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ohyouluckysaint · 1 month ago

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⁎̯͡ഒ 𝖲𝖠𝖵𝖤 𝖠 𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳, 𝖱𝖨𝖣𝖤 𝖠 𝖶𝖧𝖮? Ꮚ or fall fawn!reader learns what it means to ask to wear a cowboy/cowgirl’s hat ✸ word count ﹕ 2.5k ◎

ᝰ content warning ﹫ 𝐍𝒮𝐅𝐖(𝟏𝟖+) ╱ RATED R. adult content ahead, this isn’t suitable for minors. blurb, plot and fluff b4 smut, established relationship, explicit language, kissing, nudity, fingering (shower sex, r!receiving), reverse cowgirl position (tribbing!), praising, aftercare, second person.

𝖲𝖠𝖨𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸𝖲.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏⊹ Happy pride month!!! Mines has been really great so far and I don’t want it to end. This is my very freaked out gift to all the sapphics out there that love Tashi and cowgirls like I do.

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You practically spring off the couch like it’d given you a boost itself when your house phone rings in the kitchen. Taking the pale yellow phone off the receiver, you speak into it softly, “Hello?” And sure enough, Tashi’s unmistakable voice filters through in response. “Hey, pretty,” your heart flutters and swells, you have to bite down on the glossy swell of your bottom lip to swallow a giggle. “You haven’t forgotten about our date, have you?” And your jaw slackens. You knew you had forgotten something but couldn’t place your finger on it and when she sighs at your silence, you know you’ve been caught.

“I’ll bring you a gift,” you offer and she shakes her head as if it’d be seen by you. “Nah, just make sure you’re outside in fifteen.”

You hear her truck rumbling as it pulls onto the road outside of your hand-me-down wraparound porch house, you bid the cool air of your home goodbye and step outside into the heat. Sweat doesn’t waste time building up on your honeyed skin, even with fewer layers. Yet you feel better seeing your girlfriend is wearing funeral black like she doesn’t care the sun will treat her harsher.

“Is that a little charm on your purse? It’s cute,” Tashi compliments as she acknowledged it glinting on your journey to the car. “Cute as me?” You teased as you climbed into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt securely only for her to kiss your cheek, “Hmmm,” she hummed as if she were honestly thinking it over, already having her answer anyway and just wanting to tease. “You’re cuter than that.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that, right?”

“I’d never just say what I’ve been telling you a long time.” She said, showing off that pearly grin as she shifted the gear to drive. As she drove down the road, her free hand slid over to rest on the clothed skin of your thigh and you squeeze your thighs together from it in the least discreet way. She smirks to herself softly and then it’s gone in a whisper before you could notice.

After horseback riding with Tashi, working up a sweat from weather that’s so hot it’s visible, and giggling at everything she says, settling down to eat at some under acknowledged restaurant that has a bar area with a hole in the wall esque was…expected. But, in a good way. You like how Tashi’s predictable in ways. Maybe it’s because you two were just close friends a decent amount of time.

“I’d take ya somewhere nicer if there was somewhere nicer,” she speaks up, you’re making a face and don’t even realize it. A mustered up sheepish grin takes root on your lips at how she could read your thoughts from expression alone and she’s right. There’s not much to the shit hole town you both live in, but you make the most of it and with that you both met so there’s an upside to it.

“It’s alright. But, you’re really wearin’ the cowgirl hat?” Your words weren’t meant to be judgmental, but by her reaction you imagine it sounded like it. goosebumps prickle at your skin when cold air whips through the area from a couple passing by to get to a table and how she meets your gaze again with darkened eyes. You swallow thickly and your fingers flex against the fabric of your sweater, but before you rush to apologize and explain, Tashi opens her mouth to speak.

“You’re a fan of it…and me, so I don’t see the issue.”

“Whatever, let me try it on at least and I never claimed to be part of your fan club.” She chortled at that. She was about to slip her cowboy hat off with ease, a hand already upon it before she paused. “You know what that means, right?” She sounded far too amused and it immediately raised suspicion within you.

“Nope,” you responded, popping the p quietly.

“If you wear this hat on your pretty head, ya gotta ride the cowgirl. So I’d have to cut our date short and hike you on home tossed over my shoulder.” Tashi explained, her hand coming down from her hat and rested on the wooden surface of the dinner table. She was always one for racking up achievements so putting on a show of you being carried off by her is on her bucket list for sure.

Your doe eyes widen at the revelation and you blink for a moment then a look of intrigue dons your face. “Oh.”

Your girlfriend isn’t blind to any expression you make, especially that one. It’s your signature visible representation of eureka.

“I’ll ride nice and slow for you.” You teased, eyes narrowing playfully with a scrunch of your nose. You hadn’t taken her seriously; it sounded silly after all. Tashi doesn’t breathe a word, just tips her hat before placing it on your head gently and snugly as if she were crowning you. The austerity in Tashi is admirable, but you’re highly keen and don’t miss how her jaw tightens and the pads of her fingers press down firmer on the worn table. Her pupils dilated like a cat readying itself to hunt. “Let’s head straight to yours after dinner then,” Tashi finally said with a soft smile as if she wasn’t picturing your face contorting in pleasure above her just when the waiter came over with steaming rolls and pulled out their pen and server book.

You’d been thinking it about it too. You know if you don’t express that you want it too, she’ll say something like—

“Closed mouths don’t get fed, babe. What ya thinkin’ about?” Yeah, like that. “Were you for real or trying to see me flustered if I took the bait?” She huffed out a breath as if it were the most obvious thing in the world what she’d meant to begin with. “Deadly serious,” your eyes broadened a fraction like a deer caught and temporarily blinded by headlights. You’re pulled out of it when a woman comes over and clears her throat politely, it’s clear by her body language she hasn’t steeled herself for the answer no. “May I try on your hat, ma’am?” Your manicured eyebrows raise at that and you’re about to decline when Tashi beats you to it. “No,” she flat out says, “she’s alright on that.”

The lady scoffs, evidently not appreciative of the interruption, but relents when she notices you agree with your girlfriend. She saunters off while murmuring dramatically under her breath.

“Can’t believe she has the audacity to be pissy,” Tashi spat, fixing her face when she heard you giggling across from her while tearing up immediately from how tickled you are. She couldn’t stop herself from falling into laughter right with you.

You sounded like hyenas in sync before you got yourselves together when your respective meals arrived steaming hot along with your delayed drinks. Neither of you spoke except for musing on about how delicious one another’s order was once you began eating since you’d been starving like crazy. Mostly you humming with a gentle smile, nodding softly when Tashi would ask if it’s good and her feeding you some of her food just to watch your eyes light up as you stare at her.

By the time you both had gotten dessert, you would’ve assumed Tashi had forgotten all about the ride a cowgirl shtick when you got back to your place, but she’d placed her signature hat right back on your head when you both crossed the threshold and shut and secured the front door. You blinked for a moment then turned to cant your head rearward a smidge to look up at her to which she stepped closer and allowed her hands to find purchase on your hips.

“Wanna shower together?” And you don’t trust that to not be sly.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your gaze flitting down to her lips and your hands sliding up her clothed arms to rest on her shoulders.

You’re no better. Your nerves are thrumming and your blood works harder to pump underneath your skin in anticipation as you cognizantly fall victim to her charm.

You don’t miss how when she’s helping you wash up, her thumbs opportunistically brush against your pebbled brown nipples. Just like when she was peeling your clothes off, all measured and slow. Your breath hitches and she takes the time to let the suds slough off your body with the shower spray before dipping her lithe fingers down between your spread thighs. Her fingers focus on rubbing tight, steady circles around your pretty clit with just the right amount of pressure as she decorates your neck in soft kisses.

You softly gasp before cursing underneath your breath, “Fuck.”

If your clit throbbing like crazy isn’t a dead giveaway you were hoping she’d pull something like this, it’s you canting your head to the side and spreading your thighs more. Her fingers dip down to your entrance in response and your thighs tremble when the water hits your clit with precision now, hissing softly before moaning. It’s as if it’s working in tandem with her, even though she’s more calculated and gentler. You can feel the simper embolden her features against your neck as she fucks you with her deft fingers and curls them in that familiar spongy tissue on your front wall earning a momentary hitch of breath as your face twisted in pleasure with each pump.

Her free hand slipped underneath your thigh and lifted it up carefully, your moans echoed off of the shower walls and your hand pressed against the glass wall to steady yourself even though she had you.

Your head canted rearward to rest against her shoulder and that didn’t deter her from continuing to kiss and suck your neck as her fingers didn’t slow down, it didn’t take long for that feeling to fester in the pit of your stomach. All warm in a tight knot closing in on the navel before it snapped and sent you crying out her name, your thighs trembling in response from your over sensitive swollen clit still being struck with the splatters of water.

Her lips pulled away from the canvas of your neck that’s blossoming with purple bruises, a string of spit connecting for a moment. She kissed along your shoulders as she pumped her fingers a few more times before slipping them out and setting your leg down.

Arousal and relief flood your face and you lift your head only for her to turn you to face her and splay her hand on the back of your head, meeting you halfway with a kiss. Your hands slip off her arms briefly then perfectly grip her shoulders as your lips work against hers. Unhurried and gentle the way you both like it.

You’d think exhaustion would’ve washed over you both by the time you finished truly showering and had a long day, but that sweat sloughing off was just waiting to pack back on. Your thighs rested on Tashi’s shoulders, she sniffed along your inner thigh, inhaling that vanilla scented body cream you just applied before slipping on your bra, baby tee, and gray cotton panties. She sniffed right at the dampening spot on the fabric then kissed right there with no shame. “What’re you doin’, huh?” You inquired, lightly thumping the cowgirl hat that barely rested on her head now.

She mumbled something incoherent before she continued kissing your pussy through the fabric, licking a flat, wet stripe up with a hum. You gasped softly and jolted, your bud still a little sensitive even after having several minutes to recover from your first orgasm.

She mentally debated whether to ask you if she should pull them aside or not, but instead, she sat up. When she went for her hat, you assumed she was going to fix it, only for her to take it off and place it on your head instead. Your eyes flickered with realization and you saddled up and mounted just as any cowgirl would.

You learned that from the best.

The moment your cunt lowers on Tashi’s, you’re struggling not to whimper immediately. It elicits a slick sound between your bodies as your throbbing clits meet. Your signature golden cowgirl boot and horseshoe pendants glint as they swing and smack back against the bare skin of your chest with each push rearward and drag forward of your hips from the pace you set and Tashi’s spreading your ass cheeks with a sigh born from awe.

Before she smacks and grips one and then brings her hands move up to rest on your hips, silently coaxing and helping you grind even more on her pussy. Your mixed arousal sticking and coating skin, making each other’s walls clench around nothing as you both softly moan, you slightly louder than her.

“Shiiit, you’re doing so good,” Tashi breathed then softly gasped. “Keep going. Mhm. Right there, baby,” she encouraged followed by a hiss slipped between her teeth as her eyes threatened to roll back at how you listened perfectly. You lazily nodded before your head tipped down as your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes fluttering before you gasped. “Feels good,” you finally managed to say back, your hips not letting up and kicking up the pace, bouncing a little.

Tashi had the best view a woman like her could ask for. Your deep bronze skin sheen with sweat, the dip in your back from arching each time you move, and watching your ass jiggle on her.

Her breath hitched as her head rested back on the sheets with a shaken moan, a stutter like she’s bounding toward climaxing. She could drown over and over again in this feeling you’re giving her and wouldn’t tire of it. She breathes out again unsteadily, her thick dark brows knitting together as pleasure doesn’t wait to hit her like a freight train with you being eager like a bunny on top of her.

Your body stiffens as you meet her in the middle soon after. A moan of her name spills free as you gradually stop riding her. Tashi rubs her hands up and down the canvas of your back as if she were studying it and it was etched with all the knowledge that ever was in the world. Thorough, unhurried, and quiet except for the panting from you both needing time to breathe. She could feel their cum mixed with their arousal dribbling down her asscrack and onto the now dampened bedsheets. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

The air in the room has unsurprisingly thickened with heat, heavy with the smell of sweat and the three wick caramel scented candle you lit when you both came back.

“You did real good. C’mon,” Tashi said, patting your bare hip to signal for you to turn and lie down with her before you both had to cool off with a shower again and clean the sheets. When you do, she’s wrapping her arm around you as you snuggle up against her. “My hat suits you. Want me to get you one?” She mumbled before kissing your forehead as she rubbed your shoulder.

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victoria-daydreams · 1 year ago

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The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

#black!reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #tashi duncan x reader #black!oc #challengers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

Text

THE STRANGERS: SINNERS ON COURT

A/N: the point? I’m highly disappointed with the new release of the strangers and the summer is the perfect time for the horrors and THAT was just not it for me. I’ve also been strongly debating if I even want to dip into writing for challengers since it’s very layered but also MESSY and who wants to flop if you drop something but you don’t know unless you try right? So here’s me serving something since chapter 1 gave us…not much? I’m blaming the writers and not the actors ofc so they need to hire me for chapter 2 ASAP. So this is for my horror and challengers lovers I guess! I might have to do a trilogy myself depending how this turns out.

In short: Challengers meet The Strangers.

WARNINGS: mostly oc x art pairing with a hint of Tashi x oc! Language, slow burn/slow start? Slight graphic violence + animal brutality?—Not overly described but hinted + a LENGTHY read!

SYNOPSIS: Andromeda, “Andra,” Cove has always been the secret double to Tashi’s game even when Andra claims that is far from true. Although their friendship has been on and off since Andra transferred out of Stanford…everything always comes back to the court. Andra seeks out Art’s company to attend her grandfather’s birthday party back in her hometown in Virginia Beach not expecting Tashi and Patrick to show up as well considering the confirmed secrets the three have recently spilled. After the events at Andra’s grandfather’s birthday party, the four decide to take a trip up to Andra’s cottage to get reacquainted but soon find three more guests at the door who release nothing but terror that surely ruins the weekend.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

“I just remember the knife plunging into him and the amount of blood that spluttered from his mouth as they flung his body to the floor…” Andra hears the intake of her breath before she continued, “his eyes still locked on me as if—as if he was imagining during his last moments what our life as a married couple could be like and I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them from hurting the man I wanted forever with. They took that from me and I still feel that knife, shoving its way through my body every time I think of him. My forever husband.”

The host of the podcast speaks now, “Not long after Maya honored us with this virtual interview, she was found brutally murdered in her shared home with her late fiancé, Ryan. The case of the road-trip lovers still remains unsolved till this day.”

A nudge to Andra’s bare upper arm makes her flinch, bringing her back to reality as she glances to her right to see her good friend, Art Donaldson staring at her, freshly awakened from his nap. Andra allowed him to be her passenger princess since he had to take two flights to get here, which she was thankful for.

After he received more frustrating than devastating news: that Lily was biologically Patrick’s, Art fled to London to take a much needed break from his two opponents. Art held Lily so tight and even thought of taking her with him but had no energy to fight Tashi who made little noise at his departure. She knew he would be back. Andra received a text from Tashi before Art ended up calling her and it was so laughable that Tashi acted like she had everything so figured out.

[~From: Tashi Duncan.

I fucked up and it’s finally caught up…you’ll probably be hearing from Art soon. I know you’ll do me a solid and watch over him for me, won’t you Meda?

Purposely leaving Tashi on read, Andra didn’t engage in a conversation because not even three minutes later, Art was in fact calling her phone—which led to a two hour call.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Art stretched his arms back around the headrest, a frown in between his brows.

Andra glances at him while rolling her stiff neck around in the driver’s seat, “A true crime podcast…about this couple that ends up having to stay in an airbnb and they basically get slaughtered by three sociopaths in creepy masks.”

Art squints, “and you feel that’s appropriate for us who are currently on the road alone surrounded by nothing but trees in this hillbilly state?”

“Hey! You wanted to see the cottage. I was—

Art interrupts his old friend, “Don’t say perfectly fine staying with your mom and step-dad because you and I both know you can’t stand those bastards.”

Which was not untrue…

Andra’s mother was big on living up to “the Cove,” name and felt that her daughter was the biggest disappointment (compared to her older brother Ahmed) although she kept a tight smile on her cheeks when speaking about Andra to family members. Andra’s mother’s side of the family came from a lineage of historians and archaeologists and Andra’s grandfather was also a well known tennis player in Ethiopia. Half of Andra’s mother’s siblings were also in the athletic field, her mother was once a gymnast and even made it to the Olympics multiple times until she suffered a severe neck injury on her third attendance ultimately ending her career—you can just guess how well she bonded with Tashi more than she ever did with her own daughter—later becoming a athletic sponsorship director.

Andra laughs with a nod of her head, “yeah, you’re right.”

Art hums already being aware, reaching for Andra’s phone pausing the podcast to search for a playlist for this late night morning drive. “This is a mood killer…no pun intended so I’m switching this but rest in peace to Maya and Ryan.”

You’re resting your head back against the headrest, eyes focused on the road, “You’re lucky I’m getting tired and don’t want to argue with you since there are rules such as: Driver always gets to pick the soundtrack.”

“So you were listening to this to scare the shit out of you and keep you awake?” Art states with a curious glance at the braided haired woman, “pull over and let me drive the rest of the way then.”

Andra twists her lips around, ready to debate on that since she loved her “little,” coupe and actually loved being the designated driver. When she transferred out of Stanford, she may or may not have gotten into illegally racing a few cars for extra cash, after her mother put a hold on her card until she declared a new major that was satisfactory enough to her. If anybody needed a ride and fast then Andra was your girl…just try to keep that on the low, although it was public record.

A yawn ripped through her lips before she can even stop it. She didn’t even want to dare a glimpse at Art who now sat up with a fold of his arms. He was being such a dad and Andra found this funny, laughing to herself while Art patiently waited for her to say something.

“You’re too cute, Art.” Andra tells him, lolling her head to peek over at the now dark haired blond, “looking like a scolding parent as if I didn’t get enough of that at the beach.”

Art sighs at that.

For as long as Art’s known Andra, she’s always been this humorous vibrant personality but it only ever shined when she stood on her own. It dimmed a bit whenever Tashi took over and Andra made herself small enough so her own mother wouldn’t find something to pick at but that never did her any good. Andra only came out here to celebrate her grandfather, since she was never sure how many more years the old man had left in him and he was much softer on her than the way he treated her mother, which was a cycle for what Andra endured. Her step-father refused to see it, comfortable in his rose colored lenses while she also often had a bickering relationship with her brother, Ahmed who claimed she played the victim game whenever their mother said something that basically teared her down.

It was a tale as old as time.

Andra thought inviting Art out here was to mainly help him wrap his head around what he was going to do and it would be good to see each other face to face after all this time but turns out it was him being by her side that made things a little easier.

“What do you need?” Art decided to ask, keeping his eyes trained only on her.

Andra chewed down on her bottom lip as she whispered, “…for you to drive.”

Art dipped his head at this, waiting for Andra to pull over to the side. They unbuckled their seatbelts and Art was out into the night while Andra climbed over to the passenger side with her fallen over zip up hoodie. Shutting the door behind him, Art adjusted the seat with a small teasing smile at the bronze skinned woman who scoffed at him in return.

Before he switched gears he says, “for what it’s worth…I think you’re brilliant at whatever you do and the only thing that matters is what you’re comfortable with when you look in the mirror. Be proud of that.”

A watery smile goes his way and Andra lightly reaches over to shove his shoulder, “you’re disgustingly sweet and I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“I love you, you know that?” Art sends a lopsided grin back.

Andra breathes, “I love you too.”

And that keeps Art warm in the sixty-five degree summer night. He runs his fingers over the door and cracks the window open, allowing the air to brush against the side of his new do, loving to hear the sound of that. It felt good to hear sentiments being reciprocated verbally and Andra never had a problem letting it be known. The pair connected in that kind of way, the whole words of affirmation was huge in the way they wanted to be loved and can always count on each other to be so reassuring.

“Now how many more hours do we have to go?”

Andra who’s balled up on her side, peeks at her glowing phone that was plugged into her car informs, “just a hour and nine minutes.”

Art puffed out some air as he switched gears, then checked over his shoulder before pulling back onto the road, “It’ll be sunrise by then so…hopefully a gas station will grant us with it’s presence and we can fill up, grab some shitty coffee or energy drinks and be on our way to your fancy cottage.”

Andra rolled her eyes, “it’s nothing compared to your California barbie dream house.”

“Please,” Art snorted, “it’s far from that and just a place to lay our heads and raise Lily in…” He clears his throat, “it’s just a house.”

Andra knew Art was still coming to terms with it all. He already went off about it and what he thought marriage should be despite spending years in one. Art claimed he wanted a divorce but the next thing Andra knew, Tashi and Patrick were showing up without her invite. Art didn’t invite them necessarily but he did let it slip to Patrick where he was over texts and that he didn’t know when he was coming back. Art needed some time and he always felt like there was never enough in this world.

The next few moments consisted of Andra dozing off, her phone buzzing with notifications as Art got off the next exit after driving nine miles and headed to the gas station. Art grabbed his own phone, tempted to wake Andra but she looked so at peace with some much needed sleep. He quietly exits the car and makes his way to the dingy gas station, greeting the grunting old man with the Santa Claus beard at the counter before searching their inventory. Art decides against the coffee that has a few dead flies floating at the top and circled back to the fridges.

Once he finds the little that he wanted, he slides the objects onto the counter at the man with the unkept beard. A small smile graces Art’s lips in a attempt to be friendly but the man doesn’t budge.

“That’ll be it, thanks.” Art urges as he holds open his wallet, also hoping to get the strange man to get a move on so he can get out of here quickly.

The man grunts, reaching forward from his spot on the stool to bring the few items closer to his view before he slowly starts punching them into the register. Art’s patient as the man takes his time and before he can start looking around his gruff tone comes out, “that’s a pretty one you got out there, don’t ya?”

Art blinks, easily picking up at what the man is hinting at and chooses to ignore him, “I’ll need some gas too. $25 on pump three.”

The man hums to himself, reaching over some more to punch his dirt stained fingers into the buttons although his eyes keep darting out the window. This time Art follows the old man’s stare but only to check on Andra to see that she is still in fact asleep on the passenger side.

“Y’all not from around these parts are ya? Headin’ north might not be the best choice ‘round this time of year.” The man tells Art who feels his brows coming together in a frown.

He wasn’t concerned about how the man can figure out if he was from here or not. It was the same as visiting any place and Art’s been to many considering his status. It was what the man, Walter (according to his also grimy looking name tag) said afterwards.

“It’s a week before the holiday, I think we’ll be okay but thanks for caring.” Art keeps his calm, small smile still on his lips as he pulls out two twenty bills, noticing the: CASH ONLY sign, “keep the change and you have a nice upcoming morning.”

Art doesn’t bother engaging in more conversation, shoving his wallet back into his jogger pocket, and scoops the items into his arms; not asking for a bag either. Art half expected the man to latch onto his wrist and deliver another unsettling line. This time Walter just goes back to being silent and Art’s not sure which one was worse, as he steps away and exits the store.

The pinging of his own phone, doesn’t stop Art in his tracks as he continues back to the coupe. Opening the door, he dumps everything into the driver’s seat for now before moving quickly to the nozzle. The minutes feel long as Art darts his gaze from the changing numbers on the pump, to Walter’s stare from the store, and back to Andra whose body gently rises and falls with each breath.

With a click, Art brings his attention to the nozzle to place in its original space, then moves the drinks into the holders and tossing the few snacks onto the floor by Andra’s sneakers on the floor. He searches the glove box for some sanitizer, but no amount of alcohol can erase the internal feeling of something going wrong.

Art laughs to himself as Walter holds up a hand in their departure, feeling that he was just being paranoid since his nerves were already out of whack way before he got to this state. Art shrugs it off once the gas station is no longer in sight and feels his phone ping some more.

“Not now, Patrick.” Art bites with a scratch to the back of his head.

He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know that it’s Patrick. He’s been the main one sending texts at all sorts of times since Art left the country. Art was already irked before but now that he brought Tashi to impose on his time with Andra was just another thing to tick off the list. Andra was great at distancing herself from the two and was always vocal on her distaste for Patrick but this was still a process for Art.

You can only be on the court by yourself for so long according to Art Donaldson.

Andra Cove strongly felt different.

“Hey,” Andra’s raspy voice is followed with a grasp to Art’s shoulder, catching him off guard which makes her widen her half lidded eyes at his flinching, “…everything good?”

Art scoffs, “what? Oh yeah! I just thought southern people would have the best manners.”

Andra clenches the tiredness from her eyes, trying to comprehend what the blond was saying to her, “…what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Art says, “take a look in the holder, I got your favorite.”

Peeking at him with one eye, Andra glances down at the yellow bottle and reaches for it with a smile that splits over her lips. “Pina colada Fanta? I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How can I forget? You talked about it all the damn time back at Stanford and would throw a fit every time the campus never had it.” Art briefly looks at the woman from the driver’s side.

Andra laughs as she squeezes it to her chest before placing it back in the holder, “appreciate you, bub.”

“Sure,” art replies, “try not to chug it all down for breakfast later and then complain about a tummy ache afterwards.”

“Are you this bossy with Lily?” Andra questions while getting ready to roll her body to face away from Art again.

She freezes a bit, wondering if it’s a sore subject to even mention the child’s name but Art just shakes his head with a snort, “I’m actually the fun parent, believe it or not.”

“Oh I do.” Andra’s turned back to the window again, reaching a hand back to squeeze Art’s thigh in comfort.

He watches Andra’s hand: her gel nails a combination of a summer orange sunset and magenta. Her pretty fingers are inked with delicate designs and Art finds that her touch radiates a warmth that he’s not used to. A touch that is gentle but firm enough that lets him know that perhaps this gloom season doesn’t have to last forever.

There’s some instrumentals playing throughout the car now but Art doesn’t seem to mind it. Andra’s hand is now back to her own lap as she catches up on another round of a nap and Art is left to his own thoughts and this horrible energy drink that tastes like battery acid.

“Jesus,” Art mutters to himself as he feels himself gag balling a fist up to his mouth, in hopes of settling his stomach on his own.

He glares down at the drink momentarily before his eyes connect with something in the road, which makes him tap on the brakes. They squeal some, which makes Andra pop up in bewilderment, hood to her hoodie sliding right off.

“Damn,” Art comments as Andra grips onto the dash, leaning forward to get a good look at what’s in the road.

Andra sighs, “it’s a deer.”

“Yeah but…it doesn’t just look like roadkill.”

The way its head is bent back is unnatural along with the amount of blood that stains the gravel. There’s traces of glass the decorate the ground which indicates it could have been hit, which was not uncommon. It was the way that both sets of eyes locked on the deer with squints in their eyes that they noticed multiple wounds on its backside that appeared blunt and not accidental.

Andra exhales, her side eye going to the sides of the car before her hands went to check that the doors were locked, “nope. Art, if you don’t float this shit, then I will.”

The glance Art shoots Andra’s way, confirms that twisting feeling he felt back at the gas station. He crosses his hands over the steering wheel, turning the car to go around the deer and picks up the speed just as the navigation system speaks telling the two which direction to continue in.

That was enough to keep Andra awake for the rest of the drive.

6:46AM

The old friends are pulling up to the Olive green and white cottage. Equally they both rest their heads against the seats, just measuring the amount of energy it was going to take to collect their things and bring them into the home.

“It’s nice.” Art compliments while Andra who rolls her head to meet his tired stare with her blank one, “what? I’m not bullshitting you, honest.”

“Uh huh,” Andra answers as she grabs her Fanta staring at it a bit with a smile, “c’mon Ken, let’s get inside before the bugs start chomping.”

Art teases with his own nickname, “can we check our surroundings first, Belle? I’m getting some red flags?”

It was the way he actually had a rose by one of his own personalized nicknames for Andra in his phone—the only one with a emoji by her name truly—that reminded Art of how much he missed their friendship.

“Is this more about the Santa Claus cashier or the stabbed up deer?” Andra asks with her hand on the door.

Art scratches at his brow as Andra’s phone dings, “uh…both?” He muttered while she deeply inhales, eyes going to the phone she was about to leave behind in the holder. Pulling it free, she unlocks the phone and reads the message with a scowl.

Holding the mic on the bottom right of the device, she speaks into it, “thanks for letting me know last minute, dumbass. Send.”

Shoving the phone into her hoodie pocket, she meets Art’s eyes, “Ahmed gladly let me know that the front porch light is still broken from the last time he snuck up here to use my place for who knows what.”

“I’ll take a look at it, just set a reminder.”

Andra nods, quickly doing so before pushing the door open followed by Art. He breathes in the fresh air which smells of pine and salt from near by water. It’s quiet besides the light chirping from some birds and there’s not many cars near by at Andra’s neighbor to their left.

“The Triplett’s come here in the winter months, they’re Minnesota natives if you can believe it.” Andra informs as she swings the strap of her duffle bag against her shoulder and moves the seat back into place.

Art nods, “so what you’re saying is…we’re actually alone?”

Andra shrugs, “that’s kinda what the cottage life is all about, babe. Don’t worry though, that’ll be ruined once your two favs decides to grant us with their presence.”

Art watches as Andra slams the door, leaving Art behind as she crosses the pathway towards the front porch. He’s scrambling a bit now, grabbing his own bag and locking the car. He jogs up the steps just as Andra is unlocking the door. “Did I mention that I’m sorry about that?”

Andra fans her hand as Art steps into the home, being met with the grand view of the water out back. She’s locking the door behind him and then responds, “you sure did but nothings changed.”

She hoist the bag on her shoulder as she breezes by that, “alright little house tour since it’s still early and we could both use some more sleep. Dining table is here, kitchen in the corner, sitting area to a pretty great view is up ahead with the best deck in this sleepy town right beyond those doors, bathroom is right by the last set of sliding doors leading out to the deck, and your room is right around that wall. Around from there is the actual living room and my room is upstairs. Please keep your shoes by the door.”

Art breathes out a laugh, “if I didn’t know that you were once a careless tennis athlete who chose cross country instead—out of all things—then went on to sports journalism later turned kinesiologist, I’d say real estate might be your true calling.”

Andra rolls her eyes with a laugh, “thanks for the whole run down of my résumé, you’re a great guest so far.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He winks as he moves to start unlacing his sneakers while Andra shakes her head, moving towards the couch with her back to the sliding doors.

She jokes, “I’m not on your salary so I don’t have a personalized chef or anything—

“Shut up, Andie.” Art playfully aims his shoe at the braided woman who grins at him with a wink, “I don’t need that special treatment shit, especially when it’s going to be over by next year anyway. I already know I’m gonna be taken care of by you.”

Since Art got his friendship with Patrick back, he seems to believe that he’ll be retiring soon and he wasn’t anywhere near forty just yet.

She shrugs her shoulders, “…all depends on how good of a guest you are.”

“I think I’m the best you’re gonna get…compared to your brother anyway.”

“Don’t even get me started on his bobble head!” Andra yells before continuing, “Now I have to check the house to make sure he didn’t ruin anything and try to hide it but at least he was honest about the light. The bare minimum! Please let me know if anything seems off in your room?”

Art laughs a little, knowing just how much Andra went at it with the older guy. Art never had any issues with Ahmed, he had an award winning smile and was definitely a charmer. The only thing Art didn’t get was why he didn’t have his sister’s back when it came to their mother? Probably because he got all the credit of being the “good” kid and didn’t want to ruin that but that was selfish. Art didn’t know what it meant to be a sibling but he figured it should be some sort of union, even if you had to Duke it out from time to time.

Blood was supposed to be thicker than water is what they say.

Art was an only child so he’s always been on his own but he felt like his late nana was the closest thing he’s had as true family.

Art zones back in on Andra stepping back into his view, “…what I was meaning to say before my mind goes all over the place is the kitchen should be pretty stacked although we’re only going to be here for a day or two. I had someone make sure of it so we don’t have to make any special trips but if you want to later—

“Andie,” art calls out to her making her blink and realize that she’s talking a lot, something she does when she’s stressing or needing some rest, “we’re good, get out of here.”

Her hands are on her hips now, “Are you trying to bully me, Donaldson?”

“No?” Art blinks.

“That’s what I thought. See you in a few hours and holler if you need anything.” She starts to walk off but Art follows her.

“…you do have weapons here right?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, “duh, who the hell do you think I am? Oblivious?”

“…what’s your middle name again?”

“Good night, art!” She waved her fingers in the air while Art is smirking.

“It’s morning!”

“Then tweet, tweet, bitch!” She calls back over the wall before she disappears and heads up the stairs.

Art can’t help but to let the bubbled laughter fly past his lips, heading to the right where the bedroom is waiting behind the sliding barn doors. Dumping his bags on a near by chair, he plops down on the side of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he soaks in the stillness.

Flinging his body sideways to lay down, after staring out at the view for some time, he pulls out his phone to see a few texts from no other than Patrick.

The most recent says that Art’ll be seeing him and Tashi by the early or mid-afternoon at the latest, depending on when Tashi was ready to go. All Art did was like the message, placing his phone back on his belly before he closed his eyes.

Art is awakened by the stench of food and the goosebumps that decorate his skin. Rubbing at the new texture on his skin, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and peeks through his slumber eyes to get a sense for what time it is.

11:52AM

He gets to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and leaves his phone behind face down on the bed. Leaning in the doorway he looks both ways before stepping out onto the dark wood floor and heads back towards the front of the cottage. He spots Andra immediately facing his direction in the kitchen, leftovers of a sandwich in her hand while she’s sipping at some sort of smoothie.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?”

Art leans against the counter from the opposite side and grins, “like a baby.”

“See the magic of this place yet?”

“I still need some convincing…maybe the last bite of that sandwich will help?”

“Oh you mean this one? That’s full of grease and has the potential to clog arteries? Aren’t you an athlete?”

Art gives a straight face, “doesn’t mean I can’t have cheat days and when did you become my trainer exactly?”

Andra pops her lips at the taste, leaning forward to mockingly toss the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

Art leans away from the counter, “alright, okay. Your hospitality actually sucks and I rate this establishment zero stars.”

“You can’t chop me.”

“I just did.” Art states matter of factly as he starts making his way into the kitchen.

Andra scrunches up her nose, “always such a little baby! There’s one waiting for you in the toaster oven and I’ll be reporting this to the blogs.”

Art argues, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Classic answer,” Andra circles around Art now in her flowy white skirt to plop on the couch dramatically with a hand tossed against her forehead, “I thought you said you loved me, Arthur?”

“Oh c’mon, not the whole government name drop, Andromeda!” Art drags out her name around stuffing his face while Andra laughs laid out on the couch.

He preferred “Art,” over his full name any day and that’s what everyone’s known him as before he even made it big. That of course didn’t apply to his own parents who felt it was foolish to call their son by a nickname rather than what they gave to him at birth. They were less hard asses than Patrick’s parents but when it came to titles that’s where he and Andromeda related.

“I’ve been added to the group chat thanks to your side piece.” Andromeda waves her phone in the air.

Art takes her leftover smoothie and plops down beside her, sipping at and ignoring her raised brows, “what side piece?”

“Mickey mouse.” Andromeda tells as she shows the dark blond her phone, “Patrick says him and Tashi are now on the road so we should see them around 2 at the latest.”

Art slowly finishes chewing, elbows on his knees as he’s in thought, nodding at this information. He can’t exactly say he’s thrilled to have them here—as bad as it sounds considering 1/2 of the pair consists of his wife but he’ll keep that to himself.

Andra sits up then, shuffling to sit thigh to thigh with Art as she nudged his shoulder, “Take a minute and get ready, I’ll be outside enjoying the sun until I give you the rest of the tour.”

He questions with a lopsided grin, “there’s more?”

“Always.” She flashes her teeth at him, leaving Art to peer down at her lips briefly before she turns her head to look at the waterfront for a bit, leaving Art to analyze the profile of Andra’s face. The little chocolate chip mole by her hairline of her straight backs is something he always found cute no matter which way she wore her hair. Just like her finding the spec of honey brown on the side of his dark blue hues in his right eye.

She gets up, using his shoulder for leverage before she breezes by him smelling like caramel, peonies, and pink pepper—a mixture of many scents that matched her body chemistry quite well. Art lets out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch after she slides the door closed but that doesn’t stop him from watching her walk across the deck to sit pretty on the wicker egg chair.

Some time later Art makes his way out to the deck, freshly changed and dressed for the remainder of the day. He meets Andra out on the deck, leaning over it just as she’s getting off the phone.

“I don’t care when you bring it, Ahmed. All I know is that it better be back here by the time I come out here again. Yeah, yeah. Bye!” Andra ends the call while there’s amusement on Art’s face while he takes a spot right next to her.

He glances at her before looking back at the view, “are you out here tearing your big brother a new one?”

“Nooo, what gave you that idea?” She’s sarcastic although her smile is as sweet as can be.

She spins to rest her elbows on the banister, eyeing Art’s appearance. He meets her stare, raising his brows in question as she says, “The facial hair is a good look on you. What’s next? Growing your hair back out?”

Art snorts, “nah, I think that’s over for me. Too much maintenance.”

Andra hums as she waves him along, “let’s see the dock…wait did you put your sunscreen or bug spray on?”

“Uh no?”

“Not on my watch, Donaldson.” She charges right by him to the egg chair, coming back with a dropper, “hold out your wrists.”

“What is it?” He asks but complies as the oil is dropped right on his skin.

“Now pat it against your neck and ankles then finish with your wrists.” She instructs, “the mosquitoes are devils by the water and hate lemongrass.”

Art shakes his head with a smile, “whatever you say, mom.”

“That’s okay, clown me all you want but you’ll be thanking me by the time we’re inside for the night, free from bites.” She pats his waist on her way by to put the dropper back.

Together the friends make their way down the set of stairs to the lower level. They walk across the grass where Andra points to their left, showing where the shed is full of equipment for water activities.

“Paddle boarding?” Art quizzes as he caressed his facial hair, “I can’t picture it.”

“What? I can’t have other hobbies?” Andra asked, hands on her hips while staring at the man underneath her eyelashes.

Art shrugged, “course you can. I just remember a certain lake party where you were lounging by the lake instead of being in it.”

Andra shields her eyes from the sun as she turns up her glossed lips at the memory, “I’m surprised you remember that when you had your tongue down Divinia Alonto’s throat.”

“Did I?” Art inquires, “I was honestly so worried about my new friend not having a good time.”

“And keeping Patrick from getting his ass beat by one of those guys that’s probably a linebacker now.” Andra chuckles as she leads the way up the small hill towards the dock.

The air is warm just as the light breeze while the two travel some more together. It was funny thinking about it all, how Andra became acquainted with the pair, first watching them at the US open since she was visiting Ahmed who recently moved out to Queens, New York. She would later end up at Tashi’s match a week later, sitting on the bleachers not far from Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. She ended up introducing herself to the two prior and congratulated them on their win just for Patrick to invite her to a lake party they were attending that night.

Andra said she would think about it just as her pink LG chocolate phone was ringing. It was Tashi. Art even took it further to round off a number Andra can reach them at, leaving her to just stare at them in amusement.

“Aren’t you gonna type that in? Or do you need me to do it for you?” Patrick attempts to flirt but Andra just peers at him from underneath her oval purple and black glasses.

Andra laughs, “I’ve got it but if I need someone to lift a finger for me, I know just who to call. Later.”

“Later.” The boys echo as they watch her walk away.

“She wants me, dude.” Patrick leans back into Art’s shoulder as they both watch her hips sway, doing a signature spin while answering the phone.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!

“Hey,” Art speaks, his eyes were off to the right, “you never mentioned a court.”

Andra deeply exhaled as they both face it now, “that’s because I try to forget it every time I’m out here. After I purchased this property, my mom made it her mission to have one put out here as some sort of gift to me? Honestly it feels like torture porn to me but I shut my mouth and never use it.”

Art turned his eyes into slits, “if you don’t use it then somebody definitely does. What do you get up to out there in Alaska?”

It still shocked Art to hear that Andra settled out in Alaska these past few years. Of course she still traveled all over working with the most popular athletes, this he knew because he seemed to get the runaround whenever he mentioned her but Tashi deemed it as Andra still holding a grudge with her cutting Andra off after she transferred.

Art believed it was possible but eventually they reconnected instead.

“Lots of things,” Andra answers, “but you’d have to come out there and see.”

Art hums, “that another invitation?”

“As if you need anymore.” Andra looks at him and he holds her stare.

“…I think,” he starts as he leans towards her a bit, “I’d like to see if you still got it.”

Andra scoffs, “I don’t need to prove a damn thing.”

A smile twitches onto his lips, “sure you don’t but we’ve got nothing but time?”

“And we can enjoy that time by the dock underneath the sun. I know you like to get a little tan for the summer.” Andra argues with a cross of her arms.

Art rolls his eyes, “if you’re a chicken shit just say that.”

“If you wanna see me in a skort just say that.” Andra fired back, standing on her toes a bit to match his height.

Art presses his tongue into his cheek, looking off to think about it, “fine, you caught me! I’d love to.”

And the way he’s speaking to her makes Andra bite her bottom lip and Art knows he’s got her. He’s smirking as he tries to reach for her folded arms in attempt to hug her but she playfully slaps his hands away and points at him in warning.

They’ve worked up a good enough sweat on the indigo blue court. Art’s serving with the ball at the neck of the racket before he sends the ball over. Andra has no issue matching Art’s rhythm, he’s found his spark again but Andra knows he’s been tired of professional tennis. It just took him much longer than it did Andra. She knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t her sport although she was phenomenal at it.

It was a shame really because it seemed effortless. So causal she swung but it was always fast, her brows remained turned inward while the rest of her face remained calm despite the usual routine of pulling her bottom lip underneath her teeth. Art is so lost in the swing of things, picking up on Andra’s own tics that he tries to go for the ball at the last minute. Andra pulled another one of her moves, almost like a ballet twirl spinning just as she smacks the ball back to Art.

Stretching his arm just too far, Art hisses as he feels his shoulder sting almost like static radiating down his arm followed by a burning sensation. Andra sharply inhaled, eyes widening as she tosses the racket to the side. Moving around the net she’s down on her knees as Art lays on his back panting.

“Hey,” she speaks touching his shoulder which he lightly grips, “Let me.”

Carefully he moves his fingertips out the way, choosing to stare up at the sky for a while as Andra feels around. Art groans as she touches just at the crease of his armpit, surrounding by his old wounds.

“It’s a muscle spasm,” Andra informs as she digs her fingers along his skin, “breathe through it, Art.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, doing as instructed and croaks out, “my shoulder stood no chance, I should have known, you still got it and do that famous spin of yours.”

“Whatever,” Andra dismisses, “now look at you, all messed up, old man.”

Art huffs, “well I wouldn’t pick anybody else to look after me.”

Andra shakes her head with a small smile as she raises Art’s shoulder while still pushing back at the stubborn spasm. When Andra shakes his shoulder out to help relax it, she goes to raise it again but he’s sitting up now with a wince. With one hand he slips against the small of Andra’s back, making her inhale as she looks over at him.

“Am I hurting you?” She softly inquired, quickly checking in but Art shakes his head.

He’s pushing her to his lap and whispers into the summer air, “Never that.”

Before his lips are placed right on her’s.

Their noses are smashed together as their lips work together. Andra makes the move to grip Art’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He rubs at her back and squeezes her hips, matching her speed as if time is all they had.

Abruptly she pulls back, holding her lips while Art peers at her in alert. His eyes are even darker now but the spec of gold in that one eye is bright.

It’s such a pretty sight with his lips pink and panting.

“Art…what was that?” She questions behind her hands.

His hands don’t leave her frame as he breathes, “that was something I wanted to do since I hugged you for the first time in years at your grandpop’s party.”

She tilts her head at this news and moves to sit beside him against the hot court, “You’re married, Art.”

“I don’t think Tashi knows that.” Art mutters while Andra sighs.

“So this is about revenge?”

Art shakes his head, “no. It’s about finding what’s missing and you’re it.”

They both lock eyes and Andra doesn’t realize she’s leaning in until Art is kissing her again, pushing her back onto the court which burns her bare back in more ways than one. She hisses and Art pulls away and sits her up immediately as he cups her face, “…can we go inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Their grins are wide as they scramble to their feet like two old friends secretly up to no good. The excitement was real, doing something that most would frown upon but the pair were not the only two that moved to their own drums.

Andra’s helping Art remove his shirt, he playfully whines more than needed as she pulls it over his aching shoulder but reveals he’s just messing with her and it’s not anything he can’t handle. His hands find comfort right on her ass, pulling her lips right back to his as he lays back against the couch. It’s when he starts bucking his hips against her’s after she slips her tongue into his mouth that Art knows he’s in trouble.

“I’ve missed you, Andie.” He tells her as she presses kisses down his neck.

She pulls back, “how much?”

He managed to flip the two over, sliding his hand up her leg brushing her white skirt all the way up as he presses his front against the only cloth that’s left covering her. “That much.”

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” She quizzes, holding his face in her hands again.

His lips are pressed to her’s and she nips at his bottom one and just as he’s reaching to shove down his own pants, there’s knocks at the door.

Both of their gazes turn to the door and Art sits up.

“Special delivery!” A familiar voice screams behind the door.

Art clenched his eyes shut while Andra sits up on her elbows to pull her skirt back down.

“Sorry,” Art kisses her cheek while Andra just secured the satin pearl colored tie around her braids before handing him his shirt back.

Art can already see Andra closing up and he hates to see it. She waits for him to fix his shirt again, this time with the tag in the right place, and wipes the gloss from his lips before making her way to the front door.

Yanking the door open to stop the pounding at it, she spots a grinning Patrick with shades on leaning against the door. “Mickey! You don’t have to kick my door in to announce your arrival, we can hear you from up the street.”

“You sure? Didn’t want to startle your quality time, sweetheart.” Patrick clicks his teeth with a wink as he leans forward to smack a kiss to her cheek before squeezing his way by.

Andra yanks Patrick by his backpack and scowls at the back of his neck, “Take your shoes off in my house, asswipe.”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Got it.”

Andra steps onto the porch now, spotting Tashi with her phone pressed to her ear pacing back and forth. Patrick snickers as he makes his way over to Art, arms held out ready for an embrace but Art just gives him a side eye before choosing to move into the kitchen.

Tashi lifts her head just to meet Andra’s eyes on the porch. They watch each other, Tashi half expecting Andra to send her a Princess wave like old times but she doesn’t. Once Tashi starts crossing the lawn towards the steps is when Andra turns her body to lean her back against the front door. She sees Tashi’s mountain of bags resting on the porch and raises her brow at them.

“Hey,” Tashi greets shortly as her heels click against the porch.

Andra dips her head, “Hi, Tash. Have a nice ride up here?”

“I never would have picked this hick town for you even if it’s part time, what were you thinking?” Tash asked as she begins moving her bags into Andra’s home herself.

Once Art comes over, he silently grabs the last bag to bring in before putting space between him, Tashi and Patrick.

“I was thinking, my money, my choice.” Andra replies as she closes the door.

Patrick lets out a low whistle, arm stretched along the back of the couch, “easy with the claws ladies.”

Tashi glares, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Don’t start.” Andra warns the dark haired man who just shrugs, peeking over at Art with his tongue out in silent laughter who’s shaking his head at him.

Tashi surveys the cottage, heading to the waterfront view while looking left and right. “So what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Art’s on this level, I’m upstairs, Pat and you can have the couches.”

Patrick bounces on the one he’s sitting on now, “cool.”

“Right,” Tashi snorts, “So the room with the barn doors? Got it.”

Andra sends a look to Art who just moves the tension from his jaw. Tashi picks up on this and says, “what have you two been up to?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice set up you got here, Andra! I’m sure there’s plenty and nothing to do.” Patrick’s fishing but they’re not taking the bait.

Art decides to change the subject, “have you two eaten?”

“We stopped at that one place for breakfast before we left but I’m always down to decide what’s for dinner.” Patrick admits while Tashi rolls her eyes.

The now blonde haired woman brushes by Andra, “I’m going to bring my things into the room while you guys figure out how to entertain yourselves.”

Andra follows after Tashi as she’s going back and forth, bringing her things and arranging them and Art’s things. Andra sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Tashi who raises a brow at her. Art lets out a long exhale as he listens to the door slide closed and Patrick gets to his feet to place his backpack on the floor. Stretching his arms above his head, he moves towards the wall where the front door is to mess with the record player.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Art mutters to Patrick as he flicks through some records and picks a random one to place down.

Patrick shrugs, “what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to talk to me?”

“You’re lucky that Andra even opened the door.”

“What is this? You finding a new team member to replace me? Don’t forget that I’m always your number one.” Patrick leaves the needle off as he burns his stare into Art who’s resting his hands on the counter.

“Are you fucken serious right now? No way are you saying that to me when you did what did behind my back, again.”

Patrick rests his hand on his chest, “you’re acting as if I knew, which I didn’t, and what we’ve been over already! I would never try to take Lily away in the first place, I’m fine being uncle Patrick and I’ll still love her regardless.”

“Well shit, thanks for your permission!”

In the room, Tashi has now taken a space on the bed, arms crossed while Andra stands in front of her. “…Do you really think being here smothering him is the best choice?”

“Smothering?” Tashi scoffs, “Art fucked off for two weeks and he folded right into your arms. Whether you like it or not, I’m his wife and he’ll always need me.”

“Tashi…you had him believing that lily was his—

“She is!” Tashi exclaimed, “you honestly think Patrick would be a good father and god forbid a husband? They’re not children, they’re men and should start acting like it. Those white boys wouldn’t be shit without me and you know it, which is why you walked away.”

Andra frowned, “I don’t have anything to do with your relationships with Pat and Art so I don’t appreciate you trying to wrap me into your bullshit. I’ve been out the mix, sis. You’re already in my house, which takes a lot of balls from the both of you after you did Art dirty.”

“Art, art, art, art, art! Jesus! Did you fuck him already? Was it even better now than back when you were nineteen?”

One thing about Tashi, she knew how to be so disrespectful. However it had no effect on Andra as a smile split over her lips at the blunt short haired woman. It wasn’t a secret that Art was Andra’s first before he decided to start going after Tashi. They were each other’s flings and that was good enough for Andra as long as he wasn’t screwing anybody else that didn’t deserve him. It was her mistake then and maybe it would have been her mistake now if they had more time on that couch.

She didn’t need Tashi picking at scabs.

“Would that make you feel better?” Andra asked with a tilt of her head, “voluntarily giving us a pass for what exactly? To even the score?”

Tashi smirks, “You were always my greatest weapon and I don’t get even, I win.”

Patrick stands on the other side of the counter, taking Art’s glare, “I don’t know what you want from me, man. We were back to normal, great even! I’m at my best and you’re going out with a bang, don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”

Art huffs, “I’ll decide.”

“Fine, whatever you want but don’t make it another thirteen years.” Patrick snaps, “…where’s the booze?”

Andra pats at her scalp in frustration, “if you have any respect for me as a past friend, you’ll do right.”

“What’s your definition of right?” Tashi rolls her hands around trying to understand, “Leaving when it gets tough and having unrequited love?”

“What’s yours?” Andra debates stepping to Tashi who gets up in her face, “Cheating on your husband, having a baby on him, lying to him for years, and still walking around like the mean girl you are? Let me tell you something Ms. bob, we’re grown now and it’s tired.”

Tashi sizes Andra up, “it’s cute that you think you have a back bone now. Took you long enough.”

“Keep trying me and you’ll see just how that back bone works.”

Tashi kisses her lips at Andra who steps back, “great talk.”

“You haven’t changed and I don’t think you ever will. I’m glad I walked away from this friendship years ago, you make me sick.” Andra snips over her shoulder as she reaches for the handles.

Tashi fans her hand, “oh fuck you and your excuses. You’re just looking to point the finger at every bad guy to make yourself feel better about your lack of drive for anything.”

“What?” Andra whips around, “You’re the only miserable one I see here. At first I thought it was ambition but that turned into greed and then control. You’re just mad that I would no longer let you diminish my voice. I’ve had enough of that with my own mother! I’m not tennis, I’m more than that, which you’re not and that bothers you so maybe you’re the one that’s really sick.”

Tashi claps it up while Andra stares up at the ceiling, “glad you finally found your voice and told me how you really feel in person, instead of laying it out to the public like you should have. Only took you forever.”

Andra shrugs her shoulders, “if I have something to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

Tashi hums as she steps to Andra this time, brown eyes scanning over her features,“Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Tash.” Andra’s hands are up in the air, “I removed myself from the situation long ago and after this weekend here, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We just don’t mesh and that’s okay, I have boundaries and you have crazy standards that you expect everybody to follow. Art and I were cool before you came into the picture—

“Aht, don’t do that. We were high school friends before Art. Why should some man come between us?”

This was true, Andra and Tashi were the best of friends anyone can have as teenagers starting from their junior year. This wasn’t their first fight and wouldn’t be their last. They were in different groups by the time Andra came along since she was from Virginia but her family moved out to California when she was fourteen. They knew of each other since they had gym class together but didn’t get the chance to form a friendship until they were sixteen.

“You don’t get it,” Andra sighs, “it wasn’t just Art. It was everything for me and it would have killed me so I chose a different path. If you wanna be mad at me still over that, fine. We can’t change each other.”

“You honestly think that’s what our relationship was?” Tashi pries, “it was about challenging each other and shaping each other into the best of the best.”

Andra tightens her stare, “So tell me Tash, do you like the result?”

Tashi inhales, thoughts wandering as there’s more harsh knocks at the door. Andra deeply frowns figuring it’s Patrick who locked himself out as she looks away from Tashi, sliding the doors back to peek out. She can’t see from the doorway but she also doesn’t hear Patrick or Art talking.

The knocking sounds again and Andra steps out, followed by Tashi. Andra sees Art walking over to the door while Patrick brings his attention away from tinder on his phone.

“I thought it was you,” Andra tells Patrick, shoving his shoulder, making him lift his head to peek up at her.

Patrick snorts, “nah. My serve is more baseline.”

Tashi walks along the path between the couch and sliding doors, peering at the view of the afternoon sky turning lightly yellow against the blue. There’s birds in the sky but they’re flying further away. All of their heads turn back to the knocking, leaving Art to unlock it before Andra tells him to ask who it is.

Her attention is pulled away as Patrick starts carrying a conversation about dinner but she’s curious to who’s at the door. She see’s Art standing up straight before closing the door, locking it while holding a piece of paper.

“Who was it?” Patrick examines as Art makes his way over to the three still holding onto a fallen paper.

The blond shrugs, “some girl looking for some other girl.”

“God, I hope it didn’t slip to the paps that we’re out here.” Tashi actually seems uneasy about that, perhaps this news was more damaging than she was letting on.

Art replies, “Yeah that would not be great.”

“I mean…would it be the worst?” Patrick sits up on his elbows, “The press is hot right now and I’m the hottest topic—which I should be.”

“Yeah mainly for having a kid with your coach, who happens to be my wife.” Art retorts, “You should be so proud.” He flicks the paper into the air, leaving Patrick to reach up and snatch it.

Patrick turns his attention to Andra who’s sitting on the other side of the lounging shaven man, “…you never told us this was some religious town.”

“What?” Andra frowns, trying to not dissociate.

Patrick holds the paper up in the air as if it’s show and tell, “Latter-day saints? Don’t tell us you invited us here to join a cult?”

“I didn’t invite you!” Andra declared while Patrick flicks the paper to the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

Tashi asks Art, “what’s the name of the girl she said she was looking for?”

“It wasn’t Tashi.” Art notifies, “don’t worry.”

Tashi breathed out a laugh, “me? Never.”

Art moves to sit at the dining table glancing at the three in the room. Andra’s gone quiet, Patrick’s humming a tune while he’s messing around with his phone again, and Tashi is burning her stare into him. He knows they’re going to have to talk at some point during this trip but for now?

“Andie and I ate not too long ago but nows a good as time as any to decide what to eat for dinner. So…any suggestions?” Art questions, eyes moving around the sitting room.

Tashi mumbles that it doesn’t matter, arms crossed as she also seems to have a lot on her mind. Patrick is sitting up against the arm of the couch now, blabbing about many options that most likely wasn’t in the fridge or freezer. Art’s eyes are on Andra as she moves to pull the large curtain over the sliding doors, which makes Tashi eye Art watching her as well.

Andra moves back to the kitchen, pulling out some already prepared items from her assistant to rest on the counter. Patrick’s back at the record player and Tashi has now taken Patrick’s spot on the couch.

The braided woman flinches as she feels hands lightly grip her hips. “Hey, are you okay?”

Andra nods, “yeah…I think so. You?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” Art whispers into her ear.

Andra utters, “just need to get through tonight.”

“Yup. Perhaps slow and steady wins this race?” Art guesses as he swiftly presses a kiss to Andra’s hairline by her personalized chocolate chip.

When he leaves her side, Art catches Patrick’s eyes who has his brows raised at that exchange, waiting for Art to tell him something with Art’s own eyes. Art just shifts his blues, leaving the main area to take a minute to himself. That doesn’t last as Patrick shortly follows after Art, seeking answers about what his plan was with Andromeda.

Tashi turns to Andra as Patrick disappears into her shared room with her husband.

“Guess it’s our turn to be fucking housewives, huh?”

Andra leans her elbows along the counter, feeling a cramp in her stomach while she breathed through it, “the real ones just exited the scene.”

Tashi laughs at this as she pushes to her feet looking for a drink. She wouldn’t exactly call this, “happy hour,” but it’ll do for now. Andra knows it’s bad luck not to cheers and Tashi Duncan was one of the last people she wanted to do so with but Andra had a feeling that she didn’t want anymore bad luck.

So the glasses clinked while Patrick and Art hashed it out behind the barn doors. Outside of the cottage by the water, stands a darkened silhouette underneath the slight shade of a dogwood tree, just lurking and waiting for the right time to rally.

Dollface would soon be ready for the next task once the hours passed with some friends to bring to the match.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#challengers movie #challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x black!reader #art donaldson x oc #art donaldson x female reader #mike faist #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan x oc #patrick zweig #the strangers #the strangers chapter 1 #queued #summer writings

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futuremrscameron · 1 year ago

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girl, it’s so confusing (tashi x black oc)

inspired by charlie xcx’s song ‘girl it’s so confusing’

rating: mature (18+)

warnings: threats of violence, drinking, homoerotic middle school friendship, sexual tension, racism, colorism, misogynoir, xenophobia, sprinkle of art x tashi x patrick, internalized homophobia, slut shaming

summary: tashi duncan and jasmine pierre have been rivals since the first time they laid eyes on each other across the court for the final match of tennis camp at 13. through the years they’ve had ups and downs but no matter how far they push each other both on and off the court they can’t seem to escape one another. but do they want to?

#tashi x black reader #tashi x black oc #brat album #challengers fic #tashi duncan x black reader #tashi duncan x reader #tashi x reader #challengers x reader #challengers wip #challengers movie #art x tashi x patrick #charli xcx

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waiting4winnie · 8 months ago

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Welcome To My Sapphic Serenades.

All my work is 18+. You can make requests. I am a twenty-six year old black woman who is Hispanic. Who I write for is listed below. I mainly feel comfortable writing series and one shots with a character AKA OC involved because I get more creative control. But I don't mind writing x reader.

Winnie • Miller's Girl

Jackie • Yellow Jackets

Shauna • Yellow Jackets

Misty • Yellow Jackets

Gabi Mosely • Found

Tashi • Challengers

Olivia Benson • law & order svu

Casey Novak • law & order svu

Alexandra Cabot • law & order svu

Sarah Cameron • Outerbanks

Amy Dunne • Gone Girl

Bella Swan• Twilight

Rosalie Hale • Twilight

Rue Bennett • Euphoria

Cassie Howard • Euphoria

Clarice Starling • Hannibal

Dr Vera Gorski • Sucker Punch

Dani Nunez • The L Word: Generation Q

Shane • The L Word

Florence Pugh characters

Chloe Bailey Characters

𝕷𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 | Rue Bennett Series

𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙗𝙮 | Cassie Howard Series

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 | Tashi Duncan series.

#olivia benson #law and order fanfiction #sarah cameron #outer banks fanfiction #winnie millers girl #gabi mosely #amy dunne #wlw fanfics #millers girl #dani nunez #sabrina carpenter x f!reader #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan #cassie euphoria fanfiction #rue bennett fanfiction

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jazziejax · 1 year ago

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Queen Treatment for the

King

Pairing- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- cute moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- suggestive moments, implied sexual content, sexual tension, feet stuff…

Jazzie’s Notes!- This can be read as an ‘x reader’ since I don’t think I go into detail about my OC all that much. I also don’t really know how to write that well without an OC so,…..sorry :( also sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don’t enjoy reading back my own work

Word Count- 2,012

Part II, Part III

The noise in the room instantly went silent as the sound of shuffling made its way to their ears. Around the small corner at the entrance of Tashi’s dorm emerged Dion King in all her glory. The lean but curved girl made her way into the room with bags hanging on her arms and hades on top of her short blowout. She dropped the bags at the very corner of the archway as the door closed behind her with a click. Slightly out of breathe, she looked between her three best friends in front of her, dispersed around Tashi’s dorm. Patrick, who was sitting at her desk, looked annoyed as his eyes went Dion’s and back to Tashi, who was turned her attention from the boy and to her open closet. Art, who sat on the girls bed, eyes jumped from everyone in the room, not knowing what to say.

“What’s going on?” Dion asked, her sweet voice showing her confusion at the tense atmosphere. She stood there, not having a clue of prior conversation and why it stopped all of a sudden when she walked into the room. There was pause in the room, the tension growing. When no one else spoke, Art did.

“Nothing at all. What do you have going on there?” He asked, trying to change the subject. Dion quickly glanced between Tashi, who was still going through her closet for her next match outfit, and Patrick, who had turned to the monitor on Tashi’s desk. Dion’s brow twitched as her tongue poked her cheek. Not wanting to leave his question unanswered, Dion looked over at Art and smiled sweetly at him. “These are some gifts for my favorite person.” She said as she walked over to the side of the bed he was sitting on and placed the bags down in front of them as she took a seat. Art’s eyes trailed her figure, her bikini tan lines showing through the top of her bandeau top. His eyes then made their way down to her long legs, which didn’t add to her height. They were smooth and oiled, save for the small dots that littered her skin, a condition she liked to call ‘strawberry skin’. He knew that she had just gotten a fresh way by the mango oil smell that admitted from her skin and the short shorts she was wearing that showed the bottom of her ass cheeks.

She then snapped her eyes over to him, catching the boy admiring her. She beamed at the boy, Art immediately imitating her smile as he scooted closer to her on the edge of the bed. “But first,” She started. She then held out her hands, her many gold tennis bracelets that held different gems jingling together softly. She waved her fingers in front of him. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her nails. At her question, Patrick glanced over his shoulder to see what they were talking about but he couldn’t see to well.

Art looked down at her hands and softly clasped them in his, seeing her short nails that had her favorite flower on them. “These are cute. Your favorite flower.” He noted, looking up at her. Dion cheesed along with him and nodded her head. She then turned and scooted closer, to where the underside of her bottom sat on the outer edge of his thigh. She threw her legs over his lap, never looking away from his face even though he broke eye contact to watch her movements like a hawk. She held up her leg, her knee almost touching his face. “What about these?” She asked, her voice lowering as she trailed the side of his face, leaning back on her elbows. Art's hands were immediately on her as she got closer, one hand coming to wrap around her legs over his thigh while the other trailed the leg that was up in the air. He followed his hand all the way up to her feet, which were in a pair of tweed wedges with white ribbons wrapped around her ankle and the base of her toes. Without thinking, his free hand pulled on the strings of the bow, loosening it and taking off her show. Dion’s foot was pointed as Art analyzed it. Her toes were done to match her nails, the flower only on the big toe while the rest were pink french tips.

Art’s hand grasped Dion’s foot, the soft bottom of it rubbing against the callous on his hands that he got from tennis. He brought her foot down, causing the file to bend her knee as she rose from her elbows to resting on her palms. His large palm massaged her foot, his thumb rubbing into the arch of it. “So, what do you think?” Dion asked in her sultry tone, leaning forward to wrap her arms around the boy's neck. Art’s head turned to her, his large nose brushing against hers due to their proximity. “Oh you know I love them.” He said, his tone deep and raspy as he held eye contact with her through both of their low lids. Dion smirked, her canines biting into her lower lip.

Both Tashi and Patrick turned to look at the pair, hearing the suggestive and downright horny nature of the conversation. They could see that the pair was close, whispering things to eachother as they never broke eye contact. Dion’s foot was now on Art’s lap, softly rubbing against his boner while Arts hands rubbed anywhere they could. Her feet, her legs, her back, her arms. He was stuck in her trance as they softly talked back and fourth. Tashi’s jaw clenched as she stared at the pair. As she turned to go back to what she was doing, she met Patrick’s eyes for a split second, who shared her hard look. She huffed, seeing him getting her pissed all over again, and turned back to her closet. Patrick wasn’t necessarily jealous in the same way Tashi was. She was angry that Dion’s attention was on some one else besides her while he was pissed that he was being left out of what Dion and Art had going on. Dion never left him out.

And by no means was this Dion trying to make Tashi and Patrick jealous, she was already in the mood after her waxing and was willing to fuck any of them. She would also never do that to Art, she loved her baby boy far too much to use him and do such a thing. But when Tashi and Pat ignored her earlier, she felt that she might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Watching Arts face morph the more she poke into his ear, and feeling the man twitch under her foot, Dion knew he was close. She smiled as she pulled her foot away and turned to sit the way he was, facing the bag on the floor. Art’s mouth dropped open, trying catch his breath after getting worked up.

“I got you something.” Dion said, leaning forward to pick up a small bag that was next to some other ones. “What? You didn’t have to do that.” Art said, watching as the bag was placed in his lap. Dion rolled her eyes. “Duh, but I wanted to so I did.” She said. She looked up from the bag when Art didn’t move to see the boy staring at her lovingly. “Open it, blondie.” She joked, playfully pushing his shoulder, hoping to distract the boy from the blush that crept up her neck.

Arts hands pulled the tissue paper from the bag to reveal a small box at the bottom. He grabbed the velvet cube and held it in hands. His glanced back over to Dion, who immediately pushed his chin to look back at the box. Getting the hint, Art smirked before opening the box. It instantly dropped at the sight of the large gold ring with a blue stone in the middle. He looked back over at Dion, who was smiling at him.

“How much did this fucking cost you?” Slightly angling his body to face her more. Dion shrugged her shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I saw it and I thought of you so now you have it.” She said, taking the ring out of the box and placing it on his left hands ring finger. Art looked down at the masterpiece of a ring in admiration, stunned for a many of reasons.

“Do you like it?” She asked softly, trying to gauge a sincere reaction from the way he was just staring at it. Art immediately looked up at her, a large smile making its way into her face. “So I like it? I fucking love it, Queen!” He said before smacking his low onto hers. Dion laughed into the kiss before settling in, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips moved together for only a minute before Art got too riled up and let his hands start to travel.

Felling his palm directly over her heat, Dion broke the kiss.

“How about we take this next door to my dorm.” The girl smiled before standing up to gather her bags. “I can also give you a fashion show of all the things I bought if you’d like?” She said, smiling down at the dazed boy beneath her.

“You could read a book and I’d enjoy myself just watching you.” Art said, drunkenly looking up at the girl before him. Unbeknownst to them, both Tashi and Patrick simultaneously rolled their eyes at the boys cheesiness. Dion, on the other hand, grabbed the fucked out boy by his jaw, smushing his face together. “Oh Art, don’t you know just what to say to get a lady started.” She said through her teeth before smooching his puckered lips for a quick second.

She then gathered all her bags and was on her way out the door without a word before Tashi spoke up.

“What, no gifts and kisses for us?” She asked, leaning against her closet door as her eyes followed the other girl.

Dion barley spared her a glance as she passed. “I said my favorite person.” Was all that left her lips before she was out of the door. Tashi’s jaw clenched while Patrick sat in the desk chair with the look of a kicked puppy.

Once it closed, Art spoke.

“She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes she did.” Patrick mumbled sadly, not looking up from his hands.

“No, she didn’t.” The blonde boy defended. “She’s only acting that way because she knows you two are keeping shit from her and you’ve kinda been avoiding her for the past week.” He said.

“What, you have, like, three days left?” He asked, looking over at Patrick. “And you’ve spent the majority of your time arguing over how you both feel about her? Can’t make up your damn mind?” He rhetorically asked, glancing between the two.

Before he could continue on, Dion’s head popped back into the door. This time, there was no notion of the prior conversation that could have left her questioning. Her eyes were trained on Art, who was still in the same spot on the bed. “Are you coming?” She asked, big eyes looking at him. The blonde immediately stood up, not caring for the obvious boner that they all could see. Dion giggled at the sight and moved to let the boy out. The door closing behind him engulfed the other pair in silence as they thought over what he said.

Let me know if you could would like me to start a taglist :)

#art donaldson #mike faist #challengersmovie #challengers #zendaya #zenday coleman #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #josh o connor #josh o'connor #art donaldson x reader #jazziejaxwriting #jazziejaxchallengers

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j0ysyndr0m3 · 2 months ago

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ESCAPISM, a challengers story

MEET THE CAST.

masterlist

DAWN HENLEY, laura kariuki

TASHI DUNCAN, zendaya

ART DONALDSON, mike faist

PATRICK ZWEIG, josh o'connor

#escapism fanfic #fic: escapism #j0ywrites #challengers fanfiction #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers fandom #challengers x oc!reader #art donaldson x black!oc!reader #patrick zweig x black!oc!reader #tashi duncan x black!oc!reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #art x patrick x tashi x reader

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ohyouluckysaint · 2 months ago

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𓈒 　⨾ ⠀ starring ◜ ͡ 　 fall fawn!reader ╱﹙ cowgirl.ᐟt.d. ﹚

word count ༢ུ⠀✹ 2.5k MINORS STAY AWAY FROM THIS.

cw ─ ᭺ 𝐍𝒮𝐅𝐖(𝟏𝟖+) ╱ RATED R. ╋━ porn with very little plot, fluff if you squint, established relationship, top cowgirl!tashi, mirror sex with strap on, cunnilingus (r!receiving), kissing, semi-public fingering (r!receiving), dirty talk, spanking, a small mention of filming, pillow princess reader, tashi’s wearing the cowgirl hat (and she has you wear it too), explicit language, second person.

Tashi didn’t even want to go out. She came over to stay in with you all day even while knowing you had plans because you excitedly told her about it over the phone. She thought you’d change your mind this time and cuddle with her while watching reruns on television til’ the sunlight bleeds through the windows where the curtains are parted. She said, “I’m not a fan of your friends. You know that.” She thinks they’re “pretentious folk” but you insist they’re sweet and cool people. When you mentioned it was a dress up party, it seemed like even more of a reason to say no again. Until you stepped out of the closet dressed in some form fitting skimpy number. That was all the reason to finally say yes in her mind.

She wasn’t the type to beg you to stay home over something this trivial. Doesn’t want to be the possessive type. It’s why she bit her tongue about it which is rare. It totally doesn’t have anything to do with how she also got soaked at the sight and squeezed her thighs together not so subtly. Why do you have to be unfairly sexy?

She held onto your hand while navigating through the party. Her eyes couldn’t stray away from how cute your face looked in that freckled and white spot decorated makeup with the dark shaded and detailed nose tip as she walked beside you. But, just even a cut of anyone’s gaze lower it gets all risqué. She’s not complaining in the slightest.

Your boobs are begging to spill out of that top that seems too confined for them with each step and those fawn print short shorts have half of your ass hanging out. You saying, “Babe,” with a subtle frown tugging at your glossy plump lips, pulled her out of her thoughts. “Yeah, baby?” She responded. “My friends said hello, and you just stared off,” you murmured as your gaze flickered between hers, and she nodded. “Right, uh, hey y’all,” the lilt of her accent thickened, and they all just greeted her back awkwardly.

“Let’s get some drinks rolling, alright? I brought the sweet stuff.” You spoke up and raised the bag in the hand that wasn’t holding Tashi’s. You brought caramel apples and snickerdoodles. Homemade, of course, and your friends didn’t hesitate to all reach out, which earned a giggle from you before you pulled back and handed them out one by one, basking in the thanks from each one and even some hugs.

Now, you didn’t drink even by the middle of the night when a good chunk of people headed out. Tashi advised against it—she didn’t say precisely why other than wanting you to have a clear head. If she would’ve said she didn’t want to take care of you smelling like booze and being so whiny that would’ve sounded rude and had been a lie.

She doesn’t mind taking care of her sweetheart in any way she can. Just would much prefer taking care of you a different way tonight.

When you both headed to the bathroom on Tashi’s call, you instantaneously got the memo when you saw her eyes; pupils blown so wide there was hardly room for any brown. You hesitantly leaned close to her face before she rushed the rest of the distance and kissed you while gripping the back of your thighs. She hoisted you up onto the cool marble bathroom counter without pulling back once, convinced herself that if she did, it would only annoy her.

She didn’t pull back for breath until your hand found purchase on her shoulder and squeezed. You both panted for a moment before she tugged at the waistband of your shorts that was waiting for her to pull off those flimsy cotton panties from underneath them next. “In here?” You whisper incredulously, it’s obvious you’re worried about how it’s echoey and anyone could pass by even though the door was locked and Tashi double checked to make sure.

“You can keep quiet. You’ve done it before when I asked you pretty,” Tashi whispered back and smiled softly to which you leveled her with a look. “You can opt out now. I won’t be angry,” she said, relenting and pulling her hands back to simply rest on your thighs.

“No, I’m game. But, if we get caught I’m not kissing you for a month.” You whispered and she huffed out a breath of amusement before kissing your cheek and softly nodded as she pulled back. “Deal.”

Either she was confident you both wouldn’t get caught or that you’d cave in and kiss her as soon as tomorrow. It doesn’t matter which as she’s tugging your faux fawn fur shorts and brown cotton panties off in one smooth pull, baring the shea butter smooth expanse of your thighs and soaked pussy right in between to her half lidded eyes.

“Jesus,” she managed thickly and licked her lips like she hadn’t been snug there countless times before. She slid two of her fingers between your thighs and didn’t hesitate to plunge them inside. Her other hand came up to thumb your clit. You immediately grabbed onto the edge of the bathroom counter as you lightly bit the swell of your bottom lip to contain even the quietest sharp hitch of breath. Your face contorted in pleasure when she nudged her fingers against that sweet spot and then curled them, your dilated pupils and makeup making you look adorable.

She listened in awe at the wet feedback, but when she heard you whine she didn’t hesitate to kiss you to lessen the noise there. Your manicured hands gripped the edge of the counter a little more and you huffed out a breath through your nose like you’re irritated you can’t broadcast that she’s knuckle deep and making your head spin.

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized you made a sound. The more she pumped her fingers and rolled her thumb in steady, tight circles, the more your brain became titillated mush. You were so sure it’d blank out any second and you’d have more difficulty keeping things hushed. She pulled back from the kiss, licking her lips to rid of the string of saliva that connected you both still. “Listen to that…yeah, she’s talkin' t’me.” Tashi cooed, and you wanted to mewl at how her fingers only pumped faster and impossibly deeper just to hear more lewd squelching.

Tashi was just about to let something twice as dirty filter through her lips when there was a knock at the door and then some drunken incomprehensible blathering that was distinctly one of your friend's voices. “Shit,” she whispered and slipped her fingers out carefully, slurping her fingers as best as she could before shimmying your panties and shorts up your legs that were once at your ankles.

You were upset you didn’t even get the opportunity to cum yet, but put that feeling aside so you both could head out and wait until you’re at home this time. Neither of you necessarily got caught but it was clear you both had been making out at least.

The ambient lighting of your bedroom instantly set the mood again when you both made it back into the comfort of your home. She kissed your clit before sucking it, holding your thighs down and secure so you wouldn’t squeeze her head like a watermelon with rubber bands adding pressure to it. She found it cute how you always got to squirming when she sucked and lapped her tongue. Hell, you were already sensitive from what happened several minutes prior, rubbing and squeezing your thighs in the passenger seat of her pickup truck the whole way back didn’t seem to quell the ache.

She may as well have fucked you in the backseat.

Her nose nudged against the swell of your clit perfectly as she took her thumbs and spread your lips just to wrap her lips around it again and she moaned softly, keeping you just like that. Your thighs tremored slightly in response, you dragged your hips back a little with a soft near inaudible gasp. Only for her to follow and suckle insistently as her eyes casted up to look at your face, narrowed with that infamous stare as if making it clear she wasn’t happy with that. You pouted to nonverbally apologize before letting out a heady mix of a gasp and a moan, canting your head rearward against the sheets as her tongue finally dipped and went inside and worked feverishly.

"Fuuuuck," you dragged out in a whine, couldn’t help but grab onto the nearest thing, that being the hair on her head and you tugged. Didn’t hesitate to nudge her on closer and spread your thighs a little wider as your hips bucked impatiently. Her hand rested against your lower stomach and spread her fingers as if to steady herself as she allowed you to use her to chase that high. Her jaw relentlessly worked like no other. Anything to please the sweetest woman she knows.

Her name rips from the cavern of your throat and your thighs tremble as you try and shut them, your back arched up like a bowstring being pulled taut from the comfort of your bedsheets. You blink away the stars behind your eyes even as pleasure still seeps into your bones and the shakiness of your panting. She was addicted to that, always craving for her next fix and boy is she starving for a solution right now. She obnoxiously slurped at your pussy to get ‘er clean before lifting her head with sex mussed hair and a glistening chin and lips, she flashes a dopey smirk when you look down at her as if she was drunk on pussy alone. She probably was knowing her.

Tashi works at almost every opportunity to eat you out. Stressed? She knows just the thing to help. A thorough massage mostly focused on your shoulders and back and then disappearing head only between those plush thighs like clockwork. You suppose you’re at fault too for saying “Yes, that’d be nice,” all honeyed even while worn from a day of working or being at an outing when she suggests it.

“You good enough to keep taking me?” Tashi spoke up after giving you time to snap out of that initial haze as she rubbed your thighs up and down as a soothing gesture that was partly arousing.

“Blunt as always.” You responded followed by a chortle as your eyes narrowed playfully. But, that didn’t stop you from pushing her chest gently for her to lay back and for you to climb atop her, your palm still planted against her chest as her hands come to rest on your hips.

She patted your bare hip soon afterward to signal for you to move just a moment, “Gimme a sec.” She responded before getting up from the bed to head to the closet; you knew exactly what she was doing. But what surprised you is she also came out with her signature dusty brown cowgirl hat on her head even after securing that strap on at her hips. “Ass up, right at the edge in front of the mirror,” she gently commanded as she made her way over to you, all tall stature, and when you’re obliging, she elicits a low whistle. “Just like that, honey. Wish I was recordin’ right now.”

She’s always said you’d be a pretty little movie star. You’ve got the beauty, the smile, and the charisma for it. But for your personal films—if there were any—you’ve for damn sure got the voice for it too. She brings it out of you easily. You just need a little encouragement. She spanks your ass twice. She teased, sliding the tip against your slit before inching in, pressing past your walls with care as she delved in until she was fully seated making your eyes nearly roll back.

“Doin’ so good…” She murmured before drawing her hips back, not pulling out completely before driving her hips forward enough to slam right against your ass and you hiss softly before mewling. She doesn’t hesitate to keep going, hitting deep even while moving slow.

Your eyes fluttered up to the mirror to look at her, watching as her hips rocked and her hands gripped onto your waist with thumbs pressing at the dip of your back, her cowgirl hat keeping her upper face shadowed. The moment she lifts her head a little and makes eye contact with you, it’s like a missile being set off because she’s bucking her hips rougher and raising her hand for it to slap down against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Lord, just look at you,” Tashi mused breathily. It’s almost inaudible over your whines and the bed creaking in protest as she fucks you from behind. Her favorite because something along the lines of watching your ass ripple and how you always fuck her back from the sole encouragement of feeling that warmth closing in on your navel when you’re about to climax. You wouldn’t even be here ass up and a sweaty glistening back for your girlfriend if it weren’t for that costume you chose for that get together you dragged her along to.

But, you don’t regret it in the slightest. You can taste the words on your tongue that want to spill but each one is replaced with a soft mantra of ah! ah! ah! and what sounds like her name before it’s all muddled by another moan or stuttering gasp. “Speak up,” she says as she stares at you by the mirror reflection and your nails cinch into the sheets even more as you meet her gaze again. You don’t even speak and spread your thighs a little more before pushing your hips back to meet her halfway and you’re about to bury your pretty face into the sheets when she gently grasps underneath your chin to keep your head up. “Talk. To. Me.” She punctuated each word with a thrust and it only sent you crying out as you came for the second time.

She slowed her hips down to a steady bearable pace and rubbed her middle finger over your clit in tight agonizingly slow circles just to work you through it. She hummed and leaned down to cover your back with kisses as best as she could before relenting when you weren’t trembling as much anymore. She rested both of her hands against your hips and slid out, eliciting a soft whine from you followed by a wet pop. You slump against the bed and finally bury your face in the sheets.

“You get so loud everytime.” Tashi teased before taking her cowgirl hat off and resting it on your head. That’d make it seem like she was expecting the obvious: put on the hat, ride the cowgirl. But she knows you’re worn and not to worry she’s only letting you rest, planting the gentlest of kisses on your face and whispers of affection she knows you’ll comprehend and asking if you need anything before encouraging you to get cleaned up with her in a nice warm shower.

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victoria-daydreams · 1 year ago

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The Winner Takes It All || Challengers

Part I: Sugar & Spice

AN: Oh my god, taking a 6 week summer course 0/10 don't recommend. Seriously, y'all I'm sorry this took so long, I've had assignments due every week and I still have 2 more weeks to go so it will be awhile before another update, but oh my gosh guys, thank you so goddamn much to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented! This chapter is hella long so hopefully this will make up to you! I've never written a character that's messy nor have I written a toxic friendship so I'm praying that it's somewhat accurate.

Trigger warnings: It gets real hot and heavy by the end of the chapter so MDNI!

Word Count: 6.3k

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopeless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everdayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey @summerssoverover @hummusxx @callumturnerwife23 @whitewashedghanian @brunettegirl

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don’t know if you’ll get the notification.

Part Two: Maneaters

THREE MONTHS EARLIER - MAY, 2006

For the past ten minutes, Gianna had done nothing but blankly stare up at the ceiling of her sun filled bedroom. Splayed out on the soft, gray carpet, she laid in the middle of the floor as "Girl" by Destiny's Child played quietly in the background. A slow release of air escaped her lips, a weak effort to calm her overwhelmed mind that was currently battling a maelstrom of emotions. Gianna lifted her head up from the carpet and looked to her right.

"Maybe I was too hasty with breaking up with Drew," she remarked, a note of doubt creeping into her voice and tainting her usual confidence.

A small, thoughtful frown creasing her features before letting her head drop back on the floor with a soft thud.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Gia?"

Gianna wasn’t alone in her bedroom. Glancing sideways, her gaze landed on waves of brunette hair, warm golden skin, and nude plump lips. Tashi’s and Gianna’s heads laid beside one another, their bodies sprawled in the opposite direction.

"He was not worthy of any of your attention," Tashi stated, a sneer curling her lips. "Drew failed to realize who was the prize in your relationship," she added

For Gianna and Tashi, this was not an uncommon occurrence, lying side-by-side on the floor of Gianna's bedroom discussing tennis or boys. But, it was this aspect of their friendship that raised more than a few people's eyebrows, including both of their parents. Tashi exerted an unhealthy amount of influence over Gianna's love life. Gianna could probably count on one hand the amount of boyfriends she dumped based solely on Tashi’s input. There was always some type of flaw, big or small, which Tashi would zero in on to determine whether or not if a boy was right for Gianna. And was that oh so terrible?

Tashi was only looking out for her friend, weeding out the bad apples until Gianna meets the perfect guy. However, deep down they both know there was never going to be a boy that would meet Tashi's ever changing standards. There was no point, not when Tashi Duncan was the standard by which all boys would be judged and there was no one comparable to her, she was the cream of the crop.

"Drew's a little forgetful, but there could be worst qualities in a boyfriend," Gianna said airily.

"He's a future CTE candidate, Gia," Tashi said flatly. "How many matches did Drew 'forget' to come to?"

"He has his own football games and practices he has to attend," Gianna excused.

Tashi scoffed, "Doing what, riding the bench?" she retorted. "You need a boy who’s utterly devoted to you, worships the ground you step on," Tashi reasoned.

Gianna let out a dry, breathy laugh which sounded more like an exhale of air. Turning her head, she looked back up at the ceiling with her hands resting on her stomach.

"That's the difference between you me and Tash," Gianna began, looking back over to her. "I don’t want to be deified by a boy," she revealed, shaking her head.

"Why? Is it because my devotion is enough for you?" Tashi questioned, a smirk on her lips.

"Yeah, something like that," Gianna answered, her own lips quirking upwards.

"Hey," Tashi called, raising her pinky finger. "Pinky promise boys won"t come between us,"

"Easiest promise to keep," Gianna said, lifting up her pinky finger. "I promise boys will not come between us," she swore, hooking her finger with Tashi's.

Tilting her head forward, Tashi pressed a kiss to Gianna's forehead.

"We don't need them anyway, not when we have each other,"

~~~x~~~

There was nothing but Gianna's breathing and her music blasting as she tuned out the world. Her feet barely touched the ground as her arms pumped quickly back and forth at her side. It was a beautiful day for a morning run, the sky cerulean blue, littered with a few wispy clouds. Gianna's skin was hot and flushed, and sweat beaded at her hairline; the hot, humid summer air biting at her lungs. Luckily, a faint breeze kept off the worst of the heat.

As the notes of "If" by Janet Jackson came to end, Gianna had finished her run. Her pace slowed to a jog, then to a walking pace with her eyes closed, catching her breath.

"On your left,"

Gianna's eyes popped open to see a familiar, strawberry blond haired boy next to her, his tennis gear resting on his shoulder. A breathy chuckle left Gianna as the beat of "I Wanna Be Down" floated into her ears. Pausing the iPod tucked away in her arm band, she removed her earbud on her left side.

"Hey you!" Gianna greeted, smiling at Art and coming to a stop.

"Hey Gianna," he greeted back, with a shy smile of his own. "I didn't expect to see you out here until later on at the match," he commented.

"Oh, why is that?"

"I figured you'd be resting from your match yesterday," Art replied. "It's well earned after all,"

Gianna gave a small, amused huff, "It couldn't be any clearer that you have not met father yet," she joked, shaking her head. "This is punishment for losing to Irina in the semifinals," she explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Art frowned slightly, "That's not really fair," he remarked, adjusting his grip on his bag. "A line call decided your match," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, if I played smarter and better, then it wouldn't have," Gianna countered easily. "My dad believes the same," she added, crossing her arms together.

"Your dad takes your tennis career pretty seriously, it's admirable," Art commented. "Most parents would just treat it as expensive hobby,"

"I hope he would he would take it serious, he is my coach after all," Gianna revealed, watching Art's eyes slightly widen in surprise.

"Guess that explains why you didn't want Patrick and I to walk you back last night," Art noted. "You were already past your curfew, but then to show up with two boys by your side…" he trailed off, sucking his teeth . "I'm sure that would’ve made for a fun conversation," he joked.

"Trust me, my dad would've gotten creative with his workout plan had the three of us shown up together," she assured. "You headed to the stadium?" she asked, nodding her head at his gear.

"Yeah, gotta start preparing for the big match today," he answered.

"Mind if I walk with you there? It would be a great cool down for me,"

"As if I would say no to Gianna Langdon," Art responded, grinning at her.

Walking alongside each other, the two of them found themselves consumed in idle chit chat. Art was an only child, Gianna was the youngest of four siblings. He started playing tennis because his parents took him to a match, she began playing because her father withdrew her from ballet after he saw her play one match of rec tennis. Art was born and raised in Upstate New York, Gianna was raised on a ranch in New Orleans most of her life until moving to California.

"I've always wanted to meet a real life cowgirl," he teased.

They drifted into a brief, companionable silence for a moment before a thought occurred to Gianna. She turned her head in Art's direction, smiling a little.

"So, a little birdie told me, this is a high stakes match today," Gianna mentioned, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"You could say that," he agreed sheepishly, his face instantly flushing.

"I also heard that some fun was had last night," Gianna hinted, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Art's face reddened deeper, "We did..."

"A shame I had to miss it, but you know what they say," Gianna began, interlocking her fingers behind her back. "Three's a party, four is a crowd," she quoted, with a small shrug.

"Not with you it wouldn't have been," Art disagreed quickly, looking over at her.

His intense eyes stared at her, through her. With it being daylight, Gianna could now fully appreciate how striking his eyes were. One was blue, while the other was partially brown and blue. Gianna let a bashful laugh, looking ahead to escape Art's gaze while pointedly ignoring the warmth blossoming within her. In the distance, the Arthur Ashe Stadium was peeking over the horizon.

"Hey Gianna," Art called, as the two stopped at the gates of the Billie Jean King Tennis Center.

"Yeah?"

"I’ve got a question for you that I’ve been dying ask you," Art said, both turning to face each other.

"Ask away," she answered, with a chuckle.

Art glanced down at the Gianna, completely towering over her.

"Why didn't you and Tashi compete in the girls duo this year?" Art questioned. "You two would've mopped the floor with your competition as you usually do," he remarked, a small, exhaling laugh leaving him.

"Well, I couldn’t do the girls singles, the mixed doubles, and girls doubles all at the same time. It would’ve been a scheduling nightmare, not to mention downright exhausting, so a decision had to be made," she explained, mindlessly twirling her earbud around in small circles.

"And Tashi decided—"

Her earbud twirling ceased, "Tashi, didn't decide anything. I did," Gianna corrected sharply, feeling a vein pulse at her temple.

Irritation threatened to surface on her face, but Gianna managed to keep her composure. It was that, the implication that she was not capable of making her own decisions as a player without Tashi being her invisible, guiding hand. Momentarily, neither of them said anything. Art's eyes flicked over her face, as if studying her expression.

"What is he looking for?"

"Oh my god, I've offended you, haven't I?" Art realized, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Apology accepted, though I shouldn't have been short with you either," Gianna replied, folding her arms together. "But, you see how you just automatically assumed it was Tashi, when it was me who didn’t want to do it?" she pointed out, sighing tiredly. "It's for that exact reason why I wanted to pursue mixed doubles this year," she went on. "I love Tashi to pieces, but as a tennis player, I needed space from her this tournament," she explained, unfolding her arms to gesture with her hands by pulling them away from one another.

"I really didn’t mean to be the cause of a sore subject," Art promised, sincerity ringing in every word.

A half smile appeared on her face, "Art, I just met you 24 hours ago, you didn't cause this,” Gianna reassured, with a dismissive wave. "No, this year I had a point to prove to silence both my haters and critics," she informed, nodding to herself.

"And what point was that?"

"That I couldn't win without Tashi Duncan by my side," Gianna answered, her eyes unconsciously narrowing in the corners.

"Well, I think you shut them up pretty definitively this tournament," Art said, laughing gently. "You won the mixed doubles championship while essentially playing two on one the entire time," he quipped.

She chuckled, "Maybe," Gianna agreed. "However, I didn't get the chance to face Tashi in singles, winning against her and being crowned the girls singles US Open Champion would've been the ultimate 'fuck you' to those who doubt me," she finished, lightly laughing.

"Had you won against Irina, you think you could've beat Tashi?"”" Art asked.

Gianna contemplated his question, briefly casting her eyes downward while toeing the ground with her sneaker. Her mind flash backed to when she was 15 years old, the bellowing war cry that pierced the air from her when she beat Tashi in the Southern California Junior Sectional Championship. A career-defining moment for Gianna, putting her name on the map once and for all and also signaling that Tashi Duncan was not untouchable as most people wanted to believe.

Gianna's eyes focused back on Art, "I do think I could’ve actually," she said, her mouth quirking up just a tiny bit. "Tashi has beaten me several times, but I also have won against her a handful of times too," she continued, rocking a little back and forth on her feet.

"And what does that feel like, beating Tashi Duncan?" Art questioned, slightly leaning closer to her like they were sharing a secret, but his voice was still loud enough for any passerby to hear.

Gianna let a few seconds pass in silence, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. To win against Tashi was akin to eating caviar, it was a rarity and must be savored. It was Gianna's own kind of adrenaline rush, that feeling of euphoric confidence which she swore got more intense after each victory. This brought a full blown smirk, not of arrogance, but pride on Gianna's features.

"Like David slaying Goalith," she responded, triumphantly. "Although, every time I win against Tashi, I don't know things get….weird between us. Sometimes it's only for a few hours, other times it’s the entire day," she remarked, shaking her head. "This never happens when I lose to her, I mean losing is apart of the game. But with her, it's like she can't believe she lost…" Gianna trailed off.

"To me,"

This mere thought bothered her. It was only a hunch, but it was not for the first time this lurking suspicion wormed itself into the back of her mind. Her own mother implied it, that perhaps, their friendship dynamic was not built upon the sturdiest of foundations. Gianna's parents didn't get it though, Tashi was her only friend that really understood her, pushed her to be her best. Her dominant motivation in playing tennis. Tashi was the one where she could always rely on, no matter what. So, until she had any concrete proof, Gianna would continue to deny that notion.

"Gianna?"

Her eyes snapped back to Art, a light summer breeze blew sending a few strands of his curls across his face. The effortless charm he possessed, Gianna could almost guarantee he was unaware he was using it.

Gianna shook her head a little, "I'm sorry, went into a trance there," she apologized, with an embarrassed chuckle. "Must be the run catching up to me," she claimed. "I've wasted enough of your time, you have a match to prepare for," she reminded.

"Hey, there's no such thing as time wasted when talking with you, Gianna," Art corrected. "Who are you betting on today, me or Patrick?" he asked.

"I'm not a betting woman," Gianna quipped. "May the best player win today," she wished. "And for all I know, I may be staring right at them," she commented.

"Maybe," Art echoed.

~~~x~~~

Jogging up the bleachers to the tennis court, Gianna's Vans clanged against the metallic steps with each step, her skort swishing around her legs and her braids dancing across her shoulders. All around her, spectators cheered loudly in the stands as they all awaited for the the boys singles championship match to begin. Gianna strolled towards the center row, greeted by a cheerful Tashi who stood up from her seat once she saw her friend approach from a distance.

"You left me," Gianna greeted, with a fake pout.

"You were taking too long," Tashi retorted playfully, guiding Gianna to sit next to her.

"Yeah, because I was forced to go on a run this morning," Gianna reminded, laughing while pulling her braids back into a half up half down style.

"I got up early too Gia, to go hit around on the court. The only difference between you and I, is that you got sidetracked," she pointed out.

Gianna turned in her seat, "Sidetracked?" she repeated dryly.

"Yes, sidetracked," Tashi affirmed, shifting to face her. "I saw you and Art this morning on my way back from the courts," she said. "You two, however, were to engrossed in your conversation to notice me," she teased, but there was an edge to her voice.

Cocking her head to the side, Gianna chuckled and reached to lightly grasp Tashi's chin in between her forefinger and thumb.

Gianna leaned forward, their noses almost brushing, "Aww, is someone jealous there's another being blessed with my attention?" she teased back, squeezing Tashi's cheeks lightly.

Tashi shook herself free of Gianna's hand with a smirk of her own.

"Babe, come on, I'm just trying to protect your heart," Tashi informed, rolling her eyes in faux exasperation. "You just got out of a relationship, I don't want you to potentially dive head first into another is all," she explained, shrugging her shoulders.

She nodded her head, "Oh, is that right?" Gianna questioned, a bright smile on her face, but a challenging glint in her eyes.

Suddenly, a man over the speakers announced the names of the two contenders in the championship match. Both Tashi and Gianna turned to the court, watching Patrick and Art walk out before drop their gear down on their respective benches.

"Oh my God! Sugar and Spice! Can I please take a picture with you two?"

Gianna's eyes flitted from the court and to the right of her where an adoring fan stood.

"Why, of course!" Gianna exclaimed, waving the girl over. "Tashi, you take the picture, you have the longest arm out of all of us," she stated.

After posing for the photo and signing an autograph for the fan for good measure, Gianna refocused her attention to the boys below. Instantly, she met two pairs of eyes looking back at her and Patrick raised his racket in Tashi and Gianna's direction with a cocky grin. From the corner of her vision, she could see Tashi playfully roll her eyes at Patrick while applauding with the rest of the crowd. Not wanting Art to be left out, Gianna sent a small wave to him which Tashi mirrored, both flashing smiles at him. At this, Art beamed, giving them a brilliant grin as he waved back.

Gianna softly nudged Tashi in the side, "Ignoring your spying—" she began, but Tashi's light scoff interrupted her. "You should know, because I love you so much, that I made sure to put the cherry on top on this match so you can watch some 'real fuckin tennis' today," she informed, lazily looking over to her friend.

"How?" she asked, raising her brow.

"I told Art that I might be looking at the best player after wishing him good luck," Gianna divulged, her lips curling upwards. "I'm sure he relayed that message to Patrick in the spirit of competitiveness," she reasoned smugly, crossing one leg over the other. "Not only are they playing for our numbers, now they're playing to see who I’ll crown as best," she added.

Tashi laid her hand on Gianna's knee, "I could fucking kiss you," she said lowly, squeezing her knee.

A mix of admiration and a hint of hunger sparkled in Tashi's eyes.

"If only, but I don't think Adidas would approve of that," coy smile on her lips

The match began with Patrick being awarded first serve. Bouncing the ball off the blue grass court twice, the brunette lifted his racket to serve it in the non traditional way Gianna has come to know him by. Patrick struck the ball with a resounding pop, as a flash neon yellow went whizzing across the court to Art's side.

He returned the serve with equal force, lobbing it back over the net. In Patrick fashion, he made a big show of returning the hit; a curved shot which flew past Art, who lost his foot and slid a little trying to get to it.

"15-love,"

Immediately, Patrick looked over at the two girls for approval, looking pleased with himself while Art on the other hand gave a look that Gianna could only be described as despair. It went on like that for several minutes, each point scored their heads would whip over to Gianna and Tashi to gauge their reactions, until the boys gradually forgot all about them and did what everyone came here to watch them do. Play some fucking tennis.

Gianna couldn't recall the last time two people looked so hot playing tennis outside of her and Tashi, but Patrick and Art were quickly putting that belief to bed. With every hit that Art made, Patrick would return it with ease. Any advantage that Patrick gained, Art would neutralize it. Their grunts, oh god, don't even let Gianna get started on the grunts echoing in the air, it was the fucking sexiest thing ever to grace her ears. Her body reacted on its own to the sounds, her thighs pressing tighter together against each other than before. Gianna prayed that Tashi hasn’t noticed her reaction yet, but she had an inkling she had because Tashi's grip on her knee had grown in strength.

Another grunt pushed itself past Patrick's lips as he smacked the tennis ball back to Art's side. The impact reverberated in the stadium as Art was able to smoothly counter the shot with a topspin of his, but Patrick came with a drop shot. Sprinting, Art rushed forward to return the ball, but It lands on the ground, his racket only inches away from reaching it.

Patrick Zweig had done it, he was getting Tashi Duncan's and Gianna Langdon's numbers. The dark haired boy turned in their direction and dropped into bow as the girls gave him applause for his performance.

"That was such a godamn good match," Gianna commented, looking at Tashi.

"You see what we were capable of bringing out of them?" Tashi said proudly.

"Ugh, our power!" Gianna exclaimed, a giggle bubbling out of her as Tashi stuck her pinky out for Gianna to link with. A wordless promise between them and Gianna did it without having to think about it.

"Come on, let’s go congratulate the victor," Tashi instructed, standing up and extending her hand out.

Placing her hand in Tashi's, Gianna rose to her feet and two walked away, descending down the bleachers.

"You go on ahead," Gianna replied, coming down the last step. "I'll catch up," she added.

"Hmm," Tashi hummed, her eyes scanning over her in curiosity before leaving towards the exit.

Going in the opposite direction, Gianna made her way back to tennis court and walked to the fence separating the stands and the court. As she approached the fence, she saw Art gathering his gear a bit rougher than necessary.

"On your left!" Gianna called, walking alongside the fence.

Art froze what he was doing and snapped his head up to look in her direction. Instantly, Gianna watched the tension in his shoulders lessen slightly and his jaw unclench.

A small smile tugged at his lips, "Hey you," Art answered, repeating her own words from earlier.

"That was a good match, Donaldson," Gianna complimented, bearing her arms on top of the warm metal.

"Yeah, for Patrick maybe," Art replied, moving closer to the fence. "Seeing how he won the championship and…" he trailed off, now standing in front her.

"Our numbers," Gianna finished.

"Aren't you supposed to be giving that to him, like right now?" Art wondered, attempting to be lighthearted about the situation.

"I like building anticipation, it makes it all the more fun," Gianna joked, causing Art let out a genuine laugh and her smile widened from the sound of it.

"I'm sorry that you were not staring at the best player today, Gianna," Art apologized, his chin dipping a little as he looked down at the ground.

"Hey," she called softly.

Boldly, Gianna reached out to him, using her thumb and index finger to gently lift his chin back up. Her eyes gazed at Art's porcelain neck, as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down at her gesture. Gianna glanced back up at him, his eyes already staring deeply into hers.

"Not today, maybe," she whispered. "But in the future, possibly," she encouraged, feeling his breath fan out shakily against her hand.

"Oh Gianna!"

The sound of Patrick's voice echoing from within the stadium concourse caused her to whip her head around, her fingers falling from Art's chin.

"Can't have spice without sugar!" he yelled.

She smiled, "Coming!" Gianna yelled back, before facing forward again. "I gotta go, see you around?" she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.

Art's eyes darted to her lips, but just as quickly as he did, his eyes found hers. The action didn't go unnoticed by Gianna.

"Yeah,” Art answered, a dazed, blissful smile on his face.

Beaming one last time at him, she spun on her heel and jogged back to the entrance of the concourse where Patrick was already waiting for her, leaning against the wall.

"For the record, I want you to know that was the corniest joke I've ever heard, Zweig," Gianna informed, stopping in front of him as he effortlessly pushed himself off the wall.

"It made you laugh though, didn't it?" Patrick countered easily, taking a hold of her hand as if it was second nature to him.

Gianna could only laugh, letting herself be led away from the bleachers.

~~~x~~~

The Juniors US Open was officially over and Gianna could confidently say playing there was the greatest moments of her life. She glanced back at the Arthur Ashe Stadium that she had passed by only a few minutes prior.

"One day, I’ll be playing in there and the world will know my name," she thought.

Gianna had barely taken two steps from where she stopped when two sets of footsteps fast approaching behind her.

"Gianna!"

She stopped mid step, her lips curling into a smirk knowing who was behind her. Spinning around, she was greeted with a slightly winded Art and Patrick.

"Hi boys," Gianna greeted warmly, crossing her arms against her chest.

"So, Patrick and I got to thinking about—" Art began.

"It's your last day in New York," Patrick interrupted, but Art didn’t seem to mind as he nodded his head along to Patrick. "What are you going to do?" he asked curiously.

"You know you could've texted me this?" Gianna pointed out.

"I prefer taking advantage of seeing and speaking to you face to face," Patrick reasoned, which brought a bashful smile to her face.

"I haven't decided yet," Gianna said, finally answering his question.

"You and Tashi don't have plans together already?" Art questioned.

"No, she's spending time with her family before they all go out to dinner," she explained. "So, it'll just be little oh me, by myself today," she mentioned.

"By yourself? Where are your parents?" Patrick questioned.

"I convinced them to have a night on the town, just the two of them. They deserve it," she replied, with a shrug when idea popped into her mind. "You know, my hotel has a pool. You should come," Gianna invited, eyes dancing between them.

"Me?" both boys asked in unison, pointing to themselves.

"Both of you," she clarified with a giggle. "It's not a pack of beer, but I think we can still manage to have some fun" she said.

"What about potentially having to play of 21 questions with your dad because of the two, random white boys by your side?" Art recalled, smiling at her.

Gianna looked over her shoulders before turning back to face them, "I don't my see dad anywhere, do you?" she asked, watching a grin grow on Patrick's lips.

"No I don't,"

"That's what I thought," Gianna agreed. "My hotel at four o'clock, be there or be square," she warned teasingly.

"We didn’t pack swim trunks," Art remarked, the realization dawning on him.

"Oh," Gianna breathed. "Well, I guess another time then," she suggested, going to turn around but stopping once she heard the protests coming from their lips.

"What, wait—"

"I'm sure we can think of something,"

Laughing, she looked back at them, "So, I'll see you there?" Gianna questioned, and the boys nodded eagerly. "I'll text you the address, Patrick, and one more thing," she said.

"Yes," they answered simultaneously.

"My friends call me, Gia,"

~~~x~~~

The moment the doors to the elevator opened up to Gianna's floor, the three of them took off. Running down the hallway, laughing and giggling as they raced each other to her door. Gianna was sure the guests below her and the ones who shared the floor would not be pleased with their heavy footsteps bounding across the floor, but did she really care at the moment, no.

"Ha!" she exclaimed, reaching the door first.

"I let you win, actually," Patrick claimed, coming in just behind her.

She rolled her eyes, "Sure, whatever you say," Gianna said sarcastically, grabbing her key card. "Did you let me win too, Art?" she asked, sticking the card into the door.

"It's the gentlemanly thing to do, after all, it is ladies first,"

"Oh fuck off," she laughed.

The door unlocked with a quiet click and she removed the card and pushed it open. Entering the room, the boys followed Gianna into the bright, airy space. Immediately, a shiver ran down her spine, her muscles tensing from the air conditioner blasting.

"God, it's freezing!" she hissed, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Here," Patrick offered quickly, shaking off the stripped linen shirt he was wearing.

He held out his shirt for her to put on. Smiling graciously, turned around Gianna slipped her arms through the sleeves.

"Better?" Patrick murmured, his nose grazing against the shell of her ear.

"Much," she confirmed, smirking to herself.

"I can turn off the AC for you," Art volunteered, scrambling from the door to the other side of the room where the unit was.

"Boys are too fucking easy," Gianna thought.

"Oh, I don't know what I’d do without you two," she teased, unwrapping her towel from her waist. "I'll be right back guys," she informed, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Tossing the towel onto the edge of the tub, Gianna stared at her reflection. Her dark brown eyes almost twinkled in mischief as a sudden, bubbling snicker burst forth from her lips. Gianna clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, shaking her head in amusement at her current situation.

"Holy shit, I cannot believe this is working," she whispered.

Tashi had told her the two boys were egregiously horny, but seeing it in person made it ten times funnier. She had been teasing the moment they got to the pool.

"You think you can help put sunscreen on my back?" Gianna asked, holding out the lotion over her shoulder without looking.

Behind her, she heard loud shuffling before feeling the lounge chair she sat in dip on each side of her.

"You two don't have to fight over the honor," Gianna said, giggling at their antics. "As they say, teamwork makes the dream work," she quoted, before feeling the bottle be pulled from her grasp.

"Y-yeah, sure Gia!" Art said quickly, stumbling over his words.

Sitting up straight, Gianna heard the sunscreen cap crack open and expected to feel the coolness of the cream against her skin soon after. Instead, nothing.

"They're fucking ogling at just the mere sight of my back," she thought.

A devilish grin grew on her face.

"Boys, I'm waiting," Gianna sang playfully.

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry,"

They both nervously laughed a little. To her right, Art slowly placed his hand against Gianna's shoulder, running his palm up and down against her skin to spread the sunscreen. Patrick's fingers slid down her left shoulder blade, alternating between quick movements to spread out the lotion or rubbing deeply along her spine to massage her muscles.

"Ah, thank you boys, you’re doing so well," Gianna praised, as Art's and Patrick’' continued gliding over her back.

Grinning to herself, Gianna stared out across the pool area behind the square frames of her sunglasses. The excited screams of children playing in the water rung through the air, while a decent handful of parents and teenagers sat poolside. Unexpectedly, Gianna locked eyes with two girls across the pool, one blonde and one brunette. Pushing her glasses down slightly, she wordlessly arched a challenging brow at them, maintaining eye contact. Gianna smirked watching as their expressions morphed into a mixture of jealousy and disgust.

Gianna knew why they were staring at her, boys like Patrick and Art were not supposed to be fawning over a girl that looked like her.

The feeling of fingers along her waist and against the small of her back, snapped Gianna from her musings. They precariously close to her bottom and she gently swatted their hands away before they could reach it.

"You two were such wonderful helpers," Gianna complimented, sighing sweetly.

Slipping on a pair of thin shorts, Gianna exited from the bathroom and walked over to the suite living room where Patrick and Art were seated on the couch.

"You know, you could've turned the TV on. You two didn't have to sit in awkward silence," Gianna informed, now standing in front of the with a smile. They let out an embarrassed chuckle as Art's leg began to anxiously bounce up and down. Gianna cocked her head at the sight. "Why are you bouncing your leg, Art? What's got you so nervous?" she questioned curiously, still wearing a smile.

Art only giggled and shrugged his shoulders, "I-I don't know," he stuttered, gazing up at her.

"Well," she began, raising her foot up from the floor. "Stop," she demanded, placing her foot right above his knee. Art froze mid bounce and Gianna watched him visibly swallow. "You're making me nervous," she said, and Art vigorously nodded his head. Gianna shifted her stare to Patrick and he straightened up his posture. "Patrick," she called, batting her eyelashes.

"Yes," he responded, a goofy smile on his face.

"As you said earlier today, it's my last day in New York," Gianna said, smoothly lifting her foot from Art's leg and plopping down onto the couch in the empty space between them. "Wanna make out?" she asked boldly, with a playful and daring smile.

"Fuck, do I ever," Patrick answered quickly, a groan leaving him.

Leaning toward him, Gianna let her lips brush against the corner of Patrick's mouth and almost by instinct his hand came to rest on her hip. Breaths mingling in soft pants, Gianna stared up at him through her eyelashes and he surged forward, pressing his lips fully against hers. A soft, surprised moan escaped Gianna as his lips devoured her own, but she responded just as eagerly. Her tongue dueling with his in a sensual dance for dominance. Gianna's fingers threaded themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding Patrick in place as their kiss only deepened. His hand roamed up and down her leg, squeezing appreciatively at the flesh as he went.

His touches set her body aflame with heat, caused little noises to leave her mouth and she pulled away needing air, or else he was going to kiss her dizzy. Their lips barely parted and Gianna breathed out a laugh and Patrick joined her, his sounding almost giddy. She turned to Art who staring at her with the biggest puppy eyes, desperately wanting to be played with. Without hesitation, she guided his mouth onto hers and the noise that left Art was probably the filthiest sound she's ever heard. The deepest moan left him and it reverberated through her entire body.

Teasingly, Gianna bit down on Art's bottom lip pulling it towards her and another groan from Art. He brought his hand up to her neck, cradling her jaw as her tongue lapped at his. This time, there was not a battle for dominance, almost immediately Art allowed Gianna to take control as his other hand ran up and down her thigh. The sudden sensation of warm breath fanning the slope of Gianna's neck, followed by a pair of lips gently kissing down her neck made her moan hotly into Art's mouth.

Leaning back into Patrick, his hands reached around her back and cupped his hand around her breast and squeezed. Another high pitch moan was drawn from Gianna, which Art readily swallowed as their kiss turned greedier as. She trailed her down his chest, caressing his pecs and lightly trailing her fingers down his abs. Her hand found its way to the waistband of Art's shorts and slipped underneath.

Then, Art released the loudest, guttural moan known to man, his face falling into the crook of Gianna's neck.

"O-oh…fuck, Gia,"

Her hand had found his stiff member, and wrapped her fingers around it. Art inhaled sharply as she tightened her grip, placing desperate, feverish kisses to her neck just as she began to move up and down the length of him.

Not a second later, the shrill ringing of her phone playing a distinct ringtone made Gianna jerk away from Art causing pathetic whimpers to escape from him.

"Shit, that’s my mom calling," Gianna informed breathily, her eyes almost fluttering close due to Patrick's continued ministrations.

He kissed her neck lightly, switching between his tongue or his teeth to nip graze the sensitive area.

"So ignore her," Patrick suggested simply.

Art murmured his agreement, mouthing kisses along the length of her throat. Rolling her eyes, Gianna untangled herself from both of them, pushing Patrick's hands from her body and removing her own from Art's.

She hopped up from the couch, much to the displeasure of both Art and Patrick, verbally making it known by their groans of frustration.

"You two have two, have to go," she stated firmly, her finger moving back forth between them.

"Are they even back from dinner?" Patrick asked incredulously.

"No," Gianna answered, and Patrick threw his hands up in disbelief. "But my mom told me she would call to let me know when they were on their back, and I now know," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"You're really making us go home?"

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here,"

"Gia, come on I-I cant go out like this," Art said, glancing down at the obvious boner poking through his shorts.

"You are today," she retorted, shrugging off Patrick's shirt. She tossed it to Art, hitting him square in the chest. "Here, wear this, tie it around your waist," she instructed, making Patrick snicker.

The next few minutes involved Art trying to will his boner away, but it was losing cause, much to Patrick's amusement before Gianna shuffled them out the door. Just as she was about to close her door, Patrick's hand stopped it.

"Hang on,"

"What Patrick?"

His answer came in the form of him swiftly ducking down to kiss her one last time. Gianna pulled away from the kiss first, placing a hand on his chest.

"Go!" she urged, with a laugh as she pushed him away.

Patrick retreated with a pout and walked away from her door with Art by his side, sending one last boyish grin over his shoulder. Closing the door, Gianna leaned back against the door with the biggest smile.

God, this really was the best Juniors US Open in more ways than one.

Part III: The First Crack

#black!reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #black!oc #challengers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig

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victoria-daydreams · 1 year ago

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The Winner Takes It All|Challengers

Pairings: Art Donaldson x black!reader, Patrick Zweig x black!reader, Tashi Duncan x black!reader

Summary: For Gianna Langdon, being overlooked came as naturally as swinging a tennis racket. It's only to be expected living in the shadow of Tashi Duncan, Gianna's best friend. That is until the 2006 US Open Juniors where her world collides with Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson and suddenly Gianna found herself in a position she never thought possible, sharing the spotlight with Tashi. What follows next, no one could've predicted. Four lives upturned and forever intertwined in a viscous cycle of betrayal, jealousy, hatred, and tragedy spanning a decade.

Warnings: Challengers spoilers, profanity, manipulation

Just testing the waters with this one to see if this story garners any interest from people, but may I end up just posting the story for my own pleasure and to alleviate the headspace it's taking up in my brain. So yeah, I can make a taglist for those interested.

#black!reader #black!oc #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #challengers fanfiction

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ohyouluckysaint · 2 months ago

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(black coded) 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𐂂 ╰ ✸ 𝒢𑄺﹒

𓂅 support my other work .ᐣ =͟͟͞♡ ℓ ₎ 𓆱 fall fawn!reader’s playlist

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 is a mori girl. She loves cooler months like fall and winter because of all the layers but she gravitates toward fall.

Even though 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 dons a fawn’s pattern—she’s more simply a doe! Most think of them as these sweet, feeble creatures that need saving, but she’s no damsel. She doesn’t mind being saved by her girlfriend from time to time though.

Furthest from socially inept. fall fawn!reader’s known for being very social, sweet, and sincere. Her curious nature may lead to her being seen as naïve or nonsensical but others find it more endearing.

A brown skinned girl with the personality of a fawn and she embraces it to the fullest. 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 embodies the fall/autumn equinox. She has sporadic hypopigmentation beautifying her skin. Her doe chocolate brown optics are more defined by her eye makeup and her latest hairstyle. Beauty and Brains—stunning countenance and admirable intelligence. A notably very quiet and gentle speaker no matter the situation. 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 enjoys the scent of cinnamon and warm cashmere. She baked cinnamon rolls for Tashi when her crush had developed. 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 indulges in bitter yet sweet drinks, and loves documenting moments on her digi cam for memories. She even draws some of the photos by hand in her journal. 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 wears a cowgirl boot and horseshoe golden necklace that Tashi gifted her and she almost never takes it off.

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐰𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 unsurprisingly smells of warm caramel, dark chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon.

Anyone would mistake her for having literal stars for pupils as she talks to them and don’t get them started on her sweet pearly smile.

SAINT SAYS.ᐟ 𐙚 𓂃 I have hypopigmentation so I thought it’d be nice little mini detail to add to her + it made so much sense.

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victoria-daydreams · 1 year ago

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The Winner Takes It All ||Challengers

Part II: Maneaters

AN: I'm back y'all! I'm sorry for the delay in posting, classes are over but my god did work quickly fill the vacuum of the little free time I had. Buckle up everyone, we're experiencing our first time jump! And once again, a big thank you to has followed this story!

Trigger warnings: slight homophobia

Word Count: 6.1k

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopeless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kalikailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstali @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey @summerssover @hummusxx @callumturnerwife23 @whitewashedghanian @brunettegirl @igotmajordaddyissues

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don’t know if you’ll get the notification.

Part III: The First Crack

13 YEARS LATER - NEW ROCHELLE, AUGUST 2019

In the mostly empty lobby bar of The Ritz-Carlton, a woman occupied the furthest seat of the counter, alone. Her eyes were glued to the screen of her iPad Air as vibrant, moving images reflected perfectly in her eyes. "Electric Lady" by Janelle Monae played in the background of the video while several women and a few men were dancing or goofing around against a lilac backdrop. The camera cut to a shot of a smiling woman, striking several posses for it, showing off the makeup flawlessly applied to her face. Suddenly, the woman was lightly shoved out of the frame by two laughing women all sharing resemblance of each other as they began using the camera as a mirror to apply lipstick or lip gloss. The camera zoomed in on the round and square tubes of the products, displaying the white lettering printed across it.

Another model popped up on screen doing a twirl before the camera focused in on the eye makeup painted on his face. Just as the music was slowly beginning to fade out, the camera positioned itself into an overhead shot, showing the set in its entirety. On both sides, models were crowding in front of mirrors inside a beauty bar. The woman from the beginning of the video confidently strode down the middle of the space, the camera slowly panning down to bring it down to eye level.

"Ace Beauty. Keeping your game face effortlessly chic and always classic," she recited smoothly, a charming smile on her face as she signed her name on the lens with lipstick.

Gianna stared at herself in the video, the end of her Apple Pencil pressed against her lips. Her own makeup line, Gianna could hardly believe that's a sentence she could say. It made sense to pursue the business endeavor though, her makeup looks off the court were always being discussed by her fans. Her Instagram comments were constantly flooded with questions: what techniques does she use, how did she achieve a certain look, what products is she wearing, etc. The makeup line scheduled to drop the same day as the start of the US Open Tournament, this of course was by design; what better way to promote your new brand than doing it on the same day when millions of eyes are already on her.

"You actually came,"

The sound of his voice made a grin tug on Gianna's lips.

"Well why wouldn't I, Patrick?" she questioned, placing the stylus down onto the bar. "I said I would I come, and here I am," she said, turning to look at the dark haired man with a laugh.

Gianna slid down from the stool and onto the floor, holding her arms open invitingly for an embrace. Though they were a few feet apart, she couldn't help but notice that Patrick was a little worse for wear. Like he was constantly at war with life itself and lost many battles in the process, but somehow was still here. Gratefully, Patrick accepted the hug, but Gianna was unprepared for how tightly he held onto her. He was like a child holding their favorite stuffed animal, it couldn't have been clearer to Gianna that Patrick was in need of comfort. In need of a friend.

"Okay, okay, Patrick, it's great to see you too buddy," Gianna said, patting his back lightly a couple of times. But you are squeezing the life out of me," she wheezed, and Patrick immediately released her.

He pulled back, running his hands down her arms while letting his eyes roam over her freely.

"You look damn good Gianna," Patrick complimented, shaking his head and laughing.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Hmm, I know," she agreed, twirling around in her ivory Ralph Lauren sleeveless jumpsuit. "You don't look so bad yourself, Patrick," she complimented back.

Those gray eyes, worn and tired, but still the same eyes that lit up whenever he had seen her. Still the same boy underneath it all.

"Come, sit with me," Gianna encouraged, walking back to her corner stool.

Taking a seat next to her, Patrick propped his arm up against the counter and leaned his head against his fist.

"How's your dad?" he wondered curiously, smirking a little.

A breathy chuckle escaped her, "It is very brave, kind really, of you to ask about the well being of my dad," Gianna commented, something which Patrick laughed at. "He's fine all things considered, misses coaching me, but with his heart attack it's best he focuses on his tennis academy. Less stressful," she answered, unlocking her IPad.

"And what does father dearest think about you coming to a challenger tournament to see me?"

Another laugh left Gianna, this one harder than the previous one, "You do not want to know," she warned, dragging her finger across the screen to start her makeup ad from the beginning.

"Come on, what did the old man say? You piqued my curiosity now," he said, wearing a challenging smirk.

Gianna's eyebrows shot up, her head tilting to the side to wordlessly convey the question of, "You sure about that?" It only made Patrick's smirk deepen.

"Alright, you asked for it, but don't say I didn't warn you," she began, lifting her hands up. "My dad said it was beneath me to even be anywhere in your proximity," Gianna answered bluntly.

"You know, I gotta admire the old man for his never wavering in his hatred of me," Patrick joked. "At least you still came and didn't listen to him like you would've before,"

"Yeah, I did take some words of wisdom from you the day we broke up," she admitted, looking over to him. "You were right, you know? I always allowed my dad's words to sway me much too easily," she remarked. "Though, you are wrong about one thing. My dad doesn't hate you. Initially, he did," she informed, watching Patrick's eyebrows rise. "No, what he hates is watching you squander the potential you had as a tennis star," she corrected, shrugging her shoulders.

"Ouch," Patrick said, pressing his hand over his chest in fake pain.

Gianna thought she saw a brief flash of hurt in his eyes, but in an instant, it was gone and she was forced to think she had imagined it.

"Listen, not saying this tournament won't work out for you, but if doesn't, I have a proposal that my dad is probably going to kill me for," she said, resting her arms on the counter.

"And that is?"

"I'll get you a position at the Maurice Langdon Academy as an instructor," Gianna offered.

Patrick's head jerked up from his hand, "You serious, Gia?" he asked, a glimmer of gratefulness shining in his eyes.

"Serve normally, and I can almost guarantee you that my dad will take you on," she assured, pointing her finger at him.

"This isn't charity, right?" Patrick asked, a flash of skepticism appearing on his face. "My dad, who's a big fan of yours and a donor to your dad's academy, didn't put you up to this?" he questioned.

"Patrick, the only person who put me up to this was me," she answered. "Plus, it's like what you told me over the phone, you have one good season left in you. Who's to say after this challenger you don't go on to achieve your dream," she suggested, shrugging slightly. "This is a job offer, Patrick, one that is waiting for you no matter which way the wind blows," she said simply, smiling at him.

Before Gianna knew it, she became the receiver of a very tight bear hug that seemed to last for an eternity. Patrick shook with laughter, the sound reverberating against her as Gianna found herself smiling at his reaction just before he pulled away from her.

"This is the kindest fucking thing someone has done for me in a longtime," he informed, his voice slightly muffled against her shoulder. He pulled back. "Tennis superstar, Olympian, philanthropist, fashionista, friend," Patrick listed, shaking his head as another laugh escaped him. "Is there nothing Gianna Langdon can't do?" he wondered.

She chuckled, "I'm still working on that last part," Gianna said, shaking her head. "I haven't been the greatest at it in the past," she admitted, her eyes lowering.

Patrick grabbed a hold of her hands, "But you're here now, Gianna," he pointed out, bending his head so he could meet her stare. "I called your number with little hope that you would pick up, but you did," he reminded softly, running the calloused pads of his fingers across the back of her hands. "Hell, I thought the moment I dialed your number it would go straight to voicemail," he confessed, with a small smile before the two shared laughter.

Gianna glanced up, "It means a lot to me that I was the first person you thought to call for support," she confessed.

"Couldn't think of a better woman to be in my corner," Patrick reasoned, letting a lopsided grin grow on his face.

Just like that, old butterflies that Gianna believed had gone dormant awakened inside her stomach, fluttering and flickering about wildly. Giggling, she slowly pulled her hands from Patrick's and ran one of them through her freshly silk pressed, honey brown hair.

"Control it," she thought.

She cleared her throat, "You forgot to add one more feather to my cap," she commented, deliberately changing the subject.

"And what's that?"

"Entrepreneur," she beamed proudly. "Patrick Zweig, you are looking at a future beauty mogul," she proclaimed.

"You know once upon a time, the woman in front of me was worried no one was going to take a chance on her, glad to see those worries were unfounded," he recalled, mirroring her expression.

"I am too," she agreed. "Want a sneak peek of the fruit of my labors?" she offered.

Answering with a grin and nod, Gianna unlocked her IPad and tapped play on the screen. Just as Patrick began to watch her commercial, Gianna let her eyes wander into the hotel foyer until they landed on a pair of strikingly blue ones. Her breath hitched uncomfortably in her throat, while her heart nearly stopped in her chest. For a fleeting moment, time suspended itself and it was as if they existed in a universe all of their own. Nothing was there, nothing except for those bright blue eyes, boring into her own. Gianna could hardly believe, stomach, who the set of eyes staring back at her belonged to, for it was none other than Arthur Donaldson.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as blood thudded audibly in her ears from the erratic rhythm of her heart beating. Gianna swore the thumping of heart would drown out the sound from the video and be heard by Patrick. They stare at each other, nearly a decade of unspoken words flowing between them without either of them ever opening their mouths. In truth, the silence was far louder than anything they could have said. Confused shock painted itself all over Art's features, an expression mirrored on her own.

Instantly, Gianna's mind was flooded with memories with the force of a tsunami. The two of them goofing off in her dorm room when they were supposed to be studying for class. Her birthday dinner date, that was not a date. His touching gift to her on her birthday which led to a moment of weakness that set off a terrible domino effect. Gianna remembered everything. The catalyst event which decimated a friend group within a single day, tore best friends apart, and formed a rift which Gianna believed would never mend. She couldn’t forget their history, it defined who they were now.

"Were those your sisters in the commercial?"

Patrick's voice was faint and faraway, everything for Gianna was muffled and distorted, like voices being heard underneath water. The impact of a hand on her knee ripped Gianna out of her trance. Blinking a few times, Patrick's face came back into her focus.

"I-I'm sorry what did you ask?" Gianna questioned, pointedly ignoring Art's eyes being trained on her and burning holes into her face.

"Was that Alicia and Farrah I saw in the commercial?"

"Yeah—Yes, they were," Gianna confirmed distractedly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You alright Gia? You've been looking over my shoulder for a solid minute now," Patrick remarked, raising a brow. "Is there someone you know here?" he questioned curiously, beginning to turn around.

Gianna had never moved quicker in her life, her hand darting out to grasp his chin with two fingers and redirecting his attention back to her. The world's awkwardest ex-friend's reunion was not going to happen on her watch.

"No one worth mentioning or addressing," Gianna assured, an easy smile on her lips. Releasing his chin, she lightly hit her palm against the counter. "Let’s have a drink, yeah?" she suggested, getting the bartender's attention.

"To celebrate you or me?"

"You, silly," she answered, before motioning to her drink for a refill and ordering for Patrick. She still knew his drink of choice despite the passage of time. "And a little bit of me as well," she admitted playfully, moving her head side to side. "I'm serious though, Patrick. I know how much this tournament means to you and how much you have riding on it. I am proud of what you accomplished, truly," she praised, her eyes twinkling in delight.

"Receiving high praise from Gianna Langdon," Patrick began, as their drinks were slid across the counter in front of them. "I'll be damn near unstoppable on the court now," he joked, grabbing his glass.

Gianna grabbed her own drink, "To future successes," she wished, raising her glass.

"To future successes," Patrick echoed, the rim of his glass softly clinking against hers. They both take a sip of their drinks and Patrick grinned against his glass as if he just remembered something. Lowering the cup from his lips, he placed it on top of the counter. "I forgot to wish you a happy belated," he mentioned.

"Birthday?" Gianna asked, bringing her glass down from her mouth. "That was way back in early spring, but thanks regardless," she said, with a laugh.

"No, silly," Patrick said, with a grin. "Happy belated Pride! Congrats on coming out as bisexual!" he cheered.

"Oh fuck off!" Gianna said, laughing heartily and hitting his arm.

"What? It was very brave of you to do so," he complimented, laughing himself.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Gianna shook her head.

"Bravery had nothing to do with it," she corrected. "I mean, it's what I am. I discussed coming out to the public with my dad, and he said no better time to do it than in the month where it celebrates folks like me," Gianna recalled, shrugging and lifting her glass to her lips. "I'm already a beloved athlete, it was only going to be a net positive for me," she reasoned, leaning back against the backrest of the barstool.

"Always about the optics with you, Gia," Patrick said, his tone biting.

Gianna lifted her drink to her lips, "I am my father's daughter," she said dryly. "For better or for worse," she added quietly, knocking back the rest of her drink.

~~~x~~~

13 YEARS EARLIER - STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2006

Move-in day was hot. Scratch that, it was scorching outside underneath the California sun. The blistering heat made the task of transporting Gianna's belongings to her dorm room a miserable one. The thought of forgoing her clothes all together floated about in Gianna's head if it meant some relief from the heat. Though, she knew her mom and dad would be none too pleased at the gesture, especially since the two helpers in their amidst was Art and Patrick.

Being the ever helpful boyfriend, Patrick lent his hand in assisting both Gianna and Tashi move into their dorm rooms. Despite his helping hand, Gianna's dad was still none too impressed by Patrick.

"I don't like it, he's too arrogant for my liking," the salt-and-pepper haired man groused, shaking his head, clearly displeased by Gianna's taste in a boyfriend.

Mrs. Langdon snorted softly from her seat within the trunk of their truck.

For as long as Gianna could remember, her mother had always exuded an air of sophistication and chic that she hoped she could match one day. Of course, when her mother being a former American Ballet Theatre ballerina, it came with the territory. People always told her she had mother's soft face or most commonly said she, “stole her whole face from her momma”. To Gianna, her mother was absolutely stunning, like straight out off the front cover of Ebony magazine. More importantly, her mom was the yin to her dad’s yang, her gentleness balanced his sternest.

"What? He's just a younger version of you Maurice, but," she paused, tapping a finger to the palm side of her hand and smiling at her husband.

"Well, unlike him, I didn't have wandering eyes," he retorted, taking off his horn rimmed glasses, to wipe away the fog from his lenses. "Gia, darling, are you sure that Patrick is dating you for you, or because of your access to Tashi?" Mr. Langdon questioned sincerely, his brow arching.

"Ohh, this is awkward," Gianna thought.

Telling her mom and dad she and Tashi were both dating Patrick, she would simply have to be waterboarded for them to get that information out of her.

"Patrick is dating me for me," Gianna reassured, nodding her head while wiping at the thin line of sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Your dad is worried about Patrick, while my concern is with your friend, Arthur," Mrs. Langdon stated, shifting her body to face Gianna fully.

"Art?" Gianna repeated, disbelief all over her face. "What, come on? Art is probably the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met," she defended, an incredulous laugh belting from her.

"Honey, those are the ones you have to be the most careful of," Mrs. Langdon warned, placing her hand on Gianna's knee. "Boys like Art, are able to get away with much because people believe the same way as you do," she explained. "I've seen the way he looks at you, how he looks when you and Patrick get affectionate with each other," she noted, staring pointedly at Gianna. "I say this as your mother, as a woman, be careful around Art. I fear he's the type to throw stones and then hide his hands, if it means getting what he wants," she advised.

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Mom, that's ridiculous," she protested.

"Gia!"

"Speak of the devil," she thought.

Standing at the doorway of her dorm building was Art with his trademark backwards Stanford hat and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"I guess that's our sign to hit the road again," Mrs. Langdon noted, with an exhale. "Your dad and I still have to go to UCLA to visit Farrah and make sure she's all squared away for her sophomore year," she reminded, pushing herself up from the trunk bed and reaching her hands out for Gianna.

"Call me the moment you make it to campus," Gianna ordered, taking her mom's hands to jump down onto the ground.

"Yes, ma'am," Mrs. Langdon answered, nodding her head and chuckling. She ran her hands up and down Gianna's arms, giving her a once over. "Can't believe I'm dropping off my baby girl to college!" she exclaimed, bringing her in for a tight hug. "One step closer to being a big name tennis superstar!" she cheered, as Gianna returned her hug. "I'm so proud of you!" she stated, pulling back from her.

Gianna beamed at her mother's words as the older woman pressed a kiss atop of her head.

"Your mom offered you some words of wisdom, now it's my turn," Mr. Langdon said, gathering Gianna in his arms for another tight embrace and swaying them side to side. Pulling away, he gave her biceps a squeeze as his demeanor became a little more serious. "Don't let her run you," he instructed vaguely.

Gianna frowned, "What?" she questioned, her head tilting.

"Do not let Tashi Duncan run you," he repeated slowly. "You've allowed her to get away with it for too long, but starting today, that shit dies," he said sternly.

"Tashi does not run me, Dad," Gianna disagreed, scoffing quietly. "I think we both witnessed that at Juniors this year," she pointed out.

"You seem to have a great handle on that, tennis wise," Mr. Langdon began, pressing his palms together. "But for life in general, you're lacking severely," he retorted. "Let this be the last day I ever hear you say the words, 'Tashi says', 'Tashi wants', or 'Tashi believes', alright?" he questioned, staring over the rim of his glasses. "I'm trying to make you a superstar, not a sidekick to another superstar. It's time you shed that image once and for all, and to do that, you must start thinking for yourself. Making a name for yourself. Got it?" he asked, both his brows raising.

"Yes, sir," Gianna answered tightly.

Mr. Langdon nodded approvingly, "Atta girl," he replied, before bringing her in for a second hug. "Have fun in college, but not too much fun," he murmured, against her head. "Kick ass and take names, we have a dream to fulfill," he said, with a pat against her back.

"Yours or mine?" Gianna thought bitterly.

Her dad released his hold on her, moving to shut the trunk door close. Gianna watched her parents get into the truck, the doors slamming close in unison.

"Gia, just please consider what I said earlier, for me," Mrs. Langdon said, looking back at her from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I will, I will," she answered, brushing off her mom's concerns.

With one final wave, her parents pulled off from the parking lot and Gianna felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She was finally free. For the first time in her life, Gianna would be able to navigate life where tennis and her dad were not wholly the center of her universe. She now had the chance to do something she always dreamed of doing, just being a normal 18 year-old. Exploring old hobbies and new, hanging out with friends, going to parties, it was all there for the taking now that her dad could no longer constantly breathe down her neck. Smiling to herself, Gianna turned around and jogged to the entrance of her dorm building where Art patiently waited for her.

"Everything good?" Art wondered, as she climbed the last step up.

"Never been better!" Gianna answered, a delighted smile on her face.

Walking past him, she nimbly snatched Art's hat from his head and ran into the building.

"Hey!" he cried playfully.

Gianna sprinted up the staircase to her floor, giggling every step of the way as Art was hot on her trail and laughing along with her. Just as she approached the doorway to her room, she suddenly felt herself being lifted off her feet and spun around, briefly feeling weightless.

"Your girlfriend is a thief!" Art informed breathlessly, with a laugh as he put Gianna back down on her feet.

Another series of giggles left Gianna as they entered her room, "Do not listen to such slanderous lies! I'm innocent!" she proclaimed, placing Art's hat on her head.

Making a beeline to her bed, she plopped down on it next to Patrick who was casually stretched out across the mattress. In an instant, his arm naturally wrapped itself around Gianna's waist while he shifted himself into a sitting position.

"Look at this face Art," Patrick began, using his free hand to take her chin in between his fingers and playfully squeeze her cheeks. "Does this look like the face of a thief?” he questioned. Gianna shook her head in his grasp, her eyes warm with mirth. "Exactly Gianna, that's what I think as well," he agreed, before swooping down to attack the side of her face with kisses.

"Patrick!" Gianna shrieked in laughter, writhing in arms.

Tashi started making fake gagging sounds and Gianna eyes flickered over to hers.

"Don’t be like that Tash," she said, a fake pout on her lips. "There's plenty of love to go around," she reminded, outstretching her hand towards her girlfriend.

"You sure about that?" Tashi asked, her face contorting in a look of faux outrage. "Because it seems like Patrick is hogging you all to himself,"

Gianna only snickered in response, her eyes rolling before meeting Art's stare. It made her smile falter when she did. There was the faintest twitch of a muscle in his jaw, a scowl threatening to cloud his features. His eyes hardened at the edges to the point they resembled ice. And she was the only one noticing the drastic shift in Art's cheery demeanor, it sent shivers down her spine. Vaguely, Gianna felt Patrick's lips peppering kisses up and down her neck while talking to Tashi in between each one. Without taking her eyes off Art, she reached behind her and lightly tapped the side of Patrick's face.

Gianna cleared her suddenly dry throat, "Alright, alright, easy there lover boy," she joked, tearing her eyes from Art's face for a quick glance to his throat where his Adam's apple bobbed in agitation.

Patrick chuckled against her skin and pulled away from her, resting his back against the wall while bringing her down with him.

"So uh, what do you guys wanna do now?" Art wondered, his usual bright attitude returning without missing beat. "The day is still young," he added, lowering himself down to have a seat onto the plush rug covering the floor.

"Hmmm," Gianna hummed in contemplation, adjusting Art's hat to fit snug on the top of her head.

It was an action that left Art's gaze lingering on her. Gianna wished he would quit staring at her like he was a man dying of thirst, ready to drink her up and gulp down like a glass of water when placed in front of him. And it was not because she found it creepy, it was the fact that it was stirring up physical and emotional responses she should not be having when her boyfriend and girlfriend are literally in the room with her.

"I think—" Gianna began.

"We should go hit around on the courts," Tashi suggested, swiveling back and forth in the desk chair. "Can't think of a better group to do it with," she reasoned, her lips curling upwards.

"What? Oh come on, no!" Gianna complained, raising up from Patrick's chest. "We're all gonna have plenty of opportunities to hit a tennis ball around the court," she said in exasperation. "We're in college guys—well most of us are in college," she corrected, earning her a squeeze to her side from Patrick. "Let's be normal college kids and have some fun for once and enjoy our freedom," she suggested.

"What did you have in mind Gia?” Patrick asked, his fingers softly trailing up and down her waist.

"There's a mini golf course not too far from campus. I saw it on the way here with my parents," she answered, looking around at everyone.

"That does sound fun to do," Art grinned, nodding his head in agreement.

"Gia, you know complacency breeds mediocrity," Tashi warned.

"God, does she sound like dad!" she thought.

Gianna spoke before she could stop herself, "Yes, and, being hyper focused on one, single thing makes a person super fucking boring too," Gianna shot back.

The swiveling of the chair came to an abrupt halt. Gianna could almost physically feel all the air sucked out of the room. Nobody moved and Gianna found herself engaged in a staring match with Tashi in a battle of wills.

"Are you calling me boring?" Tashi challenged, her eyes narrowing.

Art breathed out a nervous chuckle, "Tashi, I don't—" he started.

"No, no, let Gianna answer," Tashi interrupted, holding her hand up in his direction without looking.

"Yes," Gianna thought.

"I didn't say you," Gianna pointed out. "It was a generalized statement," she continued.

"Is that so?" Tashi asked, doubt coloring her tone.

"Yeah, it is," Gianna answered, arching her brow in challenge.

"Come on Tash," Patrick called, sitting up from his spot against the wall. "It's not a bad idea, all of us are going to have our hands full for the next couple of months," he said, his eyes dancing between the two girls.

"We can make it a going away party for Patrick before he's off to the pros," Art chirped in.

"Yes, exactly Art!" Patrick agreed. "And what better way to be sent off than having my two, beautiful girlfriends by my side,”

Gianna stole a quick glance at Art after hearing Patrick's words and she swore she saw his forehead vein pulse with unusual intensity.

"Okay, fine," Tashi huffed, and Gianna's eyes flitted from Art back to her.

Gianna softly pushed Patrick's arm from her waist and stood up to sit on Tashi's lap.

"It'll be fun, Tash!" Gianna promised, looping her arms around Tashi's neck. "You'll see," she encouraged, pecking her forehead.

"Yeah, yeah," Tashi groused.

~~~x~~~

With pursed lips, Gianna drew her arms backwards then forwards to make sure that the little, white ball was aligned with her club before gently swinging at it. The precise hit sent the ball rolling down the green in a perfectly straight line, right into the hole.

"Nice shot Gia!" Art cheered, sticking his hand out for a hi-five.

"I try," she smirked, slapping her hand against his. "Your turn, partner," she said, motioning him to take his position.

It was Gianna's idea to split the group into teams, that way both Gianna and Tashi could both somewhat get what they wanted, a fun but fierce competition. Art set his ball onto the green, getting into his stance and took aim.

"So, are we gonna talk about it?" he asked, the club solidly hitting the ball in the center.

Gianna frowned, "Talk about what?" she asked back, watching his ball stop just short of the hole.

Art turned around, an incredulous look crossing his face at her question.

"What happened in your hotel room," Art supplied as if it was the most obvious answer, before moving closer to his ball.

"Oh, that..." Gianna trailed off, following behind him. "What about it? What is there to talk about?" she questioned dismissively, twirling her club in her hand.

Just as the questions left her lips, Art tapped his ball into the hole with ease.

"That what happened between us is constantly replaying in my head 24/7," he explained, turning around again. "And it's torturous," he went on, his eyes desperate.

Gianna only blinked in response, genuinely perplexed on what Art wanted her to do or say about that.

"Well get it to stop," Gianna suggested lamely, lazily tossing one arm up. "I don't know what you want me to tell you," she added, with a shake of her head.

"Get it to stop?" he repeated, in disbelief while taking a step closer to her. "Gia, you gave me a handjob!" he exclaimed lowly, so only she could hear. "You can't do that to a guy and expect him to just forget it!" he insisted.

"What I did could hardly qualify as a handjob, Art," Gianna argued, her voice matching his. "It was one pump at max," she pointed out.

Gianna knew this was childish, to be arguing the technicalities of what is a handjob, but she needed to quash what she thought Art was poking at. They didn't need to talk about that ever again, it was… it was a good time, it basically meant nothing. All she had to do was bury her budding feelings deep down, and make an active effort to never acknowledge them again.

"Why did even tell me this, knowing I'm dating your best friend?" Gianna questioned, anger rising in her voice.

"Because despite that, I think you like me too," he countered, his frustration growing more palpable by the second.

"Look Art, we had some fun in my hotel room. You, me, and Patrick, we all did," she deflected, shaking her head again. "Fun," she emphasized.

"Fun? That's all that was?"

God, did she feel like a bitch, watching Art's face crumple made her almost reconsider everything, but she was in too deep now to back out now.

"In that instance, yes," Gianna answered bluntly, watching how that verbal blow knocked the wind out of him. "I'm sorry, did you think it was more?" she asked coldly.

With each word she uttered, it visibly pained Art and the lines in his forehead grew deeper and deeper. He looked like a kicked puppy, and god did she hate when he looked like that. Silence fell between them, the most uncomfortable silence of Gianna's life.

"Fuck! This was supposed to be a fun night!" she groaned, before turning away from Art and walking away from the hole they were at.

"You never denied it," Art remarked, his words were spoken softly, barely a whisper, but to Gianna they were deafening. So much so, that she abruptly froze mid step, her shoulders visibly stiffening. "That you had feelings for me," he finished quietly.

Gianna was like a deer in headlights. She had hoped the harshness of her words would cause Art to fail to notice what she didn't say. He was far more attentive than she realized. Swallowing uncomfortably, Gianna all but sprinted to where Tashi was, not daring to look back.

"Hey Tash," Gianna greeted, forcing a smile on her face as she approached her. "How's your game going? Where did Patrick go?" she questioned, praying she wasn't noticeably acting strange.

Tashi didn't bother looking up at her, "Oh, you know," she began, her voice monotone. "It goes," she answered, barely making an effort to hit the golf ball into the hole. It pitifully only moved a few feet from them. "Patrick, on the other hand went to buy food for us," she answered flatly.

Gianna felt her grip tighten around her club, "You know could at least make an attempt to actually try and have fun," she commented.

Tashi's head whipped up, a frown already etched on her face.

"I didn't want to come here in the first place, and you know that," Tashi stated, carelessly letting the golf club fall from her hand. "Fun, fun, fun. That's all you seem to care about now!" she snapped, folding her arms against her chest.

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Excuse me for daring to indulge in my newfound freedom from being under my dad's thumb for the first time in years," she responded sarcastically.

"I'm sure he'll be just thrilled to learn the placeholder for his own lost dreams immediately took her eyes off the prize the second he left her alone," Tashi said, a derisive chuckle leaving her.

"Fuck you! That's a low fucking blow even for you Tashi!" Gianna hissed, stabbing her finger in the air toward her best friend. "I pray you never find yourself in the same position which I've been put through," she wished.

Once upon a time, much like Gianna, her father was a talented tennis prodigy who was on the cusp of a promising career in the pros. However, just as his career started, it was snatched away within a blink of the eye with death of his father, forcing him to return home to take over the family horse ranch. And Gianna has had to suffer for circumstances beyond hers or her father's control ever since.

"You don't know what it's like, to have your own dad be your coach as well," Gianna went on, her fist balling up. "And being forced to reckon that you begin to see him as less of a father and only as a coach," she added, faintly feeling her nails digging into her palm.

"Poor fucking me, I'm Gianna Langdon who's had a silver spoon in my mouth since I could walk," Tashi mocked. "My life is so difficult because I have to play a sport I'm wonderful at and my dad has went above and beyond to make sure I excel at my craft, like having a fucking personal tennis court built in my backyard!"

"And you think that's a blessing?" Gianna asked, the pitch in her voice rising. "It was a curse! My own personal gilded cage, a constant reminder that I've never really had any say at all to explore life outside of tennis," she exclaimed, dropping her own club now.

"You like baking,"

"Ooh one whole hobby," Gianna deadpanned, raising her hands and shaking them. "You know what you're supposed to do at college besides learn?" She questioned. "Party and find yourself,” she listed, ticking them off with her fingers.

"You're at Stanford to play tennis on a full ride scholarship," Tashi reminded firmly.

"Well it's a good fucking thing I can multitask," Gianna retorted. "Come on Tashi, think about it. Outside tennis, what else do you and I do in our spare time? Talk about boys?" she said exasperatedly.

"Yes, and its worked for us this entire time. Why change now?" Tashi replied, a soft frown creasing her forehead.

"Because we were friends then, but now we're girlfriends—"

Tashi scoffed, "Girlfriends? You haven't even publicly came out and stated that we're dating," she pointed out.

Gianna could only bite her tongue, because Tashi was right, she hadn't. Although, she had her reasons, they were wholly self-serving, but there was logic behind them.

"I know you haven't told your mom," Tashi began. "And I know damn well you haven't said anything to your dad," she stressed. "So, what is it? Are you afraid of ruining your ‘golden child’ title if your parents find out you're queer?" she taunted.

"You think my parents care if I'm gay?" Gianna asked incredulously. "They've known Farrah is a lesbian for nearly two years now," she informed.

"She plays women's soccer, I'm positive your parents weren't surprised about that revelation," Tashi said dismissively. "The closet was made of fucking glass," she quipped.

If Gianna wasn't so frustrated and infuriated with Tashi, she would've laugh at Tashi's remark.

"Alright, fuck it, you want to know why I don't to want go public? Why I refuse to?"

"I'm waiting with bated breath," Tashi answered sarcastically.

"It's because I have a goddamn name and image to uphold," Gianna said frankly. "We both do," she added, her tone softening.

"Oh my god!" Tashi complained. "It's always about image with you, with your dad!" she snapped.

"I'm being pragmatic here and you know it, you're just being too stubborn to realize I'm right," Gianna claimed, crossing her arms.

"Billie Jean King, a tennis legend is an open lesbian,"

"Yeah, and did you skip over the part where she was forcibly outed, shunned, and lost all her endorsements soon after?" she shot back. "Do you want that fate for the both us when either of us have barely even made a start in our careers?" Gianna questioned, no trace of anger in her voice only sincerity.

Tashi never got the chance to respond as an arm snaked its way around Gianna's waist.

"Now, what are you doing around in these parts?" Patrick asked humorously. "Is Art doing that bad you had to switch sides?" he guessed.

Gianna looked over at him, "I came to see how you two losers were doing," she lied, grinning at him.

Her eyes found Tashi's once more, their argument from moments before still raging silently between in stares, and all the while Patrick is none the wiser. He didn't notice the obvious growing tension between his two girlfriends, between two best friends.

Part IV: Cocky Af

#black!reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #black!oc #challengers fanfiction #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig

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victoria-daydreams · 11 days ago

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Part IV: Cocky Af

AN: Guys, I'm back after nine months!!! I'm really sorry, I truly am, listen I was writing this chapter right before the 2024 election and we all know how that panned out. I was so goddamn depressed and lost my will to write after that and then other shows/movies drew my attention further away from this story. For those of you still here, I hope you enjoy, but be warned there will still be slow updates as I'm focused on two other fics right now, but hopefully it will not be another nine months lol.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ MDNI, cheating, manipulative behaviors

Word Count: 11.9k (whoops teehee, but also deserved a lot goes down in this chapter.)

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopeless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kalikailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstali @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey @summerssover @hummusxx @callumturnerswife23 @whitewashedghanian @brunettegirl @igotmajordaddyissues @soldsole

Part V: You Make Me Wanna

AUGUST 2019

In the massive space of her luxurious hotel room, Gianna sat on the sofa boredly flipping through channels with her left hand while idly scrolling through her Instagram feed. A variety of photos and videos popped up on her screen, pausing briefly to acknowledge each post before scrolling to the next. Dragging her thumb up the screen, a picture of her and Matthias both on horseback at her family's ranch revealed itself to Gianna. Her eyes dropped down to the caption causing her lips to twitch into a smile.

"Lived out my childhood dream of being a cowboy with the help of the greatest riding instructor ever,"

Although she and Matthias split right before Wimbledon this year, they remained the closest of friends. Contrary to popular belief, you do not have to hate your ex-partners and become mortal enemies when you breakup. When you're together as long as they were and share a bond as strong as they do, it was impossible not to. Still, it's a concept that most people's minds could not comprehend. It always showed up in her Instagram comments with people wondering how they stayed friends post breakup or why they broke up in the first place if they're that close.

With a grin, Gianna shook her head and double tapped on the picture while changing the channel with the remote in her other hand. Just as she went to press down on the button again, she paused hearing the familiar cadence of her father's voice on the TV.

"By the time Gianna graduated Stanford, she had cemented her name as one of the best female tennis players to come out of the program," he said, his voice thick with pride, a proud smirk plastered across his face. He was sitting against the backdrop of his home office, a meticulously organized display behind him. "She was coming off a dominant career in the NCAA. This was a two time individual champion in D1 tennis we're talking about here," he said, his voice carried a weight of conviction, a father's unabashed belief in his daughter's talent.

A proud smirk played across his face on the screen, a face she knew so well, etched with years of unwavering support.

Multiple action shots of herself in her cardinal red and white Stanford tennis uniform popped up on the screen. There were photos of her leaping for a backhand, her face contorted in fierce concentration. Then came her most memorable photos, Gianna beaming while holding the NCAA trophy in both her sophomore and senior years, confetti raining down on her from the rafters. She remembered the electric energy of those moments, the weight of the trophy, the roar of the crowd.

Her father continued his voiceover, the tone shifting slightly, a hint of steel entering his voice.

"There's no doubt in anyone's mind Gianna's going professional, so when she did, instantly, it was as if a switch had flipped in her media coverage," he recalled, snapping his fingers for emphasis. "Now, all of sudden, tennis analysts were speculating if Gianna was truly cut out for the pros when they were the same ones who were just singing her praises and stating she was the next tennis superstar," he scoffed, he shook his head, the frustration still palpable and the unspoken injustice weighing heavy.

The camera cut smoothly to Gianna herself, looking every bit the queen of her domain. She was sitting tall in a plush, upholstered tub chair, the sleek, modern lines of her home serving as backdrop. She wore a crisp pale blue blouse and tailored brown pants, her hair freshly twisted out and dyed. One leg was casually crossed over the other, revealing a glimpse of a toned calf, the product of years of relentless training.

A slight smirk tugged at her lips, the kind that hinted at both amusement and steely resolve.

"Harsh critiques from the media, that's nothing new, I've been dealing with it since the beginning of my career. it comes with the territory," she reasoned, shrugging her perfectly sculpted shoulders. "I took it as a challenge," she went on, her eyes gleaming with a competitive fire that still burned bright after all these years. "And if you know me, there's nothing more I love than a good challenge," she finished, a touch of playful defiance in her expression.

A soft laugh escaped her as she leaned back in her seat, as the the unmistakable bass line of OutKast's "So Fresh, So Clean" dropped in with perfect timing. A highlight reel of every exhilarating moment in her rookie season flashed across the screen, set to the beat. One clip after another, Gianna put on a clinic with her prowess on the tennis court. She moved with the grace of a panther and the power of a lion, a force of nature unleashed on her unsuspecting competitors. It was nothing short of spectacular. Just as she had done in juniors and in college, Gianna dazzled spectators and commentators alike, leaving them in awe of her athleticism and skill.

In one clip, she's diving for a seemingly impossible shot, managing to return the ball with a backhand before hitting the court and quickly popping back up on her feet. She winked cheekily at the camera after clinching the point. The music meshed perfectly with her movements, emphasizing the rhythm and flow of her game. Her swagger shone through with each clip that appeared on screen. She did a slight shoulder shimmy after a particularly skillful shot, after a hard fought volley she pounded her fist against her chest after scoring, or she playfully wiping the sweat off her forehead after a particularly impressive save.

Another showed her hitting an unbelievable cross court winner, the ball whizzing past her opponent with laser-like precision. This shot was followed up with Gianna nodding her head and flicking of her wrist as if shooing away a pesky fly. It was radiating a nonchalant confidence that bordered on cocky.

The final note of the song coincided with a clip of her returning an incredibly difficult, angled volley with a flick of the wrist, the ball landing perfectly on the line to secure the match point. The crowd roared, and Gianna, bathed in the stadium lights, pumped her fist in the air, a victorious roar tearing itself from her throat. The camera returned to Gianna in her den, her face now illuminated with a self-satisfied smirk that reflected in her eyes. She had proven them wrong, silenced the doubters, and established herself as a force to be reckoned with.

“What did Easy-E say?” Gianna began, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "'Is there any more questions?'" she quoted, her head tilting slightly, a humorous sparkle dancing in her gaze.

The program cut for commercial breaks and Gianna smiled warmly at the screen. It was undeniable now, she had made it. They just don't give ESPN documentaries to anybody now. Glancing down at the remote, Gianna pressed down on the rewind button not caring how vain the action was. She had purposefully missed TV premiere afraid what the public reception would be, but according to her family and her agent it was nothing but glowing reviews for Part I and II.

The sudden buzzing of her phone in her lap drew her attention from the TV, Max was calling her. Pausing the TV, Gianna picked up her phone and swiped to answer.

"Hey Max! What’s going on?" she greeted cheerfully.

"Hey Gia," he greeted back, sounding noticeably less enthused than usual. "So, uh, quick question," he said, trailing off slightly. "Are you sitting down already?" he asked curiously.

Her brow furrowed at his question, "Indeed I am," she confirmed, amusement coloring her voice.

"Okay, good, good," Max replied, followed by a deep exhale that crackled through the line. "I hate to say it Gia, but I think sprained ankles are a contagious disease now," he said vaguely, only deepening Gianna's confusion.

"What do you mean—" she began, then abruptly stopped.

The pieces clicked into place, the puzzle forming a frustratingly clear picture. The memory of the searing pain in her own ankle earlier this year, forcing her to withdraw from a tournament, the months of rehab. Now, Max? Right before the US Open?

"No fucking way!" Gianna exclaimed, the words ripping out of her. "Max, you better be pulling my leg!" she said, her voice laced with disbelief and a rising tide of panic as she sat straight up.

"Afraid not," he said, the finality in his voice like a death knell to their hopes.

"Fuck!" she swore loudly, running her fingers through her hair. "We are supposed to defend our mixed doubles title in a matter of days, Max, days," she stressed, letting out a groan.

"Okay, way to put salt in the wound, partner. I really needed that," he responded dryly, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice, a small attempt to lighten the mood.

"Sorry, sorry," Gianna apologized, shaking her head. She knew Max was probably just as devastated. "Are you okay Max? How did this happen?" she questioned, a frown lining her features.

"Tennis practice, just like you," he answered, he answered with a sigh laden with frustration. "I went to return a hit from the baseline and overextended. Heard a pop, the whole shebang," he explained, exhaling heavily.

Gianna's jaw tightened. She knew that pop. She knew the feeling of her dreams momentarily shattering.

"It was Jason, wasn't it?" Gianna accused, her eyes narrowing. Jason was Max's hitting partner, a solid player, usually. "Tell him the next time I see him, it's on fucking sight for fucking up my partner's ankle," she threatened.

In the background of Max's phone, she could hear a muffled voice, Jason was definitely pleading his innocence.

Max chuckled weakly, "Lay off him, Gia. It was just an accident,"

"I guess we're kissing the dream of being back to back champions goodbye, huh?" Gianna asked, her disappointment palpable.

"I am, but you're not," Max corrected, causing her to frown.

"Be for real Max," Gianna said, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "Who am I going to find on such short notice to replace you? Everyone's already booked up for the Open," she reminded, throwing a hand up.

"I have an answer, but you're going to hate me for it,"

"Who?"

"The choke master himself, Art Donaldson," he blurted out.

Gianna's eyebrows nearly rose to her scalp, "Did you bump your head too when you sprained your ankle?" she questioned, letting out a disbelieving scoff.

Art Donaldson. The man who had been crumbling under pressure. The man who lost to a fresh faced rookie just last week. The man who had shattered her heart a decade ago.

"Oh come on, it's not the worst idea," Max replied slightly defensive. "Do you know how many tennis fans have dreamed of seeing the two of you be doubles partners?" he asked. "Your play styles would compliment each other,” he pointed out, as if that was some kind of selling point.

"Except for the fact that my play style is winning and his is losing. Need I remind you, he just lost to a fucking rookie, badly," she stressed, rising from the couch and pacing nervously across the plush rug. "But first and foremost, he betrayed me, and he doesn't get to have access to me after the shit he pulled," she said sharply, pointing to herself, her fingers lightly digging into her chest.

"Well, you have to figure something out Gia, or you will be kissing that back-to-back title goodbye," Max said, his tone softening. "Look, I gotta go, trainer's here, got ice to apply and all that fun stuff. Talk to you later, yeah?"

"Yeah, talk you later Max," Gianna sighed, lowering the phone from her ear and ending the call.

With a frustrated groan, Gianna tossed her phone onto the couch, the leather cushions absorbing the impact. She ran both her hands through her hair again. The idea of partnering with Art Donaldson…it was an insult. But the thought of losing her chance at the title, particularly after she had worked so hard to get back in shape after her own injury, was almost unbearable. There was only one person she could think of to call to give her their blunt, unfiltered advice on the matter.

"Hey Siri, call Dad,"

~~~x~~~

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER — STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2007

Gianna's first spring semester at Stanford was drawing to a close and it had proven to be more memorable than she could have ever imagined. Her tennis skills had blossomed, exceeding even her own expectations. She formed friendships outside of Tashi, and surprisingly, her relationship with her father had improved with their time away from each other. Yet, beneath the surface of Gianna's burgeoning independence and athletic success, a tangled web of emotions was tightening.

What happened at the Halloween party with Art was but a distant, slightly surreal memory. Once again, neither of them confronted each other about the near kiss, however, an unspoken shift had occurred in their dynamic. Their friendship was truly stretching the definition of platonic friendship, a fact Tashi was starting to pick up on. Art had become her dedicated hitting partner, a role previously rotated among her male teammates. Now, it seemed, they were practically inseparable, their bond extending beyond the tennis court. Late-night study sessions in each other's rooms which rarely involved actual studying, him giving her of his sweatshirts to borrow when she was cold but her never returning them and wears them regularly, or casual outings which had taken on a suspicious resemblance to dates. And, just to be clear, they were definitely not dates.

The change in Art and Gianna's behavior had spurred Tashi to make a conscious effort to engage more with Gianna's interests. It also made her subtly more possessive in private. When the three of them were together, Tashi made sure some part of her was always touching Gianna, an arm draped around her waist, a hand resting on her knee. Tashi had even started planning little surprises, a mini picnic on the quad, or bringing Gianna her favorite smoothie. The heightened attention was flattering, intoxicating even. It was a reassurance that Gianna craved, a feeling of being prioritized.

But even these gestures felt calculated. Forced, almost, as if Tashi was trying to reassert her dominance in Gianna's life, to barricade her from the growing pull of Art's orbit. A deep down, nagging unease started to fester within Gianna. This newfound closeness with Tashi wasn't genuine, but merely a reaction. Gianna pushed the thought away, focusing on the immediate pleasure of the attention. Still, a seed of doubt had been planted and she didn't know how to handle it. The constant internal balancing act between her feelings for Tashi and Patrick, and the undeniable connection with Art, was proving exhausting. Gianna felt like a tightrope walker, constantly adjusting her weight to avoid a disastrous fall.

Maybe that's why she hadn't noticed the tightrope was fraying.

"Some birthday this has turned out to be," Gianna thought bitterly.

The faint scent of lavender emitting from her diffuser did little to soothe Gianna's irritation. Patrick hadn't even the courtesy of sending her a simple happy birthday text. An email. A call. Nothing. He was a rookie in a grueling professional tournament, yes, but surely he could carve out five seconds to acknowledge her. Tashi, cancelled on her at the last minute for her birthday dinner tonight because of a tennis match tomorrow and wanted to focus. Gianna replayed the conversation between them in her mind, shaking her head.

Entering into Tashi's room, there was a spring in Gianna's step and a beaming smile on her face. Tashi was sitting on her bed, meticulously wrapping the grip of her tennis racket and briefly glanced up at Gianna from her task.

"Ready to celebrate?" Gianna chirped. "Dinner tonight, seven o'clock? I made reservations at that Italian place we've been wanting to try," she informed cheerfully.

Tashi doesn't look up.

"Hey, Gia. Listen, about tonight…" Tashi began, without taking her eyes off the racket.

Gianna's smile faltered, "What's up?" she asked hesitantly.

Tashi finally looked up at Gianna, her expression was apologetic. "I… I can't. I'm so sorry. I have to be up early tomorrow, and I really need to focus on the match. Coach wants me fresh," she explained, picking at the wire of the racket.

Her face fell, "But...it's my birthday. We made plans," Gianna repeated softly.

"I know, and I feel terrible," Tashi said, guilt in her eyes. "Gia, you know how important this match tomorrow. It counts towards rankings," she reminded.

"So, I don't count?" Gianna asked, a half laugh leaving her.

Tashi sighed, putting the racket down, "Don't do that. You know that's not what I meant," she said, her voice tight with a barely concealed edge. "I need to be laser-focused. I can't be out all night. I'll make it up to you, I promise. A spa day, weekend trip, whatever you want!" Tashi promised. "But tonight, I need to be all in. You understand, right?" she pleaded, her brown eyes filled with what Gianna hoped was genuine remorse.

Gianna forced a smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Tennis first," she stated, before turning to leave. "As usual," she muttered under her breath.

The memory left a sour taste in Gianna's mouth.

"Some boyfriend and girlfriend, I have," she grumbled, kicking her feet slightly before pulling a blanket over her.

She was sprawled on her bed, wearing old sweats and a faded t-shirt, her braids in a messy bun. She'd envisioned wearing the cute, new dress she had bought, laughter, maybe even a small, badly sung rendition of "Happy Birthday", Stevie Wonder's version, of course. Now, it was just her, the four walls, and gnawing disappointment. Gianna hated how pathetic she sounded, even to herself. She was better than this, wasn't she? Gianna grabbed her phone hoping to see that "Happy Birthday" text from Patrick, but still, nothing.

"I wasn't expecting some grand gesture but radio silence? Really?"

A knock door on the door pulled Gianna from her brooding. She considered ignoring it, hoping whoever it was would simply give up and leave. The knocking came again, more persistent this time, and an annoyed groan escaped her.

"Hold on, give me a moment!" she yelled, dragging herself up from the mattress. Making the short journey from her bed to the door, she yanked it open. "What—Oh, Art?" she said, genuine surprise on her face.

Art eyed her attire with a questioning gaze. He was dressed casually in a nice button-down shirt and dark wash jeans, like he was actually going somewhere for the evening. It was a stark contrast to her sloppiness.

"I actually didn't think you would be here, thought you would already be at Tashi's on your way to dinner," he commented. "Which is why I'm slightly confused you're dressed in sweats," he noted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Thought you would be glammed up," he added, gesturing towards her clothes.

"Yeah, well, you and me both," Gianna replied bitterly. "Tashi cancelled on me because of the match tomorrow," she explained, frustration evident in her voice. "'I'll make it up to you, but I need my mind focused,'" Gianna quoted, mimicking Tashi's tone as Art casually leaned on her door frame, blocking the doorway. His presence filling the small space. "And you want to know what adds insult to injury, Art?" she asked, her eyes flashing with a blend of anger and hurt.

"What?" Art asked, straightening up slightly, his expression softening with concern.

"It's been radio silence from Patrick too! Not a call. Not even a text! The bare fucking minimum!" Gianna vented, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "He's off living the pro-tennis dream, and apparently, that doesn't include a two-second text to his girlfriend on her birthday!" she fumed, her hands now on her hips. "Happy birthday, Gia! Hope you're having a great day! Nothing! And he knows it's my birthday!" she added, hating how vulnerable she sounded, but she couldn't help the raw emotion spilling from her.

"Oh that just won't do," Art said, shaking his head, his eyes darkening with something that looked dangerously close to anger. He seemed genuinely bothered by the situation, and a flicker of something else crossed his eyes. He paused briefly, going silent, before a small, almost mischievous smile curved his lips. Art reached out and gently tucked a stray braid behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a beat longer than necessary. "Get dressed, Gia," Art ordered softly, his voice dropping a register.

His eyes held hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.

"For what exactly?" Gianna asked, folding her arms across her chest.

She felt a strange mix of defiance and anticipation churning in her stomach. Although, simultaneously a flicker of hope ignited within her, even as she tried to suppress it. This was dangerous territory. The easy camaraderie they usually shared felt different now, charged with undeniable tension.

"Your birthday dinner, of course," Art replied, his smile widening while pushing himself away from the door frame. "You can't spend your birthday moping in your sweats. I won't allow it," he went on, with a light laugh.

"But...I-I already cancelled my reservations," Gianna stammered, caught off guard by his offer. "And I'm not really dressed for a birthday dinner," she protested weakly, glancing down at her grey sweats.

"Details, details," Art said, waving her concern away. "You clean up nice in anything, I promise," he complimented casually.

"And where exactly are you planning on taking me?" Gianna asked curiously, even though she knew she was already halfway convinced.

"Don't worry about any of that. Just trust me. I know a place where the food is great and the company is even better," he promised, winking at her and Gianna playfully rolled her eyes.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered warnings about boundaries and Tashi's feelings. Gianna hesitated, her smile dropping slightly. There was mixture of emotions swirling within her. Relief, gratitude, a hint of guilt, and something else, something that made her breath catch in her throat.

Gianna shook her head, "I…I don't know, Art. It feels…weird. With Tashi cancelling and all—"

Art cut her off, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower.

"Look, I know it's not what you planned, and I can't replace Tashi or Patrick, but I can make sure you don't spend your birthday wallowing alone in your room," he paused, tilting his head slightly. "Besides, who says you can't have two celebrations?" he wondered, a playful glint in his eyes, "Tashi can make it up to you later. But right now, you deserve a good birthday dinner, and I'm buying," Art insisted, his eyes sparkling. "Come on, Gia. A girl deserves to be celebrated on her birthday and I'm not going to let this day go down the drain. So, what do you say?" he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Gianna's lips. Maybe a birthday dinner with Art wasn't the worst thing in the world. The thought of escaping the dorm, of sharing a laugh with Art, of feeling seen was too tempting to resist. At least someone remembered, at least someone was willing to make an effort.

"Alright, alright, you've convinced me," Gianna said, relenting, a smile finally breaking through. "Give me, like, thirty minutes?" she guessed.

"I'll be waiting," Art said, his smile widening. "And Gia?" he called, pausing in the doorway. "Happy birthday," he wished, the sincerity in his voice made her stomach flip. "Let's make tonight memorable, just you and me," he added, before moving away from the opened room and closed the door behind him.

Gianna leaned her forehead against the closed door, spending time alone with Art when things were already so complicated was playing with fire. But the warmth of his gesture, the simple fact that he cared. It was a distraction from the crushing disappointment of the day, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to feel like it was her birthday after all.

"A girl deserves to be celebrated on her birthday."

Art's words echoed in her mind, and so she shall.

~~~x~~~

Tucked away in a booth, Gianna's and Art's laughter chorused together. In the dimly-lit restaurant, the air hummed with quiet conversation and the clinking of silverware, but for Gianna, the world had shrunk to just this cozy and intimate booth.

"Weren't you supposed to have a study group with one of our teammates?" Gianna recalled, her brow quirking up while swirling the remnants of ice water in her glass. "Derek. Wasn't it?" she named, there was a teasing lilt in her tone, but a genuine curiosity as well.

Was he really ditching responsibilities for her?

Mindlessly, her other hand traced the base of the lone candle in the middle of the table. The flickering flame casting dancing shadows on her face, highlighting the subtle sadness that lingered despite her earlier laughter.

An easy smile that crinkled the corners of Art's eyes tugged at his lips, "Derek can survive without me for one night," he replied smoothly, while also carrying a note of playful nonchalance. "Besides, someone needed to make sure you actually celebrated your birthday," he added teasingly. "I wouldn't want you spending it by moping all night by yourself," he paused, meeting her gaze. "That would be a crime," he said lowly.

Gianna breathed out a laugh, the sound lighter than it had been all day, "Alright, well he better not come running towards me at practice saying I'm the reason he failed his quiz," she joked, the image of a perpetually stressed Derek flashing in her mind.

A small part of her felt a thrill at the thought of Art prioritizing her.

Their waitress returned to the table with their food, balancing two steaming plates.

"Two orders of salmon and asparagus," the waitress announced cheerfully, before placing their plates carefully in front of them with practiced ease.

The aroma of lemon and herbs filled Gianna's nose.

"Great, thank you," Art said kindly, flashing her a smile.

"Can I get you or your date anything else?" the waitress asked, her eyes flitting between them expectantly.

Gianna's heart skipped a beat. Date? The word hung in the air.

He glanced at the waitress, "No, we're fine for now," Art answered, his gaze lingering on Gianna for a beat too long. He didn't deny it. He didn't confirm it. He just let it hang there.

"Enjoy your meal, guys," she wished, before walking away to tend to other patrons.

Leaning back in her seat, Gianna watched as Art unfolded his napkin with a crisp snap and picked up his utensils. The subtle movements of his hands, the way he carefully arranged his silverware, were oddly mesmerizing. The waitress referred to her as his date and Art didn't say anything to correct her, hell, neither did Gianna actually. It sent a strange flutter through her stomach.

"Why didn't I say anything?" she wondered.

A blush crept up her neck. Was there a part of her that wanted to see what would happen? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. Art looked up from cutting into his asparagus, catching her gaze.

"What?" he asked curiously, a playful glint in his eyes. "Is there something on my face?" he wondered.

"It's nothing," Gianna said, bearing her arms onto the worn wooden surface and shrugging slightly, trying to appear nonchalant and dismiss the building tension.

But it was, something.

The waitress's assumption, combined with the intimate setting had stirred something inside her, and Gianna couldn't articulate the complex mix of feelings that was threatening to bubble over. The guilt, the excitement, the confusing desire. It was just Art, she reminded herself. They were just friends. But the air in the booth felt thick, like something more than just friendship. She was hyper-aware of every little thing about herself, the silkiness of her dress against her skin, the subtle scent of her perfume, the way her heart was suddenly tapping a faster rhythm against her ribs, her cheeks were flushed.

Art hummed, unconvinced, "You know what's not nothing?" he asked rhetorically, his gaze sweeping over her. "You looking this beautiful across from me," he paused, letting the words sink in. "That's definitely something," he stated, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

She'd put in effort, choosing the new lavender satin dress that hugged her curves and played up the color of her eyes. A small rebellion, perhaps, against the neglect she felt from both her partners. The whole point was to have Tashi take her out, but life had something else in store.

Gianna rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "Stop it," she mumbled, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips despite herself as she cut into her salmon.

The compliment landed differently than it usually did. Heat settled across her cheeks, intensifying her blush. She hated how easily he was able to fluster her lately.

"What? It's true!" Art replied, grinning widely. He put down his fork, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "No offense to Tashi and Patrick, but I think they're absolute idiots not seeing you how you look currently," he remarked casually, as if stating a simple fact. "I mean completely out of their minds. Blind. They have no idea what they're missing," he gestured to her dress, her hair, her makeup, the whole package.

Gianna's smile faltered slightly, "Don't," she said softly. "Don't do that," she warned.

Art raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence, "Do what? Speak the truth?" he questioned. "I'm just saying, Tashi's prepping hardcore for her match, and that's great, but canceling…on her girlfriend's birthday dinner? Unreal," he pointed out, his expression turning serious for a moment. "And Patrick, not even a text from him?" Art said incredulously, shaking his head. "It's not exactly boyfriend or girlfriend of the year material. You deserve better, Gia," he declared, before eating a piece his salmon.

Gianna felt a pang of disappointment at the jabs towards her girlfriend and boyfriend, but was also a little thankful that Art acknowledged how shitty they were.

"If I were in either of their positions, I'd make damn sure you felt like the only girl in the world tonight," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

His eyes flitted down to his plate momentarily before his gaze snapped up back to her, heated. A shiver ran down Gianna's spine, heat blooming hotter across her cheeks. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn't just being a good friend, he was staking his claim, painting a picture of a different reality, one where he saw her, valued her, prioritized her. Gianna picked at her salmon, the delicious food now tasteless.

Gianna's face fell, "It's just...complicated," she sighed, her face briefly hidden behind her raised glass of water. "They're busy," she murmured, the words sounding weak even to her own ears. "Tashi's got her match, Patrick's got the tournament. I understand," she tried to be convincing, but the defensiveness in her voice was evident.

Art gently shook his head. "Busy? Come on, Gianna. He's a professional athlete, not running a Fortune 500 company. He has time to send a quick message to the girl he's dating, or girls he's dating," he corrected, almost mockingly emphasizing the word.

Art exhaled deeply, his gaze softening. Reaching across the table, he gently placed his hand over hers, his touch warm and reassuring. The casualness of his gesture sent a jolt through Gianna.

"Look, my dad used to tell me that life being complicated is a constant," he began. "But, the most complicated things are the ones worth fighting for," Art quoted, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. "I have no doubt they both care about you, Gia," he said gently, before pausing letting the statement hang in the air.

"But do they care enough?"

Was the silent challenge hidden beneath it.

"Sometimes, being busy just isn't a good excuse. Sometimes, you have to make time for the people who matter," Art commented, sincerity shining in his eyes. "And honestly, that dress? That's a 'drop everything and tell her she looks stunning' kind of dress," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Gianna breathed out a laugh and looked down at their hands, trying and failing to ignore the lingering warmth there and the way her heart was suddenly pounding a little faster.

"Seriously, Gia, you're glowing," Art went on, and her eyes flitted upwards to meet his. "Now, let's forget about them and enjoy your birthday. Okay?" he asked, his eyes held hers, a silent promise of something more.

This was already the best birthday she has had so far considering how disappointing the day has been.

~~~x~~~

After a wonderful dinner, Art drove them back to the campus, the two of them passing the time having their own karaoke session in his jeep. Opening the sunroof, Gianna unbuckled her seat belt and stood up, hands in the air, cheering. It was something straight out of a movie. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying with it the anxieties of the day, the sting of Tashi's cancellation, the hollow ache of Patrick's silence. For now, it was just her, bathed in the warm glow of the city lights, surrounded by the music and the easy laughter of her friend. Breathless, Gianna plopped back down into her seat as Tiny Dancer by Elton John came on. Grinning ear to ear, she looked over to Art to see his eyes already locked with hers, a dopey smile on his face.

"Last call?" Gianna asked, her eyes crinkled in joy as the piano chords began to float through the speakers.

The streetlights painted his features in a warm, flickering glow. His gaze was soft, full of a tenderness that made her stomach flip. It was intoxicating. Art only nodded, staring at her as if she was the most captivating sight he had ever seen memorizing her every detail.

When the two walked back to her dorm, they were a giggling mess. Their steps were slightly unsteady as they walked hand in hand, their fingers intertwined like vines while letting their shoulders bump each other's playfully. Gianna fumbled with her keys, finally managing to unlock her dorm door. Entering her room she flicked on the light, the fluorescent glow washing over the space and closed the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

Art dropped down onto her bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a contented sigh before toeing his shoes off. While Gianna moved over to her desk, not wanting the sudden silence, she resumed the playlist on her iPod, connecting it to the docking station. The soulful intro of Sweet Love by Anita Baker filled the room, a soft, sensual murmur beneath the surface of their conversation. Walking back to Art, Gianna herself sat down on the edge of her bed, facing him as she began unstrapping her heels.

"This was...really nice, Art," Gianna said softly, tossing one heel to the floor. "Thank you. I really needed it," she smiled, her other shoe meeting the same fate as the first one.

Art leaned back on his hands, watching her, "Of course, Gia. I always want to be there for you. You know that," his voice was low, almost a murmur, and the intensity in his gaze made the dress she was wearing suddenly felt constricting.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that Gianna couldn't deny. The casual laughter of dinner had given way to a nervous energy, a sense of anticipation. Art ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit.

"Actually, I have one more surprise for you, Gianna," he said, sitting up and digging into his pants pocket. He pulled a small, white Pandora box from his jacket pocket, the simple gesture amplified by the intimate setting. "Happy Birthday, Gianna," he wished, holding the box out to her.

Gianna's eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and delight in them. "Holy shit, Art! You didn't—you didn't bankrupt yourself buying me this, did you?" she asked, a mixture of gratitude and concern in her voice while glancing down at the box and then at him again.

She truly hoped he didn't spend too much, because then she would have to return it. As much as she loved the thought. The gesture was so incredibly sweet, so thoughtful, and honestly, so Art.

"I promise, I didn't," he assured her, his eyes locked on hers as she reached for the box, her fingers trembling slightly. "But I would do it in a heartbeat to see you smile like that again," he paused, his gaze intense. "Now, go on, open it!" he encouraged, a toothy grin on his face.

He was practically buzzing with anticipation.

Her heart pounding a chaotic rhythm against her ribs, Gianna gently tugged at the pink ribbon to open the box. She inhaled deeply, as the bracelet unveiled itself to her, the sterling silver gleamed underneath the ceiling lights of her room and at the center was a small emerald, her birthstone. She gently lifted it from the velvet interior of the box, letting the light catch the facets of the emerald, making it sparkle like a captured star.

"Oh, Art! It's beautiful!" Gianna gushed, her heart swelling with a mix of joy and something more complicated. "Thank you, thank you!" She set the box aside and launched herself at Art, wrapping her arms around him Art causing him to fall back on the bed, his head resting on her pillow.

Art grunted softly at the sudden impact of her body, but laughed, the vibration reverberating through her body. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, holding her close.

"Anytime, Gia," he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

As Gianna pulled back, their faces were mere inches apart. The light casting shadows, highlighting the curve of his lips, the flush on his cheeks. She could feel his breath fanning across her skin. It was a dangerous proximity, a point of no return. Gianna's gaze dropped to his lips, then back up to his eyes, a silent question hanging between them. She leaned forward, the scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, warm and inviting. Without a word, as if drawn by an invisible force she pressed her lips against Art's. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, a hesitant question asked that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The taste of him was familiar, comforting, like coming home after a long journey.

"Never leave, cause' I believe. I'm in love, sweet love,"

The lyrics of Anita Baker wrapped around them, a perfect soundtrack to the moment.

Art responded instantly, his own lips meeting hers with a fervent energy that mirrored the longing that had been bubbling toward the surface for so long. The soft kiss they shared quickly became much more heated, fueled by a potent mix of desire and pent-up emotion. Almost by instinct, Art's hand moved to cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss. He angled his head, exploring the soft contours of Gianna's mouth, savoring the taste of her. As the kiss deepened, his other hand found itself on her lower back, gently guiding her closer.

A low moan escaped Gianna's throat. Despite the electric current that surged through her with every touch, Gianna suddenly came to her senses when Art's hand trailed down to her behind and squeezed it in his palm, tilting her hips and guiding her to grind gently against him. The boldness of the gesture, the undeniable pleasure it evoked, a cold wave of reality crashed over Gianna. She pulled away abruptly, sitting up straight, straddling him, her chest heaving.

"I...I shouldn't have done that," she whispered, her hand flying to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and regret. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that," she rambled, her words tumbling out in a rush. "We shouldn't have done that," she repeated, her voice barely audible, as if saying it out loud could somehow undo the transgression.

The weight of her choices pressed down on her. Patrick. Tashi. All of their friendships. This was a disaster.

"Patrick...Tashi..." she began, her voice trembling with panic while her heart hammered in her chest.

Art's expression turned into one of panic as well, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes pleading. He surged forward and kissed her again, his tongue diving into her mouth, igniting a fire within her. A soft moan, both a protest and an invitation, escaped her as his hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheekbone. Another small moan escaped Gianna as he trailed his lips down her neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her skin tingle.

It all felt good, too good.

"Don't say that!" he pleaded. "It felt right. Just let me…" he trailed off, continuing to litter her neck with sloppy kisses, his breath warm against her skin. "Just one night, Gia," he whispered. "Let me make you feel good. Appreciated. Better than Patrick or Tashi ever could," he promised, his hand clumsily worked at the zipper of her dress, the metal teeth scraping against her skin.

Art rocked his hips subtly against hers with each desperate word, the friction sending shivers down her spine, making her eyes roll back. His other hand tugged at the hem of her dress, inching it up her thighs and revealing the smooth expanse of her skin. He wanted to claim every inch of her.

Gianna shuddered, her resolve crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and words. "Art…" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

He nibbled at her earlobe, drawing a pitchy gasp from her, "They don’t know you, not like I do," he whispered again, pressing his body closer, his weight heavy against her.

Gianna's breath hitched. His words are a dangerous mix of flattery and truth, of desire and resentment. She knew this was wrong, terribly wrong, but the ache in her chest, the feeling of being overlooked, of not being enough, is a powerful force.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to. We'll never speak about this and pretend nothing happened tonight," he murmured against her neck. "But god, Gianna, I've wanted this for so long," he begged, his voice hoarse.

Gianna hesitated, her internal battle raging. But the desire, the loneliness, it was all too much. She closed her eyes. And so she didn't.

The dam inside of Gianna broke, the constant push and pull of her feelings for Art finally overwhelming her. Her fingers clumsily unbuttoned his shirt, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, their lips connecting in a desperate, hungry kiss. The zipper finally gave way, the metal teeth reluctantly separating to reveal the smooth curve of her spine. Art's palms moved pawed her back as her dress pooled itself around her waist. He paused, looking at her with a question in his eyes, but Gianna gaze met his gaze, unwavering. She reached down, her own hands now helping to pull the dress over her head, revealing the her black lace bra and underwear set. The cool air a stark contrast to the heat between them.

His eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were now dark with a raw, palpable wanting.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered reverently. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the curve of her breast above the lace. "So incredibly beautiful," he repeated, his breath ragged against her skin. His hands were everywhere now, exploring the soft curves of her body, igniting sparks with every touch. He traced the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice a low rasp. "Tell me you want this, me,"

Her gaze flickered, uncertainty clouding her features. "I…" The word caught in her throat, choked by a mixture of shame and undeniable desire.

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing the curve of her cheekbones as he met her gaze, his eyes filled with adoration.

"It's okay if you do, Gia. It's okay to want," he reassured, his tone soft. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her lips. "I promise, I won't disappoint you," he breathed out huskily. He rocked his hips against hers, a subtle, insistent pressure.

Instantly, Gianna could feel the last bit of her resolve crumble under the weight of his words and the heat of his touch. There was a sliver of rebellion that guided her actions, a whisper of wanting to be wanted solely which drowned out the lingering guilt that was a dull ache in her chest. Art's words, though perhaps manipulative in their intent, struck a chord deep within her, a hollow space that craved validation. Just for tonight, she would let herself believe that this is right, that this is what she wanted, that this is what she deserved.

"I want you, Art," Gianna admitted breathlessly, and Art's mouth immediately attached itself to the column of her throat, his lips creating a fiery path down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

An airy chuckle left Art, "Say it again," he said, exhaling heavily.

Gianna's hands slid up his shirt, "I want you," she murmured against his lips.

"Again—"

She silenced him with another feverish kiss, her fingers fumbling with buttons of his shirt, coaxing them out with a practiced ease that belied her nervousness. The fabric fell open to reveal the toned muscles beneath. Their lips still connected, Art took his shirt off and tossed it aside, the soft thud barely audible over the pulse throbbing in her ears. Without warning, Gianna pulled away from Art, causing a frustrated whimper to escape him.

Gianna's fingers gently danced across the heated skin of Art's chest, tracing the lines of his abs, the curve of his pecs. She admired his lean, muscular body that she sometimes found herself secretly ogling at during practice. Art leaned forward, chasing after Gianna's lips, but she retreated again, only letting their noses brush against each other, teasing him mercilessly. A tiny satisfied smirk grew on her face at Art's desperation. On Art's second attempt to reignite their kiss, her fingers instinctively found its way lightly wrapped around his throat, her dominant side re-emerging.

"Down boy," Gianna commanded breathily, a playful edge to it. Art nodded obediently, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Lay back," she whispered, with a grin. Art, completely submissive to her touch, let her push him back down, her fingers still encircled around his neck as he sank into her mattress. Leaning down, Gianna's lips hovered next to Art's ear, her warm breath causing goosebumps to raise on his arms. "I'm going to turn off the lights, by the time I come back I want your pants off, understood?" she asked, her voice a low purr.

Tremors shook through Art's body in response to her request, eagerly nodding his head again. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Good boy," she breathed against his ear, the warmth of her words causing him to shudder. She lingered for a moment, feeling the rapid thumping of his pulse at his throat.

Climbing off his lap with a deliberate slowness, she walked towards the light switch, her hips swaying purposely. Art didn't hesitate to follow her command. The soft rustle of fabric filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of his belt buckle and the rasp of the zipper. The urgency of the movements behind her were bordering on frantic. With a single flick of her finger, the room was plunged in semi-darkness save for the moonlight that spilled through her blinds.

Turning around, Art's eyes were already glued to her, the rise and fall of chest noticeably increased. Gianna's gaze drifted lower, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Art's member was standing completely at attention in his boxers, straining against the material like a trapped animal. The sight sent a surge of heat through her.

"Don't laugh," Art said sheepishly, even in the moonlight, she could see a faint blush creeping up his neck. "It's...it's not always like this, I swear," he added, shifting uncomfortably, trying to subtly adjust his position.

"I'm not," Gianna reassured, making her way back to him, hips swaying. "I think it's flattering, I have that effect on you," she said, sinking back down onto the bed, switching on her bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm, inviting glow.

She reached out, letting her palm rub against the outline of his bulge through the fabric of his boxers. She pressed her thumb into the small stain where the tip was pressing against the cloth, feeling the heat radiate through the cotton. Art's breath caught itself in his throat while his eyes fluttered close, struggling to keep them open. His face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and agony, arching his back slightly and pushing himself into her touch.

Hands clenched into fists at his side, he bit his lip. A visible struggle playing out on his face as he tried to maintain control, but a strangled sound escaped his throat as Gianna made another swipe with her thumb over the sensitive tip. Art reached for her hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing her fingertips, his eyes cracking open to stare at her.

"Yeah?" Art asked, his voice strained, barely a whisper.

"Yeah," Gianna responded, her voice barely a whisper. She leaned in, her breath ghosting over his lips. "You're completely undone by me, aren't you?" she asked, a knowing smile pulling at her lips.

"I always have been, it's…it's always been you, Gia. You know that, right?" he questioned, searching her eyes, needing her to understand.

"I know," she acknowledged, trailing the line of his jaw with her thumb. "You're practically begging for me," Gianna remarked, her mouth brushing against his. "And I love a man who begs,"

Sitting up in bed, Art cupped Gianna's face and kisses her again, dragging her down to the bed, and she allowed him, letting him shift their positions so he can be on top of her. She reveled in the feeling of his body pressing against hers, it was a delicious weight.

Deepening the kiss, Art tilted her head back to give him better access. He licked across her bottom lip, begging for entrance and Gianna happily obliged, giving him what he sought. His tongue slid against hers, exploring every corner of her mouth hungrily. The only sound that filled the room was their ragged breathing, and the occasional moan escaping their lips.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air, his eyes burning into hers. "I want to taste you, Gia. Everywhere,"

Dipping his head into the curve of her neck, Art pressed open, sloppy, hot kisses against her skin, his lips dragging along down to her chest, each touch more reverent than the last. With every touch of his lips against her skin, a gasp escaped from Gianna's mouth. Art's fingertips skimmed along her ribs, before coming to cup her breasts with his large hands, weighing them in his palms, savoring the soft fullness of them. The pads of his thumbs began to tease her nipples through the lace of her bra, circling them into hard little nubs, making her cry out in pleasure.

Gianna's breath hitched, "Art…" she managed, the word a soft whimper.

Suddenly, Art's lips latched themselves onto her nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue across the bud. The wet heat of his mouth dampened the material and she cried out again, her back arching.

"God, he knows what he's doing," Gianna thought, her mind swimming as her hips began to instinctively rock against him.

Soft, muffled whimpers escaped from Art, his face remaining buried against her, still lavishing attention on her breasts, when Art's hand descended. Frantically, palming and kneading at the swell of her hip, at the top of her muscular thigh, his fingers found themselves teasing the lace trim of her underwear. Art kissed his way up from breasts, almost mirroring the desperation in his touches, each kiss sent a jolt of electricity through Gianna.

Without warning, Art's hand slid underneath her underwear, slipping a finger inside her and finding her already slick and swollen. They both released breathy moans. Art's was more of a broken groan at feeling the wetness that was now soaking his finger, while Gianna's was high pitched at the sensation of his finger curling inside of her, teasing her. Slowly, Art pumped his finger in and out of her, their foreheads pressed against one another, breaths mingling.

"Oh, Gia," he breathed raggedly. "So fucking wet," he groaned.

A choked moan slipped out of Gianna, her body responding to his touch, bucking against him as he found the exact spot that always made her toes curl. Art kissed under her chin, then up her jawline before finally recapturing her lips, kissing her with renewed urgency. Soft, breathy pants escaped from both of their parted lips as Gianna bucked her hips, rolling them against Art's hand. Another string of moans left Gianna between pants, with heavy lidded eyes she looked at Art who was almost in a stupor.

"You're so good at this, Art," she praised breathlessly, her lips brushing against his mouth. "God, you feel so perfect," she whispered.

His only response was a low, guttural sound that rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He broke the kiss again, just for a moment, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, locking onto hers.

"You're making me lose my mind, Gia," he rasped, his voice rough with need.

Art's middle finger sank into her, joining his index as he began to increase his pace. He pumped his finger in and out of her, their foreheads pressed against one another as their ragged gasping mingled in the air. For Gianna, the world had narrowed down to the exquisite friction of his fingers inside her and the heat of his body on top of her.

"Yes," Gianna gasped, her hips rising instinctively to meet his rhythm. "Faster, Art, please...don't stop," she demanded, her nails raking down his back, mesmerized by the way the muscles flexed and fluttered under her touch.

Following her command, Art deepened the angle, his fingers hitting her sweet spot with every stroke. Gianna cried out again, a high-pitched sound that was swallowed by the kiss he suddenly pressed to her lips. It was a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues dancing a frantic rhythm mirroring the quickening pace of his fingers inside her. He shifted slightly, one thumb finding the hardened pearl of her clitoris, circling it with a maddeningly slow, deliberate tease. Gianna's breath hitched, her eyes rolling back briefly. The delicate torture of his thumb combined with the deep, insistent pressure of his fingers released a wave of liquid heat unfurling deep inside her.

Gianna's nails dug into Art's skin, leaving faint red marks on his back. Her pleasure was building, a delicious pressure coiling deep within her. Every nerve ending in her body sang as her body tightened, muscles clenching around his fingers.

"Art—oh, God—" she gasped, her back arching, her hips bucking. "I'm so—I'm so close!"

Art's jaw clenched and he quickened his movements, his face contorted in a mixture of exertion and pure devotion.

"Let go, Gia," he encouraged, his voice a low growl against her lips. "Come for me. Let go,"

And she did. A white-hot wave crashed over her, a torrent that consumed her entirely. A strangled cry tore from her throat as her walls spasmed around his fingers, squeezing him tightly as wave after delicious wave washed over her.

"Art! Oh, Art!"

She cried out his name, a desperate, broken sound. Gianna pressed her face into the curve of his neck, trying to muffle the sounds escaping her, trembling uncontrollably. Her nails raked his back harder, leaving faint trails, as her hips rocked against his fingers. Art held Gianna through it, his forehead pressed against her temple.

When the last tremors subsided, Gianna sagged beneath him, breathless and sated, her body humming. Art, still heavy on top of her, breathed heavily into her neck, his fingers slowing their rhythm until they stilled, still buried within her. Art pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then to her damp forehead.

Eyes still heavy-lidded and reflecting lingering pleasure, a soft, satisfied smile appeared on Gianna's lips as she watched Art removed his fingers from her, thoroughly coated in her slickness. Art's eyes mirrored hers, eyes clouded with passion as he gazed down at her with a dopey smile. With a trembling hand, he raised his fingers to his mouth and a silent question forming on her lips as she watched him, transfixed.

Her eyes widened slightly as he pushed them inside his lips, his tongue darting out to meet them, savoring the taste with an almost religious devotion. A deep, guttural groan, almost primal in its satisfaction, reverberated in his chest as his eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back just slightly, as if he'd just tasted the most exquisite ambrosia.

"Fuck, that's hot," she commented breathlessly, her eyes wide.

Art swallowed, his throat bobbing as he lowered his hand. His eyes reopened slowly, fixed on hers, a combination of wonder and triumph in their depths. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, matching her own.

"I finally know the answer," he stated lowly.

"To what?"

"That you taste as good as you feel, Gia," he answered, shifting himself to lean closer, his gaze dropping to her undoubtedly swollen lips. "Better, even," he added softly.

Gianna let out a gasp as he dipped his head again, pressing his mouth to hers. This time, he wasn't just kissing her; he was tasting her, tasting himself on her, a realization that sent heat searing through every nerve ending. He kissed her languidly, a deep exploration that left her aching again. The metallic sweetness of her own climax on his tongue somehow the most intoxicating thing she'd ever experienced.

"I think I could live off that taste for the rest of my life," Art breathed, pulling back just enough for their lips to still brush.

A playful gasp escaped Gianna's lips, "Is that so?" she purred, sliding her hands from his neck to his broad shoulders, then down his chest exploring the firm planes of his body. "Good to know," she smiled.

Before he could respond, she pushed him gently but firmly to the side. Art, caught delightfully off guard but, not complaining, let out a surprised grunt as he landed flat on his back against the pillows. With effortless grace, Gianna swung one leg over him, then the other, straddling him with a triumphant smile and looked down, her gaze locking with his.

The burgeoning erection she'd felt nudging her inner thigh earlier, now poked her inner thigh through his boxers, his member hot and fully hardened. A satisfied hum vibrated in Gianna's chest at the sensation beneath her. A smirk growing on her lips, Gianna reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It gave way easily, the bra falling open to reveal her breasts and she tossed it aside. Her nipples, still hard and prominent, from their previous exertions seemed to beckon Art's gaze, the lamplight highlighting their curves. Gianna's smile widened, a mischievous spark in her eyes as his member twitched beneath her.

"Oh, f-fuck," he stuttered, his voice thick with awe, a groan tearing itself from his throat.

Gianna leaned forward, just enough for the tips of her breasts to brush against his chest, causing goosebumps to ripple down her own arms. A slow, chesire grin stretching on her lips.

"I take it that you like what you see?" she guessed, with a grin as her hips gave a subtle, teasing grind against him.

"Absolutely," he rasped back, a possessiveness clouding his usually bright eyes.

Gianna took his right hand, the one that had just worked her so thoroughly, and guided it to her breast. Her fingers wrapped around his, pressing his palm flat against her skin, urging him to cover her.

"Feel that?" she prompted, her eyes never leaving his, watching the pupils dilate with desire. "You did that," she whispered.

Art's raised his left hand, cradling both breast again, mirroring the earlier sensation, but this time with the full, uninhibited contact of skin on skin. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, eliciting a soft whimper from her.

"God, you're perfect," he murmured.

He leaned up, his lips finding the gentle curve of her breast, just above her nipple, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. A soft moan escaped Gianna as shivers coursed through her. He didn't just kiss them; he adored them, his tongue flicking out, tracing the outline of one areola, making her gasp, before he finally latched on, sucking gently, eliciting another strangled cry from her throat.Gianna cried out, her head falling back, fingers tangling in his hair. The direct contact, the wet heat of his mouth, sent tremors through her.

"Art…yes… please…" she panted.

He moved to the other breast, lavishing the same attention, his tongue dancing, his lips tugging, creating an exquisite tension that pooled low in her belly. Her hips began to rock against his, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her. Gianna's fingers found their way to the nape of his neck and lightly grabbed a fistful of his hair. Yanking his head up from her breast to her lips she captured his lips once more, a desperate, greedy kiss, before pushing him back down on the bed.

"My turn," she breathed against his mouth, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Slowly peeling his boxers down, Art's member sprung free, bobbing slightly as if impatient.

"Oh!" she breathed, her eyes widening and a small, delighted laugh escaped her lips. "There you are,"

Reaching for a condom from her nightstand, the crinkling of the wrapper loud in the small room. Before rolling it down his member as Art watched in a daze. Softly whimpering, his eyes closed as she rolled the latex down his length and his hips arched up to meet her touch.

He cursed softly, a sound of pure pleasure, "Come on, Gia. Please," he begged, his hands squeezing at her thighs.

Gianna leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Patience," she whispered, with a playful authority, enjoying his torment. "Good things come to those who wait," she lectured.

Moving her underwear to the side, she slowly sank down onto him, taking him inside her. The tip of him brushed against her slick opening, a gasp catching in her throat. Slowly, Gianna began to lower herself onto him, descending further inch by inch, until his head was deep inside her. They both released breathy moans, a shared shock of pleasure so intense it felt like bursting into flames. His shaft stretched her, filling her completely and the moment she fully impaled herself, the world tilted on its axis. Her eyes fluttered closed as she settled onto him, biting down on her lip as a muffled cry escaped her. Art's back arched, a loud groan slipping past his lips that he quickly stifled and made her eyes snap open.

"Fuck!" Art groaned tightly, his hands immediately coming up to cup her hips, holding her in place. "You're so tight," he panted.

"Easy!" she gritted out, breathless herself. "These walls are made of paper, remember?" she reminded.

Art nodded, eyes wide as his face and neck flushed red. Gianna began to ride him, her hips rocking in a maddeningly slow rhythm that built the tension with each movement. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Art thrust upwards, meeting her every move, guiding her, their bodies fitting together with a surprising, almost desperate, perfection. Her breath came in ragged gasps, hands gripping his shoulders and nails digging into his skin. Gianna arched her spine, head thrown back and hair cascading behind her.

"You're incredible," he praised, his fingers digging into her hips and urging her deeper.

"Yeah?" she asked, voice barely there.

"Yeah," he confirmed tightly.

Their movements became more frantic, Art pistoning his hips upwards while she ground her hips against him, her breasts bouncing. The soft slapping of skin against skin was a dangerous drumbeat, muffled only slightly by the rhythmic, thump-thump against the mattress; punctuated by quiet whimpers from her and low, growls from him. She threw her head back again, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her senses overwhelmed by the pleasure. A culmination of the sweet taste of the forbidden, of a desire long suppressed and now unleashed.

"Art!" she moaned quietly. "I'm so close! I'm going to—" She bit down on her lip, trying to muffle the sounds that threatened to escape.

"Let it go, Gia," he urged, his voice tight with his own building pleasure, his hips bucking under her. "Come for me. I'm right here,"

Gianna bucked, her inner walls clenching and tightening around him. Art thrust upwards one last, desperate time, a groan ripping from his chest, swallowed by his clenched teeth. Gianna cried out his name, that she barely managed to stifle as her body convulsing around him, utterly consumed. Art held her tightly, face flushed with ecstasy and buried deep within her. Gianna collapsed on top of him, breathless. Their bodies slick with sweat, hummed with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The only sound in the quiet dorm room was their own ragged breathing, and music from her iPod that she forgot was even playing. Art leaned over, pressing a hot kiss to her temple, then her cheek, before returning to her lips, claiming them in a slow kiss.

"Happy birthday, Gia," he murmured hoarsely against her mouth, a note of triumph in it. "Is this the best birthday present ever?" he asked softly.

Gianna chuckled weakly, heart still hammering, but a different kind of tremor ran through her now. Pure, unadulterated shock at the magnitude of what had just transpired.

"It's definitely...memorable," she whispered back, pressing her face into the damp curve of his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him.

Art's arm tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer, and a wave of warmth, of belonging, washed over her. In this moment, for a brief time, the world outside full of looming responsibilities and complicated relationships, faded into insignificance. It was just them, a tangle of limbs and breathless sighs, bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp, completely intertwined.

An hour passed, marked only by the gentle rise and fall of Art's chest against hers. He was soundly asleep, deep, even breaths leaving him, he was fully sated. Art's arm had draped itself around her waist, head nestled into the curve of her neck. It was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Gianna.

Laying wide awake, her fingers idly stroked the soft hair at his nape, but her touch was absent, thoughts miles away. Every muscle in her body felt loose, heavy, and gloriously used, but her mind raced. Her heart pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and growing anxiety. She had just celebrated her birthday by sleeping with her friend, who was also the best friend of her boyfriend, who was also the friend of her best friend and also her girlfriend. The absurdity would be comical if it weren't so fucked.

All of the events from the day replayed in her head. The initial disappointment of her birthday, Tashi bailing on her last minute, Patrick's deafening silence, and then…Art. He'd been there for her tonight. Truly there. Not Tashi, too busy with her upcoming match, not Patrick, who hadn't even bothered to text. Just Art. He'd listened, he'd comforted, and he'd looked at her like she was the only girl in the world. He had so exquisitely unwrapped her, layer by layer, that the raw, desperate hunger that had been suppressed between the two of them was unleashed, it was all-consuming. A tidal wave that swept away every inhibition, every sensible thought, and any shattered any remnant of a platonic friendship.

Gianna looked down at Art, his face soft and boyish in sleep, cradled against her chest. His arm was still slung possessively across her waist, his fingers curled loosely against her lower back. He looked so content, so utterly hers in this moment. Hers. The word echoed in her mind, a clashing counterpoint to the reality she'd lived for months. Patrick. Tashi.

The tangled mess of it all.

And yet, the warmth of Art's body was a comforting anchor. The lingering scent of sex, the low hum of the night; it was all so beautifully intoxicating, and so completely terrifying.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated against the polished wood of her nightstand. The buzz was jarring in the quietness that made Gianna flinch, her heart leap as her eyes snapped to the source. Carefully she maneuvered herself, untangling from Art's embrace and sliding his arm off her as gently as possible. Gianna immediately missed his warmth. She winced as a muscle in her inner thigh protested as she reached to grab it, her bare leg brushing against Art's. The screen glowed, the time a stark 11:58 PM. Just two minutes to midnight. And then, her eyes zeroed in on the name on the caller ID.

Patrick.

Gianna's heart didn't just stop, it plummeted all the way to her stomach, landing with a sickening thud. Her breath caught had got caught in her throat, suspended somewhere between her lungs and her lips.

Patrick: Holy shit babe! Happy Birthday! I swear didn't forget I thought the message went through this morning!

Another message popped up on the screen, a second later.

Patrick: Call me pls. Missing u like crazy.

Gianna stared at the screen, her blood turning to ice. A bitter laugh threatened to escape her. A belated text. Just a text. But the timing. The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. Only two minutes to midnight.

"He could be lying to save face," Gianna thought, her mind racing, scrambling for a reason to dismiss it.

She wanted him to be a liar, to be neglectful, to be the villain that made her actions understandable, almost righteous. But, a chilling, sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew Patrick well enough. He was a lot of things, charming, a bit self-absorbed, occasionally clueless, however, he was rarely a liar when it came to simple things like this. If he'd forgotten, Patrick would have just bluntly told her he forgot, perhaps with a clumsy apology and a promise to make it up. "Forgot, babe. My bad. Crazy day." That was Patrick. The elaborate excuse about the message not going through? That sounded like genuine panic, genuine regret.

"Oh, fuck," Gianna breathed, a frantic tremor running through her.

Her gaze involuntarily dropped to Art, his face peaceful in sleep, his lips slightly parted. Those same lips that had just worshiped her. Those same hands that had held her so tightly. The same body that was still tangled with hers. A fresh wave of sickening guilt washed over her, colder and more intense than before.

"What have I done?" Gianna whispered.

#black!reader #black!oc #black fanfiction #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fanfiction

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victoria-daydreams · 10 months ago

Text

The Winner Takes It All || Challengers

Part III: The First Crack

AN: Guys, I'm not going to lie this is the most chaotic posting schedule known to man and I'm so sorry. Parts of this chapter got deleted not once, but TWICE! I had to walk away from this story before I did something I would regret, but I'm back again. I know for sure the engagement for this story will have decreased significantly, but I don't care. I've put too much time and brain power into this, so I'm seeing it through until the end, there's probably only three or four parts left anyways. A lot of song references sprinkled throughout and I took some minor inspiration from certain movies, I wonder if you’ll be able to guess it.

Trigger warnings: emotional cheating (Art and Gianna truly embodying the song B.A.S. in this one), slight manipulation

Word Count: 7.0k

Part IV: Cocky Af

SIX YEARS LATER - US OPEN, AUGUST 2012

With a powerful forehand, Gianna hit the return back over the net, her muscles rippling with the effort. The neon green ball whizzed across the other side and straight down the court, just out of her opponent's reach. Immediately, Gianna felt her knees buckle and she fell back onto the court, letting out a cry. The thunderous applause and screams are instant, vibrating the hard court beneath her. She had did it, Gianna had did it. She was now the US Open Women's Champion.

Her hands covered her face, tears pricking in her eyes as Gianna's shoulders shook with soft sobs. All the sacrifices she made, every argument she had with her dad, the blood, sweat, and tears she shed had culminated to this very moment. Her crowning achievement, Gianna Langdon was a Grand Slam winner. The media had reported on her every move in the tournament, debating if she possessed the mental toughness to advance in the Open after having a rough start in her first match. Today, she proved her doubters and her most vocal critics wrong.

Composing herself a little, she dragged her hands down her face and sat up from the ground. Gianna rose to her feet and jogged her way over to Irina who was at the net patiently waiting there. Her head hung dejectedly, but she offered her hand to Gianna's shake which she accepted. The handshake was brief and Gianna released her hand to turn her attention to the umpire to thank them before facing the roaring crowd who maintained their rapturous applause.

With a grin that could rival the sun, Gianna began clapping herself before bowing several times to thank her fans and supporters. Staring out into the crowd, her eyes found her family's, their cheers were the only ones that truly mattered to her. Her brother and sisters were going wild in the stands, jumping up and down before embracing each other. Beside them, her mom and dad were openly crying and clapping harder than everyone else. Their eyes were filled with so much pride and joy that it almost made her want to break down sobbing again.

"What a journey this has been for you Gianna!" the interviewer began. "Tell me, what is going through your head right now?" she asked, before moving the mic over toward Gianna.

"Oh man," Gianna breathed out, still winded from the strenuous match only moments before. "There's not enough words in the dictionary to describe how I'm feeling right now!" she answered, a brilliant smile on her face. "This means the absolute world to me! I was pinching myself after I fell out onto the ground to make sure that this was actually happening," she continued, drawing out some laughter from the crowd.

"This is your first major title win, Gianna. How does it feel to finally hear those words spoken aloud?"

"It's incredible, truly," she replied, nodding her head. "I've been training so hard for this very moment since the day that my daddy put a tennis racket in my hand. And today, I'm finally bearing the fruits of my labor," she went on, resting her hands on her hips. "This title win is as much a dream come true not only for me, but for my dad as well, Maurice Langdon," she informed, and the Jumbotron camera quickly cut to her father in the stands. "Without his tutelage and guidance, I would not be where I am right now. When I left Stanford, I told my dad five words. 'Let's go make some magic'. I think I can safely say, we accomplished that here today," she finished, causing the crowd to aw at her outpouring of love for her father.

Smiling, her dad blew multiple kisses in her direction before placing his hand over his chest, genuinely touched by her praise.

"I did two things today that I previously thought impossible. I won a major title!" Gianna exclaimed excitedly, to which the crowd roared in cheers. "But more importantly, I made the Maurice Langdon shed tears for the first time ever!" she joked, a ripple of laughter echoed from the crowd as they were all probably familiar of her father's renowned stoic nature.

Gianna's on court interview lasted for a few more minutes before finally, it was time for the trophy presentation. She would forever be immortalized in tennis history with a picture of her proudly holding the US Open above her head. With her press conference wrapped up, the toll of the day was beginning to wear on her. Gianna was exhausted. Every bone, every muscle, every part of her.

Walking alone in an empty hallway within the Arthur Ashe Arena, the sound of Gianna's phone chiming echoed in the air. A smile lit up on face at the text she received from a name with snail emojis beside it.

"Can't wait to see you tonight, champ" with a winky face at the end of the message.

Matthias Schnell (snail as she liked to tease him since the words were similar in pronunciation) was a rising German tennis superstar much like herself. The two met at Wimbledon where they were both making eyes at each other during the tournament, but after she won against him and his partner in the mixed doubles semifinal match, Matthias congratulated her and asked her for number, the rest was history. They weren't official yet, but they were well on their way.

"Gianna!" a familiar voice called.

In a blink of the eye, her smile dropped from her face.

"I know that's not who I think it is," she thought.

Gianna clicked her phone back into sleep mode and quickened her pace, ignoring the repeated calls of her name. Until, she felt fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, an action which made her furiously whip around and rip her arm from the grasp of a strawberry blond haired man.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Gianna hissed.

"Gia—" Art began.

"No! You don't get to call me that!" she snapped, stabbing her finger in his direction. "You lost that privilege a long time ago!" she snarled.

"Please, Gianna," he pleaded, taking a step closer to her. "You ducked me in Atlanta," he reminded, only causing Gianna's nostrils to flare.

With a Nike baseball cap tucked low over her brow, Gianna made her way down the hall of the hotel. It was the night before the Atlanta Open, a tournament she usually didn’t pay any attention to, but this year she was here to support an old friend. Max Sullivan, a name she couldn't believe she was saying. After the Juniors Championship, they didn't part on the friendliest of terms and it was all Gianna's fault. She told Max to his face she thought he was a mediocre player and to add insult to injury, she also said she should take his trophy since she's the one who did all the work on the court. It was a mixture of immaturity, cockiness, and a kernel of truth.

Nonetheless, it would seem her words lit a fire under Max's ass, because from college and now as a professional tennis player, his growth had been tremendous. So, the only lesson Gianna took from that was, bullying works. Depending on his performance, she was considering them to be doubles partners again.

Placing her hand on the door handle to the stairwell, Gianna froze. It felt like someone was watching her. Without hesitation she turned her head in the direction of the hotel lobby, her heart all but stopped as her next breath caught in throat. Gianna's vision became similar to the dolly zoom effect at the sight of Art. The two of them were no longer standing on opposite ends of the hallway. By the second, it seemed like the distance between them was rapidly shrinking.

"Gia?"

He barely raised his voice, but it was just loud enough for her to hear as a soft frown creased his brow. Gianna didn't respond, instead choosing to avert her eyes to back to the door. Her breath beginning to quicken while her heart thumped wildly in her chest, the only thing keeping her on her feet was the death grip her fingers had around the door handle. Out of the corner of Gianna's eye, she could see Art slowly approaching towards her. Panic seized her at the thought of them being within arms reach of each other. They haven't spoken to one another in five years, Art's last attempt was rewarded with a swift slap across his cheek after he cornered her in their sophomore year, pleading for her to speak to him again.

"Gia, please, I'm begging you. I don't know how much longer I can take of this," Art pressed, desperation rife in his voice. "I miss you," he added, his voice cracking as he bent down slightly to try and meet her stare.

Gianna remained silent, keeping her gaze fixated on the cement with her arms folded tightly against her chest . A heavy, lingering silence engulfed them when Gianna finally flicked her eyes up to Art's, startling him. She did not mask her rage, Gianna's eyes burned with hatred which caused Art to flinch. Suddenly, her hand flew forward striking Art's cheek, the force of the blow causing his head to whip to the side. Then, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Art was less than ten feet away from her when Gianna forcefully pulled the open, rushing clumsily up the stairs and almost twisting her ankle in the process.

"Gia wait!"

Art and Gianna had a silent, intense stare off for several moments, before Art cautiously took a step closer towards her with arms raised.

"Gianna, please. I just wanted to tell you congratulations on your first grand slam win," Art explained softly, with a weak smile.

"I don't want it, least of all from you," she spat, looking him up and down with a sneer.

"Will you at least hear me out?" he asked, frustration creeping in his voice. "I only want to talk," he stated.

A deep, scornful laugh bubbled out of Gianna as she slowly closed the gap between them.

"And what the fuck, would we have to talk about Arthur?" she asked icily, the harshness of her tone making Art recoil. "You know I want? I want you to be a good boy and run along," she continued, moving in for the final blow. "A pet should never stray too far from its master, so how about you go fetch the lost dreams of her career and leave me the hell alone!"

With every venomous word Gianna hurled at him, Art withered from the verbal daggers she threw at him until he was left in a state similar to which a dog would’ve been after it had been scolded by its owner. How fitting. If he'd had a tail, he would have tucked it between his legs.

Gianna's lip curled in disgust, "Fucking pathetic," she muttered, stalking away from him and purposefully letting her shoulder bump Art's arm as she left.

~~~x~~~

FIVE YEARS EARLIER — STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2007

"40-15! Match point!" the chair umpire announced.

Gianna punched her fist in the air as the crowd erupted into applause and loud cheers, the yelling of her name mixed within them. It was only an exhibition match, but the Stanford bleachers were packed full as if it was the Junior's US Open all over again. It was the highly anticipated potential match up that never came to fruition at the tournament. Today, however, spectators could finally behold the athletic spectacle of two titans facing off against each other. More importantly, they wanted to see if Gianna had it in her, to pull off the upset of the day.

Glancing at her opponent on the other side of the net, Gianna watched Tashi shake her head in frustration, a deep scowl marring her pretty features as she picked at the strings of her racket. Behind Tashi, the ball boy bounced a ball to her and smoothly caught the ball with her racket.

Gianna crouched down, a smirk on her lips as she let the rubbery grip of her racket roll back and forth against her palms, rocking from side to side.

"One more point," she thought. "And I will have beaten Tashi two times in a row this week,"

The neon ball bounces softly off the ground and Gianna's grip tightened around the handle, readying herself. The moment Tashi released the ball high in the air and jumped to hit it, Gianna knew it was going to be excellent serve from her friend. Playing against Tashi was a tasking feat in itself, but going against her when she was absolutely livid and frustrated? Most competitors might as well be signing their own death certificates, Gianna however, had Tashi right where she wanted. Off-kilter and playing sloppy.

Whizzing over the net, the ball came flying at Gianna like a heat seeking missile and for a split second she wondered if Tashi had envisioned her face on the ball as she returned the serve. The next hit came in the form of a forehand slice and Gianna sent the ball back across the court with a strong one handed, backhand return. Tashi sprinted over to the ball, but fell a stride short as the ball bounce off the ground with a force that made dirt kick up.

"Game, set and match, Gianna Langdon," the chair umpire announced in a loud voice. "6-3, 6-3".

The crowd erupted in cheers as Gianna herself threw her arms in the air in victory. Jogging to the net, a grumpy Tashi was already waiting for her with her hand extended out. As usual, she still really hadn't gotten around the concept of losing to Gianna and it showed.

"Good game," she muttered.

Gianna, on the other hand, was clearly starting to get the hang of beating Tashi, and boy did she enjoy it.

"I know," Gianna acknowledged, with a smirk.

Instantly, Tashi's face darkened and she yanked back her hand, abruptly breaking the handshake. Tashi's reaction didn't phase Gianna at all, instead, it made her even more smug.

"And so it begins," she thought amusedly.

Walking back to her bench, she grabbed her gear and put it in her sports bag before leaving the court. Gianna had barely gotten far from the tennis court when Art fell in step beside her.

"Great match!" he complimented, with a grin.

A light chuckle left her, "All in a day's work," Gianna replied, lazily looking over at him.

"Everything alright between you and Tashi?" Art wondered. "She looked pissed off when you two were at the net," he remarked.

"She'll be fine," Gianna assured, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know how Tashi gets when she loses to me," she reminded, briefly looking ahead her. "She hates being humbled," Gianna added, smugness growing within her.

"Do you think she—"

Her head whipped in his direction, "You wanna come with me to dinner with my family?" Gianna asked suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She's had enough of Tashi for the last hour and a half, it was time to place attention elsewhere.

"Seeing how my best friend is not going to talk to me for the rest of the day," she went on.

"Wouldn't I be intruding?" Art questioned, one of his brows raising.

"No, because I invited you," Gianna answered simply. The two came to a stop on the corner of the sidewalk, facing each other. "Come on, I need to make this dinner somewhat bearable for me," she said, grabbing a hold of his hand with both of hers after seeing the indecision on his face.

Art's eyes flitted down to their hands, his throat bobbing before he swallowed thickly. In the back of her mind, Gianna knew what she was doing wrong, to essentially be toying with his emotions, but she desperately needed a buffer from her dad.

Gianna looked at him from under my lashes, "Pretty please, Art? For me?" she asked, using her thumbs to trace circles on his skin.

Art inhaled deeply, his eyes darting back to hers and he wordlessly nodded his head.

"Yeah, yeah!" he agreed hoarsely, finally finding his voice. "I would love to, Gia,"

"Uhh, you're the best!" Gianna cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Without thinking, she stood on her tip toes and pecked him on the cheek. She pulled back, a grin on her face as she stared at Art who had a smile playing lazily on his lips. Gianna spun around, resuming her path back to her room.

"Meet me at my dorm in an hour," she exclaimed, not bothering to turn around.

Today, it was Gianna’s world and everybody else was living in it.

~~~x~~~

A few hours later

On the floor of Gianna's dorm room, biology notes, index cards, and textbooks were pushed off to the side and strewn about. Her and Art were studying for their upcoming quiz, but Gianna decided she had a better way to occupy their time. With one foot outstretched along the plush rug and the other being held by Art as he blew on it, Gianna let her head bob along to "Sittin' Up In My Room" by Brandy playing on her docking station as her toenails dried.

"When your parents dropped us off before they left your father said 'I'm glad to see developing an identity of your own'," Art quoted, looking over her toes and at her. "Why did he say that?" he questioned curiously.

Gianna let her head fall back letting out a long, dramatic sigh, "It's a long story, but also a short one," she answered, running her fingers through her hair. "My dad and honestly my mom as well, believe that I cannot be my entire self or even unlock my full potential if I'm always attached to Tashi's hip," she explained.

"Wait, they're upset because you're too close to your best friend?" Art asked incredulously.

"I know. Ridiculous, right?" she said, tossing her hand up in the air.

"If that's how your parents think of your friendship with Tashi, that may explain why your mother was giving me the cold shoulder at dinner," Art reasoned, adjusting his grip on her foot.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about," Gianna apologized sheepishly. "I don't what that was about," she said, shaking her head.

"No, it's fine," he assured. "I'm pretty sure Farrah hates me as well, so it balances it out," Art commented, with a chuckle.

Gianna's eyebrow arched, "What makes you say that?" she wondered, chuckling at the thought.

"She said if I do wrong by you, that, and I quote 'your kneecaps are fucking mine, white boy,'" he informed, his warm breath fanning across her toes.

A smile broke out onto her face, "I'm the baby of the family, of course she's going to spout empty threats," Gianna replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Didn't sound that empty to me," Art complained.

"Well, we are talking about Farrah here...so you may have a point," she conceded, with a shrug.

The tickling heat of Art's blowing came to an abrupt stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a concerned frown knitting his forehead.

"You know, now that you mentioned it, my ex did break my heart and he came back to school with a limp the next day," she lied.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, Art's frown deepening. He opened his mouth to say something and Gianna raised her eyebrows in challenge as realization dawned on his face. Gianna's mouth began to twitch as she fought the urge to smile.

"You liar, he didn't break your heart. You broke his," he remembered, a grin spreading across his lips.

Art and Gianna held each other's stare and after a beat, they both bust out laughing. Three months had passed since their argument at the mini golf course, but they've acted as if it never occurred in the first place. Was it the healthiest way to handle the situation? Probably not. But, in a way, it benefited both of them to ignore it for their own selfish reasons.

For Gianna, her relationship with Tashi was beginning to show all the signs that it would be a stale one. She had remained dead set about not wanting to broaden her horizons for the sake of their relationship, much to Gianna's dismay. At this point, Tashi was more of a girl friend than an actual girlfriend. And Patrick, for as loving and caring as he was, the boy could be inattentive at times. Sometimes he would forget to watch Gianna's matches after she sent him a link that aired them. Or, other times he wouldn't pick up on her tone that she was not in a good mood and continue talking about his adventures as a professional tennis player.

Then, there was Art. He had been her rock whether he realized it or not. Gianna figured he stuck around because he didn't want to give up their friendship entirely, despite the you know, major crush he still harbored for her. Gianna was grateful, honestly. Everything that was transpiring in her relationship with Tashi and Patrick had actually brought them closer. Art filled in the gaps she was desperately craving from her boyfriend and girlfriend, attention and spontaneity.

"Catch," Art called, tossing her jacket towards her.

"Caught," Gianna said, grabbing it from the air with ease. "What are you trying to do? Test my reflexes?" she joked, sliding the jacket onto her arms.

"No, but I'm happy to inform you they're wonderful," he quipped. "We are going to Cantor Arts Center, somewhere I know you've been dying to get to," he informed, moving to stand in front of her.

Gianna let out a little squeal of delight as she sprung off the edge of Art's bed.

"Thank you, thank you!" Gianna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Art and hugging him tightly.

"Anything for you," he breathed, his laughter vibrating through her body.

"I don't know why you're worried about Farrah's threats," Gianna said dismissively. "You would never hurt me," she stated confidently.

"Never!" Art promised. "Out of curiosity, should I expect the same from her?" he asked, flicking his chin at the shirt Gianna had on.

Gianna glanced down at what she was wearing, it was a plain, white tee with the name of the ballet troupe that her sister danced with emblazoned on it.

"Pfft, Alicia is a downright angel compared to Farrah," Gianna assured.

"And Luke?'

"Only dangerous if you let him get close to you with a baseball bat," she warned, smiling at him. "Speaking of my brother, I'm getting tickets for the season opener game for the Dodgers, and you're coming with me," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

One of his brows rose at this, "Just me?"

"I would bring Patrick, of course," Gianna responded, leaning back on her hands. "And Tashi too, if she can squeeze me into her oh so busy schedule," she added, an undercurrent bitterness in her tone.

"I'm sure she would be thrilled to go with both her girlfriend and boyfriend to a Dodgers game," Art said, with a brief, strained smile.

At this, Gianna mentally slapped her forehead.

"Way to go on reminding him of his position in our friend group," Gianna thought.

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry Art," Gianna apologized profusely, covering her mouth with her hand. "I swear, that was not my intention when I brought up us going to the game," she insisted sincerely, reaching out and placing her hand on top of Art's knee.

He shrugged, "No harm done, Gia. I know you well enough to know it wasn't on purpose," he said, a tight smile still drawn across his mouth.

Another annoyed sigh blew past Gianna's lips, "It's so frustrating, you know? Somehow, some way, my relationship manages to find its way into every conversation, she grumbled. "It's annoying to me, I know it's gotta be annoying for you, it's probably the last thing you want to hear actually,"

"Listen, I'm always happy to lend my ear to my friend," Art reassured, his face softening while resting his hand on top of hers. "Seems like you're in need of a shoulder to lean on, I'll gladly fill that for you," he said, squeezing her hand.

She felt comforted, even though all he had offered was the simple gesture.

"I can always count on you, Art," Gianna said, grinning brightly. "Now I know what Patrick means when we talk on the phone," she remarked.

Art seemed to perk up at this, “Oh? What did he mean by that?”

"Just that I’m the easier girlfriend talk to," she revealed, with a small shrug. "Patrick and I are a lot closer than she realizes," she admitted offhandedly.

Gianna didn't miss the way Art's eyes lit up a bit, an unreadable glint in them.

"Is that so?"

"You know Tashi, she's 24/7 about tennis. She's been harping on him about losing and always trying to give him pointers when that’s not what he wants to hear," she explained. "And for him, I'm that person he can turn to talk about anything other than tennis," she continued, with a small reminiscent smile.

Gianna thought back to the time she had Patrick practically doubled over in laughter, recalling all the stupid shenanigans her and her siblings got up to back at their ranch in Louisiana. It delighted Gianna to know she was capable of eliciting that much joy from her boyfriend when he needed it the most after getting practically chewed out by Tashi following a tough loss.

"You and I share that same dynamic," Gianna went on, motioning between them. "It's so much easier talking to you Art, compared to Tashi and even sometimes Patrick. In fact, I always look forward talking to you. You make me feel seen," she confessed, feeling Art's fingers curl around her hand more tightly.

It wasn't uncomfortable nor painful, but a physical reminder that Art seemed to be hanging on her every word.

"You always engage with my interests. Every bio class, you slip a new recipe across our desk that you found on the internet for me to try, more difficult than the last," she said, unconsciously leaning in closer in. "You're even brave enough to try out said recipes, not knowing what the results will be," she joked, chuckling softly. "Anyways, I guess this is my extremely long winded way of saying I'm grateful to call you my friend. And, thank you for being such a trouper and coming to dinner with me and my family," she told him, her mouth shyly curving upwards.

A long moment of silence fell between them, the only sound filling the room was the low instrumentals of "He Loves Me" and both her breathing and his. Art coughed, briefly ducking his head down and trying to keep the blush which Gianna saw was creeping over his cheeks. When Art's eyes finally flicked back to hers, Gianna felt her insides twist. The barely disguised want in his gaze made her warm all over.

This was becoming all too familiar, this careful dance between them balancing on the tightrope of friendship and something more. Gianna's resolve to keep Art at arm's length from months ago was weakening. They both were teetering, another step closer and over, would plummet them into uncharted waters.

"I don't know if I'm deserving of such high praise you, Gia," Art said softly. His eyes darting to her lips, daringly lingering on them and then back to her eyes. "But, I promise I will never break the trust you have within me," he vowed, shifting closer to her.

"You can't tell Tashi or Patrick about this,"

Smoothly, Art's fingers slid around Gianna's hand and went under hers to lift it towards his mouth.

Art didn't take his gaze off of her, "It will be our little secret," he whispered, sealing his promise with a kiss to each knuckle more lingering than the one before.

~~~x~~~

Staring at her reflection, Gianna vigorously dabbed her sponge all over her face to blend her foundation evenly across her skin.

"Between the two of us, whoever gets the makeup deal first, can we please for the love of god make sure the foundation range goes beyond the color of a paper bag?" Gianna yelled, with a huff before finally placing the sponge onto the bathroom counter.

If she had to keep mixing two foundations just to get the correct shade for her skin any longer Gianna was going to lose her mind.

"Babe, you are the color of a paper bag," Tashi quipped, from within her room.

Gianna playfully rolled her eyes, "Yeah, only in the winter," Gianna pointed out, exiting Tashi's bathroom. "I still have a bit of my summer tan left," she said crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.

Pushing herself off her bed, Tashi walked over to Gianna and her hands instantly found themselves attached to her hips.

"Regardless, you look amazing Juliet," Tashi teased, letting her eyes trail down Gianna's costume.

It was Halloweekend at Stanford which meant only one thing to all students across campus, three days packed full of partying. Gianna, was one of those students who was thoroughly looking forward to the festivities with a costume planned for each night. Tonight, she was dressed up in a white dress, a cross necklace, and a pair of feathered angel wings inspired by Baz Luhrmann's iconic rendition of Romeo and Juliet. It was simple, elegant and the pure white fabric of the dress against her skin made her appear ethereal.

"You’re looking fantastic yourself, Josie," Gianna complimented, noting her girlfriend's leopard print bodysuit and cat ears. "And I didn't even have to twist your arm to go out tonight," she joked, placing her hand at the back of her neck.

A faux pout found its way on Tashi's lips, "Hey, I can be fun," she said, before placing a chaste kiss on Gianna's lips.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "Oh? This is certainly news to me," she responded, laughing a little.

"Ha-ha very funny," Tashi replied dryly, before moving down Gianna's to jaw and pressing her lips against her skin. "Excuse me for embracing the festive spirit," she deadpanned, her breath tickling her ear.

"I am not complaining one bit," Gianna clarified, with a blissful smile while Tashi kissed down her neck. "You're going to ruin my makeup," she complained, her eyes falling close and her breathing becomes ragged as Tashi found the sensitive spot on her neck.

"You're fucking hot without it," Tashi murmured, nipping at her collarbone.

A sharp series of knocks startled the two of them, breaking apart from each other in quiet laughter.

"Must be Art," Tashi guessed, fixing Gianna's hair.

"Gotta be," Gianna agreed, releasing her grip on the back of her girlfriend's neck.

Pushing herself off the door frame, Gianna took a couple, deep breathes in effort to calm her body down. With a hand on her hip, Gianna's finger wrapped themselves around the doorknob and swung open the door.

"Why the hell are you knocking like the police?" Gianna scolded warmly, staring at Art who was dressed up as Waldo with round glasses perched at the end of his nose.

Art opened his mouth to respond which Gianna assumed would be a witty one. Instead his mouth remained stuck in the same position while his eyes looked her up and down.

"You look amazing, Gia," he blurted, his mouth still open in awe.

Gianna placed her hand on her chest, "Aww really?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head vigorously. "You look like…well you like angelic," he breathed, flashing her a sheepish grin.

"Corny!" Tashi yelled from behind her. "Seriously Art? You couldn't have chosen the most obvious word?" she questioned, putting her arm around Gianna’s shoulder.

"It's the first word that came to mind!" he cried playfully, looking at Tashi.

"It's not Art's fault, that I'm just that breathtaking," Gianna said, placing the back of her hand to her forehead and swooning dramatically.

"Ugh, you see what you started Art?" Tashi joked, shaking her head with a smile.

Gianna turned to Tashi and they broke into a fit of laughter.

"You're gorgeous, really,"

The girls' laughing came to abrupt stop as Gianna paused, her eyes locking with Art's. She felt herself lean back, shocked by his soft utterance causing her face to heat up massively.

"Oh," Gianna breathed, still stunned. "Thank you Art, that's very sweet of you," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

Gianna wondered it was possible to get a high off of words, because she was experiencing it. From beside her, Tashi loudly cleared her throat as her hand slid down Gianna's back.

"We should get going, don't want to be late for the party," Tashi suggested, her hand curling itself around Gianna’s waist.

Gianna felt herself be tugged her ever-so-slightly closer to Tashi's side, a wordless warning to Art to watch himself. If the message was received or not, Gianna had no way of knowing, but it was from that point on there was a noticeable shift in Tashi's demeanor. And Gianna was doing everything in her power to pretend that there wasn't. She tried to defuse the subtle tension between all of them by talking about the latest horror movies released in theaters, only Art engaged in the conversation while Tashi remained uncharacteristically quiet.

With her arm wrapped still wrapped fairly tightly around Gianna's shoulder, Tashi led her to the porch of the house. Already she could feel the bass pumping from the inside and it became more intense when they entered. "Disturbia" was blasting from the speakers and cheers swept the room at the song playing. The three of them are immediately pressed together in the crowd. Gianna couldn't believe how many people had shown up to this party. The place was packed with students in all sorts of costumes, ranging from serious dedication to hilarious ones clearly thrown together at the last minute. Gianna turned her head to say something to Art, Tashi had other plans, however.

"Let's go dance!" she yelled, in order to be heard over the music.

Allowing herself to be dragged towards the center of the room, Gianna looked back at Art and flashed him an apologetic smile coupled with a half shrug before being swallowed up within the throng of partygoers. The two danced facing each other, their movements loose and carefree while their bodies swayed to the beat of the music. With every song they danced along to, Gianna watched as Tashi’s mood brighten until there was a wide smile plastered on her face as they sung along with "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" at the top of their lungs. Their laughter filled the air and Gianna spun herself around, her hair whipping across her face while kicking up the fog lingering in the atmosphere from a fog machine set the spooky season mood.

Facing away from her girlfriend, Gianna spotted Art across the room dancing with a tipsy blonde haired girl who appeared to be having the time of her life, but Art looked completely out it and was seemingly just going through the motions in a halfhearted dance.

Gianna turned back towards Tashi, "I'm going to step out for a bit for some air!" she shouted over the music.

"Don't be too long!"

"I won't!"

Pushing her way through people, Gianna made way to the back door quickly opening and shutting it behind her. Immediately, she’s struck by the autumn air crisp and cool, leaving goosebumps on her arms. She didn’t mind it however, it was refreshing after being in a packed living room. Gianna moved across the backyard deck before finally coming to a stop at the railing and bending over to rest her arms against metal surface. Casting her glance upwards, she admired the full moon lighting up the dark sky, the stars faint due to the lights of the city in the distance.

"You're doing on that purpose,"

Gianna's face scrunched in confusion, she looked over her shoulder to see Art standing not too far behind her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"Isn't there an identical shot like this in Luhrmann's version of Romeo and Juliet?" he pointed out, making a finger frame and observing her through it.

A small laugh left her as she remembered the specific scene he was talking about; it was when Juliet was watching fireworks going off from the balcony.

"Perfect," Art said softly, angling his fingers so she was precisely aligned in the square shape of his fingers.

Gianna scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Shut up," she said, a smile on her lips.

He mirrored her expression, dropping his hands and made his way closer to her.

"Why did you come out here?" Art asked curiously, using the side of him to lean against the railing.

"It was a fucking sauna in there," she answered, which Art chuckled at. "I needed air," she added. "What about you?" she asked, flicking her chin at him. "Why are you out here? I thought you and that blonde girl were really hitting it off," she joked, with a knowing smirk.

Art let out a scoff of his own, "Shut up," he laughed, echoing her own words a minute ago.

"What? I don't want her getting jealous—"

"Jealous?" he repeated incredulously. "Even if she was, wouldn't matter," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "She doesn't compare…" he trailed off, and a breathy chuckle passed his lips.

"To me," Gianna thought, finishing his sentence.

"So no point of competing," he finished, with another small shrug.

"You never did answer my question," Gianna remarked, tilting her head to the side. "Why did you come out here?" she asked again, pushing herself up from her position and turning to fully face him.

"Seizing the opportunity to dance with you," he answered bluntly, causing Gianna's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. "If that's alright with you?" he questioned, his voice softer in tone than before.

Inside, the speakers began playing "Time of the the Season" as Gianna mulled over his offer.

It's the time of the season

When love runs high

"It's harmless, a lot of friends dance with each other," she thought.

Her lips curved, "I suppose one dance couldn't hurt, I don't think it's going to cause a bloody feud between families," Gianna quipped, making Art smile warmly at her.

Looping her hands around his shoulders, Art's palms found themselves on the sides of her abdomen as they began to dance to the music. Then again, Gianna wasn't quite sure if she should call it that, it was more of them gently swaying back and forth. Neither of them spoke, as neither of them knew what to say. They only turned away from each other with shy smiles, both releasing quiet laughs which slightly eased the palpable tension lingering in the air between them.

"You know, back in Louisiana I used to love stargazing with my siblings on our family ranch," Gianna mentioned, breaking the silence that fell between them. "It's one of the few perks of living in the countryside. There's not any light pollution, so you're able to see the stars in their full glory unlike cities," she went on, lifting her head up at the moon and the starry sky above him. "You have to visit me in Louisiana this summer. It's a breathtaking sight honestly, their beauty is unmatched," she said wistfully, their swaying coming to a stop.

"It truly is," Art agreed softly.

Beaming, Gianna looked back down at Art to see him already staring back at her. Her breath hitched ever so slightly. There was not a trace of doubt in Gianna's mind that Art hadn't looked at a single star and was solely looking at her this whole time. His eyes traveled the length of her face before moving back to her own. All the while, Gianna mentally noted Art's hands were sliding down her sides and onto her hips, pulling their bodies closer together. A shuddering breath left Gianna feeling her heart begin to race with anticipation, a mix of want and uncertainty coursing through her.

Art leaned in towards her, "Gia," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Holding his stare, Gianna leaned in closer causing their noses to just barely brush against one another before she pulled away at the last minute in hesitation. She knew the implications of crossing this line, the risks it carried. But the warmth of Art hands seeping through the material her dress was dizzying and actively drowning out all logical reasoning from her, it just all felt too good. So natural. Slowly, Gianna moved back in as Art dipped his head down, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

An ear splitting shriek jolted the two apart and Gianna felt herself sag back against the railing, gripping it for dear life because it was damn near the only thing keeping her on her feet. Fireworks shot up into the air from the front of the house, exploding into a dazzling sight of red, green, purple, and orange. The raucous cheering of partygoers followed soon after. The frat boys must have brought the fireworks and are now setting them off in their drunken state. Gianna covered her mouth with her hand, inhaling shakily.

That was too damn close, she should have never even allowed it get that far.

Art's back was still facing her when she managed to stand at her full height. Gianna’s hand dropped down to her chest, her breathing slightly erratic and her racing just as Art turned around with a dopey smile on his face. Once he saw her expression, his smile vanished.

"Gia?" Art called, concern written all over his features. He a took step closer to her, reaching his hand out toward her. "Gia, are you alright?" he asked again.

His fingers had barely grazed hers when Gianna rushed past him and back towards the backdoor to the house.

"Gianna? Gianna what did I do? Come on, Gianna, speak to me, please!"

Art's questions and pleas were tuned out by her own voice repeatedly saying one word.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Part V: You Make Me Wanna

#black!reader #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #black!oc #challengers fanfiction #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #art donaldson

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