#had to stomp HARD on my breaks which i hate

[navree]

i hate being the driver who complains about pedestrians and bikers so i try very hard not to be but some of the pedestrians and bikers i’ve been dealing with recently…….they’re testing me

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, love your work.

I was thinking a maybe a break up and make up fic with:

Angst Prompt 31. “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”

Fluff prompt 7. “You’re the only person I want to spend my life with”

With Eddie Munson/Y/N Henderson or Y/N Wheeler. A sister from one of the main party.

Eddie and Y/N have been together before season 1. Season 1 happens, Y/N was there. Resulting in her getting closer to Steve or Jonathan, to which Eddie thinks Y/N is cheating on him. Even catches Steve/Jonathan comforting Y/N and gets the wrong idea. They break up. The younger brother of Y/N tells Eddie off and makes him rethink things. Leading to them getting back together.

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Friends? Or something else?

Y/N Wheeler was quite different from her sister, Nancy. Nancy liked the boy next door vibe, and Y/N liked the rebel bad boy. Y/N didn't see what Nancy ever saw in Steve in the beginning. But he turned out to be a sweet guy when Nancy stomped on his heart.

She felt bad for Steve, but Y/N wanted to spend her free time with Eddie. It was no shock that the two fell for each other. Eddie was exactly her type, the leather, the attitude, and the nasty mouth he kissed her with.

Anyone could see she was smitten with the boy. She kissed the ground he walked on. She would do anything he asked, and do it happily.

It was a shame all he did was doubt her love for him

~~~

Eddie and Steve didn't really get along. Back when Nancy and Steve were together, the sisters loved double dates.

As Y/N fed Eddie fries and shared chocolate milkshakes, Nancy and Steve would argue across from them. Half of their double dates ended with Eddie and Y/N sneaking off.

Eddie didn't like the way Steve carried himself. He thought he was so superior compared to the rest of them and that didn't sit well with Eddie. And Y/N thought the same. She hated the way he treated Eddie.

Y/N just couldn't get along with Steve.

Until Nancy broke up with him and he finally showed his true self.

She couldn't lie. She felt bad for Steve. He showed up to their house with flowers but Nancy was already out with friends. Y/N couldn't leave him outside and alone. She let him in and before she knew it she was comforting him.

He cried into her arms as he talked about how Nancy was all he had left.

"I'll be here for you, I promise."

And she meant it. Whenever Steve called, she listened to what he had to say. Nancy was a little bothered at first. She found it weird her ex-boyfriend was using her little sister as a shoulder. But then Steve began to change, in a way Nancy thought wasn't possible.

The friendship helped Steve and Nancy accept that. It even helped get them back on normal speaking terms.

Eddie hated it, though. He hated having Y/N in his lap, rocking her hips against his. His tongue battled hers as the music played through his shitty speakers.

"Wheeler, call for Wheeler."

Steve's voice cut through the moment like a knife. The static voice worked its way through the talkie and Y/N pulled back.

"One second," she whispered.

Eddie felt his stomach turn as she grabbed the talkie and went outside. He wanted to trust her, he so badly did. But it was so hard when she'd always leave the room to talk to him. Why can't she talk to him in front of her boyfriend? It meant she was hiding something.

She had to be cheating on him.

And the thought of it broke his heart.

The one time he was in love, she found someone else.

~

What Eddie didn't know was that Steve and Y/N found themselves thrown into some type of supernatural portal. Something called the upside down? She wasn't quite sure what it all meant yet, but all she knew was that she and Steve fought hand in hand for months on end.

The world seemed to be back to normal and they wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want Eddie to get dragged into all of it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him. So she demanded every single one in the gang keep what happened a secret.

It was sworn that Eddie never found out what happened a few months back.

As a result of being at war with Steve, meant their friendship grew so strong that they truly became best friends. They leaned on each other when they needed it the most.

Eddie didn't understand how one minute she hated Steve and the next, she ran the second he called. He knew something happened between them. He tried to piece together a timeline, but he drew blanks.

~

She bounced back into the trailer with an apologetic smile on her face.

"Steve needs to talk some stuff out. He got in a fight with his dad. Can we raincheck the movie?" she asked

Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't surprised.

"Sure thing," Eddie smiled. He was good at pretending that nothing was wrong. So well that she had no idea she was ruining their relationship the more she picked Steve.

~~~

"Do you think you'll come to the hideout tonight?" Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around Y/N. Her back to his chest as she crammed books in her locker.

His lips kissed her neck as he swayed them back and forth.

"Ew, get a room." Nancy gagged, but a smile on her face. Nancy loved seeing her sister in love. She was the main reason Nancy ended things with Steve.

Nancy wanted what Y/N and Eddie had, and she didn't feel like she did with Steve.

"Um, I'm sorry but I don't think I can." Y/N cringed as Eddie's touch was gone in a second.

Nancy sensed the air change and quickly left them alone. Nancy knew tonight was a meeting with the gang, they were worried the upside down was opening again. But Eddie couldn't know.

"Don't even tell me it's because you'll be with Steve." Eddie snapped.

Y/N felt nervous to turn around. She gulped as she turned around, that same apologetic look in her eyes.

"Why now? Can he just go to fucking therapy and stop using my girlfriend?"

"Eds, be nice," she tried, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was strongly irritated.

"What's wrong?" she asked, she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn't hide the pain she felt when he backed away.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that my girlfriend doesn't seem to give a shit that I exist." Eddie spat, he wanted to keep his anger in check but he couldn't help but sound pissed.

"Of course I do! Tonight I just had prior plans."

"Cancel and come with me," Eddie said, his voice soft as he grabbed her hand. He turned his puppy eyes to her as he begged.

"I can't cancel, Eds." She sighed sadly

The anger washed up as quickly as it washed away.

He dropped her hand like it burned. Her hand was dead against her side as it dangled.

"Why not?" he challenged

"They all need me, baby," she said softly

Eddie shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"They do or Steve does?"

"Eddie, you know it's not like that, right?" She said, her heart broke as she watched the insecurity flash across his face. Had he been upset about Steve all this time? Was she a horrible girlfriend for not noticing?

"Just sometimes I need my girlfriend too," he said sadly, then walked off.

"Eddie, no wait," she said, she grabbed his hand. She felt her throat close up as he sniffled.

"Forget it. I'll tell you about the show whenever I see you."

"Eddie, please. I'm sorry." she tried, she wanted to tell him the truth but she couldn't.

"I know, I'll see you later," he said, his mouth in a tight line as he walked away.

~

Y/N couldn't focus during the meeting. Her brain focused on the little fight with Eddie. Had she been neglecting him? She would never intentionally hurt him and she hated that she still did.

Steve was listening to Dustin when he heard sniffles. He looked beside him and watched as Y/N silently cried. Her head down as she used her shirt to catch the tears.

"You okay?" Steve whispered in her ear

"Course," she said, putting on a fake smile as she looked at him

But looking at Steve made her think of Eddie. And thinking of Eddie caused a loud sob to escape.

The gang all looked in her direction. Nancy and Mike watched with concern as she stood up.

"Sorry, need a minute." she apologized, she raced up the stairs and closed the basement door behind her.

She dropped her body on the front step and let the sobs take over her body. She cried into her hands as the afternoon played through her head on an endless loop.

Steve followed behind her, he sat next to her and he wrapped his arms around her. She turned her body into his and sobbed. Her wet tears soaked his shirt as she sobbed.

"What is going on?" he whispered, he gently rubbed her back as she tried to get ahold of herself.

She told him everything that happened, Steve felt a puddle of guilt in his stomach. He pulled her away, it was his fault Eddie was upset.

They were lost in their own world, no idea that as Steve placed a comforting kiss on her forehead Eddie was in the driveway.

Eddie's heavy feet stomped towards them. They jumped apart hearing his boots crunch the sticks below.

Steve stood up and held his hands in defense

"Munson, I swear it-" but he didn't get to finish his sentence.

Eddie went at him, a huge right punch connected straight against Steve's eye. Steve crumbled to the grass instantly as he held his eye.

"EDDIE!" Y/N gasped, she quickly jumped in front of Steve as Eddie went to charge forward.

"Not like that right?" Eddie spat, his voice filled with venom as he shot her words right back at her.

"Eddie," Steve groaned as he stood up. He looked at Eddie with one eye, holding the bruising one. "It's not what you think, I swear."

"I don't give a single fuck about what you have to say" Eddie hissed as he pointed at Steve over Y/N's shoulder.

"Steve, can you give us a second?" Y/N asked, but her eyes never left Eddie.

Once she heard the front door shut, she took a deep breath.

"How could you do this to me?" Eddie asked, his voice cracked as the first round of tears fell down his face. "We were so in love. You used to love me so much. You used to never leave my side and now? Now I can barely remember the last time we even had sex."

"Oh Eddie," she whimpered as she stepped forward and held his face in her hands. She cried seeing him cry. "We are in love! I still love you. I love you more and more every day. I'm sorry I've gotten so caught up with Steve but I promise you it is not because I have feelings for him. I didn't know you were missing me so much."

"How could you know? You won't see me for more than ten minutes." he snapped, he grabbed her hands and shoved them off of his face. She tried to ignore the drop of her heart.

"You're right. I am so sorry. Talk to me, let's talk it out."

"I don't think I even want to anymore," he confessed. YN shook her head as she panicked.

"No, baby, You can do it, just tell me what you are feeling, please," she begged, she fought hard not to touch him. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him but she couldn't tell if he wanted her to touch him.

"You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?" Eddie said, he lashed out as his tears turned into anger. His voice rose. "For Steve? I mean how could you even do this to Nancy?"

"She doesn't care because she knows we are just friends!" Y/N argued. "Like I've told you! There is nothing between him and I."

"YOU AND I USED TO BE FRIENDS, SHIT CHANGES Y/N!" he screamed, no doubt letting the neighbors know a fight was breaking out

"That's different." she cried, tears falling down her face.

"HOW?" he screamed as he stepped closer. Right in her face as he demanded his answer.

"BECAUSE I WAS ALREADY IN LOVE WITH YOU, ASSHOLE. I KNEW I LOVED YOU AND I HAD TO PRETEND I DIDN'T BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE YOU AS A FRIEND. THAT IS WHY IT IS DIFFERENT. I'VE NEVER WANTED TO KISS STEVE OR WONDERED WHAT HE TASTED LIKE. IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU!" she cried, it hurt to have him so close and not touch him. She wanted to have the right words to say.

"Then why has it only been Steve, lately?" Eddie asked, breaking down as the words left his tongue. More tears fell as he looked into her eyes. He used to see through her, but something happened and her eyes never told him the truth anymore.

"I can't tell you because it would kill me if you got hurt because of me." She watched as he nodded and choked back his tears. His red eyes looked into hers.

"You've been hurting me for months, and you are still breathing," her heart shattered as he began to step back, "Steve or not, it's clear you don't have the time for me. Take me off that full plate you have."

"Eddie, please don't" she sobbed as he kept stepping back. With each step he took, she made that step forward.

"If you ever truly loved me, you'll let me heal from you. I don't deserve to feel second best by my own girlfriend."

With those words, she stopped. She planted her feet in the grass as he turned around. She covered her mouth as he got in his van. Before he closed the door, she yelled his name.

He looked over at her

"I need you to know that I'm doing what you asked. I'll leave you alone and give you the space you need because it'll prove that I love you. Even if it kills me to never be with you again."

She watched as he didn't say a word, just closing his door and taking off down the road.

~~~

Mike had seen both his sisters experience breakups, but nothing as bad as Y/N.

It's been a week since the breakup, and Y/N barely leaves her room. She came out to use the bathroom, sometimes she'd sit in the kitchen and stare at the phone. She'd pray that he would call, but she knew he wouldn't. After a few hours, she'd go right back up to her room.

"Poor girl. I've never seen her so heartbroken." Karen said as she sat down at the dinner table. "Has she done any of the schoolwork she missed?"

"Barely, I've turned in a few of her assignments." Nancy said, "She won't even talk to me about it."

"Shame on that boy for hurting her," Karen said as she shook her head, "I wish I could smack some sense into him."

His mom's words gave Mike an idea.

~

The next morning Mike biked to Eddie's trailer. It was a Saturday morning so he knew Eddie would be rotting in bed.

He was done seeing his sister lose herself

and he was done with Eddie's cranky ass during Hellfire.

He threw his bike into the dirt as he raced up to Eddie's trailer. He pounded on the door.

"Wheeler?" Eddie said confused, his eyes half open as he yawned.

"We need to talk," Mike snapped, letting himself in the trailer and sitting on the couch.

"Great, another fight with a wheeler," Eddie mumbled to himself.

"What can I help you with?" Eddie asked as he stood.

"Why does it look like you are sleeping on the couch?" Mike asked with sass as he pushed the bundle of blankets out of his way. "Bedroom reeks of all the random girls you've been sleeping with?" he hissed.

"Woah, little Wheeler. What I do in my bedroom is none of your business. What makes you think I'm sleeping with random girls? Is that how your sister is dealing with the breakup?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help but get mad at his own words.

"Oh shut your mouth," Mike snapped, "my sister isn't this whore you claim her to be."

"I know, that was uncalled for," Eddie said, "how...how is she?" he couldn't help but ask. It had been eating him up all week. He hadn't seen her once, hadn't heard her voice, and it killed him. He had no idea if she was breaking apart or completely fine with Eddie gone.

"Answer my question first," Mike demanded, he got off the couch and walked to Eddie's room. If there was a girl in there, Mike swore he'd kill Eddie before the upside-down had the chance.

"WHEELER!" Eddie yelled but Mike carried on. He flew Eddie's door open. And it was empty. The bed set is perfectly made, with a flower on the pillow with a note attached.

"And what slut is this for? Moving on already?" Mike snapped. He reached forward and grabbed the note.

"Give me that!" Eddie snapped back, snatching the note from his hands. "I'm not sleeping with anyone, okay? I haven't been in here since the breakup. She made my bed that morning and wrote me a note, and this was the first flower someone had given me. I just wanted to leave everything the way she touched it." Eddie explained. The room held too many memories, and it smelled of her.

"Can we talk in the living room?"

Mike nodded, knowing not to push Eddie further.

They walked back into the living room as Eddie closed his bedroom door. Eddie took a seat next to Mike.

"She's heartbroken," Mike said, Eddie looked over at him. "She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and stares at the phone the second school ends until she knows you are asleep. She's miserable and it's all your fault!" Mike said, pissed at Eddie for hurting his sister. Mike stood up so he could tower over Eddie, by a little.

"You broke her and you better fix it!"

"I didn't do anything, Mike. You are too young to understand, but our relationship wasn't the same." Eddie sighed. He did feel awful hearing about how bad she was doing. Guilt in his bones as he pictured her staring at the phone.

There were so many times he wanted to call. At one point he didn't care if she ever had feelings for Steve, he wanted to be with her anyway. He'd watch her kiss Steve a thousand times if she still picked Eddie to come home to.

"I might be young, but I'm not an idiot. Steve never liked her, he is still hung up on Nancy. And Y/N never liked Steve more than a friend. Hell, she barely understood what Nancy saw in him because he wasn't you. She is so in love with you that you are literally the only guy she sees worthy. I don't blame you for wanting to protect yourself. But she has been killing herself to protect you."

"But I don't understand why she can't tell me! We've been in a relationship for over a year, and she still has these secrets!" Eddie argued.

"It's not her secret to tell! It's mine, okay?" Mike said, Eddie looked at him confused. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. But you have to believe me. It'll explain why Y/N thought it would protect you to keep you out of it."

Eddie sat and listened as Mike explained what happened over the past year. The upside down and the battles. How Y/N and Steve got thrown together and they could only turn to each other because of it. But it all made sense. She kept promising she couldn't tell because if he got hurt, it would kill her. Because if Eddie got hurt, he wouldn't survive.

~~~

Eddie waited a day before he picked up the phone. He felt nervous as he dialed the number he knew by heart.

It rang for a second before a voice appeared on the other end

"Hello, Y/N speaking,"

Eddie closed his eyes at the sadness in her voice.

"Hey, darling. It's, uh me, Eddie." He stuttered out

"I knew it was you by the first word," she laughed sadly. She hated how hard it seemed to talk to him. Like she didn't know what to say.

"Right," he chuckled, "I was hoping we could talk? Maybe better in person?" He drummed his hands against the wall as he heard her breathing heavily through the phone.

"Yeah, um when and where?" Her voice cracked as she blinked back her tears. This was the final moment, he wanted to break it off officially. She gave him his space and he was ready for it to be forever.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart." He begged, choking up himself as he listened to her.

"I'm fine!" She lied, "Just tell me when and where."

"My place and the sooner the better."

He clenched his eyes in pain as she whimpered and let out a soft okay before the phone went dead.

~

She drove over to his trailer, unable to keep the tears back.

She was scared to see him again. She barely kept it together hearing his voice again. She didn't want to cry when she saw him, but it was all she had been doing for the past week.

Eddie was against his trailer smoking a cigarette when she pulled up. She took another deep breath as she turned off the car. Even having that small glimpse sent her head into a spiral.

Eddie smashed his cigarette as she walked up to him. She wore one of his old hoodies, and a pair of sweats she stole after their first movie date. Her eyes were majority swollen and red. Her nose was red as she rubbed it with his sleeve.

"Hi, sweets" Eddie cooed, as he opened his arms. Within seconds her body crashed into his as she wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her scent. He kissed her head, and every painful feeling in his body melted away.

She sobbed as she inhaled his clothes. All she wanted was to be with him again, and she was. She kept squeezing him tighter, hoping he'd feel closer.

"Don't cry, my love," he said into her hair, rubbing her back.

"I missed you so much," she sobbed, "it was so hard to give you the space you wanted."

"I missed you too, baby girl. I'm so sorry I made you give me space. I'm so sorry for the mess I made since I didn't communicate when I should have. Let's go inside." He let go of her body but laced his hand with hers as they walked into the trailer. Eddie led her to his room, he opened the door and closed it behind him. She refused to let go of his hand, but he didn't ask her to.

She wasn't sure how long she'd have before he wanted space again. He sat beside her as she looked around his room. She noticed it was the same as a week ago, but she didn't say anything.

instead of sitting next to her, he dropped to his knees and rested his head on her lap. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, she scratched his head in the way he loves.

"I'm sorry for fucking this up. I should have trusted you, I'm sorry I didn't. I thought I needed space, but all it did was make me miss you." He melted into her touch as her fingers continued to run through his hair. "I'm so in love with you. I wasn't used to sharing you and I felt like I was losing you." His puppy eyes looked up at her as he sat up on his knees.

He laced his hands with hers and rested them on her lap

"I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you. You are the only boy I'd ever want. I love you and that won't ever change." She said she unlaced their hands so she could cup his face. Her thumbs rubbed his wet cheeks as she leaned in and placed her lips on his.

Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist, his palms resting on her back as he kissed her back. Eddie straightened himself as he deepened the kiss. He kept his lips on hers as he pushed her back and stood up. Her back was against his mattress as he climbed on top of her. The kiss grew more intense and hungry as her hands moved to his stomach. His right hand rested on her cheek, he moaned as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss sent goosebumps rising on her skin. The feelings she felt when she kissed Eddie never went away, it was always butterflies and needing more.

Eddie pulled away for air, his eyes soaking her in. She was slow to open her eyes but when she did she was staring into Eddie's.

“You’re the only person I want to spend my life with” she whispered

"Just like the note said." he smiled

"Just like the note said," she laughed. Already missing his lips, she placed her hand on the back of his neck and brought his lips to hers. She frowned when Eddie pulled back a little, not letting their lips meet.

"Before I get carried away with you," Eddie winked, she blushed and bit her lip. "Will you be my girl again?"

"I never stopped,"

Eddie smiled and smashed his lips back on hers. They hungrily touched each other, showing how much they missed it and never wanted space again.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[plistommy]

Steve was looking more pissed off as ever with his hands on hips and scowl on his too-pretty face as he looked down at Eddie, who was nervous and embarrassed as hell because, well…

He had forgotten their first anniversary.

They had been together a year.

A whole year and Eddie’s dumbass has forgotten about it as he had been too busy planning on a new DnD campaign with the other members of the club instead of being here with his boyfriend who had waited for him to show up, apparently, for five fucking hours with Eddie’s favorite dinner.

Fuck.

Eddie felt like the worst boyfriend ever.

But, he still tried to lighten up the mood and grinned nervously up at Steve who was not breaking his stance.

”Look… I’m really sorry, baby—”

”Don’t you baby me!” Steve snapped and wrapped his arms over his chest, pout pulling into his pretty mouth.

”You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a little and he awkwardly looked around ”But… this is my house.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Steve huffed annoyingly and stomped to Eddie’s bedroom, leaving Eddie to sit on the living room’s couch, but before Eddie could really do anything, Steve was coming back with his green duffle bag and went to put on his shoes that were tidily set next to the front door.

”Fine. I’ll go to Robs. The food is cold, but I bet if you warm it up it isn’t half bad. There’s some ice cream too, chocolate and sprinkles on the top shelf. I know you like them…”

Steve and his caring side will be the death of Eddie. Even when the younger boy was mad at him, he still cared.

Before Steve could open the door, Eddie jumped from the couch and ran to him. He wrapped his hand around Steve’s wrist and pulled it back from the handle.

”Please, don’t go. Look, I’m really sorry, Steve. I am. I fucked this up,” Eddie took both of Steve’s hands to his, hating how the other boy wasn’t catching his eyes. ”Please, forgive me? I’ll do anything, baby.”

Finally, Steve turned those big brown eyes to his and gave a small nod, making his hair flop to his eyes which made Eddie push them back.

”Yeah?” Eddie said softly and Steve nodded again.

He dropped his duffle bag to the floor and let Eddie embrace him as the older boy wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve breathed in the other’s scent, relaxing a little even if he was still a little upset.

”Okay, look,” He started, making Eddie pull away a little so he could see Steve’s face.

”It… it isn’t that serious. It’s only our first anniversary, but I just… I really wanted this to be special because I really really like you, Eddie and I love what we have and I just—”

”Hey, hey, Steve. It’s okay.” Eddie caressed Steve’s cheeks. ”You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve known.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and leaned into the other’s touch.

”I love you. I will make it up for you, ’kay? If it takes me years of hard work I’ll do it. If it… if it means I can’t play anymore I’ll do it for you.”

That made Steve snort as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and fuck did it make Eddie happy when he finally felt the other’s touch on him.

”Like you’d be able to keep your hands off your ’sweetheart’.” And that made Eddie chuckle a little too.

”For you, anything.”

Steve gave him a soft smile and let Eddie kiss him.

”Fine. I’ll accept, you butthead.”

Eddie grinned as he led Steve to the couch, pulling the boy onto his lap as Steve giggled.

They made out for a while, Eddie doing all the things he knew to get the other laugh. Tickling his feet, the spot behind his ear that was unusually sensitive and squeezing that amazing ass when Steve wiggled on top of him.

When they both calmed down, now lying on the small couch with their legs tangled, Steve grinned.

”Hm, maybe for a start of this ’big’ journey of forgiveness, you could… fuck me? It could make me a little less mad.”

Eddie felt heat pooling into his dick right away.

”Thought you wanted me on the couch?” He teased and Steve rolled his eyes as he smacked softly the other’s grinning face.

”Do not tempt me. Again.”

[thebearer]

what about reader coming to the restaurant before family cause she had a bad day and carmen was pissed off about something wrong that happened but when he sees you looking up at him pouting, his demeanor switches so fast

"Fuck, Richie, can you quit fuckin' with me!" Carmen roars, slinging the bowl with a hard shove.

"Cousin, I'm not doin' shit to you, alright?" Richie seethes, rolling his eyes as the other chefs- the new hires- avoid eye contact. Carmen doesn't act erratically often, tried not to for his reputation's sake, but today was a bad day.

"Hey, cousin, you need to chill the fuck out, alright? Get it out of your fuckin' system now before dinner rush because those people," Richie pointed through the window, where there was an empty dining room- for now. It would be filled by six o'clock. "Will fuckin' see you actin' like a jagoff."

"I wouldn't act like a fuckin' jagoff if you would do what I fuckin' ask you to!" Carmen roared, eyes bulging and vein by his neck protruding.

"Hey, relax, alright." Richie grit, breathing deeply out his nose. "Go fuckin' take a break. We got it. Go see your girl or somethin'. Get that stress out, for fucksake."

"The fuck are you talkin' about-"

"Your girl has been in your office for this past twenty minutes while you were actin' like a moron." Richie snapped, Carmen's demeanor suddenly faltering. "Yeah, get embarrassed, cousin. She heard all that shit."

"Just- shut the fuck up, alright? Fuck you." Carmen huffed, stomping towards the office.

"Don't fuck me. Go fuck her. Get some of that fuckin' attitude out, holy shit." Richie snarled, rolling his eyes.

Carmen ignored him, walking through the door of the office. You sat at his desk, mindlessly scrolling though your phone, barely looking up when he walked in. "I swear to God, Richie's a fuckin' pain in my ass." Carmen started in, ignoring your solemn expression. "Fuckin' wise ass. Thinks he knows fuckin' everything, and you know what? He- What's the matter with you?" Carmen stopped his ranting and pacing, skidding to a stop to look at you. Your sad eyes and long face.

"Nothin'." You muttered, looking up at Carmen gently. "What did Richie do?"

Carmen shook his head, sitting on the desk in front of you. "Not important. Tell me what's wrong, hm? What's goin' on?"

You faltered for a moment, deciding to shake your head and ignore your emotions. "It's nothing, Carm-"

"-You're lyin' to me." Not a question, a fact. Carmen's raised brow to you that. "Why are you lyin' to me?"

"I'm not, it's just..." The shaky breath you took in, a strangled, watery gasp had Carmen's heart lurching. "I just had a really bad day." You hated the way your voice cracked, wobbling and wavering with emotions. You'd cried all the way here, the freshness of the tears coming back to you again, flooding your waterline.

"What happened, baby?" Carmen's tone dropped into a coo, a soothing balm over your teary demeanor.

"It's just... I don't know, I felt like I couldn't get anything right today, and-and I just... I'm really tired." You admitted with a small quake in your tone. "I just want this day to be over."

"Did someone say something to you?" You'd bitched a few times about a coworker making off handed remarks to you, and Carmen was more than happy to say something to him. He didn't mind at all, insisted on it, in fact.

"No, it wasn't Toby." You rolled your eyes at the mention of him. "He wasn't bad today, actually, which made it worse. I just, I don't know, my mind was all over the place today and I-I'm just stressed."

"I'm sorry, baby." Carmen rasped, hand on yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

"It's ok." You pouted, exhaling deeply. "I just want to go home and not have another fucking thought for the rest of the day.

"Wish I could help you with that." Carmen grinned, playfully, proud to see that you smirked, shaking your head at him. "'m serious. You need me to do anything?"

"No." You shook your head. "I'm starving, so I'm gonna eat and then go home. Sit in the bath until I dissolve." You grin lightly up at him.

Carmen smiled, leaning over to kiss you sweetly, hands cupping your face, tasting the saltiness of your tears still lingering on your lips. "Are you hungry now? I can get you somethin' to eat real quick, baby. What do you want?"

"No, Carmy, I'll be alright-"

"Hey, Marcus," Carmen was sticking his head out already. "You got any focaccia ready?"

"Yes, Chef, I have a few prepped-"

"-Gimme one, please. Thanks, Marcus." Carmen nodded, taking the bread, and passing it over to you.

You frowned at him. "I was fine, Carmy. Could've waited until family." You pouted, but you were already tearing the bread basket open, mouth watering at the sight.

Carmen grinned. "I know, but I don't want you to go hungry. Had to taste tonight anyways. Tell me what you think." He muttered, watching you tear off a piece.

[facefullofsadness]

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

[leighsartworks216]

can i request a tav x astarion where tav is mute? i wonder how they would be communicating

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I really struggled with this request, but I decided to try again on a whim and whoooo boy it's a doozy. I also did not make Tav mute, but I played with a Paladin oath I have had on my mind for a looong time so they are effectively mute

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

Word Count: 3,624

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You huff in annoyance for the fifth- no, sixth, time. Perhaps more. The vendor stares at you as though you’re insane, even though you couldn’t possibly be clearer! You exaggerate further, pointing at the potion, yourself, and your coin purse. If he would just mark how much the damn thing cost, you wouldn’t have to keep going through this!

Astarion sighs sharply. “They want to buy the potion,” he bemoans. “Now, please, tell them the price so we can move on.”

The vendor starts with wide eyes and realization on his face. He flushes from his cheeks, down his neck, and to the tips of his ears as he stutters out the price. You shove the money into his chest and grab what you’ve paid for, before stomping off. And if Astarion slipped an extra something in his pocket while the vendor was dying of his stupidity, who would really care?

He caught up in a few long strides. “We must find a better way for you to communicate, darling. I can’t keep translating for you.”

You made a few sharp gestures.

“I don’t see the big deal in carrying a paper and pencil around,” he answered with a scoff. “Or, you know, you could just speak. I know you can.”

You glared at him. That, he didn’t need a translator for.

This had been an ongoing argument from the very moment you ran into each other on the beach. When he had you pinned to the ground and you didn’t speak, he originally thought you were just being stubborn. When he finally let you go, you’d explained to him (in writing) that you’d made an oath of silence, and that you had nothing to do with the Illithid kidnappings.

Fortunately, you discovered early on that some hand signs were shared with the Theive’s Cant, which he understood quite well. When Gale and Wyll came along, one who’d learned some sign through books and the other who learned by helping people as the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion was relieved he wouldn’t have to translate for you. Except, you continued to drag him along to act as the middle man anyway.

His solution, proposed frequently both seriously and in jest, was to break your oath. An oath of silence was a ridiculous thing to promise anyway, especially now that you needed to communicate so frequently, but any time the suggestion was posed, you’d just level him with a hard stare.

“You know I can’t do that,” you signed, annoyed.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Paladins. So dedicated to the chains that bind them.”

“To break my oath would be to lose my powers. Do you want me to keep reviving your ass during battle or not?”

He sneered. “You couldn’t make an oath of vengeance or something? It would certainly be a lot easier to follow through on.”

You rolled your eyes and walked faster. You hated arguing about your oath. Wyll and Gale wouldn’t behoove you for it - so why did you bring him along, he wonders.

-

Astarion heaved, pressing against a stitch in his side that tightened with each breath. The fight was brutal. Everyone was bloody and exhausted. Shadowheart turned from the dead beast before them to help Wyll who lay prone on the ground. Karlach pulled her mighty axe from its head with a squelch and a crunch, cheering at the victory.

He chuckled breathlessly at her antics. Almost stumbling, he turned in a circle, eyes scanning the battlefield. The beast’s cronies lay still, scattered everywhere. Blood overwhelmed his senses. How did that saying go? Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

He frowned. He looked around again. “Where’s Tav?”

Karlach’s whoops quieted immediately. She looked around as well. “They didn’t get crushed under this,” she kicked the creature in the eye, “did they?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t close enough…” He growled, frustrated, and turned to the magic-users. “Did you see where Tav went?”

Shadowheart supported Wyll as he sat up, groaning. They both shook their heads. “Last I saw them, they were over there,” the warlock croaked, nodding over to the side. “But I don’t know how long I’ve been down for.”

Astarion winced as he jogged over to where he said, stepping over and on top of dead bodies. He took another step. His foot did not collide with floor nor flesh. His heart lurched as the world fell out from under him. A hand grabbed the neck his armor and pulled him back, falling on his ass onto solid ground.

“Careful, Fangs!” Karlach chastised worriedly. She let him go, pulling them both to their feet and brushing him off. “You alright?”

His mind was still reeling. He nodded in a daze. All he could do was stare at the nearly-invisible chasm he’d almost fallen down into… And then his mind caught up.

He raced forward again, dopping to his knees right before the tear in the earth, and leaned over it. Even his darkvision couldn’t help him see what was below; it was so dark, like all light that fell into it was swallowed up. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Tav?!” he shouted down into the darkness. His voice echoed. He had no idea how deep it went.

The realization set in for Karlach as well. “Oh fuck…”

“Tav, are you down there?!” He waited a moment, but he was met with only silence.

Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over. They peered into the deep with concern. Astarion shifted so he sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge. He remembered the feeling of falling. Fortunately, he couldn’t see how deep it was, so at least vertigo did not make it seem deeper; the shadow was doing a perfect job of that on its own.

Wyll grabbed his shoulder before he could slide forward. “Astarion, we have no idea how deep it goes, or what’s down there! You could be impaled on a spike before you ever make it to the bottom. We don’t know if they’re even alive!”

“And if they are?” he growled. “They could be trapped down there with no way of telling us.”

“And you’ll be trapped down there if you go after them!”

He couldn’t argue with anything logical. So what if he got stuck down there? He needed to know you were okay. His blunt nails dig into the stone edge, knocking loose flecks of rock and sediment. How could he just leave you down there?

Shadowheart looked around at the bodies. “We could make some rope. Lower it down, see if they grab on.”

He snorted mirthlessly, sneering at the cleric. “And if they’re too injured to?”

She glared back at him. “I don’t see you proposing any better ideas.”

Karlach and Wyll shared a look. It seems they’d have to be the level-headed ones here… “We can strip the bodies. Tie their clothes together until it’s long enough.” To hopefully reach the bottom, was left unsaid.

Karlach and Shadowheart got to work immediately, working to remove the clothes of their fallen enemies, scrunching their noses in disgust all the while. Wyll squeezed Astarion’s shoulder and joined them, trying to decide what clothes were in good enough condition to hold weight. Astarion stared into the pit for a while longer.

-

Your head spun. Everything ached. Each breath was like fire in your lungs. You bit your lip to silence your whimpers, biting down so hard you could taste iron in your mouth.

As the pain ebbs to a manageable level, you try to figure out where you were. It was dark. You couldn’t make out your hand right in front of your face. You couldn’t even be sure your eyes were open. You only knew they were when you looked up and saw light coming from far above you. It was dim and flickering - the flames of the braziers that lined the battlefield.

You blinked into the darkness, willing your eyes to adjust. Cautiously, you reached out your hands and felt around. The ground beneath you was covered in fine gravel, almost like sand. The finer sediment stuck to your hands when you pulled away. There was a wall behind you, possibly made from slate. It would be impossible to climb. With a muffled groan, you’re able to reach your foot out and touch the opposite wall. The effort leaves you panting.

You lay still on the floor for a minute. Clearly, you fell from quite high up. How far was still a mystery, but the fact was you did fall. When you’ve caught your breath, you feel for any injuries. Your armor restricts you, but it seems to have protected you for the most part. You’ll be bruised as hell, but you can’t find any open wounds. At least you were fortunate there.

You look up again. You can’t hear anything coming from above, but you’re unsure if it’s from the depth of the chasm or because the battle is over. You hope they are able to win the fight without you. All your companions are strong in their own right, you know they can pull through this.

You squint at the opening above. You think you see something moving at the top, but it’s merely a speck. Using the wall and gathering your waning strength, you push yourself to your feet. You heave as you lean against the slate. The silhouette is still too far away to make out.

T..av….

A distant cry, distorted heavily by the chasm. It takes a moment for you to recognize it as your name. Your heart leaps in your chest.

… av….. Ar… d..wn… the..re…

You can’t tell who’s calling down to you, but you take faith in the knowledge it must be one of your companions. The beasts wouldn’t know your name. Now you just have to signal them somehow…

You feel around your body for your sword, but the sheath is empty. It must have fallen elsewhere, perhaps only feet away, but you can’t see worth a damn. You try instead to cast a ball of light. It should be easy - it’s a spell you’ve cast a hundred times before. But as you strain to conjure even a spark, you become lightheaded. Your knees buckle, collapsing you back to the gritty floor. You try again, but you can feel your energy being sapped away. Your hand falls weakly to the ground.

You rest your head back against the wall and think. You can’t use your sword to hit the rock and make a sound, or defend yourself if something lurks within the darkness. You can’t cast a light, nor any other spell, lest you fall completely unconscious and make your chances worse. The more options you run out of, the more desperate you become. You try reaching out to their tadpoles, but they must be too far away.

You’re stuck.

A sob chokes you as it forces its way up your throat. Even that is muffled by you, by pure habit at this point. You’ve held your oath for years; you’ve learned how to stay silent even under the worst situations. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

You look up at the dim light, blurred through tears. They burn as they just keep coming. Your lip quivers as you quietly gasp for air. You’re going to die down here.

Your last option, you’ve already dismissed before it fully forms. You could break your oath, call up to them, cry out for help with the last of your strength. But to do that would leave you even more helpless than before. To speak was to lose your powers. Your god would rip them away in a heartbeat, until you plead for forgiveness; pray for hours and hours to swear your allegiance and dedication once more.

A slave to the chains that bind you.

But what choice do you have?

You try to catch your breath, slow the hiccups and sobs down until you can fill your lungs with air. You open your mouth, try to form the words, but it comes out as a weak sound, almost a poor facsimile of a donkey’s bray. You haven’t spoken for years, to do so now was an astronomical feat. You feel the burn of your god’s eyes as they watch you actively work to break your oath.

You try to speak again. You form an h sound, but it’s so quiet, it’s hardly enough to be considered speaking. You need to shout. You need to let your friends know you are alive down here. Anxiety grips your heart as you imagine being left down here alone, left to starve to death, or worse.

You swallow. You have to do this. You can do this.

“H..e..lp,” you croak out, a mere whisper. It’s raspy and breathy, but it’s a word. You feel your power being sapped away. You nearly sob again. Your god would abandon you down here. An unfeeling master who only craves loyalty. Astarion was right.

You take another deep breath and try harder. “H-elp..!” It’s still a strained rasp, but you hear it begin to echo off the walls. Louder. It needs to be louder. You cup your hands around your mouth. “Help!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the burning in your throat. “HELP!”

-

Astarion’s hands are raw from tying knots. Karlach will bring him big piles at a time, plopping them down beside him, and he’d add them all onto the already-quite-long rope. It was perhaps 30 feet long by now, but he wasn’t confident it would reach.

Wyll sighed, exhausted. “We’re almost out of clothes, my friend.”

Astarion doesn’t look up, barely paying attention to the warlock enough to tell him to keep working. Calluses on his hands open and turn into blisters. He winces with each knot he pulls tight. But he won’t stop. How can he?

Shadowheart sighs as she pulls the pants off another corpse. She’s seen far more anatomy in one hour than she ever wished to again. Karlach sits down by the pile and pulls the other end of the rope into her lap. She begins working to tie more on.

They work silently, but rather efficiently. In another minute, the rope has grown considerably longer. Blood begins to stain Astarion’s end.

“Fangs, maybe you should take a break.” He shakes his head, frowning as he grabs a robe off the pile. Karlach is about to insist, get Wyll or Shadowheart to take over, when a sound comes from the pit. Astarion drops everything and scrambles over as fast as he can.

He tilts his head, facing his ear down into the depths. And he listens…

H..E..LP!

He immediately shouts down into the hole. “We’re going to get you out!” He rushes back to his feet and to the rope. The others drop their half-naked corpses, and Karlach finishes tying one last knot. They help Astarion drag it over to the pit, all lining up to hold onto the end, though, to be honest, Karlach will be doing most of the heavy lifting. He guides the end over the edge, and hurriedly lowers it down. He wants to throw it in, but he’d rather not throw somebody else over the edge with the sudden weight.

He’s knelt right on the edge, wide eyes staring, searching into the dark. He has no idea how close they are to you, or even if it’s long enough. He hopes your god is merciful enough to play with fate.

“Find the rope!” He shouts down. He hopes his voice is reaching you. “We’ll lift you up!”

It’s too quiet for too long. If his heart still beat, it would be racing faster than a rabbit’s on the run. Dread builds up, heavy and unpleasant, in his chest instead. Did you pass out? Was the rope long enough? Would he have to slide down and carry you back up? What was taking you so damn long?!

He’s a second away from removing his armor to climb down when the rope shifts, being tugged by something down in the darkness. He can only hope it’s you. He scrambles to his feet and gets in front of Karlach, grabs hold of the rope with bloody fingers, and begins pulling you from the pit.

Somehow they manage to work as a unit. He’s scrambling to pull you out as fast as possible, but Karlach manages to get him to slow down. If they could do long pulls, they could drag you out faster with less work. He worries his lip between his teeth. Each knot that slips over the edge adds to his anxiety. He’s waiting for the moment it reaches the end and nothing is there. He can only take solace in the fact he can feel your weight holding on. Gods, he thinks desperately, just keep holding on.

After an eternity of pulling, a hand reaches over the ledge. Karlach makes up for his absence when he lets go and falls to his knees at the edge. He reaches in and wraps his hands under your arms, heaving you up and, finally, back on solid ground. He pulls you solidly into his arms, sliding back away from the edge. He’s sick and tired of chasms.

You’re no longer wearing your armor, and your weapons belt is gone, too. Fine, black dirt sticks to your clothes and hands, and even smears across your face, washed away by a stream of tears. He wipes them away with one hand; he can’t give a damn about the blood he leaves in its place.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. You sob as fall forward, your head landing solidly against his shoulder. Your whole body trembles and shudders with each cry. He’s disconcerted by the sound of your voice, no longer purposefully muffled. He threads his fingers into your hair, holding you to him. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

-

If your body ached at the bottom of the pit, now you couldn’t even think about moving. Astarion had carried you as far as he could and then some, until Karlach had to take you from his arms before he dropped you. Even then, he stayed right by her side, watching you anxiously.

Back at camp, Shadowheart healed what she could, but most of her energy was spent during the fight. Haslin took over, but even the best he could do would have you bruised and in pain for the next few days. He went into the woods for ingredients to make a soothing balm.

Wyll helped you drink water, and Gale helped you drink some broth, to hold you over until he could make dinner proper. Lae’zel rifled through your veritable hoard of supplies to find you some suitable armor and weapons, and worked to sharpen and polish them.

When you were finally given the chance to rest, Astarion carried you from your bedroll into his tent, laying you down on his own bedroll. He provided as many pillows as you wished, as many blankets as you could ever ask for. He gathered a bowl of water and a fresh cloth and worked to clean the grime off your face.

You watched blankly, too emotionally and physically exhausted to process much. He passed the cloth over your forehead. It was blessedly cool, but the flash of red that crossed your vision could not be ignored.

Arms like lead, you willed a hand to grab his, stopping him mid-swipe. He winced as you pried the cloth from his hand, where it dropped wetly onto your neck, and ran your thumb along his palm. Blisters and blood covered every inch, skin torn and peeling in places. Without even thinking, you try casting a spell to heal him.

Whereas before, when you tried to cast a spell, you could feel it draining your energy from you, now you just felt nothing. It was like dipping a bucket into a well and coming up empty. There is no more magic within you to fuel a spell. Tears prick at your eyes again.

Astarion sighs, long and low. “You don’t have your magic.”

It takes far too much effort to even shake your head. You take a breath, and through the rasping pain, you speak. “They… took it away when… I called for help…” You swallow thickly. Your voice was foreign to you.

It was foreign to Astarion, too. He could recognize the way you signed, the slight variations of years of experience against Gale’s book-perfect signing or even Wyll’s slower, more purposeful movements. He associated it with you so strongly. To hear you speak was like watching a ventriloquist put on a show.

A bitter feeling took hold within him. Just like all gods, all masters, all people with power to laud over another, you were abandoned in your darkest hour, by someone you spent so long dedicated to. Prayers, offerings at alters, your faithful silence - it would never be enough, not to a god who always craved more.

But now isn’t the time to say I told you so. Gently, he removes his hand from your grasp. Your hand flops back to your side. He takes the cloth from where it rested at your neck, re-wets it, and continues cleaning your face.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes away your tears, catching them before they have a chance to slide down to your ears. When the sobs choke you, he helps you drink some water. When your sorrow lulls you to sleep, he tucks you in and stays by your side, a faithful argus.

---

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[d3adlyromb3ar]

✩ ‧₊˚ these roses have thorns

— pairing. megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

— synopsis. he hated you. you hated him. it was simple really, all those years of competing to be the best had only driven you two as each others biggest rivals. time passes as it’s been years since you’ve seen each other. suddenly, you both reconnect and wonder why you hated each other to begin with.

— word count. 3.2k

— contents. enemies to friends, (lovers implied), language, angst, fluff, minor injuries, minor family issues, indications of bullying, megumi is such a dork

— notes. credit to @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

“You’re so incredibly irritating.”

Megumi rested his forehead against his palm, trying his hardest to block out your high pitched squealing voice.

“Do you think I wanted to be paired up with you? Nope. Not at all. If it were up to me, I’d drop out of this class altogether!”

Your voice strained his ears, his temples aching with the sensation of an oncoming headache.

“Can you just stop talking.” He mumbled.

“No actually. If me talking pains you so much, I’ll keep doing it.” You sassed, crossing your arms.

“God, I can’t stand you.”

He huffed and stood suddenly, not giving you another glance and marching his way towards the classroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To find our teacher. Gonna ask him if I can do this project on my own.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent. You could feel your cheeks red, you wondered if people could see smoke coming out of your ears from how infuriated you were.

Megumi stopped in his tracks, turning around when he didn’t hear your snarky reply. Truthfully, he was waiting for it and was shocked when it never came. He furrowed his brows at the sight of you pouting, rooted in your same spot.

“What? Don’t seem so upset, I’ll be doing you a favor.” He said, indicating that you’d appreciate his gesture. No longer cursed with his presence.

He never quite understood why you hated him so much. All he knew was that you were competitive, and so was he. At least when it came to you, he wanted to be better than you at all things. Your reactions becoming his favorite thing when he outsmarted you.

“Whatever.” You mumbled, turning away from him and stomping off the school grounds.

Megumi oddly decided not to meet with the teacher, choosing to tough it out— and do this project with you. It would be too much of a hassle to explain to the teacher why he wanted to work alone.

Days later, you and Megumi were sat underneath a tree within the schools courtyard. He was leaning back against the base of the bark, while you were focused on your notes in front of you.

Your harsh erasing on your notepad had Megumi glancing over to you. He had to bite his tongue when you swiped the shavings in his direction, some of which landed on his uniform pants.

“Okay lemme check this again…” You muttered quietly to yourself, flipping through a textbook in a haste.

He just watched, holding back a laugh at how ridiculous you looked. So panicked and stressed for absolutely no reason— he assumed you were working so hard only to prove you were doing more than him for the project.

Which truthfully, you were. But he had an idea for later.

A frustrated sigh from you grabbed his attention, breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes suddenly focusing on your tongue wedged between your lips, the way it was poking out as you scribbled notes.

“Y’know, you can poke a hole through the paper if you write hard enough.”

“At least I’m working on the project.” You shot back.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and snatching the notepad out of your hands— causing you to gasp.

“Hey! Give it back!”

“What’s all this nonsense anyway— we won’t be needing any of this information. Wasting your tim—”

“I said give it!” You said through clenched teeth, reaching for the notepad, only for him to hold it farther out of your reach.

“I mean, are you even reading out of the right textbook?” He questioned, trying to make you feel incompetent.

You clenched your jaw, your cheeks rising in heat once again.

“If you don’t give it back, I’m going to—”

“Oh you’re threatening me now? How adorable.”

You pressed your lips together tight, the comment both annoying and flustering you. You decided to ignore him and the fluttering in your stomach— pulling out another notepad from your backpack and flipping to a fresh page.

Megumi watched in fascination as you started rewriting all your notes you had previously written. He chuckled, earning a shake of your head. Clearly over his antics.

“God, you’re so stubborn. Doesn’t it hurt your head?”

“Shut up. Let me work.” You snapped, not lifting your gaze from your notes.

He chuckled again, your reactions only spurring him on.

“Are you even a real person?”

This had you snapping your head up, giving him a bitchy look. Although, Megumi wasn’t phased— he held your glare with pleasure.

“Are you? I swear, sometimes it feels like you’ve been sent to this planet just to make my life a living hell.” You hissed.

“Yeah, you wish you were that special.” He mumbled.

You held his satisfied expression for a few more seconds before breaking the stare, focusing back on your work.

“Let me work, please.” Your voice was quieter than before.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?”

“No, now please— let me fucking work!” You raised your voice, your grip on your pencil extremely tight.

He chuckled before letting himself go silent, oddly enough— he let you finish the days work in peace. He’d have to hold himself back from talking every time he caught you sticking your tongue out in concentration. He’d have to force himself to look away every time you brought the eraser end of the pencil up to your lips, letting the pink end rub over your mouth.

It was funny, he suddenly realized. Your presence was wasn’t totally awful when you were quiet.

Another day had passed, and the due date of the project was finally here. It was hilarious how he hadn’t done much of anything to the project— not that you’d let him. It wasn’t just the day of the project turn in date, it was also the day of his mischievous plan.

It was the end of class, Megumi sat silent in his spot as the teacher said his final words to his students. The bell rung and before you could level move an inch from your desk, the teacher was calling your name.

“(Y/n) (L/n), please see me after the room is cleared.” He told you.

You nodded but couldn’t help the confusion wash over your features. Immediately thinking of why he’d want to pull you to the side. Had you done something wrong? Certainly not.

Megumi met your gaze one last time, his eyes locking with yours. You glared at him, noticing the way he had a smug look on his face. Before you could change your expression, he had turned and left throughout the doorway.

Slowly, you made your way up to the teachers desk.

“You wanted to speak with me?” You asked politely, maybe a little nervously.

“Yes. It’s been brought to my attention that there were some issues with your project.” He informed you.

You wondered what possibly could’ve been wrong, the teacher had already told you and Megumi that it was the best of the grade.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“Miss (L/n), I’m very disappointed in you. You are one of my brightest students, and for you to deliberately make your classmate Megumi do the whole project himself— well it saddens me.”

Your teachers words had your eyes wide, your mouth hanging open in shock. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Megumi wouldn’t have gone this far, would he have?

“Mr… I… Listen there is a misunderstan—”

“I don’t need to hear your excuses. Just know that you will be taking a zero for this assignment.”

“But you don’t understand… I did the pro—”

“Lying to me isn’t helping your case Miss (L/n). I just want this to be a learning lesson for you. Megumi was quite upset about this whole ordeal, and I expect you to respect your classmates better from now on.” He finished, standing up and leaving the classroom.

You were left standing in front of his desk still, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Your chest ached at how hard you were breathing, the rage you felt threatening to burst.

You left the classroom, cheeks red and hot. If there was any moment in time where smoke would be bursting out your ears— it would be now.

Just as your foot passed the doorway, you heard an all too familiar laugh. One that had your breathing rising, fastening in pace.

You turn towards the dark haired boy, walking quickly up to his smug face.

“You’re such a dick! I can’t believe you would go this far!” You yelled.

He crossed his arms, his form calmly leaned back against the lockers.

“Just following through with my mission to make your life a living hell.” He repeated from a previous conversation.

You stared at him with disgust.

“Are you really that fucking upset over what I said?”

“I’m not upset about shit. You just need to know who’s always going to have the last laugh. Who’s always going to be on top— because it won’t be you.” He stated.

“I know you hate my guts, but making me take a zero for this project? That’s too far, you don’t get to interfere with my schoolwork. I work too damn hard for you to mess it up!” You defended.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but feel bad. He didn’t realize the teacher was going to give you a zero. He assumed a little scolding at least. He realized that maybe he’d taken it too far.

“Y’know what, you win.”

Megumi looked at you with confusion at your admittance.

“You’re better than me at everything. You’re the high and mighty one and I’m just a piece of shit. I get it, I do. Now please do me one fucking favor— and leave me alone.” You pleaded, your voice quiet at the end, thick with emotion.

Megumi couldn’t say anything in the moment, and instead watched you walk away— your head down. He did all this for a quick laugh, to see your reaction and all— so why did he feel terrible instead. It was never supposed to end up this way.

Perhaps he had taken it too far, and now he was afraid that there’d be no fixing this. That theory was confirmed the second he heard that you had transferred schools the next week.

God, he really fucked up. Now he had no way to resolve or fix anything. Now more than ever, he felt the extremely strong urge to tell you he was sorry. He realized all too quickly— he wouldn’t get the chance to.

A few years had passed, and a lot had changed.

Standing in front of the Jujutsu School now— it didn’t quite feel real. You had to force yourself to truly believe that this is where you ended up.

Remembering back, you recalled the exact moment where your life had shifted— from something so simple to chaos.

It happened days after the whole ordeal with Megumi and the project. The rage that had consumed you since that moment had been building. The last week at school was forgotten— you couldn’t recall a thing any of the teachers had said that day.

It was the saturday after your last week. You had been trying to relax at home, make yourself something to eat when you accidentally burned your finger on the stove. Almost like a trigger, the rage that had been built up inside of you tripled— your body not feeling like your own.

Before you fully feel the pain of the burn— your whole house was suddenly in flames. Within minutes your house was simply gone— vanishing from where it was previously rooted.

Your parents had been furious, but they weren’t surprised— not even a little. A long talk later, and you discovered that you were adopted, the two people you lived with forever not even your own Mom and Dad. They told you with heavy hearts that you were born from a clan— one from a history of sorcerers.

You didn’t believe them at first, but after what had just happened— what you had caused. You had no choice but accept the truth.

Your parents assured you not to be upset with yourself for destroying the house, informing you that this was just a placeholder while you were in school. It didn’t push the guilt away that you had done such destruction, and you felt out of control with these abilities you didn’t even know you possessed.

Your parents let you decide your path, and you chose to leave home. Leaving to somewhere that could help you with your abilities, one that would help you understand who you were.

So no, Megumi wasn’t the reason why you transferred. But of course, how would he ever know that fact.

With hesitant steps, you walked further into the school grounds— taking in the beauty of the buildings. The environment felt peaceful and inviting— and most importantly you felt like you finally belonged somewhere.

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice called from behind you.

You got lost in thought before you turned around, the voice sounding so familiar, yet so foreign.

“(Y/n) (L/n)?” The voice called out again, this time around sounding more unsure.

You turned around finally, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of him. There before you stood none other than Megumi Fushiguro.

You realized you hadn’t said anything since he got your attention. You snapped yourself out of your shock and sent him a warm smile, one that undoubtedly had a flash of nervousness in it.

“Megumi, hi. It’s been… It’s been awhile.” You greeted, scratching your arm anxiously.

It was Megumi’s turn to be shocked, he hadn’t seen you in years and yet the person standing in front of him was undoubtedly you, but not you at the same time.

Everything from your features and your height was different, but it’s not what had him so shocked. It was your voice that silenced him completely. It was so— gentle.

It was a miracle he even recognized you at all.

“I’m guessing from your silence that you still don’t like me.” You said in a small voice, laughing awkwardly at the end.

Megumi was snapped out of his shock instantly from the sound of your hurt voice.

“No, no I uh… I am just surprised to see you here.” He explained, “Um, why are you here?”

You didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that he was speaking to you much more softer than ever— it was odd.

You scratched your arm nervously, the same neutral smile on your face.

“I’m going to school here.” You revealed, feeling anxious about what his thoughts were on that. “That’s okay with you, right?”

He nodded. Otherwise his thoughts ran around with the possibility that you were a sorcerer too? How did he never recognize that. Were there signs? How did he miss them?

“Why would it matter what I think?”

You shrugged, the conversation feeling too awkward. There was so much unnecessary tension— you blamed it on the past.

Since you had thought about it, you found yourself walking a couple steps closer to him. It was then you could finally get a closer look at him. His hair had grown longer, more hectic. He’d certainly grown into his face, his jawline was sharp. It was his eyes that captured you— they were so mesmerizing. The way his eyelashes were so long and caged his eyes.

You cleared your throat, getting back on track.

“Listen, about what all happened in the past—”

But you couldn’t finish your sentence, as Megumi cut in.

“I don’t need you to do that, really. If anyone here should be apologizing— it should be me.”

His words shocked you, and you found yourself unable to respond right away. He sensed that and kept going.

“I know it might not make a difference after all these years but, I’m sorry I was such a dick. I’m sorry for always messing with you— and I’m sorry for the whole project thing.” He finished.

You couldn’t help but feel some sort of healing within you from those words. It wasn’t often you’d dwell on him, but you always wondered where his hate for you came from. Maybe it was just an odd occurrence.

“I accept your apology. Thank you.”

Megumi sent a weak smile then, feeling some weight lift off his shoulders. But not all of it.

“And don’t feel too bad about this whole thing, I wasn’t so innocent either. I shouldn’t have messed with you either— I know I was quite annoying. If anything, I probably deserved it.”

Megumi smirked, his shoulders jumping with a silent laugh. He didn’t want to seem rude but he also couldn’t help himself from asking.

“Sorry to change the subject but, how are you a sorcerer? I never got the idea that you were one.”

You ended up walking towards the school stairs, taking a seat and watching as Megumi followed and plopped down next to you— closer than you predicted.

“It’s a long story. Turns out I was adopted and my adoptive parents told me I was from a sorcerer clan.” You ran through the long story, “It’s a pretty boring story.”

He nodded, listening intently to your story. He was intrigued with you— and he wondered if that was the reason he always felt this pull around you.

“What about you? I didn’t know you were a sorcerer. You don’t seem the type.” You joked at the end.

He chuckled, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much known my whole life. Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

You hummed, clearly he was right. You didn’t suspect a thing.

“Good to know.”

Despite apologies being traded, small talk being had— there was obvious tension still thick in the air. Neither of you could pinpoint why.

“Well I should um… I should probably get settled in and everything.” You suggested, standing up to head out.

Megumi surprised you yet again when his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist— halting you in your spot. But it was a gentle touch, one that didn’t seem like him.

“Uh (Y/n)?”

“Yes Megumi?”

He bit his lip, the back of his neck hot with what he wanted to say.

“Just wanted to say that you look good.”

He really couldn’t believe he just said that, after all those years are being a complete dickhead— and suddenly he thinks a couple words of sweet talk would bail him out of the mess. What was he thinking.

Except you were flattered and felt your cheeks heating up, but this time is was from nerves.

“Thank you Megumi, you look good too. Very handsome.”

Megumi’s cheeks suddenly became rosy, the back of his neck burning up. He wasn’t expecting you to say it back, but with how you were looking at him— he knew it was genuine.

“Thanks.”

You smiled at him, your chest warm with a foreign sensation— but you welcomed it.

“After I unpack my things, would you mind showing me around?”

Megumi sent a small smile back, scratching the back of his neck yet again. You never made him this nervous, but your voice also never sounded so smooth, so gentle before.

“Sure.”

With that, you walked away— feeling a little more chipper in your step.

The two of you were left alone in your thoughts as you both went your separate ways. Both of you were thinking of lots, but the one thought that ran through both of your minds was— why did we even hate each other to begin with?

— ending notes. thought of this randomly one night and started writing 😅 not proofread so ignore spelling mistakes 🤍

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

[raines-cloud]

Bad Neighbor — Miguel O’hara x gn!reader

warnings/tags: suggestive, miguel is a WHORE, reader is blunt

read more under the cut!

Read on AO3

Miguel O’hara.

Initially, you had no problem with him. He was quiet, nice whenever you interacted with him, not too bad to look at, and overall a good neighbor.

That last bit was true until he started bringing girls home.

You worked from home, which often meant you were up late working on projects. But he made it impossible to focus. One night, you had finally had enough. The constant moans through the walls had pushed you past the edge of anger. You slammed your computer shut and stomped to your bedroom, which was on the other side of your apartment. Somehow, you managed to fall asleep.

The following morning, after you heard the girl leave, you knocked on his door. He opened it, not expecting to see you. You weren’t expecting him to be shirtless. Your anger turned to embarrassment.

“Look, I don’t really care that you’re kind of a whore, but could you please keep it down? I work from home and your girlfriends make it insanely hard to concentrate.”

He blinked. You did everything in your power to not stare at his body, instead opting to break eye contact to look at the ground.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you would hear,” he eventually said.

“The walls are thin, O’hara,” you muttered, still looking at the ground. “I hear everything.”

He stared at you for a moment. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. “Yeah… sorry, again.” He grinned. “Let me know when you’re ready to join.” And with that, his door closed. You stood there in shock for a second, all of your anger immediately returning. You cursed him out under your breath as you went back to your apartment.

A few days after that ordeal, you had done extremely little work. All you thought about was what he said. That stupid bastard. You would never fuck him.

…but you had thought about it, which meant that even though you hated him, you were now insanely horny just thinking about him. “Piece of shit,” you grumbled angrily.

It had been months since you had done anything, and you didn’t want to use an app to find someone to get dicked down by. You sighed. “I’ll just take a walk. It’ll clear my head, and maybe I’ll be able to work when I get home.”

You were so, so wrong.

When you returned to your apartment, you heard a girl moaning in Miguel’s. ‘Is he serious?,’ you thought to yourself. ‘What a prick.’

As you weighed your options, standing outside your apartment, you saw his door handle move. You jumped to grab your keys and immediately tried to open the door. His hand rested on your lower back. “What’s the hurry?”

Praying he couldn’t hear your heartbeat or feel how you shook, you replied. “You’re gonna leave that poor girl in your apartment?”

He chuckled. “That was a video. No one is in my apartment.”

“Oh. Well, still… you seemed to be entertaining yourself just fine.”

“Why are you trying to get away from me? I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that.”

You tensed up. “Just go back to getting off, Miguel. That seems to be all you do.”

The door of your apartment finally unlocked, and you stepped inside. He did, too.

“Who invited you in?”

“Myself. I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of girls in my apartment? Considering you listen so intently.”

You scoffed. “I did notice, but not because I listen to you have sex.”

He moved closer to you, closing your door and locking it. “I know you want me.”

You backed up into a wall in your apartment. Only now did you realize just how strong he was. He placed a hand on your chin, tracing your jawline. “Don’t try to deny that, angel.”

You slapped his hand off of you and sprinted to your bedroom. “You’re a pervert!”

He simply followed you there. “Who listens to me have sex, again?”

“Fuck off, you know that it’s impossible not to.” You sat down on your bed as he leaned against your door.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long has it been since you’ve cum?”

You felt your face heat up. “T-that is so insanely inappropriate to ask someone.”

“Yeah, whatever, now answer it.”

“I don’t know. A few months, I guess,” you muttered under your breath. He moved closer to you, like a predator stalking its prey. He leaned into you and you could feel his breath on your neck as he whispered into your ear.

“I’m going to make you forget your name.”

[loveysloveclub]

clean - quinn hughes

in which, phoebe delaware has no idea why it is suddenly so hard to get over quinn hughes.

everyone had always told phoebe that quinn was the guy for her. the two were perfect together. his quiet matched her loud, his introvertness matched her extrovert and his coffee matched her hot chocolate. two complete opposites that matched in a great love story.

phoebe had truly believed that she was over the break up and that she was over quinn. but as her alarm blared loudly on the ten month anniversary of their breakup, something weighed heavy on her heart.

brushing off the feeling, she walked into the living room of her apartment, her eyes naturally travelling to the potted plants that laid littered around her home.

except, they were all either dead or on their way to their graves. she frowned at the sight.

“quinny! i’m home! and i come bearing children!” at the sound of his girlfriends voice, quinn shot up from where he was lying on the couch, his eyes frantic.

“you’re pregnant?” he exclaimed.

phoebe placed the multiple plants she had carried up the five floors before reaching her apartment floor (the elevators were almost always broken) before turning to face her boyfriend with an incredulous look.

“why would i be pregnant?” she asked, walking over to the couch and placing herself in her boys lap. “you just said you were.” quinn retorted, his hands travelling to the girls stomach. phoebe rolled her eyes before slapping his hands away, “i’m not with child, quinn. i brought home plants!”

quinn looked at the side of the girls face as she leant back into his chest, watching whatever he had playing on the tv with minimal interest. it was some hockey highlights, and they weren’t even his.

“then what child were you bearing?”

“the plants, obviously.”

quinn laughed at his girlfriend quietly, “right, obviously.”

phoebe couldn’t even smile sadly at the plants, for they reminded her too much of what she could never have again. it was usually easier than this, and she doubts quinn even thinks of her anymore. it had been ten months, and ten months was a long time.

deciding she needed to clear her head, the girl made the plan to take herself out to breakfast. it was her day off and she would be damned if she spent it sulking around her apartment. walking into her closet, her hands ruffled through the handfuls of clothes she had hanging up before she landed on a white dress with a large red stain.

phoebe and quinn couldn’t even put into words how much they wanted to leave. they had agreed to going on a double date with one of phoebe’s friends and her new boyfriend of the month, and it was clear that neither of them were enjoying it. the dude wouldn’t let phoebe get a single word in, and for someone who loves to talk as much as she does, she was hating it. not to mention, he was an obnoxious kraken fan, and quinn hated the team.

they had sat through a long dinner but neither phoebes friend or her date were ready to wrap it up yet. phoebe knew quinn was as over it as she was when he began tapping her thigh with his finger impatiently. he would never tell her it was time to go, not until she was ready.

when phoebe saw an opening, however, she leaned over to quinn and whispered in his ear, “follow my lead.”

the man shot her an incredulous look but couldn’t get a word out before phoebe was knocking over her glass of red wine all over herself.

phoebe gasped loudly, jumping to her feet before spinning on her feet to glance down at quinn. “why would you do that?” she exclaimed before stomping out of the restaurant.

the two in front of him were left speechless as they looked at the eldest hughes. he smiled awkwardly at them before calling for the bill. after paying for his half of the bill, he was quick to rush out of the restaurant in order to find his girlfriend.

he had found her sitting on the curb, laughing to herself as she scrolled on her phone. the air was cool and quinn could tell she was feeling it by the slight shivering of her body. taking of his jumper, he draped it over her shoulders before taking the seat beside her.

“didn’t know you were such the actress, delaware.” quinn teased, allowing the girl to rest her head on his shoulder. “i ruined my dress.” she pouted, glancing down at the red stain that stood out like a sore thumb on her white dress.

“i’ll buy you a new one.” quinn responded.

“and ice cream?”

“and ice cream.”

shaking her head, phoebe threw on the first thing she could find and left her apartment. the air was cold and she had wished she had worn more layers, but she had already left her apartment.

entering her favourite breakfast place was like a breath of fresh air. the heat was on and the cafe was more cozy than she remembered. she had spent a lot of time here during the rough patch of hers and quinn’s relationship, the same rough patch that had eventually resulted in their downfall.

you would think that would mean that the breakfast place would be like a slap to the face. full of bad memories that would remind her of all the emotions she was feeling during that time. but it didn’t, she couldn’t explain how being there, on this day specifically, was helping her feel better.

going up to the front counter, prepared to order what she always did, she was cut off when she heard the familiar laugh of none other than quinn hughes.

discreetly turning her head, she saw him seated with a pretty blonde.

the universe was out to get her, and this was the final straw that made that fact abundantly clear.

she needed to leave before he saw her, turning to the door she rushed towards it, but she didn’t get very far before she was running into a hard chest.

glancing up, phoebe almost died on the spot when she saw quinn hughes glancing back down at her with a saddened expression.

quinn opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, phoebe was pushing passed him and speed walking out the door and up the street back to her apartment.

upon returning home, the first thing she did was get rid of all the dead plants and the red stained dress and every single thing in her apartment that would make it easier to forget quinn hughes.

[just-some-random-blogger]

You Were Meant To Be Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.

A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T

also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?

psa: i did some edits on this since posting it

"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.

She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"

I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."

Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"

"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"

Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.

I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."

I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.

"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.

I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.

I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."

I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."

Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"

He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."

"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.

Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.

"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."

Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"

I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."

Ari is visibly troubled by this.

I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."

Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.

"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"

"Conspiring again, are we?"

The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.

Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."

"But you don't-"

"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"

My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."

Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."

I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.

"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."

I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"

I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.

I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."

The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.

I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"

Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.

I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.

My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.

I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?

Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"

"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.

I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.

"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.

"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.

Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."

I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.

The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.

"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."

I do not waste my breath with a response.

"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."

Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."

I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."

He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."

"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."

Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.

"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."

For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.

My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."

I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.

"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."

The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."

I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"

"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.

"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.

Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.

This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"

My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"

I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.

I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.

I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.

Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."

Daemon watches as I walk away.

Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.

I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.

I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.

It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.

The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.

"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.

Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.

I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"

He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."

I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.

I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"

I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.

The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.

The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.

My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.

I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.

The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.

Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.

"ARI!"

Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"

The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.

I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.

Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."

I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.

Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."

I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"

A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.

I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.

"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.

"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."

I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"

My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."

I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"

Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"

I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"

She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."

There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.

"The winner is house Targaryen!"

I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.

I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"

Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."

My father watches the rider come closer.

The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."

Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."

I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.

My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."

"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."

Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"

"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.

My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."

"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."

My father's face hardens.

Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."

The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.

"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"

"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."

Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.

That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.

[stuffforme2]

Lil writing inspired by these image of Michael Fucking Holden

Tw!!intrusive thoughts

I stare at the ice beneath my skates. I am unsure for how long I've been skating in circles for but it's oddly comforting.

Loosing is something I am not a fan of which is clear by the embarrassing childish way I'd ripped paper to shreds infront of Tori Spring. Tori Spring. Tori Spring a magical, pessimistic, self hating, depressed, sunshine of a person.

I feel my face get hot with anger at myself. My anger boils over me, and, I think how shameful and annoying it is that the ice won't act like a mirror and reflect myself to my eyes like it does in animated movies. I'd like to see my red angered face. I'd like to see the hatred in my eyes behind my large glasses and messy hair that I haven't even bothered to clean up today. I had been lazy enough to not gell down my hair. So fucking lazy.

I wonder what, just like in the movies, if there's water underneath the ice inside the roller rink. If I stomp right now as hard as I possibly can, will the thin layer that is holding me up and together break?

So I stomp.

I stomp and stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

I must look rather peculiar but there's not a doubt in my mind that if I do stop stomping then I'd break apart and tear to shreds the skating ring bit by bit.

My coat that kept me warm throughout my inside childish tantrum is starting to bug me and so is my jeans and my annoyingly plain shirt. Maybe when I stop stomping, when my brain registers that I won't fall through, I'll go buy a shirt that's not plain.

My stomping ceases even though my brain still hasn't accepted I won't fall through instead it's made a scenario. I stomp one more time and I fall through I fall into an endless abyss of cold dark water that's filling my lungs. It grabs me, its dark arms around my stomach, and begins to tug me down like an achor. My breaths gurgle out in fish bubbles that float to the Michael Holden shaped hole in the ice roof. My back hits the bottom and I kick and kick but to not avail. I'm stuck. I'm drowning. I'm dead.

My brain is rather poetic sadly rhe words that do come out of my mouth don't match. Imagine if I was Shakespeare. I could make the best mother fucking plays and leave DiCaprio quaking in his boots.

[forever-rogue]

Hi I would like to request Eddie teaching you guitar and one day mid-lesson things get a little spicy 😏

AN | Mhmm, mhmm, mhmm. In which you ask Eddie to teach you how to play guitar and he reluctantly agrees. Enjoy😏

Warnings | Language, Smut [unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving)] 18+ only

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.8k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why are you so persistent?” his question came out as a huff as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I learned from you,” you poked his chest with finger, and he was quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and get you in his hold, “I learned it from my persistent, stubborn best friend.”

“For the millionth time, the answer is no.” he insisted as you ripped your hand out of his grip, “I am not teaching you how to play guitar.”

“Why not?” you decided to try the pouting method, making your eyes soft as you looked at him sadly, “Eds…please? Pretty please? I’ll do whatever you want in return. Pinky promise.”

His breath hitched in his throat at your words as he tried not to let his mind wander too far and get lost in his little daydream fantasies. You weren’t making it any easier with the way you were looking at him with those big doe eyes. He caught himself and scoffed at your outstretched pinky before shaking his head, “no.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You don’t mean that, sweetheart.”

“No,” you agreed, crossing your arms over your chest as he watched you in amusement, “are you afraid I’ll break your guitar? I’ll be careful, you know I’m loads more careful than you and you’ve never broken it!”

“That’s not it.”

“Ugh,” you grabbed your bag off the table and got ready to leave the makeshift Hellfire Club space, “fine. If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone else! Maybe I’ll ask…Danny. Danny plays guitar!”

“Fuck no,” he insisted firmly as the two of you glared daggers at each other. He didn’t hate Danny, really had no reason to hate him but the idea of you spending time with him, close together as he taught you to play, made his skin prickle and jealousy bubble up, “he can barely string together two notes. That’s not playing.”

“Well if you won’t help me,” you insisted with a little smirk, “I’ll find someone who does.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before you turned on your heel and stomped out of the room, leaving him alone to set everything up. You could hear him calling your name, but you weren’t going to give into him. Not today anyway; he was going to have to come to you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’ll do it,” Eddie had let himself into your house, not even bothering to let you know he was coming or knocking. Although, after having been friends for so long, it really wasn’t necessary. The two of you knew each other more than anything else. You looked up from the cookies you had just taken out of the oven and set them on the counter before raising your eyebrow at him.

“Do what?” you had to immediately swat his hand out of the way as he reached for a cookie. This man had no sense of his own mortality sometimes, “they’re hot, idiot! Wait a few.”

“I’ll teach you to play,” he rested against the counter and looked at you expectantly, “but you’re going to learn the right way and not complain, or I’ll stop. Yes?”

“Are you serious, Eds?” he tilted his head towards the door where you could see his guitar case and nodded, “what made you change your mind?”

“If you’re going to be learning from anyone, it’s going to be me,” there was a fierce sort of look in his eyes, the normally soft edge they held turning hard, “the choice is yours, sweetheart.”

“You already know what my answer is,” you grinned excitedly as his expression softened. You came around the counter and almost knocked him over with a tight hug, catching himself off guard as he stiffened for a moment. He swallowed nervously, trying not to get too lost in the smell of your perfume and shampoo, an intoxicating mixture that had ingrained itself in his heart, “come on, let’s go. House is all ours, the family’s away for the rest of the week!”

“Why?” he asked softly as you gave him a confused expression, “why do you want to learn?”

“I dunno,” you played it off, “seems fun. And well…you like to play, obviously, so I figured it could be fun. Something we do together, I…it’s just a stupid thought so don’t laugh.”

“That’s not stupid at all,” his mouth had run dry at your words as you offered him the sweet smile he adored way more than should be allowed, “no pressure then.”

“None at all,” you gently grabbed the guitar case in one hand and his in the other, almost running up the stairs in your excitement. You heard Eddie laugh at your eagerness, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late in the evening by the time you’d even thought to look at the clock. Eddie had been walking you through the basics, explaining how to probably hold the instrument, the different strings and notes and you’d gotten completely lost in him, finding it hard not to feed off of his enthusiasm. His whole face was practically lit up as he went over everything; you were sure that it was because he was excited to share his love of music with you. You were somehow blissfully unaware of the fact that yes he did love getting to share all of this with you but he just…loved you. 

“Want to try a little melody?” he asked as your eyes widened in surprise. You weren’t sure if you were quick ready yet, but you also couldn’t say no to the puppy dog eyes he was offering you. You nodded from your spot on the floor, watching as he sat down to you and gently handed you his prized possession. You held it just like he had taught you, still getting used to the weight and feel of it.

“I feel so lost already,” you giggled nervously, not wanting to make a complete fool of yourself - although he would never think that or care - but also suddenly hyper aware of the feeling of his warm body so close to you. You tried to keep your mind focused, but it was a challenge when all you wanted to do was touch him. It had been getting increasingly more difficult to keep your feelings for him in check and this wasn’t doing anything to help. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, shuffling slightly so he was sitting behind you. He wrapped his arms around you, placing his hands on top of yours. Your heart started beating wildly and you wondered if he could feel it. The feel of him behind you and his hands on yours was causing your brain to practically melt. His hands were warm and soft, despite his calloused fingertips, “just listen and feel, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you choked out as you felt him chuckle lightly. You closed your eyes as you listened to him play, trying to memorize the feeling of the strings under your fingers and the feeling of him on you. 

You only vaguely recognized the tune he was strumming, and decided you’d ask him what it was later. You were so caught up in him that you hadn’t even realized when he’d stopped. He released his hold on your hands before he gently set the guitar on your bed, but he still remained behind you, his arms wrapped around you. 

“Eddie,” the way his name fell from your lips sent a shudder down his spine. He dragged his nose along the exposed skin of your shoulder and neck, pressing his lips against the soft, delicate skin. He felt your breathing sutter as he smiled against your skin. Your mind was reeling and every fiber of your being was on high alert - was Eddie really kissing you?

You turned your head so you could look at him, finding his eyes and noticing that his pupils were blown wide. You made a small whimper that made his heart clench as he turned you around and quickly pulled you into his lap. Your hands found his face before he took his chance - finally - and kissed you. His crashed onto yours as he kissed with a fervent hunger that you knew had been lying between the two of you for a small eternity now. It was messy at first, a tangle of teeth and tongue that neither of you minded before you found your rhythm. 

He tasted of mint and smoke, but there was a bit of underlying sweetness that made it all uniquely him. Kissing him was a million times better than anything you had ever dreamed of. His large hands settled on the soft flesh of your hips, under your shirt, splayed wide. You’d wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to get as close as was humanly possible. 

You could feel how hard he was as you couldn’t help but to grind against him, needing some friction of your own. He pulled back for a moment, both of you breathing heavily as you watched one another. You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the sudden turn of events that in reality had been a long time coming. 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered as he nudged his nose against yours before kissing along your jaw and down down your neck, lightly biting and sucking at your delicate skin. You knew it would leave marks, but you didn’t care, “gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine, sweetheart.”

“Please,” it was a soft little plea that caused him to smile against your collarbones. You ran a hand through his soft, messy waves before pulling him back to your lips and kissing him eagerly, “‘m all yours. Always wanted you.”

“Yeah?” he paused for a moment as he met your eyes, looking to make sure you meant what had said and weren’t just lost in the moment. 

“Yes,” you promised with a soft little smile, your lips bright red and swollen from kissing him. He was the reason for the blissed out look on your face and fuck if that didn’t send a surge of pride and possessiveness through him. He tugged at the hem of your shirt, pausing to make sure you were still okay with what he was doing and you gave him a small nod, “please touch me, Eddie. Want you to touch me.”

“Fuck me,” he pratically groaned as he quickly up your shirt up and off and tossed it to the side. You felt so incredibly vulnerable under his gaze as he looked at you, one hand going behind your back to unclasp your bra, “cute bra, but I wanna see you.”

“Wore it,” you shuddered lightly, “for you. ‘Cause I thought you’d like it.”

“Did you plan on this happening?” he asked with a cheeky little smirk, “were you just waiting for me to break?”

“I’ve been waiting,” you teased as you moved to pull his shirt off. You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but there was something about seeing him like this while you were sitting in his lap. His skin was smooth and peppered with some light freckles and stretch marks, the tattoos near his collarbone and that happy trail you’d eyed more times than you could count, “you’re pretty too, Eds. All mine?”

“All yours,” he promised as he took a breast in his hand, squeezing it roughly which caused you to moan lightly. He brought his mouth to the other one, licking and sucking on the sensitive skin before playing with your nipples, “so, so pretty. Fuck, can I taste you?”

“Eddie, you don’t have to do that,” your face flushed with warmth at the idea of his face buried between your legs. You’d dreamed about it so many times, but hadn’t expected it to ever be a reality, “‘s okay.”

“I want to,” he insisted, “dreamed of tasting your pretty cunt for so long. Wanna taste you so bad. Please?”

“Yes,” you agreed and he gently reached down to undo the button of your jeans, wasting no time in pulling down your zipper. He paused for a moment before he moved to stand up and pulled you with him. He moved you so you were laying down on your bed. You watched him with reverence as he pulled your jeans down your legs, leaving you in only a pair of lacy underwear that matched the bra. You’d thought you’d want to shy away and hide, but Eddie made you feel so comfortable and safe, and…beautiful with the way he was looking at you. 

“A little set,” he grinned as you nodded, “you’re a dirty little thing aren’t you? Act all shy and sweet, but underneath it, you’re not so innocent. Have you thought about this, sweetheart? Thought about me while you touched yourself?”

“Yes,” you admitted as he kissed his way down your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake, “I always think about you fucking with me. And sucking your dick. Want you to use me how you want.”

“I will, sweetheart, I will,” he stopped at the waistband of your underwear, “you’re all mine now. I’ll make you feel good, and you’ll never think about another man. Fuck, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Mhmm,” your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers in the waistband before gently pulling them down your legs and tossing them to your side. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he dragged his nose along the skin of your soft thigh, quickly deciding that you needed to be marked there too, even if it was only for him to see. His bites were soothed by his tongue and you were almost squirming in his grip, “just like I thought. You’re so pretty, so perfect. All for me.”

Before you could say anything else, he buried his face in your center, causing you to moan at the sudden change in feeling. He licked a long strip up your soaked folds, not even bothering to suppress his moans. You made it a point to commit the sound to memory, “taste so fucking good. Better than candy.”

He kept you pinned down with one hand on your tummy and the other teasing you as he sucked on your clit. He slowly inserted a finger, causing you to lightly buck your hips against his mouth. You could feel his chuckle mixed with a groan against you as you tried to keep from coming undone too quickly. 

“So tight,” he whispered as he continued to finger you, slowly adding another finger in, which caused you to whimper. His digits were thick and gently stretched you, and of course - this was Eddie after all - he managed to find that sweet spot that made your toes curl. The combination of him using his fingers and his ridiculously talented mouth made that delicious warmth start to bloom in your belly and radiate to every part of you. You tried to keep quiet so you wouldn’t get too loud, but Eddie wasn’t having, “no pretty girl, let me hear you. Want to hear all those pretty little sounds you make.”

“Feels so good,” your eyes had been closed at the pleasure but you slowly opened them and found him looking up at you, his eyes almost black with lust. He gave your sensitive bundle of nerves a hard little suck and you swore your vision grew hazy, “fuck, Eddie, right there. Please, please, please. More.”

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, as your legs started to shake around him. You could feel him rutting against the mattress to try and get some relief of his own; that combined with what he was doing to you was enough to have you seeing stars, “cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my mouth, give it to me.”

It only took a few more seconds before you came, whining his name over and over like a prayer. Eddie didn’t stop until you were practically lightly trying to push him away, so sensitive and overstimulated. 

“Did so good for me,” he cooed as he leaned over your body, caging you in between his arms. You looked up and found him watching you with nothing short of reverence, “you’re perfect.”

“Eddie,” you pulled him back down your lips, tasting yourself on him as you kissed him, and that turned you on more than you’d ever thought it would. He moaned into your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled his hips down to yours. You could feel how painfully hard he was even through the fabric of his jeans, “lemme suck your dick. Want to make you feel good too.”

“You already did,” he promised as he paused to brush a few stray locks of hair out of your face, “need to be inside you, baby. I promise you can suck me off next time. Right now I just need to feel you.”

You tried to undo his jeans with shaky hands, but he quickly took over and pushed them down, kicking them off legs, followed by his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him; he was definitely not lacking. For a moment you wondered if he would even fit inside you, and he couldn’t help his smug little smirk, “jesus, you’re so big.”

“Not jesus,” he joked, which caused you both to laugh. There was something wonderful about being with someone that was able to drive you crazy but also make you laugh, “just me.”

“Shut up, Eds,” you grinned at him, “please just fuck me.”

“S-shit,” he groaned, “I don’t have a condom.”

“‘s fine,” you promised as his face lit up with realization, “I’m on the pill, now please get inside me.”

He gathered some of your slick on his fingers before he stroked himself a few times and lined himself up at your entrance. He slowly pushed in, letting you adjust to him, watching as your face changed into an expression of pleasure, “you’re so tight, fuck me. Are you doing okay, baby? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Perfect,” you promised, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other laced together with his, “please move. Need you to move.”

“Whatever you want,” he kissed you as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in. You moaned loudly which only spurred him on, “is this okay?”

“Mhmm,” was all you managed to choke out as he slammed back into you, getting into a bruising pace that knocked the air from your lungs, “Eddie. Fuck, please.”

“You feel so good,” he buried his face into the crook of your neck, gently biting down on your shoulder, “feels like you were made for me. Taking me so well.”

You wrapped your arms around him, trying your best not to dig your nails too harshly into his skin, but knowing all the same that you were leaving red, angry marks on him. You knew he’d wear them proudly. 

The only sounds in the room were your combined moans, the sound of skin on skin, and his soft praises. He was dragging his lips and leaving wet kisses over every part of you that he could reach. Eddie brought his hand between your bodies, circling your clit as he railed you to within an inch of your life, “‘m not gonna last, Eds.”

“‘s okay,” he groaned, “me neither. Where do you want me? Fuck, can I cum in you?”

“Mhmm,” he turned to look at you, and you found that while his expression was filled with lust, his eyes still managed to hold a softness. You suddenly realized that look was always for you, “I love you, Eddie.”

You hadn’t meant to say those words out loud but you couldn’t help it. He smiled before he kissed you, feeling your walls clench around him as his thrusts grew sloppy and erratic, “I love you, sweetheart. I always have.”

“Fuck, Eddie,” your eyes closed as your second orgasm washed over you, clausing your walls to clench around him. He hissed at the feeling, only able to thrust a few more times before he whimpered your name and spilled inside of you. The feeling was like no other and you never wanted to forget it. He did his best not to completely collapse on top of you, and ended up right next to you. You turned so you were facing him, and he was watching you with nothing short of absolute reverence. Your face flushed under his tender gaze, despite the fact that he’d just been inside of you; you tried to hide your face behind your hands but Eddie reached over and gently pulled your hands away.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered as gave him a small smile. Holy fuck. You’d just had sex with your best friend. Your best friend had eaten you out. Almost as if he could hear the gears in your head turning, he reached over and touched your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek, “I hope you don’t think that I think this was a one time thing. I meant what I said sweetheart, I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Really?” you asked softly as he nodded, which caused your face to light up, “I meant it too, Eddie. I…I want to be yours.”

“Only if you let me be yours,” his smile was magical, all dimples and teeth and you could have stared at it for hours, “hmm?”

“Yes,” you agreed without a moment of hesitation, “if I’d known you had dick game like that I would have asked you to teach me how to play a long time ago.”

“What can I-” he paused for a moment and you could see him thinking before a surprised little look crossed his features, “wait a minute. Did you…you never really wanted to learn to play guitar, did you?”

“Hmmm,” you shrugged innocently, “yes and no.”

“When you said you’d find someone else…you were never going to, were you?”

“Nope,” you grinned at him, “that was just to get you a little mad. It’s pretty hot, when you get all jealous and possessive.”

“You are an absolute menace,” he was laughing now and you couldn’t help but laugh before he leaned in and kissed you again, “you think I’ve got good dick, huh?”

“And a good mouth,” you promised, “it’s not all talk, guess it’s good for something, Eddie Munson.”

“How many times did you cum?” he asked as you raised an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that he knew the answer.

“Twice.”

“That’s not good enough,” he tutted as your eyes widened, “you got another one in ya, don’t ya, baby?”

“Eddie.”

“You want to play the game,” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and dangerous, “you gotta learn to play it well, pretty little thing.”

“Jesus,” you moaned as his hand found your throat and he squeezed lightly, the metal of his rings cool against your warm skin, “fuck me.”

“That’s the plan, pretty baby. That’s the plan.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Jealousy Game

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Based on these asks:

Summary: You do a little experiment to try to make Jake jealous and it works, with unexpected consequences that change the way you thought the night would go.

Warnings/notes: (18+) cursing probably, thigh riding, jealousy, that may really be it.

I was trying so hard not to make this as long as I usually do, so idk what that eventually means for the result of this story, but I tried. 

Words: 2124

Had the bar not been so crowded, you never would have gotten away with it. But it was a Friday night at the Hard Deck, and barely a body could walk by another without brushing against hips or shoulders. It gave the freedom of distraction. No one would bother to pay you much attention by straying from their own groups and conversations. Almost no one, that is.

Jake was seething as he watched you, so much so that the cue in his hand he was struggling to not snap in half over his knee. You were sent over to Penny to get drinks for the group, not to flirt with the first guy to approach you, and yet there you were, smiling with flushed cheeks as you leaned against the bar, not so much as flinching when the hand settled on your lower back made its way down to your ass.

When fingers snuck slightly under your short skirt and squeezed your flesh, you looked coyly over your shoulder with a gasp, your eyes briefly making contact with Jake’s before meeting those of the man grabbing you. Intoxicated lips met the side of your neck, sucking lightly at the spot under your jaw, and it made Jake clench his teeth so hard it wouldn’t have shocked him if he cracked one or two. That spot was his. His to suck at and lick to force out your moans, and if the stranger’s hands on your body wasn’t enough, his mouth on you had Jake seeing red.

“Did you two break up,” Coyote asked, nearly snapping Jake out of his murderous glare as he came up behind him. “You guys seemed good yesterday, great even.”

“It’s complicated,” Jake grumbled.

Coyote blew out a breath, and said “Must be,” then he took a sip of his beer. “I didn’t know you were the sharing type.”

They watched as the guy put his hand on the curve of your waist and trailed it up until his fingers were brushing against the swell of your breast. And that was enough. Jake shoved his cue at Coyote’s chest until his friend grabbed it.

“I’m not,” he growled before stomping over to you and yanking the guy’s hand off your body. “Let go of my girlfriend.”

The guy turned, unfazed, still leaning back on his elbow against the bar with a raised eyebrow and something of a smirk on his lips. “Your girlfriend?” He looked at you with a chuckle before placing his eyes back on Jake. “Are you sure she’s aware she’s your girlfriend? Because I hate to break it to you, buddy, but she didn’t seem too bothered by me.”

You winced at the poor choice the guy didn’t even know he’d made. Jake looked down to the hardwood flooring with a fake smile as he shook his head. “That was a mistake,” he said, and before the guy had a chance to get another word out, Jake’s fist was connecting with his nose.

The guy stumbled, hand immediately going to his face to try and stop the blood that was seeping through his fingers.

“What the fuck, asshole!”

“Jake!” You immediately inserted your body between his and the guy’s, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, tilting his head down to get him to look at you. “Jake,” you whispered, and he seemed to calm, but the rage was still present within his eyes.

“Out, Hangman,” Penny yelled over the chorus of voices, thumb thrown over her shoulder in the direction of the door. Penny favored the pilots over any other customer, but she wasn’t about to show everyone during a packed Friday night that a pilot could attack anyone he wanted and get away with it, which you understood. As did Jake.

He wasn’t surprised; he didn’t even seem to care. All he said was, “Fine,” before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the bar.

He didn’t speak to you the entire drive home, nor when you got back to your house. He opened the door and made his way down the hall to the kitchen, the leader of your two-person line, but he still didn’t pay you any mind when he opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and slammed the door so hard the other glass bottles could be heard clanking against one another from within. Instead, he completely walked past you as if you weren’t there, making himself comfortable on the couch in your living room and twisting off the cap of his beer with the annoying ease of a man of his strength.

“It went too far,” he said, staring straight ahead into the dry fireplace as he took a sip.

You lowered to your knees before him, scooting closer between his parted legs and resting your cheek on his inner knee. Your palm landed on the same thigh and slowly, tentatively, you slid your hand back and forth, moving closer to his cock with each stroke forward.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, leaning up on your knees and moving closer until your forearms were firmly planted on the tops of his thighs. Your hands toyed with the hem of his black t-shirt before they snuck underneath the fabric to travel up his abdomen. And despite trying to hide it, you could hear the tiniest sucking in of a breath and the gentle feel of his abs clenching from your touch. “Jake, don’t be mad.”

He wouldn’t look at you, still wouldn’t throw you a word, so you did the one thing you knew would get his full attention. Standing, you reached under your skirt, making a brief show out of the way the flowing fabric fluttered at your thighs, and tucked your fingers under the band of your underwear to slide them down your legs.

You could see him glance at you out of the corner of his eye as you stepped out of the lacy, blue material and kicked it to the side.

He took another drink. “Put your clothes back on,” he said, once again securing his vision straight ahead.

“My clothes are on.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. You stood there, one hand clasped around the other’s wrist, waiting, like a Christmas present for him to open up at his leisure. “I’ll do anything you want.”

He sighed then groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, I’m too pissed off.”

“Too pissed off to love me?”

“No, baby,” he sighed again, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You know I love you. I agreed to this for you because you wanted to try it, but that was too much. You told me it would be flirting, not touching.”

“You did get jealous though, which was kind of the whole point—”

He shot you a look that had you snapping your mouth shut.

You fiddled with your fingers like a nervous child, and said, “I don’t want you mad at me.”

“I’m never mad at you, baby, and I’m not mad at you now. I’m mad at the situation.”

But you knew what that meant. This is whole thing, the whole night, was a stupid experiment that failed. You couldn’t even really remember why you cared to try it. Your relationship certainly didn’t need help when it came to wanting to be all over one another, and as it was, Jake had a very healthy level of jealousy, enough that if a man looked at you a certain way, he was sure to make it known that you were taken. But a friend convinced you it would be fun, even though Jake had his reservations.  

“Ok then,” you said, taking his beer from him and setting it on the coffee table. Facing him fully, you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself as you swung a leg over and sat yourself on his thigh.

You gasped at the rough fabric of his jeans against your bare pussy, and slowly you began to move back and forth, eyes closing and lips parting as your hips ground against him.

“Y/N…” he growled, but there was a detectable warning in his tone. You knew Jake Seresin, and while a rare necessity, all he needed in this moment was a little encouragement.               

 “I know you’re upset,” you whispered in his ear, “but watching you get so possessive…” you nipped at his jaw before meeting his eyes. “Jake, I need a release. You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to. I’ll do all the work.”

His hands on your waist stopped you in place. “Up,” he said, but he more lifted you off of him than you did stand on your own, and a blush of humiliation bloomed on your chest and cheeks.

“Jake—” you whimpered as you took a step back, suddenly feeling the weight of being denied by the man who had never denied you before, the man you loved. You never imagined he would get that troubled over something stupid like a little jealousy game.

When he stood, you couldn’t miss the wet spot on his jeans, a stark dark patch against the faded denim, and fingers quickly undid the button and yanked down the zipper. He kicked off his pants to join your underwear, then sat back on the couch, grabbed your waist, and settled you on his thigh again.

“If you’re going to do this then I’m going to feel you,” he said, cursing at the sight of your slickness coating his thigh as you carefully started to move back and forth on top of him. “Fuck, baby.”

“Jake I—”

You could barely breathe. The pressure was killing you, the warmth of his skin against your clit built the burning heat at your core, and you were so close to collapsing, but one of his hands held tight to your waist, helping you keep your rhythm.

He wove his other hands fingers through the strands of your hair and made a fist, pulling your head back to expose the length of your neck, and you gasped at the stripe he licked up your throat.

“Fuck, I love how you taste,” he groaned.

“I t-thought you were mad.”

“I am,” he said as he bounced his knee, making you yelp at the harsher contact to your clit. “But like I said, not at you. And right now, I really want to watch you fall apart.”

His words made your walls clench, desperate to tighten around something. “Oh, God.”

“Is anyone ever going to touch you again,” he asked, grabbing the lowcut neckline of your top and ripping just enough for the material to fall off your shoulders and bunch at your waist.

You gasped at the sudden chill that ran up your spine, “No one but you.”

With deft fingers, he unhooked the front clasp of your bra, eyes darkening at the way your breasts spilled free into his palms. “That’s right.”

The rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your nipples, lightly pinching, before he leaned up and took one into his mouth. And you couldn’t handle it. The feeling of his tongue swirling around your hardened bud nearly shoved you over the edge, and with a final grind of your hips against his thigh, you came, hard.

He caught your shuddering body as it fell forward, his lips moving to your neck while he hugged you to him. “That’s my girl.”

Deep breaths helped you come down from your high, and you said, “I love you, Jake. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” he chuckled, the base of the sound thumping from his chest to yours. “I never doubted that. I just don’t want to see any other man put his grubby hands on you again, that’s all.”

Brushing your hair back over your shoulder, you met his eyes. “Well, after everyone saw you rearrange that guy’s face tonight, I don’t think that’ll be anything you have to worry about.”

“I don’t feel bad about it.” He placed a sweet kiss on your lips, soft, gently opening his mouth. His tongue brushed against yours, eliciting his deep groan. “You’re mine, baby,” he said when the kiss broke.

You hummed then smiled and tucked one of his stray blond hairs back into place. “And I don’t want to be anyone else’s.”

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder​ @nobody7102​ @marrianena​ @moonknightscape​ @fangirlingoverfangirls​ @blue-aconite​ @my-soulmate-is-mycroft​

[lolahasmoxie]

Merry Little Christmas (J.T.)

Look, it's me writing for someone other than Eddie!

TW: loss of a parent, all the feels.

(takes place in this universe)

Sad Kid check-in for those who are grieving this time of year. Take care of yourselves out there.

Jamie Tartt was many things. Footballer with a right foot blessed by god, a reformed prick, a beloved mama's boy.

He was also upfront and honest, so when you initially had told him your plans for the Christmas break, his response of "That's the saddest shit I've ever heard" hit hard.

The team was off until after the new year, so you had the time to return home. But holidays just weren't the same since your mom had passed away two years prior. So when Jamie asked what your holiday plans were, you said you would Facetime your friends and their kids, bake some cookies, get drunk on boozy eggnog, and cap the night off by watching Die Hard and eating Chinese food.

"No, there's no way I'm gonna let you stay here and have that be your Christmas."

"And how are you gonna stop me? You're going to be 200 miles away in Manchester?"

"Easy," he says as he flashes you a million-dollar smile. "Come with me."

You try to convince Jamie that there is nothing wrong with your plans, but Jamie is persistent. That's how, on December 23rd, you end up on a train with Jamie to return to his hometown. The train ride is quiet and less packed than you thought it would be. Jamie holds your hand the entire time, telling you everything he has planned for you.

Georgie and Simon meet you at the station, and when Georgie pulls you in and gives you a mother's hug, your heart physically aches. But you let her hold you, followed by Simon, before they usher the two of you into the car for the ride home.

Simon has a shepherd's pie waiting, and after you all stuff yourselves, Jamie takes you on a walk through his neighborhood. The streets are quiet as Jamie leads you by the hand to show you his old stomping grounds. When he kisses you under a streetlamp as the snow starts to fall, you think maybe this Christmas won't be that bad.

It's late Christmas Eve. Simon had made a fantastic dinner. All of you had worn colorful paper crowns and opened Christmas Crackers. You had beaten the pants off Jamie playing cards, and he had retaliated by trying to steal as many kisses from you as he could.

Now, it was almost 1am, and you are wide awake. You had quietly come down the stairs and taken a seat in front of the doors that opened onto Georgie's garden. The snow was falling again, and the world looked serene in the moonlight.

His heart breaks when Jamie sees you staring out the glass doors. He knew that things had been off with you, but he knew better than to push. Roy had told him to be patient, which was easier said than done. Jamie hated seeing you upset.

"If you're waiting for Santa, I'm afraid I have some news that might disappoint ya." You turned as Jamie approached you wearing a long-sleeved thermal and black boxer briefs.

"You should be in bed; it's late."

"Could say the same for you." he counters as he moves to sit on the floor behind you. He looks at you expectantly, and when he sees you give him a nod, he quickly wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you between his legs.

You sigh and let yourself relax into Jamie. There's a comfortable silence as the two of you watch the snowfall.

"I'm glad you came with me. And I know you've got something on your mind, but no pressure. Just tell me when you're ready, alright, love?"

Jamie softly runs his nose up and down the side of your neck as he holds you, and the tears that you've been trying to fight for days can't be held back any longer.

"Christmas Eve was my Mom's favorite, and it's the day I miss her most. We would talk and catch up, and I hate that she isn't here. I fucking hate it."

Jamie pulls you closer, hoping he can take some of the weight you're carrying. He's patient as he rocks you, moving to stand only when your crying has stopped.

"Come on," he says softly as he helps you to your feet. "There's my sweet girl."

"I'm all puffy and snotty." you quip as you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your top.

"Still as beautiful as the first day I met ya."

"You're a liar, but you're sweet." His hands cup your face, and you let him pull you up for a kiss.

"Come on, I have an idea." You furrow your brow as you let Jamie lead you upstairs to the guest bedroom. His bed is simply not an option for two people, so he's joined you in the small guestroom Georgie and Simon had prepared.

"What are we doing?"

"You mentioned Die Hard in your original Christmas Eve plans," he says as he motions for you to climb into the bed. "So that's exactly what we're going to do."

"It's late. Are you sure?"

"I will consider it Christmas only when Hans has fallen off Nakatomi Plaza."

You curl into Jamie's side, and you are asleep before John kills his first terrorist. The snow outside starts to fall harder as Jamie watches you sleep. You lightly stir when he presses kisses into your hair.

"Merry Christmas, sweet girl."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 25

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You blink through the haze of your afterglow. The pique of your heartbeat maintains, the racing tempo fueled by horror and anger, rather than delight. You pull the dildo out of you and snap your legs shut, flinging the silicon across the room. Lloyd grunts and blocks himself with his arm, the toy bouncing off and hitting the floor.

“Hey, what the fuck?” He rubs his forearm.

“You–” you rip the other toy off your finger as you push yourself away the pillows, a sheen of sweat cooling under your night shirt, “you can’t just let me… be!” You toss the toy on the nightstand and throw your hands up, “can’t take a fucking hint that I want nothing to do with you.”

You stomp your foot dramatically as you stand. You want to throttle him, you want to scream in his face, but he doesn’t hear you, he doesn’t feel the pain you try to inflict. That which you try to return to him. How weak you are that his words, his touch can make you feel but he’s impenetrable. He’s still smug and so self-assured.

“Peaches, I really am sorry, I… I wasn’t meaning to intrude, really? I came to ask you what you wanted for dinner but… seems like you came too.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You snarl.

“Well, doll face, what am I supposed to do? The fucking sight of you had me hard like that,” he snaps his fingers as he breaks the threshold, “you’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” He comes close as you tried to evade him but you penned in from any escape, “look,” he points to his face, “I… I’m going through it, peaches.”

“Fuck– off!” You puff and a fiery pain blooms in your chest, curling down to your stomach, “just give me some fucking space! God, can’t you get it through your–” You touch your belly as you growl, “thick–” you puff and swallow down a grunt, “skull! Ah!” You bend over as you clutch your middle, “fuck!”

“What–” Lloyd touches your shoulder and you recoil, nearly toppling as you force yourself straight. You catch yourself against the nightstand and wheeze.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine– argh,” you clench your teeth and hiss out in pain, “oh shit, fuck.”

“Peaches, you’re not fine,” he insists as he grabs your elbow, firmly but not unkind, “please, you gotta go to the hospital.”

“No, I don’t,” you try to wriggle free, “it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing–”

“Ahhhhhh, I fucking hate you,” you shake your arm in a weak attempt to free yourself, “goddammit.”

“Baby, let me take you to the hospital. Please, you’re not okay.”

“God fucking damn,” you utter again, “you are so fucking irritating. Don’t you ever stop?”

“Don’t tell me about stubborn, baby cakes,” he chides and guides you to sit on the edge of the bed, “we both got problems, but there’s a big one that we both need to deal with right now.”

He lets you go and crosses to the chest of drawers. He pulls out a pair of maternity leggings and unfolds them as he returns to you. He gets down on his knees as you slouch over your stomach and groan. God, that kills.

He gets the bottoms around your feet and rolls them up to your knees. He helps you stand and continues up to your stomach, pulling them over your bump and letting your shirt fall back down. You grumble and rub your stomach as you heave, fighting the weight in your chest.

“Fucker!” You grit out.

“Right,” he exhales and scoops you up in his arms, “let’s get going.”

You’re dizzy as he carries you. You close your eyes to keep your head from spinning with the vertigo of his frantic motion. He is unbothered by your weight as he takes you down the stairs and angles you through the door.

He sits you in the car and buckles you in as you bolster through the pain. He puts his hand on yours and you flick him away in agitation. He sighs and shuts the passenger door, dripping quickly into the other seat.

“Peaches, you really are a boner killer, sometimes.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you bark at him as you lean against the door.

💎

You sit on the end of the hospital bed, staring at the door as the ache in your stomach starts to subside. You told him it was nothing. As usual, he doesn’t listen. And he doesn’t sit the fuck still. He’s on the rolly black stool playing with a wooden tongue depressor.

You lean back on one hand and rub your stomach. He takes notice of the movement and the slender wood snaps. He gives a look and wheels over to drop it in the wastebasket. You roll your eyes and focus on the blue folder in the plastic pocket attached to the door.

There’s a knock and the doctor enters. He takes the blue folder and reviews the scribbles made there by his nurse. You know at least it’s nothing serious because you’re not being stampeded by nurses and machines.

“Indigestion,” the doctor declares with a shadow of a smile, “did you have a big lunch?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer flatly, “indigestion? Really?”

“Mm, don’t worry, you’re not the first, won’t be the last,” he chuckles, “things get a little more intense when you’re expecting. Better safe than sorry. Especially in your situation, you’re a bit older and you had a recent stay here so, you did the right thing coming here.”

“I told you,” Lloyd mutters and you shoot him a look.

“I recommend eating smaller meals, sitting up straight when we eat, take the pressure off the stomach, and avoid fried and acidic foods where possible.”

“Ah, right, thanks, doctor,” you can barely hide your embarrassment.

“And you, sir,” the doctor turns to Lloyd, “you can ease up on her.”

“Me?” Lloyd echoes as his mustache slants in confusion, “what did I do?”

“You need to work on her stress. I don’t know about this relationship but this woman has been in here a bit too often for my liking. She’s got enough going on. You’re supposed to let her lean on you.”

“What? I’m the one who convinced her to come–”

“Stress doesn’t help, alright? Indigestion, stress. And I’ve been through this, I know the main source of stress, and it’s usually not just the baby. You both created this life so you both need to take responsibility.”

“This isn’t fair,” Lloyd crosses his arms.

“Sir, she’s a high risk pregnancy, do you understand? She’s forty, she has chronic pain, untreated at that, and the extra weight isn’t going to help her. So you need to.” The doctor turns and goes to the pale blue cabinet against the wall. He slides out a pamphlet, “this is a little book on being a supportive partner.” The doctor holds it out to Lloyd, “you both need to be active and engaged.” He shakes his head, “I really don’t see you back here in another week.”

“Yes, sir,” you say as Lloyd scowls at the pamphlet but accepts it, grumbling his acquiescence.

“Right, now, I looked over your ultrasound, everything else is good, your baby girl is absolutely healthy. Good size, good heartbeat–”

“Girl?” Lloyd says quietly.

“Oh, not again,” the doctor tilts his head back, “I’m so sorry. They didn’t mark it on the chart. I thought–”

“It’s okay, doctor,” you assure, “it’s fine. A girl. Alright. Thank you.”

"Take care of yourself," the doctor points at you with his pen. "And you," he turns to Lloyd, "maybe put some ice on your face."

You nod and thank him again. You use the step to get down from the bed and rub your neck, "well, better head out. I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" Lloyd stands with a frown, "that's all you have to say?"

"About?"

"Peaches, we're having a little girl."

"Oh, how could I forget," you look at your belly, "really easy to miss that–"

"It's a girl–"

"Lloyd, come on, I hate hospitals."

His lips part but he stops himself from whatever he's about to say. A rare moment of self-control. You ignore him and lead the way out of the cramped room.

A fried pickle sounds real good right now but the doctor's orders echo in your head. Pregnancy is an actual curse. You just want coffee and wine and breaded goodness.

Instead, you're stuck with the pest that is Lloyd Hansen and the hellspawn he's put in you. You just hope she doesn't take after him. Or you for that matter.

You don't want to think about it. Not now. Not yet.