#(this is why this fic is going to take forever to write. it's secretly an essay on twelve movies at once but in fic form)

[itwoodbeprefect]

last line of wip!

Rules: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line.

i was tagged by @mayberrycryptid! thank you!! 💖 this forced me to open the document and figure out what the last line i wrote even was, which was a pretty useful exercise in figuring out what’s going on all by itself.

i’m going to skip officially tagging people because i’ve already thrown so many tag games at so many of you this week, but !! this is an easy one! genuinely, if you see this (and you’re a writer, and you want to) do it and tag me, please (or even drop an answer in the replies)! i want to see your last line! 🕵️‍♂️📃

mine is from the starsky-watches-westerns wip, from a discussion starsky and hutch are having about stagecoach, the 1939 john ford film:

“Of course not,” Hutch says, only to immediately follow it up with, “Her name is Dallas.”

#this is in response to starsky somewhat jokingly somewhat curiously going #well if you aren’t casting yourself as john wayne then who? the hooker with a heart of gold? #because oh. ohhhh. the whole ringo kid & dallas narrative? queer cinema. #yes they're straight (presumably. they don't have to be.) yes i'm going to get a lot of mileage out of this for my gay cowboy movies fic #society DOESN'T WANT HER. she gets RUN OUT OF TOWN. #but HE wants her. HE pulls out a chair for her!! all he sees is a lady who is good and kind to him even though he broke out of prison #it's about being on the margins of society but. being there together. being told you're unwanted and building a life that proves them wrong #(this is why this fic is going to take forever to write. it's secretly an essay on twelve movies at once but in fic form) #* #tag stuff #starsky and hutch

[heart2beom]

totally unlabeled kisses

➞ pairing: best friend!beomgyu x f!reader

➞ synopsis: in which you and beomgyu teeter between being normal best friends and well...best friends who makeout from time to time.

➞ genre: fluff, comedy, b2l

➞ notes: i just realized how much im going to exhaust this trope on the blog, with the event + my other big fic...oooh, there's going to be some repetition here. by the time i'm done, won't be able to write anything b2l related. request + request.

taglist: @boba-beom , 700 event masterlist!

Questions you've grown to be annoyingly accustomed to at some point in your life: "What college are you going to?" — that one was a pain for a few months, "When are you getting married?" — this one’s going to be a pain for a few decades, "Is it that time of the month again?" — you sorta learn to filter this question out of your head.

Questions you haven't built tolerance for: "Are you guys together?"

It's ten times more aggravating when it’s always, always about the same person. Y'know, none other than the annoying, but to his credit, somewhat funny, and sorta loveable goofball that is Choi Beomgyu.

Each time, you'd say a similarly repetitive response: "No, we're just friends." Which is exactly what it was. Beomgyu is your best friend. Has been your best friend— for, like, forever.

Starting right from the torturous tween stage that was middle school, to now, it's the question that followed you both to the hells of earth. The era of awkward bowlcuts and invisaligns that fooled no one have been long behind you, yet it seemed that the theory you and Beomgyu were secretly together never passed. Ever.

Sure, you get it, it's the childhood friends to marriage descend that gets everyone swooning, but that was totally not you and Beomgyu.

Even after what happened two months ago. You decided to lean a little too close that day, and somehow, your lips captured his, at a house party, in god knows whose closet. You’re not sure why you went for it—you liked to blame the drinking game you played a little before this, or the darkness of the closet, or the way his breathing was magnified to your ears, how it synced with yours. You don’t even remember how you got in the closet with him.

What you do remember is how the kiss was a little hesitant and trying, tongue testing the waters before Beomgyu decided on his own to tilt his head at an angle, turning the chaste kiss into a little more. 

You liked it.

You liked how his lips were soft, yet the slight roughness of the kiss had you forgetting it was Choi fucking Beomgyu you had your arms around—the boy you’ve seen pick his boogers more times than you’d like to count. His rather large hands cupped your cheeks, still kissing you like his life depended on it.

You call it the Closet incident. 

…There were lots of repeats of the Closet incident.

On top of a kitchen counter, in front of your flat’s entrance, in the hallway of Beomgyu’s dormitory, on the couch, in a movie theater as your unknowing friends sat a seat in front of you focused on the gore scene, in Beomgyu’s rusted, mario kart that he calls a car. But obviously, no feelings involved. Obviously.

"Can you make me look good this time?"

You scoff incredulously. "I always make you look good."

It’s a Friday and Beomgyu came over to your place to pick you up for your friend dates, like usual. Which consisted of going to the mall, then a trip to the local movie theater, and finally getting your favorite frozen yogurt. His go-to flavor being red velvet, and yours good ol’ chocolate mint. You never hear the end of it from Beomgyu.

"I have something to ask by the way." Beomgyu throws his head back on the couch, staring up at you. He’s situated on the floor, between your legs as you braid his hair. What? It’s therapeutic.

“You know how Heeseung asked you if you were dating anyone yesterday?”

“Turn your head to the left, Gyu.” you mutter, eyes narrowing as you focus on his hair, taking the braiding pretty seriously. “And yeah? What about it?”

He doesn’t budge, arms lazily crossed. “Why’d you tell him no?”

Your fingers stop the braid, blinking a few times down at Beomgyu. “Because…I’m not dating anyone.”

He naively blinks a few times, still staring up at you, before cracking a weirdly conflicted smile, as if he got to his senses. Then he turns his head to the left like you asked him to earlier, “Oh, yeah, I mean… yeah.”

You manage to give him a quick smile back, albeit a little stiff, as you refocus your attention on his hair again. But it’s near damn impossible, thoughts as to what Beomgyu was trying to imply clouding your head too much for proper focus.

What’d he want you to say? You weren’t dating anyone, Beomgyu knew, you knew, everyone knew. But he was still confused in those three seconds, as if that wasn’t true. And that had your head in a jumble. 

It wasn’t like this was the only thing he’s done or said that had you questioning what he felt about you was a little more than platonic. 

Like, yesterday as an example, when Beomgyu showed up by your side, presumably out of nowhere, a hand wrapped around your waist when Heeseung approached you.

Or the time you were playing truth or dare and Taehyun asked him if he liked anyone that was in the room, and you swear he found your eyes for a few seconds before smiling and downing his drink— choosing to leave the question unanswered, the rest groaning of how he was no fun.

You’re reading too much into things…right? 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about at the time of your slumber. And it made the occasional, random makeout sessions that much more impactful. Your finger lingering on your lip, starstruck after just a single peck from Beomgyu, as if you were a middle schooler who just got her first kiss.

“What do you think?”

He looks at himself through his phone’s camera at every possible angle, a genuine smile creeping up his face, “It’s so cute, I love it.” When he practically jumps on you, you fall to a laying position, and laugh. He resembled a puppy. “I told you you should be a hairstylist.”

The proximity of his face near yours doesn’t faze you—or you at least hope it looks like that. You quirk a brow, “Since when?”

He taps his index finger on his temple, “Telepathy. I tell you everyday through telepathy.”

Surprisingly, that gets you to snort, broken completely out of your previous reverie— he was ridiculous. 

“I like it so much I want to kiss you.”

He’s quick to follow through, landing a silly peck on your lips. You know it didn’t even look that good, but he still managed to make you feel like you gave him the hairstyle of the century. Which had no business making your heartbeat just a tinge faster. Oh, it’s bad for you.

You adjust your position by attempting to sit up straight. He catches that, a confused smile as he gets off you. You purse your lips, the awkward silence not a bother as you think of ways you could put all your confusion the past few weeks into one simple sentence. 

“Beomgyu, do you… like me?”

You can tell that by the sudden question, he’s taken back, the corner of his lips falling. Before he does his habit again, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, a hesitant grin plastered on his face. “I mean, isn’t it a little obvious?”

You furrow your brows. “Uh no, no it wasn’t …obvious!” It wasn’t! Beomgyu was naturally a romantic, how would you catch that he was serious?

He raises his brows. “What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?”

You think over it for a second. “…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public.”

“Busted.” he puts up his hands as mock retreat, then sighs, “But for reason. This isn’t how I thought this…would go. But, yeah…I do like you. In the gross romantic way. Maybe L-word you too. I don’t know, I just know that my heart dumbly wholeheartedly believes that you’re my soulmate. For whatever reason.”

You feel your mouth dry, looking up at Beomgyu, your movement still. “Since when?”

Beomgyu chews down on his bottom lip, hesitating before he quietly says, “Since you got me the cookie and cream ice cream sandwich as an apology for saying my ex-girlfriend was butt ugly.”

It’s so comically specific yet it’s still funny how you immediately say, “Seventh grade.” Because you also remember, you very clearly remember the day Beomgyu had bawled his eyes out, because he just got dumped, and your attempt of trying to comfort him by saying he had awful taste. Turns out, people don’t like being told that their ex wasn’t good looking fresh out of the relationship. 

The fury you felt at the sight of seeing Beomgyu so sad could’ve been explained by just the fact that you were extremely close friends, but you’re now left wondering if you also liked him a little back then.

“I like you too.”

Beomgyu huffs out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head, “You don’t have to say that just because I said it. I don’t cry over rejections anymore.” 

Your eyes wander down to his lips for a split second. Then to the man in front of you, his loose fitted signature flannel so…Beomgyu. His quirky styled hair, so fitting on him. No matter how much he matured, his features undeniably handsome, he was still the boy you proudly call a best friend. Your best friend. “No, I like you. In the gross romantic way.”

You’re more sure now in comparison to seven years ago. 

He falls silent, staring at you before he lets out a quiet, “Oh.”

You sit there, playing with your hands as you wait for Beomgyu to say something a little more than that. You’re not sure what’s going through his head, you often feel like, even after knowing him for so long, you don’t know what happens in there. At all.

You’re caught off guard when you feel Beomgyu’s familiar lips on yours, but quickly linger against them, letting him take a hold of you, as he was above you again. 

You feel his smile break into the kiss and you stop for a moment. "Are we a couple now?" he asks, barely a whisper. You nod.

"We swore to everyone this would never happen." You swore to yourself that you didn’t like Beomgyu ‘like that’. Always so sure, so sure that he was nothing but a friend. 

Everyone saw it but you. How idiotic did you look?

"Exactly. We're never going to hear the end of it. But..."

"But... it's worth it?" you finish his sentence.

You like the way his eyes glint under the dim light of your living room. You like the curve of the ends of his lips, the way they create the cutest, most adorable whisker dimples. He lays his forehead on yours. "Like, thirty thousand times worth it."

"People usually say a million..." you tease with a tilt of your head.

His breath fans against your skin before smiling and leaning his head in for another kiss. He catches you by surprise again, but this time you’re a little more prepared, your arms quickly finding their way, hanging off your freshly new boyfriend slash best friend for life’s shoulder. But then he pulls away.

Way too fast. "That was to shut you up for being a smartass." You're slightly left out of breath, your chest softly rising and falling as you look at him confused.

“And this…” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Is for not turning down Heeseung yesterday and making me stupidly, ridiculously sulky."

You catch onto what he’s doing, giggling, but still ask "What are you doing, idiot?" 

He doesn't stop, still as smiley as ever. He kisses the temple of your cheek, "This is for all the years I've chased after your oblivious ass."

Your other cheek, "This is for…”

Suddenly, he peppers kisses all over your face and your giggles turn into full on laughter the more he kisses all over your skin— it's ticklish. When he stops and it's silent you feel the energy shift. You ask the pending question with a whisper, "And what was that for?"

Silence overtakes him as he stares down at you, a faint smile on his face.

"For all the decades I'll spend loving you."

notes: reblogging [the little sign by the heart button] helps push this fic! it's the main thing that helps me out and its what tumblr's algorithm picks up on!! thoughts are appreciated, always ^^ ❤

#txt fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu drabbles #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #txt fic #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt series

[wholoveseggs]

Maybe an elijah x Reader where the Reader is a bit shy about sex and really wants to try out face riding, but is insecure about her weight like that she's scared she'll hurt him or something like that. So somehow elijah finds out (for example thru a dream which he enters) and does it, but she'll try to pull away at the beginning still scared of hurting him and he'll pull her down.

If possible with lots of praise, overstimulation, elijah being dominant, hand kink, sir kink, elijah being a sweetheart, and aftercare?

Soft

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You've been dating Elijah for a while, but your insecurities keep you from taking things further. But one night, Elijah finally gets the chance to show you how much he loves your curves.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @magicaleaglecloud, I've written a similar fic on this subject called Reminder, but I love this idea so much I'm happy to write more. ♡♡

♡♡ This once again goes out to all my thick thighed brothers and sisters! ♡♡

3.4k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, oral sex, sex dreams, insecure reader, body issues, soft dom!elijah, slight sir!kink, face sitting, fingering, little bit of spanking, tinsy bit of overstim, a fun history fact about beauty standards, praise, kisses & lots of sweetness ♡♡♡

You were beyond nervous, and it showed. You and your boyfriend Elijah Mikaelson had been dating for the last year, and while you loved each other and you wanted to sleep with him, you had been putting it off.

It wasn't anything to do with him, of course. It had everything to do with your insecurities. You didn't fit the current beauty standard. You weren't as skinny as some of the girls Elijah had been with before you. Your hips and thighs touched, you had a stomach, and your breasts were bigger than you liked.

And while you had seen Elijah's eyes roam your body whenever you were with him. You couldn't help but wonder if he secretly felt the same.

You knew you couldn't hold off forever. The thought of being so naked and exposed was beyond scary. But you wanted to be with him in every sense of the word. And you knew you needed to get over yourself.

The plan was to stay the night at his place, a big step for the two of you. You would be spending the night with him. Sleeping in the same bed. And maybe, hopefully, doing other things.

You spent far too much time getting ready, making sure your skin was as flawless as possible, and your hair was just right. You packed the sexiest sleepwear you owned, a deep blue satin nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Elijah had made reservations at your favorite restaurant, and the entire meal had been magical. Although, you didn't want to eat a lot in front of him. There was always so much shame around your body, and you didn't want him to see it.

"So I'm thinking we can have some wine and relax. Maybe watch a movie or two," Elijah said as he parked the car in front of his house.

"Sounds great." You smiled and took a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

He took your hand, sensing your unease, you were so beautiful and lovely, and he couldn't understand why you were so hard on yourself. He never wanted you to feel that way.

The evening had been perfect. You watched movies, you talked, and you drank the wine, and you felt the tension slowly slipping from your body. He kissed you and it had quickly grown passionate, his lips moving down your neck and you moaned his name.

You weren't sure how it happened, but he was suddenly on top of you, and the feel of his large frame pressed into yours had been amazing. But you felt your anxiety start to bubble to the surface.

"Elijah, wait," you said softly, gently pushing against his chest.

"What's wrong?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing. I just...can I have a moment?" You said, feeling a mix of embarrassed and scared.

"Of course," he said, getting up and allowing you to move from the couch. "Let's go back to the bedroom. We don't have to do anything."

"I'm sorry." You said as he pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

"Darling, there is nothing to be sorry about." He said, leading you to his bedroom. "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'm going to take a shower," he said, sensing that you needed a moment alone.

You smiled, feeling like you could breathe. You loved him so much. You were so lucky to have him.

You changed into your nightgown and pulled out your lotion and went about the process of rubbing it into your legs and arms.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in his floor length mirror, and your insecurities came rushing back.

The material clung to you in all the wrong ways. It hugged your hips and stomach and breasts. You frowned, hating the sight. You quickly pulled the blankets down and crawled into bed. There was no way you could let him see you like this.

You tried not to cry, feeling such shame and humiliation, you decided to just sleep and pretend the evening didn't happen.

When Elijah returned, you had fully fallen asleep. He frowned slightly, wishing he could read your mind, wishing he could know what to say. You were so beautiful. How could you not see it?

He slipped into bed beside you and smiled when you instinctively curled into him. You looked so peaceful, and he didn't have the heart to wake you.

The blankets were pulled down a bit, the swell of your breasts clearly visible. And it was impossible not to look.

He loved your body. He loved your curves. He loved the way you felt in his arms. So soft and warm.

You made a quiet little noise and pressed closer to him, and he felt himself harden. It was impossible not to.

Your eyes were moving under your eyelids and your breathing was uneven. Your hands gripped at him, pulling him closer.

"Are you dreaming, my beautiful girl?" Elijah said, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Hmm, Elijah," you moaned quietly, your hips moving and pressing into him.

He smiled, curious about what was going on in your mind, wondering what you were dreaming about.

"Fuck," you said, moving your hips again.

He couldn't help it, he had to know.

His hand gently caressed the side of your face, and then he slowly pressed into your mind, feeling the sensations your dream was causing.

He saw you straddling his face, your hands gripping the headboard, and he could practically taste you on his tongue. You were completely unbidden, your beautiful body bouncing above him, and his large hands gripped your hips.

Elijah pulled out of your mind, groaning at the vision.

"Mm, please," you whimpered, and he was so tempted.

He looked down, your nipples were straining against the material of your gown. Your eyebrows arched, and you moved against him.

"Elijah." You sighed his name, and it was too much.

He couldn't possibly leave this fantasy of yours to the dream world. He had to give you what you needed.

He whispered your name, gently biting down on your earlobe, and you woke with a gasp.

"Elijah." Your voice was thick and sleepy, and it did things to him.

"Did you have a good dream?" He said, kissing along your neck and sucking lightly on your pulse point.

"Yes." You moaned, unable to deny it.

"Tell me," he said, pulling the blankets back, his hands roaming over your body.

"You...we..." You moaned, unsure of how to tell him.

He kissed down your neck, his hands moving down to grip your ass and pull you against him.

"You are so sweet and shy. It's adorable." He smiled, loving the way you blushed.

He started kissing his way down your body, and it was clear where he was headed. His hands dipped under your gown and pushed the material up and over your breasts.

"Elijah." You moaned, trying to cover yourself.

"No." He said, taking your wrists and placing them by your sides. "Don't hide from me. I want to see all of you."

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed along your breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. You moaned, arching up into him, loving the way he felt against you.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his lips ghosting over your skin.

He moved further down your body, and his hands gripped your thighs, gently pulling them apart. His lips ghosted over your stomach and you felt yourself tensing up.

"Elijah," you whispered, wanting to stop him, but the feel of his mouth so close to where you were aching for him was too much.

He gently bit down on the soft flesh of your thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy." He said, looking up at you, his eyes full of lust.

"Wait," you said, sitting up and covering yourself, "I...you don't have to."

He pushed you back down, grabbing your wrists and holding them by your sides.

"Stop. Please, my love. Don't be ashamed." He said, kissing the swell of your stomach and moving further down.

"But..." you moaned, feeling his mouth between your legs, and your words died in your throat.

His mouth was gentle and slow, and he teased your clit, taking his time with you. His tongue moved in lazy circles, and he gently sucked, making you squirm and moan his name.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He groaned, loving the way you moved.

His fingers replaced his tongue and he pushed two inside of you. Moving up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

"Tell me what you like," he said, moving his fingers slowly, wanting to see what made you squirm.

"I like...when you do that." You gasped, his fingers moving deeper and hitting a spot that had you seeing stars.

He kissed along your neck, and he gently nipped at your pulse point, and he could feel your heartbeat quicken.

"You like my fingers baby?" He said, and his words were doing things to you.

"Mmhmm." You moaned, closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

He started moving his fingers faster, curling them with each thrust. And then he pushed a third finger inside of you, stretching you open, and his thumb moved in slow circles over your clit.

"Fuck, oh god. Don't stop. Please." You begged, rocking your hips.

"You're so beautiful. I love the way you move." He said, his hand moving down to grip your thigh and hold you open.

"Please. Please. Fuck, I need..." You gasped, and his mouth covered yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and he swallowed your moans.

"You need to cum, is that it, sweet girl?" He asked, and you couldn't believe he was saying these things to you.

"Please, sir." You moaned, and the word slipped out before you could stop yourself.

He grinned, loving the way it sounded, and he wanted to hear it again.

"Cum for me, now." He said, his fingers moving faster, and his thumb pressing against your clit.

The combination was enough to send you over the edge, and the orgasm was powerful, leaving you a shaking mess, moaning his name.

You opened your eyes, and you could see him staring at you. Your cheeks flushed, and you closed your eyes.

"Open your eyes." He commanded, and you obeyed, meeting his gaze.

"There's my beautiful girl. Now, come sit on my face."

"What?" You were sure you heard him wrong.

"Sit on my face. Now." He repeated.

"I...um..." You started, but he cut you off, grabbing your hips and moving you above him.

"That's a good girl." He said, helping you place your knees on either side of his face.

You were trembling, scared that you were too heavy. That the angle was wrong. You wanted to cover yourself. You were so vulnerable like this.

"I said sit." He said, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his mouth.

"Oh god." You gasped, unable to control the movement of your hips as his tongue started to lick at you.

It was too much. You couldn't take it. Your hands gripped his hair, and his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you down onto him.

You didn't know how he was breathing, but he didn't stop. He smacked your ass hard and growled, and the vibration was intense.

"Good girl, just like that." He said, and his praise went straight to your core.

You moved against him, not caring how desperate you looked, or how unsexy you must have appeared.

"That's it, fuck my face. Take what you need." He said, watching as your body responded to him.

You didn't even know it was possible to orgasm again that quickly, but his tongue was magic, and you were falling apart above him.

You grabbed the headboard, unable to hold back, and his fingers dug into your hips.

"Fuck, I can't. Elijah." You moaned, and the orgasm was more intense than the first one.

Your body was shaking, and he didn't stop. His tongue moved inside of you, and his nose brushed against your clit, the sensation overwhelming.

"Too much!" You said, trying to move away.

He held you in place, smacking your ass, and making you gasp.

"I decide when it's too much," he said, and there was something in his voice that left you shaking.

"Yes sir," you said, your voice a breathy whisper.

He groaned, his tongue moving faster. You moved your hips, matching his rhythm. And the next orgasm was so intense that your knees almost gave out.

"Such a good girl. Come here." He said, moving you down his torso so that your head was resting against his chest, and you were a sweaty, trembling mess.

His hands were all over your body, feeling every curve, every soft place. His lips moved against yours, and you could taste yourself on him.

You were still trying to catch your breath, and your entire body was shaking. You sat up, suddenly very self-conscious, your thick thighs straddling his waist.

"You are so sexy." He said, sitting up and kissing your neck.

"Really?" You asked, surprised and embarrassed, you never felt that way about yourself.

"You have no idea." He said, his hands moving down your back.

He gripped your ass, and his hips moved up, and you could feel his hard length pressing into you. The way his dark eyes watched you had you squirming. His hands moving to push the straps of your nightgown down.

"I want to see all of you. Can I take this off?" He asked, and he was so sweet and kind, and it only made you fall in love with him even more.

"Okay." You nodded, and his hands pulled the material up over your head, tossing it aside and exposing you completely.

"Perfect." He said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah." You whined, covering your breasts, but he took your hands and held them at your sides.

"Let me look at you. I want to see how gorgeous you are. So beautiful." He said, his words were a complete contradiction to the way you felt.

"I'm not," you said, hating the way his eyes were taking you in.

Elijah shook his head, kissing you softly, his hands moved along your body, caressing every inch of you.

"You are." He whispered, and his words were almost convincing.

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"Did you know that in the 16th century, women with curvy bodies were considered more beautiful than thin women? In fact, there is a painting from the 1700s by Antonio Canova called The Three Graces, and the figure on the right is considered to be the most beautiful because of her curves."

"Elijah." You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"My sweet girl, I am not trying to convince you of something that you are not ready to believe. But I will always find you the most beautiful woman in the world." He said, kissing your forehead.

You felt yourself blushing and tears were threatening to fall.

"Don't cry," he said, his hands moving along your back, trying to soothe you.

"I'm not, it's just..." you took a breath, unsure of what to say.

"Come here," he said, gently rolling you onto your back and positioning himself above you. "I can show you."

"What?" You asked, a little confused, but the look in his eyes had you curious.

"I can show you how much I love your body. If you'll let me."

"Yes," you nodded, knowing there was no way you could tell him no.

"Good girl." He said, and you could feel the blush on your cheeks.

He kissed you, his lips moving along your neck, and down to your breasts. He kissed each one and moved lower.

"I love the way your breasts fit in my hands." He said, gently kneading the soft flesh and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

"Elijah." You whimpered, and his hands moved to grab your ass.

"I love the way your curves fill out my hands." He said, moving lower and kissing the swell of your stomach, his fingers dipping into the indentation of your belly button, and making you giggle.

"Elijah, please."

"I love the way your thighs are soft and smooth." He said, gently biting the soft flesh and making you moan.

"I love the way your body responds to mine. The way you moan my name." He said, pushing his boxers off, and taking his hard length into his hand, and stroking himself.

"Elijah." You bit your lip, watching him.

"I love the way my cock fits perfectly between your legs." He said, spreading your legs and moving to rest his length against you.

"I love the way your hips are the perfect shape for my hands." He said, grabbing them and holding them tightly.

"I love the way my body feels against yours." He said, moving so that he was pressing into you.

He kissed you, and his hands moved to grab yours, holding them by the sides of your head.

"And I love the way my name sounds on your lips." He whispered, and his cock pushed into you.

He buried his face in your neck, his hands squeezing yours, and his body pressed into yours. You could feel every muscle tensing, and his heart racing.

"I love you, so much," he said, and the words had never been more real.

You wrapped your arms around him, and the moment was pure and uncomplicated. It was everything you needed, and more.

"Elijah," you sighed his name, and it was all the words you couldn't say.

He smiled, moving his hips slowly, his movements controlled and measured. You could feel every inch of him. You had never felt anything so amazing in your life.

You were overwhelmed, the feelings of pleasure mixing with the emotions coursing through your body. You could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, and he wiped them away, kissing your face.

He pulled your legs back, pressing your knees to your chest, and his cock hit a spot that had you moaning.

"Good girl." He moaned, his thrusts growing faster, and the pleasure was almost too much.

Your body was shaking, and his movements were getting sloppy. His breathing was labored, and his words were a jumbled mess.

He reached down, his hand finding your clit, and he started rubbing slow circles, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Cum for me." He commanded, and the orgasm hit you hard, your nails digging into his back, and your legs wrapping around him.

"Eli-" You cried out, your voice high-pitched and needy.

His name was a breathy moan, and he could barely hold on. He needed you to cum, needed to feel you clenching around him.

"That's my girl." He moaned, his hips slamming into yours. You could feel him losing control, his cock pulsing inside of you.

He couldn't hold on, the pleasure was too much, and the way you were squeezing his cock had him tumbling over the edge.

His hand found yours, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, his hips slowing, and his eyes met yours.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, just enjoying the closeness, and the way your bodies were entwined. You wanted to stay in the moment forever. You could feel his heart beating, and his breath on your skin. He eventually got up and grabbed a warm washcloth, cleaning you both, and then crawled back into bed, pulling you close, and wrapping you in his arms. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, and he was worried that maybe he had hurt you. That he had been too rough, or that he had pushed you too far. But you were smiling, and you were happy, and the way your body had responded to him was everything he had hoped for.

"Yes. I'm perfect." You said, and he could see the way the light was reflecting in your eyes, and the smile on your face. He kissed you, his hand cupping your face, and his tongue tangling with yours.

He made you feel so loved and cared for. He made you feel like you were the most important person in his life. Like nothing else mattered.

And for the first time, you felt worthy of his love. A love you always deserved.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[dilfprayers]

My, Penitence

real!dad leon kennedy x afab!reader the content ahead may contain incest topics, sexual content, blood, p in v , noncon, "L" bombs, abuse, love bombing / manipulation & more. please turn away if this makes you uncomfortable. this your only warning ! !

an: wow this is a long one-- it was a fic that was on my mind for a while 👀 i finally have gotten to finish it after so long, might have some mistakes maybe im not entirely sure, i was in the zone writing this. ><;; i also envisioned vendetta leon for this if that helps ahhh..

-

You slowly started to get desperate for your dad. It was an unusual feeling — Why would you have these feelings with him? Oh, of course it faded at some point, yeah.. But you eventually fell right back into it. You'll never understand how things happened so fast but you weren't necessarily complaining in the end. Without him, you were nothing. secretly in the back of your head with your deepest darkest secrets. Not like you had anything else going for you anyways.

You might as well be his new wife, right?

_

You remember it like yesterday, the day you finally had confessed to your father about your sick feelings towards him. You explained it in great detail.. How he made you feel, what you specifically dreamed of. You practically spilled the beans on everything in your head.

"I know you're my dad but.."

"But?"

"I.."

You struggled to even get it out, but now it was better than never. If you didn't, he'd never know and you'll forever be in distress. Sure, you had to take your chances of flipping a coin.. Heads if he also felt the same way or was just as freaky as you. Or tails, where he'd look at you in disgust and get you some kind of therapy or something. Ooor... Maybe even lock you away for even having those kinds of thoughts. But you never thought of the 'in-between'. Hypothetically, what if he has those thoughts but feels guilty?

Hell, you didn't know. Fuck a coin flip at this point.. You wanted to just blurt it out and tell him how you felt.

"I think I'm in love with you.. You've made me feel things no other guy has and I-"

"What?"

The tone he gave off was enough to shatter your poor little heart right in that moment. You stared wide eyed while he stared back at you with a concerned look. He wasn't having it, you already knew ahead of time. He didn't even have to speak for you to understand how he was feeling.

"Sweetheart, no.. Look-"

He sighs, putting a hand on your shoulder while frowning. Leon never in his days expected to handle something of this nature, but he tried to handle it the best way he could. He wanted nothing more than to be a good father. Not.. A father who sleeps with his daughter.

"Those thoughts you are having? It's not normal.. I can't be with you." He explains, "You're my daughter. My angel, my everything. Raised you since you were a little thing. I can't just.."

Get with your own daughter? Have sexual relations with your daughter? Yeah..

You knew what the answer was. It was a solid no. He didn't continue his sentence, just stood there awkwardly, processing what was even said and how to respond again. How could you casually say that anyways?

"Sorry-"

"No, it's fine. Those feelings are normal I suppose, but it-"

"I'm sorry."

You didn't give him time to say anything else, you instantly stormed off to your room and slammed the door. Loudly at that. It rang his ears, really pushing the nail into his skin some more after that as if it wasn't bad enough earlier. He stood there for a little longer before cursing under his breath, ruffling his hair with his hand in a frustrated manner. How was he gonna deal with you after this? Who knows...

_

As if things couldn't have gotten anymore worse than it was after that 'confession' you made - a divorce happened between your parents. Your mother was yelling at your father when you came back home from work and all you saw was furniture and glass all over the floor. Your eyes were wide and your mother stormed past you without a word. Didn't even bat an eye in your direction.

"Mom!?"

You call out but it's too late, she's already in the car and rushed off. Gone. You're standing there, eyes wide and Leon in the back with nothing to say. What could he say after that? Right. Nothing. The breeze from outside was loud and so was the silence you and your father had after your mother left. She left everything behind, didn't even return later. Didn't even take you with her? Of course, it was the heat of the moment but she didn't even seem to care to have you by her side, just left you along with your dad.

This wasn't gonna end well with it just being you and him. (Considering what happened earlier that week..)

_

You weren't the type to complain about silence or anything but the silence in the house since that day had made you uneasy. Worst of all? Your father was an alcoholic now. He didn't take the divorce well and very much did miss his wife, at least from what you assumed. They were the 'shining bright' couple after all. But surely there were flaws that hid beneath it all. No relationship is perfect anyways and you knew that well enough.

But off topic of the relationship. You were worried, when he made nothing but whiskey his only 'diet' with some occasional sandwiches here and there. But it was slowly getting worse and worse by the day. You kept your distance, not really bothering to interact with him as much since you knew people under the influence of alcohol weren't entirely .. 'Okay' in the head. And yeah, yeah.. You still felt icky about the whole crush thing and how you loved your father in a different way but — You felt as if it was a phase since you haven't acted upon it for a while.

Must've actually been healing.. Maybe it was good he rejected you and you had a chance to reflect. Be a normal human being in society.

But that didn't go as planned. Things were too good to be true. Your always drunk father not doing anything to you for a while and ignoring you? Of course he wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Sweetheart."

"Hey?"

One night he was stumbling towards your room after being out for some hours, hand pressed on the door as it swung open. You jumped, pulling your headphones off while you laid there on your bed with your work all scattered around the surface. You and your father hadn't actually sat down and spoke after the divorce. It was constant repeat of:

"Hi." , "Hey." , "How are you?", "Good.."

You reply, already smelling the booze off of him from across the room. You could visibly see the eyebags from him and his unkept hair. He had his stormy blues locked on you before he groaned, slyly shutting the door and moved towards your bed, sitting down on the edge while tilting his head.

"Mm...What are you up to angel?.. Math..? Science.. Reading?"

He surely was out of it, swaying a tiny bit while keeping his gaze on you. Didn't even glance at the papers which were boldly labeled math. You were quiet, for a good reason — he practically stared you down the whole time with shaky breaths. Y 'couldn't blame him though, he did drink like it was water and was anywhere but sober.

"Math.. But, what do you want? I'm trying to finish my w-"

"You."

"What?"

"You."

You felt the skin on your hair raise when he repeated himself. You remember hearing him the last time sounding like you when you had that stupid taboo moment, almost went through with it too until you changed. Improved as a person but for him? He wasn't thinking straight. If anything, he wanted nothing more to listen to the back of his head - the deepest darkest things.

"I want you sweetheart.. Need...Need you.."

He mutters, snaking his hands along your thighs. You smack them away of course, staring at him with that wide eyed expression. You almost felt disgusting when he touched you. He was your father. Your real father.

"Dad! What the fuck, no!"

You hissed, seeing him pause after you smacked his hands away, denying his 'love'. He had stared back wide eyed too but soon enough that expression went into a furious one. He moved closer to you before pinning you down beneath him, rolling you onto your back — placing one hand down on your neck and the other on your thigh. He squeezes your thigh, looking down at you with teary, sluggish eyes.

He looked nothing like the father you knew.. He was awful.

"I'm your father.. Y 'should love me."

He says, tightening his grip on your thigh and soon after your neck. He squeezed hard.. Making you gasp for air for a moment while he nearly stopped your circulation of blood and breathing.

"Dad- gh.. D..dad!—"

You go into a state of panic. Things were happening too fast for you to even react. Your hands had smacked along his arms before you dug your nails into his skin and sobbed. He saw your tears and distress but again, the man was too far gone in the head to mentally care about 'morals'. He didn't even think they existed in this moment at all.

"You're like your mother right now..Love me to death once, then turn around and treat me like nothing."

You didn't reply, just stared wide eyed as he spoke. Doing that made things not so- Great either.

"That's it? Huh? You don't love me... What happened to when you confessed to me? — What was it... Loving your own father? Me making you feel something you never felt before when I never even fucked you or touched you?" He growls, cupping your face now which had your lips all puckered up.

"Actually.. You haven't brought it up to me again since that day.. But I've had some thought to it..."

Oh no.

Your body tensed up, hands shakily brought up to his arms as you tugged and scratched at them. Your eyes were all watery still - your throat feeling dry from his nearly choking you out for a moment. Surely, he had to have bruised it.

"N-no that's not.. It. You said it was wrong before and-"

"I lied."

He cuts you off, not even hesitating to lean in and kiss you. What the fuck..? Your eyes were wide and your body ached while his lips were pressed along yours. He kissed you passionately but sloppily. You wanted to hurl from the after taste of alcohol on his lips , still attempting to pull him off but again, nothing seemed to really work. He was much stronger than you.

"Mmh..Love you so much.. I wish I went along with your confession that day.."

He mutters into the kiss, slowly bringing his knee up in between your thighs. Panicking, you squirm like crazy and muffle out a sob — but he was so focused on this to even care about how you felt. He kept kissing you, lips molded together, saliva pouring out - it was all a complete mess.

Eventually he pulled back, leaving a string of spit from the both of your lips while grinding his knee along your crotch. Obviously, you weren't turned on. None of this had you turned on anymore. Sure, before if he did this you would have been all for it but for right now? You wanted an out from this.

"Dad stop it.. Just call for a hookup!"

You protest, trying your hardest to get him to knock it off but the more you did, the more pissed he seemed to get. He was growing impatient with you. Before you knew it, he raised his hand and smacked you across the face, making your ears ring really loud. That smack nearly took you out and it only seemed to get worse.

"I don't want a 'hookup'. I want you. Don't you understand? Why can't you just love your father. Don't you love me?"

His voice cracked, noticing you hadn't responded. Just stared to the side with a red mark across your face.

"Answer me.."

Silence.

"Answer me!"

He raises his tone— smacking you again, the ringing only getting worse and your cheeks were all swollen now. Nose eventually leaked with blood from the impact of the slaps. You teared up more at this point, the pain stinged you badly as nothing but whines came out of you. No words.

And god, that wasn't what he wanted out of you.

"..Just like your mother..."

He grunts, moving his hands to his pants - unbuckling his belt. He was doing it at a fast pace despite the state he was in as he muttered some other things under his breath that you could barely hear. Blood poured from your nose while you laid there, sniffling and shaking.

"M'gonna bring back who you were back then. I want you to love me again.."

Finally, he freed himself of his restraints and worked on you, tugging your pajama pants off and then pulled your panties to the side. Dry. Awfully dry... He frowned, staring at your puffy lips before brushing his fingers along the slit - quietly sighing.

"Not even she's happy to see me.. This isn't like you.."

He quietly said before spreading you open with his fingers, spitting on your cunt to let the spit pour down it. You could feel it, cringing really bad as you whimpered and cried. Potentially having your first with your father? That didn't sound ideal at all. You didn't want that.. So you fought, even with it being difficult.

"D..daddy.. N..no..No please.. You can't-"

"Shutup.. Let me have this... I need you to love me again."

He's prodding the tip of his cock along your barely wet hole. Saliva was there but that wasn't really much at all. You still weren't turned on by any of this to begin with.

"Need you to be.. You. Not your mother."

He moved one hand along your neck and the other on your thigh while he was in between your legs. You kept squirming and all, but you knew it was futile. Nothing was gonna work and he was gonna have his way with you whether you liked it or not. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it made your stomach twist bad. Seeing your drunk, visibly pissed father above you with his cock prodded along your entrance left you uneasy but you had to suck it up. Unfortunately.

Soon enough, he's slowly pressing his cock into you, groaning quietly from your extreme tightness. Again, you were dry with the saliva barely doing the job but he loved the feeling of your insides. You on the other hand, you felt awful. You felt the stinging pain and the pressure he added just to get his cock inside of you — But eventually he had gotten all of it inside, burying deep into you while panting and grunting above you. Then.. There it was, blood. He noticed something wet, gazing down and pulled out for a second to see some blood pouring out of you along with it coating his cock.

Normally, he'd freak out but seeing this now and realizing you'd be wet. He took the chance almost immediately.

"I'm your first? ..Ah.."

He murmured suddenly sliding back into you with ease — using your blood as lube while rocking his hips back and forth. You hated every second of it, you wanted it to end but you started to slowly falter on fighting. Laying there beneath him, feeling his fingertips on the side of your neck, brushing at the skin as he thrusted at a slow pace. But the impact was rough. He didn't even give you the time to adjust or anything, he just went for it.

"L..Leon.."

You didn't dare to call him "dad" or "daddy", you just saw him as 'Leon' during this. Not your 'dad'. He gazed down, eyes darkening when he saw you - All bruised in the face, teary eyed and body aching from the pain. He grunts, thrusting rougher now from your words. He didn't seem to like that either though, moving his hand from your neck and smacked you once again.

"Call me by what I am.."

"..I-"

"Sweetheart.."

He growls, cupping your face again while picking up the pace with his thrusts. He was getting more aggressive with you and your fragile body, nearly bruising your poor cervix from how deep he shoved himself in. He made sure to be balls deep in you, feeling your warmth, your wetness and more. He reveled in it, staring right into your eyes.

"D..daddy.."

You managed to slip that out, wincing from the tip constantly prodding along your cervix, over and over again. You were a mess, just crying instead of moaning but he was so busy enjoying your warmth. He couldn't stop himself at all even with you wanting it to end.

_

Ringing. Just more ringing.. You have no idea how long it's been while you were now laid out on your tummy. On the floor where blood was splattered everywhere and along your face. You had managed to pull away earlier but he tossed you to the ground, grabbed a handful of your hair and kept pushing your head down on the floor till your face bruised up more. You were certain you passed out from it and he violated you that whole time, probably not even noticing you were blanked out. But regardless of that — In the present setting though, you were drooling with your broken moans slipping out.

"So much better than your mother. You know how to keep a man satisfied unlike her.."

He sighs quietly, slowly slipping out of you for a moment. Dried blood and liquids were on your inner thighs while you leaked with your own fluids. He had his limits, he was getting old.. So it was a little straining when he held his climax back for such a long period of time. The man was getting old after all.

He pumped his cock a bit over your shaken figure and groaned, letting his cum spurt out in ropes over your ass cheeks. You felt gross by the end of it but for him? He still didn't quite feel anything but satisfaction.

"I love you..."

He muttered, leaning over you and pulled the hair from over your face. You didn't say anything for a while, still recovering from the shock you have had the past couple of hours as you glance at him with swollen eyes. Silence lingered and at some point he felt a strain on his chest when he watched you quietly. That satisfaction from earlier didn't last at all. He had a uneasy expression plastered on his face, staring down at you with tears in his eyes now.

"I didn't mean to hurt you.."

He continues speaking, pulling you upwards against him in a warm embrace. You didn't have any room to speak to him and when he had you pulled up, you winced in pain from the movement. He did so much to you in one night, your body was too sore and broken down.

He stared down at you, seeing you slowly hug him back. You hated him for everything he did but his warmth and embrace was all you could really get as 'comfort'. You held onto him weakly, still not saying a word — You had nothing to say at all. You wanted nothing more but that silence you always hated.

You regretted ever admitting the choices you made that day. You should've kept your mouth shut. But the damage was already done, you couldn't do nothing more but lay there in his arms with tears streaming from your eyes which started to sting more than it already was.

"Love you, my angel...."

He repeats again, burying his face in your hair on the top of your head while his embrace tightened with you in it. You just kept still with your eyes wide open before you managed to quietly respond back.

"Love you too, dad..."

You put the idea in his head and you were the only one to blame for him acting this way.

It's your fault. Angel.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #realdad!leon #dad!leon kennedy #🕍 — detowrites

[iheartcake123]

☁️control-sunato banda☁️

a/n: i haven’t been able to find any banda fics so i chose to write one lmao. im currently obsessed w him🤭

warnings: spoilers from S2 i guess (?), mentions of killing

Masterlist

sunato banda x reader

you sighed loudly as you leaned against a wall, watching people enter the prison to also take part in this next game that you joined.

jack of hearts.

the game? prison cell.

the voice from the speakers explained the rules. you had to guess the suit that appeared at the back of the collar that the game made everyone wear before beginning.

you couldn’t see your own suit and after each round the suit would change. you also couldn’t use reflective object to see what suit you had and no violence could be used to kill people. each round would last for an hour and at the end of each round you needed to step into a cell and guess which suit you had. if you guessed wrong, then the game would end for you. your collar would explode and you’d die.

the difficulty of the game was that the game was a test of who you could trust. the jack of hearts had also joined in the game secretly as a participant. and the game would only be cleared once the jack of hearts is killed.

simple right?

not quite.

the game could potentially go on forever if everyone just worked together. however, that was never going to happen. eventually, someone would cave in and lie which would cause a chain reaction of betrayal.

you just hoped the people who had joined the game weren’t all idiots. you wanted to live.

some people chose to work as a big group, while others went into pairs.

you scanned the room, examining each person up and down. you were trying to figure out who best you could trust. and also who could be the jack of hearts.

it was easy to determine which people were more trust worthy than some of the others. however, you were drawn to one person in particular. a guy who was slim, tall and wearing a blue shirt. he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

he was talking to another participant and it looked like they were going to form an alliance. you wanted to join them too, out of all the participants you wanted to study them the most. especially, blue shirt guy as he had a strange but also a strong aura to him.

for a second you debated on how you should play out your personality. would you show them your real personality or your fake one? you needed to keep your guard up. you had to stay in control.

so, your fake one it was.

“let’s be friends” you had overheard the blue shirt guy say as you approached the pair.

“excuse me, i was wondering if i could join and make your pair a trio?” you asked sweetly putting on your innocent face “my name is y/n and i haven’t been able to find myself a partner. i get a little nervous in big groups so i’d prefer a trio”

“yeah of course, we call all tell each other which suit we get with each round! is that okay banda? my name is matsushita by the way” the one who paired up with who you now knew as banda said with a small smile.

“why not? we can all be friends” banda smirked eyeing you up and down.

“we can start with you matsushita. if you turn around we can tell you your suit” you smiled at him and he nodded before turning around.

you briefly looked at banda who without hesitation told matsushita his suit.

“it’s spade” he said and you nodded in agreement.

“yes you got spade” you confirmed and matsushita bowed as a thank you.

“we can do banda next” matsushita suggested and banda hummed in agreement before turning around.

“your suit is club” you told him and matsushita confirmed it.

“turn around” banda said after turning around to face you.

keeping up your act you acted surprised at his monotone voice as he told you what to do.

you brushed your hair out the way and banda read what suit you had.

“heart” he said and once matsushita confirmed it you thanked them both.

it would’ve been a lie if you said you weren’t a teeny bit nervous about the first round. you still didn’t know if you could fully trust the pair that you had joined.

however, after you made it through the first round, you started to ease up.

you knew you couldn’t fully trust both of them but for now staying with them was the best move considering at any moment someone could buckle and start killing people.

banda and matsushita were talking about it. the only way the game would start getting anywhere is if the jack of hearts starting killing people or if someone afraid of getting killed, starts lying to kill other people. until that starts happening, everyone would be stuck in this prison forever.

“what’s your problem? hurry up and tell me, fucker!” another participant yelled as he threw his ‘partner’ on the floor.

in an instant you went over to help him up, banda followed aswell.

“are you okay?” you asked and the guy nodded.

banda came from behind and began to help the guy up so you decided to step back a bit.

“tell him ‘club’” banda whispered and you just about managed to hear him.

without reacting you moved back to where you originally stood.

you were impressed but you didn’t let it show. that was smart move from banda to get things moving.

the game had only just begun.

as you expected, people began to buckle under pressure after the first person died.

as each round went on, more and more people began to die.

‘friends’ turning on ‘friends’.

you also began to notice different patterns from certain participants. people were generally easy to read, it was all about keeping a close eye on the small details.

you had also made a friend. his name was chishiya and when you weren’t with your ‘teammates’ you were with him discussing different possibilities. you both understood each other well and around him you felt as though you didn’t need hide your real personality.

“you can’t be good hearted in these games. you have to play your cards right in order to win. being a part of this world gave me control and i intend to keep it that way. the jack of hearts will slip up somewhere and that’s when i’ll catch them out” you told chishiya as he nodded his head.

“im impressed, you aren’t who i thought you’d be” he commented with a chuckle and you sent him a quick smile before walking off to avoid your ‘teammates’ seeing you with chishiya.

“what shall i get?” you mumbled to yourself as you looked at the snack selection in front of you. the area was quiet and you were the only one in there.

your hand reached for a pack of crackers and as you grabbed it, you felt someones presence behind you.

when you turned around you pretended to be shocked and jumped back.

“you scared me!” you put your free hand over your heart as you let out a fake laugh “did you need me to tell you your suit?”

as you waited for his answer you kept the fake smile plastered on your face.

“you’re still playing that game y/n?” banda sighed with an evil look in his eyes “it’s been 10 hours..don’t you get tired?”

“huh? what do you mean?” you then tried your best to keep the smile on your face.

“i know it’s all fake. i could see right through you from the start. especially when you heard me tell that guy to kill the bully. you acted like you didn’t hear me tell him but, i know you did. you know, there aren’t many people who’d approach someone like me” he continued and you eyed his hands as he pulled out a blade.

he held the blade to your side and you finally let your natural personality show.

“so what? you think im the jack of hearts?” your smile dropped and you looked him dead in the eye.

“you know what i think? you’re brave. for you to willingly join a murderer in a game like this…it confirms that you’re not innocent” he smirked and pressed the blade to cause some pressure on the side of the body where he held it.

a lightbulb went off in your head and you finally realised why banda looked so familiar. he was on tv and in the paper for killing 4 women. he was supposed to be serving a life sentence, yet here he was in this alternate universe. everything about his murders was calculated, he was the one in control.

“unbelievable, you’re THE sunato banda” you let out a laugh followed by a sigh “i saw you on tv, you’re not as bad and scary as they made you out to be..i’ll admit though that you are harder to read”

“tell me. why are you participating in the games in this land? until now, i haven’t been in a land as beautiful as this one” banda pulled the blade away and held it up to your cheek instead.

“control. in this world, im in control of everything and i intend to keep it that way. you and i both know that if you wanted to use that blade on me, you would’ve done so already” you lifted your hand and pushed his arm away so that the blade wasn’t near your cheek.

banda smirked and stepped backwards.

“you and i are quite similar” his eyes flicked between your eyes and lips.

“i think so too” you leaned in, lips almost touching his ear as you whispered “except, that im the one who’s in control”

without a second thought, you brought your hand to cup the side of his face and moved your lips towards his. you then closed the gap and pressed them onto his. surprisingly, banda reciprocated the kiss and his hands moved to your waist where he held you in place.

once you both pulled away from the kiss, banda smugly grinned, the grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“if i were you i wouldn’t be so sure that you’re the one in control” his voice was low and he then let go of your waist with some force before silently walking away and exiting the room.

had you ever been the one in control around him?

#alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #kdrama imagine #alice in borderland imagine #banda sunato #sunato banda #banda x reader #banda imagine #writing #kdrama x reader

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

You are an amazing writer and I absolutely adore your Eddie fics!

I am obsessed with the idea of the reader being Dustin's sister, so can you write one where he asks her to take the Hellfire club to the pool (her and Eddie just started secretly dating) and Eddie finds out she has a hidden tattoo (on her back or somewhere he wouldn't normally look but can be seen in a swimsuit) and thinks it's hot af?

Sure thing, here you go. I hope you like it :) Sorry it took so long haha

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Also on: AO3

“Are you really going to wear that?” Dustin asked you as he looked at your clothes from the door.

“Why not?” You asked right back at your little brother, turning around to him with a lifted eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Looks rather…” He trailed off for a moment and you crossed your arms over your chest. “You know what, I’m sure it will look great on you.”

He gave you a toothless grin and you shook your head with a small smile. The Hellfire Club was supposed to meet up at the pool, he was already ready and dressed up while you were still trying to figure out what to wear.

Normally you wouldn’t stress about it but this time, it was special. Eddie and you had just started dating a week ago and this would be the first time he’d see you in a swimsuit. A rather skimpy bikini, if you were honest to yourself. You wanted to impress him, maybe rile him up a bit, see how he would react.

Just the thought made you grin. Would he try to ignore how you looked? Would he be jealous of some other guys looking at you? It was really exciting to think about it.

“We’re going to be late if you keep looking at the mirror, you know.” Dustin once again piped up and you groaned. He was right but you really weren’t sure. The short tank top and short jeans looked good enough, the bikini already under those clothes but it still felt a little off.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you sighed, admitting you won’t be able to fix whatever was bothering you. Dustin laughed a little before he made his way outside. You grabbed your back, following him and getting into the car, being the driver once again.

The two of you jammed a little together in the car as you always did before arriving at the pool. It was rather empty for now because it was cloudy and windy but you were convinced in two hours it would be packed inside.

Both of you quickly made their way inside, already spotting Eddie, Gareth and Mike in a rather secluded area.

“Hey there,” you said with a small wave as you arrived. As soon as Eddie saw you, he started to smile brightly at you, trying to be as subtle as possible about his excitement to finally see you.

Thing was, the two of you were dating but no one knew, not even your brother. For now it was just the two of you, wanting to see where all of this would go before anyone would start to meddle in your business.

“Welcome to the first time in forever the Hellfire Club goes to the pool, I’d rather be in a stinky basement,” Eddie said with a dramatic voice and Gareth laughed.

“I don’t know man, have we ever been to the pool as a club event?” Gareth asked and Eddie shook his head.

“No, but those poor freshmen begged me and were supported by that lady in front of us, how am I supposed to say no?” Eddie looked at him, then at Mike and Eddie and then at you, the smile still there.

You placed your blanket down next to them, making sure you sat close to Eddie while Dustin already seated himself next to Mike.

“Did you just call my sister a lady? She might be a lot but for sure not that,” Dustin said with a chuckle and you glared at him.

“Shut it,” you shot at him, followed by a small smirk. You couldn’t really be mad at him. Then you turned back to Eddie, smiling at him. “Where’s the rest?”

Eddie shrugged, laying down on his blanket. “Who knows. They’ll either arrive or not.” He then turned his head toward you, lowering his voice. “The most important person is here anyway.” With a wink he then closed his eyes, enjoying the sun on his skin.

He might pretend he hated it here but he didn’t hate it as much with you here.

“We’re going to test the waters,” Mike said and got up with Dustin.

“I’ll come, making sure you two babies don’t drown,” Gareth said with a laugh as he got up, following the other two.

“Ah, peaceful,” Eddie exclaimed as the others were gone and he sat up, putting a hand on your leg, caressing it slightly.

“You were really just waiting for them to leave, eh?” You asked and there was the urge to just kiss him. Maybe later, not now in public.

You got up, pulling the shirt over your head and shrugging off your shorts, only leaving you in your bikini.

“Absolutely. If it was my choice I’d never share a moment with anyone else but you,” he muttered as he watched you undress. “And man, I wish I had you to myself right now.”

A soft chuckle left your mouth at his words and you spun around for him, hoping he liked what he saw.

“Whoa, hold up. What was that?” He grabbed your wrist and pulled at it slightly, making you turn around again.

You weren’t sure what he meant when it dawned on you. The tattoo.

“You’ve got a fucking tattoo and didn’t tell me?” He asked, looking at you with big eyes.

“You never asked,” you answered with a chuckle and he groaned.

“It looks fucking metal.” He let go of your wrist, sitting up a little straighter before he let his fingers run over the tattoo at your lower back. “What are those? Bats? Alienbats?”

You laughed and then shrugged. “Bats for sure. The artist called them monster bats,” you explained.

His fingers glided over the torn wings of the beasts, their long tails and it made you shiver.

“That’s hot as shit, I hope you know that,” he muttered and then got up, grabbing your waist to turn you around to face him. “I want to see it more often.”

“I’m sure you will,” you whispered and you felt heat rising up inside of you.

“The water is amazing, you should get in!” Dustin suddenly said as he almost jumped out of the bush next to you, dripping with water.

Eddie and you quickly took a step back, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible.

“You know what, cooling down sounds amazing right now,” Eddie said and you noticed the way he walked was a little awkward.

It made you laugh which caused him to glare at you with a playful smile around his lips. He would for sure see the tattoo again later that night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #henderson!reader

[jelliezellie]

ooo~, how about a postwar Levi and Reader fic where they live together and secretly love each other but they are afraid to confess. they don't even know how. maybe they go out on a "date" (aka just walking around town in Marley, shopping, going to the park and secretly admiring each other) andddd... I literally have no idea 😬 I'm sorry, I tried

A/N: I love this <3 It sounds so cute! I’m pretty sure that Levi spends his time with Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon after he loses the use of his legs so I put them in here. I hope this is good enough for your request. And I'm sorry it took so long, I've had a lot of requests and not a lot of time to write them. Thanks!

Dates in Marley

You and Levi sat together, eating the breakfast that Gabi and Falco made. They were often impudent brats, as Levi described them, but you found them to be friendly enough. You jolted every time the door to your shared house opened. It was always Gabi and Falco (sometimes Onyankopon to apologize for the intrusion) and each time, you let them in. They all seemed to care about Levi just as much as you did, making him breakfast in bed and teasing him a little too much about his condition. 

He pretended to hate the banter, but if they didn’t visit for a few days, he’d ask where they were.

“Levi,” Falco exclaimed, sitting with you two, “tell us again—what was the scariest abnormal titan you faced? Other than Zeke and Eren, of course.”

Levi glared at him, rolling his eyes. “I hate repeating myself.”

“Just tell us!” Gabi exclaimed.

You listened in carefully, excited to hear about his war stories whenever he was willing to tell them. When he looked at you, listening intently, he sighed in defeat. “Zeke was the worst titan I went up against. I already told you. It took three tries to kill him.”

“Okay, but what about another titan? One we don’t know?” Gabi pressed.

Levi rolled his eyes. “There was one… significantly annoying one. Rod Reiss—he was bigger than the Colossus Titan, and he only ever crawled around. He was too big and his legs were too weak. But,” he paused, glancing at you to see your excited face, “when he arrived at the Orvud District, he had rubbed off his ribs and face. His titan organs spilled out and it was disgusting.”

Falco shuddered in revulsion, sliding his plate of waffles away. “I lost my appetite…”

Gabi, on the other hand, seemed enthralled. Her eyes were wide and she grinned, nodding excitedly. “And? How’d you kill him?”

“My squad, at the time, cut off his hands. Eren shoved gunpowder barrels into his mouth and he exploded.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?!”

He nodded. “Yeah. We managed to kill him, though.”

Gabi and Falco spoke to each other excitedly, discussing the event they just learned about. 

There was a knock at the door and you sprung from your seat, opening it. Onyankopon greeted you with a smile. “Good morning, Y/n. May I come in?”

“Of course! Gabi and Falco are just over there—”

“Actually, I wanted to speak with you.” He pulled you aside and Levi’s head snapped back to the two of you before looking back at the kids. Onyankopon smiled. “Levi hasn’t been outside in a while. I was hoping you could take him to the shopping district while I take Gabi and Falco out to the fair. He needs some time away from them, I think.”

You smiled, your cheeks turning pink. “I mean, I’d love to go shopping with him, but I’m afraid it’ll be awkward.”

“Why’s that?” he teased. Onyankopon knew about your feelings for Levi. You talked about him far too much and when Onyankopon asked, you told him how you felt. “I’m kidding,” he said, nudging you as your face turned red, “just take Levi out. Maybe he feels the same.”

You scoffed. “I doubt it…”

“Go.”

When you turned around, Levi was staring at you from the table. He quickly looked away and gave his plate to Falco so he’d wash it. You sighed, approaching Levi. “Hey, let’s go shopping.”

“What?”

“You haven’t been outside in forever. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” 

With little protest, he rolled his chair to you. You grabbed the handles to the back of it and started pushing him out the door. “What are we shopping for?” He asked, looking up at you.

“Whatever we want.” He grunted, squinting as you left the house. The sun shone down on you and you stared up at the fluffy clouds against the blue sky. You smiled. “See, Levi? It’s a beautiful day out. We’ll have fun.”

“Right.”

You grinned and sped up, hurrying to the market. A big fountain made of marble leaked water out of the top. Shopping stands were everywhere and you couldn’t help but inhale the smell of lobster. “So, what do you want to do first? Clothes shopping? Food?”

He sighed. “Let’s go look at the clothes, I guess.” You rolled him to a stand with dresses, suits, and other fancy clothes. You didn’t miss the smile that appeared on his face when you picked up an elegant-looking piece of clothing and held it to your body. 

“How do I look?”

Levi cleared his throat, looking away. “Good. You look,” he paused, his eyes flickering to you. “You look really good.”

Your face turned red and you put it back on the hanger. “Do you see any clothes you like?”

He thought for a moment. “If they have a suit that matches that.” He replied, pointing to the article of clothing you had. “I like the colors…” he mumbled, but the pink on his cheeks didn’t lie. 

You smiled and found a suit that matched the colors of the clothes you found. Levi gave you a brief nod, biting back a smile as you grinned and bought the clothes. He shoved some money in your pocket and you pretended not to notice. You had to or else he’d insist on paying you. 

Next, you saw a stand offering ice cream. “Do you want some ice cream?”

“God, no. It’s so cold… Food is meant to be hot.”

“Alright,” you mumbled, chuckling at his pickiness. “Oh!” You pointed at a small shop with a teacup out front. “It looks like they sell tea. Do you want to go there?” 

He looked up at you. “You realize tea isn’t the only thing I like, right? I have hobbies. I have things I could be doing.”

“But you like tea, so we’re going to the tea shop,” you chirped, rolling him inside. He groaned and rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way they lit up when all of the different aromas flooded his senses. He looked around, trying not to make it obvious that he found the shop fascinating. “Oh, they have samples—” He rolled his chair away before you could finish speaking and tried a cup of Marleyan tea. 

You followed him with a smile. “Do you like it?”

Levi looked up at you. “It’s… alright. Black tea is better.” His eyes lingered on some teacups and you followed his gaze. 

“Do you want those?”

“No.” He’s a poor liar. You smiled softly as his head turned but his eyes stayed on the cups. You picked up two. 

“Well, I want them.” You paid for the cups and they were wrapped and placed delicately in a box, then a bag. You smiled and handed them to Levi. His cheeks were tinted pink as he pulled a cup out and examined it. You tilted your head. “Is there a reason why you like fancy teacups so much?”

He hesitated as his hand traced over the simple design. “When I was growing up, we didn’t have teacups.”

“You’re that old?” You teased.

“No!” He snapped. “I had poor living conditions. But when I finally got my hands on a real teacup, I couldn’t believe it. So, I held it,” he picked up the cup in the strange way he always did, struggling a bit with his missing fingers, “and drank from it like that.”

You smiled and rested your chin on his head, looking down at the cup in his lap. “Then I’ll find more fancy teacups for you.”

His smile grew a little. This time, he didn’t suppress it.

“Where to next?” You asked as you left the shop. 

He was staring past the market, at a park with a few small benches that looked out at the sea. You grinned and took him there, sitting with him. Seagulls squawked over you two as you sat in comfortable silence, holding the empty cups and watching the waves crash. 

“You were right,” Levi murmured. You tilted your head and looked at him. His silver eyes reflected the sun so perfectly—you could stare at them all day. “It was fun.”

You grinned and nudged him. “See? I told you, Marley can be fun.”

“It wasn’t Marley that was fun,” he muttered, clenching his fist. “It was you. You were fun. You took me clothes shopping and to a stupid tea shop and to this stupid, amazing park.” He returned your gaze. “And here I am, with stupid, amazing you.”

You couldn’t fight the blush that came to your face as you tried to respond, but nothing came out. Levi looked out at the sea again. “It’s pretty—the sea.”

“Isn’t it?” You replied, still processing his compliment(?) from his last statement.

His hand rested over yours. “I want to look at the sea with you more often.” 

“Me too,” you murmured, scooting closer. 

“The sea looks prettier when you’re here,” he said, turning to you with pink cheeks. “Y/n, I want to come here every day with you.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I like,” he paused, trying to get the words out. “I love you. And I know I don’t show it and I know I roll my eyes and I’m rude, but I—”

You cut him off by pressing your lips against his gently. It only lasted for a moment, but God, he could have sworn he saw his entire life flash before his eyes, every moment leading up to you. 

And from the distance, you were fairly sure you heard two kids exclaiming and laughing when you kissed, along with a too-polite man trying to calm them down.

#levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi aot #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot fanfic #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fluff #aot #aot fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman requests

[absurdthirst]

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

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 18.5K

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

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

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe they will actually put some damn clothes on you.” He grunts, appalled at how little clothes they wanted you to perform in. You were a fucking singer, not a stripper.

“Doubtful,” you say with a shrug as you make your way to the makeup chair. A hoard of people immediately emerging towards you with thousands of dollars worth of makeup that’ll make you look almost unrecognizable when they’re done. “Enjoy your emails.” You shoot back at him over your shoulder.

He huffs, slowly following you but keeping his eyes out for any potential issues. You don’t seem happy with this photo shoot, and if he needs to, he will tell them that you are leaving. You are a pain in his ass, but you deserve consideration. It should have been your choice to be here to begin with.

The interview is brief, she sits and asks the questions whilst you’re poked and prodded in hair and make up. Dave had set a few more ground rules than usual and banned them from asking ANY questions about your personal life and the interviewer is clearly pissed at the lack of artistic freedom she’s left to work with and after about twenty minutes of generic questions she pretty much gives up and announces that the majority of the interview will be focusing on the new album rather than gossip.

You roll your eyes as you're presented with your first outfit of the shoot, it shows more than you’re comfortable with but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you pull on the almost see through body con and make your way into the studio.

The photographer wastes no time walking up to you and grabbing at your waist, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug.

Dave always tries to hang around the edges of the photo shoot. Keeping a cup of ridiculously expensive - yet somehow horrible tasting - coffee in his hands in order to keep from looking like a hulking thug. He is there to be intimidating, yes, but it does no good to make people try to skitter away and hide. He frowns when the photographer’s fingers dig into your waist and he takes a step forward. His job is to protect you from unwanted threats and fans, but he has no problem telling a self important prick to get his fucking hands off you. “Okay.” He snaps. “Take the damn pictures. We don’t have all day.”

You spend the next ten minutes being contorted and molded into the most uncomfortable positions known to man. Your eyes seek Dave as the photographer makes a comment that makes you shudder and your stomach twist, before sending you off for your second outfit change. 

“Jesus,” you murmur as you look at the two piece swimsuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was supposed to be ironic, the set decorated like it was the middle of winter and you’re parading around in summer gear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before putting on the swimsuit and covering it with a robe and making your way back out to the studio.

Desperate to keep away from his judging glare you kept Dave out of your line of sight and dropped the robe with a grimace and exhale that screamed, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ The material had barely hit the floor before the creepy photographer was making a beeline straight over to you.

Dropping the coffee into the trash, Dave can see how uncomfortable you are. His face twisting into a deeper scowl as he charges forward and reaches you right as the twerp reaches you and grips the waistband of your outfit to yank the hips holes higher to show off more of you and damn near exposes your fucking cunt. “You’re done.” He spits, grabbing the man’s hand and twisting it around so that the fucker is helpless to move any way but where Dave directs him - which is away from you. “This is fucking done.” He growls again, ignoring the shouts and curses from the photographer and the people rushing over. “Go get dressed, princess.”

You nod your head at Dave and almost run back to the dressing room, unable to hide from the sound of Dave and the photographer yelling at each other.

You pull off the swimsuit and quickly dress back into your casual clothes before stepping out the door and calling Dave’s name. You know you’re about to be in for a world of hurt when your PR team and your parents hear that you didn’t complete the shoot, but you push down those worries and start making your way to the exit.

“- I don’t give a rat’s ass who the fuck you think you are.” Dave shouts, not backing down from the prima Donna in front of him. “You don’t fucking touch her. The shit you were making her do was boarderline sexual harassment and you aren’t going to do shit about it. Otherwise the local PD might get a tip about the fucking pound of coke you gave in here.”

You stand by the desk in reception waiting for him to come to you. “Dave,” you yell back towards the studio before deciding to go wait by the car.  The air feels thick and you’re not ready for the fall out that’s to come.

The photographer jerks back and Dave smirks a very pleased smile. One that says he’s gotten his point across. “Use what you’ve got, or fuck off. And don’t worry, I’ll tell her people myself.” He turns around and strides off, rushing towards the door to find you.

The sound of the studio door slamming makes you jump, you turn around to see Dave making his way over to you. “I’m so fucked,” you say as you pull on the door handle seconds after he unlocks it with his key fob, “My dad is going to be so pissed. He worked for months to get me a photoshoot with him.”

“He is a fucking coked up pervert.” Dave snarls, snatching the door from your hands and watching as you climb into the seat. “I’ll take the heat, don’t worry, princess.”

“Good luck with that,” you sigh, “Thank you though. I’ve learned to accept that kind of behavior and it was nice to have someone on my side for a change.”

"No one will touch you like that while I'm working to protect you." Dave promises darkly. "Fucker is lucky I didn't break his arm."

"Yeah?" you ask with a slight smirk, "You'd really protect me, huh?"

Dave rolls his eyes and turns to look at you when he goes to shut the door. "It's what I'm paid to do, princess." He reminds you, shutting the door and walking around the SUV.

You watch him as he rounds the car, before opening the door. "Is it too late to run another errand? I'm sure there's some dry cleaning we can pick up somewhere before dealing with this." 

He snorts and tosses you a smug smirk. "Someone's not ready to face daddy?" He asks mockingly before he starts the car. He doesn't answer you, but he pulls out of the parking lot and turns the opposite way from your house.

"Nope," you say putting extra emphasis behind the 'P' "You wanna go eat?"

Dave chuckles and looks back at the road after glancing at you. "It won't be five stars, Princess, but l'll take you to eat the best fucking food you've ever had in your life.”

"Sounds good." You say with a smile before looking over at him, he seems the most relaxed he has all day and you wonder if it's because you're not at his throat for once.

It's not an incredibly far drive, but Dave pulls off the main boulevard and enters a gated community, slowing at the wrought iron fencing and pressing a button on the little pad inside the SUV to allow the gate to swing open silently. Nodding to the man in the guard shack as he drives through and down the street.

You raise an eyebrow as you take in the rows and rows of houses with meticulously kept lawns, "Where are you taking me, Mr. York?"

"Oh it's Mister York now." He snorts. "Told you, I'm taking you to have the best damn food you've ever had in your life." He reminds you. "At my house."

"Something tells me you like being called things that assert your authority." you giggle, "Do you cook? Or do you have a secret wife you've never mentioned?"

He rolls his eyes again and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, reconsidering this entire thing. It was stupid to bring you to his house. "You think I have a wife?"

"I don't know," you say with a shrug, " know three things about you. Your name, your job and I learned today that you like strawberry milkshakes."

Dave grunts and pulls up to another gated driveway and presses the next button on the panel. "Now you know where I live."

You hum in content. His house is beautiful, the lawn is meticulous and clearly he takes pride in every aspect of maintaining his home. "It's a beautiful house.”

"It's secure." Despite the fact that Dave took pride in maintaining the type of home he had always dreamed of when he was a boy, the security was the most important thing. It takes some doing to get to him. The car pulls up into the garage and he cuts the engine after closing the door behind it. "Let's go inside."

You climb out of his car and follow him into his house. It's just as meticulous inside and as it is outside. "You have a beautiful home Dave. What's for lunch?"

"French onion soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." It doesn't sound fancy but he learned it from the girl he had been sleeping with when he was in France and he would never eat it a different way. The soup was already made, he had done that last night and it would be quick and easy to reheat it and make the sandwiches. 

"That sounds incredible," you say as you take a seat, "Never pegged you as a cook." You look around the room and note that lack of personal touches, no photos, nothing to indicate a wife or kids. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"When would I have time for a girlfriend?" He asks, striding over to the fridge to start pulling out the necessary ingredients. "I'm with you, and when I'm not with you, I'm reading reports that says I need to spend more time with you"

You hum in response, "Does that bother you?" You ask as he hands you a glass of water. "You must get... frustrated."

"I get frustrated when you are mouthy and obstinate. Not caring about your own safety." Dave grunts, removing his jacket and showcasing the double pistols under each arm from the holsters he wears.

"Fuck," you say out loud. "Is that really necessary?" You try to ignore the way your clit begs for some attention at the sight of his broad shoulders stretching the material of his shirt.

"What? You want perverts grabbing you and trying to kiss you?" He asks, lifting a brow. He knows you don't know about the stalker so he keeps it generalized. "Rooting through your trash can for your used tampons?"

"I don't think anyone's rooting through my garbage." you say with a shocked giggle. "I appreciate that you care... about the job that is.”

"That's because I had them change the procedures." It's shocking how much was being kept from you, but that was his job as well.

"What procedures?" You ask before taking a sip of water. And taking another glance around the room. 

Dave sighs slightly. "All your...intimate trash is either taken off property and disposed of, or incinerated. Personnel are monitored to make sure that they aren't taking items and selling them."

"Oh." You take another small sip of your water, your throat feeling extremely dry all of a sudden and then you raise an eyebrow, "What else are you keeping from me?"

"Do you really want to know all the details of your tour, princess?" He asks sarcastically as he spoons soup into bowls and shakes his head. "No, you don't." He answers for you.

"No wonder my Dad wanted to hire you," you murmur under your breath, "Two peas in a goddamn pod." You're pissed but you can't ignore the way your stomach growls at the smell of the soup, you can't remember the last time you had a meal that wasn't green and crunchy.

"I'm more dangerous than your father." Dave tells you simply as he slices a loaf of sourdough so he can make the sandwiches.

You scoff loudly and roll your eyes at him, "Right."

"Think what you want, princess." He huffs. "I doubt your father has a body count."

"A body count?" You ask with a confused look in your eyes, "What's yours?"

Dave turns around and levels a bland look at you. "I've killed more men than you'd want to know, princess."

"When you were in the military?" You ask. Surprising yourself at how calm you are after his shocking admission.

"Before I started protecting wealthy celebrities." He chuckles. "Pays better."

"Mhmm," you hum back, "Can't imagine protecting 'spoiled princesses' gives you the same thrill though." Your fingertip coats around the rim of your water glass as you watch him finish up the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Tell me something else about you."

Dave snorts and rolls his eyes. "Less people shooting at me." He offers dryly. "Well, you know I've killed people, I cook, what else do you want to know?" He tilts his head curiously. 

You giggle at him. The serious expression paired with the adorable head tilt makes your insides heat up, "I don't know. What do you like to do when you're not working?"

"I don't have much free time." He's with you nearly twenty hours out of the day and only had a few days off a month. "A lot of the time is spent in bed."

"Oh," you mumble. You know you're pushing it, and you know he's likely to completely ignore your question or scold you for being so invasive but the question slips out before you have time to stop it, "Not just sleeping I suppose?"

Dave snorts and shakes his head. "When would I have time to find someone to fuck, princess? I can't just pick someone out like you can." He growls, unhappy with the lackluster choices in men you've paraded through your bedroom. Discreetly, of course, so daddy wouldn't find out.

Your laugh loudly at that, "Like it would take much. I can't imagine you're short of offers," you hate the twang of jealousy that you feel at the thought of anyone throwing themselves at him. "You probably walk into a bar and before you can sit there are multiple women begging you to take them home.”

"I don't go to bars." Dave knows what you're trying to ask, but he just keeps on avoiding telling you what you want to know. Enjoying the increasing look of frustration on your lips.

"Okay, so you use hook up apps?" You ask. Intent on not letting this go.

"Hell no," Dave snorts, shaking his head. "I don't fucking use those things, they invite trouble."

"Bullshit," you snort, "You're telling me you're not inviting a new lucky lady into your bed every night?"

"Why?" Dave smirks at you in the most condescending way possible. "Is the princess jealous?" He laughs, shaking his head. 

"Curious. Not jealous," you say ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. "So, you're what celibate?"

"Not celibate." Dave turns back to his sandwiches and flips them over in the pan. "I do alright when I want to.

"Anyone I know?" You ask, unable to hide the jealousy in your voice.

"Miranda makes it easy enough to get together when we need to release a little steam." Dave shrugs and doesn't even look over at you. He knows your face will be a sight but he wants to see what you say about him fucking your tour assistant. She was a beautiful woman and knew that it was just sex, so it worked.

You're pretty sure he saw the exact moment your heart stopped. "Miranda?" you croak out. "Wow. I guess you do make an attractive couple.”

"Couple." Dave scoffs. "No, we aren't a couple. We just fuck. Scratch each other's itches."

"Why her?"

"Convenience." Dave looks over at you and notes how you look like you're going to cry. "She wanted to cum and so did I, so it works when we want it to."

"So what? If someone wants to cum you'll provide that service as well? Or is it just my assistants that you feel the need to fuck?" Jealousy drips from every word spilling from your mouth.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Dave asks mockingly. "Someone's feeling neglected?" He knows you have a weird attraction to him despite hating his guts.

"Nope," you spit back completely unconvincingly, "Just interesting to find out what I'm paying you both to do."

Dave chuckles. "We fuck off the clock, princess. I don't steal time from you." It's laughable since he's not an hourly employee.

"Whatever," you mumble with a shrug. Annoyed with yourself for being so affected by this. He's made it clear that he doesn't have any desire to fuck you and you chide yourself for letting it bother you so much.

Dave snorts and just hums as he pulls the sandwiches off the heat and starts to plate them up. The last thing to do is melt the cheese on the soup and it will be done.

You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, ignoring the list of missed calls from your Dad and your PR team. You scroll through your unread messages and your fingers linger over an unopened text chain from a guy who you were briefly seeing, Chad, and you consider asking him if he's free to hook up later than afternoon. 

Needing to blow off some steam and try to rid yourself of the jealousy that has made itself home in the pit of your stomach. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Dave calling your name.

"Come eat." Dave slides the plate and bowl in front of the stool at the island.

"Smells good," you say before digging in. "Oh wow," you say with a moan after taking a large bite, "This is phenomenal."

Dave smirks slightly and stands across from you. "Of course it is." He murmurs, even though your praise makes his heart quicken.

"Holy fuck," you moan as you taste the soup. You're so used to eating the same thing pretty much everyday that you have to internally remind yourself to slow down. "This might be the most delicious thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Dave smirks and doesn't say what he is thinking. He can offer you something better, but he just hums and nods as he dips his sandwich in his soup. 

You stir your soup a few times before looking up at him. "Why not me?" you ask before dropping your spoon, "Why don't you want to fuck me?"

That makes him pause for a moment, staring at you and waiting for you to laugh. When you don't, he tilts his head and instead of answering you, he asks his own question. "Why would you want me to fuck you? I'm an asshole."

"Wasn't it you who recently said that all the guys I fuck are assholes?" you reply with a smirk. "You don't find me attractive?"

Dave grunts, knowing this is getting into dangerous territory. If you know how sexy he finds you, you will try to manipulate him, so his answer is just a shrug of his shoulders. "You wear too much fucking makeup."

"I can take it off," you say, looking directly in his eyes. "I can take anything you want off."

"Are you that desperate for a good fucking, princess?" Dave taunts. "You'd be a good girl and so anything I'd say so l'd fuck you?"

You feel conflicted. Your clit pulses with need from his words, but he's clearly mocking you. "You're a fucking asshole, Dave." The urge to get up and storm away from the table grows steadier but you refuse to give. Instead your eyes burn into his as you await whatever taunt he has next.

"I am a fucking asshole." Dave's grin is smug and cocksure as he leans in closer. "But obviously you like an asshole and I'm a bigger one than any of the little pussies you fuck." He shakes his head. "You let fucking losers touch you."

"Go fuck yourself," you spit back at him. Hating the way your body betrays you and despite his words being cruel they make you drip with arousal. "You know what... I'm pretty sure I heard Miranda talking about some limp dicked asshole she fucked once, I wonder who that could have been." You lie, wanting to piss him off in return.

Emotion slides off his face and his eyes flash with anger before they go carefully blank. You're trying to rile him up and you’re doing a good job. "Good thing she begs for my cock every chance she gets." He sneers. "Believe me, you'd feel my dick for days.

"I'm sure she does," you say with a roll of your eyes, knowing how much it pisses him off when you do so. You scoff loudly at him, "Is that what you tell yourself after you give whatever poor soul that finds its way into your bed a shitty orgasm?"

Dave growls for a second before he shakes his head. He knows you are trying to taunt him and it's working. "Keep it up, princess." He warns, jaw rocking in anger.

The growl he makes goes straight to your throbbing pussy, and despite the look on his face that tells you he's not playing with you, you can't help but throw out another jab, "How old are you now, Mr. York? Are you able to keep it up?"

It's the desire to shut your smart mouth that makes him snap. Coming around the island before you can react and grabbing your arms. "You want to find out, princess? I'll make that voice of yours raspy and hoarse for your next show."

"Fuck," you moan as he presses you up against the table. "Yes... Fuck, yes. Show me." you half whimper half plead as his body boxes you in.

This should be the point where he pulls back. Rejects the idea as impossible and takes you back to your people to rail about him being ridiculous and overbearing. But he doesn't.

Not when he sees the naked need in your eyes. Instead, Dave crushes his mouth against yours in a kiss designed to punish both of you.

The kiss is almost bruising, his hand twists around your hair as the other one possessively digs into your waist. He swallows every moan that you let slip into his mouth as his tongue battles yours from dominance. It's too much but not enough at once. You've never been kissed like this before and the only thought you're able to pull together is that you never want it to end.

He likes that you are still fighting him. Even if it's the stroke of your tongue against his. Demanding more of him, and pushing him. Growling into your mouth, Dave slides his hand around your hip and plunges it inside your stupid sweats that you are wearing and into your panties to find you hot and already wet.

You whimper into his mouth as he slides a finger into your slit, seemingly avoiding your bundle of nerves on purpose. "Fuck me," you murmur against his lips before reaching up to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His chuckle is dirty, leaning in and nipping the skin behind your ear to make you shiver as he slides his finger back to tease your entrance. "Maybe I can keep it up." He huffs in your ear right before he sinks his finger into your tight cunt.

You almost scream his name as one of his thick fingers pushes inside of you. "Fuck," you manage choke out as he curls it up inside of you. You're pretty sure it must be hurting him with how deep your fingernails dig into his arms, desperately grabbing onto him as your legs threaten to give way beneath you.

He chuckles and hums his approval for how vividly you react to him. "You want to go into the bedroom, princess? Stretch out on my bed and let me have you?"

"Yes, please," you mumble as your face nuzzles into his chest. "Ne-need you to fuck me."

He gives a dirty chuckle and pulls his finger out of you, enjoying the way you whine and your hips chase his hand. He doesn't guide you to the bedroom, instead he scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a heathen claiming his prize.

You yelp at the man as he manhandles you, taking the stairs with ease before laying you down on his large plush bed. Something tells you that you should wait for him to give your permission to speak in here, so you look up at him all wide eyed and patiently, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Why don't you put those stage moves to use? Strip for me." Dave growls, wishing you didn't have that fucking makeup on, but he's not going to make you wash it off right now.

"You want a show, Sir?" you tease, as you move to kneel on the bed. You slowly reach for the bottom of your shirt and inch it up slowly.

"You gonna tease me, or strip off so I can fuck you?" You've already started unbuttoning his shirt so Dave finishes it, shrugging out of the jacket and shucking the shoulder holster for his guns.

"Both," you reply petulantly before pulling your shirt the rest of the way off, and sliding off your bottoms. "I want you to taste me.

"Fucking brat." Dave growls, shaking his head as he peels off his shirt. Always trying to dictate things. "Taste you." He sneers. "You mean lick your cunt? Eat your pussy? Tongue fuck you?"

"Aw, have I struck a nerve? Does Daddy not like being told what to do?" You ask with an exaggerated pout, "Yes, Dave. I want you to lick my pussy."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bet none of those pussies actually made you cum, did they?" He challenges.

"All of this talk, Dave," you tut, "Yet you're doing nothing to prove you're any better."

"I’ll gag you." He threatens, even as he's kicking off his shoes and reaching for his belt.

"Bullshit," you counter back, "You wanna see if you make me scream your name too badly for that." You remove your bra and slowly remove your panties, making extra effort to bare yourself to him. Before laying back and spreading your legs for him. "Hurry. Up.” 

"Keep it up and you'll not even cum." He growls. "I'll fuck your throat and blow my load all over that pretty face of yours.”

"Doubt I'll cum anyway." You know you shouldn't keep pushing him, but you can't help yourself. "Sounds like that's not the first time you've thought about doing that, Dave. Would you want me to eat it or just lay there covered in your cum?"

"Eat it." Dave grunts, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swoop. "If you were just wearing it, I'd want to take a picture of it. And that can't happen."

"Oh wow," you gasp at the sight of him, and you don't need to look at his face to know he's wearing the smuggest smile right now. "I'd let you take a photo." You admit quietly whilst biting down on your bottom lip. 

"Never let anyone take a picture of you like that, princess." He growls as he stalks over to the bed. "Not even me.”

"I wouldn't let anyone else, but I'm just saying that I'd trust you. Are you going to touch me now?"

"Brat." He kneels on the bed and slaps your inner thigh before grabbing your ankle to drag you closer to him, instead of lowering himself to the bed, he is pulling your legs up over his shoulder to bring your cunt to his mouth.

Your hands scramble to find purchase on the bed as he lifts your hips up towards him, "Dave," you moan as he breath coats your inner thigh, "Please." The second his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds, you start to lose it, chanting his name over and over and he dives into you like a man dying of thirst.

There's never a civilized way to eat pussy and Dave doesn't even try to pretend there is. His sole goal is to make you eat your words and make sure you never forget when he touched you. Sucking your clit into his mouth while he reaches down and slaps one of your tits.

"Don't stop," you plead as he does something magical to your clit, you whimper at the sharp stinging on your breast but you want to beg him to do it more. You brokenly sob out a pitiful 'please' as he brings you closer to your high. 

Dave doesn't acknowledge you beyond a grunt. Doubling down on the flicks of his tongue and watching you. This can only happen once and he isn't going to deny himself seeing you shatter for him.

"I’ve wanted this so bad," you croak out before everything goes black. Pleasure ripping through your body as his arm tightens around you to keep you still, his tongue continuing its delicious assault on your bundle of nerves as you're reduced to a whimpering mess.

Your choked cry of pleasure is loud, ringing out and he groans against your clit. Slowing his tongue down and working you through the buckling of your hips with the most profound sense of smug pride that he could have. Watching your face as it rapidly cycles through expressions as you cum.

Slowly everything starts coming back into focus, your thighs still shaking from the way he just completely shattered with your earth. "Oh, that was... wow." You say with a giggle. 

"Thought you said I wouldn't make you cum?" Dave huffs with a smirk on his face.

You want to hit him back with a witty retort but it dies on your tongue, instead you push yourself up when he drops your hips and smash your lips to his. Moaning at the taste of you still clinging to his lips.

It's a little too easy to wrap his arms around you and kiss you. Letting you set the tone of this one as he holds you. Dave grunts and he cups the back of your head and pushes his tongue into your mouth just like he had to your cunt.

You moan into his mouth and sink your fingernails into his shoulder blades pulling him closer to you. His cock throbs against your stomach as you bite down on his bottom lip.

"Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering in your chest. The way you're unable to stop looking into his eyes already tells you that you're fucked, but you ignore that feeling and concentrate on just feeling him. 

Humming, Dave pulls away from you. Watching you for a moment before he nods and pushes you back down onto the bed. Climbing over you to straddle your waist and he looks down at you with his cock pressing against your stomach. "Beg me." He orders, smirking at you. "I want to hear you beg me to fuck you."

It's unbelievable to you how quickly you're at his mercy, the urge to please him outweighing the urge to challenge him and so with absolutely no fight you're like putty in his hands. "Please, Dave," you whisper, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes, "Please fuck me. Fuck. You can do whatever you want to me, be as rough as you need. Use me however you want. Please. Please fuck me. I need to feel you. I.... I need you. Please."

Reaching down, Dave squeezes your breast before he starts to circle your nipple with his finger. Flicking it over the peaked tip and making you moan. "You look good like this, princess." He shuffles back and pulls your thighs out from under him to wrap around his waist.

The noises he so easily plucks from you fill the room, as you continue to be entirely at his mercy. "Yeah?" you ask, keening at his praise, "You like me spread out naked in your bed, huh, Mr. York?"

"What do you think?" He takes his cock and grips it tightly while he slides it through your folds, teasing you with it. Making sure he presses against your clit as he wets himself with your cum.

"I hope so," you reply as he makes you hiss. Your clit is still pulsing and a little overstimulated from your orgasm. "You gonna make me beg some more or are you going to push that big fat cock inside my pussy, sir?"

Dave chuckles at the quick way you try to push him to fuck you. Debating on drawing it out, he decides against it. Instead, he lines up and rather than sinking in slowly, he snaps his hips forward and splits you open in the space of a heartbeat.

The scream of pleasure that falls from your lips as he fills you to the hilt is sinful. It's overwhelming, the thickness of him is something you've never experienced. Even the few toys you've experimented with haven't been as girthy as his cock, and it takes a few moments for your pussy to adjust to the size of him. You whimper as he grits something about how 'he knows it's a lot to take,' as you involuntarily clench down around him. You give him the signal to start moving after pressing your lips to his collarbone.

He grunts as he pulls his hips back, feeling the way your walls drag against his cock and you are possibly the tightest cunt he's ever fucked. He knows he hurt you, his cock is thick, but you're squirming under him and wanting more. "Such a little whore." He chuckles darkly, looking down and watching your lips spread wide as he moves. "Want me to wreck you? Make it hard to sit down, princess?"

You simply nod your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continues to stretch you out. You feel completely overwhelmed by him but in the best possible way. "Please, Dave," you beg as he notches against something incredible inside of you.

It makes him grin when he sits up so he can push your legs back. Change the angle even more plus it gives him the distance to keep from kissing you the entire time. Your fingers dig into his arms and he hums. "Hang on."

You feel a little disappointed that his lips are no longer hovering over yours, but the feeling is fleeting as it's replaced by something extraordinary. The angle of his cock rubbing up something inside of you that you weren't aware existed.

Every thrust pushes you further into the mattress, pushing you up the bed as he snaps his hips forward with a single determined goal, making you scream his name.

The room is filled with the sound of your moans and whimpers, "Please," you mumble over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but being unable to stop. You've never cum without clitoral stimulation before now, but the way his cock drags against nirvana inside of you has you threatening to fall over that cliff at any moment.

He grunts, shifting. his hips and he reaches down between the two of you. Rubbing your clit goes against what he wants to do, but he's overheard you talking enough that he knows it's what you need. "Fuck- fuck you keep squeezing me." He pants out, his thumb rubbing hard circles around your bundle of nerves. "You're gonna soak me. You know you wanna."

The added addition of his thumb on your pulsing clit makes you shiver with anticipation, your orgasm is already teetering and you know you're about to be thrown over the edge. "Kiss me," you plead and he simply shakes head no and increases the pace of his thrusts, his thumb doubling down on its efforts as you start to come undone beneath him. Your pussy clamps down around him hard and you scream his name as you cum, flooding his cock and soaking him as he demanded.

You have gotten to him. He's broken his own self imposed rules of never getting too close to the client. He was supposed to care about your safety, your well being. Not give a shit about your orgasms, or the way you look when you cum. He bares his teeth and takes it out on you. Speeding up and making sure that his thrusts are punching the head of his cock against the spongy cervix deep inside your cunt as he tries to fuck away the realization that he's in too deep.

He pounds relentlessly into you, chasing his own orgasm as he mindlessly starts to build another up for you. Every drag of his cock makes your legs tremble more and more. You never want him to stop and you want to feel him buried deep inside of you whenever he needs relief. "Fill me up," you plead as your third orgasm washes over you. It takes you both by surprise as you clamp down hard around his throbbing cock. As he continues to thrust into you the realization that he may have ruined all other men for you hits you like a tonne of bricks.

"Can't." Dave growls out, twitching at the idea of filling you up and the next swing of his hips nearly makes him cum, but he can't risk getting you pregnant. He would ruin you and he can't do that. "You- it's too- too risky."

"IUD," you whine in response, "Wanna feel all of you."

That does it for Dave, the sound of need rumbling in his chest as he flattens himself over your body and drills his cock as deep as he can work himself. Watching you as he starts to pump you full of his cum with a groan of your name.

"Holy shit," you pant as he fills you up, "That was... you're incredible." You giggle. He stills inside of you and you think you'd be content to stay here in this moment forever. You want to ask him to kiss you again but you don't, instead you just look up at him and bask in the afterglow. "No one has ever made me cum before," you admit with another giggle. "I thought I'd just have to rely on my vibrator forever."

He throbs inside you for another moment before he chuckles and starts to pull out of you. "Then you have been fucking the wrong boys." He groans at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt, taken by it. Wanting to push it back into your cunt and keep it there with his fingers until he realizes that he can't do this again. Shuffling back and standing, he runs his hand through his hair. "Use the bathroom or whatever you need, I'll get ready to take you back."

"Oh, okay," you reply, feeling your face fall at how quickly he moves away from you. You push yourself up off the bed and scramble around looking for your clothes. You pick up your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way into the bathroom. Once in the bathroom you clean yourself up and start to get dressed. Realizing that you left your panties somewhere in his room but deciding not to bother him as he clearly wants you out of his house. So you pull on your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way downstairs to find him. Forgetting about your discarded panties in the process.

Downstairs, Dave sighs, redressed in some clothes from the dryer and mentally trying to put back up the barriers between you and him. He needed to be objective, not emotional and he had realized while he was fucking you that you've gotten under his skin. You are his client, not his girlfriend.

"Hey," you mumble as you enter the kitchen and see him standing there waiting for you. "Did I do something wrong?" you ask before slipping on your shoes. He barely glances over at you as you do so.

"No." Dave continues to clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. "Are you ready, princess?" He asks, closing the door to the machine and turning around to look over at you. "We need to get you back."

"Yeah," you say quietly, "I'm ready." You pick your phone up from his kitchen table and follow him out to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for his incoming speech about how it's safer for you to be in the back but it doesn't come. He doesn't glance over in your direction, he simply switches on the ignition and waits for you to click on your seatbelt and starts to drive away. 

The drive back is quiet. He doesn't look over at you but he feels your eyes on him every few seconds. Refusing to start a conversation with you when you clearly want to. It's better this way, especially since this cannot happen again.

Your fingernails dig into the meat of your arm as you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from trying to gauge what he's thinking. His demeanor is stiff and you can feel tension flooding the air but you can't bring yourself to say anything to diffuse it. Deciding that you'll wait to see if he speaks first.

Once he has pulled up, Dave puts the SUV in park and cuts the engine. Getting out of the driver's side, he walks around the car to open your door, staying silent as he waits for you to start pitching a fit or yelling at him.

"Thanks," you murmur with a fleeting but polite smile before walking past him. The second you open that door you know you're in for a world of hurt so you take a large inhale before twisting the doorknob.

"Where the hell have you been?" Your father booms at you before both of your feet are in the door. 

"Avoiding this," you say with a small gesture of your hand, "I'm not going to argue with you. And before you mention it... that photographer was a fucking creep." You walk past your father and your tutting PR manager and up the stairs.Listening to the cruel taunts your father bellows at you and leaving Dave to deal with the fall out. 

"Before you say anything, the asshole you chose to photograph her was pawing her." Dave growls, scowling at your father. "It was disgusting."

You close the door behind you. You don't want to deal with this right now, you just want to get into your comfiest pajamas, so you do just that. Before climbing into bed and thinking about today, thinking about how his lips felt as he crashed them against yours. Since the drive home your pussy has started to ache from the way he fucked into you. You close your eyes and focus on the way you can still feel him.

"Do you know how long it took me to land that photographer?" Your father demands, puffing up his chest and looking at Dave in annoyance. As if the man thought he could actually intimidate Dave."Who fucking cares?" Dave hisses. "The contract you signed states that I have complete control over your daughter's safety and that includes killing any sessions or events that I see fit." He reminds him. "I think her being assaulted by a fucking man who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself posed a threat to her safety. Or would you rather there be a story about how her manager and father wouldn't protect her from sexual assault because the photographer was popular?" Dave wasn't above leaking a story for you, another clue that he was too involved with you. 

You can hear Dave's voice echoing through the house. His words are muffled but you're confident that he's standing his ground and sticking up for you. Lack of sleep and the events of today catches up on you and you let yourself drift off into a comfortable nap.

Dave watches as your father turns around a strides off, unhappy with his decision but there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it. Not if he wanted to keep Dave protecting you and he knows he can't change your security. Not with the threats that he has been keeping from you. 

Instead of going to his office, he climbs the stairs to see what you are doing. Opening the door to your bedroom, he finds you asleep sprawled over your bed and he huffs. Smirking with pride at wearing you out, he walks over and picks up your throw blanket and covers you up. Watching you sleep for a moment before turning around and walking out. He can't have another lapse in judgment, not when your safety was in jeopardy. 

*

It's been three days. Three days since the disastrous photoshoot and three days since Dave. You weren't sure what to expect from him afterwards, not that you were expecting anything, but the way he's clearly avoiding and ignoring you makes your heart drop. You've seen him a handful of times, using finding an excuse to dip out of the room or watching him start a conversation with someone else. You sent him three texts and all three have gone unanswered. This morning you walked into your living room and he glanced over at you before making his way across the room to Miranda and your stylist Luna. All three of them then disappear from the room as you stand there awkwardly.

"Before she uses anything, you verify where it comes from." Dave has gotten more letters and the results from the lab have him on edge. There have been traces of poisons on the paper but they can't tell if it was from the sender or something that had been contaminated in transit. There was even something off about the postal marks. That was still being investigated.

"Every bottle of water, every coke. If it doesn't come from us, she doesn't get it." He glances between the two of them. "Luna....you need to make sure that no one has access to your supplies."

Eventually the three of them emerge from the room and Luna gestured for you to follow her upstairs. You were briefly appearing on some tv show via video link and she was there to get you all glammed up.

Dave doesn't watch you as you climb the stairs but he does grab ahold of Miranda's arm when she moves to follow. Holding her back until everyone is out of earshot. "Hey." He frowns slightly. "Tonight. Get a drink with me?" He asks, watching as the pretty woman breaks into a happy smile. She wouldn't if she knew that he is planning on telling her that he's not sleeping with her anymore. "What do you say?"

You make a deal to ask Luna to go light with the makeup. No smoky eye or bold lip today. Wanting to keep it light and natural. She works her magic with your hair and uses minimal makeup, only enhancing your natural beauty and glow. Just as she's finishing up your door swings open and Miranda comes bouncing in.

"Hey babe," she greets you with, before turning all her attention to Luna, "You remember that guy I told you about, the one I've been kind of seeing for a little while? He asked me out tonight." She gushes with a wide smile plastered across her face.

"That's great," Luna gushes back before going off on some excited rant about how she should wear some off the shoulder dress that some magazine had lent to you, because they'd never notice that it went missing for just one night.

You feel tears spring up in your eyes, acid rain threatening to spill down your cheeks and you bite down onto your lower lip to avoid them breaking free. Luna and Miranda are too busy excitedly chatting about her upcoming date to notice how quiet you are.

You slink out of the makeup chair and pull the outfit set out for you from the hanger and make your way into the bathroom to get changed. "Fuck him," you mutter to yourself as you look in the mirror, he'd only touched you once but you were hooked. Never in your life had you felt more comfortable, safer and more alive than you did in those moments that he made you his and you hate yourself for losing yourself in him so quickly.

Dave strides back to the office and closes the door. He's tried to stay away from you, afraid that he will reveal too much. This has gotten complicated and if there's one thing he knows is that complicated gets messy. Pretending to ignore your hurt eyes has given him problems and he's picking up his phone. "Resnick." He greets the other man as soon as he picks up. "Need you to watch the princess tonight." He grunts, looking down at his calendar. "Need to take care of something and she's gonna be here all night. Easy work."

The interview goes by smoothly, the late night host asking you a few questions about your upcoming tour and your plans for once it's finished. He teases you about your plans for a much needed break after it's finished and he reminds you that the last time you said that you'd dropped a surprise album.

It's early evening once you'd recorded your segment for the show airing later that night. You have a few texts from friends saying they're meeting up at a bar tonight and how you should come.

After realizing that Dave will be too occupied on his date, you text back one of your friends for the address of the bar and say you'll swing by after escaping your babysitters. You see the rack of loaned dresses still untouched from earlier and run your fingers across a few of them, settling on a short black backless number and tucking it under your arms before heading back upstairs.

Dave represses a sigh when he sees that Miranda has obviously taken pains with her appearance tonight. He recognizes the dress as one that had been brought in to loan to you, but he doesn't know if you might not have encouraged her to take it. You knew that he was fucking your assistant and you might not care. Instead of frowning, he reaches for her and gives a tight smile. "I thought we could go to a bar." He offers, the real reasoning is that it would be public enough to prevent a scene, something Dave despises.

Once the coast is clear and you're happy that Resnick is too busy to notice you slipping out, you grab your keys from the drawer and make your way to your car. Slipping into the drivers seat for the first time in ages and punching the address to the bar into your GPS. Once out of your driveway, you switch on a playlist and drum your fingers against your steering wheel, singing along loudly as you navigate your way through the LA traffic.

Blissfully unaware of the car that's been trailing behind you since you left your gated community.

Almost 25 minutes later you're pulling up to the bar your friends are in and searching for a spot in the parking lot out the back.

You groan a little when you notice the only available spot is the furthest one from the bar. You pull in and switch the ignition off, taking a few minutes to look in the mirror and fix your hair.

You grab your phone and purse before stepping out of your car and locking the door, taking a few steps forward and almost crashing into a person emerging from the back of your car.

You start to apologize but he just stands there, staring at you with a smile splashed across your face that fills you with unease.

"Did you get my flowers?" He asks, taking a step towards you, "I'm a little upset that you haven't been writing back to me, but I know that you've been busy, sweetheart."

Your heart starts to slam in your chest as he takes another step towards you, you scan the parking lot for signs of another person but you're all alone with him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asks with a frown, "It's me. It's Martin. I know you've been reading my letters. I hand deliver them to your mailbox everyday."

“I’m so glad that you invited me out." Miranda reaches out and touches Dave's arms, squirming on her high top seat at one of the last remaining tables in the bar. "I didn't think we would ever do this." The sex has been fantastic but it's only sex and she doesn't try to push for more since Dave isn't the type of man who is pushed around 

"Yeah." Dave's head is on a swivel, glancing around the bar as they both wait for the drinks that had been ordered. Frowning slightly at the rowdy group of people in the back corner. 

You remember the one thing Dave warned you to do if you ever found yourself in a situation like this. 'Do NOT panic. Try to remain level headed.' You take a small inhale and plaster a fake smile on your face, "Of course, Martin. Hi. How are you? The flowers, oh, they were beautiful. Thank you. What are you doing here?"

He tuts and takes another step towards you, "I saw you leaving, sweetheart, wanted to see where you were going to in such a hurry. It's been so long since you left your house without that guy," he snarls and you realize he's talking about Dave. "It's been so hard to get close to you.”

A shiver runs through you as his words bounce off your goose-pimpled skin. "He's not here now," though he says with a creepy smile.

"We should go inside," you say as he continues to inch closer to you, "We should get a drink."

You don't want to go anywhere with him but you figure the second you're in the bar your friends will spot you and you can signal for some help but he just shakes his head "Oh, sweetheart, it's so loud in there. We have so much to talk about. So much to do.”

You breathe out a shaky exhale before an anxiety shiver rips through you. "Just a quick drink and maybe afterwards we can grab a bite," you suggest. Trying to remain calm as he starts to box you in.

"I don't think so," he says before shaking his head, "We've been waiting so long to be together, angel, why would we waste our time with those losers in the bar. Don't think I don't know who's in there. I've seen their pathetic instagram stories... They're not your friends, they're using you... can't you see that?" He rants.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, but you don't look down at it. Instead you attempt to unlock the screen with your passcode. Keeping your eyes focused on Martin as not to draw attention to what you're doing. Your phone lightly vibrates a few times, letting you know that your attempt to unlock your phone had failed. You take another deep breath as he continues his unhinged rant and you enter it again. This time correctly.

Without looking down you tap the bottom left hand of your screen and pull up your call list, pressing one of the names at the bottom of the list knowing that Dave number occupies the majority of the list. 

His drink is wrong. How they could fuck up a whiskey on the rocks and give him a tequila and water, he will never understand but that isn't important. His hand curls around the drink and he leans forward as Miranda sips her. "Listen, there's a reason that I invited you out tonight..." He starts, huffing when the phone in his breast pocket starts to vibrate. 

"Of course." Her lashes flutter and Miranda looks positively smug. "You wanted to get laid again. Don't worry, you're getting lucky."

Dave ignores that and lets go of the drink to pull his phone out. Seeing your face pop up, he frowns, wondering why you are calling him. "Princess? What are -"

"-you got all my letters. What did you think?" Dave's eyes widen when he hears a voice that doesn't belong to you, sounding like it's several feet away and he can hear the background noise. Obviously not in the house.

His face snaps into a fierce scowl and the chair screeches against the hardwood floors as he stands. He can't shout to get your attention, you might just have the phone in a pocket. Instead he's placing you on speaker phone and immediately starts to pull up the tracking app he put on your phone as he looks at Miranda. "Call Resnick now." He orders her harshly. "Ask him where the fuck your boss is and why he isn't with her."

Your eyes continue to dart around the parking lot, searching for any sign of life as it becomes clear that you're not making it into the bar. You pray Dave has picked up the phone but you're unable to sneak a glance, terrified that Martin will notice and take your phone off of you so instead you ask him another question, something to placate him and keep him from trying anything. "Oh the flowers," you gasp, "Gosh, Martin, you are so thoughtful. How did you know they're my favorite?" You ask. Making an effort to emphasize his name.

"You told me, silly," he says with a laugh that makes you skin crawl, "On Fallon. You said that tulips were your favorite. I know a hint when I see one. Let's get out of here, sweetheart. We don't want the paparazzi getting sniff of you being in the area. I don't want you photographed dressed like that."

"Fuck...fuck...fuck!" Dave rages as he hears the comment about leaving. If it's Martin and he gets you into a car, Dave might never see you again. "Stall him, princess." He hisses, cursing the app for taking so goddamn long to pull up your location. Fucking cell service is shit downtown.

"Why don't you get in your car and I'll follow behind?" You suggest. Not wanting him to get in your car and definitely not wanting to get in his. "I don't wanna leave my car in the lot."

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." Martin hisses, "We will take my car. The last thing I want to do is get stuck in some god awful LA traffic because you got turned around trying to follow me somewhere."

"I have GPS, I'll just punch in your address and if I lose you it's fine, I can just follow the navigation system.”

Come on Dave, you think to yourself, praying he's on the other end of the phone and/or coming to your rescue.

"But really I think we should go inside and get that drink before we go anywhere," you say again, desperate to hold off for as long as possible. But you see the impatience in his eyes, you see the way his eyes go dark as he realizes that you're stalling for something. For someone.

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he snaps at you, "And neither are you. He will arrive any minute and take you away from me if we don't leave now and I know you don't want that. I hear the words you're singing to me in your songs and I can't bear to spend another night being kept away from you."

"Fucking finally." Dave growls, moving towards the door when he sees the dot pop up on the map. His eyes widen when he realizes that you are right here. In the parking lot. You are right in the fucking parking lot of the same goddamn bar he is in. He doesn't bother to say anything to Miranda, just shoving past people and running out the door as he listens to the increasingly agitated Martin start to scream at you.

Your stomach twists as you listen to the delusional words he's now screaming at you, occasionally quoting some of your own lyrics at you in between the unhinged ranting.

"Martin," you plead as he boxes you up against your car door, "We're friends, right?" you try to calm him down by saying but the sudden burst of rage that flashes in his eyes tells you that you've really fucked up.

You squeeze your eyes shut after his hand comes out and strikes you across your cheek. It's only after the immediate throbbing from the slap that you realize that you're crying. Tears streaming down your face as you attempt to placate him. You squeeze your eyes shut again and you let the one word that you've wanted to scream for the past ten minutes fall from your lips, "Dave."

The phone in Dave's hand falls to the ground but he doesn't even bother to pause. Too busy running towards the parking lot and he hears a sharp cry. Eyes narrowed as he spots you, a man pulling his hand back and Dave hisses.

"You fucking bitch! You're mine! You're mine, you're mine! You belong to me!" You cry out again when he brings his hand down, slapping you across the face as he screams at you.

Pushing his body to move faster, fury floods Dave’s veins and makes him scream out a yell as he barrels towards the attacker who is trying to hurt you. 

You whimper as you feel his hot breath coating your face as he moves closer and closer, screaming louder as he does so. You prepare yourself for another strike as he repeats over and over than you're his property, keeping your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Lowering his shoulder, Dave slams into the assailant like a freight train. Driving him to the ground and away from you in a burst of rage that has him immediately hammering his fist into Martin's sides as he pushes up off of him to get a better angle to beat the motherfucker to death.

It's over as quickly as it started. The sound of someone crashing into another, followed by a sharp cracking noise as a fist slams into a jaw. Shattering the bones at immediate contact. Your eyes briefly flicker open and close again at the sight of Dave. 

Safe. You think to yourself as you crumble to the concrete ground. The ringing in your eyes drowning out the sound of each blow Dave delivers to your attacker. You don't hear the sharp squeal of a car tire as Resnick, Ari and Kovak pull up in the parking lot. You don't hear Dave screaming in fury at them as they pull him away from Martin. You don't hear Miranda calling your name as she drops down to your side and gently caresses your throbbing cheek.

Dave's focus narrows to just the target. The ten inch by five inch oval that comprises Martin's face. Bloody now that he has hit him multiple times but he just keeps whaling on him, again and again and again despite the other man not fighting back. The image of your terrified eyes and the welts on your cheek that he had gotten a brief, split second glance are all he can imagine as he tries to inflict as much pain on your attacker as possible. Screaming and fighting when hands drag him away from his target. Lunging for him again and scrambling to shake off his team in his bloodlust to get back to the man who had dared to touch you.

You feel unfamiliar hands on you and you shudder before everything comes back into focus. Miranda. She's kneeling in front of you, your face resting in her hands as she checks out the painful welt throbbing on your cheek. 

It takes Dave well over a minute but he finally calms down enough that the team lets go of him. Jerking his shoulders free of their hold, Dave spit towards the prone man, "fucker." He hisses before he turns and rushes the few steps towards you and drops to his knees in front of where you are sprawled on the ground beside your car. "Move." He orders Miranda roughly, needing to see you are okay himself. 

"She's fine," you hear Miranda shoot back at him, still holding your face in her hands.

"Move." His voice is harder, more forceful and his own bloody fists push her hands out of his way. He wants to make sure of that himself and even then he will have a private doctor come and check you out.

"Dave," you mumble as he inches towards you, "I didn't... ! didn't listen to you. And I'm so sorry. All of this is my fault."

"Shhhhh shhhhhh it's okay. " He will yell at you later, when you aren't in shock. But for now, his hands are slow and gentle as he reaches for you. "You're okay. He's not going to hurt you."

"He's not going to hurt anyone." Resnick huffs, coming over to stand in front of you and Dave. "He's dead."

"Oh God," you squeak out, "He's dead because of me."

"He's dead because of himself." Dave tells you sternly, his dark eyes focused on you. He was the one who had killed Martin, and he would do it again. "He chose his own fate. He could have walked away. He died because he didn't."

You nod a few times just to acknowledge that you heard what he said, before a new stream of tears start to flood your cheeks, "I need to get out of here."

Dave can't leave. He’s killed a man. He will have to wait for the police so he looks up at Resnick. "Resnick is going to take you home." He tells you, starting to draw you up to your feet. "But don't shower. Don't do anything. The police will come and they will need to see you exactly as you are."

"Okay," you murmur, looking up at Dave. "Don't be long, please."

"I won't." He breaks, seeing the fear and sadness on your face. Leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead briefly before he turns you over to his teammate and watches him escort you away to the waiting car.

You climb into the back of the car, knowing it'll give Dave a little peace. Resnick speeds out of the parking lot and towards your home. The journey passes in a blink of an eye and before you know it he's rounding the car and helping you out, leading you into the living room and onto the sofa. Before disappearing into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water.

When the cops arrive, Dave answers their questions as succinctly as possible. The bar's cameras on the parking lot confirmed Dave's version of events and the team had scans of the threatening letters in the vehicle. It takes an hour to get the body loaded up and the crime scene photographed.

Dave tells them to follow him to your house so they can collect evidence from you and get your statement.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. The cops ask you a million questions, some over and over again as you're forced to replay the evening over and over. You feel drained, your face is throbbing and your hands haven't stopped shaking for hours.

Dave walks over to you about another hour of questions and breaks in. "That's enough." He tells them. "She's given you her statement, you can collect her clothes but we are done." He insists. "Any other questions should be directed through the legal team. She's been through enough tonight." 

It seems like eternity for them to leave. Even after Dave tries to hurry them up. Eventually you're ushered up the stairs by somebody as Dave answers the last few questions. Someone stands outside your bathroom as you pop your clothing into an evidence bag and pass it out to them through a slight crack in the door. Immediately closing it back up again and slipping into a much too hot shower. And letting the tears you'd been holding back fall freely.

Once the police have left, Dave sighs and locks the door and sets the alarm. He's sent everyone home and even had a short conversation with Miranda. It hadn't been pretty, but she hadn't really put up a fight after learning that Dave had killed Matin. Apparently the idea of a deadly man was more appealing than the reality. Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to your bedroom and hears the shower going in your bathroom. You've held yourself together with nothing more than sheer determination and even though his hands are bruised and cut, bones obviously broken, Dave doesn't hesitate to start stripping outside of your bathroom and once he's naked he opens the bathroom door to join you.

You don't hear or see the bathroom door open. Your skin is sore from the way you've scrubbed it raw. Trying to remove every trace of this evening from your skin.

Opening the shower door, Dave steps into the shower and his heart aches when he sees you curled up on the bench. "Shit, come here, princess." He moves over to you quickly and scoops you up into his arms, taking your place on the bench and holding you in his lap.

You're not sure how long he holds you for, his voice gently soothing you as you sob brokenly into his neck. You feel him gently wash the conditioner out of your hair before lifting you up and out of the shower.

"It's okay." Dave murmurs, grateful that he's able to carry you instead of insisting that you need to walk on your own. The only time he lets you stand is as he dries you off. Gently rubbing the towel down your body and wrapping your hair for you. Picking you up again to carry you through to the bedroom and tuck you into bed.

"Stay with me?" You ask as he tucks you comfortably into your bed. "Please." You feel a twinge of guilt for asking, knowing that he had gone on a date with another woman a few hours before, ignoring the feeling that he doesn't want you.

“I’m not going anywhere." Dave promises, rounding the bed and climbing in beside you before he plasters himself to your back and wraps his arms around you to drag you closer to him. "I fucked up." He whispers into your hair. "I'm so sorry, princess. I didn't protect you."

"I ruined your date," you murmur into the pillow, placing your hand on top of his, "I got jealous and I fucked everything up." Tears spill out onto your pillow as you start to sob again.

It's news to Dave that the reason you were there was because you were jealous. He pulls you to him and turns you around so you are facing him. He doesn't care that both of you are naked, he's trying to comfort you. "You didn't ruin anything." He promises you, rubbing your back as you collapse against his chest to cry. "It's- it doesn't matter. Miranda knows now that I was ending our arrangement."

"I'm so sorry, Dave," you sob into his chest, wrapping your arms even tighter around him. "Promise me you won't leave, even once I've fallen asleep?"

"I'm going to be here, princess." Dave tightens his hold on you, just shy of squeezing the air out of your lungs. "I'm gonna be right here, I promise." He doesn't know how to soothe you, just rubs circles on your back and holds you tight, letting you sob out all your fear and anger and disappointment. 

Sleep comes quicker than you anticipated. The warmth of his skin seeping into yours as he holds you plush against him. You wake as the early morning light breaks through the crack in your curtains and beams down directly on your face. His gentle snores vibrate in your ear as you press a kiss to his shoulder. He kept his word. He didn't leave in the middle of the night as you feared. He looks peaceful, his usually tense shoulders slack and his brow not burrowed for a change. You slightly shift up and press a kiss on his lips, before nudging your nose against his.

"Hmmm." Dave frowns slightly and his hand slides up your back. "You're awake?" He mumbles sleepily, opening an eye and looking at you. He had anticipated that you would sleep for a lot longer but you look better. Your eyes have bags but you don't look like you are about to cry again.

"Mhmm-hmm," you hum across his lips before pressing another kiss down on them, "Your voice is sexier when you've just woken up.” Exhaustion still lingers in every bone in your body, your face still throbbing from the blows it took the night before but you feel safe. His arms still protectively caging you in from any harm and it makes your heart flutter.

He lets out a slightly rusty laugh, sliding his hand up and down your back protectively. "Because I haven't woken up enough to be an asshole yet."

You giggle back before pressing a third kiss to his mouth, still remaining cautious about the situation you're in but not wanting to ignore your need to touch him. "Dave," you quietly moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

"What do you need, princess?" Dave rasps out, his eyes opening again and focusing on you.

"You."

His cock twitches and his fingers dig into your hips. "How do you need me?" He growls out.

"However you want," you croak as he pushes the head of his already hard cock through your folds, "Just need to feel you."

You are sprawled on top of him and he shifts his hips, starting to fill you up as he pulls you down onto his cock. "This what you need? You need to sit on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you moan as you sink down onto him. He feels even bigger than last time from his angle, "I want to ride you, Mr. York." 

There's a moment where he watches you close your eyes and smirk. He slaps your thigh and pushes you down harder onto his cock. "Then ride me, Princess. Show me how needy you are for my cock."

"Yes, sir," you tease as you start to rock your hips. He's a lot more vocal in the morning and it makes you keen down around him. You find your rhythm after a few moments and slowly increase your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to leave little circular bruises.

"Good girl." He grunts, his hips starting to shift up to meet your pace. Making you bounce harder on his cock and enjoying the way that you clench around him.

  You grind down on him slowly after his praise, his words making your neglected clit pulse with need. You pull him into a fleeting but bruising kiss before you increase your pace again, dragging one of his hands up to one of your tits. "I want you to fill me up," you whisper as your hand grips the bottom of his chin, "Fill me up and then eat your cum out of my cunt, Dave."

He groans, grabbing your tits harshly and rocking his hips to flip you over. Losing control at the neediness in your tone. He leans in and bites down on your shoulder. "Hold onto the bed." He orders harshly.

You grip onto the bed ready to take what he's about to give you, you clench down around him as his teeth sink into you. "Make this tight little pussy soak that fat cock."

He already knows that your next concerts are going to be canceled. He's not going to allow you to perform until at least a week goes by. So he doesn't hesitate to bite you again a few inches over. Giving you a hard thrust of his hips as he slides back so he can put your legs on his shoulders.

"Marking me up?" You giggle before a particularly hard thrust knocks the wind out of you. His cock slamming against that spot inside of you that only he had managed to find and the room is echoing with a lust filled scream of his name. The position your in allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before and he continues to rut into you.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears, although there's no one in the fucking house. He would have gotten an alert on his phone. He knows it won't stay that way for long so he makes sure that his hips snap forward with a determination to make you shatter for him, watching you closely every time he rocks forward.

With every sharp snap of his hips you're being pushed closer and closer to that delicious edge and you know he can feel just how close you are. Your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, sucking him back in every time he moves back. "Gonna cum," you garble incoherently as you start to fall apart beneath him.

Instead of slowing down, he rocking his hips faster. Hissing and grunting curses as he fucks you frantically. Loving how tight you get and how your legs go tight, just making him lean into you harder.

"Oh, fuck, Dave," you choke out as he fucks you harder and harder throughout your orgasm, ripping it from you with ease as you soak the sheets with your arousal. You clamp down on him hard as your body convulses with pleasure, every little sound that you're desperate to unleash getting trapped in your throat as the whole world goes black. And all you can feel is him.

He sees the moment where everything fades away. Where all you can do is feel nothing but pleasure. Groaning, he pushes deep one last time, reaching up and wrapping his hand around your throat, not to squeeze, instead he tilts your head up to press his mouth to yours as he pours himself into you.

“That may have been the best way I’ve ever woken up in my life,” you say honestly but with a giggle. Nudging your nose against his. “Thank you for staying.”

Dave gives himself another moment, kissing you again before he closes his eyes and starts to pull out of you gently, his fingers let go of your throat and caresses the skin softly as he opens his eyes and looks down at you. “I quit.” He announces, staring at the swelling on your cheek from where Martin had hit you. It’s gone down, but he can still see it. “I didn’t do my job, I didn’t protect you.” He shifts off of you and onto his back.

“Oh,” you utter, feeling the happiness that you’d been floating on fleeing your body and being replaced with hurt, “No. You can’t fucking… no. What is this? You regret this again? Just like you did last time? No. I won’t touch you again but you can’t quit.” You feel your eyes burn as tears spring into them, threatening to stain your already bruised cheeks. “I don’t want to feel unsafe.”

“I can’t do my job.” Dave hisses, hating the fact that he is making you cry. You have to see that he’s doing this for you. Sitting up, he cups your cheek, hating how it’s still swollen. “I did this. It’s because I had to have some clarity. To stop things with Miranda. I wasn’t with you. I should have been. But I wasn’t. Because I couldn’t keep sleeping with her when I wanted you.” He growls angrily.

“Bullshit,” you snarl back, pushing his hand from your face. “You want me? So the solution to that is to just leave me? Make it make fucking sense, Dave.”

“I-“ Dave’s breath shudders. “I was afraid.” He confesses softly. “Afraid I couldn’t get to you, afraid he would hurt you.” He closes his eyes. “I failed you, princess. Why would you want me here? You got hurt and it’s all my fault.”

  “Can you stop pretending like I’m not a grown woman?” You say with a scoff, “I made the decision to go out last night. Am I pissed that you didn’t warn me about him? Yes. I’m fucking furious. But you didn’t fail me. But if you walk out on me right now, you will fail me, Dave.”

“You would have frozen.” Dave argues. “Every fan that comes up, you would wonder if that’s him. Every time the doorbell rang. You would have become a wreck. It’s my job to protect you from that. To let you do your job and keep the monsters in the shadows.”

“And now you don’t want to do that job?”

“Why would you want me to keep doing the job I failed at?” Dave frowns, shaking his head. “You should scream at me, kick me out, tell me you hate me.”

“You didnt fail, Dave,” you scream back at him, “If you want to go, just fucking go, just don’t pretend it’s because of the job.”

Dave hisses, grabbing your arms and the only way he stops himself from yelling at you is by doing what he really wants to do. Kiss you. He kisses you roughly, every fucking fear and emotion he had last night pours into the kiss. Hard and unyielding until it isn’t. Until the softness breaks through and the other emotions show.

You attempt to fight him off for a few moments, your efforts futile and not convincing to either of you. Before giving in and sinking into his arms, letting his kiss consume you both emotionally and physically. “Please don’t go.” You whisper as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not.” Dave admits, shaken by the depths of his feelings for you. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks into your eyes and sighs. “I could never leave you, princess. Never.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you murmur against his chest, terrified that he’s a flight risk. “Just please don’t push me away.”

“Princess, I love you.” He murmurs quietly. “I killed a man for touching you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes search his for any sort of sign that he’s not telling the truth, but the way they soften as the way he holds you tells you that he’s being honest. Your mouth crashes against his as his grip around you tightens, your kiss is possessive and messy and filled with hope. 

“I want to release a statement, tell the world what happened and then I want to take a much needed break. No touring right now.” Obviously some details will be left out but you want a brief statement out there. Something that’ll explain to your fans what happened, but keep the darkest side of how it ended hidden.

“Then that’s what you’ll do, princess.” Dave nods, knowing your label and your father will be furious, but he doesn’t give a shit. Your safety and well being is too important.

“Thank you for always being on my side. Even when you’re being an asshole.” You mumble into his neck.

He snorts and rubs your back gently, turning his head and kissing your hair. “I’ll always be on your side, Princess.” He promises softly. “That’s why I’m your bodyguard.”

**

Eventually, you had to get up and dress. Your entire team was going to descend on your house in a fury of questions and concerns. He had held them off for as long as he could but barely an hour after you had put on a pair of leggings and a sweater and Dave had put on his gym clothes, your father walked into the house, calling your name. “She’s in the kitchen!” Dave has you seated at the bar, drinking a coffee while he makes you breakfast.

“Hi,” you offer meekly to your father, whose face is twisted with fury. There is no concern for your well-being, no checking that you’re okay or asking about the night before. He just screams at you. Furious that you’d already posted a video on your social media account and gave as much detail as you could in regards to the night before and offered full refunds to everyone who had bought a ticket to the tour you had now indefinitely postponed. 

“What do you have to say about all of this?” He bellows at Dave after finishing his expletive filled rant and Dave just shrugs and makes a comment about it being your life before squeezing your shoulder gently.

After many failed attempts to placate him and explain what had happened the night before you simply shrug, and tell him to leave.

Dave is the one that herds him out the door, not even listening to the man as he screams that he hired Dave and he will sue him for breach of contract. He obviously didn’t read the contract, he can’t. Only you could fire him. When the door is closed, Dave shakes his head and turns around the walk back over to you, giving you what looks like a much needed hug. “It’s okay.” He promises again. “He can’t make you tour.”

“I know,” you murmur against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. “Dave, he’s in control of all my finances. I need to figure so much out today.”

“So call in your business people.” Dave murmurs into your hair. “I can call in a lawyer I know. Have him look over everything.”

“I don’t know who to call,” you admit, feeling yourself get all heated from embarrassment, “I just got called into sign shit.”

Dave has participated in this, feeling guilty about it now. “He will treat you right. Get it all figured out.” He promises.

You take a step back from him and awkwardly giggle, “Guess you were right about me being a princess,” you try to joke to hide your embarrassment.

“You were concentrating on your music.” Dave argues. “Letting others take care of the details. I did it too.” He won’t deny that. “Now, you just need to decide how hands on you want to be.”

“Yeah,” you half heartedly agree with a shrug, “But mostly it just seemed easier to let other people deal with it.”

“So you still let other people deal with it.” Dave tells you. “Just have them answer to you.”

“Like you do?” You say with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk, “Clearly, I’m great at keeping you in line.”

Snorting, Dave shoots you an unamused look. “Just try it, Princess.” He warns darkly. “I’ll do exactly what I wanted to do the first time you pitched a fit.” He pauses for a second. “Throw you over my knee and spank you until you are crying.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenge him. “I think you’d do whatever I told you to do. No argument.”

“Not if it compromises your safety.” Dave will stand firm on that. Loving you will not make him just give in to you to make you happy.

You take a step forward and whisper in his ear, “So you’re telling me that if I said really nicely that you’re to wrap those thick fingers around my throat and rail me as hard as you can… you wouldn’t? Because you’re all for safety?”

“Shut up.” Dave hisses, narrowing his eyes at you as he pulls back. “You know what I meant, princess.” He growls. “Keep it up and won’t get my cock at all until I decide you can have it.”

“We both know that I’ll be getting it exactly when I want it, sweet boy.” You know you should be focusing on your never ending list of chores but teasing Dave is too much fun.

Dave doesn’t answer, instead he draws his hand back and slaps your ass harshly. “Go eat.” He demands. “I’ll start making calls.”

“Fine,” you mumble, knowing that he’ll want to get the ball rolling and that the ache in your pussy will have to wait. “I’ll eat and then deal with myself after.” You shout back to him as he makes his way to his office.

“No you won’t!” Dave shouts back, smirking to himself as he shakes his head. You are going to continue to be a pain in his ass, but he’s not quite as annoyed by it now.

You giggle as you take a bite of the eggs he cooked you. “Oh yes, I will,” you say to yourself as you think about the way his cock feels as it drags across heaven inside of you.

**

It had been a rough three weeks. Your father had dug his heels in and made everything as difficult as he possibly could. But Dave had kept his word, the lawyer he had put you in touch with had worked tirelessly and for the first time in your life, you were in charge of your future.

Your team had agreed that you were due a break, and agreed to let you take a few months to recharge. The minute it was final Dave had pulled out his phone and booked two one way tickets to St Lucia and found a private villa on the beach that had a chef come in three times a day to prepare your meals. He paid for everything, packed both of your bags and kept everything a total secret until you were pulling up to the private jet that would be flying you to paradise.

For the past three days that had been in heaven and he’d taken you more times than you could possibly count.

The first time on the flight with his fingers, then his mouth and finally with his cock.

“See Princess? Relaxed.” He groans, slowly rocking his hips up as you grind down on his length. Sitting outside in the warm sun, the breeze trailing over your skin, you look like a fucking goddess riding him on the surprisingly sturdy lounger by the infinity pool that overlooks the ocean. No boats were allowed in this private cove and you had free reign to do whatever you want. “Just like I promised you.”

“So relaxed,” you moan as you keep the pace slow. Loving the way he completely fills you up. Your walls hugging his cock as his thumb draws slow circles on your clit. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, hearing those words every time he fucks you. You’ve become addicted to him being inside you and he’s not complaining. Dave’s other hand comes up and squeezes your tit. “Even more relaxed when you cum.” He coos. “Lay out in the sun and nap after?”

“Oh God, yes,” you say as you press a kiss to his lips. “As long as I get to lay on you.” You slightly increase your speed, wanting your high to come quicker. Needing to feel the warmth of his cum coating your walls.

“You’re like a leech.” He jokes, squeezing your breast again and pinching your nipple. He knows as soon as you cum, you’re going to collapse against his chest and fall asleep with his cock still inside you. It’s become your favorite way to sleep since that second night he had spent in your bed. 

“And you love it,” you say with a giggle, knowing that he loves the way it feels when you giggle on his cock. “Make me cum, Mr York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dave grunts as he leans in and nips your bottom lip. “Have to follow the princess’s order.” He lets go of your breast to grab your hip and braces his feet on the lounger slats to thrust up into you harder.

“Yes you do,” you giggle back. Your mouth captures his as he fucks up into you. You bite down on his bottom lip before licking your way into his mouth. He swallows every moan you unleash as you wrap your arms around him tighter, “I’m gonna cum,” you garble as he starts to lose restraint fucking you harder and harder as you come undone on his cock.

Watching you peak has become his favorite view. Watching your mouth open and your entire body spasm in pleasure while you cry out is what sends him over the edge himself. Letting you burrow your way deeper into his heart as he cums, filling you up with his cum until it’s pushing out with every shallow thrust to slide back down his shaft and pool in the curly hairs in his groin.

His lips press against yours as you come down from your high, and his hand rubs comforting circles into your back. The world comes back into focus and absolutely everything becomes clear, his dark eyes find yours before you rest your forehead against his. “I love you, Dave. I love you so much.”

It’s the first time you’ve said those words to him and he sighs softly, reaching up and cupping your cheek. “I love you too, Princess.” It’s only the second time he’s said the words, but he’s shown you how he feels everyday since that morning. “That’s why I’ll always protect you.”

“My protector,” you say against his lips. “Now, I think you promised me a nap.” You nuzzle your face against his neck and snuggle up to him. His softening cock still inside of you as you feel his protective arms wrap around you.

"That's right, princess." Dave rubs your back gently and leans back against the lounger as he brings you with him. Knowing that you will be asleep in minutes. "You sleep." He urges you softly. "I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you again." He promises, looking around even though he knows the two of you are completely alone. He's still your bodyguard after all.

#pedro pascal #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york equalizer 2 #dave york imagine #bodyguard au #reader insert

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics by...

- Layne Faire -

1.

Zayn hesitated just long enough to send the butterflies in Liam’s stomach into a frenzy, then nodded and turned away. He picked up his things, plucked his keys from a bowl on a side table, and opened the door. Quinn looked up at the sound and stood up quickly to follow. Liam grabbed his collar.

“Oh no you don’t, pal. You’re staying with me.”

“Thanks again, Li. I’ll call when I get in.”

“Please.”

The door closed softly behind him, followed by the sound of a car engine turning over. The crunch of tires on gravel slowly faded away, leaving Liam in silence, alone in the house of a man he wasn’t sure he knew anymore, if he’d ever truly known him at all.

2.

“Zayn, you know? He’s so far out of my league, that I figured if I lucked into that, then… well, I’d go with it and damn the consequences.”

“Wait! No! Fuck that, Liam!” Harry’s sudden outburst had Liam staring at him in shock. “Zayn is not out of your league! Who the fuck ever gave you that idea? You’re kind, caring, compassionate, and loyal to a fault.”

“Harry - you’ve just described a labrador retriever.”

3.

“Hey, Louis, it’s Harry... Styles... uhm, Zayn’s friend. And Niall’s, I s’pose. That’s why I’m calling. Niall said you might have a room to rent in your flat and that it’s available now? I need something kind of immediately, not too big, not too expensive. Niall said it could be what I’m looking for. So, uhm, if you’d, I don’t know, maybe give me a call back and let me know if it’s still available and how soon I can come by to give it a look and discuss things with you, that’d be great. I can pay the rent upfront, maybe buy some groceries. I cook, too, if that helps. I dunno. Just...  uhm… yeah, give me a call back.”

Louis played the message again, then a third time. He saved the number in his phone, with a simple H to mark the contact, then played the message one more time. Disbelief gave way to cautious elation. He texted a quick reply to Harry that he’d call once he got home, then typed out a swift message to Niall.

Bless you, ya Irish cunt. I’ll change nappies on your firstborn for a month.

4.

Zayn looked up. “I don’t think so. I might be teaching him dance, but it doesn’t negate how I feel about what he does.”

“Saving people’s lives and homes? Of course. Allah forbid he be so selfless.”

“Don’t be an arse.” Zayn settled back in his chair. “He beats people up for fun.”

“That’s a little simplistic, don’t you think?” Doni argued. “He fights in sanctioned boxing matches, under strict guidelines established by the boxing commission. He’s not street brawling after a few pints at the local. That’s hardly the same thing.”

- answers below -

1. Live a Thousand Lifetimes 

It’s 2025.

After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

2. Untamed Hearts

It could have been the heat of the summer sun; it might have been the silvered sheen of an early harvest moon. If he dug deep enough, Liam could find every reason ever needed to explain away what happened. In the end, though, it all came down to two meddling friends, a touch of Prince, a bit of Keats, and the moon over the ocean. Its a recipe for disaster. Or love. Probably love.

3. Take Your Time

When Harry finds himself in the middle of a messy break-up with no place to live, Louis offers a spare room in his flat. Unbeknownst to Harry, Louis has been infatuated for years. Over the objections of their friends, who know the truth, Harry accepts. Can Louis survive Harry moving into his home…and closer to his heart? Will Harry see what's right in front of him?

4. Shadow Dancing

As a small child, Liam Payne dreamed of being a firefighter. He took up boxing to defend himself from school bullies, but never lost sight of his dream. 15 years later, Liam is set to be the youngest brigade watch commander in his district, and his recent boxing win puts him in line for the British national title - if he can learn to get out of his own way.

Zayn took his first dance lesson at 5, after watching his sister's tap class. At 18, when an injury derails Zayn's dream of dancing professionally, he sets it aside to attend university, but the lure of dancing proves too great to ignore. He becomes an instructor, and eventually, the owner of a small dance studio, where he encourages other dancers to chase their dreams.

When their worlds collide in a cacophony of misunderstandings, Zayn, confronted with his own biases, realizes there’s more to Liam than meets the eye, and offers to help him prepare for his upcoming fight.

While Liam learns to dance, Zayn learns the art of compromise, and along the way, they find each other.

And when tragedy strikes, Liam finds that Zayn’s love will help him face the shadows of his past, and give him the courage to believe in himself and his dreams for the future.

#march 8 #happy birthday layne! #ficrec #laynefaire #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily

[weepingfromacedartree]

Surviving the AO3 Drought

Hi friends!

We're coming up on almost an entire day of AO3 being down. Since I'm sure most of you are like me and going insaneee with the blackout, I wanted to share this incredibly ROUGH draft of chap 1 of my current Polin WIP for anyone desperate for content.

A few warnings:

This fic is nowhere NEAR being done (emphasis on this being a ROUGH draft). It will most likely be a few months until I start posting the finished chapters.

This chapter (and the fic in general) deals with issues like grief and neglectful parenting, so TW for anyone who might not want to read about that.

Most of this chapter depicts Penelope and Colin as children. It was annoying to write. Might be annoying to read. I promise, they're teens/adults in all future chapters.

I do not condone children taking in stray cats and keeping them as pets. This fic is not meant to be a tutorial of any sort.

Ok if I didn't scare you off... please enjoy!!

Chapter 1: First Pet

Today: April 29th, 2023

Relationship Status: Dating (Semi-Secretly)

꙳

“Gregory just texted to ask if we’re dating. I didn’t think he had my number.” 

“That little arsehole probably sent it to himself when he stole my phone.”

It’s Saturday. Penelope and Colin are sitting on the floor of his flat, a few containers of chinese food littered between them. It’s not a particularly unusual setting to find either one of them on a Saturday night. However, some things are different now. 

Two weeks ago, they would not have been playing footsie. Not this shamelessly, at least. 

“I assumed that Eloise’s ‘vow of secrecy’ would involve her immediately telling Benedict… And that Benedict would tell Anthony… And that Anthony would tell Kate… But I don’t know how the rumour managed to spread to Cambridge in…” She glances down to her phone again. “Six hours flat.” 

“‘Rumour?’” he echos, a smirk on his face. “Surely, you’re not trying to keep this sordid love affair hidden from me as well.”

“‘Sordid?’ God, Colin. You make us sound so dirty.” She kicks his foot away, turning her attention back to the shrimp fried rice. “And I’m not trying to keep it from anyone. We both knew what would happen the second I told El.” 

“Frankly, I’m surprised Greg didn’t text you sooner.”

Colin tries fixing his attention on the kung pao chicken in hand, but it unsurprisingly wanders. 

“So… What are you gonna tell him?” 

Penelope quirks an eyebrow, a look of uncertainty making a quick appearance on her face. 

“Well… I was going to hold him in suspense a little while longer. Maybe take the ‘no comment’ approach at first. Then — I don’t know — the truth?”

“Which is?”

Colin watches as uncertainty turns to downright confusion. 

“Yes?”

Internally, Penelope wonders if Colin is teasing, or if there has been a miscommunication of monumental proportions between them. The look on his face confounds her, though. Neither option seems to be the correct one. 

“‘Dating’ is a bit too casual a word for us, I think.” 

Penelope’s confusion fades away as a familiar tingling sensation lights up her stomach. 

“It’s only been a week. What do you suggest we call —”

“We should get married.” 

“What!?”

He’s teasing. He’s teasing. He’s —

“I said we should get married.” 

Penelope waits for him to expand on this insane notion, but all she gets is that smug little smirk. 

“Okay. Why?”

“Why does anyone get married?” Colin says matter-of-factly. “I love you. I wish to continue loving you forever and ever. Ergo, marriage.” 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“It —”

“It was a proposal.”

“Colin.” She uses the sternest voice she can manage to muster up, which happens to be quite shrill at the moment. 

“Pen.” At least he has the decency to drop that stupid smirk. He also drops his kung pao chicken, leaning forward to place a hand on her knee. 

“Just, think about it for a moment. We didn’t meet a week ago, we just finally said the thing we should have told each other a decade ago — at least. I’ve been in love with you forever. ‘Dating’ you just feels like an unnecessary step to the rest of forever.” 

Penelope feels at war with herself. At her core, she is sensible. Logical. Reasonable. She knows — objectively — that skipping straight from friendship to marriage is illogical and senseless. 

But is it truly reasonless?

At her core, Penelope is also a romantic. A willing fool. An idealist against her better judgement. And in her heart, she holds twenty years worth of love for Colin. Would it really be so crazy —

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Penelope tentatively — regretfully — brushes his hand off her knee. At the loss of her touch, Colin’s lip juts out in a pout. 

“People date for a reason. It’s an institution — it has a purpose. It’s like a test run for marriage. Different than friendship. Teaches you different things about a person — things that set you up for a successful lifetime together.” 

“Friendship is not so different than dating. At least, not the way we did it.” 

“Colin —”

“You’re right, Pen. Dating is like a trial period where you decide whether or not the person you love is suitable enough to spend the next lifetime beside. You —”

“Do I really sound that unromantic?” she interrupts. Something about hearing her words on his lips makes them sound so clear. 

Colin laughs. “I think pragmatic is the word you’re looking for. But seriously, can you name a single thing you don’t know or feel unsure about me as a partner, after twenty years of friendship? What’s holding you back, Pen?”

Nothing. That’s the truth. There’s not a single thing about Colin that she feels unsure of. Not anymore.

But still… Even if there love has lasted decades, that sense of assuredness has only existed between them for a week. She’s spent more time wrestling on whether or not to cut bangs (and the answer always ends up being not). 

Still…

“Let’s consult the experts.” His words break her from the daze Penelope hadn’t realised she fell into. In those few measly seconds, Colin’s eyes broke away from hers and has rested on the phone gripped in both of his hands. 

“What are you doing?” she asks him. Her voice sounds far away. 

Colin taps something on his phone, out of view from Penelope’s curious eyes. Then he clears his throat. 

“Ten milestones every couple should celebrate before walking down the aisle,” he reads aloud. “Number One: Your First —”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asks again. This time, a laugh escapes her lips as she does so. Something about the seriousness on Colin’s face reminds her of the absolute absurdity of this situation. That it is a joke, even if it was intended as such. 

“I know you think this is all very funny, but I’m being serious. I know you better than anyone else in the world — you know me better than I know myself! I have loved you more than half my life and spent so much time delaying the inevitable. Why waste any more of our time by ‘dating’ one another? It just seems silly.” 

Colin stops ranting briefly, as if to allow Penelope to get her rebuttal in before he has the chance to make his point. When she stays silent, she can’t help but notice a hint of a smile crawl back up his otherwise serious face. 

“And while I know the romantic in you is buzzing to say yes and run down to city hall right now, I know the realist in you needs some convincing.” He briefly holds up his phone to display the article he pulled up. “So we will go through this list, which details everything you need to accomplish during the dating stage of a relationship. If, at the end, we realise that we checked off every single to-do item while we were still just friends, we will make the reasonable decision to get married.” 

If there’s one thing Charming Colin Bridgerton can do, it’s make a convincing argument. The realistic and romantic on each of Penelope’s shoulders suddenly go quiet.

“And where exactly did you find this scholarly article you are basing such a life-altering decision on?” 

He looks down. 

“TheMarriageExpert.blogspot.com” 

“Colin!” 

“They’re an expert, Pen!” 

After her giggles finally let up, Penelope sighs. He has convinced her to play more tedious games before…

“Fine. You have yourself a deal, Bridgerton. What’s first on that list of yours?” 

Finally, that serious expression on his face drops completely. He grins at her in that way that always makes Penelope’s heart skip a beat. 

“Number One: Your First Pet As a Couple,” he reads aloud. “During the course of your marriage, you and your partner will come to share many things together. Finances, homes, memories, and a million other things you cannot even begin to fathom now. A pet will help you prepare for those shared responsibilities. It will teach you both about the importance of…”

As Colin continues reading, a frown pulls at the tips of Penelope’s lips. When he finishes, she attempts to cover her disappointment with a shallow laugh. 

“Game over, I guess.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Pardon?” 

“We’ve never shared a pet, so…”

Colin’s mouth falls open. He pulls his free hand to his chest, underscoring the aghast look on his face. 

“Pen… Did Mr. Whiskers mean nothing to you?”

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

Twenty Years Earlier: July 21st, 2003

Relationship Status: Sister’s Best Friend // Best Friend’s Brother

꙳

How did I get here again?

It’s Monday. The first real day of summer holiday. For most kids, that means the start of freedom. Six weeks of fun, followed by real life crashing down on them when the fall term begins. But for Penelope, it means the loss of structure. For six weeks, it is up to her to determine how — and more importantly, where — she spends her time. 

She didn’t want to spend it at home. Not this morning, at least. So she went to Grosvenor Square. 

At just eight years old, there aren’t many places Penelope can run off to unaccompanied. Even the Square, just two blocks away from her home, is hard to get away with. Her mum only allowed it because she was under the impression that Eloise would be joining her — that between Penelope’s sense and Eloise’s toughness, the two girls would be safe in the nearby park. But when Penelope ran across the street, she learned from Anthony that Eloise was not available for a morning stroll in the square. 

She could have just gone back home, but she really, really didn’t want to. So she went to Grosvenor Square. Alone. 

She was walking around the park, careful not to step on any cracks in the concrete. She moved to the grass when she realised that everyone was walking around her (even for an eight-year-old, her legs are rather short); she did not want to pull too much attention to herself and have someone question where her parents are. 

She was listening. To the birds chirping. To the nearby traffic. Mostly, to the people. 

Two teenagers were fighting. She was mad, he was sorry. She said something about him cheating, but after that, their shouts turned to whispers and Penelope couldn’t make out the rest. She wondered what type of exam he could have cheated on.

A little white dog barked at her. His owner looked apologetic. 

A neighbour of hers walked past her, pushing a stroller. Penelope thought about hiding behind the nearest tree, certain that Mrs. Abernathy would notice her and say something. Thankfully though, the baby started crying and distracted her. 

Just as Penelope was about to turn the corner and listen into the couple’s fight again, she had heard something different. 

“Meow.”

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but when she walked over to the nearest bush to investigate, a two giant blue eyes stared back at her. 

Oh, right. 

Penelope looks down at the kitten currently sleeping in her arms. 

He had white fur with little patches of black around his ears and nose. His whiskers were long — so long that they didn’t look like they were placed on the right cat. He was so small and scrawny — Penelope couldn’t tell if he was actually a kitten, or just a cat who spent too much time with too little food in his stomach. 

Without a collar or any family in sight (she had spent over an hour looking for them), Penelope decided to take him home. She spent 20 minutes taking the 10-minute walk home. She slowed her steps. She took unnecessary turns and waited too long before crossing crosswalks. She held the kitten tightly to her chest, shielded slightly by the nest she made out of her yellow cardigan. She practised what she would say to her mum. 

“Penelope. Anne. Featherington. Get that rodent out of my house!” 

It had not gone well. Although, even before she landed back on the front steps of her home, Penelope had suspected that there was nothing she could say that could convince her mum to let them keep him. 

She followed her mother’s instructions, fleeing from her house with the kitten in hand. Penelope didn’t have much of a plan once she hit the pavement outside, but like they so often do, she found her feet walking in the direction of the home across the street. But they stopped before they could reach it. 

Ever since Mr. Bridgerton died last summer, Penelope’s mum had warned her about showing up at their house unannounced. There are eight fatherless children in that house now — the youngest of which never even got to meet her father. They have enough going on as it is. 

They have enough going on as it is, she repeats again and again. 

That’s how she got here. Sitting on the edge of the pavement outside the Bridgerton household, a cat sleeping soundly in her lap. 

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” she tells him. She wonders if the kitten can sense the hesitance in her voice. 

Silently, Penelope wonders what the right thing to do is. Where the right place to go is. The first place she thinks of is an animal shelter. Surely, that is the most logical place to bring a lost kitten to. They would know how to take care of him, how to find him a home with people who want him. The only problem is that Penelope does not know of any actual animal shelters in Mayfair.

The second place she thinks of is the fire station down the street. Firefighters save cats, don’t they? Or was that —

“Pen?” 

Colin, her mind registers before she even has the chance to turn around. When she finally does, she attempts to smile, while also shielding the contraband from his view. Colin, in turn, throws her his usual smile — bright and true. The one that always manages to make Penelope’s stomach flip over inside herself. It does so now, even with the fresh sting of disappointment still welling up inside her. 

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to —” 

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the kitten she clearly failed at hiding away from him. Before she has the chance to answer, he sits down beside her on the curb.

“I found him in Grosvenor Square. He was all alone and I didn’t know where else to go…” Her voice trails off, once again contemplating what a responsible person would do next in this situation. 

“You gonna keep him?”

“No.” Disappointment is evident in her voice. “Mum won’t let me. She hates cats.” 

Penelope takes her eyes off the kitten to look up at Colin. While only two years older that her, he stands nearly a head above her (he’s tall for his age — she’s short for her’s). Even sitting, she has to tilt her head up just to look him in the eyes. As usual, his brown mop of a haircut hangs so low that it covers his eyes somewhat, but Penelope can still see the blue-green colour peaking through. She’s always quite liked that colour. 

Colin tilts towards her a few inches, then raises his hand to gently pet the kitten’s head. “I’d take him, but mum and Daph are both allergic.” 

Penelope can feel her eyes go wide. Mr. Bridgerton was allergic to hornets…

“Not that kind of allergic,” he reassures her, seemingly reading her mind. “They won’t, like, die or anything. Their skin will just get all red and scratchy if he gets anywhere near them.” 

“Oh — sorry. I should just go.” Pulling the kitten out of Colin’s grasp, Penelope stands. She starts to turn away from him, but is once again reminded that she has no idea where she is supposed to go. 

“Wait — no. Where are you gonna take him?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Where are you supposed to take stray cats?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno.” 

“Okay. I —”

“But I have an idea.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The Bridgertons live on a gold mine. Metaphorically. Literally, they live on nearly an acre of land in the middle of Mayfair. Their back garden is massive compared to the neighbours that surround them, a feat that is only possible due to the home being passed down from one Bridgerton to the next for so many generations. That’s the same reason Penelope’s family is still able to reside in the house across the street, but their garden is not nearly as sprawling. 

“Where are we going?” 

She and Colin hadn’t gone through his house, rather, they went around it. Now, he leads her towards the very back of the estate, a few steps ahead, one hand on the wall to their left. His index finger traces the cracks between the stones. 

“Have some patience, Pen.” 

“I — I do.” And she does. Usually. Usually, Penelope is a remarkably patient girl. Well-mannered. Quiet. She usually wears those attributes on her shoulders like a uniform. But for some reason, they tend to slip away from her whenever Colin is near. 

Penelope’s eyes flick right, towards Colin’s family home. It seems purposeful, that they’re walking along the shadows of this wall. 

“Is Eloise home yet?” she asks, for no other reason than to fill the silence between them. Usually, Penelope prefers such silence. But not right now. 

“Uh, no. Ben took her into the city for her, uh… Her doctor appointment. They usually don’t get back until supper time.” 

Out of Colin’s view, she nods. For the past year — ever since Mr. Bridgerton died — Eloise has been seeing a doctor in the city pretty regularly. Penelope’s mum told her to never ask any follow up questions about these visits… but silently, she’s always questioned what type of doctor is able to fix an ailment like heartbreak. 

“Are you doing anything for the summer holiday?” she asks, another attempt to just fill the silence. She already knows the answer. They always travel up to Aubrey Hall for at least a week, this time of year. Always. 

“Nah. Just staying here, I guess.” 

“Oh.” Dread appears suddenly and sits heavily in Penelope’s stomach. Mr. Bridgerton died at Aubrey Hall last August. Of course they’re not eager to return.  “Us too.” 

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

She feels her cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah. Cool,” she says, hoping her voice does not expose the growing warmth on her skin. 

Without a word, Colin breaks away from the stone wall beside them and walks towards a particularly dense cluster of trees. When Penelope follows, she finds Colin standing next to something she’s never seen before, despite the many years she’s spent playing with Eloise in this yard. It’s a wooden shed of sorts. It’s wide and just about as tall as Penelope. 

“What is that?” 

“Some old shed. I dunno… I think they used to store firewood in here, back in the olden days.” He kicks open the latch with his foot. “Empty now, though. I don’t think anyone else remembers it’s here.” 

“So…” 

“So, your cat could live here.” 

Penelope looks down. At some point in the last few minutes, she had somehow forgotten the kitten held tightly against her chest. She had forgotten her whole point in being here. 

“Oh! Right. That’s, um…” 

She steals another glance at the shed. It certainly does look like it was last used during the “olden times.” 

“That’s really kind. But how would he — how would that work?” 

“We get him a bed, milk, food… Everything a cat needs to survive.”

Penelope’s brow furrows. “Those things cost money…”

Colin shrugs. “I’ll steal a $20 out of Anthony’s wallet.” A smile erupts on his face when he sees shock overtake Penelope’s. He didn’t know a child could open their mouth that wide. “Kidding — I’ll just tell him I’m sad. He’ll probably hand me a $20 and tell me to go fix my feelings with ice cream.” 

“Oh — okay. But…” Her mind stalls, searching for another flaw in his logic to voice aloud. There are just so many to choose from. “Mum always says we can’t get a pet cause they’re too much responsibility. You have to take care of them, feed them, make sure —” 

“Hey — we’re both very responsible people. I help keep Greg alive, and that kid thinks licking an electrical socket is a fun pastime. If I can do that, keeping a cat alive will be nothing.” 

“So we would, um…” She steals another glance at the shed before them. She can’t help but look at it and see a cage. “We would just lock him in there all day?”

“No!” He says quickly, a bit nervously. “We’ll keep the door open — or I could even cut a cat-sized hole in the side. You know, so he can come and go as he pleases.” 

“But if he’s able to leave that easily… Won’t he get lost again?” 

“No. If I know anything about cats, it’s that if you feed them, they’ll always find their way back to you. And since you found him hanging out in Grosvenor Square, clearly he’s an outside cat, not an inside cat.”

Penelope looks down at the kitten again. His attention has turned away from her; his round eyes dart back and forth wildly as he takes in all the space around them.

“I thought only strays went outside.” 

“No. A cat can have a home and not want to stay cooped up in at all day long.” Colin takes another step towards her. He raises his hand and scratches behind the kitten’s ear, who immediately starts purring. “Clearly, this little badass wants to roam free.” 

Yet again, Penelope can feel her cheeks burn pink. She’s lived in London her entire life, she’s heard words far worse than “badass” a million times before — but never from Colin’s lips. In fact, the two of them had never really been alone like this before. He was her best friend’s brother — a friend of sorts, but tangentially so. He was only ever in Penelope’s company through her friendship with Eloise. She isn’t used to having this much of his attention on her. 

“Here.” After what feels like hours, she pulls the kitten away from her chest and nearly shoves him into Colin’s. “He seems to really like you.” 

“Oh — okay.” Unsurprisingly — and annoyingly quickly — the kitten settles into his arms. Clearly, Colin’s natural charm works on animals just as well as it does on people. 

Colin finally takes his eyes off of hers, turning around to show the kitten what could be his new home. With his gaze finally off her, Penelope’s mind flushes with panic. With words she had brushed off just moments before. Colin offering to spend his own money. To cut a hole in the shed. To take care of the cat, himself. 

He has enough going on as it is. 

Penelope looks up to see Colin setting the tiny creature down in the shed. Then, without much thought, she steps forward and takes the kitten in her arms again. 

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in this.” She turns away, pulling the kitten closer into her chest.  “I’ll drop him off that the fire —”

“Pen, stop.” His hand falls on her shoulder, then squeezes it once, gently. Although she is not very experienced in receiving such small physical gestures, Penelope can tell that he meant it to be reassuring. “He’ll be fine here, I promise.” 

She turns slowly. His hand drops. By the time they face each other again, her blush has almost abandoned her cheeks. Almost. 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” 

He laughs. Genuinely. Kindly. Just as he always does. 

“No.” Gently, Colin pulls the kitten out of her arms again. “How could this little guy ever be ‘too much?’” 

Pushing away all thoughts that scream that this is a bad idea, Penelope pushes her shoulders back. She stands tall (metaphorically, of course). 

“I’ll do half the work — at least. I can check on his bowl every morning. Make sure he has water and food and whatever else he needs. Maybe you can do the same at night. And if you ever can’t, just let me know and I’ll help. And if it ever does become too much, I can find him somewhere else to live.” 

When she finally closes her mouth, Colin’s smile returns. Then, he extends his hand towards her. “You got a deal, Featherington.” 

Tentatively, Penelope raises her hand to seal said deal. But before she can make contact, Colin’s hand moves, as if to signal her to “stop.” 

“Once last thing. We should just keep this whole thing between us, or ya know… Anthony will send both me and the cat to the nearest shelter.” 

“Colin! I —” 

“Kidding!” He laughs again, which has a surprisingly good effect on Penelope’s nerves. “But really… It’s simpler if we don’t tell anyone else. Not even Eloise — she can’t keep a secret for her life.” 

She tilts her head again, stealing a not-so-quick glance at his eyes (through the mop of hair still obscuring that blue-green colour). Since as long as she can remember, Penelope has always wanted more of Colin — in some ways that she will not be able to define with words until she is much older. But even at just eight years old, Penelope knows she wants to be around him. She wants his attention. She wants to share a secret with him. Even if she knows it’s a bad idea. 

“Deal.” With that, Penelope shakes Colin’s hand and seals their fate forever. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 5th, 2003

꙳

It turned out to be a rather easy secret to keep. 

Penelope was good at staying unseen — at blending into the shadows. Every morning at approximately 7 AM, she snuck into the Bridgerton back garden. And every morning at approximately 7:10 AM, she snuck out without being noticed by anyone other than Colin. Not that has mum or siblings would bat an eye if they happened to find Penelope back there. Before Edmund died and her own mum warned her to keep herself scarce, there were times that Penelope spent more time at the Bridgertons’ home than her own house. And despite Portia’s warnings, they would gladly invite her inside, any day. 

Colin was also quite good at escaping his family’s notice on his own daily task. Every night around dusk, he would sneak into the kitchen or bathroom, fill an 8-ounce bottle with tap water, then hide it in the front pocket of whatever hoodie he happened to be wearing that day. They kept the cat food in the shed, in a locked container Colin bought at the pet store down the street (with money he had stolen from Anthony’s wallet — although he never admitted that he followed through on the theft “joke” to Penelope). The longer time went on, the less effort he put into sneaking out of the house everyday. The longer time went on, the more obvious it became how easy it is to disappear from a house with nine people. Especially when the one person everyone searches for is no longer around. 

The only conspirator that ever put them at risk of being found out was Mr. Whiskers (a name Colin had thought of, after Penelope complained that they couldn’t just keep calling him “little guy.”). Three times in two weeks, Whiskers had loitered around the Bridgerton’s back steps, meowing for attention. Colin had caught him the first time and shooed him off. Daphne caught him the second time and screamed bloody murder. Anthony caught him the third and nearly called animal control, but thankfully, Benedict had stepped in to tell their older brother to “chill out.” Thankfully, Whiskers seemed wary of coming close to the Bridgerton household after that last encounter. 

A routine formed. Penelope would sneak into the garden in the morning. Colin would sneak out of his home at night. Mr. Whiskers would come and go as he pleased between meals. Their paths rarely cross. Until tonight, when Colin spots someone running towards the back of the garden in the moonlight from his bedroom window. 

Someone quite short. 

Less than five minutes later, Colin runs along the same path — far less cautious than he usually is at dusk. He prays his mum or siblings are not watching out their windows like he was his. That they’re asleep — not pacing circles in their rooms in the middle of the night. He knows the risks are there, but the further his feet carry him, the more faraway they feel.

He hears crying in the distance. Quiet, but persistent.

He sees her before she sees him — sitting criss crossed on the entry of the shed, Mr. Whiskers climbing into her lap tentatively. She does not notice him until he is standing but a few feet away. 

Colin had felt distinctly uneasy since the very moment he spotted her in the back garden. But a wave of fear strikes him cold when their eyes meet. Hers go so wide that he swears he can see the moonlight reflect off of them. She does not immediately speak; even her crying goes silent when she realises she is not alone. 

“Pen, what’s wrong? How can I help?” 

“Noth — nothing.” She sounds scared. At least the fearful look in her eye is somewhat obstructed by nightfall. Her words cut clean through the darkness. 

He steps forward, now standing only inches away from her. Instinctively, his hand raises and gently grips her shoulder. He feels her flinch beneath his touch, but not enough to remove herself from it. 

“Pen, whatever it is, you can tell me. I can help.” 

She averts his gaze, focusing intently on the cat still sitting in her lap.

“It’s nothing, really. I — I just wanted to see Mr. Whiskers for a little bit.” 

Colin doesn’t say anything, too busy internally trying to make sense of the words she spills and the worry in her voice. They do not fit together. 

“I’m sorry,” she continues. She uses the back of her hand to wipe at her nose. “I shouldn’t have — I’ll just go.” 

“Don’t go.” Before Penelope can move, Colin squeezes her shoulder again. His mum does the same thing when he gets so upset and that he needs help calming down. 

Slowly, under Colin’s grasp, Penelope’s shoulders stop heaving. Her breath evens out. She meets his eye again.

“What happened?”

“Honestly, nothing.”

“Pen —”

“Nothing that isn’t, like, normal, I mean.” He does not know what she means. He can’t imagine a single normal thing that would cause someone to run away crying from their home in the middle of the night. Especially someone as small and defenceless as Penelope. 

“Mum and dad were just fighting,” she confesses after realising that Colin’s look of concern will not fade unless she tells him the truth. “A bit louder than usual, I guess. But it’s not like I haven’t heard them fight a million times before.” 

“That’s —” Not normal. But he doesn’t say that. He can’t say that. He’s suddenly — alarmingly — struck by the fact that what he deems “normal” might not be the same for Penelope. That there are “normal” things in his life — all of which came about in the past year — that other people would scoff at and tell him are unimaginable for a kid to deal with at his age. 

That’s not right, would be more accurate. But he doesn’t say that either. Instead, he simply asks: “Do you want to come inside? El is probably asleep, but I could wake her —” 

“No — thank you, but no. I should actually get going.” With that, Penelope slips out of his hold. “Mum will kill me if she realises I slipped out.” She places Mr. Whiskers back in the shed before turning to leave. She takes four steps before Colin finds his voice again.

“You don’t have to do deal with this all by yourself, Pen. I’m here. I want to help.” 

At his words, Penelope goes completely still. Deer-in-deadlights type stillness. Then, before he knows it, she’s walking towards him. 

Her arms wrap around his torso. Her hands land firmly on his spine. Her forehead falls on his shoulder. Without a single thought, his body reacts. His arms wrap around her and his jaw settles on the crown of her head. For a moment, it feels like its just the two of them in the world. Until Colin feels something furry cross his ankle. 

“I guess Whiskers was feeling left out,” he says. Penelope laughs and Colin feels a bit lighter. That lightness is quickly followed by something hollow when Penelope pulls herself out of the hug to pick up the kitten meowing at her feet. 

“He keeps trying to follow me home after breakfast.” She giggles softly. “Clearly, he doesn’t remember meeting my mum, or else he would stay away forever. I think she thought he was a rat that day I found him.” 

Colin chuckles, and it’s only somewhat forced. “Yeah, he tried sneaking into my house a few times. He met Anthony last time, though, and I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget that.”

She giggles again. “Was he mad?” 

“His face was red — literally! Although, I’m starting to think that’s just how is face normally is and that it takes great effort for him to appear like us normal people, if that’s how he reacts to a cute little kitten hanging around our back door.” 

Penelope scratches Whiskers behind his ears. Eyes not leaving the cat, she whispers: “I don’t know how people can see something so sweet and get so mad.” 

Colin’s eyes don’t leave Penelope when he responds, suddenly a bit deflated: “Me neither.” 

Slowly, she lowers Mr. Whiskers back to the ground. The cat does not appear to be very keen on leaving her side just yet, but Penelope still insists: “I should really head back now. Before anyone notices I left.” 

Colin spares a glance over his shoulder, towards the family home he had nearly forgotten about. It’s likely past midnight already, but there are still a few lights on upstairs. 

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Me too.” 

Penelope nods. She looks like she’s about to turn and leave when Colin blurts out: “You wanna meet here again in the morning? When you feed Whiskers, I mean.” 

She doesn’t immediately respond with words, but rather with a very confused expression lit by the moonlight. “I thought —”

“Our system’s like efficient and all,” he cuts in, “but we haven’t exactly seen each other much since we started taking care of him. I dunno, I guess I just thought that we would hang out more.” 

“Oh!” Her voice registers barely below a squeak. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I…” She pauses so long that Colin wonders if it is his turn to speak again. But right before he can blurt out something again, Penelope says: “I’d like that.” 

For the first time in days, a smile creeps up on Colin’s lips. 

“Cool. See you tomorrow.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 14th, 2003

꙳

“I’m not sure I understand the rules of this game.”

“It’s our game. The rules can be whatever we want them to be.” 

Penelope stands with the tips of her toes and the palms of her hands pressed neatly against Colin’s matching sets. There’s a piece of cat biscuit placed between her right palm and Colin’s left. There’s a tiny kitten peering up at them from where their shoes connect. He looks just as confused on the parameters of this game as Penelope feels. 

The rules, they eventually settle on, are these: 

Before getting into the aforementioned position, one person briefly presents the biscuit to Mr. Whiskers (taking turns to avoid leading the cat towards favouritism of one player over another).

On the count of three, one person takes the biscuit into their hands, both turn around and run in opposite directions. 

Mr. Whiskers follows whoever he believes holds his treat. 

Penelope ends up with the biscuit three times. Colin ends up with it five times. It falls to the ground between them eleven times. Each time, without fail, Whiskers immediately takes off after Penelope. 

“This isn’t fair!” Colin calls out from behind a tree on their twentieth attempt at this so-called ‘game.’ “It’s not my fault you bonded with him first.” He points a finger at the cat currently pawing at her ankles. “I feed you just as much as she does — traitor!”

“Shhh, Colin!” Penelope whisper-yells. “Someone might hear you.” 

“Oh, who cares?” he says nonchalantly, retreating back towards the shed. 

I care, Penelope thinks. She doesn’t want any one of Colin’s many siblings to stumble upon them back here. She’s not ready to give up this secret. She’s not willing to end this game. Not yet, anyway. 

“Mr. Whiskers cares. I doubt he wants to be evicted from his home just because you’re a sore loser.” She picks the kitten up and plops him down on Colin’s lap, now sitting criss-cross in the shed’s doorway. 

“Well, he should have thought about that before picking sides.” He sticks his tongue out at Mr. Whiskers, who continues to appear unphased by his surroundings. 

Like she has come accustomed to doing over the past two weeks, Penelope sits down on the other end of the shed’s opening. His body is turned towards her, but she keeps her positioned outwards, as if to keep watch. Her legs cross in front of her at the ankles, her nails scratch into the grain beneath her, and, sitting upright, the crown of her head brushes the wood frame. Colin is — obviously — slouched in his spot beside her. 

After a moment of quiet, Colin clears his throat. 

“You know, you can come over for dinner tonight, if you want.” 

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” Penelope says quickly. Dismissively. “Mum will expect me home soon. I think we’re having stew.” 

“Yeah, but what about tomor—” It’s a pretty uncommon occurrence for Penelope to see a blush pass by Colin’s typically unblemished face, but right now, it hits his cheeks in an instant. He turns away. “Well, not tomorrow. Obviously. But another day.”

The mention of tomorrow brings a feverish feeling to Penelope’s chest. Much different than the warm feeling she usually feels in that same spot when she’s around Colin.

“I can’t. I — I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t.” He finally looks her in the eye again. “You wouldn’t, I promise. When you have eight kids, one more mouth to feed hardly makes a difference.” His eyes travel to the side again. They point towards his house, partially obstructed by the scattering of trees they’ve found themselves in. “El would be happy if you stopped in. Mum too.” 

Penelope tries to push out her mother’s voice from her head when she says: “Yeah. Another day. Soon.” 

“Good.” 

After another moment of quiet, she pushes herself forward and lands with two feet on the grass. 

“I really should head back now, though.” 

“Okay, I’ll —”

“But, Colin?” She interrupts — a truly rare occurrence for Penelope Featherington. 

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking… Maybe I could feed Mr. Whiskers breakfast and dinner tomorrow. I know we have our system, but… I just — I don’t want you to have to deal with taking care of him on top of any… family stuff.”

Colin, now holding rather tightly onto Mr. Whiskers in his arms, considers her offer for a moment. His brows furrow. His eyes glance downward. He starts forming a word on his lips and Penelope expects to hear the word “no” escape from them shortly after. But instead, he nods and says: “That’s kind of you to offer. Thanks, Pen.”

Kindness isn’t something that Penelope has ever been thanked for before. She had been rewarded for it in other ways, but not like this. Kindness had always been something that was expected, not appreciated. Now, she feels hesitant to accept thanks for something as small as offering up a few minutes of her time for someone who has gone through more grief than she can even imagine. So instead of accepting it outright, she simply nods and says: “Goodnight, Colin.” 

 ꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 25th, 2003

꙳

When Penelope walks towards the shed at approximately 6:55 AM this Monday morning, the door is shut. This is strange. The door is always open. Penelope had convinced Colin not to cut a little cat door on the side of the shed (he had wanted to use a saw from their garage), so the door always has to be open for Whiskers to come and go. Always. 

The closer she gets, the harder it is for her to take another step. Her head is already filled with the image of an empty cavern on the other side of that door. It couldn’t have close on its own; the latch is locked. Someone closed it. 

Just as her hand grazes that metal latch, Penelope hears footsteps. Quick and increasingly loud footsteps. She jumps (literally) around — heart pounding, eyes wide — and sees…

“Colin! Where’s Mr. Whiskers?!

“In there.” He points to the shed behind her, still shut tight. Once he gets close enough, he reaches over he shoulder and finally undoes the latch. Just as promised, the cat is there, curiously looking up at them.

“He keeps trying to follow me back into the house after I feed him. Last night, he was scratching at the back door. Thank God I got to him before Anthony.” 

“So he was just locked in there all night?” 

She spares another sideways glance at the shed’s interior. It’s not nearly as bare as it had been that first day she looked inside. There’s two containers. Two bowls. Two electric lanterns. A blanket. A few cat toys. And a few human toys she assumes once belonged to Colin. To an animal as tiny as Mr. Whiskers, it might seem huge, but to Penelope, it all feels very claustrophobic. 

“Yeah, but… Sometimes it’s just safer to stay put for a little while. Even outdoor cats need to be reigned in some nights.” 

Penelope doesn’t know whether to agree or disagree with his words, so she tries her best to ignore them. She climbs into the shed, gives Whiskers an affectionate bop on the head, then fills his bowl with breakfast. 

“I wanted to wake up early and let him out, but… I guess I slept in.” Colin’s out of her view, still standing just outside the shed, but she can guess there’s a guilty look creeping up on his face. 

“You’re not wrong,” she finally settles on. When Whiskers finishes his meal, she finally looks back to Colin. Just as expected, guilt is evident on his face. “But maybe Mr. Whiskers isn’t an outside cat after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to follow us back to our own homes.” 

“I thought that was just because he loves us.” Leave it to Colin Bridgerton to transform guilt into charm in under 30 seconds. 

“Well…” Penelope turns back to Mr. Whiskers again. As usual, he’s peering up at them with a transfixed — maybe even loving — stare. “Maybe you have a point.” 

“I usually do —” 

“But still — do you really think this is what’s best for him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…”

She bites her tongue — literally. All of this started because of her own selfish wants. To keep the cat. To occupy Colin’s attention. To have a reason to get out of her house every morning. But the more time has gone on, the harder it has become to see past the potential consequences of her selfishness.

“Summer’s almost over. We have to go back to school and can’t look out for him all day. It’s gonna get cold soon…” Colin’s face looks serious now. More serious than she’s used to seeing it. She looks away. “What if he gets sick? Or needs a vet? I just don’t know if this is really his best option.”

Penelope points both hands towards the shed. Towards the small wooden structure that completely transformed her summer. Towards the only home Mr. Whiskers has ever known — dim and claustrophobic as it may be. She expects Colin’s eyes to follow her lead, but they don’t. For a moment, it feels as though her presence completely slips from his view. His eyes are fixated on something in the distance — something in the opposite direction. Then —

“Shite!” 

His arms hastily wrap around Penelope’s waist. It takes everything in her not to shriek in surprise as he practically throws her into the shed. Thankfully, Mr. Whiskers jumps from the doorway to the back of the shed in an instant, or else she surely would have crushed him on impact. 

“Colin! What —”

“Shh!” Colin climbs in and shuts the door behind him. Thank God those electric lamps are still (just barely) holding onto life and dimly illuminating the space, or else Penelope would not have been able to discern him mouth: “Anthony.” 

The tips of their toes touch in the limited space. Penelope wonders if he can feel her shaking through the plastic tips of her yellow converse. The concerned look he throws her way tells her that he must.

“You okay?” he mouths. 

She thinks about nodding. She briefly wonders if a nod can count as a lie, or if lies can only be spoken aloud. But she doesn’t do anything, except stay frozen in her spot. 

Everything is quiet. For a brief moment, Penelope thinks they may have actually gone unnoticed. Then, she remembers that the latch — the flimsy piece of metal that keeps these doors shut — is on the other side. When Mr. Whiskers paws at the wood beams, the door swings open. The morning light nearly blinds her, but not enough to miss Anthony Bridgerton’s very mad — very red — face. 

“Colin — what the hell?!” 

Just as Colin had thrown her into of the shed mere moments ago, Anthony now pulls Penelope out of it by the shoulders. Just like Whiskers, she somehow manages to land on her feet. 

“I knew it! I knew you were irresponsible, but this —” He bends down and grabs Whiskers by the scruff of his neck. “This is insane. Even for you.” 

Anthony turns to Penelope, as if he has only just now discovered her presence beside Colin. In mere seconds, she watches his face turn from anger to shock to annoyance. He turns to his little brother again. 

“I will be the responsible adult and make sure this — thing — finds an actual home and doesn’t continue living on the streets.” With a near-growl caught in his throat, Anthony tells Colin: “We will discuss this later.” 

He turns to leave, but stops. “And Colin, do not mention this to mum. Or anyone else.” 

He starts then stops again. “And Penelope, please do not let my brother’s bad influence rub off on you. A nice girl like you has enough trouble as it is being friends with Eloise.” 

It isn’t until Anthony has properly stomped away, Mr. Whiskers securely tucked in his arms, that Penelope seems to regain control of her body and mind. Slowly, she turns towards Colin. She uses every second between then and the moment she looks him in the eye to begin preparing an apology. For getting him in trouble with his brother. For getting him caught up in this mess to start with. For being a bad friend. But the moment that their eyes meet… Colin does not look like he is expecting an apology of any sort. 

He laughs. 

“Did you see the look on his face?!” 

“Uhh. I don’t —” 

 “He looked like a tomato! I swear one day he’s gonna burst and —”

“Colin,” she says, concern in her voice, too low to break through the noise of his continued laughter.

“— marina sauce is gonna go flying —”

“Colin!” she says again, a bit louder this time. Thankfully, it seems to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“Oh god, Pen. Don’t be sorry.” 

“But —” 

“But your — your brother —”

“I should be apologising for Ant— even if you and him were both right about Whiskers needing somewhere else to live.”

“Yeah…” As much as she will miss her tiny, furry friend, this is for the best. For Whiskers, at least. “But Anthony was so mad at you. And I —”

“He’ll get over it. That’s the great thing about having seven siblings — wait five minutes and someone will do something even stupider than you. Daph and El are probably inside getting into a fist fight as we speak.” 

The mention of her best friend temporarily draws Penelope’s thoughts away from her internal pity party. She saw Eloise plenty of times over the past few weeks, but not nearly as much as she did during previous summer breaks. Before last August. 

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Colin asks, breaking her from her thought spiral.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he smirks, “do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” 

“I don’t know… Anthony seemed —”

“Don’t worry about Anthony. He’ll get over it — and you heard him, he’s not even going to rat us out to my mum.” He takes a step forward, then places his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. He squeezes it once. “It’ll be fun. Everyone will be excited to see you.” 

Not for the first time — and certainly not the last — Penelope feels at a loss for words. All she can manage is a tiny nod. A nearly imperceptible movement. 

Colin smiles. 

“Good. Just so you know, the door is always open. Always.” 

Finally, little Penelope Featherington finds her voice again. 

“I know.” 

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

Penelope tries to hide the smile on her lips by shoving another fork full of shrimp fried rice into her mouth. Colin — of course — sees right through her attempt. 

“So…” 

“Anthony was right. We were awfully irresponsible that summer. He was better off after Danbury took him in and he became Lord Whiskers.”

“Hey — give us a little credit! How many 8 or 10-year-olds do you know who could keep a cat alive for a summer all by themselves?” 

“The only impressive thing we did that summer was keeping our little secret hidden from the rest of your family.” 

“What are you talking about?!” Colin says, unable to keep his ever-charming laugh from escaping his throat as he speaks. “Do not downplay our role in raising that cat. You rescued him from the mean streets of London. I —”

“I found him hiding out in a bush in Grosvenor Square!”

“Exactly! And I —” 

“Colin!”

“I built him a home,” he barely manages to get out through his laughter.

“That’s a bit over-dra—”

“We fed and took care of him for over a month. We were just kids — that’s pretty impressive. That means something.”

In her heart, Penelope knows that — obviously — it means something. But does it mean what Colin wants it to mean? That they should get married? Even with the rules he set forth, it seems like an insane connection to even consider.

“I don’t know…” 

“For five weeks, he was ours. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Penelope does consider it. She thinks about who Colin was to her before she found Mr. Whiskers. A friend — of sorts. Her best friend’s brother. A neighbour. A crush. Someone she looked at and longed for. After, she thinks of who Colin was to her on that morning Anthony found them hiding out in that tiny wooden shed. A friend. A fellow kid. A conspirator. Someone who saw her cowering in the dark and asked if she was okay. 

So what, if their hypothetical marriage hinges on a technicality? People have married on flimsier grounds before. 

“Fine,” she relents. “It counts.” 

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Colin’s grin grows even wider. 

“Of course it does.” As Penelope attempts to cover her own grin with a scoff, Colin picks up his phone again.

“Let’s see…”

#im an atheist and im saying a prayer for ao3 tonight #fanfic #bridgerton #fanfiction #polin #dancing around the truth #weepingfromacedartree #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 #archive of our own #edit: just realized I wrote 'marina' sauce instead of 'marinara' sauce #and I'm not fixing it cause that shits funny #shout out to my girl marina

[sunnylands-world]

Draco Malfoy's masterlist

Welcome to my Draco Masterlist, readers, and I hope you like my fics! Header, banners, and dividers are all by me

Main masterlist

PART 2 HERE

REQUEST ARE ALWAYS OPEN 💚

You are responsible for your reading choices, please don't report my account or my work. If you are not aware of what smut content is it is usually content meant for 18+ readers, it is up to you what you read, I am not your parents!!

Do NOT write offense things in my comments or I will block you from this page and any account I find out is yours

A lot of my work is old so my writing did improve. it's organized from oldest to newest so that's a warning! if it's cringy sorry [I May Update Them]

After - FLUFF: You and draco make plans for what happens after...

It's okay - FLUFF: When Draco goes missing you run to find him and learn some other things about your best friend...

lies to your deceiving eyes - FLUFF : Draco didn't care much for Hogwarts or the people there that is until he runs into you...

Sick kisses - SMUT: being a deathly eater brings burdens and pain it's lucky you have each other to mend one another's broken pieces...

Choose - ANGST: You and draco are now married what could go wrong? Maybe the past could ruin the future...

muggle things - FLUFF: You and draco go on a trip to the muggle world...

Platinum blondes are superr long - SMUT : When you and pansy make a small joke someone takes it to heart and has to correct your mistake...

Someone bring him back - ANGST: Draco made a lot of mistakes so he tries to fix them but hurts you in the process..

My best friend - FLUFF: So many things happen in your friendship but your to oblivious to see the real big change...

PRETTY LITTLE SINNER - SMUT:

your is put in the room with draco who you secretly like and when you're with the person you like you do crazy things. What if he catches you though...

Punishment - SMUT:

Draco gave you an order and when you don't do what he says, well read and find out...

Feel better - SMUT:

Your insecure about your thighs but Draco knows how to make it better...

Kisses for a sick princess - FLUFF:

y/n on her period and what kinda boyfriend would Draco be if he didn't take care of you...

 

The taller one - FLUFF:

Having a tall boyfriend is great but your boyfriend is a tease and is very possessive when it comes to you even with your friends...

Draco inspired MOODBOARD

Draco MOODBOARD WITH TEXT

Trust me if not everyone else - FLUFF/ANGST:

You go to the yule ball with your best friend but maybe by the end your not friends...

Draco BOOK COVER

For you - ANGST/FLUFF:

So many things are unspoken between you and your foster brother...

For your actions - ANGST:

Draco couldn't complete his task and someone has to pay the price...

Embody - SMUT:

Your village has some rather strange beliefs...

Run away mommy - ANGST TO FLUFF:

When you find out your pregnant you make a run for it afraid of what Draco might say...

Draco SHORT TEXT 1

monster - ANGST:

Draco's not the same and when you got to his room you find out why...

Draco PHOTOSHOPS I MADE

If only you knew - FLUFF/ANGST:

Your sitting on the side watching your best friend love someone else. Maybe he doesn't really love HER...

And after - SMUT:

Draco's parents talk about you and him having kids and it catches Draco's attention...

His - ANGST:

Your taken by Voldemort and draco saves you Making you promise one thing...

I'm here for you sugar - FLUFF/ANGST:

Your Diabetic and make a small dangerous mistake when taking your injections...

Your language - FLUFF:

Your parents are in town and speak a different language so what is Draco gonna do...

Draco TEXT MESSAGE

what my girl wants, my girl gets - SMUT:

Your rather needy when it comes to Draco and who is he to deny you...

Draco TEXT 2

Fuck you - SMUT:

You despise Draco Malfoy and he doesn't like that...

If you were mine - FLUFF:

Draco's life is about to change forever but has to tell you how he feels before it does...

Draco's GIRL COLLAGE

Vampire DRACO COLLAGE

Nightmare - ANGST:

Draco has a really hard time after the wars but you'll always be there for him no matter what happens...

Overflow into my soul and stabs to a wound with no sewing close - FLUFF/ANGST:

It's all a big mess when it comes to you and draco Malfoy. One of you is in love then the roles switch. In the end someone will confess...

"Give yourself to me darling" he whispered in her ear - VAMPIRE SMUT:

Your life's simple you've met the man of your dreams and everything's perfect but everyone's got a secret or a flaw. what's his...

Vampire - SMUT:

Your with a vampire and you a human so things are a bit intense for you because of his lack of control when he's deep inside you...

RAIN BRINGS MORE THAN WET CLOTHES - FLUFF:

it's a girl's dream to dance in the rain but it's a plus if you do it with someone you love...

The second chance - DRACO BOOK

Little Butterfly in the dark - ANGST:

Draco doesn't know what love feels like So where does that leave you...

Hear me - ANGST/FLUFF:

you have a bad habit of tearing yourself down and Draco won't stand for that

What DATING DRACO WOULD BE LIKE

What it's like DATING DEATH EATER DRACO

Vampire charms - Vampire/death eater - SMUT:

the priest little girl is cursed by the walking devil. or is she?...

Yellow - FLUFF:

He wasn't really the type to fall in love But maybe he hasn't met that special girl in yellow...

Purple berry - FLUFF:

You have a crush on your tutor but what are the odds he feels the same..

My crazy death eater - ANGST:

Draco may not have lost just his friends, he may have lost his mind as well...

Someone forbidden - STEP DAD SMUT:

Your step dad is supposed to be off limits but who says either of you follow rules...

Royals - SMUT:

Draco Malfoy is a dick and your a perfect little princess in his eyes But your also not going to back down from a challenge...

Hitting you with snow hearts - FLUFF:

Your not sure how to tell Draco you love him but you love something else maybe that could help...

Wildest dreams - FLUFF/ANGST/KINDA SMUT:

Falling in love slowly is like a Taylor swift song...

Daddy's needy baby - SMUT:

Draco's poor little baby is experiencing a change luckily her daddy is very skilled at helping with it...

Draco TEXT

Brat's punishment - SMUT:

You got a phone for your sixteen birthday and a few years later you use the device for not so appropriate purposes and well your caught...

Deep in your skin - SMUT:

Something about digging your nails in Draco's back while he fucks you just feels right...

Friends to lovers strangers - FLUFF/ANGST:

Draco just wished he would have looked a little closer...

Draco X BLACK READER COLLEGE

New series INFO AND COLLEGE

Something in between - SMUT:

Draco comes back from quidditch and has to have himself buried between your thighs...

Without you - SMUT:

Slytherin parties are known for many things: hookups, drama, and drunk teens but you and your ex bring one more thing...

Happy birthday daddy! - SMUT:

your step dad's birthday comes and of course you come home to celebrate, bringing him cute gifts but he has a better present in mind...

Relax - SMUT:

being a mom is great if you don't count the feeding and other things but Draco is amazing at making you comfortable when you do finally get the chance...

You little brat - SMUT:

your way of coping with your mother's death is not okay with your step father. I mean why sleep with little boys when you have your step dad who is sexy as hell...

The sweetest lies - ANGST:

Draco disappears and pansy comes bringing news about the boy who said he loved you...

The jealous to your possessiveness - SMUT:

you get jealous after a small party and accidentally trigger your possessive husband because of your jealousy and Draco fixes both those problems...

Extremely dangerous - ANGST TO FLUFF:

Draco's a man with a secrets and A few misunderstandings...

Greedy girl - SMUT:

Draco isn't very fond of his girlfriend being a needy slut In front of others and giving them the wrong idea so he's gotta let them know you're only like this for him...

Alpha Draco MOODBOARD

Hero - FLUFF TO SMUT:

your boyfriend stands you up on your eighteenth birthday and your stepdad's there to fill the little hole left in your heart and other things as well…

Draco PHOTOSHOPS WITH STORIES

The famous Bloodline SMUT:

you and the prince are not on the best terms until the truth comes out and he cums in you…

SOFT BLUE ANGST AND FLUFF:

you're attracted to someone you've never seen in human form and your attraction to the said person may cost you everything and it's a risk you're willing to take…

Wrong answer SMUT:

you're gonna fail potions but your professor has an offer to help you pass…

Drive SMUT:

your boyfriend doesn't want to talk about his day, he'd rather show you how shitty it's been…

Came on a train SMUT:

Draco can't control himself around anyone or anywhere when it comes to you...

Okay, today I will be criticizing my first smut EVER! [Draco]

SERIES ↓

STAY QUIET - PART 1 SMUT:

It's Christmas and Draco's favorite present of all lies in his bed but that doesn't mean he'll let you scream...

STAY QUIET PART 2 - SMUT:

You couldn't stay quiet so you'll have to take the punishment for it...

He thinks I'm pretty - FLUFF PART 1:

Your boyfriend's an asshole but you'll always have your best friend...

You should think she's pretty - FLUFF PT.2:

Draco's sees you begin treated bad by your boyfriend and has something to say about it...

Beat me up and break me down - ANGST PART 1:

Something changes about you over the summer...

Sleeping angel - ANGST PART 2: the curse you were put under doesn't just effect Draco in one way in the end...

Everything but not - part 1 *cancelled because it didn't get enough support*

Professor Malfoy series:

It's a brand new year at Hogwarts. You and other children are just beginning their 7th year but you never planned to fall in love with your professor who is also your boyfriend's dad and parents best friend…

Professor Malfoy PART 1

Professor Malfoy PART 2

Professor Malfoy PART 3

Professor Malfoy PART 4

Professor Malfoy PART 5

Part 6 is located in part 2 of the masterlist

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco x gryffindor!reader #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x female reader #hp smut #smut #fluff #angst

[marveloussimp]

You Are In Love

Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader

Summary: music is how you express yourself and show your love. There is something magical about how songs were able to translate everything you're feeling. For you making playlists was a way to express yourself, your feelings, and your affection towards others but better than being the one sending it was being the one on the receiving end, that truly meant the world to you.

Warning: none, it’s supposed to be fluff. First writing in a very long time

A/N: This is my first time writing Y/N fics and a long time since I wrote something, plus English is not my first language so please be kind. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it, and any feedback is welcome, just #Treat people with kindness

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllıı

There is something peaceful and enjoyable about making playlists that vibe with someone's feelings, for you making playlists was a love language, it was your way to show affection towards someone. 

If one of your friends is about to complete another round around the sun then they can be sure that a new playlist will be sent their way to enjoy this new milestone, or if someone is feeling a little blue then behold ‘cause you have the right amount of songs put together to lift their spirit. 

It doesn’t matter the occasion or situation you just happen to have the right collection of songs to share. But even better than making playlists for others was receiving playlists or just a simple song recommendation, and that truly meant the world to you.

That was basically one of the culprits of your long-term friendship with Wanda. I mean you guys have known each other since ever, but growing up and discovering new things can almost always lead to friends growing apart and sometimes being sent on the route to go from best friends forever to acquittances. 

Although, for the pair of you that was not the case and very much impossible to happen to, your love for music and the willingness to take time to make the best curation of songs for someone was something that she found endearing about you.

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllıı

wands

ok, I have a very energetic (?)

recommendation for you

and here it goes

Friendships (Lost My Love) by Pascal Letoublon, Leony

You

gonna list it right now

brb

wands

so?

its good, right??

You

girl… chill

trust the  process

I need time to assimilate the song

wands

you’re annoying…

You

and you still love me 😘 

ok, here goes my review…

the beat is on point, is catchy I think I know the sample used 

but anyways, very nice song 

for sure something to consider adding to my senior prom playlist 

Thank you very much, m’lady

wands

senior prom playlist?

who u r going to prom with?

You

yeah and no one

is more like songs that I would play at the party y’know

wands

you would play…

like as a DJ?

I thought Natasha had asked you…

You

maybe ??

Only if Principal Harkness allowed me but

that is pretty much impossible so…

why would she do that? 

I think she’s going with Carol or Maria

maybe both ??? anyways  

wands

y’know you are always together

I was under the impression that 

something must be going on between u 2

You

jealous much, Maximoff?

wands

🙄 more like annoyed

I mean we have a deal, right?

You

yep, u r my date

but only if you don’t get asked by anyone, right?  

even though I believe you gonna be asked by someone  

wands

correct.

why would you think that?

trying to bribe someone to ask me so you don’t have to go to the dance ?? 

You keep staring at Wanda’s last message without knowing what to answer. Bribe someone to ask her to a school dance? You would never. As a matter of fact, you knew there was a queue of boys trying to ask her, but none had a positive response. Why that? You would only hope it was because she didn’t want to go with some random boy that she barely supports. But secretly you hoped that it was because she really likes you, not only as her best friend.

You

G’nite, wands 

wands

don’t run from the question

I expect an answer by tomorrow

g’nite jukebox

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllıı

“When are you gonna tell her?” you heard as soon as she joined you on the bleachers as you were waiting for Wanda to finish her cheerleader practice — you didn’t even need to rise your head to acknowledge her presence — You knew that every one of your friends could tell by now how you felt for Wanda, it was just a matter of time for her to also get the hint. 

“Probably never,” you said still completely focused on the book in your hands. “She is my best friend since ever, it's not like I’m willing to risk a lifetime of friendship with something so vulnerable as those feelings that are only one-sided” 

Natasha was silent at your side and you could feel her staring at you so you looked back at her “You're so smart yet so dense that I cannot comprehend how that brain of yours works most of the time” and as you dismissed her statement she keeps saying “Wanda absolutely adores you. And no, is not because you are her best friend. I mean c’mon, don’t you see how she looks at you, or how she hugs you longer than normal?”

“Nat, you’re seeing things where there’s nothing. We’ve known each other since diapers, and she is a very affectionate person, of course, she is gonna hug me longer… I’m her best friend, that’s normal between us.”

“If you say so. Just don’t come crying to me when she decides that she had waited enough for you to never make a move” with that Natasha left you alone with your thoughts and a book long forgotten. Looking at the field where the practice was happening you saw her. Crowded place or not your eyes will only see her. 

It was already past 10 pm on a Saturday, right on the weekend before the start of the second year of high school and per usual you were in your bedroom with headphones and a book in hand when she texted you.

wands

I feel like having a matcha latte

what would you like to drink?

You

maybe a chai latte

why do you ask?

wands

what do you think about going for a drive?

we can get Starbucks 

You

u driving?

wands

yep, meet me outside in 5.

You

yes boss

“It was a nice reading while it lasted. I’m coming back for you” I said pointing to your book while grabbing your belongings. Downstairs you quickly looked for your parents, finding only your brother watching cartoons “Hey kiddo, tell the parents that I’m going for a quick drive with Wanda, ok?” And your only answer was only a thumbs up.

As you stepped outside you saw your mom watering the plants “Going out at this time?” Giving her a cheeky grin you answered “Yeah, no worries. Wanda wants to grab a coffee, we will be quick I promise”

“Well, ok then. Be careful you two” your mom said in farewell as you walked to the house in front of yours — the Maximoffs lived in the house in front of yours since you can remember, and both families were friends since then — “Mom said hi” Wanda greeted you as soon as you stepped foot in the porch, and together you started to walk to her car.

“Piet is at home?” You asked entering the vehicle.

“Surprisingly, yes. I think he’s playing something, why?”

“Nothing, just wondering how you are in possession of the car on a Saturday night. Is he grounded?”

“Not that I am aware of. You ask too many questions about my brother” to that Wanda looked suspiciously at you. 

With a chuckle, you answered her “Chill Wands. I’m just curious, plus your brother is also my friend, I was just wondering, that’s all.” 

You went to the not-so-closest Starbucks and then to some almost empty parking lot to drink and talk about everything and nothing at all. With one of your playlists playing in the background, the driving back home was calm, slow even, just a few comments here and there to fill the silence — a silence that was comfortable for the both of you — looking to the girl driving at your side, just appreciating her profile at the lights reflecting on the chain in her neck, the silly jokes, the nose scrunchy, the head tilt, the memories of growing up together, the late at night outings to stargazing and talk. At that moment you could hear it in the silence, feel it on the way home, and see it with the lights out. You Are In Love. True Love.

“Y/N? Hey, earth to Y/N” focusing back you saw her looking funnily at you.

“What?” Was all you could ask after reliving the most beautiful and terrifying memory of yours.

“Just checking if you are still with us. You’ve been looking straight to nowhere” she said with a laugh. “What has got you so pensive?” 

“Nothing much, just reflecting on the book” was your quick answer trying to avoid interrogation that you could not confidently answer. Clearing your throat you proceed “You good to go? I’m starving” 

“Yeah, wanna grab something on the way home?” Your behavior although adorable sometimes drives her insane. Lately, she has noticed how you would avoid being totally open to her, which got her wondering if perhaps she had done something wrong, or if you had figured out that she liked you more than just a friend — her truest fear was if her feelings were one-sided — had she read it all wrong?

“Shawarma? I feel like having one. What about you?” was your question giving her your signature smile that showed the dimples that she so much loved. “Sounds good to me”.

Looking into her shining emerald eyes like you were trying to look at her soul you said “Good, I… I-hmm” it was like the air had vanished from your lungs. Has she been this close all the time? Was all you could think at the moment. You probably going insane thinking you saw her look down at your lips. “You?”

Blinking quickly to clear your mind and turning the other side to grab your backpack and re-organize your thought you tried to speak again “I have a song that I wanna show to you, not sure if you already know this one but I just discovered it and well I loved it.”

You missed the disappointing face that she gave to you once you move far from her so fast, but as soon as you mentioned a song she was already smiling like a fool to you. “Really? Well let’s get going then so you can put it in the car and we can listen to it together.

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllıı

“You never answered my question” Wanda looked at you with an arched eyebrow and head slightly tilted to the right — you had to admit while that was hot was also intimidating and you secretly loved it — “What question?” You answered with another question feigning innocence while starting the car and heading to get the food you both craved. 

“You are insufferable sometimes… From the text that I sent you before you headed to bed and completely ignored me” she gave you a pointed look. 

“Ooh, yeah that one hmm… well you know me, I would never bribe people and hear me out, there is no necessity for me to do so ‘cause I know, for sure like 75% accuracy, that there is a queue of guys and girls at school who want to ask you out…” 

“75% accuracy? Ok, I’ll accept that… But, I’m not interested at all” she answered the last part more to herself than for your ears, but you heard anyway. You were starting to wonder if there was a chance for you, maybe you aren’t so delusional after all — Natasha might be right too — “I just don’t think I wanna go with any of them. I just wanna spend this last memory of high school with you. I think…” Wanda continues to say looking at you.

You then turn to look at her and she is just there looking at you like you hang up the moon and stars. — Is that the look Natasha was talking about? — So you inquire her to keep talking “You think…”.

“I think it should be our night to remember” she says with a shy smile.

“It will be” is all you say next.

ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllıı

“What’s the song you wanted to show me?” Wanda asked you as soon as you left the restaurant and walked to the car.

“Ooh yeah, the song… completely forgot, my bad. I’ll put it for us to list driving home” You had truly forgotten about the song on the way to the restaurant.

The previous conversation was going on a loop inside your brain and at that point, you’re wondering if that was the best opportunity to try and be a little direct/indirect about your feelings. — if she gets it, good. If not, that's ok. There is no hurry with this — “It showed up this morning while I was working on a playlist, I believe it is called More Than Friend by Edie Brickell" You said putting the song to play and started driving your way home.

Wanda was quiet, listening to the song very attentively, she had put the song to play again for a third time, and that got you wondering if she might have gotten the message. You would give a quick look at hear at every phrase of the song, your heart pounding in your ears had you worried that she could hear it too. 

You stopped the car at the driveway of your house and turned to look at her. But she was already looking at you, this look was different, enigmatic, you couldn’t tell what she was feeling or thinking at the moment. That terrified you to no end, for the first time ever you were getting uncomfortable in her presence. 

“What do you think?” Your voice was low, it showed that you were nervous.

“You really have a way with your songs… It’s nice, I like it but…” She was calm, collected, and thoughtful in her next words. “This sounds like you’re flirting with me…”

That’s it, it is now or never. “… I have been trying to do that for a while now” I sincerely say. On the inside you were freaking out, hoping to not mess up everything with this little confession. On the outside, you tried to muster up your best smile, to show her you’re been sincere in your confession, that it is not a joke.

Looking into your eyes, she smiled, the one smile that was only meant for you “I’ve always liked you”. You couldn’t hold the happiness you were feeling, your eyes shining with adoration for the girl you grow up with and in a low tone asked her “Since when?” To which she purposely said, “Since forever”. 

Leaning in, so carefully. Breathing and not breathing at all. Hearts beating, she is so close, you are so close. Then in a flash, her lips were on yours. Her hands tightened around your neck, and you ran one up her waist, trying to be as close as possible inside your car. Her mouth opened, lips parted, and you were never one to leave an opportunity unexplored. 

Every part of you wanted to wrap around her and make this a special kiss. Her hands were in your hair, pulling you even closer. The music re-started again and a few cars passed in the street. You squeezed her waist and broke apart. Panting with your pulse pounding in your veins, You look into her eyes. She looked back. You both smiled like idiots. And to her delight, you asked.

“Will you give me the honor to be my date at the prom?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x gn!reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #marveloussimp writes

[antiquepearlss]

I had this planned for awhile but wrote this while at the hospital. Please accept this fever-induced outline for a fic I will probably never write, because the research and writing would take forever and I've got other projects going on.

Varigo/New Dream Titanic AU

Newly-named Eugene Fitzherbert and his cousin and practically brother, Varian (second class) have run away from the ruins of their old kingdom, and have decided to start their new lives in New York after Eugene steals some tickets to the Titanic. 

Also onboard is Rapunzel and Cassandra (first class), who have decided to start a new life in New York after the death of their mother. Hugo Rottewange (third class), a thief sent to steal The Heart Of The Ocean from some rich snobs. Lance Strongbow, a former thief turned chef on board the ship. And two orphans named Kiera and Catalina (third class) who snuck on board.

Their lives converge and a bond is formed between the group; but unfortunately, fate has other plans for them. 

After boarding the ship, Rapunzel and Cassandra traverse through the second class and meet Eugene and Varian, whom Raps immediately bonds with. Cassandra is not fond of Eugene but takes a liking to Varian.

Eugene and Rapunzel become infatuated with eachother, and Rapunzel and Cassandra become fast friends with Varian.

While this is happening, Kiera and Catalina attempt to steal first class food and are caught by Lance who lets them get away with it. He sees himself in the two girls and they form a bond as well.

On the second day, Varian accidentally causes a small explosion in his cabin which is noticed by Hugo. Hugo agrees to keep quiet if Varian agrees to let Hugo help him. Varian thinks Hugo is pompous and annoying, but is secretly very impressed.

Lance continues to bond with the girls. He tells them about his life as a former thief. Lance also meets Eugene and Rapunzel at some point, and they become friends. They also take a liking to the girls, as well.

On the third day, Rapunzel invites Eugene and Varian to a first class dinner. Rapunzel and Eugene spend the day bonding. Eugene tells Rapunzel what happened to The Dark Kingdom. Rapunzel tells Eugene what happened to her mother.

Hugo seeks out Varian and convinces him to spend the day with him. Varian meets Kiera and Catalina after joining Hugo in third class. The couple start to bond, the girls ship it. Hugo shows Varian Olivia. 

Lance decides to adopt Kiera and Catalina when they land, and he will go after his dream of working at a diner. Cassandra meets and bonds with the girls and soon, Lance.

On day four, Eugene and Rapunzel kiss and confess their love. They agree to help each other out when they get to New York, much to Cassandra’s chagrin.

Hugo and Varian develop crushes on eachother, but do not act on them. Hugo tells Varian why he’s on the ship, but he doesn’t want to pursue that life anymore. Varian convinces Hugo to live with him, Rapunzel, Cass, and Eugene.

Cassandra decides to help Lance and the girls when they land.

When the ship hits an iceberg, Eugene, Varian, and Cassandra are immediately concerned. The others not so much. But they soon realize the severity of the situation.

After awhile, Eugene is able to convince Raps and Varian to board one of the last lifeboats, under the promise that Hugo will invent something to keep him and the others alive. Hugo confesses his love to Varian as the lifeboat is lowered. Cassandra decides to go back to the third class and find Lance and the girls.

Lance, Cass, and the girls arrive too late, and are unable to board a lifeboat. They also cannot find Eugene and Hugo.

Hugo and Eugene get separated from the rest of the group. The two bond. They figure out a way to make a lifeboat out of tables. They try to find the others, and assume they found a lifeboat.

The two jump off the sinking ship onto the homemade lifeboat.

Cassandra, Lance, and the girls go down with the ship.

Varian and Rapunzel continue to bond on the lifeboat, and convince the others to go back and save the others. Dejected when they can’t find Eugene or Hugo.

Eugene and Hugo continue to bond, half dead.

On the Carpathia, Rapunzel and Varian start to accept the fact that the others have died. Rapunzel decides she’s going to essentially adopt Varian, and struggles to grasp the loss of her sister and her first boyfriend. Varian is depressed bordering on suicidal over the loss of his brother and one of his first friends. Rapunzel convinces him to live.

Eugene and Hugo survived, and spend their time recovering from hypothermia before trying to find Raps and Varian.

Before the Carpathia docks, the four are reunited.

The epilogue shows the four of them living in an apartment together. Rapunzel is an art teacher, Eugene is a police officer, and Hugo and Varian are both in college.

Rapunzel and Eugene have twins, and Varian and Hugo are together. They also adopt two police dogs, Max and Fidella.

They spent the reimbursement money from White Star Line to have graves for Lance, Cassandra, Kiera, and Catalina.

#rapunzels tangled adventure #tts #tangled the series #eugene fitzherbert #rapunzel #new dream #varian #hugo vat7k #hugo the human #varigo

[nekoannie-chan]

Lie

Title: Lie.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 786 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You discover the truth about Brock.

Major Tags: Betrayal, lies, angst.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @sweetspicybingo, Sweetheart Bingo Card & square 1:

"Go 2 hell.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammitt @kmc1989 @somegirlfrom

It was your day off, and little did you know that everything was going to be completely different at the end of it—everyone's life was going to change forever.

You put your cell phone down when Brock sent you a message that he would be late for the mission. At least it would give you more time to finish the anniversary gift you were secretly preparing; in two weeks it would be.

After a few hours, you were struggling with the glue when someone started knocking on the door with exaggerated desperation.

“Here I come! “you shouted in annoyance. They could wait a couple of minutes without any problem; if something had happened to Brock, you knew Jack would call you. “Cap?"

You were confused. Why were he and Natasha, along with a man you didn't know, standing outside your house?

“I demand that you tell the truth," Steve said, entering your house. You frowned; you hadn't told him he could come in.

“What are you talking about?" You didn't take your eyes off Steve; there were a few times you had seen him like that.

“I don't have time for games, Y/N."

"Do you know where Rumlow is?" Natasha questioned you; she wanted to believe you didn't know anything about what was going on.

“On a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, he texted me in the morning that he would be late; today is my day off; did something happen to him?" you answered.

“I don't think Y/N knows anything, “Natasha said.

"HYDRA, “Steve uttered, raising his eyebrow.

“What's wrong with it? You defeated them when you sacrificed yourself."

“Rumlow is part of HYDRA."

“Rogers, stop joking around; I was busy."

“He doesn't know we're here; he's been chasing us to kill us; haven't you seen your messages?"

“I was busy..." You turned to the table where your little project was, and then you denied it. You were so busy that you didn't even check it. "What's going on?"

“I'm sorry you have to come with us, but you're in custody." Natasha grabbed your arm. You looked at her, begging for an explanation. For the first time since you were with Brock, you felt lost.

You were left where Fury was; he interrogated you, and he immediately realized that you didn't know about Brock's double life. Nick showed you all the evidence; why had you never suspected? Maybe it was because Brock never behaved strangely. After all, there was never anything in the house that made you doubt him. Without the evidence, you wouldn't have believed it, but with everything Fury showed you, it was impossible that it wasn't real.

“So, he was cheating on me all this time; my husband lied to me," you said when you finished reading all the evidence.

“I would say that he didn't tell you the whole truth," Nick commented.

You had heard the rumors, but you needed to check them with your own eyes. After everything that had happened, if you didn't see them, you wouldn't believe them. Brock was probably going to spend the rest of his days in the raft; if he survived the injuries he had, you had a hard time getting permission to see him.

"Y/N" was the first thing Brock uttered as soon as he saw you. He was formulating an explanation; he never thought about what would happen if the day came when you found out the truth.

“Why didn't you ever tell me the truth? I don't hate you, Brock, but I don't love you anymore, not after this lie, maybe." You didn't finish the sentence; you weren't even sure what you were going to say. If he had told you, would you have supported him, would you stay with him, or would you leave?

“I love you" was the only thing he said.

“I'm sorry, but go to hell." You gave him the wedding ring you used to wear. If he had told you everything, just as you did, the story would be completely different. Most probably, in those moments, the two of you would be fugitives, maybe in another universe, maybe in another time, and you would be together forever.

You left the room without saying anything else. It was very hard for you to prove that you were not involved, although, despite everything, Fury had asked you to continue being one of his agents. You accepted. It was a new beginning. You had to think about many things, and one of them was that you were going to divorce Brock.

He always promised you that he would never lie to you, and he had broken his promise. Although you never counted on the fact that Brock had other plans.

#Brock Rumlow X Reader #SweetSpicyHearts

[folansstuff]

Atti Thoughts

going under a read more cause its long and rambly and self-indulgent

I’ve been thinking a lot about Atti and his relationship with The Garden.

To be a little inside baseball and pull back the curtain on how I write for Atti (in my own special very involved way), a lot of Atti’s stuff is defined by what contrasts him nicely against Illyana, it’s why he’s tall and fat while she’s short and buff/skinny, why he’s nice and sweet (with some hidden anger) while Yana is aggressive and stubborn (while being secretly sweet). I think those contrasts make him and their relationship more interesting, and it’s 90% of the inspiration for their interpersonal history. 

Anyway, on to the point. After I came up with The Garden ((which is a little bit House of Leaves and a little bit of The Zero from Kentucky Route Zero)) I knew I wanted it to be in contrast with Limbo. 

As I’ve said on this blog before, I (and plenty of others) see Limbo as part of Illyana’s metaphor for trauma and abuse. Her spiritual and physical attachment to the place, from her magic to the nature of the Darkchylde, has been a part of her since she was 13. It’s a place of violence and pain at it’s very core, and that has reflected onto Illyana. Recently writers have made the intentional move to pull her away from Limbo by having her hand it over to Madelyne. While I have issues with the execution, I don’t mind the idea as a metaphor for moving past one’s trauma, she’s still Magik, she just doesn’t need the power that she associates her pain and suffering with.

So what does this have to do with The Garden? Well, first I have to define what The Garden is; something I’ve done a really bad job with in my fics. The Garden is a Sub-Dimension, similar to Limbo or Otherworld. But unlike those spaces, The Garden, true to its vision as a flora-filled ’The Shire’ style paradise, is alive. It thinks and feels, and is capable of communicating through an avatar. It’s kind, so, so, kind, and it doesn’t really do more than try and simply live in relative peace. But when the New Mutant’s go on a brief excursion back with the original team, it ended up imprinting on a young Atticus Moore, effectively attaching itself to him through a bunch of unknowable ways. It ends up forming a similar relationship to Atti’s powers that Limbo had to Illyana, when he spins away to teleport, he’s more than likely going to pass through The Garden as well, even if he doesn’t want to, he starts to feel a weird pull to the place, and ocassionally hears it’s ‘voice’ in his head. Over time, The Garden starts to form a fascination with him, slowly considering this bumbling bear of a man its ‘favourite plant’. 

So when Atticus dies, The Garden is confused. It’s thinking, due to being a living biome, is inhuman in a way that means it doesn’t understand why Atticus simply can’t be replanted and regrown. So, figuring that Illyana and the other X-Men simply hadn’t done their job as good gardeners, steals Atti’s body and ‘replants’ him within itself. The funny thing is that it works. It takes forever, 6 years forever, but it works. The Garden, a biome, revives a human. It fixes up Atti’s problems, tunes down his paranoia, makes him a little more friendly and agreeable. In a way, it makes Atticus more in it’s image, after all he was grown within it’s soil. But it also means that Atticus is The Garden, and The Garden is somewhat inside Atti. He can feel it’s pain, and The Garden shifts and grows new things to accommodate his wants (shout out to the cabin it builds for him to hide in.). That doesn’t even begin with how, similar to Krakoa’s own resurrection policies, if Atticus is killed, The Garden just… brings him back! It’s fine right? You can always pick up the seeds and try again! Who cares that his memories are a little spotty and his arms have noticeable bits of bark instead of skin? Our favourite plant is back! 

It’s a Ship of Theseus thing. How much of Atticus is that old corpse in the middle of a root system no human could ever begin to explore? How much is just soil and nutrients, sculpted in the image of a person an inanimate object can’t even begin to fully understand? 

My point is, I guess, that narratively Illyana can, and has in some ways, shed Limbo. Her connection to the place that caused her so much pain is not as prevalent, and she can start to heal. But Atticus has done the opposite. He’s become fused with a place that won’t let him die. Secretly I think he fears what will happen when he gets old. Will he die besides his loved ones, only to wake up in the same 30 year old body? Or will The Garden age him up again? Force him to live only a few years just to repeat the process again? 

Maybe he’s just worried all the kindness and warmth he feels isn’t his own. No one knows.

((More fun, but this is why Atti likes gardening in his 30’s. It’s compulsive.))

#x-men oc #atticus moore #illyatticus #sorry ive been thinking abt this for days and needed to get it out LMAO #been a while since ive written a ton of stuff abt him that wasnt in a fic

[wordsinhaled]

☔

☔ Is there a fic concept you have that you’d like to just explain and share because you’re not sure you’ll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Ah, yes!!! And I'll tag @sb-essebi here since you also asked this question!

I'll talk about the always angels AU! (Who wants to help me find a better name for it? lmao, but that's what I'm calling it in my head.) I don't know if I'll ever actually write it properly because it feels very Involved and my vision for it would involve it being a bit of an epic length, meanwhile I've never written a thing past like 2k words? But I do really love the idea of it.

So this is an AU where Crowley never fell: he's still an angel in Heaven. Of course, he still asks questions, but maybe he’s at a power level at which his interference can be deniable, or brushed under the rug if needed. Or, if he is higher up, he's considered to be a bit of an odd duck, too enthusiastic, too absorbed in his work, such that his capacity for influence isn't really taken seriously. Besides, he’s so genuine and well-meaning about things that he naturally gets underestimated a lot, which is how he has avoided getting cast out this whole time.

So he’s basically just prancing about being cheerful in Heaven’s offices in the outfit we saw him wear in the show, in all his tan tracksuited, gold nail polished peppiness. (Yes, I love that outfit; no, I will not take arguments. Heaven infiltrator!Crowley is a fashion icon <3) And also, of course, in lovely long flowing robes sometimes because why not, it's Heaven!

He gets to keep up his stars as his main role, and it’s been his favorite thing to do since always, which he tells to anyone in earshot. He’s forever asking if the other angels want to go on little field trips with him to see different star systems or nebulas whenever they need a tuneup, and the other angels are all, “Oh, you know, Crowley and his stars,” like his personal interest in them is weird, or quaint. They humored him at first, and have long since stopped going with him, and the ones of his own rank gossip about how odd it is, a bit, well. Crowley's enthusiasm is undimmed.

Maybe in this AU, Aziraphale has become an archangel by regular promotion - by toeing the line, mostly, but he harbors, secretly (very secretly) his own ideas about how the Supreme Archangel is running things, how Heaven could be made better. A large part of him still believes in the system, though. He figures, if he follows all the norms, goes through the proper channels he’ll make a true change one day. Especially in his new position, which he treats with great sanctity.

But he does have his foibles.

He's been to earth for several stints, and during those stints, however brief each one, he discovered things he likes. His Heavenly office is not blank and white and bare like the others; it has actual—gasp!—material objects in it that he's brought back from his travels on Earth. A plush Persian rug. A heavy oaken desk, complete with Tiffany reading lamp and writing inks and pens. An overstuffed armchair with a cream tartan blanket draped across the back (Heaven does get quite cold, after all). A dancing lady orchid in a hand-turned, hand-painted ceramic planter. A little rack of select Earth wines and aperitifs. An earthenware bowl of fruit. And... books. Books he tries to but occasionally fails to keep contained to one corner, and often rotates out for new ones, and categorically refuses to give up.

(The other archangels try not to go in there much. It gives them the creeps.)

Anyway, long story short, this archangel Aziraphale is... well, Aziraphale, more or less the one we know and love, but maybe with more of a ramrod-straight back, if you will. (And maybe some facial hair. He can have a beard for a bit, maybe, as a treat. But I'm still not sure on that bit.)

The other thing about the archangel Aziraphale is he actually talks to the other angels who are of lower rank than he is. He doesn't treat them the way the rest of the archangels do, at a remove. He wants to know about their goings-on, because he was one of them, once, and he remembers what it was like, and looks on them with a great deal of empathy.

So naturally this puts him into contact with Crowley! Who has absolutely no compunction about inviting Aziraphale (his superior! Crowley, you daredevil!) on a jaunt to visit another little corner of the stars that needs maintenance.

"Oh! A... field trip, you say? To the... the Cosmic Cliffs, you called them? Well! That does sound exciting! I don't suppose I've ever considered it."

"You don't want to," says Crowley, visibly deflating.

"No, no, no! That's not it at all! They sound positively lovely, I'm sure. It's only that I have ever so much work, you see, and so little time in which to do it all."

"The Carina Nebula's worth taking a break for," Crowley says, a little bit of pride edging into his voice. He puts on his best encouraging grin. "C'monnn, Archangel. No one has to know. I certainly won't tell anyone you skived off a day's work to see some stars - oh, they all laugh at me as it is. It'll be our little secret." (If an angel had spoken to, say, Gabriel this way - with such a level of presumption, such a level of intimacy! - they would have been demoted instantly.)

Instead, Aziraphale agrees.

"I say," he breathes, hovering side by side with Crowley and looking at the glittering, twinkling splendor of blue-gold-amber scattered across the vastness of space before them. "I say, this is really quite something you've got here. You've outdone yourself with this one, I imagine."

"Oh, thank you," Crowley says, positively beaming, feathers all aflutter, brown eyes bright with feeling.

"It's beautiful," Aziraphale says.

"It is, isn't it," Crowley agrees. But here's an important little detail: he's not looking at his own creation as he speaks. He's watching Aziraphale watch the stars. It's totally untoward. Totally not befitting their difference in status, or their relative lack of acquaintance. And he totally doesn't care. "Gorgeous," Crowley adds. It just slips out, almost an afterthought, almost under his breath.

And Aziraphale turns to him then, and catches him staring openly.

And there's the start of that.

<3

Also would feature in this AU:

Archangel Aziraphale is the one to introduce Crowley to Earthly things! I think that is so, so fun, and I want to see angel Crowley discover his first bite of dark chocolate truffles or his first sip of Turkish coffee or his first time feeling silk, for example, yes

Enough tension to cut with a knife, we love to see it

Open-secret rendezvous in various corners of space to talk about philosophy!

Crowley dedicating specific stars to Aziraphale (Alpha Centauri!)

The other angels looking on in tacit disapproval but not quite being able to do much about it (...yet)

Archangel Aziraphale and angel Crowley take a vacation business trip to Earth! Includes Aziraphale showing Crowley some of his favorite places; them figuring out what sort of clothes they want to wear on Earth (and pining after each other in them, obviously); Crowley's first time riding in a car and subsequently falling in love with high-speed driving; charming B&Bs with only one bed (!); romantic stargazing from Earth; entirely too much faffing about and not enough Heavenly work getting done at all whatsoever because they're too busy realizing they're in love

A faction of angels try to depose Aziraphale because they think he's gone soft (and, well, he has... soft for a certain starmaking angel) and Aziraphale has to go on the lam on Earth to save himself. Cue romantic scene in which he asks Crowley to come with him and of course Crowley agrees

They go to Earth together and perform a combined miracle to hide themselves from Heaven. Maybe Aziraphale still operates his bookshop, but angel Crowley acquires a plant shop and works part time at a planetarium!

I could go on but this has gotten pretty long!

Thanks for letting me ramble about this AU which I love so much <333

#long post #good omens #good omens 2 #sort of #ineffable husbands