#Patrick Zweig romance

[vendetta-ari]

Prizes <3

(Artrick x reader fluff) [Warnings: No use of y/n, fem reader, pre-established relationship, not proofread, typos mayhaps, maybe ooc? word count = 1,950]

~

A dim light shines through your cracked open window, you can't help but let out a sigh of exhaustion as you try (and fail) untangle yourself from your two sleepy boyfriends. rubbing your eyes from grogginess, your gaze falls on Art and Patrick, both boys holding onto you with a death grip. Patrick’s hands are tangled under your back with one hand on your thighs, squeezing them every so often. Art grips your waist, his leg wrapped around yours.

Both boys are making it increasingly difficult to get out of bed.

“Get off…” you groan, albeit reluctantly. as much as you love them, you want to get out of bed and shower, preferably without them clinging to you believe it or not.

“mm-mm…”

“noo… ”

After much struggle, you finally got out of bed, freshly cleaned and sipping coffee in your living room. Art sips on a smoothie, flicking through his phone. Patrick just plops down on the couch, peering at what Art is looking at with zero subtlety.

“ya know, there’s a fair in town happening today. we should all go, could be fun.” he mumbles, chewing on his nails with his spare hand as he looks through social media. his nail biting earning a slap on the wrist from Patrick to get him to stop. which he does, thankfully.

“Sounds cool to me, I don't have any plans this summer besides training and hanging out with you two.” Patrick snickers, wrapping his arms around Art and snatching his phone from his palms. the blonde glares back at Patrick, and they look just ready to fight before your voice interrupts.

“Sounds fun, we should go.” you chuckle, followed by a warning glance at your rowdy boyfriends. you swear they act like feral animals at any given opportunity.

Your boys eventually stop their death glares and nonverbal threats, visibly relaxing and smiling brightly at you. Art nuzzles his fluffy blonde hair into Patrick’s shoulder, his back pressed against the brunette’s chest, and resting his legs on your lap.

After much needed cuddles, you three eventually start to get ready. you prance off to your closet, throwing loose clothes and combinations of clothes everywhere. half land on Patrick, and the other half land on the bed. the soft sprinkle of Art taking a shower and humming is faintly heard; even from your shared bedroom. Patrick can't help but let out a bark of laughter.

“As much as I love your panties, babe, I’d prefer you don't throw them at me. what’s got you so indecisive anyway?” he hums, peeling a bra of yours off his face and placing it in his lap.

“Dunno, just don't have any clothes that scream ”summer fair“ ya know?”

“what the fuck does that even mean?”

“..nevermind.”

After many tortuous hours of you asking what Patrick thought of each outfit while Art quickly picked an outfit and got dressed in half the time it took you. You ended up with a tan crop top with red accents and cherry on the chest of the tee, paired with tattered jean shorts and red and white sneakers with white crew cut socks. you slung a messenger bag over your shoulder and hopped on the backseat of Art’s clean car, the exact opposite of Patrick’s.

Art brushed dust off his pink button up shirt and light blue jeans. He swung the driver’s car door open and plopped inside, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms and putting the car into drive. “Hurry up Pat, we’ll leave without you!” Art cocked his head to the side, flashing a cheeky grin at Patrick rushing into the passenger seat of the car with a petulant demeanor.

Patrick shifted in his blue polo and tan cargo shorts, buckling his seatbelt in with a click. “I was pissing, god damn Art- have patience!”

“Well piss faster!” Art sneers, giving Patrick a death glare

“I’ll piss in the fuckin car next time then, smartass!” Patrick huffs, rolling his eyes.

“fuck you!” Art groans

“no, fuck you!” Patrick scoffs, tapping his leg on the floor of the car while pouting.

“can you both just shut up and drive?!” you interrupt

“…yes ma'am” they both bristle through gritted teeth, but Art does pull out of the driveway well Patrick sets up the GPS on his phone, you connect your phone to the car and just sit pretty and play songs the three of you all love and enjoy on the car ride. The ride isn't too long, but it’s enough to calm both Art and Patrick down from their rowdiness, while you and Patrick belt out songs in the car. Art focuses on the road, trying not to facepalm as he glances at the GPS every so often.

The car eventually skids to a stop infront of a big and cleared out park with different stands and attractions you can faintly make out. something about going to a fair with your two immature boyfriends does seem childish in nature, yes. but you cant help but be excited, and you feel the huge giddy grin spread on your face as you step out the car and squint your eyes to see what's to come.

"you look excited." Patrick chuckles, blatantly stating the obvious yet again as he steps out and leans on the car, his forearms snug on the roof of the car to support his weight. Art squints, hopping out the car and putting a hand above the sun to cover the reflection. "how the hell are you guys even seeing that far?"

"do you need glasses, Art? it's literally right infront of you!"

"no-! 'm fine! it's just the sun."

you giggle at the thought of Art with glasses, or maybe even colored contacts. "you would look so fucking adorable with glasses~" you tease, Patrick following suit "oh hell yeah, adorable is an understatement, you'd look cute as hell, Artie~" he snickers, slapping a blushing Art on the back "well, let's not waste any time, I wanna play the shitty rigged games!" Patrick grins boyishly, turning heel and walking towards the ticket booth with a quickened pace. You and Art follow suit, having to jog to catch up to him.

Art snorts, skidding next to Patrick excitedly buying three tickets (definitely not with Art's card) "fuck, I havent seen you this excited in a while. you wanna ride the teacups too, Pat?" he muses playfully, nudging him on the shoulder.

Patrick rolls his eyes, snatching the tickets with his hand and practically crumpling them on the spot. "i would, but you'd probably puke if we did since you're such a little bitch-"

"I am not! and no I wouldnt!!"

you ignore the bickering momentarily admiring the beautiful sights of the bright and flashy fair. a big ferris wheel on the middle of it all, stands and booths with different and very rigged games, vendors with novelties, food trucks, the works. Your feet move before your brain does, taking you to the purple booth with plushies strung up on fishing string, below the booth us a table with glass bottles, a box of rings to the right of them. of course, one of the most rigged and aneurysm-inducing games has the cutest of stuffies on the shelves. it's unfair, really.

Art jogs up to you, Patrick in hand. the grin boyishly, eyes sparkling at this given opportunity to show off and impress you. they may have both won you over, but they're still going to bicker and compete for your affections. of course they are.

"which one ya want, baby?"

"psh- I can win all of em for you, doll."

"no you cannot."

Patrick pouts, glaring at Art with no real bite. stepping up to the booth with overflowing confidence, slamming a few bills on the table and receiving 5 red rings he twirls around his finger. Patrick flashed a charming smile at you and Art, "which one do you both want? I'll win two." he boasts, his confidence is admirable, but his ego Iis 100% gonna take a hit after this.

"I want the bunny.." you coo, looking up at a black and white stuffed bunny dangling above your head.

"I dunno, guess I'll take the little dog over there." Art chuckles under his breath, stuffing one hand in his pocket and another pointing at a stuffed tan dog stuffie flopped on the shelf, it almost reminds you of him.

Patrick scoffs, "lightwork." he beams. tossing one ring out only for it to hit the floor. another, and another, and another, and another. all fail. "...fuck." he grits his teeth, running a hand up and down his face and messing up his curly brunette hair even more than it already was. he slams 5 more dollars on the table, reciving 5 rings again.

"hold on, I got this guys-! that-that was just a warm up, ya know!?"

"fuck."

"ugh.."

"okay, well that- that was atleast somewhat close-!"

"..."

"one more t-try..?"

Patrick has lost you all way too much money, Art is facepalming- but you can't help but feel atleast a little bit bad for him. it is a tad bit funny, though.

"Pat, people are waiting in line. just- let it go, honey." Art groans, taking away Patrick's money privilege and grabbing his shoulders, pulling him away from the line of little kids and other couples.

"But I almost had it-! what'a 'bout your plushies..?" he sounds like a kicked puppy, adorably pathetic and sad. you chuckle softly sitting him on a bench and peppering his face with kisses "it's fine..you can try later, my love." Art pats Patrick's head "I'll get us some ice cream, wanna come with?" he turns to you, holding out his hand. you accept, grabbing it and kissing Patrick on the cheek and ordering him to stay put.

You and Art step backwards, the bench where Patrick sat was empty! where the hell did your boyfriend go?! you place the two icecream cups you hold in your hand (chocolate for Patrick, vanilla for yourself.) on the table, looking around to see if you can spot the ruffled and messy brunette you adore, but no luck.

"where the fuck did he go..?" Art huffs, licking a strawberry icecream cone as he squints and circles around the bench for any signs of him, he doesnt seem to be doing a much better job than you are though..

Not even a second later, and there's a tap and you and Art's shoulders at the same time. so sudden it has you jolting upright and whirling your head around- Art's reaction is pretty much the same, whipping his head back and almost dropping his icecream.

Patrick stands in between you both with a big boyish grin on his face, an empty wallet, and a black and white bunny plushie in his right hand, a fluffy and tan puppy stuffie in his left. sure he lost loads of money, but seeing you two beam and hug him, squeezing him so tight her gasps for air? that's all he really needs. and you two both know it well enough. you gasp, the shock and adrenaline soothing as you feel the plushie in between your fingers, the fabric soft and the material plush. Art hugs both Patrick and his new stuffed animal at the same time, it's kinda childish, but you're all smiling wildly. Patrick is an idiot, he blew all his money but god. its impossible to stay mad at him when he has the stupid grin on his face that you just wanna kiss off. you love them both so much, really. its unbelievable. this fair is going to be one hell of a ride...

-xoxo, Ari <3

(soft patrick my beloved. boyish Artrick my beloved. ohmygosh this tool way too long with my unmotivated adhd ass I hope you enjoy anyway, lots on smoochies MWAH mwah mwah. tags: @swetearss)

[diettwistup]

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off. 

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face. 

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride. 

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way. 

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat. 

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly. 

He sure seems to love this. 

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being. 

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other. 

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room. 

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all. 

The night that ruined it all. 

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm. 

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her. 

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two. 

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind. 

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us. 

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting. 

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that. 

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her. 

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh. 

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to. 

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance. 

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same. 

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum. 

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion. 

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed. 

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips. 

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up. 

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back. 

Drunk as sailors. 

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting. 

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room. 

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room. 

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit. 

That explains all the noise. 

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer. 

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really. 

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night. 

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear. 

Or me. 

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive. 

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi. 

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting. 

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so. 

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches. 

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here. 

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks. 

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in. 

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me. 

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked. 

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys. 

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster. 

Here we go. 

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left. 

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck. 

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me. 

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me. 

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation. 

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need. 

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do. 

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn. 

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. 

Keep. your. composure. 

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far. 

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him. 

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly. 

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly. 

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction. 

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently. 

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up. 

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other. 

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock. 

Got ‘em. 

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads. 

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe. 

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left. 

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks. 

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys. 

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner. 

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did. 

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement. 

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing. 

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really. 

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good  fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion. 

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out. 

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun. 

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state. 

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave. 

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality. 

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side. 

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked. 

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench. 

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush. 

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face. 

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench. 

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids. 

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years. 

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy. 

Damn you, Donaldson. 

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out. 

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh. 

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair. 

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable. 

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one. 

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened. 

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on. 

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare. 

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room. 

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly. 

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket. 

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing? 

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.  

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked. 

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse. 

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone. 

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in. 

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist. 

How naive. 

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more. 

I deserve a win other than tennis. 

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing. 

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features. 

Perfect? …yeah. 

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. 

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.” 

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer. 

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg. 

Fuck. 

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz. 

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed. 

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato. 

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway. 

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me. 

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed. 

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her. 

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions. 

I should know better. 

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg. 

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me. 

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting. 

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently. 

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle. 

She’ll be so disappointed. 

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief. 

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent. 

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough. 

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it. 

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean. 

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs. 

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her. 

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression. 

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly. 

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face. 

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands. 

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day. 

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked. 

“Is tennis all you care about?” 

I shouldn’t have said that. 

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs. 

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me. 

Fuck, I messed up. 

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table. 

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her. 

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug. 

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

[posalis]

"i am you and you are me. compress. repress. repressed. compressed. and then just surrender."

hawk mountain (2023) // challengers (2024)

[tinytennisskirt]

A Chaotic Reunion: Part Two

Part 2 Summary: A continuation (find the first part here). ChildhoodBest friend!Art visits the reader's gallery before it opens and asks reader on a date only to have it ruined by Patrick, who is going through something. Things are unconventional, but Art still ends up in the reader's bed by the end...

Warnings: Patrick being suggestive, drunk Patrick, (touching, kissing with Art)

You woke up earlier than usual, nerves, somehow waking you before the alarm. But you used your time wisely. You showered with the good soaps and sprayed your perfume fresh out of the steam. You got ready, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup. You got dressed in your regular business casual work clothes, style, but comfort first.

Julie was up and chatting like she didn't get home and crash on her carpet before you and your other roommate saw and pulled her into her bed. She had a miraculous luck that never let her be hungover the next day, you joked that she was the drinking messiah.

“You’re heading in early?” She asked, passing you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with cucumbers on the side for breakfast. Not the usual, but it was fun enough.

“Yes, I have a friend coming to see the art and I thought he would like it better if it was just us. Without me having to tend to the potential buyers who you know can be a pain in the ass." You told her. Your other room main Shailene hummed.

“That guy from last night?” She grinned.

“There was a guy?”

You chuckled, “Yes. An old friend though, genuinely. From childhood. His name is Art, he’s a… tennis player in town for a tournament, I think."

“Art Donaldson,” Julie said. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah?” you said, surprised. “How did you know that?”

She looked disbelieving, “The only Art in tennis I know is Art Donaldson, no way that’s your childhood friend- he’s hot, Y/N. He’s mega-hot, no way.” Shailene laughed from the kitchen as you ate your food.

“He is mega-hot, Y/N,” she chimed in. “He was totally eyeing you down too, I saw from when I was approaching that man was down bad.”

“He was not,” you laughed. He might have been. Your boobs comment from the night before rang out in your brain and so did how he reacted. Hmm… maybe he was, but not majorly. You weren't ugly, you couldn't rule it out entirely. “But I’m showing him the gallery is all.”

“Mhm,” Shailene hummed again.

“Okay, shhhh,” you said, setting dishes aside and going to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You heard the girls out in the living room whispering about looking up his tennis highlights. You shook your head- you’d gone to sleep last night watching those. “See you later!” You called to them as you spun out the door. Best to avoid more interrogation and just let the morning unfold.

You drove over and opened as usual, keeping the sign on the door saying closed. You ensured everything was tidy and clean and just as beautiful and colourful as the days before. You went through a few gallery emails, replying and sending. And on time, there was a knock at the door. You fixed the sleeves on the black long-sleeve shirt and adjusted the square neckline dip as you walked over to unlock the door.

“Hey,” he said. He had two coffees in hand, iced coffee. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you answered with a smile. He smiled right back and extended you an iced coffee. You were glad it was iced, hot coffee on a warm morning would just feel too corporate. And gross. “Thank you! You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not bringing nothing for the woman giving me a private tour of her gallery. Plus, I need it after last night," he said. You moved out of the way so he could come in. His eyes widened as he met the colourful surroundings of the gallery. “Wow- this is amazing.”

“My team and I hand-pick everything,” he spun and looked at you. You put a hand to your forehead, “I’m in work mode. My friends, my roommates and I we pick the art. We went with a theme of colour because we thought it is one of the most universal things about art is that there is colour. Sometimes shade, but when you think art, you think colour.” You gestured to everything. “An ode to that.”

He listened to you intently and walked with you as you showed him the gallery, piece by piece explaining things. He would joke, you’d joke back, and the banter was sweet and easy. You caught up on life, more. Talked parents and school and local town things. You sat on a bench overlooking one of your biggest pieces. “It’s nice to speak to someone not so involved in tennis.” He said, looking over at you.

“I was thinking I didn’t bring it up enough,” you replied, eating the ice out of your finished coffee. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he nodded. He turned more your way so that your knees touched. “Everyone in my life talks about tennis more than their own children, family, accomplishments. Even I talk about it too much. You and the art here- it’s been good to hear about something like this.”

“I’m glad the gallery could be your escape,” you said. “And I’m happy you like it and I will GLADLY speak about anything other than tennis because I know nothing other than hitting a ball back and forth.”

He laughed, “Perfect. That’s all you need to know.”

“Oh phew,” you sighed. It was nearing opening, you heard your roommates come in downstairs. His head turned. “I’m glad you came to see it though. Escape or no escape.”

“Me too. It’s really impressive what you have here for yourself. And it’s been great seeing you, everything you’re doing is amazing and beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes met his, blue with bits of brown, those long eyelashes. “I wasn’t even sure what I was doing was worthwhile.”

“Probably more than,” he replied. “This gallery is amazing and you're doing it with your friends? Most people can't say they love what they do let alone that they do it with people they like and actually know. I'm jealous, honestly. But I know you open soon, so I should probably be on my way... Do you get off at nine?

“Most days,” you replied. “I can leave a bit earlier today since I started and did the opening process an hour before we opened. And thank you. I needed to hear something like that."

“Always." He said, standing. You stood with him, taking a second to toss your empty cup into the nearby bin. "-And perfect- I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner? Late… dinner. With me.” He asked, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. Your eyes widened a bit. Was he asking you out? “Is there a local place maybe? I’d love to be shown around a bit more if you have the time.”

“Of course- I-“ you fought a wide grin. “I’d love that. There’s a little Italian place just a few doors down from here or there’s an Indian place two blocks from here… or the sushi place a bit closer to my apartment. They’re all open late.”

“Sushi sounds good,” he said, standing up. “So do I call the number on the business card when I pick you up here at 8:10?” He flipped the card between his fingers.

You chuckled. He would pick you up? From work? That was his plan… “Oh, here- you grabbed the card from him, took the pen from your belt loop, and scribbled your number out for him. He grinned his crooked grin and your heart fluttered just a bit. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said. You both headed down the stairs of the gallery, past your friends who were doing a bit of near-afternoon filing. “I’ll call. Thank you for this, I think I needed it and I will for sure be back.”

“Sounds perfect,” you echoed. “See you later.”

He kissed you on the cheek before saying goodbye and exiting out the front. You turned around and the second he was no longer able to hear, both Julie and Shailene squealed. “The cheek kiss? So cute!” Shailene said, raising her hands above her head. “He so wants you, I honestly wouldn’t have minded if you two went at it against the Rosenthal in the corner.”

“That’s enough,” you smiled.

“Is it?” Julie asked. “Not so much as a kiss?”

“It’s 11am!” You said. “Who kisses someone at 11am? Besides it’s a bit different, we have so much history. Childhood together versus now, I think I’m having trouble not seeing the little blonde boy who would burp for a laugh." That wasn’t true, that image faded last night as you dreamt about him. There was no more little boy in Art.

“Okay, but what was that ‘see you later’ business?” Shailene asked.

“He asked me to dinner,” you started. Both girls opened their mouths to speak. “It’s probably friendly! I have no idea what his intentions are. He said he’d pick me up at 8:10, if I can get off early tonight- is that okay with you guys?”

“More than,” Julie squealed. “I’ll stay at my boyfriend’s tonight, Shai, you can come with me if you want? I have clothes you can wear there.”

“Hold on-“

“He’d be fine with that?” She asked Julie. Julie nodded excitedly.

“Perfect,” Julie said.

“I’m not bringing him back to the apartment!” You said. These girls were too forward sometimes. “We're just catching up."

“That’s what the early opening was for? That’s what dinner is for?” Julie stated, as if it was common sense. “Shai and I are more than happy to get out for a night. You deserve some good sex.”

“How would you even know if he’s-“

“He’s a tennis player! There’s gotta be some force there.” She continued. “You can run home on lunch break and get one of my dresses if you like. Or anything. Just don’t wear work clothes, you won’t be able to let loose that way.”

You nodded. Shailene grinned. “Maybe wear that midi-dress with the slit up the thigh. Ooh, with the red mary-janes!”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “Okay, okay. I’ll go on lunch.”

“I’m so excited for you!” Julie clapped. It was a matter of getting through the day. All day, you three talked about him and your childhood, what drove you two apart, etcetera. At lunch you went home and grabbed the clothes and some of your makeup to touch up on. You worked the rest of the day with a few buyers coming in. It neared 8 and the girls were still just as excited.

Your phone rang. “Is that him?” You asked? You were in the bathroom in a spare moment just getting changed and touching up.

“It’s him!” Shailene ran your phone to you. You smiled and picked up.

“Hey,” you said.

“Uh- hey-“ he sounded preoccupied, you could hear he was in the car. “So I really was looking forward to dinner with you, but my best friend is going through something right now and he is inconsolable in the manly way, which if you know what that’s like, he might be a bit out of control.”

He was cancelling? You shut the door to the bathroom. “That’s okay, I understand. Are you cancelling?”

“I don’t really want to, so if you’re fine to meet a friend, I would love to see you still. I just can’t leave him alone, you know?” He said. “I am so sorry, Y/N. This is the opposite of what I wanted for tonight and I completely understand if you would rather it be just us. We can reschedule."

You shook your head as if he could see, “No, that’s so admirable that you’re keeping him close. Don’t be sorry whatsoever, I promise it’s okay. And if you don’t want to cancel, I’m still free.”

“You promise it’s okay?” He asked. “I am so so sorry I would usually never do this, I promise I will make it up to you.”

You laughed, “It’s endearing! I don’t mind. He’s okay though?”

“He’s okay but on a level where I’m not sure what he’d do if I wasn’t around,” he replied. “I’m picking him up right now, I’ll be there in ten if you still want me?” Of course, you did. It was unconventional, but it was okay.

“Sounds good,” you replied. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

He chuckled, “I’ll try. See you soon.”

You said goodbyes and hung up. You I immediately updated your girls on the situation and they were disappointed but were sure it would still be good. And soon enough, Art’s car pulled up outside and thank god, his friend wasn’t in the front seat. You waved goodbye to your friends, grabbed your purse, and left, getting into the car. It was nice, clean.

“Hey, you look-“ he started, “Wow.”

“I didn’t want to wear work clothes out or I’d feel like I was still at work,” you told him. You turned in your seat to face another man. He seemed tall, with dark curls, and a bit of facial hair. You recognized him as Art’s tennis partner.

“Patrick,” he said, giving you his hand to shake. You shook it, he smiled.

“Oh, I know,” you grinned. “I’m Y/N- wow, two tennis stars in one car.”

“Okay, as if.” Art said, putting the car in drive again. “No tennis talk, for both mine and Patrick’s sake.”

“Done,” you said. “I don’t have enough tennis content in my head to remark on anything anyways. So the sushi place is just by my apartment, if you take a right up here, then pass two streets and a left, then you’re there.”

“Perfect,” Art said. “How was work?”

“Not too busy today, we had one of our regular buyers in today and sold two pieces to him, but the rest was marketing, emails, and planning for a gallery event.”

“What kind of event?” Patrick asked from the backseat. You half-expected him to stay quiet from the greeting that was just his name.

“Oh, it’s a bit of a sale where the proceeds go to a local children’s hospital for funding,” you told him. “Every year me and my coworkers put it on and it’s usually pretty successful.”

“That’s impressive,” Art said.

“And considerate,” Patrick added. “You’re big on charity?”

“When I can be,” you replied, and you turned back to Art. “The event is in a few weeks, lots of shrimp, so if you want to come just let me know.” Art looked over at you with a soft smile.

“I’d like that,” he replied, seemingly happy that you’d invited him. You smiled back. “You’ll have to send the details.”

“I will for sure,” you told him. You got to the place in no time and Art parked the car. “This is it. It’s a cute place, open late, I can’t tell you how many times me and my roommate have had a random craving at 1am and came down for sushi. That’s my building right over there.” You pointed across the street.

Art looked over, getting out of the car, then back to you, eyes lingering on your dress. “They’re open that late?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And the sushi is amazing.”

Patrick got out of the car and rose to be about as tall as you imagined. He was a bigger guy than you had observed from the dark of the back of the car. More muscle mass to his body, visible in his t-shirt and cargo shorts. “I’m starved.” Is all he said. You looked at Art and he mouthed another ‘I’m sorry’ and you laughed quietly, hitting him gently in the arm.

You all headed in, got a table, and started ordering immediately. Patrick wondered what the Japanese alcohol was like and ordered some for the table. You didn’t feel much like drinking, but it was headed to the table anyway. You and Art filled Patrick in on all the details of the games you played as kids and he took pleasure in teasing Art about playing the ‘girly’ games.

“Hey, I looked good in the princess shoes,” he said as Patrick reached over and ruffled his blonde hair.

“It’s true. And there was no way I’d let him pretend to be a prince because that meant we would have to kiss, because you know that’s what princesses and princes do,” you said. Patrick chuckled. "- And he rocked the crown and dress as well.”

“A crown and a dress? You were her bitch at age nine?” He laughed at Art, who pretended to hide his face. “I’m impressed, but I’m not surprised. I mean look at her now. Big-time gallerist who runs charity events.”

You pretended that didn’t land as if it was flattery, blinking it off. Art raised his head. You ate another California roll.

“Yeah,” Art said. “It’s not like she didn’t play guns with me.”

“If you ended up a princess and she ended up with a toy gun, that’s a bit telling.” Patrick added. He poured himself a bit of the drink he’d ordered for the table. It was more than a cup.

“He was a bit under my thumb… I was a bossy child,” you joked. Art nodded and smiled. Patrick downed his drink. “I’m not so bossy now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Patrick grinned a wide grin and part of it was suggestive.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“I’d say so. I think Art would agree. Nothing is wrong with a bossy woman as long as it stays-“

“Okay…” Art said, almost dismissive.

“Hm,” you hummed. You tried the drink, but it was bitter, not for you. Patrick picked up that you hated it from the look of disgust and poured your share into his cup. “I’m collaborative, I think. You’d have to ask my friends because now I’m rethinking.”

“Collaborative is okay too, I don’t complain,” Patrick said, drinking more. He had a slight smirk on his face. Art shook his head and looked at you, your mouth stayed a little open from the words you'd just heard. “You know Art told me he ran into you but he didn’t say anything about how gorgeous you are.”

You felt a bit cornered, your cheeks feeling a faint bit of pink just from the situation. Art rubbed his eyes and rested his chin on his fist, pouring himself a little bit of the alcohol and drinking it. “Thank you,” you replied. “I wish I could reply with anything of the sort but I wasn’t expecting anyone else with us tonight.” You tried to laugh it off.

“Okay, Patrick,” Art came in, dismissive again. “Come on.”

“What?” He said, hands up in questioning. “You said dinner with a friend- I didn’t picture someone like her. You can’t tell me she’s not gorgeous.” The bottle was somehow more than half-gone. You weren’t sure what to say.

“She is- but Patrick, please.” He urged him quietly and you pretended not to hear. Patrick was for sure tipsy and was for sure flirting. All you focused on was the ‘she is’.

“Me? Come on? You’re all stiff, Buddy.” Patrick downed another cup you hadn’t even seen him pour. You understood what Art meant by going through it- something was up with him for sure. “Look at her, look-“

“Thank you,” you said again. Art looked at you apologetically. You took back the bottle of alcohol and drank right from it, just a swig. Disgusting but you probably needed it. “And thanks for coming, honestly. It’s been good meeting you.”

“You’re scaring her away, Artie,” Patrick said, ruffling Art’s hair again. Art looked embarrassed, to say the least. The Japanese alcohol was surprisingly strong. You guessed that was why it was so bitter. Patrick must have been well on his way to full drunk if a swig brought a fuzz to your vision for a moment. It passed.

“I think we should get out of here,” you said. Art nodded immediately. He got up faster than you could and went to the counter to pay. You couldn't even object. Your eyes followed him, tracing your eyes over the long-sleeve dark green shirt he was wearing with pants that looked really nice on him. You wondered if that was what he wore to games- it was nice- but looked comfortable. You wished he wasn’t paying.

You looked back at Patrick, who had just finished off the bottle when you weren’t looking. You were in trouble now. “You really are gorgeous. Are you single?”

“Uh- I am, but-“

“I’d love to take you out,” he said. “I’ll ask Art to send me your number.”

“Maybe…”

“Are we done flirting with Y/N?” Art said, coming back with a huff, sliding a card back into his wallet.

“Hardly,” Patrick grinned. You couldn’t help but smile at that response, it was funny. Art helped Patrick up, letting him lean on him. Art’s eyes practically projected an essay of apology. You were watching the alcohol sink in slowly to Patrick, he was getting worse, it seemed. And when you got into the car, Art put the key in the ignition and the car did not roar to life. It sputtered.

“Fuck!” Art exclaimed. “I knew I should have taken her in earlier. I’m sorry, the car has been on its last legs for a month or two now and I was going to get it fixed, but I put it off-“

“It’s okay,” you told him, hand on his upper arm. “Does it need a jump?”

“I’m not even sure if that would save it,” he laughed, almost, but it sounded fake. Patrick’s laugh from the back seat was very real. “Fuck, I’m sorry guys. I’ll call a cab.”

“Do you want to come back to mine?” You asked. “Just across the street, you can crash there if you’d like. My roommates are out tonight.” Might as well make use of the empty apartment.

“Really? I don’t want to impose,” Art said. He looked you dead in the eyes, looking for something genuine in you, almost disbelieving you'd be so kind to take in his fucked up friend.

“I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t what I wanted. It’s probably best we get him somewhere secure fast- he’s had a lot.”

With a nod, you and Art got out of the car and started pulling a drunken Patrick out and over to the apartment. You and Art tried your best to ignore every pass he was making at you, calling you pretty, saying your nicely the colour of the dress went with your skin, talking about the slit of the dress. And you dealt with it all the way up the elevator and as you unlocked the door.

Patrick stumbled in and Art guided him to the couch. “Colourful,” Patrick said, “But bright.”

You dimmed the lights with the dimmer and shut the door behind you. “We keep some art here. Stuff we’ve bought, thrifted, found."

Art took a second to look around. “It’s nice. Really nice,” he said. Patrick sat up on the couch and looked around for a remote. You tossed it to him. “Which room is yours?”

You pointed to the one at the end, “Second biggest room. We drew straws.” You told him. Patrick looked like he had no idea how a remote worked. He put it down and got up, staggered and swaying. You looked at Art and Art looked at Patrick.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked you, dismissing Patrick. You nodded and pulled him to the kitchen just a bit more away from the drunk stranger in your living room. The second you were alone, he put his hands to his head. “I am so sorry about this. It’s one thing to bring your friend out when you ask a girl to dinner, but another to have him off his ass and go back to her apartment because your car decides to kill itself.”

“Art-“

“I know- because you’re kind and you’re sweet and perfect- that you don’t mind, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. You have no idea how sorry I am for all of this, but I promise you I’ll make it up to you.” He said, eyes on yours, his hands on your upper arms the same way they were when you bumped into him. Gentle, soft. “Thank you for this though, I really appreciate you giving us somewhere to go and I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I do promise it’s okay,” you reassured him, fighting the urge to laugh. He was sweet, worried, but sweet. “Thank you for apologizing though it’s not needed. Shows your character.” He smiled a little, but his eyes widened. You felt a hand on your waist, less gentle, less asked for. Not the hand you wanted there...

“Patrick-“

You turned, stepping away from his grasp. You didn’t know what to do or say. “You smell amazing,” he said, slight slur to his words. “Do guys ever tell you that?”

“Not often,” you replied. “What’s up?”

“Can’t get the TV to work,” he replied. “But if you have any idea of what we can do instead, I’m all ears.” He was so drunk. Japanese alcohol was a quick fix, apparently.

You slipped past and back into the living room, followed by the men. You could hear Art whispering to Patrick behind you as you grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

ART DONALDSON US OPEN HIGHLIGHTS

In bright white splayed across the top of the screen started playing. You covered your mouth and closed it as fast as you could. You forgot your roommates were watching that this morning- your heart skipped a beat from humiliation.

Fuck. You put on the first thing you saw, some cop comedy movie. You turned it down enough for it to be background noise and Patrick crashed on the couch again. And he was silent.

Art walked over to you, “US OPEN highlights is crazy,” he said quietly, leaning on his arm against the wall you had your back to. “I have better games than that.”

“Mmm, so you saw,” you replied, voice hushed. You felt your cheeks flush just slightly. “My roommates were watching it once they found out you were coming to the gallery early.”

“So they know all about me then. They’re fans,” he said, fake-boasting. You smiled and shook your head. "Sometimes I hate tennis. I can never be mysterious and unknown."

“They think you’re hot mysterious or not. They’re a fan of anyone who is hot. You should have seen how my roommate Shai got about the hot mailman from downstairs- she practically made a fanpage. I swear we had a shrine for him somewhere.” You told him.

“And I don't get a shrine yet,” he laughed. You two kept quiet, leaning against the wall behind the couch. Patrick stayed quiet.

“Tennis player is somewhere high on Shailene’s list, I’m sure I could set you up,” you shrugged.

“What, that’s crazy. You don’t think I’m hot?” He teased. “Is it the crooked smile? I’ve been told it’s crooked.”

“Nobody hates the crooked smile, I promise.” You told him. And that exact crooked smile crept up his face. You smiled back. “I think it’s quite nice.” You added.

“Oh just nice, hm. That’s like me saying you look good.”

“Do I not?” You prodded. “And I said ‘quite’ nice.”

“No, no, you look quite good,” he replied. You smiled and hit him in the arm playfully. “I hate saying it because I know Patrick beat me to it, drunk and all, but you do look gorgeous. And I’m sorry it wasn’t just us tonight.”

“I know you’re sorry, but it’s not the end of the world. You are allowed to stop being sorry, I swear it’s okay,” you replied. Patrick coughed loudly. “Here, come in-“ you stepped into your room and turned on the lowlight lamp in the corner, casting dull orangey light around your room. You sat on your knees on your bed and he sat with you. “My room.”

He shut the door and looked around. And he was gorgeous, observing the things in your room. How he looked under the golden lamp light, over his features, over his curls. You were alone. He looked at you, “Your room is so comfortable.” He said. "I'm too used to empty hotels with fluorescents."

"Yuck, I couldn't live if the only lights I had were white, they need to be warm or I feel like I'm at the doctor."

"Oh, it's the worst. Especially trying to wind down at night, even the lamps buzz with the same feeling as the dentist." He said. "You have so many books and... so many pillows." He chuckled, referencing the pillows on your bed, on your desk chair, in the corner of your room. He sat on the bed next to you, close to you, still observing. You watched his jaw as he looked up at the ceiling to your stain glass light fixture and the art on your walls. It was silent with the low rumbles of the voices on the tv just outside your room.

It hit you harder, in the silence of the room with the closed door, that there was nobody else here with you. No Patrick in the room. Nothing between you two. You felt a bit like you’d just put down a baby to sleep, finally.

“Is it also hitting for you that we are alone for the first time? I feel like we just put Patrick down.” Art turned to look at you, shifting his body a bit on the bed.

Your eyes widened, “I was thinking the same thing! Like he’s a child we sent to bed finally.” You laughed.

He laughed. “Exactly!” He had a nice laugh. You leaned forward into each other as you laughed and his hand rested itself on your knee. Your forehead touched his shoulder just barely.

And surprisingly the laughing lasted a lot longer than you imagined. Every time either one of you tried to catch your breath you’d just start laughing again and it was contagious and all-consuming.

But it ended the second he kissed you.

His hands slipped over your jaw and around your ears and he pulled your face to kiss, lips meeting perfectly in the centre. It was sudden but it was natural and it was easy and you kissed him back immediately, slow, compared to the pace of the day. His hand slowly slid from your jaw, down your neck, to the back of it. Your hand slid down his chest and around his back.

He didn’t stop, he didn’t pull away. He just got up on his knees, kiss unbreaking, just as strong, and leaned you back so your head hit your pillows gently. He situated himself above you, kissing you and kissing you right. The way he kissed was better than anything you’d ever had, it was gentle but still strong and wanting as his hands traveled down your waist and yours migrated to around his neck. The giggling had ended for sure as he kissed the side of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw, over your ear, your neck. Your hand slid up into the back of his hair, finding a grip on the curls.

Your legs wrapped around him, your leg slipping through the slit in the dress, pressing against him. His hand slid down your thigh and over your near-bare hip. his grip on it perfect. If you could have pulled him closer you would have, but in this circumstance it would mean something you weren't quite ready for tonight.

He kissed your neck and collarbone softly, nose grazing your skin as he went along, soft lips pressing to each point until they met yours again. Hungrier, faster, he gripped your hip harder, but enough. His hand slipped further up your dress through the window of the slit, hand on your waist now, your underwear the only thing under it, but ignored by him. He was touchy but in the right way, hand on waist, hip.

You sighed heavily as he kissed over to your ear again, lower lobe, just behind your ear, moving your hair out of the way. It sent goosebumps trailing over your skin.

But you couldn’t help but giggle, the laughter from earlier catching up. He stopped and he moved back over you, face to face. You kept giggling and kissed him once more, a small peck. He grinned. “What’s so funny?”

You laughed again, just a giggle. He kissed you again and you both rolled over in the bed toward the wall and you nearly hit your head but it just made things funnier. He laughed too, placing a hand behind your head to keep it from hitting the wall again. You sat over him, hair falling in both yours and his face. “What’s so funny?” He asked again, but he was laughing now too. And you kissed him again. Just as strong, just as passionately, quieting things again.

Patrick stayed quiet for the rest of the night, presumably passed out on the couch. You and Art spent the rest of the night laying together and talking more, the way you would have if your date earlier had gone well. Talking, kissing freely, a lot of laughter but enough shushing as to not wake Patrick or anything.

"You do smell really good," Art said, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"The communal date-night bodywash bottle," You told him. He found that really funny. "And vanilla perfume."

You kept laughing, talking, connecting. It was easy, like you'd never parted ways. But eventually, he fell asleep. You followed soon after and fell asleep with him, your head on his chest. And it was a rocky, but good night in the end. A good place to resume not only friendship but maybe something else. You’d have to wait and see.

[escapismthroughfilm]

⋆˚｡⋆ ⋆˚｡⋆Challengers (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino⋆˚｡⋆ ⋆˚｡⋆

[jakrispy7161]

you know I’d hate to say it, I told you so

[theadoptedfandom]

“What Makes You Think I Want

Someone To Be In Love With Me?”

[amymbona]

Do I go down to the village with the mission of looking for two guys that would be best friends with homoerotic tension but find my humble but hot self so interesting, or stay in the house and write silly things about to fictional best friends with homoerotic tension????

[zweiginator]

thinking about actor!patrick who's such a raw and natural talent but also the infamous fuckboy of hollywood. he's in a scandal every few months (leaked sex tapes, wild nights out), deuxmoi's favorite client and he's 99 % fucked half of his colleagues. he's irresponsible but charming and noone can resist him not even the goody two shoes hollywood newbie

like you get cast in a movie with him, you're in your early 20s and he's in his early 30s so it's not a crazy age gap or anything, but it's enough to raise eyebrows. because patrick is a bonafide pornstar in hollywood; he's had three leaked sex tapes, and plenty of cheating scandals (he's always the homewrecker).

so patrick gets cast in a new movie, some high-budget action/romance/mob ties film. they want him to be the main lead. patrick sells tickets. his body and face sells tickets.

but then he sees your name. he's never heard of you. has his manager look you up and when she sends your bio to him, you have the sweetest fucking face he's ever seen. you're gorgeous and not even 25. his manager can see the fucking scandal plastered all over TMZ before he has even met you.

you're nervous to meet patrick too. this is your first movie, and you even getting an audition for the main female lead almost made you piss your pants. so when you got the call that the role was yours--you were fucking ecstatic. that bliss was soon replaced with lingering anxiety when you found out you would be acting alongside patrick zweig.

and you told yourself, after committing to acting, you wouldn't become a hot-shot celebrity. you wouldn't change and become pretentious and hot-headed and high-maintenance. you were raised too well to throw it all away for some instant gratification and a hollywood party.

you wouldn't abandon your morals. and you would be professional.

but one of the first scenes you film is a kissing scene. just to vet the chemistry. they were sure it would be great, this was patrick fucking zweig after all. but you're nervous. you had pecked lips for high school plays and local theater productions, but nothing like this.

because patrick's shirt comes off and he's hovering over you. and he lifts your own shirt up with his teeth like this is a fucking porno. you remember it's all in the script, but god, he's looking at you like this is real life. you guess it is. patrick leans in; you smell his cologne and the tiniest hint of sweat from the hot day. and when he finally slams his mouth onto yours, he feels laced with something. because then your hands are in his hair and you swear he's grinding his cock into you. you arch into him and he's leaning into you and you're grabbing onto the wrist that holds your jaw in place for him. his mouth is opened so wide it feels like he wants to give you more and more of himself until he physically can't anymore.

"CUT!"

the crew hollers and whistles and patrick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"well, I think that was a winner!" the director yells.

"good job. you're gonna be a fucking problem." patrick says, adjusting himself in his jeans.

you tell yourself it was just in the script. patrick's comment makes you flush.

but three nights later, you're in patrick's car tucked away in his private driveway, his fingers working your cunt open like they were made for it. and as your head tilts back and patrick latches his mouth onto your throat and whispers good fucking girl

you see a hot white flash of light.

Hollywood's Biggest Liability and its Hottest New It-Girl Caught Hot-and-Bothered in Blacked-Out SUV

your reputation is fucked. but, any publicity is good publicity.

[nghtwngs]

the stars they aligned (teaser)

description: Triangles only have three vertices.

pairings: art donaldson x gn!reader, art donaldson x tashi duncan, tashi duncan x patrick zweig, slight art donaldson x patrick zweig

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, love square, pining, canon compliant

warnings: contains spoilers for challengers (2024), suggestive, mentions of sex, cheating (not by reader or art), mild alcohol consumption, swearing, DILF ART

a/n: look i rly don’t like ariana grande but there’s this art edit to the boy is mine that is living RENT FREE in my head and i feel like this lyric fits with this fic? idk but here’s a snippet as im busy finishing up school. i’ll be rewatching challengers tomorrow though, so hopefully it’ll better my characterization of art since i’m pretty rusty when it comes to creative writing atm

It’s an afterthought to him, your name, and although you know you aren’t the force-to-be-reckoned-with Tashi Duncan, it still sort of stings. ‘Sort of’ in the way you try to undersell your feelings for Art to yourself.

He appears harmless, but you know that his timid nature is only a thin layer at the surface of him. You’ve seen it wear down, easily scratched at and cut by Patrick’s careless demeanor, his—what Art considers to be inattentive, negligent, irresponsible—way of loving liking Tashi.

Still, you savor the sound of your name in his tongue, his slightly nasally but sweet voice. You’re pathetic. But so is he. He paws for crumbs of Tashi’s, his best friend’s girlfriend’s, attention. And you eat the scraps of whatever is left of his.

You can’t help but be painfully aware of this misery you’ve caught yourself in. He asks you if you’ll help him study for his exam. You don’t know shit about his major, but you accept anyway.

You wonder if this is romance.

[vendetta-ari]

Drug dealer!Patrick Zweig x Fem reader <3

tw: mentions of drugs, no smut this time folks! (slightly incoherent, not proofread)

Patrick Zweig, who couldn't scrounge up enough money using challengers and tournaments this month- so he gets his weed dealer to help him out. he works for him for a bit before making enough money to actually sell his own product, he's never had so much money in these past few years! who cares where he gets it? it's not like he's using the hard stuff anyway. sure enough, one of his regulars show up with a innocent little friend, you. you barely look 21, compared to Patrick's 30 years of age. your friend was apparently a regular here, which didn't suprise you all that much. he explains that you had been looking to try out some drugs, live life not like the usual goody two shoes you are.

Patrick Zweig, being the dirty man he is; gives the pair a discount- but only if he can watch this cute thing get her first high.

they arrive at a secluded spot by a lake, and Patrick watches with eager eyes as you gulp down a pill of ecstasy. he's practically forgotten your name, all he can think about is how you makes his dick twitch..

After a few moments, you're completely out of it, struggling to walk and drooling all over yourself as you giggles out insincere apologies to your poor friend. Patrick is rock hard by this point, he keeps adjusting himself in his ever tightly growing jeans.

You look beautiful like this. lips parted, drooling, stumbling, tripping over your own words, being needy, clingy, and so fucking dazed. like some ditz.

he offers to take you home, be a gentleman. he'l take out a pen, writing his number on the pulse of your neck in red ink while you arent paying any attention.

Call me if you wanna feel even better, sugar

he whispers sweet nothings into your ear while he walks you home, Patrick cant help but imagine what you'd look like drooling over his cock, instead of some measly drug. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"yeah? that's your name, eh? pretty name for a pretty lady."

"god, you are just so fucking pretty when you're so drugged out like this. not a single thought in your brain, ah? no? good."

good

"that's how it should be, pretty"

Patrick uncaps the marker again, writing all over the your body, not like toid be able to do anything. poor you. hearts on your boobs, stars on your thighs, and his name everywhere.

"Alright, this is your house? m'kay sug' be safe. sleep well, my cute little ditz. drugged out so perfect f'me..." the door soon closes, and you babble an incoherent goodbye.

next time, Patrick isnt gonna be a gentleman. he'll fuck you up, in every possible sense <3

(guys I hope this is coherent or atleast any good. luv yall!)

-xoxo Ari <3

[diettwistup]

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 3.9K

NOTES: hey y’all!!! so excited to be posting the first chapter of this story. manifesting my edits are all good LOL. enjoy! 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTIONS AND EMBARRASSMENTS

US OPEN TOURNAMENT- 2006, 2:00 PM

Sitting down on the hot bleachers, I put my sunglasses on and adjusted the braids in my hair. Sucking on my teeth and brushing my fingers across the hem of my uniform skirt, I let my eyes gaze at the large crowd of people accumulating. 

Damn Tashi, you always know how to make a bang. 

Crossing my arms and softly laughing, I let my mind wander back to my match yesterday. 

I had lost to the girl who would be playing Tashi for the championship. I really don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, I lost from a bad call when I was so close to the end. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to battle my best friend and get absolutely decimated, as she would say. 

As I continued to lose myself in thought, two boys, blonde and brunette, moved through the growing crowd and sat in front of me. 

You’re kidding me. 

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson—the “fire and ice” duo—had just won their doubles match, if I’m not mistaken. How could I be when their trophies were sitting right on their laps?

There's still a ton of seats open, and they choose to sit here? 

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I pushed my sunglasses up, waiting for Tashi to come out. 

Staring at the door to the locker rooms, I clicked my tongue in boredom before grabbing the tournament pamphlet to look at everyone’s stats. 

“Don’t you wanna meet Tashi Duncan?” 

My ears perked at this as I put the pamphlet down and narrowed my eyes at the brunette boy. 

Whoever said eavesdropping was a bad thing…

I had to hold in my laughter as they began to talk about Tashi and how she was the entire package. Telling her this later would be the highlight of my week. 

“What about Mikaelson, you know her?” Patrick asked as he slung his arm around his companion. 

I froze at this and tilted my sunglasses down to better see the two of them. 

“Of course I know her. Have you seen her play? She’s fucking hot.” Art added with a smirk as he attempted to whisper, failing miserably. 

My face heated up at this as my eyes narrowed at the boys. 

Do they not realize the person they’re talking about is behind them? 

“Agreed,” Patrick started as he pulled his friend closer. “She’s also got a fat ass.” He laughed as Art chuckled along with him. 

Gag. 

Closing my eyes and pretending I didn’t hear that, I heard cheers and claps from around, signaling that Tashi had come out of the locker room. The chair umpire immediately began to talk about her stats and how she was the best female player in our division. 

I happily clapped as I beamed at my friend, her eyes scanning the crowd and locking with mine, a large smile playing on her features. 

“Fuck, did you see that? Tashi Duncan just smiled at us…” Patrick exclaimed in awe as he pushed Art in the chest. 

“Shit, I missed it.” Art complained before leaning back and adjusting himself in his seat.

I almost had to cover my mouth to hide the vomit that was about to let loose. 

Dumbasses. 

After a few minutes, Tashi’s match began, of course, in her favor. Everything was perfect: her serves, backhand, line receives, counterattacks, and every single step she took. 

I smirked widely as I watched Tashi decimate the bitch who, unfortunately, decimated me. 

Patrick and Art watched Tashi in awe for the first ten minutes of the match while commenting on how amazing a player she was. 

I snorted at this, wondering how long it would take to notice who was sitting behind them.

On the next serve, Tashi’s opponent hit the ball out, but the line umpire declared it as in. 

Standing up immediately, I pointed a finger and yelled at the top of my lungs. 

“What?! Come on, Tash, don’t take that shit!” 

Everyone else agreed with me as the crowd began to roar in protest of the shitty call. 

Lost in the moment, I hadn’t realized that Patrick and Art had turned around and stared at me in horror and awe. 

“Oh,” I started and took off my sunglasses. Did I yell in your ear?” I looked between them before looking back up at Tashi. 

“Fuck, you’re-“ Patrick started in a slightly panicked state before I cut him off. 

“Milan Mikaelson? Yeah, I’m guessing you two know me.” I spoke with sarcasm as I kept my eyes trained on Tashi and her opponent. 

Caught. 

“Shit, I’m real sorry for what I said, I-“ Art started before I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, eyes still not leaving the game.

“Don’t sweat it, was too focused on the game to give a damn.” I lied straight through my teeth as I pretended to act nonchalant. 

I could feel both of their eyes staring long and hard at my hand lingering on Art’s shoulder before I took it away to throw my hands in the air and yell as Tashi locked in another point. 

“Come on, Tash!” I yelled and clapped with the roaring crowd, boys still looking back at me. 

Sighing, I crossed my arms and looked back down at them. “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I spoke in annoyance before sitting back down and putting on my sunglasses. 

All I could hear were muffled whispers and attempts to counteract my statement before they turned back around and shared we’re fucked looks. 

Stifling my laughs, I angled my eyes back to the match. 

As Tashi continued to hit the ball effortlessly for the rest of the match, her win came almost naturally. 

Standing up and yelling, I quickly ran down the bleachers, feeling two pairs of eyes following me. I stood against the fence and clapped loudly while Tashi caught my eyes after her victory yell and smiled widely at me. 

I jumped up and down with all the fans cheering with their signs and matching t-shirts. 

Running around the court to thank everyone for coming, Tashi came over to me and grabbed my hands. 

“Tashi! I’m so proud!” I yelled and bounced on my heels, extremely happy with my friend's success. 

“My biggest fan.” She smiled and reached over to hug me before letting go and continuing to thank everyone. 

Smiling proudly at her, I pushed my braids behind my back and took off my sunglasses. Turning around, I looked back at the sea of people cheering for Tashi before my eyes landed on two figures. 

What a mystery those two are…

I smirked proudly at them as their eyes shifted between Tashi walking back to her locker room and myself standing by the fence. 

Patrick leaned over to Art and whispered something as their eyes darted between us. I could only see Patrick's smirk and Art’s growing grin at his friend's words. 

Snorting to myself, I turned around and put my sunglasses back on. 

“Fucking morons…” 

ADIDAS BRAND PARTY - 2006 8:00 PM

“Tashi!” I exclaimed as I weaved through a crowd of familiar and influential faces to ambush my best friend. 

I could see her bright smile miles away as she turned to meet me at the edge of the dancefloor, engulfing her in a hug. 

“Milan, I was wondering if you weren’t coming.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around me and returned my hug. 

Pulling away, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Tashi Duncan, my best friend, thought I would miss out on this?!” I questioned as I gestured to the bustling party. "You must be crazy if you think I would miss out on anything that concerned you and your tennis career,” I snapped at her with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll have you know I was late because my mother insisted on making me change ten times.” I rolled my eyes and tilted my head to where our moms were conversing. I stuck my nose up and closed my eyes, annoyed at the memory of how nagging my mother was when getting ready for the party.

Immediately, she raised her hands in defense and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Miss Mikaelson, didn’t mean to assume.” She laughed before crossing her arms. 

I watched her expression change slightly as her eyes softened and lips parted. 

“I watched your match yesterday,” she said, lightly treading. “I’m sorry about the loss.” She finished and brought a hand to my shoulder, rubbing it gently with a sad smile.

Flashes of my match fluttered back into my mind as a small pit formed in my stomach. 

I shrugged this off and took up a carefree attitude, whereas my insides were screaming. 

“It was a shitty call, what can I say? That bitch had and has nothing on me.” I smirked and made sure not to falter, but secretly, the loss had internally crushed me.

Tashi laughed, brought her other hand to my shoulder, and bent down to level our eyes. “Don't worry, I decimated her for you. Plus, at Stanford, the both of us will be fucking up bitches right and left.” She shot a cocky smirk at this as I gave her one back in turn. 

Stanford. The next four years of my life with Tashi Duncan would be the ultimate dream. 

Right? 

I extended my pinky to Tashi with a slight wink. “Promise?” I bit my bottom lip and smirked at this familiar gesture between us. 

As long as I can remember, Tashi and I have made over a hundred pinky promises. Our first one involved her letting me borrow her Barbie doll while we played house and my promise to return it. Since then, it’s been a norm between us. 

I felt the confidence radiating from Tashi’s grin as she moved her right hand from my shoulder to interlock our pinkies. 

“Promise.” She repeated and swung our interlocked pinkies back and forth. 

I laughed like a child all over again before quickly raking my eyes across the entire party. As I scanned the crowd, I let go of Tashi’s pinky and leaned in to whisper. 

“Lots of important people here, I see,” I whispered as Tashi’s eyes followed mine.

“And familiar faces too…” She responded in a lower tone, angling her eyes to an older man by the beverages. 

“Shut up!” I gasped before looking back at Tashi. “Is that Mr. Reynolds?!” I asked in shock at seeing our fifth-grade English teacher. 

“Yup,” Tashi responded, standing straight as she crossed her arms. She studied the older man as he scanned the beverages offered. “He was always my favorite,” she quipped, not needing a huge explanation for why he was here. 

At this, I burst out into laughter, as did she. 

“I thought he died years ago.” I clutched my stomach before placing a hand over my mouth and muffling my small laughs. “Wait, that’s not nice. I mean, I thought he passed on peacefully years ago.” I corrected in a serious tone as I watched the older man before glancing at Tashi and bursting into laughter again. 

As I laughed with Tashi, I felt a burning feeling on the back of my head. 

Was someone staring?

Wiping my eyes carefully to avoid messing up my makeup, I slowly turned around and almost froze as I locked eyes with the person, or should I say persons, staring at Tashi and me. 

Oh, hell no. Is that who I think it is?

Quickly, I turned back around and whispered to Tashi in a hurried tone. 

“Tash, is that Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?” I looked her in the eye as they narrowed at the mention of the “fire and ice” duo’s presence at the party. 

“Oh yeah, they’ve been staring all night.” She smirked and looked between the two of us. “Frankly, I don’t blame them.” Her smirk grows even wider, mirroring the Cheshire Cat. 

Biting my lip, I remembered my earlier encounter with the two tennis players. I shuddered as I remembered their smirks and remarks about Tashi and me. 

“Tash…” I said warningly, pointing my perfectly manicured finger in her face. “Please tell me you don’t have one of your ideas in mind.” I slightly scolded her, studying her face to see what she was thinking. “Those two are complete and utter idiots.” I continued as I shook my head. 

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and whispered back as she lowered my finger and sucked on her teeth. “Do you really need to ask this?” She questioned with an air that spoke obviously, are you stupid? 

“And believe me,” She started and moved to fix the straps of my dress. “I know exactly how they are…teenage boys.” She snickered wider at this as I rolled my eyes. 

I huffed loudly before grabbing a piece of my hair to fiddle while I groaned. “But Tash, it’s our summer before we go to college. No boys.” I retorted as the music in the background got a little louder. 

Grabbing my hands, Tashi dragged us to the middle of the dance floor and forced me to dance. “First of all,” She started as she twirled me around, “This was never a pinky promise.” She spoke, wrapped her arms around my neck, and swayed us to the music. 

Fuck, she got me there. 

“Second of all,” She continued before touching my neck to untangle my necklaces while swaying with me. “I know you’re internally drooling over Art Donaldson. He’s exactly your type, and he’s going to Stanford.” She laughed to herself as she worked on my necklaces. 

Fuck x2 can’t deny that. 

I rolled my eyes and turned away, knowing I couldn’t argue either of those statements. 

“You’re crazy…” Was all I could protest. 

Untangling my necklaces, Tashi clapped and smiled brightly at me before putting her hands back on my shoulders. “This is gonna be a great start to the summer.” She grinned like a mad woman as we kept dancing across the floor. 

After dancing, mingling, and trying not to focus on the two hard stares hitting Tashi's and my head for the entire night, I decided to go to the beach. 

“Hey, Tash, I’m going to the beach for a quick breather. If my mom asks, I’ll be down there. Come down if you need anything or if I miss something interesting.” I smile gently at her while I take my heels off.

“Got it. Be safe.” She waved before going to get pictures with her family. 

I smiled at her before walking to navigate the path to go down to the beach, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes following me. 

10:00 PM

I wonder how long I had been down here listening to the sweet waves ripple against the hot sand. I almost feel as if the ocean is calling me. 

Imagine the escape of living on a secluded island where nothing mattered. Not school, not tennis, and not the future.

Especially the future. 

Staring at my newly manicured nails, I continued to get lost in my thoughts while the ocean rang in my ears.

Shit, I’m over everything.

I reached a hand up to my mouth and began to bite one of my nails. 

Do I even wanna go to Stanford? 

Practically gnawing at it, I can feel the acrylic wearing off.

Doesn’t matter because I’ll be with Tashi… right?

SNAP

“Fuck…” I muttered to myself as I broke off a nail, leaving a tiny bit of blood seeping from my nail bed. 

Rolling my eyes, I held onto the broken nail and rested my head on my knee as I watched the ocean. 

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” I heard a deep voice ask behind me, making me let out a small yelp and nearly fall off the rock.

Quickly turning around, I was met with two, unfortunately familiar, faces. 

Why now?

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson stood before me, shoes in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Frankly, I had no idea which one spoke, and I had no care to know at this rate. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and they disturbed that. 

“What the fuck,” I explained as I stood up from the rock and patted my dress down. “Do you know how rude it is to sneak up on someone?” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes as I looked between the two boys sheepishly standing before me. 

“Shit, really sorry, didn’t know you were here,” Patrick spoke up as his counterpart dropped his cigarette from his lips upon seeing me study his stature. 

Bullshit. 

“Hm, okay, well, I’ll be going then,” I exclaimed, irritated, as I bent down to grab my heels. “I hope you two have a grand time.” I sarcastically quipped as I went to walk past them and go back up the path to the party. 

“Wait,” Art, almost panicked, stood before me with a lopsided grin as he flicked his cigarette bud beside him and treaded lightly as he motioned to the chairs near the rock I had just occupied. “We’d love it if you joined us, just for a chat.” He had a genuine smile on his face now. 

Are they serious?

Before I could open my mouth, Patrick beat me to it as he walked to sit in one of the chairs Art motioned to. 

“Yeah, just to talk. You're one of the best players in our age bracket, and it would be a real treat to get to know you as an apology for what happened earlier.” Patrick added and smirked so wide I could feel pure smitten radiating off it. 

They are serious.

Both boys were now staring at me, gazes identical in pure amazement, awaiting my response. 

Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck x3.

Sighing softly and crossing my arms, I dropped my shoes, returned to the rock, and sat down. 

“You get five minutes,” I spoke curtly as I looked between the boys, waiting for one of them to speak up.

Art took this chance to open his mouth, but before he could begin, I held a hand up to stop him.

“Oh, and there’s no need to introduce yourselves. Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, the “fire and ice” duo.” I spoke unenthusiastically, keeping my eyes on Art for a little longer before angling my expression to Patrick.

Both boys stared at me with slight smirks as I adjusted my dress and grabbed a piece of hair to play with while they continued. 

“Well, Milan Mikaelson,” 

I inwardly shuddered as he spoke my full name. 

“During your match, I thought that call was fucked.” Patrick spoke up and got right to the point. He laughed as if he remembered it as a fond childhood memory. 

Almost instantly, Art chimed in to add to his friends' thoughts, a bit too eager for my liking. “I mean, that Anna girl could barely serve your entire match, and then that?” He stated as he shook his head, acting like he was scolding my opponent to her face like a coach.

My eyes lit up at this. They knew how to crack me. Bring up my pride and losses, and I’ll talk your ear off for hours. 

“I think the official was blind because that bitch’s ball was totally past the line,” I explained matter-of-factly. “Did you see the way he hesitated before calling it? He probably had it in with her.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in annoyance at the memory of the loss. 

“Still, you were fucking amazing out there. How did you get your backhand to be that powerful?” Art quickly added and leaned forward in his chair as if moving closer to me would allow him to understand my words better. 

I let a slight smile adorn my features as I studied his position. 

Fuck x4.

For the next four minutes, the three of us talked about tennis and our matches throughout the tournament. Though brief, I could quickly tell how these two relied on each other and their sport. It was definitely the glue for their friendship. I could also tell how they hung onto my every word, like a toddler waiting for his mother to let him out of the time-out-chair. 

Checking my watch, I stood up and looked between the boys. 

“Though this was fun, your five minutes is up.” I flashed my watch at them with a subtle smile before bending down to grab my shoes. 

When I bent down, I could hear some rushed scuffles and whispers. Standing back up, I saw that both boys were also standing, very tense, might I add. 

“How can we contact you to do this again?” Patrick asked with a smirk, which I presume was a signature for him.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms and looked between him and his blonde companion. 

“Who said I wanted to do this again?” I asked as Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets with a defeated grin while Art let out a muffled chuckle. 

“Come on, this was fun.” Art added and took a cautious step towards me. “Can we get your number?” He asked as he studied my face with the cheekiest grin he could muster.

I laughed at his question dryly before pointing my finger between the two boys. “We? You think I’m gonna get between this? Hell no.” I replied, walking past them to the stairs and back to the party. 

Immediately, I could feel their eyes staring into the back of my head, and I wondered if they would beg or plead. 

They better not. 

“Come to our hotel,” Patrick yelled, making me whip my head around. “We have beer,” he grinned once he saw my interest somewhat piqued. 

Fuck x5.

“It’s not far from here. We can talk more.” He gestured between the three of us and then pointed up to the party. 

This made me look back to the party, about to question what he meant before Patrick chimed in. 

“We talked to Tashi earlier and told her the same thing. Would be fun getting to know the beautiful golden tennis girl duo.” He chuckled as I watched his eyes flicker from my face to my lips.

This made my face heat up, but I would never reveal that. Teenage boys don’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing they have any sort of effect on me. 

Clicking my tongue, I nodded at this new piece of information. 

Tashi did say she had a plan in place. This could be fun. 

“Maybe,” I replied as my eyes shifted between the boys.

You’re not easy, Milan Mikaleson. Remember that.

“Depends on my mood.” I finished and shot them small smirks before walking back up the stairs, not giving the boys a moment to retort. 

As I walked back to the party, my eyes shut as I felt a headache coming on. 

What the hell did I get myself into?

[poppy-metal]

god the arranged marriage au is so good

thinking about patrick getting in a physical fight for reader. someone was being a creep or an asshole at a gala to his wife, and he didn’t even thing before punching the guy. reader is shocked and horrified and part of her wants to scream at him that he doesn’t have the right to fight over her but everyone is staring.

the other part of her has never been more turned on in her life, and she starts to think of other ways to get patrick to be possessive of her when she touches herself at night.

HHHHHH POSSESIVE PATRICK

a "that's my wife" moment,,,,,,, with his jaw clenched and he's at your side and his hand is at the small of your back, claiming and territorial and it leaves you breathless. the man that'd been bothering you ends up flat on the ground when he says something about zweigs new pet looking good in her dress and patrick lays him flat. it's unbecoming, you know, for a man to be violent, especially a man of patricks upbringing - supposed to handle things with dignity and grace. and yet. your heart flutters. butterflies go off in your stomach. something about a man - your man - going to bat for you - it's hot. something the men in your romance novels do, but you never expected to experience for yourself.

you ice his knuckles when you're home and you say all the things you think you should say, like, that wasn't necessary and, you shouldn't have done that. but he rolls his eyes - "fuck off. I'm not going to let someone diss you like that."

you purse your lips. "people are going to have things to say - we can't escape scrutiny. I don't want you getting into fights over me, I promise I can take the insults. I've prepared for them."

"I dont like that." patrick says. he uncurls his fist and his fingers wrap around your wrist. you meet his eyes, standing between his legs in the kitchen - "I don't want people being rude to you. you shouldn't have to deal with that shit."

you swallow. you have prepared for it, but you have to admit, it doesn't feel nice. "why do you care." he hadn't spared your feelings in the past, you wonder why he's trying to now. you like it, but you wonder.

he tugs you closer - his thumb traces the pulse in your wrist and you shiver. with him sitting he's looking up at you. you try not to get flustered at how close he is to your breasts. "I care about you." he says softly. "you're my wife."

you step back - or try to - but his other hand goes behind you - palm at the base of your spine. he doesn't let you pull back. keeps you still. "hey." he says, "I know I haven't acted it - I'm a fucking asshole -"

"you're sleeping with another woman."

he winces. "do you want me not to?"

you look at him. "it's your choice patrick."

there's something unreadable in his expression. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth - you look at his mouth. can't help yourself. the stubble around his jaw - the red pout of his lips - everything about him just calls to you. he's so dangerous. dangerous and not even yours. your ring is on his finger, you can feel it at the small of your back, but he's not yours.

"I'll stop." he says. "just ask me."

you look away. "a man has needs -" you flush. "I know you - you want -"

his hand is a searing warmth on you - you can feel it through your dress. he moves it to your waist, your eyes drift shut. "what do I want?" he asks.

you feel lightheaded. "you want.... I know you're a... you're a very s-sexual person - and I'm not. I'm not -"

you wonder if he knows. if it's not obvious. but he's looking at you curiously and your flush deepens. "im a virgin." you tell him. "so I know I'm not what you want."

patrick is quiet. his lips are parted. you're in the middle of trying to sort out his expression when he exhales and leans forward suddenly, leaning his head against your stomach. you blink down at him in shock, hands hovering around his shoulders.

"shit." he breathes. "fuck."

"patrick?"

"you deserve better than me." he doesn't sound happy about it. he squeezes your hips in his hands.

I don't want better, you think. I want you.

you don't say anything. you feel him press a kiss just above your bellybutton.

"I'll be better." he promises, and you almost wish he wouldn't try at all. you don't want him to try out of guilt. you think about how he punched that guy for you and how good it felt in that moment to feel important to him. wanted. coveted. you don't want him to be better. you just want him to be him. the him that wants you.

[majoriehoax]

new bots up .ᐟ debut by taylor swift

tim mcgraw ౨ৎ art donaldson

.ᐟ summer romance .ᐟ fem user

picture to burn ౨ৎ stu macher

.ᐟ hurt/no comfort .ᐟ gn user

teardrops on my guitar ౨ৎ jacob black

.ᐟ unrequited love .ᐟ fem user

a place in this world ౨ৎ patrick zweig

.ᐟ coming of age .ᐟ gn user

cold as you ౨ৎ lip gallagher

.ᐟ emotional unavailability .ᐟ gn user

the outside ౨ৎ jonathan byers

.ᐟ opposite attractes .ᐟ fem user

tied together with a smile ౨ৎ rafe cameron

.ᐟ hurt/comfort .ᐟ fem user

stay beautiful ౨ৎ peeta mellark

.ᐟ secret crush .ᐟ gn user

should've said no ౨ৎ coriolanus snow

.ᐟ cheating/toxicity .ᐟ fem user

marys song ౨ৎ benedict bridgerton

.ᐟ established marriage .ᐟ gn user

our song ౨ৎ steve harrington

.ᐟ established relationship .ᐟ gn user

first of all thank you so much for 12k chats and 150 followers on c.ai that's soo exciting omg !! i am so excited to finally make an album inspired release and my pooks maya (@voidsuites) inspired me with her brat x challengers release ! definitely check it out if you haven't! I never realised debut has so many angsty song until I fully paid attention to the meaning/story's behind the songs.

dms. request | asks. open | request form. here

new bots ? ➫ September 30th

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

🍒Daydreams of the romance🍒

19

MDNI!

Welcome to my blog!!

People I write for

Rafe Cameron

Art Donaldson

Patrick Zweig

Anthony Bridgerton

I will NOT write about Any body fluids!!!

But i’m open to almost anything else!!

Requests Open

More about me and my blog<3

Meet the writer

Masterlist

Moodboards

jukeboxsweetheart 2024

[the-celluloid-correspondent]

Challengers: Everything in Life is Tennis, Including Sex. A Review

Tashi, a former tennis prodigy turned coach, turned her husband into a champion. But to overcome a losing streak, he needs to face his ex-best friend and Tashi's ex-boyfriend.

Have you ever met someone who makes their entire personality about a single thing and devotes their entire life to it? And what happens when three of these people who are obsessed with tennis get stuck in a sizzling love triangle? Ladies and gentlemen may I present to you Luca  Guadgnino’s Challengers. A dazzling and smoking-hot romance that will turn everyone on. 

We follow Art Donaldson (Mike Faist), a former tennis champion who has hit his thirties-slump after a string of injuries and losses. Tashi Duncan (Zendaya), his coach, and his wife sign him up for a minor league Challenger, to boost his confidence. However, emotions and sexual tensions rise as Art’s former best friend and Tashi’s ex-boyfriend, Patrick Zweig (Josh O’Connor) signs up for the competition as well while cosplaying as a starving artist tennis player who is down on his luck. 

The final game of the tournament between Art and Patrick serves as a bookend to the film’s narrative. Throughout the film, interwoven flashbacks and flashforwards navigate the intricate web of the characters’ love triangle, akin to the rhythmic volleying of a tennis ball between players. Much like the intensity of a final match in a tennis tournament, Challengers has an unstoppable and frenetic energy, albeit occasionally veering into confusion. You are constantly on the edge of your seat from the pounding and pulsating synthwave/techno score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. Sayombhu Mekdeeprom's innovative cinematography pushes boundaries, whether by placing the camera within the tennis ball's perspective or beneath the court, capturing the raw intensity exuded by the talented ensemble cast. From the glistening sweat of Hollywood's finest to the kinetic action on screen, Challengers delivers a visual and emotional experience unlike any other.

While some may find it disappointing that Challengers lacks explicit sexual content, the film compensates with an abundance of erotic tension and a palpable atmosphere that more than suffices. Even innocuous scenes, such as two "best friends" sharing churros in close proximity, exude a homoerotic undercurrent that underscores the intricate power dynamics within the trio. These moments offer a revealing glimpse into the competitive desires driving Art and Patrick's pursuit of Tashi, while she deftly manipulates their affections to serve her own ends. Through these interactions, the film skillfully unravels the complex interplay of ambition and desire that will ultimately shape their destinies. Whether it's Tashi's vicarious living through her husband's tennis career or Patrick's conflicted relationship with his own athletic prowess, Challengers adeptly navigates the intricate psychology of its characters, laying bare their vulnerabilities and motivations with finesse.

Despite their characters' somewhat underdeveloped nature, the ensemble cast delivers performances brimming with fervent intensity. Mike Faist captivates with a physically charged portrayal that evolves from vigor to a melancholic resignation, embodying the struggles of navigating the pitfalls of early thirties ennui. John O'Connor exudes devilish charm as Patrick, skillfully balancing between ineptitude and magnetic unpredictability, keeping audiences on edge with every twist of his character's whims. Zendaya commands attention as Tashi, exuding a commanding presence that borders on intimidating, deftly manipulating her male counterparts to fulfill her desires. The palpable chemistry among the trio ignites the screen, infusing the film with a smoking-hot dynamic that adds an extra layer of intrigue to their complex relationships. 

Challengers serve up a riveting and provocative exploration of love, ambition, and rivalry amidst the competitive world of tennis. Director Luca Guadagnino crafts his most accessible and captivating work yet, seamlessly blends provocative themes with sheer entertainment. The film ignites with an irresistible allure, evoking visceral reactions and stirring emotions within viewers. Unapologetically seductive, Challengers basks in its own sensuality, embracing its innate allure with unbridled confidence.

My Rating: A