#dave 'drop it low pick it up slow' york

[chicagocityofclans]

Montgomery “Monty”  Wilders → Nathan Parsons, Charles Melton, Dave Franco, and Gavin Leatherwood → Human Shifter

→ Basic Information

Age: 53

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: May 6th

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Religion: Agnostic

→ His Personality Monty tries very hard, whether it is so he can try and get ahead in the world, or try and win his girlfriend’s hand. He will work tirelessly for years to get something he wants with little thought. When he is determined, Monty truly shines in his adaptability. He will talk to anyone, become any face, and take any risk if he thinks that will finally bring him to what he wants. However, Monty has a tendency to focus on only one idea at a time. He’s not a particularly skilled planner, and can be slow to pick up larger plans or ideas. Specifically the plan of Roland Blanchett to never let him win Ada’s hand. It took both Sirius and Ada spelling it out for him that he was sent on a never ending quest for it to finally click. Due to his lack of foresight he also tends to let things happen to him, and he’s generally slow to make the first attack. While not the brightest human shifter, Monty is steadfastly loyal. He searched for over 20 years to try and find a way to marry Adelaide, and never strayed once. Monty is looking for a place to put that loyalty, and a home and pack to give it to. He is incredibly anxious, worrying about possibly being found out, losing what he has built and what the future will bring.  

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Police Officer

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Tim Tams and Masterchef

Two Dislikes: Incense and “Breakfast“ Gravy

Two Fears: Roland finding him and Ada and Rattlesnakes

Two Hobbies: Solitaire and Sign Language

Three Positive Traits: Loyal, Determined, Adaptable

Three Negative Traits: Slow-Witted, Passive, Anxious

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Eddie Wilders (Father): Eddie ditched Monty and his mother when he was 10. He walked into a crowd and purposely lost the pair forever. Monty hated not knowing if his father was in Blanchett’s pack, or any other pack he’s been around.

Jade Wilders (Mother): Jade dragged Monty around with her for the first 18 years of his life. He was taught how to feed on the homeless, druggies, and the elderly by his mother and he credits her with his innate will to survive.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Adelaide Blanchett (Girlfriend): Monty would go to the moon and back if Ada wanted him to. He’s never met someone as wonderful as she is and knows that when everything is over, she is still all he’ll ever want.

Platonic Connections:

Sirius Cobic (Friend): Sirius has been a very life changing person to Monty. He never realized that what Roland was putting him through wasn’t right, or that he could possibly find a true place to relax and call home in Human Shifter society, until he met Sirius. He trusts him, more than he wants to admit, and wants to become a long term pack member.

Vincent Kane (Acquaintance): Vincent has been “in-charge” of Monty since he’s come to Chicago. He kept an eye out on him when he first arrived, and got him incorporated into human shifter society. He thinks he still sees him as someone to be managed, so they haven’t truly become friends yet.

Patch Cipriano (Friend): Patch was the first to invite him out socially when he got to Chicago. He was also really welcoming to Ada and organized a night out when she first joined as well.

Darren Shaw (Acquaintance): Darren has been in charge of a few scenes that Monty has worked as a beat cop. They haven’t spoken much outside of that, but they are friendly.

Churchill Darling (Ada’s friend): Church is more of Ada’s friend than his own, but he’s grateful that he has become close to her. A part of him worried that Ada would want to leave when she first got here, but the pack has made huge strides in helping her feel accepted.

Judson Cleirigh (Customer of his shop): Monty purchased some potions from Judson when he first got into Chicago to impress Roland. He still has them laying around in his room.

Simon Brodeur (Victim’s Family): Monty was one of the first people of the scene of Lilah Reddy. It was truly a disgusting crime scene, but Simon’s reaction to his death made a lasting impact on Monty. He has since made an effort to keep the nimble updated when he can on the case.

Douglas Gish (Boss): Douglas is his boss at the station, but has been a friend outside of work. He was the first person to invite Monty out for a drink and he felt immediately welcomed by him.

Winston Abioye (Coworker): Winston is the homicide detective attached to Lilah’s case. He has been very willing to allow Monty into the investigation, and his work and dedication to the case has inspired Monty to continue to rise in the ranks.

Greta Bow (Friend): Ada met Greta while working as a crime scene technician. They get along really well, and Monty finds the slightly awkward human shifter very endearing.

Hostile Connections:

Roland Blanchett (Hates): Roland made him trudge around the world and back again on a meaningless, unending scavenger hunt. He is slowly realizing that he will never have Roland’s approval and it’s up to him and Ada to create their own happiness away from Australia.

Imani Colt (Former customer of hers): Monty bought a wolf shifter pelt in New York from her. There is no way she could know the faces he uses primarily in Chicago, but he has made a habit of avoiding her and other Andersons to be on the safe side.

Angel Landyn (Dislikes): Angel repeatedly hit on Ada after she had told him to stop. He’s not sure why he’s doing it, whether it’s to get attention or a rise out of either of them. The minute he does it in front of Monty, he’ll see who he’s really playing with, that is unless Ada hits him first.

Pets:

None

→ History Monty thinks his life didn’t really begin until he met the Blanchett’s and their clan. His parents were travelers, scavengers who didn’t care much about their status in the Human Shifter world. He joined the Melbourne pack to get ahead in life and wound up with something else entirely. During his second week there Monty fell hard for Adelaide Blanchett. She was brilliant, kind, and would talk to anyone, including him. They clicked and Ada began teaching him other ways to create and build faces. They fell in love over the span of a few years, until Roland Blanchett found out about them.

He said Monty needed to prove his worth to the clan before he could be with Ada. Monty was to bring back something worthy of Adelaide’s hand in marriage, and something Roland would be impressed by. On his first trip he went to Sydney and brought back gold for him. Roland scoffed and asked if that was what he thought Ada was worth. Monty was at a loss and left again that night for Perth. He brought back suitcases of money after stealing a face and robbing a bank. Again he was laughed out of the room. This went on for 20 years. He’d come back with jewels, wine, food, and art from all across Europe, Asia and Africa. Nothing was ever enough for the pack. It took him two decades before he realized he needed something more, something that a human couldn't bring to him. So he set off to the US. He knew the biggest hubs were in New York and LA and that the most notable witches and warlock had ditched the old country centuries ago.

In New York, Monty bought a wolf shifter skin from Imani Colt. Ada’s dad had trouble with the local pack of wolf shifters and he knew Roland would find it a good decorative piece. Instead, he turned his nose up, saying anyone with a sharp knife could drop a dead animal at his feet. He went back to the US and traveled along the West coast, but what he found was nearly every city’s supernatural population shriveled up or gone. He was able to purchase a few centuries old books to give to Roland, but realized they wouldn't impress. Which is when he started towards Chicago. The Cleirigh family were well known for the best potions and charms that money could buy. He figured he’d work and try to purchase as many unique and useful potions over a year that he could and bring them back.

When Monty arrived in Chicago he was surprised by the heavily established pack. They were organized, social with many of the fellow species and were even trusted as the law enforcers. He had never seen such trust towards human shifters in all of his travels and experiences. He kept his head low, but Vincent approached him before the end of his first week. Monty kept up the facade he’d carefully crafted around the Blanchett pack, waiting for them to test him the way he was with his pack. But it never came. Monty began to loosen up around them, and eventually even admitted to Sirius why he was there. Chicago was good, the people in his pack were actually kind and Monty found the only thing missing was Adelaide.

Somehow fate, or Ada technically, agreed and she showed up in the Windy City a few months later. Monty thought he was in a dream the first month she was here, but when he was sure he wasn’t dreaming he began settling down. He applied to the Police Academy while Ada got a job working as a crime scene tech. They finally got what they had been working towards for over 20 years.

→ The Present Monty is worried about Roland coming to find Ada. Though he never stated where he was going next, he knows Roland’s reach and how angry he must be at Adelaide for leaving. He has been increasingly suspicious of new coming supernatural creatures, fearing they are spies. This has become challenging with his day job, and he is aware Vincent is keeping a close eye on him again. He really likes it in Chicago and is worried they’ll have to run sooner rather than later. He’s worried about bringing this to Sirius, as he knows it looks like he doesn’t trust him or the strength of the Chicago pack.

Outside of his own personal drama, Monty has gotten very dedicated to a case. Lilah Reddy’s murder has now but all faded into the background for most people, but it has preoccupied Monty’s mind since that very night. He’s hired hunters and paid for skins, but this is the first time he’s seeing the repercussions to it. Monty is hoping to help solve this in an effort to right his past wrongs. He has been trying to keep Lilah’s fiance in the know and updated on the little he and Winston have found. Monty is also considering using on of his burned faces to talk to Imani Colt again and see if she has any information on it.

[junker-town]

NFL mock draft 2021: Quarterbacks dominate top of board with one big surprise

Our latest NFL mock draft features a furious run on quarterbacks at the top of the order.

The Miami Dolphins shook up the top of the draft order Friday with a duo of trades with the San Francisco 49ers and Philadelphia Eagles respectively. The order should remain relatively static until draft night, when there will undoubtably be more moves when teams jockey for the player they’re aiming for.

There has been a lot of movement in player rankings after the pro day workouts, so today we dive into the latest where there will be more than a few shocks in the first round.

No. 1: Trevor Lawrence, QB (Clemson) — Jacksonville Jaguars There is nothing that changes at the top of the draft, and for good reason. There is no doubt selecting Lawrence first overall is the correct move, despite hype about other quarterbacks. Lawrence represents the perfect mix of NFL readiness and future potential. He’s everything the Jaguars need to get back on track. This is FINALLY the franchise quarterback Jacksonville has been desperate for.

No. 2 : Zach Wilson, QB (BYU) — New York Jets This pick is a representation of the Jets showing some confidence and betting on themselves. Incoming coach Robert Saleh isn’t beholden to continue the Sam Darnold development project, and the upside of Wilson is too good to pass up. New York will hope it’ll be a long time before they pick top three again, so striking now and getting a passer they believe can become a franchise QB is the correct move.

No. 3: Mac Jones, QB (Alabama) — San Francisco 49ers The bomb drops here and the NFL world is in shock. Rumors abounded that the 49ers liked all the passers at the top of this draft, but nobody thought that meant Mac Jones. Here’s the deal: Trading up to No. 3 to take Jones might seem stupid, but San Francisco has a window that’s still open, and getting a NFL-ready quarterback to step in now keeps it going. Jones might not have the long-term upside of Justin Fields or Trey Lance, but he also doesn’t carry the risk. At worst the 49ers get a low-level NFL starter, and that is too appealing to pass up here.

Gary Cosby Jr via Imagn Content Services, LLC

No. 4: Justin Fields, QB (Ohio State) — Atlanta Falcons I have no doubt the Falcons are fine going in another direction here and waiting to find a QB in the future, but after the 49ers take Jones, the choice becomes obvious. Fields is given a chance to sit for a year in Atlanta behind Matt Ryan and learn the Falcons’ system, an ideal place for him. This is an organization who isn’t afraid to take big swings in the draft to land elite talent, and this falls in that tradition.

No. 5: Penei Sewell, OT (Oregon) — Cincinnati Bengals The bottles will be popping in the Bengals’ war room before this pick is even announced. Never in their dreams did Cincinnati think Sewell would be available at the fifth pick, but the unprecedented run on quarterbacks allowed Sewell to fall. Joe Burrow needs protection, badly, and Sewell will lock down his blindside for the next decade.

No. 6: Trey Lance, QB (North Dakota State) — Carolina Panthers [TRADE] The Panthers had been hoping all offseason that they wouldn’t be making a pick during the draft, instead wishing this pick could be flipped to the Houston Texans in a deal for Deshaun Watson. However, Watson’s off-field issues, paired with a reluctant Houston front office leads to this moment. Miami gains the Panthers’ 2021 second round pick in exchange for falling back two places, with Carolina terrified someone else would jump up to get Lance. The Panthers were heavily scouting Lance at his pro day, and don’t want to enter the season without a long-term plan.

No. 7: Micah Parsons, LB (Penn State) — Detroit Lions This is one of those picks that just makes too much sense. On paper the Lions need more help on offense, but their linebacker corps is slow, and in dire need of an upgrade. Couple that with Detroit’s woeful 26th ranked pass rush, and a new defensive-minded coach who will love Parsons’ versatility out of the gate, and it’s a recipe for success.

No. 8: Jaylen Waddle, WR (Alabama) — Miami Dolphins The newly pick-flush Dolphins have every tool to put together an elite team, assuming they make the rights moves. The defensive side of the ball is coming together well, but in order to take the next step the offense needs a major upgrade. Picking Jaylen Waddle, the draft’s most electric receiver, is just too beautiful considering it reunites him with Tua Tagovailoa. Waddle is a Swiss army knife, who can adapt to passes at all three levels and allow Tagovailoa to find a rhythm with ease.

Photo by UA Athletics/Collegiate Images/Getty Images

No. 9: Caleb Farley, CB (Virginia Tech) — Denver Broncos If this draft broke in a way that allowed the Broncos to get a quarterback I assume they’d go in that direction, but instead of reaching for a passer, Denver waits and gets the best cornerback in the draft. Denver allowed 66 percent of opposing passes to be completed last year, and Farley will go a long way to fixing that.

No. 10: Patrick Surtain II, CB (Alabama) — Dallas Cowboys With Dak Prescott under long-term contract and the offense largely solidified it’s time for the Cowboys to fix their defense. The secondary is an area of major concern, and Surtain is a major talent with stunning size at the position. He’s going to be a leader on defense from day one, and a lockdown corner for the Cowboys.

No. 11: Kwity Paye, EDGE (Michigan) — New York Giants I wish I loved anything in this world as much as Giants GM Dave Gettleman loves large linemen. That said, getting Paye at this spot is a major boon to a pass rush in need of help. Paye is an excellent hand in the dirt 4-3 end with the size and speed to get penetration on speed or power moves.

No. 12: Ja’Marr Chase, WR (LSU) — Philadelphia Eagles There’s a lot of temptation to take DeVonta Smith here, and personally I like Smith better. However, for the fit, Chase works better in the offense the Eagles are building. It remains to be seen how Jalen Hurts will operate as a full time starter, but his legs and creativity will warrant a receiver who is better picking up yards after the catch, and a powerhouse with the ball in his hands, regardless of where he catches the ball. This selection adds more electricity to the burgeoning offense.

No. 13: Rashawn Slater, OT (Northwestern) — Los Angeles Chargers The Chargers hit one of the home runs in the 2020 draft with Justin Herbert, who was electric his rookie season. Now they just need to protect him better. This is an oddly similar situation to Cincinnati, who benefitted from a QB-heavy top to the draft to select someone above their station. Slater would probably go in the 8-11 range in any normal draft, so they’ll be thrilled to get him here and keep Herbert upright more often.

No. 14: Christian Darrishaw, OT (Virginia Tech) — Minnesota Vikings Minnesota needs trench help on both sides of the ball, and a major talent upgrade at cornerback. Right now this board isn’t shaping up for the secondary, with both the top corners taken, and it’s a little early to take an interior defensive lineman. This is all fine though, because the Vikings need serious help at left tackle. The team was forced to release starting left tackle Reilly Reiff due to salary cap concerns, so Darrishaw can step in from day one and start.

No. 15: Kyle Pitts, TE (Florida) — New England Patriots Kyle Pitts is an athletic freak. This is a man who is a 6’6, 240-pound tight end who can run faster than a good chunk of NFL wide receivers, and put the work in as a blocker as well. Bill Belichick has always had an affinity for tight ends in his passing game, and Pitts could be the best he’s ever coached next to Rob Gronkowski. Furthermore, it’s the ultimate “show me what you got” move for Cam Newton. Newton’s best seasons in Carolina were when Greg Olsen was healthy, and Pitts is a player in the same mold who can stretch the field, and serve as a safety net.

Photo by Hannah White/Collegiate Images/Getty Images

No. 16: DeVonta Smith, WR (Alabama) — Arizona Cardinals Yes, the Cardinals need help on defense. Yes, taking a receiver would be a bit of a luxury move. No, I do not think there is any way on this earth Kliff Kingbury sees Smith on the board at his pick and doesn’t select him. Larry Fitzgerald was the sure-handed cornerstone of the Cardinals passing attack for almost two decades, and Smith has that same kind of potential. Putting him across the field from DeAndre Hopkins would immediately lock in Arizona as having the best receiving tandem in the NFL, and continue making Kyler Murray’s transition into the NFL as easy as possible.

No. 17: Azeez Ojulari, EDGE (Georgia) — Las Vegas Raiders A hybrid defender who can fit a lot of roles, Ojujari might be best as home as the Will linebacker in a 4-3, but he has the speed to be moved all around the defense. This is a kind of versatility Jon Gruden will love on the Raiders’ defense, at a position they need more help on in order to make a playoff push.

No. 18: Alijah Vera-Tucker, OG (USC) — Miami Dolphins The Dolphins have multiple picks in this draft because they traded away starting left tackle Laremy Tunsil last year — and haven’t really recovered on the line. It’s unclear exactly where Vera-Tucker projects in the NFL. He started at LT for USC this season, but there are legitimate concerns his lack of arm length will force him to play guard in the NFL. Either way, he’s an excellent, instinctual lineman who help Tua Tagovailoa have a cleaner pocket in his sophomore season.

No. 19: Jaelen Phillips, EDGE (Miami) — Washington Football Team Is it greedy for one of the NFL’s best defenses to keep loading up in spite of the other side of the ball? Yes. Do I think they’d do it? Also yes. There’s a strong likelihood Washington takes a top RB here, but I think a player like Jaelen Phillips would be even more impactful. Najee Harris or Travis Etienne would certainly balance out the offense better, but a rushing rotation of Phillips, Chase Young, and Montez Sweat would be the most terrifying group in the NFL. Ron Rivera is a defensive guy, and that’s a hell of a toolbox to give a coach like that.

No. 20: Jeremiah Owusu-Koramoah, LB (Notre Dame) — Chicago Bears There is a chance the Bears trade up for a quarterback in this draft, but at least for now I’m operating under the assumption they stay put and try for a season with Andy Dalton (yuck). That said, whatever bad taste Dalton leaves on the offense can easily be washed away by adding one of the most explosive defensive players in the draft to a unit already featuring Khalil Mack. Robert Quinn is a decent player opposite him, but now at age 30 the slow down will be happening. Owusu-Koramoah can be a rotational linebacker, even move back and play as a third safety when needed.

No. 21: Rashod Bateman, WR (Minnesota) — Indianapolis Colts The Colts have a major interest in learning quickly whether Carson Wentz can regain his form, and a key part to that is getting him a weapon. Michael Pittman Jr. had a promising first season, but T.Y. Hilton is getting on in age. Bateman has ideal size, athleticism and speed to be a No. 1 receiver for a long time.

No. 22: Baron Browning, LB (Ohio State) — Tennessee Titans The Titans went a long way to helping their defense in free agency by signing Bud Dupree and Janoris Jenkins, but there’s still work to be done. Browning is a prototypical linebacker with great speed and versatility. He can be spelled in his first season without too much pressure being on him to start from the jump, and develop into a defensive cornerstone.

No. 23: Jaycee Horn, CB (South Carolina) — New York Jets Robert Saleh strikes to get a defensive player who can help the Jets immediately. The son of former NFL receiver Joe Horn, Jaycee has great size and speed, and is comfortable being on an island covering a top receiver.

No. 24: Najee Harris, RB (Alabama) — Pittsburgh Steelers There’s debate on who the better running back is between Harris and Clemson’s Travis Etienne, but there’s nobody more Steelers than Harris at the position. A Derrick Henry-esque runner, Harris may not possess Henry’s top gear speed, but he’s still a bruising runner who can pick up hard yards and move the chains. Exactly what the team has been lacking.

Photo by Alika Jenner/Getty Images

No. 25: Teven Jenkins, OT (Oklahoma State) — Jacksonville Jaguars You’ll probably notice a theme here of teams selecting quarterbacks, then getting protection. It’s because it’s just a no-brainer. Jenkins is definitely more of a developmental project than the other tackles taken so far, but he offers tremendous versatility having played almost every position on the line. Jenkins can be moved around, coached up, and help make Trevor Lawrence’s debut easier.

No. 26: Jayson Oweh, EDGE (Penn State) — Cleveland Browns An athletic edge rusher, Oweh perhaps projects more to the role of a 3-4 pass rusher, but we’ve seen that the Browns don’t saddle themselves too much with prototypical size. They’re happy to use speed rushers on the edge, and Oweh can step into the rotation immediately and be spelled with Takkarist McKinley while adjusting to the NFL.

No. 27: Tevon Moehrig, FS (TCU) — Baltimore Ravens The Ravens need a safety, and Moehrig is the kind of impact player they’ll love to tinker around with. Comfortable working the middle, he’s a ball-hawk who will make plays in his area and relish the opportunity to make a play. These are qualities the Ravens love, and they’ll suit him well in Baltimore.

No. 28: Greg Newsome II, CB (Northwestern) — New Orleans Saints The Saints bled talent on both sides of the ball due to difficult salary cap-based cuts. Greg Newsome II helps turn the tide. He’s a raw prospect with tremendous upside, and it’s worth rolling the dice on what Newsome II could become, rather than what he is right now.

No. 29: Kadarius Toney, WR (Florida) — Green Bay Packers Honestly, I just want to see this — because Aaron Rodgers throwing passes to Toney will be FUN (except for opponents). A lightning fast slot receiver, Toney perfectly compliments Davante Adams and gives the Packers some offensive depth. We saw in the NFC Championship what happens when Adams was taken out of the game and Green Bay crumbled. Another big play threat is just what they need.

Photo by Matthew Maxey/Icon Sportswire via Getty Images

No. 30: Gregory Rousseau, EDGE (Miami) — Buffalo Bills A varied, devastating pass rusher, Rousseau can adapt to almost any scheme and make an impact. He’s comfortable working from the outside and inside, giving the Bills a defensive tool to wreck havoc with.

No. 31: Jalen Mayfield, OT (Michigan) — Kansas City Chiefs Do you remember the Super Bowl? Remember how overwhelmed Patrick Mahomes was without Eric Fisher? Remember how bad the rest of that line was? Yeah, I do. Let’s fix it. Mayfield can play either tackle spot to varying degrees of success, or kick inside and be an effective guard.

No. 32: Zaven Collins, LB (Tulsa) — Tampa Bay Buccaneers The Buccaneers don’t have a lot of needs, and the ones they do they tend to fix in free agency. Collins has the ability to play a lot different places and make an impact, allowing Tampa Bay to play around with him until they part ways with veterans and he finds a long-term spot.

[headoverhiddles]

Summertime [Daveed x Reader]

Description: Female!Reader x Daveed. You’re partying at the Wave House in San Diego, when you run into a very attractive stranger who buys you some very expensive tequila. Who are you to refuse? 

Genre: Smut 

Rating: M for bathroom fucking and dirty talk. 

Notes: This is set when Hamilton was in its Public days, so Daveed’s pretty much just begun work on it. Ft. my favourite clippng song and Rafa because Rafa is huggy bear. (I don’t know if he can surf- just go with it shh)

The ocean air was a relief to your lungs- San Diego never disappointed for a vacation. Pacific Beach was one of your favourite places to go, be it for a morning tan, sunset bike ride, or a night at a party you were sure to regret in the morning. Of course, you never could bring yourself to regret it the next day, as the west coast vibe just kept you in a good place. 

The night breeze rolling off the nearby waves sends you shivering in your bikini top and shorts, but just as soon as it comes, it’s replaced by a wave of warmth from the fire pits. The nearby screams of Belmont Park ring out through the night with the music, the Big Dipper coaster roaring by every so often. Where you are, the bar is crowded, the flow barrell is still open, (flow rider is closed; the kids had all gone home hours ago), and the music is loud. Sauntering over to the steps where people are watching someone surf the barrel, you lift your beer to your mouth, drinking the last of it. The guy on the wave’s been up there for a while; he has dirty blonde hair and a couple of tattoos up his arms... not bad looking, you think. 

You consider the guys around you, wondering how many of them would try and come onto girls looking to get lucky tonight. You had really just come out here for a good time, and you certainly weren’t in the mood for any half-baked pick-up lines from a... well, half baked guy. 

Until you approach the bar, and find a drink plopped down in front of you. 

“Thanks for the gift,” you smirk, and the bartender, (who looks a little like Shaggy Rogers, and stoned enough for it too) just puts up his hands. 

“Hey man, normally it would be on the house for a pretty chick like you... but this one’s from Corbin Bleu over there-” he leans in close, smirking, “Dude’s been eye-fucking you all night.” 

Your eyes follow his gestures, and you see a guy with curly hair in a black Oaklandish tank staring over; he looks familiar to you, for some reason. He doesn’t smirk at you, doesn’t wink, doesn’t do anything usually cheesy... just gives a small wave, offering a genuine smile your way. Interest piqued, you lift the glass his way in thanks, and tip it back. 

Patron. Expensive tequila. Who is this dude? 

Bringing it down from your mouth, he’s gone.

“So... you accepted my drink,” his voice said behind you, speaking over the roar of the music and the cheers of the surfer’s growing audience, “Can I assume you’re a little interested?”

“A little,” you reply nonchalantly, swishing the ice around at the bottom. You swivel around to look him over up close, admiring the toned muscles he’s got all the way up his arms, flexing every time he makes a move. Suddenly, a new song begins- Summertime, by clippng. “God, I love this song,” you mutter, getting up to sway your hips a little to the californian style beat. The guy immediately laughs, ducking his head. “What?” you scowl, ready to defend your taste, “They’re a great band.” 

“Yeah, we are,” he laughs, and your eyes widen. 

“Oh fuck! Are you-”

“My name’s Daveed Diggs, I’m... the vocalist of this band, yeah.”

“It didn’t even hit me...” Your eyes widen. 

“Well, at least you didn’t say we were shit,” he grins, “Then you’d be in an even more awkward position than I am.” You can’t help but adopt his infectious beam and laugh with him. 

“No, but... I do really love this song,” you murmur, lifting your arms above your head to move a little more freely, “You guys are great.” When your eyes open again, you catch his own eyes dropping down to your chest... you realize the bikini top you were wearing had no support whatsoever, and the button of your shorts had snapped off months ago, so... 

It's summer, that pot stick  Block burning, G's banging on the beach White tees, no socks shit Palm tree on lean, bass rocks with the knock

“Where do you live?” you ask, because talking more would probably eventually lead to talking less. 

“Far away from here,” he grins endearingly, “New York, actually.”

“New York? Shit, what’re you doing all the way out here?” 

“A bay boy’s gotta come back to his roots when he’s got the time. ‘Course, San Diego’s no Oakland, but the nightlife here is lit.” 

“Can’t disagree,” you smile, “Is it a good scene in New York?”

“Busy as all hell right now,” Daveed huffs, “It really is the city that never sleeps, and I can see why. I’m in workshops right now for this rap musical about the founding fathers...”

“Rapping founding fathers?” 

“Yup,” Daveed frowns, “Terrible idea, fucking brilliant music. Guy who created it’s a genius.”

“Who’re you gonna play?” you murmur, biting your lip, “The guy on the ten? He’s hot.”

“Ha! No, he’s the title role. I’m the guy on the two.” 

“I could try and remember who’s on the two, but I’m a little tipsy and I kind of don’t care about the order of the presidents right now,” you smirk, and he laughs loudly, subconsciously leaning in closer. 

“That makes two of us.” 

“Mmm... wanna buy me another tequila?” you suddenly come out and ask, feeling bold as you dance closer to the attractive rapper. His eyelids droop a little as he shakes himself free of your spell. Opening his mouth, his filter seems to temporarily malfunction.   

“Actually, I...  low-key wanna make you come up against a bathroom stall.” 

“Only low-key wanna?” you tease, wiggling your hips back against his ratty jeans, predicting something to grind against and... yep, there it was, his boner. 

“Okay, very high-key,” he corrects himself with an inopportune voice crack, and you giggle flirtatiously, wrapping your arms backward around his neck. He leans forward a little, trailing his lips up your neck. You keen a little, leaning back into him and his erection that keeps on filling out, and he places kisses up your exposed throat- you can feel his hot breath on your skin, and a shudder runs through you. The night ahead of you will sure be a story worth telling your friends, the way this is heading. 

Low nose clown on they pogo bounce when they slow-mo round Make the hoes go down, homies smoke that loud 'til they choke fall out And they run they mouth, what they don't know might end 'em Cause the women so fine in the summertime Turn a six to a dime in the summertime

“Hun- are you sober enough for it?” he all but whispers, and you can feel him swallow apprehensively. 

“Hell yes,” you breathe, moving your hips, “But hey, I’m here partying in San Diego for a reason... I’m bound to make a couple good, memorable mistakes tonight.” You smirk, turning around to face him. “Wanna be one of them?” 

“I’d love to be all of them,” he growls, and grabs your wrist, leading you through the people dancing and over the cool sand to the shacks.

“That surfer’s really good,” you comment on the way, and Daveed looks back absently. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s actually my friend Rafa- we grew up in the bay area, so surfing’s been his thing, aside from poetry and spitting bars of his own, for a while.” 

“Wow... he’s amazing on the barrel!” you repeat animatedly, hoping to get a rise out of him, “Normally, folks barely last five minutes on the thing.” As you had expected, Daveed gets a bit of a jealous flash. 

“Yeah, well... he’s not good at much else, shit.”

You giggle, squeezing Daveed’s wrist lightly. Too easy. “Chill, Diggs, it’s not like I want his dick in me.” Daveed huffs, and opens the door to the women’s room, peeking inside. 

“Oh shit,” he mutters, pulling back out, and you frown.

“What?”

“Someone’s puking in there, let’s try the men’s.”

A couple of burly guys exit the men’s, giving you a once over, but Daveed seems to scare them off with his stature alone. You and Daveed go in... empty, but your eyebrows immediately go up.

“I thought there’d be a little more room in here,” you murmur, “These stalls are small for a five year old, same as the women’s.”

“Oh yeah,” Daveed lets out a laugh, “We’re probably gonna break the stalls if we try to fuck in there.” 

"Wall?” You lick your lips invitingly, backing up to splay yourself against it. 

“I don’t feel like getting arrested tonight if someone walks in and reports us for public indecency, thanks.” 

"Arrested?” You tug at his shorts. 

“It’s not fun to say the least, wouldn’t recommend it,” he nods, and leads you into a stall, “I guess this is fine... we didn’t need breathing room anyway.” With that, he slams the stall door shut and smashes his lips into yours, teeth grazing upon impact. His pelvis is grinding against you, providing a frustrating friction you wish he would increase. Your hips chase his as he pulls back just a little, and he smirks at you. "Oooh now, impatient." 

"Desperately turned on," you correct with a frustrated huff. 

"I wonder what else I could make you do for my dick..." 

You huff, untying your flimsy bikini top and dropping it to the sandy floor. His eyes immediately fall to your naked breasts, widening comically. You smirk right back at the power shift, twisting a finger in one of his tendrils and tugging. "You were saying?" 

"Uhummm..." he mutters, rendered absolutely speechless, so you take over, bringing his face down into your cleavage and moaning a little. He whimpers, and his instincts kick in as his dick practically guides itself back toward you. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper through a grin into his hair, and Daveed doesn’t need to be told twice. Placing fervent kisses around your nipple and stimulating one with a bite between his teeth, he tugs your denim shorts down to your ankles as you squeal. 

“How the fuck can you even call these shorts?” he breathes, kicking them aside, “It’s practically a damn thong.” 

“Would you rather I’d worn my great aunt capris today?” you tease, and his long, slender fingers squeeze into the meat of your ass and roll it around, lifting you up against the stall wall.

“You could’ve been wearing a damn wetsuit, wouldn’t change the fact that I’d still be getting you naked.” 

“I’d be too hot in a wetsuit,” you complain with a pout.

“Good thing you opted for butt floss then,” he laughs, and goes back to attacking your neck with kisses. 

“Fuck, get in me,” you moan, squeezing your legs around his back, and he uses one arm to hold you up, one to untie his tented swim trunks. Digging around in his pocket, he pulls out a saltwater soaked condom packet, tossing it up to you, where you open it and roll the thankfully dry protection onto him. “Holy shit.” According to you, size mattered, and well...

“What?”

“I didn’t know you would be so huge.” 

Daveed’s visibly aroused by the praise. “I’ll go slow,” he murmurs, though he gulps while saying it. 

“Ha! No thank you,” you whisper back, and thrust your hips forward, burying his tip just inside of you. Daveed lets out a strangled noise, and clutches at your shoulders as he finds his footing, sinking into you all the way. Already, the warm Californian breeze has made the air between you hot, sweat beginning to bead between your breasts and over Daveed’s face and chest. You can hear the music thumping outside, with the beat of the midnight tide nearby; you feel endless. 

“Good for you?” he asks, mouth slightly ajar in bliss. 

“Amazing,” you breathe back, digging your nails into his back and resting your forehead against his. Breathing each other’s air, you both lean in every few thrusts to facilitate a sloppy kiss, tongues down each others throats as Daveed continues to bring you and himself closer. For your part, you squeeze yourself around him and slide down to meet him every time he slams in, making him groan for you. 

“Touch me,” you manage out, and he uses one hand to massage a perky breast, the other to rub circles around your clit. He’s keeping your body up against the stall with his body weight only, which is pretty impressive. “Mmm, that’s good, that’s good, oh my god...” you whisper, and a shudder runs through him, making his curls bounce. 

“I can’t last- ugh... you’re so damn hot...”

“I’m so close,” you groan, tossing your head back. Daveed is just as far gone, chest heaving and thrusts uneven as his body quivers. “Come for me, hun,” he murmurs, and with that encouragement, you squeal, gushing around his thick cock. Watching your face contort with your orgasm, Daveed lets out a choking noise, offering two deep thrusts before blowing his load inside the condom. 

“Wow,” you breathe, running a hand through your hair. He pulls out, and sets you down gently, grabbing some toilet paper to clean off. 

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit.”

“Totally, right?” 

“I guess I... won’t be seeing you.”

“Right... I guess not.” 

You clear your throat- parting was always weird after a no strings attached type thing. “Good luck on your, uh... history show!”

“Yeah, you too,” he replies, then his face scrunches up at his painfully awkward response. 

You two put the clothes you had taken off back on, (all this sand would be a horror to try and get out of the crotch of your shorts later) and walk back out to the Wave House. The place’s vibe has since chilled out even more, and Rafael’s not up on the barrel anymore- it’s a girl now. 

“Diggs!”

“Yo,” Daveed says to someone, and you turn around to find Rafael draping himself over his friend. 

“Get this, right- I forgot my shirt in some chick’s place last night... I’m pretty sure she threw it in the ocean out of sheer spite,” he said, squinting. Daveed snorted. 

“No shirt, no cash looks like... guess you want a ride home.”

“Hell no! The party’s not over yet, I’ve got a tab going, and hey- you haven’t introduced me to your lady friend yet!” 

“Oh, I’m-” you jerk a thumb in the opposite direction, but Daveed suddenly pulls you close, so Rafa bows dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows. “Greetings, lady friend.”

You giggle, wondering where this was going. “My...my name’s (y/n). Your name’s Rafa?” 

“Diggs, you tell people about me?” Rafa mocks swooning, and falls into Daveed’s arms. Daveed shakes his head, and gives him a hug before standing him up properly. 

“Go have some drunk sex, Rafa, it’ll do you good.”

“What, like you? Nah, I’m spent, man. Let’s go smoke up, I’ve got the sweet sticky shit!” 

“I’ve got an off broadway show that’s about to open, shitcarriage, pot kills my chords.” 

You speak up. “Let’s buy some tickets to Belmont, then.” Rafa’s eyes widen, and he stumbles over to you. 

“You’re my hero. She’s my hero, Diggs. I like her. Keep her, or I will.” 

“Noted,” the taller rapper grins, steadying his friend again, and he picks you up off your feet and into his arms. You swing your legs over his shoulder as you make your way to the beachside carnival under the stars. 

“Let’s ride the Big Dipper first,” you suggest, and Daveed nuzzles into your neck with a smirk. 

“I thought you just did,” he grins, and Rafa’s wolf whistle is so loud you hear it over the current clippng song they’re blasting back by the bar. 

[wyn-n-tonic]

Baby, Let The Games Begin -- Part I

Hiiii. Okay, I've decided to jump back into the fanfiction game because sometimes I just can't focus on my own characters and need a respite from them. I am a little bit sickly in love with Dave York and, no, I have not spoken to my therapist about it. Second person isn't typically my writing style and this was definitely an experiment. There will be a few parts to this, I'm not sure how many. 

Word Count: 1,000 Warnings: Talking about death, killing, masturbation (not explicitly), choking (not explicit... yet). If you see anymore that I don't know about, just message me and I'll amend the warning.

Summary: Cat and mouse between two psycopaths.

His diligence is ghostlike. He moves through walls and people and the world blending in. He’s flat and close cropped. Broad but not overwhelming. Confident in his movements but he doesn’t take any room that’s not easily gifted to him.

But he’s gotten… sloppy. He’s been in South America for over a month now and the Spanish that usually gets better with time and immersion is slipping. He’s fucking up in all the small ways that will blow this mission to shit if he doesn’t get it together.

It’s another rainy night somewhere in Ecuador and he’s losing his fucking mind half drunk off sleep deprivation, half off a fifth of whatever brown liquor is stewing in his system tonight.

Yeah… sloppy.

But he’s never had a target like you.

Your pictures are peppered over his walls, papered down from hotel to hotel. He’s chased you through three goddamn countries and he is no closer.

He’s beginning to think you’re in his head. Just a figment of his imagination. If he’s a ghost, you’re a phantom and he is losing his fucking mind. —

You laugh in the darkness as his frustrated grunts come through the thin walls. You take another sip of the same shit he bought only hours ago—expensive—trying to figure out if tonight’s activities are vigorous pushups or if he’s spilling himself again. Thunder rolls and so does he, silence settling over the rooms once more. You wonder which picture it was tonight but you know he’s already got you plastered behind his eyelids.

It’s pissing down in Zamora again tonight and he is losing his fucking mind. But you’re not exactly making it easy for him.

Except… you are.

He’s trying too hard, that’s the problem.

He’s on the right track but, god, he’s stupid. He’s looking for the girl in the pictures, the stone faced widow mourning yet another husband. A man bought your ass. Another one bought your tits. Hell, one offered to buy you new legs when you complained about your height. That’s the woman he was looking for, a multimillionaire who went to yoga every day and fucked her instructor every night. He wasn’t chasing you, he was chasing his imagination. That’s the problem with men, they’re easily manipulated.

And this one? He’s no different. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, he just doesn’t know it yet. —

There’s something he’s missing, he knows it. He’s pacing around the room but he knows he needs to carry himself out the door. He thought the presents you were leaving were the answer at first. Propped up in the rental car, he watched his hotel room all day but nobody ever showed. No woman in sight, certainly not the one in the photos.

Either you’re close or he’s losing his grip on reality.

But… No. He’s trying too hard. That’s the fucking problem.

Maybe he just stops giving a shit and it’ll all fall into place. —

He sent his men home two weeks ago.

“Five guys for one woman is excessive, go home and get started on other jobs, I can handle this.” He didn’t give them a choice, he was so confident. That’s when you decided to start fucking with him.

It was little things at first. Moving the pictures around, the furniture. Then it escalated. You cut the drapes in half, that was fun. But one day you were worried about all the alcohol so you snuck in with a different purpose.

You filled his small fridge with empanadas from a local vendor with a note to take care of himself. That wasn’t the first night you heard him cum but it was the first time he came with your name on his lips.

He found your tube of Ruby Woo waiting the next day. It didn’t exactly match the new hair you’d picked up in Medellín but he didn’t know that.

His groans came audible again that night while you packed, a small smile playing across your lips.

Those groans soundtracked your dreams from Cali to Quito as you hoped the two swipes of your credit card were enough for him to come running. —

As you leaf through his belongings once again, you think of the man whose scent you caught in Venezuela. He’s younger than who you usually go for, that’s a given. But in playing this game? In hearing what you already do to him? Well…

He’s a killer. You knew one was coming for you the moment you caught Helen’s eyes at the funeral. Poor, beloved Charles. It’s not that you killed him so much as you made it easier. You’re not a killer, you’re a helper. This man, though?

Those flat black eyes have a body count much higher than yours.

You wonder, as you crawl into his bed, if he’d give you a choice in how you want to go. Quite honestly, you’ve been thinking about those hands around your neck since Caracas. —

He’s pacing again as his voice carries over, the soft sound of fabric being thrown into a suitcase.

“Helen, hi, it’s Dave.” He sounds… tentative.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and the pacing stops, “No, no. I didn’t find her s—“

Silence and then, “It’s been over a month, I can’t keep chasing somebody I’m not sure is even here anymore. I’ll keep alerts up, continue to track her movements but I won’t… I won’t be taking an active effort against this one anymore. She’s too smart.”

He closes the phone with such force that the sound echos, certain he’s broken it. He walks to the middle of the room and his voice comes back but this time it’s for you.

“I know you’re listening. Hell, you might even be able to see me. You win, I’m going home. Enjoy that island.”

[luckylq61-blog]

The laugh lines creasing your eyes are more pronounced

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[wyn-n-tonic]

Baby, Let the Games Begin -- Part II

Word Count: 1,058 Warnings: Use of the word cunt in a derogatory fashion. IDK, these two psychos wanna fuck but that doesn't happen in this part because... I don't have the energy in me to write it RN.  A/N: This is shorter and the first part was shorter and the next part will probably be short too because I hate writing second person so much. I'm going back to OFCs or ships after this okayloveyoubyyyyyyyyye.

Part I

It wasn’t hard to find home.

Remember, he’s fucking stupid.

So convinced that he could talk freely amongst his men about how you needed to be wrapped up, he had to get back to Washington. Molly had a dance recital and he couldn’t miss another one, he hated seeing the disappointment on her little face.

It was sweet, honestly, how he turned into the perfect father as he coo’d into the phone. I know, baby, daddy’s sorry. I’ll be home soon, I’ll bring you a present. He laughs, Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll bring you a llama.

He rounds the corner, breathing heavily through his lunch time jog. You watch quietly through your sunglasses, your book propped in front of you for cover. He shaved, that natural pout more prominent without the scruff. You don’t know which one you prefer to look at but you know which one you’d prefer between your legs.

He passes you by without even a glance in your direction.

Yeah, fucking stupid.

You made sure to run the credit card at the bookstore. —

She’s fucking here.

It’s been two months since he slipped into your insanity in South America and he feels like he’s losing his fucking mind all over again. Nothing in weeks and suddenly… there you are. A hit on a credit card at a bookstore not too far from the office.

You’ve been in his head since he left, making yourself perfectly at home since he took the job. He’s never been outsmarted like this and he fucking hates you.

His mind flashes back to earlier in the park, the woman sitting alone on the bench. The sunglasses were inappropriate for an overcast sky. How did that book look? Was it new? What was the title? Was it you?

He picked up the phone and dialed the number of the bookstore.

One ring, two. “Hi, my wife bought a book there earlier and lost the receipt. We need it for tax purposes so I was wondering if you could email that over to me?”

He waits, glancing back at the computer as the manager comes over the line. “The last four digits of the credit card? Absolutely, it’s one five seventy-seven. My email is dyork at D-I-A dot gov. Thank you so much.”

His email chimes as he hangs up the receiver and he’s not slow in clicking right on it. Right there on the screen —

1. The Blackest Widows - Sarah Clarkson                 $9.99

He flashes back to that woman in the park this afternoon. Did he see the cover? He types the title into the search bar, looking for an image and as it pops up his eyes go wide, one of those large hands brought to his mouth.

“You fucking cunt,” is all he can manage in his disbelief. —

He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door, a new fire in his belly. Everything about you was in the safe house, he needed to get to it. Everything about the woman in the park couldn’t have been you. She wasn’t the same you in the pictures.

Dave, you fucking idiot. His thoughts are racing in at him, telling him he was trying too hard. He didn’t fucking try at all though, not really. He underestimated you. Had been all these months. You weren’t some bimbo blatantly poisoning your husbands for the insurance money. No, you were smarter than that. Smarter than to get caught. Of course you changed your hair, his hand tracing the strands on the blown up photograph. Your skin had taken on color, three months in the sun. The weight though, that was new. It wasn’t bad but he hadn’t expected it. You didn’t look fragile anymore, you looked full of life.

When he went private, he decided there were no more good people or bad people, just those unfortunate enough to make it on his list.

He had been wrong though, digging up your story. You weren’t bad. You weren’t any good either but you existed in this grey area, you belonged there. No remorse, it had all been taken from you. So what? You did the same thing he did, really. You kill a few rich guys with one foot out the door anyway. Who the fuck will miss them?

Did he really fucking try at all or did he just not want to catch you? —

He’s getting jumpy again. You couldn’t just go and enjoy your money on a beach. No, you had to start fucking with him again. A man that good looking comes after you and starts crying your name out in the middle of the night? Well… Keeping your life isn’t enough, you missed the cat and mouse of it all. You missed leaving him presents. You missed hearing his ragged breathing through shared walls. You missed him.

You set your jaw as he pulled his coat closer to himself. Leaving what you can only assume is a safe house, he swept the vicinity with his hard eyes. If David York was going to kill you, you were absolutely going to fuck him first. —

He didn’t notice any cars following him home but, when he got there, everything felt off.

“Daddy, daddy! You got a package!” Alice ran to him while pointing to the kitchen table. “Can I open it with you?”

“You know, sweetheart, it might be something top secret but I’ll show you if I can.”

He picks up the small padded envelope, postage paid for same day delivery. No return address. Something hard and square in its center.

He rushed to the bathroom, the tears across the seems in line with his steps. Breath hitched, door closed, he reached in and pulled the solid weight of the book out.

He was blinding white in his rage. This fucking book showing up at his home. You are dangerous and audacious. Work has never followed him home like this. There’s a humming so loud in his ears he almost doesn’t notice the the folded up piece of paper that’s fallen at his feet.

He lowered himself and flipped it open.

I’m tired, David. Apartment Suite, The LINE Downtown DC.

He let out a tight huff of breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Which one of you is the cat and which one of you is the mouse?

[wyn-n-tonic]

Baby, Let the Games Begin -- Part IV

Word Count: 938 (I'm sorry it's not more! My brain is mushy! I love you!) Warnings: SMUT (I don't necessarily think it's explicit smut but it's dirty). Daddy kink (are you shocked?). Choking (no breath play). Soft!Dave cause ya girl is a soft bitch! A/N: This is the end of the Baby, Let the Games Begin and, thus, the end of me writing in second person. It's really just not my style and I struggle with it. When I do a continuation of Dave York (and I will), it will be with an original character. I've set that up here. As always, thank you so much for reading and all the kind words. I love you!

MASTERLIST | Part I | Part II | Part III

You grab his jaw and squeeze. Tight. Eyes dark with a new flame, he’s hit a nerve and he knows it. “Call me a whore again,” your teeth are gritted, “and I will take your fucking kneecaps out. Do you understand me?”

Dave is shocked still, having halted his movements at the snap in demeanor. He nods as best he can before you let go, letting his jaw slack in the release of pressure.

He’s in trouble and he knows it.

“Now, please,” your voice is soft again, pleading, “rupture my cervix or get out of me.”

He smiles, a challenge on his lips as he speaks, “Please what?”

Your eyes roll back, “I'm not calling you daddy again, once was en—“

The words die before they can leave your mouth, his hips grinding into yours to push himself deeper. Teasing but refusing to give you what you really want. What he wants too but, more than that, he wants to hear you say it.

“David,” it’s half warning, half whine.

“Fine,” he says, pulling back gently, “Guess I’ll just get ou—“

You bite back a whine that tugs at something deep in the core of his being, “Please.”

He trails his right hand along your collarbone before wrapping it around your neck once more. He doesn’t squeeze but the weight of it is enough and he’s cooing again, “Please what?”

“Please, dadd—“ a ragged scream is drawn from your throat as he snaps his hips against yours once again.

Stars explode behind your eyes, it is blinding as he rolls into you, building the pressure and you swear you can feel him in your throat. Your throat, purple and red with the evidence of his hands and lips, further exposed as you attempt to push your head back deeper into the pillows.

His right hand slips from your tender, bruised skin as he drops his elbow beside your head.

“David,” it comes out through shallow whines, whispered in the space between your lips.

“I know,” he pushes a strand of hair from your face, “we’re almost there. Do you want me to slow down?”

There’s something so tender in his voice and you don't know if it’s tears or sweat stinging your eyes but they haven’t left his. You’re shaking your head no because you can’t find the words.

I need it.

He reads it in the wild, blissed out expression that has taken over your face. Hand back on his jaw, you’re dragging a finger across his lips and pulling him down to you. A soft kiss, almost innocent as he hooks his left arm into the hinge of your knee. He lifts, changing the angle and opens his mouth up to yours, opening you up wider for him and—

He is a battering ram, ripping through the deepest parts of you chasing his own release for the third—the fourth?—time tonight. It doesn’t take long, half a dozen more thrusts, and you’re screaming yourself hoarse again certain this time that it’s tears running rivers down your face.

He’s not far behind, your name tumbling out like a praise. Like you'd just taken first place and, “That's my girl,” rang proudly from his lips. —————

“We should do this again sometime,” he’s pulling on his boots, thick fingers keeping the back from folding in under his heels. Same fingers that were inside of you not even an hour ago.

“Hmm,” you’re in front of him, fingers winding through his hair again, “you wanna chase me through China next or something?”

He stops, looking up into your eyes, “I want you wrapped around my cock again, the location is up to you.”

You cross your arms, “I thought I might go find that island, to be truthful with you.”

He brings his hands to your hips, bracing himself against you for balance as he stands. “I was hoping you’d join the team.”

The laughter his statement pulls from you is light, the giggles of a teenager going down on her first love.

“You want me to kill people for a living?”

“Sweetheart,” he leans down, lips brushing against your ear, “isn't that what you already do for a living?” He trails a finger down your bare breast bone, “we could use somebody like you.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you turn your head, catching his lips with yours but he’s pulling back like he’s been stung.

“Ah ah,” he chastises, “I have to go to work and you need to get back into that bed like a good girl and let me take your picture.”

He pushes you back into the ruined bedding, grabbing hold of your ankles and pushing your legs apart with no care for your comfort, “We wanna give Helen a nice show, don’t we?”

“Mmhmm,” you’re giggling again, "show her what rode Charlie into that heart attack.”

“Keep your eyes open,” he says gently followed by a click and a much harsher, "There's the money shot.”

Two million dollars worth, to be correct, all heading to an offshore bank account.

“I'll think about it,” you say.

He looks up from his phone, eyes soft as he admires the purple handprints that lace around your throat. He smiles, a hopeful “Yeah?” tumbling off his tongue free of grace.

He’s in trouble and he knows it.

“Sort my passport,” you sit up, placing a hand on his thigh, “And my bank account and, yeah,” a nod, “I’ll think about it.”

“What's your new name going to be?”

You look up at him, melting into the hand that’s found your cheek, “Lucy. My name is Lucy.”

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @notcookiebelle | @icanbeyourjedi | @bbuckysbeardd | @princess76179

[wyn-n-tonic]

ya girl is working on a continuation to Baby, Let the Games Begin. finally. pls love me and my trash words floundering down here in the Dave York pit.

[wyn-n-tonic]

i think something is genuinely wrong with me because i watched equalizer 2 and when dave stabbed that woman i was like, 'what do you see in her that you do not see in me, king?' 

but it wasn't so much the stabbing. it was the hand on the mouth.

[wyn-n-tonic]

we need more Dave 'Drop it Low, Pick it Up Slow' York x Reader fanfiction in this world and if i have to write my favorite psychopath myself well, then... so be it.

[wyn-n-tonic]

genuinely, only a real dumbass gets on top of a fucking tower in a hurricane. 

[wyn-n-tonic]

i firmly believe that Dave York was not bullied enough as a child and that's why i write him the way that i do.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Like Daylight Part V soon. new Dave York something or other because i am trash in the works.