a lover’s spat
summary: reader tries to teach lloyd a lesson
pairing: lloyd hansen x f!reader (third person)
rating: mature
warnings: almost cheating, mentions of blowjobs, guns/gunshots, minor character injury/death, choking, third person for no reason??
w/c: 1.2k 😭 WAIT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DUMBASS DRABBLE
a/n: i rewatched tgm and i have some thots.--i need a suicide squad jokerxharley type relationship with lloydxreader where they’re both crazy/erratic and always horny for each other.
- btw i'm writing this after 3 glasses of wine and i'm not gonna proof read it until tomorrow--so enjoy [?]
series masterlist
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bear with me: imagine the reader attempting to make lloyd jealous
so everyone knows about Lloyd and his princess. Lloyd is a batshit-crazy murderer and his girl is the same. the only difference is that she does it all in heels.
evidently, no one wants to get involved in that shit-show.
they have a history of ending their explosive relationship with actual explosives, and celebrating their fiery make-ups with actual fire (and unnecessary torture sprees[?]).
basically, it's assumed that if someone gets in the way, they're asking to be collateral or volunteering to be their next meal.
now, the relationship is "on" again--and it's as rocky as ever.
Lloyd's precious princess is attempting to teach him a little lesson for ignoring her. apparently, he's been too focused on work lately: always kicking her out of his office because she’s “too distracting” when she hangs around.
she doesn’t understand. all she did was perch prettily on his lap, eat some snacks, and occasionally try to suck him down her throat. it's not her fault he can't handle it...
so she decides she’s gonna grab a cute boy from the club and ignore him. it's an innocent game of trying to make her boyfriend jealous. of trying to see how far she can go until he breaks down and fucks her.
but it doesn't go exactly according to plan.
her first mistake was doing it in his own club. he has eyes everywhere. every entrance is watched, every person is accounted for, and everyone is under his command. he won't miss anything.
her second mistake was wearing his favorite dress. she knows the barely there pink number drives him crazy: cut outs in all the right places, draping beautifully against her figure. he personally picked it out to fuck her in it for their second anniversary.
she thought it would be that extra kick-to-the-throat to send him over the edge.
her third and final mistake was breaking the kissing rule. despite what everyone thinks, lloyd can be a reasonable guy. at least for her. he gives her second, third, even fourth chances. she's allowed to tease, prod, or even grope other guys, but kissing has always been off limits.
unfortunately for him, she's always one to push the limits. that was his mistake.
she is exhilarated by the deathly stare he sends from across the dance floor. and though her lips were pressed against another, her eyes stayed locked onto his baby blues, drinking in every ounce of his fury. his hands curl into fists at his sides as he watches the scene under the dimmed lighting.
she sees him call over one of his men, eyes still locked with hers, grunting frustrated commands over the bass-boosted music. they nod, muttering into their earpiece before passing him a dark object.
suddenly, the music around her ceases. she recognizes this chest-tightening feeling: something is about to happen.
lloyd winks at her with a sly smirk before casually raising his arm in her direction--his long fingers delicately hold a gun. before she can separate from the man, an ear piercing bang echoes through the crowded room. everything stops for a moment: all dancing pauses, all talking ceases, and all breathing freezes.
then once everyone processes the noise, it's instant chaos. the music, still blaring through the speakers, is quickly drowned by high pitched screams, and frantic yelling. fear and desperation pools through the crowd, pushing everyone towards the exits.
his girl, however, simply rolls her eyes in annoyance: he just had to make a scene. she drags the back of her hand against her lips, wiping off smudged lipstick and the distinct taste of tequila, before abruptly pushing her experiment away from her, sharply aware of what is coming next.
the nameless man clumsily stumbles backwards in confusion, his drunk-fucked mind still unaware of the cause of the chaos. then another shot rings through the room, and he ceremoniously falls to his knees.
she sees lloyd graciously walking toward them, the crowd parting around him. a shit eating grin beams from under his 'stache.
"come'on, princess," his scolding tone is doused in honey as he considers the man under him. without hesitation, he pops another shot into the man's back before looking back up. "you know the rules." she doesn't pay any mind to the violent act, used to his outspoken actions.
she gives lloyd an innocent shrug, emphasizing her considerable cleavage that's now shining with sweat from the hot atmosphere of the (once) crowded club. "you said rules are made to be broken." she calmly smoothes out her short dress, ignoring his heated stare, pretending to make sure there aren't any unruly blood stains from her temporary partner-in-crime.
"so...what was this," he waves his gun around the fallen soldier, "little tantrum about, hm?" she hated how he talked to her like a child, always cooing and using easy words just to piss her off.
"the fact you don't know fuckin' proves my point!" she whines, pouting childishly under his gaze. "it's like you go through our relationship completely fucking blind, only caring when you feel like it!" he takes a swift step closer, taking her by surprise as he fully grabs her by the throat.
his words seethe through clenched teeth as he pulls her close enough for his forehead to touch hers, "look, baby, i've tried to be cordial with you, but now you're just being a brat." she can feel blood throb through her head as his grip tightens. "i don't know what crawled up your ass! i can't read your fucking mind!"
she squirms in his hold, weakly kicking against his shins, "you ignored me! you chose work over me!" her voice rasps out against his hand, but she's barely phased by her positioning. "you don't fucking love me!" his hand briskly releases her, leaving her a panting mess on her knees in front of him.
"you think i don't love you just 'cuz i wouldn't fuck you into the desk while i was on a call?"
"it was never an issue before..."
he sighs, realizing this is just another blip in their relationship that really doesn't matter. "honey, i actually have work to do. this isn't some hollywood fairytale where this money appears outta thin air."
she scrunches her nose at his condescending tone, finally having enough of this power play for the night. "obviously i knew that! i'm not fucking dumb, lloyd." she stands back up, trying to size him up even though he's quite a bit taller than her.
"well, if you knew it, then what's the fucking problem? why are we even discussing this." he groans, clearly done with the pointless argument.
"oh okay, so since you don't have a problem with it, there isn't one?"
"that's not what i said."
"whatever, lloyd. i'm done." she turns to the dark emptiness of the club, enjoying the finality of her heels echoing through the room.
a dark chuckle blooms from behind her, "yeah, that's not happening."
she turns her head over her shoulder with a snarky smile, movements not stopping, "uh-yeah, i think it is."
she spoke too soon.
as he clears his throat, every exit is swiftly blocked by one of his men, all dressed in thick black uniforms.
"no. i don't think it is.” she looks back, watching him fiddle with the gun in his hands as he stares her down, “why don’t you come back here, and sit nicely in front of daddy?” there’s a bout of silence between the couple, tensions rising as they both anticipate who’s going to make the first move.
she silently shakes her head, trying to hang on to her last strand of defiance. he tilts his head with frustration, “how about this: sit down like a good puppy or i’ll fuck your throat raw.”
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In 1995 Steve gets the invite to his first high school reunion. He and Eddie talk about it and decide to go. After all, Steve hasn't seen any of his former school friends in years and wants to know how they're all doing...but more importantly he wants to see their faces when they see who he's unlawfully married to. Because he's a snarky lil' shit when he wants to be.
Eddie agrees to tag along as his plus one, promising he'll behave. Steve doesn't promise a thing though. They meet up with a lot of people they'd both forgotten about, making genuinely pleasant small talk for a while, and after Eddie makes a break for drinks, Steve suddenly comes face to face with Tommy and Carol.
---------------------------------------------
Tommy's been working in some high flying banking job since he left college, courtesy of his dad, and he's not ashamed to say that he makes the big bucks now. Carol's pregnant with their second, and is now at the stage where she's constantly exhausted, but the funny thing is that they both rake their eyes over Steve like they want to devour him. He looks good. Happy.
It's at this point that Munson, of all people, make his entrance, interrupting with a 'sorry Stevie, all they have is this weird punch thing and I'm like mostly sure it's not even alcoholic'.
Tommy gives him a look. 'Munson,' He says, 'didn't think you graduated with us.'
The tone is sly and bitchy, but Eddie just waves him off, completely unbothered. It's Steve that reaches for Eddie's hand, beams a smile at him and says 'He's my plus one, man. Been together 9 years now, crazy how time flies, huh? '
It's only a barest moment of a second where Tommy's face crumples in on itself, but he regains composure quickly. 'Oh, right.' He says, trying for even footing in the conversation because what the fuck, Steven, 'So what do you guys do for work then?'
'I don't.' Steve said, cheerfully. 'Eddie's band more than pays the bills though, we've just gotten back from the European leg of the tour. So this...' he gestures to the room, '- is great timing for us.'
Munson's lost interest already, too busy scanning the room for whatever losers he used to hang out with. He's never liked Tommy, so it tracks. Tommy's never liked him either, the weird freak that he is...was. He has more tattoos though, Tommy can see one winding up and around his neck, and on the back of his hands. He briefly wonders whether he's got more, but tables that thought for never.
Tommy's brain was already working overtime. He didn't think that Steve had changed that much, but he's one of them? Munson, sure. That was pretty standard, even before everyone thought he was a serial killer. Hell, there was probably still graffiti with his name and the services he 'offered' on it somewhere in the building. But Steve? He times back into the conversation, hoping he's not missed much.
'-the same band, different name.' Munson's saying. 'Probably not your sort of music though, Hagans-'
'Yeah but loads of people have heard the new single, Eds. It's in the top ten.' Steve interjects, all fucking heart eyes. He turns back to them and sings the tune of something that sounds actually kind of familiar.
'Wait that's you?' Carol squeaks. 'Tyler, my brother Tyler, is like obsessed with that song, I swear on my life.'
Munson just shrugs, like her opinion is beneath him, and Tommy's blood boils. Munson's always been able to get under everyone's skin, without even trying, but Carol's his wife and there's no way he's standing for that.
But Munson's not paying him any attention, he's scribbling on a piece of paper and handing it over. 'If he wants it,' He says, 'your brother I mean.'
Then he's looking across the room and his face lights up. 'Danny P!' He yells, making a break for it and grabbing some unsuspecting guy around the shoulders, spinning him like he's a ballroom dancer. Steve's left holding his drink, but doesn't seem to mind. He just laughs, and gives Tommy an absent kind of nod. And that hurts more than anything.
'Good to see you man.' Steve says, and that's that. He follows Munson across the room and watches as he's introduced to some guy Tommy doesn't even remember.
Carol's left holding Munson's signature, his fucking autograph, like she's been frozen stiff.
'Holy shit.' She says, not even looking up at her husband. 'Tyler's gonna freak.'
Tommy doesn't even think about it for days later, until he's at work of all places. He's sitting in his office, scanning through the newspaper while he waits for his next meeting. He's certainly not expecting to see Munson's face taking up half a page in the entertainment section, with a couple of vaguely familiar faces.
CORRODED CONSCIENCE RETURN FOR ONE-OFF GIG ON HOME TURF!
He scans through the article, the usual bullshit of talking the band up, how it's good to be home, yada yada yada, but it's the caption under the picture that makes him pause.
CC (left to right): Gareth Jones (drums), Jeff Springer (guitar), Violet Cooper (vocals), Dani Jackson (bass) and Eddie Harrington (guitar).
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