#Summer Academy in Nice

[pianistterenceyung]

Pianist Terence Yung has been hailed as "a brilliant young artist" with "powerhouse virtuosity," "felt musicianship" and "a real gift for communication in performance." Mr. Yung has appeared throughout the United States as a recitalist, in chamber music concerts, as soloist with orchestras, including performances in New York City, Philadelphia, Seattle and Houston, as well as abroad in Spain and France. His international honors include top prizes at the Puigcerdà International Music Competition in Spain and the Bradshaw and Buono International Piano Competition in New York City.

Notable venues include Verizon Hall at the Kimmel Center of Performing Arts (Philadelphia), Benaroya Hall (Seattle), the Teatro d Puigcerdá, the Grand Opera House (Delaware), the Juilliard School (New York City), Steinway Hall, Yamaha Salon, the Kosciuszko Foundation, the Mount Sinai Hospital in New York, and the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. In the United States and abroad, Mr. Yung has performed at music festivals including the International Keyboard Institute and Festival (New York City), the Puigcerdà International Music Festival (Spain), the International Piano Festival (Houston), and the Adirondack International Music Festival in upstate New York.

Terence, who grew up in the United States, studied privately with Eleanor Sokoloff of the Curtis Institute of Music before entering the Juilliard School's pre-college program in New York City at the age of thirteen, where he was a pupil of Frank Lévy and Martin Canin (the teaching assistant of Rosina Lhévinne).He continued his studies with Abbey Simon at the Moores School of Music in Houston, where he holds a Bachelor of Music and Bachelor of Arts in English Literature. He also holds a prestigious Diplôme from the Académie Internationale d'Eté de Nice, where he studied with Michel Béroff and Philippe Entremont, and he took lessons informally with Susan Starr, Lang Lang, Garrick Ohlsson, and Horacio Gutierrez.

Mr. Yung has been highly committed to the education and outreach of classical music. His work with outreach organizations has made a difference for the underprivileged children of inner-city Houston through the gift of music. He has served on the piano faculties of the Yellowstone Academy and the University of Houston Moores School of Music Preparatory and Continuing Studies. His involvements with community organizations include frequent collaborations with the Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. Terence Yung has been a subject of interviews by Ming Pao Daily News, the Global Chinese Times, and French public news as an outstanding young pianist from Hong Kong.

[darlingcloudie-9]

Woe; my girl Kumonoue in obligatory beach wear cause where i am its the SUMMER BABY THE SUMMMEERRRRR 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥 (little comic ft. Yui and Noue after the cut)

[cutehoons02]

Between lust and revenge

*pairing: Leader alpha Heeseung x omega Girl

Between love and revenge pt2

*trope: Forbidden love/Enemies to lovers

*synopsis: In an exclusive academy where alphas, omegas and betas coexist, Y/n, a sweet and pretty omega, is forced to marry Jiwon, an omega who does not love and treats her with contempt. But when she finds herself trapped in a fate she has not chosen, the only way out seems to be Heeseung, an alpha tormented by revenge for his brother’s death, caused by the family of Y/n. In despair, Y/n offers herself to Heeseung, asking him to knot her to escape a loveless marriage and the tyranny of her future husband. Despite his resentment towards his family, Heeseung accepts the proposal, but with one condition: he will never love her. As the bond between the two becomes more and more intense and dangerous, Y/n finds herself fighting not only for her own freedom, but also for a love that seems impossible.

*tags: Heeseung is the leader of his 6 younger brothers and whole alpha of the new generation, at first he is really cold and throws darts to Y/n, Y/n is a sweet omega but with a nice character, preliminaries, a lot of kisses, sucking, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) knotting,filling, pet names (princess,little omega,slut) (Hee,alpha)

12.7k (♥️)

(English is not my native language)

The golden lights of the sunset filtered through the wide glass windows of the greenhouse, dancing among the climbing plants and blooming flowers that filled the air with sweet notes of jasmine and mint. The air was warm, scented with spring and anticipation. You stood there, behind a half-open glass door, your heartbeat echoing through your temples. On the other side of the greenhouse, among the shadows of the foliage, he was there. The boy with amber eyes who had never spared you a long look, but whose mere gaze on yours could make your knees tremble. Heeseung. Alpha. Damnably untouchable. And yet, there you were, spying on him as if just seeing him could be enough to make you breathe.

Your fiery red dress clung to your curves with elegance, the light silk swaying with every breath as your heels hesitated on the stone floor. Your hair, smooth as silk, slipped over your shoulders, and your lips, tinged with a soft red, trembled with unspoken thoughts. The heart-shaped necklace your mother had given you seemed to glow with its own light as if reminding you where you came from. But the ring… the ring that Jiwon had ordered for you, that one you didn’t wear. You didn’t want it. Only your bracelets, colorful and mismatched, truly spoke of who you were: a girl who dreamed of freedom, carrying with her fragments of every summer, every laugh, every escape.

"I can’t do it… I can’t marry him. Not Jiwon, that damn omega who never respected me, never respected my family’s name, and would have locked me in a cage as if I were an animal."

Your fingers clenched the edge of the door. Your heart was pounding, too loudly. Not because of the imminent wedding, but because of the tall, lean figure immersed among the greenhouse plants. Heeseung looked like a noble, deadly shadow, and yet there was something in him that gave you relief. Perhaps because, despite the resentment he held against your family, he had never looked at you as an object. In truth, he had hardly ever looked at you, but when he did… he saw your soul.

"He hates me. I know. But he's the only alpha who could break this curse. The only one strong enough to mark me. The only one who could not be controlled by Jiwon or my father."

You, a gentle omega, delicate, raised to smile, to not disturb, to say thank you, and remain composed. Your aura was faint, like the scent of lavender on a summer evening. People said your presence calmed the air, that your gaze brought peace. But they had no idea of the fire that smoldered within your heart. Of how your soul screamed every time Jiwon touched you with those predatory eyes.

Heeseung was dangerous, with fire and poison and silence. But he didn’t scare you. Because beneath his cold mask, you felt something. As if he, too, was waiting for a way to save himself.

"I wasn’t born to be a bride. Not for an omega like him. If only Heeseung would touch me... if only he would agree to bind himself to me... I could break it all."

The black tuxedo clung to his broad shoulders with almost cruel precision. The seams traced his form as if they had been stitched directly onto his skin, and the high collar barely revealed a vein that pulsed faintly on his neck. Heeseung stood with his back to you, still, like a statue of black marble planted among the shadows of the greenhouse. He seemed part of the landscape, as though nature itself had embraced him as a sovereign.

You bit your lower lip. A nervous gesture, but also one filled with awareness.

Did he hate me? Probably.

If someone from my family had killed one of my brothers, I would have hated to death anyone who bore that blood too.

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the iron handle of the glass door. You lowered it carefully, and a faint click broke the silence, heavy with humidity and suspended petals. You stepped inside. No sound from him. Not even a breath. Only your gentle aura, warm and light like a caress in the dark, making its way into his realm. The scent of your skin—vanilla and wild honey—spread slowly throughout the greenhouse.

Then, after a few seconds, his voice.

That voice.

Low. Rich with a dangerous echo. A voice you had only heard during shared lessons, and even then, it made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“A scent so sweet for an omega… Do you come into my territory? What have I done to deserve the presence of a single omega… unprotected… and, by the way, not even accompanied by anyone?” The air changed around him. As if he had pulled the strings of the world itself with those words. You lifted your gaze slowly. Your wide, shining eyes met his back, still turned. It felt like you were looking at a wall you could never scale. Heeseung was a true alpha. Not just any alpha. His aura was like a silent storm: strong, regal, impenetrable. He could pick up every single scent, every emotion, every nuance of your essence. And you were there, trembling, with your innocent air and humble gaze. A perfect prey. A gentle omega, with an aura soft as a nest of feathers, but a heart full of storms. With a nervous touch on your arms, you brushed against the bracelets you’d worn since childhood. They were your colorful armor. Light memories in a world that now seemed to crush you. You squeezed them tight. Then, with a clear voice, but with a thread of hesitation, you said: “I need your help, Heeseung.” His shoulders stiffened just slightly. Nothing visible to the untrained eye, but you felt it. He felt that voice. Sweet. Polite. Humble. But the same voice he hated with all his being. The voice of the daughter of the man who had taken his brother from him, the voice of enemy blood. Slowly, he turned around, and his gaze was an abyss of amber. Predator’s eyes. Contained coldness, the tuxedo jacket barely moving with his motion, his steps slow, controlled. When his eyes met yours, they didn’t see a threat. They saw a harmless creature. They saw prey, and you, there in your red dress, looked almost out of place, like a delicate flower in the middle of a fire.

What were you doing there? The daughter of the man who killed his brother, a sweet omega who, instead of kneeling to ask for forgiveness, dared to ask for help. From him.

You fiddled with your bracelets, making the beads you had collected over the years softly jingle as if their sound could calm you. But it didn’t work. Not with him in front of you. Not with those eyes. You observed him. Red hair, as if every strand had been kissed by fire. It fell messily over his forehead, but perfectly so. Amber eyes were so intense they seemed to bore into you. And yet… they didn’t scare you. No. They seemed like doe’s eyes, deep, glossy… melancholic. His face was sculpted with almost cruel precision: straight nose, full lips, a jawline that seemed carved by a tired god. His alpha frame made him imposing, much taller than you—and you, at barely 1.70 cm, felt like a feather before a storm. You took a deep breath, then spoke with a calm but sincere voice: “I know you hate me. And I swear… I hate myself too for what my father did to your brother. I don’t forgive him, not even I. But I… I am here to offer you a deal. A revenge you could use against him. Against the entire omega lineage and—” “NO.” His roar hit you like a sudden gust of wind. Sharp. Clear. Inviolable. He turned away as if you were nothing. As if your heart, right there on the table, wasn’t worthy of even a glance. He returned to his herbs, his hands mixing lavender and calendula in a black mortar with precision. The scent of flowers and rare plants filled the greenhouse, and yet you only smelled the rejection in the air. You sighed softly. A part of you wanted to leave, to cry in silence like a well-behaved omega, but the other part… the part that was tired of being commanded… took a step forward. You entered deeper into the wolf’s den. You approached his table and, with a sweet but firm voice, pointed at what he was doing. “You’re mixing lavender to soothe wounds… you’re adding arnica root. It’s for bites. To heal a wounded alpha… or a victim of an attack. Who are you trying to heal, Heeseung?” Finally, he lifted his gaze and he did it with a growl. “Out. Not another word from you. Not in my territory.” His voice was sharp, deep, filled with contained venom. But you…you didn’t move. Your eyes remained locked on his, and your fingers lightly rested on the edge of the table, between his herbs and his silence. “I’m not leaving.” You said, and a heady silence fell, where the only sounds were the distant trickle of a stream and the rustle of animals.

Heeseung stared at you, his aura growing dense, almost suffocating. The king of alphas was beginning to get irritated. Yet… beneath his coldness, something shifted. A tiny crack. A curiosity he didn't want to admit. "You're a problem, you know that?" His voice was as hard as stone. But his eyes… they were studying you. You, however, barely smiled. With sweetness, a smile that wasn't a provocation… it was a gentle challenge. It was that quiet strength only an omega like you could possess. "And you're so good at solving problems. Maybe… I could be your favorite." Heeseung's gaze darkened. But he didn’t speak. His fingers continued to mix the herbs, but the movements were no longer as confident as before. He was disturbed. Annoyed. Intrigued, and you knew it. Heeseung observed you. Not with the distracted look of someone who notices something pretty, but with the cold, calculating gaze of an alpha who scrutinizes, evaluates… and hates himself for what’s stirring inside him. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself. But you were beautiful: one of those rare omegas, born to make even the most stable alphas tremble. He would have wanted to — with his entire body, but not his mind — nurture you, tame you, mark you, bind you to him with the force of an eternal bond, sink every sign of his power into you. And yes… impregnate you, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He knew how delicate the balance between omega and alpha was, how few couples truly worked, how easy it was to ruin a life just to satisfy an impulse. And then… you were the daughter of his enemy. Yet, it wasn’t fear he saw trembling in your fingers, it was awareness. A fear all your own. Not for him… but for what you were about to ask.

“You have two minutes,” he said abruptly, his tone cold but his gaze lit by something he couldn’t extinguish. “And then I want you out of here.” A smile appeared on your face. You clapped your hands softly, like a child who had just been permitted to enter an enchanted forest. He raised an eyebrow, irritated. “You’ve already lost five seconds, now it’s one fifty-five.” You sighed softly, but the smile didn’t completely fade. With a gentle yet firm voice, you spoke. “I don’t want to marry Jiwon. I don’t love him. I don’t respect him. And I already know what awaits me if I become his: a house, a bed, and a future made of nothing but pregnancies and silences. I want to be bound, yes, but I also want the freedom to choose, to study, and to live my life. And the only one strong enough to protect me… the only one Jiwon could never challenge… is you, Lee Heeseung.” He didn’t say anything. You swallowed, your heart racing but your gaze clear. “I know you hate me. And that’s fine. But you can use this resentment, this anger inside you… you can use it against my father. Against my bloodline. You can take revenge… with me.” An incredible silence fell over the greenhouse, the herbs seemed to hold their breath. Heeseung was shocked, staring at you with those amber eyes wide open, his jaw clenched. Then he burst out laughing, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was a brief, incredulous explosion. “You’re crazy.” You turned slightly, your face serious yet soft, your tone sweet… but sincere. “No, I’m dead serious.”

He looked at you as if trying to find a crack in your apparent calm. But there was none. And that’s what truly unsettled him. “You want to offer me your body… your virginity… as a pact for revenge? Is that what you’re proposing? To be branded by me, tied, used… so that you don’t end up in Jiwon’s hands?” You didn’t look away. “In a sense, yes, and you’re the only way to do it, no alpha has your power, and if I’m tied to you, your scent and your fragrance will be all over my body and no male will approach me, only you, Heeseung.” Heeseung’s lips curled into a half-cynical smile. His eyes narrowed, dangerous. “Too bad I’ve never been the type to save princesses.” He took a step toward you, slow and ethereal. “Especially those who carry the blood of my worst enemy.” You lowered your gaze. Your fingers tightened around your bracelets as if they could save you from yourself. “The only one who can save me… is you,” you whispered. “You can take revenge… on your brother… by tying me to you.” But you didn’t manage to finish. His voice cut you off, sharp like a slap: “Pathetic.” You froze. A silent tear slipped down your cheek slowly. It slid along your face like an unsaid confession. Your omega aura blossomed, finally free, like a sweet and fragile scent that expanded in the room. You felt it, but he thought it much more. It was soft, welcoming, instinctively submissive but with a core of dignity impossible to extinguish. “You’re right…” you whispered, your voice low. “The two minutes are over.”

You turned slowly. And walked away, trying not to give in to the shame, or the pain, but then something happened. “Stop.” His voice was an order. A command, and you… you stopped. Not out of fear. Not because you wanted to. But because something in your omega nature forced you to obey. Omegas live to follow. To feel they belong. And with that voice… your body reacted before your mind. You turned slowly. “You’re pathetic, but also… brave.” He took a few steps toward you, his eyes still burning with distrust, but also something else. Something that tightened his chest. “No one has ever faced me like this. No one. Least of all an omega.” He stopped in front of you, his body just inches away. His warmth was overwhelming, and his eyes, now darker, locked onto yours. “Do you know what happens to an omega… when they’re tied by an alpha?” You swallowed. Your legs trembled. But you didn’t look away. “Yes,” you murmured. “Tell me.” You swallowed again, and with an uncertain but sincere voice, you said: “When an alpha ties an omega, his knot swells inside her… locking in for minutes, sometimes even half an hour. During that time… the omega loses complete control.” You said, looking at him with desperate eyes. “The body opens, surrenders. The scent changes. The orgasm is violent… uncontrollable. The bond forms. And… the omega can get pregnant at the first attempt if the alpha desires. But if the omega isn’t ready… if she’s afraid… her body may react badly. The pain can become too much and yes… in extreme cases… she could die.” The silence that followed was different from all the ones before. Heeseung stared at you as if you were saying the most absurd thing… and at the same time, the truest. “And despite all of that… you want to risk being tied by me?” “Yes.” you said, sure of your words.

Heeseung was stunned. For the first time in years, he didn't know what to do. Your words echoed in his ears, so sweet and desperate that they made him clench his fists. What would his brothers say? Him. Lee Heeseung. The most respected alpha at the Academy. Him, tying an omega. Not just any omega. But the daughter of the man who had wiped out his family. "If I bind you," he said quietly, with a hard voice, "you'll be mine forever, there’s no turning back. The bond will be eternal. Your body, your soul… everything will belong to me." You nodded, the tears threatening to fall, but with your eyes shining. "I know." Then, in an even quieter, almost broken voice, you said: "And I'll do everything you want, Heeseung. Even… even get pregnant. If that’s what you desire from me." The alpha's breath caught in his throat. Those words… offered so sincerely, without malice, without strategy… they were like a blade to the chest. “If you do this,” he thought, “your family will disown you. They’ll cast you out. They’ll cut you off.” But a voice inside him whispered: "Good. Let them. She’ll find a new family. Mine." You looked at him again, standing tall even though your body trembled.

"I… I can become your perfect revenge. Imagine my father’s face when he finds out that an alpha has bound me. That his perfect little girl has been taken, tied, marked… and maybe even impregnated. He’ll be furious. Humiliated, and I… I’ll be free from a forced marriage between two families pretending to support each other." Heeseung gritted his teeth, fighting with himself. "And you think I would give you freedom?" he said bitterly. You smiled, this time bitter but sincere. "I know you don’t like me, Heeseung. You don’t have to. But you… you and I are the best at herbology. No one beats us. And yet they always pit us against each other because they want to see us break. But I’ve always seen you. Always respected you. And I know that when alphas choose a mate, they love her. They protect her. They let her… live. Better than in a gilded cage with Jiwon. Better than being just a breeder to be showcased for my beauty and my calming power over people." Silence.

Heeseung’s breath was broken, his gaze fierce but filled with torment, looking at you as if you were poison and remedy at the same time. Desire and destruction. He took a step closer, then another. Now he was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face. "And if I marked you now?" he whispered. "If I pushed you against that table and bound you mercilessly… in front of these plants… while you cry, but not from fear… just because you’re finally free?" Your breath hitched. Your omega inside was trembling. You looked into his eyes, even though your heart was pounding, and the omega aura crackled in the air, ready to bend, ready to follow… but you didn’t look away. "I'm not ready yet," you murmured. His lips curled into a bitter sneer. "Pathetic," he hissed. "Not even for a kiss?" The tone was venomous and harsh. But you felt it… it wasn’t real. It was self-defense. It was fear. It was broken pride. Heeseung knew you were right. No one was truly ready for the bond of a knot. Not even him. And yet… as your omega scent mixed with his natural alpha fragrance – strong, resinous, with hints of musk and spices – something in the air became dangerously sweet; a mutual intoxication. Lethal but also… irresistible. He took a few steps forward. His voice was low, rasping as if scratched by pain. "Your father… killed my brother. Like a dog. He left him there… eyes open. And blood painting the end on the floor, and you… you’re here. Crying. Asking to be saved." You didn’t answer. You just listened, the tears now free, warm, slipping down your cheeks. Your heart screamed, but your mouth remained silent. He noticed. And for a moment, he softened. He sighed, running a hand through his fiery red hair that he was trying to smother. “…I’ll think about it," he finally said. "I don’t promise anything." Your eyes lit up. And with a light, almost ironic voice, but sincere, you said: “At least it’s not a hard ‘no’…” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow, both irritated and amused at the same time. "I’ve had enough for tonight. Go back to the dance. Surely your ‘perfect omega’ is looking for you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?" You looked at him sweetly, with that touch of innocent defiance that only an omega like you could afford. "When will you decide?" Heeseung stared at you for a moment, then looked away. But his words struck straight to your chest: "You’ll know soon enough, and prepare yourself mentally, princess… because if I decide to knot you and make you mine, it won’t be for play." You nodded, feeling every word resonate inside you. You bowed, in the ancient silence of the greenhouse, and you left. Light heels, uncertain steps, a heart-pounding wildly, but behind your chest… a small flame had taken a life, and you knew, as you stepped out into the cold night, that not everything was lost.

Three days had passed, seventy-two hours, four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes. Not that you were counting, of course. Every time you crossed paths with him in the Academy's hallways, or during Herbology class, Heeseung didn't even spare you a glance. He was icy, impassive, as if that night in the greenhouse had never happened, yet… you could feel it. His scent. His fleeting gaze. His breath changing every time you entered the room. In the meantime, you had searched for everything there was about knotting between an alpha and an omega.

“The knot can last from twenty to forty-five minutes.”

“During the mating, the omega enters a state of controlled instinctive heat, where the body completely surrenders.”

“The alpha, if compatible, can permanently mark the omega, leaving an irreversible spiritual, emotional, and physical bond.”

“Fertilization is highly likely if the omega does not take the contraceptive pill, even during non-fertile days, due to the high release of pheromones.”

Every time you read something like this, your thighs clenched involuntarily, as if trying to hold something back. A strange, warm, pulsing sensation. Your body knew. Your body wanted. But your mind was scared. Your best friend was an alpha, Heeseung's cousin, and a small genetic miracle: daughter of a male omega and a female alpha. Like you, she had never been knotted. That afternoon, you both lay under the willow in the inner courtyard, your bare feet in the cold grass, talking softly. "My mom told me it's like… being branded by fire. It hurts. It's ecstasy and tearing together. But also that after, you can never live without him, especially if you start to have feelings during the act." You lowered your gaze, playing with the bracelets on your wrist. "I don't know if I'm ready… but I keep thinking about what he had to go through because of my family, the omega bloodline, and I don’t even know if he truly hates me. I just know that… I'm so sorry. Truly sorry. For him. For what he's lived through." She hugged you gently. Her embrace was warm, and reassuring. Familiar. "Heeseung… suffered more than anyone. You have no idea. He was just a boy when it happened. And since then, he hasn’t let anyone touch him. He’s never been close to an omega. Not even one." You looked at her, your eyes misty, but determined. "I know. And you know what the worst part is? That… I’m jealous." She chuckled softly, nudging you with her shoulder. "Jealous of what, idiot?" she laughed, though also intrigued by your candid confession. "That you can choose whoever you want, whenever you want. No one forces you. But I’ve already got a predetermined fate… unless…" you said, looking at the enchanted clearing in front of you. "Unless you rebel," she finished, hugging you. "Unless you choose who you want to be and refuse to give yourself to a man who will never satisfy you. You know that’s the easiest path, but if you give yourself fully to Heeseung, you know it will be the hardest road, but also the one where you can live and show who you are, not just a docile omega." You smiled and, to lighten the mood, teased her: "So, who would you like to knot you or, I don’t know, go out with someone? Come on, tell me. Jake? Jay? Or… Sunghoon? You’ve got three good options!" She blushed up to her ears and covered her face. "Don’t start!" You winked at her at the mention of Sunghoon's name, and she collapsed onto the grass with an exasperated groan, telling you not to start because she couldn’t stand that guy who looked like a human ice cube. Then, as you both laughed, you felt your phone vibrate. A single message.

One sender: Heeseung. "Friday. 21:30 PM. Classroom above the astronomical tower."

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been summoned, like an ancient ritual, a call that could not be ignored. Your mother had always told you that when an alpha wants you… you feel it, but no one had prepared you to feel it like this.

Friday evening had arrived. Too fast, too slow. Every hour that passed that day seemed to melt into your skin like hot wax. Anxiety? No, it was a deeper bubbling. It was the awareness that in just a few hours, your destiny would change forever or perhaps… you would truly become yours for the first time. You wore something simple but carefully chosen: a loose ivory sweater, slightly faded jeans, and your lucky bracelets. Your fingers trembled a little as you closed the door behind you. It wasn’t fear; it was awareness. You arrived before the set time, but he… was already there. The large classroom at the top of the astronomical tower was bathed in silence. Heeseung was sitting on the couch by the huge window, his back straight, hands in his pockets, his gaze lost in the lake where the moon reflected like a broken dream. His silhouette seemed drawn by the light: red hair like domesticated fire, broad shoulders, an imposing back. A true alpha. A king awaiting his new queen. You didn’t say a word. You entered quietly and sat next to him, fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist to hold back the heart that was beating too fast. Then you looked at him. His perfect profile, straight nose, long lashes, taut jaw. “Have you decided?” you asked, your voice low and sincere. He didn’t look at you, not immediately, and continued staring at the water. “Are you sure?” His voice was rough, low, like a dull blade, and you nodded. “Yes, only your cousin knows, my best friend. No one else.” Heeseung slowly turned towards you, his amber eyes piercing through you. “My brothers know. All six of them: Jay, Jake, Hoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki.” You swallowed hard. His “brothers,” as Heeseung called them, weren’t his blood brothers, but they had grown up together, seven of them, as a real family. All seven were alphas with true marks and supernatural powers, and Heeseung had been elected as their leader for his aura, his flawless hunting skills, always perfect and borderline survival, but he always made it, one way or another. Two years ago, he had been elected and crowned the leader of the new generation of alphas. You gathered your courage and asked him. “And… what did they say?” You knew some might have turned their noses up, like Sunghoon and Ni-Ki, but others could have pushed him to accept, like Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon. But the one he trusted most was Jay. He turned fully towards you, leaning against the couch with his arms crossed.

“They said I’d be crazy to do it. That you’re a risk. An emotional bomb. That you carry a dirty past with you. That you don’t deserve a bond with our family.” Your heart clenched… until he added, coldly: “But Jay pointed out something: your family is on the verge of ruin, and they have land in the city that… is worth a lot of money. That’s why they want to marry you off to that scoundrel omega, because with his construction company, he can use his connections, but also benefit from your name. If you were to knot, and then… marry… those lands would become mine, ours, and my family would come out even stronger.” You stayed silent for a moment before interrupting him. “Wait, wait, did you just say Marriage?!”

Heeseung looked at you and shrugged. "You know, after a year of knotting… all bound couples get married. It’s law. It’s culture. It’s biology." You lowered your gaze, your fingers tightening around the bracelets, then lifted your eyes, unsure. "So… is this a yes? Are you telling me yes? That you want to knot me and marry me?" Heeseung studied you carefully for a long time, his gaze so deep it made you tremble inside, as though he could see every crack in you. Then he spoke: "Yes. But I won’t love you. Never. This isn’t a fairytale. There will be no love, no hearts, no ribbons. I’ll give you the freedom you want. I’ll rip you away from your destiny, but my heart… remains mine." His words were a punch to the stomach, but also… salvation. You looked at him with a small spark in your eyes. "I don’t ask for your heart, Heeseung, just the choice, the freedom to be myself." And he nodded. "Then prepare yourself, because when an alpha decides… there’s no turning back." As his words faded between you—cold, sharp, definitive—you didn’t think twice. You hugged him with small, trembling arms but full of courage. He was rigid, cold, like a statue carved from black stone… but you sank into him anyway. You sank into his chest, feeling the tension, the anger… and the heartbeat. That powerful alpha heartbeat that echoed against yours. "Tsk, what’s this, now omegas throw themselves into the arms of their enemies? How pathetic, cliché," he sneered. His tone was cynical, dismissive, but his words didn’t move you. You stayed there. With your forehead resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, and a breath that kicked inside you like a prayer. "I’ll thank you forever, Heeseung… I was more afraid of ending up in the hands of an omega like Jiwon, who doesn’t respect women… than being knotted, fertilized, reproduced, and maybe even dying." Your words were sincere, raw, and the truth made something inside him tremble.

Under his skin, in his blood, and then his heart raced. Unexpectedly, you felt a large hand rest on your back, a hesitant touch, almost instinctive, his fingers moving lightly in small circles.

A caress, a primitive form of contact that felt more like comfort than possession. And it was true what they said about you. A warm aura, made of light and peace, a gentle omega’s touch that soothed the soul, even before the flesh.

When you pulled away, Heeseung immediately felt the emptiness, as though you had torn away an invisible part of him. You lowered your gaze, rummaging in your bag, and handed him a folded sheet of paper.

He took it, perplexed, and opened it:

Medical certificate of Y/n (your surname)

Signature of the university gynecologist, and there were specific words written:

No illness.

Still a virgin.

Stable aura.

Mental and physical healing abilities.

Perfect response to stimulation from alpha, omega, or beta.

Adaptable to repeated knotting.

Receptive to imprinting and consensual domination.

He lifted his gaze to you, an eyebrow raised.

"Wow. My little elite virgin is already ready for the marriage packaging, huh? All that’s left is a pink bow and a tag that says ‘fertilize me, I’m pure.’"

He teased you, of course, with that sharp sarcasm from an alpha who didn’t want to give in.

But this time… there was a different tone, a hint of something not just irony.

It was interest, it was respect, and despite everything, it was… dangerously close to admiration.

You stuck out your tongue at him, playful but sweet, and were about to say something—but you didn’t have time.

His fingers gently took your chin, and for a moment…

those amber eyes—eyes of a deer and a predator combined—studied you like an enigma no one had ever dared to solve, and then he kissed you, without warning, without control.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss — it was a restrained bite, a bite on instinct.

Heeseung wasn’t just anyone. He was the Alpha of all Alphas. Born to dominate, to protect, to take. And right in front of him stood the perfect embodiment of everything he was meant to destroy… and yet, he wanted to possess it.

You whimpered softly under his touch, and that alone was enough to awaken the darkest part of him — that hunger. That urge to explore every inch of you.

He pressed your shoulders with one hand and gently laid you down on the couch, slowly, almost like a predator who takes his time before devouring his prey. He leaned over you, barely giving you space to breathe.

His Alpha scent was overwhelming. Warm like fire, sharp like pepper. You trembled — not out of fear.

Your body was beginning to accept the inevitable.

Heeseung stared at you, and in his eyes, there was raw hunger.

Not just the desire to kiss you, but to tear away your control, and melt your resistance.

To see you fall apart under his touch and then… cry, call for him, beg for him.

"So small. So pure. I’d only need to spread her legs and she'd already be mine. One thrust, one knot, and her whole life would change. She was made to be filled, born to take me in, to be only mine," he thought as he heard your moan.

“Moaning from just a kiss? Pathetic…” he murmured against your lips, with that crooked, cursed smile — but he didn’t pull away.

He deepened the kiss, opening your mouth again and sliding his tongue in further — exploring, taking, claiming.

And you let him. As if you had been waiting for this all along.

Your bodies moved against each other without shame.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly — just enough for you to understand that he could.

That if he wanted to, he could knot you right there.

“You’re not even ready for my kiss — let alone my knot,” he whispered in your ear, voice hoarse, while you trembled beneath him.

“Your thighs squeeze shut every time I get close, you know? I can feel it. Your body begs for me… and you don’t even realize it.”

You gasped, cheeks flushed, throat dry.

“I want it to be beautiful…” you managed to whisper, voice broken.

He laughed. A low, wicked laugh, thick with promises.

“It won’t be beautiful. It’ll be unforgettable. But let me warn you, little omega…”

He moved a strand of hair from your face, looking precisely where he’d mark you.

“When I knot you, I’ll do it properly. I’ll make you tremble. Cry. Come. Not just once. Every time I want it. I’ll train your body to welcome me until you beg to be bred.”

He paused, eyes blazing.

“Because when I want you, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. No excuses. And you… will thank me.”

You nodded slowly, lips parted, unable to speak — only to feel.

“Good,” he whispered again, leaning close once more. “Then start taking the pill. Because if you forget even once… I swear I’ll knock you up and keep you tied to me forever.”

Classroom near the tower – the fourth day before the knotting

Time seemed to bend every time you entered that room. There was something about the scent Heeseung left on the walls, the curtains, even the wood of the desk — it made your thighs clench just crossing the threshold.

When he entered, silent as always, the air tightened.

You were already there, sitting with your hands on your knees, head lowered, your pleated skirt barely revealing the soft skin of your thighs.

But he saw you and chuckled softly.

“So good. Like a little puppy waiting for its master.”

His voice was velvet and venom. It hit you straight in the gut.

“I’m not a dog,” you murmured. But you didn’t lift your gaze. Never before he allowed it.

“Oh no?” he stepped closer, one slow step at a time. “Then why are you crouched here every time, ready to let me touch anything I want?”

You swallowed.

“Because that’s the deal, Heeseung. If you don’t touch me, don’t train me, I might die.”

He was on you in a second. His body pressed against yours, and his hand grabbed your face firmly, forcing you to look at him.

Those eyes — dark, liquid, hungry. “Stop pretending you're doing this just for the agreement. You don’t tremble like that every time I touch you out of duty.”

“I... I do it to survive, and you know perfectly well what my fate would be otherwise, Heeseung.” A smirk appeared on his lips as he brushed your mouth with his thumb.

“Then surviving turns you on, omega?” You wanted to answer, but you couldn’t. Because he was right. Your body spoke louder than your words.

With a jerk, he turned you around and bent you forward against the desk. Your cheek pressed against the cold wood. You could feel his breath behind you.

“Look at yourself. So obedient. So submissive. You didn’t even ask what I’m going to do to you today.”

“What… what will you do to me today, Alpha?” Your voice trembled.

“I’m prepping you, as always. But today… you’ll be on your knees. With your mouth this time. I need to know if you can take me there too.” Your heart stopped for a second.

Then you nodded slowly. “Yes, Alpha. As you wish.”

“Good little obedient omega.”

His voice dripped sweet poison, and you drank it like water. He made you kneel between his legs. He stroked your hair with slow irony like one would pet a domesticated animal.

“Look how docile my revenge prize is. The father kills my brother, and the daughter kneels for me. There is justice in this world after all.”

You wanted to talk back. You looked up at him, your breath already shaky.

“You don’t own me… yet.”

“But you act like I do. So tell me, little one — who’s in charge here?”

“You… Alpha.”

He made you stand again. Pressed you against the wall, his body locked into yours. His hands were everywhere: on your throat, your hips, under your skirt. He kissed you violently, and then his voice dropped.

“In just a few days, I’ll knot you. And it won’t be sweet. I want to feel your tears, I want to hear your voice begging for more. You asked for revenge… but you served it to me on a silver platter.”

His teeth sank into your neck.

Not to mark you — not yet. But to show he was close.

You gasped, your bare breasts pressed to his warm chest.

“Alpha… thank you… for not breaking me yet.”

He chuckled against your skin.

“Oh, princess… who told you I haven’t already?”

The dining room was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers casting a soft glow across the space. The guests' murmurs wove together in a steady hum. The long, dark wooden table was meticulously set, adorned with nothing but forced smiles and carefully measured words.

You sat poised, hands resting on your lap, back straight, cheeks lightly brushed with makeup. Beside you sat your “future husband”: Jiwon, leader of the new generation of omegas—perfect in looks, rotten in soul. His fake smile stung every time his elbow brushed against yours as if to remind you that you belonged to him.

But that wasn’t true.

In two days, Heeseung would claim you. He would mark you—make you his and none of the people seated at that table knew it.

Your father raised his glass toward you, a proud smile on his lips.

'You look beautiful, Y/n. I can’t wait to see you at the altar. You’ll be the purest bride this clan has ever seen.'

You nodded with a gentle smile.

Pure.

If only he had seen your bruised knees, your reddened neck, and the bites Heeseung had left on you just two nights ago.

Jiwon grinned and added in a smug voice, “Yeah, I’m excited too. Maybe we should put a collar on her to keep her from running off the altar—like she does every time I try to kiss her!”

Scattered laughter rippled among the guests, but the air grew noticeably colder.

You smiled politely, though deep down you wanted to rip his tongue out.

Then Jiwon’s mother, seated across the table, chimed in with a sweet voice and a probing tone.

-And you, Y/n? Where would you like to get married? Something simple, I imagine? A nice garden near the countryside, perhaps. Nothing too extravagant…-

You answered her gracefully, eyes lowered in a courteous smile.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting married at the White Peak Falls. It's wrapped in mist—like it’s floating in the sky. It feels... intimate.”

The woman frowned, clearly displeased.

-Too damp. It would ruin the hair and makeup. Better something classic, like the Hidden Rose Pavilion. At least there, you can breathe nobility.-

Before you could respond, Jiwon shifted in his seat and raised his voice just enough to draw attention.

“Anyway, there’s still time. The wedding can only happen a year after the bonding ceremony, and I haven’t exactly… left my mark on her yet.”

Silence fell for a moment.

Your cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the searing memory of Heeseung’s hands gripping your waist, his warm tongue on your skin, his raspy voice calling you his "well-behaved little omega" as he bent you to his will.

To everyone else, you seemed so naïve. So obedient. So inexperienced.

But they knew nothing.

You knew how to ignite desire. How to stroke an Alpha’s pride without bruising it. How to touch not just the body—but the mind.

And you had learned it all from the Alpha among Alphas.

You smiled sweetly and raised your gaze.

“Well, a year may sound long... but time flies when one is busy... learning.”

Jiwon looked at you with a flicker of surprise and curiosity, as if the double meaning had taken him a moment to register. Then, he smiled.

He leaned in and took your hand, kissing it in front of everyone—slowly, with exaggerated elegance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Soon... I’ll be the one teaching you. And you’ll be all mine.”

You shivered. Not with desire— But with disgust.

And under the table, your nails dug into the skin of your palm, just to stop yourself from screaming the truth that burned in your throat:

“No. I already belong to him.”

The night was thick and humid, the fog still clinging to the air, and the faint glow of the streetlamps seemed to float in midair. Every step you took was a risk—sneaking past the night guard, entering the male quarters where omegas weren’t allowed without permission—but you didn’t care. He was waiting for you. When you turned the corner of the main hallway, you saw him. Heeseung was there, leaning against his doorway, hands in his pockets, that usual look in his eyes—slow, dark, like the night itself. “Took you forever,” he said, his voice slipping under your skin. “There’s fog and it’s damp… I even straightened my hair and got ready,” you murmured with a soft huff, tucking a strand behind your ear. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, smirking. “What a waste. I’ll have my hands in that hair soon… and you might end up sweating, too.” You rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother hiding the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re awful.” “And yet you still came.” His room took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you’d expected from an Alpha like him—no hunting trophies or flexed muscles covering every wall. Instead, shelves lined with collectible Legos, a wall of perfectly arranged video games, a music console with headphones hanging neatly… and then—the bed. Massive. Dark. With rumpled sheets and heavy blankets. The room was dim, yes, but it radiated him. That blend of dominance and stillness. Controlled chaos just beneath the skin. It crept over you like a chill. “Sit.” His voice was lower now, closer. You looked him in the eyes and obeyed—like a true omega. You sat at the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, back straight, heart in chaos. He stood in front of you, his hands placed on either side of your legs, his body bending forward just enough to make you feel small—just how he liked it. He stared at you for a long moment, then spoke, quiet and serious. “One last time. Are you sure?” You met his eyes—no hesitation left in yours. “Yes. I want this. I want you.” Slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. The touch was warm, certain. Then he smiled. Not the soft kind—but the sharp one. The one that sent every nerve on high alert. “To think… out of everyone, you looked the most innocent. The purest. And yet here you are, sitting on an Alpha’s bed, ready to be knotted like a good little obedient doll.” Your breath hitched, but your gaze didn’t falter. His finger ran over your lips, parting them just slightly. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Tonight, I’ll teach you how to ask for pleasure. And how to receive it��� only when I decide.” You nodded shyly, though your heart pounded like a drum. Heeseung sat beside you on the bed with the calm danger of someone who knows exactly what they want. “Kiss me.” You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, kneeling on the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close with that sweetness that tasted of surrender… and need. Your omega scent mixed with the damp air, and your lips sought his—quietly desperate, respectful, hungry.

The kiss was slow, like a silent plea for permission in every touch. But Heeseung… Heeseung was different.He kissed you with teeth, with tongue, like he was taking something from you.

Like every moan you gave was a small revenge pressed into your skin.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you tighter, and then he chuckled against your mouth.

“Mmh. So good… so hungry… you’re like one of those sweet little dolls, just waiting to be unwrapped.”

You blushed but didn’t get the chance to reply. His hands grabbed your ass, lifting you swiftly to straddle his lap, your body fitting perfectly against his.

Beneath your light skirt, his hands roamed upward, shameless.

“And underneath… what’s my little liar wearing, hmm?” His fingers brushed along the curve of your backside, finding the edge of the fabric.

“Panties…” you whispered, voice barely audible.

“What color?” His voice was poison and honey, the Alpha demanding truth… and control.

“Blue and white… with a little bow.”

He let out a low, amused laugh.

“Well, would you look at that? Do you really want me to take you while you’re still wearing those good-girl panties?

Tsk… you’re just a little omega dressed up as temptation.”

You flushed again but didn’t move.

You stayed still, just like a well-trained omega, breath trembling, lips slightly parted.

Heeseung leaned in again, kissing you with more hunger, more claim.

One hand gripped your hips, holding you in place; the other slid up your back, under your shirt.

Then it moved down—his lips trailing your neck, stopping at the exact point between your jaw and shoulder.

A soft, choked moan escaped you—honest, fragile.

Your body recognized him. Craved him. He smiled against your skin.

“Oh, listen to that moan… so easy, so sweet. Baby, we haven’t even started. And you’re already melting.”

He took your chin in two fingers, making you look into his eyes.

His lips were everywhere along your neck—warm, deliberate, hungry.

Each bite, and each suck left you gasping quietly.

And when you tried to speak, you stuttered.

“H-Hee… y-you’re…”

“What?” he whispered against your damp skin, that teasing tone of someone who already knew.

“Omegas are always so submissive… but you? You’re something else.

You stutter just from me brushing your neck?”

You wanted to reply with something sharp—but another moan betrayed you.

He laughed.

“Pathetic. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Still, your voice—trembling—came through, laced with that spark he always liked.

“You talk a lot… but if I wasn’t worth it, you’d never have wanted me in your bed.”

He paused for a second.

Then looked you dead in the eyes, a half-feral grin on his lips.

“Touché.”

His hand slid up your arm, fingers hooking into the edge of your sweater.

“Take it off.”

Of course, you obeyed. Like every well-behaved omega.

Like his omega.

You slipped the sweater off slowly, revealing your bare shoulders and a simple white lace bralette—delicate, but elegant.

Heeseung whistled low, that crooked grin still playing on his lips.

“Cute. But without it… you'd be perfect.”

And without waiting for permission, he unclasped it with one fluid motion.

The fabric slipped away, and your bare breasts rose with each shaky breath.

He bit his lip, eyes locked on you.

“Would you look at that… so sweet, so full… like they’ve been waiting just for me.” He teased you but didn’t give you time to reply. He leaned down over you, his mouth capturing one of your sensitive buds, sucking slowly, savoring the way you trembled, the way your fingers clung to his shoulders. His hand kept you still, but then slid down, grabbing between your legs with sudden force. “H-Heeseung… it’s t-too much…” You whispered, voice trembling between a moan and a gasp. He stopped. Looked at you with a sharp, amused expression. “Too much? What, is my Omega fragile?” Then he nodded, voice dropping lower. “Alright. I’ll go easy… for now.” His hand changed pace—slow, almost gentle. But his mouth didn’t stop. It moved from one breast to the other, licking and nibbling with a hunger he no longer cared to hide. “This skin… this body…” he murmured against you, “—soon it’ll all be mine. Completely. And no one will ever touch you again.”

His lips didn’t stop. They were everywhere on your body: your neck, already marked by his kisses, your aching breasts, then lower… down past your belly button. You trembled not only from his touch but from what it meant. From what was about to happen. Heeseung noticed. He stopped. His hands rested on your hips, his gaze climbing up to your eyes. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, voice low, almost dark. You nodded, hands still clutching the sheets beneath you. “I know… it’s just… I didn’t expect any of this. I feel like a lamb laid out for slaughter.” A crooked smile tugged at his lips. Cruel. Tender. Heeseung was everything and it was the opposite. “That’s exactly what you are. A sweet, fragile little omega… too good for this world.” Then his tone shifted, more serious. “But you forgot—there were only two choices: me or Jiwon.” You didn’t hesitate. “I want you.” His eyes narrowed. Something flickered inside him, fast like lightning. Maybe pride. Maybe… something more. “Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s how you answer an Alpha.”

Gently, he laid you down on the bed. Your body sank into the dark sheets, your skin already hot from every touch of his. He knelt in front of you, bare chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He reached out and stroked your cheek—a soft gesture. Unusual. Disarming. As if, just for a moment… he wanted to be something more than your master. Then he leaned down again, this time pressing his lips to your belly button. He kissed you there slowly, and you… giggled softly. A small, unexpected sound. Fragile. Childlike. He stopped and looked at you. “Did you just laugh?” His voice was surprised, but not harsh. Almost… amused. “You tickled me there,” you murmured, hands moving to cover your face in embarrassment. Heeseung shook his head and gave you a light slap on the thigh—a playful scolding. “This is the preparation for the knot, and you’re laughing? Are you disrespecting me, little Omega?” But his tone was no longer just dominant. It was… something else. He stared at you like he didn’t know anymore if he just wanted to mark you… or protect you. And you felt it. Something was changing in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you, in how he took care of your body… without rushing, without fully dominating. As if he, too, needed to feel something. Not just vengeance. And inside your chest… fear mixed with another feeling. “Now,” he murmured, voice rough and deep, “I’m taking this skirt off.” And it wasn’t a request. With one swift, impatient motion, he pulled it down your hips. The fabric gave way with a sharp tear, and in an instant, you were exposed to the cool air of the room, bare skin tense beneath his gaze. Instinctively, you closed your legs. Too exposed. Too vulnerable. But he didn’t allow it. “Keep them open for me,” he growled, grabbing your knees and spreading them with fierce slowness. “Your scent is everywhere. Do you know how much you’re dripping for me, little Omega?”

He leaned down. His hot breath on your core made every part of you jolt. “Mmh, panties already soaked?” He smiled. The smile of a predator. “You’re really that desperate for me, huh? How cute…” He started kissing your thighs, slowly, with warm lips and a slow tongue, like he wanted to mark you there too, inch by inch. But every now and then he’d graze a sensitive spot, and you… you’d squirm, tremble, giggle quietly. “S-stop… you’re tickling me…” “Tsk,” he muttered, lifting his eyes with mock disapproval. “No girl laughs this much before being knotted. Are you mocking me, Omega?” You looked up at him, breathing in short gasps. Your eyes glimmered with shame and wonder. “Maybe I’m special.” For a moment, the silence was thick. Heeseung stared at you, and something in his gaze shifted.

The pure Alpha mask cracked—just a little. Maybe from pride. Maybe because deep down… he really thought you were special. Then he lowered himself again between your thighs, his fingers slowly trailing along your panties. “Special or not,” he murmured, voice rough like sandpaper, tonight you’re mine. To the last drop of your scent. Until no other man dares to even look at you.”

Heeseung took off his hoodie with a slow but determined motion, and you watched him — you couldn’t help but stare. His body was sculpted, and strong, radiating that raw energy only a powerful Alpha could possess. But what truly struck you were the scars. They ran across his chest, his biceps… old, some of them deep. Painful even to look at. Your hand rose on its own, hesitant, brushing one of the faded lines on his arm. He tensed. For a second, he seemed to hold his breath, even as his lips were still on your skin, right there between your thighs. “Don’t touch those,” he said, voice rough, almost harsh — but you didn’t pull back immediately. You looked at him, with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from yourself. “Who did this to you…?” Heeseung didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away either. Instead, he lowered his head again — and this time, there was no more gentleness. With one sharp move, he tore off your panties too, leaving you completely exposed under his gaze. “Don’t talk about the past. Not now.”

His voice had turned harder. Hungrier. He spread your legs again, and his warm breath made you shiver. Then — without a warning, without a word — he spit slowly between your thighs, and the wet, hot sensation made you jolt. Your breath caught, and a moan escaped your lips. His mouth followed right after — hungry, relentless. “H-Heeseung…!”

You stammered, hands clutching at the sheets, your body trying to hold back a tidal wave you'd never felt before. “Wa–wait… I… it’s too much…” “Too much?” he growled against you. “We haven’t even started.” He looked up at you from below, eyes gleaming with desire and domination. “I’m going to fill you. First with my fingers, then with my cock — and you’ll thank me for every second.” You nodded. You couldn’t do anything else. And then you felt the first finger sink into you — your body tensed, breath catching for a moment, and your mouth tried to form some kind of response: “I-it feels… it’s warm… it’s overwhelming… but I like it…” He smirked, a fierce whisper at your ear. “Look how you open up for me. Such a good little Omega, so desperate. I thought you’d resist at least a little… but you're already trembling from just one finger.” The movement grew deeper, slower, exploring every inch of you — then, without warning, he added another. You moaned loudly. Almost a cry. Of pleasure, of shame, of surrender. And Heeseung watched you, like he was already carving your name under his skin. His fingers moved slowly but with purpose, sinking deeper between your thighs with increasing confidence. Heeseung stared at you like he owned every breath you took, every shiver that ran through you. When he added a third finger, your body arched toward him, and the words tumbled from your lips, a trembling whisper: “It’s… beautiful…” Heeseung laughed softly — a low, sharp sound. “Listen to you talk, little thing. Falling in love with something so simple. You really are an Omega… born to be beneath, born to entertain me.” His tone was cruel, but his voice scratched like molten honey. Already warm and vulnerable, you whimpered as he dipped down again, kissing you slowly, savoring every reaction he could pull from you. You grabbed his hair, tugging with a broken moan — and for the first time, you heard him… groan. A low, animalistic sound, while still buried deep inside you. Your body started to tremble. You knew it. You felt it building. “Hee… I… I’m about to…” He didn’t wait. He pushed you over the edge, adding a third finger, thrusting into you with firm, confident strokes — not even asking for permission. You screamed. And he smiled against your skin, while your body exploded beneath his control. “Look how you come for me…” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “A little Omega who gives in so easily. So wet, so desperate. You were made to be filled by me.” You were gasping, still trembling, voice shattered by pleasure and surrender. “Only you… only for you, Heeseung. I’m your Omega…” He didn’t answer right away. He just stayed between your thighs, savoring every wave that still shook you. Then he rose slowly, his chest rising and falling, and his lips crashed onto yours with hunger. The kiss was raw. Wet. Tongues searching, claiming. No sweetness. Just possession. Instinct. “Can you taste what surrender feels like?” he whispered against your lips. “It’s sweet. It’s mine.” And you — breathless, shameless — kissed him again.

The room was immersed in a warm pre-shade, imbued with a tense silence. Heeseung slowly pulled off his pants, dropping them at the foot of the bed, and you couldn't take your eyes off him. The boer When he lowered them, your breath froze for a moment. It was like you had heard about the alphas: imposing, thick, damp at the end. You bit your lip slightly, instinctively, without even realizing it. His eyes rested on yours, and in a hoarse voice he asked you: "You want to touch it?»

You barely nodded, and with trembling fingers you brushed him, caressing him shyly, starting a slow movement. He whispered: "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," you replied, without hesitation. A satisfied growl came out of his throat. "Well. Then stay still." His hand slid between your legs, touching you with that confidence that only an Alpha like him could afford. he used his length to tease you, rubbing it on your clit until you shivered. "Put your hands on my shoulders. Squeeze, if it hurts." You nodded, your heart beating like crazy. Then, with a single shot, he entered you. Deep. Hot. Too.

Your body stretched, your eyes filled with tears ... but you did not protest. Not a word, just a broken groan. "Good, little omega," he whispered in his ear. "Now you are mine." His cock was completely inside you, and you were shaking under him, thighs slightly apart, hands clinging to his shoulders. Every muscle of yours tightened it with pure instinct, as if your body was born only to welcome it. Heeseung stood still, deeply immersed within you, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes nailed to yours. "Look how you're taking it," he growled. "I'll fill you up... and still you can hold me so well." You gasped slowly, your cheeks hot and red. "It's too much... you're like that... large...»

He raised an eyebrow, his smile crooked and dismissive. "Does it really surprise you? What did you think, princess? That the Alphas were delicate?" You shook your head slowly, your eyes shining. "No... it's just ... I didn't think I would like it so much ... and that it was so big" His expression changed. Darker. More intense. He bowed to you, his lips almost against your ear. "Do you like it? Feeling full? To know that you can't run away from me, that I took you all in and I won't let you go until you're branded?"

"Yes..." you whispered in a trembling voice. "I like it, Alpha..." "So you talk," he said, and pushed out slowly, leaving you empty for a moment. But before you could even complain, it came back into you forcefully, making you moan. "M-move ... but ... slowly, please..." Your voice was low, subdued. He laughed. "No. Now I decide. You made the deal, remember? You asked me to tie you. This is the price. And you'll be mine all night." His thrusts became slow but decisive, deep, calibrated to destroy you with sweetness. Every time you heard him go back inside, you moaned against his neck, hungry, surrendering.

"You squeeze so tight ... fuck ..." he muttered as he looked at you from above. "I didn't know an omega could take it this way."

"Because ... because I'm yours..." Those words came out to you without thinking, spontaneous, and had an immediate effect on him. "Repeat," he ordered, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I'm... yours, Hee..." He looked at you, growled softly and pushed harder, deeper. Your legs tightened around his waist, your body was looking for his, desperate. "So good... so obedient ... A perfect little omega..." He ducked again, kissing you with hunger, as his cock filled and tamed you, one blow after another.

"And now... get ready, because when I knot you, it will be forever." His cock was so huge that you felt him press high, in the stomach, every push deeper than the previous one. Each blow barely lifted your pelvis, snatched an increasingly messy moan from you. Your legs closed around his hips with force, trying to hold him inside you as if you were afraid that he might leave. But Heeseung was not going anywhere. He was there to destroy you. "C-fuck... It's too much... you're too big ... I'm ... I'm— " you stammered, eyes half-closed, clouded with pleasure.

"What are you doing, huh? Tell me, little omega, are you breaking for my cock?» His voice was hoarse, deep, dripping with enjoyment. "S-yes ... Alpha ... I'm-I'm going crazy..." Your breath was broken, words broken with pleasure. "I can't... you're too much... you're filling me up too much..." Heeseung growled with satisfaction, sweat dripping from his temple as he continued to push into you with increasingly full blows.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it? Get fucked like a real omega. And now look how you're taking me ... you're my fucking prey.»

And you were. Your body had become one with his. Every fiber of yours vibrated to the rhythm of its thrusts. You felt the effect of Alpha running through your veins-hot, searing, like lava. Your muscles tightened more and more around him, held him, welcomed him. Then, suddenly, you felt him hitting something in you. A deeper, more sensitive area. Explosion.

"A-AH! HEESEUNG!"you screamed, your voice broken, as you clung with your fingernails to his back. "Oh God ... it's too ... too hot..." you stammered, trembling under him. He smiled against your neck, as he kept pushing against that precise point. "It's your body that's getting ready, baby. You're knotting. Your uterus ... feels it. And he wants me everything."

You felt your belly swell slightly. A sense of fullness that went beyond the physical. It was the bond that was forming, the knot that was coming. "A-Ah... Alpha... be—" The words came out to you with difficulty, as if you were drowning in pleasure. "I'm ... coming... you're draining me..."

"Very good. Come while I'm knotting you. I want to hear you squeeze it until the last shot."

His breathing became more labored, his thrusts slower but deeper. His hands held you still, and you, completely open to him, stammered only his name, like a desperate mantra. His knot began to swell inside you, slowly but surely, until it filled you in a way no one else could. Each push made it grow even more, and with each lunge your body strained more, unable to handle that superhuman pleasure. "Do you feel how big it is now?" he growled against your skin. "My knot is branding you from within. No one else can ever catch you. You're mine. Mine forever." He kept pushing hard into you, and you could only scream, the body shaken by continuous tremors, the legs clutching him with all the force. "Yes! Yes, I'm yours, Alpha! Only yours!"

"Good omega," he demoted you, in a rough voice.

"Now everyone will know. You're mine to take you in every way. Mine to fertilize you whenever I want. Your pussy is mine. Your body is mine. Every moan you make is for me." The knot was completely swollen now, blocking your every exit, and the feeling was driving you crazy. A heat wave swept over you, you screamed and scratched his back.

"I'm coming! Hee,—" His hand slid down, quick, and he started teasing your clit with expert fingers. You almost screamed from the overload. "N-no... I can't resist ... s-I'm ... I'm exploding!" you stammered between groans. "Your cock ... destroyed me! You're filling me up too much... too much... Heeseung!" Your body strained into a violent orgasm, a real mess that trickled down his knotted cock inside you. You writhed under him, not being able to stop the moans, completely consumed by pleasure.

"Look at you ... a good slut with all my knot in it. You messed up all over my cock.»

He praised you, but his hips did not stop. "And I'm not done yet... I can't stop, baby. The knot is swollen... but I want everything. To the last drop."

"Then give it to me..." you whispered, gasping for breath. "I want everything, I want to hear you... I want you to stay inside. Fill me up, Alpha ... make me yours ... all the way.» Heeseung looked at you with a dirty grin, eyes shining with animal instinct.

"I want you swollen with me. I want you full, smashed, marked. And when you're tired, I'll use you again." And with those words, he pushed again, slow but firm, as the knot throbbed inside you. His viscous cum slowly trickled out of your poor, hot, swollen, still pulsating pussy after knotting. But he didn't stop. He kept pushing inside you, slow, deep, with the knot still stuck, enjoying the way your body shook under his.

"I'm about to fill you again," he whispered in a broken voice, his breath warm against your ear. "You are mine. And I want you to feel it, deep inside." You moaned, the body already tired but still hungry, and then you screamed, bent with pleasure as you felt him ejaculating inside you with force, wave after wave, a boiling river that seemed to never end. Your belly swelled slightly, and your breathing became short. "It's too much... Hee ... it's so much ... you're ... filling me all..."

"You must be. I have to be sure." His thrusts became slower, almost sweet. But he didn't stop until he was sure he had branded you thoroughly.

When the knot finally began to deflate, Heeseung slipped out with a low, deep groan. The hot liquid dripped down your thighs, dirty, impudent. He took you by the hips with a force still present, but no longer violent. He drew you to himself. You huddled against him, your forehead against his bare, sweaty chest, and your body trembled, overwhelmed. Heeseung gently stroked your side, still slightly panting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the voice calmer, but still hoarse. Nod quietly, without speaking. But after a few seconds, the silence was broken by a sob. One. Then another. Your shoulders trembled, your eyes filled with silent tears. He stiffened for a moment. Then he trembled.

"Did I hurt you?"he asked in a whisper, almost frightened by what he might have caused. He lifted a little on one elbow, looking for your gaze. "Look at me" But you didn't. For the first time, you did not obey. You huddled more, confused, vulnerable, fragile. Then he took you by the chin gently, but with his usual authority.

"princess... look at me. Now." And you, with tears in your eyes, finally looked up. Your eyes met. And without saying anything, you kissed him. A trembling kiss, which smelled of salt and surrender. Heeseung stood still for a moment, surprised. Then he reciprocated, slowly, sweeter than he had ever done. His hands clasped your face as your mouths merged into something new. Between kisses, you whispered: «Thank…» He just peeled off, his lips still close to yours, and laughed quietly, almost in disbelief. "I thought I had broken you... and instead you thank me?»

He shook his head, and stroked your side again, this time more slowly, almost protective. "You're really weird little omega." he said stroking your cheek "It was... beautiful," you whispered against his chest, still short of breath, his voice tired but sincere. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a half-smile on his lips. "Beautiful, huh? You just got fucked until you lost your voice and now you're talking like you're out of a romantic movie."

You snorted softly, hiding your face in his arms, and he laughed. But that laugh was no longer sharp, nor cynical. It was soft, true. He stroked your hair with his fingers, then said in a lower voice: "You were brave, princess. To trust an Alpha like that... is not for everyone." You were silent for a moment, then you spoke in a low voice. "I didn't want to suffer. I didn't want to be used anymore..." He stiffened slightly, then took you by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes. "I can't promise you you won't suffer, omega. But one thing I can promise you: from now on you are mine.» His voice was deep, definitive.

"You have a new home, a new family. In my eyes you will always be an omega — but not just any omega. Inside you is my seed. My knot. And no male omega can get closer to you. Not even trying." You got a shudder. Not of fear, but of awareness. That connection was real now. Heeseung leaned slowly, her lips warm on your skin. He licked away his sperm that was still dripping between your thighs, slow, precise, as if he wanted to clean you and at the same time remind you that it was all his. His tongue moved where you had the marks of his bites, and he soothed them with moist, warm kisses.

"Hee… it tickles..." you whispered, chuckling softly. He paused for a moment and looked at you with a little grin. "You’re really strange, you know?" He lightly bit your thigh, pretending, then moved up and pulled you into his arms. "I’m sleeping with you tonight." He said it as if it were obvious. You looked at him, surprised. "Really? I thought... once we were knotted, I’d leave." He huffed, as if you’d said something silly. "You still don’t get it, little omega. You’re tied to me now. And I’m tied to you. We’re sleeping together. End of story." He pulled you against him, his broad chest against your back, and wrapped his arms around you, fitting you perfectly into his body. "Close your eyes. We’ll think about everything tomorrow. Now... sleep." And for the first time, you felt truly safe.

You woke up surrounded by a warm, almost reassuring sensation. The sheets were still damp from what you’d done the night before, and your lower belly throbbed slightly, a twinge that reminded you of every thrust, every moan, every possessive whisper that had broken and rebuilt you. You slowly turned and found him there. Heeseung. He was sleeping as if the world outside didn’t exist. His lips, slightly parted, formed an almost tender pout. His nose, large but perfectly proportioned, barely moved with his steady breathing. His red hair was a total mess: it fell messily over his forehead, and you remembered perfectly how you had tugged at it the night before, lost in pleasure. You blushed involuntarily. The little moles on his face seemed to be drawn by hand. And his arms—strong, warm, dominant—still held you close, as if he wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape even in your sleep. Then, without opening his eyes, he whispered in a hoarse voice: "Stop staring at me like that, or you’ll end up falling in love." You lifted your gaze, sighing. "You have an ego as big as your knot, you know that?" He opened one eye, then chuckled softly, that deep laugh that made you tremble even without meaning to. He pulled you closer, pressing you even more into his chest. "And it seems you liked both of them, princess." You sighed, even though you couldn’t deny it. Then, with a more serious tone, you asked him: "And now? What happens?" Heeseung gently caressed your back, his fingers slow, distracted. "Now, when you walk out that door, your scent will have changed. Everyone will smell it. Every alpha will know you’ve been knotted. Every male omega will keep their distance. And no one will dare touch you… because the scent will be mine." You swallowed. "And if... if Jiwon still tries?" Heeseung paused for a brief moment, then looked at you. "Are you more afraid of him... or your father?" You stayed silent, then whispered softly: "My father." He moved, pressing his forehead against yours. "He won’t do anything. Not as long as I’m here or my brothers are. You’re mine now. And no one touches what’s mine." You nodded slowly, but a small knot formed in your throat. Heeseung seemed to notice, but didn’t say anything. He slowly stood up, his muscles flexing as he stretched, and looked at you. "It’s time to see what’s happening outside this room." You were about to get up, but he stopped you. He bent down slowly and left a kiss on your forehead, unexpectedly tender. You looked at him, surprised. "And this?" He shrugged almost indifferently, though his tone was softer. "Post-knot ritual. All alphas do it with their mates." He was lying. And you knew it, but you didn’t say anything, even though you had seen something in his eyes that wasn’t there the night before: something strange, something dangerously close to a feeling.

PT2?

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[victorborkowski]

canon does not take advantage of the fact that warren and emma are both hot rich blondes who are catty in their own ways. why are they not besties. WHY.

[bitchface24-7]

SMASH - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: After four gruelling exams so far (and it's only Wednesday!) you're sure your brain is mush. You didn't expect a random student to come up to you in regards to their final project asking you (and other students) one simple question, “What do you think about the Hextech inventors, Jayce and Viktor?” in a brilliant move of word association, you say the one thing everyone's thinking, “Smash.”

warnings: going viral, embarrassment, meeting Jayvik and wanting to kys, light hearted teasing, modern au?? I just kinda added phones and social media to the arcane universe, grammarly is my beta now

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

This idea came out of nowhere as I salted my soft-boiled eggs, hope y'all enjoy! Also, I do have a solo Viktor x reader draft. No Jayce ones yet. Jayvik has taken over my mind

This week has been kicking your ass, and its only Wednesday.

You've had four, FOUR exams so far this week and you have three more to go before this semester ends and you can enjoy your summer break.

You feel braindead. You're more energy drink than you are water and blood. Your eyes hurt, you're dragging your feet. You're in your comfiest sweatshirt, cargo pants, and slip-on shoes. Surprisingly your hair is clean, you got a bit of an energy burst yesterday to shower before heading to bed.

Your headphones are on, your music is blasting, and you're walking as fast as you can to your dormitory to get some last minute studying in before you crash out.

What you weren't expecting was a beautiful girl coming up to you with a small microphone attached to her phone. You move one headphone behind your ear, but even then; your hearing isn’t the best due to your exhaustion.

“… think of… inventors… Jayce and Viktor?”

In a brilliant move of word association, you say the one thing that comes to mind.

“Smash.”

With that, you put your headphone back on and continue on your walk to your dormitory, not seeing the beautiful girl in a flabbergasted state as her camera man dies of laughter.

Oh, this is gonna go viral.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Friday eventually comes, as does your last exam. With a newfound sense of freedom, you rush to your dorm to hop into bed and sleep for a consecutive forty eight hours before you enjoy your summer off.

You strip off your outfit and put on your comfiest pyjamas. You snuggle up in bed and greatly appreciate the blackout blinds your room has. Just as you’re about to fall asleep, your phone beeps.

From: Caitlyn🔫

Girl… you've gone viral.

You snort as you push yourself onto your elbows and text your best friend back.

To: Caitlyn🔫

Wtf are you talking about???

How the hell would I go viral? I haven't done anything.

Two pings simultaneously come through onto your phone, the first one is maybe a thirty second video, and the second is Caitlyn just laughing at you.

From: Caitlyn🔫

https://www.tiktok.com/holy-hell-she-did-not-just-say-that

Are you sure about that? 💀💀

You furrow your eyebrows and cautiously click the link Caitlyn sent you. It takes a few seconds but the video eventually loads, and there you are.

You’re in one of your favourite outfits, it’s comfy but still looks nice. Your hair is framing your face nicely and you have one of your headphones behind your ear as you look confused at the beautiful woman in front of you. It’s quite obvious you’re exhausted.

She does her whole spiel regarding how this is for her journalism classes final project and how she’s going around the academy’s campus asking people at random a simple question. You look completely lost, you can see your dark circles have dark circles; you cringe at how tired you look.

The video is almost over and you’re wondering what made you go viral in the first place, it’s when there’s fifteen seconds left in the video where you get your answer.

“What do you think about the Hextech inventors, Jayce and Viktor?”

You look blankly at the pretty woman and just casually in a monotone voice state, “Smash.”

You then see yourself put your headphone back on and continue on your previous task of getting home. You then get to see the glorious hilarity of the poor woman sputtering as the camera man laughs. You feel your face burn, it becomes almost unbearable when you see the comments of the video.

They’re just saying what we’re all thinking

Slay

Not a thought behind those eyes except smashing Jayce and Viktor. Same. Ask them to go to Paris.

I love them omfg

On my personal device that my parents pay the wifi for?

Oop 👀 their inside thoughts accidentally became outside words

They got good taste

Quick! Somebody send this to them 💀💀

Don’t let the council see this…

You’re so funny. Please don’t die.

You damn near whip your phone across your room in embarrassment. Why. Why has the gods forsaken you this day? That video was posted two days ago and it’s already wracked up millions of views, over a million likes, and thousands of shares and comments. It’ll be a miracle if Jayce and Viktor haven’t seen that video yet.

From: Caitlyn🔫

Btw I sent Jayce the video, love you ❤️

You scream into your pillow after that. You were supposed to meet them after your final grades were submitted so that you could possibly start working with them on Hextech.

Guess those dreams are ashes now.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’ve essentially barricaded yourself in your dorm room. No one’s coming in, and you’re not coming out.

Your best friend has other plans.

“C’mon, we planned this meet up like a month ago. Grades are out, you got like straight As. You’ll get the job.”

You cover yourself in more blankets, your voice is quite muffled when you respond back, “Hell no! They’ve seen me embarrass myself in front of millions of viewers. You sent Jayce the video! I’m not going!”

Caitlyn huffs as she rips the blankets off you, you squeal and try to hide again.

“They’re curious about you! They want to meet you.”

“Of course they’re curious about me, I said I wanted to have sex with them!”

Caitlyn cringes at the thought. Objectively she can see that both Viktor and Jayce are very attractive men, but Jayce is her brother and well, she’s always had more appreciation for the female form.

“Seriously, we gotta go. Their schedules are always crazy busy. This is the first time in… forever since they’ve taken some time off.”

You huff, “If anything goes wrong, I'm blaming you.”

Caitlyn smiles at that and throws you an outfit to change into, “I’m totally fine with that.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The walk to the lab is tense. You keep fidgeting with your hair, your clothes, your fingers. Everything.

Caitlyn keeps lightly slapping your hands to stop you from ruining her hard work. She's got you in nice black slacks that show off your pretty legs, a burgundy button-down with a cream vest over top of it, highlighting your waist, and a simple pair of black boots. Everything about this outfit screams sophistication and highlights your beauty.

“Are you sure we can't go back?”

Caitlyn giggles at you, “We’re like a foot away from the lab doors. You should've asked earlier.”

You whip your head to look at her, “Are you saying if I asked earlier, we could have cancelled this meeting?”

“No.”

And with that, Caitlyn knocks on the lab doors and you feel yourself blanche due to nerves. You're gonna die, you're barely into your twenties and you're going to die.

You've had a good life so far.

You truly feel like you've seen the pearly gates when a tall, broad man with a beaming smile opens the door, “Sprout, you made it!”

He exclaims as he brings Caitlyn into a massive hug. Caitlyn squawks a bit at the strength but hugs the handsome man back. You just awkwardly stand there biting your lip, stopping your intrusive thoughts of jumping out the window. You'll probably break an ankle, but it'd be worth it.

A rhythmic thump breaks you out of your stupor and you see an incredibly attractive man come up to you. He's tall, lean, and has the most beautiful bone structure you've ever seen. His eyes are like molten gold.

He quirks an eyebrow at your admirative glance and holds a hand out, the other firmly holding onto his cane, “You must be Miss. Kiramman’s friend. My name is Viktor. Welcome to the lab.”

You hesitantly go to shake his hand. His palms are cool compared to yours. He's got small calluses everywhere yet his hands are deceptively soft. You ensure you have a good grip on his hand, you were taught a lousy handshake is quite insulting.

A hand is brought down onto your shoulder and you almost gasp in shock, “I’m Jayce.” the tanned man states as Caitlyn tries to fix her ruffled hair. Wow, they are like siblings. Especially since Caitlyn has a sneer on her face as she elbows Jayce in the ribs; effectively causing him to crumple a bit.

You bite your lip and lightly giggle, Viktor shoots you a fond look as he ushers everyone into the lab.

A casual conversation is held before Caitlyn leaves so that you, Jayce, and Viktor can talk privately. You're tempted to screech at her to stay. But you don't.

The atmosphere in the lab is a bit awkward as Jayce just blurts out, “So… What was that video about?”

“Jayce!” Viktor lightly scolds, “You have no tact.”

You choke on an inhale of breath, causing a coughing attack. Jayce pats you on the back, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

“I—uh. Well, I was functioning on about four hours of sleep after two back-to-back exams, and before that, I had an exam on each previous day. So I wasn't in the right mindset when that girl came up to me and asked… that question. I didn't even hear the question fully before I… y’know… answered her.”

Jayce lightly pouts as Viktor shoves his tongue into one of his cheeks, “So… you wouldn't smash us?”

You accidentally bark out a laugh before slapping a hand over your mouth, “I’d be an idiot to say no. But, if we're going to work together… mixing pleasure into it never goes well.”

Viktor and Jayce share a loaded look, “Well…” Viktor's accent purrs out, “If you ever change your mind… you know where to find us.” The man that just rocked your world just casually walks to his desk, his cane rhythmically thumping against the marble floor of the lab.

Jayce drags a hand on your lower back as he shoots a wink over his shoulder, ushering you to the blackboard.

Maybe you being braindead and blunt worked out for you in the end.

[hivemuthur]

request: jayce and mel decided to invite their friends with them to a beach trip, viktor isn't the type to enjoy the hot sun and being sweaty, but doesn’t mind staying under the shade away from the heat, because imagine wasting the chance to see his crush in a cute bikini.. maybe a sunscreen scene too <3

Hi Anon! I miss summer so much that I wrote this for you:

Lips Burn Too

viktorxfemale!reader explicit/mature idk it's just horny. Kinda modern uni AU. Lots and lots of yearning, Reader wears a one-piece swim suit, because I find it sexier, Jayce is a matchmaker secretly, some heated kissing, very very slight dry humping, like for a second, a very gentle Jayvik nod. Also @ihopeinevergetsoberr changed my brain chemistry and Viktor is a thigh man through and through.

word count: 2,9K

author’s note: This is for the Freaktor Nation. The still comes from One Day. I listened to Contaminado by La Femme and Mykonos by Fleet Foxes writing this if you want to check it out! Also, I'm still brainrotten from D&M, so if you see Pride and Prejudice reference, no you don't. @rennethen pre-read, merci!

—

“Viktor, I beg you,” Jayce pleads, quickening his pace. For a man with a cane, Viktor is unexpectedly fast, and Jayce has to take quick steps to keep up.

“No,” Viktor replies flatly, granting Jayce nothing more.

“Viktor, look at me.” Jayce reaches out, catching Viktor’s arm to halt him. Then, to Viktor’s absolute horror, Jayce drops to his knees. In the middle of the academy corridor.

A group of passing girls giggle; one of them calls out, "Say yes!" earning the spectacle a few more turning heads.

Viktor’s mouth twitches into an involuntary smile as he leans on his cane, gazing down at his friend. “As much as I’m enjoying this, the answer is still no.”

“Viktor,” Jayce groans, bowing his head in exaggerated resignation. He sighs, rubbing his thighs as if steadying himself for further negotiation.

“Jayce,” Viktor states dryly, then asks, “Why is it so imperative that I accompany you to the beach?”

“Because,” Jayce huffs, scrambling back to his feet, “I don’t want you sulking around here while we’re all there.” He gestures vaguely toward there, as if the direction alone should be convincing. “And the sea is nice. And it’s warm. Please. I’ll bring the biggest umbrella. SPF 99. Anything you want. Just say yes,” he begs, hands gripping Viktor’s shoulders, eyes imploring.

The truth is, Jayce desperately wants to take Mel to the beach. But she, being the merciless tease she is, declared she would only go if everyone went. No particular reason—just to watch Jayce struggle.

Viktor sighs, dragging a hand down his face. It isn’t the promise of shade or excessive sun protection that gives him pause—it’s that single, fateful word: everyone.

If Jayce means what Viktor thinks he means (and he usually does), then you will be there. Which means that, had Viktor remained stubborn, he would have missed the rare opportunity to compare the version of your thighs that exists in his imagination with the reality. One in a million chance for field research. He cannot let it slip away.

Jayce watches him carefully, spotting the exact moment hesitation turns into reluctant acceptance.

Viktor exhales dramatically, purely to emphasize how troublesome Jayce is being. “Fine. I will go to the beach.”

And so, it happens the following weekend, when the sun scorches the land mercilessly, and Viktor briefly worries that his skin will sizzle under the heat—until he sees you approaching the car.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, yet it serves as the first glimpse into his ongoing research when he realises you’re wearing shorts, granting him a tantalising view of bare skin. And in that moment, he is convinced that if anything will make his skin sizzle, it won’t be the sun’s radiation, but you.

By the time you arrive at the place, Viktor’s back is already damp—partly due to the busted AC in Jayce’s car, partly because the two of you are wedged together in the back seat, pressed close by the massive umbrella Jayce insisted on bringing for him. Your thighs brush and bump against his with every pothole, and the only barrier he has—his cane—proves almost useless in keeping any distance.

His gaze fixes on your knees, and when sunlight streams through the windows, he catches the fine peach fuzz on the inner side of your thighs. He wonders if sunscreen will cling to it, momentarily turning it white before sinking into your skin. He would like it for his hands to be the ones that make it happen.

From the parking lot, he’s handed a small shoulder bag filled with fruit and a cooling container to carry. That’s when he notices—your back is damp too. Your shirt clings to your spine, outlining the shape of your bathing suit beneath. It’s a one-piece, low-cut, ending at the small of your back and leaving the rest bare. He can’t wait for you to take the outer layer off.

The cane proves useless on the sand, forcing him to lean on Jayce’s arm for support, despite Jayce’s hands being full—the umbrella swings over his shoulder, his forearms burdened with bag straps and a deflated mattress. You and Mel walk ahead, carrying blankets and towels, laughing and holding your hats against the wind.

The beach is wild and untouched, with only a handful of people scattered across the sand dunes. It’s a raw meeting place between land and sea where the elements have shaped it with no regard for humans. Old tree barks lie bleached, half-buried in the sand, twisted like grotesque limbs. The dunes rise and fall, sleepy, with their peaks crowned by scorched patches of grass that cling stubbornly to the sunbaked earth. Here, among the hollows and ridges, the world feels utterly private—hidden from prying eyes, as if nature itself conspires to keep secrets.

A gust of warm wind rushes over, catching the hem of your shirt and tugging at it insistently, exposing the curve of your waist before you press it back down. Viktor watches the way the fabric clings to you, how the heat of the day has already begun marking the skin of your neck, turning it darker. He imagines the press of the sun’s warmth sinking deeper, how it might feel beneath his hands, beneath his lips.

Sand swallows your sandal and the heat of it licks the sole of your foot as you stand on one leg to shake it off. Viktor watches the way your calve flexes in the light, pictures himself licking over the burnt skin, easing it down. His mouth goes dry, and lids grow heavy, grains catching in his eyelashes as he tries to blink the images goading his thoughts toward dangerous places away.

The spot you choose to set up camp is a hollow dip nestled among the sand hills, high enough that when you spread your blankets, the sea is visible only as a thin strip of blue on the horizon. Once everything is settled—including the wide umbrella that rattles in the wind above your heads—Jayce grunts, claps his hands together, and declares, “Alright then,” before promptly hoisting Mel upside down over his shoulder.

“I’m taking you for a swim,” he announces playfully, securing her ankles in one hand as she kicks and squirms. Her wild curls tumble downward, brushing against his back as she protests, her laughter carried away by the wind. Viktor watches as Jayce carries her off through the dunes, their figures shrinking into the distance until the crashing waves swallow the sound of her shrieks.

He settles down on the blanket and tugs his shirt off in one boyish pull, welcoming the tickling sensation of the wind against the heated skin of his back. Rolling the fabric awkwardly into a lumpy pillow, he places it beneath his head, determined to ignore the burning stare you’re directing at him.

You let the moment linger—Viktor’s eyes are closed, his lashes resting against his cheeks, and he cannot see you, you think. The wind is gentler here, in your little cloister, sending only the laziest grains of sand tumbling across his stomach as it rises and falls with his breath. They catch in the fine trail of hair that guides your gaze from his sunken navel, down between his hips, before disappearing beneath the bridge of the waistband stretched over his hipbones.

With this sliver of privacy, you undress down to your bathing suit. Viktor’s eyes crack open, his face half-shielded by the crook of his elbow as he steals a glance, masking the little act of voyeurism. You step from foot to foot, slipping free of your shorts and shirt, and he inhales deeply, trying to remain. Just remain. Just not sink into the sand under the weight of this sight.

Your thighs are as lovely as he imagined. And oh, your hips are dipped in a way that tempts his hands, as though they were shaped to be held. You ass cheeks slit diagonally by the swimsuit’s bottom, the parts peeking out from underneath it tempt his mouth to land there and his teeth to bite down so much that his jaw tightens.

He is so focused on making himself look as though he’s not looking that he doesn’t notice the sudden spurt of cold sunscreen on his stomach until it makes him jolt.

“Ah! What’s this?” he exclaims, spreading his hands apart.

“You’ll burn,” you tease, setting the bottle aside after applying some—oh…—to your thighs. And whatever Viktor had conjured in his mind does not compare to reality. Your fingers sink into your skin, leaving faint white streaks that catch on the fine hairs, turning them silver under the sunlight. When you shift just beyond the shade of the umbrella, the cream finally disappears, leaving only a satin glow and the scent of summer clinging to you.

“We are in the shade,” he mutters, transfixed, struggling to drag his eyes away.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll fall asleep, the sun will shift, and you’ll burn,” you say knowingly, motioning toward the bottle, though the amount you’ve already placed on his stomach is more than enough for his entire chest. He still hasn’t done anything about it, and it inches lazily toward the waistband of his trunks.

“I’ll have you know that I already did this before we left,” he counters, but instead of rubbing it in, he simply picks up the bottle, inspects it for a second, then tosses it aside. “And I’d burn anyway with this inferior protection.”

You snort. “Oh, please. SPF 99 is just marketing. Fifty is enough.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” The sound is barely more than a hum as you twist your arms, straining to reach your shoulder blades.

“Do you need help?” The words tumble out before he can stop them, and the bottle is back in Viktor’s hands in an instant. You nod, then glance over your shoulder just as he warms the lotion between his palms. You attempt to tease him—“So thoughtful—”

But the words die in your throat when the back of his hand brushes your hair aside, sweeping it over one shoulder.

“I am,” he says quietly. Then, a palm full of sun screen presses against the nape of your neck and stays. The heel of his hand rests on one side while his fingers stretch across to the other, spanning the delicate space where your pulse flutters, quickened beneath his touch. To his utter joy.

“Thoughtful,” he finally murmurs into your ear. And then he rubs it in—both the words and the cream. His hand slides from your neck lower and to the sides, dipping underneath the straps, rubbing the balls of your shoulders. You roll them back instinctively and inhale deeply hoping that the sound drowns in the sea.

Lower he goes. To your shoulder blades and between, where muscle meets bone, and Viktor is so painfully quiet that silent breathing becomes harder and harder to achieve. His fingers bleed not only thoughtfulness, you realise, but tenderness. It seeps into your skin, when he dares to slide beneath the material and tease your sides, and oh—the small of your back. Flat palm comes there when he pulls the stretchy band away from your body and explores, calloused pads ghosting over your sacrum.

“It’s cut rather low, isn’t it?” he hums in an attempt to offload the tension.

You chuckle, grateful and muse, “Hmm, good thing I didn’t put it on backwards then.”

“I think it depends on perspective,” he huffs a laugh and before you can answer, adds, “All done.”

You turn to face him and swing your legs over one of his. “What about you?” you ask, pointing at his belly painted white.

“I don’t know,” he breathes, so quiet that you itch to move closer. You shift again, moving one of your legs so that now you are sat with your knees bent over his thighs, your torsos facing each other.

“Do you need help?” you ask, matching his tone.

“If you’d be,” he swallows, “so thoughtful.”

His tummy sucks in involuntarily when your fingers dip into the pool of sun screen gathered at the waistband. You pull it away from his navel, scoop it up and Viktor breathes out, “Oh.” His head falls forward, foreheads nearly touching. Your hands glide up, over the flat plane below his stomach, whitening the sparse hairs there before reaching the ridges of his ribs making him exhale loudly through his nose, as he does nothing to hide what kind of effect your touch has on him.

Palms smooth over his chest, brushing his nipples, and he huffs an embarrassed laugh but still says nothing. Not until you reach his neck, where your fingers meet at his nape, tracing the hairline, then his earlobes—and that’s when he exhales a quiet, “Oh, fuck,” slipping through parted lips.

You hum, letting his forehead press against yours. Your thumbs move with intent in slow circles over the freckles dusting the column of his throat, the one above his upper lip, and the delicate skin beneath his eye. Then you inhale, a soft, measured sound, and murmur, “I’ve heard that lips burn too.”

“Is that so?” Viktor whispers, his nose brushing against yours.

Gentle fingers, bearing little to no lotion now, ghost over his mouth, and his lip quivers under the pressure. You rub, stretch, tease the tender flesh until it slips from your touch and bounces back into place. His jaw slackens, inviting—waiting—and then, when you least expect it, his tongue flickers out, hot and wanting.

Oh. You think you’ve reached the edge of indulgence, but then he redefines it for you—his lips close around your fingers, and he sucks.

“Oh, fuck, Viktor,” you moan, shameless, shifting closer. Your thighs close around his ribs, and he shudders, hips jerking forward, pressing the thick, insistent heat of him against you.

His hand closes around your wrist, thumb stroking the pulse beneath your skin when his tongue curls around the tip of your fingers, tracing every ridge and every sensitive dip. He sucks, drawing them deeper, the wet heat of his mouth sending a bolt of warmth rivalling the sun down. His teeth graze—just lightly, teasing—before he soothes the spot with another languid swipe of his tongue.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat. "Viktor—”

Your name hovers on the edge of his breath as he pulls off, lips parting with the softest pop. His pupils are dark and blown wide, fixed on your mouth like it holds the answer to something he’s been dying to know. He licks his lips before murmuring, “What about your lips?” His voice is rough, almost hoarse, and he swallows hard, the bob of his Adam’s apple visible in the dip of his throat.

You blink, breath uneven, caught between teasing and the cramp twisting your stomach. “I don’t know, Viktor,” you say innocently. Your fingers brush your own mouth, still slick from his. “If you’d be so thoughtful.”

Viktor leans forward, twisting his fingers into your hair, his free hand slips bravely to squeeze your ass and then hook into your hip, just as he wanted. And indeed, it’s made to be held, the lovely hip of yours. His lips cover yours entirely, wet and filthy as he cocks your head back so his tongue can dip in properly. You can taste the balm of you and the salt of him as you slide your hands up his ribs again, graze your nails against his neck to finally settle into his hair. Viktor fills your mouth with moans, and they all taste so sweet you could melt.

A low groan rumbles against your chest when you roll your hips against him, hist body answering with a sharp involuntary thrust. Sand tickles your ankles as your hook them over each other behind Viktor’s back and press on him hard and Viktor swears to God, he’s about to roll you over and fuck you, because he can’t stand it, when—

“Jayce! Get out of the water, you’re burned!” Mel’s voice reaches you from the nearby.

“Shit,” you squirm, still holding his face. “You—oh God. Lay on your stomach,” you offer eyeing the tent in his trunks, apology seeping from your tone.

“Shit, indeed,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed, and he sighs, as if considering if it’s worth the risk after all. Moment lingers, but he finally untangles his legs from underneath yours and with a grunt splays flat on his belly, a book marking his innocence opens on a random page when he makes himself look engrossed in it.

Mere seconds later, Mel, looking like she was just made by the gods, emerges over the crest of the sand dune, Jayce right behind her, his nose and shoulders glaring red. His still-cold body slumps down next to Viktor in the shade. He pokes Viktor’s calf with his toe and asks, “So? Not too bad, is it?”

“Who said it was going to be bad?” Viktor responds, his nose buried in his book.

“Well, you— Ow!” Jayce hisses when Mel spurts a cold gush of sunscreen onto his back.

Viktor only smiles, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh no. I love the beach,” he says, grinning stupidly. “Most ardently.”

“Good to know, V,” Jayce smiles, knowing. “I’ll make sure we come more often.”

[yunhoszn]

save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside. 

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence. 

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life. 

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story. 

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes. 

And then your grandparents decided to retire. 

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time. 

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres. 

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later. 

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. 

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty. 

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh. 

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked. 

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable. 

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave. 

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention. 

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear. 

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops. 

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself. 

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives. 

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope. 

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again. 

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby. 

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years? 

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good. 

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate. 

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache. 

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. 

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog. 

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought. 

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now. 

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore. 

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other. 

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency. 

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening. 

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else. 

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance. 

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet. 

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath. 

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.” 

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…” 

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague. 

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong. 

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects. 

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage. 

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine. 

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air. 

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own. 

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own. 

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have. 

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric. 

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse. 

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain. 

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal. 

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen. 

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself. 

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple. 

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there. 

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide. 

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool. 

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now. 

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” 

“‘You turn me on.’” 

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad. 

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?” 

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs. 

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it. 

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?” 

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it. 

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him. 

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release. 

I saw the way he was looking at you. 

I saw how you were looking at him, too. 

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho. 

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it. 

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place. 

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work. 

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to. 

And then you came here. 

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same. 

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role. 

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go. 

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” 

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches. 

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?” 

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters. 

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away. 

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else. 

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different. 

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you. 

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you. 

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop. 

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry. 

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top. 

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him. 

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief. 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special. 

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there. 

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets. 

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it. 

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure. 

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now. 

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own. 

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper. 

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more. 

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat. 

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second. 

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again. 

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way. 

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand. 

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble. 

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams. 

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core. 

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips. 

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off. 

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force. 

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider. 

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth. 

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies. 

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts. 

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.” 

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below. 

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him. 

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created. 

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter. 

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day. 

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost. 

[yuvany]

好爱 ─── LOVESICK

First time speaking with 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 after only seeing them from afar. . .

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + awkward + non!idol AU + rushed + not proofread WORD COUNT 2.2k CHECK MARK.ᐟ

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You had always admired Heseung from afar. The second you heard he'd be performing at the music evening, you had told your friends that you'd attend the festival. You always kept this to yourselef, not having the courage to speak to him face to face like many other girls. You shared a class with him, he sits on the other side of the classroom, but his popularity manages to attract many people over, and that helps you listen in on their conversations. You start getting annoyed when the only thing you hear is the sound of forced high pitched voices asking him for his number, but thankfully the bell comes in rescue. "We soo look forward to the show later!" They coo before finally leaving. You heave a sigh that had weighed your chest down for far too long. ─── ( more under the cut )

"Why are they so annoying!" You complain to your friend who hums alongs your rant. "Bla bla bla and bla...Get lost!" you mock, you know it's wrong, but your blood just boils as you recall that moment. How could Heeseung even bear with this every single day? "Well, I might know something you don't." You beg for her to spill the beans, and it comes to the point you're practically on your knees begging for the information. "Heeseung apparently needs a duet singer for the show tonight, and do you know who I think is perfect for it?" You shake your head in an instant, realising she meant you. "No!" "If he asked, you'd say yes instantly." She sighs. Your friend pulls up her phone, and you're curious what she's doing, but as you attempt to peek over the table, she hides her screen. The sound of your own phone distracts you, and as you pick it up, you see a message; "Heard you're a singer, wanna help out.// HL" You look up and see that your friend is grinning from ear to ear.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay was a gentleman who had earned his title as the Sweetheart of Hybe Academy. People didn't necessarily drool at him every chance they got when they saw him in the classrooms or in the corridors, but everyone knew that he was handsome and that many people whispered behind his back about their small crush on him. They rarely made their confessions because Jay was also known as the 'coldhearted', because he had made it clear to everyone that he did not want to engage in any romantic relationships.

One Saturday morning, you were out with your cat in the backyard because the weather was nice; a mix of the sweet sundrops of summer and a mix of the chilly winters thet were soon to come while your attention was on the cat running around the yard, trying to catch the toy that you were running around with. Unbeknownst to you, and unluckily, a dog was taking a walk with its owner right outside your door step. The dog barked, and your cat got scared for its life, and it got even worse when the dog had acknowledged your pet's presence becaue it continuously barked causing your cat to run up a tree nearby. The dog owner quickly apologised before running away from the scene. You tried to desperately get your cat down, but she was too scared. You were close to calling the fire brigade, but Jay walked by and asked, "What had happened here?" You tell him what happened and he says, "Let me help you, y/n." Jay steadily climed up the tree and called for your cat to return, which it did after not much persuasion. "You're better at this than me." You chuckled.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

The guy who was captain of the football team. The student who was always with his friends and never with anyone else. Sim Jaeyun, or what he likes to call himself; Jake. Your friends hated his guts for only focusing on sports, but you didn't mind, and neither did the rest of the school. Lately, he had been practicing for longer after school, and even come early before school to practice, and he still had energy for the team practices. You admired him for his presistance.

"Do you know why Jake is practicing so much?" You asked your friends in the hallways. "How would I know?" one friend snarled. "I heard there's a competition soon." Another one replied. You thought about it, and then you remembered, your teacher had asked some people from your year group to help the team, including you, and you had totally forgotten. Hours turned into days, and now the game had begun. You were forced to be there and help hand out water bottles and towels with other classmates, but your eyes were occupied by Jake running around the court. His hard work and long practice hours really paid off, this looked so easy for him. During half-time, he returned to the booth, and was closest to you, so, you naturally handed him a clean towel to wipe the sweat that dripped down his face, and a water bottle for refreshment. "How do you enjoy the game?" he asked, and you couldn't be honest with him, because that would offend him, so you said, "It's cool." he nodded and then grouped with the rest of the team. The second half was complete resulting in the game ending and the results were that your school had won. Jake approached you again and asked you, "You seem nice, I was wondering if I could get your number. Freinds... so we could be friends."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It was obvious that Sunghoon was popular and good looking. Girls would have heart eyes when they saw him, their eyes glued to his face whenever he walked by in the corridors. Sunghoon acted as if this was normal for him, like he grew up in this environment. Whatever he did, never surprised anyone, but there was always one thing everyone wondered; Why did he not have a girlfriend yet? When asked this question, he'd say that it was becaus he was waiting for the right timing, but when asked another time, he said that he already had his eyes on someone. This caused everyone to go ballistic.

You had one secret you hated to admit, and that was that you might be slightly infatuated with Sunghoon. In the lunch hall, you hoped to see him, but he was never there, you always thought that he went out of campus during that period to eat at a restaurant or something. That thought was erased one day when you decided to not be in the lunch hall, and went up to the school roof for a change. And because it was too packed. When you opened the heavy door, you saw that familiar black hair and lean figure. It was Sunghoon, and it was too late to turn back around because he had already turned to face you. "I'll go...if you want." You said awkwardly. "No need, company would be nice." His smile was bright and wide. It was silent as you sat opposite from him, and you decided to ask "hey, let's go secret for secret. or question for question" Sunghoon nodded and motioned for you to start. "Why are you up here and not with you friends?" "because this view is able to show me someone I'm interested in." He looks down at the yard, and that specific place that you always go to with your friends, which now was empty, but as you look up, you see his eyes connected with yours.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

The guy who helped whenever he could and whatever. During breaks, he'd help the nurse because he felt bad for the lady. Sunoo was a kind student, students and teachers adored him. His smile was something that could light up a room, and that's something you wished you could do, because if you smiled the way he did, you'd never ever frown. There was only one opportunity for you to see him because your schedules were too different. When he had break, you had a lesson, and vice versa. This was unfortunate, and yet you found yourself attached to him.

PE was your least favourite subject, you hated both the theoretical and practical parts of it. Today though, you feared for your life. It was football. Last time, someone kicked your shin by accident and the area was bruised an awful purple and yellow the next day. Since that day, you tried staying away from the ball which only made the teacher yell at you to get closer to it. When this happened today, your focus was elsewhere and the ball came flying at your face and hit you hard. Everyone gathered around you, and the teacher told you to meet the nurse with a sigh. You slowly made your way there, and when you walked inside, the nurse was nowhere to be seen, so you laid on the couch and closed your eyes. "hello, what happened to you." It was Sunoo, it was his voice. "Got this football flown at me." You say, trying to sound sad even though you felt estatic on the inside. " I hate sports. The nurse isn't here, so let me grab an ice pack." he says, and rushes out. He returns and hands you the cold pack, you sit up and when the cold hits, you're ready to go. "Shouldn't you like...rest for a while...here?" He asks, holding you down by the wrist. "uhm...sure, why not." You awkwardly giggle.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

Smart, polite, and handsome were words regularly used to describe Yang Jungwon, the student president. There was no jealousy and there was no competition amongst him and other students, only friendship. During Valentines you'd see how many love letters were shoved inside his unfortunate locker, each paper looking crumbled at the force and desperation to push it inside. You felt bad for them because you knew how Jungwon didn't care about them, he'd put them in a plastic bag and then take them home to most probably thow out without anyone knowing.

One day though, Jungwon doesn't appear in the first lesson and even the teachers are confused. This was unlike him in many ways. Today, the teacher had even asked if he would be kind enough to help him after class with sorting and going through all student documents, and it was visible that he was hoping for Jungwon to just be slightly late, becuase rather late than never. The clock ticked and tacked, each second feeling longer than the last. Eventually, the bell rang and the lesson had ended. You felt bad for the teacher and offeredd your help. He smiled, and told you what to do before he rushed out to get a coffee. Not long after, you hear footsteps outside the door again, maybe you were wrong. "Hello?" You hear a boy pant out as he shoves the door open. Jungwon is just as surprised as you when he walks in. "y/n, what are you doing here?" He asks confused. You tell him your tale and he chuckles. You ask him as well, becuase you missed him, and he tells his tale. "Let me help you with this." He says, as he picks up the stack of papers, his fingers brushing against yours.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki was known for his hard looking exterior but soft interior. People feared him, his seat mates feeling the chill run down their spines, but not because he was scary, but because there was something special about him, he was beautiful. You only knew him from rumours talking about a dance prodigy who dances smoother than waves, the boy that doesn't speak with anyone other than his friends. You had thought nothing of it at first sight, but the more you saw him, the more you were attracted to him. You don't know why, and that was a dilemma. If he refused to talk with anyone except his friends, how would you manage to get close to him.

It all seemed like a dream to you, to befriend him, or maybe more, and you tried your best to conceal your feelings. It all went according to plan until one evening during your walk. You heard the drum of footsteps nearby, and decided to check it out. You sneaked closer to the sound and eventually found youself hidden in a bush, tangled up in the branches. It was Riki. At firt sight, he was unrecognisable, then you slowly noticed how similiar he moved to the one in your school. His moves caught you like a fish to a hook, and your eyes gleamed with admiration as you watched him dance. As time passed, you forgot it was time to go, and that if you stayed any longer, you'd be found. Unfortunately for you, you had already stayed for too long. When you looked down at your phone, Riki turned around and found you, his eyes wondering who you may be, but then he recognises you from campus. A smirk spreads over his face as he waits for you to look up. "Hello, y/n." He waves your way, and you are dumbfounded. "You know my name?" You say, shocked, more worried about that than being exposed.

network tag ! @k-films

[needforspeed161]

What do you mean Tom and Pete aren’t an old married couple that bought a nice house on North Island with a Mercedes and a Kawasaki parked out front? That lining the halls of said house are everything from Flight school and Naval Academy graduation pictures from the 80’s to Christmas with their family just last December?

What do you mean Bradley doesn’t come over to have family barbecues with them in the summer? Tom insisting Jake teach him how to make brisket like he does. Saying “you’ve gotta key me in on the recipe here kid!” With a mouthful of food?

What do you mean the daggers aren’t just their adopted children, and the two old men take them to the beach to go play for hours on end on the weekends or after a long day of training?

What do you mean they don’t all spend Christmas together, birthdays, Easter’s, thanksgivings, anything and everything inbetween?

What do you MEAN!?

[missaengg]

Caleb is... Hot?!

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader Tags: nsfw - suggestive and language, modern au, use of pipsqueak and princess, use of oppa, humor/slight crack, featuring mom's-best-friend's-son/next door neighbor Caleb Word Count: 1.9k The sight of Caleb working on his motorcycle is hot... So hot you need to go take a cold shower... or in which you have depraved thoughts of Caleb. A/N: Thinking about starting a modern au Caleb series featuring a collection of shorts snippets with a mom's-best-friend's-son Caleb and how he and the reader eventually get together. Let me know if that appeals to you!

The sight of Caleb working on his motorcycle is surprisingly hot.

Like, really fucking hot.

His toned arms are on full display in that muscle shirt you hate, and there’s something about the way his baggy jeans hang off his waist that invites intrusive thoughts of biting his peach-shaped, bubble-butt ass.

Has Caleb always been this… well, hot?

Back when the two of you were in high school – hell, even college, it seemed like everyday there was at least one person confessing their love to Caleb or asking him on a date. It got to the point that Caleb would beg you to act as his girlfriend to fend them off.

Like yes, he played basketball. And yes, he was insanely tall. And yes, he was a star pilot at the DAA. But you never really understood his appeal, or why girls would flock to him. Because he was just Caleb. Stupid, mom’s-best-friend’s-son Caleb.

But now…?

You bite your lip, entranced by the sight of Caleb’s triceps flexing as he screws something in place.

Now you’re admiring his ass while he’s bent over with a wrench in hand, a smudge of grease on his cheek, wondering what it’d be like to trail your fingers along his very, very chiseled arms.

Ugh, this is so messed up! This is Caleb, for God’s sake! You’ve known him your entire life, having grown up together. Hell, he’s pretty much family!

This is the same Caleb who used to smear dirt on your face and pull your hair on the playground. The same Caleb who called you Pipsqueak even though he knew you hated it – and it wasn’t exactly a secret you hated it. The same Caleb your mom used to compare you to when he brought home straight A’s on his report cards.

But… if you’re being fair, this is also the same Caleb who stayed up with you, patting your back as you cried on his shoulder because your boyfriend cheated. The same Caleb who gave you piggy-back rides when your legs were tired from walking. And the same Caleb who cooked your favorite meal and kept you company watching awful Hallmark movies when you were sick.

And now apparently, the same Caleb who you want to fuck.

Groaning, you close your eyes, shaking your head violently to clear the illicit images flooding your addled brain.

But… if you’re being honest, like really fucking honest, this isn’t the first time you’ve thought of Caleb as something more than just your oppa. Perhaps not to the point of wanting to fuck him, but as something more than just a childhood friend. 

You can’t recall when your feelings started to change. Was it when you were locked together in the attic back in college? Or was it during his graduation ceremony from the Aerospace Academy? Or… was it even before then?

Regardless, you can’t deny that he looks good in his current outfit. Good enough to eat. Good enough to wonder what his abs would taste like on your tongue…

Holy hell, you need to go take a cold shower or something because clearly the summer heat is getting to you… or something.

Releasing a slow, frustrated sigh, you open your eyes, more than ready for that cold shower… and maybe a little relieving solo session… only to startle when your eyes open to Caleb’s amused face hovering way too close for comfort.

“Like what you see?”

“N–no,” you stammer, your cheeks burning, praying they aren’t as red as they feel.

“I mean, I don’t blame ya.” Caleb shrugs, a cheeky grin tugging on the corners of his enticingly kissable lips. “I do have a nice ass – or so I’ve been told.”

You roll your eyes, hiding that you do in fact agree with him because… he doesn’t need to know that. Not if you want to preserve your own sanity. “Puh-lease. Your ass is like pancake status. Average at best,” you drawl, hastily adding, “Not that I was looking.”

“Liar,” Caleb snickers. “I saw you staring at my ass, Pipsqueak. I caught you red-handed.” His grease-stained finger pokes your cheek. “Or should I say… red-faced.”

Scowling, you swat his hand away, grumbling under your breath as you swipe the ghost of his touch off your skin.

There’s a teasing glint in his eyes and a smug smirk on his face – ones that normally make you want to smack him, but today… Fuck, today, they make you want to grab his stupid cheeks and lay a big, fat kiss on his stupid, quirked lips.

“Don’t call me that. And I wasn’t,” you huff, blowing an imaginary lock of hair out of your eyes. “Why’re you even working on your motorcycle in our driveway anyway? Work on it at home.”

“Cause, Pipsqueak,” he says, accentuating the consonants in that vexing nickname you abhor, “you know my mom’ll flip if she sees my bike.”

“Caleb, you live next door. She can still see you.”

“Yeah, but at least here I can say it’s yours.”

You roll your eyes again, something that seems to happen often when you’re around your exasperating mom’s-best-friend’s-son childhood friend. “And my mom would clear that up in a hot second, dumbass.”

The flush on your face is uncomfortably hot. Hot to the point you’re now absolutely certain your face is an unflattering shade of bright red. And the longer you linger, the higher the chance Caleb will catch how frustrated he’s making you. If he hasn’t already.

You need to retreat.

Now.

Before he discovers the depravity going on inside your brain and never lets you live it down for as long as you shall live. 

“Whatever,” you snort. “I’m going back inside.”

You turn sharply on your heel to head back inside the house, your safe haven away from his sexual allure, when his long fingers curl around your wrist and hold you in place – fingers that incite degenerate curiosity as to how they might feel gliding up your inner thigh and burying themselves in your, at preset, very wet cunt.

“Hey.”

The low husk in his voice sends a delightful little shiver up your spine. You turn back to fix him with a withering glare, only to freeze when you meet his gaze. The dark, primal heat smoldering in its purple depths stops you, your heart pounding in your chest. So hard, you can feel each thundering heartbeat in your throat.

“What?” you snap, pretending – and woefully failing – that you’re not the least bit affected.

“You were staring.”

You swallow thickly, unsettled by the sudden shift in his attitude, keenly aware of his searing grip on your wrist. You urgently shake him off, protesting, “I wasn’t.”

Caleb steps towards you, towering over you and reminding you just how much bigger he is than you in comparison. Big enough to toss you around like a ragdoll, which… you’d like very much. Gulping, you take a step back.

“Try again,” he commands, the authority in his voice sending your body into a buzz.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you casually respond, clamping down your traitorous desire.

“Try again, Princess.”

He takes another step forward. You take another step back.

“Caleb,” you warn, cringing at the slight tremble present in your voice.

Another step forward. Another step back.

A delicate dance to maintain the uncomfortable, yet somewhat bearable distance.

A safe distance.

Until your back hits the wall.

Shit.

Caleb lays one of his hands on the wall by your head, caging you in. “You were staring, weren’t you?” He leans in, so close his breath mingles with yours. Or at least what little breath you’re expelling.

“N–no,” you choke out, oddly hypnotized by the way his intense gaze holds you captive.

“Heh,” Caleb smirks. “Wrong answer, Princess.” His free arm snakes around your waist, his palm laying flat on your lower back. He pulls you in, stopping just before your bodies are flush with one another. “One more time. You were staring, weren’t you?”

Between the heat radiating off his body, the musk of his sweat, and the husky rasp of his voice, your brain short-circuits, fritzing into a muddled panic. You open your mouth, ready to deny his insistent question once more, but something about his expression prompts you to come clean. Though, you do add a mean glower with your admission.

“So what if I was? It didn’t mean shit.”

Caleb’s fingers stroke your back in a silky, torturous rhythm, his lips curling into a victorious sneer. He brings his mouth close to your ear. “You sure about that?”

His murmur wisps along the outer edge, and you stiffen, the rush of heat flooding your… nether regions… causing you to rub your thighs together. Caleb’s eyes flicker to the subtle movement, a devilish expression that you fear crossing his face.

“Cause your body is saying something very different.” Caleb pulls you in even further, nestling your bodies together. So much so that you can feel the outline of his dick on your extremely bothered pelvis. “And from where I’m standing, it looks like you want this.”

“I–I…” Your brows furrow. Your lips purse together. Your brain scrambles for something – anything – that’ll wipe that irritating, smug smile off his face. But it fails you. His presence is simply too overpowering, too magnetic, too alluring.

His scent. His heat. His… masculinity. All of it magnified by the close proximity of your bodies.

It’s all too much for you to handle.

And you hate… HATE how unaffected he seems.

Your cheeks on fire, you slide your hands to his firm chest, briefly tempted to give his deliciously juicy pecs a squeeze, but you resist the urge, shoving him away from you as hard as you can instead. As he stumbles back, blinking rapidly, you sharply exhale the breath you’ve been holding, relieved that you no longer feel his blessed appendage pressing on your lower stomach.

“You’re being dumb,” you somehow manage to mumble, eyes trained on the floor. Anywhere that’s not him. “I’m gonna go.” You slip out from under his arm, making a mad dash to the door. 

A rapid retreat with your tail between your legs. 

Ripping the door open, you stumble inside without a single glance back, only allowing yourself to breathe once it slams shut behind you. As the tension drains for your legs, you slump against the door, your forehead resting on the cool surface while your heart thunders in your chest.

The sound of Caleb’s infuriating laughter drifts through the closed entrance, and you moan, pathetically, banging your head against the hard surface, mortified that Caleb noticed your… explicit desires. Releasing a long, suffering sigh, you push off the door, trudging towards your bathroom, more than ready for your very necessary cold shower.

And the assistance of your detachable shower head.

With ALL the assistance of your heavenly shower head.

Though, you have to admit with a heavy heart, that while heavenly, it won’t quite be the same as his fingers. Or his tongue. Or his… dick.

But it’ll have to do for today.

Just for today.

Just enough to wash away these troublesome and temporary fantasies coursing through your flustered, aroused body.

And then you can go back to seeing Caleb as just your mom’s-best-friend’s-son, right?

Right.

Just Caleb, your mom’s-best-friend’s-stupid-son Caleb, and nothing more.

Absolutely nothing more…

Taglist: @william-rex

Hi all -- I'm finally starting a taglist! If you'd like to be added, please fill out this form here. Thank you!

Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics

[ellysdreamworldd]

dr ideas 𝜗𝜚

❥︎ 70s/80s/90s/2000s highschool (or any year these the ones i want to go to) to finally experience being a teenager without social media

❥︎a dr where you're in a haunted house but you're the ghost- i saw this on tiktok and it's so good i feel ashamed for not thinking of it myself. like it would be so fun to scare random people

❥︎a dr where you're the karma. like you're invisible and you can follow people and then give them what they deserve

❥︎ 90s high fashion model dr

❥︎2000s victoria's secret angel dr

❥︎ h20 dr/ mermaid dr in general (childhood dream)

❥︎rich british boarding school dr

❥︎a dr where you travel the world. like you're rich and unemployed and your biggest worry is which flight to book next or if the 5 star hotel is going to be comfortable enough

❥︎dead poets society dr (they let girls in the school too)

❥︎history drs- ancient egypt(i was lowkey thinking about shifting as a cat to be worshipped) ancient rome ecc. (maybe in these drs it's better to shift as a man yk)

❥︎a dr where you're a bird. idk i always wanted to fly (i mean you don't necessarily need to be a bird to fly but)

❥︎winx (the cartoon not the show)

❥︎pretty little liars (the 6th liar starting when ali is still alive and assembling her group)

❥︎zombie apocalypse dr

❥︎an equestrian dr where you live in the countryside and your parents have a horse ranch (i want to live like those girls in the 72728 horse movies my sister made me watch where they are city girls who have never seen a horse before and can randomly be able to ride the most wild and aggressive horse ever)

❥︎a dr where you are the actor of all your characters in your previous drs (also saw this on tiktok and omg mind blowing i can't wait to watch edits of my characters and what people would say about me)

❥︎1800 jane austen worthy romance dr

❥︎80s slasher movie (just script you're the final girl and we're good)

❥︎a dr for every country in the world (maybe leave out some where it wouldn't exactly be fun to live). it's such a nice way to see the world from the eyes of a local and learn about other cultures

❥︎pirate dr

❥︎vampire dr

❥︎ rockstar dr where you're in a popular band

❥︎a dr in which you can shrink yourself and live in dollhouses and stuff like that. I always wanted to do that as a child and having a life-sized dollhouse would just not be the same

❥︎a dr where you have a child and you're a parent (i fear i would probably get too attached to the kid to ever leave)

❥︎different drs for every single job that interests you so when you come back (if you're planning to) you already know what you like so you won't risk being stuck with a job you don't like in this cr (for example being an astronaut or a fashion designer would be so cool)

❥︎royalty dr

❥︎a dr where you are Santa's elf (saw it on tiktok too and omg so fun but what do they even do for the rest of the year?)

❥︎summer camp dr

❥︎outer banks dr (basic i know but rafe)

❥︎dragon academy dr (like riding dragons and stuff😍)

❥︎ a fairy dr where you live in a mini sized colorful house in a fairy village on a tree

[diyasgarden]

The Chain

pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader, minor Art Donaldson x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

word count: 28.3K

summary: Ever since you started at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it seemed like Patrick Zweig was out to make your life miserable. But as you both grow older and your relationship with him evolves in ways you couldn't have predicted, you find there is truly no escaping Patrick.

contains: mentions of bullying, infidelity, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, cucking (somewhat), vaginal penetration with a tennis racket, depressive tendencies, reader slaps Patrick, reader is somewhat pathetic (i still <3 her)

author's note: Hi!! This is my first time ever writing a fic like this. Both in length and plot. Plus, it's my first time writing anything explicit. The idea was sent to me by @senseofnewness (absolutely brilliant!!!) and what was meant to originally be a short fic is now this. The name is taken from the Fleetwood Mac song of the same name, which I felt was fitting for the characters. I have a lot of mixed feelings on this fic, but I know loved it writing it. Enjoy <3

----

“Sign mine?” someone asks from above you. You look up from your seat on the bleachers to see Art Donaldson holding out his yearbook and a pen to you. You blankly stare at it and then your eyes dart around the area to see if someone is going to jump out of the corner laughing at you. It wasn’t like him to do so, but your mind automatically goes to thinking this is some sort of joke. When you’re unable to find anyone, you realize he is genuinely asking. Someone asking to sign your yearbook? Well that’s a first. You’re not friends with him, but then again you weren’t friends with anyone at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy. 

You reach out for the yearbook and pen without saying anything, but then realize how awkward the silence must be. “You may have to burn this afterwards,” you say in an attempt to make a joke to fill the silence, but see a frown form on his face and realize he doesn’t find it funny. You look down at the yearbook on your lap to hide the embarrassment and quickly scribble something, so this interaction can end. Have a good summer! Short and simple. As you hand the book and pen back to him, you hope this is the part where he walks away and you can finish your lunch. It’s 12:55 PM, you need to go soon. 

Except he just stands there. You look at him feeling confused. Now what? His eyes dart to the yearbook beside where you sit. It’s only then you realize he wants to sign your yearbook. Another first. You reluctantly take the book and hand it to him, the feeling that this is some sort of joke lingering in the back of your head. Again, Art never joined in on the teasing and it was kind of late to start, but who knows. You wouldn’t be surprised. 

He smiles as he opens to the back of the book and starts to write something down. “I’ll guess I’ll still be seeing you around in the fall” he comments in a tone that indicates there is more he wants to say. He pauses, looking at what he wrote, but then starts to write again. “Mhm,” you mumble with your mouth full. You’re both going to Stanford and both playing for Stanford Tennis. You got a full scholarship for the school, just like the one you had for the past six years at the academy. You wouldn’t have been able to pay for university without it. That was the best part of tennis for you: the doors it opened. 

You glance down at your watch again as you shove the last bit of your sandwich in your bag. It’s 12:57 now. You need to leave. He smiles as he finally hands the book back to you. “See you at graduation,” he says with a smile and a wave as he walks away. You wave back and look down to see what he wrote in the book. It was nice going to the Academy with you! Can’t wait to see you at Stanford. Keep in touch :) 

It is followed by a set of numbers. His phone number? Before you can think too much about this, you see on your watch it’s 12:59. You toss the book back into your bag, and leave. 

----

“Where were you?” Patrick asks the minute you open the door to his car and slide into the backseat beside him. He’s parked behind some shop, far enough from campus that no one will know who you are. He rarely picks the same place twice, but this area looks familiar for some reason. You’re not going to tell him about the little run in with Art, so you shrug and say, “Was finishing up some work.” He rolls his eyes, “We are graduating next week and you care about work?"

You just look at him with an annoyed expression, one that he clearly doesn’t care about, because it just makes him laugh. He then looks at you, taking in the furrow of your brows, before leaning in close to your face. He smirks, as his hand moves to your thigh. It slowly moves up underneath your skirt and you feel his fingers pull at the little spandex shorts you have underneath. Then his lips come down crashing on yours. 

----

Your classmates at the academy have a very surface level understanding of you. They know your family is poor. They know you can only attend the school because of a scholarship. And they all hate you. Curetsy of the one and only Patrick Zwieg. 

From the start he made it clear that he thought you didn’t belong in the academy. It’s not like your twelve year old self did anything to upset him when you first joined. He just took one look at you and decided your existence at the academy went against the laws of nature. And well he wasn’t wrong. You were surrounded by people who had enough privilege to coast through life, while you had none. You were well aware you were the black sheep. He was just rubbing salt in the wound.

Your first year at the academy was spent with the twelve year old Patrick calling you names any chance he got. As he got older, he just seemed to get more creative with the torment. From breaking your rackets and getting others to tease you, it got worse each year. By the time you turned fifteen, every single one of your classmates knew you as the broke scholarship student who should have dropped out ages ago. What they didn’t know was the fact you’ve been sleeping with Patrick.

It was junior year and the weekend before Christmas. You both were the only ones who hadn’t left for winter break yet. Your family always booked the cheapest flight for you, which usually means flying on Christmas day. While you don’t remember why he was still at the academy, you do remember running into him at the indoor courts. He made some comments about your family. You don’t remember exactly what but you assume it was something about your parent’s inability to spend money on a decent flight. Maybe it was the fact that you two were the only ones there, but something snapped inside you that day. You called him “a worthless trust fund kind who’d never amount to anything.” Your first time ever speaking back to him and that really set him off. The next thing you know he was dragging you into the locker room saying he was going to shove your head in the toilet.

For all the years he spent threatening to put your head in the toilet, this was the first time he ever actually acted on it. His grip on you was strong. You distinctly remember thinking that it was the end. And then just as he actually got you into the locker room, you saw you had the opportunity to do what everyone wishes they could to the men that make their life miserable: hit him right in the nuts. You punched him there hard and he fell to the ground.

The next thing you knew, you got on top of him while he laid on the ground and hit him. Years of pent up rage pouring out of you in your smacks and the insults you hurled at him. What happened after that was all a blur. You felt something poke your thigh and before you could even process the fact you somehow turned him on, his mouth crashed on yours and you both started making out on the floor of the boy’s locker room.

You didn’t see him after that. He went to go home the morning after and when Christmas day came you left too. What happened between the both of you in the locker room lingered at the back of your mind all throughout the break. The memory felt like a sinful secret that aroused you more than any form of smut or porn could. You even touched yourself to it. While that was slightly shameful, you weren’t surprised it affected you so much. The fact that you were a social pariah at the academy meant none of your classmates showed any interest in you, be it platonic, romantic, or sexual. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was your first proper time making out with a boy. And you weren’t blind. Patrick may have been your bully, but you knew he was attractive. 

By the time January rolled around and you were back at the academy, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t know what effect that moment had on him. On one hand, you knew he got around and was not as sexually pent up as you, so maybe this was normal for him? On the other hand, he must have at least felt a bit of shock for making out with you considering the fact how he always treated you. Regardless, there was no universe in which you could imagine Patrick being nice to you. You saw him on the first day back in your history class, and just as if nothing happened, he insulted your hand-me-down backpack as you walked into the classroom. His friends laughed and joined in, and you realized whatever happened that weekend before Christmas was a freak accident. You just assumed things were now back to normal, up until he cornered you later that day behind the gym. A little nook where no one could see either of you. He bent down close to your face and threatened that if you ever told anyone he’d kill you. You felt heart race and thighs clench, but before you could give any response his lips were once again on yours. And that’s how it all started. 

----

“You’re playing in the US junior open?” Patrick asks as he sits up again, leaning against the car window, his face flushed and hair messy from the sex. 

You sit up as well as you nod in response. How did he find out about that? You guess some coach probably told him. You slowly reach for your clothes from the floor of the car, and look outside the window. This time you realize why it felt familiar. This is where he parked his car for you both to fuck after prom. You went alone (only because your mother called you saying you may regret it if you didn’t) and he went with another girl, but an hour after the dance ended you got a text from him telling you where to find him. Without a second thought, you went. 

You turn back to face him, as you pull on your shirt, and see he has a pensive expression as if debating something. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t know you qualified,” he says. You simply shrug in response, you weren’t sure how you qualified either. Tennis is an out of body experience at this point. When you watch your games, it never feels like you’re watching yourself. 

“Guess they let anyone play,” he says with a little chuckle looking out the window, although his voice isn’t mocking like in public. When he teased you in private, it always felt more playful. As if he wanted to make you laugh, not cry. You watch him look out the window to check if anyone is around. He turns back to you and says, "I have to get back for practice.” This was his way of saying: Now that we are done fucking, you need to leave.

You pull up your skirt and nod to let him know you got the message. You pick up your bag and step out of the car. Just as you start to walk back in the direction of campus, you hear the window of his car roll down and Patrick calling your name. You turn to face him and he asks, “Same time tomorrow?” You should say no, but instead you say, “Sure.”

----

Your last week at the Academy was relatively peaceful. Some name calling here and there, but as graduation got closer no one seemed to have the energy to bother you. Everyone was busy talking about their summer plans, the junior open, or where they were going in the fall. Nearly everyone committed to one university or another, either to play tennis there or just to get a degree. Only Patrick chose to go pro, which wasn’t a surprise considering he was always vocal about how pointless university was. You two spent the last week hooking up in his car behind random buildings and in abandoned parking lots after classes ended, but the last time you actually saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, you headed out towards your parents and saw him standing with a serious expression as two adults talked to him. His parents you guessed. As you watched him, he turned to face you as his parents continued to talk, not noticing his attention was elsewhere, and you both just looked at each other. 

You broke eye contact first when your parents asked you to pose for a photo. You never told them about how awful the other students treated you at the academy. Mostly because you knew they would have pulled you out. You didn't want that because you were aware that the public school in your home town wouldn’t have given you half as good of an education as the academy. As a result, they thought everything was great and were eager to memorialize the time you spent there, taking photos of every game and event they could attend. Although, this you could agree was momentous. Graduation meant you were leaving the academy behind, so you happily posed for them.  By the time they were done snapping pictures of you in your cap and gown and you looked around for Patrick, he was nowhere to be found. Of course he wouldn’t have come up to you, and you wouldn’t have gone up to him. But you expected something more than whatever that was. It felt like an anticlimactic ending to the past six years. 

The summer last year, the one in between junior and senior year, you had kept in contact, but it was really just phone sex at least once a week. This summer he hadn’t reached out once. You didn’t either, choosing to spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about him instead. You told yourself that it was a much needed reflection on your relationship with Patrick, which regardless of how bizarre and unconventional was still your first relationship. In all fairness, relationship was too generous of a word, but you couldn’t think of what else to call it. You lost your virginity to him and you were sleeping together for over a year. Consistently too, as you met up multiple times each week. Of course it was always on his terms. You met when he wanted to meet. Always in private and never doing anything in public that could even hint at what they were doing. He was still awful to you in front of others. A part of you hated the fact that someone you made your life so miserable could make you feel so good, but a larger part was ready to comply with anything he wanted. It was sadistic, but you couldn’t help but find it poetic that the first guy to make you break down in public was also the first guy to make you come.

You tried to occupy the time by spending time with your family, being in the sun, and practicing tennis, but nothing was enough to expel Patrick from your mind. By the time the junior open came around, you were grateful to have something else to focus on. 

----

You got out of the open when you lost a semi finals match against Anna Mueller. You didn’t even expect to get that far, so you were unphased by the loss. Your family was proud and you had one more match in the evening against the player who lost the other girls’ singles semi final. It was just to determine who’d place third and who’d place fourth, and you were fine with either. You decided to pass the time till then by taking a little walk around the center where the open was being held. It was your first time here, so you may as well explore. 

Just as you stood in front of a board in the entry hall of the center detailing its history, you heard a familiar voice say to you, “Great match yesterday. You were amazing.” 

You turned around to see the strawberry blonde you only expected to see again at Stanford stand in front of you. He is smiling and you can tell he is being genuine when he says it, but that doesn’t stop you from saying, “Well I lost.”

Art simply shrugs in response, “You still played well.” Unsure what to say in response, you nod slowly. You can feel your eyes go downcast , and an awkward silence forms between the both of you. He swallows and looks at you as the awkwardness grows. Then suddenly he says, “You never called.”

“Huh?” you respond looking up at him. “Your yearbook…I wrote down my number,” he reminds you in a slow voice, his cheeks flushing pink as he does. You can see he is embarrassed, but you honestly did forget about his message in your yearbook. 

“Oh..that,” you say with a forced laugh, trying to seem normal. If you were unsure how to respond to his compliment about your game, you are at a genuine loss of words on how to acknowledge this. He surely couldn’t have actually expected you to call him over the summer? You came to the conclusion that he left his phone number as a formality because you were both going to Stanford. A way to contact him once you both got there. 

Art lets out a forced little laugh too, and you can see he feels equally awkward by this interaction. For a moment, it looks like he is about to say something, until you hear an even more familiar voice ask, “What’s going on here?”

Both you and Art turn to the direction where the voice came from and see Patrick standing there. While you imagined the moment you’d run into Patrick again, nothing you imagined was as awkward as this. His summer tan is visible against the white of his shirt, and you bite down on your back teeth to stay focused. His eyes dart between you and Art and it’s clear he has picked up on whatever awkward energy is radiating off the both of you. For a moment you think he is going to laugh or crack a joke about your inability to hold a conversation, but his eyebrows just furrow.

Art’s eyes go to the side, unable to hold the weight of Patrick’s gaze, and you realize it’s up to you to say something, “We were just talking about my game yesterday,” you say. 

“Against Anna Mueller,” Patrick says and you nod. “The one you lost,” he then adds. Art shoots him an expression you can’t read, but one that Patrick obviously understands because he shrugs and adds on, “What? She did lose.”

Art just sighs and turns back to you, “We should get going. We have our doubles final in an hour.”

“Oh good luck,” you say with a little nod. Of course they were in the doubles competition together. Fire and Ice. While you knew they were the poster child for being a duo in every sense of the word, you always found it hard to associate both boys with each other like everyone else did. Art was the only one of Patrick’s friends who didn’t make fun of you. When Patrick or any of this other friends said something, he’d just sit there watching. Which was always a bit strange considering he was his best friend. 

“You’ll come watch?” Art then asks slowly. 

This request surprises both you and Patrick, who’s eyebrows shoot up a little bit. “Uh...yeah sure,” you say with a little shrug. It feels too awkward to say no to Art right now, even if you don’t fully understand why he wants you at the game or want to go in the first place. Art just smiles in response, and waves a bit as he walks off. He stops when he notices Patrick just stands there looking at you. 

You look at Patrick and you see he has a stony expression on his face directed right at you. “Patrick?” Art asks, and as if shaken back to reality Patrick’s face instantly goes back to normal.

He turns to Art and with a little nod Patrick says, “I came in to use the bathroom. You head out, I’ll catch up to you later.” Art simply nods and walks to exit the center and head back to the courts. Both you and Patrick watch Art leave, and the minute he is out of the door, Patrick walks over and grabs your wrist before you can even process what’s going on. “Come,” is all he says as he starts to walk, taking you along with him. You soon realize he is taking you into the bathroom with him. He opens the door to the men’s bathroom and then takes you into a stall. He locks it behind him. 

Patrick looks at you for a moment and then asks in a low voice, “So what were you and Art actually talking about? “We were talking about my game,” you say with a nod. “Don’t bullshit me,” he says with an expression that shows he knows you’ve left something out. 

You just look at him for a moment, staring into his green eyes, which stare right back at you with a serious look. You assume he is worried that you may have told Art about the two of you. You shrug and admit, “He gave me his number.” Patrick just looks at you, but before he can say anything, you add on “Not like right now, but before school ended.”

“At the academy?” he asks, his voice tinged with slight disbelief. “He wrote it in my yearbook,” you say. “What? So you’ve been texting him or something?” Patrick then asks, his voice irritated now. You shake your head no and his eyebrows furrow as if trying to determine if you’re lying or not. Something about your expression must make him realize you’re being honest, because after a few seconds he nods in response. He looks to the side and then back to you. “You’re actually going to come to the game?” he then asks. You shrug in response, at this point, you’d feel bad for not showing up, so you’re going to be there anyway. “I guess so. Yeah,” you mumble with a little nod. 

“Give me a good luck kiss then” he says. You blink once, not expecting this, but then comply anyway. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips, and once you do, you plant a kiss on them. You can feel him smile underneath your lips, and in a low voice he says, “Cute, but you know that’s not what I meant.” His hand reaches for yours and you feel it move to his groin, and you can feel he’s hard already. “You’ve been wearing the same tennis skirts for the past three years. They’ve always given me a nice view of your ass.” His other hand sneaks underneath your skirt as he rests a hand on your spandex short and then gives your ass a squeeze. Of course this is what he brought you in here for. You remember how you spent the past month reflecting on moments just like that. How you spent hours analyzing your relationship with him under the impression that it was over. But with your hand gently palming his crotch in the bathroom stall, you realize how wrong you were.

Could you both get disqualified for this? Anyone could come into the bathroom, and it would be obvious what was happening, even in the stall. Even with these concerns, you sink to your knees without a second thought, as he starts to pull down his shorts. He doesn’t even bother pulling it down fully, just enough to be exposed. 

You lick your hand and then place it on the base of his length, getting a whimper from him in response, as you slowly start to move it up and down. You move your lips to his tip, and slowly wrap it around his cock. He moans as you start giving him sloppy sucks and continue to move your hand. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you yelp, and this elicits another moan, “God.” His hands reach down to your head. His hands wrap around your hair, holding it, and start to pull your head back and forth. As he continued to thrust in your throat, you felt his public hair brush against your nose. Realizing you’re fully taking him, you move your hand from the base of his dick to cupping his sack with a slight squeeze, which just makes him moan even more. “Don’t stop.” You did your best to match the pace of your squeezes to his thrusts, and after a few minutes of this, he pulled back, just leaving just the tip. You felt him throb around your lips and shortly after he came in your mouth. 

He smiles down at you as you swallow, and then pulls you up by the shoulders and kisses you on his lips. His tongue snakes into your mouth and after a minute of tasting himself on your lips, he pulls away and smiles at you. “See you at the game,” he says with a smile, as he then opens the stall door and walks out. You just stand there, as you hear the door to the bathrooms open and close, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs. 

----

You end up getting to the game midway through the first set and sit in the bleachers surrounded by other people. You hope that neither Art nor Patrick can see you, but of course they do. During the break Art smiles and gives you a little wave, and Patrick just flashes a smirk. The same smile he gave you in the men’s bathroom thirty minutes ago and your stomach does a flip. You didn’t get the chance to take care of yourself after that, busy trying to process what happened and denying the fact that you are wet. You’re failing at the latter as you feel your thighs clench at seeing him on the court. The game continues and you feel the ache grow as you watch Patrick play. The way his body moves as he runs to the ball and his grunts as he hits it all seem to make your wetness grow.  Your thighs clench as you see his shirt ride up a bit to hit the ball and you catch a glimpse of his abs and happy trail. 

The sight makes you lose whatever remaining reason you have, as you get up and mutter sorry as you climb over the other people in the row to get away. You go down the bleachers and walk around until you find the closest bathroom. Once you spot it, you nearly run into it and lock the door. Unlike the bathroom you were in earlier, this one has no stalls. Just for one person, and you feel grateful for the privacy. You walk over to the sink, resting both hands on its sides and slowly leaning on it. You look at yourself for a minute, your face is slightly red and your breathing is labored. 

You take a deep breath as you close your eyes and your hand sneaks down between to the ache. Your fingers find your throbbing clit and you start making slow little circles as you think about Patrick on the court. The more you lose yourself in the memory, the more your fingers speed up. The way his biceps flexed. The slight jiggle of his thighs. The abs. The happy trail. Every single grunt. It’s not long before you moan and feel yourself come undone. As you feel yourself come off your high, your eyes shoot open and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your breathing is even more erratic and your face more flushed. A wave of clarity washes over you and then you just feel pathetic. 

You wash your hands and splash some water on your face. As you step out of the bathroom, you’re certain that the game is still going on, but don’t feel up to going back and watching. You know Art and Patrick will probably win anyway, and you need to get out of the clothes. As you walk back to the hotel, you’re sure you can smell your arousal. 

----

Besides the weird events of the afternoon, your game went well. You won and that placed you third overall. You sip your sprite as you look around the lights that are strung from tree to tree at the Adidas Long Island party. It was being held for Tashi Duncan, who was the winner of the girls single US junior open. Like anyone in the tennis world, you had heard of her before. The next Serena Williams. It was disappointing your game was the same time as hers because you’re sure it would have been amazing to watch her play. Originally, you weren’t planning on coming, but when your parents found out your mom pulled out the one nice dress she made you pack just in case you needed it and insisted you go. After the events of this afternoon and winning your game in the evening, you admitted that the party was a nice distraction and celebration for those things respectively.

 Even though the beach area is a bit far from where the party is, you can somewhat see the waves from there. You take another sip of your drink and watch the waves for a moment, before you hear a voice come up from behind you. “It’s pretty right?” you turn to see Art. God does this man have a thing for sneaking up on you. He looks at you with a small smile, and it’s clear he only said that to start a conversation with you.

“Yeah…it is,” you respond with a little nod. Your throat feels dry so you take another sip of your drink, and to prevent an awkward silence “Your game was good.” 

“Thanks…” he says with a little nod. His eyes glance to the side and then he says in a slow voice, “You left midway.” 

“I got a little nervous about my game, so I just went back to the hotel to relax for a bit,” you lie with a little too much ease. 

Art nods and it looks like you’re in the clear. It’s not like he could predict the real reason you left anyway.  “Congrats on the win,” he then says with a little nod. “I wish I could have come but I was at the..” his voice trails off as he motions to a poster of Tashi hung up across the party. 

“Oh..no yeah,” you say, it makes sense he was at that final. “I’m sure that would have been much more interesting,” you add on with a little laugh that just slips out. Art lets out a little laugh too, and it finally seems as if you’ve moved away from the awkwardness all your conversations have. 

You both look at the posters of Tashi and relax in the now non-awkward silence between the both of you. It’s short lived, because a minute later you both see Patrick standing by the poster looking at the both of you. You can sense Art tensing up beside you, and you’re sure your reaction is equally fraught. You take a sip of your sprite in an attempt to hide your expression behind the bottle. 

Patrick is gripping a coke bottle and looks at both of you with an irritated look. Then his gaze singles in on Art. His expression seems to communicate the words get over here. Art looks at him with an expression that says what? Patrick holds the expression and Art sighs, “I’ll be right back” 

You nod as you watch Art walk over to Patrick by the posters. As Art approaches him, Patrick’s gaze goes back to you for a moment but then falls to the ground as if he is unable to make eye contact with you. For a moment you find it hard to believe this is the same man who was shoving his cock down your throat earlier today. His gaze goes to Art again and he immediately starts saying something to him. You take a sip from your drink, and see both boys get lost in conversation, but you’re too far to hear about what. Patrick is probably talking bad about you anyway. You turn to look away and back at the waves. Even though the party is outside, it suddenly feels too claustrophobic to any longer be enjoyable. 

----

You’ve been walking around the estate for the past ten minutes to get rid of the feeling. It’s a bit chilly, but is nice enough to just wander around aimlessly. “Hey!” you hear a woman’s voice call out in the distance followed by your name. You turn to see Tashi Duncan walking towards you. Now this had to be the most surprising part of that night. You give a small smile and wave as she gets closer. 

Once she’s standing by you she says, “I didn’t know you came.” And you didn’t expect her to know who you were so you were both surprised. You shrug and say, “Well thought I would stop by.” 

“It’s nice right,” she comments as she begins to walk and looks out at the water in the distance. You nod in response and get the feeling that she wants you to walk alongside her, so you do. “Yeah…You look nice,” you tell her, unsure what else to say, “Thanks. You do too,” she says with another smile as she looks at you. You know she’s just returning the compliment for the sake of it, but you smile in response anyway. After a moment she says, “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” you respond, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This whole day feels like one long fever drink. “I’m going to Stanford too,” she explains. “You’re one of the names they mentioned when I committed.” You nod in response. You have a vague memory of a Stanford representative emailing you with a list of others who were going to play alongside you, but you didn’t really take the time to go through it. As long as you had your full ride, you couldn’t care less. Before you can respond, she speaks again. “Thought maybe I could get your number or email, so we could talk. You know, get to know each other.”

“Oh...yeah...of course” you say a little awkwardly. You say your number and then add on “My email is just my full name at Gmail dot com” She nods with a smile, but before either of you say anything else, something catches Tashi’s eye. Then you see her waving to someone in the distance. Your eyes follow her gaze to Patrick and Art on a bench. They knew each other? All you wanted to do was run in the other direction. She starts to walk towards them, and you trail behind her, feeling too awkward to walk away. Patrick’s eyes lock on you for a moment, a flicker of surprise on his face. Art just smiles seeing both of you walk over. 

As soon as you both are close enough, Art begins talking but you’re unable to pay attention. You find your eyes downcast, as all three of them engage in a conversation. You feel unbearably warm even though the night air is chilly. Your eyes glance at Patrick and then dart away. You feel both the urge to step closer to him and walk away. 

Suddenly they all get up and start to walk, but you’re still standing there. Tashi turns around and calls your name. You look up and hear her add, “You coming?” All three of them look at you waiting for an answer, but you lock eyes with Patrick who’s jaw seems to tick as soon as you do. Your gaze goes back to Tashi. “Sorry, yeah,” you say as you walk to them. 

----

Once again you find yourself completely zoning out while the rest of them are engaged in some conversation. It’s like you’re not even there. You sit on a rock by the water, reaching your hand down to feel it. You don’t even bother looking at the direction of the rest of them, knowing your eyes would lock in on Patrick again. 

“What do you think?” you hear Tashi ask as she turns to face you. You turn to her, your face blank, having no clue what they were talking about. Once she registers the confusion, she adds “About tennis being a relationship?” 

You’re not even given a chance to respond before Patrick goes, “Looks like it’s someone’s bed time.” No one is amused by the comment. Art looks at his cigarette and Tashi rolls her eyes at him. Thankfully, when Tashi turns back to you, waiting for an answer, you realize Patrick’s comment has provided you with a way out of this. “Yeah…I’m feeling a bit tired…I should probably get back to the hotel,” you say as you stand up. 

Tashi’s lips press together as she looks at you, you assume she is judging you, so you look away and brush some sand off your dress. “Oh” Art says as he looks at you, with a little nod. Patrick gives Art a look from the side of his eye, but then looks at you as he brings a cigarette up to his lips. 

“Yeah…I’m leaving tomorrow so...” your voice trails off as you say it, not really sure why you added that part. You doubt that any of them care. 

“See you at school,” Tashi then says. 

You give her a wave and a small smile back, as you walk away from the three of them on the beach. 

----

You’re unable to sleep. It’s around one am. Your parents are fast asleep on their side of the hotel room, but you're too restless to do so. You pick up your phone and see a few new messages. 

Patrick: That was the same dress you wore for the formal in sophomore year. I can’t believe you still have it. (sent 1:07 AM, 07/24/06)

You can hear his voice when you read it. You can imagine the little laugh after he says it. You then see there is one more message.

Patrick: You looked cute. Wish I could have fucked you in it. (sent 1:08 AM, 07/24/06)

You roll your eyes but find yourself smiling anyway.

You: Night Patrick (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)

Patrick: Night ;) (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)

----

The rest of your summer was spent messaging Tashi. She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to get to know you. You got an email from her as soon as you got home from the open, and soon that turned into exchanging messages everyday with each other. Your conversations ranged from tennis to other things, like about your family and your other interests. It was new to have someone so interested in you. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling, even if you didn’t understand where it came from. 

Tashi: You know you never talk about the academy. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)

You: Don’t have much to say. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: Really? (sent 2:46 PM, 08/09/06)

You don’t want to rehash your time there. You don’t want to think about that. And you especially don’t want to think about Patrick either. After that day at  the junior open, you only heard from him once, through a message asking how your summer has been. He sent no response when you said fine and asked how he had been. You’re not even sure why you were talking about the academy with Tashi. Why did she suddenly seem interested? 

You: I just didn’t have a great time there. Just didn’t have many friends. (sent 2:50 PM, 08/09/06)

A safe response. Enough of an explanation, without any details. 

Tashi: Oh (sent 2:51 PM, 08/09/06)

You: Being the poor scholarship kid and stuff. (sent 2:52 PM, 08/09/06)

You decide to add on for good measure. 

Tashi: Oh yeah, it makes sense. It’ll make a great story when you go pro tho. Who doesn’t love an underdog. (sent 2:55 PM, 08/09/06)

Somehow Tashi is under the impression that you will eventually go pro. You’re not exactly sure when or how this assumption formed, but she mentions it so casually you don’t want to tell her that you’re unsure about this.

You: True. (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)

You stare at your phone and then quickly send another message. 

You: You’re curious about the academy? (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi:  I was talking about it with Patrick. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

You feel your heart drop as you look at the message. You didn’t know they still talked. With Art it would make sense. Another person she’d see around at Stanford, but Patrick? Why was she talking to Patrick? 

You: Patrick? (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: We’re kind of going out. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)

You read the message over again. And then again. They were going out with each other? You feel a weird knot form in your chest. She was going out with Patrick. The same Patrick who bullied you all throughout school? The same Patrick you spent over a year hooking up with you in private? You bite the inside of your cheek as you type back a response. 

You: Oh I didn’t know. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)

Tashi: It’s a long story. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)

Before you can even send a message back, you get a call from her. She spends the next hour explaining everything. The hotel room. The kiss. The deal. And then the boys’ final. Patrick won her number fair and square. Shortly after she and Patrick went out and then slept together. The knot in your chest only grows as you hear her speak. You do your best to ignore it. 

“That's…that’s a lot,” you say, unsure how to even process anything she just said. 

“I know,” she says on the other end. She exhales, and then asks, “Anyway, did you buy a fan for your dorm?”

----

“Let’s grab dinner?” Tashi asks as she walks from the court towards you, Art trailing behind her as he wipes his forehead with a towel. 

You nod as you grab your backpack. “Yeah let’s go,” you respond. 

“Let me change and then we’ll head out,” Tashi says, as she heads into the locker room. Tashi always practiced later than everyone else, a true testament to her passion. Everyone else finished and left an hour ago. Only you and Art stayed back with her, and now you both were the only ones on the court. 

Transitioning into college life was easy enough. All that time spent messaging Tashi meant coming into college with a friend. Your classes were interesting and you did well. You became friends with others on the tennis team, although most of your time was spent with Tashi and Art. He always seemed to be following the both of you around, which would have been strange if you didn’t know about the fact he was into Tashi. The fact she was dating Patrick, seemed to have no effect on his attraction. 

Your stomach grumbles, and Art hears. He smiles and asks, “Hungry?” You let out a laugh in response and ask, “What gave it away?” 

He laughs in response and then he looks at you as if studying his expression for a moment. His face becomes slightly serious and you know he has something to say. “What is it?” you ask. “Nothing,” he says with a shrug, feigning a nonchalance you both know doesn’t exist. “Art,” your voice is more serious now too. 

This was bound to happen. You always knew that he would eventually visit them. He was dating Tashi and Art is his best friend. Of course he would come. The thought makes your stomach flip and you bite down on your back teeth. 

Your inability to conceptualize Art and Patrick’s friendship, was a large part in why you were able to become friends with Art. But in moments like this, the only thing you could see when you looked at him, was Patrick Zweig’s best friend. Consumed in your thoughts, you say nothing in response. You only even register the silence, when you hear Art say “I should go change too before we go eat.” You nod and watch him walk away. 

----

“So Art told you?” Tashi asks from across the bed as she looks up at you from the calculus homework you’re both trying to work through. She doesn’t have to say what she is talking about, you already know what. “Yeah,” you say, still looking at your work. 

“I was going to tell you,” she says, with a little shrug, still looking at you. “Is it a big deal?” 

“It’s not,” you respond quickly as you try to focus on the problem. 

“No I think it is,” she says with a little huff, which causes you to look up from the work. “You act so weird whenever he’s brought up.” You just shrug in response and it’s almost ironic how much you’re proving her point right now. You look back down at the graphs on your paper “He acts like this too,” she then says. Now that gets your attention. You look up again and ask, “He does?” 

“Like anytime you come up in conversation he gets weird,” she says with a shrug. They’ve talked about you before? Before you have the chance to process this revelation, she says, “And you both act strange around each other” 

“You’ve only ever seen us interact once,” you say with a forced laugh, looking down at the paper again and remembering that night on the beach. “Yeah I know, but still,” she says with a shrug. Then she asks, “Did something happen between the two of you at the academy?” 

The right answer to this question: Too much to discuss right now. You just shrug again and say, “We didn’t get along” 

Tashi just nods as she mulls over your response. Before she can find some flaw in your answer to probe at, you decide to change the subject by asking, “Did you figure out question 3?”

----

The day Patrick comes to Stanford is a Friday. You go to class, then to practice, and everything is normal until you get a text from Art around seven pm. 

Art:  He’s here. Meet in my dorm in a half hour? (sent 6:58 PM, 09/15/06)

You: See you then (sent 6:59 PM, 09/15/06)

Tashi had already told you how she wanted all of you to go out together when Patrick came, so you more or less expected a text like this. Even with the expectation, your chest has knots and your stomach flips. You pick at the skin of your cuticles as you walk back to your dorm and once you get there you sit down on the bed trying to create some expectation for the night. Your mind is blank, and you realize you should probably get ready. 

You grab some jeans and a nice top, throw it on and then take a look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. A part of you hates yourself for caring how you look right now. But it’s not large enough to stop you from putting on lipstick and eyeliner. You take one last look at yourself before heading out. 

When you get to Art’s dorm, you realize you’re the first one to arrive. “Hey,” he says with a smile sitting on the edge of his bed. You walk over with a smile and sit down next to him. You’re about to greet him when your eyes fixate on the picture of him and Patrick on his bedside table. It looks like it was taken about the junior open, with both of them holding the trophy they won. He follows your gaze to it, and you both look at it for a moment. “I actually…” he starts and you turn to him. “I wanted to talk to you about—”

“And here I was thinking that I was early.” Both of you look to the door and see Patrick standing there. There is a flash of annoyance on his face, but it’s quickly covered up with a laugh and a raised eyebrow. Art just looks at Patrick, a mild look of disappointment on his face. “What a warm welcome,” Patrick says sarcastically, which causes the icy look on Art’s face to slowly disappear, a small smile forming instead. Patrick looks at you and you feel your heartbeat speed up just from the look. You think he’s about to pull out one of the insulting nicknames he coined for you at the academy. “Let’s go?” you hear Tashi ask as she walks into the room too. Patrick smiles at her and wraps a hand around her waist. You bite the inside of your cheek. You nod in response, as you walk towards the door. You don’t let yourself look at Patrick, even though you feel his gaze on you. You tell yourself you imagined it. 

----

Tashi picked out this bar by campus to go to. As a place that doesn’t check IDs and has cheap drinks. Naturally, it’s full of students. You’re two drinks in and feel slightly drunk. You’re sitting at the bar sipping on your third, talking to some girl from your French literature class. Whatever you said must have been funny, because she is laughing. You laugh with her, before someone taps her on the shoulder and her attention is pulled elsewhere. You look down at your drink as you take another sip. “Looks like someone has friends now.” You turn to see Patrick taking the seat next to you at the bar, he already has a drink in his hand. His voice is playfully teasing and he has a grin on his face. The same expression he’d make when he would hand back a racket of yours he just broke or look up at you from in between your legs. “Well I guess people like me now,” you say, your inhibitions lowered by the alcohol. It’s the first real conversation you had with him all night and you want it to be over already. Your heart beat picks up again. He lets out a little laugh at your response, finding your retort amusing. He’s close enough that you can get the scent of the marlboro reds he smokes and his cologne. His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and then to your eyes again.   

“Didn’t realize you were so close with Tashi,” he then pauses and then in a little more serious voice adds, “Art now too.” You just blink at him in response. You see his jaw tick again, and this along with the change in tone sets off a signal in your head and you sit up a bit straighter as you look at him. You don’t have the chance to get a word as Patrick continues, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Art, but it ends here okay.” His voice is serious and so is his gaze. He leans in a bit more and his nose bumps yours. It feels as if his stare is burning holes through your head. You were used to Patrick being mean, but this was different. For starters, he was never that rude to you in private after the locker room incident that started your little relationship. And his treatment usually served to mock or humiliate you in some way. This felt as if was putting his foot down about something. “Okay?” he asks again due to your silence. Your heartbeat speeds up even more. 

“Okay,” you repeat in a small voice, feeling like a child who is being reprimanded for something. He doesn’t like that you’re friends with Art?

He looks at you as if analyzing your expression. He remains close and his eyes flick down to your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you. Or drag you to the bar bathroom for a quick fuck. He then just huffs, as he steps back and takes a sip of the drink in his hand. You instantly feel stupid for your previous thoughts. He is dating Tashi. Tashi who is a literal goddess on earth. There is no reason for him to want you anymore. Whatever happened in school is over. The incident at the open was just a weird epilogue. But now it is done. 

“You should stop doing that,” he says. You realize his gaze is now directed at your hands. He makes a little motion to where you’ve picked off the skin by your cuticles. “It’s not good for you.” he says, still looking at it. His gaze comes back to you and the minute you both make eye contact he looks away. He looks across the bar and he must see either Tashi or Art because he smiles in that direction and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your drink. 

----

Your head is throbbing and you feel nauseous just thinking about the hangover you’ll probably have tomorrow morning. You can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. Have you ever been this drunk? You can’t even remember how much you had to drink at this point. You manage to stumble out of the bar and the fresh air is so refreshing you smile. It’s a 10 minute walk back to your dorm, you’re sure you can make it. You move slowly, and as you pass by the alleyway by the bar you see Art and Patrick sharing a cigarette. They’re far enough and too immersed in their conversation to see you.

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about this,” you hear Patrick say with a scoff. 

“I don’t get why you think it’s such a big deal,” Art responds. 

This draws out a laugh from  “No you know why I think it’s a big deal, and honestly man thought you were over this.” Patrick says as he takes the cigarette Art is holding and takes a drag. “Aren’t you into Tashi now."

Art scoffs and looks to the side. “Jesus Patrick.” This just makes Patrick laugh. “This is not about Tashi, this is about—” 

Patrick cuts him off and goes, “A girl who is and has always been a pathetic loser.” It’s then you realize that the person they’re talking about is you. 

Art sighs and takes the cigarette back with a sigh. “I like her.” As his words sink in, your earlier conversation with Patrick makes a lot more sense. It’s too dizzying to think about, and it makes you feel even more exhausted than you already are. You look at the road ahead of you and continue stumbling your way back to the dorm. 

----

You spent the rest of the weekend Patrick was on campus in your dorm room. You woke up with an awful hangover and messages from all three of them. Tashi and Art were just about how they didn’t see you leave and asking if you got back to the dorm fine, Patrick’s was something different all together. 

Patrick:  Don’t forget what we talked about. (sent 9:38 AM, 09/16/06)

You don't respond to him. You wouldn’t even know how if you wanted to. You texted Art and Tashi that you were all fine, just miserably hung over. 

Tashi: Want to grab breakfast? (sent 9:45 AM, 09/16/06)

You: Think I want to sleep for some more time. (sent 9:46 AM, 09/16/06)

Until Monday, hanging out with them meant hanging out with Patrick, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. So you told you you just wanted to lie down because of the hangover. Then when she asked if you wanted to hang out again in the evening, you lied about needing to finish a paper for the literature seminar you were taking. After that she must have got the hint, because she left you alone for the rest of the weekend. The next time you saw her or Art was on Monday during tennis practice. No Patrick in sight. 

----

Whoever said out of sight, out of mind, was a liar. You desperately wanted things to go back to normal after that weekend, but that ease you felt during your first month at Stanford never fully returned after Patrick’s visit. It’s been a couple weeks since then and Patrick still plagued your thoughts. 

Whatever friendship that had formed between you and Art was quickly dying. You couldn’t even look at him without alarm bells in your head going: Walk away! Walk away! Patrick’s words echoed in your ears anytime you looked at him. The distance you had created between Art and Patrick was gone, and when you looked at Art you now could only see Patrick’s best friend staring back. You avoided being alone with him at all costs. 

Art: Want to grab breakfast together before class tomorrow? (sent 8:27 PM, 10/02/06)

You: I’ll let you know in the morning! (sent 8:28 PM, 10/02/06)

You’d probably lie about sleeping in or fake some illness to get out of that. 

“Is that Art?” Tashi asks from across the bed. You nod and lie, “Just a question about practice.” She nods in response, as she looks back at the homework both of you are working through together. Patrick may have destroyed your friendship with Art, butyour friendship with Tashi was fine.

Although it had become increasingly difficult to avoid the fact she was dating Patrick. After his visit, you could find traces of him all around her room. You can see the little note he left that she pinned to her bulletin board, and as you looked down at your book on the bed, it hit you that Patrick had slept on the bed you currently sit on. That he and Tashi probably had sex there. It makes you feel nauseous and aroused at the same time. You make a mental note to invite Tashi to your dorm room to study next time.  

Not to mention, that brief moment you thought something was going to happen between you and Patrick at the bar. The drunken embarrassment you felt at that moment, has turned into sober shame. If Patrick had tried to make a move, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn’t have stopped it. On the contrary, you probably would have enjoyed it and what type of person does that make you? Nothing had happened but this enough made you feel guilty. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t have many close friends, so far you were awful at being one. 

“You know he likes you, right?” Tashi says with a giggle and draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” is all you manage to say back, your mind still not fully present. “Art.” she says with another laugh. 

You’re reminded of the conversation you overheard between Art and Patrick behind the bar. It feels more like an alcohol induced hallucination than an actual memory. Even though you heard Art say it, you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that he liked you. You were hundred percent convinced he still liked Tashi. Always ready to spend time with her and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky. It was obvious he still liked her. There was the possibility he liked you both, but that felt improbable. Why would he like you both? At the end of the day, it didn’t even matter. You weren’t going to do anything about it. 

“Tashi he’s a friend,” you say with a little laugh, hoping that your answer is enough to drop the subject. It isn’t as she just lets out another laugh and goes “What? I'm right.” You sigh and say, “Have you forgotten about what happened in the hotel room?” Tashi rolls her eyes, and makes a dismissive hand wave, “That was months ago.” She doesn’t make any claim to deny that he’s into her, so even she’s aware of it. You just force a laugh in response, which causes Tashi to laugh too. Her laugh elicits an actual laugh from you, and you both sit there like that laughing for a moment. By the time you’re both done, it seems like the topic of Art is no longer on her mind, and you’re beyond grateful for that. 

----

You thought that would be the end of that topic, but the next day, as you walk outside the locker room after practice you hear Art and Tashi talking about it. The hallway is curved, but you’re close enough to hear and see them without being overtly visible. You’re sure if they looked in your direction and took a step or two, they’d be able to see you, but neither do.  

“I think you should just tell her,” Tashi says, Art just sighs looking to the side. “You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be, and now everything is all awkward. She can barely look at you during practice,” she adds on. “It’s a stupid distraction for both of you, just get over it.”

Art looks at Tashi and goes, “It’s way more complicated than that.” Tashi looks at him with her eyebrows slightly furrowed and an expression that says she doesn’t believe him, Art just adds on, “You weren’t there at the academy. You wouldn’t get it.” 

You feel your heart drop at those words. You need to stop the conversation before it can go any further, so you don’t think twice about walking. You wave and Tashi sees you before she can respond.

“Let’s go eat?” you ask. 

Art nods and Tashi replies, “Sure.”

You smile in relief as you all walk to the dining hall in silence.

----

“You’re never going to talk about what happened at the academy are you?” Tashi says later that day as you both walk over to the cinema by campus. You decided to have a movie night, but as you look at her it’s clear that’s the last thing on her mind. You shrug as you continue to walk, “I told you already. It wasn’t fun.” Tashi nods and then says, “But something happened right?” You shrug in response and she looks in front again. For a brief moment you consider telling her everything. Why were you keeping it a secret in the first place? She gets a phone call. She pulls it out and you see it’s from Patrick. Oh right. That’s why. You look away and take a deep breath to maintain composure. 

Once you think your face has no emotion on it whatsoever, you look back and tell her, “You take it. I’ll go buy tickets.” She looks at you to check if you’re sure, and you nod. Tashi walks away and you force a little smile as she walks a few steps away to take the call. You stand by the ticket booth outside and get two tickets for the movie Tashi mentioned. You turn and look over to where she is talking on the phone to Patrick and it’s clear she has an unhappy expression on her face. Boredom? Annoyance? Something like a mix of the two. She huffs and you see her walking back towards you.

You offer a small smile and once she’s close enough you ask, “Everything alright?” She lets out a dry laugh and takes a ticket from your hand, She walks in and you follow alongside her, as she says “Patrick called to complain…again.” You feel your stomach do a flip and it’s clear that she has more to say. It’s utterly pathetic how curious you feel. You remain silent as she continues. “He lost another match today.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I don’t even know why he calls to tell me this shit, anytime I try to offer him something constructive he starts acting like I’m being a bitch.” Her voice shows she is annoyed, you nod in response. “It’s like he doesn’t even care,” she says and you’re unsure if she’s talking about Patrick’s attitude towards tennis or her.

“Sorry,” you say softly to make her feel better. She just sighs, shaking her head, “Don’t apologize” She then smiles looking at you, “Anyway, you actually take my advice.” True. Tashi always had pointers. Small things she’d notice you thought you could improve. You knew you weren’t a perfect player, but compared to the insults you got from your classmates during your time at the academy, her comments were actual feedback. And ones that paid off. Even your coaches know you’ve been playing better. You’re not surprised Patrick wasn’t listening. Never the one to see his own faults. You could understand why Tashi was annoyed. 

You smile back in response to her with a little shrug. “Too bad you’re going to be a star player. You would have made one hell of a coach,” you joke to lighten the mood and change the subject. Tashi laughs too and then sighs, “Anyway he just called for that and to say he’s coming in two week for a visit,” she says as you both walk into where the movie is playing. You’re grateful the darkness of the room makes it near impossible for her to see your face because you can feel your face drop at her words. 

----

You’re a tennis player, you’re allowed to look at ATP rankings, you remind yourself as you sit in front of the computer in the library. After the night at the movies a couple days ago, your thoughts about Patrick became debilitating. Just thinking about the fact that he’d be back on campus so soon made you feel dizzy to think about. 

You originally came to the library to use the computer to search up some facts about an author. It was research for an essay you have to write for your literature of the twentieth century class. Even as you tried to focus on the information in front of you, your mind went back to Patrick. So here you were, scrolling down the list of players on the ATP rankings website to find his name. Your eyes dart around you a little bit, as if to check no one can see. What is wrong with you? You were acting like a child. It takes you sometime, but you finally find Patrick’s stats. He’s low in the rankings, which was somewhat expected considering he just started going on tour, but like Tashi said he was losing games. 

“Hey,” you hear from behind you. You nearly jump as you close the ATP tab and turn around to see Art standing behind you. Why were you even surprised at this point? “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a small, yet forced smile, as his eyes dart from in between the screen to you. Did he see the ATP tab you just closed out? You force a little laugh, “I should buy you a bell for your birthday.” It’s a joke and he lets out a little laugh, as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits down. 

“So…” you start. He must have finally realized that the only way to talk to you alone, was by sneaking up on you. And well now you were effectively trapped, so you had to hear whatever he desperately wanted to say. You had a feeling it had to do about his supposed feelings for you, but you just wanted to get this over with. Patrick’s words repeat in your head and you do your best to keep a straight face. 

Art looks at you and shrugs, “I wanted to talk about…” You just blink as he is unable to finish his sentence. He sighs and then says, “I know why it’s awkward between us.” You brace yourself with a little nod. “It’s because of the bullying.” 

You look at him blank for a moment. His answer confuses you, mostly because he never actually did anything to you. He was a bystander at best. Before you can respond he continues. “It’s been weird ever since Patrick came, and honestly it makes sense,” he pauses. “I guess it must have brought up some bad memories.” Well it did bring up memories. Some bad (him destroying your possessions, the names he teased you with) and some good (him eating you out, riding him in the back of his car). All intense. You just nod in response, curious to where this is going. “I know…I should have done more back.” 

“You didn’t–” you start but are cut off before you finish. “No, don't try to brush it off,” he says. “Patrick is my best friend, but he was an asshole to you. I’m sorry I never said anything to stop it.” You look at him for a little moment. An apology was the last thing you expected right now. You don’t even know how to respond. Luckily you don’t have to, you see his lips part slightly and you realize he isn’t done. In a small, vulnerable voice he adds, “If I could back and change things. I would.” He pauses and then adds,”It just…can be hard to say no to him.” Now that you understood, more than you could ever let Art know. “Yeah…Yeah I get that.” you whisper with a little nod. You both sit in the silence for a library for a moment, a sense of mutual understanding forming between both of you.  

He’s the first to break the silence by saying your name in the same quiet voice “Honestly, I really like you.” The conversation has headed in the direction you originally expected, except after everything he said before you feel too tired to discuss this now. You don’t want to talk about this now. “Art…” you start, with your voice trailing off. “I like you,” he says again, “I just never acted on it because of well…you know.” You just stare at him, looking to the side and then back at him. “But Tashi?” you ask in a small voice. It’s not like you really care about his feelings for Tashi. That’s the most logical part of all of this, but you feel the need to ask anyway. Pure curiosity more than anything else. “I liked Tashi,” he says slowly, but his voice falters slightly when he says liked. As if he couldn’t decide between using the present or the past tense. He continues, “but I like you. I have since junior year.” You hate how your mind instantly goes to Patrick, but how could it not? That was when your relationship with him started. Art has liked you since then too? 

“I was thinking I could take you out?” he asks. No No No NO, a voice in your brain says. You shift in your seat, and it’s clear that Art has picked up on some discomfort. “Like dinner or a movie,” he adds. You look at him. You remember what Patrick said and take a deep breath as you try to think of the nicest way to let him down. Art’s jaw ticks at this and he then sighs. “If you don’t want to go out with me because you don’t like me, that’s fine. But please don’t say no because of the past,” he then says looking at you. Before you can respond, he stands up and with a shrug says, “Just think about it.” He walks away, and you turn back to the computer screen open to an article on the works of Laurence Durrell. You exit out of it as you gather your things. This paper was now the least of your worries. 

----

Since you got back to your dorm from the library, you’ve been laying down on your bed staring at the ceiling. Patrick’s voice remains in your head, but so does Art’s. Don’t say no because of the past. Isn’t that what you were doing? The entirety of your time at the academy was dictated by Patrick in one way or another. Maybe it was just a habit at this point to let him do so, but Patrick wasn’t here and the academy was the past. You had no reason to do what he said. Regardles, for some reason going out with Art still felt like a betrayal. Naturally, going against what Patrick said to do would be a betrayal to him, but this felt like a betrayal to yourself. It was a new feeling. Never once did you feel it with Patrick, but shouldn't sleeping with your bully feellike a bigger betrayal to yourself than going on a date with a bystander to it? 

You reach for the phone on your side table. You slowly type out the message on your small flip phone, and then click send. 

You: So when do you want to go out? (sent 9:10 PM, 10/05/06)

He responds after a minute. 

Art: How does tomorrow night sound? (sent 9:11 PM, 10/05/06)

----

“I don’t understand what you have against the sequels,” Art says with a laugh as you walk down the dorm hallway. You both had decided to get dinner together. It was easy to talk to him and it felt like you were transported back to those first couple weeks at Stanford before Patrick’s visit when there was no awkwardness between you two. You were anxious about the date. With Patrick, everytime you met up it was about hooking up, nothing more, so this was your first ever actual date. Now that it’s done, and you both walk back to your dorm rooms, you can’t ever remember why you felt like it wouldn’t go well. Art is sweet. Art likes you. It all went fine. 

“I have nothing against them,” you respond, “I just prefer the original Star Wars movies.” You say as you reach the door to his dorm room. Art stands beside you as he shrugs. “Okay fair,” he says with a smile. He swallows and then looks at his dorm and then yours. Your dorm is in a different building, but you wanted to walk with Art to his anyway because it was first on the route back. “Do you want to come inside?” he asks, looking intently. You look at him without saying anything for a moment, as you register the look. His expression asks: Do you want to have sex? 

You couldn’t deny that Art was handsome. With his smile and golden curls, he looked like what you’d imagine if Prince Charming walked out of a fairy tale and decided he wanted to play tennis. The betrayed feeling from earlier gnaws at you, but you decide to nod with a small smile anyway. The last time you had sex was with Patrick the day before you graduated from the academy in the back of his car. That was months ago. You needed a release. 

Art smiles as he reaches for the key to open the door to his room. He unlocks it and opens the door for you. You walk in and take a look around the dorm room you’ve already been in plenty of times. When you hear the door close around, you turn around to face Art, whose lips automatically come down on yours. His tongue snakes his way into your mouth, but the kiss is still gentle. Much more gentle than anything with Patrick. You move your hands to his shoulders to push Patrick out of your brain and focus on Art in the present. You feel his hands reach down to the buttons of your blouse as you continue to kiss, removing one by one, and then pushing it off to the floor. He pulls away and takes a look at you in the lace bra, with a smile and a lustful gaze. You smile back, as he pulls off his shirt and reaches down to unzip his jeans. You follow his lead and unzip yours as well, before slowly kicking them off. Then your hands move to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor. 

He smiles at the sight and leans in to kiss you again. While still kissing, you both stumble backwards over to the bed, you falling down on it and he on top of you. He pulls away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue circled one of your nipples, and you gasped at the wet and pleasant sensation. You felt your hands move to his hair as he continued doing so, gently tugging on it as you rocked your core against his groin. Only the thin cloth of your panties and his boxers remained as a barrier between the both of you. He groaned at the sensation. You felt the vibration of it briefly on your breast, but he soon pulled away and started trailing down even lower. 

He kissed down your body murmuring how pretty you were, until he was stationed between your legs. He looked up at you, and you looked down at him with half lidded eyes. He sat on his knees then as he reached to pull down your panties. He tosses them to the side of the bed, and once again he gets back in between your legs. You feel him plant kisses against your core. You whine at the sensation, enough touch to tease, but not to really please you. Hearing your want, Art’s tongue darts out in between your folds, which quickly turn your whines into moans. You felt his tongue encircle your clit, and a finger tease your cunt. While he started out slow, his pace picked up. Always maintaining a steady rhythm. Each movement of his tongue felt controlled and deliberate, a stark contrast to the messy way Patrick would eat you out. The minute the thought comes into your head. You force your eyes open to look down at Art, to ground yourself in the moment. You see his gaze is already on you, and as you make eye contact, he slowly starts to speed up. He pushes another finger inside you and you gasp. HIs free hand is splayed on your thigh, holding it down. All together, these draw out your orgasm.  

As you feel the vibrations through your body, he slowly pulls himself up and plants another kiss against your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you gently again. “I want you,” he murmurs against your lips, “so badly right now.” You smile at him and whisper back, “okay.” He smiles at your words and sits up as he reaches to the corner table, “I should have a condom in here.” You nod as he pulls open the drawer and finds one. He puts it to the side as he pulls down his boxers and you take a moment just to look at him naked. He rips open the condom packet and you watch him pull it over his cock. It’s the same shade as the rest of his skin, with his tip a subtle pink shade, a little bit longer but not as thick as…You turn your head to the side to prevent yourself from finishing the comparison. Focus on Art, you tell yourself.

The minute it’s on he climbs over you again, and you lay back down. He aligns himself with you, and slowly pushes himself in. He goes inch by inch, and you can feel himself throb even through the condom barrier. Once he is bottomed out, he puts his hands on the side of your head, and he starts to thrust. Just like when he ate you out, he moves at a steady pace, slow at first but slowly picking up speed. You feel the comparison forming in your head, and you bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from making it. You bite down so hard that you taste blood. Art takes this as a sign you want to be kissed, and you feel his lips come down on you again. Although his movements remain gentle, he’s big enough that you still feel it completely. You kiss as he continues to thrust. “God..” he grunts head going up, “You’re so fucking tight.” He says as he continues to thrust, speed picking up again once more. You moan at the feeling. “G..Gonna turn you around,” he says, and you nod as he feels your hand move you from laying down on your back to laying down your stomach. He feels even deeper now, and you feel yourself get closer. 

That’s when you see it. Your eyes are half lidded, but open enough to see the picture of Art and Patrick on the bedside table. You squint at it to get a better look, as Art continues to thrust into you with heavy pants. You feel your breathing get shallower as your eyes focus in on the picture. It looks like it’s from after they won the doubles championship at the junior open. Your eyes lock in on Patrick smiling for the snap, and that’s what pushes yourself over the edge. You feel yourself clench and then your orgasm hits you. You close your eyes as you feel it wash over you. Art pushes into you a couple more times and then lets out a grunts as he cums as well. You feel him pull out and fall beside where you lie on the bed. When your eyes finally open again you look again at the picture of both boys and sigh.  

----

You probably should have stopped sleeping with Art after that first time, but the sex provided an outlet for all your anxious energy, and that just made your life easier. You met up in the evenings after practice and pretty much always in his dorm (for reasons you do not want to acknowledge). He took you out a couple times too, but there was no label for the relationship. The only person who knew about what was going on between the two of you was Tashi, who you told after the first time it happened.

“You two should just start going out with each other,” she told you one day as you grabbed lunch. “You guys go on dates and sleep together anyway.” You shrugged her off. He tried to bring it up once in bed too, but you ended the conversation by going down on him. You liked this weird gray area both of you were in. It felt comfortable. It felt safe. 

----

You sit on the bleachers picking at the skin by your cuticles. With all the time you were spending with Art, the two weeks snuck up on you. Patrick was back. Tashi went into the locker room to change, so it’s just you watching Art and Patrick casually playing a match on the court in front of you. He was supposed to arrive in the evening, not in the afternoon. You had been dreading his visit since the moment you found out, so you planned in advance. After practice, you were going to tell Art and Tashi you had another paper for your literary seminar, and lock yourself in your dorm for the rest of the weekend before Patrick even showed up. Of course this plan was ruined when Patrick showed up in the afternoon, right in the middle of the practice. Now here you are, counting the moments till you could leave while Patrick and Art played. 

You feel your fingers sting where you picked at the skin, as you hear Patrick call your name. “C’mon one game? For old times sake.” His tone was mocking, as if he was trying to provoke you. You looked up at him as he walked towards where you sat on the bench, but said nothing. His eyes dart down to the picked skin on your finger. He grimaces at the sight, but says nothing. Quickly bringing a smirk back onto his face as he looked at you. “What? I’ve been told you’re good,” Patrick asks in the same mocking tone. Your ranking among college girls tennis players had gone up, which you knew was more than he could say about his ATP ranking. You just shrug in response. “So what, you're not going to play me?” he then asks. 

“Seriously? Practice just ended. Let us have a break,” Art says in a not so subtle attempt to get Patrick to stop. He then offers you a smile.You’re not sure if it's a “Please forgive my asshole friend” smile or a “I’m glad I could stand up for you smile,” but either way you return it with a small smile of your own. Patrick notices, his eyes narrowing slightly and then returning to normal, before telling Art, “You just played with me.” He turns back to you and goes, “C’mon” 

He has a shit eating grin on his face and you want to smack it off him, but as you feel all three of them look at you, you realize you’ve been silent this whole time. You  just shrug, standing up with your racket. “Sure,” you say as you walk over to the court. His grin grows wider. It makes you wonder if this is a mistake. 

You serve the ball, and he hits it. You run and hit it back. He does as well. The ball goes back and forth between the both of you, neither of you missing it. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but it’s definitely sometime before it stops. You hit it to the corner of the court and before he can run to it, it bounces out. He lets out a sharp exhale as he watches it go. 

“I’m gonna serve now,” he says to you, as he takes a ball. He looks at you as he gets ready to do his signature, unique serve, and just smirks. The minute you see it, you once again feel like this is a mistake. The feeling only intensifies when he serves and you miss the ball. He grabs another tennis ball and does it again. You miss. Your eyes dart to where Art watches by the bench and then at Patrick. Feeling more warm all of a sudden. Once more he serves. Again, Miss. You’re not sure how long this goes on for, but when he goes, “Sure you’re a tennis player?” you want nothing more than to get out of there. You walk straight to the bench and pick up your bag. Art looks at you, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, but you speak first. “I have a paper I need to finish.” It’s all you say before walking away from the court back in the direction of your dorm room. 

You can hear the sound of Patrick laughing behind you, and you bite down on your jaw to prevent yourself from crying as you walk away. 

----

You lay down in bed, your eyes still red and puffy. You broke down on the way back, but thankfully far enough from the courts that neither Art or Patrick could see. The crying didn’t stop when you got back to your dorm. Or after your shower. While it wasn’t pouring out of you anymore, tears would come back at random intervals.

While you weren’t actively crying at the moment, it felt like anything could bring the tears back. Your mind drifts back to his afternoon. Of course Patric chose to humiliate you, what else would he have done? You’re shaken out of your thoughts from someone banging on your door. Loud, forceful, and impatient bangs. You slowly sat up in bed, and looked over to it. Another thud. It was too forceful to be either Tashi or Art. Really, there was only one person who’d be this forceful. He was the last person you wanted to see, so you just stared at it. How did Patrick even find your dorm? Maybe if you waited long enough, he’d just leave. You sat for another minute, but the bangs just got louder. He wasn’t leaving and you realized if he kept banging you’re the one who was going to get a noise complaint. You sniffle one more time and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, as you walk over to the door. More thuds. You sigh and take one deep exhale, as you open the door.

Patrick is standing there with a scowl and furrowed brows. The minute he realizes the door opened, he pushes himself in and lets the door close behind him. “You’re fucking Art?” His voice is angry and although it comes out like a question, it’s clear he knows the answer. You realize Art must have told him about the two of you. You just stare up in silence, and this causes Patrick to scoff. “What part about our conversation last time made you think it was okay to suck his dick?” His voice is sarcastic and angry, as he takes another step towards you. He smells of a combination of sweat, cologne, and cigarettes. “Answer the question.” 

“Get out of my room.” you say in a small voice. Patrick lets out a humorless laugh. “Answer the question,” he repeats. You look at him and feel tears well up again in your eyes. Wasn’t it enough that he humiliated you earlier today? Couldn’t he just leave you alone now? “Why do you care,” you retort with a sniffle. Once again he laughs. “Why do I care? Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I turn my back for two minutes and you’re on my best friend’s dick,” he says it a bit louder and he’s so close that his nose bumps yours when he says it.

Your eyebrows furrow. His tone was angry and sarcastic, but above all it made it seem like you were doing something wrong. Something inside of you snaps at this. Your tone is a bit louder and more upset when you say, “So what?” Patrick laughs looking to the side, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. “I’m sorry that your best friend is into me” your voice taking a sarcastic tone. “But that’s not my fault. And I don’t know why you’re so upset about it, but grow the up and leave me the fuck alone.” He huffs and bites, “You know why I’m upset.” You bring your face closer to his, “Really? From where I’m standing, you’re just being an ass.” The tears which formed in your eyes roll down your cheek, and in an angry voice begins,“I told you to–” 

“You do not get to tell me what to do!” you exclaim before he can even finish that statement. You swallow, as he just looks at you now slightly stunned at the outburst. “You do not get to tell me what to do,” you repeat in a still angry yet less loud tone. Both of you just stand there, and unsure what else to do, you decide to push him. Your hands go to his chest and then push him back. It’s a childish gesture, and you’re not exactly sure why you did it. Even he looks stunned at the sudden action. Once again you push him. And again. You do it until his back is up against the door of your dorm. You’re breathing much more heavily now and both of you are just staring at each other. Your hands raise up and you keep hitting him on the chest. For a brief moment it feels like you’re transported back to junior year in the locker room before winter break as you just punch his chest. That feeling only grows when you suddenly feel his lips against yours. 

It's desperate and messy, but undoubtedly mutual. His tongue licks into your mouth as your hands go to the back of his neck. His hands grab your hips and spin you around, so now your back is against the door. You already know he’s hard, but you fully feel it as he grinds his erection against your core and you moan into his mouth in response. “Fuck” he mutters as his lips move from yours to your neck. You feel his teeth scratch against the skin there, but not enough to leave a mark. Whenever you slept together, he never left marks anywhere visible. His hands move to the underside of your thighs and he pins you up against the door. Your legs instinctively wrap against his waist, and once again he grinds against you, eliciting another moan from both of you. You feel his tongue lick up your cheek, and it takes you a second to realize he is licking up your tears. One of his hands moves up to paw at your tits over the tank you have on and you moan at the sensation. You feel your hands go down to his jeans zipper, and he lets out a chuckle at this, then his lips come crashing down against yours again. 

Too lost in the kiss, it takes you a moment to realize he is moving you somewhere, but you soon realize he is carrying you away from the door. Soon you’re thrown onto the bed. His hands go to the zipper you somewhat removed, and he kicks off his jeans. He then goes to take his shirt. You take this as a sign to get naked as well. You kick off your shorts and pull off your tank. Without a bra on and already aroused, your nipples pebble instantly once exposed. Patrick licks his bottom lip and removes his boxers, the last bit of clothing he has on. You take in the sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, as he crawls on top of you and presses another desperate kiss. His lips part from yours as he whispers, “No one else will make you feel like this.” Before you can respond, you gasp as you feel his hand knead your breast again. Now fully exposed you feel him pinch your nipple. He moves down with his tongue licking over the little bud he just pinched, replacing the jolt of pleasurable pain with just pure pleasure. 

He gets back on his knees and grips the base of his cock, aligning himself with you. He pushes just the tip in. Close but not enough. You whine at the sensation. “What?” he asks with a smirll. He moves slightly as if he is going to fully pull out. “Please” you whine.  “Please what?” He says, “You gotta use your words.” You whine again and he laughs, and you manage to say “fuck me..please.” He smiles again but doesn’t move. “Who’s the only person that can make you feel this way?” he asks. You look at him and breathlessly say, “you.” He smiles before pushing in fully, muttering, “Fuck I’ve missed this.”  

----

From the time you met Patrick, you were sure he was going to hell when he died. Now you were fairly certain you’d also be down there with him. After you both fucked, Patrick left your dorm saying nothing. He put on his clothes and gave you one last look. You both locked eyes and for a moment, you were sure he was going to say something to you, but instead he just let out a deep exhale and walked out. You assumed he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You felt a knot of guilt in your stomach, so was relieved he left in silence. Sometime after that, you fell asleep in the soiled sheets surrounded by his scent and his cum dripping out of you.

When you woke up the next morning, you sent a message to both Tashi and Art saying you were sick and needed to rest. Along with the fact Patrick was on campus, you knew this lie would guarantee that you’d be left alone for the rest of the weekend. Which was all you wanted. The knot in your stomach grew when you thought about either of them. You tried to occupy yourself in your room by showering, doing work, and reading, but your mind kept drifting back to Patrick. Even once you changed the bedsheets, you felt as if his scent lingered in your dorm. By Saturday night, you felt incapable of thinking about anything besides him and what had happened the night before. 

As you laid in bed, you reached over to your phone to check the messages you had been ignoring all day. You had one from your mom just checking up on you, which you quickly responded by saying fine, and messages from Tashi and Art asking how you’re feeling. Both of which you ignored. Then you saw the message from Patrick. 

Patrick: You’re still on birth control right? (sent 3:02 PM, 10/16/06)

It was sent a couple hours ago. You assumed some delayed sense of post-nut clarity must have reminded him that you both fucked raw last night. 

You: Yes. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: Okay good. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)

After a minute or so, you got another message from Patrick. 

Patrick: Art said you were feeling sick. (sent 8:59 PM, 10/16/06)

You should have ignored the message, but you found yourself responding before you could stop yourself. 

You: Yes? (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: Like for real? Or because… (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)

Your eyes rolled at the screen. 

You: What do you think? (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)

Patrick: ;) (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)

You read his response and sigh. You put your phone back down on the bed stand table and force yourself to sleep. 

----

Although you originally planned to just hideaway for the weekend, you still felt miserable by the time Monday rolled around. You decided to play into the whole sickness thing, and isolate yourself for the next couple days. But by the time Thursday rolled around, you realized you had to get back to your life. You forced yourself to go to practice.

It had been a couple days since Patrick left the campus, but you still felt as if he could jump up from any corner. By the time you got to the courts, you saw Tashi was already playing and Art was watching her with an adoring smile. 

You walked over slowly to where he was standing, and he noticed your presence once you were standing next to him. “Hey, Feeling better?” he asks, looking at you. You drop the bag full of your tennis equipment to your feet, and look up at him. The knot in your stomachreturns in full force and you just shrug in response. He nods in response, and you both turn back to look over at Tashi who is playing. 

____

“I was thinking that if we win the championships this spring, it would be the perfect time to go pro,” Tashi says as she looks across the dining hall table where you both eat. After the events of Patrick’s last visit, there was a noticeable change in the air. While you knew this was because you fucked her boyfriend, she didn’t. You found reasons to hang out with her less because of it. Always making up some essay that needed to be finished. You felt grateful that when you did spend time with Tashi, she chose to talk about tennis. Although, you couldn’t deny the increased focus on your possible future in professional tennis was draining in its own way. “What do you think?” she asks. 

You shrug in response. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you respond. Tashi lets out a little laugh, raising an eyebrow, “You’re ready.” You shrug as you pick up a piece of fruit with your fork. “No really. You’re ready,” she repeats as if trying to drive the point. “You’re already in the top ten in college rankings, and if you win a couple more games, you would break into the top 5.” 

You nod slowly in response as you munch on the fruit. “Yeah…but there’s more to it,” you say with a shrug. Tashi’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “I don’t have the money for that type of life,” you say. You’re not wrong, it’s not like you’d be able to afford to be on the road or pay a coach to help you train. Tashi shrugs, “You should get a sponsorship.” Her tone is casual, as if it’s the easiest thing there is. You’re not necessarily surprised by how nonchalant she is. She has an Adidas sponsorship already and considering how brilliant of a player she is, it probably was not her only offer. You just let out a laugh in response. “What?” Tashi starts again, “You’re a good player. You're cute. And you have a motivating story. You could easily get a sponsorship.” 

You let out another small laugh, shaking your head and saying, “I think you think my story is way more motivating than it actually is.” Now Tashi laughs, “Everyone loves an underdog, and with everything that happened to you at the academy–”

You cut her off, “What?” Something about her words make you uneasy. She knows, you think. Tashi looks at you as if she’s been caught, “Well Art…said some people were really awful to you at the academy.” 

Art? Art was telling her these things. He said some people? So he didn’t mention Patrick? What else did he mention? Before you can properly start to spiral about those thoughts, you sense someone behind you. Of course, it’s Art. He sits down in the seat next to you, puts his plate on the table. “What are you guys talking about?” he asks as his hand rests on your thigh. Ever since you started sleeping together, he’s been more open with touching you. Both in private and public. You feel slightly queasy when he does, but say nothing. 

 “Going pro,” you respond quickly to move the subject of the conversation back to the original focus. You hear Art make a hum sound in response and both he and Tashi slip into a conversation about professional tennis.

You take a sip of your gatorade, as you just watch the two of them, not at all paying attention to the conversation. Art was talking about your time at the academy with Tashi, but why? Did she bring it up? Or did he? What reason could he have to talk about it with her? You’re lost in thought when you see Art turn and give you a small smile. You give him one back. 

-----

Patrick: I can’t believe you’re still sleeping with Art. (sent 4:08 PM, 10/28/06)

You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm, going over some of your annotations on a short story for class, when you get the message. It’s your first message from him in a couple of weeks. After the text conversation you had the Saturday he was last on campus, he sent nothing else. You reasoned that whatever happened during the visit wouldn’t happen again, and used that to ease the knot of guilt you felt whenever you thought about what happened. You won’t let it happen again. It’s almost ironic that just as you feel yourself moving past it again, he texts you.   

You: I don’t know what you’re talking about. (sent 4:10 PM, 10/28/06)

You are aware that you should have ended things with Art a long time ago. After Patrick’s visit, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep with Art. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to put a definite end to things with him. So while you hadn’t slept with him in sometime, you were still with Art. Your relationship remained in that little gray area you both created, just now without the sex. 

Patrick: Yeah sure. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)

Patrick: Art told me. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)

Your mind drifts back to when Tashi said Art told her about your time at the academy. Looks like he was talking about you to Patrick too, albeit for completely different reasons. If Patrick thinks you’re still sleeping with Art, then what exactly did Art say? You did not have the time to focus on this. You sigh as you put your phone down. You need to focus on your work, you tell yourself. 

It’s only a couple minutes until you hear your phone ring, you pick it up to see it’s a call from Patrick. You let it ring for a minute before picking it up. 

“You never responded to my message,” he says immediately. “I’m busy,” you say looking back at the book. Why did you even take this call? “Doing what?” he asks. “So at university you’re given work to do,” you say sarcastically, which just causes him to laugh on the other end. “Yeah okay smartass. Is it like an essay? Homework?” 

You roll your eyes. “No just going over notes” He laughs in response and you expect him to make fun of you. “Going over notes is not work,” he says. “Yes they are,” you say with a groan and eye roll. “No, you just choose to do it. Even when you don’t have to,” he says and you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice. “I care about my grades.” As if to remind you he says. “You’re there on a tennis scholarship.” You roll your eyes again, “Well I want to do well.” He lets out a chuckle, “I know. You were like this back then too.” There is a slight pause between the both of you, as you remember the time at the academy. He then adds on, “You’ll do fine anyway.” 

You’re not exactly sure how to respond to that. Another moment of silence between both sides. You break it by asking, “Why’d you call?” 

“Well I wanted to have phone sex but all this talk about school has made me soft,” he says with a laugh. You wouldn’t put that motive below him, but you can tell from his tone that it’s a joke. After a moment he goes, “I mean, but if you’re up to it–” 

You cut him off. “Bye Patrick.” You roll your eyes and hang up. 

----

Patrick: I miss your tight fucking cunt so much. (sent 3:02 AM, 11/02/06)

Patrick: I’m throbbing just thinking of it. (sent 3:03 AM, 11/02/06)

After that phone call, Patrick began texting you more regularly. These types of messages were the least surprising. Late at night and overtly sexual. You were pretty sure he was drunk sending them too. This is what you expected from him. You always refrained from answering them. You could not control what Patrick said or did and you were beginning to highly doubt that he felt any guilt about any of this. But you did. And you could control your own actions. 

Although, you responded to his other messages. For every sexual conversation he tried having with you, he started three normal ones. He asked questions about your life and told you things about his. Even back when you were hooking up at the academy he never texted you this much, and especially not about these things. 

Patrick: You know I think I had a cousin who studied English too (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)

You: Really? (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Yeah. I think she is a professor now (sent 11:23 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: You’re seriously thinking about majoring in English? (sent 11:24 AM, 11/07/06)

You: Yeah. What about it? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Why tho? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)

You: It’s fun. I like to read. (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)

Patrick: Nerd (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)

While many of the messages have a teasing edge to it, it never felt humiliating. It was like he wanted to make you laugh (and he did). The constant back and forth made it feel like new territory, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t like it. It was undoubtedly fun to talk to him like this. Every once in a while, he would also bring up Art in these conversations. Although his earlier anger at the relationship, now has seemed to fade into curiosity. 

Patrick: I just don’t understand you’re relationship with him. (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

You: your* (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: What? (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)

You: Patrick it's your not you're (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: Whatever (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)

Patrick: What do you two even do together? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)

You: Why do you care? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about him and Tashi. You had a feeling that he was glad about this. Regardless of what happened, she was still his girlfriend and your friend. Even if she came up in conversation, neither of you mentioned her by name.

Patrick: She said she’s thinking about going pro if you guys win the championship. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)

You: Yeah she told me too. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)

Patrick: How about you? (sent 10:49 PM, 11/18/06)

You: I don’t know if I want to. (sent 10:50 PM, 11/18/06)

You stared at the message before clicking send. It was your first time directly admitting the fact that you didn’t know what part tennis would play in the future.

Patrick: Seriously? (sent 10:51 PM, 11/18/06)

You: Honestly, I don’t see the point. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)

Patrick: You’ve always been a great player. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)

You don’t know how to respond to that message. You just stare at it. He once broke your racket and left you a note to say that replacing it would be a waste of your parent’s money because of how bad you were. And now he is saying you’ve always been a great player? You see another message pop back up. 

Patrick: And I don’t think your English degree is going to be a great fall back. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)

That was easier to respond to. 

You: Fuck you. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)

----

“Everything okay?” Art asks as he stops walking and turns to look at you. You, Tashi, and Art were all walking together to the tennis courts. Both of them were a little ahead of you lost in conversation, while you trailed behind on your phone. Patrick had told you something about his last match. You drop your phone into your pocket and nod in response. Suddenly, it’s weight in your pocket felt like a rock dragging you down. 

By the time November rolled around, your workload increased and you were grateful for that. It meant more of a reason to stay in your dorm. You were only really seeing Art and Tashi at practice and games now. You now no longer asked to do homework with her and found excuses to avoid going out with him. Although, you doubt they were disappointed, considering the both of them started to spend more time together. 

“Yeah, yeah,” all good, as you take a couple steps to walk beside them. 

----

Patrick: I’m coming to visit Stanford this weekend. (sent 10:01 AM, 11/25/06)

----

Considering Patrick’s visit you thought you’d spend the entire weekend in your dorm again. While you were still texting him, you didn’t want a repeat of last time. It was okay to talk, but nothing else. The only way to avoid anything from happening was to stay in your dorm, but when Tashi saw your ranking in the college girls tennis circuit list move up to fourth, she insisted on going out. So here you were at a frat party. Thankfully, it was Saturday and Patrick would leave on Sunday. You were able to avoid him up until you all had to meet up to go to the party.  

While he seemed friendly over text, the first thing he said when he saw you was, “Looks like someone is taking the whole Cinderella thing too seriously.” Not his worst jab, but still said in a tone that felt humilating. Art had just shot him a look and Tashi rolled her eyes. You said nothing in response to him and remained silent on the rest of the walk to the frat house. Now here you were at the Frat party, in some corner of the house, trying to bide the time with some drink until you felt it was appropriate to run back to your dorm. 

“You look nice,” you hear a voice say next to you. You take a sip from your red solo cup and turn to see a random frat guy, leaning in to talk to you. You just smile in response, hoping the conversation will end. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he continues. While you enjoyed drinking, you weren’t a fan of how claustrophobic frat parties felt. “Uh well,” you say with a little shrug. Although there was nothing remotely entertaining about it, he laughs and leans in and asks, “So...you here with someone?” 

Before you have the chance to respond, you hear, “With her friends. Who is looking for her right now” You turn to see Patrick standing behind you, looking at the frat guy. “C’mon,” he says as he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere away from the corner you were just in.

You follow him without saying anything else. It’s clear he isn’t taking you to Art or Tashi, as you wander down a dimly lit hallway. You look around to see if anyone can see you, but you’re both alone. This hall may be the only empty place in the entire frat house. He pushes open a door and pulls you in, he smirks at you, and you realize he’s taken you to some bathroom. You look at it, and place your drink down on the side of the counter. 

“You look really nice,” he says looking at you. A complete 180 from earlier, but what else is new? You look down at the dress, as if you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “I’ve never seen you wear that before.” His fingers move to play with the slight lace on the hem of the dress. He smells of cheap alcohol and kool-aid, but you can still faintly smell his cologne. 

“It’s new,” you say looking at him. He steps closer, his hands still on the lace, and you feel your heartbeat pick up, and thighs clench. You’re sure he notices. He doesn’t make a comment on it, as he nods. “The lace is nice.” He says looking back up at you. You lean your back against the sink counter, and you slowly feel his hands push the hem of your dress up. You should smack his hands away, but you don’t. 

He holds the dress up by your hips, as he looks down at the lace of your panties. “I like that lace too,” he says as he lets one finger touch it. His hands move underneath your thighs and lifts you onto the sink counter. He leans down to kiss you, but not for long as he slowly starts trailing kisses down your body. His hands move to your hips, where the dress is pooled up, to hold down the fabric and hold you. He kisses down on your abdomen, you arch into his touch. 

By the time his head is in between your legs, and he looks at the lace of your panties. “You always get wet quick,” he says with a smirk as he sees the little wet spot on them. You whimper, as you feel him lick you over your panties. He chuckles right into your core as you do. He gives you one more tortuous lick over your panties, before pulling them down and putting his tongue where you really want it. His hands are splayed on your thighs to keep you open. “God you taste amazing,” he mutters against your folds as his tongue continues to eat you out. It’s all messy as he spreads his saliva with your arousal and the sound of his tongue against your dripping cunt is obscene. His nose bumps into your clit, which elicits more moans from you. You’re barely on the counter, but his hands hold you in place. You feel his tongue slip down to your other hole, and you shiver, but he quickly moves back up to your cunt. You feel yourself rock against his face. “You’re so desperate,” he chuckles again, “Slut.” His tongue moves a little faster, and your orgasm follows through. 

Before you can let the intense pleasure sink in, he is pulling you off the sink counter, and is spinning you around. Your hands grip the sides of the counter, as his hands go to your waist, you feel him rock his erection against you as he groans. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans and the shuffle of the denim as he pulls it down. “Look at you little tennis star,” he says as he pulls down his boxers. “Bent over a bathroom sink for me.” His words send a jolt of arousal down your body, you feel his erection press into your skin. “Fourth is impressive tho,” he whispers against your ear, “I should fuck you with my racket. Maybe your luck will rub off on it,” You feel his tongue dart out and lick the lobe, and you again feel yourself aroused at his words. He pushes your dress up a little bit, and you can feel him guide his cock to your cunt. “Look in the mirror,” he whispers to you. Your eyes look at the reflection of both of you. He smirks from behind you, as he pushes into you. You both moan simultaneously. You feel grateful no one is around, because you’re sure you both could be heard through the door. You feel your eyes go half lidded as he continues to pound into you. “No,” he says with a grunt. One of his hands moves to your neck while the other remains on your lap. His hand presses down into your neck to hold in place. “Watch,” he commands, and your eyes return to the reflection of you both in the mirror. You can see he is watching too, as he continues to hold down on your neck. “I’m..” you feel yourself start to say, but his hand on your throat makes it too hard to speak. “I know..” he grunts, as he continues, “Me too.” He goes a little faster, and with one long grunt, you feel him spill into you. He is panting now, but he continues to thrust until you clench around him and come. You feel slightly light headed as it rips through you, and grip onto the side of the counter as you close your eyes to. His hand moves from your neck and you feel his head rest on the counter on top of yours. His finger softly rubs where you last picked the skin from it. 

After a moment of just standing like that, he slowly moves to kneel beside you. You think he is about to do something else, but you feel him pull up your panties as he stands up. He pulls your dress down, and takes a deep breath before going to pull up his own boxers and pants. Feeling much more grounded, you open your eyes and see him looking at you in the mirror, biting the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” he asks. You nod in response, unsure why he is asking. You can see he has a pensive expression on his face, as he bites down on the side of his lip. "I'm fine," you affirm, out loud this time. Then he slowly nods, as he presses a tender kiss against the back of your neck. “I’ll see you,” he says as he walks out. You slowly pull away from leaning on the counter, but say nothing as you just look at yourself in the mirror. 

When you finally decide to walk out, you walk straight back to your dorm. 

----

Patrick: How are your classes? (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)

Patrick: I used the right your this time :D (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)

----

Tashi: How is prepping going for finals? (sent 8:12 AM, 12/06/06)

You: Fine. Busy tho. (sent 2:03 PM, 12/06/06)

----

Patrick: Read anything good lately? (sent 2:38, 12/10/06)

Patrick: Or has finals taken up all your time? (sent 2:38 PM, 12/10/06)

----

Art: Can you come over? I want to talk. (sent 6:40 PM, 12/16/06)

You: Maybe later? I have an exam tomorrow morning.(sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)

Art: It’s important. I’ll be quick. (sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)

You: Oh okay. Give me ten min (sent 7:15 PM, 12/16/06)

----

“So…” Art starts, as you sit down next to him on the bed. You had spent the past couple weeks isolated in your dorm studying. And while finals season was keeping you busy, it was just an excuse to avoid Art and Tashi. After Patrick fucked you at the party, it was impossible to ignore the sense of guilt for your behavior. You didn’t deserve to have Art or Tashi in your life. You were awful. You wanted to avoid all three of them at all costs, and were grateful for the fact that finals gave you a reason to. 

Art sits down next to you and you both just look at each other for a moment. 

You knew this was about your relationship with him. Or well lack thereof. Without a label, without the sex, and now without seeing him, it wasn’t much of a relationship. You wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't deal with the guilt you felt by just being near him.

“I guess it’s over,” he says in a quiet voice. You nod in response. You have nothing to say as you reach over to give him a hug. Just as quickly as it started, you found it was over. 

----

Patrick: Art said he ended things with you. (sent 6:39 PM, 12/20/06)

----

Patrick: Are you ignoring me? (sent 12:47 AM, 12/21/06)

----

Patrick: ??? (sent 2:32 PM, 12/21/06)

----

Mom: Have you finished packing? (sent 10:02 PM, 12/23/06)

You: Almost (sent 10:03 PM, 12/23/06)

A lie. You were currently sitting on the floor of your dorm room, with two open, empty suitcases in front of you. You felt exhausted just thinking about packing, but it was only the twenty third and your flight was on Christmas morning. You figured you had plenty of time to pack. No need to stress your mom out about it.

As you stand up and walk over to your closet to grab some clothes to pack, you hear a knock on the door. It was quick and hurried. The semester technically ended yesterday and nearly everyone had already left. You look at the door, and when you hear another knock, you just assume it’s your RA telling you he was leaving for break.

When you open the door, you’re instead greeted with Patrick just standing there. “Patrick?” you asked surprised, “Wha–” 

He cuts you off, as he steps into the dorm, “You were ignoring me.” He says it as if that explains everything. “So you just decided to show up at my door,” you ask with a slight scoff. He shrugs. “I wanted to talk,” he says. You sigh, as you walk back to the closet, and open it. He seriously could not have been this dense to not realize why you were avoiding him. “If this is about what happened–” 

Now it’s your turn to cut him off. “Of course it is,” you snap back with a scoff. You move to kneel down by the suitcases as you put it in there. He exhales, running a hand through his hair and says, “Why are you acting like this?” You roll your eyes and sarcastically say, “I wonder why.” He sighs and just watches you pack. 

An awkward silence overtakes the room, and you take a deep exhale. “How did you even know I was still here anyway?” you ask to get rid of the quiet. “You always leave Christmas morning,” he says with a shrug. He sits down on the floor across from you, as he looks at your suitcases. Your brows furrow, “Shouldn’t you be home for the holidays too?” His eyes dart up to you, and he shrugs again, “Well I don’t celebrate Christmas.” It’s a skillful deflection of the question but you decide to press, “Well yeah I know that.” You remembered how everyone desperately wanted an invite to his Bar Mitzvah back at the academy (you of course were not invited). “But still,” you say as you wait for his response. 

He looks at you, and his face is much more serious now. “Uh..” he starts, “Well my parents are still pretty pissed I decided to not go to college.” Oh. You didn’t know that. He bites on the inside of his cheek, and you decide to change the subject. 

“Well you’re right, my flight is on Christmas morning,” you say as you stand up and walk back to the closet. He nods from where he is sitting on the floor. As you grab some clothes you add, “But I haven’t been able to pack because of finals.” 

“Need help?” he asks. You turn and look at him. His hands are stretched out towards you and you realize he’s asking to take the clothes. You slowly hand it to him, with a raised eyebrow, “You sure?” He just nods as he places the clothes into your suitcase. “You know these suitcases are pretty old, right?” he says to tease you. And you roll your eyes as you grab more clothes to hand him. 

An hour later, you both have finished packing. Taking his help was definitely the smart move, as you knew it would have taken at least another hour to finish up on your own. “Finally done,” you say as you lay down on the rug next to your bed. You feel exhausted and let out a yawn. Patrick is still moving some things around in the suitcase. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?” you say with another yawn, still laying down on the rug.

He lets out a laugh, “Well I have to do it on tour.” He continues to move things from one suitcase to another. He says something about distributing the weight, but you don’t catch it as you feel yourself drift off to sleep. 

----

When you wake up the next day, you find yourself in your bed. You sit up and look around. The clock on the wall says it’s noon, and your suitcases have been closed, put up right, and rolled to the corner of the dorm. You feel a pang of disappointment at the fact that you’re all alone, but push it down as you move to dangle your legs off the bed. You move to get up, but as you press your foot down you don’t find the fuzzy texture of your rug. You find Patrick. 

“Watch it,” he says groggily, as you look down on him. He rolls from his side to his back to look up at you. “You slept on the floor?” you ask him. “No, I’m laying down here for fun,” he says back sarcastically with a sleepy grin. You roll your eyes as you stand up, carefully avoiding him. “Thanks for moving me to the bed,” you say as you look at him. “Mhm,” he murmurs as he slowly sits up, “Don’t mention it.” 

You nod, and feel your stomach slightly rumble. “I’m gonna freshen up and go grab us something to eat from the vending machine,” you say with a nod. He raises an eyebrow, “The vending machine?” You shrug. The dining halls on campus would have already closed for break and you doubted there would be much open considering it was Christmas Eve. “Any Chinese places nearby?” he asks with a shrug. You know one and nod. “We’ll go there. I can drive,” he says. “Okay...” you say your voice trailing off as you walk to the bathroom. “Wait,” he says and you turn around and face him. “I’m kinda turned on by you stepping on me,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes as you turn around and walk into the bathroom. 

----

An hour later, both of you were sitting across from each other at a table in a small Chinese restaurant waiting for your food. Somehow the conversation on the way turned to the fact that you didn’t have a license.

“So what, you take the bus everywhere?” he asks with a laugh. You nod and now he laughs “You can’t be serious.” You roll your eyes, but before you can let out some snarky retort, you feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your dad.

Dad: Make sure you set an alarm to wake up for your flight tomorrow. You probably want to leave the dorm by 6. (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)

You: Got it :) (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)

“Everything all good?” Patrick asks, as your attention drifts to your phone from the conversation you both were having. “Yeah, my dad just reminded me to set an alarm for tomorrow,” you say with a small nod. He nods in response as well. A moment of silence passes between the both of you. “They’ve always been like that. I remember,” he then says, eyes going to the side. “Been like what?” you ask, as you put your phone down in your lap. He shrugs. “You know,” he pauses to find the right word, “present.”

You look at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to it. You didn’t have to be a genius to see that Patrick wasn’t close to his parents, but his words said enough about how non-existent that relationship actually was. 

“I actually remember seeing them the first time I met you,” he suddenly says. “What?” you respond confused. The first time he met you was when he walked into class. You remember how he instantly sneered at you upon making eye contact. Your parents were nowhere in sight. “Okay well, first time I saw you,” he clarifies. Your brows furrow as he sighs. “They came to drop you off. They kept hugging you and saying how proud they were,” he says with a little hand motion and looks to the side as he does. 

You do remember that, but you didn’t know that Patrick saw that. Once again you’re unsure how to respond, but thankfully you don’t have to as the waiter walks over and places your dumplings and noodles on the table. “Thank god,” Patrick says as he grabs a pair of chopsticks. “I’m starving.”

----

You laugh in the car, as Patrick sings along off key to Mariah Carey on the radio. “You’re terrible,” you say with a laugh as you look over to him from your place in the passenger seat. He smirks, eyes still on the road. He then sarcastically says“What? I’m a great singer.” This causes you to laugh again, and he joins in. 

After that waiter placed your food, the conversation at the restaurant shifted back to more pleasant things. The food was great and now he was driving you both back to the dorm. 

“You know, you’re so much more fun when it’s just us,” he says once he is done laughing. “You’ve always been so quiet in public.” You can feel yourself involuntarily tense at his words. He wasn’t wrong. You were more reserved in public. A habit from your time at the academy. A habit from your time being bullied. Your quiet demeanor in public was his fault. And regardless of these moments between the two of you alone, nothing could change that. He must have had the same thought process, because he then goes, “Shit I didn’t–”

“It’s okay,” you quickly say to cut him off. “I know what you meant.” You turn up the volume on the radio to change the subject. He gets the hint, and neither of you say anything else on the way back. 

----

Both of you are sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes look around the room to check if there is anything you missed while packing. “I can drive you to the airport tomorrow” he suggests. “Honestly I don’t mind taking the bus,” you respond with a shrug as you turn back to him. His brows furrow and he sighs. “About earlier..” he says, his voice trailing off. You shake your head and say, “Just leave it Patrick.” He sighs more frustrated now, clearly unable to find the words he wants to say. He bites down on his bottom lip, and you register how close you’re both sitting. You decide you should move away, but he places his hand on your thigh to tell you to stay. 

His lips reach yours and he kisses you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. It's slower than usual. You feel his tongue explore every part of your mouth. As his hands pull off your sweater and push you back down onto the bed, everything feels a bit different. The way he kisses down your abdomen is still passionate, but not reckless. “You’re so beautiful,” you hear him mutter against your skin. There is no hurry in his actions, and his hands move across your body as if trying to memorize every detail. When his head finds his way in between your legs and pulls down your panties with your teeth, you can feel yourself shiver. He eats you out slowly, his tongue lapping through your folds and around your clit in a way that makes you shiver with each stroke. Your hands go to his hair, and you pull it gently. You can feel him moan against your core, and after a couple more moments of his tongue encircling your clit and protruding into your cunt, you come.

When he climbs back up over your body, he kisses you again. Soon you feel his cock push into you. His thrusts are long and slow. His forehead rests against yours, and you’re both holding eye contact. He tells you again you’re beautiful as he continues. You’re both panting and although it takes more time because of the pace, you both reach your orgasms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then rolls to lie down next to you.

Neither of you say anything, as you both just lay there looking up at the ceiling. This was new and neither of you know what to say about it. It’s dark outside now and then finally you hear Patrick whisper, “It’s been two years.” He doesn’t have to say what he’s talking about. Two years since the locker room in junior year. Two years since you guys began all of this. “Yeah…yeah it has,” you whisper back. Your head moves to the crook of his neck and his hand wraps around yours. The heat radiates off his body towards yours and you close your eyes. You’re unsure what time you fall asleep.

----

You’re grateful that you remembered to set the alarm as soon as you got back to the dorm yesterday. The clock goes off at six sharp and you wake up, quickly moving from Patrick’s hold on you to hit the off button. You look over beside you on the bed and see Patrick still asleep, although he must have sensed your movement because he shifts around. It’s the first time either of you have fallen asleep in the same bed. Your mind drifts back to the day before and to how you both ended up sleeping in the bed together. It feels as if some boundary has been crossed.

You slowly move to get dressed. You move on your tiptoes, as he moves again in his sleep. The last thing you want to do is wake him up. You want to leave. Go home. Forget any of this ever happened.

Once you’re ready to leave, you slowly push both suitcases on to the door, and look again at Patrick sleeping in your bed. You walk over to the desk and grab a sticky note and pen. You scribble down Lock up when you leave and place the spare key you’re suddenly beyond grateful you have right next to the note. You sigh as you take one last look at him, and then walk back over to the door to leave. 

----

He must have woken up shortly after you left, because you just get on the bus as you get a text from him. 

Patrick: Hope you have a good Christmas. (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)

You: Thanks (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)

----

You only heard from him once during break, on New Years. 

Patrick: Happy new years! (sent 12:00 AM 01/01/07)

You: Happy new years! (sent 12:01 AM 01/01/07)

You simultaneously loved and hated the silence. With no messages from him, it meant you didn’t have to confront what happened the night before you left. You could do your best to pretend nothing had happened. Although you found it impossible to do so. Your mind kept drifting back to that night, and thus equally hated how there was nothing you could do to find some concrete answers. You didn’t know what to expect from him after that. Or what it meant to him. You couldn’t even process what it meant to you. You’re left with an uneasy sense of deja vu, as you find yourself spending another winter break thinking only about you and Patrick.

----

If you were avoiding Art and Tashi before break, you had essentially ghosted them once you got back. As you returned to campus for the spring semester, you hoped Patrick would leave your mind. But without any answers to the questions you mulled throughout break, he remained at the forefront. This made it impossible to be around either of them. Not to mention, with your breakup – if you could even call it that – with Art, it was back to being awkward. 

You only saw them during tennis practice or games, always with an excuse handy to avoid spending any extra time together. Although, once again you sensed that they didn’t mind. During your first week back, after practice one day when you told Tashi you had to drop the film studies elective you both signed up for together, she just shrugged in response. “No worries,” she said casually. Art only made small talk with you before and after practice. If they missed your presence, they made no signs to show it.

In contrast, it started to seem as if Patrick was searching for it. Couple weeks after returning to school, he started texting you again. 

Patrick: You got back? (sent 5:43 PM, 01/29/07) You: Yeah. (sent 5:46 PM, 01/29/07)

Patrick: How is it? (sent 5:49 PM, 01/29/07)

You: Good. (sent 5:52 PM, 01/29/07)

He texted as if what happened before break was completely normal. The thought of addressing what happened made your stomach churn, but this was irritating. You were sure your annoyance was clear in your messages. 

You: Do you have my spare key? (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Shit. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: I think I lost it. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)

You: Good job. (sent 10:25 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Sorry (sent 10:26 AM, 02/04/07)

And slowly, you couldn’t find it in you to respond at all. 

Patrick: I was on campus this weekend and didn’t see you once. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)

Patrick: Art said you guys don’t really talk anymore. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)

----

Patrick: I doubt the Stanford English department gives their students this much work. (sent 4:23 PM, 02/08/07)

----

Patrick: I can't believe you're ignoring me again. (sent 8:56 PM, 02/12/07)

----

Patrick: What did you tell her??? (sent 10:56 AM, 02/16/07) Patrick: ??? (sent 1:02 PM, 02/16/07)

----

The day you get the email from Adidas is just a random Thursday in Feburary. At first you thought it was spam, but then you saw the words sponsorship in the subject line. You open the email, and your eyes glaze over. It’s a casual email, saying that they’ve seen you play and that if you were interested they would set up something more formal to discuss with you. It feels surreal and you just stare at the screen, expecting it to disappear when you blink.

If you took it, wouldn’t you have to go pro? You were still unsure if you wanted that. Time gave you no clarity on the subject.

You reread the email from Adidas. Adidas. The company Tashi has a sponsorship from. Suddenly you have a feeling about what happened.

----

You’re sitting next to Tashi on the bleachers. Neither of you are playing in today’s game, but Stanford tennis still insists on all players attending for support. You doubt Tashi minds this rule. She always gets into the game, mumbling little things about the players, regardless of who was playing. These moments were the only times you really talked anymore, it was now or nothing. You look at her and take a deep exhale, “I got an email from Adidas.” 

She turns and looks at you, her eyebrow raises but then she smiles, “Really?” You nod in response, “They want to give me a sponsorship.” Her smile just grows, but before she can have a chance to respond, you ask, “Did you tell them something?” 

“What?” she asks, looking at you. She lets out a scoff like laugh, but then realizes your expression is serious. “It’s not like Adidas is going to give you a sponsorship just because I asked them too.” 

“Yeah but you were–” she cuts you off. 

“Well I think you deserve one. Doesn’t mean I could get it for you,” she says with a shrug and head shake, as if to say what did you expect. 

“I just don’t understand how else they would–”

“You can’t be serious,” she says with a laugh. She looks at the game and then towards you. “You’re currently ranked fourth in women’s college tennis. Of course you’d be on their radar.” You just look at her blankly. Well when she put it like that it made some sense, but you still felt lost. She sighs and tilts her head, “It’s so tiring watching you try justifying these things.” Your eyebrows furrow and she continues. “You think you’re this awful player, but you’re not,” she pauses, “I mean I understand why tho. The academy really did a number on you.”

You feel yourself get a little more tense, as she brings this up. “Huh?” is all you can say. 

“Art told me. About the bullying. About Patrick…” she starts. Before you can even process the fact that Art told her everything, she continues. “It actually made a lot of sense. There was always something off between the two of you. At first I thought maybe you had a crush and that’s why you were avoiding me as well, but what Art said made a lot more sense considering your whole complex with Tennis.” Complex with tennis? What?

“I..well,” you start but are unable to find the words. She continues, “You are a good player tho. You deserve the sponsorship.” You just look at her and nod slowly again, she leans in and with a smile says “Congrats.” Both of you then turn to look back at the game, although it’s the last thing on your mind. 

----

Tashi’s words never left your head after that. Your headache only grew after that. Another thing to spend time pondering about. A complex with tennis? What did that even mean? You were also somewhat shocked that Art told her all of that, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. The only thing clear to you after the conversation, was the fact that your urge to avoid them all had grown. 

It’s around eleven pm and you were walking back from the library. Practice had become a little more intense as you got closer to the end of the season. Between that and the time you had to spend in class, you were staying up later to finish your work. It was all getting to you. Your life had become: class, tennis, work, class, tennis, work.  You had three more matches left: Pepperdine, UNC, and Purdue. Then the season would end and you wouldn’t have to worry about tennis until next year. The Adidas email was still unanswered. It was fine. You promised to get around to it eventually. 

As you walked on the sidewalk back to your dorm, you started to feel as if you weren’t alone. You turned around and saw a car a little behind you moving slowly. You turn back around without getting a proper look, and grip your backpack strap a little tighter as you decide to walk a little faster. The driver must have realized, because they too started to drive a bit faster. You start to run, but as you’re about to cross the road, the car swerves in front of you and stops. This time you do get a good look. You’d know this car anywhere. You feel frozen in place. 

“Get in the car,” Patrick says. His voice is more of an order than a question. You just stare at him. “Get in the car,” he repeats. You look around to see if anyone is there walking over and opening the passenger seat door. Everything happened so quickly, it feels disorientating. 

“What–” 

You’re not given the chance to finish the sentence as he spits out, “I can’t believe you’re ignoring me again. I thought we were over this.” You just look at him, as he starts to drive, you’re not exactly sure where. You open your mouth to ask, but then he says, “Yeah okay we fucked up. We have been fucking up. But you don’t just get to disappear.” 

You watch him, as he continues to drive. “I’ve been busy,” is all you say. He scoffs, “Too busy to respond to my message, but not too busy to tell Tashi about the academy, huh?” he says, leaning in again. Your brows furrow and you start to say “I never–”

He cuts you off once more, “Oh please, cut the crap.” He looks to the side and then to you, “I’m so fucking tired of this.” He is close enough that his nose is touching yours, “How convenient of you to leave out the part where we’ve been sleeping together? Can’t stand not being the victim?” His words aggravate you and you begin, “Patrick–”

He cuts you off again, “The poor scholarship kid. The poor bullied kid.” His tone is mocking and combined with the fact he hasn’t let you get one proper sentence in yet, you find your anger increasing. “I mean it looks like it got you places. Art said you got an Adidas sponsorship. Good for you,” he says with a scoff like laugh. Did Tashi tell Art about it? You shut down the thought. You don’t have the time for it right now. 

“Fuck you Patrick,” you bite back, and he laughs again. “Don’t you ever get tired of this? You have everything, and you still act like it’s nothing,” he snaps back. 

You scoff and suddenly the car is suffocating. You don’t know where you are, but you’re sure you could figure out how to get back, so you grab the car door to open and leave. Instantly, his hand comes down and clamps down on your arm. He holds you with a tight grip. 

“Let go of me,” you say, looking at him. “No,” he retorts back instantly. You try pulling from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. It doesn’t stop you from trying again. Once again he just says, “No.” You look at him with a laugh, and pull again, but he pulls your arm with enough force that your whole body moves closer to him. The hand you kept on the door handle is pulled away, and without thinking the hand goes to slap Patrick for pulling you. 

You weren’t thinking when you did it. It just happened. He just looks at you after the slap, equally surprised. The cheek you hit him on is slightly pinkish, although you didn't hit him hard enough to really hurt. Just enough to sting. His grip on your arm loosens, but you don’t move. You’ve been in this situation enough times to know what is going to happen next. And like every time before, you have no intention of stopping it. It’s no surprise when his lips come crashing down on yours. 

Your tongues clash, and your hands move to grip his shoulders. You can feel your nails digging into the muscle there. He moans in your mouth at the sensation, and you feel your arousal grow as he does. As if knowing, his hand goes to slip inside of your pants, gently touching you over the thin fabric of your panties. You whine against his lips at the sensation, and he chuckles. “Such a desperate slut,” he murmers, as he applies a bit more pressure with his fingers as he touches you. “Patrick,” you whimper again, he chuckles at it. You can feel his fingers push away your panties and you feel his middle finger dip into your cunt. It’s long and calloused as he thrusts it in and out of you. The position is insanely uncomfortable; you in the passenger seat, him reaching over the dash, but you’re too needy at this point to care. His thumb runs over your clit as his middle finger continues its motions. You think he is going to dip another finger in, when he suddenly stops. Something in the back of the car catching his eyes. 

“Remove the sweats,” he tells you, as he reaches his hand to the back seat to grab something. You do as he says, pulling it down to your ankles. Your panties are still pushed to the side, so you’re exposed. You lean back against the car door, as you see him pull out a tennis racket. You remember his words at the party, and you can see the brief moment of hesitation on your face. It’s so obscene but it just makes you even more aroused, you spread your legs a little more, and his hesitant look is replaced with a smirk. As your arousal drips onto the car seat, his hands reach out to touch your folds, and then he leans over the dash and spits right on your pussy, tennis racket still in hand. The next thing you feel is the handle of the tennis racket sliding into you with ease.

He moves it back and forth, as he watches. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, as his free hand moves to palm at his dick through his pants. His breathing is labored now. You squirm in the seat as he continues with the racket, your hand moves down to rub little circles over your clit to bring you over the edge faster. “I’m..cl..” your voice trails off before you can finish the sentence. “I know,” he says with a pant. “Let go for me,” and his words bring forth your orgasm as your head goes back against the window and you feel yourself let go.

He smiles as he sees you come undone. You look at him through half lidded eyes, deciding to give yourself a minute before you both continue, wanting to give him a hand or blow job to get him off. But as his eyes drift down to where the tennis racket is, he stares at it for a moment. The smile slowly falls off his face and his other hand moves away from his pants. He pulls the tennis racket out and you sit up. He turns to put the racket in the back again.

“I’ll drive you back,” is all he says after, not making eye contact as he does.

-----

Neither of you say anything afterwards. After what he said, you fixed your panties and pulled up your pants, and he started driving the car back in silence. His eyes are glued to the road, but you turn to look at him every couple minutes. He looks much more solemn, and you find yourself unable to break the silence. 

He stops at a red light, and you’re still looking at him as his eyes remain on the road. “I’m…You have every right not to text me,” he suddenly starts. “I don’t…You should probably stop texting me.” His voice is so defeated and small, it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man from ten minutes ago. He starts driving again, and you look out the window.

Wherever that parking lot was, it must not have been far from campus, because before you know it you can see your dorm building in the distance. “You should stop here,” you tell him quietly, not wanting to get too close to the building where someone may see you. He nods as he parks at the end of the road. You pick up your bag to leave, but from the side of your eye you see him face you again.

“Why..I can’t believe you let me do that shit to you,” he says. He is facing you in the passenger seat now, but is unable to look at you. You look at him, feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “Patrick…” you start, but your voice drifts off. You’re not sure why either. “You shouldn’t let me do that shit to you.” His voice is a bit louder and still upset. “God you should fucking hate me,” his eyes look back up to yours. And then in a softer voice he asks, “Why don’t you hate me?” 

He has a point. You have every reason to hate him. Sometimes what you feel is strong enough to be hatred, but you know whatever you feel for him isn’t hate. You look away from him towards your dorm building in the distance. There is no straight answer you can provide for him right now, so instead you quietly say, “I should get back.” 

He looks where you’re looking and nods with a sigh, saying “Okay…yeah.” 

You say nothing else as you get out of the car with your stuff. You have to fight the urge to look back at him as you walk to your dorm. 

----

Patrick: Won a couple matches I played with that racket. Maybe it really is lucky now. (sent 7:02 PM, 02/22/06)

Patrick: I hope you're doing well. (sent 7:10 PM, 02/22/06)

You never respond. He doesn’t send anything else. 

----

Adidas sent you a follow up email, considering you never responded to the first one. They said they wanted to give you the time to think, but they needed to hear something back. You don’t respond to this email either. 

----

The past couple weeks have been the most isolated you’ve been since your time at the academy. It was like you were fourteen again constantly tormented and with no friends. Except this time, the only thing tormenting you were your thoughts. You wanted to just disappear and avoid everything and everyone. You didn’t even have the energy to think about any of it. About Patrick and why you didn’t hate him. About your supposed complex with tennis. Even just remembering what happened over the past couple months was exhausting. 

You didn’t talk to anyone. Tashi no longer came up to you in the locker rooms or during practice and games. You didn’t know if she was giving you space after your conversation or if this marked the death of your friendship. This also to think about, even if you were relieved that it made it easier to avoid her presence. You also started to skip class more often. You knew you’d also be skipping practice and games if your scholarship wasn’t dependent on tennis. You’re almost free though. Today is the match against Pepperdine. Then two more, and the season would be done. 

You were walking back to your dorm room, when you see them through the dining hall window. Art and Patrick eating churros. You stand and stare at both of them for a moment. Somehow the sight takes you by surprise. You assumed that Patrick was still visiting campus, since he and Tashi were still together. And of course he was still friends with Art, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Patrick figured out if it was Art who told Tashi about everything that happened at the academy. 

You still hadn’t confronted Art about that. You still wanted to, but you still found yourself unable to talk to Art. Just like Tashi no longer talked to youi, he no longer seemed to talk to you. The small talk before and after practice, had now just been reduced to the occasional wave. Your eyes go to Patrick. Neither of you were texting anymore. Nor had he randomly showed up to talk to you, like the last two times. For once in your life, Patrick Zweig had actually left you alone. 

When both boys notice you're staring through the window, you lock eyes with both of them. Art’s expression is stoic, you couldn’t read it if you tried. Patrick looks slightly surprised and for a moment you think he is about to smile at you, but you don’t wait around to find out. You turn away and walk straight back to your dorm. 

----

There’s thirty minutes until the match. You’re dressed in your dorm so you wouldn’t have to bother with the locker room. You're ready to head out, when you hear a knock on your dorm door. You look at it for a minute. You swallow and hope it’s not Patrick, as you open the door. You’re flooded with both relief and disappointment that it’s Art. 

“Uh..hey,” you say, seeing him. He nods and gives you a small smile you can tell is forced. “I saw you today, so I thought I’d come over,” he says. The way he looks at you makes you feel as if he knows something. It’s obvious this is all a pretense to talk about something else. While you don’t know what, you know you don’t want to talk about it. As you move to let him walk into your dorm, you quickly say,  “I was actually about to head out for the game soon.”

He nods, “me too.” He then looks at you, and his lips part again as if he is about to speak. You have no idea what he is about to say, but you already want this conversation to be over. Without thinking, you speak first, “So Patrick is visiting for the game?” 

His lips close, clearly not expecting that. He nods and curtly says, “Tashi invited him.” While this is the same Art you’ve known for years, he suddenly feels much colder. His expression is stony and makes you want to shrink. It dawns on you that this must all be about Tashi. Maybe he was just trying to use what happened to you as a way to get her to break up with Patrick. The thought he would do so is upsetting, and without thinking, you say, “She told me what you said.” 

He nods and shrugs, “Well it came up one day.”

“Really?” your voice exposes the fact that you don’t believe it. 

He just shrugs in response and shakes his head yes as he does. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal.” 

“You don’t see why telling my friend about something like that wasn’t a big deal?” you ask back. 

“Are you really her friend anymore?” he asks, which stuns you into silence. He just lets out a little huff, and continues, “And she’s with Patrick. She should know about it.” You stare at him, unsure how to respond. “She should know what type of guy her boyfriend is,” he repeats. 

“Patrick is your best friend–”

“I know that,” he cuts you off quickly. This was the most impassioned thing he had said this whole time. “But I’m not going to pretend what he didn’t wasn’t awful.” Maybe it was a little more than just about Tashi. He looks at you for a moment, as if analyzing you, “Why do you?” You stare at him blankly, his voice is calm but cruel in a way that makes you want to scream. “Why do you brush it aside?” His voice sounds as if he is trying to imply something and you find yourself just standing there. “It’s like you’re trying to protect him”

“I’m not,” you say back in a quiet voice. He just shrugs in response, and looks to the side, as he looks like he is about to say something, but he then lets out a humorless laugh. Before you can ask why he did so, he says, “See you at the game.” He takes one last knowing look at you as he walks out of the room. 

----

You didn’t have the energy to leave after that. You laid down on your bed for a couple extra minutes, before you realized you would be late if you didn’t leave now. You grabbed your racket and water bottle and headed out to leave the dorm building. 

You walk out of the dorm and then the dorm building quickly, but not fast enough to miss the sight of Patrick sitting on the curb. You stop upon seeing him, and he must sense your presence because he turns and looks at you. His back straightens up a little more and you can see his eyes are red. He’s wearing what looks to be Tashi’s shirt, and the scent of weed drifts off him. 

He says your name as he scrambles to his feet. “I have to go,” you say, pointing with your racket in the direction of the game. You take a step backwards. You don’t have the time for this. You don’t have the energy for this. “She knows,” he suddenly says. 

You can feel your heart drop. “Tashi..she knows about...” He doesn't finish the sentence, but makes a motion between the both of you. 

He says something after that, but you’re unable to hear it. Your legs move without you processing the action, and the next thing you find is yourself running to the court where the game is. You can hear Patrick call after you, but he doesn’t follow. 

----

Tashi is by the bench, pulling out her racket from the case. You run over to her instantly, the moment she processes your presence she scoffs. 

“Tashi–”

She does not let you speak, looking at you with a cold expression. “I don’t know what fucked up dynamic you and Patrick have going on,” she starts, before leaning in slightly in a menacing way. “But keep it away from me.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It’s not like she would have heard anything you said anyway, the minute she is done speaking she walks away to the court. 

You watch her go, as you sink down onto the bench. The items in your hand falling down beside you. The game begins but you’re unable to focus. You just sit there, your fingers going back to picking the skin by your cuticles. You feel as if the ground is spinning and you want nothing to run back to your dorm. Your mind replays the moment with Tashi. The conversation with Art.  You hear Patrick’s voice ask why you don’t hate him replaying in your head, and you feel all the memories come rushing back. It’s as if floodgates have been opened and nothing can stop it from pouring out. You let yourself spiral as you feel your heart rate picked up.  

You probably would have been like that for the whole game, but then you hear it. 

Her scream. 

----

It’s all a blur after that. You look up and see Tashi on the ground clutching her knee. You don’t waste a moment before getting up and running to her side, but the minute you get down on your knees beside her, her expression becomes even more upset. 

“No!” she says clutching her knee looking at you. “Get away! Get the fuck away!” You just stare as you see her cry, as your coach comes down beside you to calm her down. You see Art run down from the stands, hopping over the net for her. As he moves her head on her lap, you make eye contact with him. 

His expression is worried, but also has something else you can’t place. You look back at him, and he looks away from your gaze down at Tashi. Then you realize what the other emotion is. Guilt. Suddenly, the conversation earlier made more sense. He knew. He knew about you and Patrick. He knew and he told her. Your mind races with questions, but you slowly get up realizing you’re only making Tashi more upset. You look at her one last time, before running to the bathroom for some privacy, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you do. 

----

You wipe your tears as you sit in the hallway of the campus' medical center . When you stepped out of the bathroom, you realized that they had already taken her off the court. You assumed she was either brought here or was already taken to the hospital. You couldn't care less about your game after everything, so you left for the medical center instantly. When you arrived, you saw a coach talking to one of the nurses and that confirmed she was here.

The medical center was small. A one floor building, so you knew she was just down the hall, but you couldn't bring yourself to go to her. Why would she want to see you? She hated you now. You were a few feet away, but you may as well have been miles away from her. You still couldn't bring yourself to leave. It was like watching a car crash. Awful. Crushing. Yet absorbing. You just sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, with your head leaning against the wall.

You hear hurried footsteps from the other end of the hallway, and you turn to see Patrick who nearly runs into the room. 

“Get out!” you hear Tashi say. You can tell he is trying to say something back, but then you hear Tashi say again to get out. While your position in the hallway prevents you from seeing anything, you can hear it clearly. 

“Get the fuck out Patrick!” Art’s voice booms. You just stare at the direction of the door, as you see Patrick walk out dejected. As he steps out he sees you sitting on the floor. Somehow the sight of you makes him look even sadder.

His eyes go down to the floor and he slowly begins walking down the hallway in your direction. You just watch him, as he comes over to you and then slumps down onto the floor next to you. He turns his head to look at you. You stare back in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” he then says quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.” 

You look at him with a small nod and respond, “I know.”

And when he leans in to hug you, you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him as well. Your mind goes blank and you let the enormity sink in. You can’t tell if it makes you feel empty or complete.

author's note: If you got this far, I love you <3 Let me know what you think!

[arc-misadventures]

Birdy Cheer Squad

Jaune: Alright, time for the championship match!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Why do I have to do this?!

Qrow: Because, you won the bet!

Summer: Yes, because you won the bet!

Jaune: Bet, what bet?! We never made any bet?!

Qrow: It was a bet made between me, Summer, and my sister.

Jaune: Involving me in some manner?

Qrow: Yep.

Summer: And, you made sure that we won the bet!

Qrow: Good job out there, Jaune!

Jaune: Less ass kissing, and more explaining! What was this bet?!

Summer: T-The bet was that if you could win the last bout on your own, you would fight in the championship!

Jaune: What kind of bet is that?!

Qrow: And, if Raven couldn't beat either of them she would have to take a forfeit!

Jaune: What forfeit?

Qrow: Uhh... Well, it was one that, Raven would hate.

Summer: But, one you would like!

Jaune: Your answers answer nothing...

Qrow: Just... go out there, and fight the championship bout, and you will see, Raven's forfeit.

Jaune: And, if I don't fight in this championship?

Summer: You don't get to see, Rae-Rae's forfeit, and you will regret it.

Jaune: Haa... Fine! Fine I will fight the championship... Only because of you two, and your horrible mistakes!

Summer: It was his fault with his stupid semblance!

Qrow: Like hell that was my fault! You're the one who's weapon misfired, and shot my foot!

Summer: And, you pulled me out of the ring, getting us both disqualified?!

Qrow: That's only because of your oversized cape!

Summer: It's a cloak, and don't you dare make fun of my cloak?!

Jaune: Haa... Why did, Ozpin make me in charge of this circus troupe...

~~~

Oobaleck: And welcome everyone to this, the championship match for the Vytal festival!

Port: That's right, Bart! This is the final match of the day, between, Beacon Academy's, first year student, the White Knight, Jaune Arc!

Jaune: Why the hell are they calling me a white knight?

Oobaleck: And, Haven Academy's forth year student, The Mad Dog, Gerald Bordaigo!

Jaune: Mad Dog? White Knight is a little bland... but, it ain't as cringe as Mad Dog...

Gerald: Hey, what did you say?!

Jaune: I said your nickname is cringe.

Gerald: You wanna fucking go kid!

Jaune: We're about to have a match so... Yes?

Gerald: Then let's do THISSSS!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Cringe...

Port: Alright then everyone! Let the match... BEGIN!

Jaune: Haa... Okay... let's...

: J-Janue!

Jaune: Huw, Raven what are you...?! What the hell are you wearing?!!

Raven:

Raven: G-GO JAUNE! Y-Y-YOU CAN DO IT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! WINNN!!!

Jaune: Gahh?!

Gerald: (Whistles~!) Damn~! And, that a smoking hot babe~! Hey is she yours blondie? Hey, if I win this I get the lady~! Don't worry, I'll treat her to a nice evening~!

Jaune: The fuck did you just say?!

Gerald: So, what do you say? Do we have a...!?

(Kr-crack!)

PO: OOOOOOHHHHH?!

Gerald: Ahhhhhh.....?!!?!

(Thud!)

Port: I think I speak for all the men here. But, that has gotta hurt!

Oobaleck: Even I flinched from that kick...

Jaune: You better stay the fuck away from my woman! No get up, and prepare for a beat down unlike any other you bastard!

Gerald: ...

Jaune: ...

Gerald: ...

Jaune: ...

(Kick, kick...)

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I think I killed him...

Port: It seems like, Mr. Bordaigo is unable to battle... Mr. Arc wins!

Oobaleck: Someone brings a stretcher for, Mr. Bordaigo... He's going to need it...

Jaune: Wait... I won?

Raven: Good job, Jaune! Come back here, and claim your reward~!

Jaune: Reward...?

Jaune: Can I go! I need to claim my reward! NOW!

~~~

Summer: THat worked...

Qrow: A little too well really...

Summer: Well, I need to get going, Jaune's getting his reward after all~!

Qrow: But, my sister is...?

Summer: I am also his reward! I would have join, Raven in her cheerleader outfit, but I didn't have one so I couldn't join her!

Qrow: O-Okay...

Summer: Good! Now wait for me my loves~!

Qrow: ...

Qrow: Bloody blondes... why does he get all the girls...?

///

Here's another one for you, @lar-mx

Link to ART

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Malleus Draconia - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

I've heard that thunder pealed through the skies on the day of my birth. Now, I wonder what will come tomorrow.

Summon: I have no strong feelings towards aging another year one way or the other... But it is nice to have more people reaching out than usual.

Groovification: Now, which lipstick would best suit the party? ...Heh, even this indecision is enjoyable.

Home: I never expected to be preparing to sleep at night.

Swap Looks: I must not forget to tend to my horns as well.

Home Transition 1: At Lilia's suggestion, I played a rather fascinating game at the birthday party. Everyone was given a piece of cardboard to punch holes in... I believe he called it bingo?

Home Transition 2: I received mouthwash from Clover, which was a nice reminder that I should continue to take care of my teeth in order to live a healthy life.

Home Transition 3: Despite everything, it seems that can better focus at night. Perhaps it would be beneficial if I used this time to attend astronomy class.

Home Transition - Login: In Briar Valley, there would be a stately ceremony held for my birthday every year. However, these smaller-sized parties aren't bad, neither.

Home Transition - Groovy: I've learned that humans risk poor skin health if they do not go to sleep in a timely manner. Schoenheit was sighing in woe, envious of us creatures of the night and our disposition.

Home Tap 1: Occasionally, I burn incense in my room. It is an aroma inspired by the deepest depths of a forest... Curiously enough, it brings to mind my home town.

Home Tap 2: Howl wished me a happy birthday as he passed me by. I'm not accustomed to people not stopping after they've called out to me.

Home Tap 3: After enrollment, I quickly had the pillow I was using in Briar Valley shipped in. I had completely forgotten that common pillows do not work well with me.

Home Tap 4: I must say, Felmier has rather good taste. I received a coaster embroidered with a fire-breathing dragon... I quite like it.

Home Tap 5: This cloak was made back in Briar Valley specifically for my use. It keeps cool in the summer and warm in the winter. I use it fondly.

Home Tap - Groovy: I'll have hundreds of birthdays, but only four while attending this academy. When put that way, I realize how short-lived my time here is.

Duo: [MALLEUS]: Not a bad gift, Schoenheit. [VIL]: Do be grateful, Malleus.

Birthday Login Message: A birthday card for me? Well then, I'll have to read it thoroughly when I return. At the moment, I was planning on heading out on an outing as part of the Gargoyle Studies Club activities. I am hoping to find some gargoyles in a ruin that I have never set foot in before. It would be a shame to lose the card there, wouldn't it? Sebek and Silver will be joining me on this excursion, and they were also carefully preparing what items and food they should bring along. I'm sure this trip will be much livelier than usual.

Requested by @kingren77 and @sakurakudo.

[damnfeelings09]

VALENTINE'S DAY COUNTDOWN

You're in love - Leon S. Kennedy x fem reader

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, love, love, love, stablished relationship, memories, cheesy stuff. Word count: Prompt: you and Leon have been together for 10 years, yet every day still feels like the first. One day while Leon’s not home you find your old diary and find yourself reliving your love story. Notes: The tears/shivers/emotions I felt while writing this I can't compare to anything. I loved this one so much I'm totally writting one for Shadow just like this. It makes me very happy to be able to express my feelings and “relive” them even if only in this way, hopefully someday I and everyone will find a person who loves us just like in the books, until then I will keep pouring my heart in my writing.

The summer heat was present in your home. The sunlight reflected colorful flashes as they hit the window. The floor was littered with boxes, some marked with “fragile” others with “Leon stuff” but your attention was on the box with your name on it. In it you had found your childhood stuffed animal, pictures of your family, a few unused stickers and an old notebook. You recognized it perfectly, there was no way you could forget that beautiful blue notebook with green hearts that had been with you for so long. Having a diary sounded childish, but for you it was important to keep your memories somewhere safe and if you ever wanted to relive them you could do it. For more than half an hour you had been rereading all your witticisms, the stale jokes you made with yourself, the desires and goals you had set for yourself when you got to college. Almost halfway through the journal you found a sheet of paper with your name and Leon's name on it with a big heart around it. Of course you knew where that drawing was from, you had drawn it the first time you had seen Leon, turning the page you found the entry for that day:

02/02/1998

The University of Illinois is really nice! I am so excited to leave for the summer. Mom says she's not ready for me to leave home but she's secretly happy for me. We visited some stores, museums, but the best part of the trip was going to the Italian restaurant Olio e Piú. Our waiter was sooooo cute. His name is Leon Scott Kennedy, he is 21 years old and just finished the police academy, he said that being a waiter was only temporary while he was waiting for the draft to know where he would be sent. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that on the bill was his number written. Of course I didn't waste a second and sent him a message on my way out of the restaurant. We are still here for 3 more days and he offered to show me around. I don't want to sound urgent but I think Ms. Kennedy sounds great.

You chuckled. Back then you were so love-struck and dreamy. Your younger self had so much faith in life, wanting to take it in hand, and besides, you were right about one thing, Ms. Kennedy sounded so good in you. You kept turning the pages until you found an important date, once again a heart adorned the page, this time only with Leon's name.

25/04/1998

I'm on my way to Ilinois again, I know, I know, you'll say I'm crazy, that we're going too fast because we've actually only been on 2 dates, but Leon and I text to each other every day. He understands me, laughs at my witticisms and I love his dad jokes. It may be soon but I would love for it to be him. I had to lie to my parents that I would be staying with my Aunt Sarah for the next 10 days, actually I will be staying with Leon, don't judge me, Aunt Sarah was the one who insisted on covering for me. I am very excited, Leon will pick me up at the bus station and take me to a special place. I'll tell you later how it went.

12:45 am

He asked me to be his girlfriend! There were candles, roses, strawberries and stars. I couldn't ask for anything more. I think I am in love with him.

At that moment you didn't really know what it meant to be in love, it wasn't just the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it wasn't just the happiness of having him close to you or the excitement you felt every time you kissed him. Love was something very complicated to understand, even more to explain. It was like an invisible force that attracted you to him, altering all your senses, making you addicted to that feeling, excited, but at the same time it managed to keep the other emotions at bay, you felt protected, comfortable, whole.

11/29/1998

We had a fight. Leon told me he had to report to his new job in Raccon City, today! Today of all days. He knew how important it was to me that he come to this party with me and he didn't care. Right now he must be on his way or whatever. Idiot

06/29/2001

Leon is working. It’s almost been a year since the last time we saw each other and I don't know how long I can go on enduring it. It is unfair that all this has happened, stupid pharmaceuticals and their greed. If it wasn't for them we would be together now living in an apartment in Raccon City. I feel bad, I miss him so much, I miss his kisses and his kind smile, but I can't tell him. The last time I saw him his expression had changed, his eyes didn't look friendly anymore, they turned cold, he looked calculating, as if he was waiting for something to happen. I can't judge him, he has been through a lot, only the gods know how he is still in one piece after the massacre he lived through. I'm happy he's still with me, but I keep wondering if he's still the same Leon I fell in love with.

The Raccon City incident had changed the jovial, awkward, fun-loving Leon into a distant, apathetic, dry one. He had confided in you all that had happened, or at least a little more than the government had allowed him to say. He had cried in your shoulder lamenting for those people he had been unable to save, trying to justify his every action as self-defense. You had listened to him, wiped away his tears, stroked his back as he let it all out. You had shown him that no matter what had happened you loved him unconditionally, you had even encouraged him to take the job offered to him by the U.S. government assuring him that you would wait for him and you did.

11/11/2004

He came back. Three days ago, as I opened the door to take out the garbage, Leon was there, with his travel bag in hand and a bandage covering half of his right shoulder. I know he said he would, but part of me didn't believe it. The state he's in, gods, you don't know how I regret encouraging him take this job. Sometimes he wakes up screaming babbling about “the plagues”, when that happens he reaches for my chest, lies on me and holds his ear close to my heart, he says it calms him. I'm just glad he's back home with me, I don't know how or how long it will take but I'll help him put all his pieces back together, I love him, I can't stand seeing him like this.

When he left for spain, the fear of not knowing anything about his where abouts for almost a month was unbearable, then one day he shows up on your door. Beaten, bruised, tired, haggard and thinner than the last time you saw him, but alive, yes a few cuts and his shoulder bandaged but he was there. You couldn't help but run into his arms, he catches you in the air, and then both fell to the grass as you filled his face with kisses. The following days you took care of him, his nightmares were recurrent but your touch always managed to bring him back to the real world. The necklace you had given him before he left, a locket with his favorite picture of you and the phrase “Love, always” engraved on it, always in place, just like you did with yours, a small reminder of the love between you two.

05/06/2006

I said yes.

I can't believe it really happened. Seven years ago I dreamed it as I watched him clean the tables and today that dream came true. I know we are not perfect, I know Leon's line of work will keep him away from me more than I would like to, but I can't imagine my life with anyone else. I chose him long before I knew what would happen and even if I did back then I would do it all over again.

Leon recreated our first date, rented a cabin in Georgia, brought a blanket, a basket with candles, wine, glasses and strawberries. We sat under the stars and when I least expected it he got down on one knee in front of me, told me that I was the woman of his dreams, that he couldn't live without me even if he tried, that I was the only good thing in his crappy world, that all he thought about when he fought those B.O.W's was that he was making the world a little safer for me and that it didn't matter how many zombies he had to take down as long as he came home to me.

Of course I said yes. No matter what, he's the one.

You closed the diary, hugging it tightly, trying to push those memories into your heart again. Yes, things had been difficult, complex, sometimes the cost had been high, the tears, the anger and the loneliness had been more constant than you wanted to admit, but you wouldn't change any of it because somehow, the little piece of heaven seeing Leon's smile every time he came home, his scent enveloping your senses as he took you in his arms, was enough.

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“Hey honey, what you doing?” Leon said, putting down the bags he was carrying in his hands and walking towards you “I see someone got distracted and forgot to unpack” he laughed kissing you.

“You've no idea” you smiled intertwining your hands behind his neck, kissing him once more.

[fandomnerd9602]

Grim Meetings

Wednesday Addams x Wick!Reader

Based on request by @blindedyogurt and @texaswolf23

Strange. Abnormal. Those are words that were used to describe you for most of your life.

From a young age you could take apart a gun and reassemble it from memory. You learned counting from firing and reloading a Pit Viper gun. You learned basic math from counting your father’s gold Continental coins.

Of course what else would you expect. Your father was the Baba Yaga. Jonathan Wick.

Your father, while a cold heartless hitman, did love you with every fiber of his being. He wanted the best for his child.

And so that’s what lead him to send you as a teen to the Nevermore Academy. He said that it would better for you to learn how to socialize among likeminded individuals and teens rather than spend all summer with Winston and Charon in the Continental.

He wanted more for you. He wanted you to be more than a next generation hit person like him.

And so that lead to you walking the halls of Nevermore with your Belgian Malinois, Dusk. You weren’t exactly the best at socialization. Most of the teens here were psychics or a type of monster of some sort.

Some were nice. Some not so nice. The last of those were a challenge to you. To try and not jab a pencil into their carotid artery and be done with them.

You found yourself sitting outside among the gloomy atmosphere, gently petting Dusk while thinking about the last time you saw your mother.

“Your dog seems deadly” a voice spoke up. So morbid was the tone, carrying with it the sound of death and woe. It was intriguing to you.

“Dusk is trained to rip an assassin’s neck out with a simple call” you explain as you move your eyes to whoever was showing such interest in your dog.

And then you found the source. Her hair was jet black. Her eyes were sunken in and held only a touch of light to them. One might’ve mistaken her for a corpse. And yet she was the most beautiful girl you had ever laid eyes on.

“Wednesday” she responds with a raised eyebrow. “Wednesday Addams”

“(Y/N)” you respond with your own raised brow, “Wick.”

“You’re not much for words” she adjusts herself a little. “I admire that”

“You carry an air of death and woe” you stand up, coming eye to eye with her, “I find that rather intriguing”

The faintest little smile made its way across her pale lips. She was going to enjoy being around you. And you had a feeling that she was the one.

Tags: @blindedyogurt @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @scarletquake-n7 @jacenradio7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @lifespectator @texaswolf23 @russianredassassin @revanshand