#patrick has a right to kill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

losersiren · 8 days

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𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

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emptyjunior · 1 month

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It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷��♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

#dune #paul atreides #lady Jessica #dune movie #dune Frank herbert #dune 1984 #movies #scifi #kyle maclachlan #david Lynch #films

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ghostfacesvalentine · 13 days

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Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

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aviawrites · 7 days

Text

when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be u love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in.

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.”

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?”

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, ��Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here.

After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash.

Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're going the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over.” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.”

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long time. A long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that the life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please

just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers imagine #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson challengers #patrick zweig challengers #challengers film #tashi duncan fic

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omegalomania · 1 year

Text

the full apple music interview with zane lowe is out! we got snippets of it when love from the other side dropped, but they finally rolled out the full thing. here are some highlights that stood out to me :)

patrick describes pete's lyrics as what gets him out of bed in the morning. if pete doesn't send him lyrics, he doesn't write a song.

andy and pete used to draw fake snake tattoos on each other using magic markers as kids omg?

so evidently patrick was the one who got covid during hella mega tour. and he hated it and he was miserable and that's when he called neal avron about the new record lmao

patrick says that joe was hesitant at first and he was the one who said that for this record he wanted to make something that they could all savor and spend time on and patrick was immediately on board with that

pete says patrick's job is to interpret him because pete calls his mentality a "little bit off" but patrick is capable of understanding him and translating it

patrick describes his and pete's creative relationship as "twin speak." it's not linear and it's like living in his brain a little bit. he calls it the "weirdest thing i've ever seen" when pete can just Tell that some words that patrick adjusted weren't ones he wrote despite not remembering writing them. patrick says he's gotten better at connective tissue and knowing how pete would say things

pete: back in the day patrick was like, "what's the difference between cry and weep i will KILL YOU. THEY'RE THE SAME THING. I'M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT NOW."

zane says patrick's vocals are next level for this album. pete agrees that he kills it on this album and said he never would've expected that voice coming from him when they first met. zane says patrick could sing a recipe and it would be good. he then passes patrick a recipe and patrick. sings it???

patrick: i'm not gonna belt it. (starts belting) NINE INCH PIE PLATE ROLLING PIN

patrick says that pete doesn't mean to have rhythm to his words but there's a rhythm to them all the same and patrick can find this syncopation in his words and thinks it's amazing

more talking about patrick and pete's Magical Mystical Transcendent Soul Bond. patrick says "if we were one guy, we'd be an INCREDIBLE DUDE"

patrick and pete say that interviews with all four of them are hard because it's chaos and everyone's talking at once but it all makes perfect sense to them and no one else. zane says that sounds like fun flkjdfd [i agree please do this more it's a joy]

pete says joe really stepped up and wrote a lot for this record!

patrick: "joe is kind of a conundrum because he's this really talented...he's a brilliant writer, a brilliant player, but pete and i became the "team" and it wasn't really a plan, but that's just kind of how it happened. [brief tangent about the hiatus] we come back from the thing and joe is this fully-formed writer with a very distinct - he has one of the most distinctive writing voices. when i hear his parts, when i hear his ideas, i could pick them out of a crowd. like i know the way joe writes, and it's VERY joe." part of the process with post-hiatus was integrating him into the writing process more.

discussing the hiatus and fame and pete says his life kind of "blew up" and took it pretty hard. apparently during production for folie paparazzi actually broke down the gate to neal avron's house

patrick goes on a big tangent about how bad things got during the height of pete's fame. "part of my role is to tell his story. i'm a composer. that's what i like to do. i work on movies, i work on shows, and i work on pete. pete has a story that needs music, and if he's removed from himself, if he's not even able to access himself because he's behind all of this stuff, i don't have a story! so not only did i not have my buddy, which was heartbreaking in its own way, but then i also don't have a purpose as an artist."

patrick says that andy is always ready to play but when you get him happy to play, it's another level

"and trohman, there were these moments where he...he got so excited."

patrick describes writing what a time to be alive as wanting to write the saddest, most desperate song you could hear at a wedding. pete bursts into laughter and calls it "so twisted"

talking about other endeavors outside the band - patrick talks about composing and said joe's been super busy with his book and writing for tv and because there are so many deadlines for stuff like that, it's what hammered home to him that fall out boy needs to not be that. "there's something special about this that can't be...this has to be passionate and art."

discussing how scared patrick was of his own voice while the band took off. patrick was really scared of the song saturday at first because there are some really exposed vocal moments. he describes saturday as a song where everyone in the band lets each other go for it.

zane calls fall out boy the "emo blueprint" and says they were unapologetic in being emotional. patrick immediately says, "that was pete. i don't think we could've done that without him." he and joe were basically kids and patrick was too anxious to talk on stage.

zane says, "i remember interviewing you in the early days and i felt like every time i asked you a question i was bullying you." pete IMMEDIATELY loses his shit.

"in another life where i didn't have a pete...cause saturday, i did write most of that by myself...so there's a world where that song exists without the band. there's no world where i sing it in front of people without pete."

pete says every night before they put out a new song he calls patrick up and gets really scared and wants to back out and patrick talks him down every time

they talk about how scary it was when arm's race released and performing it at the amas. patrick starts laughing rly hard as they get into how there were giant crickets on stage and the crowd was just stone-faced and utterly nonresponsive and their stage manager was utterly panicked

towards the end patrick really loosens up and starts swearing more dlkfjdfd

#fall out boy #*making poasts #they kept being SO SWEET ABOUT EACH OTHER LIKE. I CANT HANDLE IT #patrick and pete are like lets tell everybody about our magical soulbond for 1 hour straight. thanks guys.

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mothellie · 1 month

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I think the Duffer Brothers' history with racism in their show goes a lot deeper than a lot of people realize.

Lucas as a character has three distinct B plot stories that get assigned to him: being a minor antagonist to Eleven in season one, being a good friend to the rest of the Party, and being in love with his girlfriend. While Mike's plot is directly centered around two of the most pivotal characters of the show, Dustin is given two different role model characters that shape his arc and is overall the genius that helps the rest of the cast get out of several difficult situations, Will still being connected to the Upside Down after his disappearance in 1983 and that playing into several major plots, Max having a multitude of centric storylines especially in season four and Eleven literally being THE main character- Lucas is only ever given plots that help serve and uplift the other (white) characters. Unless you count him... playing basketball and being friends with Jason. I guess?

Erica is similar to Lucas, but to a much larger degree. I'd like you reading this to think of any single Erica standalone plot in the show that has nothing to do with/does not predominantly or solely benefit the white characters around her. I'll wait.

The Sinclair parents are only touched on in brief sections for the sake of filling the episodes, only ever playing a more major role in Season Four. If you could call it that. I'm sure most of you couldn't even tell me their names off of the top of your heads. (It's Charles and Sue, by the way.)

Argyle was the first somewhat major character of color to be introduced to the show after Erica played her part in season three. I could say similar things about his role in the season overall that I can about Lucas and Erica. Except they set him up to play a bigger role in the next season at the end of season four, going as far as to show him in Hawkins and have Jancy verbally allude to him sticking around, only for the show heads to ghost Eduardo Franco and let him find out he wasn't being brought back through an official social media cast photo.

Kali was a former subject from the same lab El came from, having escaped and subsequently began to lead a vigilante life of enacting revenge on those who played a hand in her suffering. She was the first subject El ever met after leaving the lab, shown to be incredibly powerful and strong-willed. Her and El had an immediate connection, calling themselves sisters right after meeting. But after El was finished with her self-discovery period on the S.S. Kali Gang for one (1) often-forgotten and poorly-written episode, Kali was quite literally abandoned both in spirit and on screen, never to be seen or even mentioned again.

All other characters of color are either killed violently (Patrick), have like ten minutes of screentime total (Jeff and Calvin Powell), or are just straight up background only and may not even have names.

They can dedicate an entire section of season four's plot to Suzie's family, but not to genuine character development for Erica or for Kali to return. They can make room for a whole pointless predatory plot between Billy and Karen, but not to give a more important role to the Sinclair parents. They have room to include a whole plot about El getting bullied in school, but not for Lucas to have a more meaningful story outside of his white friends and girlfriend. They can platform three known white zionists while Palestine currently undergoes a gruesome genocide even as I type this, but they don't have room for Argyle in season five (or even the decency to give Eduardo a fucking phone call).

Not only do the Duffers constantly write themselves into holes because they keep adding unnecessary fodder to the plot, and refuse to kill ANY of their main characters in favor of just creating new characters for the sake of killing them off in mediocre ways despite the fact that they're trying to fit 20+ B plots into 8-9 40-50 minute episodes per season and wondering why half their show doesn't make sense- The time they DO dedicate to character-specific B plots and character arc progression visibly favor the white characters.

If I watch S5, and that's a huge if, I will be sailing the high seas. Between all of this, the fact that they filmed part of season four in an old Nazi prison and tried to turn it into a fucking AirBNB, and the fact that at least four people who play major roles in the show actively support the current genocide of Palestine- I won't be giving them (or Netflix for that matter) another cent of my money.

While you're here, please do your completely free daily click to send aid to Palestine, and here's a list of other resources for how to help more directly.

#♡ · 𝘀𝗵𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗽 𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿 #stranger things #free palestine #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #charles sinclair #sue sinclair #argyle stranger things #kali prasad #patrick mckinney #jeff stranger things #calvin powell #anyway excuse me im gonna go put these characters in an ungodly amount of fics #it's what they deserve

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issdisgrace · 6 months

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Slashers with a person who uses comedy to cope with stressful situations? Like cracking jokes when they literally just fell down the stairs or nearly just got mugged and makes a pun out of it. Specifically Asa or Jesse please I’m desperate for them. Please and thank you 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

SLASHERS WITH A S/O THAT USES HUMOR TO COPE

WARNINGS: None

ASA

At first Asa was put off by the fact that you used humor to cope. But slowly over time it became a weird thing he loved about you. Also your way of coping rubbed off a little on him and on the rare occasion he will crack a joke or two about him being an orphan.

Bo will forever give you the side eye when you use humor to cope. It doesn’t matter how long you are togeather. He will always think that you using humor to cope is weird. But his mindset is very why joke about when you can just not in-knowledge it and push it deep down inside.

JESSE

Jesse is very much of a toss up. At times he doesn’t care about the fact you use humor to cope. And can/will find your jokes about whatever situation funny. But then other times he is worried that you use humor to cope because it isn’t a all to health coping mechanism. And will ask you if your alright or to stop.

LESTER

Lester doesn’t mind that you use humor to cope. In fact Lester is right there with you using humor to cope. Lester really started using humor to cope when he realized that his parents hitting him and his brother was not normal. It helped him a lot to deal with the abuse and it still does to this day.

MICHAEL

Michael quite literally doesn’t pay any attention to the fact you use humor to cope. He met a couple of people when he was in the Smith’s Grove that used humor to cope with the fact they were in the sanitarium.

OTIS

Otis is no stranger to using humor to cope with things. When he was a child that was how he coped with a lot of things. But then as he got older he started using torturing and killing people as a way to cope with things. So he doesn’t mind at all about the fact you use humor to cope with things.

PATRICK

Patrick doesn’t notice at all. He is in his own little world. He probably won’t even catch on to you using humor to cope unless someone directly says something about. And even then he kinda just shrugs it off and is like eh everyone copes differently.

THOMAS

This poor baby doesn’t understand at all. He has never been exposed to people using humor cope with stressful/difficult situations. So he is really really concerned for you. He sits you down is like why are you joking about this, this isn’t funny. You need to stop.

VINCENT

Vincent doesn’t bat an eye at you using humor to cope at first. But then you continuously use humor to cope with stressful and/or difficult situations. And he becomes concerned to the point he sits you down is like please stop baby it’s not healthy way to deal with your emotions all the time.

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badnewswhatsleft · 4 months

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scanned the little patrick interview from kerrang winter 2023<3

transcript under cut:

Patrick Stump’s mum is a methodical accountant who likes to plan ahead and think things through. She would bestow this organisational wisdom upon her son when he was growing up. When his band Fall Out Boy got signed, however, thereby kick-starting one of the most exciting trajectories of the past 20 years, Mrs Stump quickly realised there were limits to what she could assist him with.

“She said to me, ‘I can’t help you anymore - you’re beyond my area of expertise,’” Patrick recalls with a laugh.

In the years since, there has been no end of through-the-looking-glass moments for Fall Out Boy, a litany of incredible achievements highlighted by the ever-growing shows the Chicago four-piece - completed by bassist Pete Wentz, guitarist Joe Trohman and drummer Andy Hurley - have played. It’s an upscaling Patrick admits he still can’t fully process.

“I’m probably never going to get used to it, and I think I��m at peace with that,” he admits, taking time out backstage at Hamburg’s Barclays Arena on the band’s epic So Much For (Tour) Dust jaunt, which recently visited the UK.

Thankfully, Fall Out Boy will be back on these shores next summer, having been announced as headliners for Download Festival 2024, alongside Queens Of The Stone Age and Avenged Sevenfold. The news has given Patrick cause to reflect upon the pivotal shows and tours that have made FOB the band they are today, with a self-deprecating appraisal of the good times and the bad, the tiny gigs and the Hella Mega ones.

“A lot of my life makes sense to me, where I understand the various points of what happened and why, but there are moments with the shows we’ve played that make no sense at all,” Patrick reflects. “You go to arenas and they have pictures in the hallway of all the big artists that have played there, then they’ll have pictures of us, which sticks out to me!”

THE BAND’S FIRST-EVER SHOW AT DEPAUL UNIVERSITY CAFETERIA, 2001 “We were playing with some pretty cool math-rock and emo bands. When we got out there, we were horrible - I mean really terrible - and there were about three or four people there. I can’t remember what our band name was at the time - it wasn’t Fall Out Boy, and we were tossing some names around. I remember suggesting one of the names we had in mind to the drummer in one of the other bands and him telling me it sucked. We had a guitar player who I’d only met the week before and I’ve never seen since. I hope he’s doing good things. I heard he became a bike messenger. I cannot imagine a humbler beginning for a first show!”

FALL OUT BOY’S FIRST GIG WITH ANDY HURLEY, 2003 “I think it was with Andy’s other band, The Kill Pill. Andy played in both bands that night. It was a bigger show for us, opening for [Florida melodic hardcore band] As Friends Rust, and we didn’t have a guitar player, so I was playing guitar. It was weird because we were playing some newer songs, which stood out, so it felt like we’d started to actualise the band. I’m a drummer originally, so I was picky about drummers. But when we played with Andy, it was the first time that it felt right. I remember saying to a friend of mine who was there at the time that we were still a bad band then, and she said, ‘You guys couldn’t see it, but even then, it felt like the beginning of something.’”

THE FIRST UK TOUR, 2004 “One thing I remember was going to a Mexican restaurant, ordering tacos, and being unable to describe the things that arrived at the table - and not in a good way. That first UK tour was with Mest, and it was surreal. I think that might have been the first time I’d ever left the States, so going to another country felt like a big deal. When I got there, I realised the UK is similar in a lot of ways - particularly thanks to our shared musical history. One difference was that the venues all felt so much more punk rock than those in the States, with an unhinged basement vibe, which surprised me but was also thrilling.”

HEADLINING DECAYDANCE FEST AT THE HAMMERSMITH APOLLO, 2007 “I look back on some moments and realise they were bigger than I noticed at the time. The other bands on that bill - Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, The Academy Is…, Cobra Starship - were all bands we’d played with a lot before that and were friends with, so at the time I thought, ‘Every show we do is Decaydance Fest!’ Then that moment in time was gone and I soon realised that it was crazy that we were able to get all those people together to do that show. You don’t necessarily realise you’re part of a thing when you’re part of a thing, so when I think back now, I’m amazed.”

THE LAST GIG BEFORE GOING ON HIATUS AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, 2009 “It was such a strange show. I had checked out at the time, and was busy thinking about solo stuff, but really I just wanted to make lots of music. One of the things that was crippling was making a record and then going on the road for two years to promote the record. For me, making records is what’s important, so the grind of having to make them so slowly was killing me. I was therefore in a bad space with the band. I think we were out with +44, and I remember Mark [Hoppus] shaving Pete’s head onstage. Pete had the famous haircut and that was the end of it. It was kind of a joke to do that, but it ended up proving to be fairly symbolic, as it really was the end to that whole moment.”

FALL OUT BOY’S FIRST GIG BACK AT SUBTERRANEAN, CHICAGO, 2013 “The whole thing happened so fast and so suddenly! We had a meeting in New York. The four of us met at our manager’s apartment and we talked about maybe getting together and seeing what happened. It was tense, actually, as we hadn’t talked to each other in a long time and there were all these old grievances - but there was also this sense that we were older and wiser. We put together some songs, and one of them was My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up). On the morning of the show, we appeared on a radio show and the whole station felt excited about the song. It felt like the beginning of a rollercoaster. That night, when we played Light Em Up, a song people could only have heard hours ago, the room exploded!”

CO-HEADLINING THE MONUMENTOUR WITH PARAMORE, 2014 “That was one of my favourite tours! Andy and I would do a drum-off, so we got to play together, which was a full-circle thing for me, as I had never got to play drums in front of people with the band before then - so that was fun! I remember thinking on that tour that we were really getting somewhere as a band. Our first show, we were a pretty bad band. For a while in the early days, we wrote better than we played, and we thought better than we wrote. But as time passed things really came together. That tour was a point where we felt that we were really getting somewhere. Plus, the audiences were great on that tour - incredibly excited and giving.”

HEADLINING WRIGLEY FIELD BASEBALL STADIUM IN CHICAGO, 2018 “When I was a kid, the height of my ambition was to play the [1,100-capacity] Metro in Chicago. I never thought in a million years that we’d get to play Wrigley Field - I didn’t even know that bands played there. It’s not a venue, it’s where the Cubs play. I’m still in disbelief that we’ve now played it three times! That doesn’t make any sense to me. The first time we did it was terrifying, but also familiar. We used to have an apartment in Roscoe Village, which is walking distance from Wrigley Field. I remember Pete and I writing [2003 single] Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy together, then we went jogging around Wrigley, and a group of drunk Cubs fans shouted ‘Fucking losers!’ at us. Being inside that structure years later, singing that song, was therefore so surreal.”

HAVING A FREDDIE MERCURY EXPERIENCE HEADLINING READING & LEEDS FESTIVAL, 2018 “I think about that regularly. I’m not a natural performer. I used to act, so I could act as a character, but I couldn’t really be me and sing onstage - that never used to be comfortable for me. I have this very specific memory of This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race. There was this part where I sling my guitar to the stage and I’m just singing and having the crowd sing with me. The way they responded at that point made me suddenly think, ‘Oh, I can do this!’ I remember running towards the audience with the microphone and the life that came back at me just blew me away. When you have an audience like that, you’re Freddie fucking Mercury! I think about that on an almost daily basis when we’re on tour. That song has a whole different life now because of my experiences at Reading & Leeds.”

PLAYING THE HELLA MEGA TOUR WITH GREEN DAY AND WEEZER, 2022 “I couldn’t have been more obsessed with a band than I was with Weezer in 1998-’99, when I was in high school. Then, years later, they’re your buddies and you’re playing with them and they’re playing some of your favourite songs ever. That is so strange. One of my musical origin stories was in fifth grade, when this kid in the middle of class beckoned me over. We snuck under a table, and he puts headphones on me and he plays Dookie. I was like, ‘What is this?!’ On that tour, Billie Joe Armstrong said I was a really good singer. I’m still recovering from that.”

#patrick stump #fall out boy #andy hurley #joe trohman #pete wentz #time capsule #read the charts #yaaay patrick crumbs <3 #biggest takeway is that he likes when audiences are excited #so if yall have GA standing tix to a fob show and all ur doing is standing there i will come to your location to shake you by the ankles.#/jk obviously but just barely.

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 10 months

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U.S. President Joe Biden on Tuesday will honor Emmett Till, the Black teenager whose 1955 killing helped galvanize the Civil Rights movement, and his mother with a national monument across two states.

Till, 14 and visiting from Chicago, was beaten, shot and mutilated in Money, Mississippi, on Aug. 28, 1955, four days after a 21-year-old white woman accused him of whistling at her. His body was dumped in a river.

The violent killing put a spotlight on the U.S. civil rights cause after his mother, Mamie Till-Bradley, held an open-casket funeral and a photo of her son's badly disfigured body appeared in Black media.

The national monument designation across 5.7 acres (2.3 hectares) and three sites marks a forceful new effort by the President to memorialize the country's bloody racial history even as Republicans in some states push limits on how that past is taught.

"America is changing, America is making progress," said the Rev. Wheeler Parker Jr., 84, a cousin of Till's who was with the boy on the night he was abducted at gunpoint from the relatives' house they were staying at in Mississippi.

"I've seen a lot of changes over the years and I try to tell young people that they happen, but they happen very slow," Parker said on Monday in a telephone interview as he traveled from Chicago to Washington to attend the signing ceremony at the White House as one of approximately 60 guests.

Tuesday marks the 82nd anniversary of Till's birth in 1941. One of the monument sites is the Roberts Temple Church of God in Christ in Chicago, where Till's funeral took place.

The other selected sites are in Mississippi: Graball Landing, close to where Till's body is believed to be have been recovered; and Tallahatchie County Second District Courthouse, where two white men who later confessed to Till's killing were acquitted by an all-white jury.

Signs erected at Graball Landing since 2008 to commemorate Till's killing have been repeatedly defaced by gunfire.

Now that site and the others will be considered federal property, receiving about $180,000 a year in funding from the National Park Service. Any future vandalism would be investigated by federal law enforcement rather than local police, according to Patrick Weems, executive director of the Emmett Till Interpretive Center in Sumner, Mississippi.

Other such monuments include the Grand Canyon, Statue of Liberty and the laboratory of inventor Thomas Edison.

Biden, an 80-year-old Democrat, will likely need strong support from Black voters to secure a second term in the 2024 presidential election.

He screened a film recounting the lynching, "Till," at the White House in February. Last March, he signed into law a bipartisan bill named for Till that for the first time made lynching a federal hate crime.

A Republican field led by former President Donald Trump has made conservative views on race and other contentious issues of history a part of their platform, including banning books and fighting efforts to teach school children accounts of the country's past that they regard as ideologically inflected or unpatriotic.

"This is an amazing, teachable moment to talk about the importance of this story as an American story that everybody can share in now, particularly at a time when people are trying to rewrite history," said Christopher Benson, president of the non-profit organization the Emmett Till & Mamie Till-Mobley Institute in Summit, Illinois.

“We have a memorial now that is not erasable. It can't be banned and it can't be censored, and we think that's a very important thing.”

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marchsfreakshow · 3 months

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Bloodthirsty And Lustful [James Patrick March]

SMUT.

You're a stressed out writer, and came to the cortez, James has been helping you ever since you got here. Now, after a nap, he wants to ask you your deepest desires. Maybe even help you let go.

Warning; this is the most unhinged smut you will ever read from me. This just came out of a dark place in my brain cause of a c.ai chat lol. Thank you to @babygorewhore for being a beta-reader for this <3

Actual warnings!: you like blood. Like, you really like blood. (Reader is really unhinged in this, please bare with) descriptions of organs, bones, skin layers, grinding, switch!reader & switch!JPM, PnV, riding, James lets you take off his neck velvet. Crud smut writing.

18+! MINORS DNI- READ MY SFW WORKS

No one's perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

James peered through the door to see you sitting on the bed, laptop on your lap, head in hands, and a pair of headphones thrown randomly across the room. You looked a mess, and James was worried you hadn't slept enough. Your novel had to be perfect! You needed to spend every moment writing! Every word needed to be up to standard. It drove you crazy and led you to fall asleep right then and there. Everything came crashing down when your headphones broke while taking them off. Instead of freaking out and crying, you just let out a sigh and threw them across the room.

The man stood there, staring at you while you slept, intently watching every unconscious move your body took. He wondered how on earth that odd device in your lap could cause you such problems. Wasn't it meant to make writing easier? Maybe so, but didn't stop the frustrations of wanting to write the next great American novel. It just worried him, and he kneeled by your side. Seeing how you breathed, how you gently gripped the pillow and your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. A dream or nightmare of something that has stressed you out.

"James." You whimpered in your sleep. It made the man jump back slightly before he walked to the other side of the bed, sitting by your side. Worries were overtaking your wonderous dream. James wanted nothing more than to kill who was hurting you in your beautiful mind.

The night went on, and you woke up slowly at whatever time. You couldn't tell, and you also didn't care. James was sitting on one of the chairs, occasionally looking over to you. The curtains were always closed, and the door barely stayed open. Lights were on, but dim. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, and the figure sitting in the chair was blurry. "Love, you're awake." He mentioned when he saw you sit up. You nodded in response. The ghost motioned you to come over, which you obliged despite not understanding much around you. Leather chairs were never comfortable. You were so comfortable in the bed, thinking about how to write, what to write and the deadline.

"What is it, James? I was so comfortable." Grogginess was the undertone in your voice, and you were unable to keep your eyes open. It felt like 2am or 3am. But what a ravishing man next to you. He sat up properly, posture still incredible even after death. Then you were curling up on the cold, leathery, old chair, hugging yourself.

"Dear...I want to talk to you."

"We can do that in the morning."

"No." His voice almost snapped and was rushed. "No...we're alone at this hour." Typical. The night was his favourite time to talk. Sure some people were still awake, but he knew how silent it was at 3am.

"Fine." You groaned slightly. "What did you want to talk abou-"

"Your desires. Your true wants, and needs." Sudden eye contact intimidated you and your sleepy eyes. Cue fiddling with your necklace, your own blood vial. The small amount of liquid rushed around in the vial, caused by your own finger. You never had anyone to do it with you.

You never said it creepily! All you asked your friends was if they wanted to share a blood vial because it was pretty. No one accepted. So you cut your finger. Your pinky on your non-dominant hand. It hurt, but only for a second. Seeing the blood slowly drip out, and the skin layers opening up so quick, it was invigorating for you. Opened up a deep fantasy, and morbid desire. One no one was ever told about. It was a secret to you, and maybe your stuffed animals. Was it that James was asking you to explore those fantasies with him? Impossible unless he could read minds. A secret fantasy like this always hid itself in the back of your mind, never to be found.

James noticed your darting eyes, your fiddling and laboured breaths. "Darling.." He trailed off, feeling your free hand softly, almost too soft. You felt the ghost-like touches (ha-) and your bloodshot eyes met his.

"James, you're..a murderer."

"...Well, yes. I have indeed told you that fact before. In fact, you were not as shocked as others. Humans are fascinating creatures." He chuckled, seeing the humour in your sentence.

Ah, a sentence that put you on edge. They are. Humans, with their layers, complexity. Humans with their need to have attention on them at all times, to create for others. All of it, it was all in your obsession. "Tell me about your interest my hummingbird. Nothing can be too much for me."

"Can I? Can I really?" You asked with a whisper, a slight glint appearing in your eyes. James nodded, and you immediately let loose. A dam breaking in half to bring in a flood. "Human bodies are so, fascinating." Your instant smile was almost manic like you lost your mind when your interest was mentioned.

"Medical shows seldom get it right. Scrubs does. They do it well."

"Have you, ever seen a body in real life? Not on these shows you mention?" James interjected. He wanted to ask you for details of your sick and morbid love for the dead. To see if his erection would get any harder. The thought of seeing you killing or exploring a body, covered in blood made James want to fall harder for you. Your crazy matched his crazy. Maybe more.

"No. It's...a dream though. Whether someone else cut open the body, or I cut them open...I've always wanted to dig around and feel what the organs feel like, hold a bloody bone in my hand..." You then go to bite my nails nonchalantly like you didn't just confirm your want for a morbid and murdering mind. He stared at you, something in his eyes. A sudden need to murder, and a flame of lust for you. Knowing someone shared his deep desires and could help each other, it made him want you more, But hid it with a breath.

"It's so fucking deranged! but the body is so complex. I want to study the tiny nerves and pick out the bones or organs I'm closest to. Having a fully empty body. Maybe even just having a skin and muscle body. It's just so, interesting." A sly smile reached you and almost made you giggle like a maniac. This sudden insanity made James light up.

"Come here." He beckoned you, and you submissively stood in front of him. But not 3 seconds later did he pull you down onto his lap, holding your waist. Gripping your skin, and nails digging into your sides. One more word from you about your loves, and he would have taken you right then and there. "You are, full of surprises my love."

Feeling him under you, you bit your lip and rested your head by his ear. "I bet your ghostly body is the most interesting. I wonder if there's anything different about a ghost body compared to an alive body." You gave in to what he wanted. He wanted to know everything. Every gory detail that your horrid brain could conjure up. Adding to your warm breaths on his neck, you gently traced around his chest, fiddling with his buttons, but never undoing them. Teasing James to hell and back.

James' breathing hitched slightly, before he took a hold of your face, and brought you close, noses almost touching. "Tell me. What else do you want to explore? Please."

You gazed at his lips before meeting his dark eyes once again, "Everything. I want to explode a heart. Maybe even open up organs, and see what makes a human tick. Take out the muscles, and bend them backwards. And, I want to knock open a skull. See what makes a human live. Unravel the brains, read what goes on." While talking, you occasionally moved your fingers to where you were talking, letting your fingers trace James' head and slicked back hair.

He shuddered as you moved around. Both his imagination and yours going crazy. You felt him twitch under you, and it was only a matter of time until he gave in to his lust. This urged you to carry on talking, to dig deeper into the fantasy that you forbade yourself from thinking about. "James?"

He whined out a "hm?" Eyes closed, and hands gripping onto the chair arms.

"give me a fresh body."

"wh.. what?" He spluttered before moving his hands around your torso. The way your soft skin moved in his hands, mouldable like putty.

"cover me in someone's blood. And let me taste the sweet iron on my tongue." The way you spoke felt sensual, and you ran your hands through his hair, the slicked-back threads being thrown in any and all directions.

It simply drove the man insane.

"Your wish is always my command my sweet bird." He was hungry. He wanted to devour your words while they were being choked out of you. He wanted to hear your cries for murder while he fucked you like nothing else mattered. "What, other things do you wish to see? How much depraved insanity can one handle?" James picked you up and almost threw you onto the bed.

First your shirt went, then your trousers. His clothing came next. "I have such an urge to kill. I want to see the way a human body dies." You sighed. His vest went in one direction, your bra went the other way. "How fire burns the skins and the muscles. I want to see a fresh slash open up the layers of skin. I want it all James."

The cold man on top of you hadn't even penetrated you, yet he felt like he was close to an orgasm. Hearing your insane wants and needs so close to his own. Using your depraved thoughts as a way to get him to fuck you was nothing but insanity. Craziness you could only tell him.

"I want to kill someone whilst you're inside of me. Is that crazy to want?" You confessed in a whisper, on your knees and undoing James' belt.

"Nothing is crazy my hummingbird. I'll happily oblige." He took your chin in his hand, doe eyes meeting his. The pure, slightly innocent look on your face made him closer and closer to bending you over and making you feel heaven. You reached your hand up to his velvet, but he hissed slightly and backed away. "Bunny..." He panted.

"I know it's sensitive, but can I see..it sir?" You asked, pressing kisses closer and closer to the wound that haunted James so. He felt frozen. You wanted to see something so, forbidden. Something he never let anyone see. Something that held a memory.

He took a deep breath before pushing his control back onto you. "My... you want something so...forbidden.." and you nodded intensely. He was only left in his velvet and boxers. Something had to go first, it had to be that dear fabric he wore so closely.

"I won't touch it, I promise. I just, fuck, I want to see neck layers, I want to see what nerves you had to cut for this to happen to you." You knew it was an odd choice, but he nodded after a few minutes of silence. He stiffened up as you reached behind his neck and pulled it off slowly. The man couldn't find words to describe the way he felt. Having someone be so, interested and obsessed with the way he died, almost wanting to have sex with him because of the fantasies they denied.

Your deep breaths felt warm against the cold cut, and you spoke before James had a chance to tell you to stop. "Oh, James. Oh, this cut is magnificent. So many layers..how much blood spilt out..?"

The question threw James off a bit, but nonetheless, he was happy to answer, getting closer to fucking you at every point. "More than you could imagine." He left his fingertips resting under your chin.

The words that left his lips almost tipped you over the edge, and you forced James to lie down on the bed. You were, once again, on top of him. This time, tugging at his boxers, and moving your own underwear to the side. Everything hit you like a freight train and you couldn't hold back anymore. Degenerate, depraved, blood fuelled sex. It was what you needed. To be filled by a killer you wanted to kill with.

Two pairs of hands unable to sort and fix themselves in one place, they had to move, they had to grip, scratch and trace. Two pairs of eyes focusing on eachother, unable to look away from the bloodlust you felt for the other.

It was rough, fast and hard. He moaned out for you louder than he had ever been before. You whimpered his name, desperate for a quick release. There were no other noises other than your lewd moans, until you stopped all of a sudden.

"Darling.." James whined slightly. Eyes slightly erratic, you held his face in your soft hands.

"I need you James. I need you eternally. To see you covered in the deep red of blood." The utmost eroticness of your words almost earned you a 'fuck' escaping from your partner below you.

Almost.

Instead he groaned, slapped his hands to your waist and thrusted upwards over and over. It was careless, but hard. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, letting your eyes nearly disappear up into your head. Moans were practically screams.

The thought of seeing you covered in blood, waiting for him to take you made the man desperate. Everything everyone else couldn't be. He was getting close and even more desperate for both you to come at the same time. It drove you over the edge as you finished faster than expected, and you sort of wrapped your hands around James' neck, then laid down the best you could while he was still inside you. He chuckled darkly and thrust inside of you once more, earning an almost pornagraphic moan from you.

Feeling paralyzed, you adjusted yourself so you were simply just laying ontop of James. Silence was the best sound at that moment, and he kept his hands placed on your waist. "Mine." He smiled against the crook of your neck.

"Especially because of my deranged, bloody thoughts?"

"Especially because of these beautiful thoughts you have."

You supposed James was your murdering partner now, and would help you fulfill the fantasies you desired for. A gentleman, yet a physcopath who used the bodies of those he killed. Everything about him shouldn't be so, handsome and you shouldn't want him the way you do. But a murdering gentleman is someone you couldn't refuse.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tagging;

@fear-is-truth @nahoyasboyfriend @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @tatelangdonsweater @lvxybby

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #james march #ahs hotel #smut #jpm #james march x reader #james Patrick march x Reader #james x you #jpm x reader #x reader #jpm smut #james Patrick March smut #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #im so nervous #pls reblog

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aalyssah · 4 months

Text

I’ll Find You

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst and Mentions of Killing.

Word Count: 1,805

Summary: Patrick overhears you telling a friend about a guy who kept asking you out and even following you home, so Patrick gets rid of him, which causes you to run away.

A/N: This isn't a sad, heartbreaking angst, but there's no happy ending. Hope You Enjoy!

It was 10:00 and your shift finally ended. You've been waiting all day to go home, and yes, you do love your job at the small coffee shop, but sometimes you're just ready to go.

You began cleaning up your area and putting everything back where they belonged. You were in the middle of stacking your cups when the sound of a clearing throat caught you.

You turned around to see your best friend, Kate. "Oh, hey Kate!" You greeted her, finishing up the cups. "You ready to go? We can walk home together." You nodded your head, untying your apron, and placing it on a hook. "Yeah, let's go." You grabbed your purse and walked out the building with Kate by your side.

You both walked side by side, talking about the types of customers you both had today. "Speaking of customers, who was the CUTE boy that came in, in the morning."

You thought back to all the people that came this morning and rolled your eyes once you figured out who she was talking about. "Oh, Ethan? Curly hair, brown eyes?" You asked, describing him.

Kate nodded her head eagerly. "Yeah! He was soooo into you. And he was totes flirting with you." Once again, you rolled your eyes at her. "He's nobody. He's just someone who came in and thought I was beautiful, and tried to get with me, but I rejected him."

Kate frowned. "I would feel bad for him cause he's cute, but he's gotta know who you're dating, right? Everyone knows!" She exclaimed the last part, and that's because everyone did know.

Patrick was one to show you off to any and everyone, making sure everyone knew who you belonged to and vice versa.

"I know, and I told him that! I told him that I was taken by Patrick Bateman, and guess what? He said he didn't care." Kate's mouth dropped open.

No one would dare say anything like that when talking about Patrick.

"What?" You nodded your head agreeing. "Yep, I kept telling him, but obviously he hasn't stopped. This has been going on for about 2 weeks now, but what he did the other day actually freaked me out so much."

Kate grew worried, hearing the slight tremble in your voice. She looked at you and saw how your attitude completely changed. "Hey, let's sit down for a sec." You followed her to a nearby bench, taking a seat.

Kate held your hand. "Talk to me. What did he do? He didn't hurt you, did he?" You quickly spoke up. "No! God no, I would never let him do that, but the other night when I was walking home from work, I thought someone was following me." You gulped.

Kate's eyebrows were furrowed down. "Following you? Did you see who it was?" You shakily replied, "Ethan. I knew it was him. He was wearing the same hoodie that he wore when he came to ask me out that morning. He was following me home, but I went into a grocery store, and luckily there was a lot of people, so I could escape without him seeing me, but that scared me a lot."

Kate looked angry, but sad. She couldn't believe what you were going through. "Did you tell Patrick? I'm sure he would-" You quickly cut her off. "No! I can't, he'll—I don't know what he will do." You sighed out.

This was too much on you so you stood up on shaky legs. "It's okay. Just, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm getting kinda tired." Kate gave you one last look and started walking with you.

She knew she couldn't say anything that would change your mind. You both continued to walk home until you reached your apartment complex.

You both gave each other a hug and off you went into Patrick's apartment. You opened the door with a sigh, placing your keys in a dish bowl and hanging up your jacket.

“Patrick, I'm home!" You called out expecting him to come around the corner with a cocky smile on his face, but it was silent. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Usually he's always at the door waiting for you, but today was different. "Pat?" You called out once more. You walked around the corner in the kitchen just to see Patrick leaning over the counter. “Patrick, I've been calling you!" You lightly scolded him.

He finally stood up tall, turning around revealing the tall bottle of scotch-whiskey. He was drinking straight out the bottle. "Patrick, why are you drinking whisk-" You stopped talking when Patrick looked at you with mad eyes.

"Please don't start tonight. Let's just go to bed." He simply replied, but you still tried to ask him. "Why in a rush? I just wanna know-” Just with you beginning to talk again had him mad.

He quickly slammed his hands against the island counter, yelling, “Damn it Y/n, I said let’s go to bed!” You jumped at his sudden outburst. You were quiet as you made your way to your shared room and changed into your pajamas.

As you both slid into bed Patrick pulled you close to his body, forcing you against him as if nothing just happened.

He was so tense, but why?

It was the next day and when you woke up Patrick was nice again. He even woke you up to a little surprise under the blanket, but all good things must come to an end, meaning you had to get up to go to work.

You left Patrick with a kiss, but before he left he said something that threw you off.

“Don’t expect a certain customer today. He’ll be gone.”

You were confused for only a second, but brushed it off not understanding what he was talking about.

All day you went to work, working like normal. Everything seemed normal, too normal. It was until the end of your shift when you realized you didn’t see a familiar face all day.

You were now walking home with Kate again, Kate scrolling on her phone as you thought about Ethan. “Y’know Ethan never came by today.” Kate hummed. “Feels kinda weird. I guess I got used to him.”

Kate looked at you smiling. “What, do you like him or something.” You awkwardly laughed. “Hell no. It’s just weird that he wasn’t here today. Hope he’s okay.” Kate dropped the conversation, once y’all got to the apartment complex. “See you tomorrow.” You both said your goodbyes and up to your apartment you went.

This time when you walked through the door Patrick was on the couch drinking some water. He looked back at you and smiled. “Baby! How was work?” You let out a sigh. “ Exhausting, I’m so ready to lay down.”

Patrick chuckled, patting a spot next to him. “Come sit. Let’s watch the news.” You didn’t question him, slipping your shoes and jacket off before making your way to him.

You watched the news for a little bit, listening to the Weatherman tell y’all about the weather for the week. You got up, going to the kitchen to look for a snack when you heard the news.

“Another topic of the day, a man named Ethan Jones has been found in an alleyway near a small coffee shop. Police said he was killed with 27 stab wounds with a knife and a carving of the letter ‘P’ on his balls…”

After hearing the opening of the story you took a quick peek at the TV and to your surprise, it was Ethan’s face. The same boy that flirts with you daily at the shop.

“Oh my god, Ethan!” You yelled, giving your full attention to the TV screen. You looked at Patrick for a second only to see him looking at you, but with a smirk on his face? “Patrick, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked him.

You studied his eyes for a couple of seconds and that’s when a suspicion hit you. “Patrick, did you-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

There’s no way he knows about Ethan, you didn’t tell him and Kate sure as hell didn’t either. “What, kill him? If that’s what you’re asking then yeah. Yeah I did.” Your eyes grew wide when you took in his words.

You took a step back, feeling a little unsafe at his confession. “Patrick, are you joking because this isn’t the time to be joking.”

Patrick lowly chuckled, standing up from the couch, and walking towards you. “Why would I lie about murdering someone? Especially when they mess with my girl, and even follow her home.” You let out a small gasp hearing him.

How did he know?

“H-How did you know?” You meekly asked. “Got a small camera in your jacket. I can hear and see everything.” You looked over at your jacket on the coat hanger. Now everything made sense.

He was listening to the story you told Kate that night, and it was smart too because he knows that’s the only jacket you can wear to work.

You looked up at Patrick with no words to say, just too stunned. A quick idea came to mind. You don’t wanna be with a killer, who knows what he’ll do to you?

You looked around the apartment for a quick second, planning a distraction. “Okay, well how about this. You go pour us some wine and we can watch a marathon of scary movies as a celebration to no more Ethan!” A smile came to Patrick’s face at your suggestion.

Patrick didn’t say another word as he went to the kitchen and began getting wine glasses and a bottle of your finest wine out. You took the opportunity of a distracted Patrick to make a run for it.

You quickly turned around, fumbling with the door knob. Patrick instantly picked up on the sound of the knob jiggling and turned the corner to see you opening the door.

He made quick moves, running to you and attempting to grab your shirt collar, but it was too late. You were already taking off near the exit and down the stairs.

Patrick knew he couldn’t go after you, and all he could do was fall to his knees with a cry. “Y/n, please come back!” He cried loudly, not caring if his neighbors were sleeping.

His cries echoed around the hallway until he got up wiping his nose. “I’ll come for you, I swear I’ll find you and make you mine again. And you’ll never run away from me again.” He spoke deeply under his breath, going back in his apartment room and planning on his way to get you back.

No matter who he’ll kill, you’ll end up back in his arms.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman angst #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman smut #slasher angst

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cheynovak · 5 months

Text

Tale as old as time

Reader x Soldier Boy

Warnings: Well, it’s soldier boy. Where to start... Smut, Fluff, Drugs, Cursing, Voilence, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 6003 😮

POV: Y/N is Soldier Boys first girlfriend who turned into a supe not long after Soldier boy with compound V. Vought made her out to be his enemy, so he had no choice but killing her. But years later the boys discover she is still alive and maybe the only supe on this planet to take down Soldier boy and homelander.

Side note: Cursive text are memories

Have fun!

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

Pennsylvania: 1939

“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you going? Wait up!” Ben yelled at her trying to follow her but the crowd in at the fair made it difficult. Y/N ran towards the Ferris wheel, she looked back but didn’t see Ben following. “Got you!” He said while lifting her up turning around. ”BEN!” she screeched laughing. When he got her steady on the ground, she lifted her hands towards his neck kissing him on his cheek. “I need to go.” Ben said. “Can’t we at least have one last ride in the wheel?” She asked with big deer eyes. Defeated by her charm he nodded.

“Do you really have to go?” She asked with a soft voice. “It’s the only way to make my old man proud, sweetheart.” he said pulling her in his arms. “I don’t think this is the answer Ben, you could get hurt, or worse!” She really is worried about him he thought. “What? Afraid I find a new best girl?” He joked trying to lift the mood. She poked his ribs “Not funny! I serious Benjamin!” The wheel stopped and the two young love bird got out. As a true gentleman Ben brought Y/N home. They shared a kiss, the last one for a long time Ben thought. “Ben?” She looked up is his green eyes asking to follow her so she took his hand and leaded him behind the house towards the shed where her parents couldn’t see them. “You know I'm yours, right?” He nodded. “Will you make yours tonight?” She asked clearly looking shy. Ben’s eyes grew big. “Are, are you sure?” He asked. She kissed him passionately in response. “Just, just take it slow, ok?”

Y/N woke up startled, looking over at Patrick, her fiancé. Who was still deep asleep. So, she quietly got out of bed and got to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Why the hell did that memory sneaked up in her dreams. Probably the nerves for the wedding she thought. No one has seen Ben in ages, he is probably gone or much like herself had found love and settled down. But she couldn’t help herself got to the spare bedroom and pull up the old shoe box with pictures and other memories. There was one picture of Ben, fully dressed in his “Soldier boy” costume. God, she hated that helmet, made it impossible to see those cute freckles. After looking at his eyes for who knows how long she got herself back in bed. Lifting Patrick’s arm and hugging him. He mumbled something unrecognisable and pulled her closer.

The next morning Y/N was extremely tired, she didn’t get any sleep anymore last night. “Good morning beautiful.” Patrick kissed her on her cheek as he did every morning. They had breakfast, he kissed her before he got to work. Patrick was a lawyer he made enough money to take care for the two of them. So, when they officially began dating, he asked Y/N to be a housewife. He meant well, he knew her backstory and thought she deserved some peace. She agreed, but after last night she had this hinge that maybe she wasn’t born to be a housewife.

But the dream couldn’t stop the daily tasks. Y/N grabbed her purse and drove to the grocery store. When she came back, she noticed someone was inside her house. She quickly grabbed the gun from the glove box and went inside the house via the back door. Her house was a mess, cabinets open, shelfs empty... One of the skinnier men came down. “Oh god! Oh god. Please don’t shoot! BUTCHER, she is home!” He yelled before Y/N knock him out with the gun. The other two man came running down both holding a gun. “Listen I don’t know what you two idiots think you’re doing, but you picked the wrong house buddy!” Y/N said. “Now drop the gun!”

“Oi, were not looking for any trouble princess.” He said lowering his gun.” Or should I say Ms. Y/N Frances Wilson.” He smirked saying your name, your true birth name, you haven’t heard in years. “How do you...know?” she looked shocked. Butcher and MM started to explain they were looking for something to kill Homelander and possibly Soldier Boy. And that Annie found secret records at Vought that stated that you were the only person who ever won a fight against Soldier boy.

“Wait, wait you’re telling me Ben is still alive?” You looked at Hughie since he was the only person in the room you seemed to trust a little. “Oh, we’re on first name basis?” The annoying British fella said. Y/N gave him a dead stare side eye. “Listen buddy, if you have my records, you know that “Soldier boy” and I go way back. Y/n said pissed.

“Oh my god! What happened here! Y/N are you ok?” Patrick walked through the door. “Who are you?!” he looked over at the men. “Honey, it’s ok these are... who are you again?”

Hughie explained everything to Patrick who looked at him with fear in his eyes. “Baby, If these supes really are that dangerous, we need to help them.” “Pat, I promised you I would never, ever enter that life again.” She looked at MM “I will tell you all I know on Soldier boy. But that’s it. I’m no supe anymore” - “Well, that’s just utter bull shit isn’t. The 1st badge of fucking Russian compound V is running through your veins.” Butcher said. “No, no, no, you are coming with us princess. If we know where to find you so will Homelander.” “Let him come, I doubt that, that clown in a cape is much worth.”

“Against you, maybe.” MM said. “But what with Patrick?” With a heavy heart you agreed to go with the boys. In the car her thoughts drifted away.

WW2 ended, Ben was coming home, the town made sure he would get a parade. Y/N was nervous it had been a few years. Sure, he did send her letters every now and then, but as time moved on, she received less and less until the communication stopped completely. In one of the first letters, he had sent a picture of him fitting his costume. He looked proud, with a great smile. It had her fall in love all over again. Y/N stood at the back of the sidewalk, watched as Ben drove by waving at the people. He saw her, she knew, he grinned but made sure the other people there wouldn’t notice. Y/N went home after the parade, while she was painting her nails her mom called her. “Sweetheart, get dressed, Benjamin called, he is picking you up for dinner with his folks.” Your heart pounded, he didn’t forget you. You mother thought you were a madwoman not to date nice decent men while he was gone. She wanted her daughter to get married and start a family, like any other parent wanted in those times. And not to wait on a “superhero” who once liked her daughter, who now probably could have any woman.

Y/N chose a beautiful green dress that matched her curves, it was fitting but not tacky, her nails were boudoir red as were her lips and heels. Perfect contrast with her dress. The doorbell rang. Her father answered the door before she could came down the stairs. Ben was still wearing his costume, probably to impress your folks but thank God, he didn’t wear the helmet. He watched you come down the stairs. “Wow.” he said “breathtaking.” clearly impressed. He held your hand and helped you with the last steps. He kissed you soft on the lips. You were a little stunned by that move, because this was something he would have never done before he got to the army. Your parents were old school he knew that.

You got into the car, surprisingly he had a driver now. “My lady.” he said holding the door. At first the ride was silent. You stared at him. “Like what you’re seeing, sweetheart?” he grinned looking you up and down, it made you blush. “It’s just, you have changed so much and yet you haven’t.” “So have you.” The dinner wasn’t really a cosy gathering, Ben told his parents and you every detail. His dad wasn’t impressed with what his son had achieved.” You took a short cut. There were normal man fighting, those are hero’s not some pumped up boy who hasn’t achieved anything in this life.”

You could see Ben’s lip twitch. “Ben? I think it’s time for me to go home.” Y/N said to help him get out of the house. Once outside “Unbelievable, I did everything I could for that man and I’m still not good enough.” He kept rambling. “Ben, STOP!” He looked at you. “Stop with caring what your father thinks of you.” you said while taking his hand. “He doesn’t know you, not the way I do.”

“Hi, soldier boy.” Two girls giggled from a crossed the street waving at him. Ben answered their flirtations with an over-the-top grin and nod while he checked them out just a little to long for your liking. He turned back to you and saw your expression. “He kissed your cheek, don’t worry sweetheart you’re the one for me.” The car ride was silent once again you almost reach your parents house. “Can you pull over, right here? And give us a minute?” You asked the driver.

Ben looked at you, the second the driver got out of the car did Ben pull you closer to him and kissed you. Not a soft kiss, no, a passioned kiss his tongue aggressively asking for permission. His hands travelling from your neck over your breast kneading them. “Ben, is this really the best place?” Y/N asked while pulling back. Ben didn’t move back but moved his lips from your mouth to your neck. “You have a better idea sweetheart, was the shed a better place?” He asked out of breath, clearly aroused. You didn’t feel comfortable with his roughness. “Ben stop, please.” - “Oh, come on baby, don’t tell me you’ve didn’t dream of me. That you didn’t think of that night while you touch yourself.”

That was the line he crossed. “BENJAMIN STOP IT! Get off me! You yelled while slapping his face. Y/N got out of the car Ben shorty following her. “Y/N... Y/N! Stop I’m sorry.” he grabbed her arm. “Look at me sweetheart.” You turned around with tears in your eyes. “Oh baby, I'm sorry, it just, I just, it’s been a while.” You look at him shocked by his words. “You’ve changed Ben. You’re a brute. Maybe if you, I don’t know at least had a normal conversation with me before you started groping me.” - “What I, can’t touch my own girl?” - “Of course, you can, it’s the way you do it Ben, any other man...” But he didn’t let you finish. “Other man? Is there another man Y/N? Did you get the tasted of it after I left. Did you turn to someone else for pleasure.”

“I can’t believe you! I wanted to say: any other man would at least consider HER feelings.” He dropped his head understanding what she meant. “Goodnight Ben.” She said leaving him in the street. The next day he had to leave for another parade in a different city but not before he went to see Y/N.

Y/N’s dad answers the door “She doesn’t want to see you kid.” You hear him say. “Please Sir, I need to speak to her.” Ben sounded devastated. “Y/N! I know you’re here. Y/N I’m sorry! Please come talk to me.” - “Boy you are testing my patients, go away, I don’t know what happened last night, but she doesn't want to see you. - “Bullshit!” You heard Ben’s voice turn into anger. He pushed your old man aside an ran up the stairs. Y/N met him halfway standing taller than him. “Baby, please.” He said while hugging you, his head against your stomach. “I want you to go Ben.” Y/N said between her tears. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you are not the same man anymore. I want you to leave.”

‘Y/N no, you don’t mean it. Y/N please!

Y/N .... Y/N....’

Y/N!!!! Butchers voice leaps you out of the memory. “We’re here” Hughie smiled softy seemingly scared. Y/N didn’t know what it was but this kid, she liked him. He had something pure in his eyes. Once inside Y/N and Patrick meet the other members. They all seemed on edge.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” That voice... you slowly turned around. Ben was standing there in baseball shirt and sweatpants “Oh, god!” But before you could say more, he stormed towards you lifting you up by your neck. “I’ll ask again, what, is she, doing here?” Y/N wanted to answer but couldn’t without air. Ben looked for a second at Patrick, clearly not impressed by him. Y/N kicked Ben to his knee he let her go. But not without trying to hitting her. She luckily could avoid it and pushed him away. “I had no idea you would be here!” She said lifting her hands in the air. “You are the fucking commie that made me a lab rat!” - “Ben that’s not true! I tried to fucking save you from your so-called girlfriend!” - “Bullshit you helped them!”

“She is telling the truth, according to Voughts records did Noir and Countess quit the number on her. They left her a massive scar on her back. Before they shipped her back of to Russia, where you were held, a cargo she escaped.” Hughie said.

“It’s true Ben, when I heard what they did to you in '84, I tried to find you, I swear!” He got closer, grabbing her neck looking intensely at her. But Y/N pulled back looking over at Patrick. Ben followed her eyes. “Who is he?” - “My fiancé. Patrick”

“Your Fian...” He couldn’t finish that sentence. ”Why? Did he got you pregnant?” He laughs looking at you. Even though he meant is a joke he glanced at your tummy. “No Ben, we love each other. Besides you know supes don’t have the best track record on getting pregnant.” You said walking over to Patrick. “No, but we sure loved to try.” He winked at you making Patrick uncomfortable.

Butcher, MM and Annie were going through your files. Annie glanced over at Y/N and asked “Hey, it stated here you weren’t a supe until after 1949? But they never clarified what happened.

Y/N was walking to her job, when a van pulled over. Two men who didn’t spoke English pulled her in. A week later she woke up in some sort of a hospital. Couple of needles in her arms. The man said in broken English that this might hurt, but that she would become the most powerful humans on the planet, the perfect weapon. And who else can hurt Soldier boy better than his first love.

Y/N tolt the team what tests they did after they pumped her full of compound V. “Or at least the Russian version of it.” She said. “After that...” She fell silent.

“After that they erased her memories. Trained her to be a fucking assassin. And sent her after me.” Ben said quietly from a crossed the room not even looking up from the tv.

“He is right. I trailed him all crossed the country to kill him. And I remember every second of it. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Ben woke up in a fancy hotel room, he looked over his bed, smirking when he realised there were still 3 women in his bed from last night. He got up, put on a rope, snored a line and drank the rest of the whiskey he had last night. He heard a noise coming from the hallway. Before he could take a look, the door broke down. An assassin dressed in black attack him. The women screamed when Ben was holding the intruder against the wall. “Run you fucking stupid sluts!” He yelled at them before they ran away behind Ben. “Now who are you?” Ben took of the intruder's mask. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Y/N???” That moment of hesitation was enough for her to escape his hands.

After more than an hour going back and forward, Ben hit her she felt out of the window 5 floors down. He looked but she didn’t move. Every now and then their pads crossed. They fight no one wins, one of them got hurt and they would meet again. It became an obsession with finding each other. Vought even named her a super villain. Until one day Y/N had found him again on vacation in Rome. Ben got tired of the constant fighting he wanted answers. He had her tied down and tried to find answers. But no matter what she didn’t talk. He got so frustrated he hit her in de head with his shield. She went unconscious but when she woke up. Ben was still sitting in front of her. “Ben? Oh god Ben!” she started to cry.

Ben had hit her so hard so many times that for some reason the trauma had brought her back. At first he didn’t trust her. But after a while he released her. She told him everything that happened to her. “You should go. Celebrate new year” he said. “N-New year?” she looked shocked. “Sweetheart it’s 31 December.” - “What year?” - “1959”

“Ten years...” she mumbled under her breath. “You have a place to go?” - “No, not really.” He nodded. Ben thought for a second then invited you to his party.

Ben knuckled when thinking back at that night.

It was an over-the-top party with world leaders, porn stars and drugs. Old Y/N would have been traumatized, supe you well, let’s say that this was a new beginning. Ben sat on the sofa with 2 girls almost fighting to get on his lap and he clearly enjoyed the attention, until he sees Y/N flirting with a guest. He was clearly trying to get into her pants. And she didn’t seem to mind. This got Ben furious, he got up without saying anything to the girls and walked towards them. You both looked at him. “Out” He said. “Out... EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK OUT!” Y/N tried to walk away with the crowd.

Ben grabbed Y/N's arm. “Oh, not you sweetheart.” Y/N looked at his hand around her arm and got closer. “What’s the problem Ben? Are you the only one who is allowed fuck on this evening?”

“Baby... where did you learn to talk like that!” He grinned “But no, no you are allowed to get fucked as well sweetheart. If I’m the one doing it.”

For some reason that made Y/N’s panties soaking wet. She pushed Ben against the wall ripping his shirt in the process. His hand found their way to the back of her knees lifting her up throwing her on the bed. Y/N took off her dress, showing the red lingerie, slowly moving her hands all over her body before moving one hand down her panties, while sitting on her knees. Ben walked towards her pumping his hard cock,

“Fuck that’s hot sweetheart. Show me how wet you are.” She lifted her fingers in the air. Ben grabbed her wrist slowly licking her fingers clean. “Hm, so sweet.” He pushed he on her back taking of her panties. “I’ve missed this pussy, I’ve been wanting to fuck it, worship it ever since I came back from the war.” Y/N got inpatient. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ben are you going to talk me to sleep or are you going to fuck me?

Ben licked a long stripe against Y/N heated sex. ‘Oh yesss!” She moaned letting her head fall back. Ben ate her like a man starved, then he entered a finger into her cunt, he could feel her enjoying it by the way she squeezed around it. “Fuck sweetheart, how long has it been since someone took care of you?” - Y/N had trouble finding words she could already feel the heat in her boiling. “Huh? Tell me, did you find a man back home? Someone to fuck you when your needy? Or did you take care of yourself?” Ben added another finger while licking your clit. You came so hard on his fingers that the wet sound of him going in and out of you would have normally made you embarrassed. After she screamed his name like a prayer she admitted. “Ben, there was no one. No one but you!” She said a little ashamed knowing he probably fucked half of USA by now. “You really are my girl...” Ben said while kissing her. Letting her take a breath before round 2, 3, 4 and 5 of that night.

“Great fucking night.” He said looking at Y/N and Starlight grinning.

“Why did he say that you were the reason for... you know.” Hughie asked. “Well, in 1970 was payback created. Up until then Ben and I lived together." “Wait, you never told me this.” Patrick said. “I knew he was your first boyfriend and that you fought in the 50s. Why didn’t you tell me? “ Y/N opened her mouth, but Ben was first. “Probably because she didn’t like to tell that after a decade of fighting came a decade of making up... sex.” Patrick closed his eyes, clearly disgusted by soldier boy.

“As I was saying, 70s, payback, crimson countess.” You say irritated looking at Ben. “Those days, they made it hard on us. Vought didn’t like the idea of the number one hero being in a relationship with the person they called the number one villain. So, we had to keep our relationship a secret. Vought though it would be a great idea to promote Countess and Soldier boy as the it couple. Ben agreed, saying it was all just publicity. “ Ben, looked away. Y/N felt silent. “So, he cheated? “ Hughie asked.

“NEVER! Ben got up this time, I never ever cheated, not on her!” He almost stood toe to toe with him. “Ben... Benjamin!” Y/N yelled standing up trying to defend Hughie who almost shit his pants. Ben looked at Y/N “I swear.” - “I know, but Crimson and Vought did find a way to separate us. They made false evidence that I would be recruited again by Russian spies to bring down Vought. "

I had no idea so when I asked Ben to let go of the suit.” - “He thought you wanted him to be on your side as a communist.” Annie finished your story. “Yes” Y/N said looking at Ben. “All I wanted was a normal life, no more fighting, no more Vought. The life I dreamed of since 1939” - “Well, seems like you finally get what you want sweetheart.” Ben said looking defeated.

“Well, that’s enough bedtime stories, we need to go and get some supply's before hunting down your boysband.” Butcher said grinning at Ben. “Y/N you mind watching Ben for me? Since you are the only one who probably would actually stop him is he wanted to leave.” - “What about the rest of you?” Y/N asked meaning what about Patrick. “I need everyone, some things I can’t buy in a normal store because I'm wanted. Patrick is a nobody, perfect for the job.”

In the car MM gave Patrick a phone. “I don’t know if you want it. But Frenchie and I placed a shitload of cameras in that place.

Everyone left to do their job. Ben was sitting again, in front of the tv. But when Y/n got up to get something out of the kitchen he followed her. “Does he make you happy?” - “What?” - “Patrick, does he make you happy.” He asked again only this time standing so close to you, you could feel his breath against your neck. Y/N closed her eyes. “Yes, I guess so. I have the life I wanted.” She turned to face him locking eyes “I said yes, I'm getting married soon.” Ben breathed heavy while looking at her. He lifted a hand on her neck again, sliding his fingers through her hair toughing his forehead with hers.

“God, Y/N please don’t.” Patrick said waiting in the car, looking at the camera footage.

“Ben, please... don’t.” She closed her eyes afraid to look in his. “I learned my lesson sweetheart. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to.” He sighted but didn’t move back. “Does he satisfy you?”

“BEN! That, that is none of your business!” She angry opened her eyes looking in his. She placed a hand on his chest to push him away, but couldn’t, instead she slowly moved her hand up to his cheek. Ben leaned into it. “I’ve missed those soft hands.”

Y/N smiled slightly. “This beard, it suits you.” - “You like it?” he was surprised. “Very mature. Maybe even a little sexy.” Those worlds made Ben crazy. He lifted you up and placed you on the counter making him stand between your legs, kissing you like a madman, his hands all over Y/N, touching Y/N’s breast making her pull back out of the kiss and moan his name.

Patrick didn’t want to watch anymore but couldn’t close it. He kept hoping Y/N would fight back. Tell Soldier boy that she loved him, that he had to let her go. Instead, he watched the two of them heading for the bedroom. “No no no no noooo.” Patrick switched camera. Thank got that MM placed one in Soldier boy’s room. “You can still say no baby.” Patrick said under his breath.

“Fuck, say it again.” Ben said. “I want you, Ben” Y/N moaned while he was sucking her neck and ear. Ben lifted her up and took her to his room closing the door with his foot. He dropped Y/N onto the bed. “Clothes off!” He commanded “I would love to spend the next 48 hours just making love to you, reclaiming your body.” He said. “Ben we don’t have time for that.” Y/N said while pulling his sweatpants and boxers down. She placed herself on the bed. Pulling of her panties while Ben was still looking at her. Y/N opened her legs. “Are you going to stand there watching me pleasuring myself, or are you going to make me scream your name?” Y/N didn’t have to say that twice.

Ben took his cock in his hands and started to push himself inside her. “Fuck! Your still so tight.” He said while being balls deep in her. He started to trust slow but deep and hard. Y/N lifted her legs over his shoulders so he could go even deeper. “Oh Ben! I forgot how big you were!” Y/N could feel that Ben with every trust hit the G spot inside her. “You were made for me sweetheart, your pussy was made for me to fuck.” Ben felt that he wouldn’t last long if he kept going like this. “Turn around baby. All four.” He said while pulling out of her. He harshly trusted back in her making her moan almost screaming his name. “That’s it baby, say my name.” He said while rubbing her clit. “Oh Ben, ... Don’t stop!” She moaned. Y/N could feel her orgasm building and so could Ben by the way she squeezed him.

“Does he fuck you like this? Does he know how to make you scream his name? By the tightness of you pussy I would say you didn’t get fucked properly in a while.” Y/N loved the way Ben talked dirty. “Maybe we should invite him, let him see how a real man fucks his lady.” Y/N’s pussy tightened. “Oh, you like that huh. You want him to see how I fuck you, how I know every little inch of your body.” Y/N couldn’t hold it anymore and started to shake into her orgasm screaming Ben’s name. It didn’t take long before Ben’s trusts started to get sloppy. Y/N turned around and took his cock in her mouth bobbing her head, touching the tip of his cock with her tongue just the way he liked it. Ben leaned back holding her hair while releasing in her mouth.

Patrick couldn’t believe what he had seen. He tried to find a way to make things better. It was pure sexual, yes that’s it. She doesn’t love him, she, they fucked it wasn’t making love. He tried to convince himself.

Y/N laid back down on the bed. Ben did the same thing “Fuck that felt good.” He said looking at her on his side with his head in his hand. “Come here.” Ben said while pulling her in his arms Y/N’s head was locket under his chin and against his chest. Ben started to stroke his fingertips over her arms, up her back coming back to the front over her breast, holding one in his warm hand. “So fucking beautiful.” He whispered.

It was quiet for a moment, now that Y/N was back to her senses she could only think of Patrick, what did she do to him. Patrick was a nice respectable man, he didn’t deserve this. But being here in Ben’s arms felt so right, so safe like coming home.

“Leave him.” Ben said after a while to break the silence. “What?” Y/N got up looking shocked at him. “Leave him, run away with me.” He said with a straight face. “Ben you, no, I can’t. I’m getting married soon.” Y/N said but not with confidence. Ben got up and sat against the headboard of the bed. “Why? Because he gives you a home? A house with a white picket fence?” He asked while pulling Y/N into his lap, her knees on each side of his thighs. His lip started to slowly kiss the top of her breast before laying his head against her. His hands steady on her back.

Ben could now feel her scars for the first time his fingers moved over them. “I should have never left you.” He whispered. “Well, I'm sure countess would have found a way.” Y/N said while her lips and cheek were touching his hair. “No, back in 1939, I should have married you, I should have been the man you wanted, deserved. Instead of joining the army.”

He moved his head to look up at her. “I should have married you, made love to you every night until you were pregnant. Watch our kids grow up. Dance with you in the kitchen. Hell I would even take you to fucking Elvis Presley concerts if that is what you wanted.” That made Y/N laugh but tear up at the same time. “Ben...” Y/N sighted. He kissed her lips again only now he took his time. This kiss was one to make sure she felt loved. Ben pulled her closer, Y/N’s hands on the back of Ben’s head.

Y/N felt Ben's cock getting half hard again. Both of them started to move their bodies in sync without even knowing. Ben pulled sightly back. “Y/N, I’ll give up the suit, I’ll won’t kill payback, I’ll even stop the booze and drugs. I’ll do anything for you as long as you promise you're mine again.” Y/N looked at his face, looked in his green eyes. “I’ve always been yours Ben.”

MM got back in the car “Man, are you ok?” He looked at Patrick holding the phone. He rewind the last part and showed MM before the rest of the crew came back. “Y/N, I’ll give up the suit, I’ll won’t kill payback, I’ll even stop the booze and drugs. I’ll do anything for you as long as you promise you're mine again.” - “I’ve always been yours Ben.”

“Shit, I'm sorry man.” MM said Patrick didn’t react. Butcher and the rest came back and drove back to the house.

Y/N took a quick shower, Ben was walking around in the room putting on his sweatpants while all of the sudden he saw a little black dot on the top corner of the dresser. “Son of a...” He pulled it out. “A fucking camera.” Without saying anything to Y/N he walked around the house and found 3 more cameras. Ben stood in the kitchen when Butcher, MM, Hughie and Patrick walked in. “YOU ENGLISH FUCKER!” Ben yelled. This made Y/N suspicious, so she quickly got out of the shower and then heard a rumble. When she got dressed, she ran towards the sound. The kitchen table was upside down on the other end of the room. Ben held MM against the wall. “What the hell is going on?” Y/N asked.

“These fuckers thought it would be a great idea to record me, and everything I do in this house.” Ben said pissed not looking at her. “Ben let go of him.” He didn’t respond. Y/N touched Ben’s shoulder. “Ben, please let go of him.”

Butcher and Hughie looked at each other not knowing what was going on. “Oi, can someone explain what the fuck is going on. A bloody hour ago you” he pointed at Ben “Wanted to fucking kill her. And know she is taming you? And you two ” He pointed at MM and Frenchie “thought it would be good idea to spy on the oldest fucking supe out there, you‘re really that horny and pathetic you want to see him fuck grannies...” While Butcher said that Hughie got the bigger picture. “He didn’t sleep with grannies...” - “Y/N” Patrick finished Hughie's sentence, tearing up. “But then again, you were always his, weren’t you?”

Y/N started to cry “Patrick, I-I'm sorry.” - “It’s ok, I get it, you wanted a house, a husband, a family but not with me, not really. So, I’m going home, I'm going to box up everything you own. And when you are ready, you can come pick it up.” Y/N stood there watching him walking through the door.

“So on with the plan ay. How to kill Homelander.” Butcher broke the awkward silence. “No” Ben said walking up to Y/N holding her. “I’m done.” - “No, you’re not.” Y/N said “I still want payback on payback. But Homelander is your problem, Butcher.”

1 year later.

Y/N stood at the kitchen counter making breakfast. *Can’t help falling in love* playing in the background. Ben wrapped his arms around her waist. His head on her shoulder swaying left to right. Y/N turned around kissing him. And when she looked in his eyes, she could see the sparkle she hasn’t seen since that day at the fair. Ben, he smiled softly at her. And for the first time in God knows how long, she finally saw a glimpse of the young man she fell in love with. Knowing even though they are both fucked up, they belong together. “Look, we’re dancing. To fucking Presley, Sinatra I would get, but Elvis, why?” He said with a disgusted look on his face. Y/N laughed “Amazing voice, great hips!” She said biting her lip, knowing he wouldn’t like that answer. “Oh, I'll show you great hips.” Ben said lifting her up on the kitchen table. Y/N giggled like a teenager. “I love you.” Ben said looking in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#the boys #billy butcher #soldier boy #the boys hughie #homelander #the boys spoilers #the boys amazon #soldier boy x reader #smut #fluff #fem reader #x reader #female reader

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marksbear · 1 year

Note

hate sex with patrick bateman? perhaps 🤔

patrick hating reader for being "better" than him (contemplates killing him), they fuck, patrick turns into a desperate mess

i <3 seeing these cocky "alpha males" turn into whiny desperate sluts <33

Anon we both think like great request my friend! Cocky men becoming a slut is one of the things I live for. And sorry for taking so long I fell asleep writing this

Warnings! SMUT, brat taming, teasing, talking about killing, about to kill, Patrick is a asshole, swearing

PATRICK BATEMAN X MALE READER

"Hey did y'all hear that Y/n got another big promotion?"

"Oh my fucking God." Patrick thinks to himself. He feels like hes gonna puke if he hears your name being mentioned one more time.

"Yeah! The man is gonna have it all. He already has the women dropping to his feet and the bosses practically worshiping the man." The guy next to him says causing Bateman to clench his fist.

He never met Y/n personally but he has to hear about him all day long. "Y/n this. Y/n that. Y/n.y/n. Y/n." Patrick says mentally feeling a headache coming from hearing about the things he did.

"What about you Bateman. What do you think about L/n?" All of the men's heads turning around giving Patrick their full attention.

"That hes a annoying son of a bitch. And he makes me wanna kill him with my bare fucking hands. And he's a waste of space in this damn earth"

Well of course he didn't say that but he only imagined he did and says this instead.

"I never met him, but he seems like a great guy." Patrick gives them a short lie making them all pleased. "You never met him!?! That truly can't work. How about I schedule a dinner for you both to meet?" One of the men offers his co-worker.

"Yes, for I can finally kill him." "Sounds good how about tonight?" Patrick says instead of his first thought. The co-worker gets the phone calling up Y/n so Bateman can hear. "Hey L/n, are you busy tonight? I have someone you should meet. You are great! I know you're gonna like him. Meet at the restaurant where I always take you. Okay bye."

"I just changed your life for ever Bateman! Get ready to meet the greatest man in your lie."

TIMESKIP

Patrick arrived before Y/n checking his watch impatiently and slightly annoyed.

"You're here early."

Patrick looks up at the figure that he's guessing is Y/n.

"Fuck hes handsome. And he looks sharp wearing a suit that hasn't even gotten released yet. Y/n looks exactly like hes described from the stories he heard. Why the fuck does he look better than me!?!"

Bateman rambles in his mind and sticks his hand out. "Patrick Bateman."

"Bateman? I heard of you. And seen you around at work a lot just never made an effort to go up and talk to you. Y/n L/n nice to meet you." Y/n says with a smile and takes a hold of Patrick's hand giving it a tight shake.

The dinner was far from quiet. Y/n almost had every single conversation starter under his sleeve. Some sparked a short topic and some sparked a long conversation and some even started a debate or an argument.

"Hey L/n it's getting late. How about we continue this in my place?"

"Good idea Patrick. How about I pay?"

Right when Patrick opens his mouth about to argue about how Y/n doesn't need to pay Y/n hands the waiter his card.

TIMESKIP AT PATRICK'S PLACE

As soon as the two step inside the place Y/n pins Patrick on the wall by the front door. "Patrick. Tell me what do you want from me? Because I know you hate me. I know we were not friends, so why invite me here?"

Y/n backs away from Patrick slowly with a smirk on his face before heading into the living room. "You think you're better than me don't you Y/n?" Patrick says in his mind before quickly follows after the man. Patrick stops in tracks fighting with himself mentally just to get his axe and drive it through the other man skull.

Patrick snaps himself out of his thoughts and goes to the living room. "Nice place you got Patrick." Y/n says looking outside through the window watching cars and other things. Patrick finds a knife and walks up to Y/n slowly raising it.

Y/n turns his head around slowly and Patrick throws the knife somewhere else becoming nervous. "For a man who hates me you sure do love being close." Y/n puts his hands on Patrick's hips bringing him closer.

"Tell me Patrick. Do you love being close to me?" Y/n uses his right hand to bring it to Patrick's chin then uses his thumb caressing Patrick's bottom lip.

Patrick hated you. He hated how you talk, how you walk and even how you breathe. He hated you with his life. But now why is he acting like this, His body became putty by your touch. The way you look down at him, the grip you have on his hip, your hand on his chin and your thumb lazily on his lip.

What are you doing to him?

Patrick gives Y/n a weak nod as an answer to his past question. "Use your words." Y/n smirks moving his thumb off of Patrick's lip and back to his chin. "Yes." "Good boy Bateman."

Y/n pushes Bateman away from him and walks around looking for the bedroom. Patrick quickly picks up the knife from the floor and follows after Y/n.

Y/n stops in the hallway turning around at Patrick staring at him like a predator like hes taunting Patrick to come closer to him. Patrick clenches his jaw tightly setting the knife on the nearest flat surface. Patrick's blood boils and his veins pop once he's the smirk on Y/n face.

"After you Patrick." Y/n opens the bedroom door inviting Patrick in. Slowly Patrick walks into the bedroom already knowing where this is leading. Y/n shuts the door after he goes inside walking up behind Patrick. Y/n takes off his shoes and socks then takes off his suit jacket. Patrick watches the men take his clothes off.

"Can you just strip and stop being a brat." Y/n says catching Patrick a bit off guard.

Patrick takes off his clothes and shoes. After hes done Y/n attacks his lips with his own.

The kisses are rough and a bit painful because Patrick refuses to be the submissive one. Y/n groans in annoyance and tackles Patrick on the bed so hes under him. Patrick tries to push Y/n off of him but fails just ending up scratching his arms. "You're such a brat Patrick." Y/n says pulling away from the harsh makeout,

"What? You don't like underneath a man like me? Well you better get used to it." Y/n laughs at Patrick before using one of his hands going down to Patrick's cock.

"You're already hard? Wow and the only things we did were just kiss." Y/n doesn't waste anytime jerking off Patrick. "Fuck! L/n s-stop touching me!" Patrick tries to contain his moans but some fall out. "Ohh~l-let me go! fuck!"

Y/n hand doesn't slow down anytime soon he even goes faster up and down every time Patrick begs.

After a while Y/n stops moving his hand with a smirk on his face. Patrick doesn't even notice Y/n's hand not moving and raising his hips up and down into Y/n hand. Y/n lets go of Patrick cock and puts two fingers on Patrick's lip."Suck them."

Patrick didn't want to. At first he bit them because he didn't want to look weak and desperate. Y/n watched him bite his fingers and let out a sigh. "If you keep acting like this i'll just fuck you dry and you get no prep." Y/n warns Patrick but lets out another sigh when Patrick tries to flip him over.

"I warned you Patrick. Now your just getting me fucking irritated." Y/n flips Patrick over so his belly and chest are on the bed but Y/n holds Patrick ass in the air.

Y/n spits a few times on Patrick hole making him mad. "Stop spitting on me Y/n! You're a dirty disgusting bastard!" "Don't you fucking dare put that disgusting cock inside of me---- fuck~" Patrick insult was cut of by his own moan once he felt Y/n cock pushing inside him. "Oh!~ fu-- oh gOD~" Patrick holds the sheets tightly as he feels Y/n moving inside him. "Ju-just shove it in already!~ please just gi--vie me your cock." Y/n decided to be nice and answer Patrick begs by thrusting his cock fully inside him.

Patrick lets out breathy moans feeling Y/n cock go up and down inside of him. "Fa-faster! fuck me faster Y/n!" Patrick hates himself for begging but god Y/n felt too good inside of him he couldn't help it. Y/n snaps his hips into Patrick at a face pace abusing his hole like he was a toy.

Patrick sneaks his hand down to his cock jerking himself off as hes getting fucked.

Y/n take Patrick's arm harshly holding it above his own head pinning his hand down. "Sluts like you aren't allowed to touch themselves without permission" Y/n thrust became aggressive using his free hand to Patrick hair.

Patrick feels Y/n cock twitch inside him and he panics. "No no no! Don't cUm~ inside of me! fu-fuck no!" Patrick's own cock twitches from imagining Y/n cumming inside of him but his mind feels disgusted at the thought.

Y/n thrust quickness searching for Patrick prostate. "Shi~ FuCk oh fuuck~! agaIn hit it again!~ more more please." Patrick screams into the sheets when he feels Y/n cock push against his prostate.

Y/n hits that spot over and over again until Patrick cock is twitching rapidly and aching precum leaking out of the tip. Patrick feels the knot in his stomach become tight and moans words and sentences that don't even make sense. "I'm cumming! fu-fuck i'm cumming! ahhHh!~" Patrick cums hard on the sheets and his head is in full bliss not even feeling Y/n hot cum inside him.

After Patrick gets out of his high he feels something hot and sticky leaking out of him and getting onto his thighs. "Y-you asshole! you dirty bastard I told you not to c-cum inside!" Patrick shouts.

Y/n laughs and says "I couldn't even pull out. Your slutty hole kept me inside~" Y/n teases letting go of Patrick's hand and hair putting both of his hands on Patrick's hips. Y/n snaps his hips deep inside Patrick causing him to yelp out. "fuck~ Y/n give it to me please! I-im your desperate slut please! keep fucking me until I pass out please! Fuck me like that slut I am!~"

"Fuck I hate you Y/n for making me like this!~" Patrick thinks feeling Y/n cock inside of him moving slowly.

"Be a good slut this time Patrick. Then I may let you suck my dick."

THE END

#patrick bateman #american psycho #slashers x male reader #x male reader #male reader #Patrick bateman x male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #slasher x male reader #american psycho x male reader #the bear club

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