#i would go to new york if: these were the advertisements

[catboygretzky]

Do I even want to know what happened in the last 24 hours 😭 I'm almost afraid to ask but I'm also insanely curious

You probably don't want to know but I'll tell you because you have no choice. This will be long and...awful. But there are sources so that's fun! Please keep in mind that this was all released within 24 hours on Thursday, September 20th, 2024 and that, unfortunately, I haven't mentioned everything.

But! The GOP was certainly having a wild one yesterday.

To start things off:

The first 'Big News' to break was about Mark Robinson.

For those saying 'who the fuck is Mark Robinson', he's the current (R) Lt. Gov of North Carolina that is running for Gov. Before yesterday, he was best known for openly hating LGBT+ and Jewish folks, being a Holocaust denier, being (forcefully) anti abortion, saying it was better when women couldn't vote, anti immigrant, hating the civil rights movement, etc, just being a hateful Evangelical nasty fascist. MAGA to his core. Trump has endorsed him, saying he should be cherished and calling him "MLK on steroids". (Robinson is Black).

So, yeah, that's bad enough right? Yesterday it got even worse. CNN released a report about some comments he made on a porn site forum 12 years ago, the most prominent being 'i'm a black NAZI'. He also commented that he wished slavery was legal and that he'd own a few, and called himself a 'perv' that used to 'peep' on women in public locker rooms when he was a teenager.

Also the tale as old as time that I'm sure you could guess when I mentioned 'GOP' 'loudly transphobic' and 'porn site scandal' - trans porn was a favourite of his. Because of course.

Also of course - the GOP hasn't taken him off the ticket, and he will continue to be the nominee for governor in North Carolina!

Read the article, there's more about him and the situation in general. Mind the warnings.

-

Now on to our favourite worm brained bear eating anti vaxxer conspiracy theorist, Robert F. Kennedy Junior! I'm putting this under a read more now.

The first thing to drop about him yesterday was the news of an investigation after he allegedly cut off the head of a dead whale and took it home 20 years ago. Now I bet you're thinking, wow that's bad! Unfortunately for RFK Jr yesterday got worse. It was then revealed that he (70) was having an affair with right wing journalist Olivia Nuzzi (31) after New York Magazine suspended her.

Everything I learn about RFK Jr I learn against my own will.

-

Saying goodbye to RFK for now, let's move on to Rep. Matt Gaetz of Florida! This Matt Gaetz, with the botox if you didn't recognise him.

Scary lookin, right?

This isn't a completely new story (here's an article about how he alledgedly paid for sex with a minor) but new court filings were released yesterday alledging that he attended a drug-fueled sex party in 2017 with the 17-year-old girl at the center of the alleged sex trafficking scandal.

Sure is great to have such trustworthy men representing this country!

OKAY, on to the next.

-

This wasn't really breaking news because this is just Trump being Trump but he gave a speech at an ANTI ANTISEMITISM EVENT where he preemptively blamed the Jews for being the reason he'll lose this election, telling them they need to get their head checked if they vote for Harris (that's pretty much part of his stump speech by now though) and saying he'll reinstate his Muslim ban. White fascist blaming Jews? Wow, I did Nazi that coming.

-

I genuinely could go on, I really truly could.

Oh! Kamala Harris went on Oprah and it was really nice and not at all insane and she talked to the family of the first known victim of Trump's abortion ban and it was very touching. Trump's official social media then posted a clip of her talking about her gun and saying 'If somebody breaks into my house, they're getting shot' like it was a snatch when in reality Republicans in the comments are saying 'actually, this would make me vote for her'. Thanks, Trump Team for the free advertising!

Misc:

Chris Rufo (known racist and anti immigration right wing activist) got revealed to have an illegal immigrant wife, and then got revealed to be a user of Ashley Madison (database where people go to cheat on their partners)(Robinson was also on Ashley Madison).

Jasmine Crockett during her thing and ripping white republicans to shreds. (idk this was just fun to me)

Actually Republicans and Project 2025 got ripped to shreds and shut down in general by multiple Congress members.

GOP is on the brink of causing a government shutdown, because of COURSE they are.

Cards Against Humanity sues SpaceX over “invasion” of land on US/Mexico border.

Anyway there's actually MORE believe it or not but I can't remember if it happened yesterday. Thank you for reading, I'm always open to discussing current events. I don't think it's a well known fact that I'm into politics because I don't talk about it on tumblr because people are kinda stupid. Anyway!

[code31-onthedancefloor]

what is ulixes sitting on today...?

piggyback! good for them.

thanks @weepylucifer for the suggestion!

[avelera]

Ok, I feel like there's three writing concepts that Tumblr needs to get reacquainted with when it comes to understanding fiction:

Catharsis - Sometimes, fiction engages with horrifying, disgusting, painful, or scary concepts in order to bring about a positive experience for the reader. This can be through the hero defeating a disgusting evil, like defeating an abuser for example. One might also get catharsis not out of the defeat of something bad or uncomfortable, but simply from the experience of living it vicariously, such as joy at successfully hiding the body of a murder victim. There are literally countless examples of catharsis in fiction, but most importantly it must be understood, it is completely harmless to real people whether you're experiencing catharsis at something good happening or something bad happening that you get to live vicariously because it is literally fiction. Indeed, there's a lot of evidence that getting to experience catharsis through fiction at evil things, say, living vicariously through a fictional character committing adultery, even if you would never want to cheat on your own partner, actually helps purge the desire to do evil things oneself.

Pleasures of the genre - some genres have expectations that go with them. If you, as a writer, don't include those pleasures, you might turn off the audience. For example, the Western genre has a certain expectation of being set in the 19th c American West. There's usually cowboys and horses involved. If you write a story that's advertised as a "Western" that takes place entirely in a New York City apartment, it might be novel for the genre, but it might also piss off a bunch of readers who were expecting horses. You can do it, obviously, but don't be surprised if readers are confused and perhaps disinterested in the work. More salient to Tumblr perhaps - Marvel believes it is creating action/adventure superhero stories. If a Marvel movie suddenly became a psychological exploration of the internality of a character's relationships, without a single laser beam or fight scene in sight, Marvel expects its audience to be confused and unhappy. We, as fanfic writers and readers might be dying for that story, but that is not the pleasure of the genre that Marvel thinks its audience wants when it walks specifically into a superhero film.

Power Fantasy - this might be one of the most misunderstood or perhaps narrowly applied terms. Yes, sometimes a power fantasy is a 16 year old boy watching a superhero dude with 8 pack abs destroy the bad guy, get the girl, and save the day. Living vicariously through that character is definitely a power fantasy. BUT, a power fantasy can also be fantastical things that the audience wishes would happen in a way that would empower an audience member or make them happy. For example, a billionaire industrialist merchant of death like Tony Stark getting hit by his own weapons and deciding to become a crusader for justice in a way that actually helps normal people is, in fact, an audience power fantasy. We want to believe that if the right bad guy like a billionaire got the right comeuppance like a near-death experience at the hands of their own evils, they'd learn their lesson and become a better person. This is a power fantasy. This is not a thing that actually happens. It's honestly not that different from the power fantasy many gun owners have that if they own a gun, they're more likely to stop a crime in progress with their perfect marksmanship, rather than that they're more likely to kill or be killed by a member of their own family. Understanding the application of power fantasies in terms of good things you hope would happen happening in fiction is not only important for dissecting fiction as an intelligent viewer, it's also important in terms of recognizing when you're being influenced by certain stories and choosing what lesson you take away from it and what lesson (if any) you want to take away from it.

I just feel like these 3 terms are what I see most lacking in a lot of "discourse". Fiction is trying to engender emotion in the audience. Great fiction engenders a wide range of emotions in the viewer, not simply good emotions. Thoughtful fiction might (but not always!) try to impart a lesson. But great fiction can also just want to give you great emotions and make you think outside the usual box of your usual experiences. It's also completely fine for great fiction to just want to give you a great emotion experience like catharsis, or the thrill of a power fantasy. And I really wish these three separate but interrelated concepts were discussed more when it comes to dissecting fiction here on this site.

[juuuulez]

📰 | carmen berzatto x reader ; “Proximity.”

info: Carmen Berzatto x Reader, no pronouns (but written with fem! in mind), NYC era, tired Carmy, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs (cocaine/weed), you’re Carmen’s roommate.

summary: Carmen is your roommate: who happens to have terrible sleeping habits.

we rot, thinkin' lots about nothing / yeah, i could spend a lifetime / sitting here talkin' — comfort crowd, conan gray.

i don't feel like nothing special / i snag my tights out on the lawn chair / guess i’m a mess and play the role — i might say something stupid, charli xcx.

okay so BASICALLY this is kid krow boyfriend x brat girlfriend. expect three parts to this cute lil series my slayers. i’m insatiable and music makes me write.

“Jesus, what’ve I said about sleepin’ on the couch?”

Your voice is a shrill whine in the small apartment. The space itself is dingy, a two-bedroom joint in New York City. Mess forms on just about every surface, namely the coffee table, stacked high with a combination of culinary books, trays of pencils, and dirtied ashtrays.

Heels clack as you clamber into the living room, dropping down to your knees aside the couch. Carmy is dead to the world, passed out with his face pressed into the cushion, hair all tangled and wild.

You grab onto his shoulder, trying to push him upright with an exasperated groan. It doesn’t work. Finally, you use sharp, manicured nails to tug at his ear, a sharp pinch that finally awakens your roommate.

“Fuck.” Carmen grumbles, only pushing his face deeper into the pillow to evade any further scolding.

“Get off the couch, asshole.” You continue to berate him, “You pay for a room, so go sleep in it.”

Living in New York was expensive. So, you advertised for taking in a roommate. Someone lowkey who would stay out of your business, keep their shit to themselves, and best case scenario, help cook every now and then.

Carmen Berzatto seemed like the jackpot.

Except he was run absolutely ragged. Sure, the restaurant he worked at was classy, whatever. You didn’t care enough to indulge in the details. But the man would work for hours on end, and pass out on the first surface he could find.

Which brought you back to the problem at hand.

“I’m serious.” You continue, “I wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy before bed and have my joint. It’s my nightly ritual, you gotta fuckin’ move.”

At this point you were leaning your full weight against him, pushing Carmen deeper into the cushion. He groaned and finally rolled over, prompting you to let go, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Y’can’t watch it in y’er room?” He asks.

You huff, sitting on the hardwood floor in defeat. “No. There’s no TV in there, and my phone is dead.”

Carmen finally clears his foggy vision, blinking tiredly as he inspects your form, slumped on the ground beside him. A tight little black top clings to you, along with a matching pencil skirt.

“Did y’go out?” He asks, gaining some sense of awareness. The pair of you didn’t discuss personal stuff, most of the time Carmen had no idea what you were up to.

He was an early riser, you weren’t. Carmen would get home after a long shift and pass out, while you still roamed the streets late into the night. In a way, it was nice, as the pair of you wouldn’t often clash or argue for you simply weren’t in each other’s way.

Except for now, of course.

“Yes.” You huff, “And now it’s late and ‘m tired and have a headache. All I wanna do is watch Grey’s Anatomy and pass out on my,” You punctuate the word by stealing the throw pillow from him. “couch.”

There’s nowhere to argue. Technically, it was your couch. It was your apartment. Carmen knew he should be grateful, given that he simply had to pay a portion of rent, yet wasn’t responsible for the financial burden of all the furniture you’d collected beforehand.

Instead of just moving, Carmen finds himself wondering about your night. The headache. “How much did y’drink?” He asks.

You catch on, standing with an irritated groan. The throw pillow is tossed back down, to which Carmen grips it and pulls it to his chest. He wants to fall back asleep so badly. But now you’re causing a commotion, leaning against the wall and prying each heel off with huffs of frustration, throwing them somewhere down the hallway.

“It’s not the alcohol, it’s Katie’s bum-ass coke.” You complain loudly. “She gets it for free ‘cus she’s fucking this guy, but it’s just not good. Like, I can feel my brain cells evaporating and screaming like it’s a fiery wreck up there.”

Carmen hums, fiending understanding. Of course. It’s definitely not one of his favourite things about you. But, it’s not really his place to step in, to point out all the terrible choices you make. Sometimes he finds himself tempted to, but has to remember that would make things weird.

You didn’t want his baggage. Fuck, Carmen certainly didn’t want yours. It was a box that shouldn’t be opened, a line that won’t be crossed.

“Y’ever think about.. just not doing it?” Carmen ends up saying, his voice quiet and tentative, unable to help himself but prod the tiniest bit.

Thankfully, you brush it off, dumping a shiny pile of jewellery onto the coffee table to join the existing mess. “Yeah, right. Then I’ll get massive FOMO and it’ll kill the entire vibe. Great advice. Now scooch.”

Carmen has no choice but to shift as your stocking-clad foot nudges his thigh. There’s a hole in it, around your ankle, and he absentmindedly wonders how that happened. Regardless, he sits further up on the couch, making room for you to ungracefully slump beside him. It’s a close proximity, but one he’s slowly gotten adjusted to, finding that you’re the kind of person who simply doesn’t care about all these little touches.

The ones that make Carmen all flustered and nervous, the ones he’ll overthink whenever his mind isn’t so loud.

You lay on your side, legs curled up in the space that isn’t occupied by Carmen’s thighs. It looks like you’re ready to sleep in this position, and Carmen resists making a comment about how hypocritical that would be.

There’s a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again.

“What’s the time, anyway?” Carmen asks.

You give a little shrug, the motion halfhearted and yet full of effort. “Like, three. Wanted to leave earlier, but it was this whole big thing.”

Carmy doesn’t bother indulging, instead giving a short hum as he thinks about it. All this time, and yet he’s never met any of your friends. You don’t bring them over, mostly because you’re barely home at night. He wonders if they’re like you.

“Shoes.” You suddenly pipe up again, a foot once again nudging him. “Y’were sleepin’ in them.”

He looks down, noticing the fact that his sneakers are still on. It makes his brows furrow, brain still all hazy from sleep, resisting the urge to melt back into the couch and continue his nap.

“Wasn’t thinking.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes once more. They sting slightly with the light you’ve turned on down the hall, the one neither of you will get up to switch off.

With the last of his willpower, Carmen toes off his shoes, letting them land somewhere underneath the coffee table. One of your heels lingers nearby, too.

“Clearly.” You mumble, “Your bedroom is three steps away, and you’re sleeping here. Weirdo.”

It’s not exactly venomous, and if Carmen was any other person he’d probably smile. Laugh a little. But he’s not. The pair of you are so different to the point where Carmen struggles to understand you, and to combat this issue, he’s reduced your role in his life to that of a stranger: a passing face on his eventual journey for something bigger.

“What about that joint?” He reminds you, deciding to ignore the slight snipe.

It earns another groan, drawn-out and dramatic as you press your cheek into the armrest. “No way ‘m getting up now.”

There’s a beat of silence as Carmen shifts, leaning over the couch to the floor. He finds his abandoned pile of belongings, the stuff he’d dropped after work seconds before passing out. A carton of cigarettes find his hand, tugging one out to place it between his lips.

He flicks the lighter, inhales, lets it spark to life. Then, Carmen takes it back out, passing it down and holding it in front of your face. Even with your eyes closed, you knew that noise, and didn’t need any direction to lean forward and snatch it between your teeth.

The sound you make is a pleased one, inhaling deep and letting it out. It manages to quell your headache slightly, to lessen that irritability that always grows after a night out like this, where the coming day you’ll be snappy and tired and miserable.

You ask for Alexa to play Grey’s Anatomy, the Google TV opening to the episode you were last on.

Carmen smiles when you thank it, as if the television was sentient.

Though he’s never been one for medical shows, Carmen doesn’t seem to mind. That’s because he barely watches it, passing out again maybe 5 minutes into the episode, still sitting up against the couch. It doesn’t even matter, for you follow suit not much later, the cigarette burnt out and filter falling to the floor in an ashy pile.

[humansofnewyork]

“I’ve never been a sports person. But I just spent three years locked in my apartment. I’ve cycled through all the arts and crafts already: painting, ceramics, you name it. So I wanted to try a sport. And let me tell you, it’s a whole new level of pressure. Because there are other people involved. They told me that pickleball was a sport anyone could play. I took them at their word, and it’s been torture ever since. I started with a class at the YMCA; they advertised for people with ‘mixed abilities.’ But when they say ‘mixed,’ that means mixed with advanced people. During my first game I flew. I mean I actually flew. Balance is a big issue at my age. If you don’t balance, you fly. And I flew. The teacher said: ‘If it’s out of your range, just let it go. Let it go.’ Everyone was sympathetic. I think they were impressed I didn’t go straight home. But after the first game, you know, people have expectations. I couldn’t serve, I couldn’t return. Nobody said anything. But when there’s a bunch of stuff you’re supposed to do that you can’t do, and every time you play, your side is zero, people start to notice. They try to act like they don’t care. But this is New York; there’s limited time on the courts. They care. So after my third game I was like: ‘see you later.’ I signed up for clinics at the rec center. Then I found a nice spot in Jersey where nobody was playing. Lots of wall. Lots of space. Perfect for me. I even got in a few serves. And that was fighting the wind, because it was right on the water. Of course as soon as I got back to the clinic, I couldn’t do it. But I’m going to keep trying. All I care about is having good form and enjoying the game. Winning isn’t important. I’m not a competitive person. But I’m the kind of ‘not competitive’ that’s not competitive because I know I’m going to lose, so you know what? Yeah, I’d like to win one. It would be nice to win a game. I just have to get through all this other stuff to get there.”

[lixzey]

The Unknown Number

A/N: ignore the time stamps 😆 i know, i know, but it's literally 2am when i edited this and i can't edit the time 😔

warnings: none? just that reader is italian and a lil bit of peach dissing [if you know, you know]

You were bored.

You were sitting alone in your hotel room, plans foiled by a stormy day, waiting for some miracle to happen. You were supposed to enjoy a beautiful day in New York; you had just arrived last night from Italy for a three-week vacation in America. You have planned this trip for so long. Originally,  your best friend Hailey was supposed to come along, but her family needed to go to Germany to visit her sick grandmother. Hailey had urged you to go on with the trip, practically forcing you to go to the airport and live your dream—the American dream you've been dreaming of since you were a little girl—and just enjoy, even without her.

You agreed, of course. You've been dreaming of coming to New York ever since you were eight; you weren't going to pass off the opportunity to fly to the place where your mother came from. Your mother left when you were eight—she died of cancer. As a little girl, you'd listen excitedly when your mother told you stories about her hometown. She painted such a vivid picture of New York City that you felt like you knew it like the back of your hand, even though you'd never been there. And now, here you were, sitting in a hotel room with nothing to do.

As you stared out the rain-streaked window, you sighed, feeling sorry for yourself and wishing Hailey was there with you. This was not how you had envisioned starting your vacation in the big city. You had been looking forward to exploring Central Park, visiting museums, and trying out all the famous New York food with Hailey. It just wasn’t the same without her. 

You took a deep breath, grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you and deciding to scroll on Instagram to ease your boredom. As you mindlessly scrolled through your feed, something caught your eye—an advertisement for Wonka.

“Oh, I almost forgot about this,” you muttered to yourself, tapping twice on the post.

You have been a fan of Timothée Chalamet for less than a year. Hailey had been the one who introduced you to the young actor, and to your surprise, you were the same age as him. The first movie of his you’ve ever watched was Little Women, and you've loved him ever since.

You've been obsessing over his films like Dune and The King, loving every shot of him and admiring his beauty and talent. When you watched the trailer for Wonka, it was surreal to see him in such an unserious manner. Singing and dreaming about chocolate in his infamous purple coat.  

Continuing to scroll down your feed, you began seeing more of him, fan interactions, the red carpet, and movie promos. God, he's beautiful, you thought, moving to screenshot every photo you scrolled by. Mindlessly switching to Tiktok, where you see numerous edits of Tim on his premieres looking absolutely stunning in his colorful suits, left you imagining what else would be peeking under his jacket.

 “Is there anything you won't do for fashion?”

“Oh man, yeah, do it for the fashion.”

I’d do anything for you, all for you. You thought as you kept on scrolling some more to see character edits, ship edits—which you hated—thrist edits, and so much more that you couldn’t save anymore because you were running low on storage.

You sighed, closing the app, tossing your phone to the side, and plopping on the bed. This isn’t the American dream. You were supposed to be out, exploring New York, getting a sense of nostalgia from all of the stories your mother had told you years ago. But no, you were stuck in a hotel, scrolling through all of your social media feeds. God knows how many times you’ve scrolled through instagram and tiktok. You should be walking down Fifth Avenue, shopping and taking in the sights, eating hotdogs and pizzas as you walk through Central Park—maybe even running into a celebrity, hopefully Timothée Chalamet—not just stuck inside your hotel room moping.

What I’d give to have a moment with Timmy. 

Personally, you’d give the whole world just one minute with him. But you can’t help but wonder: What would any of Timmy’s fans give to just have one moment with him? Probably the same as you, but every person is different.

You grabbed your phone again, opening Instagram. As soon as the app opened, Timothée’s newest post greeted you.

He looked so effortlessly handsome, and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You wished to be in Kylie Jenner’s place, but you could never be her. You’re just this plain girl that he would never even take a second glance at. You didn’t have a famous family, you didn’t have tons of fans, you didn’t have a successful makeup brand, and it’s sure as hell that you didn’t have a model body and a perfect face. You’re just a normal Italian girl with flaws. You had a belly, stretch marks, dark bags under your eyes from staying up late, cellulite, big arms, and acne scars from your youth. You were far from the girls he’d ever want. But you still love him nonetheless, even if you could only love him from afar. 

Tapping on his profile, you clicked on the message button. It was the only thing you could do—message him every once in a while. You wondered how many girls would freak out if Timothée Chalamet messaged them. It was a long shot, but if it ever happened to you, it was sure as fuck that you’d be either crying of happiness or faint. There’s no in-between, honestly. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. 

Text random numbers and pretend to be Timothée Chalamet. 

It was a bad idea, sure, but when have you ever thought before doing shit? It’s only some harmless fun, right? You knew if you asked Hailey, she’d support you; no questions asked. So, there isn’t anyone else who’d tell you it’s a bad idea.

You opened your IMessage app, deciding to go with your stupid idea. 

“Here goes nothing.” you muttered, typing in the number Hailey gave.

You laid on your stomach, typing in a random greeting message, stifling your laughter before tapping the send button. “Sent.”

You couldn't stop laughing, you were honestly enjoying this even though it was wrong to catfish people. You were bored, this was the only thing that gave you smiles as the storm outside raged on.

You tried to stop laughing so you could type in a message for your next prank victim, failing miserably. You tossed your phone to the side, clutching your stomach as you let all of your laughter out of your body. It was absolutely funny to see people’s reactions, knowing all too well that you aren’t the real Timothée, and just riding along with your shit.

After a few minutes of laughing, you finally regained your composure. “Alright, onto the next.”

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

[gatheringbones]

[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[specterllaw]

F@cking the boss - Harvey Specter x Reader Part 1/2

Summary: After being interviewed for a job offer that was meant for your roommate you meet a fascinating boss who sees right through all of your lies

You sighed as you approached your apartment door, it was painted a dull faded orange that now looked like someone had been smoking in the halls for years, you sorted through the stack of mail you grabbed on your way into the building. All of it was bills or advertisements until you got to a thin envelope, it was addressed to your roommate but it came from a big law firm in Upstate Manhattan. Pearson and Hardman, you had seen their commercials way too many times. Curious you ripped opened the paper envelope, flipping open the folded paper inside seeing an invitation to interview as a new assistant for one of their senior associates. You smirked a bit walking inside as you shut your apartment door and plopped down on the couch, grabbing your bowl of weed from the table smoking it gone before going to your room to find clothes for the interview. See normally you’d never open your roommates mail, but recently she had taken it open herself to open her legs to your boyfriend and get you fired from your shared job, so you felt like you deserved this.

Monday morning

You gulped nervous pushing open the hotel door and walking farther into the conference rooms trying to figure out where the hell this meeting was being held, until you saw the giant sign, ‘PEARSON AND HARDMAN LAW FIRM INTERVIEW NEXT DOOR ON THE RIGHT’. You took a deep breath hoping for it to give you some confidence as you walked through the door looking at all of the other females who were waiting, they all matched the type of your roommate, blonde hair, big boobs, and mini skirts. You felt like you were dressed too professional as you walked up to the desk “excuse me?..is this the interviews for the law firm?” You asked politely to the woman sitting at the desk “yes, yes it is, go down that hallway to the left and you’ll meet with Mr. Specter” she said pointing down a short hallway. You felt like the ground was shaking under your feet as you made your way to the makeshift office that had a well dressed man sitting behind the desk looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Who are you?” He asked tilting his head up towards you like he was better than you in a sense. "My name is Y/n L/n, I'm here for the..assistant position?" You offered as you took a seat in front of him, he watched you closely "Everybody is, darling, what makes you so special?" He asked crossing his arms "I'm determined in my work, I have no boyfriend, no kids, and I'm looking for a good job to get my foot in the door to becoming the best lawyer in New York" You said stubbornly eyeing him in the same manner he was to you, you knew what he was doing, intimidation. "...okay" He said unsure "What do you have experience with?"

Next Monday

You were in complete shock, you were on your way to walk to the law firm when a car had stopped in front of your path, you stopped getting your pepper spray out and ready before the window rolled down revealing Harvey Specter sitting in the back "You think I would let my new secretary walk to work? No Princess, in the car" He demanded as you stuttered rushing to the other door sliding into the seat. "Listen. Today's gonna be alot, Y/n, You'll be meeting my former assistant and who's retiring after today, you'll meet Louis Litt, jackass on a stick, he threatens or tries to flirt you tell me got it?" You nodded "You'll meet Mike Ross, my hired associate, you'll also answer to him partially under my word and he'll answer to you." After Harvey got done briefing you, You were trained by a pregnant woman named Donna, had a meeting with Jessica Pearson, a meeting with Louis Litt, and Mike Ross. Now you were being motioned in by Harvey who was sitting at his desk, his suit jacket sitting on his chair as he watched you, he looked hot as hell, and you knew you were shamelessly checking him out, unknown to you he was doing the same thing.

You took a seat in front of him as he offered you a soft smile "Hey, How's your first day?" He asked raising an eyebrow "I-It's good..I'm enjoying it so far..Louis was very...stern though" You mumbled, he raised his eyebrows "Nothing over the line, right? You're alright?" He asked, "I'm fine, Mr. Specter, I'm a big girl" You stated nervously, you knew you had been lying to Harvey since the interview, you were not qualified to work for Pearson-Hardman and you weren't anything like his past receptionist. "Well, I'm heading out for the night, care for a drink?" He offered standing up, grabbing his jacket and files "U-Um actually, I've gotta get back home" Truth was, you had to meet your dealer to get your next bag of weed. "Great, We'll drink there" He said quickly, you could tell he wasn't going to let go of the topic and Donna did warn you, Harvey liked to get close with his receptionists, they were like brother and sister. You huffed going to grab your coat and bag as Harvey called for the elevator, You followed behind eyeing him up and down any chance you got.

As you entered your apartment you realized your dealer had already been there, there was a bag of pre-rolled's on your coffee table. You were quick to dive for the bag grabbing it as Harvey walked in, watching you in confusion "Hiding something?" He asked raising an eyebrow "N-No" You protested crossing your arms, hiding the bag of joints under your arm. He tilted his head walking closer, if he was anybody different you probably would've pepper sprayed his ass, but he was hot and a damn good lawyer. "You know, Y/n..Wanna know something funny about me?" He asked as he stalked closer to you, you looked him in the eyes as you slowly shuffled back towards the wall keeping the bag tightly tucked in-between your arm and chest. "Hmm?" You asked before bumping into the wall, watching as Harvey took slow, agonizing steps towards you until you felt his breath on your face "I know when people are lying...and I know you're lying about a lot of stuff" He said quietly, not breaking eye contact with you, narrowing your eyes you put a hand on his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Specter" You offered raising your eyebrows. He slammed his hand against the wall by your head almost making your knees give out and you fall to the floor, Harvey was huffing and you were trying to even your breathing from how hot he was currently "What're you hiding, Y/n" He asked alot more sternly, your arms dropped in defeat, the bag falling to the floor in between your feet and Harvey's. He smirked kneeling down as he picked up the bag with two fingers dangling it infront of your face. "Nothing was it?" He asked again, his tone was antagonizing, like he was teasing you. "Nothing at all" You proposed as he raised his eyebrows leaning closer before pulling one of your joints out, putting it between his lips, lighting it, all before blowing the smoke into your face. "Seems like a pretty good something to me, you get this from Mike?" He asked, your mouth dropped in shocked "That is Mike!" You gasped as he watched you, placing the joint between your lips he smirked "Inhale" He whispered as you took a hit, you inhaled then exhaled before slowly moving to the couch, Harvey close behind.

Your joint bag was gone, you and Harvey had smoked the entire thing and were now stoned off your asses, laying naked in your bed recovering from the most mind-blowing sex you've ever had. "You just ate an entire bag of pretzels how do you not have cotton mouth?" You asked in disbelief, he just laughed rolling on his back, you could see his bare chest and stomach as the sheet started to fall down around his waist. "I'm Harvey Specter I don't get cotton mouff" He stated before laughing as he made eye contact with you "Mouff? Harvey Specter does too get cotton mouff!" You laughed as you handed him your water bottle looking at him as he took a huge gulp. This was a different side of Harvey, one that laughed, that hugged, that cared.

"Harvey?.." You asked after the two of you stopped laughing "Yes?.." He asked turning towards you, draping a hand over your bare waist "Do you sleep with all of your receptionists?" You asked quietly, you could feel his fingers brushing up and down your side as he looked at you "Do you lie and fuck all of your bosses?" He challenged, you raised your eyebrows slapping his chest "ow! I'm kidding!" He laughed "No...I don't..I'm stoned, but, I know you're a sweet woman, who is already amazing at a job she was never qualified for" He stated, you studied his face, watching his breathing. He was truly the most Handsome man you've ever seen.

"Am I fired?" You asked playing with his hair slowly "No...I like you too much to let you go, and it's hard to find a lady to boss me around while also following my orders" He stated kissing your forehead before you tucked your head against his chest dozing off.

[absurdthirst]

Surrogate Love {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.9k

Warnings: Surrogacy, mentions of impregnation, emotional distance, fighting, drowning feelings, mentions of masturbation, crossing boundaries, technical infidelity, vaginal sex, ovulation, sex to procreate, cock warming, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), pregnancy, divorce

Comments: When Carol cannot have anymore children, she and Dave turn to seeking for a surrogate. Finding you, Dave grows closer to you as Carol seemingly pulls farther away. Leading to a discovery that will alter the agreement between you and the Yorks and allow you and Dave to fall deeper into a complicated love.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

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.

Surrogate Wanted! -Family of four looking for a surrogate to help complete our loving family. -All medical and additional pregnancy related expenses covered. -Plus a fee for carrying the child! -Looking for a young, healthy woman to commit to carrying our child, temporarily moving into our space whilst pregnant and for a few months afterwards to breastfeed. -Must be willing to undergo routine medical testing. -Contact us below if you’re interested!

You read the advertisement over and over before sending an email. Attaching your latest medical and a few details about your family history. Money is tight. Unbelievably tight.  And doing this would not only help your financial strain, but you would be doing something wonderful for a family. 

What’s the harm in applying? You mumble to yourself after hitting send on the email. Unsure if you’ll even get a response.

“Honey, look at this one.” Dave looks up from his computer to find Carol leaning over his shoulder, reading the email already. “What do you think?” He asks. There have been a few other emails, but they were all unsuitable and this woman has already started providing medical information. And a picture of how lovely she is.

“She looks nice,” Carol says with a roll of her eyes, trying to seem interested as she pulls on her new dress, ready for a girls night out. “Invite her over for an informal interview.”

“Okay.” Dave frowns as he looks over at Carol. “Are you still going out?” He asks. “I thought -“

“My sister needs this,” she says with a pout, “I can’t let her down. It’s just a few hours with the girls. Drinks and karaoke.”

“Okay, yeah sure.” Dave sighs but he nods his head. Carol says that she’s interested in this, she was the one to suggest it. Hiring a surrogate so that third dream baby could happen, but so far it’s been Dave doing all the leg work on this.

Carol lightly pecks Dave's cheek as she grabs her purse ready to go. “Don’t wait up, honey.”

****

Your phone pings with an email alert, asking if you’d be interested in an informal meeting to see if it could potentially be a good fit.

‘Hello, Mr. York.

Thanks for the prompt reply, I would love to arrange a meeting. There’s a cafe just outside the National Mall called ‘Cherry Blossoms’, If you’re free tomorrow we could meet there?

Kind regards.’

The polite response makes Dave interested in meeting the candidate and he quickly sends a reply, agreeing to the time and place. After he does that, he pulls out his work laptop to do some background checks on the person who might be carrying his next child.

‘See you and your wife tomorrow at 1pm.’ You send back, anxious about meeting them but excited about the same time.

****

Arriving at the cafe, Dave sighs and rolls his shoulders back. Aware that the meeting might go horribly sideways since his wife couldn’t drag her hungover ass out of bed to do more than puke in the shower. She was in no condition to come and he had to smother his irritation since he hadn’t told her about this meeting this morning. Instead of dwelling on that, he steps up to the counter and orders a coffee and a muffin, since she hadn’t arrived yet. A quick glance around had told him that.

You walk into the cafe and make your way up to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate before looking around to see if you can spot the couple. A very handsome man puts his hands up and waves to you and you assume that he must be Dave York. 

Prettier than he had noticed in the pictures, Dave stands up as you walk over. “I’m sorry.” He starts out, introducing himself and offering his hand. “My wife couldn’t make our meeting this morning. She’s….under the weather.”

You reach out and shake his hand and offer him a warm smile, before taking a seat. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry to hear that! Is she okay? Would you like to reschedule?”

He is surprised that you don’t want to cancel. “Only if you would rather wait to  meet my wife?” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure I’m legitimate?”

“I’m happy either way,” you say, before thanking the waitress who’s handing you your drink. “I mean we’re both here, so a chat couldn’t do any harm.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” The background checks on you have come up clean but he wants to know more about you. “What questions do you have for me?”

“If it’s not too personal… Why surrogacy?” You ask before taking a sip of your hot chocolate and humming in delight at the taste. 

He had expected that question so he is pulling out his wallet, flipping it open to show you a picture of his family, taken last Christmas. “My youngest, Molly, when she was born, Carol had a lot of complications.” He explains. “She ended up needing a complete hysterectomy.” He had hated it, but it was that or lose his wife and he would rather have her. “That’s my oldest daughter, Alice.” He points to the older girl.

“They’re gorgeous,” you say, peering down at their smiling faces, “I’m sorry to hear about the complications your wife went through. I’m glad to see that both your wife and your daughter are okay though. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Are you okay with using your egg?” He asks seriously. “That would be required, or you would have to go through implantation.”

“Yes, I’m fine with that. Happy for the testing as well… uh… my periods are like clockwork. And I have an app that tracks ovulation.”

“Okay, good.” You don’t seem to think that it’s odd. “All your medical care will be taken care of.” He promises.

“Good to know,” you clear your throat before asking the next question, “If you were to select me, I’d have one hard rule.”

Dave arches a brow and nods. “What is that?”

“You said that you’d require me to move in, I would like at least 4-6 weeks notice before you’re ready to move away from breastfeeding. So I have sufficient time to find myself somewhere to live.”

“Of course.” That’s more than reasonable. “And if you find you would need more time because of the market at that time, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“That sounds good,” you say with a smile, “Just so you know, I am employed. 24 hours a week, I work from home. But I’d be more than happy to help around the house, babysit so you and your wife can have time alone and so on. I graduated college and I majored in computer sciences and I work for a social media company and stay on top of their coding.”

He nods and if he thinks that the hours are low, he doesn’t mention it. Your finances and work are not his concern. It might be good for you to work less while you are carrying the baby. “But so you know, you aren’t obligated.”

“It’s an entry position job,” you say after noticing his reaction to your low hours, “Money is tight and it’s an industry that you’ve got to climb. I took what was available. But i’m an honest hard worker. And I know, I also don’t want you to think I’d expect you to offer me anything until I've met your family and after the medical is done.”

“We pay for the medical, you live with us and breast feed the baby - if you can.” Dave knows that sometimes the baby doesn’t want to latch or milk isn’t plentiful. “And we would pay you eighty thousand dollars.” He holds up a finger. “But no dating or sex during your pregnancy. I don’t want to risk the baby’s health.”

“Yeah I don’t date,” you say with a giggle, “I uh, I’m not the most confident person and casual sex isn’t something I’ve ever had any interest in. $80,000? Perfect. That’s enough to start my life and find somewhere comfortable to rent once the baby is born.” 

Now comes his own questions. "Why are you willing to do this?" He asks you, leaving forward and watching you carefully. "And will you be able to give up the baby once they are weaned?"

“Financial stability,” you say honestly, “And yes. I’ll sign anything that’s required.”

"Obviously I'd want you to meet my wife first." Dave leans back, confident that you are what he is looking for. "Once we agree, we could start insemination procedures the following cycle."

“That sounds great. Name the time and place, I’d love to meet your wife.” You say before eyeing up his muffin and trying to work out if you want one. “So what is it that you do Mr York?”

“I work for the DIA.” He sees you eyeing the muffin and takes the knife to cut it in half. He offers it to you and smiles. “Government bureaucrat.”

“Thank you,” you say with your brightest smile, “It’s a bit too early for me to be stealing your food, I don’t have the pregnancy excuse yet. I’m sorry. And whoa. That sounds intense.” 

“These muffins are huge.” Dave chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It’s got its moments, but it pays well.”

“Nice,” you say before taking a bite and moaning at how delicious and moist it is. “This is heaven.”

"It's a good little treat." He agrees, finishing off his own half in two quick bites.

“When and where would you like me to meet your wife?”

"Can I call you to schedule a time?" He asks, pulling out his phone. "I don't know when she will be feeling better." It's better you believe that she's sick than just hungover.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think,” you say with a flood of embarrassment. “And is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime? I could schedule an appointment with my gynecologist?”

"Don't worry about that." He shakes his head and gives you a smile. You are a little awkward but it's endearing in a way. "I'll text you when I figure out how long it will be and we can arrange something? We can schedule doctor appointments after everyone's met and you can give your final decision on if you would like to do this for us."

“That sounds good,” you beam, “Yeah, you can text me anytime.” The next set of words slip out of you mouth before you’ve even realized you said them and it’s in that moment you’re convinced you’ve blown it. “God. I never thought i’d have the baby of a man who looks as good as you inside of me.”

He's shocked by your honesty and for a moment he freezes, but he grins at the mortification that is riding over your face. "You think I look good, huh?"

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Mr York,” you groan, “Of course I do. Shit. You’re gorgeous. I didn’t mean to… Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

  "That's okay." Dave chuckles and shakes his head. "Attraction is normal. The first thing I noticed was how attractive you were."

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your entire face as he compliments you, “Thank you, Mr York.”

"Our DNA will produce a very attractive child." He hums, sending you a playful wink.

****

Almost a month since the initial meeting has passed and everything has been great. You met Carol a few days later and the girls a few days after that. Dave had arranged for you to be seen by the most fought after gynecologist in D.C. and all your tests came back great. He had loaded you up with ovulation tests and the decision for home insemination to reduce stress had been made. Dave and Carol would spend time alone together and once he was about to ejaculate he would finish in the pots provided and Carol would bring them down to you and help with the process. 

Dave had just helped bring your last box into the basement they had converted that would be your home for the foreseeable future and you were excited.

"Do you need anything else?" Dave asks as he sets the box down and looks around. "I have changed the locks on the basement door, rekeyed them to the rest of the locks in the house." He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket for the walk out door to the side yard. "So you can go out that door if you want."

“No. This is perfect, Mr York,” you say as you look around your new home, “I insist on buying dinner tonight to say thank you.”

He chuckles and shrugs. "It's Friday, we normally order Chinese." He admits with a grin.

“Let me know what to order and where to collect,” you say before giving him a brief thank you hug. Clearly surprising him in the process. 

"Oh- uh, you're welcome." He pats your back awkwardly and shoots you a grin. "The girls are easy. Sweet and sour chicken and fried rice for both of them." They had been introduced to you and had immediately found that you were the most fascinating person they had ever met and had a million questions for you.

“And for you and Mrs York?” You love the girls. They have already made you promise to watch a disney movie with them tonight and you’re honestly excited about it.

"Carol likes vegetable lo mein and spring rolls." He tells you with a small shrug. "Me- I like General Tso's shrimp."

“Got it,” you say with a grin. “Consider dinner sorted. And afterwards once the girls are in bed, we can start the process tonight? I mean I'm ovulating and there’s no point in missing a cycle right?”

Dave nods. "Yeah. We can do that before bed." He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I know it's stupid and superstitious, but would you tilt your hips up with a pillow for at least an hour after it's injected?"

“Of course!” You say excitedly, happy to make this happen for them. “Can you believe that part of you will be inside of me tonight!” You say without realizing just how filthy it sounds.

He bites his lip, trying not to say something dirty in return. He knows that you want to help give him and Carol another baby and it’s not going to work if he gets too close to you. “Hopefully, we’ll get lucky on the first try.”

“Fingers crossed, Mr York.”

****

"I have already told them that I'm going out." Carol huffs as she looks at Dave with a pout. "I can't back out now. I'm supposed to pick them up." She shrugs a shoulder. "I thought we would let the poor thing at least unpack before we start shooting her full of your sperm."

  Dave huffs and rolls his eyes. "She's ovulating, Carol." He reminds her. "It's not like we can reschedule that." 

“I can’t reschedule this. She’ll still be ovulating tomorrow, honey, we can do it then. And make sure you don’t order me food,” she says as she goes back into the bathroom, “We’re getting tapas.”

It's been fucking months. Months of every ovulation cycle he jerks off into a cup and Carol quickly rushes downstairs to inject it inside you. Months of disappointment when your period comes. You have apologized and apologized, cried about it and offered to go back to the doctor for the fifth time, but Dave can't blame you. He sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. "Do you even want to do this?" He demands, feeling like his wife is just brushing this off when it was her idea in the first place. "It doesn't seem like it."

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” she grits out, before rolling her eyes. “These things can take time. Look I know she’s ovulating now, but why don’t we skip this month. Let her destress and pick it up next month. Plus it’ll mean she can take the girls to their after school clubs for me this week, if you’re not obsessing over her cycle.

Dave sighs and shakes his head. "She's not the damn nanny, Carol." He reminds her, having noticed that there have been a lot of 'favors' his wife has been demanding of you despite Dave telling her that she shouldn't be. You weren't here to fucking pick up the girls. You were here to try to give the family the third child both of them said they wanted.

“She’s being paid $80,000,” Carol snaps, “She can do some work for it. I’m not arguing with you. It’s girls night. I refuse to leave the house stressed, or thinking about your goddamn cum, David.”

"You've been having a lot of goddamn ‘girls nights’, Carol." Dave snaps back, clenching his jaw. "Why don't you stay home for once and be a fucking wife and mother?" It's gone from a couple of times a month to two, sometimes three times a week and he's sick of it. 

“I need to support my sister, she’s going through a rough time,” Carol repeats for the hundredth time this week, despite never elaborating and her sister always being in high spirits when she visits the house. “I probably won’t be home tonight. Tanya has suggested we go back to hers after food as her husband is away. I’ll be back mid-morning.” 

That hazy suspicion niggles in the back of his mind but he doesn't voice it. Instead he sighs and shakes his head. "Just- you still want to do this, right?" He asks again, this time trying not to accuse her. "If you changed your mind, you just need to talk to me."

“Of course, I do,” she says again, “But you’ve gotta be more patient. It takes time. And sometimes it just doesn’t happen. We can give it a few more months… And if it doesn’t happen then… we can tell her to move on and we will have $80,000 to spend on a dream vacation.”

"We could always have her egg harvested and do IVF?" Dave suggests, still not ready to give up on the idea of having that third child that they had always talked about. He was trained to find solutions and this was something he wanted.

“Let’s just keep trying it like this,” she says before grabbing her phone and her purse and getting ready to leave. “She’s bathing the girls right now, tell them Mommy will see them in the morning.”

His jaw clenches as he watches his wife stroll out of their bedroom as if there wasn't a care in the world to be had. Irritated that she was using you to take care of the girls once again. By the time he leaves the bedroom, the front door is closing and he sighs again, moving towards the bathroom where there is a lot of splashing and giggling.

“Hey,” you say as Dave enters the room, and sees you’re just as soaked as the girls. “Made the mistake of letting them play with their water pistols in the tub.”

“Daddy, are we still watching Frozen tonight?” Alice squeals excitedly as he kneels down in front of the tub.

“Of course, sweet pea.” Dave nods as he looks over at you. “I’ll finish bathing the girls if you want to go dry off.”

With a raised eyebrow you keep looking over at Dave and lean down to whisper to the girls with a sneaky look on your face. “Daddy looks awfully dry doesn’t he, babies.”

The adorable giggles that start to fill the room again makes your heart soar as they turn to face a skeptical Dave. And without a second's hesitation they blasters are being pointed in Dave’s direction, their tiny fingers hovering over the trigger.

"Don't you do it." He warns softly, shooting them a faux stern look. "You don't want to start something you can't finish, little girls."

“3 against 1,” You say with a laugh, “He’s bluffing. We’ve got this… 3,2,1… shoot!”

Dave growls, ducking his head when three streams of water start to soak him and he reaches out to slap his arm through the bathtub to send a wall of water across the tub and the instigator of his attack.

You yelp before bursting into a fit of giggles, “I yield, I yield,” you choke out, as the girls continue to soak Dave.

Dave grabs your water gun and turns it on the girls with ruthless glee as they start to shriek and try to avoid his one barrage.

Watching Dave with his girls reaffirms how badly you want to do this for him, he’s the most loving father and it just warms your heart to see how great he is with them. You watch happily for a few minutes as the excitement dies down and the girls start to get restless and want out of the bath. You take Molly as he takes Alice, getting them dried and dressed into their pajamas before sending them downstairs to get comfortable on the sofa so you can set up the movie. 

After you’re all dressed in your pajamas and the movie is playing you in the background you whisper to Dave, “Where’s Carol? I got some tips to help with insemination. I thought we’d try tonight.”

Dave sighs and turns to look at you, honestly hurt that his wife has pushed this off. He wants this so bad and he's starting to become frustrated. "She's out. Something about her sister again." He doesn't tell you that she suggested taking off this month, not willing to speak on it. "Do you think you could....do it yourself?"

“Oh,” you say quietly, “I mean I could try. I read somewhere that inserting it slowly rather than pushing it straight in is a better method. Also I read something else that’s supposed to help, so I can try that at the same time.”

"What else?" He frowns, wondering if there's something that he needs to get you or order you. He's been reading everything he can get his hands on but if you've found something, he's all ears.

“Uh,” you say quietly, before looking over at the girls and checking their still engrossed in the movie, “I read an article about um…” Shaking your head, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone and bring up the article on clitoral stimulation helping the insemination process.

Dave takes your phone and purses his lips as he starts to read. His brows change, lifting and his expression shifting as he delves into the writing and hums. "I- I don't see why you shouldn't try it." He clears his throat and tries not to think about you playing with your clit or anything sexual. This is just supposed to be for making this baby. "But...." He sighs. "That syringe is really long." He frowns, unsure why Carol had decided to pick up a new type when the supplies had run out, but he can't blame her for not wanting to get too close to another woman's vagina. He personally thinks that she is harborning some resentments that she can't carry the baby and is just unwilling to admit it. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?'

“I’m not sure,” you say with a shrug, “Maybe I’ll just focus on the syringe. I just can’t really do the other thing with Carol around as it would be uncomfortable for us both. I just really want to do this for you. The worst thing that can happen is I need to change my sheets I guess.”

"If-" He starts and shakes his head. "No, that would be too much." He blows out a disappointed sigh, aware that another opportunity will most likely be lost. 

“Tell me,” you say with a raised eyebrow.

"Only if you're comfortable with it...." he stresses, not wanting you to feel pressured in any kind of way. "I could help you." He offers quietly. "Not like I haven't made two kids before. Just not quite with a glorified turkey baster." He huffs, trying to make a joke of it. 

“If you’re sure?” You say, “I mean it’s not like it takes long. I could make sure I’m ready and it’ll be over and done with in a few seconds.”

"Do you think -" He sighs and leans in closer to you. The girls are absorbed in the movie but it almost seems wrong to even think about what he's going to say next. It definitely crosses a line but he's tired of jerking off in a cup. "I could do it there and just....transfer it." He suggests. As it stands right now, he's jerking off upstairs and Carol is then taking the cum downstairs to the kitchen, filling the syringe and then carrying it down to you. Maybe something is happening in transit. "I mean, I could use your bathroom?"

“I mean it’s usually cold by the time Carol gets it in the syringe,” you say with a shrug, “So yeah, downstairs is fine.”

Dave frowns, wondering how long it takes for the sperm to cool down, but then again, it's always cool to the touch a couple of minutes after he cums on Carol's tits. "Only if you're comfortable with it." He reminds you. "I don't- don't want you to feel like I'm pushing boundaries."

“We’re making a baby, right? That’s the endgame here. I think sometimes different measures are necessary. When the girls are in bed, we can go downstairs and go from there.”

Dave nods, thankful that you are taking such a rational approach and he shoots you a smile. "Thank you." He whispers softly. "I know that it's not easy for you."

“I just hate that I’ve let you down so far,” you say, a lump forming in your throat, “I just want to make you happy.”

"You haven't let me down." He reaches over and covers your hand with his, squeezing it gently. "Without you, we wouldn't even have this hope. So don't ever think you are letting us down."

The past few months you’ve gotten closer and closer to Dave, spending most evenings eating together and watching a movie. It’s hard not to feel softened by him, despite his tough exterior he’s always so kind and your heart leaps at his touch. “Thank you, Dave.” 

The rest of the movie flies by and before you know it the girls are giving you a kiss and hug goodnight. “I’ll see you in the morning, babies,” you promise. 

Dave looks at you and you nod, signaling it’s okay for him to join you in the basement once the girls are asleep.

Dave waits until he knows they are asleep, checking on them and closing the bedroom doors as he walks down the hallway. He checks the doors and sets the alarm since Carol isn’t coming home and swallows slightly as he makes his way down to your basement apartment and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you say with a shaky breath, you’re sitting cross legged on your bed. “How do you wanna do this? If you need porn while you… uh, yeah, I can wait in the hall and you can set it up on the TV.”

“No.” Dave shakes his head. “I don’t need porn.” He bites his lip. “I know you said you wanted to…masturbate before, so where do you want me to?”

“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” you say before biting your bottom lip, “I’m happy to follow your lead.”

He shifts, the idea that pops into his head makes his eyes widen and his cock twitches. He can’t suggest that. It would be completely wrong.

“We could watch each other,” you say, before looking down at your hands, not wanting to see rejection in his face.

Dave’s heart leaps and his head whips around to look at you. Wondering if he had actually heard that for a moment but you are so fluster it must have been. “It’s just to make the baby.” He reasons. “Right? You’ve seen a dick before.”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod of your head, “It’s not like we’re touching each other.”

“Yeah.” Dave frowns slightly, knowing Carol wouldn’t be happy but Carol’s not here and he doesn’t want to waste an ovulation day. “You can use your wand or hand or whatever and I can-“ he grins. “Old fashioned way for me is best.”

“I’ll use my hand… Do you want to see my tits?” You ask softly, not wanting to assume that he’ll want you to fully strip off. 

His mouth goes dry and he tries to swallow. “It’s not like I won’t see them when you're breastfeeding.” He reasons again. “But it’s up to you. However you feel comfortable.”

“Will it help you get off? I don’t mind.”

“I like tits.” He admits, rolling his eyes at himself. “But I don’t have to see them.”

“Okay. I’ll stay up here and you can kneel at the bottom of the bed? Will that be comfortable for you.”

“That will work.” He agrees, raising his brow. “Do you want me naked?” He asks. “Or to just pull my cock out?”

“Naked.”

Dave nods, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor. “Okay.”

The sight of his broad shoulders and chest makes your moan, and you follow suit. Pulling off your t-shirt, undoing your bra and pulling your sleep shorts and panties off in one clean sweep.

You’re attractive. He knows this. He’s attracted to you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s not trying to sleep with you. He’s not trying to cheat on his wife, he’s trying to make a baby so he and Carol can complete their family. He unzips his pants and pulls them down to kick off. 

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s known from day one that you’re attracted to him. You open your legs and reveal your glistening pussy to him, already drenched at just the thought of watching him alone. And you gather some of your slick and drag it up to your clit before drawing slow circles around it.

His boxers come off next and he kneels on the bed, hard cock already bouncing as he does. Eyes fixed on your cunt as he spits in his hand and starts to coat himself in it.

“Fuck,” you mumble at his filthy action, only slightly increasing the pace in which you circle your clit. You don’t want to cum too quickly, you want to enjoy this moment.

“You rub your clit.” He groans, spitting again and wrapping his hand around his cock to start slowly stroking it. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels so good,” you say, as moans start to slip through your lips, “You look so good stroking your cock. It’s so big,” you start to murmur, “So thick. You’ve got a gorgeous cock, Dave.”

It’s been a long time since someone paid him compliments, making him feel like they mean them. His and Carol’s sex life has dropped off drastically and she claims it’s just because wanting to save it for when you’re ovulating.

You watch the way his wrist expertly flicks as he strokes himself, and reach up to soft palming your tit with your free hand. Needing so much more than you can get, you start to rub your clit faster and faster, feeling arousal dripping from you as you bite down the urge to moan his name.

“Shit.” Dave hisses, watching your hand tease your breast and he grunts as his hips rock forward into his hand. This isn’t about wanting to bite your tit and suck on it. It’s about cumming quickly and filling your womb up with his seed.

You watch the pre-cum leak from his top, groaning when he swipes it with his thumb and spreads it down his cock, “Dave,” you moan, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Good.” He grunts, shuffling closer to see, although the cup is right there for him to grab when he’s ready. “Open up your pretty little cervix to let my cum in.”

Your fingers speed up as you chase your high, his name falls effortlessly from your lips as you’re thrown over that edge. “Oh fuck.”

“Good girl.” He grunts, twisting his wrist and groaning as he feels the first blurry edge of his orgasm start to take hold. “Gonna cum.”

“Put it inside,” you beg, “Just the tip, baby. Fill me up.”

Dave groans and he knows it’s wrong, but he does it anyway. Pushing his cock down and pushing the fat tip into your cunt, he starts to cut almost immediately. Filling you with spurt after spurt of his cum as he tries desperately not to push deeper inside you. Knowing that would be so wrong and go against what you just asked him to do.

You clench down around the tip of him, loving the way he’s stretching you open. “Fuck, put a pillow under my hips.”

Tilting your hips up with his hands pushes him deeper inside you, making him groan as he reaches for the pillow. “I- fuck.” He closes his eyes and tries not to react to how good it feels.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you as he pushes deeper and presses against the spot inside of you. “Your wife might be the luckiest woman alive.”

Dave exhales roughly and breathes out. “This is just….it’s easier to do it this way, right?” He asks. “Faster than the turkey baster.”

“Yes, and more efficient.”

Dave agrees and looks back down at you. “That article said orgasms before and after male ejaculation helps conception.” He reminds you. “We could- I could stay like this and you can cum again.” He offers.

“I can play with my pussy whilst you’re still inside of me?” you ask, wanting to make sure that’s what he’s saying.

“And…” Dave bites his lip. “If I get hard again, maybe I can try again? Make sure you

ve got a good load inside you?” He knows he will get hard again, that’s no question for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. Really good.” You say as you run a finger through your slit, before lightly teasing your clit.

He watches, telling himself again that this is only to make the baby. That way he knows if it doesn’t happen, every possible variable has been accounted for. It’s the back up plan. And if he happens to find it sexy that you are rubbing your clit while the first three inches of his cock are inside you, that’s an added benefit.

You circle your clit with a delicious intensity, biting down on your lip as you watch his face. His eyes focused on your pussy, watching your fingers play with your bundle of nerves and listening to the soft moans that fill the room.  You can feel him start to harden inside of you, and you wonder how it would feel to have him filling your needy little cunt.

“Shit.” Dave breathes out, leaning over slightly as he tries not to surge deeper inside you. “Does it feel good? Playing with your clit with me inside you?” He reaches down and wraps two fingers around the base of his cock and starts to pump, trying not to touch you out of respect.

“Feels like heaven,” you say, “How does my pussy feel?”

“Like it’s going to make me cum,” Dave grunts. “Then you’re going to carry my baby for me. Our baby.”

“Fuck,” you say, rubbing your clit even faster, feeling your pussy start to flutter around his tip. “The things I want you to do to me.”

Dave hisses and closes his eyes. Knowing that it’s straying into dangerous territory. “Cum for me.”

Within seconds of his command you’re clamping down around him, your clit pulsing with pleasure as you flood his cock. His name is now a chant that you repeat over and over again.

“Shit, shit.” Dave groans, his own jerky pulls on his cock pushing him closer. “Fuck, gonna fill you up again.”

“Do it, fuck your baby into me.”

It pushes him over the edge and Dave can’t help but push completely into your cunt, filling you up as he starts to paint your walls again. “Fuck- I- I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” you moan, “Feel so fucking good.” You pant as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

He shouldn’t have ground into you. He shouldn’t have filled you up like that. It was cheating. Dave closes his eyes and pulls his hips back. “Are you okay?” He asks awkwardly.

“I’m okay, are you?” You say, seeing the guilt on his face and feeling your heartbreak over it.

“I’m good.” He promises you. “I just- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“I was practically begging you.” Reaching over you gently press your hand to his cheek, “We were just making a baby. Nothing else.”

“Yeah.” Dave nods, reminding himself that it’s not like he was trying to fuck you. “Hopefully it takes.” He shoots you a grateful smile.

“I hope so. Best daddy ever.” You say with a smile. 

He is grateful that you think that as he shuffles off the bed to put his clothes on. “I should let you rest.” He hums.

“You should rest as well, I’ll stay like this for a half hour and then I’ll go get some water before bed.” 

“Okay.” Dave nods, biting back the urge to offer to get you the water. He hadn’t been doing things like that before he stuck his dick in you, doing it now would make it weird.

“You sure you’re okay?” You ask as he starts to make his way towards the door.

  “I’m good.” He turns and shoots you a reassuring grin, “just worn out.” He lies. “Baby making is tiring and I’m an old man.”

“You’re not old,” you say with a small smile, sensing his discomfort. “Goodnight, Dave. Let’s hope we just made a baby.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Dave turns back around, “get some rest, okay?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, letting himself out of the door as he curses himself for being such an idiot. He should have known he was going to fuck this up.

Guilt floods you. You practically begged him to enter you, and the regret that he’s wearing so clearly on his face makes your heart hurt. You don’t think he’ll ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you deserve his forgiveness. All you can do is hope you just made a baby. 

Upstairs, Dave showers and tries to reassure himself that he didn’t take things too far. You had asked him to put the tip in, and thought you asked for more but he was caught up in the moment. Still, he shouldn’t have done it without making sure it was okay.

Almost 45 minutes passes before you tiptoe upstairs and get yourself a much needed bottle of water and a snack. Deciding that you’ll get to early and make everyone breakfast, you make your way back downstairs and curl up in bed. Praying you haven’t completely fucked everything up.

****

Dave doesn’t sleep. Not because of the situation with you, but because he texted Carol and she didn’t respond. And she’s turned off her location. Not that he tracks his wife, but what if something happened to her? It makes him suspicious and he doesn’t like being suspicious. Not with the line of work he is in. So when he hears the stairs creak, he’s already nursing his second cup of coffee and the oven is warming up for cinnamon rolls.

Creeping into the kitchen, you’re greeted by the unexpected sight of Dave. Your heart once again breaks at the look on his face, clearly regretting ever hiring you and before you have time to process what you want to say, the words are slipping through your lips. “Oh god, Dave, I’m so sorry. I took advantage. You just wanted to make sure that it took, and I was so delirious with pleasure that I didn’t think. I’m so sorry. I let my attraction to you cloud my judgment. Please forgive me.”

"What?" Dave frowns, turning toward you and seeing how distraught you look. You look like you are about to cry and he stands, moving towards you to hug you but then he stops. Unsure of how to touch you right now without it turning into something else. "I took advantage." He reminds you. "I'm the one who shoved it in."

“I begged you to,” you say, tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’m so so sorry.” 

Dave walks over to you and pulls you into his arms, hating that you are crying. "We just got caught up in the moment." He decides, rubbing your back gently. "You don't need to be sorry." It was a moment, a fluke where both of you were acting impulsively.

“I just want to give you a baby, Dave, I see how badly you need this.” You sob into his shoulders, “I promise I won’t overstep anymore boundaries.”

"It's okay." He shushes you, comforting you like he would if you were one of his girls. Although you aren't one of his girls, he shouldn't feel the things that he does about you. But you are so important to him, you are going to give him a baby.

You wrap your arms around him a little tighter and try to ignore the way your traitorous heart leaps at his touch. “I’m sorry, Dave.”

"No," Dave shakes his head and he kisses your hair. "Don't be sorry. It's my fault. You didn't do anything wrong." He sighs. "Carol wanted to skip this month, I'm the one who pushed. This is all me."

“Why would she want to skip?” You say, as your head tells you to loosen your grip but your heart just wants to hold on.

"I don't know." He frowns slightly. "She didn't come home last night." He reveals softly. "And she's turned off her location."

“Oh,” you say, stepping back but letting your hands linger on him. “Maybe something happened with her sister? Have you tried calling her?”

"Tried when I came downstairs to make coffee." Dave motions to his phone. "Goes to voicemail. Texts are delivered but not read. She's got her phone off."

“What about calling her sister?” You say as you rub his shoulders, trying to reassure him.

"No." If there's something else going on, he doesn't want to discover it today. Call it putting his head in the sand, but he has other priorities. "I'll deal with it later when she comes home."

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Nothing.” He promises with a small shrug. “Unless you want to help me make breakfast.”

“Bacon and eggs to go with those cinnamon rolls? Or sausage and biscuits?”

“Bacon and eggs.” The turkey bacon and eggs always go over well with the kids. Especially with cinnamon rolls. 

“On it,” you say with a smile, “Do you want more coffee?”

“There should be half a pot left, but why don’t we fill up our cups and make another?” Dave suggests with a smile, walking back over to his cup to snag it off the table.

“No coffee for me,” you announce, “Caffeine intake is being sliced. Orange juice for me!”

“I’ll make sure to pick up some more when I go to the store.” He appreciates your dedication to this.

“Thank you, Dave. Should I wake the girls or wait until breakfast is ready? I was gonna cut up some strawberries.” 

“I’ll go wake them.” Dave turns and then pauses. “Carol’s been having you do a lot around here and I just want to remind you that it’s not necessary.”

“I like it,” you admit, “I love the girls. Spending time with them is one of the best parts of my day.”

"Okay." He murmurs slowly. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to."

“I know, Dave.” You start to slice the strawberries and focus on that, ignoring the tension that’s floating in the air.

"Thank you again." He says before he turns back around. "For everything."

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, before finishing up breakfast and waiting for the girls to come down.

Dave wakes the girls up, chuckling when they grumble at him but they are quickly roused from their bed by the promise of an indulgent breakfast and a morning of cartoons in their pjs. Laughing to himself when they thunder down the stairs with their stuffed animals in tow.

“Hi babies,” you say as they make a beeline to the table, “Do you want milk or juice?”

"Milk!" Molly chirps while Alice simultaneously shouts "Juice!" Dave rolls his eyes at the way the girls are so very obstinate. Unlike each other in so many ways but then so alike in others.

“So milk for Alice, and juice for Molly,” you tease, before pouring the correct drink in each of their cups. “Your daddy was just telling me about how much he enjoyed the water fight from last night and how he thinks you should do it more often. Right, Daddy?”

"Oh sure." Dave nods, cutting his eyes at them. "Next time I will be fully armed." He promises with a grin that makes their little eyes widen in delight and possibly a little bit of fear.

“We can take him. Girl power. 3 against 1. He doesn’t stand a chance,” you say as they begin to giggle.

"Keep it up and I'll get the water hose out." He warns with a dark chuckle.

“Ooh, I’m so frightened,” you tease back, “What do you girls want to do today?”

"Where's mommy?" Molly frowns, looking exactly like Dave as she does.

Sensing the discomfort in Dave you answer for him, “She is out having some girl time with her friends. I bet she’s missing her babies though. So we better have a super fun day so you can tell her everything when she’s home.” 

“Can we bake?” Alice says between mouthfuls of her food, “Daddy’s favorite. Chocolate cake.”

He's grateful that you answered for him and he grins. "Daddy's favorite, huh?" He asks, raising his brow. "I think it's Ms. Alice's favorite, more than mine."

You laugh as you watch their little back and forth, “Daddy, it’s your favorite because it’s my favorite. You’re so silly.”

“That’s right.” Dave snaps his fingers and looks so disappointed in himself. “I’m so sorry for forgetting, baby.”

The rest of breakfast is spent watching Dave and his girls joke around, and silently hoping that you’re going to give this man the baby he is yearning for. The girls accompany you on a trip to target for baking supplies while Dave stays home and clears up. With a cake baked and half eaten, endless episodes of Bluey streamed and a dance party that the girls had insisted you join in with over, it’s almost their bedtime and you’re just as exhausted as they are. 

You take the girls up to bed as he dishes out the Indian takeout that he had ordered for you both. Carol clearly wasn’t coming home today, and seeing as she hates Indian food, he decided to indulge in his favorite as a treat.

Dave looks over at you as he eats his curry and catches your eye. “So what are your plans after the girls go to sleep?” He asks.

“Netflix I guess,” you say with a shrug, “What about you?”

“Hopefully the same as last night.” He admits, watching you carefully.

Your breath hitches, “Let’s hope they fall asleep soon then,” you reply softly.

He watches you for a moment and then nods. He's not sure if Carol will come home tonight but he doesn't care right now. "I'm sure they will."

“You want to just put the tip in again?” You ask, as the need between your legs grows.

Dave clears his throat and bites his lip. "What do you want?"

“You.”

Huffing quietly, Dave understands what you mean but he pretends that he doesn't. "My seed you mean?"

“If that’s what you’ll give me,” you say as your heart sinks, clearly having misread the situation. “Let’s make you a baby.”

Dave murmurs your name quietly to have you look at him again. “We can- I- I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to put the baby you want in me,” you say, before looking back down at your plate and pushing your fork around.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You said you wanted me.”

“I know what I said,” you say, before pushing your chair back and standing up, “Sounds like the movie has finished. I’m going upstairs to check on the girls.”

"Wait-" He sighs as you dart out of the room and he knows that he's blown everything. He doesn't understand what is going on and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Opening his contacts and selecting his sister-in-law's number.

The girls are fast asleep, but snuggled up to each other and gripping onto their favorite stuffed animals. You lean over and gently kiss both of their foreheads before tucking them in, seeing no use in moving Alice to her own bed when she’s quite content with her sister. Switching the TV off and turning on the nightlight, you sneak out of the room, leaving the door open slightly and making your way downstairs.

Dave's jaw is tight, his phone nearly crushed in his hand, he's gripping it so hard. Closing his eyes as he resists the urge to put his fist through a wall, or destroy something in a rage. It wouldn't do any fucking good and it would scare the girls.

“Hey,” you say, as you enter the kitchen, seeing the expression on his face. He looks furious and heartbroken at the same time, and you’re not sure whether to immediately give him space or go over and console him.

He shakes with anger, vision going white and for a moment, it sounds as if you are muted. Underwater and sounding like you are miles away as the pressure from the blood pounding in veins rushes through his ears.

You look over to the door of the basement and look back at Dave trying to gauge what the best thing to do here is. The sadness seems to have drained from his face and been replaced with sheer anger.

It takes Dave another minute before he gets ahold of himself. Purposefully thinking about something else and recalling his breathing techniques as he closes his eyes and slows his rushing heart down.

“Dave,” you say softly, as you approach him, gently reaching out and gripping his wrist, “What happened?”

"I called Maria." He tells you quietly, his voice low, nearly inaudible. "Carol isn't with her. Hasn't been with her." He inhales roughly. "She's not been out to a girl's night with her sister in nine goddamn months."

“Oh shit,” you say, before pulling him in for a hug, “Dave, I’m so sorry. Hopefully she’ll tell you the truth when she gets back.”

"She's cheating on me." Dave growls. "Maria told me everything. Carol told her that I had 'opened our marriage'." He rolls his eyes. "Told her that you were my live-in girlfriend."

“Oh, honey,” you say, letting him go and taking a step back, “I’m so so sorry.” 

"Fucking bitch." He hisses, shaking his head. "We talked about this. She must have decided that I would be so fucking busy trying for a baby that I wouldn't pay attention to her bullshit."

You don’t know what to say to console him, so you just stand there and be the listening ear he needs right now. You reach out and gently rub his shoulder.

Dave closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. "It's obvious that the idea to have a baby with her is done." He admits. "I'm going to be getting a divorce."

“Oh,” you say, “That makes sense. I’ll contact my Mom in the morning and see if I can crash at hers for a while. Get out of your hair.”

"No." His hand reaches out and he grabs your. "No, don't- don't do that." He asks, opening his eyes and staring at you.

“I don’t want to get in your way, Dave,” you sigh, “Do you think you still want this? Going through a divorce and juggling a newborn as a single father. It’s a lot to think about.”

"You don't have to be in my way." Dave can't possibly think rationally right now but he knows one thing, he still wants you. "I wanted to fuck you last night." He admits. "I wanted to fuck you and not fucking jerk off and cum inside you."

“Fuck,” you say, “You wanted me?” You shake your head, knowing he’s just had news that’s turned his entire life upside down right now, and no matter how you feel for him, you can’t act on it. It would be taking advantage.

"I want you." He corrects.

“Dave,” you mumble, unsure what to do. Your heart says kiss him, let him take out his pain on your body by demanding it gives him pleasure, but your head says let him go to bed. Sleep on it.

"If you don't want to, walk away." He warns you after a second, his eyes turning darker. "Go downstairs and I won't follow you. But the smallest part of you does want to, go up to my bedroom."

After staring him down for a few minutes, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs, your feet make the decision for you. Turning towards the stairs and taking each step carefully. Walking to the end of the hall and pushing open the door to the master bedroom.

It's wrong on so many levels and yet, Dave doesn't feel guilty. He looks down at his hand and contemplates for a moment before he reaches for his ring to slide it off his finger. Setting it down on the kitchen table, he turns around and walks out of the room and rushes towards the stairs.

You watch him as he strolls in the room, closing the door behind him and turning to look at you. “If you want this, Dave, if you really want to fuck me... Prove it. Undress me. Lay me down and show me just how much you want me, and if I'm satisfied I’ll let you fill up this little cunt.” 

Dave hums, smirking slightly at the bossiness of your sudden change of attitude. "Is that how this is going to go?" He asks, raising a brow. "I have to prove it to you?"

“I’m not the one who’s leaving a multi-year marriage,” you say before perching on the edge of the bed and watching him.

"How do you want me to prove it to you?" He asks, starting to strip all of his clothes off. "I'm thinking about what I used to imagine when I was jerking off into that cup." He admits. "You sitting on my face. Smothering me in your pretty little pussy."

“That’s what you were thinking about yesterday or before?” You ask, wanting to confirm that he’s been wanting you for a while.

"Since the first week." He admits. "It's something I wanted to know. How you tasted. It was all I thought about while fisting my cock and spilling into a cup. Giving you my cum to insert into that cunt."

“Fuck, you wanna taste my pussy?” You mewl before standing back up, “Undress me and I’ll take a seat on that gorgeous face.”

Dave reaches for you, already nude and hard, his hands eager as he pulls your clothes off. Not caring if he stretches or rips something in his haste to strip you down.

Once you’re fully naked in front of him, you grab his hand and slowly drag it up the inside of thighs, letting him feel just how much you want him. “Since you said you wanted a repeat of last night, my pussy has been dripping for you. Soaked my panties within seconds and since then it’s been spreading down my thighs.”

"Do you know how good you felt?" Dave groans. "I felt bad about it, because I wanted to do it again. I wanted to cheat on Carol." He twists his fingers and slides them through your folds. "But now, now I'm just going to fuck you and not feel bad about it, I'm not married anymore. The rest is just legal bullshit."

“Fuck me then, York,” you challenge, “You knew from the second I first saw you that I wanted you.”

Instead of saying anything, Dave grabs you and pulls you down on the bed. Laying down and pulling you on top of him.

“You want me to ride that face or your cock? I’ve never sat on someone’s face before…”

"Face first." Dave groans. "Then my cock."

You hesitate for a moment, a little uncertain of how to make sure you don’t hurt him before you move up. Lowering yourself so you’re hovering just above his mouth.

He can tell you are hesitant and he reaches up to grab you hips and yank you down onto his mouth greedily like he is man starving and you are his last meal.

“Dave,” you yelp as he pulls you down onto his face. You reach out to hold on to the headboard as you patiently wait for him to start tasting you.

He chuckles and doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning at the tangy taste of your cunt and arousal. Gripping your hips tighter and making sure that you don't move away from his greedy mouth.

“Oh, Dave,” you whimper, as he starts to lap at your clit before moving down and pushing his tongue into your cunt. “Oh, fuck.”

He groans, spearing his tongue up into you while his nose presses against your clit. Rocking you back and forth to provide some friction.

“Dave,” you pant, over and over, as you start to rock your hips. The sensation is new, you’ve never really been with anyone who makes your pleasure a priority and he’s eating your pussy like a man starved.

Your taste, your moans has him aching as he gets exactly what he wants. Letting go of one of your hips, he reaches down and starts to wrap his fist around his cock. Groaning into your cunt like he is pained. 

You rock your hips faster as you near your high, his mouth working magic on you. You throw your head back in pleasure and as you do you catch a glimpse of something moving, turning your head slightly you see him fisting his cock as he groans into your pussy. “Fuck, my pussy taste that good, baby? That you’ve got to fuck your own fist?”

He can't answer you because it means that he would have to pull his lips away from your cunt. Not willing to pull his tongue out of your warmth for a single second while you are dripping into his mouth. He groans, doubling down on his efforts to make you cum.

The only word you’re able to speak is his name, it falls out of your mouth over and over as he works you towards your high. Your thighs tighten around his head, as you start to cum. Hands gripping onto the headboard as you flood his face.

Dave hisses, his fist tight around his cock and squeezing so that he doesn't cum. Nearly ready to from the sweetness of your release and your cries.

“Fuck,” you murmur as you lift yourself off of his face, “Hi, baby.” You giggle as you look down at his soaked face.

"Hi." He smirks, a little pussy drunk and he lets go of his cock so he can stroke your hip.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, as you run your hands through his hair, loving how blissed out he looks.

"Yes." He nods as he looks up at you. He's wanted to kiss you, and now there is nothing to stop him.

Wasting no time, the second he gives you permission you smash your lips against his. Not caring that they’re still damp with your arousal, you lick across his bottom lip as a silent plea for entry.

It's been years since Dave has kissed someone besides Carol. The pecks on the lips with the girls don't count. Years since he has kissed someone like he was going to devour them. And that is exactly what the kiss between the two of you turns into.

You moan freely into his mouth, letting him take the lead as he kisses you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. Reaching down you grip his cock, giving it slow languid strokes.

"Fuck." Dave groans, twitching in your fist but he thinks of something and pulls away. "Do you- do you want me to wear a condom?" He asks breathlessly.

“Fuck no,” you say before pulling him back for another kiss.

He moans into your mouth, needing to be inside you now that there is nothing stopping him. "Ride me." He begs.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle, lining yourself up with him and slowly sinking down. Moaning from the stretch of him. “Fast or slow, baby?” 

"Fuck." He groans. "You could just stay right there." He promises, watching you as you adjust to him in this new position.

“You just want me to keep your fat cock warm?”

You could, he wouldn't have any problem with you just sitting on his cock all night but he thinks you want more. "Later." He groans, pushing your hip with his hand, urging you to move. "Remember that I can't keep going if you make me cum too quickly."

“You can use your mouth and fingers though,” you say before grinding down on him, loving his filthy groans. “How often did you play with cock and think of me?” You ask as you rock your hips back and forth, nice and slowly.

"Every fucking time." Dave grunts, bracing his feet on the bed and starts to roll his hips up to meet yours. "Every fucking time I jerked off."

“Fuck,” you groan, before increasing your speed. “I think about you too,” you admit, “Those fucking shoulders. Imagined you putting my legs over them so you could fuck me deeper.”

Dave hisses, rocking his hips up harder. "Yeah?" He asks. "You knew how big my cock was before last night?"

“It’s honestly bigger than I was imagining,” you say before gasping, “And I was imagining a big cock.”

He grunts proudly, grabbing your hips and pulling you down to make sure he grinds deep into you. Wanting to make you feel every inch of him.

“You gonna make me cum on it,” you challenge as you snap your hips forward.

"Fuck yes." He hisses, gritting his teeth and snapping his hips up hard enough to make you bounce.

“Dave,” you gasp, as he forces the air out of your lungs, you bounce up and down on his length, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your tit. 

Dave palms you tit and squeezes it, grunting at how perfect it fits in his hand. Watching as you ride his cock like you had imagined and yet, it is so much better.

He fucks into that delicious spot with ease, making you almost delirious with pleasure. With a few more rolls of your hips, you find your walls fluttering around him, before clamping down, choking his cock and cumming hard.

Dave groans, wrapping his arms around you and he takes over. Feeling that you can’t move anymore and he starts thrusting up into you like his life depends on it.

  “Fill me up,” you plead, grateful for the change in power right now. “Please, baby.”

"I will, fuck, I will." Dave groans out your name. Starting to chant it with every thrust of his hips. Until he finally pushes deep and starts to cum, filling you up just like you begged him to.

You love the way he overwhelms you, everyone of your senses are on fire in the most delicious way and it’s because of him. “Fuck,” you groan as he finishes filling you up, “So many nights of imagining this, and it was a million times better than I ever could have imagined.”

He nods, panting as he closes his eyes. "I- I shouldn't' have wanted it, but I did." He admits, holding you close. "It's so much fucking better than I ever thought of."

You giggle, loving the way he reacts to it. Still buried deep in your pussy, and groaning as your flutter and clamp down around him. “You wanna wake me up with your cock?” You ask before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I can do that.” He doesn’t motion for you to get off him, and sighs softly. “I need to ask you a question though.”

“Should I be worried?” You ask, as you shuffle off of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, instead of climbing in next to him.

“No?” He frowns, shaking his head and looking down at his hands before he starts talking. “Now that- now that Carol and I aren’t going to be staying together….if you wanted to stop this…surrogacy, I understand.” He tells you. “I know it’s not what you signed up for.”

“What do you want?” You ask, before running your hands through your hair. “I know how good of a dad you are, and despite what I said earlier, if anyone could juggle a newborn and all of this… it would be you. And I'd be here to help and breastfeed for as long as you need me.”

He blows out a small sigh and he shakes his head. “You don’t want what I’ve discovered I want.”

“What do you want?” You say, confusion evident on your face. 

“I want to do this with…..with a partner, but you don’t want to be a parent and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He’s not saying things right and he shakes his head. “Just forget I said something. It’s not a good idea.”

“If you’re asking me to have a baby with you, you’re going to have to at least take me out to dinner first.” You say, before giggling and moving your face up to his, “Kiss me, idiot.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head but he leans in to kiss you. “I don’t know when I started imagining raising the baby with you.” He confesses. Maybe it was all the time you spent together, but he hadn’t imagined you leaving after the baby was weaned.

“Can’t pretend my heart didn’t stutter when you said ‘our baby’ last night,” you admit, “But we have to be smart here. The girls. Carol. The fact we haven’t even been on a date yet… And honestly I could be pregnant right now… We need to sit and have a conversation out of this post sex haze.” You climb into bed next to him and lightly press a kiss to his lips, “Right now I know two things… 1. How badly I want you. 2. We have a lot to figure out.” 

“We’ll figure them out.” Dave promises, wrapping his arms around you, “I want to figure them out.”

“Me too. You wanna be the little or big spoon, baby?” You ask before you pepper a kiss on his shoulder.

It’s been a hard day and he chuckles to himself. “Would you think less of me if I wanted to be the little spoon?”

“Not at all, baby.” Letting go of him, so he can shift around in your arms. 

Dave turns over and sighs when you wrap your arms around him. Finding comfort in the fact that you care about him. Carol cheating on him is going to change everything in his and his girls life, but it might be for the better. He might get to have you. 

“Goodnight, my love,” you mumble against his warm skin, placing a few kisses between his shoulder blades and wrapping your arms just a little tighter. 

****

When Dave wakes up, he smiles as he feels your arm still around him. Apparently neither one of you moved during the night. He hums, shifting slowly as he turns to face you.

You wake up to Dave shifting in your arms, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. One of his hands slowly rubs the bottoms of your back as you move a little closer to him, “Good morning, you sleep ok?” Your mumble sleepily.

“Never woke up.” Which for him was a miracle. He smiles, admiring the way that you are struggling to keep your eyes open. “You look beautiful first thing.”

“Flatterer. And good, I’m glad, I didn’t either. Slept like a baby.” You say as you press yourself up against him. Grinning when you feel how hard he is already. 

"Good." You had said you wanted him to wake you up on his cock, but you managed to open your eyes before he could get into position. So now he leans in and kisses you while rolling you onto your back.

You let him mould your body as he pleases, his mouth refusing to leave yours as he climbs on top of you, his fingers snaking between your bodies and slowly circling your clit.

Instead of rush through things to push inside you, Dave decides to take it slow. He's got all morning, the girls won't be up for at least another hour and on Sundays they liked to watch cartoons before the designated brunch time.

“Feels so good,” you moan as he plays with your clit, his lips lightly ghosting your neck as you moan his name. “You want me to stroke your cock, baby?”

"No." He kisses along your neck and nuzzles your pulse, inhaling the scent of you. Warm and soft with sleep, arousal now mixing with it. "Gonna slide inside you of you soon enough."

“Sounds perfect,” you say quietly, loving how perfectly you fit together, “Keep the pace nice and slow.”

"Lazy lovin' Sunday." He hums, smiling against your skin.

“Sign me up for more,” you say with a soft laugh, “All of them.”

"Yeah?" He huffs quietly, rocking his hard cock against your mound slowly. "You want to do this every Sunday?"

“Baby, I want to do it everyday,” you say as his fingers rub a little harder, your orgasm just teetering over the edge. 

“Don’t know if I could do it everyday.” He chuckles. “Getting old.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me,” you choke out, as pleasure explodes behind your little bundle of nerves, cumming with a soft moan of his name, as he whispers soft praises in your ear.

When you come back down, Dave pulls his hand away so he can slide between your thigh. Pressing against you and slowly rocking his hips forward as he starts to sheath his cock in the tight walls of your pussy.

One of your hands gently holds onto the back of his head, while the other one grips onto his hip. The heft of him a glorious stretch, as he pushes himself in, taking his time and giving you a moment to adjust once he’s filled you to the hilt. “Could stay like this forever.”

"Have to eventually eat." He teases, nudging his nose against yours and then kissing your lips.

“You’re gorgeous, did you know?” You say after he softly kisses your lips.

"Distracting me." He hums, kissing you again. "You are the gorgeous one." He murmurs quietly, starting to slowly move. "You were going to sacrifice your body, your womb to give me a baby."

“Oh, you feel so good,” you whine as he starts a slow but delicious rhythm, notching against paradise. “How could I say no to those big brown eyes?”

"Ask everyone who turned me down." He hums, flashing you a small smile and trying not to let Carol's betrayal affect him, affect this. He shouldn't have fallen in love with you, but he did and he's not going to apologize for it.

“Their loss is my gain,” you say, “But no one else but me and you exist right now.” You whisper into his ear.

"No one else." It might be ironic, promising fidelity when he is technically cheating on his wife, but he feels single. Or at least his emotional attachment to Carol severed the moment he learned about her affair.

“Make love to me,” you whisper softly into his ear, “Please.”

It's soft, sweet. Dave takes his time and doesn't try to push anything but the softest sounds out of you. Each slow thrust accompanies a kiss and some praise.

Your hands trail the expanse of his shoulders, dipping down his back and finding home on his hips, you can feel that delicious pressure building but you don’t want to let go just yet, needing desperately to fall off that ledge at the same time.

"Baby." Dave groans quietly in your ear. "Need you to cum for me."

“Call me baby, again,” you say, before clamping down around him, “Cum with me.”

"Baby." He grunts, pushing his hips a little harder. "Baby." He feels his body tensing. "Baby." He chokes out before he buries himself deep and pours himself into you.

You clamp down around him hard. Cumming with the softest, sweetest whimper of his name. Your arms wrap around him as he groans your name once more, before dropping down and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

He pulls away only when he finally needs to take a breath, humming softly as he reaches up and caresses your cheek.

“You know I’m going to expect you to exclusively call me baby now I know how good it sounds?” You laugh as you push his hair back out of his face.

He chuckles and nods. "Figured."

“Sorry to darken the mood, but she’s probably going to be home today,” you sigh, “With work tomorrow. You want to spend a few nights downstairs with me until it’s all figured out?”

Dave sighs and he hates to acknowledge that but he nods. "Yeah." He leans down and kisses you again. "Just until I can get her ass served with divorce papers."

“At least we can be loud down there,” you say as you nuzzle your nose against his, “That’s if you’re not ‘too old’ to go again later.”

He snorts and shakes his head. "Might be." He jokes, nudging his nose against yours. "But you need to shower." He smirks at you playfully. "You smell like sex."

“So do you.” Kissing his lips once more you gently push him off you and climb out of bed, “Wanna join me?”

"I shouldn't." He admits, sitting down on the bed. "Just in case she comes home or the girls wake up."

“Guess it’ll just be me and my imagination then,” you say with a fake huff, “I’ll see you after, we can make the girls breakfast again.”

  "Hey." Dave calls out and smirks at you when you turn to look at him. "I love you."

“I love you too.” You say, before slipping downstairs to shower. 

****

The morning goes by in a blurred frenzy, Molly tells you that she needs 36 cupcakes to take to school with her tomorrow, and with Carol not back it’s down to you to bake them.

It’s only once you’ve finished frosting the final cake that you hear her car pull up onto the drive and Dave flashes an annoyed glance in your direction.

"Girls, why don't you go upstairs and play?" Dave suggests, ignoring the way they whine and try to stall, but he breathes a sigh of relief when they disappear to go upstairs. He turns towards you and watches you carefully. "Do you want to go downstairs?"

“Do you want me to? I can go if you want or stay and support you. Either way is fine.”

"I'm not going to confront her about everything." He tells you. "But I don't want you to face her wrath if she gets pissy."

“I can take it, but if you want me to go, I’ll go, baby.” You say before reaching out and caressing his cheek, sighing at the sound of her key turning in the door. Peppering the quickest of kisses on his lips.

He should send you away, but he doesn't. Realizing how much you care about him because you are willing to face whatever mood Carol is in just to stand beside him. He looks at you softly before his eyes harden as the door opens and Carol calls out. "In the kitchen." He calls back, voice flat.

“You’ve got this,” you whisper before briefly squeezing his hand. You both say nothing as she waltzes back in the house, tossing her car keys down on the counter and immediately going to the refrigerator and getting herself a bottle of water.

"Where have you been?" Dave asks quietly, sitting at the table watching as she twists the cap off the bottle and guzzles down half of it.

She giggles before slamming the bottle down, “Oh, Dave, you won’t believe it,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a huge grin splashed across her face, “Me, Maria and Tanya had one too many and ended up in Atlantic City! Of course I didn’t have my charger so I couldn’t contact you, but it was so great! Exactly what Maria needed.”

"Is it?" At least Maria hadn't lied when she told Dave that she wouldn't breathe a word of their conversation to Carol. She had been horribly apologetic, nearly tearful when she realized her sister had lied to her. "Is she feeling better now, then?" He asks.

“So much better,” she says before finishing the rest of her water, “I can’t believe we ended up there… The AmTrak really shouldn’t run at that time of night. Anyway I should shower…” She turns to look at you, “Could you have lunch ready when I get back downstairs? I’m starved.”

"She is not the maid." Dave reminds his wife. "Fix your own damn food."

“Excuse me?” Carol says, raising her eyebrow, “She lives here rent free, she can fix me a damn sandwich. What is your problem, David?”

"My problem is that you were supposed to be home two days ago, Carol." Dave doesn't raise his voice, he doesn't shout or throw anything. "You didn't call, you didn't give a fucking shit if your husband or your children knew if you were okay. You waltz back in and ask our surrogate to fix you a fucking sandwich."

“I told you I couldn’t call. Maria needed me, Dave. This is my home, she’s living here for free in exchange for me pumping her full of your cum. A sandwich won’t kill her.”

"Don't say it like that." Dave huffs. "You agreed that that was what you wanted. Have you changed your mind?"

  She rolls her eyes dramatically, and she shakes her head. “No honey, you could just be a little more accommodating when it comes to the needs of my family.”

"Go take your damn shower." Dave tells her. "I'll fix you a fucking sandwich."

“No, she will fix me a sandwich. I need you to pack me an overnight bag, Maria wants us to go to the spa tonight. Last minute deal on groupon.”

“Carol.” Dave frowns at his wife and shakes his head. “It’s Sunday. I have work tomorrow. I’m not going to a spa.”

“Oh, honey,” she says with a laugh, “I meant me and Maria. Not ‘us’.”

Dave’s hands are on his hips and he contemplates just packing her a bag and letting her go. Taking the easy way out but he shakes his head. “Sure, Carol. Whatever you say.”

“Dave,” you say, as he lets her walk over him, “You deserve better than this.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffs at you, as you continue to focus on him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I talked to Maria yesterday.” Dave announces, staring at Carol.

“What?” She splutters, “When?”

“Don’t worry about when.” He huffs and grits his teeth. “Where were you really?”

She sighs and walks over to Dave, wrapping her arms around his neck and pouting, “I just needed a few days to myself, baby, this whole surrogacy thing is so stressful. I’m sorry.”

He pulls away from her, knocking her arms from around his neck, “you owe me at least the fucking truth, Carol.” He hisses. “Be honest. For fucking once.”

“Leave,” she hisses at you, “You’re the reason I felt like I needed to escape my family for a few days.”

“Oh, that wasn’t Robert that made you feel the need to leave?” Dave sneers.

“What exactly did Maria tell you?” She says, clearly relenting and sitting on the stool behind her. “Make her leave and we can talk honey, we don’t need her meddling in our business.”

“She can stay.” Dave shakes his head and scoffs. “Maria told me enough, don’t worry.” He promises her. “My lawyer’s already been called.”

“Saline.” She says with a smirk, “You were right. I didn’t want another baby, but I knew you were adamant you wanted us to try surrogacy.” She turns to look at you and laughs, “Looks like he has no use for you anymore either, no chance you’re knocked up with salt water.”

He nods, furious but at least he knows why it didn't seem like the inseminations were working. "How long have you been fucking this guy Robert, Carol?" He asks, holding up his hand when you start to speak.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, “He ended it last night. The spa trip was a cover up to go and get some of my stuff I left at his.” She admits, no point in lying anymore.

"How fucking long?" Dave demands, his voice hardening slightly and his eyes dark.

“Just over a year,” she scoffs, “Does it matter? Do we really need to be having this conversation in front of her? She should have started packing her bags the second I told you both about the saline.”

"No, but you can pack your bags." Dave tells her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Get out of my house, Carol. We are done."

“No, we are not,” she shrugs, “We can find another surrogate and try again. We will have the baby and move on together.”

 “No,” you say, courage coursing through your veins, “He will have a baby, but it will be with me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life doing the one thing you were too stupid to do, and I’ll show him how appreciated and loved he is.”

Dave lifts a brow at your impassioned speech and smirks at the way Carol's jaw drops in surprise. "I've already given my lawyer the evidence, Carol." He tells her. "Just like I'm going to forward this video of you confessing to adultery to him."

She ignores Dave and instead sneers at you, “You’ll get bored of him. Just like I did. I’d run if I was you, get out of here as quickly as you can.”

“I’m good,” you say before reaching out and grabbing his hand, “Fell in love with him that very first day in the cafe. Fell even harder watching how incredible a father he is, fell some more when he made love to me this morning. Will continue to fall harder and harder for the rest of my life.”

"Get out, Carol." Dave tells her quietly, squeezing your hand and looking over at you with soft love in his eyes. "I'll tell the girls you will be there to see them this weekend, but I want you to go. You made your choice, so I've made mine." His choice is you. You and his girls and whatever kids you might have together. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she scoffs before grabbing her keys, “And i’ll be ready for you to apologize, so we can move on from this. Make sure that little slut is out of our basement before I get back.”

He sighs and shakes his head, watching her walk away and doesn't flinch when the door slams behind her. "Gonna have to change the fucking locks." He sighs before he looks over at you and grins. "You heard her. You need to be out of the basement by tomorrow."

“I heard her loud and clear, baby,” you say before pulling him in for a heated kiss, “I’m just thinking about how you’re planning on fucking this little slut tonight.”

"Might be too tired from moving all your stuff into the master bedroom." He smirks, wrapping his arms around you. "Unless you're still ovulating."

“Oh I think moving can wait until the morning,” you smirk, “Save that energy ‘old man’, Daddy is going to be railing the fuck out of this little pussy tonight.”

“Sounds good to me baby.” Dave smirks and pulls you close. “Tonight we’re going to make our baby.” He promises.

“Keep calling me, baby, and we can make our baby right here and right now.” You tease, before kissing him hard and slow. “I was telling the truth by the way, fell in love with you the second I saw those big gorgeous brown eyes.”

He hums, knowing that you mean it. His hand slides down and he cups your ass. "I started falling in love with you while you've been living here." He admits, knowing you will understand that. "But I think that it's fair enough to say that I am completely in love with you, baby."

“Good,” you say before scrunching up your nose and nuzzling it against his, “Guess now I can tell you about the sex dream I keep having.”

"Tell me all about it." Dave pulls you close and closes his eyes. He's still hurt about Carol's betrayal, about her tearing their family apart. But he also has to thank her for it. If she hadn't been unfaithful, he wouldn't have met you, he wouldn't have fallen in love with you and he wouldn't be planning on creating a life with you.

“Keep dreaming about slowly riding your cock, your lips wrapped around one of my nipples, tasting the milk I make for our baby. Listening to you telling me how sweet it is. How sweet I am. Before tasting more.”

“That sounds more like a prediction than a dream.” Dave murmurs. He had already thought about watching you breastfeed and seeing your tits full of milk, and how he won’t have to deny those thoughts. “Let’s see if we can’t make dreams come true.”

“I would love to. I love you, Dave York.”

****

[SIX MONTHS LATER]

 You groan at the clock next to you, reading 4:23AM. Your pregnancy cravings refuse to let up, but your aching and swollen feet makes it too difficult to get up and out of bed. 

You don’t want to wake him, he’s been so supportive, so wonderful and spends a good forty minutes every evening luring you to sleep with his tongue. Knowing it’s the only thing that relaxes you enough to sleep. But you had made the decision to attempt to ignore your craving after dinner and it’s come back to bite you in the ass. You groan again as you think about the rocky road in the freezer, calling your name. 

Wordlessly, he sits up and presses a kiss to your forehead and before you can apologize for waking him, he’s shushing you and getting out of bed. 

A few minutes later he returns with a pint of ice cream, two spoons and two gatorades. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You say softly, feeling tears spring up in your eyes and immediately start to stream down your cheeks. Pregnancy hormones make you a lot weepier than usual.

"You answered an ad." He teases, setting down the gatorades and reaching up to wipe away your tears. "I knew you were going to want ice cream." He teases, leaning in and kisses your lips softly. He motions to the ice cream. "Go ahead and have your ice cream baby, I'm going to talk to him."

“God, I love you,” you say, ripping the cover of the ice cream and digging in. Watching as he gently rests his head on your tummy and starts to talk to your unborn son. The immediate kicking as soon as he hears his Daddy’s voice makes you both smile. Answering that ad had been the best decision you had ever made, you reach down and caress his face after finishing up the ice cream.  “I love you so much. Love our girls. Love our boy. I love you, Dave.”

"Love you too, baby." He promises, kissing your ice cream flavored lips with a smile. "Thank you for our son, thank you for loving me and the girls." There's a ring on your finger, not quite yet a wedding ring since you want to wait until after the baby is born, but the divorce was finalized last month and he can't wait to make you Mrs. Dave York. "Love you so much."

“Me too, baby. I love you.”

[dduane]

In the TIL (Thematically Peripatetically) dep't

In the classic British war movie Ice Cold in Alex, one character who blames himself for a drinking problem that may have cost someone else their life declares he's not going to take another drink until he and the people fleeing across the African desert with him can sit down and have "an ice cold lager in Alex[andria]." This promise he keeps.

The interesting part lies in how the promise plays out on film.

A background issue (from the production standpoint) of what makes this scene so interesting is that it's always hard to get any scene right in just one take. There were apparently a fair number of takes on this shot.

The producers apparently tried hard to substitute something non-alcoholic for the beer, but this proved impossible, as there was no way to fake the head. So they used real beer.

John Mills, professional that he was, drank them one after another in multiple takes. As a result, co-star Sylvia Syms describes him as having been "a little heady" when they were done with that scene.

Another less problematic problem (as such things go...) was that the novel by Christopher Landon on which the film was based has the actors drinking a US beer called Rheingold... which the producers ruled out. They they felt there was no way the characters would willingly be drinking a German (or German-sounding) beer after being pursued across North Africa by the Afrika Korps. So Carlsberg was substituted.

...And it's at this point that things start to veer. @petermorwood was telling me about this, some of which I knew... but not about the Rheingold.

"Really?" I said. "You're kidding me!"

"Why?" he said.

At which point I did what any New Yorker of a certain age might very likely do under such circumstances: I burst into song. (And frankly, because you don't need to hear me doing that, here are the Golden Girls doing it.)

Rheingold was the best-selling beer in the New York metropolitan area, and apparently in New York state as well, at least partly due to numerous aggressive advertising campaigns on radio and then on TV. That jingle was known, in many permutations—including one in 6/8 time that appears in this stop-motion-animated commercial—by lots and lots of people.

Including me. So I sang it (at least some of it: I couldn't remember the final couple of stanzas) and Peter and I looked at each other in mild bemusement. "You think your mind's full of useless garbage," I said, "try mine sometime!" And we laughed and went back to whatever we'd been doing.

Out of curiosity, I then went over to YouTube to see (as I sometimes do) whether I was anywhere near the original key of the best-known version of the jingle while singing. Turns out I was pretty close. But along the line, I stumbled across the blog of a retired librarian who clued me in on something startling:

That jingle's music was ripped off, in whole cloth, from a French composer... whose authorship is apparently routinely obscured by the name of the music's (possibly better-known?) arranger.

Here it is, and apparently misattributed as above, in full classical glory: the Estudiantina Waltz. (Warning: the main chorus is a bit of an earworm, and you may not be able to get rid of it easily. I know I won't be, for the day anyway...)

...So that's the local installment of Today I Learned. May yours (if you have one) be way more useful and interesting. :)

[ajortga]

hot cocoa?

pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader (platonic sam carpenter x fem reader)

a/n- a winter's special of december! ahh christmas! i'll be gone for 2 weeks for the holidays but i wanted to wrap something special for you guys, I started this in october and i was like its literally too early, so i finished it up! i have another idea for a story but i havent started on lead series at allll..

-

Cold breeze slipped through your body as you walked through the pathways of New York City. The weather was coldly crisp, your breath would fog up as you exhaled through your parted lips.

As petite flakes of snow fell gracefully, the wind began to pick up. You felt goosebumps begin to coat your arms, shivering and wrapping your hoodie around yourself tighter. 

You sat just outside of your local coffee shop, you could feel the warmness caressing your body as the door opened and closed, a small ding ringing as a customer stopped by. You waited for your girlfriend, Tara to finish her coffee bean shopping like she did every two weeks for Sam.

You never minded tagging along with her, having her take her time. You would give anything to spend more time than you already have with her. It was so crowded today, as much as you wanted to go in and feel the warmth of her, of the coffee shop, you couldn't. It was compacted and surely you would be squeezed from all of the figures. You didn't mind to tell her to take her time. But today, winters storm began to blow with harshness, causing you to wish she would buy her coffee beans quicker.

Your nose was red, sniffling as the cold sweet air inhaled through your body perfectly. You could swear that if you wrapped your (Tara's) hoodie around you even tighter than it already was, it would pop and tear like a balloon. 

Christmas lights brightened all of New York, complimenting the snow just right. There was an ice skating rink at the center of NYC, jumbo screens projecting holiday advertisements. You saw little children wearing giant puffy jackets with earmuffs and gloves, giggling as they walked around the streets with their parents. Faint holiday songs could be heard, mixed with the laughs and chatters of people around you. You exhaled, your breath fogging up in the winter snow.

Your shoulders un-tensed as soon as you heard the coffee shop bell ding. Your tiny, sweet, cozy-looking Tara waddling out with her coffee beans in hand. Her eyes beamed at you as she pulled you in for a tight hug, nose nuzzling your neck.

"Hi baby." You smile, blush creeping on your cheeks as you felt your heart flutter.

Her body warmth spread through you like a wave. You sighed happily, smelling her sweet scent from her hair.

Warm.

It made you want to hold her just a little tighter. 

Your girlfriend giggled, kissing your cheek as she caressed your face.

"You must be cold, baby. You're freezing!" She gasped as she touched your snowy, icy cold face, rubbing your blushed cheeks. Warmth flooded through you.

She took off her beanie and placed it gently on your head, securing it. 

"You look cute," she cooed, snuggling you.

You felt warmer, of course you did, you always felt warm with Tara around.

"I'm sorry I had to make you wait for so long. They sold out of our favorite and they were checking if they had any in the back. You must've been freezing, your nose is all red Y/N."

You sniffle, rubbing your nose as you kiss her, "Don't apologize love, it just got a little chilly." You grin, your body shaking again as the wind picks up once again.

"A little?"

"Okay it's really cold," You admit.

Tara rolled her eyes playfully, looking up at you, "You should've worn more than just my hoodie, I could've lent you my scarves and boots, earmuffs too!" She paused, seeing how your body shook slightly, "Come on, let's go back to our home and make some hot cocoa."

You immediately nodded, "Hot cocoa sounds... Warm."

Tara snorted softly, giggling once again as her arm curled around yours, you nuzzled her nose and sniffled as you both walked back to your apartment.

The walk back was quite easy, if Tara doesn't mention the fact you both slipped on the slippery ice cold pavement on your way home. Tara fell first, but you fell harder with her, both of you sliding down the freezing concrete as you both squeal, struggling to get up.

Both your backs hurt, stretching when you finally entered the apartment building. 

You were freezing, as much as Tara's warmth seeped through you, you felt so numb and cold, your body shaking as you clung on to her, teeth chattering.

"My poor sweetheart. Let's get you inside. Oh Y/N you're shaking." She whispers, voice tinted with concern and worry.

By the time Tara opened your shared apartment with Sam, your frozen body practically dropped to the floor like a piece of bread, groaning against the carpet as Sam came over and laughed.

"Taraa, didn't I say to tell Y/N that it would be freezing?"

"Oh it's my fault? I'm sorry," she mocks, eyeing down her sister, "I'm not the one who ordered their sister to go out knowing that her girlfriend would tag along in the freezing cold."

Sam scoffs, patting your back as you shook, "If your mouth keeps moving any longer I think Y/N will freeze."

Tara immediately snapped out of it, looking down at you as she leaned down, "Shoot, I'm sorry, let's get you somewhere warm."

Her arm wraps around your waist securely as she holds your back and lifts you up easily, your head tucked against her chest as she carries you to the couch and grabs a blanket.

You lay there, shaking, your eyes barely open as Tara jumps in your arms and wraps her legs and arms around you to warm you up, nuzzling her nose to yours. 

She can feel your body practically shaking as she smiles, holding you tighter, Sam comes in and grabs the biggest blanket she can find and throws it over both of you, ruffling her sisters hair in the process.

"I put the ingredients by the counter for some hot chocolate, you guys wanna make it together?"

"Yes!" You both say in unison, practically leaping off each other as your hands wrap around each other to the kitchen.

You think your nose is frozen, Tara has to grab her scarf and wrap it around you as if you're Frosty the Snowman, giving your forehead a kiss.

Your little family warms up the milk on a pot near the stove, while that happens, the milk chocolate is melting in the microwave and Sam is grabbing some new whipped cream from the pantry along with Tara grabbing some peppermints to flake on top after. 

A ding is heard and everyone races to the microwave, Sam opening it and grabbing the bowl, but dropping it back from it being to hot. Tara snickers, prepared as she grabs it with an oven mitt, but you're even more prepared, taller then Tara and tickling her as you grab it with your mitt and using the spatula to mix, leaving the Carpenters whining.

Your eyes beam in victory as you stir, pouring it into the warm and sweet milk as they argue, mixing it all together.

The smell smells like it came straight out of a Christmas movie bakery, the scent makes your mouth water, you can tell it does for Sam and Tara as well, since they have both stopped talking and are staring at the pot like buried treasure.

Now it's everyone's turn to scurry to grab a cup, the three of you frantically grabbing the whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and peppermint flakes, the rivalry long forgotten, every one of you just wants a sip.

You pour the steaming and cozy drink from the pot to the mugs quickly, hearing Sam and Tara's impatient huffs, when you're finally done, every one of you grasps the side of your mugs and sips the sweetness.

You can't tell if it's the cold and the way you quivered or the cocoa itself, but it tasted so warm and creamy. It was perfect.

A small "mhh" sound leaves your lips as you exhale a satisfied sigh, the Carpenters following in suite as a smile forms on Tara's face.

Sam sees the way you both are quite satisfied and huffs, "It would've tasted better if I were to mix-" she's cut off by a shriek when Tara sprays whipped cream on her nose.

That was definitely not the right way, because a war has just broken out as you and Tara run for your lives from Sam.

[babygirlmurdock]

Unexpected Connection

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend convinces you to go to a singles event only for you to meet Hell’s Kitchen infamous lawyer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mild swearing, alcohol

a/n: heyyy lol so this is my First piece of fiction. i’m trying to get better at writing fiction and this actually came to me when something like this was actually brought up to me recently lol so i thought hey why not try to write something about it?

——————————————————————————

You’ve been single for quite some time now. Your last breakup was nasty, left your heart shredded; you weren’t too sure when you’d be truly ready to date again. Your friends have been helpful, pushing you to get out there and meet new people. Get your mind off your ex, y’know?

Swipe after swipe. Messages that are painfully one sided. Or men that just want to hook up or want something casual.

“Ooh, I just got this advertised to me on Instagram,” Jill says to you. Jill is a coworker turned friend. You perk up from your desk to see what she was talking about, “a meet and mingle this Saturday at the Refinary rooftop. We should definitely go!”

“Ugh, I just don’t know Jill. All men have done is just disappoint me and nothing has compared to Jam— ”,

“James. I know. But maybe the guy that is way better than James will be there. Your soulmate could be here and you would never know! C’mon it’ll be fun, I think. Plus meeting people in person is way better than on the apps,” she leans up against your desk. You worked as an editor at the New York Bulletin. It was an internship turned full time position after you graduated college. You dreamed of New York one day, and it still feels surreal that this is your reality.

You are sure your friends were tired of you sulking about James. It’s been well over 6 months and he’s probably already moved on while you’re stuck in this trench of dating.

“Okay. Fine. I hope there’s good drinks because Lord knows I’ll need that liquid confidence.” You scrubbed your face.

Jill squeals, “I’m so excited!! It starts at 7.”

——————————————————————————-

“Matt! It would be so fun, talking to beautiful women all night and who knows, maybe take one home!” Foggy hints to Matt about this meet and mingle.

“I’m really not in the cards to be dating right now, Foggy,” Matt says, shuffling through some papers. The mid-afternoon sun beamed through Matt’s office as Foggy stood in his doorway. Matt was trying to get through the last of this litigation before the end of the week and Foggy was not making this easier.

“This might be the opportunity that you meet someone who is actually normal! Not some psycho chick that almost got your ass expelled back in law school. That’s how long it’s been, Matt! Do you know how long ago law school was?” Matt lets out a small laugh at Foggy.

“Yes, Foggy. I was there, I know how long ago it was.”

He never understood why Foggy was so adamant on him meeting someone. Now that the firm is getting some business and he’s gone out more times than he can count as Daredevil, he just doesn’t have the time to commit.

“I’ll go only for an hour,” Matt sighs and Foggy lets out a cheer.

“You’re not gonna regret this, Murdock!”

————————————————————————

Saturday night rolls around. You and Jill are about to head to the singles event.

“I hope I meet someone rich,” Jill says, applying her lipstick. “I just don’t want to work again, y’know?”

“Tell me about it. I just hope nobody is too much of an asshole. I don’t know if I can take another person mansplaining what investing is and why I should do it,” You shouted from the bathroom, spraying some hairspray in your hair. You came out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

“Whoa girl, what are you wearing? You can’t wear that!” Jill said from your living room.

You eye yourself in the mirror, “what is so wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?”

Jill says your name sternly, “everything? You might meet the love of your life! Show some more!”

“You’re ridiculous. You’re lucky I’m going to this in the first place! Would it make you happier if I changed my top?” You say, taking off your shirt to dig for something she deems more appropriate.

“Atta girl, show the goodies,” Jill says, shimmying her chest. “Uber is downstairs, let’s get going.”

——————————————————————————

You arrive at the venue and make your way upstairs to the roof. It was decorated with greenery and twinkle lights. The place was lit just enough to make it romantic but not where you couldn’t see anyone. Not even 15 minutes into the event, you lose Jill in the crowd already talking to people. You make your way to the bar to order yourself a drink.

“Dirty martini, gin, please. Thanks,” you stand at the bar while you wait for your drink and hear a smooth voice next to you.

“Whiskey, neat, please. Thank you,” you peer over and your eyes meet a beautiful man wearing red glasses. You take a moment to read him a little bit. Gorgeous side profile. Your eyes make their way down to his hands, and meet with a cane. Blind?

“Dirty martini & a whiskey neat.”

“Thank you,” you both say in unison. “I suppose we should cheers?” The man says to you.

“Oh, uh sure, cheers,” You clink your glass against his and a smile breaks out on his face as the glass meets his lips. God damn, this guy looks like the next coming of Christ. He was so unreal looking. He had the jaw sculpted by God himself, decorated with just the right amount of stubble, and his lips. They were so pink and full. The thoughts of kissing him already danced in your head. The faint smell of his cologne twirled around in your nostrils.

“So let me guess,” you take a sip from your drink, “your friend basically dragged you here too against your will even though you told them you were over dating?”

“Wow,” his eyebrows perked up as he took another sip, “how did you guess?” he says, sarcastically.

“Well, considering you look like that,” your hand vaguely gestured to his body, “and women aren’t at your beck and call, I had to assume.”

“Look like what? Oh God, did I forget to put on my pants? You’d tell me that I’m pant less right?” He says frantically, trying to hide his laughter.

“Ha ha, very funny. But was I right?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not too far off. It’s hard to do modern dating when everything is on dating apps and eyesight helps that. Phones can only be so accessible. I’m Matt by the way, Matt Murdock.” He sticks his hand out for you to grab. You give him your name as you shake his hand. You notice some bruising on the knuckles and wonder what that could be about.

“Wait like, the lawyer?”

Matt sheepishly nodded in agreement, “that would be me.”

“Where were you when I told a cop to fuck off because I didn’t like how he was speaking to my friend?” You take a big swig of your martini hoping the alcohol would hit you sooner rather than later.

“My law partner must’ve missed the call from the woman brave enough to tell a cop to fuck off,” Matt smirks at you. Butterflies erupt inside you and your heart beat jumps.

————————————————————————

As the night goes on, and after a couple more drinks, conversation between you and Matt flows effortlessly. You two made your way over to a couch to sit and talk. The crowd ebbed and flowed throughout the night. People left, more people showed up, but it never got too crowded. It honestly felt like you and Matt were alone, like the world stood still.

“So you mean to tell me he took your furniture outside?” You laugh at the thought of his college roommate moving all of Matt’s furniture outside.

“Yeah, it was kind of rude of him to do that to a blind guy. He thought it was hilarious though,” Matt smiles at you.

“You guys seemed wild in law school. I bet campus police weren't too thrilled with your shenanigans,” you rest your chin on your hand as you lean a bit closer to Matt.

“Foggy actually got into some trouble with them because he was breaking the school's disability rules. Nothing too major, he just had to volunteer as a part of campus police to pay his dues.”

You laugh at Matt, and briefly look around and notice you and Matt seemed to be two of the other five couples that are still there.

“So, I have a question for you…” you trail off, debating on asking this question.

“No, I haven’t been blind my whole life,” Matt states.

“How did you know I was going to ask that?” your voice has an edge of surprise to it.

“It came in the pamphlet when I lost my vision. Don’t worry about it though, it doesn’t bother me when people ask,” Matt reassures you. “It’s been 20 years at this point.”

“Oh wow, so you had to adapt and relearn the world without your eyes. That’s insane, it must have been tough for you,” you rest your hand on Matt’s bicep. What business does he have to have this much of a defined arm?

“It took some adjusting but my other senses were…” Matt stops mid sentence before realizing what he was about to say.

“What? Like sensitive? I’m sure your other senses had to compensate now that your eyes were out of commission.”

“Yeah, you can say sensitive in a way,” Matt sighs. Silence falls between you both. You fiddle with your glass for a moment until he speaks up, “what do you say we get out of here?”

“Oh, um,” you look around in hopes of finding your friend because you’re still nervous about potentially going home with somebody new. No matter how gorgeous the man is. “I–“ you stammer.

“I don’t want to give the wrong intentions. What I mean is maybe go to another bar. There’s a place two blocks over that we can go to. If you’re up for it,” Matt gave you a small smile of reassurance.

You think for a moment, staring at his face while your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your body. What the hell, why not? “Sure, I’d like that,” you smile and get up. You let Matt grab onto your forearm for guidance as you walk to the bar to close out. After he graciously also paid for your tab, you walked with him to the elevator.

“What’s this place called? How do I know you’re not going to murder me? You are still a stranger by the way,” you ramble on. Matt laughs at your nervousness.

“It’s called Josie’s. I’ve been going here since I was in law school. And if I were going to murder you, I would have done it already,” Matt leans into you playfully.

“Ah yeah that makes me feel so much better, thank you, Matt,” you joke.

—————————————————————————

The walk to Josie’s is mostly silent, but not awkward. You feel at ease around Matt. His energy is soothing, it feels like you’ve known him for ages. He asked about your upbringing, what brought you to New York. Your typical “getting to know someone” questions.

As you approach the bar, your nerves dissipate as you recognize this is a dive bar. “You seem less tense,” Matt said to you, his hand lightly placed on the pulse point of your wrist.

“Yeah, I love a good dive bar. It’s charming in a way,” you breathe out, leading the way into the bar. You find a seat at the bar for you and Matt to sit. You look around the bar, and notice the pool table in the back. There were old beer signs all over the walls. The lighting was dim and moody. Classic rock was playing over the speakers. Matt must’ve waved down a bartender while you were distracted because two beers are placed in front of you as you sat down next to him.

“I love how you assumed I liked beer,” you tease, taking a sip from your bottle.

“I can order something else if you’d like me to,” Matt's voice breaks a bit.

“I like beer, don’t worry,” you reassured him, “so what are the odds a blind man knows how to play pool?”

“I’ve played. I can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

Your drinks start to hit you more as you speak, “Do you want to make a bet?”

“Betting against a blind man? Low blow,” Matt sucks his teeth teasing you a bit. You giggle, “Fair point, Matthew. Fair point. C’mon, do you need guidance to the table?”

“No thank you, I know this place like it’s my own home,” Matt smiled at you as you both made your way over to the pool table.

You rack up the balls and Matt grabs some cues. “Do you want to break the triangle?” Matt asks.

“Sure, why not,” You bend over, lining up the cue ball with the tip of the triangle. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel Matt’s gaze upon you. You know, for someone who is blind, you sure can feel like his eyes were all over your body. The loud crack of the ball break snaps you out of your train of thought. “Do you, um, do you need help lining up the cue?”

“Actually yes, that’d be helpful.”

You make your way to Matt’s side, telling him solids were his and what balls were lined up with which ones. To your shock, he nails two solids into the sink holes. “I’ll be damned. Blind man is good at pool.”

Matt’s voice is low and husky when he says, “there’s a lot of secrets about me,” which gives you full body chills.

“Well, okay then, I—” you stammer trying to collect your tipsy self. You take your shot and, “God damn it, missed. You’re not hustling me, are you? You said you weren’t good!” you protest.

“Ehh, lucky shot, I guess,” Matt laughs, taking a swig of his beer.

The round of pool goes at a good pace, flirty innuendos fly off the walls. At this point, Matt’s jacket is off and the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up showing his forearms. Every passing hour, you feel more and more attracted to him. And you only hope he feels the same.

“Alright, 8 ball is up. Absolutely no fucking way I’m about to lose a game of pool to a guy who can’t see,” you said competitively.

“Well to be fair, you have been helping me line the cues up, you could’ve hustled me and lined up with your balls.” He suggests with a shrug.

“God damn it, you’re so right. Holy shit why didn’t I think of that?!” You line the cue up to the ball and take your shot...and miss. You let out a gasp as you just lost this game of pool.

“That didn’t sound like a good gasp,” Matt teased.

“You’d be correct. Good game, Matt.”

“Good game,” he said your name back to you.

You looked at your watch and realized it was almost midnight. “It’s getting late, I think we should head out. That sound okay to you?” you say, even though you secretly don’t want this night to end.

“Yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” Matt asks you, with a shy smile secretly hoping you’d say yes.

“That’d be really lovely, thank you. I’m just 5 blocks up actually.”

————————————————————————

“Alright, this is me,” you halt in front of your building’s entrance.

“Are you sure it’s not up one more block?” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

“Unfortunately, it is not. I had a really good time tonight, Matt,” you step closer to him, inches away from his body.

“I had a really nice time tonight, too,” Matt’s voice just above a whisper. God, that register in his voice practically made you fall to your knees.

You and Matt are still standing dangerously close to each other as both of your body’s heats mingled together, practically begging for some physical touch. “I should, uh, get upstairs. Goodnight, Matt.” As you are about to turn away, Matt pulls you in closer as your chests nearly touch. Lips hovering over one another as your breath intertwines with his. Your brain is barely forming coherent thoughts, until you whisper, “I think this is the part where you kiss me.”

“I was waiting for the words,” Matt’s hand snakes up to gently rest on your jawbone as he tilts your head up. His lips meet yours with the tenderness and sweetness that you crave so desperately. He pulls away and you both sigh. “That was—”

“Really nice. You’re an excellent kisser by the way,” you let your inside thoughts exist on the outside now. “That was meant to stay inside my brain, oh my god….” You buried your face in your hands as you pulled away from his embrace.

Matt laughs, “I appreciate the compliment, thank you.”

“Let’s do this again, next week? You owe me a rematch in pool.”

“Next week sounds fantastic. If the pool game went anything like it did tonight, it won’t be much of a rematch,” Matt banters with you. You gasp at his remark which makes him laugh. “I’ll call you sometime this week to set something up, okay?”

“Do you mind if I put my number in your phone? I figure that’d be easiest maybe,” You suggest.

“Oh yeah, that’d be great,” Matt said pulling out his phone. You grabbed it and put your name and number in there and handed it back to him.

“Okay,” you smile at him, “I’ll be anticipating your call.”

“Goodnight,” Matt whispers your name, dripping from his lips like honey. You kiss his cheek and head upstairs. As you close the door, you squeal in excitement.

Matt stood outside your building for a moment, listening to it shut to ensure you made it in okay. As he was about to step away, he heard you squeal to yourself in excitement, which made him laugh to himself.

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Oxytocin

Pairing: Egon Spengler x F!Reader

Summary: While looking for a new research assistant Egon finds you, a parapsychologist whose always wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Little did you both know that there would be a lot more than research and ghostbusting that would bring the two of you together. 

Warnings: None! Just fluff. 

A/N: Bare with me y’all. I’m really trying to get back into writing so I can answer some requests that I have. Please be patient, I promise I haven’t forgotten. I just need to get back my gumption for creating things. Thank you for understanding and I love you all!

“Venkman. Venkman, you’re getting distracted again. Would you please come into the lab?” Egon calls from the threshold of his workspace. Peter turns, jogging over to the lab and finding a rather uncomfortable bench to take up residence on as the two men talked. The first closed the doors, making his way to the work table. 

“Geez, Spengs. You know, you really oughta get more comfortable furniture in here. No wonder you’re so cranky all the time.” 

“I’m not cranky.” Was all Egon could say in return as he picks up a stack of papers, handing them over to Peter. “Now, I want you to look at this research I’ve been conducting. In the New York area alone paranormal activity has nearly tripled in just the last few weeks. This is getting dangerous, Venkman. I’m not sure how but I know the slime is connected to all this. I just need more time and more hands to be able to finish my research.” Peter tilts his head to the side.

“So what do you need? A bottle of whiskey to keep you up at night?” 

“You know I don’t drink, Venkman.” Egon says, scolding mildly. “No, I need a research assistant to help me conduct my experiments.” 

“Doesn’t Ray help you out?” Peter asks, picking up a tool on the edge of the nearby table and twirling it between his fingers. Almost as soon as he does so Egon reaches out, taking the tool into his hand and setting it back down so that Venkman will actually pay attention.

“Ray is great and he knows his stuff but he’s not always here. I need someone reliable who will be at my beck and call until we can figure out exactly what’s going on with this slime.” He insists. 

“Alright. I get it. You need an assistant. Consider it done buddy.” Peter says, hopping off the bench and strolling towards the door. 

“Now, Peter. I want to hold the interviews myself. I just need the money to pay whoever I find to add on to the team.” 

“The money is yours pal.” He calls back as he finally makes his way out the door. Egon can’t help but roll his eyes at Peter’s seeming lack of caring for his current predicament. However, he pushes past those feelings, knowing that the man meant nothing by his apparent boredom. That’s just how Venkman always was. Nothing that could be done now. With the final approval from Peter, Egon set about writing out an advertisement for the papers to be posted ASAP. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Scientist Seeking Research Assistant! Matter Is Urgent, Will Pay For Help. Come To The Ghostbusters Headquarters For More Information. Interviews Being Held During Normal Business Hours. 

The ad was short, sweet, and to the point. Maybe that was what drew you to it. You didn’t need any hassle in your life right now. Just a paying gig that would fit into your schedule. Then again, there was that word. Ghostbusters. You may not have wanted to admit it, but that was really what drew you to this particular ad. That one word. Your entire life you had always loved learning about the paranormal. Of course your family hated your fascinations. They found them to be blasphemous and unholy. That never stopped you though. As soon as you had the opportunity to go to school, you finally found your place among other parapsychologists and you never wanted to go back. 

Just as you were finishing up your last year of school, you started seeing the ads on TV. A group of paranormal experts that called themselves the Ghostbusters became all you thought about. You tracked their every move, studied their work religiously. They were doing exactly what you’d always wanted to do. Catching ghosts. What a thrill that would be. Ever since, you’d made it your life’s mission to become a part of that team. Now, here was your in. You may not be a Ghostbuster but you were good at research and if you could use that knowledge to help then by god, you were going to. 

As you made your way out of your bed, you pulled on the most respectable looking ensemble you could find. Black pants, a nice blouse, and a black blazer. Simple but professional. Just what you were going for. You wanted to show them you were exactly the person they were looking for. Filled to the brim with excitement you left the house without even stopping to eat. That could wait. The Ghostbusters could not. As soon as you were able to hail a cab, you sped off down the busy New York streets for the old Firehouse. When you arrived you were completely starstruck. You’d seen it so many times but you’d never actually set foot inside and now was your chance. You gave the door a good tug, stepping into the building.

Inside the lights were dim, barely lighting your way as you looked for the front desk. It was just ahead of you, more illuminated than the walkway. There didn’t seem to be much natural lighting but frankly, you didn’t mind. Behind the desk sat a woman with a short auburn bob, flipping through a magazine. You stood as tall as you could and gave her a nod when she looked up at you. 

“Hello. My name is Y/N L/N and I’m here about the research assistant position.” Upon hearing your words the woman leans back in her chair and yells out a name towards the back of the Firehouse. 

“Egon will be here to interview you in a moment.” She says with a smile before going back to her magazine. With that you waited, taking in your surroundings. That is until a tall man with fluffy brunette hair stepped out from the back, walking in your direction. His eyes lit up when he saw you, like you were an old friend. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Egon Spengler. Can I assume you’re here about the research assistant position?” He says with excitement. 

“Yes, I am!” You return his enthusiasm as he reaches out to shake your hand. You take it, feeling his soft palm against your own. 

“Excellent. Just excellent. I’ll be conducting the interview in my lab. Follow me please.” He opens up the small gate for you that leads into the back rooms of the Firehouse. You happily step through, feeling like you were finally a part of their world. He directs you right back to the lab, opening that door for you as well. What a gentleman he was. It made you grin to yourself as you finally stepped into his lab. There were several work tables that were neatly piled with tools and beakers filled with chemicals. Notepads with various notes on them laid strewn about. His handwriting was very neat and you could read each word perfectly. The combination of chaos and order surprised you but this was definitely an environment you could work in.

Dr. Spengler offered you a seat on the couch against the far wall, rolling over a chair for himself. You sat down quickly, eager to begin. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to jump right into things. You’re about the tenth person I’ve had in here this week and I’m very eager to move this process along.” You nod in agreement, ready for whatever questions he might have for you. “Good. Why don’t you tell me about your experience in the field? What are your qualifications?” 

“Well, I actually attended Columbia University for a number of years and received my degree in parapsychology. I’ve completed a great number of research assignments in my time there and I went on to conduct some of my own research funded by the University.” 

“Odd. My colleagues and I were actually in a very similar situation a few years back. Small world I suppose. What research were you conducting?” He leaned forward, hanging on your every word. 

“Well, I was performing some studies to determine the spike in paranormal activity in the New York area opposed to other states in the country. There has been almost triple activity in this area even just over the last several weeks and frankly, I’d like to know why.” 

“Another incredible coincidence. That’s exactly what I’m researching. I have some leads but nothing has been determined yet. That’s why I need help. I don’t have the hands or the time to do all this myself.” 

“I understand. I couldn’t determine anything either, especially since I was forcibly removed from the University last week.” 

“The more you speak, the more I feel like this is a perfect arrangement.” He adds with a self satisfied smile. “You’re much like my colleagues and I in many ways. I’m very intrigued to find out what your mind has to offer. How early can you start?”

“I can start right now!” You say, a little too exuberantly. 

“I greatly appreciate your initiative and enthusiasm. Two very underrated qualities in the world of science. You can’t just do it because you must. You have to have a passion for it. It seems like that’s something you possess.” His words have you absolutely beaming. Although you have to admit that he has certainly surprised you. Based on the ads you see on TV you’d think Dr. Spengler would be rigid and cold. However, here he is talking about passion and giving off all the warmth and friendliness you can handle. It’s a very welcome change from what you had thought initially. You can’t wait to see what other surprises are in store for you. “Well, since you’re currently available I’d like to catch you up to speed on my research. I can share notes with you. Do you have a notepad handy?” He asks. 

“Always.” You reply smugly, pulling a pad of paper from inside of your bag. This causes an impressed smile to spread on his face as he starts gathering up his notes to show you. As soon as he’s organized, he is off. His information comes at the speed of light but you wouldn’t dare ask him to slow down. You simply keep up to the best of your ability, writing down everything you can to study at home. 

After about an hour of being inches apart while comparing notes, Egon finally sets aside his last notepad. Taking a step back towards his chair you realize that you’re actually quite sad at the loss of warmth. He reclines back, extending an arm to the couch behind you both. You sit again, now recognizing that you’re quite exhausted from the rapid fire work the two of you had been doing for a while.

“Well, I’m quite happy with how today has gone. Needless to say, the job is yours. If you’ll come in every day of the week during our normal business hours, we can get you set up with the proper equipment to continue our research.” Hearing him call it ‘our’ research made your heart flutter. “You’ll have weekends off. I can pay you minimum wage, I hope that is sufficient for your needs.” 

“That works just fine for me.” You add. 

“Good. I’m sorry it couldn’t be more. Do you have any questions?” 

“Yes. Will I ever get an opportunity to meet your colleagues or will it always be you and I working together?” 

“Oh yes, you’ll certainly meet the others. When Ray isn’t busy on jobs he usually spends time here, working in the lab. You’ll most definitely cross paths with him. As for Venkman and Winston, I’ll introduce you. Since you are a part of the team now.” Hearing him say that nearly knocked you out of your seat. You’re part of the team now. 

“Wonderful. Well, I don’t think I had any other questions.” 

“Excellent. If you do think of something don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’ll give you my number so that you can do so should you feel the need.” He stands and writes down his phone number on a slip of paper, handing it to you as you stand too. “Well, I won’t wear you out on your first day. You’re free to go but I will see you tomorrow.” 

“Yes! Definitely. See you tomorrow.” With that he leads you back to where you entered from, seeing you off as you run outside to hail a cab. On the ride back to your apartment it’s all you can do not to scream out of sheer excitement. You were finally doing it. Making your dreams come true. You were almost sure that’s all it was, a dream. However, you knew that this was your reality now. Working with the Ghostbusters, doing exactly what you’d been training your whole life for. God, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You slept poorly, tossing and turning with excitement all night. When your alarm finally went off you jumped out of bed without a moment of hesitation. You had already picked out your outfit the night before, slipping it on as you headed for the door. Once again you did not eat breakfast, too ecstatic to ingest anything. Once you hailed a cab you were off, headed for your new workplace yet again.  

When you headed into the Firehouse you were immediately greeted by Egon, who was standing right inside the door. As soon as he saw you he checked his watch. “You’re early. That’s excellent. With all the work we must get done, it’s important that you’re here as soon as you can be every day.” You nodded as you walked towards the lab.

“You know what they say! Early is on time, on time is late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He adds, straightening his lab coat. “Now, I do want to prepare you. My colleagues are all waiting for us in the lab. I wanted to introduce you to all of them and catch them up to speed on our current research. They won’t be around long so don’t worry.” 

Little did Egon know you were far from worried. After years of following their work you were on the verge of meeting all of the Ghostbusters. You couldn’t wait. Yet you knew you had to stay calm. 

When you finally stepped into the lab you saw that they were all crowded around a beaker of slime which sat on a workbench, watching it curiously. None of them dared touch it until Egon had arrived. Once you both came into view all three of them perked up, exchanging happy little smiles at the sight of you. You took up residence on the other side of the workbench, trying to contain yourself. Egon stood beside you and you looked at him expectantly. 

“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Y/N L/N. My research assistant. I believe she’ll make a strong addition to the team.” You beamed proudly at the introduction. “Y/N, this is Winston Zeddemore, Peter Venkman, and Ray Stantz. My colleagues.” 

You extended your hand to the first one in line, Winston. He took it happily. You went down the line like that as they all shook your hand. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss L/N.” Ray was first to speak.

“Please, feel free to call me Y/N.” You add. 

“Well, Y/N,” Peter was next. “It is nice to meet you. Although I’m highly doubtful that you’re any kind of scientist.” 

“Peter, I’ve heavily vetted her myself. She is--” Before Egon could finish defending you, the man continued his statement. 

“I only mean that I just don’t think pretty scientists exist. I mean, take a look at this ugly mug.” He says with a laugh, pinching Egon’s cheeks in his hand. “You are far too beautiful to be a scientist.” 

You look up at the man beside you who shares an annoyed glance down at you. You would never admit it but you highly disagreed with Peter. Egon was one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d have to be blind not to notice his beautiful features. Of course the thought made you blush so you pushed it away, reengaging with Venkman. “Well, thank you but I can assure you I’m highly qualified for this work. Trust me, I can get the job done.” 

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing just how efficient you are.” He said, giving you a little grin. You knew that he had meant something naughty by the way he’d said it so you simply chose to ignore him. 

“I for one am glad to have you on the team.” Winston added. “It’ll be nice not to be the new kid around here for once.” 

“Me too!” Ray said. “I’m excited to have you around the lab. We’ll be working together every now and again. Can’t wait to get to know you.” His response was heartfelt and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Egon began. “We’d like to show you what we’re working on.” He prompted Ray, who had helped to begin this research. The man moved the container of slime into the middle of the nearby work table. Everyone crowded around, including you. You were very intrigued to see what research had been conducted thus far. Egon had told you all about the slime the day before but you hadn’t gotten a chance to see it. Now you were going to get a good look at what it was really capable of. 

“Watch this. Go ahead Ray.” Egon began. 

“You! You worthless piece of slime.” Ray yells. As he does so, the slime begins to bubble. Only slightly but enough for you all to notice. “You ignorant disgusting blob!” He continues. 

“You’re nothing but an unstable short-chain molecule!” Egon adds. 

“You foul obnoxious muck.” 

“You have a weak electrochemical bond.” As the two take turns yelling at the slime it bubbles further, getting closer and closer to the top of the container. 

“I have seen some disgusting crud in my time, but you take the cake! You--” As Ray begins to get out of hand, the other three rein him back in. The sight of the young scientist getting so invested in the bubbling slime makes you giggle a bit, unable to stop yourself. 

“This is what you do with your spare time?” Peter asks. 

“Peter, this is an incredible breakthrough. I mean, what a discovery! A psycho-reactive substance. Whatever this stuff is, it responds to human emotional states.” You eye the slime, utterly fascinated.

“Mood slime.” Peter chimes in, simplifying the whole discovery down to a much more manageable but seemingly accurate term. “Oh baby.” He adds in a seductive tone as he leans down towards the container, backing away quickly when the slime bubbles again. 

“You mean this stuff actually feeds on bad vibes?” Winston asks. 

“Like a cop in a donut factory.” Ray affirms.

“We’ve been running tests to see if we can get an equally strong positive reaction.” Egon says, nodding his head at the group.

“What kind of test?” Peter asks after a brief pause. 

“Well, we sing to it, and we talk to it, and say supportive, nurturing things to it.” Ray adds with a tinge of embarrassment. 

“You’re not sleeping with it, are you, Ray?” Venkman can’t help but joke. However, as soon as he says it there is a palpable tension between Egon and Ray. The two exchange a glance and you can’t help but notice the blush that comes to Egon’s face. Winston and Peter join you in looking at Egon. That’s when you all come to the same realization at the same moment.  “Oh you.” 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Winston says incredulously. 

“You hound!” Venkman adds, holding in a laugh. Egon quickly clears his throat and begins to get up from his seat. 

“How about the kinetic tests?” Everyone walks across the room behind him but your mind wanders to that little comment. What could that have possibly meant? After only a day of knowing Egon, you found your mind wandering to the thought of what he got up to you in those hours of the day when he was by himself. Ashamed by your dirty mind, you brush the thoughts away and join the others. 

The next set of tests are particularly impressive and give you great insight into the slime. They took a small drizzle of slime and poured it into the open end of a toaster, setting it up on the table for all to see. After blasting some Jackie Wilson the toaster begins to pop and dance, making you all laugh. Once the two are done showing off their experiments the others vacate, leaving you and Egon alone. 

“I’d like to continue my experimentation on the slime. I’d like you to help me take notes and observe for now.” He instructs. 

“Yes, of course.” You pull out your personal notepad, getting your pencil ready. He dives right in, playing other kinds of music to see what might affect the slime and in what ways. You obediently take notes of its behavior, curious to see what will get it going. 

After another hour of work, Egon excuses himself briefly which leaves you in the lab completely by yourself. You cradle the notepad to your chest, watching the slime for a brief moment. Looking around to make sure you are truly alone, you take a step closer. A thought pops into your head. Rather than waiting for Egon, you decide to test your little theory for yourself. Clearing your throat, you start to sing the song that had played over the speaker earlier. “I said your love keeps lifting me higher. Higher and higher, higher.” You croon. As you do so the toaster bubbles and pops twice as much as it did before. 

“Magnificent!” Egon exclaims. You jump back, ending the song once you know he’s there. “I didn’t expect such a reaction but I suppose it makes sense that the slime would react more strongly to a beautiful voice. I’m afraid Ray and I aren’t really singers.” He immediately begins writing things down and you look over his shoulder, seeing if you had taken the same notes. “Sing to it again. I’d love to observe.” 

Now that you have to perform on the spot you’re suddenly quite nervous. You didn’t sing anywhere but the shower so this was very nerve wracking. Especially since you had already taken such a strong liking to the man who was now beside you. You wanted to impress him. Once again you clear your throat and start singing. The reaction is immediate, the toaster jumping to life at the sound of your voice. As you sang you couldn’t help but recall that Egon said you had a beautiful voice. For some reason the compliment made you blush.

After a moment you stopped however Egon kept writing, simply murmuring to himself. “Excellent. Absolutely outstanding.” He says before turning to look at you. “You’re already making terrific contributions to the research. Thank you.” You nod your head shyly. 

“I’m just glad I can help.” You say with an earnest smile. 

“Well, I think we’ve discovered a great deal. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow has in store. You’re free to head home for the day.” He says, turning away from you to continue writing things down. 

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You can’t help how disappointed you feel that the day is over already. You could have stayed there in that lab with Egon for hours. However, you didn’t want to overstay your welcome so you grabbed your things and headed out the door. Once you were on the sidewalk you couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of happiness. This was everything you had hoped it would be. And more. After meeting Egon it was much better than you had even dreamed it. It was all you could do not to jump for joy but you contained yourself, hailing a cab. As great as today was, you couldn’t wait for more of this fascinating experimentation. Of course that’s not all you wanted more of but you’d never say it out loud. Heading home, you decided to get an early jump on sleeping so that the next day would come sooner. That night you dreamt of ghosts and research and science and Egon. 

Tags: @localsimpmigraine​ @theespookybitch​ @twinkie-buttercream​ @fizzyfazzy420​ @boneless07​ @holewithinahole​ @spengler-in-a-jar​ @the-hidden-pages​ @the-mechanical-angel​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @egonscalculator​ @sporesmoldsfungus​ @tedesquire​ @killerheelsonadiscodancefloor @emeraldborealis​ @bisexual-thoughtss​ @notquitecanon​ @finniestoncrane​ @lonelyridesinecto-one​ ​​@tinyvesselhearts

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part six)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.2k summary: moving on is not as easy as it may seem. unless, of course, revenge is in the mix.

a/n: this chapter also features steve harrington x popstar!fem!reader

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / very little comfort, minor use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Falling in love was not nearly as magical as you grew up to believe. 

Turns out, not everyone is as lucky as your parents. Not everyone gets to find the person they want to be with and just live out the rest of their time together, just like that. No muss, no fuss… no pain.

And recently, all you’ve felt was pain. 

Heartbreak caused by the man that’s done it before. You should’ve been smarter than to let him do it a second time, but lost in the chocolate of his eyes and the softness of his skin, you believed in the love you so desperately craved since you were a kid. You believed in his love. Believed he wouldn’t hurt you again, simply because he promised he wouldn’t. Hushed mantras in between the kisses he trailed along your jawline. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been,” he’d repeat like a prayer. In reality, a fool is what he made you.

For the whole world to see at that.

ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST

EVEN HONESTY COULDN’T KEEP THEM TOGETHER

WHY HEAVEN AND HELL DON’T MIX

The list of borderline patronising, and also rather sexist, articles on the downfall of your short-lived relationship with the Corroded Coffin frontman haunted you for months. It didn’t help that they were all lies. Figments of journalistic imagination that only had one thing in common: you were nothing but a lovesick girl, and Eddie ever the conqueror of Hollywood’s elite. Gone was the title of America’s favourite popstar. Replaced instead by “Oh, you’re Eddie Munsons ex, right?”.

Your management team was scrambling to get out of this PR nightmare as quickly and effortlessly as humanly possible, because they didn’t grow your career to the superstardom level it was at, only for you to be regarded as an ex-girlfriend of someone far less popular than you. The team did everything, from pushing brand advertising campaigns forward, releasing a previously stashed single with no promotion, and even faking sightings of you with New York’s most eligible bachelors — (it was actually Val in disguise, more than willing to help). 

While all of this was going on, you resigned to rotting away in bed.

The New York apartment you called home yet again, was cold in comparison to Eddie’s mansion. Every item of furniture, every decorative piece, all carefully picked out by you back when you first bought the place, seemed out of place. No longer bringing you the intended joy. You missed the blank walls of Eddie’s living room, the feel of the hardwood floors underneath your bare feet, the once unused kitchen, his display of vintage guitars. You missed his California King. Missed the way it would form perfectly around your frame every time your head hit the pillows. Most of all, despite desperately trying not to, you fucking missed him.

Eddie Munson was your downfall, yet every fibre of your being ached to be close to him once more.

Memories of your time with the metalhead flashed before your eyes every minute of every day that’s passed since he stomped all over your heart, making it bleed. What made matters worse, you were convinced Eddie didn’t miss you, didn’t think about you nearly as much as you thought about him, if even at all.

The reality couldn’t have been more different, but you didn’t know that because the morning Eddie broke you for a second time, his actions were accompanied by a conscious decision to stay out of your life for good. It wasn’t what he wanted. He just didn’t see an alternative, your grandmother’s threat ringing in his ears as the look on your face visibly changed in front of his very eyes from awe to despair.

In the months that followed the split, Eddie also thought about you all the damn time. 

Everywhere he went, there you were. Or rather the ghost of you. A memory so vivid, he instantly felt nauseous. He screwed everything up for a second time and even if he wanted to somehow fix it, he knew the only way to do that would be by telling the truth, but even Eddie Munson wasn't an asshole enough to come between a girl and her Nana — no matter how evil the old hag was.

Instead, Eddie focused on his music. 

The resounding success that was Honesty, a song about you, performed with you, made the pretext of spending day and night at the studio a little more realistic ‘cause “the band needs a few more songs to complete the album”, he’d say to Marianne. She knew the real reason behind the hours Eddie spent locked inside the recording booth was the sudden, and by all accounts, unexplained breakdown of his relationship with you. She also knew not to say anything.

By all accounts, things were going quite smoothly for Eddie. Sure he felt like a fucking prick for hurting you the way he did — yet again — and on most days, the guilt was eating Eddie alive, but his actions, and their unfortunate consequences, fueled an endless supply of songs he couldn’t deny were about you. Songs that would undoubtedly make the album the best thing Corroded Coffin have ever released. Shit. Did that also make him selfish? He wondered if it was fair that his creativity blossomed while you were hurting. He wondered if profiting off this heartache was the right thing to do. Would it make you more mad? Would it break you even more?

Then he saw it.

MISS AMERICANA MOVES ON 

What the fuck.

-

“Did you forget that you promised to come help me shop for dresses?”

You groan at Val’s question, pulling the blankets over your head until your face is entirely hidden and a faint darkness envelops around you. This is your safe space now. This is where you wish you could stay for all eternity, but alas, the universe always seems to have other plans.

“Val,” you mumble under your breath, “I say this with all sincerity, please fuck off. I’m clearly in no shape to hold up to my promise, so just take my credit card and ask a friend to go with you instead. Please.”

She huffs, and even though you can’t see her, you know she’s rolling her eyes. Then, without skipping a beat, she does the exact opposite to what you asked her to do, opting to yank the covers off you entirely with a wicked grin. 

“I am done letting you wither away, okay?” She states, “It’s been months of self-pity and I’m fucking sick of it. Everyone is sick of it. Jesus, he broke your heart, big deal. People get their heart broken all the damn time and you don’t see them wasting away in bed.”

“Because they don’t have the privilege to.” 

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Nana calls you an ungrateful brat all the time, behind your back of course. I think you just proved her point.”

The sting of Val’s words causes you to visibly grimace, but you can’t say you didn’t deserve her hostile push back. You were acting like a brat. Saying the wrong things in the heat of the moment, you knew better than that. You were taught better than that. Just like you were also taught to uphold your promises, keep your word and do the things you said you would do. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you stand, and for the first time in months, you go get dressed in something that’s not an overpriced pyjama set. Val cheers you on, proud of  herself for being the person that could convince you to leave the confines of your apartment, even if it was only for one afternoon.

Fifth Avenue is a Manhattan staple. Stretching from Greenwich Village, where you grew up, all the way to Harlem, a secret favourite, if anyone ever asked. Personally, you opted to steer clear of Fifth Avenue as much as you could, though, being one of the most expensive shopping streets in the world, it made sense this is where Val asked Hank to escort you two. Especially, since after hours of browsing stores your little sister normally couldn’t afford on her own, your journey’s end is Saks.

“Tell me again why we’re dress shopping? You hate dresses.”

“Because, since you’ve pretty much turned yourself into a recluse, Nana asked me to join her at the upcoming charity function she’s throwing. Her one demand was that I need a dress.” Val explains, browsing through a carefully crafted selection of garments. “Preferably expensive.”

“She didn’t say anything to me,” you say, furrowing your brows.

“Like I said, recluse.”

You sigh. Nails, overdue a manicure, now at the brim of your lips, threatening to push through at any given moment. It was a bad habit. Something you’ve recently done a lot because speaking your mind clearly wasn’t good enough and only led to misfortune. This was the only way you could ease the anxiety surrounding the mess you’ve made of your life, as gross as it was.

“Well, I didn’t want Nana, or anyone else for that matter, saying I told you so, or thinking I had it coming since apparently I was the only person that had blinders on when it came to…”

His name got stuck in your throat like a bad apple. A choking hazard that brought tears to your eyes and caused your chest to heave suddenly with bated breaths. Clearly, you hadn’t gotten over him, otherwise you wouldn’t spend your days locked up in your apartment. What you didn’t realise though, was that you hadn’t said his name out loud since that fateful morning in his kitchen.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

The vile tone behind those three words rings in your ears. Of course he deserved it then, there’s no denying that. He still deserves it today. If you were ever to see him at any Hollywood function, you’d either ignore his presence entirely or greet him the same exact way you said your goodbye: “Fuck you, Eddie.”. But for a split second, you feel sad that this is the way you remember his name on your tongue.

“We wouldn’t have made you feel worse, sis.” Val says, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “What do you think of this one?” She proceeds to steer you further away from your deprecating thoughts by holding up a simple red dress. Single strap, maxi length. Exactly the opposite of her usual style, primarily because it was a dress and Val always said she’d rather be caught dead than wearing something designed to limit her movements.

“It’s gorgeous,” you compliment, “Exactly your style.”

If she detected your tiny, white lie, she didn’t say anything. Although, judging by the elated look on her face, no one's opinion really mattered anyway. Not even the one she asked for. The one from her famous older sister.

“It really is, isn’t it? I’m gonna try it on.”

Wanting to see your genuine reaction to her wearing the garment, Val asks you to momentarily join Hank, and wait outside the private dressing suite. You giggle at her, missing the fact that this was the first genuine laugh you let out since Los Angeles, and step outside the heavy door without protest.

Hank greets you with a tight lipped smile, but doesn’t say anything. He never does. You liked that about him, especially considering everyone else in your life always had too much to say. Hank’s silence was like a breath of fresh air. However, unknown to you yet, this time, Hank should have been talking, saying literally anything, repeating any old story, ‘cause then, his deep voice would mask what unfortunately catches your attention next.

It’s not really a squeal, not really a groan either. It’s honestly not really any distinct sound, just something that echoes down the hall, reaching your ears and causing Hank to stop the tune he was quietly humming. Both your heads snap in the direction of the noise, just in case it is something you should worry about, like a paparazzo that somehow snuck in, despite the heavy Saks security. Unfortunately for you, the person that comes rushing around the corner is a lot worse than any ol’ shutterbug.

Suddenly, at the end of the hallway, in all her redheaded glory, appears Max Mayfield.

Recognition feigns across her features as her movements come to a halt the second she sees you perched up against the corridor wall. Her mouth parts in shock, proving that she’s clearly just as surprised to see you here. 

Having never officially met, Max still knew exactly who you were. And not because of your fame, the articles about you and her brother. No. Judging by the look in her piercing eyes, Max knew you more intimately. She knew you from the stories that fell directly from Eddie’s lips. She knew details of your relationship that were kept secret from the public. Hell, she might’ve even known more than you.

You don’t get to ask her though. You don’t even get to say ‘hello’ because she glances behind her shoulder, your gaze following just as quickly. Holy shit, you think, knees now wobbling underneath you. If Eddie walks around that corner you might… Well, frankly, you don’t know how you’d react. You also didn’t really want to find out. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

So your fingers reach for the door handle and you’re just about to push it open, retreat back inside, when the person that’s with Max comes into view.

The disappointment that briefly rushes through you is unmatched. Even if you didn’t really want to see the rockstar, you still wished he was actually here. Instead, you’re now face to face with another brunette with hair just as wild as Eddie’s. Only his attire is different. The suit that’s perfectly tailored to his slender frame is also undoubtedly expensive. Armani, you notice.

“Jesus, when will you learn not to—”

He sees you then. The same exact look that Max is currently sporting spreads across his sharp features, so he must know you too. Difference being, you don’t know him.

“Oh shit. Sorry. We, eh, we were told no one was here.” He apologises, glancing between you and Hank, who’s posture is proper. Intimidating.

You step out in front of your bodyguard. An unspoken signal that says he doesn’t need to tell these people to get lost just yet. 

“That’s okay,” you reply to the stranger, quickly weighing your options in terms of what the next words to spill from your lips should be. One more glance in Max’s direction solidifies your decision. If her brother is going to repeatedly break your heart and get away with it, you’re going to play dumb and pretend he didn’t really matter to you.

With a polite smile and a swift extension of your hand, you introduce yourself. First to the mystery man, then to Max. The redhead is slightly more apprehensive about the hand shake, but she takes your extended fingers in hers regardless before saying her own name, as if you didn’t already know it.

The guy you now know as Steve clears his throat. 

“We’ll come back.” It’s simple. Meant to ease the awkwardness since the three of you clearly knew what — or rather, who — you had in common, but none of you seems willing to say the name aloud first.

“That’s okay,” you repeat, “Stay. We’re nearly finished anyway.”

And right on queue, Val calls your name from inside the private dressing room. You excuse yourself, leaving the two to exchange a knowing glance, and a whisper, undoubtedly about what they should do next.

Val, of course, looks breathtaking in the dress she picked out. Hand on your heart, you stare at your little sister in awe, wondering, probably for the first time ever, when the hell did she grow up so fast. And it’s an odd feeling that spreads through you. Pushing down the heartbreak momentarily, is melancholy for all the time you lost with your siblings because you were too busy being a star. It brings tears to your eyes, but you push them down quickly since you’ve been called dramatic enough for one day, and right now, it was all about Valentine.

“I think I understand why you’re always wearing skirts and dresses,” she says, spinning in front of the large mirror with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like a fucking princess.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips. You agree with her sentiment, then add, “You look like mom.” Meaning it as the highest of compliments and her eyes twinkle at your words. 

“She’s going to love this dress.”

You nod. “She’s going to love you in this dress.”

It’s decided, just like that. The dress is being bought and Val thanks you ten times over for offering to pay for it, along with a pair of Louboutins to compliment it. You tell her it’s the least you can do for finally getting you out of bed, then you tell her that you’re glad you did this together — biting your tongue when it came to the apology for missing so many key moments in her life, because again, this moment was about her, not about the guilt you suddenly felt for focusing too much on your career and too little on your family.

Using the phone inside the private dressing room, Val calls for one of the Sales Assistants to come up, and while you two wait, you leave her again to get redressed in her normal clothes. 

Max and Steve are gone. 

That’s the first thing you notice when stepping back into the corridor. Hank doesn’t say anything as to their departure, unsurprisingly. He does, however, hand you a receipt from a nearby coffee shop. There’s scribbles on the back of it: ‘MEET ME’, along with an address in Brooklyn.

“From the redheaded girl,” Hank admits.

-

Max Mayfield has tolerated a lot of shitty behaviour in her lifetime.

The list of people that hurt her, and the people closest to her, was quite long, especially for a twenty-something year old. But her upbringing had a lot more downs than ups, and because of that, for the longest time, Max considered herself to be the most unlucky person on the planet. So she blamed the people around her for it, because how else is a kid supposed to judge universal injustice?

To this day, she remembers every single individual that has wronged her in any way, along with the associated place, and most importantly, the how. Max was never entirely sure what she’d do with that information, but she stored it at the back of her mind regardless — hence her thick skin and inability to tolerate any sort of bullshit. 

Which is why it sucks ten times more when it is the people close to her doing the hurting, with no rhyme nor reason.

If Eddie asked, that’s why she left you her address. If Eddie asked, that’s why she wanted to talk to you. He did the hurting. Then he spewed bullshit as to why he ended things with you. Max didn’t believe any of it. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t believe it.

“I think she’s the love of my life,” Eddie announced one day, out of the blue. 

He called Max every Tuesday, when it hit four in the afternoon for him. Usually, the two of them talked about Max’s adventures in New York. How she’s doing with her studies, what she’s been up to with her friends (old and new), and if Sinclair has been driving her crazy, which he usually is. The odd time, Eddie would drop in some details about his whirlwind of a life, though he never talked about dating.

That is, until her older brother met you.

Then he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Max liked this side of Eddie. A truly happy Eddie. And the redhead knows, better than anyone, the rockstar hasn’t been truly happy in all the years he’s been in a set presence in her life.

So to say she was surprised when the news broke, NO MORE SWEETHEART FOR EDDIE MUNSON, would be a vast understatement.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Max questioned her brother.

“Nothing,” Eddie answered plainly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “turns out she wasn’t anything special.”

“Eddie,” Max breathed, “you’re acting like a prick.”

She heard a sigh on the other line. Defeated. A little annoyed. Maybe even… sad?

“Whatever,” he brushed the comment off. “Listen, Red, I really don’t wanna talk about this, ‘cause if I did, I would’ve told you it ended myself.”

“That’s another problem I have—”

“Let’s not, okay?” Eddie snapped. “I really don’t wanna deal with shit from you, on top of everyone else, okay? We were never a real item, so it’s not a big deal.”

Max dropped it then and she swore she’d never bring it up again, but then, she bumped into you. She imagined meeting you many times over. The girl that made her brother happy. She wanted to know that girl. She wanted to thank her.

When it all went to hell, Max thought she’d never get the chance. Especially since, seemingly, you seemed okay with the downfall of your relationship with Eddie, spotted out on dates all over New York City. For a brief moment, Max let herself hate you. Clearly, you weren’t upset, which means, clearly, you didn’t care about Eddie nearly as much as he would have believed.

But then she saw you.

Max noticed how your face twitched with recognition the second your eyes locked together, how your hands shook slightly when Max looked behind her shoulder, the brief disappointment when it wasn’t Eddie who came around the corner, and how you tried to plaster on a pristine smile when you introduced yourself.

And now that she saw you, one thing was clear. Eddie hurt your feelings. He may have even broken your heart. That sort of behaviour, Max couldn’t stand for.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say with a delicate smile.

Your moves are apprehensive when Max further pushes her apartment door open, allowing you into her home. She leads you down the long hallway and offers up the couch for you to sit, while she steps towards the kitchen cabinets to grab a couple of wine glasses. 

In the time that Max opens up a bottle of Cabernet, you allow yourself to glance around the space. The furniture is all mismatched, definitely vintage, probably thrifted. There’s a fireplace, but you think it must be disconnected since instead it houses cream-coloured candles, all of different burn degrees. Otherwise, the decor is minimal, and it makes you think of Eddie and the empty walls of his Los Angeles mansion.

Though there is one prime feature. A framed Corroded Coffin poster, signed by all the members.

A faint smile circles your lips as you trail the details of the image. Though you haven’t been a fan before, having dated Eddie for a couple of months, you now knew the poster was from their first headline tour. The poor scribbles on an old photo, something that could one day be worth thousands. You’re sure though, that to Max, the value of this is priceless.

So your nerves bubble to the surface. Your leg starts to bounce, thumb back at your lips as you stare at the poster in front of you. The question of why exactly Max asked you to meet has been circling your mind ever since Hank handed you the address. It’s only intensified now that you are here. Now that you are looking at an A3 print of the brunette rockstar in his sister’s apartment. The guy that, despite your best efforts, you still cared for quite deeply.

“Here you go,” Max hails you back to reality by handing you a glass of wine. “It’s nothing fancy though, I eh, don’t usually host celebrities,” she tries to joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say and take the drink out of her grasp. “I-I actually prefer the cheaper stuff. Keeps me rich,” you try to joke.

Max seems to like your efforts ‘cause she huffs out a laugh while making herself comfortable on the armchair to your right.

“If only my idiotic brother carried the same principles as you,” she says. And just like that, the air is tense again. Your attempt at a joke is turned into an uncomfortable reminder of what the two of you have in common, and the reason for why you’re here tonight.

There’s a brief moment of slightly awkward silence. Then Max sighs softly.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.”

Max smiles, it’s small, yet genuine. 

“Look, Eddie has never been one for chatting about feelings. That’s one of the things we actually have in common, which is probably why we’ve always gotten along so well.” She pauses.

“Full transparency, I don’t know what went down between the two of you. All I know is one day, he’s telling me how he’s crazy about you, and the next, I’m reading in the tabloids how it’s over and Eddie’s not willing to give up any reasons why.”

Your face falls momentarily. Something Max picks up on instantly.

“You thought I knew more.”

“That obvious, huh?” You smirk.

“Just a little.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“I’ll be the first to say that Eddie can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. Especially recently, when the money started rolling in and apparently no one in Hollywood understands setting boundaries, his ego has grown for sure. But I also know what he’s been through. Hawkins wasn’t the kindest to him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It comes out as a whisper.

“He hurt you,” she’s blunt.

You don’t mean to, but you scoff. “No offence to you, or your brother, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first person he’s hurt, and I certainly won’t be the last, so do you sit down with all his ex-flings?”

Max sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing down momentarily, as she drops her gaze to the wine glass in her grasp. For a moment, you think you came off too bitchy and a little dismissive, after all, she hasn’t made her intentions known yet. Your instinct is to apologise, but then she clears her throat and looks back up at you.

“You’re the only one he’s ever talked about.”

-

“Do you wanna hurt him back?” — Max's question dings in your ears like the alarm bells you should have heard when she first asked it. 

Not now. Not the next night, after you had already agreed to her plan. After the plan was already in motion, you were simply just waiting for the other person to arrive.

Waiting for Steve Harrington.

This was all honestly a little too crazy, but again, you thought so a little too late. You should have been second guessing the idea the second Max presented it to you, like a pretty little gift, wrapped in a big bow known to most as ‘revenge’. Though last night, two bottles of wine in, you would have agreed to anything the redhead said. You did agree to everything ‘cause you realised that she just needed someone to vent her own feelings to, same as you.

She said Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, and she wanted to be sympathetic towards his feelings, but seeing you reminded her, he wasn’t the only person involved in this situation. She needed to talk to you. And honestly, you were glad for the opportunity, hence why you showed up at the scribbled address. Since all you got from your close circle was judgement, it couldn’t hurt to spend time with someone who’d refrain from commenting on how foolish you were.

As the night progressed, so did the topic of conversation.

The two of you had moved on from small talk relating to the person you both knew, and to the real reason Max asked you to come over: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“I-I…” Clearly, the redhead caught you off guard, “Well, I-I haven’t really—”

“If you tell me you haven’t thought about it over the last few months, then I will say you’re full of shit, because no girl of your status gets her heartbroken so publicly, only to let the other person scot free.”

She moved from the armchair and sat back down next to you, then continued, “And I’m not saying this is about your career. It’s about principle. Taking away the fact that Eddie’s my brother, he’s an entitled rockstar who thinks other people’s feelings aren’t as important! Which personally, is just so baffling considering what he went through with Chrissy—”

“Who’s Chrissy?”

Max didn’t really answer your question, though the look in her eyes gave some of it away. Chrissy was, at one point in time, someone very important to Eddie. The name slipped out, you weren’t supposed to know it, that much was definitely clear. And you were smart enough to deduct that Max wasn’t going to tell you much else about this mystery girl, but maybe, whatever she had planned, would allow you to learn it from someone else. Maybe even Eddie himself.

“Okay,” you agreed, “What do you have in mind?”

That’s how you found yourself at Minetta Tavern, fifteen minutes early than agreed with Max ‘cause you knew you’d need a glass of wine before Steve arrived. There was a pit in your stomach. This whole situation was honestly so twisted, even for your standards. But you kept repeating to yourself how it was too late to back out now. Too late to call off this whole thing since the paparazzi you asked  Holly to arrange were already lurking outside.

Steve shows up about ten minutes before the agreed time.

The hostess walks him over to your table and you immediately notice how nervous he seems. He still offers you a charming smile and bends slightly to your level, greeting you with a half-hug. When he sits across from you, he’s quick to order a Jameson on ice, and only when the waiter is out of sight, Steve looks at you.

“Even if this is a fake date, I do have to say, you look really beautiful tonight.”

A timid smile circles your lips at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, Steve. You look rather handsome too.”

“Nah,” he brushes you off with a smirk, “Not to be overly forward, but I’m all sweaty after a whole day’s work. Wanted to change shirts. Ended up running late this morning, so I didn’t take a second one with me. Then I tried to bribe one of my colleagues to give me his spare shirt, so he told me he’d bet me for it with a game of pool, which I clearly lost. It was a whole thing.” Steve dramatises, the smirk ever present. 

“Bet you’re regretting calling me handsome now, huh?”

“Not at all,” you reply honestly, “Actually, surprisingly, quite the opposite.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

And you nod. “Not to be overly forward,” you repeat his earlier sentiment, “But I’ve never been on a date with someone that had a real job.”

Steve laughs. “I just told you I played a game of pool at work to win a clean shirt. That’s a real job to you?”

It’s rather effortless how he makes you laugh too.

“Well, I’m assuming that didn’t take the whole day, so for at least six hours today, you worked, no?”

Still smiling, he bops his head in agreement. “You got me there.”

Celebrating your mini victory, you take a sip of your wine. 

“So, what do you do, Steve?” You ask after the waiter brings over his drink and takes your food orders.

“Wall Street,” he answers plainly.

“Shit,” you reply with a grin, “You’re so right. That’s not a real job.”

When Steve laughs again, you forget why you’re both really here. When he laughs again, the slight shake of his head causing his hair to bounce in compliment, you forget the circumstances surrounding your date. As the night continued, with every spoken word, every little joke and giggle, you end up forgetting a lot of things actually.

You forget to ask Steve why he agreed to do this with you. Forget to ask about Eddie and what their friendship meant to him, since he’s here, acting out a revenge plot. Most importantly, you forget to ask about Chrissy, who she was, and what she really meant to the rockstar.

This fake date with Steve turned into one of the best dates of your young-adult life.

Apparently, you two had a lot in common, more than you could have ever imagined. You both came from families that always lived above the norm, which in itself was a challenge only people from similar backgrounds could understand. Steve had said how the weight of the world was always on his shoulders whenever he was around his parents, and that’s how you felt with your Nana. Nothing was ever good enough, yet you kept trying to impress them regardless. He shared the privilege you’ve always felt, so you bonded. Without ever meaning to.

It wasn’t until after dinner, which Steve paid for, by the way, you remembered the circumstances that brought you here together. He seemed to understand the apprehensive look in your eyes ‘cause he was quick to offer to leave first, before you, and not with you — just in case you had second thoughts — but you just shook your head, Max’s question humming in your ears once again: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“He really hurt me, Steve.”

The brunette nods. “Let’s go then.”

The next morning, Page Six features a spread about you on a date with “a mystery brunette”. In the picture, Steve’s got his arm around you, hugging you close, as the two of you push through the paparazzi to get into his vintage car.

When Steve calls your apartment a few days later, you ask him if he regrets being put on blast like that.

“No,” he answers quickly, “Real or not, I had a really good night with you. Which honestly made me think about all the possible reasons Munson might’ve had to do what he did.”

“What did you come up with?”

“That he’s a fucking idiot. You’re incredible.”

You damn well know he can picture the smile you’re sporting right now as you wrap the cord around your wrist, like a little school girl talking to her crush. If your Nana saw, she’d tell you to snap out of it. Although, unlike Eddie, Steve was exactly the type of guy she’d want you to end up with.

Intelligent, charming, kind — and those were just the qualities you learned in a single night. The more you thought about your not-so-fake date, the more you found yourself wanting to learn even more about the handsome brunette.

There were just a couple of other questions you needed to get out of the way before you asked Steve out on a real date. Things you should’ve asked the first time around, instead of getting caught up in the moment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If Eddie’s your friend, why did you agree to Max’s plan?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Albeit, very  brief.

“I guess the same reason Red even put this in motion in the first place.”

“Chrissy?”

You can hear him sigh into the receiver, but you don’t get to actually hear him confirm it, or ask any of the follow ups you should have actually asked him during your date, because there’s a knock on your door. Then again, only louder, more intense.

“Steve, I gotta call you back,” you say, attention now focused on whoever it was that’s on the other side of your front door and the eagerness behind their knocks.

“Sure thing, darling. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, someone’s just at my door. I’ll call you in a couple minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, “Speak in a few.” 

The next thing you hear are three beeps, so you hurry to put the phone back before approaching your front door. You don’t really think to check who it might be through the peephole, since there’s only a limited number of people that would get past your doorman with no prior notice. That was a mistake.

On the other side of your apartment door, drenched from the September rain, stood none other than Corroded Coffin frontman himself, Mr Eddie Munson.

Your mouth parts slightly in shock as Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, meeting your wide gaze. He tries to smile, though the corners of his lips don’t really move that far upward.

And you’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, just looking at one another. It’s only when one of your neighbours comes out of their apartment, into the shared corridor, that you snap out of whatever spell you had found yourself under.

The panic sets in. 

He’s actually here. Eddie is standing in front of you. Now, Mrs McAllister has seen him, and she’s got a big mouth, yapping to the ladies at bingo about all your activities, gossip that somehow always travels back to your Nana — the last person you needed on your case, again.

So without really thinking, you slam the door shut.

Right in Eddie’s face.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Teenage culture

Now “youth culture” has been a thing since the early 20th century but it really began to take off and see “teenage” as its own thing in the 1950s. Both as a new group to advertise to but also as a distinct time in life. Now while it was still a relatively new demographic the 1960s is when things really began to kick off and sort of the height of the age, rebellion, catering and so on and you can sort of tell a lot of it was throwing at the wall and seeing what sticks. Shows, music, products etc.

This is just a quick post on a bunch of topics related to that, but for further looking into

- “Age of teen angst”

- “Teen car culture”

- 1960s hangouts

- dissolving censorship/more freedom of the time

Teenage rebellion! Distancing from parents, wanting to have fun and danger and change tradition. (Especially with the way the world was changing at the time with social justice and technological advancement) Clothes started to be less conservative, hair got bigger and longer, kids got more openly touchy and expressive etc.

Cars have always been a part of rebellious youth culture since their invention, they represent both a literal freedom in being able to travel and sexual freedom (unchaperoned, away and private - another aspect to reach a peak in the 50s and 60s with drive ins and look out/make out points)

Subcultures were also huge, not to be mixed with today’s “aesthetics” a subculture isn’t a short form thing based souly on appearance. Its looks, beliefs/attitudes, often music taste etc. where you were in the world and social class has a lot to do with it. (For examples Greasers being working class, city/some suburban, like rockabilly etc)

Regionality-

Speaking of place! The world in the 60s was not even close to as interconnected as we are today, sure you may get a little more of the world news on tv but it wasn’t this melding we have. Culture of counties, regions, states etc were much more distinct (same goes for accents) and while more things were shared across the world things weren’t universal.

Being from Tulsa Oklahoma you’re going to be more concerned with Tulsa Oklahoma and what’s done there than say New York. You’re not going to know everything or care about everything. There was more local and community focus. And perhaps a much more optimistic view of the future in SOME regards, huge time for technology, space travel, social change etc.

Where you are also affects availability, you’re not exactly going to have the hot new fashion in small city Oklahoma. Especially not just ordering it off Amazon- people traveled, waited for things to come, order from magazines etc.

Food-

Fast food is not brand new but is still relatively, they’re not nearly as common as they are now days. Most of the time when going on a road trip, people would still pack food rather than have the expectation of stopping at a drive thru all the time. However it was coming more common.

Some of the wacky gross foods of the post ww2 period were still “in” and the same goes for some Great Depression recipes. You could also find a lot of stuff in a can or processed, precooked etc. they were convient and exciting at the time… I’d bet the boys like a lot of stuff we’d consider “gross” tv dinners were also a big hit.

Dating-

This differs across class lines but there was still a lot of older rituals that were still followed in the 60s depending on who you were, these sort of holdovers from “courting.” Stuff like promise rings would be much more of a Soc thing than for greasers— though I think giving jackets or other items that aren’t a specific thing like a promise ring are general.

Dating was becoming its own thing for a few decades and didn’t have to result in marriage. Relationships were simultaneously slow with steps and milestones (1st base, 2nd base etc. lol- aren’t “official” but sort of a real thing) but quick as it’s also a thing to marry pretty damn fast and young… shotgun or otherwise.

There was a more “loose” idea on dating and relationships while some more traditional elements also remained, again it depends on who you are, where you are, class, race etc.

[xanticore]

Can you do a Lars ulrich fic where the reader is part of it can you do a dominant submissive relationship kinks where Lars is dominant and the girl or whoever is a submissive also the as well smut??

Back in 1984 in the hotel room???

I hope you enjoy anon! I don't like going straight into smut so yeah..it's a bit slow in the beginning but it gets juicy. promise.

“𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓’’

Genre: Smut

Setting: Summer of 1984 ,, New York

Warnings: Slight usage of the daddy kink (Lars gets so surprised by it) P in V, oral f receiving, pet names, and sailor mouth from Lars.

Summary: The band had finished their recording for ride the lighting. They all agreed to celebrate by hanging out at a club- getting drunk and hopefully be able to take a girl back to a hotel. Lately Lars hasn't had great experiences with the recent groupies he was with. None of them really fit his sex appeal. That all had changed when he saw a girl smoking alone.

"You gotta be fucking with me!" I blurted out before putting the phone back on the hook. A fan that goes by 'Lola' told me I'm an asshole. Maybe she's right. Only because I couldn't take how fucking horrible she was in bed. It really wasn't that great. I felt utter boredom with that chick.

"Was that Lola?" Kirk said in a teasing tone. I just huffed and rolled my eyes. "Of course it was. apparently I wasn't making her feel good, well tough world we live in because I didn't nut myself. Now we both can't have our way." I heard the other members let out a chuckle and it only made me more ticked.

For some reason, I could never find the fun girls like the others. They always had exciting fucking stories to tell about their night. Me, sometimes I either sleep alone or try to have fun with a girl that I bring back. Nobody was into anything I was. They just laid there and took it.

Im fucking 21! and I start my sex life completely shit. It's like I'm having sex with someone's grandma. Like Gross. I want some action. More interaction at least with a girl. I just wanna have fun till I can't anymore.

"Well, We did decide to hit up a club in downtown Manhattan. Maybe you'll find your girl there~" Cliff said giving me a wink. I forgot that quick we were in New York fucking city. "Oh yeah, New Yorker girls are totally hot too. Maybe you'll find that babe you're looking for." James added on.

I was now stoked for tonight. As the youngest in the band, I wanna try and have a good time and able to tell them stories. Stories that they can possibly relate to.

After being out all day, I took a quick nap in my room so I could have some energy for the rest of the night. I wanted to at least look presentable-but then got a reality check. Its a club filled with late teenagers and early twenty year olds. I just threw on a random band shirt with some black ripped jeans and some Nikes. I sprayed some cologne observing myself in the mirror.

"Come on Lars...you got this. Totally got this. We're gonna have fun and enjoy ourselves."

I talked with myself to give me some self confidence. I was full of it. Overly optimistic. I headed down to the hotel lobby where I was the last one to arrive. We had a personal driver that drove us to the top club strip of manhattan. The city lights of the ads and neon advertisements filled the night sky. It had my eyes 'glimmering' as Kirk would say.

We decided to walk along the strip instead, thanking our driver. "We'll take a cab back~" I said reassuring the driver. I saw him nod and left the van. The night life was now and all the adults were out in their club outfits walking along the sidewalk. It really had my heart racing in anticipation on how I'll end my night. Will it be good? or bad. Find out in the next episode of Lars' questionable sex life.

"Jeez, theres so many clubs. Should we just go to a typical twenty-one plus?" Kirk asked looking carefully at the signes that were out. It was different prices of alcoholic drinks during happy hour if you joind this club or that club. "No- Lets go to The Phantom." I said pointing at the bright purple neon sign. The club had a line literally wrapped around the corner of waiting club goers to get inside.

"Uhh. do you know that the Phantom is for...big shots?" Cliff asked as if he was confused.

"Uhh?? yeah. Thats why I said we should go there. Come on, I think we're big enough of a shot to party with the top class people." I said borderline excitedly, but still kept my cool.

"Ok but, we didn't even dress the part?" Kirk and James added in unison. I just sighed.

"Who gives a shit? Like come on it's a club. its gonna be dark. No one is gonna care about what we wear. Now get your asses over there."

Surprise surprise, there were people who recognized us. We did have shows in New York but it was nothing too extravagant. We were escorted to the front, showed our IDs and were in like a blink of an eye. "I guess you're right larsy~"

I just smirked at Cliff's comment. The music was pumping through its speakers and the flashing club lights were going in random directions. Everyone, dancing; and Kirk was the first one to get dragged out onto the dance floor with a girl. Cliff and James also had a pair come up to them, making me alone.

I just chuckled awkwardly looking around for somewhere to sit. All the seats at the bar was taken so that was out the picture. I didn't really care for sitting right now but I did want a drink in hand as I danced. I ordered myself a bottle of beer, taking it with me to the dance floor. Everyone had their partners but I didn't mind dancing alone having the occasional girls come and go.

Eight songs had passed already and my beer was halfway gone. I wasn't drunk but I desperately need another one to keep me occupied when i'm alone. I pushed my way through the sweaty crowd and back to the same bar. I gestured the bartender for another bottle and gave them a five dollar bill. I scanned the room to see my band mates with girls they found. I was a bit jealous to say the least.

James had two girls on him.

Cliff sharing a smoke with some biker chick.

Kirk was full on making out with someone at a vip table.

Me...at a bar on my second beer bottle with no action. It was time to mingle. I looked around for girls but every girl I saw just reminded me of fucking Lola. All the girls were just copy paste. Just when I was about to give up an leave, I see a girl alone at one of the vip tables. She was alone smoking a cigarette and drinking her drink.

Her hair was jet black and I couldn't tell what she was wearing from where I was standing. She looked hot from a far- could she be hot upclose?

I walked up towards her table- casually passing by Kirk who was still kissing mind you. I sat my beer bottle on the table causing a reaction out of her. "May I sit here?"

I asked politely..oh and by the way- she was totally my type of girl. She gave a gesture and I got in sitting across from her. "You know VIP only right?" Fuck, her voice was deep. "Yeah. What you don't think im an important person?"

"You're from Metallica aren't you?"

"I am sweetheart."

I saw her smile when I answered. She looked so shy and I couldn't really make out what she wanted. I kinda dig it. It was something new from a girl that I just met. "Well~ are you a fan- oop...speak of the devil hmm?" I asked her and just in the nick of time, one of our songs started playing.

"I'm a huge fan actually.." She confesses; tapping the cigarette ashes in the ash tray. Just by looking at her and her body language, I could tell she wasn't a groupie. She wasn't quick to ask anything about my wealth or even anything sexual. She was a genuine fan.

She made many first moves, by that I mean questions. Given her shy and quiet nature, she asked very interesting questions about the music and what's it like being famous. I never took the time to even think to myself about these things. With every questioned asked; I answered with full potential.

Being in the vip section of the club, waiters would come and go with drinks. She would get something fruity while I only had my beer. Luckily for this spot, I didn't have to pay.

"Excuse me sweetheart, I forgot to ask you your name."

"it's (name)"

"(name)? such a pretty name you got there baby. Care to join me on the dance floor?"

I gave her a wink before getting up from the booth. I walked towards her side pulling my hand out waiting for her to grab it. Her hands are so soft and pretty. Her nails were painted in a baby blue and a mood ring on her ring finger. When stood up I was almost towered. I was able to look her up and down and oh my god, she was so beautiful. From her height, her mannerisms, her features of her face-she seemed too unreal.

I manned up and guided her towards the glowing floor. It was a different song now. When Doves Cry by Prince was playing and I could clearly see little miss was a fan of him as well. All she needed was a couple more sips of her drink and baby was good to go. I watched as she mouthed the lyrics turning her back against me. I grabbed her hips helping her keep the rhythm.

I drunk a little bit more of my beer and carelessly threw it somewhere off the floor. Both of my hands touching her. She turned back around and her face was a soft color tint. We were both slightly drunk but still was able to recognize what was going on in our surroundings. I couldn't help but lay a kiss on those pretty plump lips.

It was a real pleasure feeling her kiss back. It was expected. I let her pull away and letting her continue dancing. She was teasing me and damn it I wanted her...

So i got her

The taxi ride back to my hotel felt like it was going on for hours. I opened the door to my room, I had her back against the door. I picked her up letting her legs wrapped around my waist. Our kiss was sloppy and desperate, no order was necessary.

We struggled to get our clothes off once we made it to the bedroom. I laid her down gently before taking my shirt off and letting her take off any piece of clothing she desired. She didn't have a bra on so her chest was immediately exposed to the cold air.

My lips around her hardened nipples as my other free went along to squeeze and grope her. She hummed and I enjoyed the reaction out of her but sadly it wasn't enough to my standards. I went up to her neck licking and biting the sensitive area that didn't take me long to figure out. My hands went down to her legs opening them, helping her slide her lace panties down.

I pulled away to see her now raw, naked body. She was fucking beautiful. She even had some tattoos, and a belly peircing. Fuck. My next move was to eat her alive. I saw her exposed pussy and couldn't help but smirk how wet she was. "You're glistening babydoll" I said slowly lowering myself down. My eyes locked with hers and she was shy at the fact of how I explained how needy she was. It was so fucking cute.

I let my tongue gently rub against her clit and the moans she made was what I was looking for. I continued confidently eating her out, making sure I tasted every drop of her wetness.

Hearing her whine and her fingers getting tangled in my hair was sending me into a frenzy. My jeans getting too fucking tight to handle but I was too busy to even care. All my focuse was on her and her only. Her moans were loud and desperate. Just how I like it.

Her back arches as she pushed my head further into her and of course-i didn't mind that at all. I tongued and finger fucked her hole, letting my other fingers slowly rub against her wet folds. She tasted like sweet sugar; something I never experienced before. I could tell she was close by her breathing patterns. I stopped causing her to groan in annoyance. "I wanna have some fun too~" I cooed lifting my head up to caress her cheek.

I took off my jeans and right when I was lining up to her hole, I had no condom. Fuck, I forgot to buy some earlier. I took a deep sigh smiling at her. "You don't mind me going raw do you babydoll?"

"I don't mind~"

I grinned and slowly pushed inside her. We both let out a sigh of relief feeling each other in intimacy. "Feels good baby?"

I asked. She hummed and that was my go to-to start thrusting. I found a rhythm but didn't necessarily followed it as my pace became desperate when I started to get used to feeling her. She was a moaning mess and her whimpers only made it better. I couldn't help but go a little harder on her.

"Daddy...it feels so good-"

My heart literally did at least two somersaults. I wasn't expecting her to pull that kink card on me and fuck I liked it alot. A little too much. "Oh yeah??" I smirked. I leaned down to kiss her on her neck, biting every possible place that I haven't touched yet. I moved my hand down to rub her clit in circles wanting her to be extra stimulated.

"FUCK..Don't stop please..." She cried out. I just chuckled.

"I had no plans to darlin." I responded, reassuring her. I pulled back and had my hand around her neck choking her. She was the first girl to even let me do this. Her eyes were turning red as it was starting to water. She looked so helpless..so submissive...it turned me on so fucking much. I was nearly close.

"Im gonna...cum...."

"Me too darlin...cum for me..cum for daddy yeah?" I continued to pound into her, the room filled with the sounds of our moans and skin on skin contact. "Fuck.." I quickly pull out and start to stroke myself. I released all of my cum on her stomach just in time. I fell down right beside her as we both tried to relax after coming down from our high.

I turn over to her and saw she was already asleep. It was a perfect opportunity to clean her up and let her rest through the night with me.

The next day

I was woken up by an empty spot in the bed. I frowned but it was flipped when I saw her note on the night stand.

Thank you for last night, I had fun. Sorry I couldn't stay until you woke up though, I had to meet back up with some friends. But here's my number if you still wanna keep contact *** **** - (Name) xoxo

I couldn't believe it, she gave me her number. My heart was honestly beating against my chest hard already.

It was time to head back home and of course, the last person to arrive. The others looked pretty bummed. "Good morning everyone...why the long faces?" I asked in concern. They just sighed. "I didn't get no action, nor sleep because all I heard was you and that girl" Kirk said as he had his arms crossed.

Lars couldn't help but blush out of embarrassment at the last part, but at the same time-couldn't help but laugh. "Seems like I'm the only one that got action huh? oh boy do I have a story to tell~"

a/n : Im still getting the hang of writing smut so please be kind!!!

dividers: cr to owners