#i meant to write another fic before the year ends
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Lipstick Stains - Pt. 26
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Larissa Weems x fem!reader
words: ~ 4.7k | ao3 link in title
A/N: after a little over a year and a half, we've reached the end of this fic - never did I ever think that that smutty one shot would turn into 26 chapters and over 90k words. thank you, deeply, for everyone who has stuck around til the very end, even when it sometimes took me ages to update. thank you to everyone who commented, sent me asks, inspired me to keep writing. I felt this was the most authentic way to end the fic - I hope you like it! and let me know if you want to see more of these two đ„°
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You could sense Larissa tensing up beside you at the sound of the voice, her eyes widening as they fixated on the doorway behind you. Turning in confusion, your eyes landed on a woman clad all in black, with long dark hair and a sultry air about her. Though youâd never seen this woman before in your life, between her sense of style and Larissaâs reaction it wasnât hard to deduce that you were now face-to-face with Morticia Addams. Your grip on Larissaâs hand tightened, your knuckles turning white.Â
Morticia began to glide towards the bed with unparalleled elegance, stopping only when she seemed to finally register your presence by Larissaâs side. Her gaze drifted down to your intertwined hands, lingering there for what seemed to be half an eternity. Her expression went from confusion to interest and, finally, as she met your own (definitely hostile) gaze, shifted to understanding.Â
âWednesday told me youâd been seeing someone.â Morticiaâs eyes were still on you, but her words were clearly directed at Larissa. âI assume this is her?â
âY/N,â you said rather coldly, introducing yourself before Larissa could respond.
âItâs a pleasure,â Morticia replied, painted lips curling up into a smile that was as seductive as it appeared to be sincere.Â
âI wish I could say the same,â you growled under your breath. Morticia clearly heard you, but her smile never faltered.Â
âDarlingâŠâ Larissa whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking.
Morticia laughed, the sound melodic. âSheâs feisty, I like her.âÂ
You scowled, wrinkling your nose.
âWhat are you doing here?â Larissaâs expression showed confusion and annoyance in equal measure, and she was clearly trying her best to speak powerfully and clearly, though her voice faltered on the last syllable.Â
âCanât I check on my best friend after she nearly dies?â
Larissaâs own grip on your hand tightened, and you squeezed back in a show of reassurance and solidarity. âWe havenât been best friends in decades.â
The smile dropped right off Morticiaâs face and she crossed her arms, an uncomfortable silence shrouding the room. âI know,â she whispered finally. âAnd I know thatâs mostly my fault. But when Wednesday told me what happened, I had to come see you.â
âWell, youâve seen her,â you hissed. Morticia smiled a little sadly - she deserved it, you thought. You would never forget the way Larissa had spoken of the way Morticia had treated her, as though Larissa had meant nothing to her - as though Larissa wasnât good enough for her. The memory alone made your blood boil, and you were certain your anger and contempt at Morticia were visible on your face.
âIâve always cared about you, LarissaâŠâ The way Larissaâs name rolled off Morticiaâs tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you bit your tongue in a desperate attempt not to snap at the dark-haired woman.
âYou have a funny way of showing it,â Larissa croaked out.
âThat may be true. But I do care all the same. Iâm glad youâre recovering.â
You watched Larissaâs face carefully for her reaction - her emotions were at war with one another and she was, for once, too exhausted to try to mask it. She closed her eyes, leaning back against her pillows with a frown on her face, deep lines forming between her eyebrows.
âI appreciate you checking in on me,â Larissa said finally, sounding more resigned than anything as she attempted to remain diplomatic. She opened her eyes and pinned Morticia with a tired gaze. âI hope youâll excuse me, Iâd like to rest a bit more before Iâm discharged tomorrow.â
It was an elegant way of kicking Morticia out, and the raven-haired woman seemed to have gotten the hint. She gave a curt nod and smiled graciously. âIâm sure our paths will cross again at Nevermore.â
Once she reached the doorway, Morticia turned back to face the two of you, looking at Larissa with a sort of soft fondness that you wouldnât have expected from her. âSheâll take good care of you, this one.â Her gaze briefly flicked in your direction, not deterred by the frown on your face. Then she disappeared, closing the door gently behind her.
You turned back to Larissa to find her already watching you, her gaze soft and affectionate, her lips turned up into a smile that bordered on love-drunk - her expression so different than it had been with Morticia just moments ago. She laughed at the way you glowered at the door, her laugh turning into a slight cough.
âDonât be jealous, darlingâŠâ she hummed shakily as her cough subsided.
âIâm not,â you said adamantly, though apparently not quite convincingly enough, for Larissaâs smile grew even wider.Â
âThereâs not a single alternate universe where Morticia and I are right for each other, where Iâm not irrevocably in love with you.â
Your heart skipped a beat and you pressed your forehead to Larissaâs. âI love you,â you whispered. âIâm not jealous, I just hate the way that Morticia makes you feel. I want you to be happyâŠâ
Larissa cupped both of your cheeks and tilted your head, until your lips were a hairâs breadth away from her own and her eyes had to dart back and forth to be able to meet yours. âI am happy,â she said adamantly. âYou make me feel special.â
âYou are special, Larissa.â
Larissaâs lips brushed against your own, the kiss soft and tender. You had little privacy in the hospital room, but still you could feel every ounce of love Larissa had for you in the way that she kissed you, and you smiled against her lips.
~~~
âDarling?â Larissa asked somewhat hesitantly that evening, as youâd just come back into the room from going to the restroom. She wrung her hands in her lap and her mouth was turned into an apologetic frown, and you cocked your head to the side as you perched yourself at her bedside.
âYeah? Whatâs wrong?â
âIâve just realized I donât have my car here. Would you be able to drive me back to Nevermore when Iâm discharged in the morning?â
Your brows knit together in confusion - youâd already assumed thatâs what youâd be doing. âOf course. I asked Cass to drop my car off here tonight, I left it at Nevermore.â
Larissa seemed taken by surprise at the matter-of-factness in your tone. Her lips curled into a tiny smile, though her brow was still furrowed. âThank you,â she whispered.
âLarissaâŠâ You bit the inside of your cheek as you considered your words carefully. âHave you thought about how youâre going to get by when youâre back at Nevermore? I mean, you might need help or something for a few weeks, you know, getting around and thingsâŠâ
Larissa stayed silent for a moment, clearly contemplating. âI should be fine.â
You frowned at her stubbornness. âOkay⊠let me word that differently⊠I know you can take care of yourself, but I would feel better if you let me help you. If you want me to, that isâŠâ
âI donât want to burden you, darling,â Larissa said softly, running a hand through your hair - the intimate gesture felt so nice, and you leaned into her touch. âYou have other things going on, you should focus on your studies.â Her smile was warm and affectionate but her gaze was a little sad, and you took her hand in yours and placed a kiss to her knuckles.
âYouâre not a burden, Larissa. I want to help you recover, thatâs what Iâm here for. The semester is almost over anyway, aside from exams I wouldnât really have to drive to Burlington much until after the holidays.â
You could practically see the cogs turning in Larissaâs brain, her brow furrowed as her eyes darted between your own - no doubt looking for some miniscule hint of insincerity or hesitance in your own gaze, which she certainly wouldnât find. âWould you⊠be alright with staying at Nevermore for a little while, then?â
Larissa sounded almost shy, and you grinned and adopted a playful tone. âLarissa Weems, are you asking me to move in with you?â
Larissaâs cheeks grew red and she wrinkled her nose at your teasing. âOnly if youâd like toâŠâ she said after a moment, her tone soft and gentle. âYou know thereâs enough room for both of us.â
A feeling of absolute giddiness bubbled up inside of you - the circumstances mightâve been less than ideal but, regardless, the idea of living with Larissa was enough to make you swoon. Waking up every morning to her beautiful face on the pillow beside you, burrowing into her arms each night - your definition of heaven on earth.
âYou know Iâm not going to say no to that.â Your grin was so wide that it smoothed out the crease between Larissaâs brows, and she pulled her hand from between yours to cup the back of your neck and tug you in for a kiss.
~~~
Both you and Larissa were awake early the morning she was discharged, both of you too excited and too nervous to sleep. You pottered about the hospital room, packing your belongings up and gathering the flowers and cards to bring out to the car, while Larissa ate her breakfast, complaining about the food between each bite.
âI could cook something? We have to pass by my place on the way back to Nevermore anyway, Iâll just raid the fridge.â
Larissa snorted. âIâm sure your friends will appreciate that.âÂ
âTheyâll get over it,â you teased with a grin and a shrug. âIâll be right back, Iâm going to carry our stuff to the car.â
You filled your arms with as much as you could carry and brought everything out to your car, piling it in the trunk. It took you a while to navigate the halls of the hospital and when you finally returned to Larissaâs room, she looked frustrated and a bit down, playing with a bobby pin between her fingers, one singular curl pinned up against the back of her head.
âYou okay?â you asked, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you approached her bedside.
âIt hasnât taken me this long to do my hair in over 30 years⊠holding my arms up is too tiringâŠâ
âCanât you shift?â You feared the answer, figuring if she could, she would - Larissa shook her head sadly.
âToo much effort to maintain.â
âOh⊠what if I helped you?â
Larissa seemed a bit surprised at your suggestion, but her frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile and she scooted forward a bit so that you could crawl into her bed behind her and help her with her hair. She would separate her hair into sections and start to roll them up, stopping and letting you finish and pin them in place when her arms started to feel too heavy. After a momentâs rest, she would start on the next section, until each strand of hair was pinned up against her head. It took twice as long as it usually would have, and it looked more than amateurish, but it was better than nothing.
âHow does it look from the back?â Larissa asked a little anxiously, and you laughed as you took a photo for her and handed her your phone.
âIt could use some work, Iâm sorryâŠâ
Larissa chuckled, twisting around to cup your cheek and press her lips to yours. âIt could be worse,â she murmured affectionately.Â
âYou just have to get to your office and then you can take it down again,â you said with a laugh, silently wishing you were better at this kind of thing and vowing to learn for Larissa.
âThank youâŠâ You could tell by the light in Larissaâs eyes and the blush on her cheeks how much your help meant to her, and you grinned as you pulled her in for a slightly deeper kiss.
Larissa insisted on wearing a bit of makeup, not wanting to be caught in the halls of Nevermore without her signature red lip - you traced her lipstick along her lip, your stomach filling with butterflies at the intimacy of the action. You helped her dress, letting her lean on you and doing up the zip on the back of her dress, then waited patiently for her to sign some paperwork.
After what felt like hours, Larissa was finally discharged and the two of you were in your car, on your way to stop by your apartment. In spite of everything that had happened, you felt a lightness that you hadnât felt since that night at Nevermore. Larissa was sitting next to you, not in a hospital bed but in your car. Her hair was up and her lips were painted and she wore a dress, not a hospital gown, and she moved her lips to the lyrics of the song playing on the radio, and you seemed to realize all at once that she would be okay.Â
~~~
Cass mustâve been waiting for you, because she was at your car window the second you pulled into your usual parking spot in front of your apartment. You rolled down the window and she crossed her arms and rested her forearms on the car, popping her head inside.Â
âThereâs no way you decided to tell us you were moving out over text?â she exclaimed, but her lips were pulled into a wide grin, making it clear she wasnât upset. Still, you blushed and glanced at Larissa, who suppressed a smile and looked down at her own lap.
âIâm sorry,â you said with a nervous chuckle, and Cass rolled her eyes.
âDonât be, itâs not like we didnât see it coming.â
Now even Larissaâs cheeks were slowly turning pink, and you shooed Cass away so that you could open the door and slip out of the car. Larissa made to open her own door but you insisted she stay in the car - youâd only be a minute anyway, grabbing the most important things - you could always stop by later in the week for more of your belongings.
You made a beeline straight for your room, grabbing the most essential items - some clothes, your laptop, some stuff for uni, your toiletries. With some extra room in your bag, you tossed in a few trinkets, your favorite books, some more art supplies, then stopped by the kitchen to raid the groceries your roommates had no doubt recently bought.Â
âYou canât stop by the store on your way through Jericho?âÂ
Pausing in your rummaging through the fridge, you glanced sheepishly over your shoulder at Robin, who leaned in the doorway with a faint smirk on her face. It was clear your friends were happier to see you back to your old self than they were annoyed at the suddenness of your plans.
âI promise Iâll send you guys money for this weekâs groceries?â you tried, and Robin laughed.Â
âYeah, sure.â She paused, the smile slowly slipping off her face. âWeâre gonna miss you, ya know?â
And wasnât that strange to hear. After over two years of living together, it would certainly be weird to no longer call Robin, Cass, and Christin your roommates. You swallowed against the lump that had suddenly appeared in your throat, feeling oddly sentimental amid your excitement to live with Larissa.
âWho knows, I mean I might move back once Larissaâs recoveredâŠâÂ
Robin laughed, letting out a snort and raising an eyebrow, her usual easy grin lighting up her features. âYou really think so?â
âWellâŠâ You could feel your own lips spread into a smile. âNo, probably not.â
Pushing herself off the doorframe, Robin crossed the room and pulled you into a brief but tight hug. âDonât forget about movie night on Sunday. Just because you donât live here anymore, doesnât mean youâre getting out of it.â
âI wouldnât dream of missing it,â you chuckled, squeezing her tightly.
When you made it back out to your car with all your bags, Cass still had her head poked through the car window and was talking animatedly to Larissa. You shooed your best friend away from the car, then gave her a brief hug, promising to invite her over soon - she waited in the parking lot as you pulled out onto the street, her waving form shrinking in the rearview mirror until you rounded a corner and left her behind.
As you drove down the winding road through the dense forest separating Burlington from Jericho and, beyond that, from Nevermore, it slowly began to sink in that you had Larissa back. Finally, after weeks of anxiety, overthinking, worrying - finally - you were sitting side by side, driving down familiar roads, safe in the knowledge that everything was going to be alright.
âCassandra was quite shocked that I recovered so quickly,â Larissa mused, her lips quirked into a half-smile as she stole a glance at you. âActually, how did she put it? âI almost didnât think youâd make it.ââ
You cringed at your former roommateâs bluntness. âOuch⊠sorry about her, I know she didnât mean it in a bad way.â
âI know⊠you havenât told her that Iâm a shapeshifter, have you?â
âNo.â You shook your head. You expected Larissa to continue speaking, but a silence enveloped the car instead. Glancing over at the shapeshifter, she was looking out the window, appearing deep in thought. âI mean I donât think sheâd mind⊠I just didnât think youâd want anyone to know unless you told them,â you added, the silence making you a bit nervous.
âNo⊠youâre rightâŠâ
âYou know, itâs actually pretty cool, if you think about it,â you started, and Larissa glanced curiously in your direction again. âBeing a shapeshifter kind of saved you - I mean how many other peopleâs organs can just shift to regenerate that quickly? If you werenât a shapeshifter, we might not be sitting here right now.â
Larissa let out an audible breath through her nose. âI suppose thatâs trueâŠâ Out of the corner of your eye you could see her turn in her seat, leaning the side of her head against the headrest so that she could face you. The smile on her lips grew a bit. âI suppose being a shapeshifter has its upsides, doesnât it?â
âI can think of a few more upsides,â you quipped with a smirk, purposely lowering your voice an octave, and turning to look at Larissa just in time to see her cheeks flush a deep, gorgeous pink.
~~~
Arriving at Nevermore, you and Larissa were hounded by students as you tried to carry your belongings to her quarters. Your saving grace ended up being a protective Enid and a reluctant Wednesday, who told off their fellow students and made them give Larissa space - enough for the two of you to reach her office and lock yourselves inside.
âTheyâd be lost without you here,â you remarked casually as you dragged a duffle bag of your things towards the door to Larissaâs quarters - with your back turned, you missed the way Larissa paused and shifted away a blush, before hurrying after you.
The walk from the car to her quarters was enough to thoroughly exhaust Larissa. Though she was a shapeshifter and was likely to regenerate and recover quicker, sheâd still lost a lot of muscle tone in the coma, and so (much to her chagrin) you had her settle on the bed while you hung your clothes up in the closet.
âHey, Riss? Where can I put this?â you asked as you pulled a handful of paints out of your bag.
Larissa looked around the room - with the hospital stay and the short notice, of course she hadnât yet been able to consider where you would actually put any of your belongings, and she tilted her head in thought. âThere should be some space in the bottom drawer,â she said, pointing to a dresser against the wall. âWe can clear up a better space later.â
You crawled over to the dresser from where you were sitting, opening the drawer. It was mostly empty aside from some extra linens, which Larissa instructed you to place in the closet, and a large, heavy photo album. You took hold of the leatherbound album and glanced imploringly at Larissa - she gestured with her hand, inviting you to pick it up.Â
Opening the front cover, it dawned on you that this was a family album - right on the front page, there was a black and white photograph of a woman in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby. âIs this you?â
Larissa smiled. âYes. Come here.â She patted the space on the bed beside her and you settled next to her with the album open on your lap. Larissa wrapped her arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, before turning the page to another baby photo - in this one, both mother and father were present, baby wrapped in a quilted blanket and snuggled tight against fatherâs chest as they stood in the entryway of what appeared to be a large house.
âMy parents,â Larissa supplied, though you didnât need the confirmation - the man was tall, with Larissaâs shoulders, Larissaâs nose; the womanâs light hair and soft features had clearly been passed straight onto her daughter.
You flipped through page after page, photo after photo, of a young Larissa and her family and friends. Larissa at 2 on some rocky beach, in the arms of her grandmother, of whom both she and her mother were the spitting image. Larissa at 5 in a leotard and tights, sitting on the floor of a ballet studio and grinning up at the camera, with one front tooth missing. Larissa at 8 in her Sunday best, standing in front of a church, her fatherâs hand on her shoulder and her mother standing just off to the side. Larissa at 9 on horseback. Larissa at 11 with her arm around a friendâs shoulder. Larissa at 13 in front of the gates of Nevermore. A few shots of Larissaâs parents, of her grandmother, of an uncle on her fatherâs side. Of Larissa at Nevermore with other students, or with family on school breaks.
The more photos the two of you flipped through, the more Larissa seemed to lose herself in thought. Finally, her mood unnerved you enough for you to utter a quiet, âwe donât have to do this, you know. If itâs upsetting you.â
Larissa shook her head, a soft smile on her face, though the crease between her brows was deep and pronounced. âIâm alright, darling⊠Iâd just forgotten this was here, thatâs all.â
You knew that wasnât all but, not wanting to pry, you kept your mouth shut. Instead, you leaned your head against Larissaâs shoulder and pushed the photo album off your lap, closing your eyes and letting Larissa process in silence - a silence that stretched so long that her next words startled you.
âI think youâd like my father.â
You raised your head in confusion, remembering what Larissa had told you about her parents. âWould I?â
That comment made Larissa chuckle. âYes, I think you would. I think heâd like you, too.â
âDo you still talk to him?â
âNot in a few years⊠the last time my parents called, I had a girlfriend over. My mother heard her speak in the background and it caused an argument. My father reached out the next day but I remembered that Iâm grown up and donât have to tolerate that sort of behavior anymore⊠I changed my phone number that same day.â
Not knowing what to say and knowing you were treading on unknown terrain, you nodded along, watching Larissaâs expression carefully as it shifted between remorse, annoyance, wistfulness, and humor. Larissa carried on after another momentâs silence.
âMaybe itâs time I called him...â The shapeshifterâs expression was resolute, and she shifted her gaze from her lap to your face, a soft smile playing on her lips when she saw your eyes widen at her conclusion. âI think heâd be pleased to know Iâve found you⊠and it would anger my dear mother greatly.â Larissaâs eyes danced with mirth and it made you smile.
âThereâs nothing I love more than pissing off homophobes,â you teased, drawing a laugh from deep within Larissaâs chest and making her pull you even closer to press her lips to your temple.
âThat can wait, darling⊠First, Iâd like you all to myself for a few daysâŠâ
~~~
As afternoon faded to evening, you moved from the bedroom to the kitchen, enjoying the blissful haze of each otherâs presence as you prepared dinner. With the long hospital stay behind you and the heavy conversation about Larissaâs family long forgotten, you laughed and bantered as you had in the weeks prior to the incident - there was no Morticia to bring you down, no Wednesday to distract you, no monster to keep you on your toes, not even roommates to interrupt you. Even work was on hold before Larissa could meet with the school board to discuss her return to work. It was just you and Larissa, in the quarters that you now shared, partaking in the simple, domestic act of cooking together - which meant that you were dutifully watching over the salmon in the pan to make sure it cooked evenly, while Larissa sat at the table with her legs crossed, nursing a glass of red wine and smiling fondly at you.
It reminded you so much of the first time that you cooked for Larissa, just after the RaveâN, when youâd desperately wanted to make up for that disastrous evening. How happy you were back then to simply cook for Larissa - and now, you were getting the chance again.
After dinner, you insisted Larissa join you in the living room to continue the evening listening to music. You lowered the tonearm onto the record, then turned to find Larissa watching you with a faint blush dusting her cheeks. The opening notes to âUnforgettableâ by Nat King Cole began to play, a song youâd come to associate with your girlfriend. You stepped towards the sofa and stopped in front of Larissa, placing your hands on her shoulders and lowering yourself slowly to straddle her lap. Her hands immediately found your waist, pulling you down and holding you in place, fingers flexing against you, savoring the feeling of holding you.
âSweet girl,â Larissa cooed with a soft, affectionate smile, running her hands from your hips to the tops of your thighs, then back again, seeming to marvel at being able to feel you beneath her palms again. You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against Larissaâs and humming the melody of the song.
âDarling?â Larissa asked softly, her warm breath tickling your face, and you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, silently urging her to ask whatever she wanted to ask you. âYou said something about spending Christmas at the beach?â
You were taken aback by her question, your brow furrowing as you racked your brain to figure out what she was talking about.
âIn the hospital,â she clarified quickly, and suddenly you remembered having spoken to her about going away for Christmas while she was in the coma. You smiled, pleased that she had heard and remembered that, and nodded. âIs that something you were serious about?â
Your smile widened. âYeah, dead serious.â
âWell, perhaps we should look into flights thenâŠâ A smirk was slowly creeping onto Larissaâs face, and her hands slid from your waist to the swell of your ass, tugging you just an inch closer so that your front was completely flush with hers. You felt your grin would split your face in two and you eagerly bobbed your head âyesâ.
The prospect of spending the holidays with Larissa seemed almost too good to be true. Just over a week ago, you werenât entirely sure sheâd make it to Christmas at all, and now you were sitting on her lap, with her warm body fitted snugly against your own, making plans for the future. Happiness bloomed within you and you cupped Larissaâs cheeks, your eyes dancing between her own. Your lips mouthed the lyrics of the song playing, and her own lips curled into the most adoring of smiles in response.
That's why darling, it's incredible That someone so unforgettable Thinks that I am unforgettable too
x
Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar @giogwensversion
#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems#lipstick stains#lipstick stains series#larissa x reader#principal weems#principal weems x reader
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Keep writing them, I say! :DDDD It's such a comfort to go back to that one thing that always "clicks", even if you've (meaning I) never read it before. Reminds me of the quote: "...the friend(s) I haven't met yet" (or something along those lines, been a while since I saw that movie....)
I probably will keep writing them :D I don't even care much for the episode. It's just the kiss at the end and the endless possibilities it gives us fanfic writers đBut yeah. I wonder if other people have their favorite episodes they write about. Probably.
#lovely asks#i meant to write another fic before the year ends#don't think that's gonna happen now ooof#but never say never#there is still one more day in 2022
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Talk it Out
Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Notes: Agatha All Along Finale Spoilers, Angst, I guess it's hurt/comfort, happy ending
Summary: The confrontation between Agatha and Rio goes differently with you there to mediate.
An: I've been itching to write for Agatha. I check the tags everyday for new fics, so I thought maybe I should contribute. Hope you like it
Masterlist
âAre you guys really going to do this? There has to be another way?â
Dark skies with ominous clouds loomed over Agatha's backyard. Rio was perched on the rooftop magic buzzing in her hands. Agatha stood on the ground exhausted from the trials of the road.
You found yourself standing in between the two.
âDarling, there is no other way. I donât want to hurt you, donât make me hurt you,â the rage dims in Rio's eyes as she looks at you.
You turn to the other woman. Sheâs trying to activate her powers, to no avail. You see a panic rise across her features. It's then that Rio begins her attack. When Agatha is flung back, you canât help but scream her name.
âAGATHA!â
You attempt to run to her side, but vines snake their way up your legs keeping you in place.
âRio please,â you plead with her.
Agatha answers, âSheâs not going to listen to you sweetheart. Death is unkind, cruel even, and she cares for no one.â
Tears brim at your eyes hearing those words. Your whisper doesnât get lost in the chaos, âThatâs not true.â
âYou can lie to yourself all you want Agatha, but she knows youâre full of shit,â Rio hurls a vine at the witch leaving a nasty cut on her ankle.
âLook around Y/n, does this look like love,â Agatha spits out before her back connects with a tree.
Wires and vines alike start to wrap around Agatha, keeping her in place. Rio stalks towards her in a predatory fashion.
âEnd of the road Agatha, and you know where all roads lead.â
Agatha starts to beg for her life. This whole scene pulls your heart in two different directions.
Your magic was weak in comparison to most, but in this moment that didnât matter. It was enough to escape the hold from the vines.
Just as Rio was going to blast Agatha out of existence you step between the two. Your hands outstretched to shield Agatha.
âTake me instead,â your gaze is soft when you meet Deathâs stare.
âNo,â Agatha and Rio speak in unison.
You shake your head, âYou donât get to say no. You need a soul and Iâm offering mine.â
âIt- itâs not your time,â Rio's excuse is flimsy.
âIâve been around just as long as she has. Iâve sat by and watched her do the things that she did. I am your lover, just like she is. So youâre taking my soul.â
Agatha protests again, âShe canât have you.â
You turn to face her, âShe already does, my love. I do not fear her as you do. I do not resent her. Spending eternity with her does not scorn me. I love her just as I love you.â
A scowl grows on Agathaâs face, âHow can you forgive her?â
Rio wants to speak, but you place your hand on her chest, causing her to hold her tongue.
You squat down to Agathaâs level. Your hands caress her face, âI am grateful for what she gave us Agatha. Are you not? Weâve been alive for centuries, yet nothing has ever come close to those 6 years.â
âShe took him from us.â
You shook your head, your voice was delicate, âHe wasnât even meant to take his first breath. We mightâve made him from scratch, but thereâs only one person that gave him life, and you hate her for it.â
âHe was my son too,â Rio speaks, no longer in her fighting stance.
Her eyes boring into Agatha, with a sorrow only death could convey.
Angry tears welled in Agathaâs eyes, âIn the middle of the night. When we couldnât even say goodbye. I was going to- I was going to do better for him, Rio.â
âI had to take him, and if either or you asked me not to⊠I donât think I wouldâve been able to do it. Donât you think I wouldâve loved to see him grow, Agatha? He was so much of all of us even at that age.â
âHe was smart and cunning like you, Â Agatha. He had your affinity for nature and balance, Rio. And he.. .â
âWas kind, just like you sweetheart,â Agatha finished your sentence.
Rio frowns, âI took no joy in taking him. In fact, taking a soul has never hurt so much. I didnât just lose Nicky, I lost you too.â
âTell her the truth,â you say to Agatha, who shifts a bit under your gaze.
âThereâs nothing to tell,â her sentence falls flat at the end, in the way it does when she's lying.
Your tired eyes look at her, âAgatha, please.â
âI ran because Iâm scared. Not of you, but of facing Nicky. If he saw who I am, what Iâve become he would-"
âLove you anyway,â Rio spoke with certainty.
Itâs then that Agatha fully drops her mask, vulnerability on full display, âHow are you sure?â
âYou never hid yourself from him. He knows what kind of person you are, he always did. Maybe he wanted you to change, but he still loved you the way you were,â Rio spoke it like a fact.
It broke Agatha. She began to sob, âI donât hate you. I could never hate you. Iâm sorry.â
You began to free Agatha from her spot against the tree. Rio instantly broke the binds after watching you struggle. She was cautious in her approach, of the two of you.
Rio wraps her arms around Agatha. Agatha melts into the embrace, the warmth comforting her. Rio begins to wipe away the womanâs tears.
You watch with a tender gaze and relief flooding through your features.
âNo more fighting,â you look between the two of them.
âWhat about Billy?â Agatha clears her throat, trying to regain her composure.
Rio deflates, taking a step back from Agatha, âI still-â
âI told you to take mine,â you speak up.
Rioâs eyes darken, âI wonât.â
You invade the womanâs personal space. Your arms settle around the back of her neck. You lean into her, forehead resting against hers.
She breathes you in calmly. Eyes fluttering close. You kiss her, deeply. You donât focus on the pain coursing through you, but rather the softness of her lips, the eagerness of her hands, the warmth of her body.
You can feel yourself slipping, but it doesnât go too far as you are roughly shoved away from Rio.
âARE YOU CRAZY!â Agatha yells.
Your breath is ragged as your life force slowly returns to you, âMaybe.â
You donât think as you shoot your magic at Agatha. You know her instincts, youâve seen them in action. Without thought she begins draining you of your powers. As you crumble, she rises.
âAGATHA!â Rioâs voice echoes something deadly.
It knocks Agatha out of her trance and she quickly cuts the line between your power and hers. You lay flat on the ground with your eyes open towards the sky. Youâre breathing is minimal but present.
Rio looks at Agatha, âYou need to give her some back or she won't make it.â
Agathaâs hands are trembling and she tries to out the power back, but nothing is happening.
âSheâs- sheâs not taking it,â Agatha begins to mumble.
âY/n you have to receive the power, you have to do it or youâll die,â Rio says sternly.
âThe soul,â you mumble.
Rio growls, âForget about the soul, Iâll figure it out, just please.â
Before Agatha can put the magic, back into you again, youâre hit with a bright blue ray of energy. The force with which it hits you makes you jolt into an upright position.
âIs she going to be alright?â Billy jogs over to the scene in front of him.
Itâs not what he thought it was going to be originally and for that heâs grateful. Fighting Death was not anywhere near his bucket list.
âDid you-â
âI-I came to fight and then I saw⊠everything. It just made sense to help,â Billyâs eyes search all 3 women.
You answer him first, âIâm alright, everything is fine.â
âA-are you sure?â
You look to Rio, who is already looking at you, she tells the teen âYou are free to go.â
He looks at Agatha first and then you.
âWe will around if you need us, donât fret. This is not a journey, you have to walk alone,â you tell him.
The boy is quick to wrap his arms around you in a hug. You squeeze him back and whisper in his ear, âWe will help you find him.â
He nods at your words. He takes one more glance at Agatha and Rio before leaving the yard.
âWhen are you going to tell him about the road?â Agatha questions you.
âLater, after Iâve spent some time with the women that I love. Both of them,â you say hopefully.
Rio looks at Agatha, you both knew it was her call.
The woman let out a dramatic sigh, âNothing too strenuous I'm exhausted from all of that hard work.â
âA bath would do you well,â Rio bites back.
Agatha rolls her eyes, âYou just want to see me naked.â
Rio chuckles, âWell, it has been quite some time. Iâm sure Y/n wouldn't mind an intimate moment with both of us either.â
You shook your head, âNot one complaint.â
âYouâre both ridiculous,â Agatha speaks.
âYou love it,â Rio counters.
Agatha looks at you and then Rio before letting out a sigh, âI love you both.â
#lowkeyerror#agatha all along#agatha harkness#agatha harkness x rio vidal#agatha harkness x reader#rio vidal x reader#billy maximoff#rio vidal
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STARCROSSED +à©â©â§âË LOGAN HOWLETT.
logan and y/n â where you are completely in love with a man older then your father by a good 100 years.. and whose in love with another.
- content warning age gap. nsfw. sh. angst. not really happy endings! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader
spoiler: horrible yearning!
note this is my first piece of work so i hope itâs okay! i love logan sm i had to write something for him â and this is really angsty :) pls ignore if thereâs any bad grammar! iâm a bit lazy rn, also with the timeline for this fic i have no idea when im going for. im saying 2000s-2010s just remember its a bit scrambled timeline wise cos i wanted my favs here!đ€ enjoy!
you hated when he was around. you couldnât stand it anymore. your longing glances to him, the yearning looks you gave him which were never returned and only thrown back into your face when you saw how he was looking at jean the way you looked at him.. it had all been getting too much. at first you acted like it didnât bother you and part of your school-girl crush deluded brain pretend you were just seeing things but as the weeks / months had passed you realised that was the furthest thing from the truth.
recently you couldnât even bring yourself to glance at him because it hurt too much and that wasnât even being dramatic, the aching feeling in your heart wasnât worth getting a glimpse of his timeless beauty so every time he was around you bit down the urges swallowed your pride and acted as if he was nobody to you, just a good friend. a father figure, a teammate.
it felt rude at first, to you since you were the only one noticing it, how you just stopped all those little things you were doing but you couldnât help it or stop yourself from being like that because it was too hard to deal with â loving someone so much with all your heart but you knew you couldnât have them. you hated to admit it but it destroyed you and that little part of you right now was falling into a full blown rage as you sat on the sofa alongside logan and wade â charles, hank, scott and rogue being present in the room too.
âi just donât get her.â scott said out, repeating the same line over again, still bitching about the fight him and jean had after they all got back from the mission â everyone could hear the screaming and scottâs harsh gaze when he entered the room just confirmed it all and the second,of course, logan asked a question after wade made a snarky comment that set off scott and he hadnât stopped mansplaining it since.
âyeaâ well certain people donât.â logan gruffly spoke out as y/n couldnât stop her eyes from moving over to him at his words, feeling a sense of hurt coarse through her like it usually did whenever he spoke about jean or implied her. everyone knew what loganâs comment meant and y/n could see how scott was biting his tongue, clearly pissed off like he always was around logan. for good reason.
the tension only grew worse when scott couldnât help himself and made a comment right back at him, his eyebrows raised as he stood from his seat. charles attention turning right to scott instead of logan, âand whatâs that supposed to mean, asshole?â scott spat out like his words were venom.
rogue rolling her eyes at his words as hank shared a little glance with y/n who was cursing the entire situation in her brain as she couldnât stop herself from looking at logan â those very same feelings boiling in her body as she saw the way his mouth twitched and his jaw clenched. how protective he was getting over jean, a feeling y/n couldnât help have been wishing for the past two years of knowing the man he would get like over her â sure in a friends way he mightâve done it before, at least thatâs how she saw but it never like this.
y/n swore she could physically feel her heart aching.
âpretty sure you know what that means pal.â logan bit back harshly, his words falling to the same tone as scottâs did as scott scoffed at what he said as he bit back with full frustration as charles clearly wanted to get involved - a little grimance pictured on his face as y/n studied her fathers expression, him clearly knowing what jean meant to logan, as y/n looked away before her dad could catch her staring her eyes falling onto a pissed off scott who downed the drink he had in his hand, placing it on the table.
âshe picked me.â was all scott needed to say as the weight in the room shifted heavily on loganâs end as everyone could see the way loganâs face dropped a little, that comment taking the little coy expression he had right away but y/n didnât even bring herself to look, scottâs eyes taking her in as if he knew what she was feeling in this moment. his eyes meeting her own as y/n felt a lump form her throat â the tightness almost burning â as he tutted at how silent logan was before he walked out the room without another word.
with this the room fell silent. everyone knowing the feelings logan mustâve been harbouring right now, y/n especially, as she glanced over to him not expecting to be met with his brown eyes looking back at her as he took in her expression before he roughly got up without another word â going right over to the door.
chaeles couldnât help himself as he spoke up firmly the second he watched logan head for the door, âloganââ
âjust goinâ for a piss, wheels.â he roughly said back before the door shut right behind him.
âmore like a bitchless weaping session.â wade couldnât help say as he had left the room, hank and rogue not being able to help their little laughs from coming out as y/n bit down on the inside of her cheek limiting the feelings she was experiencing as much as she could before she stood up.
ââiâm going to shower.â y/n said out lowly, her words slipping out quickly as the others nodded or hummed in agreement, wades eyebrows furrowing as he clearly felt he knew more of the situation then the rest did but he kept that to himself.
âtake some pics for me!â wade called back to her, earning a little look from charles as hank scoffed in reply.
â +à©â©â§âË
that shower was more like watching a re run of singing in the rain which y/n couldnât help watch the entirety of for no specific reason before she eventually hoped in the shower. the faint sounds of her speakers being heard as she hummed along to the lyrics of the specific song as she felt the cold water glide down her naked body.
swallowing the pain-filled whimpers that were aching to escape her wet lips as she acted as if the water gracing against all those marks and burns on her skin wasnât killing her inside despite her âlittleâ case of immortality. immortality sadly didnât mean you never experienced pain and y/n was clearly the leading case proving that matter as she soon got out the shower after washing her hair and her body.
wrapping the towel around her dainty body as she took in herself in the mirror, the thoughts forming in her brain being within the âself loathingâ category as she exited her bathroom. her face falling once she was met with the gruff expression on logans face which turned to one of shock as his eyes scanned over y/n immediately. him swallowing his own spit as y/n hands immediately wrapped around her towel just to make sure it wouldnât fall.
âloâ shit, i didnât know you were here.â she quickly managed out, her face a bright shade of red as she watched as logan didnât move his gaze off her figure.
ââwait.â not a single word escaping his lips as y/n walked over to her bed where her clothes were laid out for her.
y/nâs breath was hitched and she swore she felt all the heat rush to her face as she took in the way logan was just staring at her as she grabbed her clothes with her other hand, taking a few steps back into the bathroom before she swiftly shut the door. her mind a mess as she quickly put on her pajamas before she sprung over to the mirror to double check her appearance before she walked back out to her bedroom.
logan being in the exact same place she had left him â not a single word had left his lips and his facial expression was the exact same as y/n nervously smiled at him.
âwhat are you doingâ uh, here?â y/n asked him swiftly, her words rushed as she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she saw logan slowly seem to come back to reality, scratching the back of his neck as his lips parted as he tried to say something.
yet it took a little for something to come out as y/n swore she felt something growing in the air as logan finally spoke, his gruff tone a little knocked back then usual, âwas coming here to bitch about scott. didnât mean to see anything i shouldnât have.â
his words sent a little chill through y/nâs spine as she managed a little smile on her lips, no matter how fake it was she still managed it, as she looked at him. his first words being all the confirmation her heart needed in this moment as she held back her feelings as she felt her heart tense.
âitâs okay.â y/n rolled out quietly, her attention falling over to her bed as she walked over to the foot off it â sitting down on the edge of the bed as logan stayed in place, his arms crossed as he leaned against the fireplace in her room now.
âso scott, you wanna bitch?â y/n trailed off into as logan looked out the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he shrugged his shoulders.
ânah, not anymore.â he said, his voice low as y/n took in his hush voice â his words only adding to the building up tension that was making the air thick as y/n looked at him. her eyes taking in every inch off him and how he looked, her mind wondering how heâd feel.. howâd heâd taste.
yet her thoughts were immediately cut short.
ââyou seen jean about?â
his words were like a harsh hit round the face as she felt a lump for her in throat, her mind tingling a little as she glanced over to the door. she hated this, every inch of this. she wanted to scream, punch him in the face. confess right there and there at him but she didnât. she couldnât.
no matter how much it killed her inside. every second without him being like a gun shot to the heart as she plainly looked back at him, a soft smile growing on her face which was so fake it was indescribable as she nodded to her bedroom door.
âher room, i guess.â
her low words were enough to make anyone know she was hurt yet of course logan didnât, or he didnât show he knew as he gave her a playful wink.
âthanks bub.â he said with a nod as he went to walk out the room â his hand on the door when y/n heard his muttered words.
âsleep well y/n.â
his words fell into silence as y/n watched him leave, the door closing behind him being the utmost reminder of how her feelings will probably never be acknowledged. and that harsh reality left her alone in her bedroom for the entire night and with every toss and turn her mind was on one thing and one thing only. him.
â +à©â©â§âË
#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader smut#logan howlett#james logan howlett#deadpool#angst#logan howlett x reader#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett x you#x men movies#x men#marvel xmen#x force#yearning hours#logan howlett imagine#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#marvel#marvel imagines
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seething, blooming // jace x reader
your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.
the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. âvictor hugo.
fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !
the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.
you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.
it's a morning that starts like many others. youâve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.
if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your fatherâs desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.
today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.
a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you donât think even the princess rhaenyra â queen, now, according to some â had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.
you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that itâs the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queenâs family line.
the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and peopleâs memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.
heâs been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but heâd sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.
your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.
gods, how you miss your mother. when sheâd been alive, sheâd tempered the worst of your fatherâs foolishness. sheâd been a stark before sheâd married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your fatherâs folly. sheâd been a woman unlike any other youâve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any sheâd met.
sheâd taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that â sheâd taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. sheâd taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolfâs blood has always run thick in your veins.Â
sheâd called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely youâd flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses sheâd brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed âneath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north sheâd brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that sheâd cradled and cared for until the day youâd lost her to the birthing bed.
your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your fatherâs plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.
because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.
the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.
he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.
your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the princeâs arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.
youâve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach â love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. youâd resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.
but youâd not expected to marry a total stranger. youâd thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne heâd promised you to a man youâve never laid eyes upon.
you donât want to be queen.
frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though youâve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think youâre still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyraâs claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.
thinking about the mess youâre marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maesterâs again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.
the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.
heâs handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since youâd perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.
youâre worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.
your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.
âi am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,â your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.
you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leoâs job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.
âwelcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,â you greet, finally meeting jacaerysâs eyes. theyâre a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.
he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. âit is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.â he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. âi look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.â
you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.
âand i you,â you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.
ââcan i meet your dragon?â leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.
âleo,â you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heirâs enthusiasm for dragons. âthe prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.â
âright you are, my dear.â your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. âalyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.â
jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.
he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. âi look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.â
you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. âi shall save you a dance, my prince,â you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.
âonly one dance?â he teases, eyebrow arching.
you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerysâs eyes. âi shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.â
he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. âthen i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.â he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.
âwe shall see,â you return as you curtsey.
you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.
the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.
the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. heâs only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry heâs at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.
so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. itâs only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.
heâs in black and red again, just as he had been when heâd arrived. it seems your father had been right when heâd stated that jacaerys favours his motherâs house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.
you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.
you donât pay attention to your fatherâs speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.
rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.
âyes, your grace?â
âwould you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?â
your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. âi suppose i did promise you one, did i not?â
âthat you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.â dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.
you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.
you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.
âhow are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?â
âjace, please,â he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. âmy friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.â
you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. âjace it is, then,â you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. âalthough you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?â
he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. âyour father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though iâm afraid iâve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.â
âa shame we shall have to rectify, i think.â you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. âperhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?â
âyes,â he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. âthat is to sayâ i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.â
you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.
jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. âhave i met your standards enough for another dance, then?â
you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.
âi suppose so,â you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.
âand what about the dance after that?â he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.
âyou should not press your luck, jace,â you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.
jacaerys smirks. âmy lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.â
you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. âyou are incorrigible.â it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.
âyes,â the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. âbut i think you rather enjoy it.â
your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. âperhaps.â
after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothedâs arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jaceâs lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;
gods, i am in so much trouble.
time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.
as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jaceâs company. youâre always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. itâs hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.
the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done â a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jaceâs mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged â a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.
you find yourself hoping the queenâs will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.
because oh, how you want him. from the first moment youâd laid eyes upon him youâd been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him â the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, youâd be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.
but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothedâs name on your lips.
beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, youâd not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.
youâre not sure if jace feels the same. you donât doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you canât be sure.
after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.
you leave your guard long behind at jaceâs instruction; he doesnât want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you donât say anything since youâre equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.
your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. youâve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldnât the size of him startles you. heâs just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermaxâs open maw â gods, there as so many teeth â has your palms starting to sweat.
jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you donât understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.
âyou can come closer now.â he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.
he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when youâre within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.
youâre so distracted by the feel of him that you donât realise until itâs too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until itâs pressed to vermaxâs scales, and then youâre too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that heâs so easily coaxed you into this position.
you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.
because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermaxâs eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. itâs staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.
you kiss him.
itâs barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.
youâve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but itâs never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.
the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste â the smell â the feel of him is drowning everything out that isnât jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.
you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.
you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jaceâs arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jaceâs shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.
when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.
the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel â unsettled. you donât think thereâs anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that heâd kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.
a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jaceâs eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.
âi have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,â he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.
âoh.â you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. âoh. thatâsâ good.â you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers. âi-i mean, iâm glad that it was not⊠unwelcome.â
your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. âit was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.â his eyes sparkle with mirth. âi find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.â
âjace!â you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. âyou should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.â
his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.
as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.
in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance heâs had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.
itâs thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.
while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly â but then you are your parentâs daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.
so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.
eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.
âmy mother planted the first of these roses,â you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. âwinter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.â
jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. âtheyâre beautiful,â he tells you sincerely.
âiâve always thought so, too,â you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. âeveryone told my mother sheâd never be able to get them to grow so far south. theyâre very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.â your lips quirk up into a fond smile. âbut my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.â
you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. ânobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think⊠i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.â
jaceâs gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. âthank you for bringing me here.â
you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like heâs afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.
âiâve never brought anyone else here,â you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jaceâs lips part in surprise. âi wished⊠i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.â you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. âhowever pretentious that sounds.â
âit doesnât,â jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that youâre building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.
âi know itâs perhaps too soon â we have only known each other a few weeks. but i⊠when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. iâve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.â
you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply canât stop speaking, canât stop the feeling pouring freely from you. âand then i met you, and you were so unlike anything iâd expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things areâ complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but stillâ i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i donât wish to hide it from you anymore.â
you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. âi wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because iâŠ.â you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. âi am falling in love with you, jacaerys.â
you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as youâd told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. youâve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit thatâs for practicality as much as anything else â his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.
bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like youâre tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying âthis is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope itâs enough.â
jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.
âoh, my sweet lady,â he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. âi am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.â
it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. âour betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,â he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. âi know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.â
his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. âi care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.â
he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and itâs enough, itâs wonderful and delicate and itâs enough.
and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.
taglist; @eldrith
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jace x reader#hotd fanfic#jacaerys velaryon imagine#jacaerys vaaryon fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys targaryen fanfic#jacaerys targaryen imagine#my writing
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I love your writing. The fic you wrote made me think about this one⊠Lando and reader getting caught by another driver on the grid. Like they are on a vacation and nobody knows for sure if they are dating but they do those little things and once they get caught. Like that?
Aww you have no idea how happy it makes me you like my writing! Hope you enjoy this one anon.
You were mine all along
Warnings - swearing, smut (p in v, oral receiving m and f, blowjobs, unprotected sex, minors DNI)
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Working for F1 as a social media creator meant you spent a lot of time with all the drivers and their teams. You'd been doing this for 3 years now and it was safe to say there was one driver in particular with whom you were immediately attracted to, the both of you dancing along their lines of exploring something more than just a friendship - Lando.
But that was the problem - you became friends first and foremost, and the thought of risking that for a relationship where you might lose each other? Neither of you were ready to take that step forward.
A lot of your mutual friends (drivers and other media personal) always teased the two of you. What you both didn't know was that bets were being made behind your backs as to when you two would finally get together.
So has close as you were, the days always started perfectly, and the nights always ended internally painful.
That was until 2 months ago though. It was the weekend before the triple header - Lando had invited you, Max and P to his parents cottage in St Tropez.
You knew the more time you spent with him, the more difficult it wold be to keep your thoughts and hands to yourself but on the last night you found yourselves in the hot tub alone, when Max and P called it a night.
The air was palpable, sexual tension reaching a new high with both you and Lando just staring at each other. No words being spoken verbally, but rather with the darkened gaze on each other.
It was no secret to the other that you so badly wanted each other - and after 10 minutes of agony, Lando reached for your arm and pulled you to sit on his lap, eyes never leaving yours.
You bit your lip as you felt Lando's hands explore your body - your shoulders, arms, legs, tummy, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your boobs, and eventually your ass through your bikini bottoms.
As your breathing increased and you tried to suppress your moans - partly because you could feel his hardening dick, Lando bought his hand up to your face. His own thumb now swiping across your lip.
''Lando....'' you said, not sure if you were edging him to carry on, or to stop what he was doing because of the consequences you'd face later.
He blinked a few times, face laced with a sense of confusion, before he spoke two words that changed everything.
''Fuck it'' he mumbled, before crashing his lips to yours, hard and rough, as if his life depended on it.
You reacted instantly, opening your mouth up and letting him slip his tongue in, while your hands pulled at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
That was where it all began, and you'd been inseparable from each other ever since. You wanted to keep yourselves in your own bubble for as long as possible, not telling anyone, not even your friends.
It was difficult to say the least, during the triple header. Trying to act normal around each other while working in the paddock, although you'd made a few trips to Lando's driver room for a few pre-quali or pre-race fucks.
Luckily, you were always at the same hotel, so it was easy for you to slip into Lando's room in the late hours of the night where he'd show you how how much he missed you with rough kisses, violent fucks - him slamming into you and filling you up - and after sex cuddles, until you had to sneak back to your room in the early morning.
Things had been going well, no one seemed to have caught on to your relationship - which you were grateful for. It was nice just being the two of you alone.
You were now on a holiday with Lando in Lake Como, two weeks into the summer break. It was a secluded little village with the privacy you'd both craved, so you were spending an entire 10 days here. Lando rented out a little cottage and your days so far had been spent joined at the hip - whether it was cooking, dancing, relaxing doing nothing, and not to mention the endless amounts of sex you'd had.
He'd truly fucked you in every corner of the house - inside and out. The physical part of your relationship was something you both very quickly learned would be a big part of your lives. And Lando never missed an opportunity to get down and dirty on you - so to be together for 10 whole days with no prying eyes - whether it was friends, family or fans - he was going to take advantage of it and not let you up.
Not that you were complaining. You loved when you'd wake up in the morning, Lando's face between your legs, his tongue biting and sucking at your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you, until you came all over his face and he made sure to lick you clean.
You also loved that one night which started when you cooked and ate dinner, Lando put on some beautiful slow music which had you both waltzing (as best you could) from the lounge to the dining room, and ended with you on your knees in front of him, eagerly pulling his shorts down to reveal his thick girth standing tall, begging for attention. You sucked on his tip, swallowing his pre-cum before you deep throated him, letting him fuck your mouth until he was a moaning mess above you, praising your name and coating your throat white with sheets of warm cum. He said that was the best head he'd ever received.
And let's not forget that time he had you bent over the balcony, his dick fucking into you so hard you saw literal stars above you. You'd both said ''i love you'' for the first time, and after a slow, sensual kiss, things turned heated. You both stripped your clothes as quickly as possible and in no time Lando was forcing you to hold on to the railings as he railed his cock into your pussy overwhelmingly, and his hands found your waist and surely left purple marks to be the seen the next day. He told you how good you were for him, taking him so well. So wet and so tight, only for him. Only for you, you'd told him back. before your came violently around his cock. Your body could barely hold onto the railing, not mentioning how your legs were like jelly, so Lando sat back down and you sat on his dick, riding him almost painfully quickly, as his lips found your hard nipples and bit and pulled on them. You came again, and this time your body gave up on you, so Lando had to fuck himself up into you to chase his own orgasm, before releasing into your pussy, dick twitching inside of you.
So although there was an awful amount of sex happening, you also enjoyed the sweet kisses and cuddles Lando gave to you through the day and night. There was something so domestic about sharing a house with them and you happily agreed when he asked you to move in with him back home in Monaco. Having known each other for 3 years meant you knew each other inside out, so moving in together 2 months into a relationship excited you more than it worried you.
It was your last night here so Lando had booked a dinner at a Micheline star restaurant - a cozy, intimate place. The food was so delicious - you might call it better than sex - though nothing could beat sex with Lando so you take that back. You were both about 4 glasses of wine in while waiting for dessert and Lando was definitely becoming very handsy and affectionate. Not that you could keep your hand to yourself either.
Lando had left his seat to come and sit next to you and you felt his hand rest on your thigh before you felt him slowly make his way up, close to your core, which by now was dripping wet.
Your face flushed as he slipped it through your lacey panties and swipe through your folds before settling at your clit, pinching at it harshly.
Luckily the lighting was low in the restaurant, and anyone who looked your way would have just thought the two of you as young lovers who wanted to be seated as close as possible. If only they knew what was going on under the table you thought.
Conversation had long left you and Lando was his focus was solely on getting his fingers in your cunt, and yours was merely on trying to enjoy the stimulation without letting out any audible moans and pants.
Just as Lando slipped a finger through your entrance you heard an all too familiar voice, which had you shaking with fear as Lando's fingers stilled, still inside of you. ''Fuck'' you heard Lando mutter.
You looked up and saw none other than George and Carmen, staring sheepishly at the two of you.
''Fancy seeing you both here, together'' George muttered very matter of factly.
Lando shook hands with him with the hand that was not in your pussy, as Carmen leaned down to peck your flushed cheeks.
''Oh fuck off'' Lando said, the pair of them the best of friends, so not taking it seriously.
Lando signaled to the waiter to bring two more chairs, which internally had you screaming at him because hello? His finger was literally still in your cunt.
You both knew you'd been caught though, so there would be no denying your relationship - at least to G and C.
''Sooooo'' Carmen started.
''Soooo'' you said back, pretending you didn't know where this was going.
''Fuck it, just tell us the two of you finally sorted your shit out and are fucking'' George piped in.
If your cheeks were pink before, they were fiery red now. You looked at Lando, who by the looks it was feeling the effects of his wine at just this moment, so he was a smiling mess
''Fuck. Well. When you put it like that - fine. Yes'' you said softly.
''But we're not just fucking'' Lando chimed in. ''We're making love too. Coz we're together together'' he said.
''Lan!'' you shrieked, not able to keep a smile at bay, though shocked at his response.
''Blimey, you're in deep'' G said, smirking at Carmen.
You suddenly shifted in your seat, biting your lip, as Lando slowly started to thrust his finger again.
He and George started talking about something, but you were a fool to think Carmen wouldn't catch on to what was going on.
She looked at you, then at Lando, and back to you, and took a breath.
''Are we-wow. Are we interrupting something?'' she asked, trying to keep her smirk in.
''What? no'' you said, although the tremble in your voice said otherwise.
''Fuck, George, time to go'' she quickly said, ushering a confused G up and out of his seat.
''What are you-'' then he looked between you and Lando, for the first time noticing the looks on your faces, then he caught on.
''Holy shit, enjoy, lovebirds, and don't think I'll ever forget this!'' he said, before he and Carmen quickly walked away giggling to each other.
''Fuck me'' Lando groaned, though sped up his actions in and out of you.
''Gladly, take me home baby'' you said as he pulled his finger out and licked it clean, turning you into an even wetter mess down there.
The ride back to the house with palpable with tension. The thought of getting caught sending a rush of adrenaline through you both.
As soon as Lando helped you out the car he picked you up by the back of your knees and threw you over his shoulder, rushing into the house at such a speed you had no time to react.
He placed you down on the kitchen counter before ripping your dress of of you, eyes darkening when he saw you weren't wearing a bra, only panties that barely covered anything.
He snatched them off of you before spreading your legs apart and placing them on his shoulders.
''Lan'' you mumbled, desperate for him to do something.
''Patience babygirl, we're only getting started'' he said, licking his lips.
His one hand reached up to pry his fingers into your mouth for you to suck while his other hand pinched and pulled at your hard nipples. All the while his own mouth found your dripping cunt, licking a stripe up and collecting all your juices.
''So fucking wet. All for me, yeah?'' he asked.
You moaned. ''All yours Lan, only yours'' you answered, pulling hard at his curls.
Lando quickly found your clit and dramatically pinched it between his lips, the stimulation letting you reach new heights.
''Fuck, Lando, please. More'' you begged of him.
He pryed your pussy open with his two hands and then his tongue was sliding in and out of you, hitting just the right spots.
You watched as he slowly became a mess - lips and chin full of a mixture of his spit and your juices, strings of sticky liquid dripping down your thighs.
''So tight, yeah baby, just the way i like it'' he said between breaths.
Within minutes your body was shuddering, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you harshly, making an even bigger mess of Lando's face.
He rode you through your orgasm before pulling you up by your arms to sit up, meeting your halfway to lock lips and let you taste your arousal.
''Need to feel you in me, please'' you said through gritted teeth, your hands already working on removed his button up and belt on his trousers.
Once he was free of his constraints, you took his girth into your hands and pumped him a few times, your thumb brushing the slit where pre cum was already dripping.
He hissed at the contact before taking himself into his own hands and sliding his dick through your folds. ''Ready for me baby?'' he asked, smirk on his lips. You knew that smirk - he was going to ruin you, and you wouldn't have it any other way, but you still braced yourself.
''Please fuck me'' you begged.
''Juuust remember. You asked for it - no going back now yeah? he said, smirk growing bigger and eyes getting darker by the second.
'''Hmmm mm'' was all you time to say before he violently thrust himself into you, started a pace unlike any other time you've had sex.
This time he didn't give you time to adjust to the intrusion, he slammed in and out of you at a pace that had your hips hitting each other within seconds.
''Of fuck Lando uh'' you moaned, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It felt fucking amazing but with the amount of non stop sex the two of you have had the last 10 days has your cunt aching and throbbing, quickly becoming overly sensitive.
''Come on baby, I know you have at least 2 more in you. Gonna be a good girl for me yeah?'' Lando said through gritted teeth, his own sensitivity reaching a new high.
''Fuck Lan, gonna cum now'' you panted, digging your nails deep into his biceps.
''Give it to me angel''
Within seconds you body was shaking and you were screaming Lando's name, releasing your fluids all around his dick.
''Fuck baby, that's it. Gonna let me fill you up now?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to answer him, and with no warning another orgasm rocked through your body causing you to be on the verge of blacking out.
By now Lando's movements were becoming sloppy and clumsy, clearly he was on edge too as he was mumbled out incoherent words - ''fuck, y/n, my own whore, so tight, fuck, yes'' before you felt his warm cum splutter through you, his own body now shaking above you, a sheen of sweat covering his whole body with the workout he'd just done.
You both stilled, trying to catch your breath, before Lando let his weight fall onto your lower body, hugging you around your stomach as your hands tangled in his hair.
You could feel him softening inside of you but neither of you made any effort to move.
''Baby?'' he started.
''Hmm yeah?''
''I'm sorry i called you a whore. I meant it as a complement, I promise''
''Fuck Lan'' you giggled and rubbed his cheek earning a look up from him. ''Call me your whore any day. Tells me I'm yours and only yours'' you cooed.
He couldn't help but send you the biggest boyish grin he had. ''Fucking love you so much. Why the hell did we wait this long to get together. Could have started from day 1'' he said, this time taking his weight off you and slowly pulling his dick out. You hissed at the loss of contact but he pulled you up and held you gently.
''Baby our day 1 started 2 months ago, and we have forever to go, i hope'' you said, winking at him.
''Hmm mmm'' he replied, bending down and spreading your legs again.
''Lan I love you but no more, I'm so fucking sore''
''Shhhh let me'' he said as he licked a stripe up you cunt, collecting a mixture of yours and his cum.
You gasped and watched as he leveled his head back with yours and pryed your lips open with his fingers before letting the liquid drip down from his to your mouth.
''Hmmm'' you moaned at the taste, wetness already pooling between your legs again but you knew you were too sore to do anything about it.
You swallowed everything before Lando kissed you hard and deep, his tongue slipping into your mouth before sucking on your own tongue.
''I'd say t'was a good summers break, yeah? he asked.
''Best ever'' you replied, pulling him in for another kiss.
''Bet George's already told everyone. Gossip king'' you said, remembering how the night unfolded.
''Hell yeah'' Lando said, checking his phone and seeing there were tens of messages flooding in on your groupchat with the other drivers and their wags.
''Fucking bastards'' he mumbled.
''What?'' you asked.
''They fucking bet on us. On when we'd get together. Looks like Charles won''
''Urghhhhh'' you groaned.
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#f1 smut#lando norris#lando x reader#f1 fic#lando norris smut#lando smut
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Loyaltyâs embrace
Pairing đ
Ș Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader
Tags đ
Ș jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description
Notes: i have been writing for years without posting anything so i have a insane number of fics to post, enjoy lol
Wordcount đ
Ș 1.3k
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!
The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.
The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.
She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.
Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.
"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.
"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.
He didnât seem to noticeâor care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.
"Come now, Y/N, you canât tell me youâve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicotâs voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.
Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.
Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."
Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"
A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicotâs eyes. "No, Cedric. Iâll do much worse."
Before Cedric could react, Benjicotâs fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.
Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You donât know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.
"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicotâs grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"
Benjicotâs eyes darkened further. "I donât need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly donât understand."
With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isnât over, Blackwood."
"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, youâll stay away from her."
Guards approached then, at Benjicotâs silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.
Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.
She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didnât know what to do..."
He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."
Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.
"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.
Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."
Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.
He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."
As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.
Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.
Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.
As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.
The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.
Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.
The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.
"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."
She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."
As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.
"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.
Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.
In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.
The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each otherâs arms.
#hotd x reader#house of the dragon#benjicot blackwood#benjicot blackwood x reader#game of thrones#asoiaf#fluff
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Dragonrider âą J.V
(Gif not mine)
Request: could i get a fic with Jacaerys where the reader claims cannibal as her dragon đ â anon
Summary: Jacaerys catches you claiming the Cannibal
Warnings: gn!reader (no pronouns used so if you see any lmk), dragonseed!reader, no mention of parentage just silver hair, blood and death mention, kinda pre-relationship like an enemies to lovers but Iâm focusing on the enemies part yâknow what I mean? Not a lot of Jace interaction but oh whale
Word Count: 1.2k (this wasn't supposed to be this long LMAO)
A.N: i actually really like this, i'm not gunna lie...lemme know what you think! Won't do a part two to this though, it was hard enough to write lmao
âą
The dreams started when you were a child. Green eyes pierced the blackness of your eyelids making you wake up in cold sweats. In the mornings you would chalk it up to the sweltering heat of King's Landing, but you knew those green eyes were the cause of your unease.
It wasn't until you were deep in the bowels of the dragonpit in Dragonstone years later you would realize what those dreams meant.
Death.
Like lambs to slaughter or whores from the Street of Silk, Queen Rhaenyra offered countless silver haired bastards to her dragons. She plucked you all out of King's Landing in order to place you back in another hopeless situation.
Her theory, you gathered from her somber explanation hours before, was that the numerous bastards of the Targaryen bloodline would be able to claim a dragon. She dare not say it, of course, but since her bastard children could ride, why not all the others? It was insanity.
But it beat starving to death in the capital, you figured.
You shiver beneath your thin rags, the damp chill of the dragonpit surrounding you.
In almost a blink of an eye fire and blood surrounded you; the dragon they had brought up rampaged through the cave, lighting every little thing in sight ablaze.
As smoke fills your lungs you run as fast as you can, dipping behind rocks and ignoring the piercing screams of the other Targaryen bastards around you.
Whether this mass murder was intentional or not, you were determined to get out of the wretched cavern alive.
You walk through the cavern for what feels like ages, exhaustion weighing you down. Eventually, you see a glimpse of light from between the rocks. It's open enough just for you to scrape through, and when you do, the tension releases from your body almost all at once.
The intense rays of sunlight causes you to wince but the fresh air soothes your pain. In the distance the waves of the ocean crash against the sand and stones of the shoreline. With your joints throbbing, you limp through the grass, mind reeling with possibilities.
You were stranded on this damned rock.
Feet aching from running, you continue forward, desperate to stay alive and find someone--anyone--who could help you.
A black mass forms in front of you, smoke curling around its head.
A dragon.
It lays stationary in front of you, the green eyes from your dream watching you intensely. Fear strikes you; down your spine and deep within your core. Holding your breath you try to figure out a way around this, but the dragon almost wants you to come closer.
It's emerald eyes are hypnotic and you find yourself inching closer and closer. Your mind is screaming at you to run, to turn back now before it's too late, before you become another casualty of the Queen's insane idea.
But you find that you can't.
Closer to the dragon, you reach your arm out to touch it, green eyes never leaving your own.
A shout sounds from behind you causing your hair to stand on end. Before you had wished for someone to find you but now it seemed like the dragon in front of you was to be your savior from the very beginning.
Your arm freezes between you and the dragon right in front of you at the voice. The green eyes that were piercing into your own just moments before now settle above your shoulder at the intruder behind you. Smoke curls from the black mass in front of you.
Sweat dots your forehead. You were so close.
Close enough that the stench of rot and blood is thick in the air, though after living your entire life in the depths of Kingâs Landing it almost doesnât bother you. Almost.
Panting breath mingles with the shouts and you hear the sound of heavy boots against the dirt getting closer to you.
You hush the dragon, attempting to get its attention again. The eyes flick back to you. Swallowing nervously, your hand slowly lands on the dragonâs snout, scales warm to the touch.
Clicking moans escape from the dragonâs mouth, like purrs from a satisfied cat.
The grin breaks out on your face, relief flooding your tense body.
âYou there! Bastard!â The commanding voice spits from behind you. âStep away from that dragon!â
Heart hammering in your chest, you turn to see the young Prince approaching you. Hand resting on the hilt of his sword and crimson cape flowing behind him as he quickens his pace to meet you.
"Stay away from me!" You frantically shout, trying so desperately to not offend the large dragon behind you. You realize that you truly are between a rock and a hard place.
âAre you a fool with a death wish? That is the Cannibal!â He shouts back at you.
Wind whips his brown curls over his shoulders, revealing his lightly freckled face. His gaze is intense, almost like a dragonâs.
âYour mother believes that people like us have a chance. So I will take it.â You reply, taking determined steps backwards towards the dragonâs torso.
âYou imbecile, get back here before you get us both killed!â The Prince is filled to the brim with frustration, gripping his sword even tighter than before.
However he doesnât take another step towards you, the dragon beside you too unpredictable. His hesitation provides you with enough time to climb up the large dragon, grasping tightly onto sharp horns and glimmering scales.
The Cannibal shifts below you but gives no indication that he wants you dead. In fact, the back mass vibrates with the clicks and whirs from before.
You swing a leg over one of the ridges, body blossoming with the warmth of the scales between your covered thighs.
Prince Jacaerys stares at you in disbelief as you attempt to balance on the back of the dragon.
Hands shaking you grab onto the Cannibalâs horns. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest and your breath is erratic. This was nothing like you expected at all.
Exhaling, you feel as though you were finally complete. Like you finally found your true self; propped up on an infamous dragon. The fire within the Cannibal helps light your own.
You were much more than a common Targaryen bastard now.
Prince Jacaerys still stands below you, standing firm in the grass.
âWhat?â You ask, an eyebrow quirked up as a challenge. âJealous that mine is bigger?
Smirking, you watch the Prince flush red with anger and embarrassment. Watching him fumble with his words fuels the surge of power running through your veins.
âNow if you excuse me, my Prince.â You tighten your hold on the horns of the dragon below you. Your knuckles are white, but until you get the gear the other dragonriders have, you have to deal with the lack of safety. âI am going to practice flying before meeting with our Queen.â
Prince Jacaerys clenches his teeth, jaw tightening, as his deep brown eyes watch as you ascend above him.
Excitement pumps through your veins as the heat of the Cannibal's scales between your legs subdues the chill of the winds surrounding you.
Thoughts of the young Prince leave your mind as you soar higher into the clouds.
No longer were you just a silver-haired bastard. You were a dragonrider; one of only a select few.
Nothing could touch you here, up in the vastness of the sky.
âą
#house of the dragon#hotd#house of the dragon x reader#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x you#hotd x you#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys targaryen x you#house of the dragon fanfiction
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you're losing me â s. reid x reader
in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling.Â
pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo
Perhaps you were stupid.Â
Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him.Â
An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all.Â
Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general.Â
And this wasn't him.Â
He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips.Â
It was a habit he had developed.Â
This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently.Â
And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours.Â
Like clockwork.
You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not.Â
You were too scared to ask.Â
"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet.Â
"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen.Â
You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard.Â
"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."
"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested.Â
You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."
"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway.Â
He didn't even care.Â
You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid.Â
Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to.Â
He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now.Â
You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you.Â
"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness.Â
His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers.Â
"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."
"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants.Â
Your lips pursed. "You hate those."
"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."
"Not someone you trust!"
"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"
You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest.Â
You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."
He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature.Â
"What does that mean?"
Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I justâI don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."
He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."
Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prisonâ"
"âWell, it kind of changed who I am!"
You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two.Â
"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety.Â
He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off.Â
"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."
The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain.Â
"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."
Oh.
"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him.Â
"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate.Â
Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending.Â
"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically.Â
"No, this isâ"
"âYou deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."
He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.
Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again.Â
"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet.Â
"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Notânot just you."
"About what happened?"
"In general."
You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."
"I do have feelings for you."
"It doesn't feel that way."
More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.
"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.
He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping.Â
"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."
"I do want to be with youâ"
"âThen fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."
"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."
"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."
"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching.Â
"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."
"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.
You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."
"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if IâI hurt you."
"What if you don't?"
It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."
You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."
He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation.Â
And so you left.
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly âĄ
#liaâs fics âĄ#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst
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OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...
oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan
First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot
Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-
Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. Heâs also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. Itâs risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation worldâs most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!
Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. Heâs about 16 when he becomes Bingheâs student, but the thing is⊠Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.
He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. Heâll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the discipleâs name. Itâs fine though, once every few months heâll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. âSee, I teach my kids! Last month I took whatâs-his-name on a night hunt!â
By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it.Â
Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe canât move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell âShizun!â and run over.
They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuanâs two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety.Â
By the time they return to the caveâs entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out.Â
When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person.Â
Over the next few days, he canât think of anything other than his student.Â
(Also, he secretly feels kind of⊠angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but stillâŠ)
Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, thatâs his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up⊠a reputation at Cang Qiong.Â
Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! âHe stopped my qi deviationâ this, âhe threw me out of a poisonous demon's wayâ that.Â
For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesnât know Shen Yuanâs birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasnât felt in YEARS.Â
About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, âThis master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave⊠join me at the bamboo house tonight.âÂ
Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple.Â
Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding?????Â
After that, Luo BingheâŠâŠ. He isnât stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. Heâs just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret.Â
He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan âsparringâ and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was.Â
Instead he asks what theyâre doing.Â
Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-
Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.
Shen Yuan: uh⊠it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-
Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.
Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problemÂ
Shen Yuan: Okay⊠this disciple is grateful for shizunâs assistanceâŠ?
Their flight to the village is dead quiet.Â
The townspeople sigh theyre so glad theyâre here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, itâll result in huge losses.Â
When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. Itâs like heâs suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword.Â
Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. âThis species isnât even violent! We canât kill it!âÂ
Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says heâll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularlyâŠ
By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it wonât be a bother, itâs too late to fly back to the sect.
The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, butâŠ
Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because theyâre both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan.Â
Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! âWhenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. Heâll be happy to take the mat.â
Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan.Â
In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesnât need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.
This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest heâs gone without sex in a long time, all because heâs been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But heâs got too much on his mind to do that tonight⊠Heâs still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.
Shen Yuan is⊠someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesnât want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by⊠gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him!Â
(Heâs not projecting!)
Heâs already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! Heâs decided what he has to do.Â
First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuanâs door. He hears a sweet âCome in!â from inside and for some reason he feels⊠really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. âGood morning, shizun.â
Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? Heâs wearing nothing but one layer thatâs not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuanâs milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?
(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself heâs making the right decision by doing this.)
He cuts right to the chase. âOnce we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jingâs head disciple.â He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request â heâs not giving Shen Yuan a choice.Â
Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says theyâll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Bingheâs head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend whatâs going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, âI better tell Liu-shidi-â
Luo Bingheâs hand moves before he can stop himself, and theyâre both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuanâs wrist.Â
Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. âYou should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.â There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?
Shen Yuan says, âOhhh,â and then smiles. âDon't worry shizun,â he says gently, âThis disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.âÂ
Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, âI donât know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldnât it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?âÂ
Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and heâll do it without even realizing.Â
#role reversal au#svsss#shen yuan#luo binghe#bingqiu#liu qingge#allpiesforourown#gonna tag it binggeyuan too bc binghe is a fuckboy until he gets domesticated by sy#binggeyuan#luo bingge
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Like A Fairy Tale
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.
Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.
Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors.
If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3 I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnesâ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charmingâ attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.
But fairy tales arenât real.Â
You werenât sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after youâd moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after youâd adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at firstâ he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and theyâd turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldnât see him.Â
At first, it hadnât been terribleâ Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldnât, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, heâd answer when you called him⊠when he could, which wasnât always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too.Â
When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world.Â
You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. Peopleâs lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldnât. Not any more.
âY/N,â your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Yearâs Eve party, âwhereâs Barnes? Heâs been leaving you to go solo for months now. I donât think Iâve seen you with him since Markâs St. Patrickâs Day Party.â
Ouch. âHeâs working, Lainy,â you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each otherâs company.Â
âYeah, he was âworkingâ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Aliceâs wedding, and your auntâs funeral.â You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to âworking.â âAnd he was âworkingâ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, heâs been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. Whatâs going on? Are you sure there isnât someone else?â
The worst part was, you knew there wasnât, or at least, no one individual. When heâd first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you werenât proud of yourself, but youâd gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair⊠multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Buckyâs heart, but he didnât have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didnât negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. Youâd have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.
You could have asked Steve. You didnât think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didnât want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself.Â
Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Yearâs Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew whereâ just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasnât the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved.Â
You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. Youâd probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized himâ Harris, a cousin of Lainyâs who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky.Â
âY/N!â he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, âitâs been awhile.â He enveloped you in a friendly hug. âHowâve you been?â
You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life.Â
âIâm sorry about your breakup,â he offered gently, after youâd exhausted the usual small talk.
âMy breakup?â you asked, brow piqued.
âLast few events Iâve seen you at, youâve been alone. I assumed you and BarnesâŠâ he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.
You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it?Â
âIf you arenât seeing anyone,â Harris continued, âI would really love to take you out. Youâve gotta know Iâve been into you for ages, and I figure if I donât shoot my shot now, who knows when Iâll have another chance.â
You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?
âUm, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,â you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air.Â
You found yourself on Lainyâs balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Buckyâs number. It went straight to voicemail.
âSomeone asked me out on a date tonight,â you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didnât want to shed. âAnd I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? Youâre never here, and Iâm always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your workâs important. I know that. I do, and Iâm not begrudging you for your job. But⊠but I canât keep on like this. I canât even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isnât that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks youâre cheating on me. Did you know that? Youâre away so much that everyone I know is convinced youâre fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but Iâve been too stupid to notice; if thatâs the case, you could have just told me.âÂ
You kept your composure as you left the message. You werenât angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely.Â
âAll I know is that itâs another night where Iâm all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and youâre just⊠not. Youâre off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I canât be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someoneâs priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine.Â
âSo, letâs just call it, okay? Your heartâs obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. Weâll have to figure out what to do about the house. Iâm keeping Alpine, though. You havenât been here for her, either, and it wouldnât be fair of you to take her if youâre never going to be around.â
Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.
âHuh,â you said into your phone, âitâs midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and Iâm sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didnât want to spend this last one with me.â
You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You werenât sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldnât find the will to believe her.
You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon.Â
You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after youâd had some time to process. You werenât in the best headspace to get into at the moment.
Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You werenât eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you werenât going to abandon her.
Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. âAl, baby,â you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, âMommyâs home. You hungry, sweetie?â
You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now?Â
But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where youâd left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs.Â
A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.
âBucky?â You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but noâ there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadnât slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. Heâd obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.
âY/N,â he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. âSweetheart, I was so worried.â
âWhat are you doing here, Buck?â you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldnât. Not anymore.
Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. âI got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you werenât here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that youâd left me for good.â
You scoffed. âIâm not the one who leaves, Bucky.â
He flinched at your words. âI know, Baby. I know, and âm so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavinâ you so much was doinâ to you, âcause it was doinâ it to me, too. When I heard you say that peopleâ that youâ thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone elseâ Iâve never hated myself more, doll. I canât stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because itâs always been you. Thereâs never been anyone else. Youâre it.â
âThen why have you been gone?â you asked him in a whisper. âIf thereâs no one else, and Iâm it, why donât you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?âÂ
Bucky ran both his hands along his face. âGod, it feels so stupid now,â he said with a sigh. âBut I was trying to saveââ
âTrying to save the world, yeah, I know,â you interrupted him, annoyed. âTrust me, Iâm well aware that I canât compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.â
Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. âWow, you donât have to rub it in, Bucky.â
âNo, noâ Sweetheart, no!â he shook his head. âThatâs not it, at all. Hold on.â He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.
It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if youâd dreamed it up.
You looked from the paper back to Bucky. âI donât understand,â you told him.
âIt needs pretty extensive renovations,â he told you. âI wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come cleanâ I havenât been one hundred percent honest with you about where Iâve been spending all my time.â He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.
âBut⊠but, you said there wasnât anyone else,â you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest.Â
âOh god! No, and I mean that! There isnât, I swear! God, Iâve fucked this up so bad!â Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. âIâve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.â
âYou already bought it?â you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. âYou want to move out? Away from me?â
Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. âNo! God, Iâm doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.â
You stilled at his words. âIâm sorry, your what?â
Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. âIâll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentineâs Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, soâŠâ He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.
Bucky got down on one knee. âY/N,â he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, âI know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you canât forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you werenât the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?â
âBuckâŠâ you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. âWhat about your job? I canât keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that itâs selfish of me, butââ
âI quit,â he said simply.
âWhat?â Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement.Â
âThe second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasnât even a question. Iâm officially retired.â
Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely⊠You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.
âItâs lovely,â you told him softly. âAbsolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.â Bucky beamed at you, pleased. âBut I canât accept it.â His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands.Â
âOh,â he whispered, eyes growing glassy. âI⊠um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you donât want to be with me anymore.â
âI still want to be with you, you idiot,â you admonished him. âBut you did hurt me, and weâve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentineâs Day, just like you originally planned. Donât do it now just because you fucked up.â You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. âAnd if it helps make you feel better, Iâm probably going to say âyes,â anyway.â
Bucky grinned at you. âReally?â he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadnât touched you in months. âI promise you, Sweetheart, Iâll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.â
âAnything?â you asked with a smile. âI think I know where you can start.â
âOh yeah?â he asked you. âAnd whereâs that?â
âTake me to bed, Bucky Barnes,â you said, kissing him again.
Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.
Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.
âSo, Doll,â he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, âyou gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?âÂ
You laughed. âLainyâs cousin, Harris. I suppose Iâll have to text him now and tell him Iâm not interested.â
âHell no, youâre not interested,â Bucky chuffed. âGonna have to remind that punk youâve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.â
âThatâs the thing, though,â you said, planting a kiss on his nose. âI donât have a boyfriend anymore, do I?â
Buckyâs face fell. âBut I thought you saidââ
âIâve got myself a fiance.â
Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. âYeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.â
Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#winter soldier#marvel mcu#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n
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write a Paige fic with them being rivals on the court but secret lovers off the court please and thank you pattyđ«¶
yes ma'am đ«Ą
Always and Forever
Summary: You and Paige hate each other, or that's what you have everyone else thinking.
wc: 1,780
Contains: swearing, two kisses, just fluff
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For as long as you could remember, you loved basketball. You don't know when it started, but you knew that it was gonna be your future career. You joined your first team in 5th grade, and quickly became MVP, making progress faster than you could blink.
There was another girl in your class, and for whatever reason, she hated you. She also happened to be on the same basketball team. She made it known she didn't like you, because the first day of tryouts, she shoved you for no reason. Her hatred for you didn't stop there though, she refused to pass the ball to you, even if it meant costing your team a game, or taking unnecessary risks.
Nobody knew why she disliked you, but that animosity only grew as you both did. But there wasn't anything you could do, you both loved basketball, and you weren't gonna stop playing because some kid didn't like you.
But what you didn't know is that she felt the exact opposite. She was so painfully in love with you and so deep in the closet that she didn't know what to do with these feelings. Her only solution was to make you hate her.
Another thing you didn't know is that you felt the exact same way. If an outsider were to look at you two, you'd think it was one of the most intense long lasting rivalries of all time. But you two were head over heels for each other.
You only found out your junior year in high school, because the teachers and coaches were tired of you both bickering. They put you two in a room and told you to figure your shit out. Obviously, it started in a screaming match, but eventually you both grew tired of arguing, and a different type of tension filled the room.
You both start to have an actual conversation, without the arguing and fighting. Of course, there were small jabs at each other, you both still weren't friends, but by the end of the day, you werenât enemies. Nobody knew that you were gay, so the only solution in your eyes was to pretend to hate each other.
Eventually, she admitted her feelings for you, and you didn't say you liked her back, but instead answered with a kiss. You started dating shortly after, and decided to keep your relationship on the down low. You both know it's for the best, as not everyone was open to the idea of you being gay, including your parents, so you both continued pretending to hate each other.
Even if everybody else thought you couldnât stand each other, you were so head over heels for the kid who hated you for all of elementary and middle school.
Little did you know that kid would end up being the Paige Bueckers.
âSo how does it feel being matched up against Paige Bueckers? I know that you guys have a long history.â the reporter asks, her smile matching yours. Oh, you have history. She's been your girlfriend for about five years now, but the media didn't know.
You and her were never super far from each other, since she got accepted to Uconn, and you got a scholarship to CCSU. The colleges were only thirty-five minutes away from each other, so that made seeing each other much easier.
âYeah, it's gonna be tough, she's a good basketball player, yâknow, great defense, amazing three-pointers.â You smile at the camera. âI'm excited, I can't wait to absolutely destroy her. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, no problem.â
The reporter chuckles at your words. âBig talk, can't wait to see the match up. Anything last words for Paige?â You can't help but smile at the reporterâs egging you on.
âYeah, give me your worst, Bueckers. I'm coming for you, baby.â You say with a wink, before thanking the reporter, and walking away. You can't help but shake your head at the ridiculousness of your empty words. Everyone but Paige thought you were being serious, and to an extent you were, you had a bet with her that you'd score more than twenty points this game, but the rest was bullshit.
Of course, Paige saw the interview, laughing at your âseriousnessâ. So when it was her turn to be interviewed, she had to say something back.
âI mean, it'll be a fun game. Can't wait to see the big game that CCSUâs âtop playerâ was yapping about.â She throws up hand quotations and tilts her head mockingly as she speaks. âI'm excited to bring her hell and knock her off that tall ass high horse she's sat herself on.â
The reporter is eating up every word coming out of Paigeâs mouth.
âLots of trash talk from both ends, it seems the feud continues?â Paige nods and smiles. âAlways and forever.â She winks at the camera as she speaks.
Always and forever.
The words Paige made you repeat back to her when she gave you the promise ring that you had safety-pinned to your jersey at all times. When you first put it there, it sent the media into a spiral, rumors spreading like wildfires. When interviewers finally asked you about it, you said there was someone, but the rumors about who were all incorrect.
Nobody would've guessed Paige, and you both made sure to keep it that way.
The game was just as tough as you imagined it would be. With 4 seconds left in the fourth quarter, the score was tied, 89-89. It was the Huskies ball, and they had one chance to win.
Nika passes the ball to Aubrey from out-of-bounds, starting the shot clock. Aubrey sneaks past defense, and attempts to pass into Paige. But, Aubrey's defender blocks the shot with her fingers, sending the ball flying into your hands.
You react quickly, sprinting back towards the basket, watching as the shot clock hits one second. You're only half-court, but you don't have enough time to get any closer, so you take the risk and let the ball fly.
Just as the ball leaves your hands, the buzzer goes off, and the stadium goes silent as the ball soars through the air. You freeze as you watch the ball fall through the net, the crowd erupting into screams. Your shot went in, making the final score 92-89.
You're immediately surrounded by your teammates, who are chest bumping you, and dapping you up. This moment is something you never want to end, but there's something missing. This moment won't be the same without one thing.
You manage to wiggle free from your extremely hyped up teammates, ignoring your name being called as you make your way to the Uconn bench. You try to ignore the eyes on you, as you find the only person you want to ever have to look for.
When you spot the back of her head, you quickly make your way to her before your confidence runs out. You pull her sleeve, and her eyebrows furrow as she makes eye contact with you.
âWhat-â She starts, but you cut her off.
âI'm going to kiss you now.â You say, but you don't move. You want to make sure this is what she wants, but as the smile grows on her face, her compliance becomes clear.
âOkay.â she nods as her face turns a bright pink.
You grin as you pull her into a searing kiss, her hands finding your waist as she reciprocates your passion. You hear the gasps around you, which only makes you smile more. When you feel Paige grin against your mouth, you wrap your arms around her neck.
She pulls away, laughing as your whine. Even though there's thousands of people in the room, she only cares about you. âGuess they know now.â she chuckles.
âPaige Madison Bueckers! What the fuck?!â KK screams, causing Paige to roll her eyes and look over her shoulder. âCan I help you?â She deadpans. âI'm a little busy right now.â
KKâs jaw drops even more from the audacity. "I can see that, I better be filled in after."
Paige looks back at you and smiles. âYeah, later. Now, do you mind?â
âOh, by all means, continue making out with your arch-nemesis. Don't let me, the six giant cameras, or the sold-out arena stop you.â
You laugh at this, kissing Paigeâs cheek before pulling away. You look at your team, and around the stadium, and everyone's sharing the same expression, jaws dropped, eyes wide, and frozen in shock. You look up, and see yourself on the big screen.
Paige smiles down at you, her arm still wrapped around your waist. âI can't believe you did that. You're fucking crazy.â
You shrug and smile. âYou love it.â
She kisses the top of your head. âDamn right.â
After the excitement of the kiss calmed down, the same reporter from earlier asked to interview both of you, to which you of course said yes.
âSo what is your guysâ relationship status?â She asked, pointing the mic in your direction. You smile widely before answering. âPaige is my girlfriend, and she has been for five, almost six years.â
The reporter shakes her head in shock. âWhat made you guys choose to keep it a secret and cover it up with a seemingly harsh feud?â This time, she hands the mic to Paige, who shakes her head.
âWell, it started out real. Like I could not stand her, ever since we were on the same basketball team in fifth grade. But eventually, I started to like her, then I started to love her. Turns out she liked me too, so in high school we started to date.â She finished with a shrug.
âOh wow, I mean this is a shock to everyone. You both played it off very well. What were some of the hardest moments?â You nod as the reporter speaks.
âProbably pretending to not care, especially if one of us has a rough loss or a great win. It was hard not to comfort or celebrate publicly.â You say.
âSo everything after junior year in high school was fake? The rivalry, I mean.â
You smile. âYeah, it was all for the cameras.â Paigeâs eyes light up as she looks down at you. The camera picked up on the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you with nothing but love.
Her hands squeeze your waist as the interview ends, and you both walk away. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you've never felt happier.
You knew that whether the world knew or not, it was gonna be you and her.
Always and forever.
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taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris
#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige buckets#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers#paige x reader#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers head cannons#paige bueckers headcannons#paige bueckers x female oc#paige bueckers x oc#uconn wbb#uconn wcbb#uconnwbb#uconn#uconn huskies#uconn womenâs basketball#uconn x reader#wcbb x reader#wcbb#patsworks
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The Chain
pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader, minor Art Donaldson x reader
rating: explicit (18+)
word count: 28.3K
summary: Ever since you started at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it seemed like Patrick Zweig was out to make your life miserable. But as you both grow older and your relationship with him evolves in ways you couldn't have predicted, you find there is truly no escaping Patrick.
contains: mentions of bullying, infidelity, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, cucking (somewhat), vaginal penetration with a tennis racket, depressive tendencies, reader slaps Patrick, reader is somewhat pathetic (i still <3 her)
author's note: Hi!! This is my first time ever writing a fic like this. Both in length and plot. Plus, it's my first time writing anything explicit. The idea was sent to me by @senseofnewness (absolutely brilliant!!!) and what was meant to originally be a short fic is now this. The name is taken from the Fleetwood Mac song of the same name, which I felt was fitting for the characters. I have a lot of mixed feelings on this fic, but I know loved it writing it. Enjoy <3
----
âSign mine?â someone asks from above you. You look up from your seat on the bleachers to see Art Donaldson holding out his yearbook and a pen to you. You blankly stare at it and then your eyes dart around the area to see if someone is going to jump out of the corner laughing at you. It wasnât like him to do so, but your mind automatically goes to thinking this is some sort of joke. When youâre unable to find anyone, you realize he is genuinely asking. Someone asking to sign your yearbook? Well thatâs a first. Youâre not friends with him, but then again you werenât friends with anyone at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy.Â
You reach out for the yearbook and pen without saying anything, but then realize how awkward the silence must be. âYou may have to burn this afterwards,â you say in an attempt to make a joke to fill the silence, but see a frown form on his face and realize he doesnât find it funny. You look down at the yearbook on your lap to hide the embarrassment and quickly scribble something, so this interaction can end. Have a good summer! Short and simple. As you hand the book and pen back to him, you hope this is the part where he walks away and you can finish your lunch. Itâs 12:55 PM, you need to go soon.Â
Except he just stands there. You look at him feeling confused. Now what? His eyes dart to the yearbook beside where you sit. Itâs only then you realize he wants to sign your yearbook. Another first. You reluctantly take the book and hand it to him, the feeling that this is some sort of joke lingering in the back of your head. Again, Art never joined in on the teasing and it was kind of late to start, but who knows. You wouldnât be surprised.Â
He smiles as he opens to the back of the book and starts to write something down. âIâll guess Iâll still be seeing you around in the fallâ he comments in a tone that indicates there is more he wants to say. He pauses, looking at what he wrote, but then starts to write again. âMhm,â you mumble with your mouth full. Youâre both going to Stanford and both playing for Stanford Tennis. You got a full scholarship for the school, just like the one you had for the past six years at the academy. You wouldnât have been able to pay for university without it. That was the best part of tennis for you: the doors it opened.Â
You glance down at your watch again as you shove the last bit of your sandwich in your bag. Itâs 12:57 now. You need to leave. He smiles as he finally hands the book back to you. âSee you at graduation,â he says with a smile and a wave as he walks away. You wave back and look down to see what he wrote in the book. It was nice going to the Academy with you! Canât wait to see you at Stanford. Keep in touch :)Â
It is followed by a set of numbers. His phone number? Before you can think too much about this, you see on your watch itâs 12:59. You toss the book back into your bag, and leave.Â
----
âWhere were you?â Patrick asks the minute you open the door to his car and slide into the backseat beside him. Heâs parked behind some shop, far enough from campus that no one will know who you are. He rarely picks the same place twice, but this area looks familiar for some reason. Youâre not going to tell him about the little run in with Art, so you shrug and say, âWas finishing up some work.â He rolls his eyes, âWe are graduating next week and you care about work?"
You just look at him with an annoyed expression, one that he clearly doesnât care about, because it just makes him laugh. He then looks at you, taking in the furrow of your brows, before leaning in close to your face. He smirks, as his hand moves to your thigh. It slowly moves up underneath your skirt and you feel his fingers pull at the little spandex shorts you have underneath. Then his lips come down crashing on yours.Â
----
Your classmates at the academy have a very surface level understanding of you. They know your family is poor. They know you can only attend the school because of a scholarship. And they all hate you. Curetsy of the one and only Patrick Zwieg.Â
From the start he made it clear that he thought you didnât belong in the academy. Itâs not like your twelve year old self did anything to upset him when you first joined. He just took one look at you and decided your existence at the academy went against the laws of nature. And well he wasnât wrong. You were surrounded by people who had enough privilege to coast through life, while you had none. You were well aware you were the black sheep. He was just rubbing salt in the wound.
Your first year at the academy was spent with the twelve year old Patrick calling you names any chance he got. As he got older, he just seemed to get more creative with the torment. From breaking your rackets and getting others to tease you, it got worse each year. By the time you turned fifteen, every single one of your classmates knew you as the broke scholarship student who should have dropped out ages ago. What they didnât know was the fact youâve been sleeping with Patrick.
It was junior year and the weekend before Christmas. You both were the only ones who hadnât left for winter break yet. Your family always booked the cheapest flight for you, which usually means flying on Christmas day. While you donât remember why he was still at the academy, you do remember running into him at the indoor courts. He made some comments about your family. You donât remember exactly what but you assume it was something about your parentâs inability to spend money on a decent flight. Maybe it was the fact that you two were the only ones there, but something snapped inside you that day. You called him âa worthless trust fund kind whoâd never amount to anything.â Your first time ever speaking back to him and that really set him off. The next thing you know he was dragging you into the locker room saying he was going to shove your head in the toilet.
For all the years he spent threatening to put your head in the toilet, this was the first time he ever actually acted on it. His grip on you was strong. You distinctly remember thinking that it was the end. And then just as he actually got you into the locker room, you saw you had the opportunity to do what everyone wishes they could to the men that make their life miserable: hit him right in the nuts. You punched him there hard and he fell to the ground.
The next thing you knew, you got on top of him while he laid on the ground and hit him. Years of pent up rage pouring out of you in your smacks and the insults you hurled at him. What happened after that was all a blur. You felt something poke your thigh and before you could even process the fact you somehow turned him on, his mouth crashed on yours and you both started making out on the floor of the boyâs locker room.
You didnât see him after that. He went to go home the morning after and when Christmas day came you left too. What happened between the both of you in the locker room lingered at the back of your mind all throughout the break. The memory felt like a sinful secret that aroused you more than any form of smut or porn could. You even touched yourself to it. While that was slightly shameful, you werenât surprised it affected you so much. The fact that you were a social pariah at the academy meant none of your classmates showed any interest in you, be it platonic, romantic, or sexual. It wasnât your first kiss, but it was your first proper time making out with a boy. And you werenât blind. Patrick may have been your bully, but you knew he was attractive.Â
By the time January rolled around and you were back at the academy, you didnât know what to expect. You didnât know what effect that moment had on him. On one hand, you knew he got around and was not as sexually pent up as you, so maybe this was normal for him? On the other hand, he must have at least felt a bit of shock for making out with you considering the fact how he always treated you. Regardless, there was no universe in which you could imagine Patrick being nice to you. You saw him on the first day back in your history class, and just as if nothing happened, he insulted your hand-me-down backpack as you walked into the classroom. His friends laughed and joined in, and you realized whatever happened that weekend before Christmas was a freak accident. You just assumed things were now back to normal, up until he cornered you later that day behind the gym. A little nook where no one could see either of you. He bent down close to your face and threatened that if you ever told anyone heâd kill you. You felt heart race and thighs clench, but before you could give any response his lips were once again on yours. And thatâs how it all started.Â
----
âYouâre playing in the US junior open?â Patrick asks as he sits up again, leaning against the car window, his face flushed and hair messy from the sex.Â
You sit up as well as you nod in response. How did he find out about that? You guess some coach probably told him. You slowly reach for your clothes from the floor of the car, and look outside the window. This time you realize why it felt familiar. This is where he parked his car for you both to fuck after prom. You went alone (only because your mother called you saying you may regret it if you didnât) and he went with another girl, but an hour after the dance ended you got a text from him telling you where to find him. Without a second thought, you went.Â
You turn back to face him, as you pull on your shirt, and see he has a pensive expression as if debating something. âWhat?â you ask. âI didnât know you qualified,â he says. You simply shrug in response, you werenât sure how you qualified either. Tennis is an out of body experience at this point. When you watch your games, it never feels like youâre watching yourself.Â
âGuess they let anyone play,â he says with a little chuckle looking out the window, although his voice isnât mocking like in public. When he teased you in private, it always felt more playful. As if he wanted to make you laugh, not cry. You watch him look out the window to check if anyone is around. He turns back to you and says, "I have to get back for practice.â This was his way of saying: Now that we are done fucking, you need to leave.
You pull up your skirt and nod to let him know you got the message. You pick up your bag and step out of the car. Just as you start to walk back in the direction of campus, you hear the window of his car roll down and Patrick calling your name. You turn to face him and he asks, âSame time tomorrow?â You should say no, but instead you say, âSure.â
----
Your last week at the Academy was relatively peaceful. Some name calling here and there, but as graduation got closer no one seemed to have the energy to bother you. Everyone was busy talking about their summer plans, the junior open, or where they were going in the fall. Nearly everyone committed to one university or another, either to play tennis there or just to get a degree. Only Patrick chose to go pro, which wasnât a surprise considering he was always vocal about how pointless university was. You two spent the last week hooking up in his car behind random buildings and in abandoned parking lots after classes ended, but the last time you actually saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, you headed out towards your parents and saw him standing with a serious expression as two adults talked to him. His parents you guessed. As you watched him, he turned to face you as his parents continued to talk, not noticing his attention was elsewhere, and you both just looked at each other.Â
You broke eye contact first when your parents asked you to pose for a photo. You never told them about how awful the other students treated you at the academy. Mostly because you knew they would have pulled you out. You didn't want that because you were aware that the public school in your home town wouldnât have given you half as good of an education as the academy. As a result, they thought everything was great and were eager to memorialize the time you spent there, taking photos of every game and event they could attend. Although, this you could agree was momentous. Graduation meant you were leaving the academy behind, so you happily posed for them. By the time they were done snapping pictures of you in your cap and gown and you looked around for Patrick, he was nowhere to be found. Of course he wouldnât have come up to you, and you wouldnât have gone up to him. But you expected something more than whatever that was. It felt like an anticlimactic ending to the past six years.Â
The summer last year, the one in between junior and senior year, you had kept in contact, but it was really just phone sex at least once a week. This summer he hadnât reached out once. You didnât either, choosing to spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about him instead. You told yourself that it was a much needed reflection on your relationship with Patrick, which regardless of how bizarre and unconventional was still your first relationship. In all fairness, relationship was too generous of a word, but you couldnât think of what else to call it. You lost your virginity to him and you were sleeping together for over a year. Consistently too, as you met up multiple times each week. Of course it was always on his terms. You met when he wanted to meet. Always in private and never doing anything in public that could even hint at what they were doing. He was still awful to you in front of others. A part of you hated the fact that someone you made your life so miserable could make you feel so good, but a larger part was ready to comply with anything he wanted. It was sadistic, but you couldnât help but find it poetic that the first guy to make you break down in public was also the first guy to make you come.
You tried to occupy the time by spending time with your family, being in the sun, and practicing tennis, but nothing was enough to expel Patrick from your mind. By the time the junior open came around, you were grateful to have something else to focus on.Â
----
You got out of the open when you lost a semi finals match against Anna Mueller. You didnât even expect to get that far, so you were unphased by the loss. Your family was proud and you had one more match in the evening against the player who lost the other girlsâ singles semi final. It was just to determine whoâd place third and whoâd place fourth, and you were fine with either. You decided to pass the time till then by taking a little walk around the center where the open was being held. It was your first time here, so you may as well explore.Â
Just as you stood in front of a board in the entry hall of the center detailing its history, you heard a familiar voice say to you, âGreat match yesterday. You were amazing.âÂ
You turned around to see the strawberry blonde you only expected to see again at Stanford stand in front of you. He is smiling and you can tell he is being genuine when he says it, but that doesnât stop you from saying, âWell I lost.â
Art simply shrugs in response, âYou still played well.â Unsure what to say in response, you nod slowly. You can feel your eyes go downcast , and an awkward silence forms between the both of you. He swallows and looks at you as the awkwardness grows. Then suddenly he says, âYou never called.â
âHuh?â you respond looking up at him. âYour yearbookâŠI wrote down my number,â he reminds you in a slow voice, his cheeks flushing pink as he does. You can see he is embarrassed, but you honestly did forget about his message in your yearbook.Â
âOh..that,â you say with a forced laugh, trying to seem normal. If you were unsure how to respond to his compliment about your game, you are at a genuine loss of words on how to acknowledge this. He surely couldnât have actually expected you to call him over the summer? You came to the conclusion that he left his phone number as a formality because you were both going to Stanford. A way to contact him once you both got there.Â
Art lets out a forced little laugh too, and you can see he feels equally awkward by this interaction. For a moment, it looks like he is about to say something, until you hear an even more familiar voice ask, âWhatâs going on here?â
Both you and Art turn to the direction where the voice came from and see Patrick standing there. While you imagined the moment youâd run into Patrick again, nothing you imagined was as awkward as this. His summer tan is visible against the white of his shirt, and you bite down on your back teeth to stay focused. His eyes dart between you and Art and itâs clear he has picked up on whatever awkward energy is radiating off the both of you. For a moment you think he is going to laugh or crack a joke about your inability to hold a conversation, but his eyebrows just furrow.
Artâs eyes go to the side, unable to hold the weight of Patrickâs gaze, and you realize itâs up to you to say something, âWe were just talking about my game yesterday,â you say.Â
âAgainst Anna Mueller,â Patrick says and you nod. âThe one you lost,â he then adds. Art shoots him an expression you canât read, but one that Patrick obviously understands because he shrugs and adds on, âWhat? She did lose.â
Art just sighs and turns back to you, âWe should get going. We have our doubles final in an hour.â
âOh good luck,â you say with a little nod. Of course they were in the doubles competition together. Fire and Ice. While you knew they were the poster child for being a duo in every sense of the word, you always found it hard to associate both boys with each other like everyone else did. Art was the only one of Patrickâs friends who didnât make fun of you. When Patrick or any of this other friends said something, heâd just sit there watching. Which was always a bit strange considering he was his best friend.Â
âYouâll come watch?â Art then asks slowly.Â
This request surprises both you and Patrick, whoâs eyebrows shoot up a little bit. âUh...yeah sure,â you say with a little shrug. It feels too awkward to say no to Art right now, even if you donât fully understand why he wants you at the game or want to go in the first place. Art just smiles in response, and waves a bit as he walks off. He stops when he notices Patrick just stands there looking at you.Â
You look at Patrick and you see he has a stony expression on his face directed right at you. âPatrick?â Art asks, and as if shaken back to reality Patrickâs face instantly goes back to normal.
He turns to Art and with a little nod Patrick says, âI came in to use the bathroom. You head out, Iâll catch up to you later.â Art simply nods and walks to exit the center and head back to the courts. Both you and Patrick watch Art leave, and the minute he is out of the door, Patrick walks over and grabs your wrist before you can even process whatâs going on. âCome,â is all he says as he starts to walk, taking you along with him. You soon realize he is taking you into the bathroom with him. He opens the door to the menâs bathroom and then takes you into a stall. He locks it behind him.Â
Patrick looks at you for a moment and then asks in a low voice, âSo what were you and Art actually talking about? âWe were talking about my game,â you say with a nod. âDonât bullshit me,â he says with an expression that shows he knows youâve left something out.Â
You just look at him for a moment, staring into his green eyes, which stare right back at you with a serious look. You assume he is worried that you may have told Art about the two of you. You shrug and admit, âHe gave me his number.â Patrick just looks at you, but before he can say anything, you add on âNot like right now, but before school ended.â
âAt the academy?â he asks, his voice tinged with slight disbelief. âHe wrote it in my yearbook,â you say. âWhat? So youâve been texting him or something?â Patrick then asks, his voice irritated now. You shake your head no and his eyebrows furrow as if trying to determine if youâre lying or not. Something about your expression must make him realize youâre being honest, because after a few seconds he nods in response. He looks to the side and then back to you. âYouâre actually going to come to the game?â he then asks. You shrug in response, at this point, youâd feel bad for not showing up, so youâre going to be there anyway. âI guess so. Yeah,â you mumble with a little nod.Â
âGive me a good luck kiss thenâ he says. You blink once, not expecting this, but then comply anyway. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips, and once you do, you plant a kiss on them. You can feel him smile underneath your lips, and in a low voice he says, âCute, but you know thatâs not what I meant.â His hand reaches for yours and you feel it move to his groin, and you can feel heâs hard already. âYouâve been wearing the same tennis skirts for the past three years. Theyâve always given me a nice view of your ass.â His other hand sneaks underneath your skirt as he rests a hand on your spandex short and then gives your ass a squeeze. Of course this is what he brought you in here for. You remember how you spent the past month reflecting on moments just like that. How you spent hours analyzing your relationship with him under the impression that it was over. But with your hand gently palming his crotch in the bathroom stall, you realize how wrong you were.
Could you both get disqualified for this? Anyone could come into the bathroom, and it would be obvious what was happening, even in the stall. Even with these concerns, you sink to your knees without a second thought, as he starts to pull down his shorts. He doesnât even bother pulling it down fully, just enough to be exposed.Â
You lick your hand and then place it on the base of his length, getting a whimper from him in response, as you slowly start to move it up and down. You move your lips to his tip, and slowly wrap it around his cock. He moans as you start giving him sloppy sucks and continue to move your hand. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you yelp, and this elicits another moan, âGod.â His hands reach down to your head. His hands wrap around your hair, holding it, and start to pull your head back and forth. As he continued to thrust in your throat, you felt his public hair brush against your nose. Realizing youâre fully taking him, you move your hand from the base of his dick to cupping his sack with a slight squeeze, which just makes him moan even more. âDonât stop.â You did your best to match the pace of your squeezes to his thrusts, and after a few minutes of this, he pulled back, just leaving just the tip. You felt him throb around your lips and shortly after he came in your mouth.Â
He smiles down at you as you swallow, and then pulls you up by the shoulders and kisses you on his lips. His tongue snakes into your mouth and after a minute of tasting himself on your lips, he pulls away and smiles at you. âSee you at the game,â he says with a smile, as he then opens the stall door and walks out. You just stand there, as you hear the door to the bathrooms open and close, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs.Â
----
You end up getting to the game midway through the first set and sit in the bleachers surrounded by other people. You hope that neither Art nor Patrick can see you, but of course they do. During the break Art smiles and gives you a little wave, and Patrick just flashes a smirk. The same smile he gave you in the menâs bathroom thirty minutes ago and your stomach does a flip. You didnât get the chance to take care of yourself after that, busy trying to process what happened and denying the fact that you are wet. Youâre failing at the latter as you feel your thighs clench at seeing him on the court. The game continues and you feel the ache grow as you watch Patrick play. The way his body moves as he runs to the ball and his grunts as he hits it all seem to make your wetness grow. Your thighs clench as you see his shirt ride up a bit to hit the ball and you catch a glimpse of his abs and happy trail.Â
The sight makes you lose whatever remaining reason you have, as you get up and mutter sorry as you climb over the other people in the row to get away. You go down the bleachers and walk around until you find the closest bathroom. Once you spot it, you nearly run into it and lock the door. Unlike the bathroom you were in earlier, this one has no stalls. Just for one person, and you feel grateful for the privacy. You walk over to the sink, resting both hands on its sides and slowly leaning on it. You look at yourself for a minute, your face is slightly red and your breathing is labored.Â
You take a deep breath as you close your eyes and your hand sneaks down between to the ache. Your fingers find your throbbing clit and you start making slow little circles as you think about Patrick on the court. The more you lose yourself in the memory, the more your fingers speed up. The way his biceps flexed. The slight jiggle of his thighs. The abs. The happy trail. Every single grunt. Itâs not long before you moan and feel yourself come undone. As you feel yourself come off your high, your eyes shoot open and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your breathing is even more erratic and your face more flushed. A wave of clarity washes over you and then you just feel pathetic.Â
You wash your hands and splash some water on your face. As you step out of the bathroom, youâre certain that the game is still going on, but donât feel up to going back and watching. You know Art and Patrick will probably win anyway, and you need to get out of the clothes. As you walk back to the hotel, youâre sure you can smell your arousal.Â
----
Besides the weird events of the afternoon, your game went well. You won and that placed you third overall. You sip your sprite as you look around the lights that are strung from tree to tree at the Adidas Long Island party. It was being held for Tashi Duncan, who was the winner of the girls single US junior open. Like anyone in the tennis world, you had heard of her before. The next Serena Williams. It was disappointing your game was the same time as hers because youâre sure it would have been amazing to watch her play. Originally, you werenât planning on coming, but when your parents found out your mom pulled out the one nice dress she made you pack just in case you needed it and insisted you go. After the events of this afternoon and winning your game in the evening, you admitted that the party was a nice distraction and celebration for those things respectively.
 Even though the beach area is a bit far from where the party is, you can somewhat see the waves from there. You take another sip of your drink and watch the waves for a moment, before you hear a voice come up from behind you. âItâs pretty right?â you turn to see Art. God does this man have a thing for sneaking up on you. He looks at you with a small smile, and itâs clear he only said that to start a conversation with you.
âYeahâŠit is,â you respond with a little nod. Your throat feels dry so you take another sip of your drink, and to prevent an awkward silence âYour game was good.âÂ
âThanksâŠâ he says with a little nod. His eyes glance to the side and then he says in a slow voice, âYou left midway.âÂ
âI got a little nervous about my game, so I just went back to the hotel to relax for a bit,â you lie with a little too much ease.Â
Art nods and it looks like youâre in the clear. Itâs not like he could predict the real reason you left anyway. âCongrats on the win,â he then says with a little nod. âI wish I could have come but I was at the..â his voice trails off as he motions to a poster of Tashi hung up across the party.Â
âOh..no yeah,â you say, it makes sense he was at that final. âIâm sure that would have been much more interesting,â you add on with a little laugh that just slips out. Art lets out a little laugh too, and it finally seems as if youâve moved away from the awkwardness all your conversations have.Â
You both look at the posters of Tashi and relax in the now non-awkward silence between the both of you. Itâs short lived, because a minute later you both see Patrick standing by the poster looking at the both of you. You can sense Art tensing up beside you, and youâre sure your reaction is equally fraught. You take a sip of your sprite in an attempt to hide your expression behind the bottle.Â
Patrick is gripping a coke bottle and looks at both of you with an irritated look. Then his gaze singles in on Art. His expression seems to communicate the words get over here. Art looks at him with an expression that says what? Patrick holds the expression and Art sighs, âIâll be right backâÂ
You nod as you watch Art walk over to Patrick by the posters. As Art approaches him, Patrickâs gaze goes back to you for a moment but then falls to the ground as if he is unable to make eye contact with you. For a moment you find it hard to believe this is the same man who was shoving his cock down your throat earlier today. His gaze goes to Art again and he immediately starts saying something to him. You take a sip from your drink, and see both boys get lost in conversation, but youâre too far to hear about what. Patrick is probably talking bad about you anyway. You turn to look away and back at the waves. Even though the party is outside, it suddenly feels too claustrophobic to any longer be enjoyable.Â
----
Youâve been walking around the estate for the past ten minutes to get rid of the feeling. Itâs a bit chilly, but is nice enough to just wander around aimlessly. âHey!â you hear a womanâs voice call out in the distance followed by your name. You turn to see Tashi Duncan walking towards you. Now this had to be the most surprising part of that night. You give a small smile and wave as she gets closer.Â
Once sheâs standing by you she says, âI didnât know you came.â And you didnât expect her to know who you were so you were both surprised. You shrug and say, âWell thought I would stop by.âÂ
âItâs nice right,â she comments as she begins to walk and looks out at the water in the distance. You nod in response and get the feeling that she wants you to walk alongside her, so you do. âYeahâŠYou look nice,â you tell her, unsure what else to say, âThanks. You do too,â she says with another smile as she looks at you. You know sheâs just returning the compliment for the sake of it, but you smile in response anyway. After a moment she says, âI actually wanted to talk to you.â
âOh?â you respond, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This whole day feels like one long fever drink. âIâm going to Stanford too,â she explains. âYouâre one of the names they mentioned when I committed.â You nod in response. You have a vague memory of a Stanford representative emailing you with a list of others who were going to play alongside you, but you didnât really take the time to go through it. As long as you had your full ride, you couldnât care less. Before you can respond, she speaks again. âThought maybe I could get your number or email, so we could talk. You know, get to know each other.â
âOh...yeah...of courseâ you say a little awkwardly. You say your number and then add on âMy email is just my full name at Gmail dot comâ She nods with a smile, but before either of you say anything else, something catches Tashiâs eye. Then you see her waving to someone in the distance. Your eyes follow her gaze to Patrick and Art on a bench. They knew each other? All you wanted to do was run in the other direction. She starts to walk towards them, and you trail behind her, feeling too awkward to walk away. Patrickâs eyes lock on you for a moment, a flicker of surprise on his face. Art just smiles seeing both of you walk over.Â
As soon as you both are close enough, Art begins talking but youâre unable to pay attention. You find your eyes downcast, as all three of them engage in a conversation. You feel unbearably warm even though the night air is chilly. Your eyes glance at Patrick and then dart away. You feel both the urge to step closer to him and walk away.Â
Suddenly they all get up and start to walk, but youâre still standing there. Tashi turns around and calls your name. You look up and hear her add, âYou coming?â All three of them look at you waiting for an answer, but you lock eyes with Patrick whoâs jaw seems to tick as soon as you do. Your gaze goes back to Tashi. âSorry, yeah,â you say as you walk to them.Â
----
Once again you find yourself completely zoning out while the rest of them are engaged in some conversation. Itâs like youâre not even there. You sit on a rock by the water, reaching your hand down to feel it. You donât even bother looking at the direction of the rest of them, knowing your eyes would lock in on Patrick again.Â
âWhat do you think?â you hear Tashi ask as she turns to face you. You turn to her, your face blank, having no clue what they were talking about. Once she registers the confusion, she adds âAbout tennis being a relationship?âÂ
Youâre not even given a chance to respond before Patrick goes, âLooks like itâs someoneâs bed time.â No one is amused by the comment. Art looks at his cigarette and Tashi rolls her eyes at him. Thankfully, when Tashi turns back to you, waiting for an answer, you realize Patrickâs comment has provided you with a way out of this. âYeahâŠIâm feeling a bit tiredâŠI should probably get back to the hotel,â you say as you stand up.Â
Tashiâs lips press together as she looks at you, you assume she is judging you, so you look away and brush some sand off your dress. âOhâ Art says as he looks at you, with a little nod. Patrick gives Art a look from the side of his eye, but then looks at you as he brings a cigarette up to his lips.Â
âYeahâŠIâm leaving tomorrow so...â your voice trails off as you say it, not really sure why you added that part. You doubt that any of them care.Â
âSee you at school,â Tashi then says.Â
You give her a wave and a small smile back, as you walk away from the three of them on the beach.Â
----
Youâre unable to sleep. Itâs around one am. Your parents are fast asleep on their side of the hotel room, but you're too restless to do so. You pick up your phone and see a few new messages.Â
Patrick: That was the same dress you wore for the formal in sophomore year. I canât believe you still have it. (sent 1:07 AM, 07/24/06)
You can hear his voice when you read it. You can imagine the little laugh after he says it. You then see there is one more message.
Patrick: You looked cute. Wish I could have fucked you in it. (sent 1:08 AM, 07/24/06)
You roll your eyes but find yourself smiling anyway.
You: Night Patrick (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)
Patrick: Night ;) (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)
----
The rest of your summer was spent messaging Tashi. She wasnât lying when she said she wanted to get to know you. You got an email from her as soon as you got home from the open, and soon that turned into exchanging messages everyday with each other. Your conversations ranged from tennis to other things, like about your family and your other interests. It was new to have someone so interested in you. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling, even if you didnât understand where it came from.Â
Tashi: You know you never talk about the academy. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)
You: Donât have much to say. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: Really? (sent 2:46 PM, 08/09/06)
You donât want to rehash your time there. You donât want to think about that. And you especially donât want to think about Patrick either. After that day at the junior open, you only heard from him once, through a message asking how your summer has been. He sent no response when you said fine and asked how he had been. Youâre not even sure why you were talking about the academy with Tashi. Why did she suddenly seem interested?Â
You: I just didnât have a great time there. Just didnât have many friends. (sent 2:50 PM, 08/09/06)
A safe response. Enough of an explanation, without any details.Â
Tashi: Oh (sent 2:51 PM, 08/09/06)
You: Being the poor scholarship kid and stuff. (sent 2:52 PM, 08/09/06)
You decide to add on for good measure.Â
Tashi: Oh yeah, it makes sense. Itâll make a great story when you go pro tho. Who doesnât love an underdog. (sent 2:55 PM, 08/09/06)
Somehow Tashi is under the impression that you will eventually go pro. Youâre not exactly sure when or how this assumption formed, but she mentions it so casually you donât want to tell her that youâre unsure about this.
You: True. (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)
You stare at your phone and then quickly send another message.Â
You: Youâre curious about the academy? (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: I was talking about it with Patrick. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
You feel your heart drop as you look at the message. You didnât know they still talked. With Art it would make sense. Another person sheâd see around at Stanford, but Patrick? Why was she talking to Patrick?Â
You: Patrick? (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: Weâre kind of going out. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
You read the message over again. And then again. They were going out with each other? You feel a weird knot form in your chest. She was going out with Patrick. The same Patrick who bullied you all throughout school? The same Patrick you spent over a year hooking up with you in private? You bite the inside of your cheek as you type back a response.Â
You: Oh I didnât know. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: Itâs a long story. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)
Before you can even send a message back, you get a call from her. She spends the next hour explaining everything. The hotel room. The kiss. The deal. And then the boysâ final. Patrick won her number fair and square. Shortly after she and Patrick went out and then slept together. The knot in your chest only grows as you hear her speak. You do your best to ignore it.Â
âThat'sâŠthatâs a lot,â you say, unsure how to even process anything she just said.Â
âI know,â she says on the other end. She exhales, and then asks, âAnyway, did you buy a fan for your dorm?â
----
âLetâs grab dinner?â Tashi asks as she walks from the court towards you, Art trailing behind her as he wipes his forehead with a towel.Â
You nod as you grab your backpack. âYeah letâs go,â you respond.Â
âLet me change and then weâll head out,â Tashi says, as she heads into the locker room. Tashi always practiced later than everyone else, a true testament to her passion. Everyone else finished and left an hour ago. Only you and Art stayed back with her, and now you both were the only ones on the court.Â
Transitioning into college life was easy enough. All that time spent messaging Tashi meant coming into college with a friend. Your classes were interesting and you did well. You became friends with others on the tennis team, although most of your time was spent with Tashi and Art. He always seemed to be following the both of you around, which would have been strange if you didnât know about the fact he was into Tashi. The fact she was dating Patrick, seemed to have no effect on his attraction.Â
Your stomach grumbles, and Art hears. He smiles and asks, âHungry?â You let out a laugh in response and ask, âWhat gave it away?âÂ
He laughs in response and then he looks at you as if studying his expression for a moment. His face becomes slightly serious and you know he has something to say. âWhat is it?â you ask. âNothing,â he says with a shrug, feigning a nonchalance you both know doesnât exist. âArt,â your voice is more serious now too.Â
This was bound to happen. You always knew that he would eventually visit them. He was dating Tashi and Art is his best friend. Of course he would come. The thought makes your stomach flip and you bite down on your back teeth.Â
Your inability to conceptualize Art and Patrickâs friendship, was a large part in why you were able to become friends with Art. But in moments like this, the only thing you could see when you looked at him, was Patrick Zweigâs best friend. Consumed in your thoughts, you say nothing in response. You only even register the silence, when you hear Art say âI should go change too before we go eat.â You nod and watch him walk away.Â
----
âSo Art told you?â Tashi asks from across the bed as she looks up at you from the calculus homework youâre both trying to work through. She doesnât have to say what she is talking about, you already know what. âYeah,â you say, still looking at your work.Â
âI was going to tell you,â she says, with a little shrug, still looking at you. âIs it a big deal?âÂ
âItâs not,â you respond quickly as you try to focus on the problem.Â
âNo I think it is,â she says with a little huff, which causes you to look up from the work. âYou act so weird whenever heâs brought up.â You just shrug in response and itâs almost ironic how much youâre proving her point right now. You look back down at the graphs on your paper âHe acts like this too,â she then says. Now that gets your attention. You look up again and ask, âHe does?âÂ
âLike anytime you come up in conversation he gets weird,â she says with a shrug. Theyâve talked about you before? Before you have the chance to process this revelation, she says, âAnd you both act strange around each otherâÂ
âYouâve only ever seen us interact once,â you say with a forced laugh, looking down at the paper again and remembering that night on the beach. âYeah I know, but still,â she says with a shrug. Then she asks, âDid something happen between the two of you at the academy?âÂ
The right answer to this question: Too much to discuss right now. You just shrug again and say, âWe didnât get alongâÂ
Tashi just nods as she mulls over your response. Before she can find some flaw in your answer to probe at, you decide to change the subject by asking, âDid you figure out question 3?â
----
The day Patrick comes to Stanford is a Friday. You go to class, then to practice, and everything is normal until you get a text from Art around seven pm.Â
Art:Â Heâs here. Meet in my dorm in a half hour? (sent 6:58 PM, 09/15/06)
You: See you then (sent 6:59 PM, 09/15/06)
Tashi had already told you how she wanted all of you to go out together when Patrick came, so you more or less expected a text like this. Even with the expectation, your chest has knots and your stomach flips. You pick at the skin of your cuticles as you walk back to your dorm and once you get there you sit down on the bed trying to create some expectation for the night. Your mind is blank, and you realize you should probably get ready.Â
You grab some jeans and a nice top, throw it on and then take a look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. A part of you hates yourself for caring how you look right now. But itâs not large enough to stop you from putting on lipstick and eyeliner. You take one last look at yourself before heading out.Â
When you get to Artâs dorm, you realize youâre the first one to arrive. âHey,â he says with a smile sitting on the edge of his bed. You walk over with a smile and sit down next to him. Youâre about to greet him when your eyes fixate on the picture of him and Patrick on his bedside table. It looks like it was taken about the junior open, with both of them holding the trophy they won. He follows your gaze to it, and you both look at it for a moment. âI actuallyâŠâ he starts and you turn to him. âI wanted to talk to you aboutââ
âAnd here I was thinking that I was early.â Both of you look to the door and see Patrick standing there. There is a flash of annoyance on his face, but itâs quickly covered up with a laugh and a raised eyebrow. Art just looks at Patrick, a mild look of disappointment on his face. âWhat a warm welcome,â Patrick says sarcastically, which causes the icy look on Artâs face to slowly disappear, a small smile forming instead. Patrick looks at you and you feel your heartbeat speed up just from the look. You think heâs about to pull out one of the insulting nicknames he coined for you at the academy. âLetâs go?â you hear Tashi ask as she walks into the room too. Patrick smiles at her and wraps a hand around her waist. You bite the inside of your cheek. You nod in response, as you walk towards the door. You donât let yourself look at Patrick, even though you feel his gaze on you. You tell yourself you imagined it.Â
----
Tashi picked out this bar by campus to go to. As a place that doesnât check IDs and has cheap drinks. Naturally, itâs full of students. Youâre two drinks in and feel slightly drunk. Youâre sitting at the bar sipping on your third, talking to some girl from your French literature class. Whatever you said must have been funny, because she is laughing. You laugh with her, before someone taps her on the shoulder and her attention is pulled elsewhere. You look down at your drink as you take another sip. âLooks like someone has friends now.â You turn to see Patrick taking the seat next to you at the bar, he already has a drink in his hand. His voice is playfully teasing and he has a grin on his face. The same expression heâd make when he would hand back a racket of yours he just broke or look up at you from in between your legs. âWell I guess people like me now,â you say, your inhibitions lowered by the alcohol. Itâs the first real conversation you had with him all night and you want it to be over already. Your heart beat picks up again. He lets out a little laugh at your response, finding your retort amusing. Heâs close enough that you can get the scent of the marlboro reds he smokes and his cologne. His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and then to your eyes again.  Â
âDidnât realize you were so close with Tashi,â he then pauses and then in a little more serious voice adds, âArt now too.â You just blink at him in response. You see his jaw tick again, and this along with the change in tone sets off a signal in your head and you sit up a bit straighter as you look at him. You donât have the chance to get a word as Patrick continues, âI donât know what the fuck is going on between you and Art, but it ends here okay.â His voice is serious and so is his gaze. He leans in a bit more and his nose bumps yours. It feels as if his stare is burning holes through your head. You were used to Patrick being mean, but this was different. For starters, he was never that rude to you in private after the locker room incident that started your little relationship. And his treatment usually served to mock or humiliate you in some way. This felt as if was putting his foot down about something. âOkay?â he asks again due to your silence. Your heartbeat speeds up even more.Â
âOkay,â you repeat in a small voice, feeling like a child who is being reprimanded for something. He doesnât like that youâre friends with Art?
He looks at you as if analyzing your expression. He remains close and his eyes flick down to your lips. For a moment you think heâs going to kiss you. Or drag you to the bar bathroom for a quick fuck. He then just huffs, as he steps back and takes a sip of the drink in his hand. You instantly feel stupid for your previous thoughts. He is dating Tashi. Tashi who is a literal goddess on earth. There is no reason for him to want you anymore. Whatever happened in school is over. The incident at the open was just a weird epilogue. But now it is done.Â
âYou should stop doing that,â he says. You realize his gaze is now directed at your hands. He makes a little motion to where youâve picked off the skin by your cuticles. âItâs not good for you.â he says, still looking at it. His gaze comes back to you and the minute you both make eye contact he looks away. He looks across the bar and he must see either Tashi or Art because he smiles in that direction and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your drink.Â
----
Your head is throbbing and you feel nauseous just thinking about the hangover youâll probably have tomorrow morning. You canât remember the last time you were this drunk. Have you ever been this drunk? You canât even remember how much you had to drink at this point. You manage to stumble out of the bar and the fresh air is so refreshing you smile. Itâs a 10 minute walk back to your dorm, youâre sure you can make it. You move slowly, and as you pass by the alleyway by the bar you see Art and Patrick sharing a cigarette. Theyâre far enough and too immersed in their conversation to see you.
âI canât believe weâre still talking about this,â you hear Patrick say with a scoff.Â
âI donât get why you think itâs such a big deal,â Art responds.Â
This draws out a laugh from âNo you know why I think itâs a big deal, and honestly man thought you were over this.â Patrick says as he takes the cigarette Art is holding and takes a drag. âArenât you into Tashi now."
Art scoffs and looks to the side. âJesus Patrick.â This just makes Patrick laugh. âThis is not about Tashi, this is aboutââÂ
Patrick cuts him off and goes, âA girl who is and has always been a pathetic loser.â Itâs then you realize that the person theyâre talking about is you.Â
Art sighs and takes the cigarette back with a sigh. âI like her.â As his words sink in, your earlier conversation with Patrick makes a lot more sense. Itâs too dizzying to think about, and it makes you feel even more exhausted than you already are. You look at the road ahead of you and continue stumbling your way back to the dorm.Â
----
You spent the rest of the weekend Patrick was on campus in your dorm room. You woke up with an awful hangover and messages from all three of them. Tashi and Art were just about how they didnât see you leave and asking if you got back to the dorm fine, Patrickâs was something different all together.Â
Patrick:Â Donât forget what we talked about. (sent 9:38 AM, 09/16/06)
You don't respond to him. You wouldnât even know how if you wanted to. You texted Art and Tashi that you were all fine, just miserably hung over.Â
Tashi: Want to grab breakfast? (sent 9:45 AM, 09/16/06)
You: Think I want to sleep for some more time. (sent 9:46 AM, 09/16/06)
Until Monday, hanging out with them meant hanging out with Patrick, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. So you told you you just wanted to lie down because of the hangover. Then when she asked if you wanted to hang out again in the evening, you lied about needing to finish a paper for the literature seminar you were taking. After that she must have got the hint, because she left you alone for the rest of the weekend. The next time you saw her or Art was on Monday during tennis practice. No Patrick in sight.Â
----
Whoever said out of sight, out of mind, was a liar. You desperately wanted things to go back to normal after that weekend, but that ease you felt during your first month at Stanford never fully returned after Patrickâs visit. Itâs been a couple weeks since then and Patrick still plagued your thoughts.Â
Whatever friendship that had formed between you and Art was quickly dying. You couldnât even look at him without alarm bells in your head going: Walk away! Walk away! Patrickâs words echoed in your ears anytime you looked at him. The distance you had created between Art and Patrick was gone, and when you looked at Art you now could only see Patrickâs best friend staring back. You avoided being alone with him at all costs.Â
Art: Want to grab breakfast together before class tomorrow? (sent 8:27 PM, 10/02/06)
You: Iâll let you know in the morning! (sent 8:28 PM, 10/02/06)
Youâd probably lie about sleeping in or fake some illness to get out of that.Â
âIs that Art?â Tashi asks from across the bed. You nod and lie, âJust a question about practice.â She nods in response, as she looks back at the homework both of you are working through together. Patrick may have destroyed your friendship with Art, butyour friendship with Tashi was fine.
Although it had become increasingly difficult to avoid the fact she was dating Patrick. After his visit, you could find traces of him all around her room. You can see the little note he left that she pinned to her bulletin board, and as you looked down at your book on the bed, it hit you that Patrick had slept on the bed you currently sit on. That he and Tashi probably had sex there. It makes you feel nauseous and aroused at the same time. You make a mental note to invite Tashi to your dorm room to study next time. Â
Not to mention, that brief moment you thought something was going to happen between you and Patrick at the bar. The drunken embarrassment you felt at that moment, has turned into sober shame. If Patrick had tried to make a move, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldnât have stopped it. On the contrary, you probably would have enjoyed it and what type of person does that make you? Nothing had happened but this enough made you feel guilty. Maybe it was for the best that you didnât have many close friends, so far you were awful at being one.Â
âYou know he likes you, right?â Tashi says with a giggle and draws you out of your thoughts. âHuh?â is all you manage to say back, your mind still not fully present. âArt.â she says with another laugh.Â
Youâre reminded of the conversation you overheard between Art and Patrick behind the bar. It feels more like an alcohol induced hallucination than an actual memory. Even though you heard Art say it, you couldnât wrap your head around the idea that he liked you. You were hundred percent convinced he still liked Tashi. Always ready to spend time with her and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky. It was obvious he still liked her. There was the possibility he liked you both, but that felt improbable. Why would he like you both? At the end of the day, it didnât even matter. You werenât going to do anything about it.Â
âTashi heâs a friend,â you say with a little laugh, hoping that your answer is enough to drop the subject. It isnât as she just lets out another laugh and goes âWhat? I'm right.â You sigh and say, âHave you forgotten about what happened in the hotel room?â Tashi rolls her eyes, and makes a dismissive hand wave, âThat was months ago.â She doesnât make any claim to deny that heâs into her, so even sheâs aware of it. You just force a laugh in response, which causes Tashi to laugh too. Her laugh elicits an actual laugh from you, and you both sit there like that laughing for a moment. By the time youâre both done, it seems like the topic of Art is no longer on her mind, and youâre beyond grateful for that.Â
----
You thought that would be the end of that topic, but the next day, as you walk outside the locker room after practice you hear Art and Tashi talking about it. The hallway is curved, but youâre close enough to hear and see them without being overtly visible. Youâre sure if they looked in your direction and took a step or two, theyâd be able to see you, but neither do. Â
âI think you should just tell her,â Tashi says, Art just sighs looking to the side. âYouâre making this way more complicated than it has to be, and now everything is all awkward. She can barely look at you during practice,â she adds on. âItâs a stupid distraction for both of you, just get over it.â
Art looks at Tashi and goes, âItâs way more complicated than that.â Tashi looks at him with her eyebrows slightly furrowed and an expression that says she doesnât believe him, Art just adds on, âYou werenât there at the academy. You wouldnât get it.âÂ
You feel your heart drop at those words. You need to stop the conversation before it can go any further, so you donât think twice about walking. You wave and Tashi sees you before she can respond.
âLetâs go eat?â you ask.Â
Art nods and Tashi replies, âSure.â
You smile in relief as you all walk to the dining hall in silence.
----
âYouâre never going to talk about what happened at the academy are you?â Tashi says later that day as you both walk over to the cinema by campus. You decided to have a movie night, but as you look at her itâs clear thatâs the last thing on her mind. You shrug as you continue to walk, âI told you already. It wasnât fun.â Tashi nods and then says, âBut something happened right?â You shrug in response and she looks in front again. For a brief moment you consider telling her everything. Why were you keeping it a secret in the first place? She gets a phone call. She pulls it out and you see itâs from Patrick. Oh right. Thatâs why. You look away and take a deep breath to maintain composure.Â
Once you think your face has no emotion on it whatsoever, you look back and tell her, âYou take it. Iâll go buy tickets.â She looks at you to check if youâre sure, and you nod. Tashi walks away and you force a little smile as she walks a few steps away to take the call. You stand by the ticket booth outside and get two tickets for the movie Tashi mentioned. You turn and look over to where she is talking on the phone to Patrick and itâs clear she has an unhappy expression on her face. Boredom? Annoyance? Something like a mix of the two. She huffs and you see her walking back towards you.
You offer a small smile and once sheâs close enough you ask, âEverything alright?â She lets out a dry laugh and takes a ticket from your hand, She walks in and you follow alongside her, as she says âPatrick called to complainâŠagain.â You feel your stomach do a flip and itâs clear that she has more to say. Itâs utterly pathetic how curious you feel. You remain silent as she continues. âHe lost another match today.â She scoffs and shakes her head. âI donât even know why he calls to tell me this shit, anytime I try to offer him something constructive he starts acting like Iâm being a bitch.â Her voice shows she is annoyed, you nod in response. âItâs like he doesnât even care,â she says and youâre unsure if sheâs talking about Patrickâs attitude towards tennis or her.
âSorry,â you say softly to make her feel better. She just sighs, shaking her head, âDonât apologizeâ She then smiles looking at you, âAnyway, you actually take my advice.â True. Tashi always had pointers. Small things sheâd notice you thought you could improve. You knew you werenât a perfect player, but compared to the insults you got from your classmates during your time at the academy, her comments were actual feedback. And ones that paid off. Even your coaches know youâve been playing better. Youâre not surprised Patrick wasnât listening. Never the one to see his own faults. You could understand why Tashi was annoyed.Â
You smile back in response to her with a little shrug. âToo bad youâre going to be a star player. You would have made one hell of a coach,â you joke to lighten the mood and change the subject. Tashi laughs too and then sighs, âAnyway he just called for that and to say heâs coming in two week for a visit,â she says as you both walk into where the movie is playing. Youâre grateful the darkness of the room makes it near impossible for her to see your face because you can feel your face drop at her words.Â
----
Youâre a tennis player, youâre allowed to look at ATP rankings, you remind yourself as you sit in front of the computer in the library. After the night at the movies a couple days ago, your thoughts about Patrick became debilitating. Just thinking about the fact that heâd be back on campus so soon made you feel dizzy to think about.Â
You originally came to the library to use the computer to search up some facts about an author. It was research for an essay you have to write for your literature of the twentieth century class. Even as you tried to focus on the information in front of you, your mind went back to Patrick. So here you were, scrolling down the list of players on the ATP rankings website to find his name. Your eyes dart around you a little bit, as if to check no one can see. What is wrong with you? You were acting like a child. It takes you sometime, but you finally find Patrickâs stats. Heâs low in the rankings, which was somewhat expected considering he just started going on tour, but like Tashi said he was losing games.Â
âHey,â you hear from behind you. You nearly jump as you close the ATP tab and turn around to see Art standing behind you. Why were you even surprised at this point? âSorry didnât mean to startle you,â he says with a small, yet forced smile, as his eyes dart from in between the screen to you. Did he see the ATP tab you just closed out? You force a little laugh, âI should buy you a bell for your birthday.â Itâs a joke and he lets out a little laugh, as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits down.Â
âSoâŠâ you start. He must have finally realized that the only way to talk to you alone, was by sneaking up on you. And well now you were effectively trapped, so you had to hear whatever he desperately wanted to say. You had a feeling it had to do about his supposed feelings for you, but you just wanted to get this over with. Patrickâs words repeat in your head and you do your best to keep a straight face.Â
Art looks at you and shrugs, âI wanted to talk aboutâŠâ You just blink as he is unable to finish his sentence. He sighs and then says, âI know why itâs awkward between us.â You brace yourself with a little nod. âItâs because of the bullying.âÂ
You look at him blank for a moment. His answer confuses you, mostly because he never actually did anything to you. He was a bystander at best. Before you can respond he continues. âItâs been weird ever since Patrick came, and honestly it makes sense,â he pauses. âI guess it must have brought up some bad memories.â Well it did bring up memories. Some bad (him destroying your possessions, the names he teased you with) and some good (him eating you out, riding him in the back of his car). All intense. You just nod in response, curious to where this is going. âI knowâŠI should have done more back.âÂ
âYou didnâtââ you start but are cut off before you finish. âNo, don't try to brush it off,â he says. âPatrick is my best friend, but he was an asshole to you. Iâm sorry I never said anything to stop it.â You look at him for a little moment. An apology was the last thing you expected right now. You donât even know how to respond. Luckily you donât have to, you see his lips part slightly and you realize he isnât done. In a small, vulnerable voice he adds, âIf I could back and change things. I would.â He pauses and then adds,âIt justâŠcan be hard to say no to him.â Now that you understood, more than you could ever let Art know. âYeahâŠYeah I get that.â you whisper with a little nod. You both sit in the silence for a library for a moment, a sense of mutual understanding forming between both of you. Â
Heâs the first to break the silence by saying your name in the same quiet voice âHonestly, I really like you.â The conversation has headed in the direction you originally expected, except after everything he said before you feel too tired to discuss this now. You donât want to talk about this now. âArtâŠâ you start, with your voice trailing off. âI like you,â he says again, âI just never acted on it because of wellâŠyou know.â You just stare at him, looking to the side and then back at him. âBut Tashi?â you ask in a small voice. Itâs not like you really care about his feelings for Tashi. Thatâs the most logical part of all of this, but you feel the need to ask anyway. Pure curiosity more than anything else. âI liked Tashi,â he says slowly, but his voice falters slightly when he says liked. As if he couldnât decide between using the present or the past tense. He continues, âbut I like you. I have since junior year.â You hate how your mind instantly goes to Patrick, but how could it not? That was when your relationship with him started. Art has liked you since then too?Â
âI was thinking I could take you out?â he asks. No No No NO, a voice in your brain says. You shift in your seat, and itâs clear that Art has picked up on some discomfort. âLike dinner or a movie,â he adds. You look at him. You remember what Patrick said and take a deep breath as you try to think of the nicest way to let him down. Artâs jaw ticks at this and he then sighs. âIf you donât want to go out with me because you donât like me, thatâs fine. But please donât say no because of the past,â he then says looking at you. Before you can respond, he stands up and with a shrug says, âJust think about it.â He walks away, and you turn back to the computer screen open to an article on the works of Laurence Durrell. You exit out of it as you gather your things. This paper was now the least of your worries.Â
----
Since you got back to your dorm from the library, youâve been laying down on your bed staring at the ceiling. Patrickâs voice remains in your head, but so does Artâs. Donât say no because of the past. Isnât that what you were doing? The entirety of your time at the academy was dictated by Patrick in one way or another. Maybe it was just a habit at this point to let him do so, but Patrick wasnât here and the academy was the past. You had no reason to do what he said. Regardles, for some reason going out with Art still felt like a betrayal. Naturally, going against what Patrick said to do would be a betrayal to him, but this felt like a betrayal to yourself. It was a new feeling. Never once did you feel it with Patrick, but shouldn't sleeping with your bully feellike a bigger betrayal to yourself than going on a date with a bystander to it?Â
You reach for the phone on your side table. You slowly type out the message on your small flip phone, and then click send.Â
You: So when do you want to go out? (sent 9:10 PM, 10/05/06)
He responds after a minute.Â
Art: How does tomorrow night sound? (sent 9:11 PM, 10/05/06)
----
âI donât understand what you have against the sequels,â Art says with a laugh as you walk down the dorm hallway. You both had decided to get dinner together. It was easy to talk to him and it felt like you were transported back to those first couple weeks at Stanford before Patrickâs visit when there was no awkwardness between you two. You were anxious about the date. With Patrick, everytime you met up it was about hooking up, nothing more, so this was your first ever actual date. Now that itâs done, and you both walk back to your dorm rooms, you canât ever remember why you felt like it wouldnât go well. Art is sweet. Art likes you. It all went fine.Â
âI have nothing against them,â you respond, âI just prefer the original Star Wars movies.â You say as you reach the door to his dorm room. Art stands beside you as he shrugs. âOkay fair,â he says with a smile. He swallows and then looks at his dorm and then yours. Your dorm is in a different building, but you wanted to walk with Art to his anyway because it was first on the route back. âDo you want to come inside?â he asks, looking intently. You look at him without saying anything for a moment, as you register the look. His expression asks: Do you want to have sex?Â
You couldnât deny that Art was handsome. With his smile and golden curls, he looked like what youâd imagine if Prince Charming walked out of a fairy tale and decided he wanted to play tennis. The betrayed feeling from earlier gnaws at you, but you decide to nod with a small smile anyway. The last time you had sex was with Patrick the day before you graduated from the academy in the back of his car. That was months ago. You needed a release.Â
Art smiles as he reaches for the key to open the door to his room. He unlocks it and opens the door for you. You walk in and take a look around the dorm room youâve already been in plenty of times. When you hear the door close around, you turn around to face Art, whose lips automatically come down on yours. His tongue snakes his way into your mouth, but the kiss is still gentle. Much more gentle than anything with Patrick. You move your hands to his shoulders to push Patrick out of your brain and focus on Art in the present. You feel his hands reach down to the buttons of your blouse as you continue to kiss, removing one by one, and then pushing it off to the floor. He pulls away and takes a look at you in the lace bra, with a smile and a lustful gaze. You smile back, as he pulls off his shirt and reaches down to unzip his jeans. You follow his lead and unzip yours as well, before slowly kicking them off. Then your hands move to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor.Â
He smiles at the sight and leans in to kiss you again. While still kissing, you both stumble backwards over to the bed, you falling down on it and he on top of you. He pulls away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue circled one of your nipples, and you gasped at the wet and pleasant sensation. You felt your hands move to his hair as he continued doing so, gently tugging on it as you rocked your core against his groin. Only the thin cloth of your panties and his boxers remained as a barrier between the both of you. He groaned at the sensation. You felt the vibration of it briefly on your breast, but he soon pulled away and started trailing down even lower.Â
He kissed down your body murmuring how pretty you were, until he was stationed between your legs. He looked up at you, and you looked down at him with half lidded eyes. He sat on his knees then as he reached to pull down your panties. He tosses them to the side of the bed, and once again he gets back in between your legs. You feel him plant kisses against your core. You whine at the sensation, enough touch to tease, but not to really please you. Hearing your want, Artâs tongue darts out in between your folds, which quickly turn your whines into moans. You felt his tongue encircle your clit, and a finger tease your cunt. While he started out slow, his pace picked up. Always maintaining a steady rhythm. Each movement of his tongue felt controlled and deliberate, a stark contrast to the messy way Patrick would eat you out. The minute the thought comes into your head. You force your eyes open to look down at Art, to ground yourself in the moment. You see his gaze is already on you, and as you make eye contact, he slowly starts to speed up. He pushes another finger inside you and you gasp. HIs free hand is splayed on your thigh, holding it down. All together, these draw out your orgasm. Â
As you feel the vibrations through your body, he slowly pulls himself up and plants another kiss against your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you gently again. âI want you,â he murmurs against your lips, âso badly right now.â You smile at him and whisper back, âokay.â He smiles at your words and sits up as he reaches to the corner table, âI should have a condom in here.â You nod as he pulls open the drawer and finds one. He puts it to the side as he pulls down his boxers and you take a moment just to look at him naked. He rips open the condom packet and you watch him pull it over his cock. Itâs the same shade as the rest of his skin, with his tip a subtle pink shade, a little bit longer but not as thick asâŠYou turn your head to the side to prevent yourself from finishing the comparison. Focus on Art, you tell yourself.
The minute itâs on he climbs over you again, and you lay back down. He aligns himself with you, and slowly pushes himself in. He goes inch by inch, and you can feel himself throb even through the condom barrier. Once he is bottomed out, he puts his hands on the side of your head, and he starts to thrust. Just like when he ate you out, he moves at a steady pace, slow at first but slowly picking up speed. You feel the comparison forming in your head, and you bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from making it. You bite down so hard that you taste blood. Art takes this as a sign you want to be kissed, and you feel his lips come down on you again. Although his movements remain gentle, heâs big enough that you still feel it completely. You kiss as he continues to thrust. âGod..â he grunts head going up, âYouâre so fucking tight.â He says as he continues to thrust, speed picking up again once more. You moan at the feeling. âG..Gonna turn you around,â he says, and you nod as he feels your hand move you from laying down on your back to laying down your stomach. He feels even deeper now, and you feel yourself get closer.Â
Thatâs when you see it. Your eyes are half lidded, but open enough to see the picture of Art and Patrick on the bedside table. You squint at it to get a better look, as Art continues to thrust into you with heavy pants. You feel your breathing get shallower as your eyes focus in on the picture. It looks like itâs from after they won the doubles championship at the junior open. Your eyes lock in on Patrick smiling for the snap, and thatâs what pushes yourself over the edge. You feel yourself clench and then your orgasm hits you. You close your eyes as you feel it wash over you. Art pushes into you a couple more times and then lets out a grunts as he cums as well. You feel him pull out and fall beside where you lie on the bed. When your eyes finally open again you look again at the picture of both boys and sigh. Â
----
You probably should have stopped sleeping with Art after that first time, but the sex provided an outlet for all your anxious energy, and that just made your life easier. You met up in the evenings after practice and pretty much always in his dorm (for reasons you do not want to acknowledge). He took you out a couple times too, but there was no label for the relationship. The only person who knew about what was going on between the two of you was Tashi, who you told after the first time it happened.
âYou two should just start going out with each other,â she told you one day as you grabbed lunch. âYou guys go on dates and sleep together anyway.â You shrugged her off. He tried to bring it up once in bed too, but you ended the conversation by going down on him. You liked this weird gray area both of you were in. It felt comfortable. It felt safe.Â
----
You sit on the bleachers picking at the skin by your cuticles. With all the time you were spending with Art, the two weeks snuck up on you. Patrick was back. Tashi went into the locker room to change, so itâs just you watching Art and Patrick casually playing a match on the court in front of you. He was supposed to arrive in the evening, not in the afternoon. You had been dreading his visit since the moment you found out, so you planned in advance. After practice, you were going to tell Art and Tashi you had another paper for your literary seminar, and lock yourself in your dorm for the rest of the weekend before Patrick even showed up. Of course this plan was ruined when Patrick showed up in the afternoon, right in the middle of the practice. Now here you are, counting the moments till you could leave while Patrick and Art played.Â
You feel your fingers sting where you picked at the skin, as you hear Patrick call your name. âCâmon one game? For old times sake.â His tone was mocking, as if he was trying to provoke you. You looked up at him as he walked towards where you sat on the bench, but said nothing. His eyes dart down to the picked skin on your finger. He grimaces at the sight, but says nothing. Quickly bringing a smirk back onto his face as he looked at you. âWhat? Iâve been told youâre good,â Patrick asks in the same mocking tone. Your ranking among college girls tennis players had gone up, which you knew was more than he could say about his ATP ranking. You just shrug in response. âSo what, you're not going to play me?â he then asks.Â
âSeriously? Practice just ended. Let us have a break,â Art says in a not so subtle attempt to get Patrick to stop. He then offers you a smile.Youâre not sure if it's a âPlease forgive my asshole friendâ smile or a âIâm glad I could stand up for you smile,â but either way you return it with a small smile of your own. Patrick notices, his eyes narrowing slightly and then returning to normal, before telling Art, âYou just played with me.â He turns back to you and goes, âCâmonâÂ
He has a shit eating grin on his face and you want to smack it off him, but as you feel all three of them look at you, you realize youâve been silent this whole time. You just shrug, standing up with your racket. âSure,â you say as you walk over to the court. His grin grows wider. It makes you wonder if this is a mistake.Â
You serve the ball, and he hits it. You run and hit it back. He does as well. The ball goes back and forth between the both of you, neither of you missing it. Youâre not sure how long it goes on for, but itâs definitely sometime before it stops. You hit it to the corner of the court and before he can run to it, it bounces out. He lets out a sharp exhale as he watches it go.Â
âIâm gonna serve now,â he says to you, as he takes a ball. He looks at you as he gets ready to do his signature, unique serve, and just smirks. The minute you see it, you once again feel like this is a mistake. The feeling only intensifies when he serves and you miss the ball. He grabs another tennis ball and does it again. You miss. Your eyes dart to where Art watches by the bench and then at Patrick. Feeling more warm all of a sudden. Once more he serves. Again, Miss. Youâre not sure how long this goes on for, but when he goes, âSure youâre a tennis player?â you want nothing more than to get out of there. You walk straight to the bench and pick up your bag. Art looks at you, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, but you speak first. âI have a paper I need to finish.â Itâs all you say before walking away from the court back in the direction of your dorm room.Â
You can hear the sound of Patrick laughing behind you, and you bite down on your jaw to prevent yourself from crying as you walk away.Â
----
You lay down in bed, your eyes still red and puffy. You broke down on the way back, but thankfully far enough from the courts that neither Art or Patrick could see. The crying didnât stop when you got back to your dorm. Or after your shower. While it wasnât pouring out of you anymore, tears would come back at random intervals.
While you werenât actively crying at the moment, it felt like anything could bring the tears back. Your mind drifts back to his afternoon. Of course Patric chose to humiliate you, what else would he have done? Youâre shaken out of your thoughts from someone banging on your door. Loud, forceful, and impatient bangs. You slowly sat up in bed, and looked over to it. Another thud. It was too forceful to be either Tashi or Art. Really, there was only one person whoâd be this forceful. He was the last person you wanted to see, so you just stared at it. How did Patrick even find your dorm? Maybe if you waited long enough, heâd just leave. You sat for another minute, but the bangs just got louder. He wasnât leaving and you realized if he kept banging youâre the one who was going to get a noise complaint. You sniffle one more time and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, as you walk over to the door. More thuds. You sigh and take one deep exhale, as you open the door.
Patrick is standing there with a scowl and furrowed brows. The minute he realizes the door opened, he pushes himself in and lets the door close behind him. âYouâre fucking Art?â His voice is angry and although it comes out like a question, itâs clear he knows the answer. You realize Art must have told him about the two of you. You just stare up in silence, and this causes Patrick to scoff. âWhat part about our conversation last time made you think it was okay to suck his dick?â His voice is sarcastic and angry, as he takes another step towards you. He smells of a combination of sweat, cologne, and cigarettes. âAnswer the question.âÂ
âGet out of my room.â you say in a small voice. Patrick lets out a humorless laugh. âAnswer the question,â he repeats. You look at him and feel tears well up again in your eyes. Wasnât it enough that he humiliated you earlier today? Couldnât he just leave you alone now? âWhy do you care,â you retort with a sniffle. Once again he laughs. âWhy do I care? Oh I donât know, maybe itâs the fact that I turn my back for two minutes and youâre on my best friendâs dick,â he says it a bit louder and heâs so close that his nose bumps yours when he says it.
Your eyebrows furrow. His tone was angry and sarcastic, but above all it made it seem like you were doing something wrong. Something inside of you snaps at this. Your tone is a bit louder and more upset when you say, âSo what?â Patrick laughs looking to the side, but you donât give him the chance to speak. âIâm sorry that your best friend is into meâ your voice taking a sarcastic tone. âBut thatâs not my fault. And I donât know why youâre so upset about it, but grow the up and leave me the fuck alone.â He huffs and bites, âYou know why Iâm upset.â You bring your face closer to his, âReally? From where Iâm standing, youâre just being an ass.â The tears which formed in your eyes roll down your cheek, and in an angry voice begins,âI told you toââÂ
âYou do not get to tell me what to do!â you exclaim before he can even finish that statement. You swallow, as he just looks at you now slightly stunned at the outburst. âYou do not get to tell me what to do,â you repeat in a still angry yet less loud tone. Both of you just stand there, and unsure what else to do, you decide to push him. Your hands go to his chest and then push him back. Itâs a childish gesture, and youâre not exactly sure why you did it. Even he looks stunned at the sudden action. Once again you push him. And again. You do it until his back is up against the door of your dorm. Youâre breathing much more heavily now and both of you are just staring at each other. Your hands raise up and you keep hitting him on the chest. For a brief moment it feels like youâre transported back to junior year in the locker room before winter break as you just punch his chest. That feeling only grows when you suddenly feel his lips against yours.Â
It's desperate and messy, but undoubtedly mutual. His tongue licks into your mouth as your hands go to the back of his neck. His hands grab your hips and spin you around, so now your back is against the door. You already know heâs hard, but you fully feel it as he grinds his erection against your core and you moan into his mouth in response. âFuckâ he mutters as his lips move from yours to your neck. You feel his teeth scratch against the skin there, but not enough to leave a mark. Whenever you slept together, he never left marks anywhere visible. His hands move to the underside of your thighs and he pins you up against the door. Your legs instinctively wrap against his waist, and once again he grinds against you, eliciting another moan from both of you. You feel his tongue lick up your cheek, and it takes you a second to realize he is licking up your tears. One of his hands moves up to paw at your tits over the tank you have on and you moan at the sensation. You feel your hands go down to his jeans zipper, and he lets out a chuckle at this, then his lips come crashing down against yours again.Â
Too lost in the kiss, it takes you a moment to realize he is moving you somewhere, but you soon realize he is carrying you away from the door. Soon youâre thrown onto the bed. His hands go to the zipper you somewhat removed, and he kicks off his jeans. He then goes to take his shirt. You take this as a sign to get naked as well. You kick off your shorts and pull off your tank. Without a bra on and already aroused, your nipples pebble instantly once exposed. Patrick licks his bottom lip and removes his boxers, the last bit of clothing he has on. You take in the sight you didnât think youâd ever see again, as he crawls on top of you and presses another desperate kiss. His lips part from yours as he whispers, âNo one else will make you feel like this.â Before you can respond, you gasp as you feel his hand knead your breast again. Now fully exposed you feel him pinch your nipple. He moves down with his tongue licking over the little bud he just pinched, replacing the jolt of pleasurable pain with just pure pleasure.Â
He gets back on his knees and grips the base of his cock, aligning himself with you. He pushes just the tip in. Close but not enough. You whine at the sensation. âWhat?â he asks with a smirll. He moves slightly as if he is going to fully pull out. âPleaseâ you whine. âPlease what?â He says, âYou gotta use your words.â You whine again and he laughs, and you manage to say âfuck me..please.â He smiles again but doesnât move. âWhoâs the only person that can make you feel this way?â he asks. You look at him and breathlessly say, âyou.â He smiles before pushing in fully, muttering, âFuck Iâve missed this.â Â
----
From the time you met Patrick, you were sure he was going to hell when he died. Now you were fairly certain youâd also be down there with him. After you both fucked, Patrick left your dorm saying nothing. He put on his clothes and gave you one last look. You both locked eyes and for a moment, you were sure he was going to say something to you, but instead he just let out a deep exhale and walked out. You assumed he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You felt a knot of guilt in your stomach, so was relieved he left in silence. Sometime after that, you fell asleep in the soiled sheets surrounded by his scent and his cum dripping out of you.
When you woke up the next morning, you sent a message to both Tashi and Art saying you were sick and needed to rest. Along with the fact Patrick was on campus, you knew this lie would guarantee that youâd be left alone for the rest of the weekend. Which was all you wanted. The knot in your stomach grew when you thought about either of them. You tried to occupy yourself in your room by showering, doing work, and reading, but your mind kept drifting back to Patrick. Even once you changed the bedsheets, you felt as if his scent lingered in your dorm. By Saturday night, you felt incapable of thinking about anything besides him and what had happened the night before.Â
As you laid in bed, you reached over to your phone to check the messages you had been ignoring all day. You had one from your mom just checking up on you, which you quickly responded by saying fine, and messages from Tashi and Art asking how youâre feeling. Both of which you ignored. Then you saw the message from Patrick.Â
Patrick: Youâre still on birth control right? (sent 3:02 PM, 10/16/06)
It was sent a couple hours ago. You assumed some delayed sense of post-nut clarity must have reminded him that you both fucked raw last night.Â
You: Yes. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: Okay good. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)
After a minute or so, you got another message from Patrick.Â
Patrick: Art said you were feeling sick. (sent 8:59 PM, 10/16/06)
You should have ignored the message, but you found yourself responding before you could stop yourself.Â
You: Yes? (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: Like for real? Or because⊠(sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)
Your eyes rolled at the screen.Â
You: What do you think? (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: ;) (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)
You read his response and sigh. You put your phone back down on the bed stand table and force yourself to sleep.Â
----
Although you originally planned to just hideaway for the weekend, you still felt miserable by the time Monday rolled around. You decided to play into the whole sickness thing, and isolate yourself for the next couple days. But by the time Thursday rolled around, you realized you had to get back to your life. You forced yourself to go to practice.
It had been a couple days since Patrick left the campus, but you still felt as if he could jump up from any corner. By the time you got to the courts, you saw Tashi was already playing and Art was watching her with an adoring smile.Â
You walked over slowly to where he was standing, and he noticed your presence once you were standing next to him. âHey, Feeling better?â he asks, looking at you. You drop the bag full of your tennis equipment to your feet, and look up at him. The knot in your stomachreturns in full force and you just shrug in response. He nods in response, and you both turn back to look over at Tashi who is playing.Â
____
âI was thinking that if we win the championships this spring, it would be the perfect time to go pro,â Tashi says as she looks across the dining hall table where you both eat. After the events of Patrickâs last visit, there was a noticeable change in the air. While you knew this was because you fucked her boyfriend, she didnât. You found reasons to hang out with her less because of it. Always making up some essay that needed to be finished. You felt grateful that when you did spend time with Tashi, she chose to talk about tennis. Although, you couldnât deny the increased focus on your possible future in professional tennis was draining in its own way. âWhat do you think?â she asks.Â
You shrug in response. âI donât know if Iâm ready,â you respond. Tashi lets out a little laugh, raising an eyebrow, âYouâre ready.â You shrug as you pick up a piece of fruit with your fork. âNo really. Youâre ready,â she repeats as if trying to drive the point. âYouâre already in the top ten in college rankings, and if you win a couple more games, you would break into the top 5.âÂ
You nod slowly in response as you munch on the fruit. âYeahâŠbut thereâs more to it,â you say with a shrug. Tashiâs eyebrows raise in confusion. âI donât have the money for that type of life,â you say. Youâre not wrong, itâs not like youâd be able to afford to be on the road or pay a coach to help you train. Tashi shrugs, âYou should get a sponsorship.â Her tone is casual, as if itâs the easiest thing there is. Youâre not necessarily surprised by how nonchalant she is. She has an Adidas sponsorship already and considering how brilliant of a player she is, it probably was not her only offer. You just let out a laugh in response. âWhat?â Tashi starts again, âYouâre a good player. You're cute. And you have a motivating story. You could easily get a sponsorship.âÂ
You let out another small laugh, shaking your head and saying, âI think you think my story is way more motivating than it actually is.â Now Tashi laughs, âEveryone loves an underdog, and with everything that happened to you at the academyââ
You cut her off, âWhat?â Something about her words make you uneasy. She knows, you think. Tashi looks at you as if sheâs been caught, âWell ArtâŠsaid some people were really awful to you at the academy.âÂ
Art? Art was telling her these things. He said some people? So he didnât mention Patrick? What else did he mention? Before you can properly start to spiral about those thoughts, you sense someone behind you. Of course, itâs Art. He sits down in the seat next to you, puts his plate on the table. âWhat are you guys talking about?â he asks as his hand rests on your thigh. Ever since you started sleeping together, heâs been more open with touching you. Both in private and public. You feel slightly queasy when he does, but say nothing.Â
 âGoing pro,â you respond quickly to move the subject of the conversation back to the original focus. You hear Art make a hum sound in response and both he and Tashi slip into a conversation about professional tennis.
You take a sip of your gatorade, as you just watch the two of them, not at all paying attention to the conversation. Art was talking about your time at the academy with Tashi, but why? Did she bring it up? Or did he? What reason could he have to talk about it with her? Youâre lost in thought when you see Art turn and give you a small smile. You give him one back.Â
-----
Patrick: I canât believe youâre still sleeping with Art. (sent 4:08 PM, 10/28/06)
Youâre sitting at your desk in your dorm, going over some of your annotations on a short story for class, when you get the message. Itâs your first message from him in a couple of weeks. After the text conversation you had the Saturday he was last on campus, he sent nothing else. You reasoned that whatever happened during the visit wouldnât happen again, and used that to ease the knot of guilt you felt whenever you thought about what happened. You wonât let it happen again. Itâs almost ironic that just as you feel yourself moving past it again, he texts you.  Â
You: I donât know what youâre talking about. (sent 4:10 PM, 10/28/06)
You are aware that you should have ended things with Art a long time ago. After Patrickâs visit, you couldnât bring yourself to sleep with Art. But you also couldnât bring yourself to put a definite end to things with him. So while you hadnât slept with him in sometime, you were still with Art. Your relationship remained in that little gray area you both created, just now without the sex.Â
Patrick: Yeah sure. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)
Patrick: Art told me. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)
Your mind drifts back to when Tashi said Art told her about your time at the academy. Looks like he was talking about you to Patrick too, albeit for completely different reasons. If Patrick thinks youâre still sleeping with Art, then what exactly did Art say? You did not have the time to focus on this. You sigh as you put your phone down. You need to focus on your work, you tell yourself.Â
Itâs only a couple minutes until you hear your phone ring, you pick it up to see itâs a call from Patrick. You let it ring for a minute before picking it up.Â
âYou never responded to my message,â he says immediately. âIâm busy,â you say looking back at the book. Why did you even take this call? âDoing what?â he asks. âSo at university youâre given work to do,â you say sarcastically, which just causes him to laugh on the other end. âYeah okay smartass. Is it like an essay? Homework?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âNo just going over notesâ He laughs in response and you expect him to make fun of you. âGoing over notes is not work,â he says. âYes they are,â you say with a groan and eye roll. âNo, you just choose to do it. Even when you donât have to,â he says and you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice. âI care about my grades.â As if to remind you he says. âYouâre there on a tennis scholarship.â You roll your eyes again, âWell I want to do well.â He lets out a chuckle, âI know. You were like this back then too.â There is a slight pause between the both of you, as you remember the time at the academy. He then adds on, âYouâll do fine anyway.âÂ
Youâre not exactly sure how to respond to that. Another moment of silence between both sides. You break it by asking, âWhyâd you call?âÂ
âWell I wanted to have phone sex but all this talk about school has made me soft,â he says with a laugh. You wouldnât put that motive below him, but you can tell from his tone that itâs a joke. After a moment he goes, âI mean, but if youâre up to itââÂ
You cut him off. âBye Patrick.â You roll your eyes and hang up.Â
----
Patrick: I miss your tight fucking cunt so much. (sent 3:02 AM, 11/02/06)
Patrick: Iâm throbbing just thinking of it. (sent 3:03 AM, 11/02/06)
After that phone call, Patrick began texting you more regularly. These types of messages were the least surprising. Late at night and overtly sexual. You were pretty sure he was drunk sending them too. This is what you expected from him. You always refrained from answering them. You could not control what Patrick said or did and you were beginning to highly doubt that he felt any guilt about any of this. But you did. And you could control your own actions.Â
Although, you responded to his other messages. For every sexual conversation he tried having with you, he started three normal ones. He asked questions about your life and told you things about his. Even back when you were hooking up at the academy he never texted you this much, and especially not about these things.Â
Patrick: You know I think I had a cousin who studied English too (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)
You: Really? (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Yeah. I think she is a professor now (sent 11:23 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Youâre seriously thinking about majoring in English? (sent 11:24 AM, 11/07/06)
You: Yeah. What about it? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Why tho? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)
You: Itâs fun. I like to read. (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Nerd (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)
While many of the messages have a teasing edge to it, it never felt humiliating. It was like he wanted to make you laugh (and he did). The constant back and forth made it feel like new territory, but it would be a lie to say you didnât like it. It was undoubtedly fun to talk to him like this. Every once in a while, he would also bring up Art in these conversations. Although his earlier anger at the relationship, now has seemed to fade into curiosity.Â
Patrick: I just donât understand youâre relationship with him. (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
You: your* (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: What? (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
You: Patrick it's your not you're (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: Whatever (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: What do you two even do together? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)
You: Why do you care? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)
You couldnât bring yourself to ask about him and Tashi. You had a feeling that he was glad about this. Regardless of what happened, she was still his girlfriend and your friend. Even if she came up in conversation, neither of you mentioned her by name.
Patrick: She said sheâs thinking about going pro if you guys win the championship. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)
You: Yeah she told me too. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)
Patrick: How about you? (sent 10:49 PM, 11/18/06)
You: I donât know if I want to. (sent 10:50 PM, 11/18/06)
You stared at the message before clicking send. It was your first time directly admitting the fact that you didnât know what part tennis would play in the future.
Patrick: Seriously? (sent 10:51 PM, 11/18/06)
You: Honestly, I donât see the point. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)
Patrick: Youâve always been a great player. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)
You donât know how to respond to that message. You just stare at it. He once broke your racket and left you a note to say that replacing it would be a waste of your parentâs money because of how bad you were. And now he is saying youâve always been a great player? You see another message pop back up.Â
Patrick: And I donât think your English degree is going to be a great fall back. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)
That was easier to respond to.Â
You: Fuck you. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)
----
âEverything okay?â Art asks as he stops walking and turns to look at you. You, Tashi, and Art were all walking together to the tennis courts. Both of them were a little ahead of you lost in conversation, while you trailed behind on your phone. Patrick had told you something about his last match. You drop your phone into your pocket and nod in response. Suddenly, itâs weight in your pocket felt like a rock dragging you down.Â
By the time November rolled around, your workload increased and you were grateful for that. It meant more of a reason to stay in your dorm. You were only really seeing Art and Tashi at practice and games now. You now no longer asked to do homework with her and found excuses to avoid going out with him. Although, you doubt they were disappointed, considering the both of them started to spend more time together.Â
âYeah, yeah,â all good, as you take a couple steps to walk beside them.Â
----
Patrick: Iâm coming to visit Stanford this weekend. (sent 10:01 AM, 11/25/06)
----
Considering Patrickâs visit you thought youâd spend the entire weekend in your dorm again. While you were still texting him, you didnât want a repeat of last time. It was okay to talk, but nothing else. The only way to avoid anything from happening was to stay in your dorm, but when Tashi saw your ranking in the college girls tennis circuit list move up to fourth, she insisted on going out. So here you were at a frat party. Thankfully, it was Saturday and Patrick would leave on Sunday. You were able to avoid him up until you all had to meet up to go to the party. Â
While he seemed friendly over text, the first thing he said when he saw you was, âLooks like someone is taking the whole Cinderella thing too seriously.â Not his worst jab, but still said in a tone that felt humilating. Art had just shot him a look and Tashi rolled her eyes. You said nothing in response to him and remained silent on the rest of the walk to the frat house. Now here you were at the Frat party, in some corner of the house, trying to bide the time with some drink until you felt it was appropriate to run back to your dorm.Â
âYou look nice,â you hear a voice say next to you. You take a sip from your red solo cup and turn to see a random frat guy, leaning in to talk to you. You just smile in response, hoping the conversation will end. âI havenât seen you around here before,â he continues. While you enjoyed drinking, you werenât a fan of how claustrophobic frat parties felt. âUh well,â you say with a little shrug. Although there was nothing remotely entertaining about it, he laughs and leans in and asks, âSo...you here with someone?âÂ
Before you have the chance to respond, you hear, âWith her friends. Who is looking for her right nowâ You turn to see Patrick standing behind you, looking at the frat guy. âCâmon,â he says as he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere away from the corner you were just in.
You follow him without saying anything else. Itâs clear he isnât taking you to Art or Tashi, as you wander down a dimly lit hallway. You look around to see if anyone can see you, but youâre both alone. This hall may be the only empty place in the entire frat house. He pushes open a door and pulls you in, he smirks at you, and you realize heâs taken you to some bathroom. You look at it, and place your drink down on the side of the counter.Â
âYou look really nice,â he says looking at you. A complete 180 from earlier, but what else is new? You look down at the dress, as if youâve forgotten what youâre wearing. âIâve never seen you wear that before.â His fingers move to play with the slight lace on the hem of the dress. He smells of cheap alcohol and kool-aid, but you can still faintly smell his cologne.Â
âItâs new,â you say looking at him. He steps closer, his hands still on the lace, and you feel your heartbeat pick up, and thighs clench. Youâre sure he notices. He doesnât make a comment on it, as he nods. âThe lace is nice.â He says looking back up at you. You lean your back against the sink counter, and you slowly feel his hands push the hem of your dress up. You should smack his hands away, but you donât.Â
He holds the dress up by your hips, as he looks down at the lace of your panties. âI like that lace too,â he says as he lets one finger touch it. His hands move underneath your thighs and lifts you onto the sink counter. He leans down to kiss you, but not for long as he slowly starts trailing kisses down your body. His hands move to your hips, where the dress is pooled up, to hold down the fabric and hold you. He kisses down on your abdomen, you arch into his touch.Â
By the time his head is in between your legs, and he looks at the lace of your panties. âYou always get wet quick,â he says with a smirk as he sees the little wet spot on them. You whimper, as you feel him lick you over your panties. He chuckles right into your core as you do. He gives you one more tortuous lick over your panties, before pulling them down and putting his tongue where you really want it. His hands are splayed on your thighs to keep you open. âGod you taste amazing,â he mutters against your folds as his tongue continues to eat you out. Itâs all messy as he spreads his saliva with your arousal and the sound of his tongue against your dripping cunt is obscene. His nose bumps into your clit, which elicits more moans from you. Youâre barely on the counter, but his hands hold you in place. You feel his tongue slip down to your other hole, and you shiver, but he quickly moves back up to your cunt. You feel yourself rock against his face. âYouâre so desperate,â he chuckles again, âSlut.â His tongue moves a little faster, and your orgasm follows through.Â
Before you can let the intense pleasure sink in, he is pulling you off the sink counter, and is spinning you around. Your hands grip the sides of the counter, as his hands go to your waist, you feel him rock his erection against you as he groans. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans and the shuffle of the denim as he pulls it down. âLook at you little tennis star,â he says as he pulls down his boxers. âBent over a bathroom sink for me.â His words send a jolt of arousal down your body, you feel his erection press into your skin. âFourth is impressive tho,â he whispers against your ear, âI should fuck you with my racket. Maybe your luck will rub off on it,â You feel his tongue dart out and lick the lobe, and you again feel yourself aroused at his words. He pushes your dress up a little bit, and you can feel him guide his cock to your cunt. âLook in the mirror,â he whispers to you. Your eyes look at the reflection of both of you. He smirks from behind you, as he pushes into you. You both moan simultaneously. You feel grateful no one is around, because youâre sure you both could be heard through the door. You feel your eyes go half lidded as he continues to pound into you. âNo,â he says with a grunt. One of his hands moves to your neck while the other remains on your lap. His hand presses down into your neck to hold in place. âWatch,â he commands, and your eyes return to the reflection of you both in the mirror. You can see he is watching too, as he continues to hold down on your neck. âIâm..â you feel yourself start to say, but his hand on your throat makes it too hard to speak. âI know..â he grunts, as he continues, âMe too.â He goes a little faster, and with one long grunt, you feel him spill into you. He is panting now, but he continues to thrust until you clench around him and come. You feel slightly light headed as it rips through you, and grip onto the side of the counter as you close your eyes to. His hand moves from your neck and you feel his head rest on the counter on top of yours. His finger softly rubs where you last picked the skin from it.Â
After a moment of just standing like that, he slowly moves to kneel beside you. You think he is about to do something else, but you feel him pull up your panties as he stands up. He pulls your dress down, and takes a deep breath before going to pull up his own boxers and pants. Feeling much more grounded, you open your eyes and see him looking at you in the mirror, biting the inside of his cheek. âYou okay?â he asks. You nod in response, unsure why he is asking. You can see he has a pensive expression on his face, as he bites down on the side of his lip. "I'm fine," you affirm, out loud this time. Then he slowly nods, as he presses a tender kiss against the back of your neck. âIâll see you,â he says as he walks out. You slowly pull away from leaning on the counter, but say nothing as you just look at yourself in the mirror.Â
When you finally decide to walk out, you walk straight back to your dorm.Â
----
Patrick: How are your classes? (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)
Patrick: I used the right your this time :D (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)
----
Tashi: How is prepping going for finals? (sent 8:12 AM, 12/06/06)
You: Fine. Busy tho. (sent 2:03 PM, 12/06/06)
----
Patrick: Read anything good lately? (sent 2:38, 12/10/06)
Patrick: Or has finals taken up all your time? (sent 2:38 PM, 12/10/06)
----
Art: Can you come over? I want to talk. (sent 6:40 PM, 12/16/06)
You: Maybe later? I have an exam tomorrow morning.(sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)
Art: Itâs important. Iâll be quick. (sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)
You: Oh okay. Give me ten min (sent 7:15 PM, 12/16/06)
----
âSoâŠâ Art starts, as you sit down next to him on the bed. You had spent the past couple weeks isolated in your dorm studying. And while finals season was keeping you busy, it was just an excuse to avoid Art and Tashi. After Patrick fucked you at the party, it was impossible to ignore the sense of guilt for your behavior. You didnât deserve to have Art or Tashi in your life. You were awful. You wanted to avoid all three of them at all costs, and were grateful for the fact that finals gave you a reason to.Â
Art sits down next to you and you both just look at each other for a moment.Â
You knew this was about your relationship with him. Or well lack thereof. Without a label, without the sex, and now without seeing him, it wasnât much of a relationship. You wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't deal with the guilt you felt by just being near him.
âI guess itâs over,â he says in a quiet voice. You nod in response. You have nothing to say as you reach over to give him a hug. Just as quickly as it started, you found it was over.Â
----
Patrick: Art said he ended things with you. (sent 6:39 PM, 12/20/06)
----
Patrick: Are you ignoring me? (sent 12:47 AM, 12/21/06)
----
Patrick: ??? (sent 2:32 PM, 12/21/06)
----
Mom: Have you finished packing? (sent 10:02 PM, 12/23/06)
You: Almost (sent 10:03 PM, 12/23/06)
A lie. You were currently sitting on the floor of your dorm room, with two open, empty suitcases in front of you. You felt exhausted just thinking about packing, but it was only the twenty third and your flight was on Christmas morning. You figured you had plenty of time to pack. No need to stress your mom out about it.
As you stand up and walk over to your closet to grab some clothes to pack, you hear a knock on the door. It was quick and hurried. The semester technically ended yesterday and nearly everyone had already left. You look at the door, and when you hear another knock, you just assume itâs your RA telling you he was leaving for break.
When you open the door, youâre instead greeted with Patrick just standing there. âPatrick?â you asked surprised, âWhaââÂ
He cuts you off, as he steps into the dorm, âYou were ignoring me.â He says it as if that explains everything. âSo you just decided to show up at my door,â you ask with a slight scoff. He shrugs. âI wanted to talk,â he says. You sigh, as you walk back to the closet, and open it. He seriously could not have been this dense to not realize why you were avoiding him. âIf this is about what happenedââÂ
Now itâs your turn to cut him off. âOf course it is,â you snap back with a scoff. You move to kneel down by the suitcases as you put it in there. He exhales, running a hand through his hair and says, âWhy are you acting like this?â You roll your eyes and sarcastically say, âI wonder why.â He sighs and just watches you pack.Â
An awkward silence overtakes the room, and you take a deep exhale. âHow did you even know I was still here anyway?â you ask to get rid of the quiet. âYou always leave Christmas morning,â he says with a shrug. He sits down on the floor across from you, as he looks at your suitcases. Your brows furrow, âShouldnât you be home for the holidays too?â His eyes dart up to you, and he shrugs again, âWell I donât celebrate Christmas.â Itâs a skillful deflection of the question but you decide to press, âWell yeah I know that.â You remembered how everyone desperately wanted an invite to his Bar Mitzvah back at the academy (you of course were not invited). âBut still,â you say as you wait for his response.Â
He looks at you, and his face is much more serious now. âUh..â he starts, âWell my parents are still pretty pissed I decided to not go to college.â Oh. You didnât know that. He bites on the inside of his cheek, and you decide to change the subject.Â
âWell youâre right, my flight is on Christmas morning,â you say as you stand up and walk back to the closet. He nods from where he is sitting on the floor. As you grab some clothes you add, âBut I havenât been able to pack because of finals.âÂ
âNeed help?â he asks. You turn and look at him. His hands are stretched out towards you and you realize heâs asking to take the clothes. You slowly hand it to him, with a raised eyebrow, âYou sure?â He just nods as he places the clothes into your suitcase. âYou know these suitcases are pretty old, right?â he says to tease you. And you roll your eyes as you grab more clothes to hand him.Â
An hour later, you both have finished packing. Taking his help was definitely the smart move, as you knew it would have taken at least another hour to finish up on your own. âFinally done,â you say as you lay down on the rug next to your bed. You feel exhausted and let out a yawn. Patrick is still moving some things around in the suitcase. âYouâre pretty good at this, you know?â you say with another yawn, still laying down on the rug.
He lets out a laugh, âWell I have to do it on tour.â He continues to move things from one suitcase to another. He says something about distributing the weight, but you donât catch it as you feel yourself drift off to sleep.Â
----
When you wake up the next day, you find yourself in your bed. You sit up and look around. The clock on the wall says itâs noon, and your suitcases have been closed, put up right, and rolled to the corner of the dorm. You feel a pang of disappointment at the fact that youâre all alone, but push it down as you move to dangle your legs off the bed. You move to get up, but as you press your foot down you donât find the fuzzy texture of your rug. You find Patrick.Â
âWatch it,â he says groggily, as you look down on him. He rolls from his side to his back to look up at you. âYou slept on the floor?â you ask him. âNo, Iâm laying down here for fun,â he says back sarcastically with a sleepy grin. You roll your eyes as you stand up, carefully avoiding him. âThanks for moving me to the bed,â you say as you look at him. âMhm,â he murmurs as he slowly sits up, âDonât mention it.âÂ
You nod, and feel your stomach slightly rumble. âIâm gonna freshen up and go grab us something to eat from the vending machine,â you say with a nod. He raises an eyebrow, âThe vending machine?â You shrug. The dining halls on campus would have already closed for break and you doubted there would be much open considering it was Christmas Eve. âAny Chinese places nearby?â he asks with a shrug. You know one and nod. âWeâll go there. I can drive,â he says. âOkay...â you say your voice trailing off as you walk to the bathroom. âWait,â he says and you turn around and face him. âIâm kinda turned on by you stepping on me,â he says with a grin. You roll your eyes as you turn around and walk into the bathroom.Â
----
An hour later, both of you were sitting across from each other at a table in a small Chinese restaurant waiting for your food. Somehow the conversation on the way turned to the fact that you didnât have a license.
âSo what, you take the bus everywhere?â he asks with a laugh. You nod and now he laughs âYou canât be serious.â You roll your eyes, but before you can let out some snarky retort, you feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your dad.
Dad: Make sure you set an alarm to wake up for your flight tomorrow. You probably want to leave the dorm by 6. (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)
You: Got it :)Â (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)
âEverything all good?â Patrick asks, as your attention drifts to your phone from the conversation you both were having. âYeah, my dad just reminded me to set an alarm for tomorrow,â you say with a small nod. He nods in response as well. A moment of silence passes between the both of you. âTheyâve always been like that. I remember,â he then says, eyes going to the side. âBeen like what?â you ask, as you put your phone down in your lap. He shrugs. âYou know,â he pauses to find the right word, âpresent.â
You look at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to it. You didnât have to be a genius to see that Patrick wasnât close to his parents, but his words said enough about how non-existent that relationship actually was.Â
âI actually remember seeing them the first time I met you,â he suddenly says. âWhat?â you respond confused. The first time he met you was when he walked into class. You remember how he instantly sneered at you upon making eye contact. Your parents were nowhere in sight. âOkay well, first time I saw you,â he clarifies. Your brows furrow as he sighs. âThey came to drop you off. They kept hugging you and saying how proud they were,â he says with a little hand motion and looks to the side as he does.Â
You do remember that, but you didnât know that Patrick saw that. Once again youâre unsure how to respond, but thankfully you donât have to as the waiter walks over and places your dumplings and noodles on the table. âThank god,â Patrick says as he grabs a pair of chopsticks. âIâm starving.â
----
You laugh in the car, as Patrick sings along off key to Mariah Carey on the radio. âYouâre terrible,â you say with a laugh as you look over to him from your place in the passenger seat. He smirks, eyes still on the road. He then sarcastically saysâWhat? Iâm a great singer.â This causes you to laugh again, and he joins in.Â
After that waiter placed your food, the conversation at the restaurant shifted back to more pleasant things. The food was great and now he was driving you both back to the dorm.Â
âYou know, youâre so much more fun when itâs just us,â he says once he is done laughing. âYouâve always been so quiet in public.â You can feel yourself involuntarily tense at his words. He wasnât wrong. You were more reserved in public. A habit from your time at the academy. A habit from your time being bullied. Your quiet demeanor in public was his fault. And regardless of these moments between the two of you alone, nothing could change that. He must have had the same thought process, because he then goes, âShit I didnâtââ
âItâs okay,â you quickly say to cut him off. âI know what you meant.â You turn up the volume on the radio to change the subject. He gets the hint, and neither of you say anything else on the way back.Â
----
Both of you are sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes look around the room to check if there is anything you missed while packing. âI can drive you to the airport tomorrowâ he suggests. âHonestly I donât mind taking the bus,â you respond with a shrug as you turn back to him. His brows furrow and he sighs. âAbout earlier..â he says, his voice trailing off. You shake your head and say, âJust leave it Patrick.â He sighs more frustrated now, clearly unable to find the words he wants to say. He bites down on his bottom lip, and you register how close youâre both sitting. You decide you should move away, but he places his hand on your thigh to tell you to stay.Â
His lips reach yours and he kisses you as if he hadnât seen you in years. It's slower than usual. You feel his tongue explore every part of your mouth. As his hands pull off your sweater and push you back down onto the bed, everything feels a bit different. The way he kisses down your abdomen is still passionate, but not reckless. âYouâre so beautiful,â you hear him mutter against your skin. There is no hurry in his actions, and his hands move across your body as if trying to memorize every detail. When his head finds his way in between your legs and pulls down your panties with your teeth, you can feel yourself shiver. He eats you out slowly, his tongue lapping through your folds and around your clit in a way that makes you shiver with each stroke. Your hands go to his hair, and you pull it gently. You can feel him moan against your core, and after a couple more moments of his tongue encircling your clit and protruding into your cunt, you come.
When he climbs back up over your body, he kisses you again. Soon you feel his cock push into you. His thrusts are long and slow. His forehead rests against yours, and youâre both holding eye contact. He tells you again youâre beautiful as he continues. Youâre both panting and although it takes more time because of the pace, you both reach your orgasms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then rolls to lie down next to you.
Neither of you say anything, as you both just lay there looking up at the ceiling. This was new and neither of you know what to say about it. Itâs dark outside now and then finally you hear Patrick whisper, âItâs been two years.â He doesnât have to say what heâs talking about. Two years since the locker room in junior year. Two years since you guys began all of this. âYeahâŠyeah it has,â you whisper back. Your head moves to the crook of his neck and his hand wraps around yours. The heat radiates off his body towards yours and you close your eyes. Youâre unsure what time you fall asleep.
----
Youâre grateful that you remembered to set the alarm as soon as you got back to the dorm yesterday. The clock goes off at six sharp and you wake up, quickly moving from Patrickâs hold on you to hit the off button. You look over beside you on the bed and see Patrick still asleep, although he must have sensed your movement because he shifts around. Itâs the first time either of you have fallen asleep in the same bed. Your mind drifts back to the day before and to how you both ended up sleeping in the bed together. It feels as if some boundary has been crossed.
You slowly move to get dressed. You move on your tiptoes, as he moves again in his sleep. The last thing you want to do is wake him up. You want to leave. Go home. Forget any of this ever happened.
Once youâre ready to leave, you slowly push both suitcases on to the door, and look again at Patrick sleeping in your bed. You walk over to the desk and grab a sticky note and pen. You scribble down Lock up when you leave and place the spare key youâre suddenly beyond grateful you have right next to the note. You sigh as you take one last look at him, and then walk back over to the door to leave.Â
----
He must have woken up shortly after you left, because you just get on the bus as you get a text from him.Â
Patrick: Hope you have a good Christmas. (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)
You: Thanks (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)
----
You only heard from him once during break, on New Years.Â
Patrick: Happy new years! (sent 12:00 AM 01/01/07)
You: Happy new years! (sent 12:01 AM 01/01/07)
You simultaneously loved and hated the silence. With no messages from him, it meant you didnât have to confront what happened the night before you left. You could do your best to pretend nothing had happened. Although you found it impossible to do so. Your mind kept drifting back to that night, and thus equally hated how there was nothing you could do to find some concrete answers. You didnât know what to expect from him after that. Or what it meant to him. You couldnât even process what it meant to you. Youâre left with an uneasy sense of deja vu, as you find yourself spending another winter break thinking only about you and Patrick.
----
If you were avoiding Art and Tashi before break, you had essentially ghosted them once you got back. As you returned to campus for the spring semester, you hoped Patrick would leave your mind. But without any answers to the questions you mulled throughout break, he remained at the forefront. This made it impossible to be around either of them. Not to mention, with your breakup â if you could even call it that â with Art, it was back to being awkward.Â
You only saw them during tennis practice or games, always with an excuse handy to avoid spending any extra time together. Although, once again you sensed that they didnât mind. During your first week back, after practice one day when you told Tashi you had to drop the film studies elective you both signed up for together, she just shrugged in response. âNo worries,â she said casually. Art only made small talk with you before and after practice. If they missed your presence, they made no signs to show it.
In contrast, it started to seem as if Patrick was searching for it. Couple weeks after returning to school, he started texting you again.Â
Patrick: You got back? (sent 5:43 PM, 01/29/07) You: Yeah. (sent 5:46 PM, 01/29/07)
Patrick: How is it? (sent 5:49 PM, 01/29/07)
You: Good. (sent 5:52 PM, 01/29/07)
He texted as if what happened before break was completely normal. The thought of addressing what happened made your stomach churn, but this was irritating. You were sure your annoyance was clear in your messages.Â
You: Do you have my spare key? (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Shit. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: I think I lost it. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
You: Good job. (sent 10:25 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Sorry (sent 10:26 AM, 02/04/07)
And slowly, you couldnât find it in you to respond at all.Â
Patrick: I was on campus this weekend and didnât see you once. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Art said you guys donât really talk anymore. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)
----
Patrick: I doubt the Stanford English department gives their students this much work. (sent 4:23 PM, 02/08/07)
----
Patrick: I can't believe you're ignoring me again. (sent 8:56 PM, 02/12/07)
----
Patrick: What did you tell her??? (sent 10:56 AM, 02/16/07) Patrick: ??? (sent 1:02 PM, 02/16/07)
----
The day you get the email from Adidas is just a random Thursday in Feburary. At first you thought it was spam, but then you saw the words sponsorship in the subject line. You open the email, and your eyes glaze over. Itâs a casual email, saying that theyâve seen you play and that if you were interested they would set up something more formal to discuss with you. It feels surreal and you just stare at the screen, expecting it to disappear when you blink.
If you took it, wouldnât you have to go pro? You were still unsure if you wanted that. Time gave you no clarity on the subject.
You reread the email from Adidas. Adidas. The company Tashi has a sponsorship from. Suddenly you have a feeling about what happened.
----
Youâre sitting next to Tashi on the bleachers. Neither of you are playing in todayâs game, but Stanford tennis still insists on all players attending for support. You doubt Tashi minds this rule. She always gets into the game, mumbling little things about the players, regardless of who was playing. These moments were the only times you really talked anymore, it was now or nothing. You look at her and take a deep exhale, âI got an email from Adidas.âÂ
She turns and looks at you, her eyebrow raises but then she smiles, âReally?â You nod in response, âThey want to give me a sponsorship.â Her smile just grows, but before she can have a chance to respond, you ask, âDid you tell them something?âÂ
âWhat?â she asks, looking at you. She lets out a scoff like laugh, but then realizes your expression is serious. âItâs not like Adidas is going to give you a sponsorship just because I asked them too.âÂ
âYeah but you wereââ she cuts you off.Â
âWell I think you deserve one. Doesnât mean I could get it for you,â she says with a shrug and head shake, as if to say what did you expect.Â
âI just donât understand how else they wouldââ
âYou canât be serious,â she says with a laugh. She looks at the game and then towards you. âYouâre currently ranked fourth in womenâs college tennis. Of course youâd be on their radar.â You just look at her blankly. Well when she put it like that it made some sense, but you still felt lost. She sighs and tilts her head, âItâs so tiring watching you try justifying these things.â Your eyebrows furrow and she continues. âYou think youâre this awful player, but youâre not,â she pauses, âI mean I understand why tho. The academy really did a number on you.â
You feel yourself get a little more tense, as she brings this up. âHuh?â is all you can say.Â
âArt told me. About the bullying. About PatrickâŠâ she starts. Before you can even process the fact that Art told her everything, she continues. âIt actually made a lot of sense. There was always something off between the two of you. At first I thought maybe you had a crush and thatâs why you were avoiding me as well, but what Art said made a lot more sense considering your whole complex with Tennis.â Complex with tennis? What?
âI..well,â you start but are unable to find the words. She continues, âYou are a good player tho. You deserve the sponsorship.â You just look at her and nod slowly again, she leans in and with a smile says âCongrats.â Both of you then turn to look back at the game, although itâs the last thing on your mind.Â
----
Tashiâs words never left your head after that. Your headache only grew after that. Another thing to spend time pondering about. A complex with tennis? What did that even mean? You were also somewhat shocked that Art told her all of that, but you still couldnât bring yourself to talk to him. The only thing clear to you after the conversation, was the fact that your urge to avoid them all had grown.Â
Itâs around eleven pm and you were walking back from the library. Practice had become a little more intense as you got closer to the end of the season. Between that and the time you had to spend in class, you were staying up later to finish your work. It was all getting to you. Your life had become: class, tennis, work, class, tennis, work. You had three more matches left: Pepperdine, UNC, and Purdue. Then the season would end and you wouldnât have to worry about tennis until next year. The Adidas email was still unanswered. It was fine. You promised to get around to it eventually.Â
As you walked on the sidewalk back to your dorm, you started to feel as if you werenât alone. You turned around and saw a car a little behind you moving slowly. You turn back around without getting a proper look, and grip your backpack strap a little tighter as you decide to walk a little faster. The driver must have realized, because they too started to drive a bit faster. You start to run, but as youâre about to cross the road, the car swerves in front of you and stops. This time you do get a good look. Youâd know this car anywhere. You feel frozen in place.Â
âGet in the car,â Patrick says. His voice is more of an order than a question. You just stare at him. âGet in the car,â he repeats. You look around to see if anyone is there walking over and opening the passenger seat door. Everything happened so quickly, it feels disorientating.Â
âWhatââÂ
Youâre not given the chance to finish the sentence as he spits out, âI canât believe youâre ignoring me again. I thought we were over this.â You just look at him, as he starts to drive, youâre not exactly sure where. You open your mouth to ask, but then he says, âYeah okay we fucked up. We have been fucking up. But you donât just get to disappear.âÂ
You watch him, as he continues to drive. âIâve been busy,â is all you say. He scoffs, âToo busy to respond to my message, but not too busy to tell Tashi about the academy, huh?â he says, leaning in again. Your brows furrow and you start to say âI neverââ
He cuts you off once more, âOh please, cut the crap.â He looks to the side and then to you, âIâm so fucking tired of this.â He is close enough that his nose is touching yours, âHow convenient of you to leave out the part where weâve been sleeping together? Canât stand not being the victim?â His words aggravate you and you begin, âPatrickââ
He cuts you off again, âThe poor scholarship kid. The poor bullied kid.â His tone is mocking and combined with the fact he hasnât let you get one proper sentence in yet, you find your anger increasing. âI mean it looks like it got you places. Art said you got an Adidas sponsorship. Good for you,â he says with a scoff like laugh. Did Tashi tell Art about it? You shut down the thought. You donât have the time for it right now.Â
âFuck you Patrick,â you bite back, and he laughs again. âDonât you ever get tired of this? You have everything, and you still act like itâs nothing,â he snaps back.Â
You scoff and suddenly the car is suffocating. You donât know where you are, but youâre sure you could figure out how to get back, so you grab the car door to open and leave. Instantly, his hand comes down and clamps down on your arm. He holds you with a tight grip.Â
âLet go of me,â you say, looking at him. âNo,â he retorts back instantly. You try pulling from his grip, but he doesnât let you go. It doesnât stop you from trying again. Once again he just says, âNo.â You look at him with a laugh, and pull again, but he pulls your arm with enough force that your whole body moves closer to him. The hand you kept on the door handle is pulled away, and without thinking the hand goes to slap Patrick for pulling you.Â
You werenât thinking when you did it. It just happened. He just looks at you after the slap, equally surprised. The cheek you hit him on is slightly pinkish, although you didn't hit him hard enough to really hurt. Just enough to sting. His grip on your arm loosens, but you donât move. Youâve been in this situation enough times to know what is going to happen next. And like every time before, you have no intention of stopping it. Itâs no surprise when his lips come crashing down on yours.Â
Your tongues clash, and your hands move to grip his shoulders. You can feel your nails digging into the muscle there. He moans in your mouth at the sensation, and you feel your arousal grow as he does. As if knowing, his hand goes to slip inside of your pants, gently touching you over the thin fabric of your panties. You whine against his lips at the sensation, and he chuckles. âSuch a desperate slut,â he murmers, as he applies a bit more pressure with his fingers as he touches you. âPatrick,â you whimper again, he chuckles at it. You can feel his fingers push away your panties and you feel his middle finger dip into your cunt. Itâs long and calloused as he thrusts it in and out of you. The position is insanely uncomfortable; you in the passenger seat, him reaching over the dash, but youâre too needy at this point to care. His thumb runs over your clit as his middle finger continues its motions. You think he is going to dip another finger in, when he suddenly stops. Something in the back of the car catching his eyes.Â
âRemove the sweats,â he tells you, as he reaches his hand to the back seat to grab something. You do as he says, pulling it down to your ankles. Your panties are still pushed to the side, so youâre exposed. You lean back against the car door, as you see him pull out a tennis racket. You remember his words at the party, and you can see the brief moment of hesitation on your face. Itâs so obscene but it just makes you even more aroused, you spread your legs a little more, and his hesitant look is replaced with a smirk. As your arousal drips onto the car seat, his hands reach out to touch your folds, and then he leans over the dash and spits right on your pussy, tennis racket still in hand. The next thing you feel is the handle of the tennis racket sliding into you with ease.
He moves it back and forth, as he watches. âFuck,â he groans at the sight, as his free hand moves to palm at his dick through his pants. His breathing is labored now. You squirm in the seat as he continues with the racket, your hand moves down to rub little circles over your clit to bring you over the edge faster. âIâm..cl..â your voice trails off before you can finish the sentence. âI know,â he says with a pant. âLet go for me,â and his words bring forth your orgasm as your head goes back against the window and you feel yourself let go.
He smiles as he sees you come undone. You look at him through half lidded eyes, deciding to give yourself a minute before you both continue, wanting to give him a hand or blow job to get him off. But as his eyes drift down to where the tennis racket is, he stares at it for a moment. The smile slowly falls off his face and his other hand moves away from his pants. He pulls the tennis racket out and you sit up. He turns to put the racket in the back again.
âIâll drive you back,â is all he says after, not making eye contact as he does.
-----
Neither of you say anything afterwards. After what he said, you fixed your panties and pulled up your pants, and he started driving the car back in silence. His eyes are glued to the road, but you turn to look at him every couple minutes. He looks much more solemn, and you find yourself unable to break the silence.Â
He stops at a red light, and youâre still looking at him as his eyes remain on the road. âIâmâŠYou have every right not to text me,â he suddenly starts. âI donâtâŠYou should probably stop texting me.â His voice is so defeated and small, itâs almost hard to believe this is the same man from ten minutes ago. He starts driving again, and you look out the window.
Wherever that parking lot was, it must not have been far from campus, because before you know it you can see your dorm building in the distance. âYou should stop here,â you tell him quietly, not wanting to get too close to the building where someone may see you. He nods as he parks at the end of the road. You pick up your bag to leave, but from the side of your eye you see him face you again.
âWhy..I canât believe you let me do that shit to you,â he says. He is facing you in the passenger seat now, but is unable to look at you. You look at him, feeling a weird knot in your stomach. âPatrickâŠâ you start, but your voice drifts off. Youâre not sure why either. âYou shouldnât let me do that shit to you.â His voice is a bit louder and still upset. âGod you should fucking hate me,â his eyes look back up to yours. And then in a softer voice he asks, âWhy donât you hate me?âÂ
He has a point. You have every reason to hate him. Sometimes what you feel is strong enough to be hatred, but you know whatever you feel for him isnât hate. You look away from him towards your dorm building in the distance. There is no straight answer you can provide for him right now, so instead you quietly say, âI should get back.âÂ
He looks where youâre looking and nods with a sigh, saying âOkayâŠyeah.âÂ
You say nothing else as you get out of the car with your stuff. You have to fight the urge to look back at him as you walk to your dorm.Â
----
Patrick: Won a couple matches I played with that racket. Maybe it really is lucky now. (sent 7:02 PM, 02/22/06)
Patrick: I hope you're doing well. (sent 7:10 PM, 02/22/06)
You never respond. He doesnât send anything else.Â
----
Adidas sent you a follow up email, considering you never responded to the first one. They said they wanted to give you the time to think, but they needed to hear something back. You donât respond to this email either.Â
----
The past couple weeks have been the most isolated youâve been since your time at the academy. It was like you were fourteen again constantly tormented and with no friends. Except this time, the only thing tormenting you were your thoughts. You wanted to just disappear and avoid everything and everyone. You didnât even have the energy to think about any of it. About Patrick and why you didnât hate him. About your supposed complex with tennis. Even just remembering what happened over the past couple months was exhausting.Â
You didnât talk to anyone. Tashi no longer came up to you in the locker rooms or during practice and games. You didnât know if she was giving you space after your conversation or if this marked the death of your friendship. This also to think about, even if you were relieved that it made it easier to avoid her presence. You also started to skip class more often. You knew youâd also be skipping practice and games if your scholarship wasnât dependent on tennis. Youâre almost free though. Today is the match against Pepperdine. Then two more, and the season would be done.Â
You were walking back to your dorm room, when you see them through the dining hall window. Art and Patrick eating churros. You stand and stare at both of them for a moment. Somehow the sight takes you by surprise. You assumed that Patrick was still visiting campus, since he and Tashi were still together. And of course he was still friends with Art, but you couldnât help but wonder if Patrick figured out if it was Art who told Tashi about everything that happened at the academy.Â
You still hadnât confronted Art about that. You still wanted to, but you still found yourself unable to talk to Art. Just like Tashi no longer talked to youi, he no longer seemed to talk to you. The small talk before and after practice, had now just been reduced to the occasional wave. Your eyes go to Patrick. Neither of you were texting anymore. Nor had he randomly showed up to talk to you, like the last two times. For once in your life, Patrick Zweig had actually left you alone.Â
When both boys notice you're staring through the window, you lock eyes with both of them. Artâs expression is stoic, you couldnât read it if you tried. Patrick looks slightly surprised and for a moment you think he is about to smile at you, but you donât wait around to find out. You turn away and walk straight back to your dorm.Â
----
Thereâs thirty minutes until the match. Youâre dressed in your dorm so you wouldnât have to bother with the locker room. You're ready to head out, when you hear a knock on your dorm door. You look at it for a minute. You swallow and hope itâs not Patrick, as you open the door. Youâre flooded with both relief and disappointment that itâs Art.Â
âUh..hey,â you say, seeing him. He nods and gives you a small smile you can tell is forced. âI saw you today, so I thought Iâd come over,â he says. The way he looks at you makes you feel as if he knows something. Itâs obvious this is all a pretense to talk about something else. While you donât know what, you know you donât want to talk about it. As you move to let him walk into your dorm, you quickly say, âI was actually about to head out for the game soon.â
He nods, âme too.â He then looks at you, and his lips part again as if he is about to speak. You have no idea what he is about to say, but you already want this conversation to be over. Without thinking, you speak first, âSo Patrick is visiting for the game?âÂ
His lips close, clearly not expecting that. He nods and curtly says, âTashi invited him.â While this is the same Art youâve known for years, he suddenly feels much colder. His expression is stony and makes you want to shrink. It dawns on you that this must all be about Tashi. Maybe he was just trying to use what happened to you as a way to get her to break up with Patrick. The thought he would do so is upsetting, and without thinking, you say, âShe told me what you said.âÂ
He nods and shrugs, âWell it came up one day.â
âReally?â your voice exposes the fact that you donât believe it.Â
He just shrugs in response and shakes his head yes as he does. âI donât see why itâs a big deal.âÂ
âYou donât see why telling my friend about something like that wasnât a big deal?â you ask back.Â
âAre you really her friend anymore?â he asks, which stuns you into silence. He just lets out a little huff, and continues, âAnd sheâs with Patrick. She should know about it.â You stare at him, unsure how to respond. âShe should know what type of guy her boyfriend is,â he repeats.Â
âPatrick is your best friendââ
âI know that,â he cuts you off quickly. This was the most impassioned thing he had said this whole time. âBut Iâm not going to pretend what he didnât wasnât awful.â Maybe it was a little more than just about Tashi. He looks at you for a moment, as if analyzing you, âWhy do you?â You stare at him blankly, his voice is calm but cruel in a way that makes you want to scream. âWhy do you brush it aside?â His voice sounds as if he is trying to imply something and you find yourself just standing there. âItâs like youâre trying to protect himâ
âIâm not,â you say back in a quiet voice. He just shrugs in response, and looks to the side, as he looks like he is about to say something, but he then lets out a humorless laugh. Before you can ask why he did so, he says, âSee you at the game.â He takes one last knowing look at you as he walks out of the room.Â
----
You didnât have the energy to leave after that. You laid down on your bed for a couple extra minutes, before you realized you would be late if you didnât leave now. You grabbed your racket and water bottle and headed out to leave the dorm building.Â
You walk out of the dorm and then the dorm building quickly, but not fast enough to miss the sight of Patrick sitting on the curb. You stop upon seeing him, and he must sense your presence because he turns and looks at you. His back straightens up a little more and you can see his eyes are red. Heâs wearing what looks to be Tashiâs shirt, and the scent of weed drifts off him.Â
He says your name as he scrambles to his feet. âI have to go,â you say, pointing with your racket in the direction of the game. You take a step backwards. You donât have the time for this. You donât have the energy for this. âShe knows,â he suddenly says.Â
You can feel your heart drop. âTashi..she knows about...â He doesn't finish the sentence, but makes a motion between the both of you.Â
He says something after that, but youâre unable to hear it. Your legs move without you processing the action, and the next thing you find is yourself running to the court where the game is. You can hear Patrick call after you, but he doesnât follow.Â
----
Tashi is by the bench, pulling out her racket from the case. You run over to her instantly, the moment she processes your presence she scoffs.Â
âTashiââ
She does not let you speak, looking at you with a cold expression. âI donât know what fucked up dynamic you and Patrick have going on,â she starts, before leaning in slightly in a menacing way. âBut keep it away from me.âÂ
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Itâs not like she would have heard anything you said anyway, the minute she is done speaking she walks away to the court.Â
You watch her go, as you sink down onto the bench. The items in your hand falling down beside you. The game begins but youâre unable to focus. You just sit there, your fingers going back to picking the skin by your cuticles. You feel as if the ground is spinning and you want nothing to run back to your dorm. Your mind replays the moment with Tashi. The conversation with Art. You hear Patrickâs voice ask why you donât hate him replaying in your head, and you feel all the memories come rushing back. Itâs as if floodgates have been opened and nothing can stop it from pouring out. You let yourself spiral as you feel your heart rate picked up. Â
You probably would have been like that for the whole game, but then you hear it.Â
Her scream.Â
----
Itâs all a blur after that. You look up and see Tashi on the ground clutching her knee. You donât waste a moment before getting up and running to her side, but the minute you get down on your knees beside her, her expression becomes even more upset.Â
âNo!â she says clutching her knee looking at you. âGet away! Get the fuck away!â You just stare as you see her cry, as your coach comes down beside you to calm her down. You see Art run down from the stands, hopping over the net for her. As he moves her head on her lap, you make eye contact with him.Â
His expression is worried, but also has something else you canât place. You look back at him, and he looks away from your gaze down at Tashi. Then you realize what the other emotion is. Guilt. Suddenly, the conversation earlier made more sense. He knew. He knew about you and Patrick. He knew and he told her. Your mind races with questions, but you slowly get up realizing youâre only making Tashi more upset. You look at her one last time, before running to the bathroom for some privacy, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you do.Â
----
You wipe your tears as you sit in the hallway of the campus' medical center . When you stepped out of the bathroom, you realized that they had already taken her off the court. You assumed she was either brought here or was already taken to the hospital. You couldn't care less about your game after everything, so you left for the medical center instantly. When you arrived, you saw a coach talking to one of the nurses and that confirmed she was here.
The medical center was small. A one floor building, so you knew she was just down the hall, but you couldn't bring yourself to go to her. Why would she want to see you? She hated you now. You were a few feet away, but you may as well have been miles away from her. You still couldn't bring yourself to leave. It was like watching a car crash. Awful. Crushing. Yet absorbing. You just sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, with your head leaning against the wall.
You hear hurried footsteps from the other end of the hallway, and you turn to see Patrick who nearly runs into the room.Â
âGet out!â you hear Tashi say. You can tell he is trying to say something back, but then you hear Tashi say again to get out. While your position in the hallway prevents you from seeing anything, you can hear it clearly.Â
âGet the fuck out Patrick!â Artâs voice booms. You just stare at the direction of the door, as you see Patrick walk out dejected. As he steps out he sees you sitting on the floor. Somehow the sight of you makes him look even sadder.
His eyes go down to the floor and he slowly begins walking down the hallway in your direction. You just watch him, as he comes over to you and then slumps down onto the floor next to you. He turns his head to look at you. You stare back in silence.Â
âIâm sorry,â he then says quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. âFor everything.âÂ
You look at him with a small nod and respond, âI know.â
And when he leans in to hug you, you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him as well. Your mind goes blank and you let the enormity sink in. You canât tell if it makes you feel empty or complete.
author's note: If you got this far, I love you <3 Let me know what you think!
#patrick zweig#tashi duncan#art donaldson#challengers#challengers 2024#challengers fic#patrick zweig x reader#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig smut#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig fic#the chain AU
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navigation :) -requests: open!
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hi, i'm daisy and i'm irish. my main teams are redbull, mclaren, haas, and williams but tbh i like all of them and just enjoy the sport. I also watch f2 and a bit of f3 :)
for my stories i'll be going by the 2024 grid and obvi update it next year :)
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fic-tober masterlist! (2024)
who i write for:
charles leclerc
photograph a step into your life with charles
mistakes and miscalculations a fight and a mistake leads to something worse
persistent pestering Ferrari drivers are persistent. Youâre not looking for love. Too bad he is.Â
wingman paul charles leclerc takes a liking to you at your brothers movie premiere... paul makes it happen!
max verstappen
congratulations max shows the whole world something new after his fourth world championship win.
temptations you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?
Happy accident! two words. Las Vegas.
m4x max wins, and finally, he's done.
oscar piastri
false starts and unthinkable mistakes Oscar comes to you at the end of a bad race
debuts and podiums how oscar celebrates after your first race, and first win.
mishaps online oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.
red flag you get in an accident on track
the disgraced pop princess oscar is your salvation after things so horribly wrong
-> his disgraced pop princess oscar is there for you through your first real GP weekend and everything else, of course
my girl fans made a youtube compilation of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.
slip-up oscar slips up about your wedding
pointe shoes and racecars you and oscar had grown up together, and grown apart. now you're teaching him ballet for a mclaren video. will you two reconnect?
family fights you and oscar were never meant to be together, lando made that clear. one night changes everything, then another changes it again.
accident prone oscar comes home one night hurt, how do you deal with it?
bad day you had an awful day, but at least you're coming home to him.
Stoic much? oscar might be too good at the whole 'keeping a secret' thing. like, really good.
wallflowers like flowers too you never thought you'd find love, especially not with your best friend at his sister's wedding.
chancer Can he figure out who you are at the masquerade ball before you leave forever?
mark my words mark (webber) 'slips up' about your marriage.
nothing bad! the sprint pisses you off, ted's notebook catches you at a bad time, you say some things, oscar posts some things, and it ends up being one of the most popular ad campaigns in history. oops.
quick tweet, big problem you and oscar are together, but the world doesn't need to know you're engaged. lando decides they do.
knowing me, knowing you you're a broadway star, and oscar has to know everything about a topic for the 'anything but F1' segment. win-win when his girlfriend is in the public eye.
gymming oscar doesn't want you going to the gym
then we can breaking up sucks.
first kisses being jack wolff's nanny is a pretty sick gig, especially when your old friend is an f1 driver and is interested in you...
-> first dinners being jack wolff's nanny is a pretty sick gig... only when your boss (/ father figure) isn't trying to interrogate your new boyfriend. (18+)
guilt tripping oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.
lando norris
mistakes the aftermath of the Hungarian gp
family issues lando (and his mum) are there for you during a difficult time.
catch-up lando after monza
the break up of the century you and lando break up on horrible terms, could a new album and a special performance bring you tow back together?
making moves Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?
misguided mishaps One bed between you and your brother's best friend⊠what could go wrong? (18+)
was it casual? the seriousness of your relationship wasn't exactly clear... leading to unforseen circumstances... (18+)
3 minutes lando overshoots an overtake, and you go off the track. what then ensues is the most stressful and awful 3 hours of his life.
2 hands your stunt-driver pulled out the day before the shoot, good thing you're dating an f1 driver. (18+)
risotto brazil was shit
prince charming lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?
daniel riccardo
smile, even though itâs breaking daniel is your older brother's best friend who you can't stand. it's his last race, and your last chance to speak your mind
logan sargent
meetings from the past you and logan reconnect after years apart
accidental injury logan can't look where he's going, too bad he runs straight into you.
lovers in denial you and logan don't get along. or do you?
alex albon
love and lies you and Alex have been fake dating for the sake of the team, then one night changes it all.
george russell
Opposites attract, right? you have a pretty bad track record when it comes to being forgetful...
lewis hamilton
married man Married? Maybe. But why does everyone else need to know?Â
kimi antonelli
taking care kimi takes care of you, in his own special way
breaking up (not making up) you've had it with kimi always putting you second.
ollie bearman
Creepy guy who isn't all that creepy Why does your cappuccino taste like shit? And why are you being followed by a random 6 foot man?
Alright Ollie isnât exactly ecstatic after Brazil⊠you change that.
paul aron
Thoughtless love it's just easy being with him.
arthur leclerc
all grown up! you're back in monaco a a dog-sitter. the doorbell rings. oops.
jack doohan
brotherâs teammate your brothers new teammate is really hot
franco colapinto
mi senora you and franco barely know each other, yet he's obsessed with you. could this turn into a budding romance?
lance stroll
losing battle it's a marriage of convenience that's becoming pretty inconvenient when you start falling for your best friend.
liam lawson
a story for a dinner party (18+) stuck in an elevator with your boyfriend, whatever will you do? (fuck.)
zhou guanyu
listening ears on How come when you try to set Zhou up, it ends badly?
carlos sainz
admin looking for love! Why did Alex Albon feel the need to post you on his story as a âlonely woman looking for loveâ? And why did Carlos Sainz dm you after it?Â
(but you can request others!)
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the grid: (aka blurbs) 'the grid' = piastri, leclerc, riccardo, verstappen, russell, norris, albon, hamilton (but tell me if there's others you want on it :)
getting caught making out
complimenting you
you find out you're a bet
meet-cutes!
wedding shenanigans!
time for a hot lap!
confesses!
late for a date!
no nut november! (the grid + sargeant, colapinto, lawson, aron, and arthur leclerc)
(more) no nut novemeber (jenson button, mark webber, fernando alonso, nico hulkenberg, kevin magnussen, valterri bottas, zhou gunayu, kimi raikkonen, sebastain vettel)
when their teammate likes you... (Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan. )
when the media says something insane Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.
when they admit they love you (Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.)
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our favourite presenter, y/n y/l/n! f1 grid x reader x oscar piastri
Presenting⊠y/n y/l/n Tweets about our favourite F1 commentator!
Judgy McJudgy Pants or Osc? You decide! you and oscar are getting closer, or are you?
dangerous media things go downhill fast as you fall, and he has to catch you. what makes it worse is what he says afterâŠ
lies and flights you two have a moment, the moment ends, and so does something else...
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#logan sergeant x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#logan sargeant x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#formula racing#formula 2#checo#george russell#qualifying#mercedes#carlos#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#george russel x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#alex albon
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steve request for adjusting back to normality with him after the upside down ends? however much u wanna write đ€đ€đ€ ur writing is gorgeous btw
ty angel! hope you like it!! â steve helps his agoraphobic gf leave the house for the first time since the world ended (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of agoraphobia | 1.5k)
bug's summer fic fest (â êâ áŽâ êâ )
You sit on the stairwell and tie your shoes, trying desperately to ignore the trembling of your anxious fingers. The thin laces threaten to slip from your tremoring hands as you knot one loop into the other. You couldnât hide from your worry if you tried.
Steveâs heavy footsteps sound behind you in a steady, even rhythm as he walks down the stairs. You can hear the dull clapping of the boy patting his pockets to ensure his keys and wallet havenât yet fallen from them. You know heâll do exactly that another ten times before you step foot out of the house. Heâs just as anxious as you are these days.
âAlmost ready?â he says, huffing, though a smile is evident in his voice.
You nod to yourself and make careful work of fastening the laces. âMhm,â you hum.
âDid you make sure to pack those Ants on a Log things? âCause Dustinâll kill me if we donât bring âem,â Steve frets, for the second or third time that morning. He stills on the step just behind you and crosses a pair of golden arms over his chest. âBecause, you know, heâs the only kid in America who actually likes celery.â
You tilt your chin to look up at him, smiling despite the fear pinching your chest. âEverythingâs in the basket, Stevie.â
âIncluding theââ
âYes, including the drinks. And the sandwiches. Itâs all in the fridge,â you finish for him. âAnd the blanketâs in the car, so⊠Everythingâs ready.â
Steveâs chest deflates with a distant sigh of relief. Heâs been so used to doing everything on his own â carrying the load of that burden entirely by himself â that he forgot what it meant to have someone else to lean on.
âGod, Iâm so in love with you,â he murmurs fondly, mostly to himself, as he bends at the waist to kiss your hair. The plush of his lips brush your temple in a warm touch you lean instinctively into.Â
With a wide hand on your shoulder, Steve feels for the first time how tense you are. All rigid, muscles taut, like cradling a rock in his palm. Youâve kept a brave face for him all day, but thereâs only so much hiding you can do.
âYouâre still okay with this?â he wonders aloud as he stands to full height again.Â
His scruffy face is all twisted with concern, but youâre not looking at him to see it. You tie your right sneaker with a pair of graceless hands, where you seem to hold most of your anxiety, and scoff at the silly question. âAm I okay with the⊠picnic?â you echo.
âYeah,â Steve shrugs, lips jutted, as he walks past you down the steps. He turns and leans against the railing, trying hard to be casual. ââCause, you know, if you werenât, we could just have it in the backyard or something. Make all the little shits come here.â
It takes you a moment too long to catch his meaning.
Sometimes you forget that you havenât left the house all year. Youâve fallen into such a routine here, at Steveâs house (which youâve come to see as your own), that youâve forgotten thereâs a whole world outside of it. A whole world you shut yourself out of after it nearly ended â after it chewed you up and spat you out again.
You tell yourself that you survived. You tell yourself that you lived in spite of the unfavorable odds. But sometimes, when you feel like shards of flesh and bones instead of a real-life human being, you wonder if youâre alive at all.
âIâm good, Steve,â you assure despite the waver in your voice. Your hands fumble with the laces, and you have to start all over again. âItâs just the park, babe. I can make it to the park.â
Steve nods in response, raking an anxious hand through his hair. He swallows down any attempts to remind you that youâve barely made it out of the garage, let alone to the park.
âBesides, Iâm pretty sure itâs a crime to be this pale in the middle of July, anyway,â you joke with a forced laugh.Â
The only time you really see the sun is when youâre sitting out on the patio â sipping at your morning coffee or watching Steve languish in the pool. You hardly last more than an hour, though, before a plane rumbles overhead or a car engine thunders too loudly. Thatâs all it takes for everything to come rushing back to you. The monsters, the soldiers, the blood. Then you lock yourself away all over again.
You hope this time is different.
Steve nods again, always hopeful, if only for your sake.
âOkay. Just⊠Just making sure, you know?â he trails off, then scrunches his nose. âShould we have a codeword, anyway? Like, for when the kids annoy the shit outta me, and I wanna get the hell outta there?â
You squint to yourself, pretending to ponder the question, as you rise from the stairs. You take a few steps downward until youâre standing just ahead of Steve â a few inches taller than him now.Â
âHow about⊠Get me the hell outta here?â you offer with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
A wide, pink grin blossoms on his mouth. âThatâs perfect, actually,â Steve muses sarcastically, then meets you halfway when you lean down to kiss him.Â
Itâs a chaste and very innocuous peck that tastes faintly of Steveâs mouthwash and the peanut butter you licked from the spoon after making Dustinâs Ants on a Log.Â
Despite its fleeting nature, you hang onto the simple kiss your entire way through the front door.
The first step out of the house is the hardest.Â
You struggle to feel the ground beneath your feet as your mind threatens to wander. Thoughts of death plague your mind despite your attempts to push them away â roaring demogorgons, exploding guns, screaming teenagers. You have to fight the urge to cover your ears when a helicopter whizzes overhead, hidden somewhere in the clouds but sounding much closer than that. Â
Steve holds your hand the entire way. âAlmost there,â you hear him mumbling beneath the heartbeat woosh, woosh, wooshing in your ears. Your eyes squeeze shut. He leads you to the car and squeezes your hand. âYouâre doing amazinâ, babe. Just a couple more steps.â
Youâre at the car in five seconds flat, though it had felt like five minutes at the time â and took approximately five years off your life. You feel eons better when youâre tucked into the passenger seat of Steveâs 733i. You feel more grounded there â with the tires against the asphalt, and Steveâs hand on your thigh, and the radio cranked all the way up.
Youâre still a shaking mess when you get to the park, but the kids are a good enough distraction.Â
You opt to busy your anxious hands with the picnic â handing out food, protecting drinks, and ensuring the emptying basket doesnât blow away. You sit in the shade in the center of Steveâs quilt as leaves rustle in the warm breeze, allowing bits of summer sun to peek through and glitter on your skin.Â
You keep a watchful eye on the kids around you as they scatter mindlessly about, making sure no one ventures far enough where you canât see them. Steve yells at them for it so you donât have to â shouts at Max and El for getting too close to the tree line while he tosses a ball to Lucas.Â
Heâs slowly mastering the art of throwing with his left hand. He hasnât been able to lift his right one over his head since Starcourt. Thereâs a persistent ache in his shoulder he hasnât been able to get rid of.
He walks over to you when the distance grows too much to bear, twisting his arm with a screwed-up face as he tries to find the root of the pain. âWhaddaya got for me, sweet thing?â he asks with a lopsided smile.
You reach into the basket beside you and pull out the last sandwich of the bunch, which you kept aside especially for him, wrapped neatly in plastic.
You hiss playfully through your teeth, then squint faux apologetically up at him. âAll thatâs left is tomato-avocadoâŠâ you joke, feigning horror.
Steveâs face twists. âUgh. Seriously?â he huffs in disappointment.
âNo,â you hum in response, smiling as you pass him his favorite sandwich. âHere you go.â
Itâs a simple turkey, ham, and bacon number with all the fixings, but he particularly likes how you make it. (You argue that it canât taste any better than a diner-made sandwich, but Steve always insists otherwise.)Â
Your fingers brush when it takes it from you. Steve finds it difficult not to melt for you entirely, and not just because of the sweltering summer heat.Â
Heâs spent half of his life believing that no one ever gave him a passing thought â or that, at the very least, he was only ever an afterthought. But you remind him every day that heâs so much more than the nothing he often sees himself as. You remind him, through silly picnics and sandwiches made with love, what it means to be truly cared for.
âI love you,â Steve hums quietly, adoration melting in his honey eyes. âYou know that?â
You nod once, hiding a smile as you squint one eye from the beaming sun. âI know.â
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#steve harrington#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#event: bug's summer fic fest '24
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we share that really
for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt âband politicsâ
rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy
đžđžđžđžđžđžđžđž
Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially âbroken upâ for ten years.
But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything theyâd done before.
Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadnât stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeffâs wife had threatened to divorce him if he didnât take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.
None of it was even close to true.
The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.
They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steveâs favorite person.
They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.
So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasnât really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.
The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.
One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.
âIs it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?â A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.
Gareth snorted. âNot even a little, dude. Weâve been best friends this entire time.â
âSo there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?â
Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.
âNone of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. Weâre here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,â he said. âPlus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. Heâs not that interesting, I promise.â
Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. âIâm super boring. Just ask my kids.â
"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.
They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.
"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"
"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.
Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.
They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.
"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.
Eddie banged his head against the table.
"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.
"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.
"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"
"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.
Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.
"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."
"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.
Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.
Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."
"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.
Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.
Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."
"You said worse while getting ready this morning."
"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."
#corroded coffin#corrodedcoffinfest#eddie munson#gareth stranger things#jeff stranger things#Frankie#steddie#steve harrington
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