Surprises in Seattle - [Liv X Luca]
A/N: The way this took me forever to come up with an idea for... and then I wrote it in an hour and it was suddenly over 2k words... Writing is wild man. WILD! Thank you ๐ง๐ท anon for the request. Sorry for how long this took.......... yikes!
Original Request: I would love for a small thing of Liv and Father in law Kev interacting, I think there's has to be funny moments between those two that will leave him laughing wildly and she getting soooo embarrassed!!!! ๐๐๐ - ๐ง๐ท
Word Count: 2.2k
Have fun tonight, baby. Iโm so proud of you ๐
Liv reads off the text quickly while she finishes out the last curl of her hair. Once itโs set, she rips the plug out of the wall and hastily rushes out of the bathroom to grab her purse and jacket.
I wish you were here, babe. Good luck tonight! And be safe
Liv responds as she walks out of her hotel room. She double checks she has what she needs- key, purse, jacket, phone- then letโs the door close softly behind her.ย
Tonight is a long anticipated night for Liv. Itโs the first day of her second book tour. Sheโs doing a book signing at the cute, local bookshop across the street. This book tour is so much more chaotic for her because she self-published her second book. After all the issues she had with her previous team not seeing the same vision for the book, Liv quietly walked away from them. Truthfully, they let her go easily, not seeing much of a reason to fight her wishes. Fine with her. She knows what she is capable of. Never again is a board room full of people going to tell her what to do with her art.
She has Ryder to thank for that. Without his fierce belief in her years ago, she wouldnโt be where she is now. Sheโs thankful now that the past is in the past and theyโve all been able to move forward, especially with Ryderโs recent trade to the Kings.ย
Livโs black heels clack against the tile of the hotel lobby. She makes her way out the door, then falters slightly when she sees the line outside the bookstore. She bites her lip then quickly takes a picture to send to her fiancรฉ.ย
Baby, youโre so popular ๐,ย he immediately texts back
You better not be texting and driving.
Oops. Love you!ย
Liv rolls her eyes at her manโs worst habit. Then with confidence in her step, she crosses the street to the bookstore hosting her event. The crowd sees her step onto the sidewalk and they begin to clap for her. Liv gives them a huge smile, dimples out and proud, along with an enthusiastic wave.
โThank you all for coming! I canโt wait to meet you!โ She calls back to them, then slides into the bookstore. The owner, Lillianne, ushers her to a makeshift curtain room where she can sit in privacy until the event begins.
โAre you still okay with doing the Q&A before the signing?โ
โOf course!โ Liv confirms. She hopes there arenโt any awkward silences with fans not having anything to ask her. Otherwise, this long anticipated night is going to end quickly.
In another few minutes, the crowd is allowed into the store, bring noise into the normally quiet space. Liv does a few breathing exercises to settle the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As a writer, she knows this is part of the job, but she still worried that her fans wonโt like her. She would never want someone to come away from an interaction with her and be disappointed.ย
From behind the curtain, Liv watches as people being to filter into the seating area. She wishes she had someone in the crowd for her today, but this is the only stop on her tour where she wonโt be able to meet someone after. She has five more stops after this. Savannah is meeting her in Atlanta, her parents in NYC, Luca in L.A., Mack in Chicago, and Lucaโs little sister, Lena, in Phoenix.
But tonight in Seattle, itโs only supposed to be her.ย
Yet, when she steps onto the stage, the first person her eyes land on is Kevin Fiala in the front row. Her steps almost falter, but then she waves and continues forward. He cheers excitedly for her appearance and Liv canโt help but grin wider.ย
Kevinโs presence helps ground her in confidence as she beings the Q&A. The thoughtfulness of their questions has Liv buzzing with excitement. They wonder about the main characters, her writing style, how this process was different from her first book. There are also questions about what it is like to date a professional athlete, how her and Luca have found a balance with their successful careers and of course, what is in the future.
โI think our biggest focus right now is this book tour for me. Then itโs back to hockeyland before we get married this coming summer.โ
โWill you change your name!?โ Someone shouts out without the microphone.
โYeah, I think Livia Fiala has a great ring to it.โ She grins. โBut Iโm not sure if I will change my pen name yet. Itโs an ongoing discussion.โย
With that, the Q&A is finished and Liv begins to head off to the signing table, but not before a quick, rushed hug to Kevin.
โYouโre here?!โ She greets him.
โWouldnโt miss it.โ He smiles. Liv gives him a grateful smile, then heads back behind the table. The next interaction she has with him is cheeky and adorable.
He proudly displays her cover to her in both hands, then taps her name at the bottom.
โFiala will look much better than this.โ
โIโll be sure to tell my fiancรฉ that. He will appreciate the support.โ She chuckles. Kevin slides the book across the table to her. Liv blushes at how sweet it is of him to be here to support her AND buy a book he could easily get for free. โShould I make this out to anyone?โ
โYes, my son, Luca. L-U-C-A.โ He jokingly spells out as Liv chomps down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. She concentrates on the letters of her fiancรฉโs name. โHeโs a huge fan of your work.โ Livโs mind immediately goes to how appreciative of her work Luca was before he took her to the airport this morning. Her giggle escapes and she looks back at Kevin brightly.
โAnything in particular you want me to say to him?โ
โPlease write: Your dad was my favorite Swiss hockey player growing up.โ
โNo.โ Liv laughs immediately. โMy dad would be crushed! And probably my uncle tooโฆโ
โOkay, okay.โ Kevin concedes. โHm, what would you want it to say?โ He asks, quieter, more reflective. Liv contemplates then tilts down to write:ย
I canโt wait to get home to you. I love you! XOXO Livy.
Liv finishes off with a heart after her name, then gently closes the book. She hands it to Kevin.
โHe will love that.โ He murmurs. โ
โI think so.โ
โCan I take you to dinner to celebrate?โ
โI would really love that. Thank you.โ Liv smiles at her future father-in-law. โI think your son would probably love a picture.โ
โHe would. Otherwise he is gonna think his mom signed this for him.โ Liv belly laughs. She stands up next to Kevin, pointing and looking surprised for their selfie as Kevin grins next to her.
โNice to meet you Ms. Fiala- Uh Meier.โ He stutters. โSorry, Fiala just sounds so natural for you.โ Then he saunters away, leaving Liv giggling in his wake.ย
Liv continues signing and engaging with fans. From the corner of her eye, she can see people divert to Kevin for a picture or autograph. He tentatively comes over to interrupt and asks if it is okay with her before he signs anything.
โYes! Go for it!โ She assures, but is truly touched that he wants to be sure the attention stays on her.ย
Although he engages in some hockey talk, Liv can hear Kevin bring the conversation away from him and back to her work time and time again. He enthusiastically talks about her new book and characters, even speaking about his favorite scene towards the end. Liv is touched that he read it, and also a little embarrassed considering there is a smutty hot tub scene in the middle chapters. Her neck flushes as she thinks about the real life scenario with his son that inspired that.ย
It is after 8pm by the time all the fans have been greeted and books signed. Liv reunites with Kevin for dinner. She requests they go to a bar to find the Kings game, knowing itโs a nationally televised game.ย
โLuca scored the first goal.โ Kevin fills in for her as she squints at the score. The Kings are up on the Flyers 2-1.
โNice!โ Liv murmurs, then drops her eyes to the menu. They both order and watch the game in relative silence, outside a comment or so about the game. Itโs comfortable and appreciated after Liv just did so much conversing. Her energy is zapped.
โDid Luca put you up to this?โ Liv finally asks after they have finished dinner.ย
โNo. He doesnโt know Iโm here.โ Kevin tells her. โBut we were talking to him earlier this week and he did mention you were nervous about being here alone.โ He takes a sip of water. โYour our daughter, Livy. If any of our kids were worried about something like this, Sam and I would be there to support them. So here I am. If Sam wasnโt sick, she would be here too.โ Liv knows that. She bites her lip for a moment, feeling overcome with the emotions of the whole day.ย
โThank you. Iโm really lucky.โ She murmurs.ย
โYou also look very tired.โ
โYeah.โ She starts to laugh.
Kevin grabs the bill from the waiter and pays it before Liv can get her hands on it.
โNo kid of mine pays for dinner either.โ He insists when she balks.ย
โA lot of rules to being your kid. Somehow more than Timo Meierโฆโ Liv teases. Kevin laughs.ย
โYou are lucky Emma is your mom. The Hischier in her balances everything out.โ Liv nods. This is true.
โAre you leaving early tomorrow?โ Liv asks as they step back out onto the street.
โI am here until noon.โย
โGreat, then Iโll take you to breakfast before the airport.โ
โSure, but youโre not paying.โ Kevin points a scolding finger at her, lowering his eyebrows.
โWouldnโt dream of it.โ Liv affirms.ย
As she snuggles into her hotel bed for the night, she sends a text to Luca seeing if he is home yet. His response is a FaceTime call.
โHellooooo!โ Luca cheers. โOh! Sheโs in bed!โ He grins. โIs this a sexy FaceTime?โ
โNo.โ She says through a yawn. โI just called to say goodnight. Iโm dead. And I have to meet your dad for breakfast tomorrow.โ
โMy dad?โ He questions.
โYeah, he showed up tonight. Bought a book and everything. Let me send you the picture.โ She hears the ding and adores the instant smile when he looks it over on his screen.
โWow, heโs so cool. I wanna be like him when I grow up.โ Luca laughs as he takes something out of the microwave. โPasta.โ He shows her the bowl, then spoons a huge, steaming forkful into his mouth. โHawt.โ He huffs out. Liv can only shake her head. โThatโs awesome that he came tho. I didnโt expect that. Was mom with him?โ
โNo, she is sick.โย
โOh, damn. I bet that killed her not being able to come. Still cool that dad came alone though.โย
โYour dad called me his kid like all night. This one sweet older man came up to him and complimented him on raising me.โย
โI hope he corrected that.โ Luca gives her a knowing look.
โHe made sure to tell the man that he was the dad I always deserved but didnโt have growing up.โ Luca barks out a laugh.
โYou know he is going to text your dad that later.โ
โOh Iโm sure he already has.โ Liv chuckles. โBut yeah, it was really nice. The night.. hearing thatโฆ having him show up for me. I feel really lucky to share your family with you.โ
โMy family loves you, baby. But nowhere near as much as I do.โ He says softly. โIโm glad you had a good night. You deserve this success.โ Liv lets his words soak into her skin. Before, she would have blushed and brushed that off, but Luca is right. She does deserve this. Sheโs worked and fought her ass off to get here.ย
โThank you. I miss you though. I wish there werenโt so many days before we see each other again.โ She huffs. While Liv is going back to L.A. for the weekend, Luca will be heading out of town on a road trip.ย
โI know, baby. I miss you too.โ He murmurs, pushing his empty bowl across the counter. They stare at each other and as he always does, Luca knows her thoughts before she can fully think them. โWe are okay.โ He fills the silent worry she has that distance will stretch them too far again. โTwo weeks is nothing for us.โ He reminds her. She nods in assurance.ย
He is right. Liv bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with dewy eyes. Luca perks up from his slouch.
โThis is a sexy FaceTime!!!!โ He yells as he runs out of the kitchen, heading towards their bedroom.ย
Liv smirks.ย
Heโs been so good to her, supportive and unwavering, he deserves a little bedtime show.
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i've had a LOT of people message me about the reboot video and the other discussions that i've had recently about jkr, about fandom, about being trans in fandom.
and i just remembered about this draft from before i even posted that video, and i think it sums up how i feel pretty well.
as a fandom, i think we need to clarify again what reclaiming a space means.
because it is not removing ourselves from the artist, especially not one as problematic as jk rowling. it is impossible for us to separate from her views as they are the forefront of her person and are heavily embedded into her works. to separate entirely is not possible, and to strive to do so is, in my opinion, optimistically ignorant.
we cannot separate art from artist when confronted with two-dimensional female characters that we have to bulk out through fandom. we cannot separate art from artist when gender norms are prevalent in the works (see here: rita and umbridge - villain women - being described as masculine). we cannot separate art from artist when queerness is attacked in her works (see here, less vividly: harry being treated awfully at a primary school called. stone. wall. (arguably a reach, i agree)). we cannot separate art from artist when names likes cho chang and kingsley shacklebolt are a thing. we cannot separate art from artist when, in books published during the irish troubles, the one irish character's entire personality is blowing stuff up.
the nazi imagery (see also: jkr denying the holocaust), the antisemitism, the oppression of women, racism.
her entire transphobic platform that has now gone on to harm cis women (which, by the way, trans people have been screaming for years that transphobia harms cis women, and we weren't listened to. see again: rita and umbridge. if you are not feminine and pretty, you are bad).
we cannot separate art from artist and we shouldn't.
reclaiming a space means that those marginalised communities? every single one of them? every single person who was harmed by her works and her subsequent platform? they can find a space in fandom.
they can find works that represent them, works that rectify the harmful stereotypes in her books, works that are inclusive and safe that still allow us to engage with the world that we love.
they can be safe.
you can engage with fandom however you want. whatever ships, headcanons, stories, ANYTHING. you can engage with it however you want.
as long as your wants do not harm others.
and even then, we cannot stop you from doing that. all we do is ask that you acknowledge that this is not reclaiming.
you cannot reclaim a space that causes harm by causing harm, no matter how indirect.
we cannot separate art from artist, no matter how badly we want to.
we can 'separate' our works from her views, absolutely. we can say that these works do not align with her views and alleviate the harm caused by what she wrote, i agree.
but that is all.
her merchandise, her parks, her books, her films, her reboots. everything with her name on and her bank account attached?
we cannot reclaim those. we cannot separate those.
and i will not pretend to be perfect. i will not pretend that i don't have merchandise, or even that i haven't considered purchasing more. i was literally contemplating going to see cursed child a few months ago, arguing with myself to try and justify why that would be a once in a lifetime experience for me.
but so was starting hormones. so was getting my top surgery approved. so was coming out and subsequently moving out of an abusive home. so was changing my name. so was living.
going to see cursed child would have been a once in a lifetime experience for me, yes. but at the cost of funding a woman who does not want me to have the same lifetime as cis people. at the cost of providing money to a woman that does. not. want. me. alive.
and it's so easy to say that one person doesn't make a difference, and i agree! i have literally said this before!
which is why i have used the collective we throughout this post.
but i also think, it's worth acknowledging that one person can make a difference. and that one person is jkr.
it is not reclaiming a space to simply say that you do not stand with her.
it is not reclaiming a space to exist as something jkr hates - i am not reclaiming this space by existing in it as a trans man. my existence is not a form of protest.
boycotting is.
it is not reclaiming a space to say "fuck jkr" and then profit her.
it is reclaiming a space when your actions reflect your words.
and that is the bare minimum.
we cannot change the source text or the views that went into them. we cannot change jkr's personal views or the way that she chooses to use her money.
we cannot use the term "reclaiming the space" to feel better about our actions, and to avoid accountability. not when funding her account.
and i don't want to hold people to account. that's not my goal; never has been, and never will be. i am not typing this to cause further harm, or to point fingers, or anything like that.
i am typing this to clarify what i mean when i say reclaiming a space, and ask that those who disagree do not enter the space i have forged for myself here.
to ask that those who put once in a lifetime experiences over me living a full lifetime do not enter my life. here for a good time, not a long time, right?
i am not in this space to explain why jkr is a bad person. i am not in this space as a form of protest. i am not in this space to explain to people that their actions have consequences - that's for teachers in nursery to explain.
i am in this space because it's fun.
and i feel annoying talking about it. i feel like i'm annoying people by bringing this up time and time again, but, to be honest, i hope that they feel the discomfort. i hope that they do get annoyed, and i hope that they recognise that any annoyance they feel about me speaking up about transness in the marauders/hp fandom does not come anywhere close to the annoyance i feel watching these videos.
because i shouldn't feel the need to take a step back from engaging interactively in fandom.
i shouldn't need to cater my online experience in a fandom that claims to be all inclusive, to get rid of people that aren't?
and these conversations are uncomfortable and, yes, to the people that it addresses, they likely are annoying.
but it makes my space feel safer. it makes me feel safer. it's allowed me to talk to now over 100 trans people in this fandom about their experiences, and made me feel less alone in this.
so yeah, i feel annoying. but i won't apologise for making my space feel safer, and i certainly won't do so to people that have shown inconsistent/no regard to the safety of these marginalised communities.
this is me โจreclaiming my spaceโจ if you will
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i never forgot you
๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ป๐ด: ๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐ผ๐พ๐ฝ!๐บ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐บ๐
๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐ฟ๐พ๐!๐๐พ๐บ๐ฝ๐พ๐
๐๐๐บ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐: ๐พ๐๐พ๐๐๐ป๐๐ฝ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐. ๐๐บ๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐บ๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐
๐
๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐บ๐๐ ๐บ๐๐. ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐บ๐, ๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐ฝ๐'๐. ๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐
๐ฝ๐'๐ ๐๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐พ๐ผ๐บ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐, ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐บ๐ฟ๐๐พ๐ ๐บ๐
๐
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ.
๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ฑ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐๐ป๐: ๐ง,๐จ๐ฃ๐ง ๐๐๐๐ฝ๐; ๐ฅ๐ข,๐จ๐ฃ๐ข ๐ผ๐๐บ๐๐บ๐ผ๐๐พ๐๐.
๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ป๐ถ๐ป๐ด๐: ๐ป๐๐๐พ๐ฟ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐บ, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐บ๐
๐ผ๐๐๐๐
(๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐๐ป๐พ๐ ๐ป๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐), ๐ฟ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐พ, ๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐บ ๐ผ๐๐๐ฝ๐๐ (๐ป๐๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐
), ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐ฎ/๐ป: ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ผ๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐. ๐บ๐๐บ๐๐, ๐ ๐ฝ๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐บ๐
๐
๐ ๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐ป๐พ ๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐ฟ๐๐พ๐. ๐๐พ๐บ๐, ๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐
๐
๐ ๐ฝ๐๐'๐ ๐๐บ๐๐พ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐
๐๐พ ๏ฟฝ๏ฟฝ๐ ๐๐บ๐, ๐พ๐๐ผ๐พ๐๐ ๐๐
๐พ๐บ๐๐พ ๐ฝ๐๐'๐ ๐ป๐พ ๐บ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ฝ๐พ๐.
"Did you hear Art Donaldson's coming?"
That's all anyone could talk about, Art this, Art that. So what if he was coming? You didn't give a shit. (You did, you always did when it came to him.)
Logically, you knew you might see him here, but emotionally, you were really hoping you wouldn't have to, especially considering there were hundreds of people at the Standford alumni gathering.
Once you'd graduated, you'd left all traces of him behind. Or at least, you tried. His name still popped into your head, his face sometimes even appeared in your dreams at night.
Even worse, promotion for him and Tashi Duncan's book was plastered over half the city of New Jersey. It certainly didn't help that one was on the billboard that you so unfortunately had a view of from the window of your apartment.
Your friendship with him had never been clear, but it had been everything but simple. You had felt there was always something more, with the lingering glances, and the gentle touches.
But all of that had changed when she showed up. Tashi fucking Duncan. You felt robbed, stolen from. As soon as she'd stepped into the picture, Art's attention was solely on her.
So you left. Erased yourself out of his life completely. Distanced your life from his until you both graduated, and never looked back. Well, mostly.
Looking back, maybe it was selfish. But all you knew is that you couldn't bear to watch him fawn over her like a lost puppy. Not when you felt so deeply for him.
You shake your head, trying to break yourself out of your stupor. There's too many people here, and you hate it. You already know everyone will want to ask you about your life, your career.
Once you'd left Stanford, you'd made a name for yourself in the tennis world. You loved winning, but you despised the attention. But you knew it was the price to pay for success. So, you tried to keep as much of your private life out of the headlines as possible.
You needed to clear your head, get some fresh air. And figure out what the hell you were doing here, and why you thought it was a good idea to show up.
Unfortunately, it seems like someone else had the same idea, as you're hit with the smell of smoke as soon as you step outside.
"Needed to get away, too?"
Your heart plummets at the familiar, yet unmistakable voice. The one person you'd prayed you wouldn't have to see. Art Donaldson.
You turn to see him leaning against the rail, taking a drag from his cigarette. You'd almost forgotten how utterly gorgeous he was until you laid your eyes on him, and it seemed like he'd only gotten better with age.
The smoke from the cigarette wafts off into the air, and your eyes lock with his. A moment of silence goes by. You want to greet him briefly and then walk off, but he speaks before you do.
"Long time, no see."
You mentally curse yourself for not being quick enough to have the first word, and nod slightly, an indifferent expression on your face.
"Art Donaldson. Has been a long time, hasn't it?"
He blows out another puff of smoke, eyeing you. He'd be lying if he said he'd forgotten about you. You were someone who had haunted him for years, through his entire marriage with Tashi. He could never forget about you, no matter how much time had passed.
"You haven't changed a bit."
You don't say anything, not quite sure how to respond. It's true, it had been years since you and him had last spoken. But what you didn't know is that he had made an effort to keep up with you. He'd been keeping tabs on how you were doing with your tennis career. He'd never admit it, but he was guilty of googling you, to find only headlines of your tennis wins, and barely anything about your personal life.
It seemed like when you weren't playing tennis, you basically ceased to exist, which he suspected was your choice entirely. Despite the years of zero contact, Art couldn't pretend like he didn't care for you. That he didn't still love you, even if he'd been so incredibly blind to it back in your college days.
"Congratulations, by the way." Art says, alluring to your recent conquest in the tennis world. "Winning gold at the Rio Games is no small feat." He can see in your expression that winning that medal wasn't completely satisfying. Your face tells him that you haven't felt a sense of contentment in a very long time.
He wants to ask you why you disappeared. He'd wanted to for years. But all that comes out is, "How's your family?" Stupid question with an even stupider answer. He wanted to slap himself in the face. He knew your family was a sore topic for you. And yet, he was still coming up with mindless small talk to try to fill the unbearable tension between you.
You sigh. "Fine, minus my bitch of a mother. She passed a couple years ago." Art internally winces. He knew you'd had it bad at home, only living with your mother for most of your life after your father had left when you were nine. You'd moved to California to attended Stanford the moment you'd become a legal age to be on your own.
He sucks in a sharp breath and frowns softly as you talk about your mother's passing. There was no love lost in between you and her, but he didn't want to be cruel and completely insensitive.
"Sorry about that." Art says, taking another hit off his cigarette. He looks at you, taking you in with a sense of wonderment. You had grown into such an incredible woman, and somehow, it seemed like you'd gotten even more beautiful. Your deep colored eyes and sun-kissed skin make his heart best faster. How he's missed you.
You shrug, trying not to show any hint of emotion on your face as you speak. "Eh, don't be. You know she was always a shit mother anyways."
If he was being honest, he'd say your mother was a lot of things- manipulative, selfish, abusive- but he would've been lying if Art said that he didn't want to protect you back then.
Looking back at it now, there's so many things he could've done differently back then, like be a better friend. Maybe even a better boyfriend, if he'd had the chance. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something stupid, but Art closes it and instead says, "Why'd you disappear? Why don't we talk?"
Your eyebrows raise slightly, at his inquiry. Truth be told, he knows what you don't talk anymore. He knows he fucked up, majorly. But he's relieved when you don't immediately snap at him, or worse. You always did have a short fuse.
"And how do you know I disappeared? Have you been keeping tabs on me?"
He looks at you, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious?" Art raises his brows, "You're not seriously asking me that. You're one of the best tennis players out there. You went radio silent." He pauses, before saying in a slightly teasing way, "You're the one who should've been keeping tabs on me."
You scoff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't have to. You and Tashi are plastered over half the buildings and billboards in Jersey." Jersey. Jersey? He was surprised you moved there out of all places. You'd always expressed a dislike for it back then.
Art chuckles at your response. "What, don't you like Jersey?" He jokes, flicking the cigarette away. He turns his body to look at you, studying your expression. "But seriously. Why did you drop off the face of the earth?" He's not going to tell you that he'd looked for you, even though he had. It was a few searches on Google, a few emails. You'd just vanished.
His mouth opens again, this time not backing down from what he really wanted to say. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse either." It sounds more like a command to you than anything. Art is really trying to keep himself from saying all the things he's wanted to say for years.
The thinly veiled frustration lining his voice sends a rush of anger through you. Who does he think he is, ordering you around?
"Don't speak to me that way. Like you have some type of control over me."
It's then Art knows he's screwed up, letting that irritation seep into his tone. He knows he doesn't have any control over you. He never has, and never will. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you again.
"I'm not. I know I don't have control over you. But did you forget that I was once your friend?" Friend. It pains him to even call you that. You were always more, even though he was completely sucked into Tashi's orbit, like she was the sun. She wasn't. Art stands taller, his broad shoulders straight, his eyes never pulling away from yours.
"Were we, though? You dropped me for Tashi the second she showed up, and you wonder why I haven't reached out?"
Art's teeth grind in his mouth. "That's not fair." He says gruffly, even though he's lying through his teeth. "I didn't drop you. If I remember correctly, you were the one who left." He's getting agitated, his heart starting to race, his hands starting to clench into fists.
But not towards you. God, never you. He'd rather die than ever cause you harm. But the thing is, you weren't wrong. That's exactly what he did.
"I left because I knew if I stuck around, it would never stop hurting me."
That's when Art knows, getting involved with Tashi was the worst thing he ever did. It cost him his friendship with Patrick, his love for tennis. It cost him you.
He knew that your words were laced with truth, that he truly was the root of the heartache that you felt. And he'd do anything to take it back. But he couldn't. The only thing be could do now it try to make it right.
As for his feelings, that's another can of worms Art doesn't even want to open. He'd always had feelings for you, feelings that he thought would go away. But no, years later, they were still as present as ever. He wished he hadn't been so blind.
"I've always been second to Tashi. I couldn't ever compete with her, Art."
He swallows hard. Deep down, he knows it's true. Back in your college days, he was so focused on Tashi that he'd failed to notice what was right in front of him.
Art's heart hurt for you. But even though he knew how much he'd hurt you, how selfish he'd been, he couldn't help but get upset at your words.
"You could never complete?" He huffs through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" Art steps forward, his body almost towering over you.
Rationally, he knows this isn't the right time or place, and maybe there won't ever be a right time or place. But you're here, now, and he won't lose you again without telling you how he feels.
A sudden heat washes over your body as he steps closer, his breath hitting your face.
"You could never, ever compete with Tashi, but not because you aren't good enough." His hand shoots up to touch your cheek, a soft touch to your skin. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, gently.
Everything in you screams for you to back away, go before you get hurt again. But you find yourself mesmerized by those same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.
Art's voice is low and deep as he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never compete with her because I was stupid, I was stupid enough to fall in love with you first. But I pushed you away."
The confession is whispered, and you can hardly believe what he's said. What is going on? Art Donaldson is standing in front of you, declaring his love after years of no contact and a failed marriage to another.
"Art, I..." You don't know what to say. Your brain is mush, your head filled with a million thoughts, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You're missed, you're resented, you're loved, and now all you want to do is kiss him.
His hand cupping your cheek begins to slide down to your neck and his other hand slips around your waist, softly tugging you against him. His fingers slide through your hair and Art's eyes are on you, watching you, taking you in.
"I have loved you since we were kids. I was so stupid to not notice it before." He whispers, his breath hitching and his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "And I have never been able to get you out of my head or my heart. And I am sick and tired of pretending like you aren't the love of my goddamn life."
There isn't any hint of malice, or treachery in his eyes, and he hopes to God that you know that. He knows he can't ever take back the pain he caused you, but he wants to try even if it kills him.
With that, Art kisses you. It's hot, it's needy, and it's passionate as all hell. Your body is responding to him in ways you didn't even know was possible. As he continues to pour all his love for you into that kiss, it picks up in pace, until you feel Art's teeth biting your lip. Your mouth opens to respond, but his tongue slips inside your mouth, causing a low moan to hum out of you. Your tongues slide against each other, your bodies pressed together tightly.
Art can't help himself as his hands explore every inch of your body. One hand is buried in your hair, but the other is traveling down, exploring the bare skin of your back. You arch into him, your fingers digging into his shirt.
You taste like nicotine and beer, you taste like home, a flavor that makes him all that much hungrier for you. He lets out a low groan as he slips his hands into the back of your pants, causing you to moan into his mouth.
Art is starting to lose control and knows that if he doesn't stop this now, he'll take you right here in the grass outside the reunion. He doesn't want your first time to be like this. Not when there's been so much grief getting here, so much pain he's caused to you.
Reluctantly, he rips his mouth off of yours, pulling away slightly. Both of you are panting heavy, your cheeks flushed.
Art doesn't say anything at first. His eyes rake over your disheveled appearance, your lips swollen, your hair out of place. He's sure he looks just as bad. Clearing his throat, he mutters a soft apology. "This isn't happening here. Can I..." He's about to say that he wants to take you back to his hotel.
You nod quickly, eyes blown wide with desire, but with love, too. "Y-yeah. Yeah." After all this time, not seeing him, you'll be damned if you let him slip through your fingers again.
That's all Art needs to hear. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading the way to his car. Thank god the reunion was being hosted at a hotel, or Art wouldn't have been able to control himself.
After getting into the car, Art speeds out of the parking lot, his hand never letting go of yours. The drive back is a bit of a blur, his focus solely on you.
When you arrive at his hotel, Art is pulling you down the hallway, your lips connected like two magnets, unable to stay away from each other. Every step is like a challenge as you make your way to the room. All the while, you both stumble over your own feet until you feel your back against the door. You moan into his mouth once more, pulling at Art's shirt, before your kiss is broken by a panting Art.
"Wait," Art whispers, his voice soft. His eyes look at you in the dark of the hallway, his breath coming in hard pants. He's about to ask you if you want this, but your lips meeting his, your hands exploring his bare chest underneath the shirt, is all the answer he needs. He fumbles around for the handle of the door, trying to put the key card in, and it seems like an eternity until you stumble into the room.
Once inside the bedroom, Art is pulling you on top of him on the bed, his body desperate for you to be closer. You shift in his lap, pressing yourself against him, his hardness against your thigh. You gasp, hands running down his chest. Your lips remain locked as your fingers explore each other. Art is running his hands under your shirt, exploring your waist and sides eagerly.
And that's when Art's brain is hit with a sudden realization. He pulls back, breathing heavily, "Wait. We need to stop." He says, his voice firm. Art's eyes find you, and your brow is furrowed as you look at him with confusion and desire.
"What is it?" You ask, your breathing shallow. Art's hands on your sides make you shiver, his touch awakening every inch of your body. "Do you..." You pause, watching his face, "Do you not want this?" Your voice is soft and questioning.
His hands on your sides grip tighter as he answers, "God no, I want this. I want you. I just..." Art can feel the words catch in his throat, but then the question slips out, "Do you love me? I just... I don't want this to be just a causal thing, you know? I finally have you, and I don't want to lose you again." He waits for you to answer, the words hanging in the air. Your breath hitches in his ears.
The anxiety coursing through your veins deflates at his response, and you laugh quietly. "Are you dense? Of course. I've loved you since we were sixteen."
And that is what he's been waiting for. Art can feel a smile spread across his lips, his heart swelling as he pulls you in for a kiss. It's not a kiss filled with the same desire as before. It's filled with love and joy, full of passion and promise.
His hand moves to your back, gently caressing your back, before he flips the two of you so that he's leaning over you, his body still pressed against yours.
His mouth moves down to your neck, pressing wet kisses along your skin, while his hands slide up your sides to tease the waistband of your jeans. He can feel your fingers burying themselves in his hair, your back arching just slightly.
Art can feel the neediness as your touch urges him closer and closer. You're tugging at his shirt, your breath coming out in short stutters. He feels your mouth trail down his neck and Art's hands fumble with your jeans, desperately working on the zipper and pushing them off.
As soon as your jeans are off, he presses his body against you again, his hips rocking into yours. A low moan slips out of Art's mouth as your bodies grind into each other, his mouth finding yours, hungry and hot.
Art can feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He's gripping your thigh, his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, feeling his need rise like a raising fire in his stomach.
You gasp out, fingers pushing at his shirt, desperate to see more. More of him. "Off- off. I wanna see you."
Your gasp makes his heart flutter and Art can't help but groan into your mouth as you say those words. "Yeah..." He mutters against your lips, his body hot and needy against yours.
Art lets go of you and lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, revealing his hard, toned abdomen and built chest. His eyes search your face, watching you take in sight of him and waiting for approval.
God, he's beautiful. Like a damn sculpture in a museum. You lean up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, taking a moment to gently tug on his nipple with your teeth. If that isn't a sign of your approval, then he doesn't know what is.
Art bites the inside of his lip to muffle his moan. The feeling of your teeth on him is like electricity on his skin and he can't help the whimper that slips out of his mouth. His own teeth graze the skin of your neck, sucking slightly.
He wants you, needs you. And you are making it painfully obvious that the feeling is mutual. He moans into your mouth as Art pushes you gently back into the mattress as he slides between your thighs.
And then his body is pressing against you again, and you're both back to grinding against each other, the friction making you both moan. It's hot and sweat-inducing, passionate and fast. Art's hands are reaching for your bra and tugging it off, needing to feel your skin on his.
The minute the bra hits the floor, he's touching you again, his hands trailing down from your chest to your hips. His mouth finds yours again, your kiss a needy, hard, hungry mess of tongue and teeth.
Art is painfully hard, desperate for you. His hips are rocking, his breath coming hot and needy as you grind together. The pleasure is starting to build, and he can feel your own neediness growing.
He's got to be inside you. Every part of his body is screaming with that need, but he's so desperately trying to hold back. It's not just Art, though. You're needy, as well, your moans and whines telling him exactly what you want.
Art's hand slides down your body, and pauses just above the band of your panties, looking at you in a silent question of consent. When you nod, his hand slip into your underwear, his fingers touching your wetness. He can feel you gasp against his mouth, and Art's fingers rub teasing circles against your cunt. "You're so beautiful." He whispers against your mouth, desperate and needy, "And you're all mine." He's never sounded so possessive before and it shocks him.
But you can't get enough of it. After years of longing, years of pining, he's finally looking at you. He loves you. You moan in his ear, hips canting into his touch.
And then Art's fingers are slipping inside you, pumping slowly as you kiss and press into each other. The way you moan, the way your body reacts, makes Art moan with you, unable to keep himself quiet. He's drowning in your scent and your skin, everything in this room is you.
One of your arms wraps around his neck, as you gasp, moan, and pant into his ear. You're squeezing around his fingers, as his name falls from your lips like a vow. "Oh, oh, God- Art- fuck, don't stop-"
Art's fingers are pumping harder and faster, driven by the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Your moans fill his ears, the sounds and the way you're saying your name makes his neediness all the more desperate. He's desperate to make you cum, to see you come undone because of him.
It isn't long before you feel that familiar coil building in your stomach. "I'm gon- fuck-" You're so close, he can feel it.
He moans into your mouth, shifting down as his fingers work harder, his thumb finding your cunt. "Yeah?" He whispers, his mouth trailing down your neck. "You gonna come for me, baby?"
You gasp out hoarsely, muscles tightening. "Yes! Fuck, mhm-" Your eyes threaten to roll back back, as your jaw goes slack at your upcoming orgasm.
Art can feel you trembling against him, your body shaking as his hands work. This is the effect he has in you and it's driving him crazy. He's panting with his own neediness, but watching and hearing you is what's doing him in. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispers, feeling you clench around his fingers.
"I'm-" You cut yourself off as Art's fingers hit just the right spot. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you're gasping out into his shoulder, mostly incoherent swears as your muscles clench and your orgasm washes over you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- so good, so good-" The sight of you is something he never wants to forget. Eyes fluttering, mouth agape, your moans rising in pitch.
Art can feel a groan escape as he watches you orgasm, his fingers still working to bring you over the edge. You're a perfect picture of ecstasy, flushed pink and trembling against him. "God, you're gorgeous." He moans out, feeling your thighs tremble.
A moment later, he's pulling his hands away from your body, his own neediness growing more desperate. He kisses you, deep and hard, before murmuring in her ear. "Turn over for me, sweetheart."
You're a little shaky as you let him shift and roll you over on your stomach, but you're all too willing. Art's hands are sliding up your soft thighs, his touch gentle with so much love. He's pressed against you again, his mouth leaving kisses up your spine, before he's pulling a cushion under your hips.
His teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulder as he grinds against you again, moaning into your shoulder; the friction and neediness is driving him insane. "I need you." He whispers, his voice thick with need.
You can feel him pressing against you, his desperate need all too apparent. You moan into the pillow in response, pushing back slightly against him. You whine softly as his teeth bite your shoulder, a low shudder running through your body. "Then take me." You moan, arching your back to press firmly against him.
You're driving him absolutely mad. Art's hands grip your hips, fingers pressing into the delicate skin before pulling you up against him. He's panting in your ear, "Yeah? You want me, baby? Tell me his much you need me." His own neediness is making him desperate.
Your hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping into his ear. "Please, please, Art- need you to fill me up- need you so bad-"
Art's brain doesn't have time to register your words because he's moaning against your skin and rocking needily against you. His teeth bite your shoulder again as he pants out, desperate, "Yeah, honey, anything- anything you want- I'm yours." He whispers, almost incoherent in his desire for you.
His head dips down to your ear, panting into it and shifting slightly. "Do I need a condom, sweetheart?" He moans, his voice huskier than before. His hands are running down your sides again, the touch almost like a soothing caress before they settle on your waist.
You gasp out, hips still rolling back against his, desperate for friction. "No- I'm on birth control-"
Art nearly sags in relief. He would've used a condom if he needed to, but the thought of going raw inside you makes him to absolutely feral.
"God, you're perfect." He moans, one of his hands trailing back down to your hips and gripping them tightly. He's still moaning needily, your words only driving him further towards the edge. His forehead presses to the back of your neck, his breath hit and needy on your skin. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart."
When he finally slides into you, his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're so warm, so soft, so perfect. And the way you're gripping into his hair as he enters you is so goddamn good. You're tugging on locks of his blonde hair, as his body is draped over your back, skin to skin, and it takes effort not to cum then and there.
Art is panting into your neck, his body draped over yours like a living blanket. Your body is perfect under his, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, as he pants out, "You feel so good, sweetheart. God- can you-" His words are cut off as he bites the nape of your neck, and he's moaning, needy and incoherent.
He's pressed fully into you, surrounded by heat and pleasure. It's driving him crazy, but then you're pulling his hair and he's moaning against your skin, shuddering slightly. You're perfect, all of you, and Art's lost in you.
One of your hands stays tangled in his hair, and the other is curled tightly into the sheets as he thrusts into you, your body rocking forward with each one. Your breasts are bouncing slightly as he fucks you, and you're gasping and moaning pleas of his name, incoherent swears, and begging him not to stop.
And Art is thrusting into you, moaning and panting like a wild animal. His hands are gripping your hips, his own breaths coming out hot and needy against your shoulder. His own moans are spilling out, broken up by his words. "God, baby- you feel so good- so perfect-" He's practically whimpering with need, his face buried in your shoulder. "Want you so bad- honey- God-"
You're driving him insane with your gasps and moans, and Art's words are losing syllables, become more incoherent and slurred with his thrusts. You're perfect, and he can feel a pressure building low in his stomach. He's shaking, the pleasure becoming too much as he gasps out, "Sweetheart, I'm close- gonna-"
He's close, the pressure growing, and he's babbling mindlessly now, his words broken up by moans and gasps. "God- gonna come- don't stop-" He's whimpering into your shoulder, his hand traveling down to your waist and holding you like a vice.
He's pulling you back as he thrusts forward into you, and the pressure and pleasure are too much. His fingers dig into your waist, and Art can feel himself fall over the edge. He's moaning, gasping out your name as his nails dig into your skin, his breath hit against your shoulder.
It's only a moment before he's reaching down to rub figure eights against your cunt, desperate to make you cum.
And he's barely coming down from his own climax, still shuddering and gasping, yet his hands are moving already. He's touching you, fingers rubbing circles against your cunt, desperate to bring you over the edge with him. "Come on, baby. Come on-" He's whining, breath hot against your skin, as he continues his efforts, desperate for your peak.
You're close, he can feel it. You're trembling under his touch and Art's fingers are working faster and faster, begging you, "Please- please- come on- please-" And then you're arching your back against him, shuddering and gasping as you cum under his touch.
Art's eyes roll back into his skull as you come under his fingers and on his cock, a desperate whine slipping out of his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful your orgasms are. You're ethereal. "God- sweetheart-" He's moaning, pulling you closer, desperate to keep touching you and feel you shaking against him.
He's panting, his forehead pressing to the nape of your neck. His head us spinning from the onslaught of pleasure, his body trembling slightly. He's panting and shivering and still buried deep in you, and all he can think about is still you. Your skin, your scent, your body. His brain can't catch up.
It takes a few minutes before he's come down enough to pull away from you, slipping out of you slowly yet reluctantly. He's still whimpering in your ear, kissing your shoulder reverently. There's a gentle smile pulling at his lips as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer, wanting to feel more skin to skin contact.
Everything else slips away as his body is pressed against yours, legs tangled and skin on skin. Art's body is still buzzing from his orgasm, but right now, you're his one and only focus. He's whispering in your ear, mindless praise and sweet words he wouldn't dare say to anyone else. "God, baby- you're perfect. You're everything- I could drown in you and die happy."
You giggle softly, basking in the afterglow. After so long, you're here, with him. And he loves you. By God, does he love you. He reaches out to tuck a sweat soaked piece of hair behind your ear, pausing to gently run his thumb over your cheekbone. "I love you."
You can't help the exhausted grin that creeps onto your face when you hear that. "I love you, too."
He contains to murmur gentle words and praises, although his words are broken up by soft kisses to your shoulder. It's been years since he's felt this kind of pleasure. Years since he felt so content, so at home. Art hadn't realized how much he'd missed it- missed you. Right now, his only desire is to hold onto you, keep you as close as possible, and never let you go again.
Not that you'd even dream of leaving him again.
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