Dave York Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

bitchesuntitled

11 months ago

Buckle in for this one. It was so beautifully written and heartbreaking ❤️‍🩹😭❤️

Inamorata- Dave York x f!reader

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: You've been dating Dave York for about six months when he disappears off the face of the Earth. After some digging you find that you don't really know him at all.

Rating: EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Major character death, some non explicit sex, light stalking, major grief, healing through the power of friendship, infidelity

Author's Note: thank you so much to @wannab-urs and @dancingtotuyo for beta reading and letting me shout about this fic to you!

Three weeks. That’s how long it's been since you’ve heard from Dave. He said he was going out of town for a work trip. He never told you much about his work. He worked for the government, that you knew. He said most of his work was classified, that he couldn’t tell you. “Then I’d have to kill you.” he’d joked. You weren’t really concerned the first week. Dave went out of town often for work, and he usually wasn’t reachable during that time. He hadn’t given you a specific time frame for this trip, either. The second week, you were concerned. He’d never been gone this long. You didn’t know where he was, if he was okay. Eventually, your concern ebbed and devolved into anger. He was ghosting you. That’s what this was. It’s happened before. Hell, you’ve done it before. Faked a work or family emergency to cancel a date. Then you got “really busy.” Then you just stopped responding. Maybe this was your comeuppance for your past bad dating etiquette.

You and Dave hadn’t been dating long, only six months. They were short but, man, they had been intense. You had seen him jogging in the park, damn near every day. It was a peaceful place to sit and read. You noticed him running by on more than one occasion. He never really seemed to notice you. You began to look for him when you were there. You weren’t sure why, but you were disappointed on the days you didn’t see him. He was handsome. Sort of average height, and he had kind of a dad bod. But during the warmer months, he only wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts to run in. This allowed you to see the long plane of his body. Shoulders and biceps that stretched the cotton of his shirts. Thick, muscular thighs that flexed with every step. He had short, medium brown hair that looked soft and fluffy. He must not wear any product in it, you thought. His brown eyes shined whenever they caught your own. His sharp, angular nose was the most prominent feature on his face. He was clean shaven and that allowed you to appreciate his beautiful jawline. But the real star of the show came when he smiled. There was a dimple in the corner of his mouth that gave him an almost boyish look. Then one day his gaze caught yours just as you looked up from your book. He gave you a tight, polite smile which you returned. The next day, he smiled at you again. For a while, that was your routine. Reading in the park after work and waiting for him to run by and smile at you.

One day, he was running by and did his usual smile. Only this time, you held his gaze when you smiled back. When he passed you, instead of continuing on his run, he turned around and began jogging backwards. You chuckled a little and so did he, maintaining eye contact all the while. That is, until he ran off the path and tripped over a tree root. He tumbled into the grass, calling out “Oh, shit!” You jumped up from your bench, abandoning your book and hurried over to his side.

“Are you okay?” you asked, leaning down to check for any visible injuries.

“I’m fine. Just bruised my ego a bit.” he laughed

He braced his left hand on the trunk of the tree for leverage and pulled himself up. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing a ring. He didn’t have a tan line either, indicating that one might rest there normally. He brushed the dirt from his hands onto his shorts and held one out. “Hi.” he smiled wide. “I'm Dave.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled and that damn dimple popped.

You held your own hand out and offered Dave your name. His warm hand wrapped around yours and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you.” you told him. Your breathlessness matched his but you didn’t have a jog through the park or a fall to blame it on. Your heart was racing and something stirred low in your belly. He asked you to join him for coffee at lunch time the next day, and that was that. You spent time together nearly every day after. You got lunch or met in the park. He didn’t run much anymore, opting instead to join you on a bench and watch you read or people watch.

Now there’s just…nothing. No calls, no good morning texts, no goodbye kisses. Just radio silence. You’re off work so you have nothing better to do than sit around and mope. Everything was going well you thought. You hadn’t argued about anything, ever really. Disagreements about where to eat or what movie to watch aside. The sex was great, and plentiful. Dave seemed insatiable for you. A feeling you mirrored.

In fact, the last time you saw him was in this very bed. He woke you up early with his mouth between your legs. He attached his lips to your clit and didn’t let go until you were screaming his name. His mouth and chin were slick with you when his head popped out of the covers and hovered above yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. He slotted his legs between yours and spread them apart with his thighs. Your cunt was already slick with arousal and saliva, so he slid right in. Once he was fully nestled inside you he leaned down so his mouth brushed your ear. “I’m gonna miss you so much, baby.” he whispered as he began to thrust his hips. You joined him in the shower after sex and he let you wash his hair. When he said goodbye to you at the door, he grabbed both of your cheeks in his hands and planted a kiss on your lips and then your forehead. “I’ll see you when I get back. I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

You ran to the window on the far side of your apartment and watched him load his suitcase and duffel into the trunk of the taxi. He looked up to your window, he knew you’d be watching, and blew you a kiss. You watched the taxi drive away until it was out of sight. Those were the last words he said to you.

~~~~~

“Fuck this.” you think. You are not letting him do this to you. If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, that’s fine. But you aren’t going to let him just throw you out like yesterday’s garbage. He told you he loved you. He’s gonna have to man up and tell you to your face. You’ve never been to his place. He always came here. You know he works for the government, but not what agency. You wonder if you can figure it out based on the places he’s met you for lunch. That probably won’t lead you anywhere, though. This is D.C. after all. 70% of the buildings are government agencies of some sort. Now that you think of it, you don’t actually know all that much about Dave. you pull your laptop out and open your browser. A quick google search for “Dave Young+DC+government” doesn’t bring up much. A LinkedIn search only brings up an old guy who works for the department of sanitation. Then you remember him telling you one thing about his past. He was a Marine. So you widen the search. “David Young+DC+Marine.” Again, nothing. You tap your fingers lightly across the keyboard, not pushing any keys, just thinking. “Dave Y+DC+Marine.” you hit enter and a news headline comes up.

“Local School Honors Veterans for Veterans Day.” you almost scroll past until you see the subheadline. “Alice York (left) with her father, Dave (right), a former U.S. Marine. But the last part catches your attention. You click on the headline and it takes you to the article. There he is. He’s crouched down next to a girl, about ten, with brown hair and eyes. They look so much like Dave’s. He has his left arm wrapped around her shoulders and you can see the gold band glinting in the sunlight. Not only did he lie about his last name, he’s married. He neglected to mention the entire child he has as well.

You slam your laptop shut, not caring if you break it. What a fucking asshole. You press the heels of your hand into your eyes, trying to stop the tears. Now what? You ask yourself. What is there to do? Just forget about him? Pretend the last six months never happened? Let him get away with this? You really believed him when he told you that he loved you. It wasn’t just a mid-sex proclamation either.

He had just come back from another work trip. You weren't expecting him so when you answered the door you were just wearing one of the gray t-shirts he had left at your place. You were settling onto the sofa with your takeout in hand and Netflix ready to go. The soft knock on the door took you by surprise. You didn’t even think to put on pants before you answered. There he was, standing in your doorway, looking twelve kinds of distraught. He didn’t say anything for a while. He looked you up and down and rushed through the door, wrapping you up in his arms. He kicked the door closed behind him and buried his face in your neck. Your hands went around his neck, one snaking up into the back of his hair. “Hey! Is everything okay?” you asked him.

He inhaled deeply before answering you. “Everything is fine now. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dave. You were only gone a few days, though.”

He pulled back, holding you at arm’s length, with his hands at the small of your back. “It was a stressful trip.” he sighs.

“Well, you’re home now.”

“Mmm. Home.” he responded quietly.

“You hungry? I ordered plenty”

He allowed you to lead him to the couch, using his free hand to loosen his tie. He plopped down on the couch and held eye contact when you handed him a takeout box. “I love you, ya know?” he said quietly, reaching up to cup your cheek. He caressed the skin there with his thumb.

“I love you, too, Dave.” you replied, leaning over to kiss him softly. “Let’s eat.” you shoved a fork into his hand and pressed play on the movie.

You stand from your desk, clasping your fingers behind your head. You pace the room, trying to decide what to do with this new information. You sit back down and open your laptop back up. You click over to the open LinkedIn tab and decide to try one more search. “David York Washington D.C.” He pops right up. David York-Department of Defense-Defense Intelligence Agency. His stupid handsome face is looking back at you through the screen, dimple and all. You click over to your google tab and look up the address for the building. You recognize the street, it’s only a few blocks over from your apartment. You shut your laptop once more and begin to ready yourself for the day.

Thirty minutes later you are sitting on a bench across the street from the DIA building. You’re just going to sit there and wait until he comes out. He’ll have to talk to you then. It’s almost lunchtime so he should be showing his face soon. The full lunch hour passes without Dave making an appearance. You are determined, though, to get your answers. You resolve to sit there until he shows his face. You pull the book you brought with you out of your purse and open it up. You can’t concentrate on the contents, reading the same words over and over. Your vision flits back and forth between your book and the main entrance to the building. Finally, the work day has come to an end. People spill out of the building, heading for their cars or the train. None of them are Dave. Once the stream of people has turned into a trickle, you slam the book shut and shove it back into your purse. You are just standing to leave when two men from the building walk past you.

“You wanna grab a beer?” the first man asks.

“Nah, I'm gonna go by York's. Check on Carol.” the other replies.

Your ears perk up at the mention of his name. You almost chase the men down before you realize how insane that would look. Besides, it’s embarrassing enough that your boyfriend is cheating on you, without advertising it to the whole world. Though, come to think of it, he isn’t cheating on you, he’s cheating with you. It hits you like a shot, the realization that you are the other woman. You walk back to your apartment, dejected. You drop everything on the table in the entryway and kick your shoes off. You drop your sweater on the floor in the hallway. You shuck your jeans off and leave them at the foot of your bed. You crawl under the covers and try to force every thought out of your head. You can’t get that last day out of your mind. The way he looked up at the window to you. The love that shone through his eyes when he blew you a kiss and waved goodbye. You cry yourself to sleep.

The next few days go by in a blur. The hours and days melding together. You go through your life in a barely aware trance. You bump into people on the street without even noticing, without even apologizing. Your mind is constantly occupied with thoughts of Dave. Why did he lie? Why did he even ask you out to begin with? What was the end game here? He had to have known that eventually this would all come out. Maybe that’s why he ghosted you. She found out. She found out about you and made him choose. And he didn’t choose you.

Now you can’t stop thinking about her. Carol, the man had called her. You wonder what she’s like. Is she pretty? Is she nice? Does she rub his shoulders when he’s had a tough day at the office? Suddenly the fog that has been surrounding you begins to clear. You were able to find Dave even after he gave you a fake last name. Finding Carol York should be no problem. She deserves to know what her husband has been up to, if she doesn’t already. You haul your laptop into the bed with you and open up a new search tab.

Maybe I should work for the DIA, you think as you sit in your car, waiting for Carol York to exit the dry cleaner’s. She was easy enough to find. You just typed her name into the Facebook search bar and she popped right up. You knew it was her because the little circle that housed her profile picture contained a familiar face alongside her own. It was a selfie, taken at the beach. Dave had his arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head rested on his chest. His lips were pressed into her forehead and she beamed a smile at you from your computer screen. She’s gorgeous, you thought. Her eyes seem kind. You want to hate her, because she has him, yet you can’t. She didn’t do anything wrong to you. You slept with her husband, after all.

You clicked through her photos, finding that there was also another daughter you were unaware of, Molly. You discover that Carol has a standing coffee date with her friend, Cheryl, every Monday. You know the coffee shop, it's in your neighborhood and you pop in there a few times a week. You find yourself wondering if you’d ever been there at the same time. Another realization crosses your mind. There was a reason Dave always wanted to meet at a coffee shop fifteen minutes across town. Not that you know where he works, you also know that he didn’t take you there because he liked the lattes so much.

She exits the building and passes right by your car. You pretend to be engaged in your phone to avoid her notice. She’s even more beautiful in person. She looks tired, though. Like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. You think back to what you heard the man from Dave’s work say the week before. That he was going to check on her. Maybe Dave wasn’t ghosting you. Maybe he was still gone. You watch as she opens the back door of her SUV. She looks at the plastic wrapped clothes in her hand for longer than you’d think necessary before she hangs them on the hook. She slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, but she doesn’t move for a while.

You don’t really have a plan for any of this. You haven’t given any thought as to what you might say to her. “I’ve been fucking your husband.” isn’t exactly a good way to break the ice. You continue following behind her, signaling when she does to pull into the parking lot of a grocery store. You park at the opposite end of the lot from her, trying to remain unnoticed. You are fully aware of how insane this is. You shouldn’t be doing this, following Carol around. But you can’t help yourself. You grab a shopping cart and wander around the store. You occasionally pick up an item from a shelf, pretend to examine its contents and replace it. You catch a glimpse of Carol turning a corner to the next aisle. You follow behind her, keeping up your prestense by picking up a bottle of wine from the shelf and placing it into the cart. Carol picks up a six pack of Stella Artois from the cooler where the beer is. She is about to place it in her cart when she stops. She shakes her head and places it back on the shelf. She hurries to the checkout with her groceries and gets in line behind someone else. You only have the one item so you head to the express register. You pay and return to your car, settling in and keeping your eyes glued to the doors. You watch Carol walk to her car, looking frazzled. She loads her groceries in and returns her cart. When Carol pulls into the driveway, you slow your car way down. You pass the house and see that she has parked behind Dave’s black, government-issued sedan. The two-story house has an overgrown lawn that’s out of place in this neighborhood, but its big enough for kids to run around and play in. They even have a goddamn white picket fence. You note the street number and exit the neighborhood, driving back into the city center where your apartment is.

You find yourself in Carol’s coffee shop the next day. You order a drink and sit at a table. You have your laptop with you so you open it up and put your headphones in. You people watch for a little bit, the way you used to do in the park with Dave. you finish your drink and pack up your bag. You use the restroom and contemplate your choices while washing your hands. Why are you doing this? What good can come of it? You resign yourself to giving up this pursuit. Sometimes you just don’t get answers and you’ll have to learn to live with that. You need to go home and wipe any evidence of Dave York from your life. It’s been over a month since you’ve heard a peep from him, almost six weeks. You need to move on with your life.

All of the good sense you just talked into yourself goes out the window when you exit the bathroom. You spot Carol in line, tapping away on her phone. She doesn’t notice you, of course, as you slip past her and out the door. You spot her SUV on the street just a few cars ahead of your own. She exits the coffee shop and doesn’t look up from her phone as she gets into her car. She only drives a few blocks before turning into a church. You drive around the block and pull in as well. She’s not in her car anymore by the time you park. You hurry up the steps of the church and open the heavy, wooden door. You step into a brightly lit lobby. There’s a community board littered with flyers and business cards and one wall is taken up by brightly drawn pictures, clearly done by children. The pews are empty, as is the pulpit. You look down the hallway, trying to figure out where she could have gone. You hear some chatter coming from an open door at the end of the hallway. Your feet drag across the cheap carpet as you amble down the hall. You have a moment of panic just as you hit the door. What could you possibly be doing here? You don’t have time to come up with an excuse because as soon as you peek your head around the door frame you are greeted with a cheery voice.

“Hi, there! Come on in.” a slight, elderly woman calls out to you. Her hair is a dull copper color, streaked through with white. She wears a white dress with small flowers on it and white sandals. When you don’t immediately move to cross the threshold she waves you over. “Don’t be shy, now.” she says. “We don’t bite.”

You shuffle into the room and notice about 15 chairs positioned in a circle in the center of the room. Each chair has a travel package of tissues on it. A sign on display reads “Coping With Grief.” in gentle cursive on a soft pink background. There is a long table on one end of the room. Several carafes of coffee are surrounded by styrofoam cups, cougar and creamer, and a large plate of cookies. People are crowded around, getting snacks and drinks. Carol’s back is to you and she is speaking with a tall man. Again, she doesn’t notice you.

“I’m Barbara.” the elderly woman offers, holding out her hand. You slide your hand into hers and she covers it with her other one. Her hands are much cooler than yours and her veins are a stark blue underneath her thin skin. “Please, join us.” she says softly. Something about her soft tone and gentle touch immediately quiets the anxiety you have been feeling for weeks. Your decision to stay is only partly due to your curiosity at what Carol York would be doing at a grief support group. The other part is the realization that you have your own grief that you haven't been dealing with. Instead, you’ve been wallowing in it, obsessing over the circumstances. You nod and take a seat in the circle. Carol smiles when she sits down across from you, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

There are only a few open seats when everyone settles in. Barbara stands in the middle of the circle and clasps her hands together. “Welcome to Coping with Grief. I’m Barbara. I see some new faces here, along with some familiar ones. Would anyone like to begin?” she asks.

The tall man that was speaking with Carol before speaks up. “I’ll go first.” he offers. Barbara gives him a smile and a nod and takes an open seat. “I’m Greg. I lost my wife to cancer about nine months ago.” Greg tells the story of how his wife discovered her breast cancer, and after three years of treatments, passed in her sleep. “Every morning, when I wake up, there is a moment where I forget that she’s gone. I turn over to say ‘Good morning’ and am taken aback that she isn’t there. Then, it all comes rushing back to me.” You hear a sniffle from Carol’s direction and when you turn towards the sound, you see tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry.” she croaks, opening the pack of tissues and bringing one to her eyes.

“That’s okay.” Barbara assures her. “Would you like to share?” she asks.

Carol nods and takes a moment to gather herself. When she begins speaking, your blood runs cold and a wave of nausea crashes through your body.

“My name is Carol. About a month and a half ago, my husband died.”

“Was it an illness?” Barbara coaxes gently.

Carol shakes her head and clears her throat. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, collecting her composure. “He was on a business trip near the coast of Massachusetts. He worked for the government and went out of town all the time. He got caught in the hurricane that hit there. His hotel was destroyed and he was found in the rubble. It took them two weeks to even get his body identified.” She’s crying in full force now and it’s taking every ounce of your self control not to join her.

Dave didn’t ghost you. He didn’t abandon you or choose his family over you. Dave didn’t come home to you because he couldn’t. Sure, he lied to you about his wife and kids, even his name. But now, you are struggling to reconcile that with the fact that you still believe he was being truthful when he told you that he loved you.

The sound of your blood rushing through veins drowns out the rest of Carol's story. When she's finished speaking, Barbara offers her some words of comfort that you can’t make out. The ever intuitive Barbara announces that this might be a good time for a break. She points you in the direction of the restroom and you excuse yourself. Once you are out of sight of the open door, you make a run for it. You push open the heavy door and suck cold air into your lungs. You take deep breaths, trying to stave off the vomit threatening to spill out. It’s too late. You lean over the handrail and heave into the bushes, emptying the contents of your roiling stomach.

When your stomach has settled enough you open the pack of tissues you hadn’t realized were still gripped tightly in your hand. You wipe your mouth with one and shove it into the pocket of your jeans. You sit on the steps until you catch your breath. Your chest heaves in and out with each breath. You can’t believe he’s gone. You’ll never see him again, never wake up in his arms, never argue over what to watch and he’ll never snag fries off your plate when you aren’t looking. He’s just…gone. You stand from the stairs and reenter the church, searching for the bathroom. You are rinsing your mouth in the sink when you hear a toilet flush. You splash some water on your face and are drying it with a paper towel when the stall door opens. Carol exits the stall and flashes you a tight smile in the mirror.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” she says sadly and your stomach churns again.

“Oh, no!” you exclaim, perhaps a little too insistently. “Not at all.” you try to assure her with a wave of your hand.

“Was it recent?” she asks.

It takes you a moment to understand her meaning. “Oh, yes. Quite recent.” you offer, unsure of what else to say. How do you tell her that she was the bearer of your bad news?

She places a hand on your shoulder and you jump slightly. When the warmth of her skin seeps through the cotton of your thin sweater, you lean into her touch. Nobody has touched you in kindness in weeks. Not since Dave. You lived a pretty solitary existence before Dave came into your life. Your family is thousands of miles away, and you’ve always been somewhat of a loner. You go out to drinks with your coworkers every once in a while, but nothing of substance has ever come from those outings.

She turns to face you and opens her arms to you. Without hesitation you step forward and she wraps her arms around your shoulders. Yours circle the small of her back and you each rest your head on the other’s shoulder. What kind of psycho are you? You ask yourself. Letting her comfort you, when the man you are crying over is her husband? You aren’t sure how long the two of you stand there, crying and grieving for the same man.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” you apologize when you finally lift your head and see that you’ve gotten snot on her jacket. Carol laughs while you wipe it away and you join her. “I’m a fucking mess right now.” you admit. You hold out a tissue for her.

“I am, too. I never thought I would be doing any of this without him.” she wipes some tears from her eyes and blows her nose. “Do you want to go get some lunch?” she asks.

For a moment, you panic. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. You tell yourself over and over. But you just feel so drawn to her. You have from the moment you laid eyes on that tiny circle of a picture. At first, you just wanted answers. Then, you kept following her because you were curious about her. Now, everything is out on the table and you still just want to be around her.

“Yeah. I’d really like that, actually.”

~~~~~

Dave has been gone three months now, and you still miss him every day. You went through a really rough period when he first died. Well, when you first found out that he died. You returned to your apartment from lunch with Carol that day, climbed into your bed, and didn’t leave for two weeks. Your job was understanding at first, but they couldn’t wait forever. They politely took you off the schedule and told you that you could come back when you were ready. You got food delivered and ate in bed. The tv never went off, just played whatever was the first thing you could click on. You weren’t watching it anyways. You ignored every text and call that came through your phone, except Carol’s. She texted you when you missed the next grief group but you didn’t answer. When you missed the one following that she called.

You told her you were feeling under the weather and she hoped you would feel better soon. The thing that finally got you out of bed was Carol calling for your address, informing you that she was dropping by to bring you some soup and other supplies. You texted her the address and jumped out of bed. You ran into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag. You started shoving the garbage that covered nearly every service into the bag. It didn’t take long to fill it up, then a second. You rushed down the hall to throw the bags in the trash chute. Then you hurried back into your apartment and hopped in the shower. You gave yourself a quick scrub and rinse and found some jeans and a t-shirt in your laundry basket that didn’t smell too bad. Then you picked up all the clothes from the floor and stuffed them in, and shoved the basket into your closet. You grabbed some air freshener and sprayed every room thoroughly, trying to hide the evidence of the squalor you’d been wallowing in. You had just lit a candle when you heard the knock on the door.

You looked in the mirror near the door and fussed over your appearance. No amount of rubbing or pinching was going to do anything for the bags under your eyes. Not in the time you needed to answer the door to remain polite. You smoothed some wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt you fished out of the hamper and then you froze. Dave’s shirt. You just had to hope she wouldn’t notice. You plastered a fake smile on your face and swung the door open.

Ever since that day, when Carol walked into your apartment and immediately took you into her arms, there hasn’t passed a day that you haven’t spoken. You get coffee together in the mornings, and lunch in the afternoon and attend grief group together once a week. When the girls go spend the weekend at her parents house, she comes over to your apartment with a box of wine or a bottle of tequila. You get takeout and drink too much and cry. You cry to this woman about the good times you had with her husband. About how he wooed you and made love to you. How sad you are that you won’t ever see him or hear him or feel him again. And she comforts you. Offers her shoulder for you to cry on and cries with you. You cry with her when she tells you about what a good dad Dave was. Not that she would be able to tell it was anything other than sympathy. She’d never know that you were mourning the family you thought you’d have with him one day.

Tonight, she’s invited you over for dinner with her and the girls. She’s been asking for weeks and you’d always managed to weasel out of it. You just didn’t think you’d be able to handle it. Being in the house he shared with her, with them. Knowing that you’ll never have that wasn’t even the worst part of it. It was knowing that it had never been on the table for you to begin with. Of course Dave wasn’t going to marry you. He already had a wife. Of course you weren’t going to have the white picket fence and the yard for the kids. He already had that. Dave already had an entire life before you came along. You were just some sort of…accessory for him.

You’d run out of believable excuses, though. Soon, Carol would start to take it personally. You didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the woman who had become your friend, your only friend. Your lifeline, really. If it wasn’t for Carol you aren’t sure you would have ever gotten out of that bed. You would have just laid there, rotting, until you joined the man you love in death. But Carol wasn’t about to allow that to happen. She even got you a new job working from home. Besides, she’s all you have left of Dave. As twisted as it is, being around her makes you feel like you did when you were with him, home.

You smooth your clothes and ring the doorbell. “Don’t answer the door!” you hear muffled through the wood. The door swings open and a little girl is standing there, the one from the newspaper article you had found all those months ago. She smiles up at you with a toothy grin and bright eyes that look so much like his.

“Hi, I’m Alice!” she chirps. “Are you mommy’s friend?”

You nod and hold your hand out, offering her your name. Instead, she throws her arms around you, giving you a squeeze.

“Come on!” she leads you into the house by your hand. You follow her through the entryway, past the stairs and into the kitchen. The other girl, Molly, is sitting at the island coloring. Her feet swing back and forth in the tall chair and she looks up at you. She returns your wave with a shy one of her own, and returns to her gaze to the book. You hear footsteps on the stairs behind you and Carol appears, running a brush through her hair.

“Hi! I’m so glad you could make it.” she says. Then she turns to her daughter. “Alice York, you know better than to open the door.” she scolds. “You never know who could be on the other side.” Alice nods and her gaze shifts to the floor. Carol plants a kiss on the crown of her head. “Go on now. Take your sister and go wash up for dinner.” she instructs. Alice helps the younger girl down and they scurry up the stairs. “Dinner’s just about done. Do you want some wine?” she offers.

The girls talk your ears off during dinner. Alice tells you all about her soccer team and Molly tells you about her class hamster. You help Carol wash up after dinner despite her protests. Once the last dish has been rinsed and put into the dishwasher, Carol gives you a tour of the house. It’s excruciating trying to hold back your tears when you look at the pictures that hang on the walls. Family photos, the girls’ school pictures, and hanging above the fireplace is a large framed print showing Dave and Carol’s wedding day. It hurts you to see how happy they looked together. Littered on almost every surface are smaller, candid photos. Dave rolling in the grass with his daughters and Carol holding a newborn baby, Dave standing beside her looking down proudly at them. When the tour takes you to their bedroom, you hesitate to cross the threshold. It feels like you are violating the sanctity of something so private, something your eyes were never meant to see.

Some bickering filters out of the hall bathroom and Carol excuses herself to go see what the problem is. You take the opportunity to really analyze the contents of their bedroom. On one of the nightstands you see a pair of glasses and a contacts case. Next to it is a watch that you’d seen on your own nightstand more than once. You never knew that he wore glasses. Just another thing showing you that you didn't know him at all. You peek out the door and hear Carol still coaxing her children to brush their teeth without ripping each other’s head off. You cross the room and slide open the mirrored door of the closet. You see Dave’s clothing hanging there, as neat and organized as you expected it to be. You run your hand along the shoulders of his jackets and suit coats and when you get to the t-shirts you pull one out. The well worn gray cotton is so soft. The Marines emblem on the front is cracked and peeling from its many spins in the washing machine. You grab the bottom of the shirt and pull it up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It smells mostly like laundry detergent but there is still a faint whiff of Dave left on it. It was his favorite shirt. Yours, too. It was the shirt he was wearing when you met him that day in the park. There were many a night when you pulled it over your head after a night of love making. You consider stealing it. Plucking it off the hanger and stuffing it into your purse.

You jump when you hear Carol’s footsteps coming back down the hall, and attempt to slide the closet closed as quietly as possible. You and Carol retire to the living room. She lights the fireplace, laughing because she almost burnt her hair off the first time she had to do it on her own. “Dave used to do it for me.” she explained with just a hint of sadness in her voice. You polish off the rest of the bottle of wine, and a second bottle. Before she opens the third bottle she invites you to spend the night.

“Oh, no.” you decline, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” you don’t think that you could stand sleeping in this house knowing the secret you are keeping from her.

“Come on.” she insists. “I can’t let you drive home like this. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” The words she doesn’t speak come through loud and clear. Carol can’t lose someone else.

You agree and help her finish off the bottle of wine. You follow her up the stairs and she shows you to the guest room. “I’ll go grab you some clothes to sleep in.” she says and disappears down the hall. When she returns she’s holding a stack of neatly folded clothes. “I hope these are good.”

“Oh this is fine.” you take the clothes from her hand and the corner of the shirt’s design catches your eye. You set the rest of the clothes on the bed and unfold the shirt. The faded Marines shirt you were looking at in their closet just hours before. “Oh, I don’t think I should-” you begin but Carol cuts you off.

“It’s fine.” she says with a wave of her hand. “His clothes have just been sitting there, someone should use them. I can’t bring myself to get rid of anything of his.”

Finally, it all becomes too much. The guilt, the lies, it all comes bubbling to the surface and you hear the words leave your mouth before you can even attempt to stop them. “I need to tell you something.” you tell her, still holding the shirt, clutching it tightly to your chest. “I don’t even know how to say this.” you begin. “I knew Dave.” you confess. Carol doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I was seeing him for a little while. Well for about six months. I swear to you, though, I had no idea he was married. I would never have gone out with him if I had known.” you are babbling but you need to get it all out before she throws you out of her house. You need to let her know the truth, even if it means you lose her.

“I only found out he was married because I hadn't heard from him in weeks and I was mad. I thought he just threw me away and I was gonna find him and give him a piece of my mind.” Carol still hasn’t said a word or moved from where she stands. “He gave me a fake last name so it took some digging to even find out his real name. I swear I didn’t know about you or the girls.” you are crying now, your tears roll down your cheek and drip off your chin to the fabric still clutched in your hands. “I followed you to the church that day. I didn’t even know Dave was dead until you spoke about it in group.”

Eventually Carol moves, walking towards you. She takes you by surprise when she pulls you into her arms. She rubs her hand across your back and tries to help you calm yourself down. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be alright. I knew. I already knew.” she soothes.

You flinch away, confused by what she’s just said. “What do you mean you knew?” you ask, suddenly feeling very defensive. Not that you have any right to be. You’ve been lying to this woman for months. “Did you know the whole time? Even before he died.”

Carol sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space next to her with her hand. “Come sit down.” when you don’t move she repeats the motion. “Please. I’ll explain everything.” You join her on the bed and she reaches out, taking one of your hands into both of her own. “I didn’t know until after we met. Honestly, it never crossed my mind that Dave was being unfaithful to me. He was so secretive about his work and it took him out of town all the time. But the last few months he was being- dodgy, I guess is the best word for it.” Now it’s your turn for silence.

“He changed the password on his phone and he was out of town more than usual. Then, when he would come home from a weekend away sometimes, he smelled like perfume. I smelled that same perfume on you when we hugged in that church bathroom.” you let out a soft gasp but Carol continues. “Of course, I thought I was crazy at first. Surely, hundreds of women wear the same perfume. But the more I thought about your reaction to my story that first day in group the more I thought it was possible.”

You shift uncomfortably on the bed. You want to crawl out of your skin and die. She knew. She knew that you were mourning the same man she was. You’ve never felt so shitty in your life.

“But what really sealed the deal for me was hearing you talk about him. His quirks and the stuff you would argue about. I just knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you befriend me?” you ask incredulously.

Carol shrugs her shoulders. “Seemed like you needed a friend, someone who knew what you were going through. God knows I did.”

“You don’t hate me for- for being the other woman or whatever?” you asked.

Carol huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t exchange vows with me. You didn’t owe me fidelity, he did. I didn’t know if you even knew, but after getting to know you, I just decided that it didn’t matter. I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

You raise your hand in defense. “I swear on everything, Carol, I did not know.” she reaches up and grabs your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“I believe you. I promise.” she assures you. “Can we please just move on from this? I’m glad it’s all out in the open now, but I really don’t want to waste time harping on it. It happened, it’s done. Dave hurt both of us but he’s gone. He isn’t here to answer for the things he did. But we found each other as a result of it. Let’s let sleeping dogs lie, huh?”

Half an hour later, you are showered and tucked into the guest bed. You feel so much lighter, the weight of the guilt you had been carrying around is gone. You can finally let go of everything, the anger you hold in your heart for Dave, and make space for the love. The love for Dave that you probably won’t ever lose, the love for Carol and her friendship and maybe even some for yourself. That night you sleep better than you have in months.

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Tags :

dave york fanfiction dave york fics dave york x reader equalizer 2

129 notes View Post

bitchesuntitled

10 months ago

😍🥵😍🥵

Dave!York x Reader/Babysitter PWP one-shot

Summary: Dave York's college-aged babysitter (you!) rides him after his wife leaves him high and dry.

rating: 18+

Words: 1.4k

tags: plot? What plot? , Cheating, Babysitter, Names (slut, whore, babygirl), age gap, poor Carol. Unprotected P in V, Female orgasm, no use of y/n.

A/N: Y'all this is pwp because I'm ovulating okay. There ain't no plot, the characterization is fucking laughable and I had to commit it here. Don't judge okay?

REBLOGS - COMMENTS - MEAN THE WORLD.

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

The York home is dark, the only light and sound coming from the flickering television downstairs. Rain moves drunkenly down the large window panes of the suburban home at the end of the street.

Carol York, mother of two is slipping into her sleep shirt, having just peeked in to see her two darling daughters sleeping soundly before closing their doors.

Tonight was a long night at her work party. Dave, handsome and charming had wooed everyone he met, having them eating out of the palm of his hand.

Carol wishes she hadn't drank so much at the open bar so she could have taken up Dave's offer of a deep fuck when they got home, the suggestion whispered in her ear in the back of the taxi home.

Now she perches at the top of the stairs, listening to the sound of the television downstairs murmuring gently.

"Dave?"

She bellows her husband's name down the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Yeah?" comes his husky disembodied voice from downstairs.

"Is the babysitter still here?"

You're the best babysitter they've ever had. Their daughters adore you, the house is always spotless when they arrive home and you're so polite with your ma'am and sirs. She feels so lucky to have found you.

"Dave did you hear me?"

"Yeah, honey." A pause, then his voice a little louder, a curl of amusement in it. "She's just finishing something up."

Carol wrinkles her nose, puzzled. Dave is such a stickler he probably has you cleaning the entire counter because he found a crumb. She rolls her eyes.

"Dave she's got classes tomorrow!" Carol chides down the stairs at him. "Don't work her too hard!"

She thinks she hears a muffled laugh before your voice sounds out from below.

"He's not ma'am," you call up cheerfully. "I like doing my job thoroughly."

Carol smiles, shaking her head at Dave's persistent need to control everything down to how much the babysitter cleans. Oh well, you always come back so that's all she cares about.

"Are you giving her a ride?" Carol calls down the stairs sleepily. "It's late I don't want her taking the bus at this hour."

"Lemme check if she's wants one," Dave calls back to Carol, but he's unable to stop looking at your face screwed up in ecstasy as you writhe in his lap.

You've been riding him for the better part of ten minutes, thighs quaking, cunt dripping.

He's seated comfortably on the couch, legs spread wide and his pants and boxers around his ankles. His dress shirt is still on and you cling to the light blue linen covering his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm giving her a ride."

Dave calls this up to Carol, his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. But his eyes are stuck on you, perfect, bouncy, shiny, babysitter you. You give a breathless laugh in return, brows saddling when his length hits a really good spot. His voice lowers.

"You like your ride, babygirl?"

He grins up at you, large palms urging your hips to roll over his.

"Yes sir," you say breathlessly down at him.

He's holding you by the hips as your breasts bounce inches from his mouth. You're wearing nothing but your plaid skirt and it's ridden up, bunched at your waist. His hands slide up to cup your breasts as you shift yourself on his lap, tugging at the nipples as you bite back a moan.

His cock is buried within your slick cunt, partially exposed under your skirt. His hands slide back down to cup you’re the meat of your ass in a brutal grip that pulls you up and down along his length.

"Faster baby," he whispers against your throat. "Faster."

He lifts his own hips, pulling you to a new angle and fucking up into you. His face is pure concentration, teeth gritted and bared, brown eyes blown black, forehead dotted with sweat. You jostle in his lap, your thighs burning as you spread them wider, wanting to feel every inch of him. You gasp as he hits that sweet spot that has your toes curling.

"Shhh," Dave soothes when you start to whimper. "Don't wanna get caught do we? What would my wife do if she found our sweet, innocent babysitter bouncing on my cock like a little slut?"

At this his fingers slide along your clit, beginning to stroke with measured skill. He grins when he sees your eyes cheat to the back of your head. He glances down, pulling up the front of your skirt to watch your pussy swallowing his cock, gleaming with your arousal.

"Mmmm, like being my little slut, don't you?"

"Yes...” you breathe. “Yes sir."

It's not long before your breathing is labored and Dave is watching you with rapt fascination. The couch creaks slightly, and he slows his circling within you, wanting to extend the moment. You’re so wet it’s dripping down his balls, sure to stain the fabric of the couch below him.

"Listen to that," he says volume matching that of the television advertising some miracle spot remover. You listen, quickly flushing when you realize he wants you to hear the sound of your copious slick coating his fingers.

"So fucking wet, babygirl," he purrs up at you, his thumb tapping your clit at the base and making you jolt. He smiles broadly at your reaction, his sweet eyes crinkling in amusement. You grab his clean-shaven chin, tugging his face up so you can both meet in a ravenous kiss before you suck his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you.

You want to feel him everywhere.

You swallow your moan, biting your lower lip so harshly it drains the blood from it. Dave's free hand comes to cup your left breast, guiding it to his mouth so he can flick his tongue over your straining nipple. He hears your shudder and quickly takes it into his mouth and sucks harshly, sending a pleasured stripe to shoot through your body.

He can feel you milking his cock when he does that and he presses his face between your breasts, suppressing his moan there as his climax steadily builds.

He can smell sex and your perfume mixing in the air, making for a heady combination. And the sinful sight of your pussy gliding up and down his rigid cock is something he knows he's going to jerk off to for years to come. He still can’t believe you’re here perched on his lap, body shaking with the force of your mutual grinding, body bared to him.

"Fucking naughty girl," Dave grunts.

"Yes," you say, hips rolling lazily, your hands going to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over the stiffened peaks. Dave swallows an appreciative groan when you pinch each between your thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. He sees the flush to your chest and neck and knows you're so close.

"Go on and come for me, college girl," he whispers, slapping your ass before gripping the meat of it in his palm. "Show me why I'm fucking you and not my wife."

Your motions are frantic and you're hands are back on his shoulders, using it for leverage as you begin to bounce on his lap, watching his head tilt back in pleasure.

"Bad girl," Dave gasps out, his large palms slamming you up and down on his cock, using you for his pleasure. "Fucking bad... Fucking me.... Such-such a slutty little babysitter... Fuck yourself on my cock."

"I will," you whisper down at him, your face damp. You tilt back slightly, watching his cock slick with your arousal as it begins to piston in and out of you, almost a blur in its speed.

Dave is similarly transfixed, holding your legs spread wide so he can see the sight of your sticky inner thighs and the way you've made such a mess at the base of his cock.

"Come now," he tells you in a silken purr. "Show me how good it feels."

Dave begins groaning when you start to bounce up and down in his lap in frenzy, the sound of his cock slamming up into your cunt slick and obscene.

"Yes sir," you chant barely above a whisper. "Yes sir, yes sir, yes siiiiiiiiiirrrrr."

Your back arches and he continues to hold your ass as your hips start to cant, your body tensing and then releasing as you come.

"Fuck I can feel that," Dave sighs, watching your pussy soak his cock as he feels your cunt fluttering around his throbbing cock. "So good for me, babygirl."

You shoot him a lazy smile, face flushed, hair disheveled and Dave feels his own release rapidly approaching.

"Keep bouncing," Dave instructs. "Gonna-"

But you're not bouncing. You're grinning devilishly down at him before sliding up his still throbbing cock. Dave feels the sweet velvet clench of your pussy being pulled from him and he swallows a whimper.

“What the fuck?” Dave asks in quiet shock, his hips still circling under you, desperate to prolong the friction. "You're not stopping, are you?"

"I am," you say hopping off his lap and pressing a chaste kiss to the end of his strong nose.

He sits there on the couch, cock hard and soaked in your slick. He watches you pull on your sweater before sliding your panties up under your skirt.

"I need to come," he tells you sternly.

"Sorry sir," you say with a smirk and a wink. "Mrs. York said you weren't supposed to work me too hard. See you next week."

Tags :

dave york x you dave york fanfiction dave york smut dave york x female reader pedro pascal characters dd recs

299 notes View Post

bitchesuntitled

5 months ago

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her - that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily.

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James.

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling.

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

Tags :

shortieswritingchallenge dave york x f!reader dave york smut dave york fanfiction dave york x you dave york equalizer 2

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bitchesuntitled

5 months ago

I am so glad you love it!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️