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kermitkrqb · 11 months ago

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angst to fluff 🔛🔝

A Slippery Slope

Summary: Every girl has their favourite ex. The one they will forever have a soft spot for. Reader is above all of that, doing all she can to avoid Art when he’s back in town for tennis. Unfortunately, he’s unavoidable and has a lot of things to say about the way he left things…

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, rehashing a breakup, kind of hurt/comfort? I’m not sureee

It’s not like you were stalking him or anything… and if you were, it was totally normal for girls to stalk their exes. Part of being a girl is stalking your ex, like a rite of passage. You were just lucky his progress and whereabouts were publicized.

Art Donaldson was going to be in your hometown again after leaving for college three years ago. His tennis brought him here, a tiny little tournament. It was a charity game, so people paid to watch. It was in the news that Art had refused to receive any portion of a winning and that it go directly to a children’s hospital in Canada. As sweet as that was, it was also presumptuous that he would win. You scoffed a little to ignore the fact he was there on the website, smile gleaming, curls all blonde and pretty. He was sweet, you had to ignore that.

The feeling that him coming back here gave you was a mix of anxiety and anticipation. For what? You didn’t know exactly. He would be back and you could go to his game for $20. Like it was nothing, you could see him in the flesh again. But you said no, because your best friend would probably yell at you and kick your ass. So you shut the screen and pretended like it wasn’t real.

When the tournament was in town, the Main Street turned into a giant sale. Every shop had a tent outside of itself enticing people to come by. You avoided it the past week, getting to work by an extra-long route. It was easy not to think about him (though you did from time to time) when he was off somewhere far playing tennis- but now that it was here and there were posters up and the library promoted it and the lamppost flags were changed to commemorate the event, they may as well have plastered Art’s face all over everything.

The tournament was tomorrow now. Soon you had no reason to worry about. It would be easy. It was around seven and the summer sun still warmed the air, but it was getting chillier with every ten minutes that passed by. You headed down from your little above-bakery apartment, bag in hand and flip phone in the other. The walk to the bar was delightful, a good thing after a busy day at work.

You walked in and sat at the bar, your usual spot for Friday nights. You usually never went to the bar alone- it was often you and your best friend but she was on a first date and you still needed your gin. You ordered a small drink, strong though. Tasted a bit gross but it was fine- you deserved it. After all this avoidance, all of this torture, being on complete edge- plus work.

You got another drink and sipped on it while checking your email on your phone. Flipping through unread, work emails, messages from friends about an upcoming birthday and what food to bring. A few more drinks, light, hard, you were tipsy but not drunk. Enough to be satisfied and fuzzy. You were conversing with the bartender who you knew well- she was a friend of a friend and you were a regular. You were struggling to hear her over the noise of a nearby group of guys.

“Another round of shots for the boy!”

“Woah, woah, I can’t get drunk guys, I told you,” another voice piped up. You recognized it. You hated how your head turned. Your heart stopped for a moment. Amongst the crowd, in the very centre, was the very blonde mop of curls that had been haunting your dreams for the past week. It was Art. He was here. Right now. In the bar with you. “Okay, maybe another shot.” He grinned at his friends.

Your heart beat hard in your chest. And you were about to look away to save yourself- but his eyes met yours and it was immediately too late. Blue eyes on yours. And his grin dampened to an open-mouthed look of awe. You looked away and grabbed your bag to pull your wallet out and pay as fast as you could. All of the avoidance, all of the torment, just how shitty it was to know he was back- it all was falling in on you.

All you had to do was avoid it all. And it was too late. You paid quickly and apologized for rushing off and you got up to go and he was right there in front of you.

“Y/N,” Art said. He still looked a little surprised. But this was your hometown. You blinked hard and pushed your hair away from your face. He was really here, he was here standing in front of you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied. You didn’t want to look at him, you were nervous, afraid, intimidated. What if you weren’t improved enough- or prettier than you were before. Something about seeing an ex that made you re-evaluate yourself. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He answered, upbeat. “I didn’t expect to see you here. If I had known you were still around I might have messaged.”

Would he really? It felt like a jab at the fact you still lived here. “I’m alright. I’ve been working.” You wished you weren’t tipsy, but he seemed so as well.

“I have a tournament tomorrow- are you going?” Maybe he drank more than you.

“I have work,” you told him. “It’s good to see you though, I have to be on my way, I’m so sorry-“ You lied. As good as it was to see him, you’d been afraid of seeing him again, feeling things again. The risk was very real, no matter what he had done wrong before.

He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to see you. I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been… um… ever since I got here I’ve been thinking about you. I was going to call tomorrow after the tournament.”

You blinked a few times, “Oh,” you said. As you said, the risk was very real. “I- um. Sorry, I’ve been drinking.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I get it.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m out of it,” you followed up. He was prettier than you remembered. His curls were more defined, longer. He matured, he looked more adult, but still young. He had been thinking about you… meaning to call… “It’s been good to see you, Art. And good luck at your tournament.”

“Do you really have to go, Y/N? I know I’m out of it too but you’re here and I… I know you.” He did. Somehow. He knew you were lying.

You sighed, “I really am sorry, I’m just tired.” You’d thought about how you’d act if you saw him again but your mouth was moving faster than your mind, trying to get you out of the situation because it felt like fight or flight. “Goodnight.” You tried to go again but he kept speaking.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked. You stopped walking and turned back to him. He was out of it, but you were a woman walking downtown at night. Usually you’d be with your girlfriends and you’d never travel alone and it didn’t occur to you that you would be. As much as you hated this current situation, it was safer. You nodded, slowly. And started mentally preparing. Would you seem impressive compared to his feats since you broke up? Did you look okay? Was everything okay?

Art ditched his friends. He didn’t say goodbye, he just stepped out with you. You were silent. “Did you dye your hair?” He asked as you began to walk.

You nodded, “Highlights, so kind of.”

“Ah,” he nodded back. “How have you been the past few years?” You remembered the healing process after him.

“I’ve been okay. Like I said, just working a lot. I have my own apartment now and some good friends. It’s not like college and travelling around to fun cities for tennis.” You said. He looked at his feet, smiling. You’d just given away that you’d kept tabs on him. “It’s not like I don’t have access to your Facebook. Or tennis news.”

He grinned at you. “Well I wish they had more hometown news because as many times as I’ve checked I couldn’t find anything about you anywhere. Look- I was going to call you tomorrow because I wanted to apologize to you properly. I know how I left sucked. I wished immediately and over the past few years that I’d gone about it differently and I want to apologize to you. Properly. And not now. Sober. Completely.” He said. His grin had lowered.

“I don’t need an apology, I dealt with everything when you left,” you told him a little too candidly.

He ran a hand through his hair, his blue eyes meeting yours. “I know. But it’s been eating me alive and I’ve spent every day since feeling guilty. I want to apologize right- I’m here now and as a man, I hate to beg but would you give me a chance to do that? We can get dinner after the tournament, my treat.” He had a hint of a smile.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you repeated. “I’m glad you’ve done some reflecting but you hurt me. I want to say no, Art.”

“I know.” He said, smile falling. “But I’m not who I was then. And I know better. If you hear me out and it’s not sufficient, I’ll be gone in two days and I’ll just be tennis news again.”

You both stopped walking and the silence was filled by the wind in the trees of the park that you passed with a small hint of the noise of cars on a nearby main road. He looked at you in a way that was so familiar, eyes soft- and new demeanour of being on the verge of giving up. But you saw his sincerity, unfortunately, locking eyes with his on this sidewalk. All he did was shrug and you shook your head slowly, eyes not leaving his.

“Okay,” you said, hushed. And a small smile creeped back onto his face. And you both, in unison, continued walking wordlessly. He walked you to the door of your building and stayed until you unlocked the door. “Goodnight, Art.” You said, stepping in.

He raised his hand, not waving, just raised, and smiled a small smile, his face illuminated from the golden light of the hallway, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

And you went to bed that night slightly freaked out, a little excited, and extremely nervous.

The next day rolled around and the same anxiety was NOT slept off. You worked a bit from home- You showered, did your hair the way you usually did, did your makeup and dressed in something that was comfortable, but nice enough for a warm summer day. A skirt, a cute top, comfortable shoes.

You replayed Art’s proposal. Dinner, he had said. You didn’t want dinner with him, that made it real, that felt like… too much of the past. Too close to something dating people would. You’d head over for his last game- you didn’t need to stay all day. It was nearing four o’clock when the next game was scheduled.

Above all, he was sorry. And he said he felt guilty and for a good while you convinced yourself he didn’t care and didn’t miss you or think about you at all- so hearing that he did unravelled a bit of your healing process. It’s not like it was an aching wound, but more like reopening a time capsule.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, putting your earrings in. This was a slippery slope, dinner would be the slipperiest, but you grabbed your bag and headed to the tournament.

You found a seat at the top, the last row.

You’d seen him play before a few years ago, but when he came onto the court today it was different. He had a new attitude and confidence and you could see it as the game started and he hit the ball with everything he had. And it was something you hated because it was hot and it shouldn’t have been. You had to look away a few times just to spare yourself but the sounds he made on the court reminded you of something and you hated it.

There was nothing you could do but tell him dinner was a no. And you were sorry. The game ended and he won, triumphantly, with a great cheer from the crowd that their hometown boy had won. You were somewhat proud of him- you never stopped, even after the breakup. He was doing well for himself. The crowd funnelled out after the game ended, but you stayed seated atop the metal bleachers that lined the court. And you contemplated how to be kind and apologetic in a way that told him you were better off not having dinner, whilst not giving away the fact that you were thinking about him in a way that scared you because it was an old, buried feeling. Without showing him that the apology meant hope. You were a strong, independent woman now and you could speak up and this just wasn’t a good idea. You were-

“Hey,” Art said. He stood down a few rows of the bleachers and waved. “I thought you wouldn’t show.”

“Me too,” you said. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky. “That was a good game. Congrats on the win.” You tried to be flat, but you were too genuine-sounding.

He chuckled, “Thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” you replied. His smile grew but you saw him fight it. “Look, Art-“

“No I know,” he cut you off. “Dinner feels too intimate. Do you just want to go grab frozen yogurt? It’s honestly all I’ve thought about today- is there still that 24/h place that we used to think was insane hours for frozen yogurt?”

You blinked a few times before the relief set in. And you smiled a full smile, not meaning to, but you did. “That sounds- yes. Yeah, it’s still there.” You grabbed your bag and got up from your seat.

I’ll be ten minutes just to shower and we’ll go- if that’s okay?” He smiled back. The weight of a real dinner was lifted. No spiel involved, though frozen yogurt distracted you from the fact there was still a code of yours to uphold and it was to keep from slipping. You nodded and he went to do so and you waited outside the court. He was out soon enough with his things and he walked over to a car that you assumed was his the way he loaded his things in. His hair was still wet from the shower and as he passed you, he smelled clean and… familiar. You hated that.

The conversation in the car was about the game and that was easy. You pointed out some things you saw from his opponent and things you noticed him do. He answered every question of yours. And then you were there.

“How did they stay open all this time?” He said, entering. You shushed him and he put his hands up in surrender.

“High quality and good tourism,” you replied, getting the flavour you wanted. “Did you miss it here?”

“Here or here as in town?” He asked.

“Home,” you answered. He got his flavour and walked to the toppings.

“I missed some things about it, yeah. Not many things, but a good few.” He stayed vague.

“I think I would like to miss it someday,” you told him. “I’ve been here too long.”

“Travel?”

“Saving up for a house,” you told him. “I’ll travel when I’m old, I think. When retirement money comes in and I don’t have kids to pay for.”

“I thought you didn’t want kids?” You both paused. You paused at the fact he remembered that and he paused at the fact he said an inside thought aloud.

You blinked hard a few times and put on a few toppings. “I’m- um- I’m not sure. I think I was young and inclined to the idea of being a working woman with no distractions and now I feel that… I’m older, so. I feel like maybe it’s not the best thing ever to have no distractions.”

He cleared his throat, “That’s fair.” Silence. The place was empty anyways. You brought your frozen yogurt to the scale and the price came up. Art walked over with his and pulled his debit card out. “My treat, remember?”

You did forget. He paid right then and there and then paid for his own and you thanked him but the silence still hung over you both even in the sound. In the car, you ate your frozen yogurt and the topic turned back to tennis and it was easy. Talking to him about passions was just like no time had passed at all- and it was interesting to hear the ins and the outs and the tells of tennis. But he stopped the car eventually, outside his hotel. You wondered if he was about to banish you home out of nowhere.

“I have to interrupt- I was wondering if you wanted to come up to my room for a bit, I feel like with the impending conversation maybe you’d want to be somewhere quiet and I wasn’t about to invite myself over.” Art said. You nodded. “You will?”

“I will,” you agreed, though you didn’t want to. It felt wrong, like a mistake, like the edge of a cliff and a slippery slope all at once. He smiled and got out of the car with his frozen yogurt. Your mind lingered on how considerate it was, despite the intimacy of being alone with nothing to see but him. “I appreciate that a lot though.”

“I know you like privacy,” he replied. You went up to the 14th floor, two down from the top and followed him down the hall. The room was standard. Large, but one bed, presumably a pull out couch, a chaise lounge, a small kitchen, a big bathroom and a tv. His things were all in one corner. You immediately took a seat on the chaise which was near the bench at the end of the bed that Art immediately sat on. It was a bit real. It was more than a bit, it was real.

He looked at you, blue eyes with their bits of brown and his long eyelashes. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” He started. He was jumping in. Your heart sped a little and you suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. “I was stupid. And naive and convinced that I would thrive more when I left for college.”

“You did,” you nodded. A nod to his success.

“But my intention was wrong. You… loved me. And I took advantage of that for the idea of a perfect college experience with Patrick- full of smoking and drinking and girls.” Your stomach flipped hearing his words. “I felt the guilt from the moment I left, I just shut it up with vodka and constant tennis and it was hard but it was manageable but it doesn’t mean I didn’t think of you.”

You kept your eyes locked with him and set your frozen yogurt on a nearby table. He took the time and did the same, but he looked at you for something. “You could have come back. Or called- even if you called-“ you cut yourself off. You were jumping too quickly. But it was Art and Art was easy to talk to. “When you left, I knew that. I knew what you wanted and I didn’t believe that you would truly let it go.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“But there was no proof. To me, you left me for the ability to drink and kiss and fuck and it broke me because I was young and all I had to give was myself.” Your eyebrows knit closely together. He looked guilty. “And with no proof, I just… I was upset for a long time, but I slowly got over it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know now,” you sighed. “Unfortunately it was hard to get you off my mind.”

“I tend to have that effect,” he smiled a little and so did you.

“Apparently so do I,” you countered. He grinned his perfect crooked smile. “But you hurt me. Badly. And I missed you for years but you didn’t even reach out on my birthdays so what could I think other than you’re out there succeeding and had put me in the past.”

“It’s why I’m here, or- why you’re here. I needed you to know that I thought about you all the time. It ruined my relationship with another girl because she knew I was hung up even when I didn’t. And when I found out the tournament was here, I just… I knew I had to see you. I had to face what I did. I know it was shitty, I know not speaking sucked, I just… I want you to know how sorry I am. And how much I wish I hadn’t left.” He looked genuine, his regret radiating off his skin. Your heart skipped a beat or two and your breathing picked up a little. “I wish I hadn’t left you, I traded you for something so fucking meaningless, it kills me.”

You had to stand your ground, because you knew the moment he said that- that all of your healing was coming undone. It unravelled and floated down to the floor, useless. You recognized the look on his face too well, you missed the look on his face. He wanted you. “I really-“ you started but stopped. The slope was icy, slick and smooth and at your very feet. One wrong move and you’d fall down it. And all of the healing, all of the time, all of it would have been for nothing and what would that mean? You had to have some sort of stance against this, some little bit of resistance. His voice was too soft, his eyes too sweet. “You should have told me that ages ago if it’s truly how you felt.” You said. You hated being dismissive this way. “I accept your apology.” But he didn’t look happy to hear that.

“I wanted to call, but I’d left things so badly I wasn’t sure if it would just reopen wounds or…” he had a desperation in his eyes.

You picked up your bag, your stomach doing flips and your heart beating at a crazy pace. You had to go. The slope was too slippery. “Art, I accept your apology. Thank you for the frozen yogurt and for the privacy and inviting me up here. I really should go, it’s getting late.” It was too easy to want to fall down that same slope, to tumble into him, to crash, to even burn. It was too tempting and you just… couldn’t do it. Couldn’t handle it. You stood up and walked toward the door and you felt him get up behind you.

“Wait, please?” He said. “Y/N, I have more to say.”

“I heard everything I wanted to hear four years ago,” you replied, turning before the hotel room door. “Unfortunately too late and I just feel… the same. You did trade me for the opportunity to have sex with girls shamelessly. Everything we had was just gone at the drop of a hat because you felt like it and you left me here to pick up the pieces and knowing you wanted to tell me all of these things since you left? While I waited by my phone every single night in case you called to change your mind, convincing myself day after day that you were just busy until I convinced myself that I was never worth anything to you- do you know how much that hurt? Having everything I ever wanted in a person who knew me like the back of their hand and being dropped for a college party era… I…”you huffed and he kept his eyes on you, listening, but eyes sad. “I convinced myself that it was all fake because what other explanation did I have? And it’s not like I could call to clarify, you left me. And it took forever to stop having nightmares about you and even when they were dreams they hurt. I missed you more than I missed anything and you showed no signs of regret or remorse or even missing me in the slightest. You broke my heart when you left, Art. And I’ve been better.”

There was silence in the room. It lasted a minute and a half. He seemed to be taking in every word you’d said. He cleared his throat eventually and he looked more upset than he had this whole time, “It kills me that I did that to you but every day was a constant battle. No girl out there was worth it- nothing was. But we were so far apart and- fuck I have only excuses but I know I did you wrong. And I know I hurt you and I can’t undo it but I can be here now and tell you that you look just as and even more beautiful than you did then. And even after not speaking for years I feel like we never stopped. And I have never stopped having feelings for you so seeing you last night in that bar just about took me all I had to not immediately pour my heart out in hopes that maybe you would forgive me enough to let me try again.”

Try again? Your hand rested on the door handle and you looked at him in disbelief. “Art, I can’t.” You said. He was standing in front of you, looking down at you, over you. His eyes were wet, you noticed, and he was breathing just about as hard as you were as your heart pounded in your chest.

“I can live without, I know we’re older and you might have moved on,” he said under his breath. “But I’ve never stopped wanting you and seeing you has made it so apparent. I can’t escape you, so even if you walk out that door right now nothing I’ve said will change.”

“You were everything, Art,” you told him, hushed. “But you hurt me and it would be wrong to go…” He swayed closer, over you, close to you. “-Back.” Your eyes met.

“I don’t care if it kills me. It almost did leaving you the first time but if…” he swayed near again. Your lips parted and your eyes stayed trained on his. “If you let me… I wouldn’t go anywhere. If I can promise you anything it’s that I know now that I need you.”

“You’ve gone years without,” you said, standing your ground. “You’ll manage.”

“I don’t know if I will,” he sighed, his blue eyes a dark shade of grey in the dim lamplight of the hotel room. His voice stayed low. “Not this time.”

“Why?”

“I told you why. It’s been a mistake, I’ve wasted years of my life just thinking and never acting and I need you to know I still want you. You stand here and you’re questioning it but you’re at my door and you haven’t left.”

“Maybe I want to hear you out,” you reasoned, it took all you had not to stutter and stumble over your words. Your hand gripped the door handle harder, knuckles whitening. “Thank you for your apology and for telling me how you felt.”

“Thank you for letting me,” he hushed to a whisper again. In his eyes, through the focus and lock on your own, you saw his hurt. You saw how genuine he was. But the silence was still and he was close to you, too close, but just close enough. Just about as close as you were to slipping. Down the slope… “Y/N…” he trailed off.

“You missed me? You missed me…”

“Every day.” He confirmed, the gap between growing smaller every second. “And I’ll never stop being sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You don’t have to say anything for sure, but I want to try. If you’ll let me. I would do anything to not have to miss you like this. I promise you.” His nose grazed yours, that’s how close he was. You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Art…” you sighed.

“Yeah?” He looked into your soul the way his eyes kept hold on yours. He wanted to smile, you could tell.

“I’m not sure.”

“I know. That’s completely fair-“

You cut him off, “I don’t know.

“I know.” He replied. “I know what I can give can match what you gave me. I want to give you everything I couldn’t, I-“

“I know,” you echoed.

“Please,” He said, the way he looked at you was so soft. His eyebrows were knit in the centre, he was pleading with only one word.

“How do I know?”

“You don’t. But you can take my word.”

“What good is your word? You said you would stay and you didn’t, you said you loved me but you were gone a week later, you swore it was us.”

He looked exasperated, “I was young. And stupid. So stupid.”

“Very,”

“I know.” He echoed again. “And I’ve known. And everything has lead me back here.”

“How do I know you won’t leave for tennis again?”

“Nothing could take me away this time,” he said, voice still hushed. You were fighting a hard fight.

“You can’t promise that,” you retorted.

“Who can?” His voice echoed around your head. Who can promise to stay? Indefinitely? Eventually someone dies nobody can ever stay forever. There will always be an eventual absence. Your heart pounded in your chest, racing, pumping hard enough you could hear it. He looked at you with perfectly parted lips and eyes that just pleaded and an expression you missed for ages. Eyes locked on eyes, trained, centred. And closeness you craved for years. You were fucked, done for.

You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into you. Though it wasn’t a kiss. It was the tightest embrace you could muster as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hands grasping at your sides, his other hand flat on your back, holding you close and your hands around his neck, tight. You missed this more than kissing him, you missed this more than most things. Younger you missed everything, but most, she just wanted to be held again. You thought about it for years. And his grip on you didn’t waiver one bit for the time you kept your embrace. He kept you flush against him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And he kept you that way for a long while. He didn’t want to let go, neither did you. But eventually, slowly, you both pulled away. The heat of the moment was gone and the apology was over and your heart still beat a little bit too quick. And he still wasn’t far. The silence was loud, but comfortable now.

“Can we try again?” He whispered. Plain and simple. He wasn’t asking for a promise- nobody could ever promise anything. Even you couldn’t promise. But it was him and even after years had gone by, it was always going to be him anyways. So why not?

You nodded.

#need that #art donaldson #challengers #art donaldson x reader

258 notes · View notes

kermitkrqb · 11 months ago

Note

Your 'rumours' fic was so adorable!!! I'd love to see some childhood bestfriends with Art from you, like reader just following him around like a puppy since childhood and at first he doesn't know how what to do with her but then she starts to grow on him,

UGH, what's it feel like to be loved???

-🍃

More Than Anything

Summary: ^above^ with a twist of angst and a few changed plot points. Art and his childhood best friend navigate the forces that pull them apart. Whatever he does, she does. He’s not sure what else is more natural than being her best friend. And no matter what she’s told, that will never change.

Warnings: fluff! drinking, mean Patrick, mentions of weed, mentions of sex, one mention of the risk of being roofied (nobody is roofied), a little ANGST. And a kiss.

Little Art Donaldson was having a day at the park when he met a little girl. It was you and there was much to babble about when there were so many things to do at the park and you, in a tiny voice, said you’d never been to the park before. Art took you by the little hand and you willingly followed as he showed you every single section that there was, even the swings.

Art, young, when met with lunch, he dropped his sandwich in the sand. He cried- the meat and lettuce all covered in grains and small pieces of sticks wasn’t a big issue but for a kid, it was quite upsetting to not have a lunch anymore.

You were more little, two years younger than Art, but you knew just what to do. Picnic lunch with your family nearby, stood next to him and asked if he wanted to come have some food with your family. You didn’t know you couldn’t just invite crying kids to eat with you. You were just too young, too pure.

He said yes, obviously. His dad was somewhere nearby on his phone, business call. Didn’t notice Art was sitting at your picnic bench eating fried chicken and watermelon with you and your parents.

Your mom was a sweet woman, so of course she’d never say no to a starved child. Art’s father found him no problem. He wasn’t a bad man either- not angry. In fact he sat down to eat with them and by the end of the meal they’d set up a time to come by and play another day.

From that day on, your parents befriended and you and Art became best friends. Self-proclaimed. Art didn’t know how to play anything but video games and baseball and he slowly got more into tennis, which he tried to show you. You weren’t that good at anything he did, but still, you would play together in the sandbox, run around each other’s yard. It felt like an endless summer with you two. If one of you was out and playing, so was the other. Usually more revolving around what Art did. It was simple, easy, fun. Anywhere Art would go, you were there too. It helped each other’s parents get a little peace every now and then or let them hang out as adults.

You maintained your personality, just as sweet as candy but with a boyish love for adventure, as your mom would say. That boyish side definitely came from Art. Where he was, you were, no matter what. Even if it was up a steep hill, even if it was the river nearby, even if it was the ant hill and you both got a million bug bites. Every scrape you shared, every bruise you compared in the backyard on the tire swing, every scrape from your bikes. Everything was shared.

You were a little in love with him. Even from a young age, the moment you could think boys were cute, you thought Art was the most adorable. It was platonic love, of course. The capacity to truly love wasn’t there, just pending…

And you and Art grew up together. You pursued different hobbies but still found the time, even with school. It was easy the first few years, you were only in kindergarten and then it was elementary. Apparently once you hit grade three you’re not supposed to hang out with anyone younger. Art wasn’t sure what to do, but he spent lunch recess with his friends and first and last recess with you anyway.

One thing was for sure. It was that you would follow him around like you didn’t know any other way, when he was nearby. You’d do whatever he did, even if he invited his other friends. A lot of the neighbourhood kids assumed he was your annoying sister, even when Art said you weren’t. You were just a little girl who liked to stick around.

That was how it was all elementary school until Art was in grade nine and you were still in seventh. The dynamic changed- he was still playing tennis, still seeing you, but more when your parents would see each other. Otherwise Art was with Patrick.

You knew Patrick well. He was around and so were you. Sometimes Patrick was nice, sometimes he wasn’t, but he was just a kid. You’d call Art sometimes and Patrick would pick up and just say “he’s busy!” And hang up. You had other friends but knowing someone pretty much your whole life, having a small itty bitty tiny crush your whole life, and having them turned away by a new crowd was a little hard. He still found time.

Art didn’t know what to do with you when he went to high school. It was weird you were still so young to him.

“Art,” you said. You were finally in high school and found him in the hall. “I can’t find the math classroom, I was wondering-“

“Take a left at the corner and it’s right there. Good luck, I’ll see you later, gotta go!” It sucked, but it was fine. If you had the chance, you’d tag along, still sporting the same following attitude. You went where he did.

Art was cute, yeah, but when he graduated you thought less. Sure you’d follow him wherever, but you had wanted to go to Stanford much longer than he had. Screw him and his two years on you, he was already enrolled. And he moved away.

You barely had a life when he was gone. It was all stupid. He called you every few days and of course you picked up the second your phone rang but it was still stupid. You’d call him whenever you liked which was much more often- and sometimes he’d pick up, other times he wouldn’t.

You and Art hung out a few days before college started. You walked through the city around Stanford, talking in the park. His choice of location. “It’s good to be in the same area as you again,” he said. You smiled as the wind blew your hair around your face, warm. “I don’t have to call now.”

“You didn’t like the phone calls?” You asked.

“No, I loved them, don’t get me wrong, they’re effective. You have no idea how good it was to hear your voice when I missed home.”

Your smile turned into a grin, he matched it. “Now what do we do when we both miss home?” You asked. He laughed and bumped against your shoulder.

“I’ll just call your mom,” he said. You both laughed at his immature humour. It was good to be back with him, he was right.

“Uh huh and I’ll call your dad, no hesitation,” you teased. He shoved you a little so you stumbled a few steps off the path. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about you and your adventures with marijuana.” You poked him in the ribs as you regained your position on the path. He grinned his crooked grin, the one you knew so well.

“I’d just have to tell your mom that you actually have had your first kiss and you aren’t her perfect little princess anymore.” He said.

“She’d never believe you,” you pretended to judge him, eyes narrowed. “She’d die, she’s so Catholic, Art, she’s sooo Catholic.” You fake groaned and he laughed. It was good to know that even though the distance made things feel odd, the dynamic somewhat returned when you were together again.

“She is so Catholic, but I’m sure she’d be fine with it, come on…” He ruffled your hair up and you gasped.

“Art- my hair took like an hour to braid- and she would die, I’m sure of it. On the spot. Unless you want her to die, I suggest you keep that secret.”

“And you keep your secret about the weed?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He repeated, pulling you into a quick hug, smile on his face. He’d missed you. He let you go. But his phone buzzed, it was Patrick, who he said he’d meet. He lost track of time with you. “Shit, Y/N. I made plans to play pool with a friend. I have to run, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” He was already stepping back. You were going to ask where he played pool, you were going to ask who with, just curious, but he was already on the run. It was fine.

Your first day at Stanford, 18 years old, you found yourself in his exact residency building, just on the girls end. It was convenient. Your parents had just left. You had your hair up in a claw clip as you set all your pictures up in the room, covered and made the bed. Your roommate was really nice already, sharing a bag of chips and telling you she brought a mini fridge you could both use. You had a feeling you’d love it there. Stanford was the dream.

You were bringing another box in when Art passed you. “Art!” you said, dropping your box. Art turned, confused.

“Y/N?” He said. He knew you were here just not in his building. He pulled you into a quick hug. “You got a room in this residence? You didn’t even tell me.” He let go.

“I didn’t know which you were in, I didn’t even think it might be the same,” you giggled. He smiled. You looked at the box you dropped. Art kept walking down the hallway, you left all your things to follow. “How are you?” You asked, walking just a bit behind him.

“I’m good! I just was out for lunch,” He said. “Uh- come, I’ll show you my room.” He didn’t expect you to follow him the way you did, but it was always okay. “It’s great you’re here. I would hang out but there’s a party tonight, the frat throws one every year for newcomers.”

You weren’t a party person. “Are you going?”

“I think so yeah, me and a few of my friends. You remember Patrick.” You were glad you hadn’t seen Patrick in a few years, honestly. “He’s over right now in my room, actually. You can say hi.”

“Perfect,” you said, following him up the steps and through the boys-side lounge. “Can I go with you?”

He nodded, swallowing. He knew you didn’t go to parties, he was planning on seeing you tomorrow night. “Uh… yeah. Yes. I don’t see why not, you’ve been to parties right?” He pretended like he didn’t know.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, well you’ve been drunk at least.”

“No,” you answered. You might have if you’d been around while Art started his late-highschool-early-college drinking era. “Is that bad? Should I have?”

“Not necessarily,” Art chuckled. You were exactly the sweet girl he knew. “Means it’ll happen faster. I have drinks you can have if you want them. This is my room-“ he opened the door to the dorm room and it wasn’t much. Pretty normal, some tennis posters, some video game stuff lying around and Patrick in a spinning computer chair with headphones on. “Patrick.” Art said, hitting his friend in the back of the head.

You looked around, eyes everywhere, then on Patrick as he spun around. His eyes widened and he looked at Art, then you. Art spoke up as Patrick took his headphones off, “You remember Y/N.”

It had been a while since you and Patrick had seen each other. As annoying as he used to be, he was much taller. More hair, more muscle, taller. He wasn’t bad looking, you noted. You didn’t know Patrick was noting the same, just a little more male-oriented in his ways of thinking. “Holy shit, hi.” Patrick said.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling. You could let bygones be bygones. Everyone here was an adult now. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Patrick asked.

You were surprised he seemed civil. “I’m good, thank you.” Your smile turned into a grin. “It’s good to see you both.”

“You’ll be back here at seven, hm?” Art squeezed your upper arm gently. He turned to Patrick, “She’s coming with us tonight.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at you. “Is she even eighteen?” He spoke like you weren’t there- that was the Patrick you remembered.

“Yes, she’s eighteen. And she’s with us, so she’s fine.” He turned back to you. “You go get settled in, we’ll see you later.” He dismissed you- you would have stayed if he didn’t say so.

You waved and said goodbye and the hours passed. You unpacked and got ready, putting on something cute. Your roommate was going too, said she would see you there. At ten past seven, you knocked on Art’s dorm room door.

Patrick opened the door, “It’s her,” he called to Art, looking you dead in the eyes. “You look terrifying with eyeliner.” He remarked with a smile.

You laughed. “Thanks.”

Art rushed out of the bathroom, buttoning up his open shirt. “No, you look great.” He rushed past, then turned a bit to look again. “You look really nice actually. Wow.“

You smiled and shrugged. He finished the buttons and grabbed a can from a case under his bed. “Drink this, you’ll like it.” He cracked it open for you and everything.

“Thank you- what’s the rush?”

Patrick shook his head, sipping from his own can. “No rush, he’s just fast.”

You took a sip, it wasn’t great but it was bearable. You scrunched your nose. Art walked by you again, putting his socks and shoes on. “Rules, Y/N.” He said. “Just in case, okay?”

You nodded. “Rules?”

“Rules,” he repeated. “Don’t drink anything anyone offers you, no matter what it looks like. Don’t take any pills or drugs. Don’t leave with anyone without telling me first.” He said. It was a lot more serious than the rules he’d made up for his own version of tag when you were kids. Time was an odd thing…

“Okay,” you agreed. Art stopped in front of you and stole a sip from your drink before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“You could just put her on a leash,” Patrick chimed in. You cocked your head to the side and shook it slowly at Patrick. Patrick spun in the chair, “Or if she’s anything like she used to be, you won’t need to.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Things progressed and you went to meet some of Art’s friends to drink more before heading over and you enjoyed tagging along. Art let you choose the music in his car and his friends approved of it enough. Some guys, two girls, you. Art.

Two low percentage drinks made you fuzzy. You weren’t even there yet. You weren’t sure what was expected, but it was odd. You clung to Art’s side the whole time, not physically, but you were near.

Eventually you got to the party and it was loud and crowded and easy to lose people in the hoards. Art slipped away somewhere and you didn’t know what to do, so you finished a third can and you were feeling it for sure. It was weird, strange, loopy, almost. You sat on the stairs, just people-watching. Playing it safe instead of mingling. It was fine.

A while passed, though it didn’t feel like it. Patrick was the one to find you, “Have you been here the whole time?” He asked over the music.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Maybe Art should have put you on a leash,” he chuckled.

You were drunk enough to ask, “What does that even mean?” You stole his drink and he let you, taking a swig and handing it back like drinking was normal, casual. It was not.

“You know how when you used to follow him around all the time? Like a lost puppy?” He laughed like it was something you’d known, like it was obvious. “Everywhere we would go, you were just trailing behind. As kids we couldn’t even go outside without you following us. I knew you were really you when you came here because now you’re gorgeous- which I hate- but you’re still you, following us to this party.”

Part of that was meant to be nice. You could tell Patrick was drunk as well the way he told the truth so easily. But what he said had the ability to sink in and hurt, burning into you like acid. That’s how Patrick, the practical extension of Art- viewed you? Just some sad girl who followed Art around forever?

It stung to hear. “What?” You asked again. As if you didn’t hear. As if your eyes didn’t gloss over. You had no idea. Did you just not pick up on the fact you weren’t wanted there?

“You’re still you. I should have known when you were still calling him all the time from home. Calling and calling and calling. You still follow Art around like you have that schoolgirl crush on him or something, fuck you’re even here at Stanford, he just cannot get rid of you. I never got why you liked him so much, but yeah, you practically invited yourself here with us. It’s not bad to see you, but you know, it’s college. Be your own person.”

It stung, it dug deeper. You blinked back tears, but you knew Patrick didn’t notice at all whatsoever. You looked at your hangs, feeling the embarrassment and shame in your fingertips. “I’m sorry.” You said. You wished you were saying it to Art.

“Hm?” Patrick didn’t hear you. But you stood up and nodded, repeating yourself to him.

“I’m sorry,” you said more firmly. He heard you for sure, his head turned as you walked by, pushing past people and disappearing into the crowd again. You walked out the door and went back to your dorm. There was no point in staying. You’d be your own person, you weren’t one for parties.

You thought about it the whole way. Had you invited yourself and not noticed? You remembered asking. Patrick wasn’t even there when you asked, for fucks sake. You knew Patrick was drunk, but drunk words = sober thoughts, you’d heard. Patrick was mean, that was for sure. You wondered if it even phased him.

You fought tears, rethinking your childhood with Art. How much of it did he want? How much of it was your parents? You took off your party clothes and slipped into the most comfortable t-shirt and shorts and took off your makeup. You sat in your new bed, knees to your chest and just thought, endlessly, over everything.

You knew you and Art wouldn’t be super close forever, obviously you weren’t naive, but he was always the most familiar thing. New places were always explored with him, new things were always tried with him, anything new was always perceived from Art’s side. Even without him there for a while, it was still something you valued. You didn’t realize maybe you’d been clinging. Had you been clinging? Or was he just a close friend? What was the difference?

You let some of your tears fall down your face. You were in school now, it was new, it was supposed to be fun. And you would be your own person this time, you guessed. You fell asleep with the lights on.

The next day you rolled over and looked at six missed calls from Art. He probably wondered if you got home fine or if you broke one of his rules. You didn’t read anything he sent, you just typed out

‘I got home safe’.

And left it at that. It was easiest. You rolled over and out of bed, into an outfit and asked your roommate if she wanted to get coffee with you. She was easily and instantly a great friend. Coffee turned into going to the thrift stores and talking and talking and talking. You knew each other’s life stories by the end of the day.

You had another missed call from Art around 3pm. You’d call him tomorrow, you thought, before Patrick’s voice chimed back into your head. You decided against it. Classes started tomorrow anyway.

The next day, classes were amazing. You had made tons of friends and assembled what felt like the beginnings of a friend group. After class everyone hit the cafeteria for super salty chicken tenders. Everything Patrick said still hurt, but it was good to have the distraction. Other friends. Ones who you were sure wanted you around regardless, even if it meant staying close by.

“Someone came by here for you,” Your roommate told you when you got home. “Said his name was Art?”

“A friend of mine,” you said. How sure were you of that? “Did he say anything?”

“No, just swung by and asked if you were here. I told him you were out and that I didn’t know when you’d be back.” She said. You eyed the dual schedules of yours and hers hanging up above her desk and the both of you smiled. “Just in case.”

You talked the night away again. She was a great listening ear as you confessed the whole thing to her. She was very sweet about it and gave you one of her ice cream sandwiches.

The next day you were laughing and leaving class and Art found you. You didn’t run, hide, you just looked at him. “Hey,” he started. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts I thought maybe you’d died.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I’ve just been busy,” you said. It was somewhat true- you’d busied yourself to be a different person, your own person. “Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just-“ Art stopped himself. “You left early and you didn’t tell me.”

“The party?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Patrick said he saw you. Where were you?”

“I was on the stairs before I left. And then I went straight home and right to bed.” You told him honestly. “I’m sorry.” At least now you got to tell him you were sorry. “Look, I have another class in ten across campus, I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

You had to take a deep breath. All you saw in his offer was pity. Obligations. “My friends are waiting on me, I’m sorry. Thanks though.” You dismissed him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said. He wasn’t used to whatever version of you this was. You were sweet, you were kind, you were always willing to stick around if he needed you. You would always hang back if he was tying his shoelaces, but you wouldn’t even walk with him. “See you around.”

“Bye, Art!” You called from ahead. Part of you felt terrible. It wasn’t normal to do what you just did, but it was essential. How would you be someone uninfluenced if you couldn’t break the habit?

A few more days passed. Art would call every now and then. You would never pick up. You were busy. It was the least contact you’d had with him in your entire life- by choice, at least. Camping and vacations never counted. Your roommate said he’d been by twice more.

Another party came up. A Friday night- you, your roommate, your class friends all wanted to go. It still wasn’t your thing but why couldn’t it be? Reinvention.

No pregaming, just one drink in hand at the party you were talking with your friends in the corner, laughing, having fun. There was a guy in your new friend group that had been showing interest, or at least that’s what your friend said, backed up by your roommate. He was cute but he was your height, not taller. He was nice but said a few things that had made you cringe. You were trying to get into the college era vibe by flirting back but it was all empty.

You had no idea how to flirt with someone who wasn’t picking up on simple hints, but you stood with him, talking to him against the wall, closer than your other friends were.

You felt a hand on your lower back, turning to face Art. His hand raised itself to your upper arm, “Thought you didn’t like parties?” He said. No hello, no hi, no greeting.

“I’m giving it another chance,” you replied. “The first one wasn’t great.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Can we talk?” He asked. Your roommate stepped in and removed Art’s hand from your arm. It fell to his side. He looked at you, eyes meeting yours in the flashing lights of the party. You’d put off your friendship enough to allow maybe a conversation. He wanted to talk, he’d been wanting to talk, not sure about what but you nodded. “Somewhere quieter?” He suggested, gesturing for you to follow him. You stepped a few steps in the direction you started before realizing you were following him. You tapped his arm.

“This way,” you said. And you changed direction and headed up the stairs. Every room was occupied. You had no idea where you were going, so you turned to two doors in the hall and found yourself on the frat balcony. Greek letters hung just above your head height. Art closed the door behind you both, muting the inside noise. And he just looked at you, hands in his pockets, eyes soft, summer breeze in the air.

You blinked off his gaze, feeling judged, but he knew you were sober aside from a sip or two. Unaffected. “You’ve been busy,” he started. “I called again a few times, was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Patrick to see a showing of Back To The Future in the campus park this weekend.”

You smiled a little to yourself. Back to The Future was a shared favourite between you and Art. Your expression softened. “I’m not too busy…” you said. “But you’re inviting me?”

“Of course I’m inviting you, I haven’t seen you in a week and a half.” He said it like it was the biggest drop of common sense. “I want you to come with us.”

You shook your head, looking at your feet. You didn’t speak. Art spoke instead, “What happened at the first party? I know something happened, I can assume something happened. I lost you and I never found you and the next day you’re different. You’re not you.”

You weren’t you because you weren’t trailing after him on an invisible leash? You sighed heavily, “I don’t know.”

“You do know. I know you. You know. And we tell each other everything, but you’ve gone radio silent.”

You looked over the balcony, at the trees and the way their leaves rustled in the light wind. You folded your arms over your chest, unknowing of how to answer. He spoke again in your silence, “I’ve missed you.” He said.

You looked at him, “Missed me?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? When I missed you before I could just call and you’d answer and now I can’t see you when you’re in the same building as me. I’m used to you being around. It’s different when you’re not.”

Your lip quivered like you wanted to cry and you felt burning behind your eyes, but no tears surfaced, just remembering how you felt when Patrick said what he said. You couldn’t let that go. “I just wasn’t at your heels,” you said.

“Hm?” Art stepped forward.

“Like a lost puppy,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to be my own person. Do things without you, without being on your tail at all times.”

He looked like that hurt him. How would that have hurt him? “What?” He asked it like you said something wild and crazy.

“I didn’t want to be some sad girl who follows you around anymore. I know you have priorities, I know you have friends here that you’ve known and connected with and I think you should be allowed your space… from me.” You said. Part of that was gushing and for the first time you realized that staying away from him had only partially been for you. It was an act of sentiment toward him to allow him to enjoy himself without you as a ball and chain.

Art looked like someone punched him in the stomach for a moment as he processed what you said. He changed expressions to concern, then to disbelief and then he just looked sad. “How did you come to that conclusion? Y/N… What? Space? From you? Like I didn’t go through two years of it already, seeing you only at Christmas and Easter?”

“You have great friends here and you see them all the time and you go out and you go to parties and I just tagged along that night, didn’t I? You were going to the party with your friends and I asked to go with you and you-“

“I said yes!” He said, voice a little louder. Trying to get it across. “I said yes. I didn’t think you would even want to go.”

“I want to be where you are. Or I wanted to be where you were, I missed you. I didn’t mean to invite myself. You could have said no.”

“I wanted you there!” He replied.

“Are you sure? You lost me pretty fast.”

“I spent the rest of the night looking for you! I haven’t spoken to three people from that night because I disregarded their existence looking for you, ruined their nights. I wondered if maybe you got roofied or you were fucking some guy in a bathroom- I-“ He ran his hands through his curls. “You didn’t message me until the next morning, I was still out there looking for you when you messaged me.”

Your lips parted and your mouth suddenly felt very dry. A little breath slipped out, a hush. You looked at him and he looked at you, his eyes soft and kind and sweet and just like the ones of the boy who dropped his sandwich in the sandbox. Art shook his head, stepping closer to you, stepping back and standing his ground closer to you. He looked up at the sky, “I love you and I care about you and I do fucking miss you.” He said. “More than anything. I’ve been losing my mind the past week.”

“I didn’t know,” you said.

“I called and came by your dorm,” he replied. “So this is the part where you tell me what the fuck I did to make you think you were someone I didn’t want around.” He was firm, but you could see the pain in his expression.

You swallowed hard, wondering what he would think. “Patrick, um…” you started but talking about it made you want to cry. You tried to get rid of the lump in your throat. “He found me and he said a few things about me being the same little girl who followed you around everywhere when I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice almost broke but you saved yourself, though you couldn’t stop your eyes from starting to tear up.

“Patrick said that?”

“He’s the one who made the lost puppy comparison. I’m not mad at him or anything, he was drunk, but he talked about me calling you all the time, how it all adds up to the same schoolgirl crush and how you can’t get rid of me and you’re the reason I’m here at Stanford and…” you trailed off because it choked you out. “It’s okay, it just made me rethink a lot of things. He said I need to be my own person.”

“You are your own person, what the fuck? Made you think that you needed to give me space? He was able to make you believe that I wanted to get rid of you? After being friends with you for seventeen years of my life?” He questioned it but you knew he wasn’t actually questioning you. It was rhetorical, you knew the answers. “I swear to god, I’ve never given so much as a notion that I don’t want you around other than I couldn’t want you around because you were either too far or just not invited. If I had it my way you’d be invited to everything, I would never not want you around.”

He grabbed you by both of your shoulders, squeezing but resting gentle. You sighed, “But I have followed you around like a lost puppy.” You said, blinking back threateningly hot tears.

“You’re not a lost puppy. Do you think I don’t feel like I’m dragging you around sometimes?”

“You’ve never dragged me anywhere,” you said. You smiled just a little and he couldn’t help but do the same. “I like being around you.”

“I like having you around. I’ve never thought of you as any sort of dog at my heels or whatever the fuck it is you or Patrick said.” He squeezed your arms again, sliding his hands up to the back of your neck, under your hair, bracing you. “You are everything to me, I don’t care where you are, if you’re behind me or in front of me, beside me, just with or around me, it’s the safest, most familiar thing I know. You can go anywhere you want but you chose to stick around me when you were only three and it was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He confessed. You sighed, this time, just out of the peace his words brought.

“I mean at first I didn’t know what to do with a little girl who was depending on me to teach her how to make stick forts and weird knots and how to climb hills but we’ve figured everything out together. And I don’t want that to stop. Fuck Patrick, honestly. You over him, you over anyone, anything, any day of the week, I’m sorry. I’m not that sorry”

You didn’t know what else to do or how to reply. Every word he said kicked Patrick’s take on you to the curb. Everything Patrick had thought about you was disproven, thrown, ripped to shreds. Your heart beat fast, heavily, thudding against the inside of your ribs. You breathed out hard, hoping that maybe it would expel some of the emotion that was overloading. Art’s hands had moved slowly up the back of your neck, unnoticed as he confessed everything and now they rested just at your jaw, thumbs by your ears. This moment of yours before the breath only lasted seconds but felt like eternity. You could have cried, sobbed, even, with the amount of emotion that instantly overcame your body but you didn’t cry or scream it out, there was nothing more fitting than how Art closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss.

His hands at your jaw, yours grabbed onto his sides like it was natural. Like you’d done it a million times. As he kissed you with slightly chapped lips pressed firmly to your own, you found that there was some release, some weight gone. Some ghost butterfly danced around your stomach and your head and the kiss was not long, but not short either, but it was needed and the kiss itself was telling of that. All of your emotion washed out like the tide and came back slowly, regular, calm, known.

You pulled away at the same time, mutually. “I love you too.” You said quietly. He grinned that crooked grin you knew too well and suddenly you were laughing about it. About something, about everything. He kissed you again, of course, harder, laughing through it, his hands around your waist and your arms around his neck and this second kiss turned itself into a hug. An embrace, tighter than the usual ones. He buried his face in your neck as you expressed everything you’d needed to in all of your seventeen years as best friends. He apologized for any distance, any fault in the way he prioritized you, and any time he may have taken you for granted. Being without you was harder than he could have imagined.

And nothing ever changed how either of you felt about each other again. Though… Art started following you around a bit more from that point on, but who wouldn’t want that?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is somewhat to your liking, though I followed your prompt a bit loosely with the pacing. Always feel free to request! That goes for everyone

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

‘No loose ends’, Something Coriolanus often reminded himself. The same words had echoed in his head when he had sent his only friend to be hung. Poor, trusting, and foolish Sejanus. Coriolanus wished it could have stopped there, but it seems everywhere the Snow boy stepped, a trail of withering destruction followed. Once that destruction had eventually caught up with him, he’d found that his beloved Lucy Gray Baird wanted nothing to do with him. Why couldn’t she have understood? Everything he did was for her, for them. She had fled from his love as if it were poison, and maybe it was. But, he’d argue that she was just as poisonous, latching onto him as he did everything in his power to ensure her safety- milking him for everything he had. Only to leave once she had found out that he in fact did everything in his power to ensure her safety. So what if he had killed Sejanus? Sejanus’ recklessness would have gotten them all killed eventually. Although, it was all over now. In the form of Lucy Gray Baird, he had cut off his final loose end, leaving her in the forest and vowing to never love again- which was originally the plan.

There you were, standing across the room in a perfectly poised manner. He loathed it, loathed you. Coriolanus knew that you had always been smart, a close contender to the Plinth prize, a top student like him but not quite as good. Although, he had underestimated you. A few nights ago, much like the rest of your Academy classmates, you were celebrating the end of the semester at university. He had found himself exchanging petty insults with you on some balcony when you had revealed something rather bone-chilling. Coriolanus would have pushed you off the second floor if it weren’t for the abundance of people in the next room. Tipsy on posca, you had let it slip that you knew the circumstances of Sejanus’ death. How? He did not find out. You had taunted him, backed him into a corner, threatening to tell the Plinth’s that the golden boy they had adopted was not so golden after all. You had made a fool of Coriolanus Snow of all people. He hated you for it… but you had done something even more unexpected. You let him go. Although, he wasn’t going to take the risk. He couldn’t afford it, not after everything he had done to get where he is now- in the care of the two grieving parents of Sejanus, living the life of luxury he had always deserved.

Coriolanus had convinced Strabo Plinth to host another gala, hiding behind the excuse of ‘making connections’ for when he would eventually rise to power as the President. It was partially true, although, his main motive was to lure you in. Coriolanus had planned to poison you tonight, alongside a few other people he saw as threats. He would disguise it as another rebel attack, blame the staff- anything to ensure his protection. He watched from across the room as you eagerly conversed with a few gamemakers and former classmates. It was almost sickening to him, the sweet smiles you would flash, the way you would carry yourself so confidently. He could see right through you, because you were just like him. Driven by ambition, power hungry. He hated you. You caught his eye from where you stood, holding his gaze as you sent him a smile. What others might have interpreted as an innocent interaction, Coriolanus knew it was a silent threat. He was the first to look away, making his way through the crowd as he headed towards a secluded hallway, silently beckoning you to follow.

You of course took the bait, like he had planned, “Well if it isn’t Coriolanus Snow.” The click of your heels echoed across the hallway as you made your way over to him, like a snake slithering to its prey. You were adorned in a blood red gown, quite fitting for your personality, he thought. You had a glass of posca in your hand, the very drink that had gotten him into this mess. Coriolanus studied you for a moment, his blue eyes piercing through you before he broke the silence, forgoing any pleasantries, “Y/n. What is it that you want from me?” Unfazed by his cold tone, a small smile spreads across your lips, “What are you willing to give me?” The nerve of you. He wanted to scream, choke you until the life faded from your eyes, instead, he took a deep breath, “$50,000, and a formal introduction to Dr Gaul. Perhaps she’ll mentor you as well.” Coriolanus knew fully well that he was offering money he didn’t have, Strabo would never give him such amounts of money on short notice, but you didn’t have to know. After all, you’d be dead by the end of the night.

You tilt your head at him, swirling the glass of posca in your hand as you thought about his proposition, “$50,000? I’m sure you can be a little more generous Snow…considering you’re practically a Plinth now.”Coriolanus feigned annoyance, stepping closer and eventually cornering you, “You have plenty of money, what use would you have with even more?” He watched as your breath catches in your throat due to his proximity, he relished in your reaction and watched as you caught yourself, putting on a confident facade, a hint of flirtation in your voice. “You’re right… but I do like playing with you… you’re my favourite toy.” Coriolanus finds himself wondering who else had fallen victim to your vicious games. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, “Is that so? I don’t quite like this game of yours…” He notices how your breathing falters with every inch forward that he takes. He uses this to his advantage, pressing up against you and leaning in so his nose brushes against yours, as if he were to kiss you. Your vision is shielded as he invades your personal space, dulling your senses as you focus on his touch. With light fingers, he reaches into his pocket and drops a small dose of poison in your glass of posca. He whispers, “50 grand, take it or leave it.”

Coriolanus takes a step back, watching as you try compose yourself. He can only smirk at your flustered state, and inevitably, you take a sip from your glass on instinct. You’re about to take another sip when you see the way he’s eyeing your drink. A glint of malice in his eyes. You swallow nervously, stepping forward in panic, “What did you do to me?” He bites back a laugh, grinning to himself, “Soon enough, you’ll be dead- poisoned. But don’t worry dear, you won’t be the only one. The world will know your names, the poor victims to another ‘rebel attack.’ Don’t you know? Snow lands on top.” But then you do the unthinkable. You take another swig from your glass, filling your mouth with the poisoned posca before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into a forceful kiss. It was intoxicating, the way the sweet but deadly wine traveled down his throat, alongside the soft pillowy touch of your lips against his own. Mutually assured destruction. He wanted to hate you for it, he really did, but you were just so brilliant. Is this what he had been missing all along? He had liked the supposed innocent love he shared with Lucy Gray, but this, you, were truly deadly. Just like him.

Coriolanus stumbles back, shocked. You watch with a somewhat amused expression, considering the circumstances. “Time is ticking Snow. I assume you’re not stupid enough to go without the antidote?” He feels his eyes roll into the back of his skull, he reluctantly pulls out another vial, and before you can snatch it from his hands, he holds it above your head. You scowl as he taunts you, and he simply laughs, “My god, you’re insufferable.” You watch with outrage as he takes a generous swig from the vial, and before you can say anything, he presses his lips to yours, just as forcefully. You let out a soft groan as he transfers some of the liquid into your mouth, you swallow hungrily, keeping your lips locked with his. You wanted to hate him, but the way he kissed you had your heart fluttering with desire. Perhaps he isn’t so bad, you think. Coriolanus pulls away, his breathing heavy as he takes in your flushed state and slightly swollen lips. It was that day forward that your two fates would be sealed. “Stand by me Y/n. Stand by me, and we’ll be untouchable.” And so you do, eventually becoming the First Lady of Panem as he rises to power as President, a perfect pair indeed.

A/N: Also, saw someone shit talking the Coryo fan fics out there the other day?? I think most, if not all of the writers in this fandom are absolutely amazing, which is why I’m confused. So, if you don’t like the content, don’t read it, and you think it’s so bad, then write your own. Go on then. There are these amazing writers taking the time out there to fulfil your asks, your requests in their own time. They don’t have to, but they do anyway. Show your writers the love and appreciation they deserve. Sorry for the rant, I just hate it when people are so rude.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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2k+ words into my challengers fic

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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high for this

pairing: best friend!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: coriolanus’ first smoke sesh.

warnings: smut (no actual sex), mentions of weed, high!coriolanus, high!reader

knock, knock, knock

three frantic thuds to your bedroom door awaken you from what was about to be, as far as you were concerned, the best nap of your life.

"what," you breathe out sharply, clear agitation in your voice. you didn't bother opening your eyes, let alone getting up and opening the door.

"y/n? it's coriolanus," now that grabs your attention. "i can come back if it's not a good time."

you reluctantly roll out of bed to open the door for your best friend. he looks different, not like his usual self. disheveled clothes, messy hair, blank look on his typically focused face. something wasn't right.

you open the door just wide enough for him to enter, then immediately close it behind him. he awkwardly stumbles into the room, same demeanor of that of a lost puppy. "coryo? are you okay?" you turn to face him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

your touch seems to startle him back to reality. he looks at your hand then up at your face, his eyes struggling to remain contact with yours. "i- i don't know." his entire face softens for the first time since he's gotten here.

"sit," you instruct, gesturing towards the foot of the bed. he complies, and you seat yourself right down next to him. "what's the matter?" you ask, keeping your voice as warm as possible, not wanting to upset the boy any further.

"it's just," three long digits rub his temples, "school and the games and everything at home... it's just too much, y/n, it's too much" he confesses with a sigh, head falling onto your shoulder.

"oh coryo," you coo, running supporting fingers through his blond locks, "i hear you."

"i just need to relax" his words come out so quiet you almost don't hear them.

"what do you need cor?" you lower your voice, matching his, "anything" you add.

"perhaps some of that green plant you keep in that drawer over there," he eyes your dresser knowingly. you'd be lying if you said his request didn't surprise you a little bit. coriolanus knew you were a smoker. and you knew he certainly wasn't.

"really?"

"really."

"alright then," you didn't question him any further. given the state he was in, a joint sounded like a perfectly sound idea.

you hop off your bed, suddenly hit with the realization of your outfit, or the lack thereof. tshirt and panties. it doesn't bother you much, not nearly as much as it bothers coryo. his lips part slightly, all the air leaving his lungs while he silently adjusts himself on the bed.

your back is turned to him, giving him the perfect view. his eyes start on your bare calves, slowly droning up to your plush thighs, then finally the exposed part of your ass peaking out from your lace underwear.

he thought he could die right there and then. but fuck, it got oh so much worse as you bent over, reaching into the bottom drawer.

coriolanus finally snaps out of it when you stand at your full height once again, turning around with your lazy smile now accompanied by a small plastic bag in one hand and rolling papers in the other. "let's light up!”

it didn't take long to kick in.

you and coriolanus now found yourselves seated on the floor, opposite to each other. you stared right at his face, too pretty for his own good. especially with red hooded eyes and a soft lively smile on his pink lips, making them look even more yummy.

"what are you looking at?" there's humor in his once tense tone.

"you,"

"oh," he breathes. a moment of silence passes by until broken again. "come here... please" it comes out way more desperate than he anticipated, but that exactly what he was. desperate.

you waste no time crawling onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands into his curls. god, he loved when you did that. it drove him absolutely crazy and you knew it. that and the fact that there were only limited pieces of clothing separating his cock from your heat. he was done for.

you straddled him, each of your legs on either side of his. you sink down on him, gasping when immediately met with how hard he is.

coriolanus looks up at you with big, pleading eyes. “y/n,”

you intervene with a hungry kiss and he doesn't hesitate to reciprocate. it's hot and sloppy. you can taste the weed still on his tongue along with a faintness of mint.

you continue working your hips on him, causing him to moan into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. he grips them tightly, rough enough to leave marks, forcibly aiding your movements. his need even drives his hips to buck up into you, meeting you halfway. but it's not enough.

you get off him suddenly and he whines at the loss of contact. "up," you order, coriolanus blindly complying. without a word, you undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. he watches you, his eyes full of lust and burning holes into your skin.

after discarding the shirt, he leans back in, craning his neck to adjust to the height difference, and tries to kiss you. you dodge him with a smile, your focus on his pants that need to go too. your hands slide under the waistband, his hard core tensing at the sensation. you look up to him for permission. he's quick with a nod, so you proceed. your eyes locked on his as you move down with his pants.

finally satisfied, you point to the bed. he sits in his previous spot, right at the edge. you take your shirt off, revealing your perky tits, before following after him. he bites his lip so hard he could've drawn blood. by this point, there's a huge dark patch on his boxers from precum and his leg bounced in anticipation. you placed a hand on his thigh, steadying him as you practically jumped back on him.

his lips are rough against yours and his hands roam all over your body. like he couldn’t get enough. he places kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching your bare chest. they started soft, but the louder your moans got, the harder he sucked. so eager to please.

with that, the grinding resumes. as you find your rythym, coriolanus lets out a string incoherent curses his breath. “oh my god,” he rambles. with one hand on your ass, the other finds its way inbetween your legs. he reaches into your panties, making you gasp when he finds your clit. “fuck, you’re so wet.”

you can only moan in response, completely lost in sheer pleasure as he rubbed you just the right way. “i’m gonna cum, coryo,” you manage to squeak out. you’d never came from dry humping before but then again, it never felt like this.

the knot in your stomach finally burst and you felt it everywhere. with another moan, you threw your head back, nails scratching red marks into your best friend’s chest as you ride out your high.

“fuckkkk,” the feeling of you coming undone on his fingers had coryo cumming right after you, hot white strings flooding his underwear.

neither of you moved, catching your breath and realizing what just happened. "...i think i like smoking."

an: guys i actually quit smoking like half way thru writing this bc i felt like i was being watched by the government every fucking time ok bye love u

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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my man, my man, my man, even if he’s crazy 😔💗

Based on this ask

Dark!Coriolanus, Delulu!Coriolanus, StepDaddy!Coriolanus, DaddyCoriolanus

You've known Coriolanus Snow ever since you were kids. Your fathers were serving in the war together, in 12, and you both lived in the same building. Hell, he was the one you ran to when an officer came to your door with the heartbreaking news that your father was killed deep in the woods of District 12 by rebels alongside General Crassus Snow.

Coriolanus’ father.

Coriolanus, despite being a young orphan boy, hugged you and tried to give you comfort. He told you that he'd be your best friend forever.

God, you both were 8 when that happened.

Fast forward 13 years and now, at age 21, you’re finding yourself running to his door once again over another life change.

This time though, you’re going to him to make an announcement. An announcement that would change your friendship. One that he'd most likely view as scandalous.

But you had to tell him before he found out from gossip.

When the elevator doors dinged open, you stepped out onto the 12th floor. Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you and the penthouse door.

You prayed that he wouldn't push you away after your announcement.

He was the only real friend you had left after Sejanus' death. It'll kill you if Coryo cuts ties with you because of the situation you're in.

Even though you were afraid of his reaction to your news, you balled your hand up into a fist and quickly knocked on the door. God, you were so nervous to see him. Maybe you should just tell him your news in the doorway and then run off in shame?

Yea, that's what you should do. No way in hell is Coriolanus Snow, an assistant game maker to Dr. Gaul and a University student only a year away from graduating with degrees in both military strategies and political science, going to stick by your side once you tell him your scandalous news. What you've got to tell him is a big no no in proper Capitol society.

God, he'll probably just call you a whore and turn you away once he hears it.

The door opened, revealing Coriolanus standing in the doorway. A wide smile cracked his face open as his icy blue eyes took in your presence. “Darling, I wasn't expecting a visit from you today.” Reaching for your hand, he said, “Come in, we'll have tea with Grandma'am.”

You snatched your hand away from him before his long fingers could grasp it. Your eyes fell to study his floor shines (damn, you never realize how big his shoes- well his feet, were til now. Like damn…), as you told him, “I can't stay for tea. I only came by to tell you something; then leave.”

“Surely you can come inside and sit with me. Grandma’am adores you and whatever you have to tell me, you can do it while we have tea.”

“Coryo, I can't.” You heavily sighed.

Coriolanus furrowed his brows, your words making him concerned. You've never declined the invite to come in and have tea before. Usually you'd just walk on in, shoulders brushing by his, whenever you came over. The fact that you refused to move an inch, never made any motion to come inside, concerned him.

Instantly, he was placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and tilting your chin up with his knuckles. Your worried eyes meet his baby blues. Baby blues that searched the windows of your soul for answers on why you were acting so unlike yourself.

Even tho he'd never admit it, Coriolanus was worried. The way you were acting was so unlike you; it scared him.“Y/N, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?”

“I'm pregnant.” You told your best friend, breath shaky, afraid that he'd view you with the same stigma and shame that Capitol citizens viewed unwed mothers with.

You're pregnant?

Pregnant!

Coriolanus couldn't believe his ears. How did this happen? Okay, he knows how it happened. But he just didn't know that you were fucking somebody.

How could have Coriolanus missed the fact that you were seeing somebody; fucking somebody? Weren't people so disgustingly happy and flighty when they were young and in love? When they were having their innocence stripped away?

And then another thought struck him. One that made his blood boil. You had no reason to tell him that you were knocked up (since in the Capitol accidental unwed pregnancies always led to quick weddings) unless whoever got you in trouble abandoned you; forsaken and tricked you.

Had betrayed you.

And now you need your Coryo to fix everything; make everything all better.

“Who do I need to threaten?” The platinum blonde asked you, dead ass, and it took you by surprise.

You were expecting Coryo to be upset with you, disgusted even, but you weren't expecting him to ask who the baby daddy was and to offer to threaten them. Yea…That took you off guard.

“Coryo, you don't need to do that.”

“Of course I need to do that.” Coriolanus simply said. He rubbed your shoulders in a comforting manner while telling you, “Whoever got you into your delicate condition buttered you up with lies only to use you and turn their back on you. They betrayed you; broke your heart and I'm going to make them pay.”

“Coriolanus, no.” You shook your head. “You're not going to go hunting down my ex to maim him because he's not ready to be tied down.”

“Yes, I'm going to do exactly that because that scoundrel knocked you up and ran away from his responsibilities. He's living his life, without any second thoughts of you, while you're at risk of social damnation.”

“And here I thought you'd send me away and call me a whore, but instead you want to confront Livinius.” You scoffed incredulously.

“Livinius? As in Livia Cardew’s older brother, Livinius Cardew?” Coriolanus asked, his baritone full of disgust, as his icy blue eyes narrowed and turned cold.

Oh shit…did you just accidentally tell Coryo that Vinny’s the one that knocked you up? Yea…you did…

“I'm going to kill him.” Coryo swore as steam literally came out of his ears. He was so mad it wasn't even funny.

Hoping to calm him down, you placed your hands on his chest. “Coryo, please don't. Just leave it alone.”

Locking his eyes with yours, Coryo asked, “Do you love him?”

Did you love Livinius? No, you didn't. You only went out with him because your mother pushed you to. Your mother who had disowned you once you told her that you're pregnant. You did care about Vinny tho, even if you didn't love him.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't love him, but I was with him long enough to care.”

Coriolanus was relieved that you didn't love Livinius, but he thought you were foolish for still caring about him. He didn't want you to feel worse than you did, so he gave you the well meaning advice of, “Well, stop caring about him because he surely doesn't care about you.”

You were feeling a bit overwhelmed emotionally (blame it on the hormones) so you told your best friend, “Thank you for not turning me away, but I think I better go now.”

“I know how much of a bitch Helenium can be. Where are you staying?”

“Coryo…” You heavily sighed, not wanting to get into things with him about your mother kicking you out and disowning you.

“Jesus, she kicked you out, didn't she?” Coriolanus concluded with bitterness in his voice.

“Yea.” You confirmed with a nod. “I've been staying at a hotel near the rail station for now. It's just until I can get a job and find an apartment.”

“You're pregnant, Y/N. You don't need to stress about working long hours in retail and finding some shithole flat to stay warm in.” The platinum blonde said, only to push his apartment door open as wide as it'd go. Ushering you in with a large hand on your shoulder, he said, “Come on, you’re staying with me.”

“Coryo, you don't need to put me up. Really, I'm fine staying at the hotel until I figure things out.” You told him, as he closed the door behind you.

Turning you around to look at him, he told you, “I know that I don't need to do anything, but I want you to stay with me because you're my best friend. It's always been my job to protect you; keep you safe, Y/N.”

How could you argue with that? He was only looking out for you. Was only doing what he's always done for you, which was to try and protect you.

You let out a heavy sigh, only to tell him, “Okay, but it'll only be temporary. I promise, I'll figure something out.”

“You don't need to figure something out because I said you're staying with me. And don't worry about the expenses, I'm more than capable of handling it.”

“Okay.” You gave in, knowing fighting your best friend (who was as stubborn as a mule) on livng with him was a losing battle. “But, please, don't tell Grandma’am yet. I can't bare to see her disappointment at me about once she finds out.” You told Coriolanus while letting him usher you out of the entrance hall.

“Okay, we won't tell Grandma’am until you're ready.” Coriolanus agreed to your request before the living room came into view.

“I still can't believe you have a car.” You told Coriolanus as he opened the passanger’s side door of his black luxury sedan for you. The car looked imported, but you weren't sure since you didn't know much about cars. Well, other than how to sit in them that is.

“I told you, darling, I’ve got money now.” Coriolanus told you, a smug smirk painted on his lush lips, before shutting the door and rounding the car to the driver's side. He opened the door and took his seat behind the wheel. “So, do you have a lot of things at the motel?”

“No.” You shook your head as your best friend cranked the car engine to life. “Just a cardboard box of stuff and a couple trash bags of clothes.” You told him as he pulled out of the parking lot behind the Corso apartments.

“You have your clothes in garbage bags!?” Coriolanus exclaimed, giving you a scandalous look. “Little dove, you should've came to me as soon as Helenium kicked you out. I would've moved your things from the 8th floor to the 12th.”

“I didn't come to you right away because my mother gave me enough money to rent a hotel room for a few weeks. I had things under control; I just came over today to tell you about my pregnancy so you wouldn't find out from gossip.”

“Y/N, you don't have things under control. You're living in a one star hotel by the Panem Rail station, you're living out of trash bags, and you're unemployed.”

“Corio-” You began, only for your bestfriend to cut you off with, “Don't, Y/N, don't you dare try to convince me that you're okay because I know you're not.” He switched lanes (without using his blinkers, which is a big no no), while telling you, “You need my help and I'm in the position to give it to you. The Plinths, after losing Sejanus, have made me their heir and are very generous to me and my family.” His icy blue eyes looked between you and the road, only to say, “I'm not that poor boy giving you most of his share of cabbage and broth after letting you sleep over. I'm able to help you; support you the way you need now.”

“I know, but I don't want to be dependent on you.” What you left out was that you didn't want him taking care of a baby that wasn't his problem. He had the world at his fingertips, he didn't need his best friend's scandal holding him back.

“You're not dependent on me, darling. We're bestfriends and I want to help you.” Coriolanus told you while turning a corner and nearly clipping a car.

Oh hell, how did he even pass his driver's test? He drives like a maniac.

Oh, wait a minute, Strabo Plinth probably just paid off the DMV to give Coryo his license.

Not wanting to talk to your bestfriend anymore, you leaned forward and turned on the car’s radio. You fiddled with the tuner until you landed on a station you liked.

The music filled the atmosphere for maybe a minute or so before Coriolanus turned it off. Looking between you and the road, he said, “Look, Y/N, I know how it is to be manipulated and used by someone you love. To give them everything only for it not to be enough; for them to turn on you and betray you.” He took one of his hands off the wheel, only to grab yours and say, “Darling, you're my bestfriend and the only person who's truly ever been by my side genuinely; not because you want to use me for something. You mean a lot to me and I just want to help you because I know how stupid and foolish you feel right now after getting your heart broken by Livinius.”

You just nodded and squeaked out, “Okay.” You really didn't feel like talking about this stuff right now.

And when did Coriolanus become somebody that talked about feelings? For as long as you've known him he always ran away from feelings.

What you didn't know is that Coryo's been harboring a decade-long crush on you. A crush he never acted on because he was afraid of ruining your friendship. Afraid that you'd push him away for being too obsessive (he knows how he can be with his things). So, he just pushed his feelings for you onto the prettiest face he saw (Lucy Gray once he became her mentor). And when he came back to the Capitol, he threw himself into his studies and interning with Dr. Gaul that he only saw you occasionally.

Now he wishes he would've just acted on his feelings for you, then your child would be his. But, he was going to fix everything and make it all better. Starting by getting rid of Livinius Cardew.

“Just let me handle everything for you, my little dove.” Coryo said while pulling into the parking lot of your hotel.

A run down hotel right next to the rail station. The flashing sign reading ‘Vacancy’ looked about to burn out. The tall blue sign next to the hotel reading Motel 6 seemed to mock you as Coryo asked, “What room in this pre-Panem horror's yours?”

“205.” You simply said as he pulled into an empty parking spot.

He cut the cars engine and pocketed his keys, only to hold his hand out. “Key.” Was the simple word he said.

You grabbed your bag from the floor and fished your room keys out. When you dropped them into his palm, he cringed.

They were brass keys, not a key card like the nicer hotels had. Coriolanus didn't say a word, but the disgusted look on his face was enough to know that he didn't approve of your choice of room. Opening his door, he said, “I won't be long, wait here.”.

You just nodded, watching as he got out of the car and went to get your things.

How did you end up here, you don't know. You went to see Coryo earlier to tell him about that baby, you never meant for him to take you in. To drag you to your hotel to get your things. It feels like everything escalated so quickly and you don't know how to feel about it.

After collecting your things, Coryo brought you back to his penthouse and helped you get settled in the guest room.

At first staying with the platinum blonde man was hard, since you felt guilty about him taking care of you, but eventually after a few weeks you got over it.

Truthfully, it was nice spending time with your best friend (that you haven't seen in a while) and his Grandma'am, who you adored. You wish that Tigris, Coryo's cousin, was around more. But since Coryo helped her get a shop and become a stylist for the games, she moved out and into a luxurious condo that was located above her boutique.

But, unknown to you, in the last few weeks you've been living in the Snow penthouse, Coriolanus has been viewing you as more than his best friend. He, for some reason, has started viewing you as his girl. And that baby you're carrying, well…he's starting to view it as his child.

Especially when you came home from an appointment with the first printed scan of the baby. You waited until Grandma'am was tucked in bed before asking Coriolanus if he wanted to see the scan. You were scared he'd say no, but you asked because you wanted to share it with somebody.

You wanted somebody to be your partner during this time, this pregnancy, even if that someone was your best friend.

Was Coriolanus Snow.

Turns out that you had nothing to be scared of since Coryo flashed you a genuine smile and told you that he'd be honored to see the printouts of your first ultrasound scan.

You had a couple of copies, so you gave him one. And when you gave it to him, standing nervously in his room, next to him as he sat at his desk, he smiled and ran his thumb over the tiny bean shaped baby (well fetus) in the scan. “How far along are you, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, never taking his eyes off of the piece of paper in his large hand.

Going over to the edge of his bed and sitting down, you explained, “I’m a few days away from being 9 weeks. Dr. Wellock says I'm due during the summer, in mid-June.”

The platinum blonde ran a hand thru his hair while grumbling, “Of course, baby's due when I'll be at my busiest preparing for the games.”

“I'm sure I’ll be on my feet by then, Coryo. Don't worry about it, the baby's not coming for another 7 months.”

But Coryo had to worry about it. He didn't want to be so busy with helping Dr.Gaul prepare for the games come mid-June that he misses out on the birth of his first born. And in his mind you were carrying his first born. Just staring at that baby, no bigger then a bean, on the print out he was holding made something paternal (and delusional) snap in his head like a rubber band. Now, after seeing that scan printout, he was convinced that your baby was his.

Coriolanus has never fucked you (ever), but he's convinced himself that the baby's his. That you're his perfect, innocent, little dove. His darling rose of a best friend. His baby girl. So that the baby you carry has to be his too.

The little tiny baby had a strong heartbeat and stats according to the print out, so he knew it was his.

His, his, his.

“You and the baby are staying here with me, Y/N. And that's final.”

“Okay.”, You agreed, only because you knew that you'd need help with a newborn. Who were you to turn away your best friend's help. Coriolanus cares deeply for you; wanted to make sure that you and the baby had the things you deserved. You couldn't fault him for that.

If only it was that simple, that innocent.

But it wasn't.

No.

Somewhere in the platinum blonde's head wires got crossed and he blew a fuse. He thinks the baby's his, and since he thinks that he'll never let you or the baby leave his penthouse.

Ever.

Nearly 3 months into living with Coryo, he came home one evening hunched over; coughing. The handkerchief he was coughing into was stained with blood. He staggered to his room, ignoring the startled cries and pleas from you and Grandma'am.

Turning to the worried old woman, dressed in her jewels and bright tunic, you assured her, “I’ll go check on Coryo.”

“Oh, should I call that maid, the Plinth woman, to put on a pot of tea for our Coriolanus?” Grandma'am asked as you rose from your seat.

When will Grandma’am realize that Ma Plinth (who lives on the 11th floor) isn't the maid? Ma Plinth just happens to be the mother of your late friend, Sejanus, and is just a warm, kind person who cleans the penthouse a few times a week and spends time with Grandma'am (and watches her when Coryo has to go somewhere for a long period of time or when you have appointments). Is Grandma’am’s memory, her senses fading that quickly? You know she can be a bit…much, sometimes- but still, is her memory getting worse?

“No.” You shook your head. Lightly patting her hand, you said, “I'll put some on if he wants it.”

Grandma'am just nodded, watching you as you left the main room and went down the hall towards Coriolanus’ room.

You knocked once on his bedroom door before opening it and peeking your head inside. “Coryo, are you okay?” You asked, seeing that he was sprawled out on his side, nearly falling over the edge of the bed, while bloodily hacking into his handkerchief.

Looking up at you, icy blue eyes full of pain, he croaked, “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

You didn't know if you believed him or not. He didn't look like he'd be fine. Sighing, you entered the room and went over to him. “What’s wrong, Coriolanus?” You asked, getting into the bed with him and pushing a stray sweaty curl that got loose from its slick back style, away from his face.

“Nothing, just suppose it's something I drank.

“Something you drank?”

“I had tea with Livinius, after my work with Dr. Gaul today, to speak with him about you and the baby. The tea must've been bad because he dropped dead at the tea room and I'm sick.”

“Coriolanus, what did you do?” You asked, knowing deep down that bad tea doesn't kill people and make them jack up blood. That your best friend had a hand in whatever happened.

“I didn't do anything, darling.” Denied the platinum blonde, clutching his handkerchief as he welt blood tickling the back of his throat.

“Don't lie to me, Coryo. Please, as my best friend you owe me the truth.”

Coryo let out a string of loud, bloody coughs; staining his handkerchief and soaking it crimson. Lifting his head up off his pillow and looking at you from over his shoulder he told you, “I killed him for us and the baby.”

“What? Why?” You gasped, eyes wide, searching for answers.

“Livinius offered to give me money for you to get rid of our mistake, before you got too far along. I wasn't going to let him get away with that, so I poisoned him.” Coriolanus told you, body wracked with uncontrollable coughs. Coughs that made him spit up thick spools of blood.

“Coryo, are you insane? Just because he wanted me to get an abortion doesn't mean you had to poison him.”

“He was dangerous to us, little dove. He heard you moved in with me and invited me out for tea to discuss your condition and I wasn't going to let him threaten our baby and get away with it.”

You blinked as you took in his words. Our baby. Our baby as in his and your baby. Not your baby, but ours. He considered your baby his despite the fact that you've never fucked him, ever, in your entire life.

What the hell's wrong with him? Has he lost it? Was he delusional?

What the hell?

“Just hold me, baby. Please, just hold me.” Coryo asked between bloody coughs that had him gagging in pain.

You were beyond shocked. Your best friend had murdered your ex with poison and had inadvertently poisoned himself to the point that he's currently knocking on heaven’s door right now. And all because he had some delusion that your baby, your baby that was fathered by the man that he just murdered, was his.

How do you deal with this? Is there any way to deal with this?

Sighing, you decided to give into Coryo's request. He killed your ex, Vinny, to keep the baby safe. A baby he’s convinced is his. But, he did it with good intentions.

They say hell is paved with good intentions.

So…

You held him as his body shook and he coughed up a concerning amount of blood. He was always there for you, the least you could do was be here for Coriolanus. His baby blues had so much pain swimming in them. You couldn't imagine how bad he felt right now as his body was fighting itself.

“You're not going to die, are you, Coryo?” You asked, afraid that you'd lose him because of a rash decision he made.

“No.” Coryo weakly shook his head. Slowly turning around, so that he could comfortably rest his head on your chest, he told you, “I'm partially immune to this poison; I'll just be sick for a few days. He cleared his throat, fighting off a cough, and placed his hand on your belly. “You're slowly starting to get a tiny bump.” His baritone was full of pride as he told you, “I think we should stop hiding from the stigma of being unwed parents and just tell Grandma'am that she's going to be a Great-Grandma’am.”

“She's going to insist that we get married, Coryo.” You pointed out, hoping that he'd drop the notion of telling Grandma’am. You're certain that he's not ready to settle down yet.

If he was, wouldn't he have somebody by now?

Little did you know that he did have somebody.

He has you.

And that's why, in between coughing up blood, he told you, “I can convince Grandma’am that we'll have to wait until the baby’s born to have the wedding, so that you’ll be able to fit into your dress and drink celebratory champagne at the reception.”

And those words cemented that fact that your best friend was delusional. He didn't just want to raise your baby as his own, but wanted to marry you too.

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he told you, “Since we're telling Grandma'am about the baby as soon as I'm feeling well enough to get out of bed, we can end our charade of chastity. You can finally share my bed, my darling.”

Coryo smirked, thinking that his words were charming, before hacking and soaking his already stained handkerchief with more crimson liquid.

With the metallic smell of blood and the sweet smell of roses mingling in the room, you found yourself giving into Coriolanus' delusions. You agreed to tell Grandma'am about the baby and to move your things into his bedroom.

Because what choice did you have? Coriolanus killed to keep you and the baby safe. It was clear to you that he'd do anything for you and your child.

At least he'd be a devoted husband and father, even if he’s a bit delusional.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @staylowessafe

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #snow lands on top #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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THG characters and how they show you they love you without saying i love you

coriolanus - coriolanus isn’t the type to verbally exclaim how he feels as he’s very closed off about his inner emotions and thoughts. however, he speaks through his actions. he would come home late one night to see you curled up on the couch, as though you were waiting for him, asleep. and he would be the type to pick you up and carry you to bed, tucking you in and giving you a kiss on the forehead before getting himself ready for bed as well. i also think coriolanus would show you he loves you by reading to you on his days off, running his fingers through your hair as he reads out loud to you.

sejanus - sejanus would show you he loves you by giving you food. whether he bakes the treats himself or his Ma makes them, he would gift them to you, wanting to make sure that you’re eating enough. he would also be the type to show you he loves you by gifting you flowers once in a while as a surprise. modern sejanus would also send you a good morning paragraph each morning.

tigris - tigris would show you she loves you by taking care of you. she’d make you food, ensure that you’re feeling okay, get you medicine when you’re sick. her love language is definitely acts of service. she would do anything for you because that’s just who she is as a person.

finnick - finnick would show you he loves you by the look in his eye when he looks at you. his beautiful green eyes are always glossy with admiration when he looks at you. and anyone can tell that he absolutely adores you by the way he looks at you. he also shows you he loves you by listening to you intently. whatever you have to say, he’s listening to you wholeheartedly.

johanna - johanna shows you she loves you by being vulnerable around you. she almost always has her guard up. but around you, she’s able to be her true authentic self without having to worry about judgement or being portrayed as weak. because with you she’s just johanna, nothing else.

peeta - peeta shows you he loves you by baking for you or painting a picture for you. he will paint a picture of you or of something you love and gift it to you to show you how much you mean to him. he will remember even the most minuscule details about you and uses them to give you something that you will cherish. because that’s how much he cherishes you.

katniss - katniss shows you she loves you by singing to you. she doesn’t sing often, doesn’t believe she’s got much of a voice for it. but around you? she’s comfortable singing. she loves singing to you. especially when you wake up from a nightmare, she’ll lay next to you, holding you closely as she sings a small tune in your ear.

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kermitkrqb · 1 year ago

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Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #snow lands on top #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction #kermitkrqb #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fic

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kermitkrqb · 2 years ago

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lucy gray is better than me, bc i would have 100% came back to ‘talk things out’ 😝

Catch me if you can || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Told myself I wasn’t going to write anymore fan fic but here I am 😋…. I’m starting to realise I have a thing for tall and blonde villains.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow likes to chase, fem!reader likes to be caught, established relationship, predator/prey dynamics, public sex, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), praise.

Here’s a taste of the fic:

“The sight of you running away further stokes the sinful desire building up in his chest. You’re wearing a long white dress with a sweetheart neckline, the very picture of innocence. How he’d love to ruin you.”

MDNI: By clicking read below, you are responsible for the media you consume.

Coriolanus’ voice echoed around the woods, urging the birds to flee, “If you come out now, I’ll go easy on you…I promise.” A lie, one that you had once fallen for before. Coryo, was always so pent up after chasing you, the adrenaline fuelling him as he had his way with you- rough and unforgiving. Every single time. Your thighs subconsciously squeeze together at the thought, but you were on a mission here. Don’t get caught…for now. You’re light on your feet, tip-toeing across the forest floor, ignoring the pulsing need in between your legs and crawling up your spine. Much like the man chasing you, you liked to drag out the chase. Although he was much stronger and faster, you had found ways around that. Often finding ways to stall or catch him off guard before he inevitably claimed his prize, you found that it was always worth the wait.

Peering out from behind the thick tree, your eyes scanned the area around you. The woods seemed endless, splotches of brown and green merging together the longer you looked. It was eerily quiet. You shuffled around the tree trying to get a better sense of your surroundings, when you feel the weight of a small branch snapping underneath your foot. The snap seemed to echo, and you had no doubt that Coriolanus was onto you. Rustling in the distance is heard before you see a tall and broad figure emerge from one of the bushes, his eyes glinting with excitement as he takes in your flushed and nervous state. You feel the air leave your lungs before you snap out of your trance and begin to run. You almost regret wearing a dress today, the length of its skirt has you almost stumbling to muddy ground beneath you. Though, you both know it’s for easier access.

The sight of you running away further stokes the sinful desire building up in his chest. You’re wearing a long white dress with a sweetheart neckline, the very picture of innocence. How he’d love to ruin you. It doesn’t take long for Coriolanus to catch up to you, he could practically already feel you in his arms. The two of you stumble into a forest clearing, circling around each other, chests heaving from adrenaline. The cocky bastard smirks at you, “Ready to give up, dove?” A smile adorns your face, seemingly innocent at first as you evade his question, “I really like this dress you bought me Coryo. It’s really pretty,” you twirl but are wary enough to keep a safe distance, “…so pretty in fact that I chose not to wear anything underneath it at all… I didn’t want to distract from the dress of course.”

His eyes widen slightly, jaw clenching as he takes a moment to register your words. Your body moves before your mind can catch up, bringing him back to reality as he watches you sprint away once more. Coryo begins to chase after you with a renewed vigour, grinning to himself in victory as he catches the back of your dress, pulling you backwards and towards him. His muscular arms circle around your waist as you wriggle against him, your plump ass unintentionally grinding against his now apparent bulge. Coriolanus is now manhandling you, bringing you towards the nearest tree. He presses your front against the tree, your cheek turned to the side so you can catch a glimpse of what he is doing. The familiar feeling of the rough bark against your skin excites you. His hands circle your wrists as he pins your arms up, caging you in as he now purposely presses his crotch against the swell of your ass, mimicking the act of fucking you, “Caught you.”

You let out a pathetic whimper as he continues to press himself against you, his eyes watch you with amusement and lust. Coryo mocks you, “Already can’t speak? I haven’t even started yet…” He lets go of one of your arms and it stays there as you cling onto the tree. He pushes your hair away from your neck and starts to trail rough kiss below your ear, sure to leave a mark for the ones that have faded. A soft whine leaves your lips, “Coryo please…” The tall blonde ignores you before pulling away slightly, he whispers into your ear, “Patience is a virtue.” You scoff at him, “You’re no saint.” You feel him smirk against your sensitive skin, “Maybe…but that doesn’t stop you from chanting my name like one.” Before you can reply, he flips you around to properly face him before getting on his knees, you spread your legs apart before he asks you to as he hikes up your dress, “Good girl… now hold on to your skirt for me.” You feel yourself pulse at his praise and fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. Your shaky hands hold on to the skirt of your dress, partially shielding your vision of him.

True to your words, Coriolanus is faced with the sight of your bare cunt, glistening with desire. He trails a long finger across your wet folds, grazing your clit slightly. Your legs tremble and he smirks, “Is this all for me, darling?” He doesn’t wait for a response before beginning to lap you up with his tongue, pressing it flat against you before using the tip to circle your bundle of nerves. You let out a strangled moan, cheeks burning with embarrassment despite the fact that you’re both in the depths of the woods. He eases a finger into you, curling it upwards and hitting that sweet spot, your knees buckle slightly but he grips onto you with his free hand. Soon enough, one finger turns into two, and two turns into three as he stretches you out in preparation for him. You’re just about to reach your peak when he suddenly withdraws his fingers from your core and stands up from his position.

“Why’d you stop, I was so close…”, your words of protest quickly die down as he unbuckles his pants. His length springs up against his stomach, hard and pulsing, twitching slightly as pre-cum leaks from the pretty pink tip. Coriolanus uses this and some of the left over slick on his hand to stroke himself before lining up with your centre. You can’t help but stare. He hikes up one of your legs, letting it circle around his hip as he pushes into you. Instinctively your arms wrap around his neck, clinging on to him as he bottoms out inside of you. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, setting a rough and unforgiving pace as he keeps a firm grip on your hips that would surely bruise later on. A series of moans and grunts leave our lips as he repeatedly thrusts into you. The slight curve of his length pressing into your sweet spot again and again.

Coriolanus’ hands are everywhere he can touch, he’s tugging down the neckline of your dress, palming at your breasts whilst nipping marks across your collarbone. Despite still being clothed, you’ve never felt so exposed as he fucks into your wet heat. The fact that anyone could stumble across the two of you has you clenching around him. You can’t help but wonder what you’d do if someone saw you in this vulnerable state. Would you push Coryo off of you? Would you let them watch? Maybe you’d even let them join the both of you… You snap out of your trance after a particularly sharp thrust, Coryo snapping his hips against yours harshly and he brings a hand down to where you are each connected. His thumb rubs harsh circles around your clit and you clench around him, “Coryo ‘m close…please.” Coriolanus isn’t too far behind, you notice in the way his thrusts become slightly sloppy and how he grips onto you tighter, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You do as he says, your walls fluttering around his length as he’s spearing you open with his length. Soon thick ropes of come shoot into you, some of it dripping down your thighs as warmth envelopes you. Coriolanus goes limp, chest heaving with exhaustion as his length softens inside of you. He doesn’t let you go, holding you against the tree as you both catch your breath. A peaceful quiet remains as you stroke his hair lovingly as he leaves doting kisses in the crook of your neck. He breaks the silence, you can feel his cheeky smile against your skin, “Maybe next time, I should bring some rope to tie you up.”

A/N: no bc this evil man has me kicking my feet nd giggling in bed

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #snow lands on top #coryo x reader

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kermitkrqb · 2 years ago

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Guess who just popped up in my feed after a long time of searching for them? YOU! I may not be a snow fan but I’m going to show love💗

this means so much to me! i havent been active in a while but im soooo glad my mutuals remember me 🥹💗

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kermitkrqb · 2 years ago

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Catch me if you can || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Told myself I wasn’t going to write anymore fan fic but here I am 😋…. I’m starting to realise I have a thing for tall and blonde villains.

Here’s a taste of the fic:

MDNI: By clicking read below, you are responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: no bc this evil man has me kicking my feet nd giggling in bed

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kermitkrqb · 2 years ago

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Catch me if you can || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Told myself I wasn’t going to write anymore fan fic but here I am 😋…. I’m starting to realise I have a thing for tall and blonde villains.

Here’s a taste of the fic:

MDNI: By clicking read below, you are responsible for the media you consume.

You do as he says, your walls fluttering around him as he’s spearing you open with his length. Soon thick ropes of come shoot into you, some of it dripping down your thighs as warmth envelopes you. Coriolanus goes limp, chest heaving with exhaustion as his length softens inside of you. He doesn’t let you go, holding you against the tree as you both catch your breath. A peaceful quiet remains as you stroke his hair lovingly as he leaves doting kisses in the crook of your neck. He breaks the silence, you can feel his cheeky smile against your skin, “Maybe next time, I should bring some rope to tie you up.”

A/N: no bc this evil man has me kicking my feet nd giggling in bed

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow lands on top #kermitkrqb

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