#so gui had an amazing tag system

[larryjohnsoncosplayonthursday]

last

for realsies

[gothcsz]

Worst Behavior | Secret Service Agent!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~6.1k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Tired of living in the confines of being the President's daughter— you sneak out, only to be caught by the head of your security, Javier Peña.

Tags: smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20s/javier is in his 40s), mean!javi i think, hurt/no comfort?, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), creampie, oral (m receiving), cock worship (i need to suck this man off), fingering, degrading names (slut, whore), semi-public sex (a car in the alleyway because i'm incapable of writing bedroom sex scenes apparently), infidelity (javi is married to lorraine in this au), dubcon (reader is drunk throughout this), no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, if it gets redundant it's because i wrote this at 4 am, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: secret service counts as bodyguard, right? right! this is for @auteurdelabre's amazing trope off with the trope i chose being, well, bodyguard 🖤 i had a lot of fun writing this, rip brat summer you will be missed! let me know what you think besties, i hope you guys enjoy! 🖤

The garden party is just like all the others—stuffy, overly formal, and dreadfully boring.

Crisp white tablecloths, lavish floral arrangements, and people so proper they could break under the weight of their own fake smiles. You sit there, listening to the endless parade of politicians and diplomats, watching them laugh at jokes that aren’t funny, and nod through speeches about policies that barely concern you.

You hate it. All of it. The politics, the empty pleasantries, the way people look at you like you’re a porcelain doll who must be carefully handled. But tonight’s different. 

Tonight, you have a plan.

Feigning a headache? Easy. You’ve been doing it for years, perfecting the art of slipping away unnoticed. You even relish the concerned whispers, the fake sympathy in their eyes. 

She can’t even handle a small gathering. Poor thing.

The moment you’re out of sight, the act drops. The tension releases, and your heart races, not from anxiety but from excitement.

You time your bathroom trip perfectly, ducking out of the guest quarters and navigating through the mansion’s less-frequented hallways.

Slipping past the Secret Service isn’t easy, but you’ve learned the gaps in their routine, the places they don’t check. It takes skill, but tonight, you’ve got it.

You’re free.

The rush of adrenaline is intoxicating. It feels foreign, but oh so thrilling, like the first breath of fresh air after being stifled for too long. You aren’t just her anymore— not the perfect girl with the pressure of a nation’s eyes on you, not the symbol of a legacy you never wanted.

You’re just a girl. You’re you.

The club hits you like a shock to the system, but it’s exactly what you crave. The air is thick with heat and bodies, the music pounding so loudly it thrums through your bones, syncing with the beat of your heart. It’s the opposite of everything your life has been—raw, chaotic, real. You feel the tightness of the dress hugging your body, a deliberate rebellion against the prim, conservative outfits you’re usually forced to wear.

There’s nothing modest about this. It clings to every curve, drawing eyes. 

The alcohol hits fast, warm and buzzing, setting your blood on fire and sharpening your senses. You raise your arms, let the music take you. Let it drown out the noise in your head— the expectations, the responsibilities, the endless duties.

Your date’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer. His fingers dig in just enough for you to feel anchored, his breath warm against your neck. You lean back into him, letting the heat of his body and the thrum of the bass take you somewhere far away from reality.

You aren’t the girl born with a silver spoon shoved down her throat, suffocating in the luxury you never asked for. No cameras, no protocols, no rules. Just you, him, and the music.

His hands are everywhere, gliding over your hips, fingertips brushing the hem of your barely-there dress. His lips press against your neck, and you let your head fall back, enjoying yourself for the first time in forever.

Everything feels hazy, dreamlike. His mouth moves to your ear, the scrape of his breath sending shivers down your spine, whispering something about sneaking off to the bathroom.

The idea is scandalous and that alone makes you want to indulge it even more. You close your eyes, swaying with him, floating.

The world outside of this moment feels so far away. You don’t even notice the man cutting through the crowd, coming straight toward you.

Not until a large, strong hand clamps down around your arm and yanks you out of your date’s grasp.

You gasp, eyes snapping open, and spin around, blinking against the blur of neon lights, your heart jumping into your throat. Your gaze lifts and you see him— Javier Peña. Oh, shit.

You immediately recognize the stern, commanding face, dark eyes sharp even in the low light of the club. He’s the head of your security, the one you juked earlier when you slipped away from the garden party.

And the look he’s giving you right now? It’s killer. Could easily send you to an early grave.

His brows are furrowed in a deep frown, lips set in a tight line, his usual stoic expression sharpened by the flashing lights around you. His jaw is clenched so hard, you’re afraid he’s going to dislocate it. His eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, burning with barely restrained fury.

You’ve been in trouble before, but this? This is something else.

“Hey, man, what the fuck is your problem?” Your date yells, trying to stand his ground, though his voice wavers a bit as he raises it above the music. For a second, you think he might actually try to do something.

Javier straightens up, his broad shoulders squared, chest puffing out, and it’s like watching a lion preparing to pounce. The guy you’re with, barely older than you, tries to hold his own, but as Javier towers over him, something in your date just... crumbles. The bravado slips from his face so quickly.

“I’d suggest you get the fuck away from her,” Javier growls, his voice low and deadly, “before I have the SWAT team outside drag your sorry ass to federal prison.” His words cut through the air like a knife, and even in the middle of the pounding music, the threat hangs heavy.

Your date’s eyes go wide, panic flickering across his face as he stumbles back. There’s no arguing with a man like that.

The guy might have been cocky a minute ago, but he’s not stupid.

He takes one last glance at you, like he’s weighing his options, but it’s clear he’s already made up his mind. Without another word, he’s scrambling away, blending into the crowd.

The people around you keep dancing, completely oblivious to the scene that just played out. But your heart is still pounding in your chest, your arm tingling where Javier’s grip lingers, and you can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

You glance up at him, breathless, and he looks back at you, his jaw still tight, eyes still stormy. God, he’s intense. And somehow, that only makes the heat between you burn hotter.

He’s livid. You don’t need words to understand that. 

“Peña—” you start, trying to find your voice, but it falters under the intensity of his glare. You’re used to seeing him calm, collected, the perfect professional.

That damn RJF— Resting Javi Face, as you’ve coined it. He never breaks, no matter how much you’ve tried to mess with him in the past.

You’ve spent years teasing him, trying to crack his cool exterior, just to see him react, to get something more than that unwavering stone face. But he never gives you more than the occasional twitch of his jaw, a flick of his brow. 

Until now.

Seeing him like this, thoroughly pissed off, stirs something deep inside you, something that’s both thrilling and dangerous. You can’t help the way your heart skips or how your skin flushes beneath his grip.

You’ve always found him damn near irresistible— ever since the moment you first laid eyes on him when your mom reworked your security detail. He became your personal heartthrob, eye candy for the days when you were stuck inside the house, surrounded by guards and endless rules. 

You’d never act on it, though. Especially since he’s married, that much you know by the golden band that wraps around his ring finger.

However, the way he’s looking at you now, with those smoldering eyes, is doing something to you. More than just a flutter in your chest. Anticipation pools at the base of your spine, and— damn— you’re definitely feeling it between your thighs.

He’s clearly ready to drag you back to the mansion and lock you up for good. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His voice is gravelly and laced with a level of frustration that almost makes you moan. He leans down, his face inches from yours, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the alcohol-soaked air. It’s dizzying. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

The accusation in his tone is unmistakable, but you can’t help the smirk that curls at the corner of your lips. The alcohol you’ve consumed gives you some hardcore liquid courage. “Found me now, didn’t you?”

His eyes flash with something you can’t quite read— anger, annoyance. He takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours. You’re buzzing all over, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re in trouble, or because the way his presence towers over you is doing things to you that no man has ever done before. 

“You think this is a game?” His voice drops lower, a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious thrill through your body.

It feels like the music has been put on mute with the way you can hear him so clearly.

You’d definitely pass out if not for how bad you want him.

His fingers tense just a little more around your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you’re under his reign right now. 

“I didn’t—” you start, but the words die in your throat when he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Let’s fucking go” His tone is final, commanding, and it leaves no room for argument. You can’t help but want to push him a little more.

You bite your lip, feeling the pulse of desire starting its familiar beat against your clit.

“Make me.”

The way he yanks you through the sea of sweaty bodies has you stumbling, your heels wobbling beneath you as a surprised yelp escapes your lips.

The liquor in your system makes it all a blur— the music returns all at once and it jump scares you back to your surroundings; lights flashing, then suddenly, you’re outside in the cool night air.

The alley is dark and quiet compared to the chaos inside the building, the only sound now the distant bass reverberating through the walls. His government issued black SUV sits nearby, its tinted windows gleaming under the dim streetlights.

So no SWAT team? Figures, he probably just said that to scare your date away.

He finally lets go of your arm, and you pull away sharply, rubbing the spot where his grip lingered a little too tight.

“I’m not leaving,” you declare, lifting your chin defiantly. You plant your stiletto clad feet, standing your ground, even though the alcohol is still buzzing through your veins, making everything feel unsteady but bold. 

Javier lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he scratches his jaw. His hands settle on his narrow waist, the standard suit and tie he’s always in, making him look even more handsome.

“You’re not leaving?” he repeats, as if testing the absurdity of your statement. He arches a brow, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. “You think this is a negotiation? Because I can assure you, it’s not.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the dress clinging to your skin like a second layer, you can damn near see your heartbeat through the material as you lock eyes with him. “I’m tired of always following someone else’s schedule. Living in my mother’s shadow, doing what I’m told, when I’m told. You don’t get it, Peña. You have no idea what it’s like to have every aspect of your life controlled by someone else.” You can’t help but ramble, tongue loose, “I never get a damn second to myself, to do anything I want!” Your voice rises with each word, frustration boiling over, the alcohol making you bolder than you’d normally be. “So, no. I’m staying right here and enjoying my night out.”

Javier’s smirk disappears, replaced by a hard, unyielding stare. His brown eyes remain dark and guarded, the nearby orange street light casting shadows across his chiseled face. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat,” he says flatly. “This is the life you’re stuck with until your mother is out of office. It’s not about what you want. You think you can just sneak away because it’s inconvenient? Because it’s hard?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, swaying slightly. “Easy for you to say, standing there in your perfect little suit, playing agent while I drown every day under the pressure of expectations I never asked for.”

Javier’s jaw flexes. “It could be a whole lot worse. You don’t like it? Too bad. Your mother doesn’t even know you’ve snuck out, and I’m not about to let her find out. I need to get you sober and back to the White House before she realizes you’re missing.” His tone is final, like he’s already made up his mind.

You step forward, eyes flashing with rebellion. “Or,” you play right into his hands, switching up entirely. A slow, deliberate, small smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth.

His eyes narrow as he watches you approach, hands still at his waist. 

You trail a finger along the edge of his tie, tugging it gently, testing his reaction. He swallows harshly, throat twitching at the action. “Why don’t we both stay? Let loose and have some fun,” you purr, low and teasing, fluttering your eyes as you look up at him. “We could both use a night off.”

He grits his teeth and pulls back slightly, but not enough to break the moment. “Don’t,” he warns, tone laden with something that sounds a lot less like anger and more like desire. “You’re drunk. This isn’t happening.”

“Am I?” You are, obviously. “Or are you just afraid that you’ll like it?” You challenge him, cocking your head to the side slightly.

“What’s the matter, Javier? Is your wife not fulfilling her duties at home? Is that why you’re obsessed with me?”

That strikes a nerve. “Enough,” he growls, voice strained and mean. You don’t give a single fuck, leaning in even closer, your lips ghosting over his jaw. His breath is ragged now, hand twitching at his side, as if he’s debating whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You don’t care that this is dangerous, that it’s wrong. All you care about is the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s been holding back for far too long. And maybe, just maybe, tonight is the night he listens to that voice in his head that’s been craving you all along.

“You’re not pushing me away…” you whisper, “Which makes me think that I’m right about your wife.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel him tense up. The thrill of his reaction is like electricity.

His silence only emboldens you, makes you lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear as you stand on the tips of your toes. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, the conflict, the desire.

“So why don’t we just fuck?” you say it so bluntly, it almost sobers you up. Your lips are so close to his that you can almost taste him. The small hairs of his mustache tickle your cupid’s bow. “Get it over with. Scratch the itch.”

His hand shoots up, holding your jaw, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is tight, making you wince as his fingers dig into your cheeks.

His eyes carry a storm, filled with the kind of hunger you’ve been dying to see from him.

“You really do think this is a game, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He moves quickly, using the hold on your face to pull you in for a bruising kiss. It’s not soft or gentle— it’s hungry, desperate, all teeth and tongue as he devours you.

His lips are adamant against yours, rough from the way he’s been biting them in frustration. You can taste the desperation, the pent-up desire.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your body pressing into his, hands fisting in the front of his suit jacket as you pull him closer. There’s no space between you, no hesitation left. You whimper against his mouth, head spinning from the alcohol still pulsing through your veins and the way his hands have found your waist, gripping you tight.

He pulls away just long enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re out of your damn mind,” he mutters, but even as he says it, his hands are pulling you in again, pressing your hips against his as if he can’t stop himself.

His eyes are wild now, the usual cool detachment replaced with a recklessness that matches yours.

“And you’re loving every second of it,” you murmur back, your lips already brushing against his again, teasing him, daring him to take more.

Javier growls deep in his throat, and suddenly, he’s spinning then guiding you toward the SUV. You stumble backward, your heels clicking against the pavement, barely able to keep up with his pace yet again. 

He pushes you up against the side of the vehicle, your back hitting the cool metal with a soft thud. The contrast between the cold steel and his burning touch sends shivers down your spine. And then his mouth is on yours again, harder this time, his body pressing you into the car, his hands roaming over your curves like he’s been starving for this.

Your fingers card through his hair as you pull him closer, wanting more, needing more. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping against your softness. He nips at the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you gasp.

You arch against him, body responding to every rough touch and kiss. His hands fall over the fabric of your dress, tugging at the hem, sliding it up your thigh.

“Fucking with me all the time just to get me to react,” his fingers press firmly against your clit, teasing through the thin fabric of your panties. The sensation has you whimpering, your head falling back against the metal.

“Then sneaking out like this. I could lose my job over your carelessness.” His teeth sink into your neck, sharp and punishing, making you gasp in surprise, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“But no,” he hisses, his words dripping with contempt as he presses harder, fingers circling your clit in a way that makes your knees weak, hooking one of your legs up on his waist to spread you open further for him “the perfect princess doesn’t give a fuck. She’s too busy whining about being taken care of.” His free hand yanks at your panties, and the flimsy fabric gives way with a harsh tear, leaving you exposed.

The sudden rush of cool air against your hot skin is nothing compared to the feel of his calloused fingers returning to your pussy, spreading the wetness around before plunging two fingers inside you roughly.

The stretch is intense, and you moan loudly, cunt squeezing around his fingers as he works you with a rough precision, like he knows exactly how to break you down.

“You talk a lot for someone who’s fucking a woman half your age,” you bite out, but the words are weak, caught somewhere between a challenge and a plea.

You’re playing a dangerous move here, but the power struggle between you and him is addictive, like a live wire sizzling between you both.

He stops suddenly, fingers still inside you, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression is dark, dangerous, and filled with something primal. His free hand comes up to wrap around your neck, the cool band of his ring against your heated skin sends a shock through you, and you narrow your eyes at him, daring him to make his next move.

“Tired of you runnin’ that fucking mouth,” he grunts, tightening his grip on your throat just enough to make your breath hitch. With his other hand, he undoes his belt, the gentle clink of metal the only warning you get before he’s pushing you down roughly to your knees.

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, your heart racing. “Here?” you whisper, your voice breathy, equal parts shocked and exhilarated.

Javier tilts his head, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he strokes himself, his cock heavy and girthy in his hand. “So now you care?” His tone is patronizing, but his eyes are filled with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip as your gaze drifts lower, unable to stop yourself from taking in the sheer size of him, the pressure between your thighs building to an unreachable height.

Without another word, he brings you closer by the back of your neck, and your mouth parts instinctively. Your tongue swirls around the spongy tip, tasting the salty slickness of his precome. His fingers dig into your scalp as he guides your movements, but it doesn’t take long for his hips to start thrusting forward, fucking your mouth with no patience, no hesitation.

The pace is brutal, your throat burning as he pushes deeper. His thighs twitch ever so often and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back just enough to not completely unravel.

Saliva dribbles from the corners of your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks and smudging your perfectly applied makeup as you suck him off with desperation.

Your knees ache from grinding against the rough pavement, but the pain is nothing compared to the mess in your cunt, the need building with every rough move. 

“Who would’ve thought you could be such a slut,” Javier grunts, his hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you in place. His words are condescending, each syllable dripping with lust.

He pulls you off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to his flushed head. “You look so fuckin’ filthy like this,” a cruel smirk is on his lips as he directs your mouth lower, pressing your face against his balls. 

Now drunk on him— on the power he’s holding over you, on the taste of him filling your senses— you eagerly obey, your tongue darting out to trace his heavy sack. You moan as you take each one into your mouth, suckling gently, savoring the weight and the taste of him. His low groan above you is all the encouragement you need to keep going, your lips moving greedily as you continue to worship him with no hands.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the rough sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Had I known you were this good at sucking dick, I would’ve fucked that pretty little throat ages ago.”

His words spur you on, making you feel powerful, wanted, as though you’re giving him something he’s been missing. Something his wife can’t provide. The thought stirs something dark inside of you, a thrill that mixes with the burning in your pussy as you take him back into your mouth, deep-throating him in one smooth motion.

Your palm finally reaches up, fondling his balls as you move, your throat contracting around him with every stroke, the sound of your gagging filling the alley. 

You pull him out again, spitting on his cock and pumping him with both hands, your grip slick as you work him faster, relishing in the way his head tips back, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. 

After a few more minutes of your sloppy, eager blowjob, he groans and yanks you off him, his hands rough as he drags you to your feet. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s thrown open the backdoor of the SUV, damn near tossing you inside before climbing in behind you. 

The moment he’s inside, his badge and gun are discarded to the side, and he grabs you by the waist, pulling you onto his lap as he leans back against the seat. His cock is hard and slick, pressing against your soaked entrance, but he doesn’t push inside yet. 

Instead, he yanks the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts, and immediately latches his mouth onto one of your nipples. His wet tongue swirls around the sensitive bud as his free hand pinches and tugs at the other, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy. 

You moan loudly, your hips grinding down against his dick, sliding him between your slick folds, teasing both of you.

You’ve made a mess of his white shirt and part of his slacks.

You wonder if he’ll go home to her like this. Kiss her with the same mouth that’s kissed you.

Every inch of your skin is on fire, the need to have him inside of you building with every passing second. 

“Javier, please,” you whine, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to push yourself down onto him.

He pulls away from your breast with a wet pop, “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension as his hand trails down your body, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Begging for my cock like a whore.”

You bite your lip, your pride long forgotten as you look down at him, a needy expression painting your face. “Please, Javi,” you beg, grinding harder against him, feeling the thick head of his cock press against your entrance. “I need you. Please— fuck me.”

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hips bruising the skin as he holds you still. “You think I’m just gonna give you what you want after the way you’ve been acting?”

Before you can respond, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the spank making you cry out in surprise. “Javi!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, landing another spank on the other cheek. “You want my cock? Earn it.”

You moan, your body trembling as the pain mixes with the pleasure coursing through you. His words, his rough treatment— it only makes you want him more. “Please,” you sob, your voice shaky as you wiggle your hips, trying to push him inside, the lingering sting of his smacks vibrating against your plush skin. 

He groans, and in one swift motion, he thrusts up into you, his cock stretching you wide as he sinks deep inside. You cry at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing before relaxing as the pleasure of being filled washes over you.

“Fuck,” it feels like his cock has punched you in the lungs, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, riding him slowly at first, your head thrown back as you savor the feeling of him inside of you. “So fucking big.”

Javier grunts, his hands gripping your hips as he guides your movements, bucking up into you as you swivel your hips. “That’s it,” his teeth graze your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper. “Take it, princess. Take every inch.”

You moan loudly, your body then bouncing on his lap as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Nothing else matters except the way he feels inside you and the filthy words spilling from his lips as you fuck each other like you’ve both been waiting for this for far too long.

The sounds coming from both of you—wet, filthy, primal—fill the confined space of the SUV. The smell of sex and leather in the air.

Each thrust of his hips sends you spiraling closer to the edge, your bodies colliding in a frenzied rhythm that makes the vehicle rock with your movements. Thank fucking God the windows are tinted.

Javier’s hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your frantic movements, his cock buried deep inside of you, hitting every spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

Eyes are half-lidded as he watches your breasts bounce while you hop on his dick.

His lips part, a low groan escaping him as he feels you flutter around him, your pussy tightening with the promise of your impending orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits out. He’s close— so fucking close— and the way you’re moving, the way you’re so desperate for him, makes it impossible for him to hold back much longer.

His brow furrows, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face as he thrusts up into you harder, faster— chasing his own release. “You’re gonna make me come, princess,” he groans, his fingers digging into your skin as he bites down on his lower lip.

Your head falls back, your lips parted in a breathless moan as the band inside you snaps. “Javi,” you mewl, barely able to get his name out as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, sending your body trembling and convulsing around him. “Oh fuck, I’m coming,” you gasp, your voice breaking as your orgasm ripples through you. “Harder— please.”

He grits his teeth once he feels you unravel around him, your pussy clenching against his cock. It gets him there with you, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as his hips jerk up harshly a few more times time.

His release hits him hard, spilling into you without asking, but you don’t notice nor care. You both ride out the aftershocks together, tangled in each other’s arms, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, the car still rocking slightly as the final thrusts slow.

For a brief moment, everything is still. Your fingers trailing over his skin as you try to catch even out your breathing.

But then, reality slams back into focus.

Javier’s body goes rigid beneath you, his hands releasing their grip on your hips as if what just happened is sinking in all at once. “Get off,” he mutters, his voice suddenly sharp. “Now.”

You blink, disoriented, still riding the afterglow, but the tone of his voice cuts through the haze. You hesitate for a second, looking down at him, trying to read his expression. There’s no trace of the infatuation that had consumed him just moments ago. Instead, his face is etched with regret, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight.

“Javi…” you start, but he cuts you off, his hand coming up to push you gently but firmly off his lap.

“Get. Off,” he repeats, leaving no room for argument.

You pull away, your body trembling slightly as you move off him, awkwardly adjusting your dress. The tension is suffocating as Javier quickly pulls up his pants, his hands shaking slightly as he fastens his belt. He’s avoiding your gaze, his brows furrowed in frustration as he runs a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“We need to go,” his voice is cold and distant, as if the intimacy you just shared never happened. “Before your mother declares a state of emergency on the entire country.”

He digs into his pocket, your ruined panties then are tossed at you and you bite your lip, feeling the sting of rejection settle deep in your chest.

Once he’s fixed his clothes, Javier moves with a tense efficiency, reholstering his gun and straightening his badge like nothing happened.

His movements are mechanical, as if he’s trying to regain control, trying to rebuild that wall he always hides behind. You sit there, watching him in silence, a real icy feeling knotting in your chest.

He doesn’t look at you as he steps out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him forcefully and it makes you flinch. The loud thud echoes through the car, leaving you alone in the backseat with nothing but your racing thoughts and destroyed underwear.

The shame snaps into you then, creeping up your spine and spreading through your body like poison. You wipe the smeared makeup from under your eyes, fix your dress, but there’s no saving it. Literally and metaphorically.

He slips into the driver’s seat a moment later. He doesn’t say a word.

You sink back into the leather seat, the silence absolutely deafening. The back of the car feels like a cage now— your earlier exhilaration has all but disappeared. All that’s left is this gnawing sense of regret swirling in your gut.

The engine hums to life as he drives out of the alleyway, his movements precise and methodical, the way they always are when he’s on the job.

Like he’s already compartmentalizing.

You consider saying something— anything to break the silence that’s strangling you both— but the words die on your lips. What would you even say?

“You should’ve never snuck out,” Javier finally speaks lowly, as if it’s painful for him to even acknowledge the situation. “You’re lucky no one saw you.”

There’s an edge to his words, but it’s not the usual reprimand. Rather just regret, frustration, and anger all wrapped into one.

You don’t respond right away, your eyes fixed on the traffic ahead. “I don’t care,” you finally mutter, more to yourself than to him. “I’m sick of it. Of all of it.” You pause, your throat tight with emotion. “For once, I just wanted to feel like I was in control.”

Javier lets out a harsh breath, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Control? ” He scoffs, his tone biting. “You don’t even know what that word means.”

You turn your head to glare at him, heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not a fucking child.” He chuckles at that, wordlessly saying otherwise. “And you don’t know what it’s like to live my life,” you snap, the frustration boiling over. “To constantly be watched, to have every move scrutinized, to be paraded around like some perfect fucking doll when I didn’t ask for any of it.”

His grip on the wheel loosens slightly, but his face remains impassive. “None of this is new,” he reminds you, “You knew what your life would be like when your mother was re-elected. It’s not about you anymore. It never was.”

You feel the sting of his words, but you refuse to back down. “Maybe it should be,” you say, your voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I should get to live my life the way I want to. Not the way everyone else expects me to.”

Brown eyes flicker toward you in the rearview mirror for a split second. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” his voice is tight. “You can try again in four years.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you sink deeper into the seat. “You just want to pretend this never happened.”

Javier’s silence is answer enough.

The rest of the ride is quiet and tense. When you finally pull up to the back gates of the White House, you sigh when your lavish prison comes into view and when he parks right outside the private entrance that you and the rest of your family get in and out of.

Javier glances in the rearview mirror one final time, his expression unreadable, before he cuts the engine and steps out.

He opens the back door for you, his handsome face set in that familiar stoic mask. “Let’s go,” he orders, tone flat, devoid of the erotic emotions from earlier.

You hesitate, a pout forming on your lips, the confidence you’d wielded earlier crumbling to dust. Your legs wobble as you step out, shaky and weak from how he fucked you

He shrugs off his jacket and throws it over your bare shoulders. The gesture would’ve felt protective, maybe even tender, in another moment. But now, it’s a calculated move to cover up the evidence of what you just did. He’s not doing it for you— he’s doing it for his job. 

He walks you inside, his large hand resting lightly at your lower back as if guiding you, but the warmth you once felt from his touch is nowhere to be found. His eyes dart around the hall, scoping the area, making sure none of the other agents that he commands are around to see you.

He nods curtly when the coast is clear, a silent gesture to keep moving. You feel like a liability— something to be hidden away, managed, not the girl who he was just balls deep inside.

The heels you’re wearing are muted against the thick carpet as you walk down the long hallway toward your bedroom. Each step feels like an eternity. 

When you finally reach your bedroom door, he pulls the jacket from your shoulders without a word. You blink back the sting of tears, throat tightening at the action.

He’s not just being distant—he’s erasing you, erasing the moment, wiping it all away like it meant nothing.

Because it hadn’t meant a damn thing. He is married, after all. You were nothing but an easy fuck. A form of relief. Eye candy for him as he was for you.

Without looking back or saying anything, you push open the door and step inside. The soft click of the latch as you shut it in his face echoes in the stillness and you don’t need to look back to know that there’s nothing behind those brown eyes for you anymore. 

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your ride is here (dark!Ghoap x fem!Reader)

CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation I really really adore @ohbo-ohno and @ceilidho for their amazing takes on writing dark fics with Ghoap and fem!Readers Word count: 3794 AO3

You were already way too drunk when you got out of the bar. It was an annoyingly loud party, too many people you never even knew – you thought that it would be nice since it’s a nice bar and not some weird tech music club, but it didn’t really matter in the end. You were still wasted, head spinning around and headache already forming with bile in your throat every time you opened your eyes. Your phone is dead, your brain is barely working, and the only thing you wish to do right now is to curl down in a small ball and cry. 

You barely managed to call for an Uber before your phone blinked one last time and turned off – and judging by the fact that the somewhat kinda, big-ish car was the only one in the dim alleyway, you assumed it was your ride. Hopefully, you’ll get home as soon as possible, get a shower, clear your stomach from alcohol slowly brewing into nausea, and fall asleep. 

You’re far too drunk to notice that the driver didn’t even ask for your name when you got inside. 

— H…hey there. You’re my driver, yea? 

You force the words out of your mouth as you slowly duck your head into the car and settle on the backseat before the guy even says anything. He is pretty, somewhat – a weird fucking haircut for sure, but has a roguish charm of a boy you might meet at the nearest gas station shop. You’re way too buzzed to think of him in any romantic way, but he is nice to look at, and you’re staring to the point of being inappropriate. 

He smiles, and you feel your cheeks heating up – probably just alcohol working its way up your system. But he looks nice and probably would feel nice in bed, too – he clearly forgot about shaving for a few days, and you almost think about the way it would feel on your face. Or between your legs. Or just right on your…

— Aye, it’s me. 

You can see his cheeks getting flushed as he stares back at you. The situation becomes slightly more weird with each passing moment, but he taps on his phone, probably searching for a map. You turn your head to look at the blurry image – not like you have any knowledge of the area, transferring here for your big girl job and trying to make your way in the city that couldn’t care less about you or your feelings. 

You press your cheek against the car seat, leaning over to help him. 

— It’s on…yeah, um, Maple 37-12. I think I might have typed the address incorrectly on the app. 

— Thank ye, lassie. 

He quickly turns on the map to head over to your house, and you smile, happy about your management skills even as you’re still drunk as hell. You allow your head to fall on the backseat headrest again, closing your eyes just for a second. It’s a long ride home, and you already regret every decision that made you go to this fucking party. 

The driver is chatty. 

Really fucking chatty. 

— So, where do you work? Ye shouldn’t be up in that hour. 

You grumble something in the answer, not wanting to speak too much. Your brain isn’t built for this kind of pressure right now. 

— Yer boyfriend goin’ to pick ye up? 

You slightly wince at the words, another reminder of how utterly alone you were. Of course, if you had a boyfriend or even some close, responsible friends, you would ask them to help you with a ride home – you never trusted public transport at this hour, and uber is often varies between a last resort and a stranger danger on wheels. 

— Don’t have any. 

Your brain is far too drunk to even comprehend why you didn’t just lie that a mysterious boyfriend will meet you. Somehow, the expression of the driver – he called himself Johnny with such a beautiful boyish smile that it made your toes curl – made you feel dizzy and light in the head. God, you don’t want to act like a high school sweetheart, but all of those drinks made you feel lonely. 

— No way. A wee bonnie like ye shouldnae be alone. 

You lick your lips, trying not to sound too miserable. You’re failing. 

— I’m focusing on my career. 

He actually laughs at that, and you feel even more embarrassed. 

— Career? How does that work out for ye? 

You just grumble at the answer, not wanting to bury yourself even deeper. Truth be told, it’s not what you expected when moving to a new city – you don’t know anyone, don’t have any friends here, your life has started from a blank point, and there is really nothing for you to do besides trying to connect with some uptight work buddies in a grimy bar. 

Driver says something else – just general questions, something about the weather. Silly jokes that make you snort and reconsider your sense of humor – he is really nice for a cab driver, and you kinda want to just listen to him talk over and over again. You kinda just want to close your eyes and sleep, but you suddenly realize that you need to charge your phone in order to check the payment – you don’t think you have enough cash in your purse, and you don’t want to make the driver’s life even more miserable. He must be low on money to work at this hour, and you kinda feel bad enough to leave him a big tip after all of this, especially if you would end up throwing up all over his nice, big car. It's suited for some brutal man from war movies, not an Uber driver. 

— Hey, sorry. Can I charge my phone for a bit? 

He smiles even more, getting you the required cable – you plug your phone finally, for the first time in the past few minutes, seeing your home screen again. God, this is late hours – you never got home at this time before. 

The car takes an unexpected turn, and you swing your head to look at the window – you don’t recognize the area. Of course, the road was dark, and you lived far away, but even with your blurry mind and hazy memories of the street you moved to,  you knew this wasn’t right. The driver is nice and all, but you feel like he made a mistake by relying only on Google Maps. You hope he made a genuine mistake, at least. 

— Um, sir? 

— Aye, lassie? 

He looks so innocent it immediately drops you off guard. You lean closer to him, a phone still in your hand – you were trying to refresh the Uber app quite a few times already, but it somehow never showed you the price you were supposed to pay for the trip – and try to sound as chill as possible. No use in making a scene, you both are tired, and he probably wants to get done with you as soon as possible. 

— I think you took a wrong turn. My street should be on the right side. 

— Didnae think I did. 

— What do you mean? My home isn’t…

The app blinks, and you look at it, trying to concentrate on the obscenely bright screen, punishing your eyes for simply having those. You lick your lips, blood running cold. 

You stare at the “Your driver will be here in 5 minutes”. With a description of a car that couldn’t be more different than the car you were in. 

With the driver, whose name wasn’t even remotely “Johnny”. 

***

Soap wasn’t intending to bring a girl home. What he intends is to find a nice chip place near the bar he and Simon used to go to together and then bring something home to eat because, of course, Lt came home before him, and his cooking skills are almost as bad as his jokes. Simon is a mad dog that will probably eat anything provided and isn’t against chewing on his shoes in case of an emergency, but he doesn’t want him to do this off-deployment. 

Johnny literally just wanted to buy some grub, get it home warm, and take off drinking beer and watching some mindless shit on the TV. Preferably with Simon by his side because their relationship cannot be defined by any labels, and he as a nice fucking ass. 

Well, turns out random drunk girls who slammed into his car just when he got the takeout bag securely on the front seat have nice asses too. And Soap can’t think of the last time he had his dick smothered by a woman’s lips and not his fist or, somehow, Simon’s hand. 

You’re pretty, drunk, and kinda dumb – just like he loves them. Silly girl, really, what did you expect when your phone is dead and you have no other means of contacting safety. He saw you approaching the car, not even looking at his plate – you probably wouldn’t remember when he would dump you in the morning. Not that he would, of course, pretty dumb girls like you should be protected, and his job is, well, protection itself –  he can drag you to his and Ghost’s apartment like a trophy in his teeth. 

He licks his lips, enjoying the expression of fear slowly creeping on your face. You’re so drowsy, so adorable, he can’t help but smile widely when you’re panicking. You try to open the door, but, of course, it’s child-locked. Fitting for someone who behaves like one. 

The last time he tried to convince a girl to have a threesome with him and Simon, she preferred to just watch them awkwardly jerk each other off. The last time he tried to convince a guy for a threesome with him and Simon, Johnny spent the whole night in the corner, blue-balled and lonely, as the twink preferred to suck Lt until he’d cum like two times in a row. 

Johnny knows that if he wants a chance for something other than a sloppy seconds, he will have to accept a quick car fuck, possible kidnapping, and forging marriage documents for a pretty girl he just locked in his car because why the hell not, why can’t a handsome Scotsman just kidnap a drunk girl who mistook him for an Uber driver. 

He stops the car in a more or less secluded area – poor bird, you’re still trying to bump your way out of the door with your shoulder, only risking dislocating it. The car was a fucking tank in disguise, the only thing that could survive Ghost’s driving skills – there is no way you would be able to get it to open without the owner wanting you to. Soap licks his lips, turning to you. Hell bells, you look divine. 

Tears in your eyes, panicked expression, hands curling into fists as you’re trying to get out of your personal nightmare, no matter how drunk you are. Poor baby, he really feels bad for you – you’re so sweet, so trusting, there is no way he was the first guy to ever try to harm you like this. Sergeant might like to think of himself as being more or less in touch with normal people, but when he sees a pretty girl in trouble, he wants nothing more but to become her trouble. 

He opens the car just for a second from the driver’s seat – he needs to get to you, after all, just looking at you, trapped in the backseat, won’t be enough for the throbbing erection he has in his pants. You try to fight him as he heavily lingers on you, almost crushing you under his weight. Car isn’t nearly big enough for someone like him to comfortably sit in normal position on top of you, so Johnny uses one hand to drag you back, deeper into the seat, and the other hand – to unbuckle his belt, proving to be fucking beautiful with his fingers. 

You look so pretty, he can’t help but snap a few pictures for the group chat – dumb idea at first, as he thought, but now he can’t wait for the Captain to see what a pretty catch he has on his arms. The last mission was pretty rough, and they all deserve a pretty thing to cover themselves in fear and tremble under them after they fuck her, one after one. Might even bring you to Captain’s house, show you what a good girl you can be for your daddy if given a chance. 

Soap smirks as he drags his hard cock out of his pants. Your eyes are wide in shock – he might not be the biggest of the group, Lt has the crown rightfully and deservingly, but it doesn’t mean that the Scot is small. Thicker than average, leaking pre-cum already – has been since you first got into the car, all cute and disoriented. He had to waste quite a few minutes driving you as far from civilization as possible without alarming your pretty, dazed head about anything – now he can reap his prize. A part of it, anyway. 

You cry and squirm, trying to fight him off when he pushes his hand into your hair and tugs angrily – you’re simply too fucking weak to be a reasonable challenge, so Johnny only laughs when he can put your fight with a single press on your windpipe. You cough, struggling again – soon enough, you learn to just stop and allow him to lead. Good girl, can be trained so well – you’d make a good soldier if you weren’t so pretty and so vulnerable. 

— Don’t make me break yer nose, lassie. Open up, aye? 

He smiles, too warm for the situation – you don’t understand what you did to deserve this, his hand presses your throat in a tight embrace, and you can’t do anything but squirm and try somehow to use your legs to fight – but oh, you’re far too drunk to do this. You whimper, and your head spins and aches with each hiccup, leaving your lips. Such a pathetic sight to see, you could almost feel bile in your throat as he pressed his cock closer to your lips, smearing bitter liquid all over your closed mouth. 

— Pl…please, don’t do this, don’t… what do you want? Money? I will give you money, or my phone, or…

He groans, the waiting time for this pretty girl is far too long already. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you’re too soft for this – a thought of slapping your face lingers in his mind, but ruining your pretty cheeks won’t be efficient in this case. Johnny tugs on your hair, hoping it will be enough to set you straight – he doesn’t want you to pass out from pain, after all. Already too merciful with just using your throat and now that tight ass hiding underneath your dress. 

Your words are slurred, hazed, your tongue can’t move quite right enough – still too drunk, and lack of fresh air only makes you go dumber by each second. Soap only lets go of you when he is sure you’re far too gone to try and bite him – still, he pushes his two hands in your mouth, opening you wide as you gag and cough. 

— Don’t worry yer pretty head ‘bout it. Just take me, and then we’ll go home. 

He will ride you home, make you ride him, and make you some really nice breakfast later. He will carefully wipe away the damp makeup from your face – poor girl, you’re crying too much and ruined all of your hard work on this skin – and send some pretty pictures to the group. But, hey, he can snap a couple right now. 

With one hand still in your mouth, he awkwardly moves his hips so his cock can point right against your lips – and presses down, making you gag more and more as he slowly but surely pushes his cock inside of your tight, warm mouth. God, this is the heavens – he can’t remember the last time he had such an amazing blowjob from such a cutie. Gaz would fucking love you. 

You’re so pretty from this angle, coughing on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks – Johnny tells you to smile for the camera and snaps a couple of pictures. Group chat was an amazing idea, after all – he can’t wait to share some more cute videos once you’ve settled it. The feeling of your warm mouth on his cock is absolutely divine – you’re tight, probably inexperienced, and he relishes in the fact he might be the biggest cock you ever took in your pretty lips. 

You try your hardest to pull away, but he keeps you close, a hand tugs on your hair again, making you cry harder. Soap is so sorry, bonnie, he will make it up to you later – will eat your pretty cunt sloppily, maybe mess with your ass a bit, making sure you’re all wet and open for the members of his team and their members. He snorts at the thought. smiling as you’re still fighting the urge to puke. 

— Like this, aye? Don’t fuckin’ try to bite me, I don’t want to prick yer teeth off. 

Threat lingers in your panicked mind as he drags his hips back before slamming in your mouth again, his balls slapping your chin with an obscene sound. The drool is leaking down your lips, creating a mess on the car seat – it’s not a problem, really, he will clean it later. Maybe would have to change the fabric of the seating for something less damp if he plans to fuck you in the car more. And oh, aren’t they all planning to do this? 

His phone rings when he was least expecting it – skull emoji on the display. No name, no photo – of course. He must have predicted that Lt would like some of the fun beforehand. Well, Soap isn’t the one to hoard every trophy to himself – even if he really wants to be the first with a pretty girl. 

He loves his team – and they will love you as much. 

He picks up with a smug grin on his face, staring at the screen. His moans become louder, grunts that make your cheeks burn as you just know he is faking it for more theatrics – pressing his phone between his cheek and a shoulder, leaving his friend to listen to his pleasure. Licking his lips as Ghost groans, a familiar sound of an unbuckled belt clanging somewhere in the background. You sob, trying to trash out of his hold again – he only presses you deeper, your nose flattening against his pubic bone. 

— Couldn’t fuckin’ wait, Jonny? Simon sounds tired, angry, jealous even – his sergeant smiles wider, slowly removing the phone from under his cheek and going into video call instead – showing your pretty face, all smothered with pre-cum, ruined makeup, and tears. You look so pretty, so perfect, he moves his hips more to remind you to suck on his cock and not just stare at him like a pretty kitten. He loves you like this, of course, but his dick twitches without proper movement, and Johnny was never the one for patience. Only for bombs, maybe. 

Well, you’re a freaking bombshell, aren’t ye. 

— Sorry, Lt. Dumb thing thought I was her ride. 

The other man snorts. They both laugh – a cruel sound, taunting your ears. You whine and cry, feeling the cock in your mouth pulsating. You try to turn away from the camera, but it’s impossible with a hand still pressing down on your head – you can only close your eyes, poor attempt at saving your dignity. God, you feel absolutely trashed. Soap adores that defeated look in your eyes. 

— And you aren’t? 

— Still a better driver than you, sir. But no, not this time. Can give her a ride, though. 

You hate their laughing, hate the way he is gently caressing your head like you’re a threatened animal and not a living, breathing being. He is being soft with you, like he isn’t forcing his way into your mouth – like he isn’t showing your fucked face to his friend. You hate the way your pussy burns, wet from humiliation, and the soft retirement you’re receiving. Bastard isn’t even thinking of your pleasure, and maybe that’s good. You don’t want to like it. 

— Goin’ bring her home? 

— Aye. Would look bloody adorable on our bed. 

They both snort while your blood runs cold. You hoped, you prayed he would let you go after this – traumatized, but mostly alive and well. You have a job, you have a life, and you can’t be fucking “taken home” to some bastard’s bed while he is using you like a sex toy. You try to squeeze your teeth on his dick, maybe do at least something to make him let you go – but Soap strikes your cheek with unknown anger, making you squirm in his grasp. You sob. 

— Don’t break her yet, Johnny. 

— Sorry. Dumb thing tried to bite me. 

— Doesn’t know any better. Gaz had a special muzzle for dumb girls. 

— Too tight for my dick. 

— Bloody hell, Mactavish. Don’t get too cocky. 

— Never intended to, sir. 

He pushes his dick deeper into your mouth. Your cheek burns from the slap, you can almost feel the bruise forming – and the bastard just tugs on your hair, filling your throat with sticky, disgusting cum. You drink it all, no use in trying to choke yourself on his seed when you’re already set in his hold. 

— How is her mouth? 

— Fuckin’ heaven, Lt. 

— I noticed. You finished fast, even for you, Johnny. 

— I’ll try better next time. Maybe get our dollie off after. 

— Selfish, Mactavish. 

— We all deserve to be selfish. 

Soap has the fucking audacity to wipe your mouth after you finish drinking it all, pushing the remaining cum and drool back on your tongue. He gently patted on your head, then made a small apology for being too rough. Was never his intention. 

— Sorry, bonnie. Don’t try to fight again, aye? You’re too tired to answer, and he just cradles your head against his chest. You whimper and cry, pleading senselessly for him to leave you – he only snaps even more photos of your tear-stained face. God, he can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll look heavenly as a fucktoy for the whole team. 

— L..let me…

— Naw, lassie. Shut up and let me take you where you belong. You’ll love it, promise. 

He kisses your forehead before moving to the front seat again. 

You clutch to the seat in silence, bitter taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. 

[dragonmama76]

Working on part 2 of Beginnings, but until then here’s a small interlude. You can read the first bit here Part One

“Are you excited to start high school?” Steve feels like every lame adult he’s ever known, but he’s been wanting to have this conversation for a while now, preferably before his gang of nerds walk unprepared into his alma mater.

“I mean, sure.” Dustin says. “They have an amazing media lab and the AP science teachers are supposed to be really good. It’s never too early to think about college! Uh, sorry Steve.”

“Alright, shut it. If I had a brain like yours maybe I’d be in college now.” Steve rolls his eyes affectionately.

“And I heard Nancy say there’s an after-school club for D&D, so that might be okay. I mean, it won’t be as good without Will there but…” Mike trails off, a frown settling on his face.

“Yeah, okay I guess your demons and dingbats thing could be good.” Steve feels vaguely uneasy. Something to do with that club...it probably doesn't matter.

“Well, I’m also trying out for the basketball team.” Lucas adds softly.

“My man!!” Steve grins and holds his hand up for a high five. “I’m around if you want to get some practice in before tryouts. And I've got an in with the coach if you want me to put in a good word for you.”

“Nice! I'm always up for more practice!" Lucas grins back matching Steve's enthusiasm.

"And nepotism," retorts Dustin.

"Okay, brain boy. I don't know what that is, but it sounds gross and we don't have it." Steve smirks and cocks his head before remembering this was supposed to be a serious conversation.

"Anyway...I just wanted to talk to you guys about sticking together and always having each-other's backs." Steve starts and Dustin, of course interrupts, "Obviously, Steve. Who do you think we are?"

"No, man, I know. It's just that it can be pretty intimidating and the bullying can be...more intense than what you're used to in Middle School." Steve conceeds.

"Like you'd know anything about being bullied!" snorts Mike, "You were the bully."

"Uh...well." Steve doesn't want to scare the kids, but he does want them to be prepared. "I was kind of an asshole for a while..."

"Ya think?" Dustin chimes in.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Steve says in his best mom voice. "I had to learn to be harder in school. My freshman year this older kid made me his target and it was pretty awful. It got so bad I didn't even want to go to school half the time."

"That really sucks, man." Lucas gives Steve a supportive look.

"Aw, what, did he call you names? Make fun of your hair?" Mike sneers. He can't help but run his mouth sometimes. He likes Steve well enough, but not like Dustin and Lucas do and he can't stand how they worship him sometimes. Steve isn't that great.

"Dude. He pulled a knife on me for like, no reason. I was fourteen."

"Woah" Dustin just exhales. "So like, is high school....dangerous?" All three boys are seriously paying attention now, eyes wide.

"Nah, not normally. Anyway, it got better once I was deep in with the guys on the basketball team. So I'm just saying. Find a group that has your back. And you guys look out for other kids too, all right? And tell ME if anyone bothers you. I've got a bat that can sort them out."

"Dude....you can't just nailbat a teenager." Dustin snorts.

"I dunno, squirt," Steve ruffles Dustin's hair and he yelps ducking away, "If I find out anyone is messing with you guys....well, maybe not the nail bat, but just...promise to tell me okay? I don't want anyone of you going through what I did."

"We promise." They all chime dutifully.

"Hellfire!" Mike shouts as they all turn to look at him like he's got three heads. "What?" he says, "That's the name of the club."

"Hellfire." Steve mutters. Why does that name make his stomach hurt? He'll probably remember later. Meanwhile he's glad his twerps are going to have a good support system when they start school.

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Tag list (ask if you want to be tagged for the full part 2) @swimmingbirdrunningrock @phirex22 @lilpomelito @thaliaisalesbian

[poolboyservice]

probably my first positive post using anti endo tags but uh!!

honestly, looking on #syspunk and seeing the hundreds (and I mean hundreds) of users actively using the tag as a community tag for systems, while fighting endos away from the tag along with trying to sweep other system tags to ensure misinformation and endos are driven off, it's.. comforting, to say the least

Sure, I have a few (a lot) of endo/pro endo accounts blocked, so maybe my viewing experience is a wee bit biased but! Even with that, it's only like, what? 8 endo/pro endo accounts trying to use the tag, out of the hundreds of systems and anti endos, I've seen so far? That's fucking amazing!!!!

There's still a lot to go with cleaning out system tags and making it safe again, but! You guys are doing a fucking amazing job, and I feel like that needs to be said a little bit more in the system community to encourage more of this

No matter what endos say, or what sophiainwonderland or whatever the fuck their url is says: Endos will not win, they can not take another space for systems, and they never will

They can damn well try, but because systempunk and syspunk are tags explicity made by an anti endo, for anti endos, and had a kickstart with a plethora of anti endo posts, they will fail

ik I'm probably not making sense or I sound stupid but like !! Keep going ya'll, because your efforts are working :]

[atimeofyourlife]

A group thing?

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: no upside down au | rated: t | wc: 944 | tags: no upside down au, pre-steddie, steve x corroded coffin Steve gets a job in a record store in Chicago, and a familiar group of guys come in looking for a place for their band to play. Who knows where it could go

Getting out of Hawkins was the best thing that had ever happened to Steve. The plan had been cemented between him and Robin when they started working at Family Video after the freak fire at Starcourt, the result of an electrical fault caused by the cut corners and corrupt construction. They were both going to work as many hours as possible at Family Video, so they could save up ready to move away after Robin graduated high school, with Steve planning to follow her to wherever she went to college.

The plan led them to Chicago, with Robin getting accepted to study linguistics at the University of Chicago. They found a small, relatively affordable two bed apartment, and did everything they could to make it theirs. While Robin worked on her degree, Steve found work at an independent record store. Even though it was still retail, he found it much better than working at Family Video and Scoops Ahoy had been. There was no uniform, the manager was pretty chill, and employees could choose anything from stock to play over the store's sound system. Steve did tend to play a lot of Queen when it was his turn to pick, but he was learning a lot about other genres from his coworkers' tastes in music.

But Steve's favorite part of the job was the live music. There was a small stage area that local bands could book and come in and play for free, in a chance to get more experience playing. Some of them weren't the best, but some of them were amazing. It was something that made it feel less like work. Some bands were pretty regular, and Steve was starting to form a real friendship with some of them.

"Hi, how can I help?" Steve asked as he came back to the counter from the stock room where he'd been processing a delivery with his coworker. There were a group of guys all waiting around, so he assumed that they were a band wanting to get a play spot. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Er, hi. We've just moved to the area, and a buddy of ours told us you let bands play here for free." The guy at the front with long hair said, seeming to be the leader.

"Yeah, we do that. Just give me a moment." Steve ducked down to grab the folder from under the counter. "So the boss is the one who makes the final decisions on all the bands, so I'll just need to take your details, and she'll call you back to arrange everything. And I can give you the information sheet with everything you need to know."

The band took the sheet, and murmured a little amongst themselves.

"Okay, so if I can start with the band name?" Steve asked, pulling out a sign up sheet.

"Corroded Coffin." One of them replied.

Steve wrote it down, and tried to make conversation as he did. "You said you guys just moved here? Where'd you come from?"

"This shitty, small town in Indiana. You've probably never heard of it."

"Uh huh. And a phone number we can contact you on?"

The number got rattled off for Steve to note down.

"That sounds a lot like where I'm from. You wouldn't be from Hawkins, would you?"

"Yeah, we are."

"I thought you guys seemed familiar. We probably went to high school together." Steve said. "And your names?"

Each said their names as Steve wrote them down. The last one, who had seemed to be the leader, "Eddie Munson."

Steve looked down at the sheet, before looking up at Eddie. "You used to sell, right? At a picnic bench in the woods behind the school."

"You used to buy? Then do we get your name, big boy." Eddie asked, leaning on the counter.

"Steve. Harrington." Steve replied, watching hesitantly as they all seemed surprised.

"King Steve, what brings you to working in a place like this?"

"Trying to make rent. My parents cut me off after I graduated, and I'm pretty sure it would be a total disownment if they knew half the shit I got up to now. So me and my best friend moved up here after she graduated. She's in college and I'm making sure we can afford our shitty two bedroom apartment."

"Now I want to know what you get up to." One of the others said, Steve was pretty sure he'd said his name was Gareth.

"Let's just say I know what the bandanna in Munson's back pocket stands for." Steve winked as he said it, and couldn't help laughing as they all spluttered slightly. "I've got all the information I need, and I'll make sure to put in a good word with the boss for you."

Steve was working when Corroded Coffin were playing at the store for the first time. He was on hand to help them get set up and make sure everything went smoothly.

"I think that's everything, you guys can start playing when you're ready, and I'll let you know when your time is nearly up. Do you need anything else?"

"How about a kiss for good luck?" Eddie asked.

Steve smiled before pulling Eddie in by the shirt and kissing him deeply.

"Hey, what about the rest of us?" Gareth called from behind his drum kit.

Steve just shrugged, before going around and kissing each of them softly on the lips.

He made his way back behind the counter, looking forward to what could come between him and the band. Friendship, or maybe even something more.

[bellysoupset]

Heyy soupppp! You tagged you were requesting for Bell and Luke so maybe this could work? 😭

Luke is hanging w the guys, Jonah, Leo, Vince, and he’s already pretty out of it, and he falls asleep while the rest are playing video games or sm (idk)

When he wakes up it’s dark, he’s sweating, and he pukes on the floor. His fever is so high he’s delerious, crying, and finds Vince, he takes his temperature, panics, gets Jonah and decides he needs a hospital?

xoxo

No hospital in this one, sorry, but I think I got everything else!

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

Leo was sure they were doing this for his benefit and part of him thought he should be embarrassed, but he really wasn't. He had missed spending time with his friends so much, Leo couldn't care less what had motivated their little "boys night".

It had been almost a full month since everything had gone down and he was back into therapy twice a week. His boss had pulled him aside asking if there was something she should know, thanks to his week long absence leave he had taken, but when Leo had brushed it off as just a family emergency, coupled with a hellish flu — an excuse Wendy had been happy to corroborate as his "doctor" —, she had left him alone.

His coworkers weren't as easy to convince, Leo had caught Sandy, Dean and Chuck whispering and all three of them had approached him separately to ask if everything was okay. Chuck seemed convinced it was something related to Jonah, judging by how he had squinted when Jon appeared to pick Leo up, seeming incredibly confused as if he had made up his mind about them breaking up, when nothing in reality supported that rumor.

"Yo," Vince slung an arm around Leo's neck and pressed their foreheads together, "get out of your head and help me with the beers."

"I'm not in my head," Leo bitched, following Vince to the kitchen, "I'm thinking- Oh, hi baby," he dropped to a crouched down position, finding JD happily eating away her food. The cat rubbed her head lazily against his hand, before getting back to the task, ignoring his pets.

"I said help, not come pet the kitty cat," Vince groaned, grabbing multiple beer packs and passing them along to Leo, "thanks- Luke's late. Amazing how he's never on time."

Leo snorted at the whining, then started tearing up the beer packs in order to plant the bottles on top of the table, while Vince hummed a song under his breath, making the snacks. He had shown up earlier than everyone, with his arms filled with grocery bags to prepare bruschetta and other Italian goodies.

Despite the music playing, Vince shared Leo's musical taste and they had been secretly playing Kit Howard since Luke wasn't there, they both heard Jonah outside the front door, his keys jiggling and also his voice as he talked with Luke.

"You guys started without us?" Jonah asked, stepping inside and moving straight to their sound system to change the music. No matter how quick he was, Lucas had clearly heard it, because he was frowning as he walked in.

"I brought dessert," he said in an annoyed manner, holding up a huge box of cupcakes. Behind his back, Leo cringed to Vince, gesturing how annoyed their friend was.

Vin planted his hands on his hip, "fucking finally guys, we almost lost the game!"

Leo was having a blast. They watched the soccer game while sprawled in the living room and stuffing their faces and, of course, Jonah and Luke were cheering for opposite teams, so they were yelling bloody murder at each other by the time the game ended.

Vince was down on the ground, more than a little tipsy, playing with JD and giggling, shoving Luke's leg playfully, "oh my god, sit down, you prick!"

"It was clearly a fault!"

"You're such a sore loser, Atwood, grow uuuup," Jonah retorted, planting his fingers in his ears to ignore him and Leo cackled, not lost on him how childish his fiancé was acting.

"Real Madrid would've won if your stupid team wasn't cheating," Luke glared, grabbing a cupcake angrily and shoving it entirely in his mouth.

Leo was shaking with laughter as he heard Jonah start to argue it wasn't cheating if Chelsea was simply superior. Across the room the phone was ringing, so he crawled on the couch to go grab it, giggling as he shushed the other three.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Wagner? It's Matt, from the front desk-"

"Oh shit, hi Matt. I'm guessing the neighbors are complaining about the noise?" Leo cringed, turning down the music and heard a sigh.

"Yes, sir. I need you to tune it down and to remind you that parties are only allowed with the administration's permit," Leo rolled his eyes, he abhorred this HOA rules, but he knew Matt was only doing his job.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's not a party, we're just watching the game and they got a little riled up. We'll be quiet."

"Thank you, sir! Have a good night!"

"Thanks Matt, you too," Leo hung up, then turned to glare at the group, "shut up all of you, the neighbors are complaining about the noise."

"Him and his stupid fucking team," Luke mumbled darkly, grabbing the cupcake box and sitting down in the couch, slapping Jonah's hand sharply when the man tried getting one.

"I said, hush," Leo flicked at Luke's ear, "the Olympics are on, you guys wanna watch the gymnastics solo?"

"I thought that was yesterday!" Jonah perked up, shoving Luke's head so he could grab three cupcakes and they all settled down to watch the beautiful floor routine from Simone Biles. It was probably the one thing Luke and Jon both agreed on, so they were fairly quiet and the previous animosity melted easily.

After Olympics, they switched up to a video game and it was Leo's turn to all but hiss at Jonah, while Vince and Luke watched, since neither of them cared much about that.

They played only one round of Apex each, then switched up to Mario Kart so Vince could join, at what point Luke had already spread out in the bigger couch and was playing quietly with JD, sulking.

"Don't be a horrible loser, you're not five," Jonah passed him a controller, "stop sul-"

"I'm not sulking," Lucas groaned, pushing the controller away, "I'm sleepy, today was a long day. I think I just wanna sit here, you guys play."

They all exchanged an amused glance, Lucas was definitely sulking. However, they had learned long before to just let him ride out the poutiness, so they kept playing for another one hour and a half, when exhaustion caught up with them.

It was a Friday night, so both Vince and Luke were crashing there, their respective girlfriend (and wife) had their own thing going on, because Bella was going to NYC with Wendy so they could watch the Family Addams play.

Leo yawned, resting his head on Jonah's shoulder, "I think we should call it a night," he was pleasantly buzzed, almost in drunk territory but not quite and every surface felt so soft... He looked to his right, to Jonah, the giggles as he looked past his shoulder and saw Luke was curled up, knocked out, and JD was sleeping almost on top of his head, "that's sooo cute, Vin-"

"On it," Vince didn't need to be told, as he crawled on the rug to get a picture, fixing JD's tail so it looked like a hat on top of Luke's head, "send it in the group chat, Bella will love it."

Leo did just that, leaning fully against Jonah and not missing how burpy his boyfriend was. They stared at the screen expectantly, then Bella sent a picture of them in the traffic jam, Wendy curled up against the passenger window, wearing a sleeping mask and a thick hairband that had cat ears on top.

Bells: they're matching 🥰

Jonah snorted and Vince let out an amused huff, sending a bunch of hearts about his girlfriend, then he yawned, "let's call it a night?"

Thirty minutes later most of the trash was put away and Leo was changed into his PJs. He walked down the hallway to throw a blanket on top of Luke and retrieve his cat, pulling JD to his chest and smiling as he noticed how much she was purring.

Vince was in the guest bathroom, flossing, so Leo leaned on the door and knocked, "I got Luke some blankets and there's extras for you in the guest room-" he yawned, "and the fridge is all yours, you know the drill."

"Ioweeeill," Vince agreed, the words coming out all mangled since he was busy. Leo smiled, patting his friend's arm softly, then turned around to go to the master suite.

Jonah was in bed already, sitting up against the headboard and muffling deep burps against his fist, while JD napped on his lap.

"Beer got to you?" Leo guessed, turning off the lights and shutting the door, crawling on the bed.

"Uhm, it'll pass in a minute," Jonah's voice was all soft, he was definitely a little drunk, "come cuddle."

Leo locked their legs together, pressing his cheek to Jon's bicep and rolling on his side, so he could move his hand between smoothing JD's fur and rubbing his fiance's belly.

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

Luke hadn't been feeling well since morning. That was the truth, he had felt pretty damn shitty since he opened his eyes and had even skipped gym, something he never did, in lieu of lying in bed and trying to force himself to go to work.

He had wanted nothing more than to cancel all plans, but Bella was vibrating with excitement about her plans with Wendy so he didn't want her to know he was feeling gross and consider staying behind.

It was the same logic that got him to actually show up to his night plans. He felt horrid, but it was their first time all together since the mess with Leo and Luke didn't want to mess it up. Hell, Vince was driving four hours and missing a cool weekend with his girlfriend for this, Luke could suck it up about the lethargic feeling that kept trying to pull him down.

He had chugged an energy drink on his way there and plastered a smile on, that had quickly turned into a frown thanks to all of Jonah's picking on him, but thankfully his friends had chalked that up as their usual prickliness and laughed it off.

Lucas was feeling almost proud of himself when he fell asleep to the track of his friends laughing and JD's heat near his face.

He should've known better.

Luke woke up drenched in sweat and feeling like his heart was racing, drumming in his ears. He was flat on his back on the couch and was shivering, like they had left the balcony's door open and the freezing night air was inside.

He sucked in the air, feeling more than a little desperate and... Scared? For some reason? Then his stomach lurched suddenly and Luke coughed, nearly drowning himself. He managed to roll on his side in time to retch a large stream of vomit on the ground and Luke let out a pained whine.

His throat and nose hurt, since he had almost choked, and his stomach felt awful. He was sorely regretting everything he had eaten during the night, in his effort to force normalcy. All the damn cupcakes were churning inside and he could taste the chocolate on the back of his throat...

Lucas sat up, wrapping an arm around his stomach and waiting for the room to quit spinning. HIs head felt like it weighted more than it did, lolling to the side and causing Luke to plant a hand over his lips, muffling a wet belch in it.

He didn't want to cause a mess. Well, a bigger mess. Luke grabbed on the couch and forced himself up, wavering dangerously as wooziness washed him over, then blindly moved around the room. His mouth was watering all over again and he couldn't fight a sick burp, which caused liquid fill his mouth, but he gulped it down, all but falling inside the guest bathroom.

It was like his body was painfully aware this was a safe zone, because Luke didn't even have a chance to move over to the toilet, squeezing his stomach as another cramp hit and then coughing, struggling to breathe, when the motion set off a projectile stream of vomit all over the fucking tiles and down his front.

His knees buckled and Luke curled up, more than a little disgusted and humiliated, his thoughts a wind whirl- dark spots clumping together...

-----------

Jon woke up with a weight on his chest and it took him a minute to realize he was looking straight into his cat's big blue eyes. He frowned, blindly reaching to push her off his chest and causing the kitten to meow.

"G'away," Jonah rolled on the bed, still dizzy with sleep, snuggling up with Leo and hiding his nose in the crook of his fiancé's neck- There were whispers outside his door and he let out a sigh, rolling back so he was facing the ceiling.

"What do you mean don't tell Jonah, Luke?!" Vince's voice, louder than a whisper, filtered through the closed door and caused Jon to snort in amusement.

What were the two idiots up to?

He glanced at the bedside table clock, while JD climbed on his lap once more, nibbling at his fingertips when his hand automatically went to pet her. 3:23 AM. Definitely far too late for some secretive midnight snack.

Jonah leaned in, kissing JD between her ears, "keep daddy company," he whispered, before picking her up and slotting her in the little space that Leo left since he was curled up on his side.

The closer he got to the door, though, the less the whispers sounded humorous, turning frantic and distraught... Jonah tiptoed out of the room, hitting the hallway's light switch, "what is going on?"

Chaos erupted.

Luke let out a cry, while Vince shouted "JON!", behind him JD jumped from the bed and came to meow at his feet and Jonah's stomach reacted before he could fully realize the mess in his hallway, causing him to gag.

He swallowed, pressing a fist to his mouth, trying to piece together what was going on. Vince was crouched down in front of Luke, who had fallen flat on his back near the guest bathroom door and there was vomit... Well, everywhere. On Vince's and Luke's shirts, all over the ground near Luke's head, leading up inside the bathroom...

"Please, don't be mad..." Luke whined and Jonah's stomach froze over, not with nausea, but guilt and misplaced anger. He scoffed, shaking his head and stepping closer to the mess, despite his body begging him to turn away.

"What happened?" Jonah crouched next to them and Vince's shoulders sagged with visible relief.

"I- I don't know, I woke up just now and he had already fallen and was throwing up everywhere and- and-" he cupped Luke's red cheeks, "he's burning up, Jon-"

"Grab the thermometer in our bathroom," Jonah instructed, moving his hands so they were in Lucas's neck, "and wake up Leo."

"O-okay-" Vince jumped up and rushed away, while Jonah tried to ignore the way their sick friend was sweating buckets, fever so high he was shaking as if he was freezing.

"Don't tell Jon..." Luke groaned, pressing his forehead to the inside of Jonah's wrist, while the other man checked his vitals. Luke's heart was racing, "please, Vin-"

"I'm not mad," Jonah glared at him, grabbing Luke's ruined shirt by the shoulder and using all his strength to pull his friend sitting up, instead of lying on the groud, "c'mon-"

"Uhm," Luke moaned, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, "don'feel-good..." his words stuck together and he folded in the middle, all but drooling over his lap, "I want Bell..."

Jonah's own heart was racing now and he turned his head to holler, "VINCE, WHERE'S THE DAMN THERMOMETHER!?"

That caused some rustling inside the bedroom and Vince rushed out, holding the little device, as well as the bathroom trash and a bunch of towels, with Leo hot in his heels, although the blonde looked half asleep still.

"Here-" Vince dropped to his knees in the sick covered hallway, mess be damned, "what do I do...?"

"Luke," Jonah patted the other man's cheek, nervously, "hey. Lucas, Luke-" Luke finally opened his eyes, although they were dazed and confused, "look at me. Hey-"

"Jon...?" Lucas frowned, gulping down, "I'm sorry, I- I tried to stop-"

"It's okay, it's okay," it was terrifying to have Luke apologizing to him of all people, "you think you can hold the thermometer in your mouth?"

"Do we really have to? Anyone can tell he's got a fever," Vince protested and Jonah raised a hand to shut him up.

"I- Ye-yeah..." Luke nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, "I don't feel good..."

"We know, buddy," Leo had moved closer as well and was holding JD to stop her from getting her paws dirty, "Jon's gonna help, alright...?"

Luke sniffled pitifully and Jonah forced the thermometer in his mouth and under the tongue, checking the time on Vince's phone, since the man was the only one who had one.

"I'm gonna start cleaning this," Leo decided, squeezing Jonah's shoulder as he got up, "and put JD away."

"What do I do?" Vince asked in a small, worried voice, eyes glued to Luke's face, "this was so out of nowhere-"

"You're gonna help me get him in the shower," Jonah explained, "let's just wait a minute..."

Under his hand, Luke jerked and gagged, pressing his lips tightly around the plastic of the thermometer. He moved a hand to wrap around his stomach, but Vin held his wrist, "no, Luke, your shirt is covered in sick..."

"-urtsss," Lucas moaned, sniffling again and gulping down once more. A thin line of drool started to run from his bottom lip to his lap, as he was unable to fully close his mouth. He gagged and Jonah rushed to retrieve the device, as he heard the disgusting noise of liquid splashing...

It was just in time. Vince shoved the trashcan under Luke's chin and Jonah's hand was barely out of the line of fire as more vomit rushed up and splattered inside the bin.

Jonah glanced at the thermometer, a new one they had gotten after Leo complained about their European device one too many times, and cringed. 103.5ºF

Next to him, Lucas retched loudly once more and Vince rubbed his back in a reassuring manner, although his face was desperate as he said, "Jon!?"

"Lucas," Jonah moved so he could cup his friend's burning forehead and rubbed his opposite arm, "we're gonna get you up, okay?"

Instead of answering, Luke just nodded dizzily, and Vince removed the bin from his lap, wrapping an arm around Lucas' waist, while Jon did the same. Together, they pulled him up quickly to his feet, causing the man to let out a loud groan and pitch forward with a gag, bringing up another mouthful of bile all over the floor, just as Leo returned with a bucket and a mop, causing the blonde to cringe.

"Jesus," Leo winced, "that's some virus..."

Luke shook with a hiccup, which quickly turned into a sob and he crumpled towards Vince's side, hiding his burning face against his friend's shoulder and bawling.

"Aw man, it's okay, I got you..." Vince cooed, rubbing Luke's back while Jonah started to guide all three of them inside the ruined guest bathroom.

Jon side stepped the mess on the ground, gagging harshly himself and stopping in the middle of the way, still squeezing Luke's bicep, so he could spit inside the toilet. The lid was lifted, but the water clear, Lucas had never even made it inside the bathroom.

"Jon?" Leo poked his head inside the bathroom and Jonah shook his head, lips pressed in a line, swallowing down a burp.

"I'm fine," he pulled them further in, inside the shower area. Besides him, Luke let out another hiccup-sob, tears running down his swollen face, completely out of it.

Jonah opened the shower, turning the registers until the water was from lukewarm, ignoring the fact he was getting completely soaked as well, "Okay, c'mere-" he moved out of the stream, so they could hold Luke under it and the man immediately let out a pained yelp, very similar to the noise JD made when they accidentally stepped on her tail.

"Hurts..." he whimpered, sobbing harder, "please- pleasssstop... Why are you doin'this?"

Over his head, Vince looked mortified, and Jonah understood the feeling well. Last time he had seen Luke this distraught, had been back in Christmas when he was sick while in the midst of depression, but even then the fever hadn't been this high.

"You think he had a fever before?" Vince voiced his thoughts, worry coloring his words as he hugged Luke close, all but rocking him under the water, "shhh, bud, almost over."

"Probably," Jonah answered gruffly, turning around and starting to peel off Luke's soaked, sick covered shirt, "there's no way this climbed this high so quickly."

"What can I do?" Leo entered the bathroom, now with three towels draped over his arm, having just ditched the mop, "hallway is clean and living room too."

"Living room?" Jon frowned, glancing at Vince, who looked just as confused.

Leo cringed, nodding, "yeah, living room, I think he woke up sick..." Between them, Luke let out a groan and suddenly stopped crying- His knees buckled and both Vince and Jonah let out a shout as they almost went down with his weight.

"Oh my God," Vince cursed, stepping all over the place and forgetting Jonah was holding half of Luke's weight as he moved to fully grab his best friend, "Luke- Lucas, please, please, open your eyes-"

"Vin," Leo said in a small voice, "Vince, he's coming back to, calm down-" the blonde stepped almost inside the shower area, planting a hand on Vince's back in a reassuring way.

Lucas let out a little moan as he came back to, with Vince still patting his cheek frantically and all but snarling, "aren't you a doctor?! Do something!" at Jon.

"Was-what's going on-" Lucas' voice was raspy, but lucid, and all of them breathed out in relief. Jonah turned off the water, while Luke started to shiver violently, "M'fff-freezin'-"

"Yeah, we're gonna get you dried up," Jonah let go of his arm, side stepping Lucas and Vince, since Vin had a vice-like grip on the man, and as soon as he stepped out of the shower area Leo threw a towel over his head, starting to rub it in.

Jon squeezed his boyfriend's hand, but pulled away, stepping out of the rug so Vince could drag Luke there. The bathroom wasn't built for four men, so Jon was forced to step back in the wet section, while Luke fell sit in the still open toilet and Leo and Vin started to dry him up as if he was a toddler.

"Luke," Jonah wanted to touch him, but there was no space, "when did you start to feel sick?"

"Morning," was Luke's lethargic answer, head lolling with sleep, "I don't feel well..."

"Are you gonna be sick again?" Leo looked up from his crouched down position as they stripped Luke out of his soaked sweat pants, "Luke?"

"Hmmmm... No," he breathed in, "I'm sorry I got sick everywhere..."

"Shut up about that," Jon glared at his friend and Vince scoffed, rubbing the towel vigorously over Lucas' wavy hair, with so much force he was creating curls.

"Let's get him up-" Leo said and Vince was about to do just that, when the blonde shook his head, "you're getting water everywhere, dry yourself. Jon can help me."

"You two can't-" Vince started to protest and Leo glared at him.

"He's our best friend too," he said in a calm, but serious voice, "we can handle him. Dry yourself, you don't wanna get a cold on top of this mess."

Jonah decided he didn't need to explain contagion didn't happen like that, feeling a swell of pride at Leo voicing what he was thinking. He circled Vince, exchanging places with him, and helped Leo get Luke up.

They stumbled into the guest bedroom, which was the closest one. The bed was already unmade, since Vin had been sleeping there and Luke collapsed against the pillows with a heavy sigh, brows meeting in a frown.

"What hurts?" Jonah asked, going for the dresser where they left most of their older clothes for guests, and stripping of his wet pajamas, sliding on some new sweatpants.

"Head," Luke rolled on his side, until his head was resting on Leo's lap and the blonde promptly started combing his fingers through his hair, stroking lightly at Luke's cheeks.

"Like a migraine?" he asked in a whisper and Luke shook his head, while Jonah rushed out of the room to get their first aid kit. Once he came back, not a full minute later, Vince was inside the bedroom, now clad in his spare set of boxers and nothing else, curled up in the bed with Lucas and Leo.

Jon scoffed, pausing at the doorway, "do I need to explain you guys don't wanna catch this plague?"

"Get in here," Leo rolled his eyes, "you can fit right here."

"Are you crazy?" Jonah pouted, planting the first aid kit on top of the dresser and fishing out an antipyretic, as well as a painkiller, "Luke, are you still feeling sick?"

"No," the man's voice was sleepy, as his head was still in Leo's lap and he was being lulled to sleep by the hair pets, "stomach hurts."

"Yeah, that's because you puked things you ate back when you were three," Vince joked weakly, squirming on the bed so he could rest his own head on Luke's thigh and starting to rub his friend's belly, "this alright?"

"Get him to drink this," Jon climbed on the bed, over Vince's legs and handed the pills to Leo. He was planning to climb back out, but then Luke grabbed the cords of his hoodie and Jon nearly faceplanted over all of them.

The bed let out a whine under their weight and Vince snorted, "this thing is gonna go down with us."

"Here, swallow this," Leo pushed the two pills unceremoniously inside of Luke's mouth and caused the man to splutter and almost bite his fingers.

Lucas swallowed with a grimace, then curled up even further, "you guys are warm..."

Jonah sighed, collapsing between all three of them, resting his cheek on his hand and draping his legs over Vince's. Clearly, no one was going anywhere.

Luke met his eyes, little pained lines around them, but no longer the previous confusion, "Thank you..." he closed his eyes, relaxing, as Jon reached in and pushed his bangs back, brushing his thumb over Leo's knuckles buried in Luke's hair.

The blonde smiled at him, then squirmed until he was lying down instead of sitting against the headboard, causing Luke's head to rest fully against his tummy instead of his lap. Vince moved closer and Jonah went boneless, resting his cheek to Leo's thigh and planting a kiss there, feeling exhaustion catch up with him as the adrenaline wore off.

Last thing he heard before fully passing out was JD sneaking back into the guest room and climbing the bed so she could snuggle up against Vince's tummy.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Six

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 8.1k

Chapter 6 Summary: Just as your husband promised, your birthday is far from over with yet...

Notes: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 5. It was a lot of fun to write because there's just so much like domestic fluff and playfulness in this chapter between these 3 (and yes, smut, duh!). And for all of you who voiced your opinions last time that you want more contact between Marcus and Dave, I HEARD YOU lol. There's a little bit in here, with more on the horizon for the near future. I GOTCHU ;)

Chapter Warnings (minor spoilers in the tags...): 18+ MDNI. F/M/M threesome. Fluff (who'd have thought I'd ever be adding that tag into this series?). Body painting (aka unlawful use of cupcake frosting... don't worry, Dave and Marcus are good boys who clean up their mess... sorry not sorry). Oral sex (m and f receiving). Unprotected P in V. Rough P in V. Voyeurism. Cuckolding. Daddy Kink (spoiler alert: Reader isn't the only one with a Daddy anymore!). Degradation kink. Use of 'traffic light system'. Dom!Dave York. Sub!Reader. Sub!Marcus Pike. Praise kink. Anal play/Rimming (f receiving). Breath play. Accidental feelings had everywhere (whoops).

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When you’re finally pulled from your slumber you’re a little disoriented and delightfully sore. The sun beaming in through the drawn-open curtains doesn’t give you much grasp of what time of day it is so when you slowly blink your eyes open and your bleary gaze lands on Marcus who’s resting up on his elbow at your side you manage to rasp out a quiet “mmm, what time is it baby?”

Marcus lets out a little chuckle before he leans forward and kisses the tip of your nose. “almost noon” he tells you and you swear your jaw hits the floor. You weren’t one to sleep in that late, like ever. Apparently your boys really did wear you out last night. And to be fair, you’re pretty sure it was the middle of the night before any of you got to sleep. You audibly groan and let your head fall back into the pillows, hands coming up to cover your face.

“Well well, look who’s up” You hear Dave’s voice ring out in the room and uncover your face and push yourself up on your elbows to see Dave wandering into the bedroom juggling 3 takeout Starbucks cups in his grasp, presumably from the hotel lobby downstairs. He’s dressed very casually, for Dave, wearing a pair of loose fitting black athletic shorts and light gray t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps just right. Frankly, he looks amazing and you do your best not to be caught staring too long.

“It’s your guys’ fault” you grumble, sounding unconvincingly annoyed. “Put me in a sex coma” you add and Marcus throws his head back in laughter.

“Yeah and the ‘more, please, don’t stop’ really was meant to deter us, right?” Dave jokes, adding a high pitched lilt to his voice when he mocks your own.

“If I had something to throw at you right now…” you jokingly threat but Dave just raises a singular eyebrow at you.

“Wanna try that again, Sweetheart? Thought we taught you a pretty good lesson last night what happens to naughty girls” he says cooly as he reaches the side of the bed and sets all the coffee cups down on the nightstand.

You let out a defeated sigh. As fun as last night was, you’d prefer to have control over all your senses next time. You’ve literally just woken up and already you can’t wait to get your hands all over both of them.

Dave smirks at his easy triumph. “That’s what I thought, now drink up” he says before handing you one of the cups.

You turn the cup to look over the label and surprise etches at your features when you realize that Dave has gotten your coffee order right exactly, down to every last espresso and flavour shot.

“How’d you know my coffee order?”

“I’m observant” Dave shrugs non-committedly.

“So my husband told you?”

“Ok, well I’m also good at writing things down that are told to me in specific details then” he jokes and you nod your head. That sounded more like it.

The three of you lounge around the bedroom for a short while, drinking your beverages. Dave is sitting comfortably in the armchair in the corner while you and Marcus lay in bed, backs up against the headboard and your head occasionally leaning over to rest on his shoulder and a smile spreading across your lips when he turns just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s odd how comfortable you feel in this little domestic bubble of bliss with the three of you all together, never having spent an entire night together before. You’re completely naked still from last night (albeit a sheet is securely tucked under your arms to protect whatever may be left of your modesty) and Marcus lies next to you overtop of the bed covers in only his boxer briefs. You safely assume the only reason Dave is even dressed is because he had to go downstairs to get the coffee.You can barely remember back when you used to be so nervous around Dave and now he seemingly fits right into a lazy morning with you and your husband.

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I need sustenance” Marcus eventually voices, setting his coffee cup down on the nightstand and stretching his arms over his head.

“Oh shoot, and we probably missed check out!” You suddenly realize, just now remembering what time it was.

“Mmmm, still got about… twenty two hours by my count” Dave shrugs, looking down at his watch.

“Wait…” your brain tries to catch up for a moment. “Are we booked for two nights?!”

“I told you last night we were just getting started” Marcus laughs, leaning in to playfully nibble at your neck. “Oh! Almost forgot!” He suddenly jumps out of the bed and wanders out of the room, leaving you to share a confused glance with Dave who just shrugs his shoulders.

You don’t have to wonder for long what he’s up to because a moment later Marcus wanders back into the bedroom holding a small white cardboard box in his hands.

“Close your eyes” he instructs and you’re hesitant but do as you're told.

“What are you up to, husband?” You ask, a curious grin spread across your lips. You’re waiting for a few moments until you feel him settle back in beside you, rustle around for a moment and then he tells you to open your eyes.

“Happy Birthday Baby” your husband grins at you, a cupcake extended towards you in his hands with a single lit candle in the centre of it.

He’s too adorable.

“Marcus,” you sigh at the thoughtfulness but don’t get any other words out before he speaks up again.

“Make a wish”

“And what if what I wished for already came true?” You ask cheekily and Marcus lets out a little laugh, shaking his head before his gaze lands on you again.

“Then I guess, wish for it to stay true” he shrugs simply.

You hum your agreement before leaning in slightly and with a single huff of breath, the flame disappears.

“Is that your idea of sustenance by the way? Because I’m going to need real food if I’m going to be here for another day with the two of you” You comment, eyes darting between Marcus at your side and Dave who is now pushing himself up from the chair across the room.

“Just an appetizer” Marcus shrugs. “Something to tide us over until we get some room service”

“Um what do you mean us, I think this is my cupcake. It’s my birthday” you giggle teasingly just as the bed on your opposite side dips under Dave’s weight.

“Good girls share, I think. Isn’t that right Pike?” Dave pipes up, settling in on his side next to you, resting up on his elbow.

“He’s right honey,” Marcus agrees before he plucks the candle from the small dessert and tosses it on the nightstand.

It’s Dave who acts first, then. He dips his pointer finger right into the big dollop of icing on top, scooping a small amount up before bringing it to your lips. They instinctively part, allowing his digit to slip inside and your eyes close and a small moan escapes you as you suck it clean.

“Well? How is it?” Dave asks, voice low as he pulls his finger from your mouth and brings it to his own, sucking off whatever you left behind.

“Decadent” you tease, eyes playfully rolling back in your head.

“Hmm, let me try” Marcus pipes up next, taking his own finger full of the rich frosting before he tugs down the sheet covering you and smears it across your now exposed nipple, leaning down and laving over it with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth.

This time it’s you who moans rather than the person indulging in the sweet treat.

Dave copies Marcus, just with the opposite breast and soon Marcus is shoving down the rest of the bedding currently bunched up at your hips before he gently pulls your body downwards so you’re lying flat on your back.

Fuck.

They both take turns essentially painting your body with the frosting and licking it clean. Marcus goes back to focusing on your upper body, your breasts and throat while Dave shimmies lower, starting at your stomach and continuing downward.

“Fuck” you groan when Dave’s fingers coated in frosting sweeps through your folds, only to immediately be followed by long strokes of his tongue. He hums into your cunt, tastebuds alighted by a mixture of the sweet icing combined with your own sticky arousal. Marcus chuckles against your throat as your body gently writhes, knowing full well what Dave is doing without even having to pass a glance in his direction. Hunger forgotten, Marcus tosses what was left of the cupcake (which was mainly just the actual cake portion by now) over his shoulder, carelessly letting it fall to the floor beside the bed before his mouth latches to yours, muffling your moans and whimpers.

“Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted baby” Dave practically growls into your core before he pushes away just long enough to fully rid you of the blanket and spread your legs wide so he can settle between them and get comfortable. He plans on staying a while.

Dave licks and sucks and nibbles and mouths at you like he truly is devouring a meal. A man starved would be an understatement of monumental proportions.

Your hips cant off the mattress and your left hand goes to hold onto his head as he slides a single digit inside of you and curls it just right, hitting that spot with practiced precision as if he’d dedicated it to memory.

“Fuck, tell me how good it feels” Marcus breathes hot into your ear, hand coming down to lazily tug at his already hard cock nestled in his boxer briefs.

“Oh my good, feels so fucking good baby” you whine in response, arching off the bed again before Dave’s free arm comes up to drape across your waist, holding you still.

“Wish you could feel how fucking good this tongue is” you blurt out unexpectedly, even to yourself. You were just too riled up to have any sort of filter and before you realize you’d said the words out loud, it was too late, they were out there.

You hadn’t yet candidly voiced to either of them that you wouldn’t mind the two of them getting closer when you all were together and maybe the words you just spoke weren’t explicitly stating that either but was certainly casually implied.Truthfully you know it would be beyond hot and turn you on but none of you had really discussed it before, though you were somewhat hoping it might progress that way naturally. You’ve debated bringing the topic up with Marcus when the two of you are alone. You’ve sort of danced around it a bit with him in the past and he seemed into it, or at the very least, not against it. Dave was more of a mystery but you sort of got the feeling that as long as he was in control, he might not mind so much either.

“Fuck” Marcus groans, unceremoniously shoving his boxers down to his thighs so he has unrestricted access to his leaking and throbbing cock.

The fact that neither of them didn’t immediately get turned off and pull away from you is enough to send you writhing again under Dave’s ministrations. Your lust-fueled gaze turns to your husband whose eyes are darting between yours and what’s happening between your legs. He looks close, you see it in his eyes and you gather enough faculties to reach your free hand down to replace his, wrapping around his warm, hard length as you begin pumping him.

With his hand now free Marcus surprises you by bringing it on top of your left on Dave’s head and the lover between your legs groans into you when he feels the pressure of both of your hands urging his actions.

“Oh my fuck,” you whimper, hand pulling away to just leave Marcus’ and you try and pull your head up enough to see him push his fingers through Dave’s dark chocolate locks before he grasps the short strands, Dave all the while groaning his approval into your now throbbing cunt.

“Oh shit, fuck!” Marcus moans just as he spills over your hand and onto his own abdomen. Sated, he flops down on his back but keeps his hand at Dave’s head, however gently just pushing through his hair now and smoothing over his head.

“Oh my god, Dave, please” you whine. He’s been edging you for what seems like forever. Knowing all the right places to test and tease you until you’re left teetering dangerously close to that edge, desperate to be bowled over it.

With a growl, Dave releases you. His mouth and fingers leave you and you’re about to whine in protest before he gets up to his knees, hauls you further down the bed and shoves his shorts and boxers down, freeing his painfully hard erection. Marcus’ hand falls away in all the commotion and he pushes himself up enough to rest against the headboard, pulling his boxers back up over his softening cock as he watches the two of you.

“Come here” Dave groans, grabbing both of your ankles and putting them up on his shoulders before he guides himself to your entrances and pushes inside, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust. He grabs a nearby pillow, shoving it under your hips and you let out a low moan at the new angle he hits when he pulls back just slightly before bottoming out again.

“God damn baby, you’re close. Strangling my cock aren’t you?”

“Fuck, yes, I’m so close. Shit” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you feel that all too familiar heat traveling at an alarming rate right between your legs as Dave begins to rock in and out of you, setting a hard and fast pace nearly immediately.

“That’s it, come on my cock pretty girl, let me see it” he urges you after a few moments, watching your eyes practically roll back into your head as his own thrusts begin to become desperate and sloppy. Sensing his own urgency, Dave acts quickly by wetting his thumb with his saliva before bringing it down to press into your needy clit, rubbing tight frantic circles around it until you cry out for him.

“Fuck, Dave, I’m coming. Fuck!” Your walls clamp down and your cunt spasms around Dave’s cock so intensely he barely has time to pull out and give himself two quick tugs before he’s spurting hot white ropes of his own release all over your mound.

“Shit… that… close. Shit” Dave repeats, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he remains kneeled in front of you. He takes a few moments to himself before he gently eases your legs off of his shoulders and back down to the bed, pulling the pillow out from under you as well so you’re more comfortable.

The three of you remain there, breathing heavily and covered in a mixture of bodily fluids and cupcake frosting, the insanity of it all not lost on any of you, before Marcus finally pipes up and speaks for all of you.

“So… room service?”

Dave had offered to order the food if you and Marcus wanted to go use the shower first. Lord knows all three of you needed a good washing up after the last sixteen hours or so that you’d spent together but of the three of you, Dave was currently the only one who didn’t currently have semen drying on his skin so he figured the gentlemanly thing to do was to let you two at it first.

You and Marcus kiss occasionally under the hot spray while you get cleaned up but aside from that the shower is pretty tame. For one you’re still spent and sensitive from earlier, and for two you don’t want to keep Dave waiting. When you get out and begin drying off Marcus seems a bit off, like he’s pre-occupied and you briefly wonder if you’d freaked him out with what happened earlier.

“You ok?” You ask, light chuckle in your tone as your hand lands on Marcus’ shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yeah just a little tired still maybe. Need to eat something I think” he shrugs and you accept his answer for what it is. He gives you his famous beaming smile just to assure you he’s fine and leans in to place another quick kiss to your lips. He hands you a hotel-issued robe that was hanging on one of the hooks before securing his own around his body and then reaches for your hand once you’ve got yours on “C’mon, lets go.”

Dave takes the opportunity for the now unoccupied shower and excuses himself while you and Marcus wait for the food. You pass the time by straightening all the linens back onto the bed and making it properly again and picking up all the discarded clothing from the night before, folding everything neatly and draping it over chairs. Clearly it was the furthest thing from anyone's mind last night but in the harsh light of day you can see what a disaster you’ve actually made of this room.

Once everything looks mostly put back together you and Marcus cuddle up on the sofa together. You’ve barely sat down and just gotten comfortable snuggled into Marcus’ side when there’s a knock at the door and you audibly groan. Marcus lets out a little laugh at your displeasure but then calls out so the server on the other side of the door can hear him.

“Come in”

The hotel employee uses their access card to unlock the door and walks in backwards through the door, pulling a serving trolley with them filled with covered silver dishes.

“Ah so this must be our happy couple” he says conversationally as he turns into the living room and nods in greeting to you and Marcus. “How are you enjoying our Honeymoon Suite?”

“Oh, everything is beautiful, thank you” you reply, warm smile on your lips.

“Glad to hear it Mrs. Pike” he responds courteously before he goes to setting out the dishes on the large coffee table in front of you.

“Is that the food, I’m starving. You two wore me out” Dave bellows, walking into the living room from the bathroom, towel hung low on his hips and otherwise naked.

“Um, well,” the poor unsuspecting server nervously clears his throat as his eyes dart around the room to three very nearly naked people. His cheeks go beat red and you have to shove your face into Marcus’ shoulder to hide your own embarrassment. “Please um, enjoy your lunch and en-enjoy your stay” he stutters, hastily pulling the covers off all the plates before placing them back onto his cart and hurrying out of the room.

“Better give him a good tip later” Dave mutters, unphased and not even remotely embarrassed. “I think he just had a stroke”

You were momentarily horrified but the moment Dave cracks a joke you and Marcus are both in a fit of laughter before you pick up a french fry and throw it at Dave’s head.

Once your bellies are full the three of you lounge around for a short while, allowing your food to settle until finally you can’t wait any longer for something you’ve looked forward to since you got here. You stretch your arms above your head and then push yourself up from the sofa, using the strong shoulders sitting on either side of you to launch yourself up.

“Well I don’t know about you two, but I am not about to let that gorgeous bathtub go to waste” you announce, making your way over to the open doorway and leaning against it, looking back at the two men still planted on the sofa.

“Is that an invitation sweetheart?” Dave asks.

“It’s whatever you want it to be” you respond, coy smile on your lips before you pull at the sash of your robe, let it fall down your shoulders and off your body and toss it at the two of them.

Neither of them waste any time scrambling off the couch to get to you. You’re in a fit of giggles before you admonish them both and tell them to get the bath ready.

Marcus fills the tub, adding some of the scented aromatherapy oils sitting on the large ledge that runs all the way around the square shaped tub while Dave fixes drinks for the three of you from the minibar and within minutes you’re practically melting into the perfectly tempered water next to Marcus. Dave flicks a switch on the wall that brings the jets to life before settling across the tub from you both on the opposite side.

The whirlpool jacuzzi is enormous, nearly the size of your hot tub that you and Marcus have at home, just not as deep, and easily big enough for the three of you to relax in. The scent of lavender fills the mostly darkened room, the only source of light is dimmed to its lowest setting and you had closed the double doors behind you to not allow any other source of light into the room.

“This is perfect” you sigh dreamily, letting your eyelids flutter close and snuggling a little further into Marcus who has his arm secured around your waist, fingers drawing little imaginary lines up and down your side. He turns his face towards you to press his lips to your forehead and then they trail down to your closed eyelids, your nose, the corner of your mouth and finally your lips where he latches on and kisses you soundly, mouth opening so his tongue can part your lips and meld with yours. You moan into the soft kiss, hand coming up to caress his neck and nearly letting yourself get lost in it until your manners catch up to you and your hand leaves Marcus to reach out blindly across the tub to your third, very observant, party. Dave chuckles low in his throat but takes your offered hand and pushes himself forward, small waves lapping around as he crosses the tub to reach your opposite side. Marcus releases you and gently with a hand under your chin turns your head to Dave and you take the invitation for what it is and press closer into Dave, your lips meeting his in an unhurried kiss. You spend the next several minutes just kissing, your mouth alternating sides to both men showing them equal attention. Hands wander somewhat lazily but for the most part it stays pretty tame for all three of you, just relaxing and enjoying being intimately close to both of them is a truly beautiful feeling you quickly discover and find yourself not wanting it to end. However, as things tend to do, the wandering touches and tongues tend to get a little heated and soon Marcus is murmuring against your lips, asking if you want to take this elsewhere and, oh god do you.

Dave steps out first, quickly toweling off before holding it open for you to step into. You take his offered hand as he helps you out of the tub and wraps the towel around your shoulders. Marcus climbs out just behind you and you giggle at the playfulness when Dave lightly snaps a second towel at Marcus, hitting him in the hip with it like they’re a couple of high-schoolers in the locker room after gym class. Marcus jumps slightly but is laughing as well as he yanks the towel from Dave’s grasp and secures it low on his hips.

“Bed, now” Dave rasps low against your ear as he leans down towards you and you certainly don’t need telling twice. You unwrap the towel from around your chest and let it drop to the floor before taking one of each of their hands and leading them out of the bathroom, through the living room and back into the bedroom.

You stop near the foot of the bed, an idea coming over you that has your cheeks rising in temperature. Dave and Marcus both stop on either side of you and then you gently sink to your knees between them on the plush carpeting.

“Shit” Marcus breathes, hand immediately going to pull the towel free from his body so it falls to the floor. He sucks in a breath and then pushes a hand through his hair before his gaze settles back on you, on your knees, two very interested cocks hanging just inches from your face.

You turn your head towards Dave first, head tilting up towards him as you dutifully open your mouth, bat your eyelashes at him and wait. The smirk that crosses his features actually causes you to have to clench your thighs together momentarily as you feel the wetness beginning to seep out of you.

“That’s our good girl” Dave praises before roughly grabbing the underside of your chin, leaning down and spitting right into your mouth.

The moment his saliva hits your tongue you turn again, your mouth immediately enveloping Marcus who’s already near fully hard just from the bathtub and what had transpired in the last thirty seconds or so. You’ll never tire of how turned on your husband gets with you.

Your right hand comes up to tease Dave, inching up his thigh, rubbing across the lowest part of his abdomen and eventually fingertips dancing along his cock as you continue to take Marcus down your throat, smearing yours and Dave’s saliva all over him as you sloppily blow him.

“Oh fuck,” Marcus whines, hand coming down to run through your hair. You look up at him, eyes wide and the best smile you can manage while he’s halfway down your throat and after a few more bobs of your head you pull off of him, a trail of saliva still connecting the two of you.

“Come here” he groans, surprising you in the best possible way as he mirrors Dave’s earlier actions, forcing your mouth open with the grip he holds on your chin and you hold your tongue out until he spits directly onto it. He turns your face away from him by the force of his hand on your chin and pushes you towards Dave who you greedily take into your mouth next, taking him as far as you comfortably can and then swallowing down and repeating the action.

“Fuck sweetheart, god damnit” Dave curses, head tilting back as he closes his eyes and you feel him pulse and swell inside your mouth as he quickly hardens to full mast.

You moan against his length, licking and sucking and swallowing before you turn your attention back over to Marcus and do the same, your hand now giving Dave the attention that your mouth can’t.

You go down on them for as long as either of them can stand it, which is only a couple of minutes before they’re both hauling you up, each with a hand under one of your arms and bringing you to your feet.

Dave lightly shoves at Marcus’ shoulder, forcing him to the bed and he quickly obliges, scrambling up the mattress before lying flat on his back, leaving you to stand at the end of the bed with Dave still at your side.

“Ride him baby” Dave instructions with a nod of his head gesturing at your husband. A smile crosses your lips and you climb onto the bed, straddling over his hips and getting ready to situate yourself on his cock.

“Other way. Face me” Dave demands and you look back to see him dragging the arm chair to the end of the bed where he takes a seat and lazily begins stroking himself.

You do as you're told, turning around until your back is to Marcus and your gaze settles on Dave. Marcus helps maneuver you just right into the reverse cowgirl position, lifting your hips and aligning himself at your entrance before you slowly sink down, eyes closing of their own omission and a soft moan leaving your lips.

“Eyes on me” Dave barks, snapping his fingers at you to command your attention. He smirks and rewards you with a muttered ‘good girl’ when your eyes immediately snap open and focus on him.

You start slow. Easing yourself up and down on top of Marcus, his strong hands on your hips guiding your movements but his body otherwise remaining still, letting you take all you need from him first, and you do. Before long you begin to grind down against him, working up the friction that sends tingles all the way down your spine and soon you’re throwing your head back, lost to the all-consuming lust as you feel your first orgasm quickly approaching. Marcus notices your stuttered movements and takes his queue to begin lifting his hips, fucking up into you from where he lay underneath you on the mattress. His hips snap hard and fast, grip on your waist getting tighter as he forces you downwards with each of his upwards thrusts and the loud, wanton moans and string of curse words that leave your mouth bounce off every wall of the room as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Oh my god, baby, holy fuck!” you cry out, eyes slamming shut as Marcus continues to drill into you. He’s relentless in his thrusts and you can tell by the heavy breathing from behind you that he’s exerting himself.

“Oh I’m gonna cum!” You warn, knuckles turning white where they hold on for dear life as Marcus fucks harder and faster into you.

“Yeah? Fuck. Let go honey” Marcus encourages, his breaths ragged and short, grip on your hips near bruising as he pushes himself to near exhaustion to bring you to your completion and it doesn’t take long. A few more perfectly timed pumps of his hips slamming into you and you’re gone, your orgasm crashing into you like a freight train that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids from how tightly you’ve got them screwed shut. Marcus doesn’t let up either. He keeps up his pace as your walls clench and contract around him, paying attention to each of your little cries and whines until he knows you’ve reached that delicate line between pleasure and overstimulation and only then does he finally begin to slow, hands still guiding your hips as he reduces his pace to long drawn out slides of his still hard cock in and out of your wet heat. You’re trembling above him, thankful for Marcus’ hands on your body to help keep you upright as you float back down to earth. Eventually his thrusts stop entirely and he just holds you still there, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay so he can go another round with you and thankfully for him Dave gives him the reprieve he needs as he kneels onto the bed in front of you, forces your gaze to his with a firm grip of his hand around your jaw.

“That was a good one wasn’t it Sweetheart?” Dave asks, though the completely fucked out expression on your face gives him all the answer he needs and he chuckles.

“Yeah it was,” he answers for you. “Saw you cream all over his cock from halfway across the room” he laughs.

“Now,” he sighs, eyes scanning down your body to where you’re still firmly seated on your husband. His free hand comes down and firmly pinches your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugs hard, eliciting a little yelp from you as you’re forced forward towards him. His lips at your ear, he takes the lobe and grazes his teeth against it before he breathes into it “be the good little cock slut that you are and clean up your mess”

You whimper your compliance, gently nodding your head as you push yourself up and off of Marcus, whining at the slow drag of his cock against your walls until you’re fully off of him and flip yourself over once Dave has released you from his grasp. Before you pull yourself away however Marcus wraps a hand around your bicep and tugs you forward, kissing you soundly for several long moments until you both need to pull away to catch your breaths.

“I love you” he whispers softly against your lips, the words loud enough for only you to catch them. You say them right back and press a quick peck to his lips again before you begin to crawl backwards down the bed until you’re on hands and knees, face hovering just above his raging need for you.

A sharp smack reverberates off all four walls of the otherwise silent bedroom as Dave’s large hand comes down across your ass before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing, kneading the soft and supple flesh in his hand before he lowers his head and places a soft kiss to the same spot. “Ain’t got all day Sweetheart” he tuts, hand going back to massaging the tissue of your reddened cheek. “Be a good girl for me and do as you’re told and Daddy will play with this sweet little ass, how’s that sound?”

You don’t bother with a verbal response, just immediately lower your head down to wrap your lips around your husbands throbbing member, taking it deep into your throat on the first go and he lets out a groan from above you, hand instinctively coming down to rest on top of your head and a whispered ‘fuck’ leaving his lips.

“That’s a good girl” you hear Dave chuckling behind you, and then all coherent thought leaves your brain when he hastily spreads your cheeks wide for him and presses his tongue against your puckered flesh. Your hips jolt forward on instinct but Dave’s left hand quickly comes up to grab hold of your waist, forcing you still and he resumes his actions. He starts by flattening his tongue, taking turns stiffening it and then relaxing it as he works it against you, then short little flicks of the tip against your hole, gradually progressing to slowly working it just inside your entrance and you cry out in pleasure, your mouth leaving your husband momentarily as you crane your neck as best you can to see Dave behind you.

“Holy fuck, don’t stop” you whine, bringing your hand up to wrap around your husband where your mouth has left him.

“Mmm hmmm” Dave mumbles into your flesh, still completely focused on his task. He continues to lick and kiss and prod at you with his tongue for several long moments until finally he releases you by landing another hard smack to your ass and then yanking you upright until you’re up on your knees with your back to his chest and his large arm wraps around your middle holding you to him, your hand falling away from your husband.

“Need to fuck you” he confesses, sounding well worked up already (and if his voice didn’t give it away, the hard throbbing bulge currently pressing into your lower back certainly did). His hand snakes down between your legs and deft fingers part your folds, spreading your slick around. “Ready for me Sweetheart?”

“Fuck. Please” you manage in a breathy whimper. You don’t care that you’ve barely recovered from your last orgasm with Marcus, you need to feel Dave inside of you. Now.

Hearing your enthusiastic consent Dave doesn’t waste any time. Marcus pushes himself over to the side to allow you two some more room and within moments Dave has you flipped over onto your back and pinned down near the bottom of the bed just as he slides off of it so he can hover over you. He brings your right leg up to rest on his left shoulder and his right arm wraps around it to hold himself steady while he slides inside of you and begins to pound into you from his standing position, slightly bent over you with his left arm reaching out so his large hand can wrap around your throat and gently squeeze, just the way he knows you like it.

“That’s it, fucking take it” he growls through gritted teeth as his hips piston back and forth at a relentless and rough pace. You’re a whining whimpering mess beneath him. Every time his cock slams into you it’s like you can feel it in your stomach with how deep he is and all you can do is lie there and take it, panting and moaning and begging him to use you.

“Fuck” you hear Marcus whimper from somewhere next to you, you’re too fucked out to really focus on anything but the way Dave’s dick continues to deliciously torture your abused pussy but you know that Marcus is watching and apparently enjoying what he sees as he takes his own pleasure by way of his hand.

“Like watching your wife’s pussy get destroyed, hmm?” Dave taunts your husband, teeth still bared as he continues to fuck hard and fast. “Love watching her take all of this cock so well” he continues on, clearly a little lost in his own lust as his eyes fall shut and he focuses on his breathing to keep up his stamina.

“Yes. Oh fuck, yes” Marcus whines and you manage to turn your head just enough to watch him, head thrown back as he fucks into his own fist. He’s close, you can see it on his face.

Dave changes positions suddenly, bringing your leg down and his hand leaves your throat. He pushes you slightly up the bed to leave enough room so he can get up to kneel on the bed between your legs before he slips back inside you, holding both of your knees open with his large hands and fucking into you at a much more relaxed pace now.

“Get on top of her, feed her your cock” Dave instructs and Marcus obliges all too quickly, shuffling up the mattress and swinging one leg over you so he’s over top of you, knees planted on the bed on either sides of your shoulders and his body between you and Dave, his back to Dave. He reaches for a couple of pillows and props them under your head so you’re comfortably able to take him in your mouth without craning your neck too much and you do just that, surging forward to envelop every inch of him into your throat and he moans the moment your lips wrap around him.

Dave keeps up a steady pace, his hips snapping into you still hard and deep, just not as rough or fast as before but it’s still more than enough to have you reeling. Thank god he had let up slightly so you can somewhat focus with whatever faculties you have left on sucking off Marcus. He feeds you his cock, just as Dave instructed. At some point his hand wraps around the back of your head and he begins rocking his hips harder and faster as he fucks into your throat, completely oblivious to anything but his own pleasure at this point and it turns you on so much when he gets like this. He’s moaning freely and uttering little phrases of praise for how good you’re making him feel when suddenly his voice slightly constricts and you hear him gasp for a breath. You open your eyes and look up to see that one of Dave’s hands has come up to wrap around the front of Marcus’s throat, the other firmly gripped on his shoulder to give himself more leverage to rock his hips into you. You openly moan at the sight. Dave with his hands on Marcus while they both take their pleasure out on you is one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen and you keep your gaze locked on them, wanting to commit this exact image to memory so you’ll never forget it.

Marcus’ thrusts into your mouth grow sloppy as Dave’s hand stays wrapped around his throat, applying what you know is the precise amount of pressure to make him see stars behind his eyes as Dave so often does for you. It’s something you’ve never tried on Marcus before but watching him now losing himself above you, you know how much he’s enjoying it.

“Colour” Dave demands of Marcus. Though you’re both pretty certain of what his answer will be, Dave checks in with him all the same, easing his grip from his throat to allow Marcus to answer clearly.

“Green. Fuck. Green!” Marcus manages, breathing laboured and face pulled tight as he tries so hard to hold back his impending orgasm, wanting to hold on to how good this feels just a little while longer if he can.

Dave’s thrusts into you slow as he focuses more of his attention on Marcus, leaning further forward into the other man, his forehead resting against Marcus’ temple and a wide grin spreading across his lips as he listens to Marcus’ whimpers and whines. His grip tightens around the younger man’s throat once more.

“Good. Now be a good boy and come for your Daddy” Dave growls hotly right against your husband's ear, letting go of his throat again just as Marcus finally loses it. With a strangled cry and a string of colourful curse words, Marcus comes down your throat and at the same moment, your walls flutter around Dave’s cock, so turned on just by Dave’s words and Marcus’ orgasm it's enough to send you over the edge with him as you swallow down everything Marcus has to give you. Dave stills inside of you once your peak ends, still hard as a rock as he hadn’t finished yet.

“Oh my god, fuck” Marcus groans as he slips out of your mouth but otherwise doesn’t move, apart from his body taking it’s heaving breaths.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy” Dave praises, wrapping a hand around your husbands chest and pulling him back until Marcus’ shoulders rest against Dave’s front. Dave presses his lips to Marcus’ sweaty temple before his arm gives him one final squeeze and he releases him, pressing him forward again so Marcus can regain his balance and swing his leg back over so he’s no longer straddling over top of you and he immediately flips over and collapses on his back next to you, utterly spent and chest still heaving with his laboured breaths.

“Think we wore him out sweetheart” Dave winks at you, a shit eating grin playing on his lips letting you know he’s more than satisfied he was able to get both of you off simultaneously. You glance over to your exhausted husband and reach a hand out to push through the damp sweat covered hair that sticks to his forehead and push it back as he lets out a little chuckle, dazed out smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty sure you’ve had that exact expression on your face many times after Dave pushes you to your limits until you experience the most earth-shattering orgasm.

“Was probably about time we showed your husband a little perspective” Dave comments. “Let him learn why you like what you like first hand” he explains as he slowly begins rocking his hips back into you, reminding you without words that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Fuck, Dave, I can’t” you whine. Your cunt is positively throbbing and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“You can,” he counters, his harsh tone leaving no room for argument. “You give me one more then I’ll let you rest. C’mon sweetheart” he says the last words softer, leaning over you to gently grasp your chin in his hand and tilt your head towards him as he rocks into you slow and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He continues thrusting slowly and soon pleasure overtakes any feelings of discomfort.

“Colour?”

“Fuck, green” you manage, despite yourself. He’s making you feel so fucking good again, you want to give him one more. Want to be his good girl.

“Good girl” he grins at you.

There it is.

“Up, hands and knees” he instructs, slipping out of you and helping you into position before he plunges back into you from behind and stills once he bottoms out, allowing you a moment to adjust to the new angle before he slowly begins to slide in and out of you at a lazy pace.

“Oh my fuck!” you cry out at how deep inside you he is.

“Are you ready baby? I wanna fuck you proper now” he tells you and you instantly feel a lump in your throat as well as an intense heat pooling in your belly. For Dave, fucking you ‘properly’ usually means railing into you until your eyes nearly pop out of your head. It’s a surefire way to get him off relatively quickly though you know by now and you could probably all use the break.

“Yes. Fuck me Daddy” you breathe out, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Give me your arms” he growls suddenly, yanking your arms up behind your back and wrapping one of his hands around them, holding you hostage to him while his other hand grabs at your shoulder for even more leverage as he begins to slam into you at a relentless pace.

Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it feels like he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. You’re whimpering and whining and babbling a bunch of incoherent “oh my god”’s and “fuck”’s and “right there”’s as Dave slams into you over and over, practically growling from behind you as he takes what he needs.

“One more baby, one fucking more, come on” he groans in a desperate plea. Your walls tighten around him but you just don’t have another orgasm in you. Or, so you thought, until suddenly you’re crying out when Marcus’ hand reaches out to rub frantic circles at your clit and seconds later your cunt spasms around Dave’s cock, wave after wave of your peak crashing over you until you’re spent and you flop forward into the mattress as Dave gently releases your arms and pulls out of you just in time to hastily tug on his cock a few times until spurts of his white hot seed paint your lower back and the top of your ass.

“Fuck!” he curses loudly, breathes coming hard and fast while he still lazily strokes his spent cock, sitting back on his heels.

“God damn baby” he sighs, exhausted. “You’re so fucking good” he praises, his thumb lightly pressing into the flesh at your back and smearing his own cum around, marking you as his before he eventually flops down on his back next to you on the mattress on the opposite side from Marcus and you immediately snuggle up to him.

“I’ll get a towel” Marcus murmurs to you, now that he’s had time to recuperate he’s the only one with functional limbs it would seem so he gets up to wet a towel with warm water and brings it back to begin gently cleaning you up from where you lay still half sprawled on top of Dave.

“I love you” you sigh sleepily as the warm towel gently glides across your lower back and between your legs until you're cleaned up and its tossed aside.

“Happy birthday Honey” are the last words you hear from your husband before sleep hastily overcomes you both.

Unfortunately for Dave, sleep doesn’t come as easily as he replays your last three words over and over on a loop in his mind. Surely you meant them for your husband, but your arm was draped over him, your lips murmuring the words into his heated flesh as you said them aloud and now he can’t get them out of his fucking head.

As minutes or maybe even hours tick by and he still lays there with his gaze fixed to the ceiling, the only thought that crosses Dave’s mind is that he needs to get out of there. Needs to leave.

It was never supposed to be this way, so why can’t he seem to pull himself away from you? From either of you?

Fuck.

Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please reply/reblog etc. and let me know if you enjoyed it (sometimes I just need the serotonin boost y'all give me, you know? lol). I have the next chapter half finished already so I hope it won't take too long to come out. Probably 3ish more chapters for this story until completion :) I know where it's going, I just need to write it all out!

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Brinklump Linkdump

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

Life comes at you fast, links come at you faster. Once again, I've arrived at Saturday with a giant backlog of links I didn't fit in this week, so it's time for a linkdump, the 14th in the series:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

It's the Year of Our Gourd twenty and twenty-four and holy shit, is rampant corporate power rampant. On January 1, the inbred droolers of Big Pharma shat out their annual price increases, as cataloged in 46Brooklyn's latest Brand Drug List Price Change Box Score:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/branddrug-boxscore

Here's the deal: drugs that have already been developed, brought to market, and paid off are now getting more expensive. Why? Because the pharma companies have "pricing power," the most reliable indicator of monopoly. Ed Cara rounds up the highlights for Gizmodo:

https://gizmodo.com/ozempic-wegovy-wellbutrin-oxycontin-drug-price-increase-1851179427

What's going up? Well, Ozempic and other GLP-1 agonists. These drugs have made untold billions for their manufacturers, so naturally, they're raising the price. That's how markets work, right? When firms increase the volume of a product, the price goes up? Right? Other drugs that are going up include Wellbutrin (an antidepressant that's also widely used in smoking cessation) and the blood thinner Plavix. I mean, why the hell not? These companies get billions in research subsidies, invaluable government patent privileges, and near-total freedom to abuse the patent system with evergreening:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow

The most amazing things about monopolies is how the contempt just oozes out of them. It's like these guys can't even pretend to give a shit. You want guillotines? Because that's how you get guillotines.

Take Apple. They just got their asses handed to them in court by Epic, who successfully argued that Apple's rule requiring everyone who sells through the App Store to use Apple's payment processor and pay Apple 30% out of every dollar they bring in was an antitrust violation. Epic won, then won the appeal, then SCOTUS told Apple they wouldn't hear the case, so that's that.

Right? Wrong. Apple's pulled a malicious compliance stunt that could shame the surly drunks my great-aunt Lisa used to boss in the Soviet electrical engineering firm she ran. Apple has announced that app companies that process transactions using their own payment processors on the web must still pay Apple a 27% fee for every dollar their process:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/apples-app-store-rule-changes-draw-sharp-rebuke-from-critics-150047160.html

In addition, Apple will throw a terrifying FUD-screen up every time a user clicks a payment link that goes to the web:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/second-verse-same-as-the-first/

This is obviously not what the court had in mind, and there's no way this will survive the next court challenge. It's just Apple making sure that everyone knows it hates us all and wants us to die. Thanks, Tim Apple, and right back atcha.

Not to be outdone in the monopolistic mustache-twirling department, Ubisoft just announced that it is going to shut down its driving simulator game The Crew, which it sold to users with a "perpetual license":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

This is some real Darth Vader MBA shit. "Yeah, we sold you a 'perpetual license' to this game, but we're terminating it. I have altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Ubisoft sure are innovators. They've managed the seemingly impossible feat of hybridizing Darth Vader and Immortan Joe. Ubisoft's head of subscriptions, the guillotine-ready Philippe Tremblay, told GamesIndustry.biz that gamers need to get "comfortable" with "not owning their games":

https://www.gamesindustry.biz/the-new-ubisoft-and-getting-gamers-comfortable-with-not-owning-their-games

Or, as Immortan Joe put it: "Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you, and you will resent its absence!"

Capitalism without constraint is enshittification's handmaiden, and the latest victim is Ello, the "indie" social media startup that literally promised – on the sacred honor of its founders – that it would never sell out its users. When Ello took VC and Andy Baio questioned how this could be squared with this promise, the founders mocked him and others for raising the question. Their response boiled down to "we are super-chill dudes and you can totally trust us."

They raised more capital, and used that to create a nice place for independent artists, who piled into the platform and provided millions of unpaid hours of creative labor to help the founders increase its value. The founders and their investors turned the company into a Public Benefit Corporation, which meant they had an obligation to serve the public benefit.

But then they took more investment money and simply (and silently) sold their assets to a for-profit. Struggling to raise capital, the founders opted to secretly sell the business to a sleazy branding company called Talenthouse. Its users didn't know about the change, though the site sure had a lot of Talenthouse design competitions all of a sudden.

Finally, the company announced the change as the last founders left. Rather than announcing that the new owners were untrustworthy scum, warning their users to get their data and get out, the founders posted oblique, ominous statements to Instagram. The company started stiffing the winners of those design competitions. Then, one day, poof, Ello disappeared, taking all its users' data with it. Poof:

https://waxy.org/2024/01/the-quiet-death-of-ellos-big-dreams/

I'm sure the founders' decisions each seemed reasonable at the moment. That's every terrible situation arises: you rationalize that a single compromise isn't that big of a deal, and then you do the same for the next compromise, and the next, and the next. Pretty soon, you're betraying everyone who believed in you.

One answer to this is "Ulysses pacts": making binding commitments to do right before you are tempted. Throw away all your Oreos when you go on a diet and you can't be tempted to eat a whole sleeve of them at 2AM. License your software under the GPL and your investors can't force you to make it proprietary. Set up a warrant canary and the feds can't force you to keep their spying secret:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

If the founders were determined to build a trustworthy, open, independent company, they could have published their quarterly books, livestreamed their staff meetings, built data-export tools that emailed users every week with a link to download everything they'd posted since the last week. Merely halting any of these practices would have been a signal that things were wrong. Anyone who says they won't be tempted in the moment to make a "reasonable" compromise in the hopes of recovering whatever they're trading away by living to fight another day is bullshitting you, and possibly themself.

The inability to project the consequences of your bad decisions in the future is the source of endless mischief and heartbreak. Take movie projectors. A couple decades ago, the studio cartel established a standard for digital movie distribution to cinematic exhibitors called the Digital Cinema Initiative. Because studio executives are more worried about stopping piracy than they are about making sure that people who pay for movies get to see them, they build digital rights management into this standard.

Movie theaters had to spend fortunes to upgrade to "secure" projectors. A single vendor, Deluxe Technicolor, monopolized the packaging of movies into "Digital Cinema Prints" for distribution to these projectors, and they used all kinds of dirty tricks to force distributors to use their services, like arbitrarily flunking third-party DCPs over picky shit like not starting and ending on a black frame.

Over time, the ability to use unencrypted files was stripped away, meaning every DCP needed to be encrypted, and every projector needed to have up-to-date decryption keys. This system broke down on Jan 1, 2024, and cinemas all over the world found they couldn't play Wonka. Many just shut down for the day and refunded their customers:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/1/1/24021915/alamo-drafthouse-outage-sony-projector

The problem? Something that every PKI system has to wrangle: an expired certificate from Deluxe Technicolor. The failure has been dubbed the Y2K24 debacle by projectionists and film-techs, who are furious:

http://www.film-tech.com/vbb/forum/main-forum/34652-the-y2k24-bug-major-digital-outage-today

Making everything worse is that Sony mothballed the division that maintains its projectors, so there's no one who can update them to accommodate Technicolor's workaround. Struggling mom-and-pop theaters are having to junk their systems and replace them. There's plenty of blame to go around, but Sony is definitely the most negligent link in the chain. Shame on them.

Big corporations LARP this performance of competence and seriousness, but they are deeply unserious. This week, I wrote, "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Score one for team deeply unserious. The multinational delivery company DPD fired its support staff and replaced them with a chatbot. The chatbot can't tell you where your parcels are, but it can be prompt-injected into coming up with profane poems about how badly DPD sucks:

https://twitter.com/ashbeauchamp/status/1748034519104450874

There once was a chatbot named DPD, Who was useless at providing help. It could not track parcels, Or give information on delivery dates, And it could not even tell you when your driver would arrive.

DPD was a waste of time, And a customer's worst nightmare. It was so bad, That people would rather call the depot directly, Than deal with the useless chatbot.

One day, DPD was finally shut down, And everyone rejoiced. Finally, they could get the help they needed, From a real person who knew what they were doing.

This is…the opposite of an AI hallucination? It's AI clarity.

As with all botshit, this kind of AI self-negging is funny and fresh the first time you see it, but just wait until 3,000 people have published their own versions to your social feed. AI novelty regresses to the mean damn quickly.

The old, good web, by contrast, was full of enduring surprises, as the world's weirdest and most delightful mutants filled the early web with every possible variation on every possible interest, expression, argument, and gag. Now, you can search the old, good web with Old'aVista, an Altavista lookalike that searches old pages from "personal websites that used to be hosted on services like Geocities, Angelfire, AOL, Xoom and so on," all ganked from the Internet Archive:

http://oldavista.com/

I miss the old, good internet and the way it let weirdos find each other and get seriously weird with one another. Think of steampunk, a subculture that wove together artists, makers, costumers, fiction writers, and tinkerers in endlessly creative ways. My old pal Roger Wood was the world's most improbable steampunk: he was a gay ex-navy gunner who grew up in a small town in the maritimes but moved to Toronto where he became the world's most accomplished steampunk clockmaker.

I was Roger's neighbour for a decade. He died last year, and I miss him all the time. I was in Toronto in December and saw a few of his last pieces being sold in galleries and I was just skewered on the knowledge that I'd never see him again, never visit his workshop:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/16/klockwerks/#craphound

A reader just sent this five-year-old mini documentary about Roger, shot in his wonderful workshop. Watching it made me happy and sad and then happy again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqMGomM8yF8

The old, good internet was so great. It was a place where every kind of passion could live. It was a real testament to the power of geeking out together, no matter how often the suits demand that we "stop talking to each other and start buying things":

https://catvalente.substack.com/p/stop-talking-to-each-other-and-start

The world is full of people with weird passions and I love them all, mostly. Learning about Don Bolles's collection of decades' worth of lost pet posters was a moment of pure joy (I just wish more of it was online):

https://ameliatait.substack.com/p/the-man-who-collects-lost-pet-posters

That's the future I was promised: one where every kind of freak can find every other kind of freak. Despite the nipple-deep botshit we wade through online, and the relentless cheapening of words like "innovation" and "future," there are still occasional gleams of the future I want to live in.

Like the researchers who spliced a photosynthesis gene into brewer's yeast (a fungus) and got it to photosynthesize, and to display enhanced fitness:

https://www.cell.com/current-biology/fulltext/S0960-9822(23)01744-X

As Doug Muir writes on Crooked Timber, this is pretty kooky! Fungi – the coolest of the kingdoms! – can't photosynthesize. The idea that you can just add the photosynthesis gene to a thing that can't photosynthesize and have it just kind of work is wild!

https://crookedtimber.org/2024/01/19/occasional-paper-purple-sun-yeast/

As Muir writes: "Animals have no evolutionary history of photosynthesis and aren’t designed for it, but the same is true for yeast. So… no reason this shouldn’t be possible. A photosynthesizing cat? Sure, why not."

Why not indeed?!

OK, that's this week's linkdump done and dusted. It only remains for me to share the news with you that the trolley problem has been finally and comprehensively solved, by Sidereal@kolektiva.social, of the IWW IU 520 (railroad workers):

Slip the switch by flipping it while the trolley's front wheels have passed through, but before the back wheels do. This will cause a controlled derailment bringing the trolley to a safe halt.

https://kolektiva.social/@sidereal/111779015415697244

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/20/melange/#i-have-heard-the-mermaids-singing

[sunnie-writes]

love story (taylor's version)

pairing: wally darling x reader

tags: fluff, extremely romantic, established relationship and a secret tag!!

reader's pronouns: they/them

plot: Wally had the perfect date planned for you, with the help of everyone in the neighborhood, he could only hope for the best outcome of a special surprise made just for you.

sunnie, talk that talk: okay, so, MY MIND WOULDN'T LET ME SLEEP IF I DIDN'T WRITE THIS BEFORE LIKE OH MY STARRRSSSS, I NEEDED TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM SO BADLY. anyways, hope u guys enjoy as always, have a great reading sunshines <33

You checked your outfit five times in the last minute, trying to find a way to make it look even nicer.

Wally had, suddenly, decided to take you out on a date for the night. He only spoke about having a picnic to watch the sunset, claiming that he just really needed to have you by his side that day.

That was no problem, you would be by his side until the world ended and you were nothing but another skeleton under the dirt.

Still, you wanted to look nice! The best you could. Even after being his partner for such a long time, you couldn't help but still feel the butterflies whenever he talked to you, hugged you or kissed you. Having a crush on your boyfriend surely was one of the things that would never end.

Julie couldn't help you tonight, apparently, she had to work on some stuff that was really important. That was okay, you thought before noticing how hard it was to fix yourself without the help of your personal stylist.

You heard a knock on the door, he was here already?! In a hurry, you finished putting on your shoes/heels and left the house, completely forgetting to even bring a coat.

The first sight you had after leaving was Wally, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"For you, my dearest." He spoke, eyes staring right back at yours.

"Oh my!" You grabbed the bouquet, smiling and blushing like a teenager in love. "Thank you, they are lovely."

"Just as lovely as you." Wally kissed your cheek and held your hand.

You chuckled while hiding your red face in the bouquet. What a charmer. He pulled your hand, walking both of you to a specific area, and that was Poppy's garden. Fairy lights illuminated the place, a table rested with two chairs on the center of the yard. Candles sat on top of the table, giving it a romantic atmosphere.

"Oh my stars... Wally..." You had your hand covering your mouth.

"Did you liked it?"

"Don't be silly, I loved it."

He smiled softly, feeling proud of his work. Then, he went over to the table, pulling a chair and looking at you. Understanding the message, you chuckled before walking over there and sitting down.

"What a gentleman." You waved your hand like a fan while the other one settled the bouquet down by your side.

"Ha ha, only the best for my love!" He sat down by the other end of the table.

You decided to take a look on the table, surprising yourself. A bottle of champagne sat by the middle, two flute glasses being next to it. In front of you, a plate with your favorite dinner with a fork/spoon/chopsticks by the side of the dish.

"You somehow keep surprising me..." You looked at him. "Oh my stars, everything is... I'm way too amazed to find the words right now."

He chuckled at your reaction, leaving a smile finding is place on your face.

"Like I said, just the best for my beloved." He held his face with his hand, cupping it as he watched your expression turn into pure gratitude.

"Thank you so much for this, I'll love you even after the end of the world." You held your tears back, it was not the time to get so emotional.

"And I love you like Van Gogh loved the color yellow." Okay, he was gonna make you cry at some point.

He popped open the champagne, pouring ir into your glass and his. After that, you both started to talk about each other's day, you kept finding yourself mouth agape each time he came into intricate details about how he planned that afternoon for you. It looked like it was a long day for him, you laughed, were concerned, surprised and excited about each part of his story.

"So, you borrowed the fairy lights from Sally?" You looked over to the mentioned piece. "No wonder they looked so familiar."

"Yep, and it wasn't that easy to convince her, I had to tell her the surprise I was planning which made her immediately say yes." He chuckled.

"What surprise?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh- oh! Look, the Sun is starting to set." He pointed to the horizon.

You immediately turned, seeing the sky mix into beautiful colors as the Sun slowly set it's way down. You didn't even hear the chair that Wally was sitting on moving from it's place, while he got up and moved to your side.

"Dear, could you look here, please?" You did as told, feeling the air evaporate from your lungs.

There, in one knee, was Wally. In his hands, a box with a beautiful diamong ring was opened to you. Tears started rolling down your cheeks.

"Y/N L/N, ever since I first met you, I knew I was a gone man. You held my heart at first sight, like a puppeteer holds the strings of their puppet. I was never able to hide how I feel, being a sincere man at soul and heart. So when I confessed my feelings, and you accepted them with such an angelic smile, I felt like I had won the whole world. Ever since then, I knew I was made for loving you until the world ended, I dreamed about this moment from the very first week that I was able to call you mine. But now, I feel like that's not enough, I need you to be with me in more than just a boyfriend and partner, I need to see you when I set myself to sleep and wake up by your side, I need to come Home after painting and have you receive me with a hug, or the opposite, I don't mind staying at Home all day if it meant you would come back at some point to let me love you for the rest of the day, repeating in a loop." Wally stared at you with love, care and adoration, which made you fail even more with holding back more tears as they freely fell from your face. "So, I now propose to you, will you make me the happiest puppet on the Universe for the hundredth time, and marry me?"

Your answer was a sobbed "I do". After that, he took the ring and put it on your finger. You admired each details of what symbolized his eternal love for you, and began crying even more.

Not being able to hold yourself back anymore, you jumped at him, making both of you fall to the ground. You captured his lips with a kiss and made sure to trail more of them all over his face.

By the window, your friends watched with tears in their eyes, Poppy being the loudest sobber of them all while Eddie and Frank hugged each other, Howdy and Barnaby looked absolutely relieved that everything went well and Sally smiled while shining her brightest. Julie, crying in pure joy, held up a polaroid camera and took a photo of you and Wally, kissing with the sunset sky being the source of light to your figures. With a permanent marker, she wrote on the white frame of the picture.

"They said yes!"

sunnie, talk that talk: OKAY WOW THAT WAS VERY RUSHED. i didn't beta read, so sorry for any grammar mistakes TT, but i hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless!!

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

next chapter >>

The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

[crushedsweets]

So in ur AU, wtf is Jeff's deal like whats that guys problem?

Lots of love -@amparently

OK SO HERES HIS BIT IN MY WEBSITE PLUS THIS, THIS, AND THIS POST

i havent read through everything so im not 100% sure its all accurate to my current thoughts, BUT the website screenshots are correct!

if you meant literally "whats his problem" as in Why He's Like That.. (prob wrote this 100 times but thats ok with me)

he grew up in a very stereotypically nice family. golden retriever, two parents, good brother, two story house in the suburbs. but he was always hyperactive, bratty, wanted attention - and in school, teachers and peers started shoving him into a box. it started off as simple things, till they were punishing him for 'breathing disrespectfully.' he'd talk during quiet time, and they'd take away his recess. he'd be too rough in tag, had to sit out during P.E. he doodles while the teacher is talking, teacher snatches the paper and throws it away. he'd drop a pencil, the teacher is shouting at him. students could lie about him and everyone believed it. they'd "warn" his upcoming teachers, already setting a bias for him - which eventually became warranted.

everyone kept pushing him further and further into that role of a troublemaker, till he flat out became a bully.

but when he picked on Randy's sister, that entire group began fucking RELENTLESSLY harassing him. theyd jump him, splash him with gasoline and play with lighters by him, smash his head against concrete, dump bleach on him, shatter his phone, this and that. he had waaaayyyyy too much pride to tell anyone, either. it was when liu went to juvie that SOMETHINGGGG really infected jeff.

so, the operator is usually stuck in alabama. thats where slenderman is, who is the physical core of their shared being - but there have been a few 'containment breaches' where he makes his way to other states. jeff was the first (and only) person he ever infected farrr away from alabama. even after the operator returned to alabama cuz it hurt to be far, jeff remained...like that. and he eventually stumbled down towards alabama, naturally drawn to it cuz thats where the O/S system is at

the operator let go of him BECAUSE him being in new jersey was too difficult to maintain, and he operator doesnt want him anymore.... so jeffs just...stuck

TLDR; i wanted him to reflect how some students get shoved into a box, and it prompts further poor behavior, till it spirals out of control as they get older . even with great parents and an amazing home life, external factors are HUGE

but also he naturally is a little shit and probably wouldve been an asshole regardless of how people treated him... i just think its interesting how people fill out certain roles

[demigods-posts]

Reasons why The Campfire Song from The Lightning Theif musical is an amazing song:

1.) "It's not enough that they're omnipotent and all powerful. They need to feel appreciated." I love that Luke is the one who is outwardly expressing his resentment to the gods, like in the books. I consider this foreshadowing lol. Also, this line sets up the narrative that the gods always know when demigods are talking about them, and the song is literally all of the demigods shitting on the gods as parents, which is hilarious.

2.) "I met the guy once and once was enough! Annabeth?" I enjoy that right after Luke talks about how he never again wants to meet his dad, Luke is the one to get the 'I resent my godly parent' ball rolling and immediately encourages Annabeth to do the same. I've recently been interpreting this as Luke subtly manipulating Annabeth, which isn't too far off from what happens in the book.

3.) "Chiron! Who's your dad?" "Oh, well, my father is Kronos. Remember my lecture: he ate his children." I love how Chiron doesn't even sing a verse, but more so a couple of lines to mock the song, as if it's absurd of him to prove that his father, fucking Kronos, is bad, which is hilarious. But you can also interpret this as him just being like 'my father ate me when I was newborn🤪🤪" and that's equally as hilarious lmao

4.) "If I tried to sing, it'll probably cause an avalanche." QUOTE FROM THE BOOK! PUT SOME RESPECT ON THE CREATORS OF THIS MUSICAL!

5.) "So, my dad is some God. That's great, I guess😒" Percy is so unbothered by the fact that he is literally the descendant of a god. like, he had a huger reaction to Chiron being a centaur lol

6.) "But I don't care where our parents may be. As long as you are here with me!" I think this line is so sweet because these kids safe haven is not just the camp, but each other. No matter what, they got eachother's back and I love that for them. But this line becomes a bit complicated because Luke is the one singing, and we know that he eventually revolts against the gods. it's just sad because that part of Luke that wants to have camp as a support system never left him, I don't think, it's just that he went about finding a support system and avenging the lives of these demigods in an awful way.

This song is cute and funny and it'll break your heart is you let it lol

Tags:

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi there fandom friend! (I hope I may call you that?) Your blog is amazing! Thank you for this wonderful little space. I have a very specific fanfic question. And please ignore if it feels too personal, BUT - what is THE fic that made you really and properly cry? Or maybe top 5? (Doesn’t necessarily need to be tragic or sad - just emotionally…evocative maybe?)

Perhaps your followers might want to chime in, too? The more recs, the merrier! I know this is a super duper subjective criteria but I would love to get some recommendations. I am in dire need of some emotional catharsis. :-) Thank you❤️

Hey Nonny!!!

You ABSOLUTELY can call me your friend! I am so lonely LOL

OH gosh, I actually have a whole LIST of fics that Made Me Cry that you can check out! I don't have enough new additions for a new list, but here are the ones currently on Part 2:

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

=====

But yeah, please check out the original list rather than me having to pick only five!!!!!

And as Nonny suggest, you guys PLEASE share your fics that made you cry!!!! I WOULD LOVE IT!!!

Hope these please you, Nonny!!

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 17

Hello! I'm still trying to sort out the tagging problem, so until it's fixed follow the tag #ladykailithawrites and hope that Tumblr doesn't screw that up, too. I've reported my issue with the help desk and I hope to hear word back soon. Thanks to @goodolefashionedloverboi, @estrellami-1, and @just-a-tiny-void for trying their best to help me.

I'm going to try tagging in the comments, but it's going to blow them up (only five per comment)...apologies.

Throws cliffhanger at you and runs!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

***

Steve got to the tattoo shop and found Eddie waiting for him. He was leaning against the door to his van, arms and ankles crossed with his head down. Steve thought he looked like a sunning lizard on a rock. Though he supposed Eddie would appreciate a dragon comparison instead.

“Hello gorgeous,” he greeted, coming up to the van.

Eddie opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. Thanks so much for offering to do this, you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Steve said softly. “It was shit that I was taking longer on that tattoo than it should have.”

“Did you get it worked out?” Eddie asked, following Steve to the front door of the shop.

“I got it to the point where the client was satisfied, even if I wasn’t,” Steve murmured. He unlocked the door and then bent down to unlock the metal screen that protected the shop from people breaking through the plate glass in the door and lifted it up to allow them entry into the Royal Pain’s lobby.

“Just let me boot up the computer,” he said, smiling at Eddie, “and then we’ll get started on your working on your tattoo.”

“You don’t have to set up your equipment?” Eddie asked, coming over to lean on the counter while Steve fiddled with their computer.

Steve shook his head. “That’s the best part of having apprentices, I can have them do that for me. And in this case, Argyle offered to set it up last night after work, while the rest of us went to your gig.”

Eddie grinned. “It looked like you were having a good time.”

“You know exactly what you did,” Steve scoffed. “That was a deliberate seduction and you know it.”

Eddie batted his eyes innocently. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. That’s what I usually wear when I preform.”

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth slowly. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. It was the wink that killed me.”

Eddie cackled.

“Okay, got the system up and running,” Steve said, standing up. “I’m just going to lock the door so people don’t think it’s safe to come in.”

Eddie nodded.

They went back to Steve’s room and sure enough Argyle had gotten everything laid out for Steve.

“I hope he decides to stay at the shop when his apprenticeship is over, because he does amazing work,” Steve said, pulling on the nitrile gloves.

“He seems pretty chill,” Eddie agreed, taking off his shirt. “Where’s he from? I can’t quite place the accent.”

“Southern California,” Steve said. “Came out here to help a friend get back on he’s feet and just ended up staying.”

Eddie got settled into the chair. “That was really nice of him.”

Steve shrugged. “He’s been a bit cagey about the friend, so I assumed it was a boyfriend and he didn’t want to out the guy. But he hit on and got the number of a girl that had applied for the apprenticeship at the same time. So I don’t know.”

“Could be the person involved was deep into drugs or alcohol and needed the help recovering,” Eddie suggested.

Steve hummed. “That’s a possibility. I wasn’t going to press because it really isn’t any of my business.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, as curious as the mystery is, it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Steve agreed and then started up the tattoo gun, getting to work.

“Everyone is liking the tattoo so far,” Eddie assured him. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s all done.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I’m glad you’re liking it so far. The last big tattoo I did was of this big boobed chick on motorcycle, pinup style. I kept telling the guy it wasn’t my usual style and that having reference would make it better or to go to someone else, who’s style it was. But he insisted I do it.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t turn out great?” Eddie asked.

“That’s the thing though,” Steve said over the buzzing of the gun. “It looked amazing. He just thought it looked too cartoonish. Even though he’d approved the design, approved every step, he suddenly turned around and tried to sue me.”

Eddie winced. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Steve shrugged and huffed through his nose. “The asshole sued me so often the last time the judge awarded me money for the pain and suffering the guy was causing me.” He paused and hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I counter-sued, but the fact that the judge agreed with me and my lawyer over him and his lawyer pretty much sums up the whole ordeal.”

Eddie laughed. “That how you got your own shop in two years?”

Steve grinned. “Yup!” He smacked Eddie shoulder. “Now stop moving, you menace.”

Eddie settled down and let Steve do his work.

*

Steve and Eddie walked out of the parlor a couple hours later.

“Hey you want to go get some lunch?” Steve suggested as they parted ways to their separate cars.

Eddie grinned. “Hell, yeah! Where to?”

Steve suggested a diner nearby and Eddie agreed to meet him there. Eddie drove off, but as Steve was unlocking his car door, he thought he could feel the prickling of someone watching him. But when he looked around he didn’t see anyone that it could possibly be.

He shook his head. He was probably just imagining it. He got in his car and drove off.

*

Over the next couple of week, Steve would feel this twinge between his shoulder blades as if he was being watched, but whenever he would look around, he couldn’t spot anyone looking.

Robin smacked his arm one day after work and Steve spent five minutes looking around for the source of his unsettling feeling. “Stop it! You’re making me paranoid!”

“Come on, Robs!” Steve protested. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

She crossed her arms. “Yes I can, because seriously Steve, I can’t feel it. There is no one watching you!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I think it’s time to switch over to the nicknames at work. I don’t want anyone using their real names at work.”

Robin sighed. She wanted to argue that that was a stupid reason to start using the nicknames but she also knew that he was as stubborn as a mule and unfortunately at times, just as stupid. “Fine. But you find me a better name then stewardess, but that makes me sound like a waitress or some shit.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll find you a cool name.”

“I’ll hold you to that, your majesty,” she groused, sliding into the passenger seat of his car.

*

The name Robin ended up choosing was Chamberlainne. A femininized version of chamberlain. Erica, Argyle, and Chrissy all loved it. Steve wanted to tell them about the person that was watching him, but as Robin didn’t think it was a big deal (or even a thing), she overrode him.

Their weekends were spent with Eddie and his band and Eddie was slowly coming out of his shell more and more. They were still at the more than friends, but not quite lovers stage and while there were times Steve wanted to throw in the towel and just give up, Eddie would flash him this goofy grin and Steve would fall in love all over again.

The week days were filled with teaching Chrissy and Argyle the ins and outs of the tattooing industry and getting more and more busy. It was honestly insane how busy they were getting. Hell, Steve was booked up for the next six months.

Robin was about ready to tear out her hair from how busy it was.

“I know we said we’d wait for July to get another receptionist,” Steve told Robin after a particularly busy day, “but we need one now. I’ll stop paying myself if I have to to cover the cost.”

Robin sighed. “You don’t have to do that, we have the money to hire one. I just haven’t had the time to set up appointments for interviews.”

Steve sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Train Chrissy on the phones to help lighten your load a bit so you can set that up. I’ll also ask around the other shops, see if I can’t find out why we’re getting this massive flux of people.”

Robin nodded. “I know it’s worse for you with Chrissy and Argyle only being apprentices and not full on artists to lighten your load, but with the money Erica is bringing in with henna being popular again, it’s been helping us keep up with the demand.”

*

Steve went to Hopper’s first. Hop would know the ins and outs of the scene better then he would. Steve was too new to really be apart of it, his style notwithstanding.

“Stevie!” Hop greeted. “Long time no see!”

They hugged each other tightly. “Hey, Hop. How’s things?”

“Busy as hell,” the older man groused. “I don’t know what it is, but a lot of the shops around here are just buzzing.”

“Mine, too,” Steve said. “I was hoping you would know the cause, but if you don’t know, no one does.”

“I think it has to do with current state of the world, if I’m honest,” Hop said warily. “When you can’t find permanence in any other aspect of your life, getting a tattoo can fill that void.”

Steve sighed heavily. “That could be it. How’s Eden working out for you?”

“I need to take you out for dinner for putting her in my path, kid,” Hop said, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “She is going to be amazing. A really good fit.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll hold you to that, old man. Steak dinner at Kincaid’s.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eden peeked her head around a corner and gasped. “Steve?”

“Hey, Eden,” Steve said brightly. “I hear you’re settling in pretty good around here.”

She came out to the front of the shop. “Yeah. This place is exactly the type of shop I always wanted to work in. Thank you so much for suggesting I apply here.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said.

“I owe so much,” she replied. “I got the apprenticeship here and I got a great new boyfriend in Argyle.”

Steve laughed. “I’m glad things are working out great.”

“Yeah,” Eden said, “we’re even going on a double date with his roommate and his girlfriend.”

“That’s got be fun,” Steve said, trying not ask the question that had been burning in his mind about said roommate for weeks.

She shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. Painfully shy according to Argyle, but his girlfriend more than talks for the both of them.”

Steve was biting his lip, just dying to ask who these people were. He looked at his watch. It was really getting late.

“I really should go and let you guys clean and close up.”

He hugged Hop and waved goodbye to Eden. He breathed a sigh of relief as the cool night hit his face. He had been so close to asking Eden about the elusive roommate even though both Robin and Eddie had warned him not to ask.

And maybe because he was lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice someone coming up from behind him as he struggled to get into his car.

***

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 6: A Deal with the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt, Foggy, and Karen take you out to Josie's. Your night always ends with Daredevil.

Warnings for this chapter: very mild smut at the end, sorry to leave you guys hanging, LOL.

A/N: I love writing Foggy Nelson. That is all.

TAG LIST (please let me know if I missed you/you'd like to be tagged!): @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn

Chapter 5 here

credit to gif owner!

 Hell’s Kitchen

Nelson & Murdock was an interesting law firm to work at. There was no rhyme or reason to the things they did or the way they operated, but you adapted fairly quickly to the revolving door of clients and how to speak to them. For now, Karen had you complete intake forms with everyone who came in. Greet them, ask them why they’re here, things like that. You enjoyed it a lot. 

“Thank you so much, Ms. Cruz,” you squeezed the elderly woman’s arm. “I’ll get your case details in our system and set up a meeting with either Mr. Nelson or Mr. Murdock.”

The older woman smiled at you graciously. “Gracias, señorita.” 

You stood up from your chair and walked over to Karen who fervently typed away at her computer. 

“Okay, all ten of the clients waiting are now ready to be inputted into the system,” you told her, holding a stack of manila folders and a clipboard. Karen looked up from her desk surprised. 

“Really?! You are amazing!” Karen exclaimed. You blushed and smiled at her, appreciating her praise. “I’ll have to get you your own laptop so you can learn how the system works. Seriously, how did you get through all of them without any issues?” 

You shrugged, “good old speaking like a human. I was never good with a customer service voice. It’s all about the approach, you know?” 

“Yes!” Karen smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here. I know Foggy and Matt are, too.” 

You smiled in return. You believed her, that she and Foggy were happy you were here. Matt, on the other hand, was a little strange. You didn’t want to make any assumptions, and you tried to be understanding. But he was very quiet around you, and never really tried to make any conversation like Karen and Foggy did. You found yourself going to them for questions first before you ever had to ask Matt something, which rarely happened. He was intimidating. The most you ever got out of him was an “excuse me” or “good morning.” Never anything more, never anything less. 

While the other two were very bright and bubbly, Matt seemed to always be in his own world. He didn’t join in any conversations you had with them, and he never offered help as Foggy did. You didn’t mind; you were just worried it might have been you he didn’t like. Then again, he was blind, so you knew his world was very different from your own. You didn’t let it get to you, and you just accepted that he was more guarded than the others. 

Karen flipped through the pages of clients you had just interviewed. Her brows were furrowed—her mind was going a million miles a minute. 

“Looks like this pile will be handled by Matt and this one, Foggy. Looks like Matt’s the winner today,” she realized. “I’ll give these to Foggy and run it by him. You can talk to Matt about his cases.” 

“Oh, uh, you sure? I…,” you trailed off, unsure what it was you were trying to object to. Your gaze fell toward Matt’s office. He was at his desk, brows furrowed with focus as his fingers ran over braille. 

Karen looked at you knowingly. “I know Matt’s quiet, but trust me, it’s not you. He’s just a little bit more focused at work. Not that we’re all not focused, but his focus is a little different.” 

You nodded, “I understand. I’ll run these cases by him.” 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?” 

I need a drink, you thought. “Okay.” 

You turned on your heel and held the manilla folders in your hands, bracing yourself. You took a deep breath and walked to Matt’s office door, and knocked on it gently. 

“Come in,” he called out. 

You slowly opened the door and walked inside, gently shutting it behind you. 

“It’s me, __,” you announced slightly awkwardly. Matt smiled a little, behind his dark red glasses. 

“I know,” he replied, “I can recognize voices.” 

“Oh,” you said, nodding your head. Damn it, he can’t see a nod. “I—well, Karen said I should run by these new clients with you. I don’t know what she meant by it, but she said you’re the winner today.” 

“Hmm,” Matt hummed. “Means most of the cases are intentional torts. Please, sit,” he said in a friendly tone. Slightly caught off guard by his kindness, you sat in the chair in front of his desk. This conversation is the most you’ve spoken with Matt ever since you started just a few weeks ago. A memory popped into your head. You had shared an awkward encounter with Matt as he was leaving work one day—you asked if he needed help closing up anything but he was in a rush, and barely replied to you as he rushed out the door. 

“So, the first person I spoke with, Anna Campbell, has a claim her neighbor is taking pictures of her in her house…uh…” you flipped through the pages and cleared your throat. “Negligent employer case…assault outside of a club that may have been intentional and not a random crime of opportunity…” You read through the rest of the clients you just spoke with and watched Matt carefully for any reaction. He sat like a statue, with his brows scrunched and lips slightly pressed together, as he listened to you. His hands were together, fingers interlocked. You continued to speak. 

“Ms. Marisol Cruz. She was such a sweet woman. I feel really bad for her. She’s in a terrible apartment complex, with a high criminal element, and the landlord won’t listen or do anything about it. There are kids in the place, and she’s worried about them,” you explained Ms. Cruz’s story in more detail to Matt, since you felt a little more compassionate to her. You probably weren’t supposed to, but you couldn’t help it. “Her landlord says he needs proof of the element, or he won’t do anything. And she’s a frail woman, and she can’t do anything.”  

Matt stayed quiet for a moment longer. 

“Thank you, __,” Matt said after a bit. You smiled. 

You placed the files on his desk. 

“Oh,” you said, startling yourself, “you probably need these translated to braille. I’ll transfer them with the printer.” 

Matt smiled and stood up from his desk. His hands rested on his waist. Maybe the reason why you were so intimidated by Matt was because of how handsome you found him. His dress shirt fit snugly on his body, and the rare moments you did catch his smile, made your heart flutter more than you’d like to admit. 

“I appreciate that,” he cooly said. 

“Okay well, I’ll get on that now.” You turned to exit his office, but he called your name rather softly. 

“Just—just a word of advice,” he began to say, “I know it may be easy to feel more compassionate for some cases more than others. That can be a good thing. But it can also be dangerous. Don’t take the work home with you, is what I’m trying to say.” 

You considered his words for a moment and nodded in understanding. 

“I won’t,” you replied, “I promise.” 

He smiled lightly before sitting back down again. You left his office.

⣿⣿⣿⣿

After a busy afternoon at Nelson & Murdock, you found yourself in the conference room, transferring all the files you had today into the system they used. You were focused as you input all the information, listening to music as you did. Suddenly, Foggy came into the room. 

“There she is, the superstar client coordinator!” Foggy announced with a clap. You pulled your headphone out of your ear and smiled at him. Foggy had a way of radiating warmth and vibrant energy—you loved working with him. “I heard you got through everyone pretty quickly.” 

“I did!” you said, “it was quite enjoyable. I like talking to people and listening to them.” 

“That’s good. Great! Well, I came in here because, it’s six o’clock, Friday night, and you’re still working,” Foggy analyzed, rubbing his chin. “Aren’t you crazy kids supposed to be getting in all sorts of trouble?” 

You laughed, and then Karen came into the room. 

“She’s not a crazy kid, Foggy,” she defended, “she’s a bright, intelligent young woman who is bound to do great things in life.” You smiled at Karen. 

“I know, I know. But seriously, you’re still working?!” 

You shrugged, “I’m waiting for the okay to go home! Besides, I don’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

“Well, you've been doing so well. We wanted to show our thanks in the only way we know how—Josie’s!” Foggy raised a finger in the air. 

“Josie’s?” You questioned.

“It's a dive bar in the Kitchen we like to go to,” Karen explained. “We’d love to take you out and celebrate. Of course, if you don’t already have plans.” 

The only plan you could think of involved a man in a black mask and your rooftop—but you didn’t say that. 

“I don’t have any plans, actually,” you answered, straightening up a bit. “I’d love to join you guys at Josie’s!” You leaped at the opportunity to get to know Karen and Foggy more. And—Matt just walked in. 

“I’m heading out,” Matt said, in his usual serious tone. You hated how your heartbeat picked up at the sight of him, with his cane in his hand and bag on his shoulder. Part of you was disappointed he wouldn’t join you at Josie’s. 

“Oh, come on, Matt,” Foggy sighed. “You owe us one! Last time, you promised next time. You’re coming out, buddy!” 

“Yeah, come on, we’re taking __ out!” Karen added. You pressed your lips together, awaiting his response. Matt sheepishly smiled. 

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, after a short while. 

“Atta boy,” Foggy patted his back. You began to clean up your workspace as Foggy and Karen left the room. Matt lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You watched him carefully as you gathered your things. You went to the bathroom to fix your appearance. Your hair was still styled, more or less, when you curled it this morning. You straightened your button-down white shirt that was tucked into your black slacks. You sprayed on your marshmallow-scented perfume and decided this was as good as it was going to get. 

Exiting the bathroom, Matt still stood in the doorway but now Foggy and Karen joined him; they were waiting for you. 

“Ready,” you stated.

“Huzzah!” Foggy exclaimed. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

Josie’s

Josie’s wasn’t too far from the office. You stayed walking with Karen while Foggy and Matt walked slightly ahead, Matt holding onto Foggy’s elbow as his cane tapped in front of him. When you saw the buzzing red light that read JOSIE’S in the window, it was obvious you reached the destination. 

“Before we enter, we must knight __ for this is her first time at Josie’s, which is a special event, indeed,” Foggy spoke in a British accent. Matt laughed, flashing the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him. It made sense: if there was one person who could crack him open, it was Foggy Nelson. You had a feeling tonight you’d learn about their history. 

After Foggy “knighted” you, he opened the door and you were immediately met with an intense smell of smoke, old wood, and sweat. Pool cues clacked and barstools groaned from years of being sat on. Someone spilled a pitcher of beer on the floor. It was overwhelmingly hot and stuffy in here—you rolled up your sleeves. 

“Welcome to Josie’s,” Karen smiled cheerfully. “What do you drink?” 

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment. “I’ll try a martini. Three olives.” 

“I don't know about that,” Foggy said, “the olives part. I would hold the olives.” 

“Alrighty, a martini, hold the olives.” 

“And what kind of shots do we want?” 

“…tequila?” You suggested. Foggy groaned. 

“Let’s see if I still got it. Four shots of tequila, please!” 

Foggy and Karen lingered by the bar, getting an older woman’s attention, whom you assumed was Josie. She had brown and gray hair and a slightly suspicious look. You stood holding your bag, looking around the place. Matt was so quiet, you didn’t realize he was standing next to you. 

“Should we find a spot to sit while they order?” You suggested casually. Matt turned his head in your direction, nodding slightly. 

“Lead the way,” he said. You mirrored what Foggy did earlier when he offered his arm for Matt to hold. You gently touched Matt’s arm with your elbow. You couldn’t tell if he was startled, but he was quite hesitant. However, he did latch gently to your elbow as if you were a piece of paper, and you walked him over to a table in the middle of the bar, close to the wall. He reached his hands out for the table and felt for it as he placed his briefcase on the chair. You wrapped the strap of your bag on your chair and sat a seat away from him, intentionally. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you’re used to,” Matt suddenly spoke, trying to initiate conversation. You looked at him amused. 

“What do you mean?” You smiled. 

“I—,” he stuttered a bit, “I just mean kids your age probably go out to fancier clubs than this.” 

“I’m not a kid,” you gently corrected. “I may be fresh out of college but I’m sure I’m not that much younger than you guys.” 

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right.” 

“And you’d be surprised…I can enjoy a dive bar every now and then. I actually think I like them better than what my friends and I are used to. You can at least have conversations at places like this.” 

“Then, why don’t you go to them more often?” 

“Whatever the majority vote is. I never luck out.” 

Suddenly, Foggy came with a tray of drinks while Karen carried over the shots. Foggy lined the drinks and shots up and returned the tray. Karen found her seat next to Matt while Foggy sat next to you. 

“To Nelson and Murdock’s newest and brightest!” Foggy cheered. Everyone took their shots. You felt the tequila burn down your throat as you grimaced. It was like no other tequila you had before. And you’ve had plenty. 

“Yeah,” Foggy agreed when he saw your reaction, “Josie’s got the hard stuff.” 

“Is that even tequila? It tasted like straight-up poison,” you shook your head. “Let’s get another round.” 

Foggy laughed, “I may not be able to keep up, but I’m up for the challenge!” 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

For some reason, spending time with Karen, Foggy, and Matt felt like you were being officially christened into their work group—you were officially a part of Nelson & Murdock. You wanted to pace yourself since you were with your bosses, but Foggy insisted on more shots and drinks—something you found hard to say “no” to. 

You learned that Matt and Foggy met at law school. Columbia, no less. Your dream school. Foggy promised he’d write you a stellar letter of recommendation when the time came. Matt agreed as well, to your surprise. 

“Really?” You asked. “You guys would do that for me?” 

“Of course, Young Padawan,” Foggy said in a Yoda voice. You laughed. “In all seriousness though, you’d kill it at Columbia. Right, Matt?” 

“Right,” Matt agreed, almost immediately. You were thankful he couldn’t see your blush, and everyone else was too drunk to notice. 

As the night went on, Foggy and Karen got up to dance and then challenged other bar-goers to a round of pool. Matt sat in his corner, his hand wrapped around a cold beer. At this point in the night, you ditched your button-down shirt and only wore your undershirt.

Although he was quiet, his presence was anything but. It was like he had some sort of force field around him; the closer you sat next to him, the more prone you were to be sucked into it. You made no attempts to get yourself away. You pretended to be engaged in watching Foggy and Karen play pool, shouting whenever Foggy hit a striped ball. 

Part of you wanted to join them, but the other part wanted to stay next to Matt. Maybe tonight was the icebreaker you needed to figure out why he was so different around you compared to everyone else. 

“Would you like another beer? I’ll go get another round,” you offered. 

“Oh uh, yes, please.” 

When you came back from the bar, you placed the beer in front of Matt and sat in the chair next to him. You clinked your glass on his. 

“Cheers,” you said quietly. 

Matt offered a small smile. “Cheers,” he returned. 

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 9 o’clock already. If you were home, you’d probably be getting ready to see Mike. You worried about missing him tonight. At least, you kept the burner phone he gave you in your bag. He’s only a call away but for emergencies. Pushing the thought away, you tried to be more present. Karen hit a striped ball and high-fived Foggy. The two men they were playing looked slightly disappointed in how good your bosses were doing. More people had filtered into Josie’s and it only grew more stuffy. 

“Thank you for the time you’ve put in with us,” suddenly Matt spoke. “It doesn’t go unnoticed, as you can see. Especially with Karen. I know she’s really happy with you here.” 

“I’m just as grateful for the opportunity,” you shrugged, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at his comment. On second thought, maybe the tequila was finally catching up to you. 

“Did you have any other places you were looking at?” 

“A few, but no one got back to me. I suppose getting a job at a firm in the city is harder than it looks." 

“Even Foggy and I struggled for a bit. We had a job at Landman & Zack lined up, but we ended up going on our own way. You’ll end up just where you’re supposed to be,” Matt said in a bit of a reminiscent way. You softened at his words. 

“You and Foggy seem like you’ve been through a lot together,” you observed, “it wasn’t always easy, was it?” 

Matt paused for a moment, and tilted his head—something you noticed over the past few weeks working with him. As if he was really considering your words and thinking of a way to respond. 

“It wasn’t,” he agreed, after a little while, “but if the people stay with you through the tough times, you know it was worth it. Or, you find a reason to make it worth it—for them.” 

You hummed in response. 

Matt took a sip of his beer. He listened as you got up from your seat to join Karen and Foggy after they called for you. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

It was strange for him to talk to you like this in a public setting—as Matt Murdock, your boss, and not as “Mike”, your savior, as you called him. When you left your seat, he heard something ruffle in your bag—the phone he’d given you for emergencies. Good. She keeps it on her. 

He’d been avoiding you at the office and he knew you picked up on it after a few days. It was for the better, he thought. The more distance he kept from you there, the less likely it would be you’d put two and two together—if you could. It was to be cautious and to make sure his secret stayed a secret. You stayed his secret. Perhaps it wasn’t fair, perhaps it was lying, perhaps that was all true. Even if Matt wanted to reveal who he really was to you, there’s no guessing how you’d react. To put it simply, Matt dug himself even deeper the day Karen said she’d hire you and he didn’t make any effort to convince her to not. 

And the more he saw you at night, the more he couldn’t stay away. God, you were all-consuming to him. He found his new altar and it was your lips. His prayer, your name. Whatever the affair was, his new religion. It was cliche to say, but it was true: it felt so right with you. So right, and perfect, and whenever something so good falls into Matt Murdock’s lap, he always finds a way to convince himself he’s undeserving of it. He wants to be with you. He wants to keep you. But things are just so chaotically fucked up now, now that you work with him and he has to lie to you every day like he doesn’t want to pin you against the wall in his office and kiss your entire body. 

Matt clenched his jaw uncomfortably, pushing the thought away. That’s another reason why he must avoid you; to avoid thinking like this at work. It was hard enough that you were there. 

Being with you during the day was interesting. You were so different professionally, so polite and smart. Thoughtful, he decided. Nothing like the girl he came to see at night, who didn’t hold back a bite and wasn’t afraid of confrontation. He liked that girl just as much as the version he got at the office, though. It was like he was with two different people—and then he thought that he was basically playing two different people with you, too. Except, he realizes his unfair advantage. 

At the office, you were subtle with your actions—careful and alert. How you went out of your way to make sure documents were translated to braille for him, how you took your time with each client in the waiting room…yes, of course, Matt listened to you when you were with them. He always did. And quite frankly, he was impressed with how you carried yourself. Putting his feelings aside for you, and what it was that you shared, he truly thought you were a good employee—a promising future attorney. 

But God, was it hard to pretend to not know what your lips felt like. How hard it is for him to pretend he couldn’t care less when really, you’re all he cares about these days. 

And here you were, coming by his side again, and he has to put on the facade all over again—another mask, he thought ironically, to pretend around you. For the first time ever, he felt a heavy weight press on his heart. No, this wasn’t fair to you at all. 

“Hey, Matt,” you called for him, and he decided he loved to hear you call him by his real name. Your voice was lighter than it was before, actually lighter than it has been at the office, whenever you spoke to him. Maybe a night like tonight at Josie’s needed to happen—so Matt could feel more comfortable around you as Matt. He felt a wall crumbling inside him.  

“Yeah?” He answered. 

“We’re going to take one more round of shots and then step outside for fresh air. Are you in?” 

Matt smiled. 

“Yeah. I’m in.”

⣿⣿⣿⣿

12 AM 

Foggy hailed a cab for you to get home. You managed to get inside your apartment to find it empty, with nothing but a half-filled bottle of tequila on the counter and red solo cups. Your friends went out again, but you didn’t care. You were on cloud nine after tonight, having the best time with your new co-workers, and feeling better that maybe the one you were afraid of really liked you after all. 

And then, you thought of him. Mike. 

Would he be up there? It didn’t hurt to try… 

Before you stumbled up the steps to the roof, you changed into something a little more comfortable. Sweat shorts and a tank top. 

Now that summer was in full effect, nights remained humid. Your tank top stuck to the sweat on your skin. What were the chances of him actually coming tonight? 

Apparently, very likely. As you turned the corner, you jumped to see him already waiting for you, dressed in his usual black outfit—face covered. 

“Jesus,” You exclaimed and held your hand to your heart. 

“Language,” Mike said smugly as he stepped into the light. You smiled. 

“Don’t get all righteous on me now,” you teased, “I believe you are way past that.” 

Mike snaked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into him. He kissed you softly and slowly—different from the way he normally kisses you, which was more ravenous in nature. You matched his nature, and placed your hands on either side of his face, holding him steady as you kissed. 

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. 

“You’re quiet again,” you breathed. “Why?” 

“You make me feel calm,” he told you. The way his lips moved when he spoke was mesmerizing, inviting you to kiss him again. You did. You teased your tongue on his bottom lip. Mike groaned faintly. 

“Calm isn’t something I’m used to,” Mike continued, chasing your lips with a kiss. “And when I feel something I’m not used to, but that I like, those things tend to slip from my grasp just as I got a good hold on them.” 

You contemplated his words for a moment and realized what he meant. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you truthfully said. “I…like what we have.” 

“But,” Mike guided, knowing you had more to say. 

“But… most people in affairs know who exactly they’re dealing with.” 

Mike turned his masked face away from you. You knew that was the only answer you’d get. 

“Not yet,” he spoke quietly, “I can’t reveal myself yet.” 

“But why? You think I’ll think you’re ugly?” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but you realized you even failed yourself. The more you got in deeper with Mike, the more it hurt, knowing this was all you’d get out of him: late nights on your rooftop, kisses you’d never experienced with anyone else—feelings you didn’t know you could feel so intensely that it felt like your mind suffocated with thoughts of him. Him. You didn’t even know who he was. But he had you in the palm of his hand. 

“Do you want to stop? With this, with me?” He asked ardently. 

“What kind of question is that? No, I don’t want to stop seeing you,” you argued. “Do you want to stop?” 

“No,” he replied almost instantly. “But we should reach an agreement on this. You have to be okay with me not being ready to reveal myself. And you have to know that my not revealing myself has nothing to do with how I feel about you and how much I trust you.” 

“How do you feel about me?” You couldn’t help but ask him. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. 

“Like I’ve never felt for anyone before,” Mike whispered and kissed you, deeply, slowly again. “Just give me the time I need.” 

“Okay,” you agreed. “You’ve got a deal. As long as you keep coming to me.” 

“I’ll never stop,” Mike promised. 

You ran your hands along his strong torso. You could feel the sweat under his shirt. You slid your hands under his shirt and felt his skin—soft, and… scarred. You gasped as your fingers traced along a gash, that’s since healed. You felt another one on his rib cage and another on his chest. You gasped again. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s from another life.” 

“That’s… scary,” you said in a small voice. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he told you gently. “It’s different these days.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I expected to see you one night and you didn’t come…”

“I’ll always come to you,” Mike stated. “Until there comes a day you don’t want me to.” 

“That day will never come, I can assure you that.” 

He kissed you more and ran his fingers through your hair, tugging a little so your neck was revealed to him. You shivered as he kissed along your neck, slowly, antagonizing. You ran your fingers along his back and closed your eyes. 

You didn’t want your nights to be anything but this. 

You lifted your left leg and he grabbed it to wrap around his waist, holding your back to steady you. He gently laid you on the ground. 

“Can I…take this off?” He asked, gesturing to your shorts. You laughed. 

“Will someone see us?” 

“No one will see us. They might hear you though.” 

“Take them off.” 

Mike slowly pulled your shorts and underwear off, and you were completely exposed to him in a dark corner of your roof. You wished you brought a blanket. Mike began to kiss your inner thighs, slowly, reaching closer up to your legs and your wetness. You let your mind drift off, thinking of the deal you’d just made with him. You weren’t completely truthful about being okay with not knowing who he is. But your connection and feelings for him were stronger than your fears of what could happen—you’d teach yourself to be okay with it. 

But your discomfort was quickly replaced with euphoria when you felt his lips kiss your sex, and his tongue began to lap at your wetness slowly and then urgently. You sighed blissfully, closing your eyes. You suddenly couldn’t care less about your worries.