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dearlenore · 14 days ago

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HIS FAVORITE DOCTOR • S.REID

SUMMARY: when Spencer realizes just how serious his diuladid addiction has become, he requests the help of his favorite doctor to get through the withdrawal process.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: angsty fluff, established relationship (not romantic yet) flirting, addiction, drug usage, withdrawal, vomit, suicidal ideation, usage of baby, angel, love and honey

a/n: medical reader is my favorite and I’m gonna be writing a lot more spencer addiction content because omg…I’m rewatching season 2-4 and I’m obsessed with this concept.

w/c: 1.6K

THE LIGHTS IN the BAU’s bullpen buzzed faintly, flickering just enough to give Spencer Reid a headache. He blinked hard and focused on the papers in front of him, but the lines blurred together. His fingers tapped anxiously against the desk, a nervous rhythm he couldn’t seem to break.

He hadn’t slept much the night before. Or the night before that. Each time his head hit the pillow, memories clawed their way to the surface — the cold rush of a needle, the dizzying relief that followed, and the shame that always lingered after. He’d fought so hard to distance himself from that part of his life, yet lately, the temptation had been gnawing at him with a sharpness he couldn’t ignore.

“Reid?”

He startled, his pen clattering against the desk. J.J. stood beside him, concern etched into her face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly, forcing a tight smile.

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. “Hotch wants to see you in his office.”

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded. The last thing he needed was a conversation with Hotch right now, especially when his mind felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

Hotch’s office felt colder than usual, the blinds half-drawn to block out the morning sunlight. Spencer stood stiffly by the door, clutching the strap of his satchel like it was an anchor.

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice was steady but firm. “Have a seat.”

Spencer hesitated before sinking into the chair across from him. His chest felt tight, his breath too shallow. He wasn’t sure where to begin.

“You’ve been… distracted lately,” Hotch said carefully. “Your reports are late. You’ve been zoning out during briefings. Something’s going on.”

Spencer’s heart pounded. He could lie — say it was stress or exhaustion, maybe blame it on too much caffeine — but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t keep doing this.

“I need some time off,” Spencer said quietly.

Hotch’s brow furrowed. “Time off?”

“I…” Spencer faltered, his fingers curling into his palms. “I’ve been struggling.” He took a breath, pushing past the shame. “With… Dilaudid. Not — not using it,” he added quickly. “But thinking about it.” His voice cracked, and he hated how small it made him sound. “I thought I was past this. But lately, it’s been… harder.”

For a long moment, Hotch said nothing. His expression didn’t soften, but it didn’t harden either. He just listened.

“I haven’t relapsed,” Spencer added, his voice almost desperate now. “But I’m scared I will. I don’t want to put the team at risk.”

Hotch leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. “I’m glad you told me,” he said quietly. “That’s not easy.”

Spencer felt his face flush. “I should’ve said something sooner.”

“You’re saying something now,” Hotch said. “That’s what matters.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think you’re making the right decision. If you need time, take it. Whatever it takes to get your head clear.”

Relief hit Spencer like a wave — unexpected and overwhelming. The tension in his chest loosened just enough to breathe.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re part of this team,” Hotch said firmly. “And I expect you to come back when and only when you’re ready.”

Spencer nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I will.”

He stood, clutching the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary before stepping out into the hallway. The bullpen buzzed with the usual noise — agents chatting, phones ringing — but for the first time in weeks, Spencer felt like he could breathe.

He wasn’t okay yet — not even close — but for now, he’d taken the first step. And that had to count for something.

The knock on your door came late — so late you almost didn’t hear it. The sitcom buzzing from your TV masked the sound until you caught the faint tapping and glanced at the clock — 11:27 PM.

You walked to the door, clutching your phone just in case. But when you peeked through the peephole and saw Spencer’s face, you gasped.

“Spencer?”

He barely looked like himself. His hair was tangled and messy, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. His skin — normally warm and golden — looked sickly pale, and the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed carved into his face.

“Hey…” His voice cracked, and his weak smile faded before it fully formed.

“Oh my gosh!” You yanked the door open, grabbing his arm when he swayed on his feet. “Spence, you look awful.”

“Thanks,” he muttered dryly, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You know what I mean,” you huffed, pulling him inside. His legs nearly buckled beneath him as you guided him to the couch.

“Did you eat?” you asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Did you drink anything?”

He shook his head.

“Honey…”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he murmured, eyes flicking downward. His fingers trembled in his lap, curling against his thighs like he was holding something invisible.

“Talk to me,” you said softly. “What’s going on?”

“I… I asked Hotch for time off.”

Your brows shot up. “Wait, you asked for time off?”

“I needed it.” His voice was barely there. His hand dragged down his face, fingers twitching against his jaw. “I… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You knew what it was. The Dilaudid.

“Spence…” Your chest tightened.

“I was fine,” he said shakily, his voice breaking. “I was doing fine. But I can’t stop… I can’t stop wanting it.” His hand clenched against his knee, knuckles white. “I was just sitting there… staring at it. For hours. I couldn’t — I couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be.”

His voice trembled. “I almost did.”

Your heart sank.

His breathing hitched, and his face twisted — like he was trying to swallow down something ugly.

“I thought about just… ending it,” he mumbled, barely audible. “If I couldn’t stop thinking about it, what was the point? What’s the point in fighting if I’m never going to win?”

“Hey,” you said firmly, reaching out and gripping his face with both hands.

His bloodshot eyes blinked up at you, wide and scared.

“You are not alone,” you promised. “I know it feels like it, but you’re not. I’m here, okay? I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His face crumpled, and you barely had time to pull him against your chest before he broke. His fingers twisted into your shirt, clutching like you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Don’t say that,” you murmured, rubbing his back. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His body shook against you, his breathing ragged. You didn’t rush him — you just held him tight, whispering soft reassurances into his hair.

When his sobs finally faded into quiet sniffles, you gently pulled back. “Let me help you, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” you cut him off with a soft smile. “But I want to.”

He nodded weakly.

“You’re sweating,” you pointed out, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “I’ll grab some towels and a change of clothes. You’re about to feel pretty gross for a while.”

He grimaced. “Great.”

“Don’t worry,” you teased, squeezing his knee. “I’ve seen way worse.”

After setting him up in the bathroom with clean towels and a shirt that was at least two sizes too big, you filled a glass of water and grabbed a bucket — just in case.

When Spencer emerged, his hair still damp and clinging to his forehead, his skin looked even paler. His hands were shaking worse now.

“I’m fine,” he said weakly, but you didn’t believe it for a second.

Less than an hour later, he wasn’t just shaking — he was shivering. He lay on your couch beneath three blankets, his face scrunched in discomfort.

“I…” His voice was thin, barely audible. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“I’ve got you, angel.”

You knelt beside him, bucket at the ready. He barely made it upright before his body lurched. You rubbed soothing circles on his back, murmuring soft reassurances as he retched.

“I’m here,” you whispered between sobs and coughs. “I’m here. You’re okay.” You continued, more for yourself this time.

By the time it was over, his entire body was shaking. His face was pale, and his breaths came in shallow pants.

“Hey,” you said softly, pushing damp hair from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t.” Your hand moved to his cheek, thumb brushing against his fevered skin. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing so well, love.”

His tired eyes blinked up at you. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

You laughed quietly, smoothing the blanket over his chest. “I try.”

“I mean it,” he mumbled. “You’re like… an angel.”

Your heart melted.

“I guess that makes you my favorite patient,” you teased, brushing a hand down his arm. “But you already knew that huh?”

He grinned — weak, but real — and something in your chest tightened.

“Seriously,” you murmured, “I’m really proud of you.”

“Because I didn’t die on your carpet?” he joked dryly.

You shot him a look. “Because you’re fighting, Spencer. Even when your brain’s screaming at you to give up, you’re still here. That takes strength.”

His fingers fumbled for your hand beneath the blanket. “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t…” His voice faltered. “I trust you.”

Your heart squeezed painfully.

“You’re safe with me,” you promised, tightening your hold on his hand. “And you always will be.”

He gave you a tired smile, eyes drooping. “Thank you, angel…” he mumbled as he drifted off.

Your breath caught.

“Love you, Spence,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair as he finally fell asleep.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #fluff #cm #criminal minds angst

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zeltqz · 1 year ago

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call me or not, it's up to you.

☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.

☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol

It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working.

“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off.

“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”

He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.

“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”

You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”

He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired.

He sighed. “You sure babe?”

You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom.

You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.

@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!

@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢

“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”

You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem.

You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.

It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.

There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”

“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?

He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice.

“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”

“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.

“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”

You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.

Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.

That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said.

The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.

The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.

“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.

“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”

“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”

“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.

“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”

Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.”

Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #haitani ran smut #ran smut #ran haitani smut

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jesterkoops · 28 days ago

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It’s really funny to me to see people suddenly going all SHOCKED PIKACHU after this episode with the realisation that the show will have to address how Helena being complicit in Gemma’s.. whatever it is is going on down there has repercussion for Mark and Helly's (and Helena's) relationship. And saying this suddenly changes how they see Mark and Helly’s relationship and HELLY BAD! NO MORE HELLY FOR MARK! NO!

Really?? It took THIS episode for you to realise this was literally going to be THE major point of conflict for them?? I remember finishing the rewatch before this season began and saying this very thing to my friends. Why else would they even make MarkHelly a thing and reveal she was Helena in the very next episode, if that’s not precisely where this was going to go? This episode hasn’t really changed how I see Mark and Helly/Helena’s relationship at all, because for me it was a given all along this was bound to come up. It was literally THE thing that shot my interest in their dynamic through the roof, when before I was like "meh, another workplace romance between leads". There was literally nothing in this latest episode that changed how I see any of these dynamics. The specifics of whether Gemma was braindead, or alive, or cryogenically frozen, or what have you has no impact on the fact that Helena is to some degree complicit in all this (to what degree, and just how much she actually knows, is still TBD; she's still such a mystery - I have another post about this in the works).

And what baffles me is that some seem to think that the people who came up with THIS show couldn’t possibly find a way to develop this that hasn’t yet occurred to us. "Well, I can't see any other way this ends if not with Mark getting Gemma back, and Helena evil/sacrificing herself for Mark and Gemma/dead" (or something along those lines). Like, sure, that's the most logical conclusion and THAT is what intrigues me: what am I missing that these writers have up their sleeves? It baffles me that it took ONE episode for some to be willing to strip away the entire complexity of the show and the innies/outies dichotomy and the moral and empathy dilemma it is supposed to force upon us through Mark acting as a 'conduit' for the audience.

Pitting up the two relationships against each other as one being superior to the other trivialises innies and their feelings the same way Lumon does. You can't on one hand feel empathy for Gemma's multiple innies and consider their feelings as valid and the impact they have on Gemma and in the same breath dismiss innie Mark's and Helly's feelings as childish and unimportant.

Being able to dismiss innie Mark's feelings as unimportant or inferior to outie Mark's feelings is an easy solution to the struggle reintegration is supposed to present. Take away that struggle, and you remove what's narratively interesting about reintegration.

Along these lines, the last few days I realised that Gemma HAD to be alive for this to be interesting because her being actually dead gives Mark (and consequently the audience) an easy way out. If the whole point of reintegration involves Mark dealing with the fact that he merged a part of him that loves Gemma with a part of him that never did and loves someone else instead... well, if Gemma is actually gone, that doesn't pose much of a challenge for Mark, does it? If Gemma were gone, his predicament would be the same as any other widower who falls in love again. But if she's alive, he has to actually wrestle with the two parts of himself that pull him in two different directions and want two different lives.

And we circle back to point 2: the only way point 3 is narratively interesting is if innie Mark's feelings are just as strong and important and valid as outie Mark's feelings.

And, to a lesser extent, for his feelings to be as strong and important and valid, Helena CANNOT just be a straight up villain because then we would circle back to point 3; it would be the equivalent of Gemma being dead. It would strip the dilemma from Mark because it would be easy for him to dismiss his feelings for her/Helly.

I admit, this is a very very tricky situation to navigate for the writers to avoid falling into cliches and to wrap it up in a way that's original and satisfying. But it's ridiculous to be definitive about an endgame at this stage when there is still so much story to go through. You are literally jumping the gun and reaching conclusions while missing a ton of information and development still.

#severance #severance spoilers #mark s #mark scout #helly r #helena eagan #mark x helly #mark x helena #markhelly #markhelena

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rationalnerd62 · 2 months ago

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Seeing some of the tags I got on the CR timeline post, I think I loved C3 for the exact same reasons some folks disliked it or struggled with it.

I liked the overarching arc. Don't get me wrong, mini-arcs like with VM and M9 are perfectly fine, but there's something narratively satisfying to me about BH following this consistent thread all along the campaign. This group started with a few questions (Who attacked Keyleth? Why? What is the meaning of those dreams? Where are Fearne's parents?) and uncovered a whole conspiracy that then revealed itself to the entire world. It reminds me of reading those Fantasy series where the characters hear about the upcoming battle in book 1 and finally get to it in book 14. I can't wait to rewatch and see the foreshadowing and hints that brought this group to this point.

I liked the constant discussions about the Gods. Listen, as a gay person raised in a Catholic family, boy I've had my dealings and issues with religion. But I find it nice to be able to put our own world aside and watch this fantasy world ask questions that would be very controversial in ours. What we know of the Gods of Exandria has fundamentally changed from the first episode of C3 to the last. We went through both ExU Calamity and Downfall during that time. Those Gods have changed from being so removed and above mortals, mystical entities incomprehensible to anyone who dared trying, to beings with a past before Exandria, a family they're willing to protect at all costs no matter how hurtful their siblings are to the mortals, aliens with flaws and faults and failings, full of nuances and grayness in a world that put half of them in a box of "Good" and the other half in a box of "Evil". And as those Gods have been humanised in front of our eyes, it brought the question of whether their power over mortals is still justified and relevant. And now Exandria is about to change, and I find it exciting. IMO, it gives even more of a reason to keep exploring Exandria in the future of Critical Role than if the status quo was maintained. It's hard to do something new in a world that doesn't evolve with the story.

And while I understand people would have loved more time with Bell's Hells (I would have loved that too!), I also kinda loved how rushed and short in time they've been feeling since they've heard of the solstice. They've had a ticking clock ringing in their ears for a while now. People make different decisions when they don't think they have the time to get some sleep on it. Would have Ashton tried to absorb the shard if the group didn't have to leave for Ruidus the exact next day? Would have Orym taken a sword that maybe shouldn't be his if they didn't have to leave for Aeor the next day? Would have Imogen absorbed Predathos if watching Downfall hadn't made them realise that the Gods will break the Divine Gate to keep the secret of Predathos hidden?

IMO, we still got plenty of very interesting character moments despite the limited amount of time those characters spent together. They've been through some shit together, and the friendships they made through the shared trauma will stick with them for years. Because yes, they are friends (except for Braius, that one is on a tightrope lol). But they've proven over and over again what they're willing to do for their tight crew of broken people.

Boy I am so very fond of them. Saying goodbye will be hard 🥹.

#critical role #bells hells #i just think theyre neat #ashton greymoore #imogen temult #orym of the air ashari

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 6 months ago

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Brand New

A/N- This is my very first fully written fic for Bill and i couldn’t be more excited to post it 🤭 i’ve struggled a little bit with writing something in full for him, I’m still trying to get a grasp on his character, but i hope that my interpretation goes along with how others interpret him too 🥰 i personally have a little bit of experience with nerd culture, horror movies specifically, so i used some of my knowledge to help this one go along a little more smoothly 😅 i’m trying to get the comics read through, but for now all ive watched for the last month is the Eltingville Club pilot and i’m OBSESSED

Summary- Bill isn’t too enthusiastic about the new neighbors moving in, but his mind changes as he watches the movers bringing in a few pieces of memorabilia he recognizes. He gets confused, however, when he sees just one pretty girl wander in after the owners.

Genre- Fluff (?)

Warnings- Normal vulgar thoughts of super nerdy guys who have never felt the touch of a woman

Tag List- No tag list yet! Please let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤

Word Count- 3.1k

Bill yawned at the breakfast table in the kitchen, picking at the leftover scraps of scrambled eggs on his plate.

The night before was a long one, as always. Another club meeting, another series of arguments over who actually won during their game of Street Fighter, another rewatch of Return of the Jedi just to see Carrie Fisher in that metal bikini they can never get out of their heads. It was always how he spent his Friday nights, he just wished the Saturday mornings would be a bit more interesting.

They were always the same. He’d wake up, do his normal morning routine, and sit at the breakfast table waiting for a call from one of the guys to see if they were still up for going out after nearly killing each other the night before.

Bill enjoyed how routine everything was, but every now and then he’d hope that something, anything, could interrupt their normal schedule and give them something else to sneak into their routine. And when he heard the loud screeching of a moving truck stopping outside, he perked up almost immediately.

“Bill!” His mother called from the living room, “I’m taking Jane to the mall with her friends, keep the noise down and don’t bother the new people next door!” She shouted, just before the front door slammed shut.

At least he’d be able to watch the new people move in by himself and get a good read on them.

He tossed his plate into the sink and ran upstairs, ignoring the phone ringing downstairs and waiting to finally pick it up until he made it to his room.

“Hello?” He said as he picked up the phone from the handset on his nightstand, shutting his bedroom door and watching out the window for whoever could be moving in next door.

“Hey, are we still up for today?” It was Pete, calling to confirm wether or not Josh threatening to burn Bills comic collection was a deal breaker for them going to the movies to see whatever sci-fi flick came out that week.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bill said, half listening as he watched the movers lift up the back of the truck.

“You sure?” Pete asked on the other end, “You sound a little distracted.”

“Yeah…” Bill trailed off as the movers began lifting out the boxes to one another and bringing them into the house next door, doing his best to read the sharpie labels written on the sides, “Yeah, sure. Just uhh…” He glanced over at the clock, 11:57 am, “Why don’t you guys get here in an hour and we’ll go, alright?” Bill kept watching the boxes get lugged inside and his attention was grabbed by the car that pulled into the driveway. He saw the two front doors open and an older couple stepped out, the new owners he figured. He was just about to finish his spying until you caught his attention.

He watched as the back drivers side door opened, and as you stepped out of the car to stretch, Bills eyes widened.

You were breathtaking.

Even in your comfies, no doubt from the long drive, and with your hair done messily, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He’d be forever grateful to finally live next to someone of your beauty. Stuck under your trance, he had completely forgotten about the phone in his hand.

“Bill!” Pete shouted, finally grabbing his attention back.

“Yes?! What?!” Bill shouted back as he kept watching you, gasping and reeling back from his window as his shouts caught your attention. Your eyes met for a nanosecond, but it was longer than he wanted. If he could manage to go the entire length of you living in that house without so much as a wave to one another he’d be in bliss. Watching you from afar and admiring everything you did from the confines of his bedroom or basement. But now you knew he was there. And he was fucked.

“We’ll be there in an hour, alright? See you then.” Pete hung up the phone, but Bill didn’t even notice.

He was too caught up in the fact that this was probably the closest he’ll get to a girl as pretty as you, and that’s only because you’d be living right next door. His mind was wandering to all those same places it would go to any time he had a new muse.

So far this month it had been Jade from Mortal Kombat, Terri from Anaconda, and now you. And he knew you’d be the one on his mind the longest.

He couldn’t help himself.

Hell, he didn’t even know your name, but he wanted to so badly. He knew he could never let himself get that close to you.

Bill sighed to himself, setting the phone onto the floor next to him as he thought of you. Being on of his beautiful ensigns in his Captain Kirk fantasies, dressed up in Leia’s metal bikini as you begged him to rescue you from Jabba, trapped in the chains of an evil sorcerer with a tattered and revealing princess dress while he and the rest of his D&D party came to your aid. He couldn’t stop.

Bill shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head, but the sudden sound of a few boxes dropping and your shouts were definitely able to help. He turned his head back to carefully peek out the window and saw you next to what looked like a dropped box, a few of the contents fallen out, still wrapped up on bubble wrap.

“Be careful!” You shouted to the movers, “This stuff was expensive…”

Bills eyes widened as he saw what he thought was a few recognizable slasher masks, mint condition, wrapped up in vintage plastic packaging as you unwrapped the bubble wrap to see if they had broken.

Bill watched closer, his hands up on his windowsill to prop himself up as he watched you put the last of the called objects into the box and pick it up, carrying it inside the house yourself. As he watched you walk inside, he tried to make out the name on the side of the box,

“(y/n)‘s room…” He whispered to himself as he stared out at the spot you walked from, hoping to see you once more.

Bill was caught off guard at the sound of footsteps making their way inside the room across from his, and when he saw you enter with the box he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even with getting a closer look at you, he knew it would be hard to not keep his eyes on that window to get a peek at you every chance he could.

He watched as you set the box down onto the floor, a few movers following in behind you, lugging in bigger and heavier boxes and setting them hard onto the floor. Bill could hear your frustrated groans and did his best to keep himself hidden, but the stack of comics next to him had other plans.

As Bill leaned himself up further to get a quick peek inside your room, they had fallen over onto the floor, knocking down the plastic bin filled with various half painted mini figurines for their D&D board. He dove to the ground to keep the sound from grabbing your attention, but when he heard your shouts he knew he was done for.

“Hey!” You shouted to him from outside your window, “I know you’re there, don’t ignore me.”

Bill cursed at himself for his stupidity before slowly standing up, his cheeks flushed knowing he was caught.

“You know,” You said as you stepped back from the open window, “If you’re going to spy, you can at least try to not get yourself caught. I could see you watching us in the driveway.”

Bill wasn’t sure what to say.

He was caught red handed, and he had never had someone call him out on his behavior so quickly. He felt compelled to apologize but it felt so foreign to him. He managed to muster out a quick and quiet,

“Sorry…” as he stood there before his open window.

“It’s fine…” You said, an audible eye roll in your tone, “Don’t do it too often, ok? You’re not going to be one of those perverts that tries to watch me change through the window, are you?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and though the thought definitely had crossed Bill’s mind, he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance now. It was almost like you knew his every move.

All he could do was stand there quietly, shaking his head.

“Good.” You closed your window halfway, going back to the boxes on your floor to begin unpacking as a few more of the movers bought in a couple more boxes.

Bill couldn’t help himself from watching you carefully unpack the boxes after slamming the bedroom door behind the movers.

One of them was flatter than the others, and he watched you place it on top of one of the bigger boxes before peeling the tape off and opening the top flaps. It was full of posters and prints of various sizes, each one of them had a different horror movie monster or scene on it.

Bill sat at the edge of his bed, watching you take out one of the rolls of tape the movers left with the boxes and begin placing them all over the walls.

He couldn’t believe a few of the ones he saw you put up.

A vintage Jaws poster with black sharpie scribbled over the title, no doubt the autographs of Richard Dreyfuss, Roy Scheider and Robert Shaw. The one next to it was a printed scene from Night of The Living Dead, Barbara being chased through the cemetery by Johnny. The last one he watched you put up was unmistakable, and he was shocked such a pretty girl would be into something like it…

It was a black light poster for Cannibal Holocaust, and it was more graphic than the movie poster itself. He could see the scene of the impaled girl in his head as he looked at the poster, shaking his head to get his thoughts together, but not before blurting out,

“Is that Cannibal Holocaust?” Out the window to you.

it was loud enough to catch your attention, and just as you had found the perfect spot for your Toxic Avenger poster. You wandered back over towards the window, lifting it up the rest of the way and poking your head out,

“What did you say?”

“Is that…” Bill asked, his voice quiet as he pointed out the poster behind you, “Is that from Cannibal Holocaust?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, quickly looking back at the poster behind you to confirm his suspicions,

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” You nod to him, “Why?”

Bill shrugged, not expecting his sudden outburst to turn into a conversation with you,

“I just… recognized it.” He said with a nervous quiver, “Didn’t know girls liked that stuff…”

“Yeah, well, I like that stuff.” You said with a shrug, keeping the window open as you went back to hanging up your posters and prints.

Bill nodded to himself, trying so hard to take his eyes off of you, but the revelation that this gorgeous girl next door could be into the same cheesy gory horror movies as him was too interesting for him to not want to know more.

He kept his distance, sensing a bit of hostility in your tone, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. He tried to get a decent look at the other things you had been unpacking.

Clothes, books, a few VHS tapes, but what really caught his eye was when you opened up the box that had been dropped outside.

He watched you carefully unwrap each piece of memorabilia from its bubble wrap, and he was surprised to see a few of the things that were inside.

A few vintage halloween masks still in their plastic packaging, along with Jason’s hockey mask, Freddy’s finger knives, and what looked to be an exact replica of the Book of the Dead from The Evil Dead. So many things from so many different movies and he was still so surprised that such a pretty girl would be interested in things like that. Things that are dark and grotesque, things that are terrifying to most people, things that he figured only him and the guys liked until you came along. Bill was so used to having girls turn the other way at the sight of these kinds of things, and yet you embraced them. It only made him more and more interested in seeing what else you had hidden away in those boxes. Wether it was more memorabilia, or hopefully you’d stumble upon a box filled with intimates for him to fantasize about later. Either way, he was intrigued.

“You stare a lot, you know that?” You said as you kept unpacking in your bedroom.

Bill realized that he hadn’t even noticed how long he had been peering into your room,

“Oh. Sorry.” He reeled back slightly as he felt the blood rush to his face.

Why was he acting this way?

He had never felt so intrigued by a girl without even knowing her name. He had his fair share of crushes before, not being able to stop himself from staring whoever he saw them out and about and he tried so hard to make himself seem confident in front of them and it never worked. He knew he would scare them off without as much as a ‘Hi’ from them, and yet you were still talking to him. He was hoping it wasn’t just from the forced proximity.

“I don’t mean to stare. I just don’t think i’ve seen that much horror memorabilia in one place…” He stepped further to the window for a closer peek into your room, excited to see some clothes starting to be laid out onto the mattress of your bed, but seeing a wide variety of movies, books and merchandise scattered around as you unpacked caught his attention in a way that nothing else could. It felt as if he was being drawn to it by a force he could only describe as ‘want’.

“Oh…” You turned and looked around your still somewhat empty room, seeing all the different pieces of your personality from a different perspective, “I guess i do have a lot of stuff. I’ve been collecting for a while, I guess i just didn’t notice.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing!” Bill said quickly, almost shouting as he finally found common ground to explore. It wasn’t something huge, but it was better than nothing, “I’ve been building a collection of my own for quite a while.” Bill chuckled nervously before stepping back from the window to give you a better view of the inside of his room.

You slowly stepped up to the glass, lifting it back up all the way as you peeked inside of his bedroom. And it was a lot more than you were expecting.

Walls completely covered with video game and comic book posters, a few older horror movie prints alongside them, shelves covered in comics and action figures still in their packaging from god knows how long ago, and you could see the boxes of mini D&D figurines and various VHS tapes all strewn along the floor of his room. Even the tossed aside bedding that was halfway on the floor was themed. You’ve met some super-fan nerds back at home but this was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“Wow.” You said with wide eyes, “I don’t think i’ve seen so much stuff in one place before. That’s pretty cool.” You said with a kind smile.

Bills heart was beating faster than it ever had before. Not only was he have a conversation with a girl, a face to face conversation, but you didn’t think it was weird for his room to be completely covered in trinkets and memorabilia.

“Thanks.” He said with a trembling smile, “I’ve got shelves of stuff down in the basement too!”

“You’ve got more of that stuff?” You asked with a giggle, “You must be pretty committed to collecting all that stuff.”

Just as Bill opened his mouth to respond, his attention was pulled to the rapid loud banging on his front door,

“Bill!” He glanced over at his clock and hadn’t noticed that the last hour had passed by so quickly, his anger growing as he heard Josh’s shouts from outside, “We don’t have all day! Hurry up!”

Bill growled, and quickly changed his demeanor as he turned back to you,

“Sorry,” He nervously chuckled, “I didn’t mean to distract you.” His hands reached up to finally shut the window and lock it, but stopped just before closed as he heard your voice.

“Bill?” You asked curiously, “That’s your name?” He nodded as he lifted the window halfway, eager to hear what would come next. He had never once heard a girl other than his mother say his name, and it was so soothing to hear your voice finally say it. “I’m (y/n).” You said with a smile, “I’ll see you around.”

Your kindness was almost overwhelming. Never in his life had he gotten to being on a first name basis with a girl, and yet somehow it felt like it came so easily. You gave him a little wave as you closed your window, flipping the little lock at the top as you went down to grab a few more boxes to bring inside the new empty home.

You were lucky enough to catch Bill running out his front door and into a car filled with three other boys, each of them seeming like they’d probably he just the same as him.

You watched as he climbed inside the back passenger seat, and for just a moment his eyes caught yours. You picked up a box from the movers and gave him a quick smile, your fingers waving from where they were holding the box as you lifted it. You thought you saw him wave back as the car quickly sped out of the driveway.

You smiled to yourself as you made your way back into the house, placing the box onto the kitchen counter as your parents were putting away the various things they could gather from the boxes into their respective rooms. As unenthusiastic as you were to make the move, it was nice to know that at least there was someone to talk to.

Maybe once everything was unpacked, you’d let Bill see the rest of your collection.

Just maybe.

#the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #bill the eltingville club #bill dickey #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey x yn #bill dickey x y/n #bill dickey x you #bill dickey fanfic #bill dickey fanfiction #bill dickey fluff

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aviawrites · 11 months ago

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 in 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 doing 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, 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 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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3igbootyl0ver · 4 months ago

Text

A New Face Pt.3

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: You and Tara finally went out on a date and feelings are revealed.

word count: 2453

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.4

a/n: Hey all, I hope ya'll enjoyed this last part for this one-shot. I tried putting in more details so lmk your thoughts. I also made Sam a little laid back for this part since I honestly didn't know how to make her intimidating without ruining it lol. Anyways, I'm always open to feedback!! Thanks for all the love and support! (p.s. i got motivation for the flower scene from tasm where peter gave gwen her flowers hehehe so just imagine that because i still have no idea how to add a collage of pictures here)

Tara was walking back and forth the apartment while waiting for you to pick her up. She had suggested on going to yours instead but you insisted on picking her up for some reason. Sam was just observing her sister roaming around the living room, amused by her antics. She was picking her fingernails and fixing her hair every 15 seconds. It was 3.45 p.m and you were supposed to be here at least 15 minutes ago. Her mind was going through a ridiculous amount of scenarios as fast as the speed of light at this point. Did you suddenly decide to ditch her or realised that she wasn’t good enough for you?

“Tara, relax. You’re freaking out so much- I can see your brain working overtime,” Sam simply stated, laying on the couch while rewatching Modern Family for the fifth time. Just as Tara wanted to give a snarky remark, she heard the doorbell rang. If she was wearing a heart rate monitor, she was sure it would give her a warning about her sudden heightened heart rate, assuming she was getting a heart attack. She looked at herself once again and fixed her hair after the 55th time before opening the door.

There you were. Looking all cute and flustered while holding a bouquet of flowers and a posy on one hand while balancing two motorcycle helmets on the other. While she appreciated and blushed and the gesture, she can’t seem the ignore the fact that the bouquet and posy is a little… lopsided.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. I went to buy this for you but it’s a little harder when you’re riding while holding it, which explains the snapped stem for one of them…Oh! And I bought a small one for Sam, if she doesn’t mind, of course.” You explained with a little blush from the awkwardness. “How embarrassing, this is your first date and you’ve already messed up. Nice one, Y/N.” You thought, mentally slapping yourself for forgetting that it’s nearly impossible to hold a bouquet of flowers while riding and not mess it up. While you were having your own crisis, Tara was in her own head too.

“Seriously? Is there even a flaw flowing in their bones? ” Tara pondered internally while struggling to put out actual words, holding onto both the bouquet and posy, when Sam came to rescue after hearing the painfully awkward one-sided conversation.

“Wow, nice job, Y/N. A liiitttle crushed, but I like the effort. You’re own my good side, for now. Just make sure you bring her home by 9..or I’ll hunt you down.” Sam stated sarcastically, enjoying how you squirmed after her statement. She’ll never tell you this, but she appreciated the gesture and the thought of buying her a small bouquet. The few people Tara had tried dating has never thought of that, so she really meant it when she said you’d “earned a point”. She was impressed surprisingly, and it was hard to impress THE Sam Carpenter.

“Y-Yes ma’am” You replied with faux confidence, even though both the sisters could tell you were intimidated, rightfully so. Tara rolled her eyes at her sister’s statement and dragged you out of the apartment, after placing her flowers nicely by the table beside the entrance, of course.

“I’m sorry about Sam, she can be a bit.. Much.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have to admit I almost peed my pants though.” You joked, trying to ease the tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Your attempt was successful when Tara giggled effortlessly, while staring at you with those big doe eyes.

The engine roared beneath them, vibrating through Tara’s body as she clung to Y/N’s back. The cool evening air brushed against her face, the city lights streaking by in a blur. The smell of gasoline and fresh rain mixed with the earthy scent of Y/N’s jacket, and Tara could feel her pulse racing in time with the bike’s engine.

Tara knew she would be your ‘backpack’ as you informed her about riding your bike for the date a few days prior. That doesn’t mean she didn’t freak out when you went up a needle on your speedometer though. She was hugging you so tightly around your waist, it could almost suffocate you. You said you didn’t mind it though, and Tara took every opportunity to hug you tighter, and shamelessly run her hands from your back to your shoulders, caressing and admiring the flexed muscles from handling the two-wheeled vehicle every chance she had, enjoying your warmth that contrasted with the chilly weather.

Her heart was pounding as she felt the warmth of Y/N's back against her chest, the gentle hum of the motorcycle beneath them. She noticed how her grip tightened instinctively, wanting to hold on to something solid as her thoughts swirled in a mess. “Is this real? Is this really happening?"

After finding a parking spot near the theaters, you helped Tara with getting off your bike seeing as she couldn’t even reach the floor if she wanted to. You assisted with taking her helmet off and fixing her hair, pushing her messy bangs away and tucking it behind her ears absenmindedly without her needing to ask for help. Tara wanted to take you right then and there. “Who cares if it’s public indecency? Both of us are hot.” Tara thought. She had never met a more thoughtful and respectful person before she laid her eyes on you; You really knew how to please a girl.

You proceeded to lead her to the entrance of the theatre, which was filled with people that was keen on watching the premier of The Terrifier 3. Tara was buzzing with excitement, practically hopping up and down and effortlessly having a conversation with you after easing her nerves, while waiting on your turns to get some snacks and get seated.

The film was amazing. It was almost concerning with how Tara didn’t even bat an eyelid during the more gory scenes, but you were glad she enjoyed it. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back after successfully making her glee and rambling about the film afterwards. You both decided to walk to the restaurant you were having dinner at, since it was only a few blocks away. You couldn’t ignore the fact that both your and Tara’s hands kept brushing against each other. You finally made the courage to hold her hands while she was still rambling about the show, your heart leaped when she interlocked your fingers together and continued talking, not commenting on the sudden act of affection.

Meanwhile, Tara was so damn glad you made the move first because she was overthinking too much to make the first move. She tried to act as nonchalant as possible, making it seem like your gesture didn’t really affect her even though she had her heart in her mouth. When you both arrived at the restaurant, you had to wait for a while to be assigned a table. She finally made the courage to let go of your hands and to hold onto your ridiculously toned biceps, running her hands up and down your arm. She was tracing her fingers on the outline of your tattoo, making you shiver.

“You never told me this, but what’s the meaning behind your tattoo? I mean- It’s fine if it’s personal and you don’t wanna talk about it, though!” Tara stated with a slight panic in her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable and share something so intimate to you. You found it cute that she was trying to be mindful and considerate.

Tara was tracing your tattoo, which was full of different designs, mainly two dragons being intertwined and a date underneath it. “It’s fine- I don’t mind, really. It symbolizes the Chinese zodiac calendar. My mum and dad was born in the year of the dragon. I initially didn’t think of having a tattoo, but I considered it to honor them. They died a few years ago from a car crash, which explains the date beneath it.” You explained your tattoo in detail, including all the different strokes and lines on your hands.

Tara wanted to cradle your head and hold you tightly, hiding you away from society after hearing that your parents are gone. It must’ve been tough handling life alone in your twenties. “At least I had Sam,” Tara thought. She gave you her condolences and you took her hand and kissed it, specifically where her scar is, before shrugging it off with a smile, not wanting to ruin the mood of the date.

Dinner went by quickly, with Tara having a glass of wine (not you though, you knew you had the responsibility to send her home and you didn’t want Sam to kill you either) and getting to know each other more. Tara’s indication of having too much to drink is that she often hiccups, and that’s when you knew you had to pay the bill and send her home. On your way back to your bike, you and Tara were giggling and she kept trying to squeeze your face cheeks together, with your hand swatting her away. You decided to make a pitstop at a small bodega and buy a bottled water for Tara, attempting to sober her up, knowing she can’t ride on the bike being that drunk. You slowed your pace, allowing Tara to recover while interlocking your hands. She was effortlessly flirting with you, probably from the liquid courage she was sobering up from.

You finally reached your bike, with having an intention of helping Tara putting on her helmet when she hugged you, her arms wrapping around your neck and leaning her chin against your chest, staring at you. “I really, really like you y’know. Like, like-like you.” She stated, staring at you with her brown doe eyes that resembled a deer.

Tara’s heart skipped again, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was from a sudden realization—this was different. She hadn’t felt this kind of pull in a long time. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t just hoping Y/N would kiss her. Maybe she was ready for it. And when the moment came, she wasn’t going to hold back. You softly chuckled, your cheeks tinting slightly at her sudden confession. “I’m glad you like me Tara. I really, really like you too,” you reciprocated and hugged her waist, embracing the intimate moment. Both of you leaned in, nose touching each other before you decided to lean away; Making Tara whine and roll her eyes.

You really wanted to kiss her, but you didn’t want it to be in a random street where some creeps can be watching you both kiss for their own entertainment. Tara huffed in frustration and wore her (your) helmet, stubbornly trying to get on the bike without needing you assistance (she needed it, she was practically falling off that damn bike if it wasn’t for you). You softly chuckled at her act before wearing yours and turned on the bike, the engine growling. Throughout the ride, you knew Tara was still upset at you since she held her hands on your shoulders instead of your waist.

After reaching her block, you followed her up to her apartment, making sure that she’s safe. Tara was being grumpy, having her arms crossed which prevented you to hold her hand. After reaching her apartment, she went to open the door, trying to enter before you had to chance to talk to her. “Tara- wait, give me a mi-“

“I don’t get you, Y/N. First you bring me out to this date, held my hands and now you don’t want to kiss me? Are you serious-“ Tara’s blabber was disrupted when you grabbed her by her cheeks and leaned in for a kiss, lips colliding.

Tara melted in your hands like putty and wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you in and craning your neck, trapping you in her spell. You could taste her cherry lip gloss, secretly hoping that you get to kiss her more often to get accustomed to the taste. She lets out little sighs in between the kisses to take a breath, before pulling you in again for more. You bit her lip which made her gasp, having the opportunity to slip your tongue in, making her moan and kiss you fiercely and fight with you tongue to tongue.

You pulled away gently, making her whine at the sudden end of the passionate makeup. You gave her tiny pecks and chaste kisses which made her giggle before you pulled away. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Tara. I just wanted it to be private, I can’t let the creeps down the street see me kissing the girl I like,” You confessed, blushing heavily now that Tara’s attention is all on you.

“Aw, you sap. I don’t mind letting them watch, at least they know you’re all mine now.” You gave another kiss, when the door opened abruptly.

“Well, well, well, look who’s grinning like a cat that got the cream.” Sam smirks, glancing between Tara and Y/N, making both blush out of embarrassment.

“So, did you two finally make it official, or am I gonna need to take out the old shower and have a little chit chat with Y/N? I know you have no problem with public declaration of ownership.” She gives Tara a teasing look, knowing full well that her sister’s not shy when it comes to flirting. “Shut up, Sam. I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes but it’s clear that she’s still caught up in the moment.

Sam shrugs dramatically, leaning closer to Y/N, lowering her voice with mock seriousness.

“You better keep your hands to yourself, or I will find out where you live, and I’ll have a serious talk with you. That’s your warning.” She threatens, almost breaking character but keeping it cool.

Y/N, clearly caught off guard but managing a nervous chuckle, nods quickly. “Yes ma’am. I’ll take good care of her, I swear.” They look at Tara, a little embarrassed, but there’s warmth in their eyes. They’re obviously not intimidated, but they know enough to respect Sam’s warning.

“Good answer, Y/N. Good answer.” She flashes a grin, pretending to be serious before stepping back from the door. ”And for the record, I’m definitely expecting a full play-by-play tomorrow, Tara. I’ve got all kinds of questions…”

Tara shakes her head, but there’s no hiding the smile on her face now. She turns back to Y/N, giving them a peck before slipping back inside her apartment with a soft click.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y #scream #tara carpenter

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siren-nate · 7 months ago

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The AvA crew are masters of body language

It might seem obvious, given how emotional the stories are despite being told with characters that don't have facial expressions or dialogue, but I never realized just how incredible the body language is in these animations until a recent rewatch with a friend (@butchpeabody) who really pointed it out and emphasized it to me.

I want to talk about it a bit using what may be my favorite scene across the entire series, that being the scene of King in the void during the climax of Season 3.

Even after the point in the story where we learned his sympathetic backstory, King is a character that lives up to his crown by being a villain of imposing presence and even an appreciation for finery. But after the moment where he cracks and tries to save Purple in the middle of a full-blown PTSD attack, this is the very next scene we see of him. He's haggard, hunched over, walking listlessly with none of the intimidation or class we've gotten used to seeing from him. For an antagonist defined by his determination and refusal to stop or slow down for even a moment, this is already striking even before he finds the memory of his house.

It's an incredibly subtle thing that lasts less than a second, but I love how he has to duck his head down to fit under the doorway due to his crown. It's symbolic of something important: this place was once his home, but now that he's finally returning to it with his descent into obsessive villainy completed, it feels alien and uncomfortable. He's no longer the man that lived here as long as that crown sits on his head.

The first thing in this entire scene that gets some spark of emotion out of him and breaks his listless walk is the chalk appearing on the wall.

And when that vision continues, reminding him of how this alien world took his child away from him, he doesn't move. His lack of reaction IS a reaction; you can imagine the stony look on his face as he silently agrees with his past actions to destroy an entire universe just to get revenge for Gold.

But then that finally changes when he sees all of the living beings that the drawing of himself is hurting. His head raises in shock, and you can imagine his eyes widening as he has to grapple with his actions for the first time. The moment his empathy cracks through, that crown is completely off-screen, reminding us of the caring man smothered underneath it.

And then, Gold appears. It makes sense that seeing the child he lost enter the vision gets the biggest reaction out of him yet...

...and that reaction gets even bigger when he sees what "King" is doing to his child's memory.

For the first time since he started on his revenge quest, his composure shatters. He starts beating on the wall, desperate to make the vision stop, to undo all of the harm he's caused, to take back all of the mistakes he's made wielding his memory of his child like a cudgel. He only becomes ever more frantic and desperate when Gold turns into Purple, and it fully sinks in for him that he's become the evil force he imagined in his head just to have something to take revenge on. He never wanted to cause anybody the same pain he went through, but not only did he dehumanize all the residents of this universe in his mind, his endless rage has even started hurting people that come from the same dimension as him.

The imagery of King desperately beating on a wall with everything he has is absolutely vital to this episode; it shows up twice in his backstory, and for the third and final time here. The first time, it represents how he couldn't save Gold. The second time, it represents how pointless his mission to avenge them is.

But the third time is different.

Because the third time...

The wall finally breaks.

You can see him standing there in shock. He expected it to be just as indestructible as every other time, expected his struggle to be just as futile as always. Because that's always been King's fatal flaw: short-sightedness. An inability to consider "And then what?", or to look at what he's doing and ask himself if it's worth it, or to think of something better he could do.

But when he raises his head and looks, he finally gets it. Now, the wall is breakable - because he does have something better he can do with himself.

It takes a second for him to get over his shock and put it all together, but once he does, he's not walking anymore. He's running like his life depends on it.

Purple's screentime in this scene is much shorter, but it's no less impactful or brilliant in its execution. They raise their head as they hear footsteps, but just like King seeing a false vision meant to show him the truth, Purple doesn't see him running at them - they see Indigo.

They stand up, but it's just as slow as how King walked earlier. They don't care that Indigo is back, not really - they've moved on from how their parent abandoned them. But they still care enough to stand up to find out what the hell Indigo wants.

At first, Purple almost seems like they expect to be attacked and hurt again. In which case, it's extremely powerful that they don't move to defend themself...

...and even moreso that because of that split-second vulnerability, King is able to practically tackle-hug them unimpeded.

Again, purely through body language, you can see so clearly how Purple has absolutely no idea how to react. Being held so tightly by someone who cares about them so much is something they haven't experienced in years.

But just as King can let go of his painful past to make a better life in the present...

So can Purple.

#Alan Becker #Animator vs. Animation #Animation vs. Minecraft #AvA #AvM #King Orange #Mango Tango #ava purple

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flaakea-blog · 27 days ago

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Last post after rewatching x men apocalypse

I believe the trauma Charles endured in this movie is severely overlooked.

His first encounter with Erik happened through Cerebro, where he witnessed Erik’s desperate memories and the tragedy that befell him. Charles, as always, was ready to offer love and support, but Erik—broken and consumed by darkness—chose a different path. Given his nature and the betrayals he has faced, his reaction is understandable, though certainly not justified. After all, the very humans he seeks to destroy include his own mother, his wife, and his daughter.

Regardless, instead of turning to a friend, Erik decides to offer a sacrifice on a silver platter—or rather, on Charles’ metal wheelchair—to Apocalypse. He has no idea what the entity intends to do with Charles, but it’s clear that whatever it is, it will only bring him harm.

As for Erik’s betrayal, it wasn’t entirely surprising, but this time, it hit harder because of the circumstances.

Charles wasn’t just collateral damage in Erik’s plans—he was the sacrifice itself. Along with the psychological and physical violation he endured, this made his experience in the film one of the most brutal and impactful, yet it wasn’t given nearly as much focus as it deserved.

Yet despite all of this, Charles does not respond with anger or resentment. He still hopes Erik will see the goodness within himself (which he eventually does—but only after Charles loses his hair, of course! 🧍). But it’s all in vain.

‎‏For Charles, even when Erik betrays him, he doesn’t view it as outright treachery. Instead, he sees a broken person making destructive choices due to his pain. That’s why he never truly gives up on him. However, the problem with this level of understanding is that it makes Charles the biggest victim. He’s always the one who gets hurt because he refuses to set boundaries.

( in DOFP charles wasn’t himself)

Anyway!

Apocalypse attacks Charles in the one way he would hate the most—by forcing him to use his powers to manipulate others, stripping them of their free will. In mere seconds, we see just how powerful Charles truly is when Apocalypse compels him to disarm the world and send a global message of terror.

Losing control over himself was the worst thing that could happen to someone like Charles, who built his entire philosophy on free will and choice.

he was desperately resisting. And when he is finally rescued, it is Raven who falls into Apocalypse’s grasp.

Acopalyps calls out, Come Charles!

Tears fill his eyes—he was ready to surrender himself for Raven anyway, saying, He wants me. But the process reveals a terrifying truth: this was never about Charles as an individual. If Apocalypse controls him, he controls the entire world. We can see the tears in his eyes as he realizes this.

And so, Charles is forced to fight again within his own mind—only to lose.

And then, at long last, Uncle Erik decides to step in. (After Charles had already lost his hair, of course! 🧍)

I think people severely underestimate the trauma Charles went through in this film—the violation, the misuse of his power, the betrayal by a friend… I would mention the loss of his hair, but that seems to be the only part everyone actually cares about.( idont blame them though)

‏It feels like the everyone took Charles’ trauma for granted because he’s always expected to carry burdens without complaint. This is a recurring issue with leader-type or morally grounded characters—they’re expected to be strong, so their personal struggles are often overlooked .

It is frustration that the film / fanfics explores other characters’ trauma in depth that why my post was so long! To talk about it 🙂‍↔️🤍

And thank you.

The first time I watched this film, my attention was mainly focused on Erik and Peter. It’s strange how much one’s perspective shifts upon rewatching. (It’s still interesting, of course—just not nearly as much as Charles.)

#charles xavier protection squads #charles xavier #charles xavier appreciation society #x men days of future past #x men apocalypse #professor x #professor xavier #erik lehnsherr #my thoughts #character angst #not my gif

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pedriache · 7 months ago

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If you want to — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lamine noticed you hadn’t been sleeping and offers to spend the night with you so you aren’t alone. But you hadn’t expected his presence to relax you so much.

Word Count: 1.8K

Disclaimer/s: all fluff <3 talks of not sleeping (insomnia), cursing.

A/N: This is based off “If you want to” by Beabadoobee!

A nudge to your shoulder had snapped you to attention, your heart rate skyrocketing as you’d just been woken from a half-sleeping state. Rubbing your tired eyes, you turn your attention to your best friend, your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Did I miss something?”

A quiet chuckle leaves Lamine’s lips as he nods his head to the rest of the classroom. Everyone was packing up their things before shuffling their way out of your maths class.

“You practically slept through the whole period.” Lamine notes as you begin putting your own things into your backpack.

Even then, you were moving at a sluggish pace. “My bad.” You sigh, tugging on the metallic zipper with an irritated huff. It’d got caught on the fabric, not budging no matter how harshly you tugged on it.

Before you could lose your temper, Lamine gentle takes the black backpack from your grasp. You watch with a frown as he slowly and gently fixes it, zipping it all the way down without any more of a struggle.

He hands it back with a teasing look, “next time don’t try to rip it apart and maybe it’ll cooperate?”

“Shut up.” You huff, standing up to tug the straps onto your shoulders.

Exiting the classroom, you walk beside Lamine. It was now lunch time, which meant you had the whole thirty minutes to possibly nap in the Library while the athlete got his fair share of carbs in.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” The boy beside you asks, his eyebrows dipped in concern.

Chewing on your bottom lip you reply honestly, “three or four, give or take. Probably closer to three.”

You wish you were joking, but unfortunately your insomnia was taking a tole on you. Getting worse and worse since the school year had started. It was pretty evident in your face as well, as Lamine had pointed out a few times before. Large purple eye bags and heavy eyes had now become your normal. No makeup could conceal the tired look that was always on your face.

Lamine nods his head slowly, opening the light washed doors for the both of you. He says your name in a drawled out tone, cocking his head to the side as he watches you walk past him and into the bustling cafeteria, “you gotta get more sleep, man.”

“I know that!” You groan, “but I just can’t sleep, like ever. It sucks too because I get so bored, but my brain just doesn’t shut off.”

“What if I come over tonight? I’ll hang out with you and we can study for the exam on Monday, maybe it’ll tore you out?” Lamine suggests, his smile genuine as he grabs the red trey before entering the short line for food.

“Really?” You perk up, “I mean, only if you want to, don’t feel obligated or anything.” You add on quickly, grabbing your own trey.

Lamine laughs, “if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have suggested it.” He grins, his elbow lightly tapping your bicep, sending a flurry of something new to your stomach. Something you definitely needed to ignore.

—

That night, Lamine texted you to inform you he’d be over right after he helped his mom clean up dinner. You smiled as you typed back a quick response to let him know the door would be unlocked.

It’d taken very little convincing for your parents to give the all okay when you’d asked if Lamine could stay over, as it was a very normal thing between you since you were kids. Plus, it helped that it was a Friday night.

You were sitting comfortably on your bed, the TV on and playing season three of Criminal minds (your second rewatch of the month), when your door opened without a knock. Lamine’s pajama clad figure entering soon after.

“Hey—“ He stops short, looking to the TV with a disappointed look. “Didn��t you just finish season fifteen like.. last week?”

“Technically, five days ago actually.” You shrug, watching as he makes his way around the bed, setting his backpack on the edge of the bed before slipping onto the bed.

He grabs the remote, pausing the episode. “Have you ever considered that damn show is why you can’t sleep?” He quirks his eyebrow, pressing the red button at the top of the remote, turning the TV black.

“Hey—! I was—whatever, ugh.” You slump back onto your many pillows with a huff of air. “It is just background noise, honestly.”

“Whatever you say..” Lamine sighs, reaching for his laptop in his backpack, pausing and turning to you, “are you going to get yours or..”

You blink, realizing you’d been staring at him without a thought in your head. “Oh! Right.. Homework and studying.. how fun.” Not.

For the next thirty minutes you attempted to focus on the work in front of you, but your mind was trailing off to earlier that day. You’d felt a strange sensation at his touch, one you hadn’t felt before and it was consuming your thoughts now more than ever as he sat beside you, your legs touching.

With a defeating groan, you close your laptop. “I can’t do this. I’m so sick of school, I just want to sleep.” Your frown deepens on your lips as you tilt you head to the side, resting it against the wall as Lamine mirrors you.

“Then sleep?” He offers obviously. “Without the TV on.” He quickly adds, a small grin on his face.

“I’m gonna hit you.” You scowl, but begin to put your laptop and textbook onto the side table.

Lamine does the same, setting them aside and getting comfortable under your large white blanket. Once the two of you were settled, you close your eyes, begging sleep to find you easily.

It doesn’t.

You toss and you turn and you huff and puff, yet you cannot sleep.

A loud yelp escapes your lips as Lamine rolls over, placing an arm around your waist and securing you against him, forcing you to stop moving.

“You’re being loud.” He grumbles through a sleepy voice. And that was enough to shut you up.

Lying in his arms, your heart beat rapidly slowing in your chest the longer he held you. And then the unexplainable happened, you fell asleep, a small smile on your face at the feeling of his soft breaths on your shoulder.

—

Your eyes flutter open, immediately clamping shut as the bright sunlight that burned your eyes. Letting out a loud whine, you move to face away from the sun, only to find your movement halted by the weight of an arm around you.

Right.

You open your eyes again, slower this time as they adjust to the sight in front of you. Lamine was silently scrolling on TikTok, his phone resting against your pillow, his head still resting beside yours.

A smile creeps onto your face, “what are you doing?” You laugh, moving your head to catch sight of his.

“Watching TikTok, what does it look like?” He quips, a humor filled grin on his face as he stares into your eyes, drinking in the way the sunlight hits off your face. He finds himself getting lost in the way your eyes are twinkling with amusement.

Clearing your throat, you face his phone once again, “well turn up the sound, weirdo.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, clicking the side of his phone till it’s at the perfect level. Butterflies attack your stomach at his words, but you push the feeling aside as you two watch his for you page, laughing at the stupid and funny ones, occasionally teasing him when an edit of himself pops up.

It’s not until your eyes flicker up to the time when you gasp, “Lamine! It’s 1:30? Why did you let me sleep in so long!?”

“I didn’t want to wake you!” Lamine argues defensively, “you needed your sleep.” He says the last sentence a lot more softly, more out of care than to actually prove a point.

Your bottom lip juts out, “wait, thats sweet. Appreciate it.” You grin, turning around to place a peck on his cheek, which was a normal thing you did, but this time he hadn’t expected it.

Lamine turns to face you, just as your lips were supposed to connect with his cheek, his lips are suddenly in the way. Soft lips instead of soft cheeks catches you off guard, your eyes widening as you quickly pull away.

“Oh fuck—“ You stutter out, “i’m so—“

“No! No—it’s okay!” He’s stumbling over his own words, both of your cheeks are flushed as you look at each other in shock.

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you staring at one another with slightly parted lips, the silence deafening. You were still in his arms, he was still holding onto you, neither of you dared to move.

“I’m so sorry, I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.” You finally cough out, your eyes narrowing with worry. Did you just fuck everything up?

Lamine’s chocolate eyes soften, “don’t feel sorry.”

Maybe you were reading too into things, but was he trying to say something more?

“I just kissed you..?” You cringe at the way the words that come from your mouth, you sounded like an idiot. This was humiliating.

Lamine’s mouth opens, then closes, then he gives you that look. The one he gave you every time you were slow to catch a meaning behind something. The one that made his lips pull back and his cheeks puffed a little. A look you loved.

God, you loved it. You loved him.

“What? Why are you making that face?” You say through a nervous giggle.

“I don’t want you to be sorry for kissing me, I just want you to do it again.” Lamine says, a bit more confidence in his voice as he does so. He was looking at you with longing in his eyes, and you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Your lips press against his again, feeling the way his lips form a smile as he kisses you right back. His hand snakes through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. The second you pull away, he’s peppering your lips with mini kisses, grinning like an idiot all the while.

You fall back against your pillows, a lovesick smile on your face as he leans over you, brushing stray strands of your bed hair out of your face.

“You look like a goof.” You tease, hand reaching up to touch his that was cupping your face.

“You’re not allowed to make fun of me, I just helped you get the best sleep of your life,” he points out, mater-of-factly before adding, “loser.”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his hand away, “ohhh, don’t let it get to your head.”

After a few more bickering exchanges, you both agree to start your day officially, both exiting your room to go make some ‘breakfast’.

Sickeningly sweet smiles on both of your faces as you make your way downstairs, Lamine’s hand never leaving yours.

(DT) @halfwayhearted ILY. Thank you for helping me on this my bonkkkk💟.

#lamine yamal #x reader #fanfic #lamine yamal x reader #x you #high school #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #im so sick about this.

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innocent-cat · 1 year ago

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Hello darling! Is it okay to request a Vax x F!Reader x Percy (love triangle) one-shot? Where the reader is a human sorcereress from a noble family and somehow ends up with Vox Machina, only for Percy and Vax to develop feelings for her (or them, if you are more comfortable) a year later and become rivals and try to impress her.

I hope this isn't too weird! And it's fine if you don't want to do it! Have a wonderful day/night! Stay safe! 🤗💖

OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSS i actually love this idea so much

Sorceress and noble????? OF COURSE SHE HAS TIESSS WITH THE DE ROLOSSS AND THATS WHY SHE JOINSNSMNNSNS

It's awesome you clarified gender! i only do non-b pronouns when someone doesn't specify the gender. Otherwise I am happy to write for male or female!

sorry im getting excited

Vax'ildan x Reader x Percival

Warnings - idk probably gonna lean towards my bbg percy, not so obvious love triangle, swearing, im literally gonna be using f/n and shit, I'm literally rewatching to remember how to write them as I write this so good luck reading my poor memory of characters, I will use she/her, FUCK I HAD TO USE [name] IM SO SORRY, timeskip because oh my god this is so long,

"Vox Machina's (least) favorite Sorcerer.", Vax x Reader x Percy

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

[F/N] - Family Name

Lady Mystra - Goddess of magic/The weave

[Name] - I was too embarrassed to use y/n

Envonium - The name of the city you are a noble to (Sorry, couldn’t avoid it)

Twinned spell - A sorcery thing that allows a sorcerer to make one spell turn into two to attack two targets, never the same one twice in a row.

You come from a very rich cultured, religious, well mannered, prestigious and otherwise very dependent on magic kingdom. It only makes sense for such a huge part of the culture surrounding the beautiful city known as "The city of the weave", purely for its well known prestigious academies of magic, to have a generally magical culture. Many everyday tasks require magic, or it is commonly frowned upon to do some actions without it.

As a noble sorcerer yourself, your parents couldn't help themselves but give you the education you needed to become stronger as a magic wielder. They began your education at a young age, which proved a struggle for you to connect with companions and school partners who surrounded you. You were always disconnected from the reality of the lives of non-nobles. Other students seemed to feel the same way, and instead of adapting for you or explaining culture to you, they excluded you, making you an outcast in your own kingdom.

Lucky for you, your parents had many allies and peace treaties with those they were more powerful than or equal to, which happened to include the de Rolos. Once they learned of their children, one of which happened to be your age, Percy, they urged them to allow you, their only daughter, to meet Percival and his siblings.

Sadly, your exclusion in school made you awkward around him, and the two of you had trouble holding conversation for a very long time during your visit to Whitestone. It wasn't until your parents mentioned to Lady and Lord de Rolo the education they put you through so you could become a stronger sorcerer, that Percy warmed up to you and began to ramble about sorcery and wizardry, of which you knew much of both.

His curious personality led to conversations that lasted hours only asking the weave, which was tiring. When you began asking him questions back, he could not help himself but go on rants about science, history, and anything he remembered learning, which was a lot. The two of you had a rivaled education.

"That's... not really how the weave works. Where did you even hear that? That's absurd." You'd quip back at his stupid questions(At least, to you, they were stupid.), that you assumed were common knowledge.

"Well- in this book- it speaks of manipulating and changing the weave to cast spells." He was always defensive, quoting books directly and going as far as showing you the page.

With a sigh, "That book is decades old. You don't manipulate the weave, you pull it. Not even pull! It is a very delicate process." You knew it would be hard to explain, because you didn't quite understand it yourself yet.

Every summer, you would visit Whitestone until they suddenly stopped responding to letters, in which your parents cautiously chose to cut ties with the kingdom, without telling you. Whenever you'd ask about it, they'd hush you or change the topic. It confused you, but deep down, you knew they knew something about it.

Of course, this lets you down. You had begun to develop feelings for the boy who showed you kindness and bonded with you over something you were very prideful in. However, you eventually had to give up asking your parents questions about this, and continued your education in the weave.

Of course, your demanding parents practically begged you to practice your magic in real world experiences so you could be truly prepared. When you showed hesitation in doing such a thing, they only pushed harder- in fact, they packed your bags for you. They gave you a lot of gold for the road, a magic bag to hold everything needed, a change of clothes, food for a few days(Bread, cheese, water.), and a map. Not much, but they knew you were more than capable of making due.

Obviously, being a noble of the [F/N] family gave you a target on your back, but it wasn't much of a problem. It seems people underestimate you because you aren't armed with anything but a quarterstaff, but it takes no less than a chromatic orb or a fireball to kill them within seconds.

With background check over, you sit in a tavern.. :3

A group of loud, drunken, lowly mercenaries are shouting across the bar and asking for trouble with several strong looking city dwellers. You can tell they have no real experience in fighting other than bullying people for their money based on their muscles and lack of scars.

You try to ignore the banter, trying to get lost in a pint of beer as you sip on it, the woozy drunk feeling freeing you from an emotional state you get late into the night when left alone to think of your family, your people, and more importantly, all the books you had to leave behind to come here.

You're brought out of your thoughts as a table goes flying over your head, followed by a mug that hits your head, wetting you with the remaining alcoholic liquid left in the cup.

You quickly snap around, rubbing your now pounding head. You ready yourself to cast a spell strong enough to rival the sun against the dirty drunken party, but you realize it was one of the burly men who like to pretend to be tough who threw the table at you. You quickly change the direction of your twinned spell, making quick work of both of them as they fall stunned to the floor. The bar fight ensues as you knock the two of them out, an elf with dark and long hair defends you as another drunken man swings at you with a makeshift weapon. It seemed like it was a leg to a chair, but you couldn't tell in the blur of the quick paced fighting.

Once the quick turned fight ends, a female ranger announces to the barkeeper that 'Vox Machina' will pay back their tab in due time. You roll your eyes, and with a groan, you begrudgingly hand up a small bag of gold to cover their tab and look at the elven woman with an extremely annoyed face. She looks back, surprised you paid their tab, and even more so surprised you have the audacity to look at her with such a face.

A white haired, taller man looks at you with extreme shock. His face is familiar, but you know better than to stare, something he must have forgotten. Your face shifts into a less disgruntled face as the barkeeper speaks to you, thanking you for kindly paying the group's tab.

With the showy smile you were taught, you give him a soft and polite 'You're very welcome. Thank you for your hospitality.'

Your conversation with the barkeeper is cut short when the brunette, elven woman loudly asks you "And who the fuck are you?"

It sounded much more like actual curiosity than impoliteness, so you choose to not respond with the same tone, instead introducing yourself.

"[Name] [F/N]." (Guys im actually so sorry for having to do that, it feels taboo bc no one likes it) One side of you hoped they knew your family name for the sake of fear or authority, but the other hoped they didn't for the sake of having new beginnings.

Their gnome cleric seemed to be working your name out, familiarity reading on her face. You can tell it clicks when she looks up at you thinking of what to say, but she instead introduces herself and the rest of the party.

"Hi.. I'm Pike, this is Grog, the two similar looking elves are twins, Vex and Vax. The druid is Keyleth, and.. Scanlan is the guy pissing on the sign right now." As she speaks you can hear the encouraging smile on her face in her voice, her friendly introduction and personality persuading you to not judge or speak ill of Vox Machina.

You smile at all of them as she introduces them, except for Scanlan, your face rests in disgust watching the half nude gnome piss on a sign, then accidentally piss on a guard of the kingdom.

You turn expectantly to the one Pike seemingly forgot to introduce, the look of disgust still on your face. He seems startled you gave him the sour face, and you quickly fix it. You wave a beckoning motion at him to introduce himself.

"My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III'' You finally realize who he is, and your face contorts to curiosity, but there's a small amount of disgust evident in it as well.

You have no clue what his family might have done to your’s for them to cut ties with his, but it couldn't have been good. Your mother always fought your father to keep as many allies as possible, and it was very rare for them to both agree on cutting ties.

Rolling your eyes at his long introduction, you cross your arms. The wisp of cold night wind swishes through your hair, as you feel it on your neck. You look up at him like scum under your foot, standing a distance of around 4 feet away from him.

"Do.. you guys know each other?" Pike asks you awkwardly, the rest of the party staring at the two of you awkwardly as well, noticing your repulsed face and Percy's face of surprise.

You scoff. "Know each other? No no.. we're only childhood best friends of neighboring kingdoms." Your voice seethes in sarcasm, your gaze not leaving Percy.

A new voice enters the awkward situation, the elven rogue, Vax, who protected you earlier.

"Yeah, you two really seem to be bonded to the core." His sarcasm matches your's, and you laugh softly, finally turning away from the silent Percy.

Walking towards him to converse, your face changes to a more smug than angry expression, your eyebrows still turned downward. The two of you banter for a moment before Scanlan awkwardly reveals a request for mercenaries.

"You guys wouldn't mind if I joined you, right? It's been a long while since I've been part of a party, and even longer since I’ve seen Percy." You ask Pike, who you assume is the leader of the party as she seems most responsible.

"It never hurts to have a few extra hands!" You can tell she's still dwelling on your interaction with Percy, as her tone is sensitive and her words practically dance around what just happened.

(Timeskip because theres literally a gap in writing in the show BECAUSE I DONT FUKCING KNOW WHAT TO DO HELP)

Waking up in the morning and climbing the stairs up to the ruler of Emon was a struggle, and you couldn't help but cast an ice spell to soothe the headache you currently had. Percy had tried to talk to you a few times, but you had shrugged him off at every opportunity. He opted to walk in the front of the group, conversing lightly with Vex and Keyleth.

It was nice talking to Vax so casually, as it wasn't an opportunity given to you often to speak informally. He gave you a few confused glances whenever you slipped up and started speaking formally, and you'd let out an awkward laugh and wave your hand in front of your face to try and get him to ignore it.

"So- what brings you to Emon?"

"My mother and father pushed me out of the kingg..domm.. I just want to practice my sorcery. I haven't really used it outside of learning it in practice." You trail off, when he gives you a weird look after mentioning your home.

"Oh. Really? That sounds.. wonderful. You seem a truly powerful sorcerer." He replies to you with an awkward smile on his face, trying to keep the conversation flowing with you as best as possible.

Once the party reaches the doors, Trinket, Vex's pet bear, stays on the outside of the doors with the guards. The party all make an awkward introduction, and you attempt to quip that you aren’t part of Vox Machina perse, but Scanlan quickly spoke over you in song, and went over you quite quickly, introducing you as “The sorcerer princess of the city of the weave!” And honestly? You had to admit it was better than anything you were expecting him to say about you, even if he had gotten some facts wrong.

A ‘punch in the gut’ feeling washed over you as you remember that you are a high status noble walking among a group of barfing, hungover mercenaries, and you look just as hungover as the rest of them. You quickly straighten yourself out and push around Vax with a soft ‘Sorry..’ and stand next to Percy, hoping to look better next to him, another noble. He seems surprised but ignores it, letting Scanlan bullshit you guys through the ‘meeting’ you had interrupted by walking in. Eventually, Emon’s ruler and a few advisers approve of your group saving the kingdom, in exchange for a very large box presumably full of gold coins.

You all quickly board the boat like aircraft, shuffling to stand near the railing, you find yourself standing next to Percy after not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on between Vex and Vax, opting to not seem rude or nosy. You of course, keep your space between you and him, and lean on the rail, debating on starting the conversation.

And you do.

“So.. what could the de Rolos have done to have angered the [F/N]s?” You ask, sarcastically, but genuinely curious.

Percy turns and looks at you with a face of bewilderment. “What did we do? What are you talking about?” Percy’s voice has anger lacing through it, and he wasn’t trying to hide it, but it’s not like he was trying to show it either.

“I mean, what did you guys do? Lord de Rolo stopped responding to my mother’s letters, and one day both mother and father refused to speak of Whitestone. It was like you guys did some horrible offense against lady Mystra, or, I don’t know, maybe betrayed one of our stronger alliances?” You dig deeper under his skin unknowingly, your face only showing confusion.

Percy’s stance changed, and he turned his body to face you. “My father stopped responding to your mother’s letters because he was murdered. They.. were all murdered. I ran from my kingdom, barely escaping my attackers, and I assumed you did your’s?”

Your mouth drops ever so slightly in shock, but you quickly close it. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I had no clue. I wish I could have convinced my parents to do something.. And no, I didn’t run from Evonium. My parents sent me away to become stronger.. I finally graduated from my academy.” Your eyes are glossy, as if hurt for Percy for what happened to his family. Your expression was soft, and pitiful. It almost completely contrasted the look you gave him at the bar, if it weren’t for that same pitiful look that knitted in your eyebrows as the wind blew against your face.

He turns away, unwilling to think about the look you had given him. He sighs. “It’s quite alright. I don’t blame you for assuming our families crossed one another. If I was in your position I would have done the same.”

You scoot closer to him, but leave room to breathe. You felt selfish for wanting to heal your relationship so fast, so you would let him choose when the wound was closed.

You felt eyes burning into the back of your head, but you tried ignoring it. Unaware it was Vax, you choose not to turn, and hope it was nothing. It seems he doesn’t want the wound to close at all, and he has a face that reads jealousy. He turns back to Vex, continuing their conversation and trying to shake off the feeling he had about you and Percy.

The ship shakes, and quickly levitates to the ground, a small wooden town ahead of you. The tents were torn, and burns were evident in the wood that kept the cloth up. It didn’t look like the work of a reckless wizard or sorcerer, and it seemed like it came haphazardly from above. You slowly walk down the aircraft beside Percy in silence. Scanlan makes some kind of sexual comment to the woman who brought us here, to which she ignores and promptly leaves without a word. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

You and Percy walk awkwardly behind everyone else, as Vax walks beside Keyleth, Pike next to Grog, and Vex next to Scanlan, which she was visibly upset about. However, she didn’t seem too upset as the two bantered sarcastically back and forth. The trail to the tents begins to go down hill, the path muddy and slippery. You try to hold onto Percy’s shoulder as you walk down, in which he drapes an arm around your waist in response to, trying to help support you, but it only brings you flashes of your childhood crush on him, and you fail to pay attention to the floor, despite having a staring contest with it.

You slip, falling backwards for only moments before Percy’s hand grips your hip, his arm already behind your back to support you, and pulls you back up. It was a pull with quick strength that was more of a reflex than an action, and it pulls you nearly face to face. You blush, and mutter a quick ‘Thanks, Percy.’, and he looks away with a quickly spoken, flustered, “Yeah! Yes. Of course.” as if he was trying to pull himself together. You pull away, but keep your hand on Percy’s shoulder until fully down the slope.

Vax turns around to look at the commotion, and he catches a glimpse of you blushing at Percy. He can’t help but scoff at it, and turns back around to talk to Keyleth, only really half talking to her, and her only really half talking to him.

#x reader #percy de rolo #vox machina #percival de rolo #percy de rolo x reader #the legend of vox machina #vax'ildan #vex and vax #vex'ahlia #pike trickfoot #scanlan #vax x reader #vax #vax'ildan x reader #critical role #female reader #love triangle #percyxreaderxvax love triangle #percyxreader love triangle

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭-𝐈𝐧-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝

Summary ➳ With a suspended license, you took the risk of picking up your brothers from a bar and when caught, Officer Walsh gives you a choice.

(A/n) ➳ I just realized that I’m still on season 3… I might end up rewatching season 1 and 2… Yeah, I’m rewatching it.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, NO OUTBREAK, DARK SHANE, DARK CONTENT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sexual content, , heavy profanity, mentions of drugs, alcohol use, oral (M), abuse of power, face-fucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling…

DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. MDNI 18+

“Don’t be blamin’ me you damn dipshits!” You shouted over the phone as you struggled to boot your boots on. “How the hell did he even get kicked out?” You threw on your jacket.

“The hell was I supposed to know he was gonna get drunk?”

“You’re with him!”

“Jus’ get yer damn ass over ‘ere!”

“My license is suspended! Where’s your car?!

“The piece of shit broke down! It’s late, the cops ain’t gonna do anythin’.”

“Easy for you to fuckin’ say.” You groaned, grabbing Merle’s truck keys and walking out of the door. You angrily hung up on him, cutting off his cursing at Merle and loudly crashing.

You shoved the worn out key into the ignition, and felt that familiar click. You turned the key and waited for the engine to turn on. There’s a low rumble but then a silence.

You grumbled and turned the key again, it grumbled a little louder this time but nothing. “For fuck’s sake!” You shouted and tried it again, finally it turned on.

You changed gears and backed out of the driveway, and hurriedly drove to the only bar closest to where you all lived.

You again changed gears and turned on the radio as an attempt to calm down, but you knew it wasn’t helping when you were still cursing about Merle. You gripped the worn out steering wheel, trying to tune out the strange rumbling from the engine.

Urgency ran through your veins, and you didn’t pay attention to how fast you were going. It was nearly midnight, barely anyone was on the road.

From the familiar signs, you were at the outskirts of the town, just a couple of minutes away.

“Dammit!” You smacked the steering wheel as the red and blue lights appeared right behind you. A wave of uneasiness overcomes your anger, the last thing you wanted to was be arrested for evading the police.

The flashing lights illuminated the dark road as you pulled over, bringing the truck to a park. You can see from the mirror the officer leaving his car and speak to his radio.

You rolled down your window as he approached the truck, leaning towards the window. “Evenin’, ma’am. What brings you out here so late?”

You contained your frustration and put on a smile. “Just tryin’ to pick up my brothers from a bar.”

You felt like he stared longer than he should, you could see him scanning the inside of the truck, taking note of various Merle’s stuff scattered across the back seat.

“License and registration.” He asked.You reached over and opened the glove box and handed him your registration. He took the paper and lifted an eyebrow. “License?”

“Look officer…?” You looked at his badge but he beat you to it.

“Walsh.”

“Walsh, I don’t have it.”

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, he pulled out his pen and notepad. “Name and birthdate?”

“(Y/n) Dixon-”

“Dixon? Which would make you related to Merle Dixon?”

You reluctantly nodded. “Yes, he’s my brother. Look, I ain’t got time to talk. Can’t I just-”

“I’m assumin’ this ain’t your truck.” Before you could say anything else, he began to circle the truck with a lit flashlight in hand.

“Fuck me.” You mumbled, knowing Merle, he probably had some illegal substances hiding in wherever. “Fuck you Merle.” You cannot have a drug charge on your record, you could not have that.

“Can you step out of the vehicle for me?” He said out loud, coming back to the door.

“Officer-”

“Don’t make this difficult, Dixon.” He took a couple steps back, a hand on his hip as he waited for you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, turned off the truck and stepped out of it. “You have anythin’ you hidin’?” He questioned you.

“Nope.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Shane smirked, turning off his flashlight. “You know what happens when you drive without a license?”

“Officer Walsh, my brothers need me to pick them up. Just write me a ticket and let me be on my way.”

“Drivin’ late at night, without a license? You know how dangerous it is?” He said. “Givin’ you a ticket ain’t gonna be enough.”

“Officer-”

“I’ll give you two choices.” Shane maneuvered around you, shutting the truck door, blocking the door. “I can arrest you and get you booked which could take…” He counted using his fingers. “A hour to a couple hours-”

“Then arrest me-”

“Minus waitin’ for your case.” Shane lowered his hands, grinning. “Or…” His hands reach for his belt, ready to unbuckle it. “You can get on your knees.”

“The hell I am-!”

Shane loudly hushed you. “You want me to turn a blind eye?”

You stumbled over your words, a mix of excuses and curses. But the shit eating grin was still on his face and when you took a glance at his crotch, he was already hard.

“You’re disgustin’.”

Shane shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Be a good girl, Dixon. Don’t be keepin’ your brothers waitin’.” He pulled himself out of his pants, and pumped himself slowly. “Get on your knees.”

“Fuck me.” You muttered under your breath, doing as he said.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You rolled your eyes and took him into your hands, jerking him off with a disgusted look on your face. You refused to look at him or his cock, keeping your gaze on the ground.

From base to head, you stroked, twisting your hand around it.

You wished to yourself that he would quickly cum and get on with your night. You tried to focus on something else and hoped that if anyone did pass by they wouldn’t see.

Shane grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back roughly, a gasp lifted your lips. He shoved his thumb into your mouth as the rest of his fingers held your face.

He breathed heavily and plunged himself into your mouth. He forced you down to the base, his pubic hair itching your nose, making it scrunch. His hips began to buck and your jaw slacked.

Your hand clutched his pants, your nails digging into them. Your eyes shut tightly as each time he touched the back of your throat, you gagged.

Your saliva dripped down your chin, and when he tugged at your hair, you whimpered. The pain was unbearable as he took joy in seeing you in pain, your hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.

“You’ve done this before?” Shane sneered at you, throwing his head back and moaning quite loudly. It was like he didn’t care if he got caught. “You sure have a fuckin’ talent!”

Shane didn’t care for any discomfort you were feeling, all the stress that Merle and Daryl caused in the past was being taken out on you.

He pulled back until it’s just the head of his cock in your mouth then thrusted back in. Again and again, his hand tight in your hair, thrusting as hard and deep as he could and his cock glistening with saliva.

“Look at me.” He panted. “C’mom, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your eyes snapped to his, watery and wide, full of anger.

He cursed at you, biting down on his lip as the orgasm builded in him. He then held your head still as he was so far deep that your body jerked.

Shane gave out a loud grunt as he came inside and down your throat. You started to choke, you punched his thigh a couple of times before he threw you off him.

You hit the ground, coughing. You hissed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The salty and bitter taste in your mouth made you retch.

He let out a sigh of relief, tucking himself back into his pants. “Drive safely ma’am.” He laughed once again as he walked to his car. Once you were sure he drove off, you picked yourself up from the ground and quickly drove to the bar.

“Took yer sweet ass time!” Daryl shoved an unconscious Merle into the backseat before getting into the passenger side. “The hell happened?”

“Cops.” You packed out of the parking spot and drove, trying to focus on the road.

“Anythin’ happen? Ya alright?”

“Yeah, let me off with a warnin’.”

“Seriously-?”

“I’m tired Daryl. Just let me get this asshole home.” You couldn’t focus, not without the bitter taste in your mouth, drowning out Daryl’s attempts to wake his brother for his phone.

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