#well. i'm continuing the cleaning i was doing before i got sick

[doom-dreaming]

lip scrubs are a useless product

[fingertipsmp3]

Why do I never trust myself. I've lived in this body for 27 years, I literally know when it's getting sick, but I was like nooo, it's just because I'm sleep deprived and on my period and autumn sometimes does weird things to my body. Stupid. Stuuuuuupid

[entitled-fangirl]

Breakfast is ready.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: The reader feels sick, but Felix is going to make sure she eats breakfast.

Words: 968

Warnings: sickness, cursing

Author's note: This is kind of from an ask but I made it just about breakfast!

Masterlist

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She woke up to the blinds being opened by the maid, "Breakfast is ready."

She let out a soft groan, sitting up and stretching her arms out. Her hair was a mess, her clothes frumpeld. She looked over to see that Felix's side of the bed was empty and quite cold. He had been out for a while, and she couldn't possibly guess why he would leave her.

She pushed herself to the edge of the bed, standing onto her feet. Her head hurt, perhaps her body becoming ill, but there was no skipping breakfast. Her legs shivered, her now realizing she is only in Felix's shirt and her underwear. 

Running to the dresser, she pulls a pair of slacks. Pulling them on quickly, she throws a jumper over Felix's shirt. She tames her hair just enough to look presentable. But she takes an extra minute in the mirror, looking at the bags under her eyes. How late had they stayed up?

Throwing on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm, she quickly goes downstairs to breakfast.

Entering the dining room, she's greeted with quiet, "Morning"s. Her eyes immediately scan the table, seeing Felix look up at her too. A bright smile comes across his face at the sight of her sleepy form.

She quickly moves to sit next to him. As she sits down, she feels Felix's hand rest on her back, "You alright, angel?" He asks in a low tone.

"I… yeah. I just don't know why you didn't wake me up this morning." Her hand reaches up to her head as the headache comes back.

He lets out a soft laugh, whispering in her ear, "Well, I figured you deserve as much beauty sleep as I could give you. Seemed to work. I mean, look at you this morning. Taking my fuckin breathe away."

A smile graced her face as her cheek turned a shade of pink.

Duncan entered, "Goodmorning. How would you like your eggs?"

She grimaced, her voice coming out still quiet and hoarse from her sleep, "I'm fine, Duncan. I'm not that hung-"

"-She'll have them over easy. Thanks."

Duncan leaves with a nod.

She turned to Felix, "Why did you do that?"

He shrugs, his arm going over the back of her chair, "You need to eat."

She gives a slight pout, "I can't… my head hurts too bad."

His eyebrows furrow, "Did you sleep alright?"

She nods, "I slept fine, Lex."

He doesn't take that for an answer.

"Listen, angel. You think you're getting sick?"

"No. No. I'm alright."

He nods, deciding not to fight about it at the table. A silence ensues for a while before he decides to break it again. "Oh, angel. We were talking about the Shelley biography."

Venetia jumped in, "yeah. Do you know the story about Shelley's doppelgänger?"

She shook her head, stopping once she remembered the headache.

Felix got up from the table, going to the side table.

Venetia continued, "Shelley's housekeeper was cleaning one of the rooms when Shelley walked past the window and waved at her. So, she waved back before she realized that Shelley was in Italy…"

Felix had returned to the table, gently setting the now made plate in front of his angel for her to eat. She looked at him with a slightly disagreeing look, but knew not to fight about it at the table. 

"…And she was on the top floor of the house…"

Felix grimaced at Venetia's story, his hands moving over his girl's ears to keep her from hearing it. If it would freak him out, he knew she shouldn't hear it, "Oh, Vee. Stop, stop, stop. I won't sleep."

But she continued, "…a few hours later, he drowned."

Elspeth gasped, "oh. Oh, that's just given me goosebumps."

Felix took his hands back, considering it safe for his girl to listen again.

Farleigh stared at the paper in front of him, his voice strong and uncaring, "I heard he fucked his sister."

Sir James finally spoke up, "Oh, for God's sake!"

Felix turned, "Jesus, Farleigh…"

Oliver quipped up, "I think that was Byron."

The table went quiet, as if everyone had forgotten that Oliver was there. That quickly turned to small chatter between the adults.

Farleigh looked disgusted but Felix held an amused smile on his face, turning to her to see she had a matching one. He then pointed at her plate, as if telling her to eat it. About that time, Duncan brought out her eggs, setting it next to her other full plate. She let out a sigh, staring at the food. 

Elspeth was brought out of her talk hearing the girl's sigh. "Oh, darling. Is everything alright?"

Her eyes snapped up, her mouth opening to answer, but Felix beat her to it, "she's not feeling well, that's all."

The mother nodded, "Oh, I see. Nasty sickness going around this time of year. Take your time today, darling."

She nodded gratefully, turning back to her plate. The chattering continued and she continued to stare at the plate. Eventually, Felix brushed her arm lightly with his, his voice soft again, "Is something wrong, angel? You really must eat."

She simply stared at the eggs, feeling herself get sick just staring at them. Felix noticed it, immediately moving the plate away, "Duncan. Could I actually get some eggs just… scrambled?"

"Felix, stop."

"No. I want you to be able to eat what's in front of you. Duncan?"

Duncan nodded, taking the plate away quickly. 

She turns to see everyone staring at them. She mutters a quiet, "I'm sorry."

Felix sighs, "Don't be, angel." He kissed the top of her head as she stared at the table in embarrassment. 

Breakfast continued, Felix's arm around the back of her chair the entire time.

...................................................................

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper II

Lia Wälti x Child!Reader

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

"Hey, no," Auntie Leah says sternly, picking up your kitchen stool and placing it up on the counters.

Usually, you use it so you can be tall enough to reach the sink to do the dishes or to help Mummy. But Auntie Leah doesn't let you on it to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink just like how Mummy didn't let you join her this morning picking up all the leaves in the garden.

All because you had the sniffles and a fever last night.

It's gotten a bit worse now because your head is pounding but you think you're still well enough to do your chores.

Mummy and Auntie Leah don't agree so you're stuck doing nothing until it's time to go to training.

You hope that you get better soon so you can go back to helping out because you don't know what to do with yourself if you can't help and your half-finished puzzle on the coffee table is an afternoon activity and not a morning one.

That hope is promptly squashed when you throw up all over the living room floor ten minutes before you have to leave.

It's awful because you've made a big mess and Mummy won't let you fix it by cleaning it up yourself. She holds you in her arms and rocks you back and forth while Auntie Leah cleans it all up.

She doesn't even let you flick the light switch on and off twice like you usually do so this day is going to go wrong so badly for you.

You remain sick even after Mummy gives you medicine and some juice to hold you over.

You feel terrible, a big knot in your tummy as you curl into her arms while she carries you into the building.

"Guppy?" Your favourite puzzle partner Codi asks," Are you feeling okay?"

"Guppy's sick today," Leah tells her," She threw up this morning."

Codi makes a sympathetic noise before wishing you well and going back to changing.

You whine when Mummy sets you down in her cubby and you keep whining when she backs off to go grab her bottle from the adjoining room.

That's usually your job.

"Here, guppy," Auntie Leah says," Have more juice. It'll make you feel better."

It's a nice lie to tell you and it brings a bit of comfort so that's why you don't snitch on Auntie Leah to Mummy for lying to you.

You guzzle down your juice and Mummy returns with her bottle. She changes quickly before checking your temperature again.

"I'm sorry, guppy," She says and you already know what she's going to say," But I don't think you're well enough to help out the staff today."

Your eyes well with tears.

"Please, Mummy!" You beg," I promise I won't throw up again!"

"It's not that, guppy," She says," You're just not well enough. You need to rest today. Not do anything else."

"But-But!"

"I'm sorry," Mummy continues," But you're not changing my mind. We'll make sure you've got everything you need but you can't help today."

You sniffle but don't argue anymore.

Mummy gives you a blanket to wrap around your shoulders and a sports drink to keep your energy up and a little puzzle that doesn't quiet lay flat on the grass which is kind of annoying.

There's a sick bucket next to you as well that you'll make sure to use if you feel like you're going to throw up rather than ruin the pitch like you ruined the living room.

"How are you feeling?" Auntie Leah asks.

Her and Mummy have been taking it in turns to check in on you and you sniffle.

"Better," You say," Can I help now?"

"Sorry, guppy," She replies," But you know Lia's not going to change her mind. You've just got to focus on resting today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Please? I'll be good!"

"You're already so good, guppy," Leah assures you," But your body needs time to rest and recover like when I hurt my knee. You need to do the same."

You don't like that answer but you're a good girl so you do what you're told. You don't help. You stay with your blanket and your energy drink and your snacks until Mummy comes to collect you.

She gives you another round of medicine that you take dutifully before rechecking your temperature.

You wait and Mummy smiles.

"Looking good, guppy," She says," Maybe another day or two and you'll be better in no time!"

"Really?"

"Really really," Mummy confirms," I think this calls for opening your new puzzle at home."

You perk up at that. "Can Codi come too? I want to do it with her!"

"Go and see if Codi's free tonight and we'll see."

[shotmrmiller]

forcing your presence onto simon late at night because insomnia and a cup of tea always helps, or so they say, but you were taught better than to not offer others some but now the steaming cup is just sitting on the table to cool while you carefully sip on yours.

he doesn't look at it, you, nothing. keeps his eyes fixed on whatever he's doing, maybe cleaning his gun or something. fine. what matters is that you did your part.

and it eventually becomes routine. every night, like clockwork, he's darkening a corner in the coffee room and you've got a kettle warming. and every night, he ignores everything in his peripheral.

until he doesn't. it starts slow. you're already headed for the door, hand covering your yawn when he picks up the mug and takes a sniff. then, it's the tiniest sip, as if it's got teeth. come morning, the mug you used and his are clean, drying on a dish mat.

the following night, he waits for you to put it on the table before grabbing it. "you've a shit hand," he mutters. "left to steep too long. more bitter than the cigars price smokes."

okay. bastard. the next pot is too bland. calls it dog water. but he drinks all of it just the same. little to no sugar, splash of milk. the stare he leveled your way when he added milk could've destroyed the block.

"secrets safe with me, lieutenant. swear it."

unless he's tearing your ego into tatters with his scathing tea critique, he says nothing else. listens well enough, though. maybe. his eyes look blank most of the time. but he lets you ramble without interruption about nonsensical stuff; your day, your job, soap being the usual nuisance.

it's nice.

and then you fall ill. nothing water and cocooning yourself with your bedsheets for a day or three can't fix.

but then there's a very violent knocking on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its hinges, flaring the already painful throbbing that sits behind your eyes. no matter how hard you try to tell them to piss off, they don't.

"open the door."

now you've got a 6'2+ man barreling into your bedroom, turning his unnerving gaze your way. his eyes flick to your runny nose, chapped lips and wrinkled sleeping clothes.

"you're sick." brilliant observation. truly a man worth his sniper position.

"yes. i'm quite-" your words come to settle behind your clenched teeth as you watch him dig into his front pockets and pull out crinkled tea bags. and open your cabinets because now you're the visitor and he the (g)host.

you'd rather drink battery acid than another one of his brews. it made your eyes prick with tears, burned as it went down, warmed your chest. it was lukewarm when you drank it.

(he clears up a space on your foot table, and by clear up i mean use an arm to shove everything off the edge so he can continue to clean his weapons. has your couch always been that small?)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for coming to dinner with my ex and his new GF uninvited?

This situation is long and messy, so I'll try to include the relevant info only. I (F32) broke up with my long time partner (M33) right before COVID hit. We stayed in the same house during lockdown and continued to live together after lockdown was lifted, because we generally get along and we had a child (F11) to raise together. Over the last 3 years we've been roommates and co-parents and that's it.

One day he was supposed to take our daughter to buy new school clothes, and she came back 10 minutes later in tears. She said they were on their way to the store when his new GF called, and he drove her back home and dropped her off so he could go spend time with her. He even asked our daughter to lie to me for him, but she was tired of covering for him (implying she'd been lying for him for a while now).

When he got home we had a massive argument. I didn't care if he dated other girls, I cared that for some reason he thought he had to sneak around, and it made him act like a jerk to me and our daughter. I told him if he had been a man about this new girl and just introduced me to her then maybe we could have all been friends, but instead he had to act like a horny teenager. It ended with him moving out to live with his parents.

A couple days later he called and apologized. He said he hoped it wasn't too late for him to do things right, and he hopes we can all be friends. I was hopeful that we could finally co-parent in peace for the sake of our child.

This is where I may be TA: I have always been close with my ex's parents, to the point where even after we broke up I would be invited over regularly for dinner. They said even if I wasn't their son's partner I'm still their grandchild's mother, and that makes me family.

So one day when my daughter texts me while at my ex's parent's house and invites me to dinner because they're having my favorite meal, I don't think twice about coming over even though my ex and his GF I've never met now live there. I figured everyone had to be okay with it, since my daughter was inviting me.

I end up having dinner with my ex's parents and daughter, but my ex only comes upstairs to grab two plates of food and goes back downstairs. I ask my ex's mom why and she says his GF doesn't feel well today. Whatever, I think. She's just sick and I'll meet her another day. I have a perfectly pleasant dinner with my ex in-laws, help clean up, and make a promise to bring them a coconut cake (ex father-in-law's favorite) and take my daughter home.

Later my ex blows up my phone with texts and calls, saying it was so weird and rude that I came over for dinner uninvited. That I made his new GF uncomfortable, and like she wasn't welcome there. And that I caused trouble in their relationship because she assumes we must still be in love for me to come over and see his parents out of the blue like that, because "exes don't do that. it's creepy."

I had a talk with my daughter and asked her calmly if she had asked everyone else if it was ok if I come over before she texted me, and she sheepishly said she didn't know she had to ask since it had never been a problem before. (I didn't tell her about her dad's meltdown at me, or tell her dad that she's the one who invited me. She's a child and shouldn't be involved)

Instead I just told him I'm sorry me dropping by made things awkward, but I thought he wanted us all to be friends from now on and I figured this was a good place to start being friends. He said there was no way she'd want to be my friend now that I made her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

It wasn't my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, but I admit I'd be perturbed if he brought this woman into MY home and I had not even been warned first. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Ten - Oh Dang She Crashed

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.2K

SHE'S NOT PREGNANT FYI

Series Masterlist

While Lando and Y/N laid together, with Y/N falling asleep on his shoulder, Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo were out for drinks. It was just something casual, something to do together because they didn't see each other all that often now that they weren't teammates.

But they were still the best of friends, and they still hung around together. Daniel took Max out for a couple of drinks, no more than a couple of drinks (since they had to race the next day).

Now Max was good at keeping secrets, but he had to get it off his chest, had to tell someone. If that person decided to tell the rest of the grid? Well, that wasn't on him, was it?

Max pulled his chair closer to the table as the waitress placed the gin and tonic in front of him. Daniel received his own drink and Max couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Guess what I walked in on," he said, his leg bouncing. He was far too excited for this.

Daniel looked at him as he sipped his drink, eyebrows raised as he waited for him to continue. "After last weeks race, after Y/N won, I asked her if she wanted to come out for drinks, but she said she was busy. So I asked Lando and he was down. I went to get him from his drivers room and what did I walk in on?"

He paused, waiting for Daniels brain to catch up. Daniel's eyes went wide. "No," he gasped and sipped his drink again. "No way! Lando and Y/N? Seriously?"

"Seriously!" Max insisted, using his straw to stir his drink.

"Is... is that allowed? Are we allowed to fuck our teammates?" Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair.

Max shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if it's ever actually happened before, since, you know."

"Surely there are some rules around this."

Again, Max shrugged his shoulders. If they were he hadn't read it anywhere. "Don't tell them I told you," he said and Daniel nodded his head.

***

Y/N woke up, her own head moving with the gentle rise and fall of Lando's chest. She pushed away from him and stretched her arms up. She didn't feel as sick as she had the day before, but she still felt pretty rough.

Checking the time on her phone, Y/N shook Lando's shoulder. "Lan, get up," she whispered, continuing to shake him.

Lando's eyes fluttered open. He didn't get up from the bed, just turned his head towards Y/N, watching as she stripped to get into the shower.

He pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door and pushed it open. "I'm gonna head to my room," he said, talking just loud enough to speak over the noise of the shower. "Are you okay to get to the circuit on your own?"

Y/N shouted a response back, something Lando had to get her to repeat, before he left her hotel room to head back to his own. He got himself ready to head to the circuit, changing into a new McLaren shirt, a new LN4 hat and a clean pair of jeans. Still, though, he worried about Y/N.

If she was that sick, which he knew her to be, he didn't want her racing. He wasn't going to stop her, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. If she wanted to race, she was going to do just that.

When he was ready, Lando made his way to the circuit. He signed posters and caps and made his way to the hospitality unit. Y/N met him there just minutes later, still looking as sick as ever. Where she had woken up feeling slightly better, she was once again feeling terrible.

She drank water through the day, and was never very far away from Lando, unless somebody needed her. It wasn't that she followed Lando around like a lost puppy, but more like he refused to leave her side. She looked ready to drop to the floor at any moment and Lando wanted to be there to catch her.

Eventually, though, she was called away by her trainer. He took one look at her and sent her to lay down in a dark room until the start of the race.

Half an hour before the race started, she was woken up. Y/N went to her drivers room and got changed into her fireproofs and race suit. Fuck, she wasn't ready for this, but she had to do it. Had to do it for the team.

She lined up on the grid, her teammate just in front of her. Y/N almost bottled it on the formation lap, but she held it together and brought the car into its square on the grid. The commentators were definitely talking about her mess of a formation lap, but she couldn't think about that now; she had a job to do.

The lights went out and Y/N got a good getaway. But it didn't stay good. Suddenly her vision was going blurry and she was almost throwing up in her helmet. But she tried to hold it together.

Lando passed her, and then several other cars did. She didn't care, too busy trying to breathe.

Y/N got eleven laps into the grand prix before her black spots appeared in her vision and she lost control of her car, spinning towards the barriers. Y/N didn't shout, she didn't scream as her car hit the barriers and span away. The left side of her car was wrecked from the impact, but it had stopped moving.

She wasn't responding.

"Red flags at turn eight," Will Joseph said to Lando.

"Is everything okay?" Lando asked as he slowed his car right down, following the other cars into the pitlane. The only car he couldn't see was the other McLaren.

Medics rushed over to her. They pulled Y/N out of the car and checked her pulse on her wrist. They kept her helmet on as they got her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.

"Where's Y/N?" Lando asked as he climbed out of the car. He didn't know what was happening with the race, didn't know that she was the reason for the red flags.

"She's on her way to the hospital," said Andrea.

Of course, nobody at McLaren quite knew the relationship Lando had with Y/N. They didn't know that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to hear anything else. Shit, he couldn't go back into the race, not until he knew she was okay.

But the car was cleared from the track and the race was restarting. Lando had to get on with his job, he knew. He could check on her later. Plus, he knew Y/N would have been pissed if she knew he stopped racing for her. "Keep me updated on her, please," he said before he climbed back into the car.

He was going to race, and he was going to do it for her.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[gogotti]

Helpful Hands - Michael Myers/Reader NSFW

omg I'm back? I had to come back with a fic about my baby daddy of course ;) If theres any warnings i missed please tell me! I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Fem reader, Stalking, y'all don't fuck but he's there lmfao, several squirting mentions, reader is way to focused on getting that nut out LMFAO

(I dont have my normal border so this'll have to do lol)

God, was this needed; a solid 7 inch silicone cock dragging against your ever-tightening walls, its thickness drawing breath after breath from your tired form and making your eyes roll further into the back of your head. Every push and pull of your sore wrist was worth it, every bounce you forced your aching thighs to make sent shocks of well-earned pleasure right up your spine, and you couldn't help shoving your face further into your pillow- your ass further into the air. Whine after whine, you kept up, building that undeniable pull in your core closer to its release. 

Every moment you spent fucking yourself stupid now was worth the excruciatingly slow hours of your workday. It was the only thing you thought about when you excitedly hopped off of the bus and nearly skipped home, a stark contrast to the sluggish walk you had throughout the horrible day. Your boss had a sick up her ass for one. Rather she newly didn't have a ‘stick’ up her ass since you could hear talk of her breakup from office loudmouths, it didn't help that everyone had something to do for Halloween so you rushed to finish your end of the project so they could get home sooner, and of course you had chosen the absolute worst pair of shoes you owned simply because you were feeling yourself a bit too much after your morning routine. 

As soon as you got the notification that your package had arrived, all the pain from the day didn't even exist, hell, no one existed at that point- not even the dude wearing his slasher costume way too early in the day, who coincidentally ended up at every turn you took. 

While the loud thump coming from somewhere in the house didn't go unnoticed, it definitely went ignored. Nothing could pull you from the rhythmic in and out of your dildo, the filthy squelching coming from your sopping, creamy cunt. Like earlier, nothing else existed, especially not the slight thumping coming from down the hallway moments later; It's not like you could hear it over the thrumming of your heart or the pathetic whine that spilled from your lips as you finally, fucking finally, found that mind melting spot deep in your cunt. 

A part of you wished you had someone under you, that the cock was of flesh and blood, just so you could feel them twitch inside you at the mewls you let spill from your spit slicked lips. Maybe they’d pull you up by your hair and swipe the drool from your mouth onto your face, making you even messier- maybe going as far as sticking their fingers in your mouth and making your string of spit become akin to a faucet. You couldn't stop yourself from clenching down onto your dildo, whining at the sinful thoughts filling your brain as it nearly spilled out of your ears at the pleasure. 

The click of your door closing behind you was ignored, much like the worsening pain in your wrist as your orgasm drew near. You continued pumping the cock in and out of your pouring hole, the thought of cleaning your squirt soaked seats couldn't even solidify in your head as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave. Your eyes squeezed shut like your cunt attempted to around the thickness of the dildo; you cried pitifully into your pillow, a mouthful of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and pleas to no one fell from your mouth while you spilled onto your bedsheets. It was a moment of embarrassing grinding before you stilled; even then, you couldn’t think through the remnants of your orgasm- cunt twitching around the girthy cock beneath you.

None of the ragged breaths you took could have prepared you for the sudden handful a pair of suspiciously wet hands took of your waist. You couldn't move, period, but even if you could you wouldn't have moved fast enough to avoid the hands lifting you off of the dildo beneath you, only to slam you down harder than you had the whole time it was in you.

Harsh ups and downs flooded your body, and bedsheets once again, with an overwhelming pleasure you couldn’t help but scream at. You wished you had half a mind to yell at whoever was behind you, to do anything but weakly give into the powerful hands that controlled you, instead, your wrist only got half a break and your thighs ached even more as you moaned pathetically on your silicone cock. You could feel the black and blue marks forming on your hips and you couldn't care less; your meaningless overstimulated babbling fell to deaf ears as they forced another orgasm out of you, quick and blinding. It was only when you pulled the dildo out of your tired cunt did the hands stop, though whoever was pulling on your puppet strings did not approve, as the animalistic growl that came from them was as frightening as it was arousing. 

[mallowsweetmiri]

Bestfriend!Marauders with no boundaries accidentally make you sick and take care of you

some comfort fluff marauders content because the election is actually giving me existential dread and anxiety lol.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

There was nothing worse than getting sick. Actually, there was something worse. There was your best friends testing out an experimental prank, which resulted in a magical fungus puffing you with its spores, that led to you developing a serious cold. And the worst part is, they begged you not to go to the hospital wing.

"We're so sorry Y/N," James frowned, covering his face with his shirt and brushing the specks off of your hair.

"Please, forgive us," Sirius pleaded, also covering his mouth from the spores. "But you can't tell Madam Pomfrey. She'll give us another month of detention and we have something big planned next month." You coughed through the dissipating cloud and sneezed before glaring daggers at Sirius.

"Why can't I just tell her I ran into this thing outside? I won't mention you dreadful lot," you grumbled, pushing James' hand away from your hair and doing it yourself. He frowned even more and stepped back with his eyes on his feet.

"Well, the thing is," Peter chuckled nervously, "there technically wouldn't be any of those around the grounds. Because, well, it's not exactly, legal, per se." Peter finished off his rambling and looked at anything but you. You whined in frustration and sneezed again. These idiots had somehow acquired an off the market plant in order to pull off god knows what kind of prank. It was only your luck that you would be walking into the room just as Peter was exiting with the plant, causing a collision that ended with spores being dispersed directly into your sinuses. Remus could see your frustration at their idiocracy and stepped forward, although he was still covering his mouth with his shirt.

"Dove, I know you're upset, and you should be. It was very irresponsible for us to have that in the dorm at all, " Remus raised his brows and looked at the three boys behind him. They all nodded their heads in shame. "And you're being such an angel by not going to the hospital wing," He looked back at them again and the three boys nodded fervently, mumbling praises and compliments to you. "So let us take care of you, Y/N. I promise we'll make it up to you." You could almost see his charming smile through his shirt and you rolled your eyes in defeat. James' smile spread all the way to his eyes as he enthusiastically stepped forward.

"Yes, just let us take care of you," he grinned, grabbing your elbow with his free hand and guiding to you the door. "First order of business, airing out this room so we don't all get sick. Let's go get some fresh air while Pete and Sirius clean things up in here." There were sounds of protest but James was already leading you down the stairs, continuing to dust any residue off of your hair and shirt. Remus followed behind, fanning out the trail of dust James was leaving. Once the three of you finally reached the common room, James sat you down on a couch and promptly removed his "mask" beginning to feel your forehead and cheeks.

"Okay, okay," you chuckled, gently moving his doting hands off your face. "I'm not that sick. I've only got a little cough and sniffles." James looked back at Remus with deep concern, which Remus returned. Your eyebrows furrowed together.

"Well, dove. Peter actually said that the spore would make the victim extremely ill. Fever, congestion, and a terrible cough," Remus said compassionately, giving you a look of pity as he rested his hand on your leg to break the news. You looked at him with exasperation as you let out a cry which subsequently made you cough. James let out a huff of sadness as he moved to embrace you into his lap, swaying you as you groaned at your circumstances.

"We're so sorry, Y/N," James whispered, petting your hair with his hand. He then looked up to Remus and added, "I hope it's not contagious."

Within the next twenty minutes of waiting for Sirius and Peter, you got significantly worse. At first it was the sneezing, but soon your body fell into terrible chills. Remus got you water and helped you drink while James had taken off his sweatshirt and promptly placed it over you, the material swallowing your frame. By the time Sirius bounded down the stairs to tell you the room was clean, you had snot blocking your airways. James didn't say a word as he scooped you up and carried you up the stairs.

"Is she doing okay?" Sirius asked, his voice dripping in concern as he peeked over James shoulder to catch a glimpse of you. Remus shook his head and pat Sirius on the back as they followed you to the dorm. James placed you in his bed, where Peter was already fluffing up the pillows and opening the covers for you to slip under.

"Oh, Y/N," Peter murmured, tucking your body under the covers and fussing with the pillows. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so careless. This was a terrible, terrible idea." You shook your head and placed you hand on his arm to stop him.

"No," you croaked, pausing to clear your throat, "It's okay Peter. What's done is done. Could you maybe bring me some tea and biscuits, please?" You gave him puppy eyes, but you hardly think you needed them. Peter was already halfway out the door and on his way to the kitchens. Remus went to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth, and both Sirius and James took seats on the edge of the bed. James lightly massaged your temples, causing you to sigh in relief. You could feel Sirius pouting and he looked severely distraught, almost to the point of tears.

"Siri," you sniffled, reaching out for his hand. He grabbed it gently and let out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whimpered. You shushed him and squeeze his hand.

"Siri, it's okay. You don't have to apologize for anything. It was an accident," you reassured him. He nodded but looked away from you. You were certain he was crying, and you knew it had to do with his remaining guilt of the prank™. Before you could sit up to comfort him further, his form shifted to Padfoot, and he quietly nuzzled his way into your lap, rubbing his snout gently into your chest. You huffed out a smile and relaxed into the bed, looking up at James who had a light smile on his face. Remus came back and placed the damp washcloth on your head.

"Hey, Pads," Remus whispered as he pat the dog on his head. Padfoot huffed but remained with his head on your chest, your hand stroking him rhythmically. James did the same but to your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he watched with concern for any signs of discomfort. After a while, Remus had settled in his bed next to yours, reading a book quietly as Sirius and James stayed on your bed, both in an attempt to comfort you. It was quite working, and after a few minutes, you were dozing off to sleep. It was unfortunate that your body jolted awake after choking on a wet cough. You startled Padfoot as your body jolted up, followed by a honking cough that cut through your throat. You groaned as you head pounded with pressure.

"Water," you croaked, scrambling to sit up. Sirius jumped off the bed and transformed quickly, coming forward to help you sit up.

"Oh, darling," Sirius cooed, using his hands to shift your body into a sitting position. He took the water from Remus and brought it your mouth slowly. You cautiously took a sip and let out a sigh of relief. You went in for a second sip but your lungs had other plans, sputtering up a cough as you tried to sip. This caused all three boys to instantly take the water away and begin doting over you, patting your back and wiping the water off your chin. Peter entered the room to the chaotic scene.

"Oh merlin," Peter said hurriedly, setting his tray down on the bedside table. You waved your hands as you went through your fit of coughing.

"I'm fine," you swallowed, laying back against the headboard. You heard sighs as the boys bodies slouched in relief. "Biscuits?" you smiled sheepishly, only mildly embarrassed of the disgusting noises you had been making. Peter grinned and brought them over to you.

"M'lady," he held the tray out for you to take one. As you reached for one to bring to your mouth, Remus tutted.

"Slowly," he said with a warning brow raised. You rolled your eyes and brought the cookie to your open mouth at a comedically slow speed, causing Sirius and James to sputter down a laugh. Remus rolled his eyes right back but smiled when you finally bit into the cookie. Not a single boy left your side as they continued to feed you tea and cookies until the plate was empty. You let out a yawn and had James instantly at his trunk.

"I'm going to wrap you up now," James said, matter of factly as he brought a blanket towards you. "Time for sleep." You tried to protest but your body betrayed you as another yawn met your lips. James hummed as he wrapped the blanket around you, using his sheer strength to lift you body and place you back into a laying position as if you were a doll. At some point, Padfoot had gone back to dog form and was once again nuzzle his way next to your body. You gladly patted his ears as he settled down, and closed your eyes as James leant down to kiss your forehead. Remus began to close the bed shades as Peter took the now finished food tray away.

"Sleep well, Y/N," Remus whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Just tap Padfoot if you need something," James smiled, closing the curtains on his side. "Merlin, that is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Thanks boys," you murmured as darkness swept over the bed. You let out a sigh of content as you gently pet Padfoot. Maybe being sick wasn't the worst thing in the world after all.

[pigfacedbitch]

Let's Break Up (II)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Will Solace x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part I is composed of Jason, Percy, and Nico.

Leo Valdez

"I don't love you anymore. I want to end this."

He will think it's joke but when the 'I'm kidding!' never comes, he tries not to make a big deal out of it.

Just chill and shrug like he was expecting it to happen.

"Oh well, if that's what you want."

He will overthink every situation where you acted suspicious; rejecting his affections, flirting with other guys— you know... signs of possible cheating or interest in other people?

Not that he doubts your loyalty but Leo's sense of inferiority can cloud his judgement; it's himself he is unsure of.

I'm not enough for her. There are better guys out there. I'm supposed to understand. Thoughts like that.

You better say it's a prank right away! Because once you let him go, he will probably cry and lock himself in Bunker 9.

You had to knock continuously on the metal door and sing like Anna in "Do You Wanna Buid A Snowman?" for Leo to get out.

"It's just a prank, love. I'm sorry."

He lets out quiet sobs when your eyes meet, but he's obviously relieved.

COMFORT HIM AND NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Frank Zhang

"Listen, this relationship is not working out anymore. I want to break up."

Now, if you've watched the part in American Psycho where Patrick Batman breaks up with his fiancee then you'll be able to picture this.

Frank will cry, loudly at that. It will catch the attention of anyone nearby, embarassing you.

He won't hold back. No, no, no, my friend. There will be whining and any other loud noises any human in pain is possible of letting out.

Did you instantly think you are an idiot for doing this? Yes, sir! 😊😙

"Frank, quiet down!"

"Oh gods, (Y/N) doesn't love me anymore!"

"I do, it's just a prank!"

Stops immediately, dramatically wiping his tears with a smug look on his face. With your mouth agape, he walks away from you like an action star in a explosion movie scene.

"Next time you try to prank me, don't tell anyone beforehand!"

"...Damn it, Hazel!"

Will Solace

This lovely son of Apollo is always busy due to his medical duties in Camp Half Blood so he truly cherishes the short moments he gets to spend with you.

In other words? Don't fucking waste his time.

"Will, I think we should break up."

He had encountered many campers pretend sickness for various of reasons— wanting to escape cleaning duties, skip training, and many more.

He will see through your lie. He always does.

If you decided to pull this prank AFTER he got to rest from the infirmary, he will just give you the don't-try-me-bitch look.

If you picked BEFORE he got to rest, you're dead. Expect him to throw medical tools at you.

Don't worry, not sharp ones. Just the scabs, cotton balls, and such.

It can be annoying though, not mention the scolding Chiron will give you later for wasting inventory materials.

"Will, stop it!"

"Take it back!"

"Sorry, it was just a joke."

The man very tired, okay? Stop with the nonsense and just cuddle with him. The gods know he desperately needs it.

[adoredaqua]

Between Arguments and Appetites

Note: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS <3333!!! so here's a little something :). i just finished my mid terms (did terrible so... oh well) im gonna be working on a part 2 for "A Simple Misunderstanding" so this is also my way of making up for not having anything out lololol

Synopsis: You and husband!Simon got into an argument

CW: not edited whatsoever. reader is gender-neutral. reader has long enough hair to be tied up, which is briefly mentioned. suggestive here and there (not detailed). reader is referred to as love, sweets and spouse.

Word count: 1 400+

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

You were going away for a few days due to work if you had a choice you wouldn't go but the person who was supposed to go got sick. So, instead of deep cleaning, re-organizing the house and finally relaxing after all that, you had to work. At least you were getting paid. But that doesn't make up for the fact that you could also spend time with your hubby as he just returned from deployment. Nevertheless, that will all have to wait and will be all worth it.

Well, it could have been.

Before leaving, you tasked Simon with at least cleaning the house and moving some of the heavy furniture you were going to move. This simple task would probably take him half a day, and he would lighten the house chores for you. That should have been enough to convince him. You are his spouse, so why wouldn't he do that for you?

Apparently, he was also tired. You came back from your work trip to the house still a mess with the furniture stationed in the same place. You couldn't help the eye twitch and anger boiling as you walked around the house, taking a mental note of what hadn't been moved. It was a simple task. Clean house. Move furniture. That's it. You kept repeating that to yourself as you changed your clothes to start the chores that your so-called husband was supposed to do. As you aggressively rinse the dishes so you can put them in the dishwasher, you hear heavy footsteps from upstairs. As soon as you see him, you are going to wrap your hands around his neck and choke him out - and not the sexy way.

"Oh hey love, I'm sorry I didn't hear you. How was your trip?"

Instead of the usual, jumping on him and peppering him with kisses. Simon was met with utter silence. He moves to go make himself some tea but hesitates as he takes note of how you're shoving dishes in the washer.

"Are you okay, love?"

As you scrub the final dish and neatly put it in, you close the dishwasher. Turning to your husband and coldly say, "Everything is okay."

Simon was smart enough to know that everything was not okay. That's something he's learned being married to you. Instead of going on a tangent about your day, you actually responded to his question, which could only mean that it's definitely not okay.

"Umm, are you sure?" Simon was almost scared to ask, but it was necessary. He's been to war and has fought for many years, but that was nothing compared to you being in a "mood." And yes, he will compare you angry at him to war. Because nothing was scarier than his spouse.

"Just peachy." You say quickly, putting your hair in a ponytail. Maybe it was a good thing that you were mad at him. A motivation to get things done around here, unlike some people-

"Peachy, huh?" He looks at you pointedly, but you ignore his gaze, grabbing the broom by the corner of the kitchen. "Something tells me that it's not peachy..." He whispers to himself. Now, what could he have possibly done now?

He watches you for a moment as you angrily sweep any excess mess before grabbing the vacuum. He continues to follow you around, carefully observing you to figure out what you were so upset about. Was it the work conference you went to? I mean if it was that bad he would heard about it way before you got home. Maybe you were just tired and needed to relax, yeah that must be it. Simon makes his way in your living room, plopping himself on the couch. As he turns on the TV, he calls out to you once he hears the vacuum turn off. "Hey love! Why don't you come here? Relax a little, yeah?"

You heaved a sigh, putting the vacuum down and make your way to your husband. "What?" Crossing your arms to make a point but he doesn't seem to notice how mad you are at him. He smiles when he sees you and pats the spot right next to him, his arm lays across the back of the couch, and wow. If you weren't mad at him, you'd pounce on him but right now all you can focus on is the fact that, that couch was one of the many things that needed to get moved.

"I have to clean." You said pointedly. It wasn't fair to take your anger out on him without even letting him know that your anger was directed at him. You couldn't help it, how could he not do what you told him to? Although, he did also come back home, he has the right to relax and not do anything. That didn't matter though, the stress and patience have run thin. He was not getting away with it this time. "Yeah but you could do that later. Come on, it's been a while..." His eyes twinkle, instead of being met with matching eyes you simply glared at him. Oh well, he tried. "Okay, what's wrong? And don't say "Nothing" cause it's clearly something." There was a sense of desperation in his tone. Simon's life was you. Before you, it was nothing but emptiness and you filled that void. Your happiness was all that mattered to him because if you weren't happy that meant he wasn't happy.

"You didn't do what you were told." You say, as calmly as you can, not letting your displeasure take over.

"What?" Simon looks at you even more confused. "...I was supposed to do something...?" He accidently thinks out loud causing you to let out a deep sigh. You looked so disappointed and that broke his heart. "I'm sorry, sweets, I really am."

"It's fine, Simon. I just do everything around here." You roll your eyes, not necessarily directed at him but the situation itself.

"Watch yourself. I do things around here." A tone in his voice, warning you to not take it further. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't do it. I'll do it now, okay? So, just tell me." Simon truly didn't want to fight with you. He'll do anything else but that. Instead of responding to him, you just walk away from him, waving a hand to dismiss him. You let your feet take you to the next room that needed your attention, cleaning will take your mind off of things and that's exactly what you did.

You finish up the last few rooms, and make your way around the house, checking if anything else needed to get done. Your stomach grumbles letting you know that it's time to finish up for the day. It's dark out now, you barely see anything except for the streetlamps that doesn't seem to be illuminating anything. You start taking out pans and pots, not sure what you want to cook as you are tired for anything too complicated but wanting something fulfilling.

As the water boils, you chopped up some vegetables. You were so wrapped up in your cooking, you didn't hear the front door open and shut. Having your back turned from the doorway, Simon has emerged with a handful of flowers, looking fresh and vibrant. He stands there a moment, contemplating on what his next move should be. As he goes back and forth between his options. You finally see him, fiddling with fingers and the flowers in his hands.

"What are those for?" Now that was an unfamiliar sight. A big man is all nervous and holding flowers that were barely the size of his hands but there he was.

"Uh, for you. I really am sorry, love." He looks at you, hopeful.

"Oh? And flowers are going to magically move the furniture?"

"No, they unfortunately won't. But, I promise I will do them tomorrow."

At this point, Simon was practically begging. He couldn't stand it when you were mad at him. Do you know how long it's been since he's felt you on him? Too long. He needed you to forgive him.

You continue on with the boiling pan in front of you. It was a stupid argument, something you actually got over a few hours ago. You also couldn't stand arguing with Simon, and you know he didn't mean to upset you.

Letting out a sigh, you turn to face him, "You're lucky I need your strong muscles to move them." You throw a smile over your shoulder but have to turn back to the stove. Feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, Simon puts his head on your shoulder now preventing you from using your left arm.

"So...did you also make me dinner or...?"

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 1

I am finally ready to show you all the Sugar Baby!Steve/Sugar Daddy!Eddie fic I've been working on. I'm not sure how long it will go, but Steve's going to go on a journey with this one.

But I feel I need to go into the title of this fic a bit, because I feel it’s important to talk about before starting the story.

The Caged Bird Still Sings, because they are well taken care of and has every need met. They will never starve, or thirst or get too hot or cold, they will be cared for if sick or injured. The only price is the cage.

It’s like that owl that got released from that zoo by well-meaning ‘animal advocates’ that died by flying into a high rise building. If it had still been in the zoo it would have lived for another thirty years.

So in this story Steve starts off thinking that Eddie’s love and attention is only temporary and is actively trying to get a job, make money of his own, and move out and away from needing Eddie’s money and gifts to survive so that they can be on more even footing.

But as the story goes on and he can’t get work and he meets Robin, he slips into this melancholy for awhile thinking that if he wants to continue living like this there has to be some sort of trade and thinks it’s about sex.

Which is why Eddie refuses to have sex with him during that time. He wants them to be couple and knows that Steve isn’t there yet.

It’s only at the end when Steve realizes this isn’t temporary, that Eddie isn’t just trying to buy sex from him, that he settles into being taken care of. By Robin, by Eddie, by the rest of the band. Not because they don’t think he can take care of himself but because they love him.

There will be only two sex scenes in this. Once at the beginning before the Arrangement, and once at the end when they are both on the same page and they consummate their relationship.

If you think this isn’t your cup of tea, no problem. Let me know in the comments, tags, DMs, or even asks (I’ll answer privately) and I’ll take you off the list. I already have one that has told me upfront that they aren’t interested and won’t be tagged.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story.

~

Steve sat in his Bimmer, head hung low between his shoulders, tears streaming down his face. Everything he owned was in the trunk and backseat of the car. It was his car. The title had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen.

He was still wearing the stupid little green vest and name tag that bore the name Family Video. A place he no longer worked. He’d have to return them to the store in the morning, but for now, it created the illusion of still being employed.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he had three things; a home, a job, and a boyfriend. And now he didn’t have any of that shit.

All because last night his parents came home to find him and Tommy on the sofa with their hands in each other’s pants. Leaving no doubt about what they were doing.

They kicked Steve out mere minutes after Tommy fled, his father screaming that he wouldn’t have a dirty whoring fag in his house. All while his mother cried about losing her baby to those ‘horrid queers’.

Steve had called around to his friends looking for a place to spend the night, but they were all too afraid of his dad. His father roared with laughter each time a friend turned him down.

“They don’t want a dirty fag in their house either,” he said with a sneer as Steve hung up on his last hope.

“Now get the hell out of my house.”

Steve did as he was told and spent the night in his car in the parking of Family Video. When it came time to open the store, he grabbed his clothes and work vest and got changed in the bathroom.

By noon, his life was over. Keith had sat him down in his office and told him that due to morality clause that Steve had violated, he would no longer be working at Family Video. He handed Steve his last check and told him he had to return the vest cleaned with his badge by tomorrow or he would be forced to pay for them.

Steve cashed the check. It wasn’t much as it was only the beginning of the new pay period and he had barely worked eight hours before he had been fired.

He had some money in his savings account, another thing that had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen. But not enough for a hotel. So he went to the bank and closed out the account. All total it was only fifty bucks. That might get him a night at a cheap motel, but nothing past that. He would be homeless, penniless, and friendless if he tried.

But there was another way to get a warm place to stay at least for the night without spending everything he had.

He got dressed up in the sluttiest outfit he had. He pulled on tight leather black pants and yellow shirt that barely grazed the top of his belly button. He put on a little eyeliner and mascara, then he added strawberry lip balm to make his lips pop.

Steve opened his wallet and pulled out his fake ID. The one he got when he was sixteen off his cousin.

They looked close enough to be brothers and Scott was easy to change to Steve and ta da! He put it in front of his actual ID and drove out to the Hideout.

He parked far enough away from the bar so people wouldn’t see all his stuff in the back and then walked up to the line. He was so focused on getting in that he missed all the signs.

The lack of variety in clothes from those in the line, the bouncer asking for a high cover charge, higher than normal, and the most glaring? The great big fucking stage setup with the huge ass banner that said in bold fucking letters: CORRODED COFFIN.

Nope, it took getting a seat at the bar and the bartender straight up asking if his girlfriend was a fan of the band before Steve realized his error.

He was a prep surrounded by metal fans all there to see Corroded Coffin. Steve was familiar with them. But then again you had to be dead not to know the name of the biggest band to make out of Hawkins, metal fan or not.

Eddie Munson was older than Steve by a decade, so he was only ten when the older man took his band to LA and made it big. Which if you had listened to any of his teachers or even just anyone over forty at the time for longer than two seconds they would rant about how they never thought he would amount to anything. That making music was a pipe dream and to just accept taking his uncle’s place at the manufacturing plant on the outside of town.

He also knew that they made sure to stop and play here at the Hideout every time they did any American tour just to fuck with those assholes.

So he had really picked the worst night to have his life completely fucked over enough for him to even think about coming here to get laid. Because chances were, he wasn’t gonna. He just hoped that someone took pity on him enough to buy him his drinks so that he could shit-faced enough to endure sleeping rough again.

He ordered a dirty martini and hoped to be left alone at the very least.

~

Eddie was in the back tuning his guitar when Jeff came in shaking his head.

“What’s up, man?” he asked looking back down at his sweetheart.

“Some poor bastard wandered in on the night we perform,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

Eddie raised his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come here, come here,” Jeff said, waving him over.

Eddie set his guitar down and walked over. Jeff pointed at the guy at the bar. Bright yellow shirt and shiny leather pants.

“Ooh...” he said with a wince. “Poor guy. Probably had a shit day and wanted to blow off some steam and now his day is just going to get worse.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I’m half tempted to at least buy the guy a drink for the sheer fact he fucking stayed. The balls on that dude.”

Eddie watched as the guy fondled the stem of his glass. He licked his lips slowly.

“Oh no,” Jeff said, face palming. “I know that look. And absolutely fucking not. He looks super young, Ed.”

Eddie just shrugged. “He’s at least twenty-one, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past Monty.”

Jeff raised his head and blinked at him for a moment. Monty was a good bouncer who could spot a fake a mile away.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “Objection retracted.”

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Tell Chrissy to start a tab for this guy and have it be in my name and to put the word out that if anyone is seen harassing him will get kicked out.”

Jeff sighed but did as he was told. Eddie sat back down and began tuning his guitar again. He thought tonight was going to blow, but a little yellow canary just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.

~

Steve was sitting at the bar nursing his one drink for the evening and keeping his head down when a perky blonde slid up next to him.

“I need five bottles of Miller,” she told the bartender and then turned and gave Steve a once over. “And something for the fine gentleman here.”

Steve turned to look at her. Her hair was actually closer to red than blonde but she was cute in a preppy cheerleader kind of way.

“All these going on the same tab?” the bartender asked, handing her the five unopened beers.

She smiled up at him. “Yep! And all his drinks, too. All night. Whatever he wants.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and then looked over Steve up and down. “God damn him. He’s doing it again?”

The woman just giggled and winked at Steve before taking her prizes with her.

Steve wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so downed his drink and ordered a Tequila Sunrise to replace it.

But curiosity won out. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

The bartender chuckled and shook his head fondly.

Steve thought about saying something bitchy, but he really wanted his drinks for free and poking the bear was not a plan if he wanted that to happen, so kept his mouth shut.

The band came out and Steve knew he was in trouble. He objectively knew what the band looked like and vaguely knew who was who even. But all that blew out the fucking window in the face of Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Tight pants, leather jacket, shredded t-shirt, combat boots, and his hair whipping back and forth?

God, Steve was instantly horny and just as hard. He shifted in his pants and prayed that the tight pants kept his dick from showing too much. Otherwise, this was going be a very awkward evening.

He was listening to the band and bobbing along to the music when some dude over fifty came up to him.

“Name three songs off their third album,” he growled.

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then raised one eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just here for the booze. I’ve had a shit day just want to relax.”

“So you’re some townie who thinks that because this your fucked up hell hole that you can just take the spot of some real fan who wanted to see them more than you?”

Steve really didn’t know how to answer that. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what he thought.

“It’s not that serious,” Steve said, turning back to his drink. “They’re playing in both Indy and Bloomington. They can see them there instead of this dimly lit bar.” He mouthed ‘sorry’ to the bartender, who shrugged and tried to hide his smile.

“And how would you know that, asshole?” the guy growled.

Steve sighed and pointed to the sign behind the bar listing Corroded Coffin’s tour dates.

The guy whipped his head to look at the sign but before he could say anything else, Monty came up to the guy and quietly ushered him away, whispering furiously as the guy’s face paled.

The bartender shook his head. “These dudes never learn.”

Steve took a sip of his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“That the guys,” he pointed to the stage and Steve looked over his shoulder at the band kicking it on stage, he nodded, “don’t like it when fans try and gate keep. They can’t do jack shit at larger venues but place like this? They absolutely refuse to let that kind of shit go on.”

Steve looked over his shoulder just in time to catch Eddie winking at him. He blushed and turned bright red.

The bartender laughed before he moved on to take another order.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

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8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33

[gamesetart]

hngnngngnng sweet and easy universe……

need Pat to fuck you and tease you about how he knows you’re thinking about Art even while Patrick is stuffed deep inside your little pussy. He’s so mean, teasing about how Art isn’t going to be as deep as he is, he’s not going to know what the fuck to do with pussy this tight, this wet, this sweet.

It’s adorable that you don’t even care that Art’s not going to fuck you better than Patrick can. You’re in love with each other. But Patrick doesn’t have to love you to make you feel good, he just has to love your pussy <3

Well yes! 😁🫶

well. yes. (again, had to break the laptop out for this ur so yummy)

"a terrible sweetness" (a patrick interlude)

tags: patrick zweig x fem reader, p in v, mild daddy kink, implied patrick zweig x art donaldson, implied art donaldson x fem reader. nsfw. minors DNI.

You didn't ever mean to fuck him more than once. Patrick was supposed to be a hookup, a momentary balm to soothe your seemingly insatiable need. He's a frat party fever dream, a fantasy through amber-coloured glass. And he's a saved contact on your phone and a text message at one in the morning:

patrick (frat) 1:47 am

in town, wyd?

So you start to fuck him a little more regularly. With Art's permission, of course, you're a lot of things, but you're not a cheater, for fucks' sakes. It's weird for Art, grabbing lunch with Patrick knowing he's been inside Art's girlfriend, and probably will again before his weekend visit is over. But he almost likes it. Because that's his Patrick and his girl. You've managed to inextricably connect two of the most important people to him, and by having both Tashi and her boyfriend, you've tied the final knot. The four of you, all tied together because you can't keep your pretty hands to yourself.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Patrick taunts, scissoring his fingers open inside you.

Some days, he doesn't bother with much prep - the tight feeling of him bullying inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him, is dizzyingly addictive - but there are nights where it's like he can read your mind, and he finds sick satisfaction in drawing things out so he can tease you. About Art, his Art, his sweet Artie, your lovely, doting, idiot boyfriend, who, for all the goodness in the world, wouldn't ever be able to fuck you like Patrick does.

And he likes knowing he's caused all of this. Patrick knows Art better than Art knows himself. Fucking you is like fucking a part of Art by proxy, and the fact that you're both thinking about him is almost laughable.

"I'm always thinking about him," you return, balling your hands up in your sheets.

He's got you splayed out on your bed, his body between your spread legs, his hand reaching between your bodies to fuck in and out of you with two quick, strong fingers. Patrick's head is right above yours - you could have kissed him, if you wanted. But that's not really what he's for, sweet presses of lips while you 'make love'. Patrick is for the clash of teeth and tongues while you fuck. His eyes are impossibly beautiful, bluish green, the pupils ringed with a sunburst of hazel and gold.

"So am I," Patrick spits back, and it makes you clench around him, hearing confirmation of that single unifying detail, the single nexus between the two of you.

Art.

"But he can't fuck you like I can," Patrick continues roughly.

He pulls his fingers from you, much to your disappointment. (And excitement: not cumming on Patrick's hands just means you'll cum more around his cock.) He brings the slick, shiny digits to your lips, smiling roughly at you.

"Clean that off for me, will ya, doll?"

Patrick likes that he can treat you in a way he can't treat Tashi. She's a lot of things, but she won't let him degrade her. Not the way he degrades you; he's using you as much as you're using him, and he won't let you forget it. He likes that when he holds his fingers up to your mouth you suck them willingly into your mouth and swirl your tongue around him to really make sure you're licked all of yourself off him, likes that you seem genuinely disappointed when he takes them away. Like a dog losing it's favourite toy.

He lines himself up, dragging his cock meaning up and down your slit. Kisses it against your clit, slaps it there for good measure. You moan, eyes fluttering shut, rolling back in your skull. Patrick knows what he's doing, always does. Patrick knows how to fuck. Patrick knows how to make you feel so, so good.

His palm slaps across your face, not very hard, just as a reminder. The crack of skin forces your eyes back onto his smug face.

"No, no, keep your fucking eyes open," he goads. "I want you to look at me, and think about him, when I fuck you."

It's with that promise that Patrick finally spears himself in you, all at once, bottoming out in one rough, steady thrust. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes open as you all but scream, walls stretching to take him, clenching around his cock when he finally lands home. He gives you no time to adjust, though, pulling out again, almost all the way, and slamming back in.

"He couldn't fuck you like, this could he?" Patrick groans. His eyes are half-lidded and his pupils are blown so wide they look black. Lust. That's all this is. That's how you like it.

"N-no," you gasp, rolling your hips up to meet him. "Not like this, fuck, you feel so good."

"Yeah, I do," Patrick says, dragging a hand down your body to palm at your tits, rolling one nipple between his fingers.

The thing about Patrick is he fucks you like he doesn't care about you. Which, to an extent, he does, you're dating his best friend and you've slept with his girlfriend and you're actually really funny and smart and interesting so he can see why Art likes you, but Patrick isn't in love with you. You both know it.

"So good, so fuckin' good, god, you fuck me so good, you're so big," you chant helpfully.

His hips move with a fluidity that is almost mesmerising - strong, fast, powerful. He's a hurricane. You can't bend Nature to your will, but if you're very clever, you can learn how to move with it, to learn to ride the waves, match the tide. That's what you have with Patrick. Organised Chaos.

"He wouldn't know what to do with all of this," he pants. "And when he does fuck you, you're gonna miss me. Because no one's gonna fuck you as deep, no one's gonna take care of this sweet little princess pussy like I do."

The idea of that gets you both going. For Patrick, it's the idea of Art's sweet, blushing face, his fumbling hands, his shaky moans, moans Patrick's become too familiar with at the Academy, the late nights when Art thinks no one can hear. But Patrick can. Patrick always can. For you, it's the idea of the tables turning. It's the horrible, taboo idea of Art finally, finally fucking you, and getting a reminder of Patrick. You can practically see him in your head, the expression he had when he was fucking himself into your sheets.

You know Patrick's right, and it hardly matters. You're in love with Art, not Patrick. One of these days, you'll probably marry him, (he's won you over to the idea, honestly, the whole kids and a house life. With Art, the idea becomes sweet.) and you'll have a gorgeous wedding and his ring on your finger. You're not going to marry Patrick, he's not for that. He's for this. For the now - college dorms and too much beer, texts too late at night or too early in the morning. So you tell him.

"Yes, yes, fuck, you're so good," you whine, and every word comes out shaky and fucked. "No one's ever fucked me so good, only you, Patrick, only your cock, god."

"Yeah, that's it, baby, tell me how good I fuck you," Patrick moans. "Tell me how well I cuck your fucking boyfriend."

That's it. That's all it takes for you to cum around him, because it's gross, and it's a fucked-up thing to say, and it's so mean, and you're trying to picture Art saying something like this to you, doing something like this to you, and you can't. Patrick fucking laughs when you clench around him, shaking. But he doesn't stop. He fucks you straight through it, and then he just keeps going. It's unfair, the fact that he has the stamina of a fucking race horse when he wants it. You've had nights where you've cum four times before he's cum at all, and by the end of it you're only half there.

You don't really have words, but you try. What comes out is a broken, "Patrick-- fuck, Art-- can't-- fuck."

"I bet he wants to put a baby in you," Patrick teases, slamming in and out like he wants to break you. "Bet he wants you to make him a daddy."

He's starting to think maybe he's thinking of Art while he fucks you, too. Keeps seeing images of Art in his head - Art writhing under him, Art begging for him, Art's voice, not yours, chanting, "fuck, yes, daddy, daddy, fuck!"

Patrick slips one hand down to play with your clit. It makes you sob, voice climbing another octave. Your whole floor probably hates you. Your RA probably hates you. Your neighbours definitely hate you, and maybe they hate him too. They're probably all jealous.

"Come on, doll, you've got another one. Cum on my cock. Pretends it's Art's."

He's kind of pretending your cunt is Art's ass, so you'll at least be even. You sob, legs shaking, hands fisting in the sheets so hard they might rip. It's good, so good, too good. Your entire body is on fire. You're clenching around him, and it's like every thrust drives his cock right up into your cervix.

You gush around him right as he fills you up. You're on the pill, of course, but for a moment you pretend you aren't, pretend it's Art emptying his balls into you, filling you up, pretend you're making Art a daddy. It's a nice thought.

You're never going to marry Patrick Zweig. It's probably why he fucks you so well.

[webslingingslasher]

love frat peter with all my heart but i literally think i would bash my head against the wall (not bf peter situationship peter)

*cleaning out my inbox.*

‘if i was my friend, i would be calling them an idiot for getting played and being pathetic. yet, here i am, swearing it’s different and no one gets him like i do.’

a deep sigh. ‘i’m a fucking joke.’

peter can find the bliss in being ignorant, but sometimes he forgets that you live in it too, and can pull him right out of his trance and into reality.

this was one of those times. it wasn’t meant for his ears, he was just at the right place at the wrong time.

there’s nothing blissful about being aware you’re just a bad decision. and what a corner he’s backed himself into, would it hurt more to end it before you start to resent him or hurt more to keep continuing the same path, even if it’ll end in what you want?

would you still want him? or is he just subconsciously showing you how bad of a boyfriend he’d really be?

peter’s a lot of things, and since he’s met you, he’s become one more.

selfish.

it's not lost on him, peter can pretend to be stupid but he's smart enough to know what's actually going on under the surface. it's just nice in the blanket of ignorance.

'hey, stop being so mean to yourself. peter likes you, a lot. even if he pretends he doesn't.' your roommate is fighting for him, he's about to bring her a "just because" gift card.

'no, no, no, no! don't cry! stop crying!' peter's heart lurches, he wants to break the door down and give you a hug, especially when he can hear how watery your voice is.

'that's the whole fucking point! i mean, where do i get off on thinking that? i get he doesn't want to sit around and have a feelings party, but it would be really fucking nice to hear him say he wants to date me. or anything really.'

'hey,' peter's heart races, he's not sure what your roommate is about to admit to. 'remember a few weeks ago the frat had the black and red party, you skipped cause you were sick? - right, well, peter got fucking wasted and kept talking about you.'

a sniffle, no more tears. 'really? what'd he say?'

her boyfriend was one of the guys he talked to all night long, no doubt she got all the same information second hand. she could spill or she could let it mean something and let peter get there first.

peter could put aside his ego for ten minutes. if only to make you feel better.

'well, he-' before he could get thrown under the bus, he knocks on your door. 'hold on-' your roommate answers, you offer no movement, staring at the floor with your back turned.

she's looking at him expectantly, peter tilts his head towards you. 'wanna let me handle this one?' it's instant, your head whips around, the look on his face lets you know he heard everything.

'no, go away.'

peter sighs, 'trouble.'

'no, cause i already know what you're going to say.'

'no, you don't know what i'm about to say.'

tears blot at your eyes, your roommate ditches you in a second. peter approaches slowly while you're crawling up your bed. 'don't-' you take a sharp breath, 'don't even say anything cause i know i won't wanna hear it.'

you stare at your roommates side when peter takes a seat next to you, he's inches away, you feel too vulnerable to face him. you already know what he's about to say, that he likes hanging out with you and it typically starts and ends there.

'hey, trouble. you wanna look at me?'

you shake your head, it's pointless because peter's already cupping your face pulling it towards his. 'ready?' you pull his hands off you by tugging at his wrists, a grouchy persona took over.

'for the same conversation? sure, peter.'

'i like you.'

you wait for the friendly twist he always likes to slide in. 'i like you, you're pretty cool, you know?' but it doesn't come. peter ended it on that, you peek back at him, he doesn't seem as scary as before.

'yeah? and?'

peter reaches out to brush his thumb across your cheek. 'that's what i said at the party. that i like you.' a flash of disappointment, he moves past it. 'and that's only because i wanted to save this next part just for you.'

attention caught, blown pupils look into his own.

'i want you to be my girlfriend,' he's quick to kill the light that roars in your eyes. 'wait, wait, wait, no, let me finish.' you feel like you're walking a tightrope.

'i like you and i want you to be my girlfriend, just... not yet. but that's what i want and that's kind of my end goal in this.'

a double ended sword, either you suffer in silence until he’s ready, or you suffer until you can’t stand it anymore and leave.

'that's it?' he couldn't have worded it in a way to get every single hope up, to make you feel weightless for an entire second before he pulled the rug?

'yeah, that's it.' what did you want? an i love you?

‘oh.’ you pull at the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands. ‘oh?’ peter tries to catch your eyes, you sound more sad now than when you were crying.

‘i need time to think, i think.’

‘think about what?’

‘this.’ you gesture at the empty space between you. ‘us.’

peter’s turn, he understands. ‘oh.’ you nod, ‘yeah, oh.’ there’s an awkward pause in the room, neither of you quite sure what to say or where to go from there.

there was nothing peter could do, he’s just a person at your disposal. ‘um,’ think, peter, think. he wishes you weren’t hiding your eyes from him. ‘okay. that’s okay. we can…’ peter takes a big breath, he didn’t realize how much he didn’t want this until now. ‘… we can spend some time apart.’

‘okay.’ why weren’t you bothered? why weren’t you more upset? why were you so fucking indifferent?

peter feels selfish again, he just doesn’t know if he’ll get one again. ‘can i get a kiss before i go?’ you take a moment to make up your mind, peter wonders if you’re agreeing for the same reason. ‘yeah.’

no, it’s because he’s selfish. you don’t initiate anything, just frowning at your fingers as they curl and uncurl around the fabric of the sweatshirt he once owned.

‘i can’t kiss you if i can’t see you, trouble.’ a distant nod, ‘right.’ peter wishes he didn’t ask to look at you, he wishes he didn’t notice the blank look in your eyes. ‘are you okay, trouble?’

it’s soft, and delicate. he just wants to make you feel better, but he’s the one hurting you. it’s so utterly selfish, yet you want it too.

‘no.’ if you whisper it, it doesn’t hurt so bad. for either of you. you can both pretend it wasn’t said. ‘i’m sorry.’ there’s a lot to be sorry for, it’s just a blanket statement.

‘yeah.’ neither of you believe it. you just want him gone, you need to treat yourself like a friend. ‘kiss?’ peter wants to keep talking, but he can’t really find anything substantial to say.

it wasn’t very tender, or sweet. maybe it was the passion peter was missing, everything feels so sad. was this the answer before you said it? was this a goodbye kiss? if not, why did it feel like one?

peter pats your knee, ‘balls in your court, trouble. call me when you’re ready?’ you daintily nod, it’s like you’re in another world. ‘okay.’

you hold your eyes shut when peter kisses your forehead, it’s bullshit. ‘and if you need me, we can put this to the side, okay?’

‘okay,’ you push him back. ‘you can go now.’ peter has to swallow a lump in his throat, you’re eager to push him out and push him away. is this how you feel? is peter having a moment of clarity and empathy?

god, he’s a shitty human.

‘i don’t think im going to come over this week, so you can bring my laundry back.’ you were supposed to do it at his house, and you were supposed to wash your clothes with his, and you were supposed to fold them together.

you’re already thinking a week ahead? no, peter’s selfish, he’ll make you come back. ‘no problem. i’ll wash them for you, i’ll even clean out my second drawer to put ‘em in.’

he wants to do the thing you've been hinting at for weeks, now? is he really grasping at straws? what fucking happened? what changed? peter's not even going to give you a chance to fight it, you can't say no if he's not here.

'i'll talk to you later?' you nod. you can't even say it back? everything about this is wrong. but he can't fix it, not when you told him you needed to think about things, not when you're on the cusp of giving up on him.

peter can hear you sob into your pillow when he latches the door shut.

----

when you said you didn't plan on coming around this week, peter didn't think that meant speaking to him too. no texts, no snapchats, no dm's, no facetimes, no frat parties, nothing.

peter puked three times friday night, day six of the silent treatment. he swears it's because he was drinking too much but peter knows what anxiety feels like for him and how it comes out.

peter can also kiss the idea of sleep away. he's had four nightmares this week, two of them back to back. spider-man's been sluggish and now he has a nasty bruise across his jawline. nothing felt right.

since you last talked to him, peter's had a constant stomach ache and headache. not to mention how he's just not really hungry anymore and you've gotten really skilled at hiding from him.

peter knows he said the balls in your court, but what if you never pass it back?

day eight and all is saved.

'sleepover?'

peter swallowed his tongue at the text, you wanted to spend the night, that's a good thing, right? girls don't fuck and dump, right? peter's heart is drumming like it never has before, wagging his imaginary tail like a puppy dog he's never responded quicker.

'yes!' peter erases it. 'of course!!! i missed you so much i think i was dying and i really couldn't breathe and-' peter deletes that one too.

what's good enough to make you think you deserve this?

'you got it, trouble. wanna let me take you out to dinner for date night with your favorite frat boy?' maybe he's laying it on a little thick, but peter swears he's withering away without you next to him in bed.

'only if it's expensive.' peter will take out a loan if it means you'll have dinner with him, if all you want from him is a nice dinner, he'll do it. he'll do anything if it means you'll stay with him.

'only the best for my girl.' you read it, but didn't answer. peter took it a step further. 'i'll pick the place. i'll even borrow someone's car.' meaning, he was going somewhere nice. it did fine. 'just let me know what time to be ready, parker.' but it wasn't good enough.

peter may have been an asshole prior, because the way your face lit up with a ten dollar bouquet of flowers told him that he should've been doing this all along. if he had, he wouldn't have been here.

'for me?' you brought the cellophane to your nose, 'really?' they smell lovely, like they were actually picked out and not just the first thing he saw. 'of course. only the best for my baby.'

a flash in your eyes, but it doesn't work, not in the way it normally does. no, this time it seems to amuse you. he doesn't care, you look breathtaking and he's about to have his heart thump from his chest.

'i'm going to be the luckiest guy there tonight.' peter blurted it without thinking, but what's worse, or better, is that he truly believed it. he waited patiently when you set the flowers down, but couldn't hold it in the second you turned for him.

'can i have a hug?' touch starved and itching for your hold, you quirked a brow, were you waiting for a kiss? peter thinks kisses be damned, he'll pass out if he can't wrap you in his arms.

'sure-' before you could finish you're in his chest, his palms wash over your back, you're heated up in a second. you take a deep breath, he does the same.

there was a lot of reflecting, but a whole lot more missing. peter just couldn't hide his well. 'i'm sorry, but i missed you so fucking much.' your heart warms, you knew it.

'i did, too.' it's all that was needed, you felt peter match your breaths, one single unit, together. it's how peter thinks it should be, it's how it should be. he doesn't know how he could go back to not that.

you think he's about to kiss you, it's a different look in his eyes. instead, he brushes out your outfit and nods towards the door.

-----

peter feels like he's on the countdown, even more so when the bill came and you hadn't said a word about your week of recollection. you didn't bring it up on the way home, or when he stopped for dessert, or even when you got back to the chapter house.

but he still kept an arm around you when you chose to head for the kitchen instead of the stairs, peeking in and brightening up when you see your favorite brother at the island.

'ethan!' you were almost as happy when you got your flowers. almost. peter lightly pushed you forward, letting you get in a hug while he grabbed something to drink.

'you're looking very fancy tonight.' you curtsy and thank him, a gesture towards your date. 'peter's idea.' ethan reaches for a fist bump, peter gladly accepts.

you'd love to catch up but peter's antsy and you're not that mean. 'breakfast tomorrow?' you glance to peter, 'is that okay with you?' his tail starts wagging again, there's going to be a tomorrow. 'of course.'

ethan agrees, 'breakfast it is.' you share a look with him, a sly smile. looking around the kitchen, three other brothers. where does peter's loyalty lie? how much did he actually miss you? how much did he learn?

'kiss?' a cup clatters, four sets of eyes watching. 'huh?' you spin with your back to the crowd, 'kissy.' it's the first you've asked for all night, you're counting the hesitation in your mind. one, two, thr...

and it's a kiss. the kind that had you begging for more, even if he was already attached. one that had you melting into his chest while he held your back sturdy. one that said he really didn't give a fuck who was watching anymore.

peter's selfish and he needs to breathe. you hold him by the collar of his jacket, he peeks up to his brothers, a slight blush followed. he can hear the chirps in his mind.

'one more,' it's chaste. you mumble against his lips, 'last one.' peter knows your game, he doesn't have anything to lose but you. he'd put up with shit the rest of his life if he meant you kept asking him for kisses.

a slurry of pecks, you push him away at the sound of gagging from the audience. 'okay, okay!' you swipe at the corner of his lip, nothing's there but a distant memory. 'you taste like chocolate.'

'are my kisses that sweet?' another gag, 'take it upstairs, parker.' you pull on his hand, 'yeah, parker. let's take it upstairs.' you shake off the cheers and drag peter up the stairs behind you by the hand.

you peel your jacket off in his room, your shoes next. like he told you, clean and folded clothes in the second drawer down on his dresser. you pull out your own pajamas, peter watches intently.

'do you want me to turn around, or... nevermind.'

'you're very polite tonight, parker.' a slip of the tongue, you didn't mean it like that, but he took it as such. 'no. please stop calling me that. i'm trying, trouble. i'm really trying.'

'i know you are, you're cute when you're desperate.' peter holds his breath, 'what does that mean?'

'it means you have an ultimatum.' there's nothing good that can come of this, he knows it. you're going to tell him to either make it official or move on, you must have expected the latter. why else did it take so long to reach out?

peter can feel his hands shake, he hides them by crossing his arms. you don't look half as nervous, you're scaring him because he can't read you. it sinks in, it's because you're final in your decision.

'sit.' you pat the space next to you on his bed, you settle underneath the blankets and pull it over your knees. 'did you wash your sheets, too?'

'yeah,' you smile at peter. he's gnawing at his bottom lip. 'they smell clean.' you nudge peter's arm, he swallows thickly. 'ready?'

undivided attention. 'i don't want to break things off.' visible relief, you're not sure if peter is religious, but you think he just said a thank you to god.

'good. i really don't want you to break things off either.'

'but-'

'fuck.' you frown with a little sympathy, he couldn't have thought it was that easy.

'it can't go back to how it was, peter. you're not ready for the boyfriend title, fine. but i need more from you, if you can't give me that, this ends.'

anything, anything, anything.

'what do you need from me?'

this is where it gets tricky, for you and for him. 'i want you to be my boyfriend. you're not ready, but you want to be, right? you said that's how you see us ending, remember?'

'yeah, of course.' you've been thinking logically and this is the best solution for now. this is what you can handle for now. this is what's best for now.

'then treat me like that's the end game. take me out, kiss me in front of your friends, hold my hand on campus. commit to me, truly and fully commit to me. act like you want me to be and stay your girlfriend.'

is that it? he just has to treat you how he's always wanted to, but was scared to do so because he didn't want you to think it was more than it was?

'okay. i can do that, i promise i can do that.'

it's not that easy, it never is. 'yeah, but, this isn't forever, peter. there's not an infinite timeline on this, this is just for right now.'

peter's terrified to ask, but he still does. 'when does right now end?'

it's why you were so calm, how you were able to keep away from him and not show the same amount of craving he did. peter was right, your decision was final and you were serious.

peter was on borrowed time, but this time, you knew it too.

'when i say it does. because, right now, i could walk away at any second, and you'd let me because you'd have no one else to blame.' 

selfish, selfish, selfish. 

because all peter heard was, ‘but i’m not done, yet.’ 

[pickingupmymercedes]

for a blurb can you do like "you’re bleeding"

like they just got an argument but then she hurts herself and like all the anger disappears and like she’s like "i’m fine" but she’s not and starts crying cause of it all

Self indulging here because I too get sick from the sight of blood. Hope you like it

"you're bleeding"

Y/N slammed a drawer shut, the clatter echoing through the apartment. This argument had been simmering for days, and it was bound to break loose.

"I can't believe you would even suggest that!" she fumed, her voice tight with frustration. "Don't you trust me?"

Lewis raked a hand through his braids, his jaw clenched. "It's not about trust, Y/N. It's about—"

"Then what is it about?" she cut him off, her voice rising. "Because it feels like you think I'm incapable of handling things myself."

"That's not—" Lewis started, but Y/N continued her tirade.

"I'm not some fragile doll, Lewis! I can make my own decisions!"

As she stomped across the room, Y/N's foot caught on something small and sharp. A sudden searing pain shot through her foot, causing her to yelp and stumble back.

"Ow!" she cried, hopping on one leg.

She glanced down, expecting a scrape or a bruise. But a crimson stain was blooming on her white sock, spreading rapidly.

"You're bleeding," Lewis said, his voice rising up with concern.

Y/N's stomach lurched. She hated blood, always had. And the sight of it, even a small amount, made her vision swim. A wave of nausea washing over her.

"No," she mumbled, her voice weak. "It's nothing, just a… cut."

The tremor in her voice and the way she swayed as she took another step betrayed her words. Lewis saw the white creeping into her face and scooped her up before she could fall.

"Easy there," he murmured, carrying her bridal style towards the kitchen.

Y/N clung to him weakly. Shame pricking her. She didn't want to break down, not in front of him, and certainly not because of blood.

"Put me down," she mumbled, trying to push away from him.

"Not until I take a look at this" Lewis said firmly, but his voice was gentle.

He settled her onto the island, grabbing a dish towel and a bottle of disinfectant.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as Lewis removed her sock. Her breath hitched as she saw the extent of the wound. It wasn't just a paper cut - it was a pretty nasty gash from a tack, and she was still bleeding.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back stubbornly. This was stupid, getting hurt like this in the middle of an argument. It made her look like a kid.

Lewis, thankfully, didn't seem to think so. His touch firm, reassuring even, as he cleaned up what he could before realizing it probably needed stitching.

He looked at her, his gaze soft and his hands gripping her cold fingers "Babe, I think you might need to go for a stitch”.

Y/N finally allowed the tears to fall, a single sob escaping her lips. Shame battled with relief in her chest.

"Hey," Lewis said, pulling her into a hug. "It's okay. It’s just a cut, probably won’t need more than two stitches"

Y/N buried her face in his chest, the dam breaking. Tears streamed down her face as she let out a choked sob. "It’s just...this is the worst timing to need someone to save me" she mumbled into his shirt.

Lewis chuckled softly. "You didn't need saving, love. You just stepped on a tack. But that doesn't mean I can't be there for you when you need me, even when we’re not seeing eye to eye."

He held her close, his warmth comforting as he put some clean fabric across her foot for a makeshift bandage. “C’mom, now let’s get you to the E.R.”

"Thank you" she whispered; her voice still small from the sight of blood and a bit of hurt pride.

Lewis kissed the top of her head. "Always babe"

______________________________________________________________

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[beetlejuicyy]

Losing touch | Bada Lee x reader

Bebe Gang AU

Part one • Part two

Pairing: gang member! Bada x reader

Synopsys: Picking up your girlfriend from the police station does not seem like a good date idea for you. Especially if she refuses to talk about the very things that got her in trouble with the police.

Warnings: angst, very much angst, fighting, toxic relationship, gaslighting, swearing

Note: thank you all for the support you showed for Bruises ! This is going to be a two part work so I hope you look forward for the secont part as well. As for this one, I got a bit carried away and it ended up more toxic than I planned. The next one might have less plot and more kinky smut. I'm also open to requests too so if you have anything in mind that I could write I'd love to see it!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were still in bed enjoying your coffee when your phone started ringing. You were expecting a package to arrive and were excited to see the unknown number, thinking it was related to the delivery details.

“Miss y/n?” The stern voice of a woman greeted you. You shook off the feeling that something was wrong. “This is the police station. You’ll be redirected to the caller.” Your blood froze in your veins as you heard a muffled sound through the phone.

“Y/n…”

“Bada? Is that you?” You sat up immediately, still hoping this was some kind of misunderstanding, a wrong number. Your girlfriend sighed.

“I need you to come pick me up.” She seemed incredibly calm, as if she had been through this before.

“You’ve been arrested?” You were still trying to comprehend the situation at nine thirty in the morning.

“I was framed... They are letting me go but the lawyer said it’s better for my image to have someone with a clean criminal record get me out.”

“I’m coming.”

You got dressed and left the house in a hurry, unable to think straight. Only after you got in the car and typed in the address your girlfriend gave you things started to clear out inside your mind. The police station was on the opposite side of the city, far from where both of you lived. What was she even doing there? When was she arrested? You remembered going to sleep early the previous night and her sending you a goodnight text around ten.

You turned on the engine. You hadn’t eaten a thing yet and your stomach was noisy about it. Wondering when was the last time Bada ate something, you stopped at a bakery on your way to get something for the both of you. Only when you stopped the car and got out in the police station parking lot you realized you had no idea how these things were supposed to work. All you knew was that you were worried sick.

You noticed there was a young man around your age in uniform at the front desk right by the entrance and gave him the name of your girlfriend.

“Please fill in this form.” He said as he printed some papers. While you filled in the information he called to let his colleagues know about your arrival. You finished the formalities and checked the paperwork once again to make sure you didn’t miss anything. That’s when your eyes fell on a line already completed. Drug possession. Your eyes widened in an expression impossible to conceal. The guy at the desk might have noticed it because he continued to talk to you. “What could a girl like you have to do with Bada Lee?” He hummed as he checked your papers.

“We’re… friends.” You hesitated. You didn’t feel like owing a stranger any explanation. On the contrary, you were owed some.

“She’s not a very good influence, y’know.”

“It’s written there that the charges were dropped.” As much as you felt angry at your girlfriend you couldn’t accept anyone badmouthing her. Which was ironic because Bada was indeed a bad influence.

“This time, sure.” The man agreed. “But others were not.”

You didn’t want to show how little you actually knew about your girlfriend, especially in front of the cops. However, you really wanted to know. You’ve never pestered her with questions. You always tried to be the cool girlfriend, the fun and easygoing one that she would love. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the obvious things, like the fact that she would get into fights, cancel plans or leave in the middle of your date because of a phone call. You always tried to think it was the same as dating a workaholic, like someone with a corporate job and a very bad sense of work ethic. But today in the car you realized you’ve been fooling yourself all this time. Her file was there in one of those shelves you were sure. You wanted to read it so bad. Know all the things she did and she wasn’t telling you.

“If you ever realize the kind of person she is you can always give us a call.” The guy said, giving you something that looked like a business card. Your eyes scanned it and picked it up , trying not to seem rude. It was filled with his personal information.

“Miss y/n?” Another voice called to you from behind, this time a woman. “Miss Lee is waiting for you but first I need to make sure everything is alright.” Her voice was softer and nicer than the guy at the front desk, even though she was his senior. And most importantly, she wasn’t trying to flirt with you.

You saw Bada behind her, sitting on a bench, waiting patiently. She was wearing the same shirt she had on when she send you the goodnight selfie before you went to sleep. You guessed she had spent the night at the police station. Her hair wrapped in a messy low bun. Her long legs spread out, elbows supporting her upper body as she was leaning forward, hands covering her face. She was tired. Your eyes softened as you looked at her, although you were still upset. When the lady said you were free to go you hurried to your girlfriend.

She looked up before you got close to her, her eyes puffy. You weren’t sure if the look in her eyes was simply fatigue or if she was really trying to figure out what you were thinking. She stood up hands in her pants’ pockets. There was something cold about her that you couldn’t quite explain.

“You ok?” You asked. You wanted to hug her tight but you didn’t want to make a scene in the police station.

“I’m good. Thanks for coming.” She said. You guessed the conversation would start only after having some privacy in your car.

What you didn’t know was that Bada had tried her best not to call you. She hated involving you in things like these and had a hard time talking about it. Ever since you started going out she promised herself to be the best girlfriend you could have, and that certainly didn’t include her usual pastimes. But she couldn’t simply stop one random day. Those were her friends she grew up with, her family. She had a reputation on the streets and it was a big part of her identity. But it was obvious that, at some point, these two sides of her would clash. And today seemed like that moment finally had come.

You both got to your car and decided you’ll drive her straight home so she could finally rest after a crazy night. A night that you still knew nothing about. Bada got in the passenger seat and started typing busily on her phone. You drove off, patiently waiting for her to finish. Her phone was on silent mode but you could see with the corner of your eye that she kept receiving messages.  When she was finally done, she placed the phone in her pocket and stretched her arm to turn on the music in the car. She searched for a song that she liked in your playlist – the playlist she once made for you as a gift to think about her when you were driving alone – and leaned back in her seat, looking out the window. You kept checking on her constantly as much as you could while driving. She was lost in thought, face slightly turned away from you. You tried to think she was tired, she was stressed. You kept finding excuses for her while trying to be patient, to give her time. Maybe she didn’t feel like talking.

When her phone vibrated in her pocket again you sighed. She reached out and started typing again which only made it harder to keep calm. You clenched your hand on the steering wheel. She could talk to anyone but you. Her silence was driving you mad and all the times when you let things slide for the sake of your relationship came back to you in a flash. As much as you loved her, her attitude made you feel stupid. Stupid for trusting her. Stupid for telling her everything about you while she barely talked about herself. Stupid for finding her excuses. You swerved to the left unexpectedly, finally getting a reaction out of her. You stopped the car in an almost empty parking lot and leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“I’m listening.” You said sternly. Maybe it wasn’t the best way of addressing things. You had let all the negative emotions build up and now they were exploding with a passive-aggressive tone and a nasty attitude that Bada would not receive well for sure. She cocked her eyebrows at you, as if you were the unreasonable one between the two of you. “What happened last night?”

“I was framed, I told you.” She took a deep breath before answering. She was trying to control her anger as much as you.

“For what?”

“Does it matter?”

“Drug possession.” You stressed the words carefully.

“And I told you I didn’t do it!” Her voice was gradually getting louder. “What’s with all these questions?”

“Do you deal drugs?”

“Should I take the bus instead?” She spat back another question as an answer. She sighed in exasperation when she tried to open the door but you had them locked.

“Do your friends deal drugs?”

“No, we’re just your friendly neighborhood  association, knitting sweaters and planting flowers.” She answered sarcastically and you couldn’t help but slam your fist against the door in frustration. Bada’s breath got stuck in her throat for a moment. She never saw you angry before. “I told you I didn’t fucking do it.” She said again.

“Not now. How about other times?” You said and, seeing that she was avoiding to answer, you continued. “You said you needed someone with a clean record to pick you up. Does that mean I’m the only person you know who doesn’t have problems with the police?” You raised your eyebrows in expectation. “Lusher? Tatter? Kyma?” You asked in disbelief as the expression on her face provided all the answers you needed. Those were the sweetest girls you met, some of her nicest friends and you had a hard time believing it.

“Kyma only has minor offences.” She muttered under her breath, knowing it wasn’t changing anything.

“What about you? What in the world are you doing whenever you’re not answering messages for hours? When you cancel things out of the blue? When someone calls you and you don’t even bother to come up with a lame excuse for leaving me behind?” Everything was coming back to you. Every moment you thought your relationship was more important than knowing everything. Every time you would bite your tongue just to give her space at the expense of your feelings.

“Stop acting like a controlling wife!” She snapped at you. You were both looking each other directly in the eye, the tension in the car almost be visible.

“I wouldn’t if you would just talk to me!” You almost cried out and it seemed like you lost the staring battle because you put a hand over your eyes, feeling your head heavy. She was still looking down at you, the look in her eyes softening just a little. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you.” You said. You didn’t see it because you weren’t looking at her, but your words hurt her deeply. “The only thing I know about you is that you like to dance.”

“That’s a very important thing about me.” She replied coyly.

“Why do I have to find out stuff about you from the police, Bada?” She clicked her tongue and looked away, annoyed. She loved the way her name sounded out of your pretty mouth but not this time.

“Just because that asshole was wearing a fancy uniform doesn’t mean he’s a good guy, you know.” Her tone was rather pathetic and it annoyed you even more.

“See?!” You yelled. “You never answer anything I ask you! Maybe I really should have asked more about you at the station.”

“Then call that fucker!” She yelled back and reached out to you. For a moment you forgot to breathe. Her slim fingers got the business card out of your pocket. She crumbed it in her fist. “I bet he’d love to talk shit about me while trying to get between your legs.”

It was too much. Your heart was beating rapidly. The air you were breathing didn’t seem to be enough. Her last words hurt you so much that you didn’t even think when you did it. Your hand just moved on her own ready to slap her. She caught you quickly by the wrist, holding your hand just inches away from her cheek. She leaned over you, looking right through your eyes directly into your soul. Your wrist was still in her hand. It didn’t hurt. Maybe that’s why you didn’t feel the need to fight back.

“I wouldn’t do that.” She breathed out, face inches from yours. You let out a deep breath, not being able to hold her gaze. Your eyes fell down to her lips and you bit yours instead, trying to resist the urge to kiss her.

She pulled back releasing your hand, her back against the door, one leg crossed on the seat above the other. She covered her face with both her hands, groaning in frustration.

“I knew I shouldn’t have called you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt terrible. You leaned back in your seat, looking at the steering wheel absentmindedly. Your breathing was finally back to normal after several minutes of silence, as both of you reflected on your words and actions. Bada’s hands had now fallen under her eyes and gradually away from her face. Her thumb was brushing against her lower lip as her phone started vibrating again. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see or hear anything. She looked at the screen for a few moments before she decided to decline the call.

“I’ll drive you home.” You mumbled quietly, your voice almost cracking. She only nodded, sitting back in her seat and pulling at the seat belt. The rest of the drive was quiet. You only paid attention to the road ahead, which was already a lot of effort for your clouded mind. Bada would look at you from time, you could see it, but she wouldn’t say a thing. Thinking it would help you focus easier on driving, you turned the music back on. The song that stopped when you turned off the engine in the parking lot started playing again. The song she chose, a stupid cheesy song she would sing to you sometimes. You turned it off, as it did more damage than good to you.

You stopped the car in front of her apartment building after twenty minutes of silence. You didn’t dare to look at her. You didn’t dare to look at your own reflection in her eyes.

“Let’s go inside.” She said in a gentle voice that sounded nothing like before. You were tempted, very tempted to do so. But you knew that if you did, that fight would have been for nothing. You knew she could fool you again with a few kisses.

“You should rest.” You answered. She sighed. She waited for you to look at her, make any gesture in her direction, but you never did. She leaned forward, placing a goodbye kiss on your hair like she would after every date. You closed your eyes, feeling tears clouding your vision. She got out of the car and you looked after her only by the time she had her back to you. You stood there in silence, feeling like the loneliest person in the world. You saw her enter the building, then saw her again by the bedroom window after she got to her apartment. You knew she saw you too. The pastries you had bought on your way to the police station were cold and untouched on the backseat.