#and neither one are angsty!
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Age is but a Number (DPxDC)
Daniel Fenton was only thirteen months old when he took his first steps. Only fifteen months old when he said his first words. He was two years old when he uttered his first sentence.
Danny could walk back his whole timeline from the moment he opened his eyes into this world. Except, none of those moments counted. They held no true weight for Danny's life.
No, there were certain moments that mattered. That had a clear shift to his life. Not every moment, not every milestone mattered.
Danny was five years old when he first felt the sting of disappointment at his parents missing a school event. He was six years old when the lab door was closed in his face for the first time, but not the last time.
He was eight when his young mind realized who was the one raising him. The one feeding him, waking him up, getting him dressed, and dealing with his tantrums.
Danny was ten when he learned to love and hate his parents for the true first time. Seeing both the good and the bad in them, and still loving them despite it.
He was eleven when he watched his sister crack under the pressure. Stood teary-eyed in the doorframe of her bedroom as he watched her cry and sob. He was twelve when he got into his first real fight with his mother, hiding away at Tucker's place for a few nights.
Danny was fourteen years old when he stepped into his parents' portal. When he accidentally hit the on switch. When a combination of ectoplasm and electricity ruined his life.
He was only fourteen when he experienced death for himself. Felt his life force leave him, and flood him at the same time.
Danny was still only fourteen when his world changed. New powers and abilities appear out of thin air. When a crazed billionaire latched on to him. When Danny had taken the mantel of a hero without meaning to.
He was still just fourteen when his life was filled with constant fighting. Both ghostly and human. Things got more tense between Danny and his mother. School was a weight that Danny wasn't sure he could handle.
Danny was fifteen when he had an existential crisis. The weight of a looming crown he was meant to take on the moment he turned eighteen or died fully. Having witnessed timelines where his family was gone. Having recognized a pattern of repetition in a life that Danny didn't want.
He was still fifteen when he made an impulsive decision. It was stupid and rash. Something expected from an angsty teenage boy, and not from an heir to a throne and a town to protect.
There had been no big fight. No big showdown. His parents still didn't know his secret. Danny hadn't bothered telling Tucker, Sam, or Jazz about his great plan. One moment, Daniel Fenton was in Amity Park. The next moment, he was gone without a trace.
Danny is just a fifteen year old boy, perched on a hill miles away from home. He didn't know what he was doing or what he was going to do. He didn't even know what state he was in.
He had just flown through the sky, a bag of emergency supplies slung over his shoulder. Danny had no intentions of stopping. That was until he stumbled cross a state line, and felt it.
A strong sense of caring and love. A feeling that Danny could only compare to the love he felt from Jazz. There was a strangeness in the air, but also a feeling of home. It drew Danny in like a moth to a flame.
Danny was just fifteen, curled up on a damp hill. Staring up into the night sky, and wishing for things to be different.
Not completely different. He didn't want to get rid of Phantom. Didn't want his life to go back to how it had been. Danny wanted things to get better. He wanted to feel like a kid again, something he realized he hadn't felt in a long time. Despite Jazz's best efforts to shield him.
The first tear had left Danny before he even realized it. A shaking hand wiped the tear away, silently cursing at himself for being such a baby.
Except that wasn't the only tear. It was like a dam, he never knew was there, had broken. Tears streaked down Danny's cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. Choked muffled sounds quickly turned to harsh gasping sobs.
Danny was only fifteen when he finally broke. Curled up on a random hill in a random state in the middle of nowhere. A glowing young teenager whose glow only seemed to dull with each gut-wrenching sob. Yet the stars seemed to twinkle even brighter than ever on this countryside.
So lost in the whirlwind of emotions that Danny was too young to fully decipher, he never noticed the approaching vehicle. Didn't so much as flinch when it came to a stop near him.
Danny's pain radiated with each sound he made. With each tear that left his toxic eyes. There was seemingly no end to it all. Until a single voice managed to pierce through Danny's bubble.
"Oh, dear... It's just a boy. Quick, grab a blanket!"
A small, frail voice was all it took. A voice weathered with age, and a tremble to it. Danny's whole body froze, head lifting to look at the speaker.
Except his vision had been quickly covered for a brief moment as an old flannel blanket was suddenly wrapped around Danny's shoulders. It smelt of dirt, hay, and warmth.
A kind old woman quickly followed to take a seat beside the glowing teenager. A warm, loving smile on her lips as she brought a thermos to Danny. An equally old and warm man seemed to follow behind her.
Danny's sobbing had quieted as quickly as it had started. The teen was completely bewildered, stunned to silence. This old couple, the embodiment of the American dream, didn't so much as blink at the sight a glowing boy crying on their land.
She had called him a boy. She had called him a boy. Danny was just a boy to her. His hands trembled as he accepted the thermos, taking a drink from the still hot coco inside.
Danny's stunned silence must have spoken volumes. The old man had given out a chuckle, moving to stand beside his wife.
"Don't worry, bud. Our son is just as strange as you."
Danny was just fifteen years old when he stumbled onto the Kent farm. When John and Martha Kent stumbled upon a crying glowing boy. When a sweet old couple hadn't cowered in fear but instead embraced Danny. Offering kindness and comfort with no strings attached.
He was only fifteen when he found himself a new home. A new life. One where he didn't have to be anything more than a teenage trying his best. When his powers weren't needed, only appreciated. Never expected.
A life where a warm home-cooked meal and a mother's kiss seemed to greet him every morning and night. Where a father's touch seemed to linger in every tractor lesson, every game of catch, and every time Danny learned more about the farmer lifestyle.
Danny was fifteen when he found his family. When he met the equally kind son of an amazing couple. When he had someone willing to teach him how to handle his powers, but never expected him to.
But Danny was seventeen when his past came back. When a town and people he cared about, all came flooding back in. When the guilt and shame of abandoning them came flooding back in.
When his new picture, perfect life started to crumble around the edges. When he realized life never went well for a Fenton and Fenton-adjacent. The perfect safe bubble had to burst eventual.
And well, that's a story for another day.
#danny phantom#fandom things#fandom#multi fandom blog#danny fenton#phandom#fanfiction#dc x dp#dp x dc#superman#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#dc superman#clark kent#martha kent#jonathan kent#the kents#kent farm#danny escapes the pressure of his life and ends up at the Kent family farm#martha didn't think twice about taking care of the strange glowing boy#neither did jonathan#Clark essential becomes a mentor and big brother figure for Danny#I thought about ending this one on a high note#but I've been in an angsty mood#the fenton's aren't terrible parents#they just get too one track minded with their work#I live for Danny and Jazz lacking childhood experiences because of it#i like projecting so what? sue me.#this was not proof read
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Promise ╾ RieLiet
Rie and L have really different personalities and worldviews and fears and hopes and yet they are at the same time similar. A lot is said and a lot is unsaid between them.
★━━─・‥…━━━☆
Rie stumbles into the room and for a moment L thinks she's going to drop on the floor for another impromptu nap but she raises her head and points at him.
That is the first thing L notices. Soon after he notices a second thing, Rie's red face, and a third, her tears, and when she begins speaking he notices a fourth, her slurring of each word, and by then he's quite sure the woman is drunk.
"Oi, L!" she declares, still pointing at him.
"Ah. Yes, Rie?" the man enquires, finger stuck between his lips as he peers forward at her from his perch.
She sniffles and wipes her face with her sleeve, gestures wildly with bottle in hand. "L, you gotta promise me something. Hey? You gotta promise, right?" Between her tears and inebriated state, Rie sounds oddly like she has a cold – her words are quite difficult to make out, and perhaps she realises this, because she really is repeating herself a lot, L notes in something akin to alarm.
"Promise what, Miss Rie-san?"
"If you die," she tells him through snot and alcohol, "if you die you gotta wait for me, okay? You gotta promise me, L, you gotta -" she hiccups and drags her sleeve over her face again, misery pulling her lips into a pout. Rie sobs loudly, speaks through it. "'F you die and I don't you'll wait for me, right? You won't – follow no cats into the woods or – open the gates or whatever, you'll wait for me, right? You gotta promise, L!"
And she is crying so much and her drink is spilling on the carpet and L is a man equally hungry and thirsty, paralysed between food and water, between telling her he won't wait, he will, he doesn't know, he doesn't believe in the afterlife, what is wrong with you, Rie, shut up and go to bed, when Rie really does collapse, limbs akimbo on the floor.
Dead asleep.
L scoots his chair over and stares at her red, tear stained cheeks, then pulls a blanket from the couch to fall over her.
The man stares at Rie for a moment longer, then swivels his chair back to his computer.
He would not keep a promise.
★━━─・‥…━━━☆
𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜
writing and oc ©lawlietscaramels. Do not repost on other sites, claim as your own work, edit, rewrite or “fix,” feed to AI or otherwise use unethically.
#idk. this is kind of angsty but i will never stop imagining them their happy ending. something always goes wromg#but goddamnit. theyre my comfort ship and hell if i wont give them at least an au where neither dies where if one does#they stay to protect the other#watch over them until they pass too#and they will hold hands and walk onto whatever is beyond life and maybe they wont be happy but they will be together#they are everything to me#i love writing them#lei chats#death note#l lawliet#writing#lei writes#oc x canon#death note fanfic#death note oc#desunorie#angst#drabble#short read#quick read
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You know what I would love to see more of? Reincarnation AUs where the original piece of media is acknowledged. Like, “we were the characters in [whatever] in a past life” reincarnation AUs.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen this done, and that’s a shame. Depending on what direction you choose to take it in, this has untapped humour potential AND untapped angst potential!
“So you’re telling me that movie - ”
“BOOK! IT WAS A BOOK FIRST!”
“Right… that was our past life?”
“Yes! And I can’t believe I’m in love with someone who watched the film before reading the book!”
“…That’s… not too crazy, I guess… Wait, you’re in love with me?”
OR
“I remember everything and my boyfriend doesn’t, I’m so happy we found each other, but… what if he reads the book? What if he finds out what kind of person I was? How will he still be able to love me if he reads about what I did to him, about how much I hurt him and others, when he did nothing wrong and loved me unconditionally? What if he can’t? I love him so much, I wish I’d realised that in our past life…”
Why isn’t this more of a thing??
#reincarnation#reincarnation au#fanfic#and if you know me then you know the second one is#dasil#keeping it vague for my tumblr mutual and IRL friend who is reading the book because of me#Sam if you’re reading the tags then look away now! Spoilers ahead!#the paragraph from option 2 (the angsty one) is Dorian’s point of view#and of course he’s talking about the murder#and Basil has yet to remember his past life#alternatively: a funny twist#he DOES remember#they both remember and neither of them want to bring it up because they’re worried about upsetting each other#at some point one of them says something by accident and the other is like ‘‘YOU REMEMBER TOO??’’#the dialogue from option 1 isn’t anything specific#so it’s whatever you want
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It's my hot take that the most infuriatingly tragic part of the whole Artoria and Mordred dynamic is that Mordred was actually the perfect heir, one who could bridge the gap and be the leader Britain both needed and wanted, whereas Artoria could only ever be the former.
However, Artoria's perfectionism, the impossible standard that she held herself to, meant that she would judge even a perfect clone of herself as an unworthy heir. And Mordred isn't a perfect clone of Artoria, Mordred...is a flawed one. A version of Artoria who laughs loudly and rages louder, who wears their heart on their sleeve, whose love of battle is second only to their loyalty to their people. A version of Artoria who is, unlike the original, undeniably, unquestionably, human.
It's the perfect irony. Artoria's true heir is a homunculus who is more human than she ever seemed to be. A weapon forged with the sole purpose of destroying her that hardly needed convincing to swear undying loyalty to her kingdom and ideals. Every bit as brave, every bit as selfless, every bit a born leader (after all, the rebellion did not gather around Mordred out of nowhere) as their father. But also, not an inhuman machine, someone who could laugh and celebrate with their soldiers as much as lead them. One who could be seen to share in their people's anger and joy and grief and everything in between. Everything their father was, and everything their father didn't realize she needed to be, despite an origin and upbringing designed to create the exact opposite.
But because of Artoria's perfectionism, because she saw every bit of her own humanity as the thing that would destroy her country, instead of saving it. She could not understand that for all a king must exist for their people, a king must be of their people as well. Artoria looked her perfect successor in the face, she looked the solution to all her ever-growing problems in the face, she looked the embodiment of all the humanity she was trying to pretend she didn't have in the face,
and she said no.
And for that, Camelot burned.
#fate#saber#artoria pendragon#mordred#okay obviously this is a bit harsh on artoria's reasoning#like for all that it's partially true#the whole “homunculus rape baby” thing certainly didn't help#for all that it's neither of their faults#and mordred...definitely overreacted as well#but mo was like. chronologically 8 ish? and physically and mentally an angsty fuckin teenager.#and one who was absolutely starved for validation and love#so their tendency towards emotional overreaction was both a temporary and fixable problem#in other words this isn't “actually mordred's rebellion was completely justified and they can't be blamed” because it wasn't and they can#for all that it likely would have happened anyways under another banner at some point#it's “this was an eminently preventable outcome but unfortunately artoria is a worse father than toji fushiguro”
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Quite curious to why you thought that Ink's dads were a diservice to his character in the first place lmao
man I don't even knooooow???? (´;ω;`)
I think I was just really up my own ass and that 1) i forgot that my interpretation of ink isn't the popular one, and basically no one knew of him. and that 2) I forgot I didn't create him lol.......
I was like 'him having dads doesn't make sense cuz he's supposed to be lonely' and like. no man.... u didn't make him what do u mean 'supposed to'.......
probably also bcuz I was pretty salty that a selfcest ship (<- something that makes me MAD uncomfortable) was canon to my special interest, and coming across something that makes me mad when I'm just trying to enjoy my interest pissed me off (。ノω\。)
but honestly every other point I made was kinda stupid lmao..... like it was my first ever L........
#got into arguments with strangers over it. it was crazy.#I remember replying to each of them at like 4 am half awake barely knowing what I was typing.#but also like. it did rise an interesting point.#someone told me that ink's dads are actually important because they're the ones that made her love again.#and when I asked 'why the hell is he cured of his soullessness now???'#someone else told me that he didn't actually love them and apparently it was this super sad thing that he didn't love them back and...#it's SO exhausting. ink just CANNOT have a relationship with ANYBODY without the authors being like-#'but he can't love them!!!! isn't it sad that he can't love omg he can't feel love so angsty!!!!'#who CAAAAAARES if he doesn't love them back omg.... ink cares about those two old geezers enough to consider them his DADS.#but people just can't stop dragging around his 'condition' for cheap angst my gad.....#ink sans#🖍️#🖍️.txt#💌#it's kinda crazy that u never hear this 'he can't love them back' argument when he's being shipped with the new sans of the week 😗#but that's neither here nor there.....
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1000% true reason Ezra's hair got short for s3 is bc Chopper Base is a warmer climate than Lothal and Ezra's got that nice thick hair yknow so time to give himself an edgy teen undercut (or whatever emo vibe he's going for that reduces hair on his head) to get his scalp to breathe. and so he has sabine come do it. but sabine is a perfectionist and, more importnatly, an older sibling. so she messes up once and goes "fuck" and then shaves him bald and tells him to come back in 6 months to try again
#its true sabine told me herself#... tho i do suppose... if.#IF.#if you want the angsty route.#perhaps ezra had a little padawan braid tucked in his nice full head of hair. and perhaps.#perhaps one day when kanan has withdrawn inside himself--cutting himself off from the force and his family and his padawan. his KID.#perhaps when the sith holocron has gotten its wrap around ezra.#perhaps that day he gets so ANGRY. he takes his saber to his braid.#and he regrets it instantly.#guilt gets him so hard and so fast that he impulsively pcks up the cut and continues#and his head is all shaggy and he just sits in his room and cant bear to THINK about hmslf. much less look at what he has just done w hmslf#so he slides into sabines room in the middle of the night. and neither of them say anything. but she evens out his hair and lets him go#and the next morning nobody breathes a word to him about it.#and nobody knows what to say to kanan. so they just... don't.#ANYWAY YEA#okay bye#ezra bridger#sabine wren#star wars: rebels#jokeposting xoxo#or am i....
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Kate and Anthony’s first time scene in ‘The Viscount Who Loved Me’ hit my perfect sex scene trifecta - banter, angst and conversation.
#there was a few moments that were questionable as I’ve found in every Bridgerton book so far but it made me feel so much!#when Kate asked if Anthony was thinking of Edwina/ someone else it hurt so good#angsty sex scenes where things are said clearly after misunderstanding are the ones i remember forget#*forever#wow I’m just full of feelings#I love Kate. book Anthony is neither here nor there for me ( show Anthony is my second favourite male character after Colin)#kathony#bridgerton#the viscount who loved me
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*chants in increasing volume* ghost AU ghost AU GHOST AU GHOST AU
#dolphin noises#wips#I love me a good ghost AU 😭💜🎉😁#Timeline-wise I'm thinking maybe Cedric succeeding in his coup and Asbel arriving at the catacombs too late#Asbel passing right by ghost!Richard like a reversal of that iconic richass shot in the opening~#initially only Sophie can see his spirit due to her own enhanced capabilities#and Asbel can see him when they're all 3 holding hands a la Friendship Pact 💙💜💛#but ghost AUs are pretty much inherently tragic since someone's already dead#and if you play this one right you don't even need Lambda. One malevolent spirit is plenty 🙃#Asbel feels guilty for being unable to protect Richard in time but gets a chance to redeem himself this way#by helping Richard with his unfinished business that keeps him from moving on#Initially it's to ensure that his kingdom is not left in Cedric's hands (and maybe get a little revenge)#but Richard's own resentment twists him into wanting to take back EVERYTHING he's lost including things he simply can't get back#Richard's nature turns vampiric as he needs more and more eleth to sustain his continued half existence eventually targeting the valkines#And Asbel who had been so ready to give anything to help Richard realizes his beloved friend is crossing a line. people are getting hurt.#Thus the theme of the story shifts from 'protecting the will to live' to 'learning when to let go'#Poor Asbel having to learn this lesson first. That the best thing he can do for Richard is stop indulging his tainted wishes#and instead grieve together w him over what could have been then move on. It wasnt fair it wasnt kind but neither is what Richard's doing#it's basically the canon story except instead of saving richard and bringing him back it's saving richard and letting him go#it's angsty and bittersweet AF which is how you can tell it's PEAK dolphin AU 😅 themes of grief and loss and loneliness#helping someone who's lost themselves to obsessive love#'cause that's where Richard's anger comes from. the loss hurts so much because he cared so much. he wanted to fix the world then LIVE in it#dammit this is a half-baked idea and im already weeping 😭
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heya mick!! i hope ur doing alright! i know you recently got a dahlia from skullgirls request and i hope you don't mind if i request one too D:
could i request a black dahlia (skullgirls) with a female significant other? like some angst? like dahlia cheats on the reader with someone else?
im sorry tho, you don't gotta do this if you don't want to, im just a sucker for angst😭😭
But, you'd always leave me behind.
More requests, ILY :3 had to do this during exam night but don't care cause ANGGSSTTTT Black Dahlia X fem reader _______________________________________________
"It's not cheating, love. I'm only there for their body- I love you wholeheartedly, swear my beautiful girl." Those words, shitty lies of an experienced phony. Yet, her voice felt so comforting and warm behind that mask you're already used to. If just for one more second, she could return to hugging you, protecting you from everything. The many times, just so hard to count and let it slip by just for the sake of some type of love. Truthfully, your heart screamed in betrayal, hurt, and sorrow. Never anger, never rage. Just stuck in the dilemma of ignoring a false-looking truth. No, this can't go on at this point... something's got to give. You loved saying the words 'I love you' so honestly to her, no matter if you were just dismissed with a wave of her hand in return. It felt special, really happy. Fuck, why can't we just do it right, Dahlia? ____________________________________________________ Another night, Dahlia is back with lovebites and her usual poker face ridden with lipstick stains on her mask. "Y/N, you're sulking up again- what's the matter, love?" Her ignorance is bliss, but it's so heart-wrenching to you. How many times has she returned like this? Where even you couldn't complain, you can't really... If you could burst, if your emotions could just get out of control- that's inconvenient? As if you'd care. "It's about the gals, isn't it? Told you to never care about it. You know I love you, hm? You'll love me as well either way, mhm?" She hummed with a smug smirk behind her mask keeping her hands to herself, she didn't even have the heart to at least comfort or touch you whole-heartedly. Fucking liar, fucking.... Her harsh actions fulfilled the dreams of everyone but you, of everyone deserving. Does loyalty not play a part in respect anymore? What, why would she just say that, those thoughts are mind-consuming. But, it's the truth. For her, you did so many of the cruelest acts just for the kindest of reasons. And that is, love itself. But, it's not different to anyone- this sacrifice is not as abnormal as you would've hoped it to be. If like, you could be different and have the good enough hurt in your life to be noticed- maybe. You were just an ignorant innocence slowly being twisted by the truth you wished you just... never saw, maybe. She stood so far away from you, cleaning herself up with no reaction- not even minding to hide a thing from you, and it was just so annoying... no, it's a stronger hate containing only powerless malice. You sat silently, torn with sadness as you cooked a hot meal with a solemn heart. No, this isn't even any special... just food, just some stuff to eat. If really, you could make this with the love you really had for Dahlia- if like, some things could change then maybe... All the ideas and all the thoughts of what characteristic you probably lacked is the only thing that fueled you awake, how better are those women? Better than you, to be sure. The food is set for two, and you sit down- the table lacks its duo, its partner. Seemingly, Dahlia slips away with just some cold snack for tonight- planning to spend a long time with someone else, the minutes and hours you also crave yourself. Looking down, spoon motionless in your hand as you can't cry anymore, you can't expect new hope anymore at this point. How much change, how many things do you need to do to get those cold arms to embrace you again... Everything's cold again, this house is just a building as you tremble with tearless sobs. Wow, you really do love me, Dahlia. ____________________________________________
FIN
A/N: I didn't review by the way made at 11 25 pm with love and pickle water so probably kinda messy
#fiction#writing#x reader#black dahlia#skullgirls#lesbian#wlw#its kinda angst#angsty#cheating#Dahlia did not beat the cheating allegations#neither the lesbian ones
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IT'S FOR YOU!!!!!!
#they frustrate me sm#yes i KNOW i'm the one writing this. yes i KNOW that makes it ridiculous that i'm complaining#but...............#i just want them to kiss . for my own sanity#im aware it's perfectly within my power to make them smooch . yet . yet#half of me wants to make them so angsty that i wanna cry#other half of me wants to make them kiss right then and there#neither of these halves contribute to the progress of the story#they just bicker while i'm desperately saying “guys. guys we need to work.”
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Why is Fiora french? I am confused. No one else from Demacia is french. Demacia is not fantasy France. Just apparently her family is french. The voice over even pronounces her last name french. The other noble families we know from there are called Crownguard, Lightshield, and Spiritmight. And there’s Fiora (Yves Saint) Laurent.
In conclusion: What is going on
#rito making strange and incoherent lore decision what a surprise#tbh this one's just random and certainly not the worst#just confusing#much like the garen kat romance joke they put into the card game#i know it's originally from the old lore#but they neither make it a full joke with punch line nor an angsty enemies to lovers story#it's just random
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uhm. uhmmm. ladue chapter 18 sure is the goal.
... though im still kinda in the mood for angst. this is a problem.
#speculation nation#ladue shit#me writing that one shot & posting it like 'phew! surely this will get it out of my system'#... apparently not.#im sooooooo close. so fucking close to finishing ladue chapter 18#but it requires a Heart To Heart kinda thing and i am Not feeling that vulnerability rn#im just tired and annoyed in general. and that manifests as wanting to write angst.#maybe this will change after i get my tax return. i can start Living It Up#(paying off debt and not having to calculate expenses down to the dollar!)#im just like. hm. we'll see if my mood changes enough to work on the ladue chapter 18#but i have been introduced to the ease of one-shots. like holy Fucking shit that was really easy to write#im used to writing fics being a fucking massive undertaking. but i wrote that in literally 2 sittings.#... i could also write a continuation of ce n'est rien#though idk. it's supposed to just sit within canon. a peek into his life#OH oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh i just remembered an idea i had for 3rd semester and omfg#hm. hmmmm#oh yes that would hurt Quite a lot actually.#not entirely original but neither is my 11/20 fic. it's about what i do with the idea that makes it new#well i might have a new severely angsty one shot to write soon. We'll See
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Yeah I really don't think it was worth the time and effort writing that fic trilogy, I could have been getting on with a project I actually really care about instead of spending that much time on that
#I should have stopped with the first story#or I should have given up on it when I said I was going to#because barely anyone else cares and frankly neither do I#about most of the rest of it#(the Moriarty/Moran bits sure but#there's a lot in that about relationships#that I don't actually like or care about)#it kind of sucks really#because I hate my other Final/Empty based storyline#it's way too angsty#but this one has been... kind of ruined really for me too
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Knight I just know Bianca gon be blushing and shit when Iris and Haxorus are training Hilbert and Emboar
Gonna be using the same excuse as her alternative version. Saying she wants to study the Bond Phenomenon but staring at Iris 80% of the time
Also I just imagine when Hilbert folded and is laying on the ground, with Emboar and Samurott staring at him, the conversation between him and Iris is what you said, but also
“Arc DAMN that hurts. Man wtf”
“Oh yeah, we feel the same pain our Pokémon feel. We just have a lower pain tolerance than them”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before I told Samurott to attack Emboar??”
“For shits and giggles lol”
Listen, she loves Hilbert and everything, but she can’t resist fucking with him. She just didn’t expect Samurott to hit Emboar that hard
The civil war in Unova may have matured him, but he’s meant to be stupid™️. Especially now that Iris is here with him
LMFAAOOOO REAL THO HAHAHAHAHAH
Look, the moirails together are either really really soft or the biggest crackheads known to man and everyone else has to deal w them Arceus knows they'd be unstoppable if they really were childhood friends lmaooo
Hilbert on the ground looking up at Iris all "you are such a bitch fr"
Iris grins at him, feigning hurt, a hand on her chest, "me? A bitch? Why, good sir, I'm an asshole at best"
"eat shit, whore"
"you first, shitstain"
Low-key angsty but Hilbert now yearning that sense of normalcy omfsss bcndbdnd anyways yeah these two your honour they make me so ill cbxnxn
And def tho, Bianca just staring at Iris bc Iris has a toned body and she has abs and the way her muscles flex when she endured hits from Hilbert too and Arc that is so unfair why is she so attractive cjmsns Hilda's there giving her a look™
"you sure this is still for research?"
"o-of course! Iris said the trainers are part of the battle bond process!"
"I see, well, it just seems you're staring more at Iris than anyone else"
"what no I'm not chmdbd"
Homegirl is not as subtle as she thinks she is lmfao, Hilda has to deal with not only the crackhead energy of Iris and Hilbert, but also Bianca being a gay fuck just staring at Iris and going "oh my Arc,,," everytime Iris looks at her and smirks at her and winks at her Arc she is so fucking unfair Bianca can't focus on her research now cbsmns hahahaha
#bianca is just a gay disaster fr cant blame her tho hahaha#pfft like in that one post of mine chsmjs hahahah#anyways ur honour the moirails being soft but also having the biggest crackhead energy gives me life cbdndn#i know when its angsty moments and such theyd be so so soft#but just on normal days everyone else has to deal w their hijinks lmfao#these two separately are capable people ofc theyre both champions#but together they share one braincell and neither of em are using it lmfao#rebellion au#unova kids#guarurashipping#an ask and an answer#jerseyk112
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good luck, babe!
pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson
summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.
—or: the trio crashes your engagement party
word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)
contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.
author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.
It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him.
Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.
"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis.
Which he didn't.
You let him win.
His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.
"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.
"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."
You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."
Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.
Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.
It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together.
Okay, maybe that was a reach.
Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.
She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.
But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.
"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.
"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.
A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.
"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.
Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."
Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.
"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"
Tashi feels a pang of surprise.
You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one.
But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right?
Right?
The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.
Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.
As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.
Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."
"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."
"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.
"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.
Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."
You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.
Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.
He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.
You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"
He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."
She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"
"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."
"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."
You wince. "Patrick—"
"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."
Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"
Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."
There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."
"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."
You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."
Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."
"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."
He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.
Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?
She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.
Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.
You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.
"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."
Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."
Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.
Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"
You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"
"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.
"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."
"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"
"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."
"Does he want kids?"
"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."
"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."
The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief.
The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.
Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker.
"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you.
It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette.
You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."
"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.
"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."
"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.
"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."
"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.
"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."
The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"
"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.
Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"
As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?
You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.
Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.
She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.
Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.
You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"
"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."
"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."
He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"
You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."
Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."
You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."
"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.
"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.
You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."
"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."
"No, I'm not!"
"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."
"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."
"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.
"Where are you going?"
"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"
You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."
"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"
You don't even look back.
You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.
The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.
The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.
Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"
"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."
Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."
Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."
You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."
Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."
The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.
Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."
"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."
"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."
"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"
"It was a long time ago," you tell him.
"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."
Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"
"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."
Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.
She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.
Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.
But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.
When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming
"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.
Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."
"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."
"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."
He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."
"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."
Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"
"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.
Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."
"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"
"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."
"It... it was me," you admit.
Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.
"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"
"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."
"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.
When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."
"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."
"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.
You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips.
You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.
"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."
"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.
"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."
"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."
You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.
The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you.
"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.
"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.
Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.
Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.
Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art.
None of it had been easy.
Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.
She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.
"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"
"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back.
Why didn't you come back?
Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."
You scoff, "And you are?"
"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."
Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.
And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.
"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."
"I know."
"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."
"I know you."
"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”
Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.
You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.
Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.
When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you.
"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.
"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."
But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."
As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.
Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin.
As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past.
She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.
Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.
He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."
Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."
"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."
"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."
"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.
Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."
"Well, yeah."
They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread.
Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.
A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.
Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.
"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."
"My phone died." He shrugs.
You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."
You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room.
It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.
You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."
Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.
"Yeah, I know."
You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."
She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.
"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."
Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.
She smiles, "I know you do."
Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.
Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.
It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.
Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too.
You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.
"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.
Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair.
He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.
His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.
Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."
You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.
"You saw me last week, Patrick."
"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.
"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see.
Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.
Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.
Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you.
Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.
Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath.
"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back.
Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."
Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head.
Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face.
You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly.
"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you.
Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."
"I'm not kissing you, then."
"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.
"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.
"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.
Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips.
A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below.
When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.
When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes.
Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.
While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own.
"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache.
You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.
Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.
"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.
It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.
Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.
One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction.
She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.
Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake.
Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.
You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you."
"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.
You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips.
You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.
Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer.
When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.
Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.
"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.
Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop.
You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.
"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger.
"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."
Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.
Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.
"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch.
Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard.
She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.
Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.
"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"
She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.
Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.
Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.
"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.
Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.
It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.
"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."
It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.
"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."
You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."
"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man."
"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.
You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm.
"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.
You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.
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#to the person who sent this request#i love you#you’re feeding my delusions#tashi’s hotel room#art’s lockerroom#patrick’s backseat#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan smut#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#patrick x tashi#art x tashi#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#art x patrick#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x you#challengers x reader#challengers smut#challengers 2024#challengers movie#challengers
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SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—
Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.
Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.
Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.
”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.
Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.
Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.
Agonising slow-paced romance.
Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.
Thoughtful picnic dates.
Almost confessions.
”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”
Friends to lovers.
Looking for each other in social settings.
“You mean more to me than that.”
”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”
Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.
Everyone can see it but them.
“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”
Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.
B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.
Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.
So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.
Feathery forehead kisses.
Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.
Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.
Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.
”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
”I want our kids to have your eyes.”
Inside jokes that literally no one understands.
#prompts#writing prompts#dialogue prompts#writing prompt#writing ideas#prompt list#writing#ideas#list#creative writing#inspiration#writing inspiration#cliche#shy prompts#shy affection prompts#shy x shy#soft love#gentle#the love we all need#slow burn#fluff#fluff prompts#distort-t
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