinson offers his hand and a lot more to his seat mate on a transatlantic flight.
(Co-written with @a-writerwrites)
2️⃣ Feels Like Coming Home {E, 60k}
The last thing Harry Styles expects when he's hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that's exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn't heard one word from Louis, and he's moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he's a chef, isn't easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he'd left turn out to be not so easily forgotten.
This is a story about love and the power of forgiveness, and how the hard choices we make define us, and change our lives.
3️⃣ On the Go {T, 2k}
From this post because I could not resist.
4️⃣ It's a Better Place (Since You Came Along) {E, 51k}
When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days. He's got it all planned - there's going to be shore excursions, lounging by the pool on the deck of the luxurious cruise ship, not to mention margaritas. What he does not plan for are the new friends, new bonds, or the mystery from his past that comes back to haunt him, and he certainly hasn't planned for Louis.
5️⃣ For Better and For Worse {M, 12k}
Harry and Louis have been together for 5 years and they've been getting questions when they would be getting married and start a family. Bur Harry doesn't have the time. They were arguing one morning when Harry had enough and left for work. He's a doctor and works at the a&e there is a call that there has been a bad car crash and that there is more than one patient coming in. Harry does his job good and works on the first patient and everything goes great until his next patient is Louis.
HIDDEN GEM:
💎 Unveiled {M, 65k}
The train grinds to a halt and Harry leans forward in his eagerness to take it all in. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, the sky the same intense blue that he knows from home, which comforts him. There’s much here that looks almost familiar, but then so much that is new and strange to his eyes. The bustling station platform and winding streets beyond paved in cobblestones look much like home. There are vehicles ranging from small to very large, some with strange and unusual shapes of which he can only guess the purpose. But most surprising are the people. There is a crowd gathered, filled with men and women, some in what looks to be a military uniform, some in what must be the street clothes in this Land.
There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.
#ficrec#phdmama#authorrec#hlcreators#hljournal#trackinghome#trackinghappily#ficsfor4am#1dficvillage#hlsource#tracksintheam
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The Apprentice. {Dave York x F! Reader}
Summary: When your dad and your godfather Robert McCall spot an opportunity to send you undercover and gather information on their biggest rival Dave York they take it. With no care of the consequences that YOU may face.
Warnings: Virgin Reader, Loss of Virginity, Rough Sex, Come play, P in V, Oral (M&F receiving), Dirty Talk, Secretly Recorded Sex, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of SA, Kidnapping, Murder, some fluff, and Dave York comes with his own warning.
Word Count: 24,000+
**Co-Written with @absurdthirst **
🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - This story contains dark themes of kidnapping, murder and mentions of sexual assault. 🚨🚨
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As A03 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings' You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
It had been two days since both your father and godfather sat you down and informed you that you’d be undertaking a job for them.
Three weeks with a fake name, a fake backstory and a new look to boot. The details of what they both did had been revealed to you a few minutes before they informed you of your mission.
You already knew. They suspected you did but still made a big deal about sitting you down and telling you everything, and by everything they meant the most basic details that explained pretty much nothing.
And now you’re here. Sitting patiently at the end of your bed for the car to come and drive you to the airport. Washington D.C. You mumbled to yourself as you stared down at your flight information.
You’d spend three weeks with Dave York and his team. Learning from them, working with them and most importantly gathering as much information as you could to take them down. And then you’d be ”rescued”.
The rivalry between your dad, godfather and Dave goes back years they told you and he’d now put together a team of assassins that were seemingly unstoppable, taking clients and new business from your dad and Robert with ease.
‘Unassuming and plain’, that’s how your Dad described you as he told you why you were perfect for this operation. ‘No one would notice you were even in the room,’ he said at one point with a smirk splashed across his face. You hated him and the way he talked about you so casually had made you think the feeling was mutual. But now, he wanted something from you, for the first time in your life… you had worth to him.
They were so confident you’d get picked, they filled the application out themselves, paid god knows how much to fake some IDs and put together the perfect little trainee assassin. And Dave fell for it… hook line and sinker. Or did he?
Dave taps the folder and scoffs at the background check. It’s easy to see that this person is a plant. Someone who has had their background crafted to be exactly what he would want for his team. The question is, who sent you? Several answers spring to mind but he will just have to see when you get here. Due to arrive tonight, he will determine in person if the resemblance to an old colleague is just in his imagination, or if you are who he thinks you are.
Entering with a slight knock on the door, your godfather Robert McCall enters your bedroom. The same look on his face as always as he looks you up and down and offers a weak smile. “I know we are asking a lot from you, but before he realizes a single thing, you’ll be back home and you’ll be safe, kid.”
You nod your head and stand up, “Car here yet?” When he nods a simple yes, you nod back and make your way out of your bedroom. “I fucking hate flying.”
The meeting is set and Dave shakes his wrist, twisting it so he can look at the watch on his arm. You’re late. It’s not a good first impression, although he knows that the flight is delayed. Annoyance makes him grunt, and he wonders how this person - you - will take the challenges that he will throw your way once you finally arrive.
You arrive over an hour late, your luggage lost and your will to go through with this, nonexistent. “I’m sorry I’m late,” you begin to say to the man who opens the door. He stays completely silent but gestures with his hand to invite you in.
His eyes narrow as he watches you come into the room, closing the door behind you and waiting to hear what you have to say for yourself.
Words fail you as you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes boring into yours clearly unimpressed. “My flight was delayed.” you splutter as you make your way into the room, “I’m so sorry, Mr…?”
“York.” He clips out shortly. “So tell me why I shouldn’t turn you around and put your ass right back on that plane?”
His curt tone sends a shiver down your spine as you look around the room, searching for a pair of kind eyes or someone to step in. “I-uh, I can’t control air traffic? I can’t help it got delayed.”
“So why did you choose a flight time so close to the meeting?” Dave asks. “What if it had been a target with a very narrow window of availability? ‘Sorry for missing the opportunity to kill the target you’ve paid me for?’” He asks sarcastically.
“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry, Mr. York.” Your hand starts to pull at the sleeve of your sweater as you feel him stare you down. His eyes are black and his expression furious. “I’m so sorry.”
You aren’t hard, you aren’t calculating. The resemblance to the man he suspects sent you is uncanny and he is almost completely sure you are to report back to him. Instead of continuing to grill you, he nods, extending his hand to shake. “Thank you for making it. Sit down so we can talk.”
“Thank you,” you take a few calculated steps to the seat in front of him. “And thank you for selecting me. It’ll be a privilege to learn from you.”
“We’ll see.” Dave doubts you will learn much but he will get great pleasure out of feeding you incorrect information to pass on. “Tell me about yourself. Not that I care but what made you decide to do this?”
‘Shit,’ you think to yourself as he asks you a basic question. A question that you should have most definitely been expecting but somehow… didn’t. “F-family.” The word falls from your lips and you regret it the second it does. “I want to be able to uh protect them.”
“What’s your family like? Who are they?” Dave asks, following up your answer with another question.
“They’re busy,” you blurt out, “I don’t… I don’t see them often. But I worry about them. I worry about the things they do and that one day they’ll need me.”
It’s a weak story and it’s apparent by the face you make that you know it. Dave watches you for a moment and then changes tactics. “Strip off your clothes.” He demands.
“Excuse me?” You choke at his demand, your voice small and timid as squirm in your seat in front of him.
“Stand up, strip your clothes off.” Dave’s voice is edged with annoyance at having to repeat himself. “You need to be examined by our doctors and you can’t do that with your clothes on.”
“Oh,” you reply quietly, “Will you be waiting outside?”
“No.” Dave answers simply. “Strip or leave.”
You swallow loudly before standing up on shaky legs, avoiding eye contact as you undo the zipper at the side of your dress. Slowly pulling it off and holding it in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself.
“Unless you want someone to think you’re hiding a wire, put your goddamn hands down.”
Without a word you drape the dress over the back of the chair you had been sitting on. “Sorry,” you murmur, willing your legs not to fail you as he looks at you. You’re still in your bra and panties but this is the most exposed you’ve ever been in front of a man.
He waits for another fifteen seconds, wondering when you are going to continue but you just stand there like a deer in the headlights. “All of it.” He growls.
You open up your mouth to argue, but the look on his face tells you that you’ll regret it. Like pulling off a band-aid you decide to be quick, reaching around and removing your bra before pulling down and stepping out of your matching panties. You stand up straight but keep your eyes focused on the ground, waiting for him to speak because you’re unable to form a sentence with this undeniably gorgeous but terrifying man looking at your naked form.
Dave doesn’t like the way that you seem to wither under his gaze. He needs a woman who is confident, one who knows her appeal to the opposite sex or even the same sex. “Decent.” He hums, “better without the mousy attitude.” He critiques. “But you’ll make a man harder than a rock in a sexy dress before you kill them.”
“Harder than a… oh. OH. You mean their…?” Your face feels hot as you trip over your own words, before realizing that he almost complimented you. “Thanks.. Thank you, Mr York.”
He snorts and shakes his head, clocking the way you nearly faint and he tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you’re a fucking virgin.”
“No,” you lie, “I-uh… Yes.” You can’t bring yourself to look up at him, not ready to see him laugh in your face. So you continue to stare down at your feet and hope the doctors will come in quickly.
“Well, get rid of that as quickly as you can.” Dave huffs, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’ll bring the doctor in.”
“Wait, you expect me to fuck someone? You blurt out without thinking, “Who?”
“Whoever the fuck you need to in order to do the job.” Dave shoots back. “If you aren’t capable of that sweetheart, put your clothes back on and get the fuck out of my office.”
Your heart stutters in your chest. You weren’t still a virgin for any particular reason other than every guy in your town was terrified of your father. His reputation meant that guys were scared of even looking in your direction for too long. “I’ll find someone.” You reply softly as he slides out of the door.
Outside the door, Dave smirks. There’s no doctors, he had just wanted to see how willing you would be to do what he ordered and while you had baulked, you were as meek as a lamp. Your father had fucked up sending you into his lion’s den.
You wait patiently for the better part of ten minutes, wondering why he’s taking so long. You consider popping your dress back on and going to find him but figure that that would likely piss him off more than anything.
Dave leans against the wall, cooling his heels as he checks his emails. Wanting to see if you will pop your head out. Eager to see how you respond to being left waiting.
You lay your dress over on the seat you were previously sat on and take a seat, your feet beginning to grow tied after waiting for another 10 minutes. ‘Five more minutes and i’m putting my clothes back on,’ you think to yourself as you twiddle your thumbs.
At the twenty minute mark, Dave looks up towards the door, impressed that you haven’t left the room yet. Nearly pushing off the wall to come tell you to get dressed, he waits. Deciding to give it another ten minutes.
Five minutes tick by and your fingertips trace the lace on your bra, it’s tempting to put it on and run out of the building and pretend it never happened but you can’t. You think about the way he was looking at you and the way he holds himself. Those broad shoulders in that tight shirt, without thinking your hand starts to snake down between your legs feeling the wetness that had begun to pool there. Your clit is pulsing, screaming with a need to get some sort of release and it’s only when you press down on that little button that you remember where you are and what you’re doing. You pull your hand away and shake your head at your stupidly, ’What the fuck are you doing?’ you ask yourself before sighing. And why the hell do you feel such a need to not disappoint him?
At twenty eight minutes past the time he had left you in this room, Dave opens the door suddenly. “Doctor’s busy.” He announces. “Get dressed.”
“Oh, okay” you say, before putting your bra back on and pulling up your panties. You feel his gaze on you as you do, and you’re not sure why that makes you even wetter. You pull your dress on and immediately sit back down without thinking, looking up at him expectantly as you do so.
“Why do you really want to do this?” He asks, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest as he frowns down at you. “You aren’t a killer.”
Thinking long and hard about your answer, and knowing that you can’t reveal the real reason you’re there… You just say what you’re feeling, “Because if anyone can make me a killer, I think it would be you.”
“That might be the first fucking honest thing you’ve said.” Dave grunts, levelling an unhappy look at you. “It won’t be easy, so if you don’t think you can do it, leave now.”
“I can do this, Mr. York, I promise.” You say as confidently as you can with a small smile. “I’m not leaving.”
“We’ll see.” Dave snorts. “I'm not going to go easy on you because you have nice tits.”
“I don’t want you to take it easy on me.” You try to ignore the way the last thing he said to you but your body betrays you, you squeeze your thighs together to give yourself a little relief.
He hums and nods. “I’m assuming the airline lost all of your shit?” He asks, aware you had shown up with no luggage.
“It was put on another flight,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “They’re having it put on a flight to D.C. and delivered to me as soon as possible.”
“Go get to your room and settle in. You can’t train in a dress.” He reaches back into his desk and tosses you a key. “I have you set up in the training facility. It’s an old safe house.”
“Thank you, Si- Mr. York. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Dave doesn’t answer, instead he just nods. Obviously dismissing you as he pushes off the desk to walk about and sit back down. Looking back at a report and not even bothering to glance your way when you stand.
You slip through the day he pointed at and on the other side you’re greeted by a man who very quickly introduces himself as Kovac. He’s not as intimidating as Dave but doesn’t seem much friendlier either.
“I’ll show you to your quarters, we have some basic clothing in there. York said you didn’t have any luggage with you when you arrived and assumed the airline was responsible for that.” He scoffs before adding, “Good luck getting that back.”
You offer him a polite nod and follow him towards the training house. He takes the key from your hand and unlocks the door, “Up the stairs first room to your right. If you need anything just holler.”
“Thank you, Kovac.” You say with another smile, “See you around.”
“Yeah.”
Closing the door behind you, you reach into your purse and pull out your phone. Immediately clicking your dads contact and sighing when it immediately goes to voicemail. ‘Hey, so I got here safely. The airline lost my bag but the lady said she was able to track it and it’ll arrive here tomorrow. I’ll try to check in tomorrow night. Take care.’
Dave had halfway expected you to re-emerge from your room but you didn't. Apprising the team of the new development, he tells them to not give anything away. This is an advantage if used correctly.
Within moments there is a return text. DON’T CALL!!!!!! We will arrange a drop location for any information.
You sigh loudly before falling back onto the bed, ‘Why am I doing this?’ you think to yourself. Trying to forget how alive you felt as the man you should absolutely detest made you feel. Even after he made you strip and he just stared at your naked form. Shaking your head you decide to do something about your pulsing clit, dipping your fingers into your entrance and gathering some of the slick before dragging it up to that bundle of nerves. You think of him, you think of how his hands would feel on you, his breath on your neck as he sheathed himself inside of you. ‘Just once’ you say to yourself as you quickly build yourself to your peak. Cumming with a silent moan of his name. ‘Fuck.’
**
The next morning, Dave is beating on your door. Huffing to himself that you didn’t even wake up at a decent hour. Robert and your father sent you? It’s almost insulting. “Get dressed and get outside!” He shouts through the door.
You bolt upright at the hammering on your door, and immediately jump out of bed. “Yes, sorry, coming,” you mumble before pulling on your dress from yesterday and opening the door… “What happened?”
Dave shoves clothes at you, relatively close to your size and scowls at you. “Training starts at zero five thirty.” He growls. “You’re late.”
“No one said,” you groan back, “My psychic abilities haven’t kicked in yet.”
Hissing, Dave steps closer to you and stares at you. “What?” he demands harshly.
“I was just joking,” you scramble out as your fingernails dig into the clothing shoved at you. “I’ll be right there.”
“I’m not here to joke with you. I’m here to fucking teach you how to fucking kill and manage to stay alive while doing it.” Dave spins on his heel and marches away from you.
You take a deep breath and go back into your room to get changed, taking a mental note to never joke with him ever again.
You enter the hall about ten minutes later, surprised to see it empty and wondering who will come through those doors and be your personal trainer.
Dave swaggers back into the room and tosses down a knife that skids along to the floor in front of you. “Pick it up.”
The words threaten to fall off the tip of your tongue but you rein them back in, you bend down and pick up the knife and wait for further instructions.
Waiting, Dave rolls his eyes and spreads his arms. “What are you waiting for?” He huffs. “Try to kill me.”
“You want me to stab you?” You say with a shocked giggle, “Are you serious?”
“You aren’t going to cut me, I want to see how well you fight.” Dave chuckles mockingly.
You hesitate for a few moments wondering if he’s just resting you before lunging towards him as fast as you can, determined to wipe the smug look off of his face.
You are quick, but Dave spins around and knocks the blade out of your hand. One quick jab to your wrist and the knife clatters to the ground. “Are you even trying?” He asks.
You say nothing and instead go to pick up the knife, feeling through your approach this time. You decide on a different tactic, you approach him slowly and then dive around to his left as you’re standing almost next to him.
Whipping around, Dave manages to block the next swipe of your arm, delivering a sharp jab to your side. Not enough to really damage you, but it moves you back a few feet as you clutch your side.
“Fuck,” you groan as a sharp pain rips through your side. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your face as you grimace in discomfort you turn around from facing him. Leaving yourself vulnerable to be attacked from behind.
Dave decides to sweep your legs, making you fall onto your back before he’s instantly on top of you. Twisting your wrist and taking the knife as smooth as butter before he presses it lightly to your throat. “You’re dead.” He tells you simply.
“If only,” you groan from the floor, legs shaky and your motivation almost at zero. “Do you think I can do this?”
“No.” He relaxes his hold on the knife and flips it around to offer you the handle of the blade. “Not without a lot of work.”
“05:30 every day then?” You stretch up your hand for him to help you up and the look on his face makes you instantly regret it.
“Take today and figure out if you actually want to be here.” Dave spits, reaching down and dragging you up to your feet. “Because whatever motivated you to come isn’t going to help you survive this.”
“What do you mean?” You say, heating flushing in your cheeks. ’He can’t know. He would have killed you instantly, right?’ “Thanks for the hand up.”
“Don’t thank me. Really think hard about why you are doing this.” Dave tells you seriously as you stare at him. The fear in your eyes gives you away but he pretends he doesn’t see it.
“I will. I promise. So what’s next?”
He stares at you like you are crazy, having just told you to take the day and props his hands on his hips. "Training." He chuckles. "You're going to run twelve miles." He decides, figuring that will occupy a few hours. Or just push you to quit.
“Twelve miles?” You groan. “I take it that stabbing me would just be too messy in here.” You bite your tongue after the jokey comment falls from you without warning, and hope you haven’t pissed him off more. “Are you running with me?”
"I've run more miles than you've ever driven." He grunts, pulling a GPS watch out of his pocket. "Put this on. Grab a water bottle. You won't make twelve, but I want to see how far you can run."
“Sure, I’ll see you afterwards.” You grab a water bottle and make your way out. The crisp Washington D.C air makes you shudder as you start to run in the direction of the National Mall.
That familiar burn starts to rise in your calves about an hour into your run. The blossoming cherry trees are no longer distracting you with enough beauty to stay motivated. You wonder if he’s tracking you right now, and if he’d judge you for taking a five minute break. ‘Of course he’d judge me.’ You say as you reduce your speed to a single jog.
Dave is monitoring you. Wanting to see where you go. See if you are meeting anyone or creating some kind of dead drop location. He's already cloned your phone so he can see what you are doing on that unencrypted phone you bought with you.
Your headphones blaring and the simple jog over, you decide to pick up the pace. Determined to run for a while longer and hopefully impress him by getting as close to 12 miles as you can handle.
8.7 miles managed. You push open the door and run upstairs to your room deciding that you’ve earned a shower and you’re delighted to see your suitcase has arrived with minimal damage. You pull out your toiletries, a towel and some fresh clothes before making your way into the bathroom and rewarding your surprisingly far run.
From the comfort of his office, Dave studies the route you had taken, eyes narrowing slightly at the very public route. It was unlikely you would drop anything and according to the GPS, you didn’t stop. Only once did you really slow down and it was around mile four, obviously hitting a wall before pushing through. Leaning back in his chair, he’s mildly impressed. At least you can run, so you have that going for you.
Shower finished and finally in fresh clothing, you decide to explore. Hoping to bump into someone for just a little bit of conversation.
Leaving his office, Dave carries his coffee mug to go into the small kitchenette to get some more coffee.
“Oh. hello,” you say quietly as you walk into Dave. “I was just going to grab a snack.”
“There’s some pizza in there.” Dave offers. “The boys ordered some last night but you didn’t leave your room.”
“Oh, I was out cold.” You say with a smile, “Nerves kept me awake the night before. Does everyone eat together?”
“Most nights.” Dave admits, leading the way to the kitchen. “One night it’ll be your responsibility to cook. Or order whatever.”
“I can cook,” you say a little too enthusiastically. “I guess I'll meet the rest of the team today then?”
“If you want to.” He moves over to the coffee pot and refills his cup.
“Of course. Hey, can I ask you one more question?” The pizza box is on the counter and you grab two slices and a napkin and turn back around to face him.
“What?” He’s not training you, so his tone isn’t as aggressive as it had been before. Waiting as he turns and takes a sip of the black brew.
You purse your lips and fight the urge to say never mind, but figure that’ll just piss him off. “What you said yesterday about ‘getting rid of it’, did you mean it?”
"Do you think I say things I don't mean?" Dave asks you as he takes another sip. "Are you holding onto it for religious reasons?"
“No,” you say with a shrug, “Definitely not. I mean I went to catholic school, and it was well and truly ingrained into me that apparently my entire sense of self worth is linked to my hymen. But really it just never happened.”
Dave huffs and shakes his head, "Look, I don't give a shit if you are shy or some shit. Sometimes you have to seduce a target to get close. And you can't do that if you freeze up because he slides his hand up your skirt like the pig he is."
“I’m tougher than I look,” you say, annoyance evident in your voice. “But fine, I’ll fuck a random guy just to prove to my maybe boss that I can handle shitty men.”
“You always have a fucking attitude.” Dave hisses, annoyed at how combative you are. He sets his coffee mug down and stalks over to back you up against the counter. “Maybe I should fuck it out of you.”
“Maybe you should,” you rasp out, unable to disguise how affected you are by his presence alone. Your chest heaving up and down as he moves closer to you, arousal pooling in your panties.
He waits a beat to see if you are playing a game of chicken with him. Watching your doe eyes stare at him from under your lashes, giving him all the hallmarks of a genuine crush. "Finish your food." He demands harshly, reaching out and cupping your cunt through the legging you are wearing, just to watch you choke on your own breath. "Because you aren't leaving the bed once I'm done with you."
“Yes, Mr. York.” You take a few more bites of the pizza before disposing of the rest, the feeling of his hand on your cunt lingering and making your legs shake. He barely moves an inch, just stands there and keeps his eyes focused on yours the entire time. “Your room or mine?”
For a virgin, you aren't shying away. "Your room." He decides, wanting to see how you have your personal space organized. Plus when he's done humiliating you, he can leave you in a pool of your own mess.
You nod a few times and start to lead the way, a new air of confidence surrounding you as you think about how badly you want to feel this man’s hand on you again. The feeling is a little strange, never before have you ever gotten this close to being intimate with a man but here you are, leading him into your new bedroom ready to feel him everywhere.
He stays a few feet behind the entire way, neither of you speaking or touching. You unlock the door and immediately make your way up the stairs, anticipation building in your tummy as you hear his footsteps just behind yours.
“How do you want me?” You ask as he follows you into your room, his eyes immediately darting around your organised chaos.
“Strip down again.” Dave walks around you and sits on the end of your bed. Smirking slightly at you.
Feeling a little bit more confident than last time he had you strip, you don’t waste any time. Pulling your shirt off, followed by your bra and removing your panties and leggings in one clean sweep. “Tell me what to do,” you plead quietly as you stand there bare and vulnerable, arousing coating both of your thighs as he watches you silently.
“Come here.” Dave spreads his thighs wide and pats them. “Have you ever had someone touch you?”
“No,” you admit quietly as you step towards him, “Just myself.”
Your thighs drape over the top of his and he lifts you off the floor, leaving your cunt spread wide. Dave grunts and reaches out, pinching a nipple roughly. “Why?” He asks. “Obviously you don’t care since you’re letting your boss touch you.”
You moan loudly at the way he pinches your nipple, your body craving more of his touch immediately. “Never found the right person,” you shrug noncommittally, unable to tell him the real reason why - every guy in town was petrified of your father and what he’d to do to them, despite the fact he really wouldn’t have noticed.’
“Liar.” Dave leans on, spitting in your tit and starts to massage it into your skin as he rolls your nipple in his fingers.
“Liar?” You ask before choking back a moan, “God that feels so good.”
“It wasn’t not finding the right guy.” He taunts. “You don’t know shit about me.” He tugs the nipple, pulling it away from your breast until he lets go and slaps your tit.
“Never said I did,” you say lightly wincing from the sharp stinging, “Can’t pretend I haven’t wanted you from the second you started to yell at me though.”
He turns his attention to your other breast, leaning into and biting your nipple lightly. His cock starts to tent in his pants, but he wants you to feel the sting of his hands, his teeth. Knowing that this entire thing is being recorded by the small camera up in the vent. The camera you should have found.
“Take off your clothes,” you beg as you feel his rock hard cock pressed up against your core. “Please.”
“Shut up.” He grunts, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “I’ll get undressed when I want to. Stop being an impatient whore.”
You groan loudly, loving the way his tongue feels on your hardened bud. “Please,” you plead again, unable to stop yourself.
He ignores you, leaning back and spitting on your tit again, massaging it harshly as he watches your lids flutter. His other hand sliding down to see how wet you are, chuckling when he finds you dripping wet.
“Dave,” you moan as his fingers dip into your slit, your hips almost do too much to chase them. His chuckle is raspy and taunting, and it makes you even wetter.
He taps your clit with the back of his two fingers, hearing the wet twack. “Doesn’t seem like a virgin.” He chuckles. “More like a whore. Is that it? You just pretend to be innocent?”
“Fuck y-ohhhh.” His words make your cheeks burn but you still keen, your body craving more and more of him as he continues to tease you.
“Is that it?” He pushes a finger inside you, “you are just a dirty whore who plays a virgin? Nice cover.”
“Fuck you,” you spit back, “Why don’t you call one of those doctors I’m yet to see, get him to check for you?”
He pulls his finger out of you, leaning back. “Maybe I will.”
“Do it,” you challenge, “I have nothing to hide.”
His hand shoots up and grabs you by the throat. Twisting around so he can slam you down onto the bed.
Dave’s harsh treatment of you makes you squeal and your pussy clench. You want to beg him for more but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“You need to watch that smart fucking mouth of yours.” He growls, scowling down at you and tightening the hold on your throat. “Open your mouth up.”
A giggle escapes you and you watch him raise his eyebrow. You slowly bite down on your lower lip before opening your mouth as he demanded.
Curling his lip up, Dave lunges forward, spitting into your mouth and then pushing it closed with his other hand. “Swallow.”
Eyes burning into his, you swallow hard, wanting desperately to feel his mouth crushing up against yours.
“Every time you pop that mouth back at me, you will swallow another glob of my spit.” He hisses. “Do you understand me?”
“No,” you reply as petulantly as you can, “Can’t say that I do.”
Growling, Dave squeezes your throat, cutting off your air supply.
Your hand comes down on top of his, you’re not sure if you want to try to pull it off or hold it there. You refuse to blink, to look away, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
Counting in his head, he waits for you to fold. To either give in or black out from the lack of oxygen. Unwilling to let you win this test of wills.
Unable to fight the lightheadedness that you’re experiencing, you open your mouth again.
“Good girl.” He growls, parting his own lips so he can slowly dribble another stream of spit into your open mouth.
The moan you make is pitiful, filled with an obviously yearning that he wouldn’t have been able to miss. You swallow it immediately and want to open your mouth for more. More of whatever he’s willing to give to you.
Slowly his hand relaxes and slides down your chest, groping your tit. “I see we understand each other now.” He practically purrs happily. “Now spread your legs. Let’s see how wet that got my filthy little slut.”
You spread your legs as wide as you can, your glistening pussy on display for him. The urge to piss him off rapidly being replaced by the urge to please him.
Dave rocks back onto his knees and hums, dipping a finger into your dripping slit and smirking at you. “Now, because of your little act of defiance, I’m going to give you two options.”
“What are the options?” You say as your hips chase his finger.
“One, I piss on you.” Dave chuckles when your eyes widen. “You let me piss all over your body. Mark you.”
“And what’s the other option?” You croak out quietly, eyes blown wide and chest heaving up and down.
“You get my cock, no fingers, no tongue to get you ready. Just my cock shoved into your cunt and I fuck you like a whore.” Dave grins. “Not a virgin.”
“I can handle a little pain,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady but failing a little. “Are you going to fuck me then, Mr. York?”
Dave doesn’t answer, he just climbs off the bed and starts to strip his clothes off, dropping them onto the floor.
You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching him with eager eyes as he shreds his clothing. You want to touch him, run your hands over every inch of his body, and you wonder if he’d let you.
Once he is stripped down, he wraps his hand around his cock and starts to pump it. Kneeling back on the bed as he makes sure he is as hard as a rock.
“I want to touch it,” you say quietly as he shifts closer, “You look so good like that.”
“You’re about to feel it.” Dave slaps your thigh with one hand and pulls your leg up onto his shoulder.
It’s almost pathetic the way you react to him, so willing to take anything that he’ll give you despite meeting him less than 48 hours ago. “Fuck me, Dave.” The words fall from your mouth so effortlessly, and you’re aware that they shouldn’t. But for the first time in a long time, you’re confident that this is something you want.
It's not gentle. The way that he rubs his cock against your clit as he presses it down to place at your entrance. Watching the way that your hips try to squirm but he holds onto your hips, pinning you down to the bed while he waits for the right moment to snap his hips forward.
It hurts. The stretch of him is overwhelming as he sheaths himself into you in one quick thrust. No care for your comfort as he warned. Your fingers grip at the bedsheets as you attempt to adjust to the width of him. Your eyes had instantly watered up from the sting, but you bite down on your lower lip in a futile attempt to stop them from falling.
He doesn't wait. Doesn't give you a moment to adjust. Pulling his hips back to slam them forward again. Groaning at the way you cry out this time, your body spasming around his cock as he buries himself again.
He quickly works up a relentless pace, chasing his pleasure as he grips on harshly to your hips. Pulling you back down hard on his cock with every thrust, the pain being made worth it every time he rewards you with a groan. Your throbbing cunt flooding his cock with every sound he gives you.
He has to give it to you, you take every punishing thrust and seemingly wants more. The bed shakes and rattles from the force of his punishing pace and you squeal and claw at the bedsheets while he fucks into you.
You yell out his name a few times as he pounds into you, he harshly slaps one of your tits and makes a comment about how he’s glad to have finally ‘shut that smart mouth of yours up.’ Each snap of his hips makes you see stars, and listening to talk about how he can feel ‘your desperate little cunt sucking him back in’ makes the pain pleasurable. You feel your pussy clamp down around him and it makes his hips stutter.
Dave hisses, gritting his teeth as he tries to fuck you through it, but it's too much. You're too tight. He rips free of your body, scrambling up so he can straddle your chest and he starts to jerk off. Tugging on his cock harshly until he groans, spurting hot ropes of cum over your face.
You lay there as still as you can, listening to him groan and curse as he milks himself dry. Covering your face with his cum and murmuring filth. Your hands come up to your face once he’s finished cumming, and you gather a little on the tip of your fingertip and push it in between your lips to taste him.
Smirking to himself, he admires his work and shuffles off of you to start gathering up his clothes. "Now you have been fucked." He chuckles.
“Yeah,” you reply softly and simply. Unsure whether he wants you to move, so you just lay there, your delicate features covered in his cum. Listening to him move around with room and assuming that he’s getting ready to leave.
"Zero five thirty." Dave grunts, opening the door and closing it behind him as he walks out of your room.
“Gotcha.” You mouth, listening to him make his way down the stairs. You lay there for a few minutes after hearing the door open and close before pushing yourself up and dragging yourself to the bathroom. The pain is immediate, your cunt throbbing and sore after the pounding it just took. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, streaks of his cum still coating it before dampening a cloth and washing it off.
You take a long soak in the bath, thankful for the epsom salts that had been left in there and decide to take a nap. Ignoring the slight pang of hunger in your tummy and deciding that rest is much more needed.
The unwelcome sound of your alarm blaring makes you groan, you have slept for the rest of afternoon and the entire evening and night. You silence your alarm and push yourself up, attempting to ignore the throbbing, and ultimately deciding that you’re okay to risk another five more minutes in bed.
Five minutes very quickly turns into another hour. Seeing the time you make quick work of getting yourself ready for training, and slowly wander down to the training room.
‘Will it be Dave again you think to yourself? Will he mention yesterday? Should YOU mention yesterday?’ You groan a little as you push open the door, surprised to see the room empty, so you take a seat and wait patiently.
Dave knows you are late. He had come to your room at five thirty and you hadn't been awake. He had come inside and watched you sleep for a moment. He knows you have to be sore. There's no way that you could have taken him and not have been sore. Instead of yelling at you, switching on the light, he turned around and left the room.
Now he sees that you are in the room. Watching from his desk as you walk into the training room and sit down in a chair. You grimace slightly and shift in your chair, making him grin. You are feeling him today.
You wonder what punishment you’re in line for today for being late, and whether you’ll be asked to run another twelve miles. But the way you’re feeling makes you feel like you couldn’t handle running twelve minutes.
Pushing back from his desk, Dave wonders if you've eaten. He knows you didn't come to dinner and you only had a few bites of pizza. Striding into the room, he watches your head jerk up. "Have breakfast and meet me in the gun room in twenty." He tells you. "We are working on weapons today."
“Yes, Mr. York. Thank you.” You push yourself up and hope he doesn’t see you wince in pain. You offer him a small nod without actually looking at him and make your way towards the kitchen.
Two pieces of toast, some juice, a banana and a hearty bowl of cereal later you’re walking into the gun room.
“Please don’t tell me I’ve got to try and outrun you with a gun.” You say as you walk towards where he’s standing.
"No running." Dave has an assortment of weapons laying on the table. He gestures behind him. "I want to see you disassemble the weapons to see how fast you can do it."
“Sure,” you say as you take the seat behind the weapons. You actually had some experience with this, and whilst you probably wouldn’t be as fast as he is, you were confident you’d do a good job.
You pick up the handgun closest to you and make quick work of disassembling it before looking up at him to gauge his reaction.
Dave lifts a brow, suitably impressed by your skill. He had been expecting you to not be able to break it down, but it's obvious that your father had taught you something. "Good." He hums. "Put it back together and do the next one."
Without a word you assemble the pieces back together and start on the next one.
Slightly trickier and more fiddly but you still manage to take it apart, and begin to slot the pieces back together without being promoted.
Keeping your hands busy temporarily takes your mind off the pain, but it’s not too long before you start to fidget in the chair. The throbbing feeling intensifies as the minutes tick by.
He can tell the moment your concentration slips. Your body starts to rock slightly and he smirks to himself as he watches. "Okay, I think we are done." He announces. "I've seen what I need."
“Yes, Mr. York. What’s next?” You ask as you take the opportunity to stand.
“Nothing.” Dave snorts. “You can’t concentrate when your pussy is swollen and sore.” He chuckles. “Go rest.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, unsure what else to say as he stares you down. “Maybe I could cook this evening?”
“If you want.” Dave agrees. “Fuck knows I’d rather not eat the bullshit Kovac cooks up. Man is a terrible cook.”
“Anything you’re craving? And noted. Don’t eat food from Kovac.” You say with a laugh.
“Do you make lasagna?” Dave asks, curious as to your culinary habits. Carol claimed she could cook because she could scramble eggs.
“With a side of the BEST garlic bread you’ll ever taste in your life,” you say with a grin. “I’ll take a quick nap, shower and make my way to the supermarket.”
Dave nods and turns around, wondering why he is so quick to release you. Any other trainee, he would be grinding their dick into the dirt. Maybe it’s because you aren’t actually here to learn. Grinning to himself, he thinks about the video of him cumming on your face. Maybe he should send that to dear old dad, see what kind of response he gets.
*
Despite his overly harsh treatment towards you, you can’t see yourself actually passing on information to your dad and godfather. There’s something about him that makes you want to do better and to get better, you wonder if friendship could eventually be on the cards as you walk around the store.
Once you’ve triple checked that you’ve got everything needed for dinner and dessert, you head to check out and silently vow to yourself that you won’t complete your mission.
Instead you will enjoy the next few weeks and hopefully pick up some skills along the way.
A few hours pass and you’re in the kitchen, familiarising yourself with the layout as the lasagna cooks in the oven behind you. and the no bake lemon cheesecakes for dessert in the refrigerator ready to be served later.
‘Overdressed?’ you ask yourself whilst looking at your reflection in the large appliance, you’ve put on a pink dress - casual but pretty, you’re so caught up that you don’t hear someone enter the room.
The smell from the kitchen draws the team like flies to honey. Each one of them showing up for the mouthwatering scent of garlic, tomatoes and herbs. Making Dave chuckle as they shuffle near the door, almost hesitant to go in and disturb you in case you didn’t like people in your kitchen. “Go the fuck in.” He snorts, walking through the door and groaning appreciatively. “It smells better than Kovac’s frozen lasagna bullshit.”
“Good,” you say as you check the lasagna one more time, “Just giving it a few more minutes. So this is the rest of the team?” You ask stepping out from behind the kitchen counter.
Dave turns around and points them out. “Ari, John, and you’ve met Kovac.” He points towards you and gives them your name. “Our new trainee.”
“Hope you guys are hungry,” you say with a polite smile, “Take a seat I’ll bring over some beers.” You turn on your heel and go back over to the refrigerator and get each of you a beer before walking them over to the table. Trying to keep your nerves at bay as you do so.
Dave knows the boys notice your dress. Can feel them watching you and it makes him huff slightly. Even though they know who you work for, they are going to admire you.
You listen to them chatter as you pull out the lasagna and garlic bread. Taking the dish with the lasagna over the table and placing it in front of Dave before returning for the garlic bread. The only seat left at the table is between Dave and Ari, and you feel Dave's eyes on you as you quietly sit down. “Enjoy,” you say meekly before taking a sip of your beer.
Throughout the meal the guys ask you the occasional question, but for the most part chat amongst themselves. Dave and Kovac chatting quietly to each other. You can feel the heat of Ari’s breath on your shoulders as he watches you, looking down the front of your dress and making zero effort to conceal it.
Someone else notices Ari’s eyes as well, and Dave clenches his jaw. Never one to call out bullshit behaviour in bars, it would call too much attention to you if he does it now. Still, he thinks about sending him out on the shittiest job he can manage.
Looking around the table and trying to ignore Ari staring at your tits, you notice a whole bunch of clean plates. “Does everyone like lemon cheesecake?” You ask with a shaky breath.
“These clowns eat anything with sugar in it.” Dave huffs, rolling his eyes at the way a group of grown men who kill people for a living act as if they’ve never had a sweet before.
You hand out the mini cheesecakes before taking your seat, slightly moving your chair towards Dave as you do so. You look over at him to silently gauge his reaction to the dessert you prepared, hoping that he’ll like it.
Dave scoops up the soft, silky smooth bite of cheesecake and hums at the zesty burst of lemon. “Delicious.”
You feel yourself light up at his praise, the urge to please him continuing to grow stronger and stronger with every passing second. “Glad you like it,” you say proudly.
You can still feel him, the stinging still lingering and acting as a very real reminder that what happened was real.
The other men compliment you, making him roll his eyes. It’s like they have never tried cheesecake or had a pretty woman cook for them.
You listen to the men as they shuffle out of the kitchen whilst you fill up the dishwasher.
The ache between your legs gets increasingly more painful as the Advil wears off.
With the counters cleaned and the dishwasher roaring to life, you’re left to decide what to do for the evening. A few of the guys had mentioned they were going to a local bar but you’re not in the mood to watch Dave flirt or get flirted with.
“Are you going?” Dave appears beside you, curious to see if you are going to join them. Dave never goes, he doesn’t like the bar scene. Too many government schmucks for his taste.
“Nope,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders, “I’d rather not have Ari stare at my tits all evening. “You?”
“Didn’t think you minded that.” Dave chuckles, appreciating the fact that you didn’t like the attention.
You turn to face him, “I minded it. Figured it was bad manners to start a fight at the dinner table.”
“He won’t touch you.” Dave promises, smirking as his own eyes drop down to your tits. “But you don’t seem to mind me staring at them.”
“That’s because I don’t.” Your pussy clenches as you watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, his eyes still firmly landed on your tits.
“So why don’t you show them to me?” Dave asks, eyes flicking up to your face before dropping back down again.
After looking around to see that you’re alone, you undo the top few buttons of your dress and push the material down and free your tits.
He doesn’t hesitate to reach out, grabbing one of your tits while his other hand snakes around your back to pull you closer.
“Fuck,” you gasp at the feeling of his touch. “Wanted you to touch me all day. So wet thinking about you.”
“I know.” He’s smug, but he has every right to be. He knows when a woman wants him and right now you would get on your fucking knees for him in the middle of the kitchen. “What did you think about?”
“Your hands,” you say with a moan, “I’ve never had someone go down on me before… Thought about you doing that. Sucking your cock.”
“Get on your knees.” He pinches your nipple harshly and tugs. “And I’ll shove my cock in your mouth.”
“Yes sir,” you say without a second's hesitation. Dropping to your knees, and waiting for further instruction.
Smirking, Dave starts to unbuckle his belt, not caring that you are in the middle of the kitchen and someone could walk in. Let them. Especially if it’s Ari. Then the motherfucker wouldn’t eye your tits like he wants to drink from them.
“I’ve never done this before,” you tell him, despite being certain that he knows. “Tell me how to make it good for you.”
“Don’t use your fucking teeth.” Dave tells you as he unzips and pulls his hardening cock out to tap against your lips. “And try not to puke on me.”
“Yes sir.” You open your mouth ready for him to thrust his cock between your lips, looking up at him all doe eyed and innocent.
He takes the time to slap it against your lips and smear the bead of precum that has oozed from the top onto them. Enjoying the way you look up at him before he starts to slowly feed his cock to you.
You moan around his length, loving how heavy it feels on your tongue. Slowly you reach one hand up to hold onto the base of his shaft, unsure how tight to squeeze you just hold it gently before taking him deeper.
His hand comes down on the back of your head, holding you as he starts to rock his hips forward. Showing you a pace that he wants you to keep.
You think he’s going to mock you for the fat tears that waste no time streaming down your cheeks as you attempt to swallow around him.
Dave groans, watching his cock as it slides in and out of your eager mouth, each time pulling back wetter. His finger slides under a tear and brushes it away. “Pretty fucking good for a first time.” He grunts. “Take more. Push it to the back of your throat.”
You wonder if he’d get mad if you paid a little attention to your throbbing clit, you hadn’t cum the day before and the soreness had now been replaced with a desperate need for relief.
You take him deeper as he demanded, gagging as pushes past your tonsils and almost touches the back of your throat.
“Fuck- just like that.” Dave groans, twitching inside your mouth and hissing in pleasure when you moan around his length.
Unable to hold back any longer you let your free hand slip up your dress and slowly begin to rub circles into your neglected clit.
You moan louder around him and start to bob your head a little faster, gagging again in the process.
He almost missed it, caught up in the way your mouth keeps swallowing around his dick. The slight movement of your hand catches his eye and it’s another second before he processes what you are doing. Whipping his hand out, he grabs your jaw and yanks your head up, pulling you off his cock with a loud pop. “Don’t fucking touch yourself.” He growls, furious. “You don’t get to touch yourself while you are sucking my dick.”
“I’m sorry,” you bluster, “I’m sorry, Mr. York.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks as his grip on your jaw tightens. You let your hand fall away from your pussy and hold both hands up to show him. “I promise I won’t touch myself again.”
“Hold my hips.” He orders harshly, letting go of your chin and pulling you back towards his cock. “You might get to cum if you do a good job.”
You nod silently, before holding onto his hips as he ordered. Opening your mouth again, and waiting patiently for him to guide it back into your mouth. The second he does you take it as deep as you can before hollowing your cheeks and finding the pace he had previously set.
Now he hums in satisfaction, happy that your full attention is on his pleasure. Groaning as he rocks his hips deeper, listening to the sound of your mouth and feeling you coat his cock in your saliva.
You love the rough hold as has on your head as he snaps his hips a little harder, his pace a little sloppier as more and more groans fall from his lips. Tears roll down your cheeks in an endless stream as you take him deeper and deeper, his cock twitching in your mouth as you hollow your cheeks harder.
Dave groans and stops rocking his hips, letting you take over bobbing your head on his length. It’s sloppy, and he’s had better blow jobs, but the eagerness and the fact that he is wrecking the daughter of the man who hates him easily makes this his favorite.
You look up at him through your fluttering eyelashes, still working him towards his high and trying to gauge what’s going on in his head. He looks as wrecked as you feel, you feel his cock twitching more and more on your tongue as a few spurts of pre-cum leak from the tip and now he’s only moments away.
Dave pulls back, hating losing the heat and section of your mouth but he has a point to prove. Quickly starting to cum as he jerks off, he spurts his seed onto your tits, neck and face with a groan.
You stay as still as you can, tongue poking out through your lips when a spurt lands on your chin. Relishing the salty taste of him. “How did I do, Mr. York?” You ask after he breathes out a few jagged breaths.
“Good.” Dave catches his breath and wipes the last drops of his cum onto his finger to feed to you.
You circle your tongue around the tip of his digit, keeping your eyes on him the entire time, before slowly rising up on your feet. “How do you have such an effect on me already?” You whisper, as you press yourself up against him.
“You tell me.” Dave quirks a brow up, interested to hear your answer to that question. For someone sent in to spy on him, you are very impressionable.
“I mean the fact you look like this,” you say with a little grin, “And the power. Fuck. It’s so sexy how easily you command so much power.” You rub yourself up against him a little harder, desperate for some relief.
Dave snorts, shaking his head and he smirks as he hears the guys start to come out of their own spaces to meet up for the bar. “Go to your room and strip down, lay on your bed and wait for me.” He orders, knowing they will see you in the hall.
“Yes, sir.” You say feeling heat rushing to your cheeks. He said nothing about cleaning it off and you don’t want to make the wrong move, so you turn on your heel and march towards the door. Making your way down the hall and walking straight into Ari. As expected his eyes drip down towards your tits the second he clocks eyes on you, and you watch as they widen at the sight of your bosses drying cum splashed across them. “Have a good evening,” you say with a slight grin before making your way into your quarters and stripping down for Dave. As you lay down on the bed you spread your fingertips through the drying liquid and bring it to your lips, desperate for another taste of him.
Ari steps into the kitchen right as Dave finishes zipping up, an astonished look on his face. Dave doesn’t say anything, aware the man got his message and nods to him before he walks out of the door, whistling quietly as he makes his way towards your room.
You twiddle your fingers, trying to keep them away from your throbbing clit. You wonder how long he’ll keep you waiting, but you know better to start without him. So you wait patiently, listening for his footsteps.
Walking down the hallway, he heard the guys leave, alone in the building with just you. He stops in front of your door and pauses, wondering what he is going to do to you. He’s just cum and he can’t get it up for at least another forty five minutes. Smirking to himself, he decides he will make you even more enamored with him by giving you your first experience with oral.
“Dave?” you call quietly, convinced you’d heard someone climbing the stairs.
Twisting the handle, he pushes the door open to see you lifted onto your elbows as you lay on your bed. Completely naked and covered in his drying cum. “Everyone’s left.”
“Good,” you say quietly, “What do you want me to do to you next?” You ask expectantly. Wanting nothing but to give this man pleasure.
“I’m not getting hard right now.” He admits, unsure if you are aware that most men have a refractory period. “So I’m going to make you cum on my tongue.”
“Oh.” You say with a shy smile, “What do I need to do?”
“Lay there.” Dave snorts. “Tell me what feels good and what you don’t like.”
You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed as he laughs at your question, “Okay.” You move up the bed slightly, still leaning on your elbows before opening your legs and waiting for him to move closer.
Dave starts to strip, watching your clit practically pulse and throb right in front of him. Hearing you gasp when you realize he’s going to strip down. After he eats you out, he’ll be hard again and he has every intention of fucking you.
Your fingertips claw at the bedsheets as you watch him undress, you need relief but you refuse to risk losing his mouth before he’s even given it to you. So you watch quietly, chest heaving up and down as he takes his time.
Once his pants are kicked off, he moves to kneel on the bed, sliding a hand up your calf and over a knee. “No one has ever eaten your pussy?”
“Never. No-one has ever touched me but you,” you whisper as he moves closer to you.
He chuckles and leans down to bite your knee. “Then I’m going to ruin you.” He boasts. “I’m good at eating pussy. My ex might not love me anymore, but she misses my tongue.”
You wince as his teeth lightly dig into your knee. “Do it then… Show me how good you are.”
“You’ll get it.” He’s too busy dragging his tongue along your skin, tasting where the arousal has dripped down your thighs as you’ve waited for him. Waited for this. “You weren’t wearing panties tonight.” He groans. “Could have bent you over the kitchen table and fucked you in front of them, couldn’t I have?”
“If that’s what you wanted.” You’re unable to lie, and he knows it. You gasp as he inches closer to your cunt, his breath costing your soft skin. “Don’t think I could refuse you.”
“You won’t refuse me.” Dave growls, biting your inner thigh. Not as rough as he could, he’s toying with you, but it still makes you jump and squeal.
“Never,” you rasp back, “I promise.”
He fans his breath over your cunt, watching you squirm in anticipation. Your eyes are wide as dinner plates as you look down at him. Making him smirk as he purses his lips and blows on your overheated sex, just to feel you shiver.
“Please,” you beg, the anticipation of what’s to come making you shudder. Your neglected clit pulsates with desperate need for some attention as he teases you relentlessly just to see you squirm.
Instead of diving in, overwhelming you, the first lick is slow. Determined. Dragging his tongue up the slide of your cunt and flicking over your clit before coming back down the other side. Slowly devouring you as his eyes watch your face.
“Dave,” you breathe out with a gasp. You pull at your sheets almost desperately, unsure whether to give into the urge to rock your hips and chase his tongue like your body is begging you to do. “More. Please.”
His chuckle is breathed into your cunt, having every intention of giving you more. Enjoying the way that you are giving yourself to him, letting him show you things that your daddy never thought he would.
“Make me cum,” you whisper, as you look into his eyes. He has you under his thumb and you’re not sure how you gave yourself to him so easily but you have. Secretly betraying the mission your father and Robert sent you on with ease.
Dave twirls his tongue, lapping and sucking on your clit like it is his favorite treat. Pulling mewls and moans from you that steadily get loud with every pass of his tongue and you cry out his name when he shifts and pushes two fingers inside your cunt for you to clamp down on.
“Please don’t stop,” you beg, despite him showing no signs of stopping. Your left hand finds its way into his hair, entangling in his slightly overgrown curls. You lightly press down on the back of his head as he shows you the kind of pleasure you weren’t really sure existed. “You are amazing,” you breathe out as your thighs start to shake.
That’s what he wanted to hear. He groans and doubles down on making sure that your first orgasm by his tongue is earth shattering enough that you will never forget it.
Gently you start to rock your hips, unable to control the noises you’re making, the room floods with the sound of your moans and desperate whimpers of his name. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as he throws you off that edge.
His fingers are buried to the knuckle and with a quick twist of his lips, he seals them around your clit and starts to suck. Feeling your body bow like a string as a scream loud enough to echo through the building rips out of your throat and your cunt squeezes his fingers hard enough they will be sore.
“Oh god,” you say with a shaky breath as you come down from the most incredible orgasm of your life. “Is it supposed to feel that good? Because I didn’t think that was possible.” You’re rambling on and you feel him chuckle against your core, your thighs clamped around his head like a vice.
He peels your thighs off his cheeks and spreads your thighs wide so he can see the creamy mess he’s made of you. “It’s that good with me.” He rumbles happily.
“Have I told you that you’re amazing?” You say with a giggle, the heat of his breath against your pussy making you keen. “Because you are amazing.”
Now his cock is hard again, leaking against his belly where it’s trapped between the mattress and his body. He shuffles up to his knees and keeps your thighs spread in his hands. “Should I fuck you like this or make you bounce on my cock?” He muses.
“You’re in control, Dave.” He hasn’t kissed you yet and as you look up at him with wide eyes you wonder if he will. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Go clean my cum off your body.” Dave decides, moving to your left and laying down. “You’re going to ride me.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, leaping up and making your way to the bathroom, listening to him chuckle at how fast you moved. You wet a cloth and start to scrub your chest and neck clean of his dried cum. Within a few minutes you’re next to him again, straddling his thighs and waiting for him to tell you what to do next.
He waits to see if you will take the initiative but you seem content to follow orders. He motions you to come closer. “You’re going to be sore.” He reminds you. “Try not to just take it all at once.”
You move closer, lifting your hips and lining yourself up with his cock. With one hand gripping onto his shoulder you start to slowly sink down. He’s right, It’s sore and you wince at the stretch of him. You lower yourself inch by inch watching his face the entire time.
Dave doesn’t move. He doesn’t rock up into you or try to pull you down faster. He’s impatient on a lot of things, but this is one thing he can take his time with. He likes that you are sore, he enjoys making you feel him but he never wants to hurt you to the point of damage. He’s not a monster. It smacks too much of rape and he kills those types.
Once you’ve fully sunk down on him, you take a few moments before deciding to move. Starting off with slow movements of your hips, building up to little bounces. Riding his cock languidly, “Is this okay?” You ask, wanting to make sure it’s good for him.
Nodding, he reaches up to caress your waist, sliding his fingers along your skin. You are giving yourself to him, letting him use you for his lust so he might as well indulge.
You tremble at the tips of his fingers, you’re like putty in his hands and he knows it. You increase your pace a little before reaching down to hold onto one of his hands as you ride him. “Dave.” His name falls from your lips over and over, like it was made just for you to say.
It’s perilously close to love making but Dave doesn’t change the pace. Watching you and enjoying the way that you move on him. The innocence in which you burrow him deeper into your subconscious. He knows it’s harder to betray someone the first time, especially if you love them.
“I feel so full,” you moan as you slightly increase the pace, but still keeping it nice and slow. “Wanna feel you all the time, want you buried inside me forever.”
He grunts, not commenting on the obvious way you are already starting to fall for him. He should discourage it, to push you away. Instead, one hand cups your tit and he flicks his thumb across your nipple, and the other hand slides down to rub your clit.
“Do you want me to move faster?” You ask him quietly, wanting to make this good for him. Needing to impress him.
“No.” Dave groans quietly, making sure he keeps his ass against the comforter on your bed. He wants to make sure you don’t try to push yourself. You want slow, you get slow.
“Okay, baby,” you murmur, letting the nickname slip out without thinking and hoping he doesn’t get annoyed with you. His finger keeps rubbing your clit as you keep that same delicious pace, revelling in feeling every ridge and vein of his cock.
Dave groans, feeling you clamp down around his cock every time you roll your hips. He doesn’t mind your little Freudian slip of the tongue. It shows him where you are mentally and while it’s wrong, he won’t discourage it.
“Feels so good,” you start to garble as he increases the speed of his finger on your clit. Your hips start to move faster as you move closer to your high. “I’m gonna cum, Dave,” you moan, digging your fingernails into his shoulders.
It does feel good, making him groan as you start to bounce on his cock faster. “You’re going to cum, aren’t you?”
“Gonna cum,” you say again, feeling your pussy clench hard around him. You rest your forehead against his as your body starts to shudder, the pleasure ripping through you in harsh unforgiving waves.
He can tell you're overwhelmed by the sheer force of it, especially after coming after your first orgasm on his tongue. Groaning, Dave wraps his arms around you and takes over, planting his heels into the bed and thrusting up into you as you come apart for him.
You squeal his name as he takes over, fucking into a spot deep within you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You can feel his hips stutter as you clamp down around him.
It doesn’t take long for him to feel that desperate little tingle in the base of his spine. His body starting to tense. “Where?” He demands harshly, needing to know where he can cum.
“Anywhere baby,” you rasp out as you study his face, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts in and out of you.
He should pull out. He should. He shouldn’t stay buried inside you while he cums. He doesn’t know if you use birth control, if you are strict about taking it. If you’ve even thought about it. But in this moment, with your doe eyes focused on him and your cunt like a hot, velvet glove squeezing him tight, he can’t. Rocking deeper, he pulls you tight against his body, as if you are trying to get away and pushes his cock as deep as he can manage.
You feel his cock twitch a few times before he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up with thick ropes of his cum, whilst his arms hold you tighter and tighter. It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. The need to ask him to stay feels heavy on your tongue, but he hasn’t even kissed you yet, and you’re certain you’d crumble if he simply rejected you. So you remain silent, just listening to his ragged breaths as concentrating on the rise and fall of his chest.
Dave closes his eyes, inhaling the sweaty, sweet scent of your skin, the combined tang of your juices. Feeling his breathing start to slow down as he holds you. Relaxing his grip on you so you can move if you want, he doesn’t take his hands off you, still buried in your quivering cunt.
The second he loosens his hold on you, you tighten yours on his. Afraid he’s going to slip away and leave you wondering if or when you’re going to get to touch him again. It’s tempting to tell him why you’re there at this moment. To reveal it all before it goes any further and you risk him hating you any more than he inevitably will. But you don’t. The words evaporate and are replaced by shaky breaths, and a painful stinging in your eyes.
“Go to sleep.” He feels the way your breathing changes and he wonders what you are thinking. Are you having second thoughts? Are you going to ask your daddy to pull you out?
“Goodnight, Dave,” you whisper against his skin, hopeful that he’ll stay until you’ve at least fallen asleep. You press your lips against his neck and let sleep take you, exhaustion suddenly feeling evident in your bones.
It doesn’t take long for you to relax completely in your sleep. Dave stares up at the ceiling, wondering why your father had sent you. You’re so innocent. You shouldn’t be a killer, you shouldn’t be anywhere near this life. So why send you? He puzzles over this as he slides his hand up and down your back. The soft breathing makes him smile as he feels your walls spasm around his soft cock. He won’t move, enjoying the way you trust him, even though you shouldn’t.
The alarm makes you groan, as you reach around for someone that’s not there. Pushing yourself up on your elbows you notice a bottle of water and a box of plan b on your nightstand, which you take without hesitation. You’re not on birth control and you’re certainly not ready to have a child with a man who’ll no doubt despise you in a few weeks time.
After a few minutes of staring up at the ceiling, you rise to your feet and start getting ready for training. Enjoying that you can still feel him as you move.
“Good morning,” you say with a smile, as you see him in the small kitchen, making himself a coffee.
“Morning.” Dave glances up at you and then back down at his coffee cup. “From what I read, you might be cramping today. So if training is too much, let me know.”
“Thank you, but I’m good. What’s the plan for today?” You pour yourself a cup of coffee and pick up a banana before spinning around to face him.
“Range.” Dave tells you. “You got ear protection?”
“I don’t, I’m sorry.” You say before taking a sip of your coffee. “Am I shaping up to be the most useless person you’ve trained?”
“The most innocent, for sure.” Dave doesn’t lie. “Have you ever even fired a weapon?”
“Not so much anymore,” you say with a smile, “And yes. A few times. We went hunting when I was younger… I hated it.”
Another puzzle to sort out. Someone who hates hunting for animals, decides to hunt humans. It’s not any easier, in fact, it’s harder. “Meet me down at the edge of the field when you are ready.” Dave points out the window. “I’ll go get things ready.”
“Okay, I won’t be long, I think I need to wrap up a little warmer and I’ll be there.” He barely glances at you again as you leave the kitchen, making your way back to your room. It's just sex for him, you begin to tell yourself over and over, repeating it in your head.
“What are we going to be shooting at?” you ask as you approach him, watching the way he methodically fiddles with the gun in his hand.
Dave nods towards a barn that is about two hundred meters away. “I have targets painted on the side.” He tells you. “Point is for you to see if you can even hit the broad side of a barn today.” He jokes, obviously not sure about your skill.
“You don’t think I can hit the targets?” You say, clearly annoyed.
“Doubt it.” Dave taunts, picking up on the annoyance in your voice and it amuses him.
“How about we make this interesting? I hit more than half the targets and I get something I want. And if I don’t then… you can have something.”
He lifts a brow in surprise and then glances back at the barn. “What do you want?”
“TBD.” You say with a tight smile, you already know what you want but feel silly saying it out loud.
“Fine.” Dave agrees quickly. “And I’ll tell you what I want after I win.”
“Which gun?” You say as you look down at the vast amount of weapons he has on hand.
“Let’s keep it simple.” Dave suggests, pointing to FN Scar 16s. It’s a basic weapon and if you can’t handle that, there is zero reason you should work with any of the sniper rifles.
“Got it.” You take your position and flip the safety on the gun, before looking over at Dave and flashing him your sweetest smile. Beginning your count seconds before shooting, “One.” Hits the target. “Two.” Hits the target. “Three.” Hits the target. And you repeat, over and over; not missing a single one. Listening to him curse under his breath as you do so. “I said I hated hunting, I didn’t say I was bad at it.”
He narrows his eyes at you, unable to deny what you are saying, but it still pisses him off.
“I figure you’ll be sending me another run this morning, seeing as I'm guessing this was supposed to take at least a few hours of training,” you say, taking a few steps towards him until you’re practically nose to nose. “But I guess now I’ve got to decide whether I collect my prize now or later.”
“Who said you were done, little girl?” You aren’t too little, but he enjoys saying it just to watch your eyes flash in anger.
“I hit every target, big boy.” you challenge, “What else is there for me to do?”
“Pick up the sniper rifle.” He orders you. “Want to see what you can do at a thousand yards.”
“Fine. But you still owe me my prize.” Taking a step back, you reach down and pick up the rifle. It’s heavy and completely out of your wheelhouse but you refuse to let him see you ruffled. “What am I shooting at now?”
Do you see that truck?” Dave asks, pointing towards an old farm field and a risky truck. “Shoot the red taillight.”
“Yes sir,” you say with a much too confident grin, you flick off the safety and place your finger on the trigger, and then look through the telescope. When you’re confident that you have a good shot, you press down on the trigger, groaning loudly as you miss by a long shot.
Whistling, Dave is smug. “Five degrees right, two up.” He calculates, even though he wasn’t using a spotting scope.
“Let me try again,” you say with a scowl, before attempting another shot. Missing yet again, you roll your eyes and take a step back. “Are you just going to stand there and gloat or are you going to show me how it’s done?”
“I just told you.” Dave snorts. “Adjust your sight five degrees right and two degrees up.” He repeats, reaching for the small dial.
“I tried that, but it didn't work.” You groan. After he finishes fiddling with the dial, you resume your position and take a deep breath. Letting your finger slowly move its way towards the trigger and pressing down on it a few moments later. Oh. “I hit it,” you say in disbelief. “I hit the taillight.”
“Amazing what a correctly sighted insight can do.” Dave drolls sarcastically, smirking with his arms over his chest.
“Shut up,” you say with a giggle, “What’s next? Or are you ready to give me my prize?”
“Fluke shot.” Dave scoffs. “Take out the mirror on the driver’s side.”
You aim for the mirror, slightly adjusting the dial before taking the shot. Hitting the target immediately and squealing with joy after doing so.
“Congratulations.” Dave snorts. “At least you can shoot.”
“Admit you’re impressed, York.” You say before skipping up to him, “And I’d like to collect my prize right now.”
You look like a kid who’s been told to go wild in a candy store. He huffs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What’s your prize?”
A wide smile spreads across your face as you watch him, “A kiss.”
He hasn’t kissed you. He hadn’t even realized that had been missed. Nodding, he doesn’t baulk or disagree with your prize. “Seems a little tame.” He does say. “You could ask for anything.”
“But you haven’t kissed me yet,” you say with a shrug, “And I’d really like you to kiss me.”
“You could have just asked.” Dave points out and reaches for your wait to tug you close. “Come here.”
“I was frightened you’d reject me,” you say as he pulls you plush to him. Your hands lifting up to gently grip his jaw.
“Have I denied you anything yet?” He asks gruffly, frowning slightly as he realizes he hasn’t denied you a damn thing since you’ve been here.
“No,” you say with a smile before rising up on your tiptoes, “Kiss me, Dave York.”
He does. He doesn’t make it soft and sweet. He captures your lips roughly in a kiss that is designed to overwhelm you and take control. Growling into your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside to tangle with yours.
You wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you deeper than you’ve ever been kissed before. Within seconds you’ve fully given yourself to him, whimpering into his mouth as he overwhelms you and it’s in this moment that you know you’d let him do anything to you.
His tongue sweeps through again and then he bites down on your lower lip and gives it a gentle tug. “That's what you were looking for?” He demands, lust making his voice rough and unsteady.
“Yes,” you mumble against his lips, willing him to do it again.
“Hmmmm.” Dave decides he’ll give in. You wanted a kiss so since you had won, you’ll get your little make out session.
He kisses you harder, hard enough that it makes your breath hitch and your entire body shudder. He changes up the tempo, occasionally stopping to nibble lightly on your lower lip, before eventually pulling away. “Out of curiosity, what would you have picked if you had won?”
“I didn’t win.” Dave tells you. “So it doesn’t matter.”
“Spoilsport,” you say with pout. “Tell me.”
For half a beat, he considers changing his question. To not show his hand. But you are demanding it. “I was going to ask why-“ he says your father’s name, “sent you to me.”
The words feel like a shot to your chest. You look around, trying to scope out if you’re in danger, before giving up and releasing a deep sigh; figuring if Dave isn’t going to kill you, your dad definitely is. “I think he’s scared of you. I don’t know. I wasn’t given a choice, I was just told by him and my godfather that I had to come. Gather information and they’d sweep in and save me when they were satisfied.”
“And your godfather is Robert McCall.” Dave guessed correctly.
“Yes.” You say, tears now streaming down your face. “I had no intention of telling them anything. I know you have no reason to believe me, but fuck. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Why?” Dave asks. “You fucked me in order to get close, or did daddy not expect that of you?” He asks, dropping his arms from around you. “He’ll be real interested when he gets around to opening the video of me taking your virginity. If he opens the email.”
“What? What video?” You say stammer out between sobs. “Why wou—? He didn’t know. I wanted to— Why would you do that?” You take a few steps back and take a look around, figuring you should probably make a run from it. But honestly you’d rather die at Dave’s hands than your fathers.
“There’s a camera in your room. I knew who you were the second you walked into my office.” He softens slightly, realizing you have meant what you said. You didn’t want to do any spying on him. You’re still less than a foot away from guns that could kill him but you haven’t even thought about picking one up.
“Why didn’t you just kill me then and there?” You sniffle.
You intrigued him, that’s the first thing he wanted to tell you. He shrugs. “Wanted to see what you wanted.” He admits.
“I didn’t want anything. Until I m—,” you cut yourself off with a shake off your head. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Why would I kill you?” He asks with a shrug. “Not like you’ve learned anything, not unless you count the size of my dick.”
“Figured you’d want to rob my father of the chance,” you say with a slight laugh, a fresh stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’m going to leave now. I'm so sorry, Da— Mr. York.”
“You aren’t leaving.” Dave decides, reaching into and grabbing your arm. “Why would your father kill you?”
“Clearly, I'm not cut out for this, so what’s the point in me staying? I betrayed him. He’s spent my entire life hating me, because in his eyes I killed the love of his life…” Your sniffles turn back into full blown sobs. “I never wanted to do this.”
It’s slightly ridiculous, but Dave finds himself pulling you into his arms. Holding you while you soak his jacket with your tears and rubs your back. “I didn’t send it to him.” He says softly. “The video. I almost did.”
You’re not sure why he’s being so soft with you, seeing as he knows why you came here and what you had been instructed to do. But you lean into him, arms wrapping around him as you sob hysterically, “Send it.”
“No.” Dave growls. “I’m not going to let your father kill you, either.”
“I want him to know that he doesn’t get to control me anymore,” you mumble into his shirt.
Even as he is rubbing your back, Dave grins, admiring your spirit. “It is a good video.”
“Yeah?” You ask, whilst looking up at him through your bloodshot eyes, “Can I see it?”
You continue to surprise him. Nodding he smirks. “If you want to. It’s on my personal computer in my office.”
“Lead the way,” you say, taking a small step but still holding onto him.
Dave leaves the weapons where they are, pulling out his phone to send Ari a text to clean up as he guides you towards the safe house.
He keeps his arm tightly wrapped around you as he leads you inside the safe house, instructing you to take a seat and wait for him to come back with his laptop.
Dave brings the laptop and sets it in front of you. “Do you want to watch it alone?”
“No,” you reply a little too quickly, “Unless you wanna leave.”
“No.” Dave chuckles and shakes his head. “Are you sure you want to see it?”
“Yes.”
Dave opens the laptop and pulls up the video before he looks over at you. “This is the only copy.” He tells you quietly.
“Press play,” you tell him, as he takes a seat next to you. “Have you jerked off to this?”
Dave tilts his head. “I have.”
“Show me,” you say as the video begins to play.
“The video?” He snorts and motions towards the laptop. “It’s right there.”
“No,” you say with a raised eyebrow, “Show me how you jerked off.”
It’s amazing how quickly you’ve gone from being hysterical to demanding. Dave lifts a brow of his own but doesn’t comment on it. He just leans back and unzips his pants after undoing his tactical belt.
Your tongue dips out to wet your lips as he unzips his pants. Without saying a word you lift your hips and push down your leggings and panties, arousal already dripping from your slit at the thought of matching his depraved acts on you.
"You're watching me and not the video." Dave points out, even as he spits in his hand and wraps his hand around his cock.
“I like watching you do that,” you say quietly, your fingertips now circling your swollen clit. “I like watching it get harder.”
"Voyeur." Dave teases, even with his own eyes centered on your cunt. "Next time, I'll get hard in your mouth."
“Yeah?” You say with a breathy moan, your fingertips moving quicker as he slides his hand up and down his fully erect cock. “I miss how well it fills me.”
"You slept with my cock inside you." He huffs, smirking slightly. "You gonna sleep on it every night now?"
Reaching over you run your thumb across his weeping tip, and gather up the pre-cum settling there. Looking at him with wide eyes, before nodding and sinking your thumb into your mouth.
"So you're gonna stay?" He asks, lifting a brow. "Warm my bed?"
“If you’ll have me,” you say with a smile, the video seemingly forgotten about. “I’d love to keep you warm.”
Dave decides that you need to pay attention and he stops stroking his cock. "Come here." He orders, spreading his thighs wider.
“Do you want me to take a seat, sir?” you tease as you stand up and finish striping off your leggings and panties before straddling his thighs.
"Right on my cock. But turn around so you can watch the video." He orders, slapping your ass as you turn around.
“Yes sir,” you say, feeling his hands grip onto your hip and he guides you down on his cock.
The small inhale of your breath makes him smirk, enjoying your reaction to taking him. "You can sit on my cock while you watch yourself take my cock the very first time." He murmurs in your ear while you circle your hips and clench around him.
You hum in approval as he wraps his arms around you. You look at yourself on that little screen and watch the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure the first time he pushed into you, the way your tits began to bounce as he set that brutal but delicious pace. “For a first timer, how did I do?” You ask as his fingers find your clit.
"Perfect." Dave chuckles, watching the screen as he starts rubbing your clit. "Tight and hot. Dripping wet."
“From the moment I first saw you, I knew I’d let you do anything to me. Almost played with my pussy in your office that first day,” you admit as you recall being sat fully naked waiting to see that elusive doctor, he hasn’t mentioned since.
"I wanted to see why you were sent to me." He admits. "To ruffle your feathers."
“Well you certainly ruffled something,” you say with a giggle, feeling his cock start to twitch inside you as you flutter around him.
"You need birth control." Dave groans quietly. "Because you can't keep taking Plan B and I'm not pulling out unless I want to paint your pretty face or tits in my cum."
“I’ll speak to someone tomorrow,” you say, “Because unless you have more pressing issues to attend to, I’d like to stay wrapped up in you all day.”
“Since my student just quit on me, I’m free.” He teases playfully, rocking his hips up to bounce you on his cock.
“She wasn’t a very good student to be fair, was far too distracted by her teacher.”
“Maybe she should have paid more attention.” He slaps your clit lightly, chuckling when you gasp his name and jolt in his arms.
“To you? Because I can tell you for a fact, she wasn’t paying attention to anything else. Spent an alarming amount of time staring at your lips.”
“And today is the first time she kissed them.” He teases.
You clench your pelvic muscles as hard as you can around him in response to his teasing, “Won’t be the last time though.”
Dave groans breathlessly in your ear. “No-“ he pants. “It won’t.”
You hum contentedly before bouncing a little faster, hearing how affected he is spurring you on to make him come undone inside of you. “You wanna fill me up again, baby?”
“Fuck.” Dave bites your ear lobe. “Someone turned the slut switch on.” He groans.
“I think we both know who’s to blame,” you say as you continue to ride him, guiding his hand back towards your clit.
“This is my fault?” He huffs, fingers dancing over the swollen nub between your thighs expertly. “You wanted to jump me as soon as you got here.”
“It’s definitely your fault,” you giggle, his fingers expertly working you towards your thigh. “I think you’ll find you’re the one who said you wanted to fuck me first.”
“I’m a man.” He snorts. “First impressions are normally decisions if I want to stick my dick in someone.”
“Mhmm,” you hum back, riding him a little faster, “How long did it take for you to decide you were going to fuck me?”
“About the time I told you to take your clothes off.” Dave chuckles, at the time it had been a very smug idea about fucking you and leaving you in his office, but he likes what transpired better.
You look back at the video and see him straddling your chest, ready to coat your face in his cum. You feel him chuckle as you increase your pace, clearly enjoying watching him debauch you. Moaning loudly, and sucking him back in greedily with every bounce.
“Filthy.” He hums in your ear. “But so fucking sexy, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” you choke out, “Tasted you off my face after you left.”
“I know.” He nods towards the camera. “I watched to see what you would do.”
Your face burns as you remember the first day you got there, making yourself cum to the thought of him. “Did you… did you watch footage from any other days?”
“You mean where you spread yourself on your bed and rubbed your clit, moaning my name?” He teases and nibbles on your ear. “I did.”
“Felt so good,” you tell him, loving the way his cock twitches inside of you, “You could have come in and slipped inside of me then and there.”
“I’m sure you’ll keep me inside you plenty of times.” He hums.
“Make me cum, York.” You say as you threaten to fall off that cliff.
The hand that isn’t on your clit slides up to squeeze your breast. “Cum.” He orders harshly, pinching a nipple.
You rock down on him a few more times, before you're pushed off that ledge. Clamping down hard around his cock and cumming with a raspy gasp of his name.
Dave groans in your ear again, feeling the tightness of your cunt as you cum for him.
“Fill me up,” you plead, “Make me yours.”
He shouldn't. Not with you having just taken Plan B, but he doesn't hesitate. Taking over again and rocking his hip up another half dozen thrusts until he starts to cum. Grinding deep and groaning your name.
You lean back against him, listening to the way he pants and groans as his cock starts to soften inside of you. “Kiss me,” you whisper as you turn your face to his.
He doesn’t deny you, leaning in and pressing his lips to your softly as he catches his breath.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” you say, against his lips, “I’m really sorry, Dave.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He’s not going to say that it’s a great thing, but he had kept the fact that he knew from you.
“I’ll do anything to make it up to you,” you say, bumping your nose against his. “Anything you want.”
Dave snorts and smirks. “That’s never a good bargaining chip, you know that right?”
You giggle and nod your head, “Honestly, I was just hoping you’d make some promises that involve your hand against my ass.”
“You want me to spank you?” That surprises him, but he grins. “That can be arranged.”
“I want you to do anything you want to me,” you say, lifting off of him and turning yourself around to face him. “Show me everything I’ve been missing.”
“Insatiable.” Dave chuckles. “But we do need to talk about the situation.”
“I know,” you say with a sad sigh, the smile across your face fading into a frown as you think about what’s to come and how in a few days you’ll inevitably be ripped away by your Dad and Robert.
“What do you want?” He asks you quietly.
“You. You admit with a shrug. “And to not have to go to bed tonight wondering how many more mornings I‘m going to get. They told me so little about you, about all of this, but enough to know that they’re not going to be happy if I fail, and I failed them the second I met you.”
“They aren’t going to take you. If you want to stay, you stay.” He tells you simply. “He sent you to me, you’re mine now.”
“All yours.” You say quietly, fear bubbling in your tummy as you think of the repercussions. “It’s been less than a week, and I can’t even think about being apart from you.”
“You are trauma bonding with me.” Dave tells you, knowing the connection you feel isn’t real. “I’m the lesser of two evils, and that should terrify you.”
You know he’s just being straight with you but it hurts. You don’t want to hear it. Silently, you nod your head and move off of him, before bending down to pick up your leggings and panties. “I should shower,” you murmur, trying to conceal the embarrassment that’s currently flooding your body.
“Stop.” Dave reaches out and takes your arm. “I don’t mean that it’s a bad thing.” He clarifies. “I just mean that if you decide you want to leave one day, I would understand.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have everyone tell you what you’re feeling every day of your life? To be told how to feel? And when to feel it?” You say, before shaking your head, “I’m not an idiot, Dave. I’m not standing here and confessing some undying love to you. I was just… being honest. I didn’t ‘trauma bond’ with you when you were yelling at me for being late within the first minute of meeting me. Just… forget it.”
"Okay, okay...I'm sorry." Dave stands up and sighs, dropping his hand from your arm and propping his hands on his hips. "I don't know what the fuck to do, it's not like I've been in this situation before. I just - I don't want you to regret your choice."
“I won’t. I won’t regret my choices, if I'm allowed to be the one who makes them.” Running your hands through your hair, you reach for his hand before pulling back unsure if he wants you to touch him right now. “I haven’t regretted a single thing since getting here, I didn’t want to come, but jesus… I don’t even know. You literally fucked my virginity away,” you say with a slight laugh. “And I’d let you do it a million times over. I would take that treatment from you over the soft loving way I’ve been told my entire life it’s supposed to be… because it’s you. And that’s not me trauma bonding, that’s me feeling something for you because I feel safe when you’re with me.”
It's a twisted logic but he can't fault it. "You get to make your own choices." He promises you quietly.
You can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing, so you take another step back, figuring that it’s best to get a little space between you both. “I’m going to shower and maybe take a nap.”
"Do you want me to come with you?" He asks softly. Wondering what you are thinking, where your mind is at.
“No, it’s okay.” You say with a shrug, “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He's upset you, he can tell but he doesn't know why you are upset. Instead of pushing, he tucks himself away and sighs. "Go on then." He murmurs quietly. "I'll go clean up the range myself."
You don’t say anything else, taking the steps two at a time and going straight to the bathroom. Stripping the rest of your clothes off and switching on the shower. You feel bad for the way you acted and know you should have apologized and helped clear up the range, but you needed to get away.
You’re not sure why you’re so upset, he’s been surprisingly kind and gentle with you despite the fact you came into his home after agreeing to spy on him and feed information back to your father.
Maybe he’s right, maybe you are just letting your attraction to him cloud your judgement. Maybe it is just ‘trauma bonding.’
But it doesn’t feel like that when he’s holding you, when he’s clearing your head off all the doubts and insecurities that plague you by replacing those thoughts with new memories of him.
‘He’s just a crush,’ you mumble to yourself as you let the hot water fall over you, ‘and you’re nothing but a fuck to him.’
He takes his time, cleaning up and cleaning the weapons before storing them back in the lockers. Oddly upset by the fact that you had pushed him away when he was trying to give you what you wanted. You wanted a choice, he gave that to you. He could have killed you, you were supposed to be spying for your father and Robert. For the first time, he wonders if this is some sort of game to you, if you aren't as innocent as you seem and somehow have him twisted in knots.
Getting out of the shower, you use the towel to dry your hair before slipping into your bed undressed. You just need to sleep, you just need to switch your brain off for a few hours and then you can go and apologize to Dave and see what plans he has for you. You’re not a killer, you’ve both established that and it’s not fair for you to stay on the compound without pulling your weight, so maybe you can offer to cook and clean in exchange for somewhere to stay.
You nuzzle your nose into your pillow and breath in the scent of him that’s still lingering from the night before, wishing that he was laying next to you and holding you tight to his chest.
After he's stayed away for a few hours, Dave decides to check on you. Not knocking, just slowly pushing open your door and finding you asleep in your bed. Biting his lip, he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Walking over to the bed and dropping his clothes quietly, he slides into the bed beside you and when you shuffle, disturbed, he guides you over to his chest and wraps his arm around you, anchoring you to him and feeling you settle. He hums softly and closes his eyes.
You wake to the sound of soft snoring and his arm tightly wrapped around you, he looks peaceful. You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but you can’t ignore the way your heart starts hammering in your chest as a warmth floods your chest. Closing your eyes and nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you let yourself drift back to sleep. You’ve fallen for him, and whilst it’s far too early to say it’s love, you can’t deny that you’re completely under his spell. You’re his.
He stays the night. Sleeping in your bed for the entire night and probably getting the best night's sleep he's ever had. His body wakes up naturally at five in the morning but rather than getting up, he lays there with you in his arms. He doesn't have to train you, so there's no reason to leave the warmth of your bed.
The gurgle of your tummy wakes you up and you groan, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and listening to him chuckle at how tight your arms squeeze around him. “I’m hungry,” you eventually say, with a sigh, “And I'm sorry. Hungry. And sorry for acting like a brat yesterday.” You slowly lift your head to face him, “And you? Well, you’re just very very attractive,” you say with a smirk.
"I was an asshole?" He says it like a question. "I guess. I wasn't trying to be an asshole. I was trying to tell you that I want you to have your choice."
“You weren't being an asshole, I was being a brat.” You press your lips against his in a fleeting kiss, “I know. I just… I don’t even know,” you giggle. “I can’t explain it… Can we just eat?”
"You would have made a lousy spy." He jokes, slapping your ass lightly under the covers and grins at you. "You are always hungry."
“I think you’re to blame for that,” you say with a cheeky smile, “Always have me building up an appetite. Do you think we could order in? And get one of the guys to leave it outside the door?”
"So you want to spend the day in bed?" He asks with a smirk.
“Yes, and you’re spending it with me.”
"Okay." It's an easy enough request and he's happy to comply with it.
“And I’m going to listen to what you were trying to say yesterday,” you say as you gently touch his face, “Even if it hurts. We need to talk about how we are going to deal with things.”
"Your father is going to want you back." He predicts. "No matter what you say, you're his. and he doesn't like giving up what is his."
“His daughter. Not his property,” you say softly. “I don’t want to go back there. Him and Robert… if they don’t kill me, they’ll make my life a misery. But I can’t expect you to let me stay here if you don’t want me to…”
"If I didn't want you here, I would have sent your heart back to your father in a box." Dave tells you bluntly.
“How… poetic,” you say with a stunned laugh. “They’re going to make a scene. I don’t know what they’re capable of… but I know it won’t be good.”
"Let them make a scene." Dave snorts. "All that means is that their shitty plan didn't work. I could have told them that it wouldn't but they were never as smart as I was."
“Is it bad that I’d love to see the look on my dads face as he realizes he didn’t win?” You ask quietly. “You know my mom died when she was giving birth to me and he’s blamed me my whole life for it… He was balls deep in her best friend as she was dying, but somehow he’s managed to victimise himself ever since.”
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry." He can't claim that he knew that, he barely remembered your father having a daughter, but that just speaks of how little the man had dealt with you. "I'm sure that you will see that face."
You hum a little worried you keep over sharing, before looking up at him again, “I could cook and clean, earn my way.”
"You-" Dave licks his lips and shakes his head. "You don't have to earn your way." He murmurs quietly. "If you wanted to do that, you could. But you don't have to."
“I don’t mind, I love to cook… the cleaning part… eh. But I want to be of use to you.”
He smirks, "I could always use you as my personal sex servant." He teases. "That is definitely being 'of use'."
“Oh, yeah?” You say with a raised eyebrow, “Keep me filled with you cum and make sure you have a warm bed to climb into?”
"That sounds pretty good to me." He chuckles, the sound filthy as he squeezes your ass. "I'm sure your daddy would love that."
The loud giggle that leaves your mouth makes your face heat up, “And I wouldn’t want to disappoint Daddy now, would I?”
"It'll be fun to watch him realize you are not going to give him information." Dave chuckles.
“Yeah,” you agree, “His inevitable reaction afterwards is what scares me.”
“Do you think I’ll let him hurt you?”
“No.” You nuzzle your face back into his neck and press your lips up against his skin, “I’m still scared of what he’ll try to do though.”
“Don’t be.” Dave rubs your back protectively. “If you want to stay, nothing is going to make you leave.”
Pressing a kiss to his collarbone, you let your hands snake between you both. Fingertips dragging softly against his chest, his stomach and stopping just below his navel. “Can I?” You ask sweetly as you bump your nose against his.
“Stay?” Dave thinks you are talking about the situation, but he’s a little distracted by your hands on him.
You laugh a little before pressing your lips to his, “Well that… But I was asking if I could play with your big hard cock.”
“It’s not big or hard right now.” Dave chuckles, looking down at the sheets. “No morning wood.”
“It’s always big,” you say with a raised eyebrow, “I want it in my mouth. You said you’d get hard in my mouth next time. We have like twenty minutes before food arrives and I want to make you cum.”
He smirks and lifts his eyebrows. “Play away.”
You press another fleeting kiss to his lips before sitting up and moving the covers down. “I really like your cock,” you whisper, a grin spreading on your face as it twitches at your praise. You gently grab the base and run your tongue around the head, feeling it harden slightly in your hand before taking it in your mouth. You circle your tongue around the tip of him a few times, before hollowing your cheeks. Loving the sounds he made as it grows harder and stiffer in your mouth.
“It’s the - shit, the only cock you’ve touched.” Dave reminds you breathlessly. Closing his eyes and willing his hips to stay on the bed so you can do what you want.
You giggle around him as he groans beneath you, slowly pulling off and kissing the head of his now fully erect cock. “The only cock I’ve ever wanted to touch,” you say with a soft hum before taking him in your mouth again, sucking in your cheeks as you take him inch by inch.
“Shit.” Dave curses again, panting as he lets you suck his cock. There’s something wonderfully dirty about all this. All eagerly you want him. “Fuck, take it deeper.”
You hum around him again and take him deeper, swallowing as his cock pushes past york tonsils. Gently you reach down and let your fingertips sweep against his balls. Not being sure if he likes being touched there, you try to gauge his reaction.
The groan he lets out is filthy, his cock twitching in your throat and you swallow around him again. “Not too hard.” He pants, “but squeeze gently.”
You nod slightly to let him know you’re listening, taking him a little deeper before squeezing gently on his sack like he said. You love this, you love feeling him come apart and knowing it’s because of you. Swirling your tongue around the underside of his cock, you push a little deeper, your nose nuzzling up against the curls at the base of him as you swallow around him. It’s filthy, the way you feel your pussy getting wetter and wetter as you suck his cock.
Your name is moaned quietly, fingers reaching and stroking your jaw as you take him deeper. Feeling your saliva dripping down. “Fuck.”
You squeeze his sack a little tighter, before bobbing up and down on his length a little faster. Your tongue continues to swirl and roll against him, you love how heavy he feels on your tongue, how he stretches and fills your entire mouth and the noises you’re able to pull from him as you concentrate on his pleasure as it’s the most important thing in the world.
You don’t let up, he had to give you that. Every stroke of your tongue is quick, following up the last as your head moves up and down on his length. Building the pressure and pleasure quickly.
Faster and faster, your head bobs up and down. Sucking harder and continuing to play with his balls as you feel him begin to throb on your tongue, and you moan in delight. He’s on the edge, about to fill your throat any second and it thrills you. His fingers grip onto your hair tightly as he starts to groan, his hips now rocking up into your mouth.
He had tried to keep from thrusting into your mouth, but he can’t help it. Not when you love it and moan around him every time he hits the back of your throat. It only takes a moment or two before he is stiffening, cock throbbing as he floods your mouth with his cum.
You swallow around him, refusing to let a single drop go to waste. It makes you feel good to make him feel good, you continue to suck and tease his cock with your tongue even after he stops cumming. Keeping his softening cock in your mouth and humming happily around it until he gently pushes you away, the overstimulation getting too much. “Thank you,” you whisper, as you move up towards him and capture his lips in a bruising kiss.
He can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he kisses you. Not caring if the taste of his seed is still on your tongue. “You’re welcome.”
“I like taking care of you,” you say with a smile, before cuddling back up to him.
“Now we can eat, unless you’re already full?” He teases playfully, pinching your ass.
You giggle as he gets up and retrieves the bag of food waiting on the other side of the door… “Still hungry… I’m sure whatever this is, won’t make me feel as good as sucking your cock did though.”
You look at the way his shoulders are relaxed and his usually tense frame isn’t at all locked up and you smile, “And for however long you’ll have me here, I’m staying.”
**
“I’ll only be gone for a few hours.” Dave promises, kissing the top of your forehead and then your lips.
“Okay, baby,” you say as you snuggle back down into bed. “Wake me up when you’re back?” You ask, wanting to check that he’s unhurt from whatever he’s about to go and do. It had been just over three weeks since you had that discussion about staying, you had emailed your father the very next day and of course that email went unanswered but things seemed to be looking up.
Dave had had a conversation with the guys and told them everything, and they surprisingly didn’t react too badly to it, and had now accepted that you weren’t ever going to betray Dave.
“Okay baby.” Your endearments have slipped into normal conversation and he feels like you would like too. He doesn’t hate how you fawn over him, worry and coddle him. It’s rather nice. “Get some more sleep. I kept you up late last night.” He chuckles quietly and kisses your lips one last time before turning away.
“Baby?” You repeat, with a huge smile spreading across your face. “Just promise you’ll wake me?” You say as he walks towards the door, you’re exhausted, he's right, but you like to check on him.
“I will.” He pauses at the door and looks back at you with a wink and a smirk. “I’ll be back soon.”
The second the door closes and he’s on his way out, you’re out like a light. Exhaustion catching up on you almost immediately. Your arms wrap around his pillow, and you hold it tight to yourself, a temporary placeholder until he gets back and you have the real thing.
He started to refer to his bed as ‘ours’ about three days after moving you from the old safe house. You’re not sure if he even notices he’s doing it.
The sound of floorboards creaking makes your stir, but not enough to fully wake you up, and instead you just squeeze onto the pillow tighter and go back to sleep.
Dave had moved you from the old safe house due to it being compromised. He didn't trust your father and Robert since they obviously knew where to send you. So he had made the move to a new location and set up cameras just like he had in the old safe house. You know about them, but you don't care. You are in his bed anyway. The alert for one of the perimeter cameras dings on his phone as he is driving, making him look away as he opens it up to see if a stray dog or a raccoon has tripped it. Hissing in anger as he watches the images of Robert and your father creep towards the house where you are sleeping.
“Wake up,” is angrily rasped into your ear, “Fucking get up now.” You recognise it immediately, the voice those words are spitting at you from. Your father. He pushes the barrel of his gun up to press against the back of your head, “If I have to tell you one more time, I’ll blow your fucking head off.” You push yourself up onto your elbows before climbing out of bed. You’re wearing Daves t-shirt and a pair of old shorts and the cold air immediately makes you shiver.
“Downstairs,” he orders, before slapping the gun against the back of your head again.
Waiting for you downstairs is Robert McCall and a few of your dads guys. “She’s wearing his clothes AND sleeping in his bed?” One of them notes with a tut, “Never had her pegged as a whore.”
“Fuck you,” you spit across at him, “Do you think he’s just going to let you get away with this? Breaking into his house?”
“Shut the fuck up,” your father barks from behind you, “Get her in the fucking van.” He orders one of the guys. “York will be back in no time and I have no intentions of doing it here.”
“Doing what?” You begin to stammer, seconds before a sharp pain shoots through your head and everything goes black.
The engine roars and Dave squeals the tires as he races back towards the house. Pissed and ready to put a bullet in someone.
*
It’s dirty that’s the first thing you notice as you come to… that and the sharp pain throbbing in your head. You’re on the floor, on top of some filthy tarp in the middle of the room. Striped down to your underwear. You recognise the men in the room as Mike, Phil and Benzo. Three of your dads goons. Your father and Robert are nowhere to be seen.
“She’s awake,” one of them announces with a chuckle. “Look at her…. such a shame… A real real shame that she let that piece of shit touch her.”
Your stomach clenches with disgust as he drops to his knees beside you, “Poor little thing,” he mocks as he runs his fingers down your face, “Do you think he actually cares about you? We were discussing it as you slept so sweetly… Are you even aware that he probably just kept you around for an easy fuck? It’s been a good hour and he’s still nowhere to be seen… Probably went home and seen that the whore had been taken from his bed and felt fucking relieved.”
You're gone by the time that Dave's car screams up the driveway. Spitting out a curse as he snatches the pinned note off the door and reads it, growling in fury as he reads where you will be, as well as an invitation to come get you back, if he wants you.
The floor hurts your back, you’re cold and hate how exposed you are to these creeps. They talk over and over about how Dave and his guys won’t show, how they wouldn’t waste their time coming to save someone that Dave was clearly keeping as a fuck toy. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you stare at the large metal doors, praying that any minute someone will burst through them and give you a chance to escape.
"McCall!" Dave bellows outside of the building, his handgun hidden and the rifle in his hands loaded and the safety flipped off. "Come out now and bring her!" It had taken him twenty minutes to scout the place, make sure he wasn't walking into an ambush and he's worried, wondering what they have done to you.
You go to scream, to give away your location but Benzo is too quick. Covering your mouth and threatening to blow your brains out if you dare say a word. They want him in the building, they want him to come in and watch as they hurt you. Rob and your father out of sight and uncaring about what’s in store for you. Benzo had taunted you, ‘As long as that bastard York suffers, you can do what you want to the girl.’ Your dad had said to them.
Dave shouts your father's name, looking around and narrowing his eyes. "You mad? That I took your daughter? Or that she wanted to stay with me?" He asks, moving closer and looking for any signs of a gun trained on him.
You’re vaguely aware of your Dads voice coming from somewhere to the left of you, likely in the room that was closed off to you. “Took her?” He spits, “I sent her to you. I guess I should have figured you make the stupid bitch think you cared about her, if you worked this all out.”
"That's right, I did." Dave chuckles, aware that your father doesn't know that you told him. That he knows you were sent. He thinks that Dave is playing some kind of game. "Wasn't done with her yet, but you want her back, keep her." Dave grunts. "But she's wearing my favorite band t-shirt."
“I don’t think she’s wearing anything,” your father taunts back, “One of my guys, Benzo, he’s been after her for a while. He’s taking what he wants m and then you’re going to come in here and shoot her in the head. She’s going to die at the hands of the man she’s stupidly fallen for… Finally some justice for killing her mother.”
He swears he hears a muffled sob and his jaw clenches. "You know you killed her, right?" Dave calls back casually. "You planted her inside your wife. You killed her, not a baby who's just trying to be born."
The arguing between Dave and your dad becomes more muffled as Benzo begins to taunt you. “You fucked up,” he spits down at you, “We had it all planned out for you. Your daddy was going to let us live in the house on main that you love so much, and we were going to give him an heir. An heir to the business that piece of shit has spent the last few years working tirelessly to destroy. I was going to ask you to be my wife the day they rescued you. Your dad had already given me permission… And now you’re fucking ruined. Was it worth it? I bet he doesn’t even know how to make a woman cum.”
"You want the clients?" Dave chuckles, finding this absurdly funny. "You sent your daughter into the lion's den because of lost contracts? You really are a cold bastard, aren't you?" Your father has finally stated his demands, the reason why he has drawn Dave here. Give up his clients and he can walk away
Your nose is bloody, you can feel the warm liquid seeping out as you shudder on the floor. You blacked out, you don't think it was for long but everything feels a little fuzzier. Benzo is still crouching next to you, taunting you, mocking your cries as his fist slam against your wrists. “Do you think he’ll care?” He says as he takes your face in his hands. “I don’t. I think he’ll come in here, do what your daddy instructs him to do and I think he’ll enjoy it. Almost as much as I enjoy what I'm about to do.”
Dave moves into the building, creeping slowly, his gun up and ready to kill anyone who comes. He knows that he's being watched from wherever your father is. Still, he's going to get to you. "Tell you what?" He calls out. "Let me walk away and you can keep the list." Dave compromises. "And I won't kill you."
The sound of your fathers booming laughter makes you wince, he’s not even in the same room as you but manages to get under your skin and make your skin crawl. “It’s a shame your daddy wants him to kill you first,” Benzo whispers in your ear, “I’d quite like to watch your reaction to Robert finally sticking a bullet in York’s brain… because that’s what’s going to happen tonight.” His fingertips start to inch lower, and instinctively you push away from him, but he doesn’t let you. You feel his breath coat your skin as he aggressively palms at your tits, “Maybe I’ll wait to fuck you until York is in the room…”
"How does this end?" Dave bellows, knowing every second counts where you are concerned.
“That’s up to you,” your father yells back. “The client list and you take care of her exactly as I instruct and we go our separate ways.”
Benzo, Phil and Mike all laugh as you whimper in response to your fathers words. You want it to be over, to be put out of your misery but you know it won’t be that simple. You hear footsteps as someone approaches the room they have you in and you bite down on your lip, terrified for what’s about to come next.
His finger is on the trigger, not applying any pressure as he sights in through the scope. Steadily going towards the door where you are being held. He knows that your father wants him to kill you. Why, he doesn't pretend to understand. The man should want to protect you but he doesn't care at all. Instead of creeping into the room, Dave kicks the door open, making you jump and the three men tense as he fills the doorway.
You watch him intently, unable to focus on anything else as he enters the room. You hear your dad yelling from the next room but can’t quite make out the words and then you feel it. Benzos hands pulling at you, bringing you up so your back is pressed against his front. “Does she like it rough?” He grits out at Dave, “I bet she does. Just a few weeks with you and now she’s good for nothing but blowing my load in.”
He chuckles again as you whimper in pain, you’ve been beaten and tormented the entire time you’ve been in this building and you don’t have the energy to fight. “You know he’s not here for you right,” Benzo spits into your ear, “He’s just wants that fucking t-shirt you were wearing.”
His eyes flicker over to you before he's sliding them away towards the other men. Assessing and knowing the first one to get a bullet is Benzos. "Don't waste your time." He chuckles quietly. "She's not even worth blowing your load in." He says that to piss him off, knowing the man is a hot head and he wants him to pull that gun away from your head before he takes the shot.
“Yeah?” He spits back at Dave, waving the gun at him. “Nah. I’ve waited too fucking long not to take what’s rightfully mine. She’s going to get my dick in that tight little pussy and know what’s it’s like to be fucked by a real man before she dies.”
Curling his lip, Dave squeezes the trigger, the loud bang of the rifle echoing in the small room as Benzos's body is flung back from the force. Mike is next, swinging the gun around and squeezing off another round before dropping his hand to his belt and pulling his handgun out to shoot Phil in the thigh and then the head when he drops down to his knees, howling in pain. The entire thing is over in ten seconds.
You look up at him, unsure whether to move or not. Your whole body trembling as you think about what could have happened to you if Dave didn’t get here in time.
Without even looking at you, Dave turns around and walks back out the door, reholstering his pistol and picking up his rifle again to put to his shoulder. He wants to rush over to you, to check you over for injuries, but your father is still a threat, just like Robert is. "Your men are dead." He shouts out. "So come do your dirty work yourself."
You know you should get up and run but you can’t, everything hurts and you’re not even sure you have enough energy to push yourself up to your feet, so you don’t. You fall forward onto the cold fall and instinctively curl yourself up into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself and beginning to sob… The realization that no one cares about you, hitting you like a tonne of bricks.
Stepping out of the office to face Dave your father rolls his eyes, “They didn’t deserve to die,” you father grits out at him, “They were good men.”
"Your daughter deserved to be tortured? Threatened with rape?" Dave sneers, his opinion of the man plummeting even lower than he ever thought possible. "You should have protected her, even from me."
“She would have been fine if she stuck to the plan,” he shouts back, “But no…. She decides she’s gonna stay with you and be your little pet… and then we find her in your bed?” He raises his gun and aims it at Dave, “And now you’re going to go back in there and look at her in eyes as you pull the trigger.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Dave snorts, shaking his head and his own gun is trained on your father. “I didn’t hurt her when she told me you sent her, and I’m not going to hurt her now.”
“She told you?” He growls back, “She really is fucking useless.” He barks as anger floods him, “You will. You will go in there and blow her fucking brains out or i’ll blow yours. Choice is yours.”
“You can try.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “We both know I’m the faster, better shot.”
“Bullshit,” he spits. “You’d really risk your life for hers?” Your father laughs.
“Yes.” Dave chuckles when he hears a door slam. “Looks like McCall abandoned you. He’s good for that. Disappearing when shit gets tough.”
“Shit,” your father hisses. “She isn’t worth it, ya know? Ripped her mother to shreds during her birth. Too fucking timid to be off use to anyone…” He takes a few steps back and shakes his head. McCall running out on him has made his stomach lurch as he realizes just how out of his depth he really is. “We could partner up,” he says, lowering his gun with a chuckle. “We’d be unstoppable.”
“She’s not timid.” Dave snorts. “Not away from you. I guess telling someone they are a mistake their entire life makes them hesitant to talk. I won’t work with someone who would let their own daughter be treated the way you let your men do her.” He tsks. “So do I kill you now or do I put a bullet in you in front of her?”
“You don’t have the balls,” he spits at you, scrambling for his gun again.
“Oh, but I do. She would know.” The trigger pull is quick, effect. Sending a single shot into your fathers forehead that sends him to the ground, the spray of blood behind him oddly satisfying. “She had them in her mouth last night.” Dave lowers his rifle and slings it over his shoulder, spitting on the ground in front of your fathers body before he turns around to rush back to the room he had left you in.
You’ve drifted into a state of unconsciousness and you don’t hear him come in. Still curled up in a little ball and shivering, as he lowers himself to check that you’re okay.
“Shit.” Dave hisses at how cold your skin is. You’re shaking and he can’t tell if the blood is from the wounds or from men he had killed. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here.” Dave shuffles and slides his hands up under your tense body, he lifts you into his arms with a grunt.
You briefly become aware of being lifted off the ground, the familiar scent of Dave calming you as he begins to carry you somewhere. You sleep the entire journey home, nestled up comfortably on the backseat, your head on his lap and he gently rubs your face and soothes you quietly.
After getting you back to the house, Dave brings you straight up into the bathroom. Setting you down on the warm rug while he starts a bath and pulls his own clothes off. He needs to clean you up, inspect your injuries and he knows that you will want the comfort of him being in the bath with you. Unfortunately, the only thing he has to take off of you, beside his own jacket he had draped over your body, are your panties.
The bright lighting of the bathroom makes you groan, as you snuggle up on the rug. Only vaguely aware of your surroundings.. “Everything hurts,” you mumble into the rug, seconds before he scoops you up again and steps into the bath.
“I know it does, baby.” Dave murmurs softly. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to give you something?”
You groan in delight as the hot water immediately relieves some of the pain, “No,” you say with a shake of your head. “God, I’ve been nothing but a burden to you,” you say with a sob. “I’m so sorry, Dave.”
“You aren’t a burden.” Dave huffs, shaking his head and reminding himself that you were just tortured by your father’s men. You are going to be a little emotional. “You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you fast enough.”
“I am,” you say, crying even harder as he wraps his arms around you, “I don’t deserve this. You should have just left me there, I just fuck everything up.”
“You didn’t fuck up anything.” Dave growls, wishing he could put a bullet in your father’s head again for how he treated you. “And leaving you there was never an option baby, I wouldn’t leave someone I love to be tortured.”
“Someone… you love?” You say quietly, all the pain in your body being replaced with a feeling you can’t quite explain, but it makes your heart soar “You love me?”
“I love you, baby.” Dave cups your chin and tilts your head up so you can see his eyes. “I love you and I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.”
“I’ve loved you from the second I saw you,” you say with a smile, as if he didn’t already know that.
“I know.” Dave smirks and picks up the rag so he can start washing your injuries to check you over. “At least crushing on me.”
“I love you, Dave York,” you say as loudly as you can, the words that had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for weeks finally floating in the air. You wince slightly, as he runs the rag over your ribs, before turning your face to face him. “Kiss me.”
“Sorry.” He murmurs, setting the rag aside so he can cup your cheek and press his lips to yours softly.
“So, I don’t think I’m up to taking a hard fucking tonight,” you say with a giggle, before pressing another kiss to his lips. “Might have to scale it down a little.”
"I'm not touching you tonight." He huffs, frowning as he pulls back. "You're hurt. Despite what your father said, I wasn't just using you for sex."
“You’re definitely touching me tonight,” you say with a huff, “I can handle your mouth at least.”
He rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head. "She gets tortured once and wants to be treated like a queen." His delivery is dry, but it's a joke. If you want an orgasm on his tongue, you will get one.
“Exactly,” you giggle, before nuzzling your face in his neck as he finishes cleaning you off. He’s extra gentle as he helps you stand up and get out of the bath, before wrapping a towel around you. He dries you slowly, careful around the places that are already starting to bruise before helping you into the bedroom and laying you down on the bed.
"Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?" He asks again, hating how stiff and slow you move. You're in obvious pain.
You shake your head no, you don’t want to feel fuzzy. “No, baby. I just want you.”
"You've got me, baby." Dave promises. "I'm right here. I'll take your mind off the pain."
“I love it when you call me baby,” you whisper, as you spread your legs, eager for him to climb in the space and start to taste you.
"Baby." Dave kisses your ankle. "Baby." Another kiss skims over your knee. "My baby." He hums as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, flattening himself against the bed and sliding his hands underneath your thighs and ass to lift you up to his mouth.
“Your baby,” you moan, as his tongue begins lapping at your clit. “I fucking love you, Dave York.” You chant his name, hands tangled in his hair as he eats your pussy flawlessly. Teasing and sucking your clit whilst pulling the filthiest of sounds from you.
Dave doesn't rush it, taking his time and drawing the pleasure from you so all that you can think of is his tongue. Nothing else exists beyond this bed. His tongue curls around your clit and he pulls it into his mouth.
He’s usually such a tease, making you beg for his tongue as the pleasure builds but not tonight. Tonight he’s relishing in the way you moan his name instead of whimpering it, he’s loving the way your fingers that tangled in his hair are rubbing gentle circles into the back of his head. “I love you,” you murmur between chants of his name, “I love you so much.”
He groans against your clit, aware that the vibrations make you shiver and adds a layer of pleasure. Fixing his eyes on you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself as you start grinding down against him.
“Gonna cum.” You garble, as your hips move a little quicker, “Fuck,” you groan as that coil threatens to snap. He chuckles as you plead for him to hold your hand as your thighs start to shake.
His fingers lace through yours and he feels your squeeze as you come apart. Keeping his eyes on you while yours fall closed, mouth open in a silent moan, thighs pressed against his ears.
“Daaaaave,” you gasp as you cum, your thighs clamping around his head and falling slack as you come down. “You are amazing.”
He kisses your clit one last time and lifts up. “You’re the amazing one.” He promises, coming up to lay down beside you. “I’m proud of you for hanging on.” He murmurs, laying his arm over your torso just below your breasts. It’s the only spot that isn’t sore.
“Thank you for coming to get me.” You put your hand on his face and nudge his nose with yours. “I honestly thought they were going to kill me before I could see you again.”
“No, your father was twisted enough that he wanted to make me kill you.” Dave growls, still pissed off at that thought.
“Oh.” You say, before burying your face in his neck, “Thank you for saving me, Dave.”
He notices that you don’t question him on his use of the past tense concerning your father. He just hums and kisses your shoulder. “Never thought of not saving you.”
“I love you,” you say, moving back to look at his face. “I hated him. But he sent me to you, and that’s the only good thing he ever did for me.”
“I love you too, baby.” Dave leans in and kisses your forehead. “He did send you to me. And I’m going to keep you, protect you and make sure you never have to worry about him or anyone else ever again.”
“Mhmm, I really do love it when you call me baby,” you say as you snuggle up to him. “And I know, I know you’ll keep me safe. And I'll keep you safe. I love you so much.”
Dave keeps his arms loose around you, not because he doesn’t want to hold you tight, but so he doesn’t hurt you. You will keep him safe, just like he would die to protect you, or kill. You might not have been the apprentice he was looking for, but you are the woman he needed.
“Don’t disappear on me,” you murmur against his lips, “No five am workout tomorrow, please… Or workout using me if you must.”
"I'm right here." Dave promises softly. "I will be right here when you wake up."
“Thank you.” You say before lightly pressing a kiss to his lips, “Goodnight, my love.”
"Good night, baby." He whispers as he feels you settle onto his chest to close your eyes. "Don't worry. I've got you."
#dave york#dave york smut#dave york x you#dave york x reader#dave york x female reader#dave york x f!reader#dave york x ofc#the equalizer#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#the equalizer 2#the equalizer fanfiction
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