#the only good one was pacific rim | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanwritesfan-fiction · 2 months

Text

I've Got A Crush On You

Part Two: Not Tonight

A WMCJ!Jeremy x Reader Fic

Soundtrack: Not Tonight- Lil' Kim (many features)

Jeremy gets to take Ms. Flexible out for a date, but he quickly realizes that he's in way over his head after his last relationship. Kamal is doing is best to keep his present and past separate, but when one of his players gets into some trouble, he finds that you really can't leave behind the place that made you.

Warnings: language, Jeremy being Jeremy, mentions of violence, kissing

A/N: not beta'd for time, I'll go back later and make edits if necessary

"PASS THE BALL!", Jeremy yelled above the sound of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, his voice echoing off the gym walls. "Isaiah pass the b-", he groaned as Isaiah tried to shoot the ball, his off balance attempt ricocheting off the rim and careening across the bleachers.

The West LA Dragons youth basketball team had two weeks of practice under their belt, and they had nothing to show for it. There were only two players on the team who could even dribble or shoot the ball, and the others were like newborn giraffes on the court, stumbling over their feet, every shot coming up at least three feet short, and to the right. "I swear to-", Jeremy cried out, running his hands through his tight curls.

"No swearing!" Chris called out from the bleachers, his head down, looking at the stat sheet.. "Go get your friend, man." He gestured at Kamal to get Jeremy all the way together.

"Alright, water break", Kamal called out to the team with a clap of his hands, each player immediately collapsed on the ground, their chests heaving to try to catch a breath, no energy to even run and get some water. "Dude, what's the problem? They're kids, you've got 'em running drills like soldiers", Kamal said at a whisper.

"Have you seen this team? You know I don't believe in corporal punishment", Jeremy placed a peaceful hand on his chest to signify his love of pacification, making Kamal roll his eyes dramatically, "but some of these kids need the belt".

Kamal narrowed his eyes at Jeremy, "Nah, you're more annoying than usual. What's really going on?"

Jeremy let out a humorless chuckle, squeezing at his hips with his hands as he shuffled his weight nervously back and forth. "I'm nervous about tonight."

"What's tonight?", Kamal asked, his brow knitted together with confusion. "Dude, stop playing with me." Jeremy scoffed. He could barely focus on anything today but you, and his nerves were getting the best of him.

"I'm not fuckin' with you man. I have no idea what you're talking about." Kamal stifled a laugh, he loved to see Jeremy squirm under pressure. "Man, my date tonight!" He spoke louder than he intended, his voice carrying across the room.

"Woah! Mr. Tumnus has a date tonight!", Isaiah teased, the team breaking out in laughter at his joke. Jeremy quickly paced over to him in anger. "How do you even know that reference?! You weren't even born when that movie came out." He flexed his jaw at his pint size enemy.

"It was a book first, you moron, we read it in school", Isaiah shrugged, letting the ball roll off his fingertips. "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe?" Jeremy glanced back at Kamal with wide eyes to confirm, his friend giving him a nod. "Ok, well...shut up and shoot the ball." He didn't have a comeback, and he was honestly starting to wonder how this kid knew so many pop culture references that he didn't.

"Good comeback, Will Ferrell", Isaiah let out a humorless breath, looking around for confirmation that his joke landed. "Okay, you know what? That one was a reach!" Jeremy snatched the ball from him, holding it behind his back as the kid tried to get it back from him. He leaned forward, getting on Isaiah's level, his tone even. "I don't know if all the Fortnite you play is rotting your brain or something, but if you don't get in line and start showing me a little respect, you're gonna get laughed off the court at tomorrow's game."

Isaiah gave him an cocky grin. "I'm surprised you know what Fortnite is, I didn't know they had it when Jesus was around, ya old man."

"J, don't." Kamal warned, having heard their entire conversation. He could tell that Jeremy was starting to get pissed off, and if provoked, namaste could quickly turn into something nama-nasty. "Its' fine, its' fine." Jeremy waived him off; he wasn't about to let anyone ruin his day today. "Fine, you don't wanna be a team player, everyone's getting punished." The smile dropped from Isaiah's face as Jeremy stood up, blowing his whistle that hung around his neck. "Laps, everyone!" There was a collective groan heard in the room as everyone slowly stood up.

"That's not fair!", Isaiah called out. "Yeah, yeah, they call you "Swiffer, lets see you swiffer this court as you run around it." Jeremy blew his whistle again.

"Its Swisher", Isaiah mumbled under his breath as he started running, catching up with the group.

"Dude, I could have sworn I told you about my date tonight", Jeremy turned back to Kamal, palming the basketball as the two of them made their way to the bleachers. "You did", Kamal chuckled, taking a sip from his water bottle, "I just love fuckin' with you."

"I can't believe you actually did it", Kamal chuckled as he sat down on the couch opposite Jeremy. He begrudgingly agreed to come over to Jeremy's place after practice and help him pick out an outfit for his date tonight, only because he could tell Jeremy was more nervous than usual. He pushed aside the money tree and bottles of unidentifiable "health" liquids that occupied Jeremy's coffee table. His apartment always smelled like dirt and patchouli oil, and even though he'd been over many times, he never got used to the scent.

"Why do you have zero faith in me? After all that we've been through." Jeremy sucked his teeth at his best friend as he leaned back, pulling out his phone. He'd been scrolling through your Instagram all morning, trying to get a feel for the kind of person you were. He didn't want to take you to Malibu if you were more of a Beverly Hills kind of girl, and he felt the pressure to make a good impression on you because the crush he had only grew with each passing day.

"Because I know you", Kamal interjected, "and I know that your breakup with Tati broke you. To be honest, I didn't think you were ever gonna get back out there." He pointed at the bottle that looked the least disgusting. "Can I try this?" Jeremy nodded, ruffling his curls with his fingers.

Talking about his last girlfriend, their relationship ending after five good years together, was still a sensitive subject for him. The way things ended left a lot to be desired, and he was really nervous about starting to date again. Still, he couldn't let on how hurt he still was, especially to Kamal, because he would never let him live it down.

"Listen, I broke up with her. We were just moving in to different directions. I was focused on my business and she..."

"Was focused on some other guys dick?" Kamal grimaced as the green juice hit his taste buds. He put the bottle down, spitting what was left in his mouth in a napkin. "What the fuck is in here? It tastes like ass."

Jeremy perked up, taking the bottle from the table. "Wheatgrass. I've been working on a new formula. Its supposed to be really good for your digestive system."

"You know its not supposed to taste the way it would come out, going in right?" Jeremy ignored his dig, his gaze focused on your latest story post. You were posing with your sister and nephew in the booth of a restaurant, red pleather seats behind you and a very distinctive donkey with a sombrero on in the very back corner. Jeremy couldn't shake the feeling that he recognized the place, but couldn't quite put his finger on exactly where.

Just as he pressed the red heart emoji on the screen, a notification fell down from the top of the screen.

You: How does Las Anitas on Olvera Street sound tonight? Its my favorite restaurant

Jeremy couldn't help the smile that formed on your face at the cute emojis you overused in your text. He replied that he'd swing by your place to pick you up at 8pm before looking back up at Kamal.

"What?" Jeremy tipped his head at Kamal who was grinning ear to ear. "Nothing", he shook his head, taking another sip of the drink, and suppressing a gag at the taste once again, "its just nice to see you smiling. Good change of pace."

Jeremy could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, but he couldn't deny that Kamal was right. "See this is what I'm talking about. If we could just be open and vulnerable with each other, we could be even better f-". Kamal gave Jeremy a look of disgust as he pushed himself to his feet. "Fuck no, man, I told you about that "therapy" shit, I'm not tryna hear that."

"I feel like you're not giving it a chance!" Jeremy called out to him, his focus still on his phone, mindlessly scrolling through your feed.

"So, you're going out with a hippie?", your older sister, Nikki asked as she plopped herself down on your bed. You sighed as you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, putting your finishing touches on your outfit. Jeremy was supposed to arrive any minute, and you were growing increasingly nervous with each passing second. It'd been a while since you'd been on a date, and you weren't much for relationships, so you didn't have a lot of experience with flirting or carrying small talk.

"He's not a hippie", you giggled, leaning forward and touching up your lip-gloss. "He's just health conscious, and he seems sweet."

"Yeah, give it a couple months and you'll be moving to his commune and stop shaving your legs and wearing deodorant." You gave your sister a look through the mirror, a laugh escaping her lips when she noticed you. "That's not his vibe. He's from Beverly Hills." You were about to carry on when you heard a knock on the door. You might have been a little too eager when you ran past Mattias, who was playing video games on the couch.

Jeremy gave you a mega-watt smile when you opened the door, your stomach full of butterflies when you saw how good he looked outside of his gym clothes.

"Y-you look beautiful", Jeremy stuttered over his words as his eyes roamed your body. "Thanks", you felt your face heat up at his compliment. "Come in, I'm almost ready."

You left Jeremy at the entrance while you ran to your room to grab your purse and slip on your shoes. Jeremy felt uncomfortable, taking in the immaculately kept apartment, full of family mementos and vintage furniture pieces. "What's up Mattias?" Jeremy greeted the 12 year old, who only returned a nod, his focus on the TV.

"So, you're the hippie." Your sister strolled into the living room. She was a single mom, with a past of rough relationships and a bitter baby daddy of her own, so she was always skeptical of every man she came across. Jeremy opened his mouth to defend himself, but you interrupted just in time, pushing him through the door.

"Please ignore my sister, Nikki, she doesn't have any house training." Mattias pushed past the two of you out the front door and ran toward his bike hooked up to the rack out front of the building. "Where are you going?", you asked, confused as to why he'd be leaving after 8pm.

"I'm going to Isaiah's house, we're gonna play hoops.", he threw over his shoulder as he mounted his bike. "You better be back before 10!", you called after him as Jeremy guided you to the car.

Jeremy was still "automobile challenged" ever since he broke up with Tatiana, so he had to practically beg Kamal to use his car, finally breaking him down to borrow the Honda after Jeremy agreed to watch Drew three date nights in a row.

You stood at the passenger side while he struggled to open the rusted door, finally getting it open after a hard pull, stumbling back. "Sorry", he mumbled under his breath with a chuckle as he jogged over to the drivers side, and you slid into the passenger seat. The engine sputtered as Jeremy tried to turn the key, a hard metal scratching sound shook the car. "Sorry", he repeated, his face bright red. Finally the engine turned over-

You covered your ears as music blared through the speakers, lyrics flooding the car as Jeremy frantically tried to find the stereo volume button.

🎶I'm in love with the shape of you We push and pull like a magnet do Although my heart is falling too I'm in love with your body🎶

He punched the "off" button, making you jump. "Sorry." Third time was the charm, even with apologies.

"Ed Sheeran, huh?", you giggled, playfully pushing him in the shoulder. You could visibly see him relax, his shoulders falling down from his ears, as he realized that you were pretty chill and he didn't have to work so hard to impress you.

"Dude, I don't know about this." Mattias sized up the chain link fence in front of him, at least twice his height. It was pitch black, the only light source coming from the flashlight he had in his hand. He looked out to the bright neon sign of the gas station a couple feet away in front of him. Isaiah gave him a push, a few of his other teammates behind him cheering him on. "If you wanna be a part of the team, you've gotta do this."

Growing up, Mattias always had a hard time making friends. He was a really shy kid, and it didn't help that his mom had him moving around all of Southern California, never putting roots down for more than a couple months. By sixth grade, he'd been at his fifth school, and finally his mom promised that he'd be here for a long time. When you moved in to help pay some of the bills and help raise Mattias, he finally felt like he'd found a home, and this time, he was determined to make friends.

The basketball team was his saving grace, because he was spending a lot of time with kids his age, and for the most part they were pretty nice. Isaiah was definitely the leader of the crew, and Mattias felt he had to impress him, which was why he was currently about to jump a fence.

"C'mon, Matti, do it!", his friends edged him on. "C'mon, unless you're a pussy", Isaiah spit out. The was enough to get Mattias going, who jumped onto the chain link fence and hoisted himself over the metal bars, easily jumping down to the other side. "Aren't you guys coming?"

Isaiah and the rest of the group avoided eye contact, no one else working to make their way over the fence too. "No, this is part of the initiation. You have to go into that gas station and steal something without getting caught." Mattias could feel his stomach start to churn. "You do that, you're in the group."

"I don't wanna do that. I'll get in trouble." Mattias could only imagine the look on yours and his mom's face if he was brought home in a cop car. "We all had to do it, so you have to, too. Unless you're scared", Isaiah teased in a sing-song tone, letting out an evil chuckle. He was torn. He was desperate to make friends, but getting caught would for sure get him grounded for the next year and his mom would pull him from the team.

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Mattias heard the chants behind him as he contemplated his next move. He got a running start, sprinting across the empty field until he reached the edge of the gas station lot. He looked to the right and left of him and made sure that no one saw him enter the convenience store.

He would just make sure he didn't get caught.

So far, the date was going pretty well. You actually enjoyed hearing Jeremy talk about his holistic smoothie business, and it definitely didn't hurt that he was really easy on the eyes.

"So this is your favorite restaurant?", Jeremy switched topics, noticing you staring at him. He was staring at you too, but how could he not, you were fucking gorgeous.

"Yeah, its the first place I came to when I moved here to live with my sister and nephew, and now we come here all the time. Mostly birthday's and celebrations, but its become our spot, ya know?" You gave him a soft smile.

"Are you not originally from LA?" Jeremy asked as he played with the plastic menu in his hands. He already knew the answer, that you were originally from Texas, having practically stalked your social media to prepare for this date, but he wasn't going to let on that he knew that. "No, I'm originally from Houston. Didn't think I'd ever live in LA, but its actually not that bad if you can get past the traffic."

As you continued to talk about your career as a nurse, and the closest thing to your heart, your family, you could see that Jeremy was a little distracted, constantly glancing over your right shoulder. It kind of hurt to think that maybe he thought you were boring and not worth listening to. After the third look past you, you interrupted his eye line, snapping your fingers at him. "Something wrong? Am I boring you?", you ended with a giggle, to soften the blow of your accusation.

Jeremy's throat went dry as he looked at the other side of the restaurant. He'd recognize her anywhere, even her side profile. He was 99% sure that Tatiana was in the same restaurant, on a date with another guy.

"Fuck", he shot out under his breath, but you heard him. "What's going on?", you looked around the room, trying to figure out what had him so upset.

Jeremy remembered where he recognized the red leather booths and the donkey with the sombrero now. This was where he and Tatiana had their first date. His face somehow simultaneously went white and red, his cheeks a bright pink.

"Jeremy, are you okay? You don't look so good." Your voice snapped him back to reality. What the hell was he doing? He was on a date with a gorgeous woman, someone he was lucky to get the attention of, and he was still hung up on on ex. He just needed to get it-

He ducked behind the menu, shielding his face as Tatiana and the mystery guy walked past toward the exit. You pulled up your menu as well, getting level with him. "Who are we hiding from? Do you have warrants out or something?" You were half joking, half hoping he'd tell you no. He ignored your line of questioning, peeking out the side of the shield.

"Jeremy, is that you?" Tatiana stopped at the table when she recognized the brunette. "Uh, no sorry. You must have me mixed up with someone else." Jeremy lowered his voice an octave, a terrible disguise of his voice.

"Jeremy, I know that's you. Why are you hiding?" Tatiana was dancing around the table trying to get a good look at him, but Jeremy was just as quick. After a few seconds she gave up.

"Sorry, I guess I had the wrong person", Tatiana murmured with frustration and kept walking to the exit.

"I think you're in the clear", you said as you watched the door close behind her. Jeremy sat up and adjusted his jacket and hair as if that scene didn't just happen. "So I was thinking of getting the enchiladas, no meat, just beans. What're you gonna get?"

You burst out laughing, garnering the attention of the tables around you. Jeremy looked at you with a deadpan face, his lips in a tight line.

"Ok. So we're just gonna pretend like you didn't do a "She's The Man" with that girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", Jeremy replied timidly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

"Listen, its okay. If I saw my ex, I'd probably react the same way." You placed a sympathetic hand on top of his, gently brushing your fingers over his knuckles. "How did you know?". Jeremy was beyond embarrassed for his actions, but at no point did he think he'd run into Tatiana again, and the emotions from seeing her hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I guessed she was either a stalker or an ex, and she was way too pretty to be your stalker, no offense."

Jeremy chuckled, grabbing your hand and gently squeezing it a few times affectionately. You felt a warmth through out your body, and it was like the room was empty, except for the two of you. Suddenly, you were noticing things about him you hadn't seen before. How soft his blue eyes were, the creases that formed in the corner of his eyes whenever he smiled, how cute his freckles were, the dimple. He made you feel safe and beautiful in a way that no guy had in a very long time.

"Do you wanna get out of here?", you whispered. Jeremy's eyebrows rose at the suggestion, but you smirked at him, taming his excitement. "I know a taco stand close to my place. A lot less likely to run into any exes there." You rose and slipped your jacket on, Jeremy right behind you. As he rose from his seat, his back pocket buzzed. "I'll be right there", me motioned to you as you headed to the car.

A photo of him and Kamal together at the championship game illuminated the screen as he pressed answer.

"Hey Kamal, I'm pretty busy right now." Jeremy paused as he listened to a frenzied Kamal on the other line. "Hey, okay, don't worry. I'll be right there."

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@jacksuberdriver

@hallecarey1

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #wmcj #jeremy wmcj #jeremy!wmcj

91 notes · View notes

truly-neutral-art · 1 day

Text

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is.

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow.

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine.

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes.

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both.

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge.

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell.

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted.

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him.

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other.

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull.

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk.

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs.

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset.

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move.

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked.

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score.

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back.

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close.

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily.

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact.

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair.

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.”

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted.

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck.

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible.

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au

80 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 4 days

Text

Memory Reboot x2

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [CHAPTER 1].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke; the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room.

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean.

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?” That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office.

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up.

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen.

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere.

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity.

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question?

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants.

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head.

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs.

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy."

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

116 notes · View notes

booktomoviebrawl · 2 months

Text

Do you like books? Do you like movies? Do you like when books are adapted into accurate adaptions?

So do I! Unfortunately, this doesn't always happen, so why don't we celebrate the ones that do get good adaptions by making them fight to the death?

Rules/Qualifications:

Do not spam submissions. I'll know and I will delete all of them. If you REALLY want to, then do it subtly, at least

Do not submit Harry Potter. First and only warning.

Good TV show adaptions are also allowed in, but movies will take priority

If you want an example of what "good" means- well, I can't give you that, but you can get examples of what "bad" is! You can look at the propaganda on this blog for the previous tournament I ran, which was worst adaption

@pinkhairswagtourney @myfaveisfuckable @best-childhood-book @yall-hate-kids-tourney @tournament-announcer

Also hi if you're reading this. No this does not mean I am stopping the Pacific Rim/monster movie stuff. I am capable of multitasking.

#polls #tournament poll #tumblr polls

119 notes · View notes

powerpolyculeshowdown · 1 year

Note

Do you have recommendations for shows/books/whatever with canon/basically canon polyamory?

ok the only media w officially canon polyam i personally consumed are Iron Widow and Hades.

Iron Widow is a mecha scifi/chinese fantasy book, it has pacific rim mechanics, so it takes 2 ppl to pilot the mecha but its more dystopian in that the pilot (male) usually drains the life force of his concubine (female). the mc has a guy shes interested in from the start but she pushes him aside to seek her goals to become a concubine pilot (theres a very good reason for this but i dont wanna give too much away) ends up being forced to work w the most dangerous pilot (spoilers hes actually a misunderstood sweetheart and i love him), her first love somehow finds his way back into her life so he can be their ally and its very clear from the first time he meets the other guy that this bitch is bi af. At one point he literslly saves their lives and i wont elaborate on that cause again spoilers but someone mentioned it in a propaganda ask. They canonically fall in live w each other and start dating. Please look up the trigger warnings first cause theres some heavy subjects addressed in this book. The book itself has trigger warnings listed at the start so if u find it at a book store u can check them this was too.

Hades is a roguelike videogame w dating sim mechanics (ish) -you give gifts to characters to learn more about them, and theres two romance options but you can romance both at once, they're both aware of and okay with it, hinting that they mightve had a past even before zagreus was born (its greek gods one is death incarnate the other is one of the furies, they've basically existed since forever)

From the submissions I got:

ive been told Leverage is like the korrasami of polyam, as in they were as polyam as they could be in a show from 2010, so it sounds like its canon but not explicit because they couldnt get away with that.

The girls from Amphibia are apparently in a similar situation, heavily implied canon, someone told me it was confirmed by people who worked on the show, but i dont think its explicitly stated.

The Kane Chronicles apparently also has canon polyam, although its 2 bodies, cause I think one of them has a god in him or something? I never read the books, but I was told Sadie (i think thats her name? The girl) is in love w both of them, and kinda dating both too i think?

I dont know if Singing in the Rain is canon but theres that kiss gif that got prrtty popular on tumblr where kathy kisses one of the guys then the other, so it looks canon? or at least implied canon?

Sense8 as some people have mentioned has 1 officially confirmed to be canon throuple, 1 that has a lot of hints to confirm but a lot of ppl see it as a gay couple w a very supportive friend ig and someone else said in general because of the plot u could kind of see the 8 of them as a big polycule, although that one isnt canon

HoneyWorks/Heroine Tarumono is one of those songs turned novel turned anime. i dont think its confirmed canon but theres a lot of stuff pointing to the possibility, you mightve see @non-fantasy telling me about them in a few asks. im obsessed and ive yet to watch anything

Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel has Rilla/Sir Damien/Lord Arum, i also haven't listened to this one but a lot of people told me rilla and damien were in a pre-established relstionship, both got crushed on lord arum separately, talked about it and worked things out to now be a canon polycule

im She-Ra (netflix) theres a trio that is implied to be a polycule at the end, a lot of ppl called them canon in the notes but i dont personally ember it being confirmed? i am very forgetful tho. It's Rogelio/Kyle/Lonnie, unfortunately they lost the prelim round

I believe people submitted some others that were canon but im very forgetful so i cant remember right now

#polyasks #long post

440 notes · View notes

offside-the-lines · 2 months

Text

Only You Can Decide | Cale Makar

Summary: For her parents, Cassandra has always tried to be good— perfect, even. Just grin and bear it. That all comes crashing down because, at the end of the day, Cale is her fiancé— her partner— her future.

This was written for @wyattjohnston's Lowkey Lovefest 2k24. The prompt used: “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works for you.” Pairing: Cale Makar x Female!OC (Engaged) Word count: 3.4k ⚠️ Warnings: this is pretty angsty and features a lot of the OC's toxic parents and her struggle with them. It does have a happy ending though. The story is also slightly non-linear/features flashbacks. ⚠️ a/n: Thanks to Demi for also requesting such an interesting prompt. I would never have thought to pair the two and it was so fun to write. Thanks to @imperatorrrrr for always co-drifting the writing Jaeger with me (just a random Pacific Rim ref). Nobody show this to my therapist LOL she would be frantically taking notes. Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Cassandra sat in her childhood bedroom and stared at the blank white walls. Growing up, she never had any posters, or magazine cutouts, or pictures taped to the wall like the other kids. The walls remained always pristine. Plain. Perfectly presentable. She guessed it worked out now that her parents used the room as a guest bedroom.

There were obviously no tissues in here— she sure as hell wasn’t about to go find some— so she just wiped her tears on the sleeves of her sweater and tried not to wince at her makeup staining the beige cashmere. Fuck.

The thing is, she knew that this would happen. They had been fighting about it the entire drive over.

“Cale, we can’t just tell them. It’s my parents. You know what they’re like,” she huffed as he pulled into her parent’s driveway.

“I know Cass, and that in and of itself is already so fucked up. They shouldn’t get to talk to you like that. They definitely don’t get to talk to me like that,” he sighed.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.” Her cheeks were hot. She knew they needed to calm down before they went inside; otherwise, her parents would have a million questions about why they looked so flustered.

“Cassie, baby, we have to tell them. We can’t keep doing this,” he sighed.

“I know… I just have to make sure it’s the right moment, or it’ll be this whole thing. They’re just…”

“And you have to set a boundary with them.” He reached across the center console and tried to take her hand.

She snatched her hand away, snapping, “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. Look, Cale, why can’t you just fucking grin and bear it like the rest of us? Aren’t you hockey players supposed to have thick skin or something? Why are you being such a fucking pussy?”

Cale leaned back and just stared at her for a long minute; the oppressive silence in the car was becoming unbearable. She could see the tick in his jaw that indicated he was holding himself back from retaliating. The mounting tension was broken when they heard the front door open, and her mother call out to them.

Cale took a deep breath. “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works out for you,” he mumbled before he opened the door and stepped out.

Cassandra felt a wave of nausea roll over her. She barely recognized that version of herself, the Cassandra that was bitter enough to say hurtful things on purpose. God, she thought she was better than this— better than them.

She knew in her gut that it was going to be bad because they started off-kilter, the unresolved disagreement hanging over them as they tried to play nice. Anxiety had twisted her body like a coil, winding her too tightly. She had naively hoped they would just get away with it.

Things were fine until the second course. At the end of the day, her parents were sharks, smelling a single drop of weakness from miles away.

Her father was the one to pop the bubble, not even looking up as he casually cut his steak, when he asked, “So, Cale, you’re not still doing that hockey thing, are you?”

She felt him freeze next to her as her own knuckles went white from her grip on her cutlery. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir, I am.” Cale’s voice was so calm and even. Too calm and even.

Her father hummed as he chewed, looking between them appraisingly. “That’s a shame,” he finally said, “Do you have a plan for finding a real job when you’re done with that nonsense, then, son?”

Cassandra looked down at her plate and swallowed hard. She could feel Cale’s gaze on her, but the searing heat of shame traveling up the back of her neck paralyzed her.

“No, sir. I am still pretty young for a hockey player. I hope to play for at least another 10 years,” he said. She could see in her peripheral vision that he had put his cutlery down and was clutching the napkin in his lap.

This time, her mother spoke up, “Oh honey, that seems a little silly, wasting all your good years on nonsense like that. A nice young man like you would do so well in a respectable profession. Have you ever considered investment banking? I’m sure Cassandra’s brother would be happy to tell you more about it.”

“Darling,” her father cut in, chuckling lightly, “Wall Street is cutthroat. Only the best of the best make it there. I admit, I don’t know much about Cale here, but I’m sure there are more realistic aspirations for an athlete. I guess he could always work for Cassandra once she owns her own veterinary clinic, isn’t that right, kid?”

Cassandra could feel the tightness take over her throat; her hands were shaking so much her cutlery was clattering on the porcelain. She put them down and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Cassandra, I expect you to respond when I speak to you,” her father’s voice boomed.

She forced herself to nod, her eyes darting around the table.

“Sweetheart, sit up,” her mother needled, “No one likes a girl who slouches.”

She felt her spine straighten stiffly without her meaning to. Cale shifted in his seat next to her, placing his napkin, which was clenched in his fist, on the table.

He clears his throat. “Actually, I have no interest in quitting hockey. I will never— With all due respect, Sir, Ma’am, you don’t seem particularly informed on the topic, so I ask that you please not make any comments about it. I am happy to talk about anything else.”

“Do not disrespect me in my house, son.” Her father slammed his own knife and fork onto the table; it made her jump, eyes remaining fixed on a breadcrumb on the tablecloth.

“I’m not going to apologize for making a reasonable request, sir. It seems my presence here isn’t wanted, so I’m going to have to excuse myself. Thank you for the meal, Mr and Mrs Wentworth,” Cale stated dispassionately. He stood up and tucked his chair in before pausing. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and quietly murmured, “Cassie, can I speak with you outside?”

Cassandra was standing up to follow Cale, who was already walking down the hallway when she heard her father command, “Sit down.”

Her body froze, halfway out of her seat. She watched as Cale kept walking; he didn’t turn to look back once. She tried to swallow down the mounting panic and willed herself not to cry, even as her vision blurred.

“I did not invest so much time and money into my daughter only for her to end up with some stupid, insolent, meathead athlete. Cassandra, I have had enough of this childish thing. Find someone more suitable,” he spat, “Now, you’re going to sit here and eat the food your mother made.”

She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the wet splash of tears on her hands clasped in her lap. She dug her nails into her palm and tried to focus on the sharp pain there instead.

“Cassandra,” her mother’s voice added softly, “I know you’re upset right now, but that’s temporary. Your father’s right; you should listen to him. We have lived long enough to know what’s best for you, and we’re just the only ones who love you enough to tell you the truth. You are wasting your time with that boy.”

She felt the words hit her like a slap in her face; it was enough to unfreeze her body and her voice. She sprung up, knocking over her chair. “Excuse me,” was all she said before running out of the room. She heard them yell after her, but she wasn’t listening.

When she threw the front door open, she saw Cale ducking into a car.

“Cale, wait!” she yelled, frantically running to him.

He looked up, red-cheeked and teary; it had hurt that he looked surprised to see her.

“Cale, please— Please don’t go,” she cried, reaching out for his hand as soon as she was close enough.

He allowed her to pull him out of the car but only moved until he was standing in front of her. He reached up and cupped her cheek. She hated what she saw: Cale was teary and red. The rosy cheeks she loved so much meant something different at that moment.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic bloom of blood.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

“Cassie, I love you, I really do. But I—” His voice wavered. “I have heard a lot of shit on the ice, but I have never felt—” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “Look, you are welcome to stay. It’s your parents, I understand, but I just can’t be here anymore. I’m just heading home, okay?”

“I—” she interrupted before he shook his head once, curt and resigned.

“I promise I’ll be there when you are ready to head back. We can talk about this later, maybe once we’ve both had some time to cool off and think.”

“Think?” she felt sick, the blood draining from her face.

“Cassie, if I stay, we’re— I’m going to say something I’ll regret.” He looked down at her with his eyebrows scrunched and jaw clenched tight. “I left the keys in the car, but please don’t drive if you’re upset, okay?”

“Cale…” she started again, but her voice voice trailed off; she didn’t even know what she meant to say.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her forehead before stepping back into the waiting car. “I love you, Cass. I’ll see you at home,” he said before closing the car door.

“Please…” she whispered as she watched the car pull away from the curb.

She unclenched her hands and watched the color return; the crescents her nails left behind were dark and deep in the skin. She flipped her hands over, inspecting them.

Cassandra knew it was childish hiding from her parents in her room. But then again— wasn’t she always hiding herself from them?

She took the ring out of her pocket and put it on her left ring finger. As she looked at the sparkle, she felt a fresh wave of tears crash into her. Her chest felt cracked open; Cassandra was sure at that moment that having an eagle rip at her liver for the rest of eternity would hurt less.��

She sobbed into her hands until the tears stopped falling from her eyes, wrung dry. The longer she sat there, the more her sadness morphed into anger.

What the fuck was she doing?

Maybe she hadn’t realized before that she was making a choice, but at that moment, it felt crystal clear that she had made the wrong one.

Why was she even there?

When she couldn’t come up with a good reason, she finally stood up and made her way back downstairs. Everything had come into focus, and she had never felt more sure of herself.

“My god, Cassandra, you look an absolute mess,” her mother chided immediately, “Those stains are never going to come out of the cashmere.”

She stood in the doorway of the formal dining room, and she laughed a loud, hollow sound.

“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this anymore,” Cassandra retorted flatly. For once, her voice did not wobble.

Both of her parents made affronted sounds, leaping out of their chairs, but she continued speaking right over them.

“No! I’m done. I do not deserve to be treated like this. I don’t care how much you’ve ‘invested’ in me. You can find your return on investment elsewhere. I’m leaving.”

“Cassandra—” her mother wailed, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Over my dead body,” her father snarled, stomping over towards her.

She shook her head and turned to leave. Her father’s hand tightened around her arm, pulling her back. She snatched her arm away; her heart was thundering in her chest.

“Do not try to stop me from leaving, or I’ll scream. You don’t want everyone to hear, do you? Because I will cause a scene. You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood. Wouldn’t really be good for the family image, would it?” she spat.

She had taken a few steps toward the door before she turned back, her glaring eyes flicking between her parents. “For your information, Cale is a better person than either of you could ever hope to be. I’ve always let you treat me however you like. I don’t even care; I’m used to it at this point. But not Cale— He is absolutely incredible. Not just an incredible hockey player, but he is an incredible teammate, an incredible fiancé, and an incredible person—”

Her mother squawked.

“Yes, mother, I said fiancé. I plan on spending the rest of my life with him. So don’t call me again until you’re ready to treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Cassandra didn’t hear another word they said as she stormed out of the house, slamming the door as she left.

The drive home was excruciating. She sat in silence, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel; the only sounds were her heavy breaths and thundering heartbeat.

Cale was sitting on the couch, a duffel bag next to him, when she burst through the front door. She didn’t bother to take off her shoes as she sprinted to him.

“Cale, what is this?” she said, horrified as she pointed to his bag.

“Cass, I just figured— If you want some space to think, I can go. I called Nate, and I can go stay with him for a couple of days.” He sounded just as raw as she felt.

Her head spun, and she suddenly felt like the air she was breathing was too thick, like she wasn’t getting any oxygen. She fell to her knees in front of him.

“No! No, don’t— No—” she pleaded frantically.

“Woah— Woah. Don’t—” His eyes widened, his arms reaching out to lift her onto the couch.

“Please don’t leave, Cale. Please— Please don’t— I just want to talk, okay? Please— Can you— Just hear me out,” The words rushed out of her in a jumbled mess, catching in her throat.

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, I’ll stay. Just breathe for a second.”

She tried to take a deep breath, but the panic gripping her chest made it difficult. He took her hands, applying gentle pressure as he rubbed circles with his thumbs on the back of her hands.

After a long silence— it could have been a minute or an hour— Cale was the first to speak.

“Are you ashamed of me? And my quote-unquote unrespectable profession?” Cale’s voice was quiet, tired.

“What? No!” she gasped, shaking her head violently, “Of course not.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes!” she yelled. She caught herself and continued at a more normal volume, “Of course, I want to marry you. What are you— Cale—”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Cale shot her a small strained smile, squeezing her hand three times: I. Love. You.— their silent message.

“I’m sorry, Cale. Back at my— I should’ve— I’m sorry.” She paused and let out a shaking breath. “I love you. I choose you. And I will always choose you. I’m sorry that I haven’t been acting that way.”

“Cassie—”

“No. Please just let me get this out. I was planning this speech the entire drive home.”

He chuckled lightly, his smile more natural, “Okay. Go on.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “After you left, I was just sitting there, hiding in that god-forsaken room I grew up in, and it just hit me: what the fuck was I doing.” She looked down at their joined hands and fidgeted with his fingers.

“Growing up— That room—” She paused, shaking her head. “My parents have always made me feel like I needed to be perfect in order to be loved. I had to be the perfect daughter, following the perfect plan they had mapped out for me. And fuck— I tried. I tried so hard to be that girl. To make them happy. To make them proud. And every time I thought I was getting close, they would just move the bar. It was never good enough. I was never good enough. And I was never going to be— I will never be good enough to deserve their love and—”

She wanted to dig her nails into her hands, but his fingers were in the way.

“Fuck, Cale. Sitting in that room, I realized that I didn’t even want it anymore. I don’t want or need their approval anymore. Because you— You taught me what it meant to be loved without expectation, without conditions. I can totally fuck this up like I did today, and you are always there, loving me and ready to figure it out together. As a team.”

She forced herself to look up at him. It was hard not to get lost in his blue eyes, always so warm, always so constant. She felt herself send him a small smile.

“I never thought that I would get to have this. To be loved like this. Or maybe even deserve to be loved like this. So I just— I’m sorry, Cale, for not having your back and for not being a team.”

“What about your parents?” Cale asked quietly.

“My parents— They are my past, and you, Cale, are my future. And I am never going to forget that again. I’m sorry for all the shit they said to you and for all the shit I said to you. I promise that I will never throw you to the wolves like that again.”

Cassandra was panting, her breaths coming out in wet hiccups. Cale pulled her in and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“Wow, Cass, I’ll give it to you; that was quite a speech,” he mumbled into her hair.

It startled a laugh out of her— although it came out as more of a choked sob.

“Maybe we should’ve recorded it so you could just play that for your vows when we get married,” he chuckled in return.

He leaned back and held her face in his hands. He brushed his callused thumbs over her tear-streaked face.

“For what it’s worth, you deserved better than how they treated you. You deserve— You have always deserved to be loved without condition and without expectation,” Cale whispered, his expression so earnest she could feel herself welling up with tears again, “I hope I can remind you of that every day for the rest of our lives. I can’t wait to build a future with you. I love you, Cassandra. So much.”

“Maybe we should just elope,” she mumbled, a wide smile finally settling on her face.

“Okay, maybe let’s talk about that another day when we are a little less wrung out emotionally,” he said as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Fine, I guess,” she groaned cheekily.

“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to marry you. I just don’t want to make any rash decisions you’re going to regret,” he squeezed her cheeks together, smiling as her lips puckered.

“Shut up, Makar,” her words came out all mumbly, “Stop being so perfect. It’s so annoying.”

Cale’s laugh filled her body with warmth, seeping into every single corner, and loosening the iron grip anxiety and fear had on her chest. He kissed her cheek and stood up from the couch, holding his hand out to her.

“How about this? We run a hot bath, and then we can see if any reckless things come of that.”

“Are you propositioning me, Cale Makar?”

He shrugged, “Maybe? What if emotional intimacy turns me on?”

“Oh my god, you are such a weirdo,” she laughed, rolling her eyes while she let herself be pulled up from the couch.

“Your weirdo,” he smiled proudly, wrapping his arms around her from behind and gently nudging her to their bedroom.

She felt the corners of her mouth tick up automatically, “Yeah, you are.”

Requests (open) | Masterlist | Join My Taglist

#lowkey lovefest 2k24 #rox writes #cale makar #cale makar imagine #cale makar fic #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #COL

79 notes · View notes