FatassTurkey
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Summary
it’s a long, hot summer in los angeles. what better time to lose your mind?
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You gave me more to live for, more than you'll ever know by AVeryDeadMansBones
Fandoms: The Nice Guys (2016)
26 Jun 2026
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His eyes were closed, the idiot must've fallen asleep. He tapped his shoe against March's leg, trying to get him to stir. He sighed,
"March, c'mon, it's time to go home."
Nothing. He didn't move a muscle. God, he was out cold. Healy knelt down, shaking his shoulders to try and rouse him. Still nothing. Healy caught something glistening in the corner of his eye. A bottle was laying at March's side. Healy grabbed it, lifting it to look closer. It was completely empty. He looked back down at him, his heart sinking. He dropped the bottle, his hands moving to cup March's face. He was cold to the touch.
March goes for a walk and doesn't come back. Healy finds him, and something is very, very, wrong.
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Healy sighs at the man. “It’s not psychic, I’ve just been around Holly long enough now to get a pretty good read on her. And you, might I add.”
March glares at him, but neither of them bring up the first time they met, and Healy had been able to tell. He knew, and March knew he knew, and for the longest five seconds of Holland’s life he’d been pinned down in his own goddamn kitchen by the first Alpha he’d had physical contact with since his wife died. Healy just breaking his arm had almost been a relief at that point.
Holland March is an Omega, and his business partner that he only has the most professional relationship with is an Alpha. Even though neither of them have mates, that is absolutely not a problem, because, again, Holland March is a consummate professional. And he doesn’t go into heat anymore. At least until his damn pills stop working... -
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"Here," said Healy. She held out a lighter and clicked it on.
“What are you, my boyfriend or something?” said Holland.
Healy hesitated for a moment, while Holland slouched harder against the wall behind her and tried to convey through her eyeballs, I’m just an innocent little heterosexual, it would be an awful shame if some sinister old lesbian seduced me later tonight.
Healy, thank God, caught Holland’s drift and leaned in closer. She cupped her hand around Holland’s to shield the lighter from the summer breeze until the tip of the cigarette caught.
“You in the market for a boyfriend, March?”
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"Once March sees what he’s packing…? Poking tastily out the top of these festive red (of course) satin panties? With little fucking mistletoes embroidered onto them??? That doesn’t seem like the worst possibility. Yeah. Holland can give him a little kiss there, for sure. It’s only tradition.
He thinks fast, which is difficult, because Healy’s rubbing his gorgeous fat dick all over March’s pussy. Getting in between the lips, spreading all the liquids around. Because March has been wet since he started slapping this kid. This is, different, energy-wise, to his usual, he thinks. Usually he’s more, lie back and whine and look pretty-pretty-Pretty. Can be a hell of a brat, for sure, when he feels like it, feels like winding Healy or whoever up to their limit. But he’s always been a bit of a coward, physically. Taking it - sure. Got that down to a fine art now, post-Healy. But not usually the one throwing the punches. He guesses this fucked up little cutiepie just brings it out of him."
Or, The Nice Guys Agency goes undercover at the Annual Midsummer Santa Claus Convention-Competition.