#that’s what i wrote in my yearbook for what i wanted to be when i grew up andhcwkncidjshc howling
Text
The Chain
pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader, minor Art Donaldson x reader
rating: explicit (18+)
word count: 28.3K
summary: Ever since you started at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it seemed like Patrick Zweig was out to make your life miserable. But as you both grow older and your relationship with him evolves in ways you couldn't have predicted, you find there is truly no escaping Patrick.
contains: mentions of bullying, infidelity, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, cucking (somewhat), vaginal penetration with a tennis racket, depressive tendencies, reader slaps Patrick, reader is somewhat pathetic (i still <3 her)
author's note: Hi!! This is my first time ever writing a fic like this. Both in length and plot. Plus, it's my first time writing anything explicit. The idea was sent to me by @senseofnewness (absolutely brilliant!!!) and what was meant to originally be a short fic is now this. The name is taken from the Fleetwood Mac song of the same name, which I felt was fitting for the characters. I have a lot of mixed feelings on this fic, but I know loved it writing it. Enjoy <3
----
“Sign mine?” someone asks from above you. You look up from your seat on the bleachers to see Art Donaldson holding out his yearbook and a pen to you. You blankly stare at it and then your eyes dart around the area to see if someone is going to jump out of the corner laughing at you. It wasn’t like him to do so, but your mind automatically goes to thinking this is some sort of joke. When you’re unable to find anyone, you realize he is genuinely asking. Someone asking to sign your yearbook? Well that’s a first. You’re not friends with him, but then again you weren’t friends with anyone at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy.
You reach out for the yearbook and pen without saying anything, but then realize how awkward the silence must be. “You may have to burn this afterwards,” you say in an attempt to make a joke to fill the silence, but see a frown form on his face and realize he doesn’t find it funny. You look down at the yearbook on your lap to hide the embarrassment and quickly scribble something, so this interaction can end. Have a good summer! Short and simple. As you hand the book and pen back to him, you hope this is the part where he walks away and you can finish your lunch. It’s 12:55 PM, you need to go soon.
Except he just stands there. You look at him feeling confused. Now what? His eyes dart to the yearbook beside where you sit. It’s only then you realize he wants to sign your yearbook. Another first. You reluctantly take the book and hand it to him, the feeling that this is some sort of joke lingering in the back of your head. Again, Art never joined in on the teasing and it was kind of late to start, but who knows. You wouldn’t be surprised.
He smiles as he opens to the back of the book and starts to write something down. “I’ll guess I’ll still be seeing you around in the fall” he comments in a tone that indicates there is more he wants to say. He pauses, looking at what he wrote, but then starts to write again. “Mhm,” you mumble with your mouth full. You’re both going to Stanford and both playing for Stanford Tennis. You got a full scholarship for the school, just like the one you had for the past six years at the academy. You wouldn’t have been able to pay for university without it. That was the best part of tennis for you: the doors it opened.
You glance down at your watch again as you shove the last bit of your sandwich in your bag. It’s 12:57 now. You need to leave. He smiles as he finally hands the book back to you. “See you at graduation,” he says with a smile and a wave as he walks away. You wave back and look down to see what he wrote in the book. It was nice going to the Academy with you! Can’t wait to see you at Stanford. Keep in touch :)
It is followed by a set of numbers. His phone number? Before you can think too much about this, you see on your watch it’s 12:59. You toss the book back into your bag, and leave.
----
“Where were you?” Patrick asks the minute you open the door to his car and slide into the backseat beside him. He’s parked behind some shop, far enough from campus that no one will know who you are. He rarely picks the same place twice, but this area looks familiar for some reason. You’re not going to tell him about the little run in with Art, so you shrug and say, “Was finishing up some work.” He rolls his eyes, “We are graduating next week and you care about work?"
You just look at him with an annoyed expression, one that he clearly doesn’t care about, because it just makes him laugh. He then looks at you, taking in the furrow of your brows, before leaning in close to your face. He smirks, as his hand moves to your thigh. It slowly moves up underneath your skirt and you feel his fingers pull at the little spandex shorts you have underneath. Then his lips come down crashing on yours.
----
Your classmates at the academy have a very surface level understanding of you. They know your family is poor. They know you can only attend the school because of a scholarship. And they all hate you. Curetsy of the one and only Patrick Zwieg.
From the start he made it clear that he thought you didn’t belong in the academy. It’s not like your twelve year old self did anything to upset him when you first joined. He just took one look at you and decided your existence at the academy went against the laws of nature. And well he wasn’t wrong. You were surrounded by people who had enough privilege to coast through life, while you had none. You were well aware you were the black sheep. He was just rubbing salt in the wound.
Your first year at the academy was spent with the twelve year old Patrick calling you names any chance he got. As he got older, he just seemed to get more creative with the torment. From breaking your rackets and getting others to tease you, it got worse each year. By the time you turned fifteen, every single one of your classmates knew you as the broke scholarship student who should have dropped out ages ago. What they didn’t know was the fact you’ve been sleeping with Patrick.
It was junior year and the weekend before Christmas. You both were the only ones who hadn’t left for winter break yet. Your family always booked the cheapest flight for you, which usually means flying on Christmas day. While you don’t remember why he was still at the academy, you do remember running into him at the indoor courts. He made some comments about your family. You don’t remember exactly what but you assume it was something about your parent’s inability to spend money on a decent flight. Maybe it was the fact that you two were the only ones there, but something snapped inside you that day. You called him “a worthless trust fund kind who’d never amount to anything.” Your first time ever speaking back to him and that really set him off. The next thing you know he was dragging you into the locker room saying he was going to shove your head in the toilet.
For all the years he spent threatening to put your head in the toilet, this was the first time he ever actually acted on it. His grip on you was strong. You distinctly remember thinking that it was the end. And then just as he actually got you into the locker room, you saw you had the opportunity to do what everyone wishes they could to the men that make their life miserable: hit him right in the nuts. You punched him there hard and he fell to the ground.
The next thing you knew, you got on top of him while he laid on the ground and hit him. Years of pent up rage pouring out of you in your smacks and the insults you hurled at him. What happened after that was all a blur. You felt something poke your thigh and before you could even process the fact you somehow turned him on, his mouth crashed on yours and you both started making out on the floor of the boy’s locker room.
You didn’t see him after that. He went to go home the morning after and when Christmas day came you left too. What happened between the both of you in the locker room lingered at the back of your mind all throughout the break. The memory felt like a sinful secret that aroused you more than any form of smut or porn could. You even touched yourself to it. While that was slightly shameful, you weren’t surprised it affected you so much. The fact that you were a social pariah at the academy meant none of your classmates showed any interest in you, be it platonic, romantic, or sexual. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was your first proper time making out with a boy. And you weren’t blind. Patrick may have been your bully, but you knew he was attractive.
By the time January rolled around and you were back at the academy, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t know what effect that moment had on him. On one hand, you knew he got around and was not as sexually pent up as you, so maybe this was normal for him? On the other hand, he must have at least felt a bit of shock for making out with you considering the fact how he always treated you. Regardless, there was no universe in which you could imagine Patrick being nice to you. You saw him on the first day back in your history class, and just as if nothing happened, he insulted your hand-me-down backpack as you walked into the classroom. His friends laughed and joined in, and you realized whatever happened that weekend before Christmas was a freak accident. You just assumed things were now back to normal, up until he cornered you later that day behind the gym. A little nook where no one could see either of you. He bent down close to your face and threatened that if you ever told anyone he’d kill you. You felt heart race and thighs clench, but before you could give any response his lips were once again on yours. And that’s how it all started.
----
“You’re playing in the US junior open?” Patrick asks as he sits up again, leaning against the car window, his face flushed and hair messy from the sex.
You sit up as well as you nod in response. How did he find out about that? You guess some coach probably told him. You slowly reach for your clothes from the floor of the car, and look outside the window. This time you realize why it felt familiar. This is where he parked his car for you both to fuck after prom. You went alone (only because your mother called you saying you may regret it if you didn’t) and he went with another girl, but an hour after the dance ended you got a text from him telling you where to find him. Without a second thought, you went.
You turn back to face him, as you pull on your shirt, and see he has a pensive expression as if debating something. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t know you qualified,” he says. You simply shrug in response, you weren’t sure how you qualified either. Tennis is an out of body experience at this point. When you watch your games, it never feels like you’re watching yourself.
“Guess they let anyone play,” he says with a little chuckle looking out the window, although his voice isn’t mocking like in public. When he teased you in private, it always felt more playful. As if he wanted to make you laugh, not cry. You watch him look out the window to check if anyone is around. He turns back to you and says, "I have to get back for practice.” This was his way of saying: Now that we are done fucking, you need to leave.
You pull up your skirt and nod to let him know you got the message. You pick up your bag and step out of the car. Just as you start to walk back in the direction of campus, you hear the window of his car roll down and Patrick calling your name. You turn to face him and he asks, “Same time tomorrow?” You should say no, but instead you say, “Sure.”
----
Your last week at the Academy was relatively peaceful. Some name calling here and there, but as graduation got closer no one seemed to have the energy to bother you. Everyone was busy talking about their summer plans, the junior open, or where they were going in the fall. Nearly everyone committed to one university or another, either to play tennis there or just to get a degree. Only Patrick chose to go pro, which wasn’t a surprise considering he was always vocal about how pointless university was. You two spent the last week hooking up in his car behind random buildings and in abandoned parking lots after classes ended, but the last time you actually saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, you headed out towards your parents and saw him standing with a serious expression as two adults talked to him. His parents you guessed. As you watched him, he turned to face you as his parents continued to talk, not noticing his attention was elsewhere, and you both just looked at each other.
You broke eye contact first when your parents asked you to pose for a photo. You never told them about how awful the other students treated you at the academy. Mostly because you knew they would have pulled you out. You didn't want that because you were aware that the public school in your home town wouldn’t have given you half as good of an education as the academy. As a result, they thought everything was great and were eager to memorialize the time you spent there, taking photos of every game and event they could attend. Although, this you could agree was momentous. Graduation meant you were leaving the academy behind, so you happily posed for them. By the time they were done snapping pictures of you in your cap and gown and you looked around for Patrick, he was nowhere to be found. Of course he wouldn’t have come up to you, and you wouldn’t have gone up to him. But you expected something more than whatever that was. It felt like an anticlimactic ending to the past six years.
The summer last year, the one in between junior and senior year, you had kept in contact, but it was really just phone sex at least once a week. This summer he hadn’t reached out once. You didn’t either, choosing to spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about him instead. You told yourself that it was a much needed reflection on your relationship with Patrick, which regardless of how bizarre and unconventional was still your first relationship. In all fairness, relationship was too generous of a word, but you couldn’t think of what else to call it. You lost your virginity to him and you were sleeping together for over a year. Consistently too, as you met up multiple times each week. Of course it was always on his terms. You met when he wanted to meet. Always in private and never doing anything in public that could even hint at what they were doing. He was still awful to you in front of others. A part of you hated the fact that someone you made your life so miserable could make you feel so good, but a larger part was ready to comply with anything he wanted. It was sadistic, but you couldn’t help but find it poetic that the first guy to make you break down in public was also the first guy to make you come.
You tried to occupy the time by spending time with your family, being in the sun, and practicing tennis, but nothing was enough to expel Patrick from your mind. By the time the junior open came around, you were grateful to have something else to focus on.
----
You got out of the open when you lost a semi finals match against Anna Mueller. You didn’t even expect to get that far, so you were unphased by the loss. Your family was proud and you had one more match in the evening against the player who lost the other girls’ singles semi final. It was just to determine who’d place third and who’d place fourth, and you were fine with either. You decided to pass the time till then by taking a little walk around the center where the open was being held. It was your first time here, so you may as well explore.
Just as you stood in front of a board in the entry hall of the center detailing its history, you heard a familiar voice say to you, “Great match yesterday. You were amazing.”
You turned around to see the strawberry blonde you only expected to see again at Stanford stand in front of you. He is smiling and you can tell he is being genuine when he says it, but that doesn’t stop you from saying, “Well I lost.”
Art simply shrugs in response, “You still played well.” Unsure what to say in response, you nod slowly. You can feel your eyes go downcast , and an awkward silence forms between the both of you. He swallows and looks at you as the awkwardness grows. Then suddenly he says, “You never called.”
“Huh?” you respond looking up at him. “Your yearbook…I wrote down my number,” he reminds you in a slow voice, his cheeks flushing pink as he does. You can see he is embarrassed, but you honestly did forget about his message in your yearbook.
“Oh..that,” you say with a forced laugh, trying to seem normal. If you were unsure how to respond to his compliment about your game, you are at a genuine loss of words on how to acknowledge this. He surely couldn’t have actually expected you to call him over the summer? You came to the conclusion that he left his phone number as a formality because you were both going to Stanford. A way to contact him once you both got there.
Art lets out a forced little laugh too, and you can see he feels equally awkward by this interaction. For a moment, it looks like he is about to say something, until you hear an even more familiar voice ask, “What’s going on here?”
Both you and Art turn to the direction where the voice came from and see Patrick standing there. While you imagined the moment you’d run into Patrick again, nothing you imagined was as awkward as this. His summer tan is visible against the white of his shirt, and you bite down on your back teeth to stay focused. His eyes dart between you and Art and it’s clear he has picked up on whatever awkward energy is radiating off the both of you. For a moment you think he is going to laugh or crack a joke about your inability to hold a conversation, but his eyebrows just furrow.
Art’s eyes go to the side, unable to hold the weight of Patrick’s gaze, and you realize it’s up to you to say something, “We were just talking about my game yesterday,” you say.
“Against Anna Mueller,” Patrick says and you nod. “The one you lost,” he then adds. Art shoots him an expression you can’t read, but one that Patrick obviously understands because he shrugs and adds on, “What? She did lose.”
Art just sighs and turns back to you, “We should get going. We have our doubles final in an hour.”
“Oh good luck,” you say with a little nod. Of course they were in the doubles competition together. Fire and Ice. While you knew they were the poster child for being a duo in every sense of the word, you always found it hard to associate both boys with each other like everyone else did. Art was the only one of Patrick’s friends who didn’t make fun of you. When Patrick or any of this other friends said something, he’d just sit there watching. Which was always a bit strange considering he was his best friend.
“You’ll come watch?” Art then asks slowly.
This request surprises both you and Patrick, who’s eyebrows shoot up a little bit. “Uh...yeah sure,” you say with a little shrug. It feels too awkward to say no to Art right now, even if you don’t fully understand why he wants you at the game or want to go in the first place. Art just smiles in response, and waves a bit as he walks off. He stops when he notices Patrick just stands there looking at you.
You look at Patrick and you see he has a stony expression on his face directed right at you. “Patrick?” Art asks, and as if shaken back to reality Patrick’s face instantly goes back to normal.
He turns to Art and with a little nod Patrick says, “I came in to use the bathroom. You head out, I’ll catch up to you later.” Art simply nods and walks to exit the center and head back to the courts. Both you and Patrick watch Art leave, and the minute he is out of the door, Patrick walks over and grabs your wrist before you can even process what’s going on. “Come,” is all he says as he starts to walk, taking you along with him. You soon realize he is taking you into the bathroom with him. He opens the door to the men’s bathroom and then takes you into a stall. He locks it behind him.
Patrick looks at you for a moment and then asks in a low voice, “So what were you and Art actually talking about? “We were talking about my game,” you say with a nod. “Don’t bullshit me,” he says with an expression that shows he knows you’ve left something out.
You just look at him for a moment, staring into his green eyes, which stare right back at you with a serious look. You assume he is worried that you may have told Art about the two of you. You shrug and admit, “He gave me his number.” Patrick just looks at you, but before he can say anything, you add on “Not like right now, but before school ended.”
“At the academy?” he asks, his voice tinged with slight disbelief. “He wrote it in my yearbook,” you say. “What? So you’ve been texting him or something?” Patrick then asks, his voice irritated now. You shake your head no and his eyebrows furrow as if trying to determine if you’re lying or not. Something about your expression must make him realize you’re being honest, because after a few seconds he nods in response. He looks to the side and then back to you. “You’re actually going to come to the game?” he then asks. You shrug in response, at this point, you’d feel bad for not showing up, so you’re going to be there anyway. “I guess so. Yeah,” you mumble with a little nod.
“Give me a good luck kiss then” he says. You blink once, not expecting this, but then comply anyway. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips, and once you do, you plant a kiss on them. You can feel him smile underneath your lips, and in a low voice he says, “Cute, but you know that’s not what I meant.” His hand reaches for yours and you feel it move to his groin, and you can feel he’s hard already. “You’ve been wearing the same tennis skirts for the past three years. They’ve always given me a nice view of your ass.” His other hand sneaks underneath your skirt as he rests a hand on your spandex short and then gives your ass a squeeze. Of course this is what he brought you in here for. You remember how you spent the past month reflecting on moments just like that. How you spent hours analyzing your relationship with him under the impression that it was over. But with your hand gently palming his crotch in the bathroom stall, you realize how wrong you were.
Could you both get disqualified for this? Anyone could come into the bathroom, and it would be obvious what was happening, even in the stall. Even with these concerns, you sink to your knees without a second thought, as he starts to pull down his shorts. He doesn’t even bother pulling it down fully, just enough to be exposed.
You lick your hand and then place it on the base of his length, getting a whimper from him in response, as you slowly start to move it up and down. You move your lips to his tip, and slowly wrap it around his cock. He moans as you start giving him sloppy sucks and continue to move your hand. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you yelp, and this elicits another moan, “God.” His hands reach down to your head. His hands wrap around your hair, holding it, and start to pull your head back and forth. As he continued to thrust in your throat, you felt his public hair brush against your nose. Realizing you’re fully taking him, you move your hand from the base of his dick to cupping his sack with a slight squeeze, which just makes him moan even more. “Don’t stop.” You did your best to match the pace of your squeezes to his thrusts, and after a few minutes of this, he pulled back, just leaving just the tip. You felt him throb around your lips and shortly after he came in your mouth.
He smiles down at you as you swallow, and then pulls you up by the shoulders and kisses you on his lips. His tongue snakes into your mouth and after a minute of tasting himself on your lips, he pulls away and smiles at you. “See you at the game,” he says with a smile, as he then opens the stall door and walks out. You just stand there, as you hear the door to the bathrooms open and close, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs.
----
You end up getting to the game midway through the first set and sit in the bleachers surrounded by other people. You hope that neither Art nor Patrick can see you, but of course they do. During the break Art smiles and gives you a little wave, and Patrick just flashes a smirk. The same smile he gave you in the men’s bathroom thirty minutes ago and your stomach does a flip. You didn’t get the chance to take care of yourself after that, busy trying to process what happened and denying the fact that you are wet. You’re failing at the latter as you feel your thighs clench at seeing him on the court. The game continues and you feel the ache grow as you watch Patrick play. The way his body moves as he runs to the ball and his grunts as he hits it all seem to make your wetness grow. Your thighs clench as you see his shirt ride up a bit to hit the ball and you catch a glimpse of his abs and happy trail.
The sight makes you lose whatever remaining reason you have, as you get up and mutter sorry as you climb over the other people in the row to get away. You go down the bleachers and walk around until you find the closest bathroom. Once you spot it, you nearly run into it and lock the door. Unlike the bathroom you were in earlier, this one has no stalls. Just for one person, and you feel grateful for the privacy. You walk over to the sink, resting both hands on its sides and slowly leaning on it. You look at yourself for a minute, your face is slightly red and your breathing is labored.
You take a deep breath as you close your eyes and your hand sneaks down between to the ache. Your fingers find your throbbing clit and you start making slow little circles as you think about Patrick on the court. The more you lose yourself in the memory, the more your fingers speed up. The way his biceps flexed. The slight jiggle of his thighs. The abs. The happy trail. Every single grunt. It’s not long before you moan and feel yourself come undone. As you feel yourself come off your high, your eyes shoot open and you look at yourself in the mirror. Your breathing is even more erratic and your face more flushed. A wave of clarity washes over you and then you just feel pathetic.
You wash your hands and splash some water on your face. As you step out of the bathroom, you’re certain that the game is still going on, but don’t feel up to going back and watching. You know Art and Patrick will probably win anyway, and you need to get out of the clothes. As you walk back to the hotel, you’re sure you can smell your arousal.
----
Besides the weird events of the afternoon, your game went well. You won and that placed you third overall. You sip your sprite as you look around the lights that are strung from tree to tree at the Adidas Long Island party. It was being held for Tashi Duncan, who was the winner of the girls single US junior open. Like anyone in the tennis world, you had heard of her before. The next Serena Williams. It was disappointing your game was the same time as hers because you’re sure it would have been amazing to watch her play. Originally, you weren’t planning on coming, but when your parents found out your mom pulled out the one nice dress she made you pack just in case you needed it and insisted you go. After the events of this afternoon and winning your game in the evening, you admitted that the party was a nice distraction and celebration for those things respectively.
Even though the beach area is a bit far from where the party is, you can somewhat see the waves from there. You take another sip of your drink and watch the waves for a moment, before you hear a voice come up from behind you. “It’s pretty right?” you turn to see Art. God does this man have a thing for sneaking up on you. He looks at you with a small smile, and it’s clear he only said that to start a conversation with you.
“Yeah…it is,” you respond with a little nod. Your throat feels dry so you take another sip of your drink, and to prevent an awkward silence “Your game was good.”
“Thanks…” he says with a little nod. His eyes glance to the side and then he says in a slow voice, “You left midway.”
“I got a little nervous about my game, so I just went back to the hotel to relax for a bit,” you lie with a little too much ease.
Art nods and it looks like you’re in the clear. It’s not like he could predict the real reason you left anyway. “Congrats on the win,” he then says with a little nod. “I wish I could have come but I was at the..” his voice trails off as he motions to a poster of Tashi hung up across the party.
“Oh..no yeah,” you say, it makes sense he was at that final. “I’m sure that would have been much more interesting,” you add on with a little laugh that just slips out. Art lets out a little laugh too, and it finally seems as if you’ve moved away from the awkwardness all your conversations have.
You both look at the posters of Tashi and relax in the now non-awkward silence between the both of you. It’s short lived, because a minute later you both see Patrick standing by the poster looking at the both of you. You can sense Art tensing up beside you, and you’re sure your reaction is equally fraught. You take a sip of your sprite in an attempt to hide your expression behind the bottle.
Patrick is gripping a coke bottle and looks at both of you with an irritated look. Then his gaze singles in on Art. His expression seems to communicate the words get over here. Art looks at him with an expression that says what? Patrick holds the expression and Art sighs, “I’ll be right back”
You nod as you watch Art walk over to Patrick by the posters. As Art approaches him, Patrick’s gaze goes back to you for a moment but then falls to the ground as if he is unable to make eye contact with you. For a moment you find it hard to believe this is the same man who was shoving his cock down your throat earlier today. His gaze goes to Art again and he immediately starts saying something to him. You take a sip from your drink, and see both boys get lost in conversation, but you’re too far to hear about what. Patrick is probably talking bad about you anyway. You turn to look away and back at the waves. Even though the party is outside, it suddenly feels too claustrophobic to any longer be enjoyable.
----
You’ve been walking around the estate for the past ten minutes to get rid of the feeling. It’s a bit chilly, but is nice enough to just wander around aimlessly. “Hey!” you hear a woman’s voice call out in the distance followed by your name. You turn to see Tashi Duncan walking towards you. Now this had to be the most surprising part of that night. You give a small smile and wave as she gets closer.
Once she’s standing by you she says, “I didn’t know you came.” And you didn’t expect her to know who you were so you were both surprised. You shrug and say, “Well thought I would stop by.”
“It’s nice right,” she comments as she begins to walk and looks out at the water in the distance. You nod in response and get the feeling that she wants you to walk alongside her, so you do. “Yeah…You look nice,” you tell her, unsure what else to say, “Thanks. You do too,” she says with another smile as she looks at you. You know she’s just returning the compliment for the sake of it, but you smile in response anyway. After a moment she says, “I actually wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” you respond, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This whole day feels like one long fever drink. “I’m going to Stanford too,” she explains. “You’re one of the names they mentioned when I committed.” You nod in response. You have a vague memory of a Stanford representative emailing you with a list of others who were going to play alongside you, but you didn’t really take the time to go through it. As long as you had your full ride, you couldn’t care less. Before you can respond, she speaks again. “Thought maybe I could get your number or email, so we could talk. You know, get to know each other.”
“Oh...yeah...of course” you say a little awkwardly. You say your number and then add on “My email is just my full name at Gmail dot com” She nods with a smile, but before either of you say anything else, something catches Tashi’s eye. Then you see her waving to someone in the distance. Your eyes follow her gaze to Patrick and Art on a bench. They knew each other? All you wanted to do was run in the other direction. She starts to walk towards them, and you trail behind her, feeling too awkward to walk away. Patrick’s eyes lock on you for a moment, a flicker of surprise on his face. Art just smiles seeing both of you walk over.
As soon as you both are close enough, Art begins talking but you’re unable to pay attention. You find your eyes downcast, as all three of them engage in a conversation. You feel unbearably warm even though the night air is chilly. Your eyes glance at Patrick and then dart away. You feel both the urge to step closer to him and walk away.
Suddenly they all get up and start to walk, but you’re still standing there. Tashi turns around and calls your name. You look up and hear her add, “You coming?” All three of them look at you waiting for an answer, but you lock eyes with Patrick who’s jaw seems to tick as soon as you do. Your gaze goes back to Tashi. “Sorry, yeah,” you say as you walk to them.
----
Once again you find yourself completely zoning out while the rest of them are engaged in some conversation. It’s like you’re not even there. You sit on a rock by the water, reaching your hand down to feel it. You don’t even bother looking at the direction of the rest of them, knowing your eyes would lock in on Patrick again.
“What do you think?” you hear Tashi ask as she turns to face you. You turn to her, your face blank, having no clue what they were talking about. Once she registers the confusion, she adds “About tennis being a relationship?”
You’re not even given a chance to respond before Patrick goes, “Looks like it’s someone’s bed time.” No one is amused by the comment. Art looks at his cigarette and Tashi rolls her eyes at him. Thankfully, when Tashi turns back to you, waiting for an answer, you realize Patrick’s comment has provided you with a way out of this. “Yeah…I’m feeling a bit tired…I should probably get back to the hotel,” you say as you stand up.
Tashi’s lips press together as she looks at you, you assume she is judging you, so you look away and brush some sand off your dress. “Oh” Art says as he looks at you, with a little nod. Patrick gives Art a look from the side of his eye, but then looks at you as he brings a cigarette up to his lips.
“Yeah…I’m leaving tomorrow so...” your voice trails off as you say it, not really sure why you added that part. You doubt that any of them care.
“See you at school,” Tashi then says.
You give her a wave and a small smile back, as you walk away from the three of them on the beach.
----
You’re unable to sleep. It’s around one am. Your parents are fast asleep on their side of the hotel room, but you're too restless to do so. You pick up your phone and see a few new messages.
Patrick: That was the same dress you wore for the formal in sophomore year. I can’t believe you still have it. (sent 1:07 AM, 07/24/06)
You can hear his voice when you read it. You can imagine the little laugh after he says it. You then see there is one more message.
Patrick: You looked cute. Wish I could have fucked you in it. (sent 1:08 AM, 07/24/06)
You roll your eyes but find yourself smiling anyway.
You: Night Patrick (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)
Patrick: Night ;) (sent 1:10 AM, 07/24/06)
----
The rest of your summer was spent messaging Tashi. She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted to get to know you. You got an email from her as soon as you got home from the open, and soon that turned into exchanging messages everyday with each other. Your conversations ranged from tennis to other things, like about your family and your other interests. It was new to have someone so interested in you. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling, even if you didn’t understand where it came from.
Tashi: You know you never talk about the academy. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)
You: Don’t have much to say. (sent 2:45 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: Really? (sent 2:46 PM, 08/09/06)
You don’t want to rehash your time there. You don’t want to think about that. And you especially don’t want to think about Patrick either. After that day at the junior open, you only heard from him once, through a message asking how your summer has been. He sent no response when you said fine and asked how he had been. You’re not even sure why you were talking about the academy with Tashi. Why did she suddenly seem interested?
You: I just didn’t have a great time there. Just didn’t have many friends. (sent 2:50 PM, 08/09/06)
A safe response. Enough of an explanation, without any details.
Tashi: Oh (sent 2:51 PM, 08/09/06)
You: Being the poor scholarship kid and stuff. (sent 2:52 PM, 08/09/06)
You decide to add on for good measure.
Tashi: Oh yeah, it makes sense. It’ll make a great story when you go pro tho. Who doesn’t love an underdog. (sent 2:55 PM, 08/09/06)
Somehow Tashi is under the impression that you will eventually go pro. You’re not exactly sure when or how this assumption formed, but she mentions it so casually you don’t want to tell her that you’re unsure about this.
You: True. (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)
You stare at your phone and then quickly send another message.
You: You’re curious about the academy? (sent 2:56 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: I was talking about it with Patrick. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
You feel your heart drop as you look at the message. You didn’t know they still talked. With Art it would make sense. Another person she’d see around at Stanford, but Patrick? Why was she talking to Patrick?
You: Patrick? (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: We’re kind of going out. (sent 2:57 PM, 08/09/06)
You read the message over again. And then again. They were going out with each other? You feel a weird knot form in your chest. She was going out with Patrick. The same Patrick who bullied you all throughout school? The same Patrick you spent over a year hooking up with you in private? You bite the inside of your cheek as you type back a response.
You: Oh I didn’t know. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)
Tashi: It’s a long story. (sent 2:58 PM, 08/09/06)
Before you can even send a message back, you get a call from her. She spends the next hour explaining everything. The hotel room. The kiss. The deal. And then the boys’ final. Patrick won her number fair and square. Shortly after she and Patrick went out and then slept together. The knot in your chest only grows as you hear her speak. You do your best to ignore it.
“That's…that’s a lot,” you say, unsure how to even process anything she just said.
“I know,” she says on the other end. She exhales, and then asks, “Anyway, did you buy a fan for your dorm?”
----
“Let’s grab dinner?” Tashi asks as she walks from the court towards you, Art trailing behind her as he wipes his forehead with a towel.
You nod as you grab your backpack. “Yeah let’s go,” you respond.
“Let me change and then we’ll head out,” Tashi says, as she heads into the locker room. Tashi always practiced later than everyone else, a true testament to her passion. Everyone else finished and left an hour ago. Only you and Art stayed back with her, and now you both were the only ones on the court.
Transitioning into college life was easy enough. All that time spent messaging Tashi meant coming into college with a friend. Your classes were interesting and you did well. You became friends with others on the tennis team, although most of your time was spent with Tashi and Art. He always seemed to be following the both of you around, which would have been strange if you didn’t know about the fact he was into Tashi. The fact she was dating Patrick, seemed to have no effect on his attraction.
Your stomach grumbles, and Art hears. He smiles and asks, “Hungry?” You let out a laugh in response and ask, “What gave it away?”
He laughs in response and then he looks at you as if studying his expression for a moment. His face becomes slightly serious and you know he has something to say. “What is it?” you ask. “Nothing,” he says with a shrug, feigning a nonchalance you both know doesn’t exist. “Art,” your voice is more serious now too.
This was bound to happen. You always knew that he would eventually visit them. He was dating Tashi and Art is his best friend. Of course he would come. The thought makes your stomach flip and you bite down on your back teeth.
Your inability to conceptualize Art and Patrick’s friendship, was a large part in why you were able to become friends with Art. But in moments like this, the only thing you could see when you looked at him, was Patrick Zweig’s best friend. Consumed in your thoughts, you say nothing in response. You only even register the silence, when you hear Art say “I should go change too before we go eat.” You nod and watch him walk away.
----
“So Art told you?” Tashi asks from across the bed as she looks up at you from the calculus homework you’re both trying to work through. She doesn’t have to say what she is talking about, you already know what. “Yeah,” you say, still looking at your work.
“I was going to tell you,” she says, with a little shrug, still looking at you. “Is it a big deal?”
“It’s not,” you respond quickly as you try to focus on the problem.
“No I think it is,” she says with a little huff, which causes you to look up from the work. “You act so weird whenever he’s brought up.” You just shrug in response and it’s almost ironic how much you’re proving her point right now. You look back down at the graphs on your paper “He acts like this too,” she then says. Now that gets your attention. You look up again and ask, “He does?”
“Like anytime you come up in conversation he gets weird,” she says with a shrug. They’ve talked about you before? Before you have the chance to process this revelation, she says, “And you both act strange around each other”
“You’ve only ever seen us interact once,” you say with a forced laugh, looking down at the paper again and remembering that night on the beach. “Yeah I know, but still,” she says with a shrug. Then she asks, “Did something happen between the two of you at the academy?”
The right answer to this question: Too much to discuss right now. You just shrug again and say, “We didn’t get along”
Tashi just nods as she mulls over your response. Before she can find some flaw in your answer to probe at, you decide to change the subject by asking, “Did you figure out question 3?”
----
The day Patrick comes to Stanford is a Friday. You go to class, then to practice, and everything is normal until you get a text from Art around seven pm.
Art: He’s here. Meet in my dorm in a half hour? (sent 6:58 PM, 09/15/06)
You: See you then (sent 6:59 PM, 09/15/06)
Tashi had already told you how she wanted all of you to go out together when Patrick came, so you more or less expected a text like this. Even with the expectation, your chest has knots and your stomach flips. You pick at the skin of your cuticles as you walk back to your dorm and once you get there you sit down on the bed trying to create some expectation for the night. Your mind is blank, and you realize you should probably get ready.
You grab some jeans and a nice top, throw it on and then take a look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. A part of you hates yourself for caring how you look right now. But it’s not large enough to stop you from putting on lipstick and eyeliner. You take one last look at yourself before heading out.
When you get to Art’s dorm, you realize you’re the first one to arrive. “Hey,” he says with a smile sitting on the edge of his bed. You walk over with a smile and sit down next to him. You’re about to greet him when your eyes fixate on the picture of him and Patrick on his bedside table. It looks like it was taken about the junior open, with both of them holding the trophy they won. He follows your gaze to it, and you both look at it for a moment. “I actually…” he starts and you turn to him. “I wanted to talk to you about—”
“And here I was thinking that I was early.” Both of you look to the door and see Patrick standing there. There is a flash of annoyance on his face, but it’s quickly covered up with a laugh and a raised eyebrow. Art just looks at Patrick, a mild look of disappointment on his face. “What a warm welcome,” Patrick says sarcastically, which causes the icy look on Art’s face to slowly disappear, a small smile forming instead. Patrick looks at you and you feel your heartbeat speed up just from the look. You think he’s about to pull out one of the insulting nicknames he coined for you at the academy. “Let’s go?” you hear Tashi ask as she walks into the room too. Patrick smiles at her and wraps a hand around her waist. You bite the inside of your cheek. You nod in response, as you walk towards the door. You don’t let yourself look at Patrick, even though you feel his gaze on you. You tell yourself you imagined it.
----
Tashi picked out this bar by campus to go to. As a place that doesn’t check IDs and has cheap drinks. Naturally, it’s full of students. You’re two drinks in and feel slightly drunk. You’re sitting at the bar sipping on your third, talking to some girl from your French literature class. Whatever you said must have been funny, because she is laughing. You laugh with her, before someone taps her on the shoulder and her attention is pulled elsewhere. You look down at your drink as you take another sip. “Looks like someone has friends now.” You turn to see Patrick taking the seat next to you at the bar, he already has a drink in his hand. His voice is playfully teasing and he has a grin on his face. The same expression he’d make when he would hand back a racket of yours he just broke or look up at you from in between your legs. “Well I guess people like me now,” you say, your inhibitions lowered by the alcohol. It’s the first real conversation you had with him all night and you want it to be over already. Your heart beat picks up again. He lets out a little laugh at your response, finding your retort amusing. He’s close enough that you can get the scent of the marlboro reds he smokes and his cologne. His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and then to your eyes again.
“Didn’t realize you were so close with Tashi,” he then pauses and then in a little more serious voice adds, “Art now too.” You just blink at him in response. You see his jaw tick again, and this along with the change in tone sets off a signal in your head and you sit up a bit straighter as you look at him. You don’t have the chance to get a word as Patrick continues, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Art, but it ends here okay.” His voice is serious and so is his gaze. He leans in a bit more and his nose bumps yours. It feels as if his stare is burning holes through your head. You were used to Patrick being mean, but this was different. For starters, he was never that rude to you in private after the locker room incident that started your little relationship. And his treatment usually served to mock or humiliate you in some way. This felt as if was putting his foot down about something. “Okay?” he asks again due to your silence. Your heartbeat speeds up even more.
“Okay,” you repeat in a small voice, feeling like a child who is being reprimanded for something. He doesn’t like that you’re friends with Art?
He looks at you as if analyzing your expression. He remains close and his eyes flick down to your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you. Or drag you to the bar bathroom for a quick fuck. He then just huffs, as he steps back and takes a sip of the drink in his hand. You instantly feel stupid for your previous thoughts. He is dating Tashi. Tashi who is a literal goddess on earth. There is no reason for him to want you anymore. Whatever happened in school is over. The incident at the open was just a weird epilogue. But now it is done.
“You should stop doing that,” he says. You realize his gaze is now directed at your hands. He makes a little motion to where you’ve picked off the skin by your cuticles. “It’s not good for you.” he says, still looking at it. His gaze comes back to you and the minute you both make eye contact he looks away. He looks across the bar and he must see either Tashi or Art because he smiles in that direction and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your drink.
----
Your head is throbbing and you feel nauseous just thinking about the hangover you’ll probably have tomorrow morning. You can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. Have you ever been this drunk? You can’t even remember how much you had to drink at this point. You manage to stumble out of the bar and the fresh air is so refreshing you smile. It’s a 10 minute walk back to your dorm, you’re sure you can make it. You move slowly, and as you pass by the alleyway by the bar you see Art and Patrick sharing a cigarette. They’re far enough and too immersed in their conversation to see you.
“I can’t believe we’re still talking about this,” you hear Patrick say with a scoff.
“I don’t get why you think it’s such a big deal,” Art responds.
This draws out a laugh from “No you know why I think it’s a big deal, and honestly man thought you were over this.” Patrick says as he takes the cigarette Art is holding and takes a drag. “Aren’t you into Tashi now."
Art scoffs and looks to the side. ���Jesus Patrick.” This just makes Patrick laugh. “This is not about Tashi, this is about—”
Patrick cuts him off and goes, “A girl who is and has always been a pathetic loser.” It’s then you realize that the person they’re talking about is you.
Art sighs and takes the cigarette back with a sigh. “I like her.” As his words sink in, your earlier conversation with Patrick makes a lot more sense. It’s too dizzying to think about, and it makes you feel even more exhausted than you already are. You look at the road ahead of you and continue stumbling your way back to the dorm.
----
You spent the rest of the weekend Patrick was on campus in your dorm room. You woke up with an awful hangover and messages from all three of them. Tashi and Art were just about how they didn’t see you leave and asking if you got back to the dorm fine, Patrick’s was something different all together.
Patrick: Don’t forget what we talked about. (sent 9:38 AM, 09/16/06)
You don't respond to him. You wouldn’t even know how if you wanted to. You texted Art and Tashi that you were all fine, just miserably hung over.
Tashi: Want to grab breakfast? (sent 9:45 AM, 09/16/06)
You: Think I want to sleep for some more time. (sent 9:46 AM, 09/16/06)
Until Monday, hanging out with them meant hanging out with Patrick, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. So you told you you just wanted to lie down because of the hangover. Then when she asked if you wanted to hang out again in the evening, you lied about needing to finish a paper for the literature seminar you were taking. After that she must have got the hint, because she left you alone for the rest of the weekend. The next time you saw her or Art was on Monday during tennis practice. No Patrick in sight.
----
Whoever said out of sight, out of mind, was a liar. You desperately wanted things to go back to normal after that weekend, but that ease you felt during your first month at Stanford never fully returned after Patrick’s visit. It’s been a couple weeks since then and Patrick still plagued your thoughts.
Whatever friendship that had formed between you and Art was quickly dying. You couldn’t even look at him without alarm bells in your head going: Walk away! Walk away! Patrick’s words echoed in your ears anytime you looked at him. The distance you had created between Art and Patrick was gone, and when you looked at Art you now could only see Patrick’s best friend staring back. You avoided being alone with him at all costs.
Art: Want to grab breakfast together before class tomorrow? (sent 8:27 PM, 10/02/06)
You: I’ll let you know in the morning! (sent 8:28 PM, 10/02/06)
You’d probably lie about sleeping in or fake some illness to get out of that.
“Is that Art?” Tashi asks from across the bed. You nod and lie, “Just a question about practice.” She nods in response, as she looks back at the homework both of you are working through together. Patrick may have destroyed your friendship with Art, butyour friendship with Tashi was fine.
Although it had become increasingly difficult to avoid the fact she was dating Patrick. After his visit, you could find traces of him all around her room. You can see the little note he left that she pinned to her bulletin board, and as you looked down at your book on the bed, it hit you that Patrick had slept on the bed you currently sit on. That he and Tashi probably had sex there. It makes you feel nauseous and aroused at the same time. You make a mental note to invite Tashi to your dorm room to study next time.
Not to mention, that brief moment you thought something was going to happen between you and Patrick at the bar. The drunken embarrassment you felt at that moment, has turned into sober shame. If Patrick had tried to make a move, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn’t have stopped it. On the contrary, you probably would have enjoyed it and what type of person does that make you? Nothing had happened but this enough made you feel guilty. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t have many close friends, so far you were awful at being one.
“You know he likes you, right?” Tashi says with a giggle and draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” is all you manage to say back, your mind still not fully present. “Art.” she says with another laugh.
You’re reminded of the conversation you overheard between Art and Patrick behind the bar. It feels more like an alcohol induced hallucination than an actual memory. Even though you heard Art say it, you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that he liked you. You were hundred percent convinced he still liked Tashi. Always ready to spend time with her and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky. It was obvious he still liked her. There was the possibility he liked you both, but that felt improbable. Why would he like you both? At the end of the day, it didn’t even matter. You weren’t going to do anything about it.
“Tashi he’s a friend,” you say with a little laugh, hoping that your answer is enough to drop the subject. It isn’t as she just lets out another laugh and goes “What? I'm right.” You sigh and say, “Have you forgotten about what happened in the hotel room?” Tashi rolls her eyes, and makes a dismissive hand wave, “That was months ago.” She doesn’t make any claim to deny that he’s into her, so even she’s aware of it. You just force a laugh in response, which causes Tashi to laugh too. Her laugh elicits an actual laugh from you, and you both sit there like that laughing for a moment. By the time you’re both done, it seems like the topic of Art is no longer on her mind, and you’re beyond grateful for that.
----
You thought that would be the end of that topic, but the next day, as you walk outside the locker room after practice you hear Art and Tashi talking about it. The hallway is curved, but you’re close enough to hear and see them without being overtly visible. You’re sure if they looked in your direction and took a step or two, they’d be able to see you, but neither do.
“I think you should just tell her,” Tashi says, Art just sighs looking to the side. “You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be, and now everything is all awkward. She can barely look at you during practice,” she adds on. “It’s a stupid distraction for both of you, just get over it.”
Art looks at Tashi and goes, “It’s way more complicated than that.” Tashi looks at him with her eyebrows slightly furrowed and an expression that says she doesn’t believe him, Art just adds on, “You weren’t there at the academy. You wouldn’t get it.”
You feel your heart drop at those words. You need to stop the conversation before it can go any further, so you don’t think twice about walking. You wave and Tashi sees you before she can respond.
“Let’s go eat?” you ask.
Art nods and Tashi replies, “Sure.”
You smile in relief as you all walk to the dining hall in silence.
----
“You’re never going to talk about what happened at the academy are you?” Tashi says later that day as you both walk over to the cinema by campus. You decided to have a movie night, but as you look at her it’s clear that’s the last thing on her mind. You shrug as you continue to walk, “I told you already. It wasn’t fun.” Tashi nods and then says, “But something happened right?” You shrug in response and she looks in front again. For a brief moment you consider telling her everything. Why were you keeping it a secret in the first place? She gets a phone call. She pulls it out and you see it’s from Patrick. Oh right. That’s why. You look away and take a deep breath to maintain composure.
Once you think your face has no emotion on it whatsoever, you look back and tell her, “You take it. I’ll go buy tickets.” She looks at you to check if you’re sure, and you nod. Tashi walks away and you force a little smile as she walks a few steps away to take the call. You stand by the ticket booth outside and get two tickets for the movie Tashi mentioned. You turn and look over to where she is talking on the phone to Patrick and it’s clear she has an unhappy expression on her face. Boredom? Annoyance? Something like a mix of the two. She huffs and you see her walking back towards you.
You offer a small smile and once she’s close enough you ask, “Everything alright?” She lets out a dry laugh and takes a ticket from your hand, She walks in and you follow alongside her, as she says “Patrick called to complain…again.” You feel your stomach do a flip and it’s clear that she has more to say. It’s utterly pathetic how curious you feel. You remain silent as she continues. “He lost another match today.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I don’t even know why he calls to tell me this shit, anytime I try to offer him something constructive he starts acting like I’m being a bitch.” Her voice shows she is annoyed, you nod in response. “It’s like he doesn’t even care,” she says and you’re unsure if she’s talking about Patrick’s attitude towards tennis or her.
“Sorry,” you say softly to make her feel better. She just sighs, shaking her head, “Don’t apologize” She then smiles looking at you, “Anyway, you actually take my advice.” True. Tashi always had pointers. Small things she’d notice you thought you could improve. You knew you weren’t a perfect player, but compared to the insults you got from your classmates during your time at the academy, her comments were actual feedback. And ones that paid off. Even your coaches know you’ve been playing better. You’re not surprised Patrick wasn’t listening. Never the one to see his own faults. You could understand why Tashi was annoyed.
You smile back in response to her with a little shrug. “Too bad you’re going to be a star player. You would have made one hell of a coach,” you joke to lighten the mood and change the subject. Tashi laughs too and then sighs, “Anyway he just called for that and to say he’s coming in two week for a visit,” she says as you both walk into where the movie is playing. You’re grateful the darkness of the room makes it near impossible for her to see your face because you can feel your face drop at her words.
----
You’re a tennis player, you’re allowed to look at ATP rankings, you remind yourself as you sit in front of the computer in the library. After the night at the movies a couple days ago, your thoughts about Patrick became debilitating. Just thinking about the fact that he’d be back on campus so soon made you feel dizzy to think about.
You originally came to the library to use the computer to search up some facts about an author. It was research for an essay you have to write for your literature of the twentieth century class. Even as you tried to focus on the information in front of you, your mind went back to Patrick. So here you were, scrolling down the list of players on the ATP rankings website to find his name. Your eyes dart around you a little bit, as if to check no one can see. What is wrong with you? You were acting like a child. It takes you sometime, but you finally find Patrick’s stats. He’s low in the rankings, which was somewhat expected considering he just started going on tour, but like Tashi said he was losing games.
“Hey,” you hear from behind you. You nearly jump as you close the ATP tab and turn around to see Art standing behind you. Why were you even surprised at this point? “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a small, yet forced smile, as his eyes dart from in between the screen to you. Did he see the ATP tab you just closed out? You force a little laugh, “I should buy you a bell for your birthday.” It’s a joke and he lets out a little laugh, as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits down.
“So…” you start. He must have finally realized that the only way to talk to you alone, was by sneaking up on you. And well now you were effectively trapped, so you had to hear whatever he desperately wanted to say. You had a feeling it had to do about his supposed feelings for you, but you just wanted to get this over with. Patrick’s words repeat in your head and you do your best to keep a straight face.
Art looks at you and shrugs, “I wanted to talk about…” You just blink as he is unable to finish his sentence. He sighs and then says, “I know why it’s awkward between us.” You brace yourself with a little nod. “It’s because of the bullying.”
You look at him blank for a moment. His answer confuses you, mostly because he never actually did anything to you. He was a bystander at best. Before you can respond he continues. “It’s been weird ever since Patrick came, and honestly it makes sense,” he pauses. “I guess it must have brought up some bad memories.” Well it did bring up memories. Some bad (him destroying your possessions, the names he teased you with) and some good (him eating you out, riding him in the back of his car). All intense. You just nod in response, curious to where this is going. “I know…I should have done more back.”
“You didn’t–” you start but are cut off before you finish. “No, don't try to brush it off,” he says. “Patrick is my best friend, but he was an asshole to you. I’m sorry I never said anything to stop it.” You look at him for a little moment. An apology was the last thing you expected right now. You don’t even know how to respond. Luckily you don’t have to, you see his lips part slightly and you realize he isn’t done. In a small, vulnerable voice he adds, “If I could back and change things. I would.” He pauses and then adds,”It just…can be hard to say no to him.” Now that you understood, more than you could ever let Art know. “Yeah…Yeah I get that.” you whisper with a little nod. You both sit in the silence for a library for a moment, a sense of mutual understanding forming between both of you.
He’s the first to break the silence by saying your name in the same quiet voice “Honestly, I really like you.” The conversation has headed in the direction you originally expected, except after everything he said before you feel too tired to discuss this now. You don’t want to talk about this now. “Art…” you start, with your voice trailing off. “I like you,” he says again, “I just never acted on it because of well…you know.” You just stare at him, looking to the side and then back at him. “But Tashi?” you ask in a small voice. It’s not like you really care about his feelings for Tashi. That’s the most logical part of all of this, but you feel the need to ask anyway. Pure curiosity more than anything else. “I liked Tashi,” he says slowly, but his voice falters slightly when he says liked. As if he couldn’t decide between using the present or the past tense. He continues, “but I like you. I have since junior year.” You hate how your mind instantly goes to Patrick, but how could it not? That was when your relationship with him started. Art has liked you since then too?
“I was thinking I could take you out?” he asks. No No No NO, a voice in your brain says. You shift in your seat, and it’s clear that Art has picked up on some discomfort. “Like dinner or a movie,” he adds. You look at him. You remember what Patrick said and take a deep breath as you try to think of the nicest way to let him down. Art’s jaw ticks at this and he then sighs. “If you don’t want to go out with me because you don’t like me, that’s fine. But please don’t say no because of the past,” he then says looking at you. Before you can respond, he stands up and with a shrug says, “Just think about it.” He walks away, and you turn back to the computer screen open to an article on the works of Laurence Durrell. You exit out of it as you gather your things. This paper was now the least of your worries.
----
Since you got back to your dorm from the library, you’ve been laying down on your bed staring at the ceiling. Patrick’s voice remains in your head, but so does Art’s. Don’t say no because of the past. Isn’t that what you were doing? The entirety of your time at the academy was dictated by Patrick in one way or another. Maybe it was just a habit at this point to let him do so, but Patrick wasn’t here and the academy was the past. You had no reason to do what he said. Regardles, for some reason going out with Art still felt like a betrayal. Naturally, going against what Patrick said to do would be a betrayal to him, but this felt like a betrayal to yourself. It was a new feeling. Never once did you feel it with Patrick, but shouldn't sleeping with your bully feellike a bigger betrayal to yourself than going on a date with a bystander to it?
You reach for the phone on your side table. You slowly type out the message on your small flip phone, and then click send.
You: So when do you want to go out? (sent 9:10 PM, 10/05/06)
He responds after a minute.
Art: How does tomorrow night sound? (sent 9:11 PM, 10/05/06)
----
“I don’t understand what you have against the sequels,” Art says with a laugh as you walk down the dorm hallway. You both had decided to get dinner together. It was easy to talk to him and it felt like you were transported back to those first couple weeks at Stanford before Patrick’s visit when there was no awkwardness between you two. You were anxious about the date. With Patrick, everytime you met up it was about hooking up, nothing more, so this was your first ever actual date. Now that it’s done, and you both walk back to your dorm rooms, you can’t ever remember why you felt like it wouldn’t go well. Art is sweet. Art likes you. It all went fine.
“I have nothing against them,” you respond, “I just prefer the original Star Wars movies.” You say as you reach the door to his dorm room. Art stands beside you as he shrugs. “Okay fair,” he says with a smile. He swallows and then looks at his dorm and then yours. Your dorm is in a different building, but you wanted to walk with Art to his anyway because it was first on the route back. “Do you want to come inside?” he asks, looking intently. You look at him without saying anything for a moment, as you register the look. His expression asks: Do you want to have sex?
You couldn’t deny that Art was handsome. With his smile and golden curls, he looked like what you’d imagine if Prince Charming walked out of a fairy tale and decided he wanted to play tennis. The betrayed feeling from earlier gnaws at you, but you decide to nod with a small smile anyway. The last time you had sex was with Patrick the day before you graduated from the academy in the back of his car. That was months ago. You needed a release.
Art smiles as he reaches for the key to open the door to his room. He unlocks it and opens the door for you. You walk in and take a look around the dorm room you’ve already been in plenty of times. When you hear the door close around, you turn around to face Art, whose lips automatically come down on yours. His tongue snakes his way into your mouth, but the kiss is still gentle. Much more gentle than anything with Patrick. You move your hands to his shoulders to push Patrick out of your brain and focus on Art in the present. You feel his hands reach down to the buttons of your blouse as you continue to kiss, removing one by one, and then pushing it off to the floor. He pulls away and takes a look at you in the lace bra, with a smile and a lustful gaze. You smile back, as he pulls off his shirt and reaches down to unzip his jeans. You follow his lead and unzip yours as well, before slowly kicking them off. Then your hands move to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor.
He smiles at the sight and leans in to kiss you again. While still kissing, you both stumble backwards over to the bed, you falling down on it and he on top of you. He pulls away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue circled one of your nipples, and you gasped at the wet and pleasant sensation. You felt your hands move to his hair as he continued doing so, gently tugging on it as you rocked your core against his groin. Only the thin cloth of your panties and his boxers remained as a barrier between the both of you. He groaned at the sensation. You felt the vibration of it briefly on your breast, but he soon pulled away and started trailing down even lower.
He kissed down your body murmuring how pretty you were, until he was stationed between your legs. He looked up at you, and you looked down at him with half lidded eyes. He sat on his knees then as he reached to pull down your panties. He tosses them to the side of the bed, and once again he gets back in between your legs. You feel him plant kisses against your core. You whine at the sensation, enough touch to tease, but not to really please you. Hearing your want, Art’s tongue darts out in between your folds, which quickly turn your whines into moans. You felt his tongue encircle your clit, and a finger tease your cunt. While he started out slow, his pace picked up. Always maintaining a steady rhythm. Each movement of his tongue felt controlled and deliberate, a stark contrast to the messy way Patrick would eat you out. The minute the thought comes into your head. You force your eyes open to look down at Art, to ground yourself in the moment. You see his gaze is already on you, and as you make eye contact, he slowly starts to speed up. He pushes another finger inside you and you gasp. HIs free hand is splayed on your thigh, holding it down. All together, these draw out your orgasm.
As you feel the vibrations through your body, he slowly pulls himself up and plants another kiss against your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you gently again. “I want you,” he murmurs against your lips, “so badly right now.” You smile at him and whisper back, “okay.” He smiles at your words and sits up as he reaches to the corner table, “I should have a condom in here.” You nod as he pulls open the drawer and finds one. He puts it to the side as he pulls down his boxers and you take a moment just to look at him naked. He rips open the condom packet and you watch him pull it over his cock. It’s the same shade as the rest of his skin, with his tip a subtle pink shade, a little bit longer but not as thick as…You turn your head to the side to prevent yourself from finishing the comparison. Focus on Art, you tell yourself.
The minute it’s on he climbs over you again, and you lay back down. He aligns himself with you, and slowly pushes himself in. He goes inch by inch, and you can feel himself throb even through the condom barrier. Once he is bottomed out, he puts his hands on the side of your head, and he starts to thrust. Just like when he ate you out, he moves at a steady pace, slow at first but slowly picking up speed. You feel the comparison forming in your head, and you bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from making it. You bite down so hard that you taste blood. Art takes this as a sign you want to be kissed, and you feel his lips come down on you again. Although his movements remain gentle, he’s big enough that you still feel it completely. You kiss as he continues to thrust. “God..” he grunts head going up, “You’re so fucking tight.” He says as he continues to thrust, speed picking up again once more. You moan at the feeling. “G..Gonna turn you around,” he says, and you nod as he feels your hand move you from laying down on your back to laying down your stomach. He feels even deeper now, and you feel yourself get closer.
That’s when you see it. Your eyes are half lidded, but open enough to see the picture of Art and Patrick on the bedside table. You squint at it to get a better look, as Art continues to thrust into you with heavy pants. You feel your breathing get shallower as your eyes focus in on the picture. It looks like it’s from after they won the doubles championship at the junior open. Your eyes lock in on Patrick smiling for the snap, and that’s what pushes yourself over the edge. You feel yourself clench and then your orgasm hits you. You close your eyes as you feel it wash over you. Art pushes into you a couple more times and then lets out a grunts as he cums as well. You feel him pull out and fall beside where you lie on the bed. When your eyes finally open again you look again at the picture of both boys and sigh.
----
You probably should have stopped sleeping with Art after that first time, but the sex provided an outlet for all your anxious energy, and that just made your life easier. You met up in the evenings after practice and pretty much always in his dorm (for reasons you do not want to acknowledge). He took you out a couple times too, but there was no label for the relationship. The only person who knew about what was going on between the two of you was Tashi, who you told after the first time it happened.
“You two should just start going out with each other,” she told you one day as you grabbed lunch. “You guys go on dates and sleep together anyway.” You shrugged her off. He tried to bring it up once in bed too, but you ended the conversation by going down on him. You liked this weird gray area both of you were in. It felt comfortable. It felt safe.
----
You sit on the bleachers picking at the skin by your cuticles. With all the time you were spending with Art, the two weeks snuck up on you. Patrick was back. Tashi went into the locker room to change, so it’s just you watching Art and Patrick casually playing a match on the court in front of you. He was supposed to arrive in the evening, not in the afternoon. You had been dreading his visit since the moment you found out, so you planned in advance. After practice, you were going to tell Art and Tashi you had another paper for your literary seminar, and lock yourself in your dorm for the rest of the weekend before Patrick even showed up. Of course this plan was ruined when Patrick showed up in the afternoon, right in the middle of the practice. Now here you are, counting the moments till you could leave while Patrick and Art played.
You feel your fingers sting where you picked at the skin, as you hear Patrick call your name. “C’mon one game? For old times sake.” His tone was mocking, as if he was trying to provoke you. You looked up at him as he walked towards where you sat on the bench, but said nothing. His eyes dart down to the picked skin on your finger. He grimaces at the sight, but says nothing. Quickly bringing a smirk back onto his face as he looked at you. “What? I’ve been told you’re good,” Patrick asks in the same mocking tone. Your ranking among college girls tennis players had gone up, which you knew was more than he could say about his ATP ranking. You just shrug in response. “So what, you're not going to play me?” he then asks.
“Seriously? Practice just ended. Let us have a break,” Art says in a not so subtle attempt to get Patrick to stop. He then offers you a smile.You’re not sure if it's a “Please forgive my asshole friend” smile or a “I’m glad I could stand up for you smile,” but either way you return it with a small smile of your own. Patrick notices, his eyes narrowing slightly and then returning to normal, before telling Art, “You just played with me.” He turns back to you and goes, “C’mon”
He has a shit eating grin on his face and you want to smack it off him, but as you feel all three of them look at you, you realize you’ve been silent this whole time. You just shrug, standing up with your racket. “Sure,” you say as you walk over to the court. His grin grows wider. It makes you wonder if this is a mistake.
You serve the ball, and he hits it. You run and hit it back. He does as well. The ball goes back and forth between the both of you, neither of you missing it. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but it’s definitely sometime before it stops. You hit it to the corner of the court and before he can run to it, it bounces out. He lets out a sharp exhale as he watches it go.
“I’m gonna serve now,” he says to you, as he takes a ball. He looks at you as he gets ready to do his signature, unique serve, and just smirks. The minute you see it, you once again feel like this is a mistake. The feeling only intensifies when he serves and you miss the ball. He grabs another tennis ball and does it again. You miss. Your eyes dart to where Art watches by the bench and then at Patrick. Feeling more warm all of a sudden. Once more he serves. Again, Miss. You’re not sure how long this goes on for, but when he goes, “Sure you’re a tennis player?” you want nothing more than to get out of there. You walk straight to the bench and pick up your bag. Art looks at you, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, but you speak first. “I have a paper I need to finish.” It’s all you say before walking away from the court back in the direction of your dorm room.
You can hear the sound of Patrick laughing behind you, and you bite down on your jaw to prevent yourself from crying as you walk away.
----
You lay down in bed, your eyes still red and puffy. You broke down on the way back, but thankfully far enough from the courts that neither Art or Patrick could see. The crying didn’t stop when you got back to your dorm. Or after your shower. While it wasn’t pouring out of you anymore, tears would come back at random intervals.
While you weren’t actively crying at the moment, it felt like anything could bring the tears back. Your mind drifts back to his afternoon. Of course Patric chose to humiliate you, what else would he have done? You’re shaken out of your thoughts from someone banging on your door. Loud, forceful, and impatient bangs. You slowly sat up in bed, and looked over to it. Another thud. It was too forceful to be either Tashi or Art. Really, there was only one person who’d be this forceful. He was the last person you wanted to see, so you just stared at it. How did Patrick even find your dorm? Maybe if you waited long enough, he’d just leave. You sat for another minute, but the bangs just got louder. He wasn’t leaving and you realized if he kept banging you’re the one who was going to get a noise complaint. You sniffle one more time and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, as you walk over to the door. More thuds. You sigh and take one deep exhale, as you open the door.
Patrick is standing there with a scowl and furrowed brows. The minute he realizes the door opened, he pushes himself in and lets the door close behind him. “You’re fucking Art?” His voice is angry and although it comes out like a question, it’s clear he knows the answer. You realize Art must have told him about the two of you. You just stare up in silence, and this causes Patrick to scoff. “What part about our conversation last time made you think it was okay to suck his dick?” His voice is sarcastic and angry, as he takes another step towards you. He smells of a combination of sweat, cologne, and cigarettes. “Answer the question.”
“Get out of my room.” you say in a small voice. Patrick lets out a humorless laugh. “Answer the question,” he repeats. You look at him and feel tears well up again in your eyes. Wasn’t it enough that he humiliated you earlier today? Couldn’t he just leave you alone now? “Why do you care,” you retort with a sniffle. Once again he laughs. “Why do I care? Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I turn my back for two minutes and you’re on my best friend’s dick,” he says it a bit louder and he’s so close that his nose bumps yours when he says it.
Your eyebrows furrow. His tone was angry and sarcastic, but above all it made it seem like you were doing something wrong. Something inside of you snaps at this. Your tone is a bit louder and more upset when you say, “So what?” Patrick laughs looking to the side, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. “I’m sorry that your best friend is into me” your voice taking a sarcastic tone. “But that’s not my fault. And I don’t know why you’re so upset about it, but grow the up and leave me the fuck alone.” He huffs and bites, “You know why I’m upset.” You bring your face closer to his, “Really? From where I’m standing, you’re just being an ass.” The tears which formed in your eyes roll down your cheek, and in an angry voice begins,“I told you to–”
“You do not get to tell me what to do!” you exclaim before he can even finish that statement. You swallow, as he just looks at you now slightly stunned at the outburst. “You do not get to tell me what to do,” you repeat in a still angry yet less loud tone. Both of you just stand there, and unsure what else to do, you decide to push him. Your hands go to his chest and then push him back. It’s a childish gesture, and you’re not exactly sure why you did it. Even he looks stunned at the sudden action. Once again you push him. And again. You do it until his back is up against the door of your dorm. You’re breathing much more heavily now and both of you are just staring at each other. Your hands raise up and you keep hitting him on the chest. For a brief moment it feels like you’re transported back to junior year in the locker room before winter break as you just punch his chest. That feeling only grows when you suddenly feel his lips against yours.
It's desperate and messy, but undoubtedly mutual. His tongue licks into your mouth as your hands go to the back of his neck. His hands grab your hips and spin you around, so now your back is against the door. You already know he’s hard, but you fully feel it as he grinds his erection against your core and you moan into his mouth in response. “Fuck” he mutters as his lips move from yours to your neck. You feel his teeth scratch against the skin there, but not enough to leave a mark. Whenever you slept together, he never left marks anywhere visible. His hands move to the underside of your thighs and he pins you up against the door. Your legs instinctively wrap against his waist, and once again he grinds against you, eliciting another moan from both of you. You feel his tongue lick up your cheek, and it takes you a second to realize he is licking up your tears. One of his hands moves up to paw at your tits over the tank you have on and you moan at the sensation. You feel your hands go down to his jeans zipper, and he lets out a chuckle at this, then his lips come crashing down against yours again.
Too lost in the kiss, it takes you a moment to realize he is moving you somewhere, but you soon realize he is carrying you away from the door. Soon you’re thrown onto the bed. His hands go to the zipper you somewhat removed, and he kicks off his jeans. He then goes to take his shirt. You take this as a sign to get naked as well. You kick off your shorts and pull off your tank. Without a bra on and already aroused, your nipples pebble instantly once exposed. Patrick licks his bottom lip and removes his boxers, the last bit of clothing he has on. You take in the sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, as he crawls on top of you and presses another desperate kiss. His lips part from yours as he whispers, “No one else will make you feel like this.” Before you can respond, you gasp as you feel his hand knead your breast again. Now fully exposed you feel him pinch your nipple. He moves down with his tongue licking over the little bud he just pinched, replacing the jolt of pleasurable pain with just pure pleasure.
He gets back on his knees and grips the base of his cock, aligning himself with you. He pushes just the tip in. Close but not enough. You whine at the sensation. “What?” he asks with a smirll. He moves slightly as if he is going to fully pull out. “Please” you whine. “Please what?” He says, “You gotta use your words.” You whine again and he laughs, and you manage to say “fuck me..please.” He smiles again but doesn’t move. “Who’s the only person that can make you feel this way?” he asks. You look at him and breathlessly say, “you.” He smiles before pushing in fully, muttering, “Fuck I’ve missed this.”
----
From the time you met Patrick, you were sure he was going to hell when he died. Now you were fairly certain you’d also be down there with him. After you both fucked, Patrick left your dorm saying nothing. He put on his clothes and gave you one last look. You both locked eyes and for a moment, you were sure he was going to say something to you, but instead he just let out a deep exhale and walked out. You assumed he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You felt a knot of guilt in your stomach, so was relieved he left in silence. Sometime after that, you fell asleep in the soiled sheets surrounded by his scent and his cum dripping out of you.
When you woke up the next morning, you sent a message to both Tashi and Art saying you were sick and needed to rest. Along with the fact Patrick was on campus, you knew this lie would guarantee that you’d be left alone for the rest of the weekend. Which was all you wanted. The knot in your stomach grew when you thought about either of them. You tried to occupy yourself in your room by showering, doing work, and reading, but your mind kept drifting back to Patrick. Even once you changed the bedsheets, you felt as if his scent lingered in your dorm. By Saturday night, you felt incapable of thinking about anything besides him and what had happened the night before.
As you laid in bed, you reached over to your phone to check the messages you had been ignoring all day. You had one from your mom just checking up on you, which you quickly responded by saying fine, and messages from Tashi and Art asking how you’re feeling. Both of which you ignored. Then you saw the message from Patrick.
Patrick: You’re still on birth control right? (sent 3:02 PM, 10/16/06)
It was sent a couple hours ago. You assumed some delayed sense of post-nut clarity must have reminded him that you both fucked raw last night.
You: Yes. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: Okay good. (sent 8:58 PM, 10/16/06)
After a minute or so, you got another message from Patrick.
Patrick: Art said you were feeling sick. (sent 8:59 PM, 10/16/06)
You should have ignored the message, but you found yourself responding before you could stop yourself.
You: Yes? (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: Like for real? Or because… (sent 9:00 PM, 10/16/06)
Your eyes rolled at the screen.
You: What do you think? (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)
Patrick: ;) (sent 9:01 PM, 10/16/06)
You read his response and sigh. You put your phone back down on the bed stand table and force yourself to sleep.
----
Although you originally planned to just hideaway for the weekend, you still felt miserable by the time Monday rolled around. You decided to play into the whole sickness thing, and isolate yourself for the next couple days. But by the time Thursday rolled around, you realized you had to get back to your life. You forced yourself to go to practice.
It had been a couple days since Patrick left the campus, but you still felt as if he could jump up from any corner. By the time you got to the courts, you saw Tashi was already playing and Art was watching her with an adoring smile.
You walked over slowly to where he was standing, and he noticed your presence once you were standing next to him. “Hey, Feeling better?” he asks, looking at you. You drop the bag full of your tennis equipment to your feet, and look up at him. The knot in your stomachreturns in full force and you just shrug in response. He nods in response, and you both turn back to look over at Tashi who is playing.
____
“I was thinking that if we win the championships this spring, it would be the perfect time to go pro,” Tashi says as she looks across the dining hall table where you both eat. After the events of Patrick’s last visit, there was a noticeable change in the air. While you knew this was because you fucked her boyfriend, she didn’t. You found reasons to hang out with her less because of it. Always making up some essay that needed to be finished. You felt grateful that when you did spend time with Tashi, she chose to talk about tennis. Although, you couldn’t deny the increased focus on your possible future in professional tennis was draining in its own way. “What do you think?” she asks.
You shrug in response. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you respond. Tashi lets out a little laugh, raising an eyebrow, “You’re ready.” You shrug as you pick up a piece of fruit with your fork. “No really. You’re ready,” she repeats as if trying to drive the point. “You’re already in the top ten in college rankings, and if you win a couple more games, you would break into the top 5.”
You nod slowly in response as you munch on the fruit. “Yeah…but there’s more to it,” you say with a shrug. Tashi’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “I don’t have the money for that type of life,” you say. You’re not wrong, it’s not like you’d be able to afford to be on the road or pay a coach to help you train. Tashi shrugs, “You should get a sponsorship.” Her tone is casual, as if it’s the easiest thing there is. You’re not necessarily surprised by how nonchalant she is. She has an Adidas sponsorship already and considering how brilliant of a player she is, it probably was not her only offer. You just let out a laugh in response. “What?” Tashi starts again, “You’re a good player. You're cute. And you have a motivating story. You could easily get a sponsorship.”
You let out another small laugh, shaking your head and saying, “I think you think my story is way more motivating than it actually is.” Now Tashi laughs, “Everyone loves an underdog, and with everything that happened to you at the academy–”
You cut her off, “What?” Something about her words make you uneasy. She knows, you think. Tashi looks at you as if she’s been caught, “Well Art…said some people were really awful to you at the academy.”
Art? Art was telling her these things. He said some people? So he didn’t mention Patrick? What else did he mention? Before you can properly start to spiral about those thoughts, you sense someone behind you. Of course, it’s Art. He sits down in the seat next to you, puts his plate on the table. “What are you guys talking about?” he asks as his hand rests on your thigh. Ever since you started sleeping together, he’s been more open with touching you. Both in private and public. You feel slightly queasy when he does, but say nothing.
“Going pro,” you respond quickly to move the subject of the conversation back to the original focus. You hear Art make a hum sound in response and both he and Tashi slip into a conversation about professional tennis.
You take a sip of your gatorade, as you just watch the two of them, not at all paying attention to the conversation. Art was talking about your time at the academy with Tashi, but why? Did she bring it up? Or did he? What reason could he have to talk about it with her? You’re lost in thought when you see Art turn and give you a small smile. You give him one back.
-----
Patrick: I can’t believe you’re still sleeping with Art. (sent 4:08 PM, 10/28/06)
You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm, going over some of your annotations on a short story for class, when you get the message. It’s your first message from him in a couple of weeks. After the text conversation you had the Saturday he was last on campus, he sent nothing else. You reasoned that whatever happened during the visit wouldn’t happen again, and used that to ease the knot of guilt you felt whenever you thought about what happened. You won’t let it happen again. It’s almost ironic that just as you feel yourself moving past it again, he texts you.
You: I don’t know what you’re talking about. (sent 4:10 PM, 10/28/06)
You are aware that you should have ended things with Art a long time ago. After Patrick’s visit, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep with Art. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to put a definite end to things with him. So while you hadn’t slept with him in sometime, you were still with Art. Your relationship remained in that little gray area you both created, just now without the sex.
Patrick: Yeah sure. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)
Patrick: Art told me. (sent 4:11 PM, 10/28/06)
Your mind drifts back to when Tashi said Art told her about your time at the academy. Looks like he was talking about you to Patrick too, albeit for completely different reasons. If Patrick thinks you’re still sleeping with Art, then what exactly did Art say? You did not have the time to focus on this. You sigh as you put your phone down. You need to focus on your work, you tell yourself.
It’s only a couple minutes until you hear your phone ring, you pick it up to see it’s a call from Patrick. You let it ring for a minute before picking it up.
“You never responded to my message,” he says immediately. “I’m busy,” you say looking back at the book. Why did you even take this call? “Doing what?” he asks. “So at university you’re given work to do,” you say sarcastically, which just causes him to laugh on the other end. “Yeah okay smartass. Is it like an essay? Homework?”
You roll your eyes. “No just going over notes” He laughs in response and you expect him to make fun of you. “Going over notes is not work,” he says. “Yes they are,” you say with a groan and eye roll. “No, you just choose to do it. Even when you don’t have to,” he says and you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice. “I care about my grades.” As if to remind you he says. “You’re there on a tennis scholarship.” You roll your eyes again, “Well I want to do well.” He lets out a chuckle, “I know. You were like this back then too.” There is a slight pause between the both of you, as you remember the time at the academy. He then adds on, “You’ll do fine anyway.”
You’re not exactly sure how to respond to that. Another moment of silence between both sides. You break it by asking, “Why’d you call?”
“Well I wanted to have phone sex but all this talk about school has made me soft,” he says with a laugh. You wouldn’t put that motive below him, but you can tell from his tone that it’s a joke. After a moment he goes, “I mean, but if you’re up to it–”
You cut him off. “Bye Patrick.” You roll your eyes and hang up.
----
Patrick: I miss your tight fucking cunt so much. (sent 3:02 AM, 11/02/06)
Patrick: I’m throbbing just thinking of it. (sent 3:03 AM, 11/02/06)
After that phone call, Patrick began texting you more regularly. These types of messages were the least surprising. Late at night and overtly sexual. You were pretty sure he was drunk sending them too. This is what you expected from him. You always refrained from answering them. You could not control what Patrick said or did and you were beginning to highly doubt that he felt any guilt about any of this. But you did. And you could control your own actions.
Although, you responded to his other messages. For every sexual conversation he tried having with you, he started three normal ones. He asked questions about your life and told you things about his. Even back when you were hooking up at the academy he never texted you this much, and especially not about these things.
Patrick: You know I think I had a cousin who studied English too (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)
You: Really? (sent 11:22 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Yeah. I think she is a professor now (sent 11:23 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: You’re seriously thinking about majoring in English? (sent 11:24 AM, 11/07/06)
You: Yeah. What about it? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Why tho? (sent 11:25 AM, 11/07/06)
You: It’s fun. I like to read. (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)
Patrick: Nerd (sent 11:26 AM, 11/07/06)
While many of the messages have a teasing edge to it, it never felt humiliating. It was like he wanted to make you laugh (and he did). The constant back and forth made it feel like new territory, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t like it. It was undoubtedly fun to talk to him like this. Every once in a while, he would also bring up Art in these conversations. Although his earlier anger at the relationship, now has seemed to fade into curiosity.
Patrick: I just don’t understand you’re relationship with him. (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
You: your* (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: What? (sent 1:33 PM, 11/11/06)
You: Patrick it's your not you're (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: Whatever (sent 1:34 PM, 11/11/06)
Patrick: What do you two even do together? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)
You: Why do you care? (sent 1:35 PM, 11/11/06)
You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about him and Tashi. You had a feeling that he was glad about this. Regardless of what happened, she was still his girlfriend and your friend. Even if she came up in conversation, neither of you mentioned her by name.
Patrick: She said she’s thinking about going pro if you guys win the championship. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)
You: Yeah she told me too. (sent 10:48 PM, 11/18/06)
Patrick: How about you? (sent 10:49 PM, 11/18/06)
You: I don’t know if I want to. (sent 10:50 PM, 11/18/06)
You stared at the message before clicking send. It was your first time directly admitting the fact that you didn’t know what part tennis would play in the future.
Patrick: Seriously? (sent 10:51 PM, 11/18/06)
You: Honestly, I don’t see the point. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)
Patrick: You’ve always been a great player. (sent 10:52 PM, 11/18/06)
You don’t know how to respond to that message. You just stare at it. He once broke your racket and left you a note to say that replacing it would be a waste of your parent’s money because of how bad you were. And now he is saying you’ve always been a great player? You see another message pop back up.
Patrick: And I don’t think your English degree is going to be a great fall back. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)
That was easier to respond to.
You: Fuck you. (sent 10:55 PM, 11/18/06)
----
“Everything okay?” Art asks as he stops walking and turns to look at you. You, Tashi, and Art were all walking together to the tennis courts. Both of them were a little ahead of you lost in conversation, while you trailed behind on your phone. Patrick had told you something about his last match. You drop your phone into your pocket and nod in response. Suddenly, it’s weight in your pocket felt like a rock dragging you down.
By the time November rolled around, your workload increased and you were grateful for that. It meant more of a reason to stay in your dorm. You were only really seeing Art and Tashi at practice and games now. You now no longer asked to do homework with her and found excuses to avoid going out with him. Although, you doubt they were disappointed, considering the both of them started to spend more time together.
“Yeah, yeah,” all good, as you take a couple steps to walk beside them.
----
Patrick: I’m coming to visit Stanford this weekend. (sent 10:01 AM, 11/25/06)
----
Considering Patrick’s visit you thought you’d spend the entire weekend in your dorm again. While you were still texting him, you didn’t want a repeat of last time. It was okay to talk, but nothing else. The only way to avoid anything from happening was to stay in your dorm, but when Tashi saw your ranking in the college girls tennis circuit list move up to fourth, she insisted on going out. So here you were at a frat party. Thankfully, it was Saturday and Patrick would leave on Sunday. You were able to avoid him up until you all had to meet up to go to the party.
While he seemed friendly over text, the first thing he said when he saw you was, “Looks like someone is taking the whole Cinderella thing too seriously.” Not his worst jab, but still said in a tone that felt humilating. Art had just shot him a look and Tashi rolled her eyes. You said nothing in response to him and remained silent on the rest of the walk to the frat house. Now here you were at the Frat party, in some corner of the house, trying to bide the time with some drink until you felt it was appropriate to run back to your dorm.
“You look nice,” you hear a voice say next to you. You take a sip from your red solo cup and turn to see a random frat guy, leaning in to talk to you. You just smile in response, hoping the conversation will end. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he continues. While you enjoyed drinking, you weren’t a fan of how claustrophobic frat parties felt. “Uh well,” you say with a little shrug. Although there was nothing remotely entertaining about it, he laughs and leans in and asks, “So...you here with someone?”
Before you have the chance to respond, you hear, “With her friends. Who is looking for her right now” You turn to see Patrick standing behind you, looking at the frat guy. “C’mon,” he says as he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere away from the corner you were just in.
You follow him without saying anything else. It’s clear he isn’t taking you to Art or Tashi, as you wander down a dimly lit hallway. You look around to see if anyone can see you, but you’re both alone. This hall may be the only empty place in the entire frat house. He pushes open a door and pulls you in, he smirks at you, and you realize he’s taken you to some bathroom. You look at it, and place your drink down on the side of the counter.
“You look really nice,” he says looking at you. A complete 180 from earlier, but what else is new? You look down at the dress, as if you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “I’ve never seen you wear that before.” His fingers move to play with the slight lace on the hem of the dress. He smells of cheap alcohol and kool-aid, but you can still faintly smell his cologne.
“It’s new,” you say looking at him. He steps closer, his hands still on the lace, and you feel your heartbeat pick up, and thighs clench. You’re sure he notices. He doesn’t make a comment on it, as he nods. “The lace is nice.” He says looking back up at you. You lean your back against the sink counter, and you slowly feel his hands push the hem of your dress up. You should smack his hands away, but you don’t.
He holds the dress up by your hips, as he looks down at the lace of your panties. “I like that lace too,” he says as he lets one finger touch it. His hands move underneath your thighs and lifts you onto the sink counter. He leans down to kiss you, but not for long as he slowly starts trailing kisses down your body. His hands move to your hips, where the dress is pooled up, to hold down the fabric and hold you. He kisses down on your abdomen, you arch into his touch.
By the time his head is in between your legs, and he looks at the lace of your panties. “You always get wet quick,” he says with a smirk as he sees the little wet spot on them. You whimper, as you feel him lick you over your panties. He chuckles right into your core as you do. He gives you one more tortuous lick over your panties, before pulling them down and putting his tongue where you really want it. His hands are splayed on your thighs to keep you open. “God you taste amazing,” he mutters against your folds as his tongue continues to eat you out. It’s all messy as he spreads his saliva with your arousal and the sound of his tongue against your dripping cunt is obscene. His nose bumps into your clit, which elicits more moans from you. You’re barely on the counter, but his hands hold you in place. You feel his tongue slip down to your other hole, and you shiver, but he quickly moves back up to your cunt. You feel yourself rock against his face. “You’re so desperate,” he chuckles again, “Slut.” His tongue moves a little faster, and your orgasm follows through.
Before you can let the intense pleasure sink in, he is pulling you off the sink counter, and is spinning you around. Your hands grip the sides of the counter, as his hands go to your waist, you feel him rock his erection against you as he groans. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans and the shuffle of the denim as he pulls it down. “Look at you little tennis star,” he says as he pulls down his boxers. “Bent over a bathroom sink for me.” His words send a jolt of arousal down your body, you feel his erection press into your skin. “Fourth is impressive tho,” he whispers against your ear, “I should fuck you with my racket. Maybe your luck will rub off on it,” You feel his tongue dart out and lick the lobe, and you again feel yourself aroused at his words. He pushes your dress up a little bit, and you can feel him guide his cock to your cunt. “Look in the mirror,” he whispers to you. Your eyes look at the reflection of both of you. He smirks from behind you, as he pushes into you. You both moan simultaneously. You feel grateful no one is around, because you’re sure you both could be heard through the door. You feel your eyes go half lidded as he continues to pound into you. “No,” he says with a grunt. One of his hands moves to your neck while the other remains on your lap. His hand presses down into your neck to hold in place. “Watch,” he commands, and your eyes return to the reflection of you both in the mirror. You can see he is watching too, as he continues to hold down on your neck. “I’m..” you feel yourself start to say, but his hand on your throat makes it too hard to speak. “I know..” he grunts, as he continues, “Me too.” He goes a little faster, and with one long grunt, you feel him spill into you. He is panting now, but he continues to thrust until you clench around him and come. You feel slightly light headed as it rips through you, and grip onto the side of the counter as you close your eyes to. His hand moves from your neck and you feel his head rest on the counter on top of yours. His finger softly rubs where you last picked the skin from it.
After a moment of just standing like that, he slowly moves to kneel beside you. You think he is about to do something else, but you feel him pull up your panties as he stands up. He pulls your dress down, and takes a deep breath before going to pull up his own boxers and pants. Feeling much more grounded, you open your eyes and see him looking at you in the mirror, biting the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” he asks. You nod in response, unsure why he is asking. You can see he has a pensive expression on his face, as he bites down on the side of his lip. "I'm fine," you affirm, out loud this time. Then he slowly nods, as he presses a tender kiss against the back of your neck. “I’ll see you,” he says as he walks out. You slowly pull away from leaning on the counter, but say nothing as you just look at yourself in the mirror.
When you finally decide to walk out, you walk straight back to your dorm.
----
Patrick: How are your classes? (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)
Patrick: I used the right your this time :D (sent 11:01 PM, 12/01/06)
----
Tashi: How is prepping going for finals? (sent 8:12 AM, 12/06/06)
You: Fine. Busy tho. (sent 2:03 PM, 12/06/06)
----
Patrick: Read anything good lately? (sent 2:38, 12/10/06)
Patrick: Or has finals taken up all your time? (sent 2:38 PM, 12/10/06)
----
Art: Can you come over? I want to talk. (sent 6:40 PM, 12/16/06)
You: Maybe later? I have an exam tomorrow morning.(sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)
Art: It’s important. I’ll be quick. (sent 7:10 PM, 12/16/06)
You: Oh okay. Give me ten min (sent 7:15 PM, 12/16/06)
----
“So…” Art starts, as you sit down next to him on the bed. You had spent the past couple weeks isolated in your dorm studying. And while finals season was keeping you busy, it was just an excuse to avoid Art and Tashi. After Patrick fucked you at the party, it was impossible to ignore the sense of guilt for your behavior. You didn’t deserve to have Art or Tashi in your life. You were awful. You wanted to avoid all three of them at all costs, and were grateful for the fact that finals gave you a reason to.
Art sits down next to you and you both just look at each other for a moment.
You knew this was about your relationship with him. Or well lack thereof. Without a label, without the sex, and now without seeing him, it wasn’t much of a relationship. You wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't deal with the guilt you felt by just being near him.
“I guess it’s over,” he says in a quiet voice. You nod in response. You have nothing to say as you reach over to give him a hug. Just as quickly as it started, you found it was over.
----
Patrick: Art said he ended things with you. (sent 6:39 PM, 12/20/06)
----
Patrick: Are you ignoring me? (sent 12:47 AM, 12/21/06)
----
Patrick: ??? (sent 2:32 PM, 12/21/06)
----
Mom: Have you finished packing? (sent 10:02 PM, 12/23/06)
You: Almost (sent 10:03 PM, 12/23/06)
A lie. You were currently sitting on the floor of your dorm room, with two open, empty suitcases in front of you. You felt exhausted just thinking about packing, but it was only the twenty third and your flight was on Christmas morning. You figured you had plenty of time to pack. No need to stress your mom out about it.
As you stand up and walk over to your closet to grab some clothes to pack, you hear a knock on the door. It was quick and hurried. The semester technically ended yesterday and nearly everyone had already left. You look at the door, and when you hear another knock, you just assume it’s your RA telling you he was leaving for break.
When you open the door, you’re instead greeted with Patrick just standing there. “Patrick?” you asked surprised, “Wha–”
He cuts you off, as he steps into the dorm, “You were ignoring me.” He says it as if that explains everything. “So you just decided to show up at my door,” you ask with a slight scoff. He shrugs. “I wanted to talk,” he says. You sigh, as you walk back to the closet, and open it. He seriously could not have been this dense to not realize why you were avoiding him. “If this is about what happened–”
Now it’s your turn to cut him off. “Of course it is,” you snap back with a scoff. You move to kneel down by the suitcases as you put it in there. He exhales, running a hand through his hair and says, “Why are you acting like this?” You roll your eyes and sarcastically say, “I wonder why.” He sighs and just watches you pack.
An awkward silence overtakes the room, and you take a deep exhale. “How did you even know I was still here anyway?” you ask to get rid of the quiet. “You always leave Christmas morning,” he says with a shrug. He sits down on the floor across from you, as he looks at your suitcases. Your brows furrow, “Shouldn’t you be home for the holidays too?” His eyes dart up to you, and he shrugs again, “Well I don’t celebrate Christmas.” It’s a skillful deflection of the question but you decide to press, “Well yeah I know that.” You remembered how everyone desperately wanted an invite to his Bar Mitzvah back at the academy (you of course were not invited). “But still,” you say as you wait for his response.
He looks at you, and his face is much more serious now. “Uh..” he starts, “Well my parents are still pretty pissed I decided to not go to college.” Oh. You didn’t know that. He bites on the inside of his cheek, and you decide to change the subject.
“Well you’re right, my flight is on Christmas morning,” you say as you stand up and walk back to the closet. He nods from where he is sitting on the floor. As you grab some clothes you add, “But I haven’t been able to pack because of finals.”
“Need help?” he asks. You turn and look at him. His hands are stretched out towards you and you realize he’s asking to take the clothes. You slowly hand it to him, with a raised eyebrow, “You sure?” He just nods as he places the clothes into your suitcase. “You know these suitcases are pretty old, right?” he says to tease you. And you roll your eyes as you grab more clothes to hand him.
An hour later, you both have finished packing. Taking his help was definitely the smart move, as you knew it would have taken at least another hour to finish up on your own. “Finally done,” you say as you lay down on the rug next to your bed. You feel exhausted and let out a yawn. Patrick is still moving some things around in the suitcase. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?” you say with another yawn, still laying down on the rug.
He lets out a laugh, “Well I have to do it on tour.” He continues to move things from one suitcase to another. He says something about distributing the weight, but you don’t catch it as you feel yourself drift off to sleep.
----
When you wake up the next day, you find yourself in your bed. You sit up and look around. The clock on the wall says it’s noon, and your suitcases have been closed, put up right, and rolled to the corner of the dorm. You feel a pang of disappointment at the fact that you’re all alone, but push it down as you move to dangle your legs off the bed. You move to get up, but as you press your foot down you don’t find the fuzzy texture of your rug. You find Patrick.
“Watch it,” he says groggily, as you look down on him. He rolls from his side to his back to look up at you. “You slept on the floor?” you ask him. “No, I’m laying down here for fun,” he says back sarcastically with a sleepy grin. You roll your eyes as you stand up, carefully avoiding him. “Thanks for moving me to the bed,” you say as you look at him. “Mhm,” he murmurs as he slowly sits up, “Don’t mention it.”
You nod, and feel your stomach slightly rumble. “I’m gonna freshen up and go grab us something to eat from the vending machine,” you say with a nod. He raises an eyebrow, “The vending machine?” You shrug. The dining halls on campus would have already closed for break and you doubted there would be much open considering it was Christmas Eve. “Any Chinese places nearby?” he asks with a shrug. You know one and nod. “We’ll go there. I can drive,” he says. “Okay...” you say your voice trailing off as you walk to the bathroom.
“Wait,” he says and you turn around and face him. “I’m kinda turned on by you stepping on me,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes as you turn around and walk into the bathroom.
----
An hour later, both of you were sitting across from each other at a table in a small Chinese restaurant waiting for your food. Somehow the conversation on the way turned to the fact that you didn’t have a license.
“So what, you take the bus everywhere?” he asks with a laugh. You nod and now he laughs ��You can’t be serious.” You roll your eyes, but before you can let out some snarky retort, you feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your dad.
Dad: Make sure you set an alarm to wake up for your flight tomorrow. You probably want to leave the dorm by 6. (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)
You: Got it :) (sent 1:23 PM, 12/24/06)
“Everything all good?” Patrick asks, as your attention drifts to your phone from the conversation you both were having. “Yeah, my dad just reminded me to set an alarm for tomorrow,” you say with a small nod. He nods in response as well. A moment of silence passes between the both of you. “They’ve always been like that. I remember,” he then says, eyes going to the side. “Been like what?” you ask, as you put your phone down in your lap. He shrugs. “You know,” he pauses to find the right word, “present.”
You look at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to it. You didn’t have to be a genius to see that Patrick wasn’t close to his parents, but his words said enough about how non-existent that relationship actually was.
“I actually remember seeing them the first time I met you,” he suddenly says. “What?” you respond confused. The first time he met you was when he walked into class. You remember how he instantly sneered at you upon making eye contact. Your parents were nowhere in sight. “Okay well, first time I saw you,” he clarifies. Your brows furrow as he sighs. “They came to drop you off. They kept hugging you and saying how proud they were,” he says with a little hand motion and looks to the side as he does.
You do remember that, but you didn’t know that Patrick saw that. Once again you’re unsure how to respond, but thankfully you don’t have to as the waiter walks over and places your dumplings and noodles on the table. “Thank god,” Patrick says as he grabs a pair of chopsticks. “I’m starving.”
----
You laugh in the car, as Patrick sings along off key to Mariah Carey on the radio. “You’re terrible,” you say with a laugh as you look over to him from your place in the passenger seat. He smirks, eyes still on the road. He then sarcastically says“What? I’m a great singer.” This causes you to laugh again, and he joins in.
After that waiter placed your food, the conversation at the restaurant shifted back to more pleasant things. The food was great and now he was driving you both back to the dorm.
“You know, you’re so much more fun when it’s just us,” he says once he is done laughing. “You’ve always been so quiet in public.” You can feel yourself involuntarily tense at his words. He wasn’t wrong. You were more reserved in public. A habit from your time at the academy. A habit from your time being bullied. Your quiet demeanor in public was his fault. And regardless of these moments between the two of you alone, nothing could change that. He must have had the same thought process, because he then goes, “Shit I didn’t–”
“It’s okay,” you quickly say to cut him off. “I know what you meant.” You turn up the volume on the radio to change the subject. He gets the hint, and neither of you say anything else on the way back.
----
Both of you are sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes look around the room to check if there is anything you missed while packing. “I can drive you to the airport tomorrow” he suggests. “Honestly I don’t mind taking the bus,” you respond with a shrug as you turn back to him. His brows furrow and he sighs. “About earlier..” he says, his voice trailing off. You shake your head and say, “Just leave it Patrick.” He sighs more frustrated now, clearly unable to find the words he wants to say. He bites down on his bottom lip, and you register how close you’re both sitting. You decide you should move away, but he places his hand on your thigh to tell you to stay.
His lips reach yours and he kisses you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. It's slower than usual. You feel his tongue explore every part of your mouth. As his hands pull off your sweater and push you back down onto the bed, everything feels a bit different. The way he kisses down your abdomen is still passionate, but not reckless. “You’re so beautiful,” you hear him mutter against your skin. There is no hurry in his actions, and his hands move across your body as if trying to memorize every detail. When his head finds his way in between your legs and pulls down your panties with your teeth, you can feel yourself shiver. He eats you out slowly, his tongue lapping through your folds and around your clit in a way that makes you shiver with each stroke. Your hands go to his hair, and you pull it gently. You can feel him moan against your core, and after a couple more moments of his tongue encircling your clit and protruding into your cunt, you come.
When he climbs back up over your body, he kisses you again. Soon you feel his cock push into you. His thrusts are long and slow. His forehead rests against yours, and you’re both holding eye contact. He tells you again you’re beautiful as he continues. You’re both panting and although it takes more time because of the pace, you both reach your orgasms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then rolls to lie down next to you.
Neither of you say anything, as you both just lay there looking up at the ceiling. This was new and neither of you know what to say about it. It’s dark outside now and then finally you hear Patrick whisper, “It’s been two years.” He doesn’t have to say what he’s talking about. Two years since the locker room in junior year. Two years since you guys began all of this. “Yeah…yeah it has,” you whisper back. Your head moves to the crook of his neck and his hand wraps around yours. The heat radiates off his body towards yours and you close your eyes. You’re unsure what time you fall asleep.
----
You’re grateful that you remembered to set the alarm as soon as you got back to the dorm yesterday. The clock goes off at six sharp and you wake up, quickly moving from Patrick’s hold on you to hit the off button. You look over beside you on the bed and see Patrick still asleep, although he must have sensed your movement because he shifts around. It’s the first time either of you have fallen asleep in the same bed. Your mind drifts back to the day before and to how you both ended up sleeping in the bed together. It feels as if some boundary has been crossed.
You slowly move to get dressed. You move on your tiptoes, as he moves again in his sleep. The last thing you want to do is wake him up. You want to leave. Go home. Forget any of this ever happened.
Once you’re ready to leave, you slowly push both suitcases on to the door, and look again at Patrick sleeping in your bed. You walk over to the desk and grab a sticky note and pen. You scribble down Lock up when you leave and place the spare key you’re suddenly beyond grateful you have right next to the note. You sigh as you take one last look at him, and then walk back over to the door to leave.
----
He must have woken up shortly after you left, because you just get on the bus as you get a text from him.
Patrick: Hope you have a good Christmas. (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)
You: Thanks (sent 6:23 AM, 12/25/06)
----
You only heard from him once during break, on New Years.
Patrick: Happy new years! (sent 12:00 AM 01/01/07)
You: Happy new years! (sent 12:01 AM 01/01/07)
You simultaneously loved and hated the silence. With no messages from him, it meant you didn’t have to confront what happened the night before you left. You could do your best to pretend nothing had happened. Although you found it impossible to do so. Your mind kept drifting back to that night, and thus equally hated how there was nothing you could do to find some concrete answers. You didn’t know what to expect from him after that. Or what it meant to him. You couldn’t even process what it meant to you. You’re left with an uneasy sense of deja vu, as you find yourself spending another winter break thinking only about you and Patrick.
----
If you were avoiding Art and Tashi before break, you had essentially ghosted them once you got back. As you returned to campus for the spring semester, you hoped Patrick would leave your mind. But without any answers to the questions you mulled throughout break, he remained at the forefront. This made it impossible to be around either of them. Not to mention, with your breakup – if you could even call it that – with Art, it was back to being awkward.
You only saw them during tennis practice or games, always with an excuse handy to avoid spending any extra time together. Although, once again you sensed that they didn’t mind. During your first week back, after practice one day when you told Tashi you had to drop the film studies elective you both signed up for together, she just shrugged in response. “No worries,” she said casually. Art only made small talk with you before and after practice. If they missed your presence, they made no signs to show it.
In contrast, it started to seem as if Patrick was searching for it. Couple weeks after returning to school, he started texting you again.
Patrick: You got back? (sent 5:43 PM, 01/29/07)
You: Yeah. (sent 5:46 PM, 01/29/07)
Patrick: How is it? (sent 5:49 PM, 01/29/07)
You: Good. (sent 5:52 PM, 01/29/07)
He texted as if what happened before break was completely normal. The thought of addressing what happened made your stomach churn, but this was irritating. You were sure your annoyance was clear in your messages.
You: Do you have my spare key? (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Shit. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: I think I lost it. (sent 10:23 AM, 02/04/07)
You: Good job. (sent 10:25 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Sorry (sent 10:26 AM, 02/04/07)
And slowly, you couldn’t find it in you to respond at all.
Patrick: I was on campus this weekend and didn’t see you once. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)
Patrick: Art said you guys don’t really talk anymore. (sent 2:32 AM, 02/04/07)
----
Patrick: I doubt the Stanford English department gives their students this much work. (sent 4:23 PM, 02/08/07)
----
Patrick: I can't believe you're ignoring me again. (sent 8:56 PM, 02/12/07)
----
Patrick: What did you tell her??? (sent 10:56 AM, 02/16/07)
Patrick: ??? (sent 1:02 PM, 02/16/07)
----
The day you get the email from Adidas is just a random Thursday in Feburary. At first you thought it was spam, but then you saw the words sponsorship in the subject line. You open the email, and your eyes glaze over. It’s a casual email, saying that they’ve seen you play and that if you were interested they would set up something more formal to discuss with you. It feels surreal and you just stare at the screen, expecting it to disappear when you blink.
If you took it, wouldn’t you have to go pro? You were still unsure if you wanted that. Time gave you no clarity on the subject.
You reread the email from Adidas. Adidas. The company Tashi has a sponsorship from. Suddenly you have a feeling about what happened.
----
You’re sitting next to Tashi on the bleachers. Neither of you are playing in today’s game, but Stanford tennis still insists on all players attending for support. You doubt Tashi minds this rule. She always gets into the game, mumbling little things about the players, regardless of who was playing. These moments were the only times you really talked anymore, it was now or nothing. You look at her and take a deep exhale, “I got an email from Adidas.”
She turns and looks at you, her eyebrow raises but then she smiles, “Really?” You nod in response, “They want to give me a sponsorship.” Her smile just grows, but before she can have a chance to respond, you ask, “Did you tell them something?”��
“What?” she asks, looking at you. She lets out a scoff like laugh, but then realizes your expression is serious. “It’s not like Adidas is going to give you a sponsorship just because I asked them too.”
“Yeah but you were–” she cuts you off.
“Well I think you deserve one. Doesn’t mean I could get it for you,” she says with a shrug and head shake, as if to say what did you expect.
“I just don’t understand how else they would–”
“You can’t be serious,” she says with a laugh. She looks at the game and then towards you. “You’re currently ranked fourth in women’s college tennis. Of course you’d be on their radar.” You just look at her blankly. Well when she put it like that it made some sense, but you still felt lost. She sighs and tilts her head, “It’s so tiring watching you try justifying these things.” Your eyebrows furrow and she continues. “You think you’re this awful player, but you’re not,” she pauses, “I mean I understand why tho. The academy really did a number on you.”
You feel yourself get a little more tense, as she brings this up. “Huh?” is all you can say.
“Art told me. About the bullying. About Patrick…” she starts. Before you can even process the fact that Art told her everything, she continues. “It actually made a lot of sense. There was always something off between the two of you. At first I thought maybe you had a crush and that’s why you were avoiding me as well, but what Art said made a lot more sense considering your whole complex with Tennis.” Complex with tennis? What?
“I..well,” you start but are unable to find the words. She continues, “You are a good player tho. You deserve the sponsorship.” You just look at her and nod slowly again, she leans in and with a smile says “Congrats.” Both of you then turn to look back at the game, although it’s the last thing on your mind.
----
Tashi’s words never left your head after that. Your headache only grew after that. Another thing to spend time pondering about. A complex with tennis? What did that even mean? You were also somewhat shocked that Art told her all of that, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. The only thing clear to you after the conversation, was the fact that your urge to avoid them all had grown.
It’s around eleven pm and you were walking back from the library. Practice had become a little more intense as you got closer to the end of the season. Between that and the time you had to spend in class, you were staying up later to finish your work. It was all getting to you. Your life had become: class, tennis, work, class, tennis, work. You had three more matches left: Pepperdine, UNC, and Purdue. Then the season would end and you wouldn’t have to worry about tennis until next year. The Adidas email was still unanswered. It was fine. You promised to get around to it eventually.
As you walked on the sidewalk back to your dorm, you started to feel as if you weren’t alone. You turned around and saw a car a little behind you moving slowly. You turn back around without getting a proper look, and grip your backpack strap a little tighter as you decide to walk a little faster. The driver must have realized, because they too started to drive a bit faster. You start to run, but as you’re about to cross the road, the car swerves in front of you and stops. This time you do get a good look. You’d know this car anywhere. You feel frozen in place.
“Get in the car,” Patrick says. His voice is more of an order than a question. You just stare at him. “Get in the car,” he repeats. You look around to see if anyone is there walking over and opening the passenger seat door. Everything happened so quickly, it feels disorientating.
“What–”
You’re not given the chance to finish the sentence as he spits out, “I can’t believe you’re ignoring me again. I thought we were over this.” You just look at him, as he starts to drive, you’re not exactly sure where. You open your mouth to ask, but then he says, “Yeah okay we fucked up. We have been fucking up. But you don’t just get to disappear.”
You watch him, as he continues to drive. “I’ve been busy,” is all you say. He scoffs, “Too busy to respond to my message, but not too busy to tell Tashi about the academy, huh?” he says, leaning in again. Your brows furrow and you start to say “I never–”
He cuts you off once more, “Oh please, cut the crap.” He looks to the side and then to you, “I’m so fucking tired of this.” He is close enough that his nose is touching yours, “How convenient of you to leave out the part where we’ve been sleeping together? Can’t stand not being the victim?” His words aggravate you and you begin, “Patrick–”
He cuts you off again, “The poor scholarship kid. The poor bullied kid.” His tone is mocking and combined with the fact he hasn’t let you get one proper sentence in yet, you find your anger increasing. “I mean it looks like it got you places. Art said you got an Adidas sponsorship. Good for you,” he says with a scoff like laugh. Did Tashi tell Art about it? You shut down the thought. You don’t have the time for it right now.
“Fuck you Patrick,” you bite back, and he laughs again. “Don’t you ever get tired of this? You have everything, and you still act like it’s nothing,” he snaps back.
You scoff and suddenly the car is suffocating. You don’t know where you are, but you’re sure you could figure out how to get back, so you grab the car door to open and leave. Instantly, his hand comes down and clamps down on your arm. He holds you with a tight grip.
“Let go of me,” you say, looking at him. “No,” he retorts back instantly. You try pulling from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. It doesn’t stop you from trying again. Once again he just says, “No.” You look at him with a laugh, and pull again, but he pulls your arm with enough force that your whole body moves closer to him. The hand you kept on the door handle is pulled away, and without thinking the hand goes to slap Patrick for pulling you.
You weren’t thinking when you did it. It just happened. He just looks at you after the slap, equally surprised. The cheek you hit him on is slightly pinkish, although you didn't hit him hard enough to really hurt. Just enough to sting. His grip on your arm loosens, but you don’t move. You’ve been in this situation enough times to know what is going to happen next. And like every time before, you have no intention of stopping it. It’s no surprise when his lips come crashing down on yours.
Your tongues clash, and your hands move to grip his shoulders. You can feel your nails digging into the muscle there. He moans in your mouth at the sensation, and you feel your arousal grow as he does. As if knowing, his hand goes to slip inside of your pants, gently touching you over the thin fabric of your panties. You whine against his lips at the sensation, and he chuckles. “Such a desperate slut,” he murmers, as he applies a bit more pressure with his fingers as he touches you. “Patrick,” you whimper again, he chuckles at it. You can feel his fingers push away your panties and you feel his middle finger dip into your cunt. It’s long and calloused as he thrusts it in and out of you. The position is insanely uncomfortable; you in the passenger seat, him reaching over the dash, but you’re too needy at this point to care. His thumb runs over your clit as his middle finger continues its motions. You think he is going to dip another finger in, when he suddenly stops. Something in the back of the car catching his eyes.
“Remove the sweats,” he tells you, as he reaches his hand to the back seat to grab something. You do as he says, pulling it down to your ankles. Your panties are still pushed to the side, so you’re exposed. You lean back against the car door, as you see him pull out a tennis racket. You remember his words at the party, and you can see the brief moment of hesitation on your face. It’s so obscene but it just makes you even more aroused, you spread your legs a little more, and his hesitant look is replaced with a smirk. As your arousal drips onto the car seat, his hands reach out to touch your folds, and then he leans over the dash and spits right on your pussy, tennis racket still in hand. The next thing you feel is the handle of the tennis racket sliding into you with ease.
He moves it back and forth, as he watches. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, as his free hand moves to palm at his dick through his pants. His breathing is labored now. You squirm in the seat as he continues with the racket, your hand moves down to rub little circles over your clit to bring you over the edge faster. “I’m..cl..” your voice trails off before you can finish the sentence. “I know,” he says with a pant. “Let go for me,” and his words bring forth your orgasm as your head goes back against the window and you feel yourself let go.
He smiles as he sees you come undone. You look at him through half lidded eyes, deciding to give yourself a minute before you both continue, wanting to give him a hand or blow job to get him off. But as his eyes drift down to where the tennis racket is, he stares at it for a moment. The smile slowly falls off his face and his other hand moves away from his pants. He pulls the tennis racket out and you sit up. He turns to put the racket in the back again.
“I’ll drive you back,” is all he says after, not making eye contact as he does.
-----
Neither of you say anything afterwards. After what he said, you fixed your panties and pulled up your pants, and he started driving the car back in silence. His eyes are glued to the road, but you turn to look at him every couple minutes. He looks much more solemn, and you find yourself unable to break the silence.
He stops at a red light, and you’re still looking at him as his eyes remain on the road. “I’m…You have every right not to text me,” he suddenly starts. “I don’t…You should probably stop texting me.” His voice is so defeated and small, it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man from ten minutes ago. He starts driving again, and you look out the window.
Wherever that parking lot was, it must not have been far from campus, because before you know it you can see your dorm building in the distance. “You should stop here,” you tell him quietly, not wanting to get too close to the building where someone may see you. He nods as he parks at the end of the road. You pick up your bag to leave, but from the side of your eye you see him face you again.
“Why..I can’t believe you let me do that shit to you,” he says. He is facing you in the passenger seat now, but is unable to look at you. You look at him, feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “Patrick…” you start, but your voice drifts off. You’re not sure why either. “You shouldn’t let me do that shit to you.” His voice is a bit louder and still upset. “God you should fucking hate me,” his eyes look back up to yours. And then in a softer voice he asks, “Why don’t you hate me?”
He has a point. You have every reason to hate him. Sometimes what you feel is strong enough to be hatred, but you know whatever you feel for him isn’t hate. You look away from him towards your dorm building in the distance. There is no straight answer you can provide for him right now, so instead you quietly say, “I should get back.”
He looks where you’re looking and nods with a sigh, saying “Okay…yeah.”
You say nothing else as you get out of the car with your stuff. You have to fight the urge to look back at him as you walk to your dorm.
----
Patrick: Won a couple matches I played with that racket. Maybe it really is lucky now. (sent 7:02 PM, 02/22/06)
Patrick: I hope you're doing well. (sent 7:10 PM, 02/22/06)
You never respond. He doesn’t send anything else.
----
Adidas sent you a follow up email, considering you never responded to the first one. They said they wanted to give you the time to think, but they needed to hear something back. You don’t respond to this email either.
----
The past couple weeks have been the most isolated you’ve been since your time at the academy. It was like you were fourteen again constantly tormented and with no friends. Except this time, the only thing tormenting you were your thoughts. You wanted to just disappear and avoid everything and everyone. You didn’t even have the energy to think about any of it. About Patrick and why you didn’t hate him. About your supposed complex with tennis. Even just remembering what happened over the past couple months was exhausting.
You didn’t talk to anyone. Tashi no longer came up to you in the locker rooms or during practice and games. You didn’t know if she was giving you space after your conversation or if this marked the death of your friendship. This also to think about, even if you were relieved that it made it easier to avoid her presence. You also started to skip class more often. You knew you’d also be skipping practice and games if your scholarship wasn’t dependent on tennis. You’re almost free though. Today is the match against Pepperdine. Then two more, and the season would be done.
You were walking back to your dorm room, when you see them through the dining hall window. Art and Patrick eating churros. You stand and stare at both of them for a moment. Somehow the sight takes you by surprise. You assumed that Patrick was still visiting campus, since he and Tashi were still together. And of course he was still friends with Art, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Patrick figured out if it was Art who told Tashi about everything that happened at the academy.
You still hadn’t confronted Art about that. You still wanted to, but you still found yourself unable to talk to Art. Just like Tashi no longer talked to youi, he no longer seemed to talk to you. The small talk before and after practice, had now just been reduced to the occasional wave. Your eyes go to Patrick. Neither of you were texting anymore. Nor had he randomly showed up to talk to you, like the last two times. For once in your life, Patrick Zweig had actually left you alone.
When both boys notice you're staring through the window, you lock eyes with both of them. Art’s expression is stoic, you couldn’t read it if you tried. Patrick looks slightly surprised and for a moment you think he is about to smile at you, but you don’t wait around to find out. You turn away and walk straight back to your dorm.
----
There’s thirty minutes until the match. You’re dressed in your dorm so you wouldn’t have to bother with the locker room. You're ready to head out, when you hear a knock on your dorm door. You look at it for a minute. You swallow and hope it’s not Patrick, as you open the door. You’re flooded with both relief and disappointment that it’s Art.
“Uh..hey,” you say, seeing him. He nods and gives you a small smile you can tell is forced. “I saw you today, so I thought I’d come over,” he says. The way he looks at you makes you feel as if he knows something. It’s obvious this is all a pretense to talk about something else. While you don’t know what, you know you don’t want to talk about it. As you move to let him walk into your dorm, you quickly say, “I was actually about to head out for the game soon.”
He nods, “me too.” He then looks at you, and his lips part again as if he is about to speak. You have no idea what he is about to say, but you already want this conversation to be over. Without thinking, you speak first, “So Patrick is visiting for the game?”
His lips close, clearly not expecting that. He nods and curtly says, “Tashi invited him.” While this is the same Art you’ve known for years, he suddenly feels much colder. His expression is stony and makes you want to shrink. It dawns on you that this must all be about Tashi. Maybe he was just trying to use what happened to you as a way to get her to break up with Patrick. The thought he would do so is upsetting, and without thinking, you say, “She told me what you said.”
He nods and shrugs, “Well it came up one day.”
“Really?” your voice exposes the fact that you don’t believe it.
He just shrugs in response and shakes his head yes as he does. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal.”
“You don’t see why telling my friend about something like that wasn’t a big deal?” you ask back.
“Are you really her friend anymore?” he asks, which stuns you into silence. He just lets out a little huff, and continues, “And she’s with Patrick. She should know about it.” You stare at him, unsure how to respond. “She should know what type of guy her boyfriend is,” he repeats.
“Patrick is your best friend–”
“I know that,” he cuts you off quickly. This was the most impassioned thing he had said this whole time. “But I’m not going to pretend what he didn’t wasn’t awful.” Maybe it was a little more than just about Tashi. He looks at you for a moment, as if analyzing you, “Why do you?” You stare at him blankly, his voice is calm but cruel in a way that makes you want to scream. “Why do you brush it aside?” His voice sounds as if he is trying to imply something and you find yourself just standing there. “It’s like you’re trying to protect him”
“I’m not,” you say back in a quiet voice. He just shrugs in response, and looks to the side, as he looks like he is about to say something, but he then lets out a humorless laugh. Before you can ask why he did so, he says, “See you at the game.” He takes one last knowing look at you as he walks out of the room.
----
You didn’t have the energy to leave after that. You laid down on your bed for a couple extra minutes, before you realized you would be late if you didn’t leave now. You grabbed your racket and water bottle and headed out to leave the dorm building.
You walk out of the dorm and then the dorm building quickly, but not fast enough to miss the sight of Patrick sitting on the curb. You stop upon seeing him, and he must sense your presence because he turns and looks at you. His back straightens up a little more and you can see his eyes are red. He’s wearing what looks to be Tashi’s shirt, and the scent of weed drifts off him.
He says your name as he scrambles to his feet. “I have to go,” you say, pointing with your racket in the direction of the game. You take a step backwards. You don’t have the time for this. You don’t have the energy for this. “She knows,” he suddenly says.
You can feel your heart drop. “Tashi..she knows about...” He doesn't finish the sentence, but makes a motion between the both of you.
He says something after that, but you’re unable to hear it. Your legs move without you processing the action, and the next thing you find is yourself running to the court where the game is. You can hear Patrick call after you, but he doesn’t follow.
----
Tashi is by the bench, pulling out her racket from the case. You run over to her instantly, the moment she processes your presence she scoffs.
“Tashi–”
She does not let you speak, looking at you with a cold expression. “I don’t know what fucked up dynamic you and Patrick have going on,” she starts, before leaning in slightly in a menacing way. “But keep it away from me.”
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It’s not like she would have heard anything you said anyway, the minute she is done speaking she walks away to the court.
You watch her go, as you sink down onto the bench. The items in your hand falling down beside you. The game begins but you’re unable to focus. You just sit there, your fingers going back to picking the skin by your cuticles. You feel as if the ground is spinning and you want nothing to run back to your dorm. Your mind replays the moment with Tashi. The conversation with Art. You hear Patrick’s voice ask why you don’t hate him replaying in your head, and you feel all the memories come rushing back. It’s as if floodgates have been opened and nothing can stop it from pouring out. You let yourself spiral as you feel your heart rate picked up.
You probably would have been like that for the whole game, but then you hear it.
Her scream.
----
It’s all a blur after that. You look up and see Tashi on the ground clutching her knee. You don’t waste a moment before getting up and running to her side, but the minute you get down on your knees beside her, her expression becomes even more upset.
“No!” she says clutching her knee looking at you. “Get away! Get the fuck away!” You just stare as you see her cry, as your coach comes down beside you to calm her down. You see Art run down from the stands, hopping over the net for her. As he moves her head on her lap, you make eye contact with him.
His expression is worried, but also has something else you can’t place. You look back at him, and he looks away from your gaze down at Tashi. Then you realize what the other emotion is. Guilt. Suddenly, the conversation earlier made more sense. He knew. He knew about you and Patrick. He knew and he told her. Your mind races with questions, but you slowly get up realizing you’re only making Tashi more upset. You look at her one last time, before running to the bathroom for some privacy, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you do.
----
You wipe your tears as you sit in the hallway of the campus' medical center . When you stepped out of the bathroom, you realized that they had already taken her off the court. You assumed she was either brought here or was already taken to the hospital. You couldn't care less about your game after everything, so you left for the medical center instantly. When you arrived, you saw a coach talking to one of the nurses and that confirmed she was here.
The medical center was small. A one floor building, so you knew she was just down the hall, but you couldn't bring yourself to go to her. Why would she want to see you? She hated you now. You were a few feet away, but you may as well have been miles away from her. You still couldn't bring yourself to leave. It was like watching a car crash. Awful. Crushing. Yet absorbing. You just sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, with your head leaning against the wall.
You hear hurried footsteps from the other end of the hallway, and you turn to see Patrick who nearly runs into the room.
“Get out!” you hear Tashi say. You can tell he is trying to say something back, but then you hear Tashi say again to get out. While your position in the hallway prevents you from seeing anything, you can hear it clearly.
“Get the fuck out Patrick!” Art’s voice booms. You just stare at the direction of the door, as you see Patrick walk out dejected. As he steps out he sees you sitting on the floor. Somehow the sight of you makes him look even sadder.
His eyes go down to the floor and he slowly begins walking down the hallway in your direction. You just watch him, as he comes over to you and then slumps down onto the floor next to you. He turns his head to look at you. You stare back in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he then says quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”
You look at him with a small nod and respond, “I know.”
And when he leans in to hug you, you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him as well. Your mind goes blank and you let the enormity sink in. You can’t tell if it makes you feel empty or complete.
author's note: If you got this far, I love you <3 Let me know what you think!
#patrick zweig#tashi duncan#art donaldson#challengers#challengers 2024#challengers fic#patrick zweig x reader#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig smut#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig fic#the chain AU
645 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝟐 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!
୨♡୧ pairings :: blade x reader ; sampo x reader ; gepard x reader ; dan heng x reader ; jing yuan x reader ; luocha x reader
୨♡୧ gia's notes :: writing this as a quick lil thing because i just finished school and i want to like,,, pay homage to the crushes ive had on my classmates LMAO this is so self indulgent i'm delulu... gonna miss seeing them in the hallways ,,, this one kinda mid i wrote it on my phone while half asleep AND ITS EXAM SEASON RAHHHHHH
୨♡୧ contains: modern!school!au, fem!reader sorry, most definitely ooc because these are based off of real people oops, just cute lil crushes man feel free to judge my taste in men !
𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE
-he's in your biology class, but not close enough to really get to talk to him
-you're not sure what to make of him, but you see him in the gym a few times when you're there as well
-his stony exterior, however, is shattered in your eyes when you enter the gym one day to find it empty other than just him in there, blasting his playlist out loud
-out of all of the possible genres he could he listening to, you weren't expecting a drill remix of anime osts
-you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips from what you're witnessing, and blade freezes upon hearing it before whipping his head round to face you like a deer in headlights
-he scrambles to turn it off as you set up at a squat rack, and it's almost endearing to see such a stoic classmate look so flustered
-you almost felt bad for the guy, and you hesitated before asking blade if he could spot for you
-and just like that, the ice was officially broken
-the two of you talked more frequently now, even becoming sort of friends through your shared class and the gym
-more frequent talks gave way to the more intimate aspects of blade's personality- as it turned out, he was quite touchy
-lingering touches when spotting you in the gym turned to his leg pressed against yours when you sit next to each other- leaning into your personal space a little too close to call it casual, and the bastard enjoyed the way you got flustered when his face got near to yours and the way that people looked at the pair of you and whispers, rumours, started to fly
-"if you keep sitting that close to me, people are going to think that we're dating," you huffed at him
-blade didn't even glance up from his phone that he was scrolling through with one hand, the other resting against the back of your chair
-"good." you were glad that he didn't look up to see the way that your eyes widened and you turned your head to the side to hide the giddy smile that was creeping onto your face
-and despite you enabling this, all the harmless flirting, there was some unquellable part of you that screamed to be set free and hoped for something more. that when he made you look him in the eyes with a finger under your chin, he wasn't just doing it to tease you
-there was undeniably something going on between the two of you, but there was also the unspoken mutual decision to not mention it
-and so you resigned your self to the realm of just friends. it would be easier this way, to move on without any ties before uni
-yet on the last day, you found him scrawling his phone number in your yearbook with a demand to stay in touch, and it left you looking down at the inked digits with the thing in your chest set free, telling you that your feelings might just be reciprocated
𓆩♡𓆪 SAMPO
-your deskmate in chemistry because of a stupid seating plan that didn't change the entire year
-you've never really spoken before, but he's well-known for being rowdy
-his friends sit nearby, and most of his conversations consisted of talking to them loudly while leaning across your desk, while you try to balance your chemical equations
-other than that, you keep to yourselves mostly
-it isn't until your chemistry teacher is going on a tiresome rant about the bohr effect that you shift your attention away from the board, your eyes instead focusing on sampo and the pen in his hands as he twirled it through his fingers effortlessly
-you nudged him slightly, pointing to his hand and mouthing at him "how do you do that?"
-sampo smirks, leaning in closer to you and keeping his voice at a low whisper to avoid alerting your chemistry teacher
-"so you hold the end like this..." sampo whispers to you, demonstrating with the end of his pen. you nod and try not to think about how small the pen looks compared to his fingers, fixing your grip
-"and then you hold it loose, and flick it around your thumb" sampo demonstrates it effortlessly, catching the pen in his hand and smiling at you
-you concentrate on your own, feeling his gaze against the side of your face instilling slight tremors in your hand
-you attempt the spin, watching as the pen teeters before falling and landing on your desk with a clatter
-you hear sampo snort beside you, and your teacher whips his head around and fixes the pair of you with a glare
-"am i interrupting something?" you and sampo both snapped your attention back towards your teacher as he looked at you both pointedly before continuing with his lecture
-you braved a peek at your deskmate, seeing the way his eyes were stubbornly facing forwards while a slight smirk adorned his face
-it became almost a ritual for you to attempt sampo's stupid pen trick each lesson
-it looked so simple, you didn't get how you were still struggling to do it, and your focus was pretty much anywhere except on the lesson
-sampo watched on in idle amusement at your frustration, sometimes demonstrating it to you again just to rub it in before getting elbowed by you
-besides him poking fun at you, there was also a sweeter side to sampo
-there was a day where you had forgotten to wear your contacts, and were effectively blind the entire day
-despite being nearer to the front, you couldn't even read the board when you squinted
-you ended up asking sampo to read what was on the board to you, and with an exaggerated sigh he did so, whispering the words to you in the same low voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up
-"you owe me, you know," he told you jokingly, pointing at your homework
-you rolled your eyes, sliding it over to him
-"i don't know why you think that the answers will be right, but sure"
-"hey, at least you did the homework"
-uhhhh idrk how to end this SORRY
-you guys got along well and then the year finished and you weren't in the same class any more
-whenever you see him in the corridors you smile at each other though
𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD
-he sits in the seat opposite from you in your english class
-you can't help zoning out when the lesson gets boring, and more often than not that results in you inadvertedly staring at gepard until you snap back to reality and realise that you've locked eyes with him, resulting in both of you hastily looking away with pink dusting both of your cheeks
-it's hard not to look at his handsome face, and your wandering eyes often get drawn to him against your will
-the sun hits his hair just right from the window behind him, and he looks like an angel with a halo when he's concentrating with a furrowed brow and taking notes about chaucer
-he's not too bad of a person to be sat across, in short
-you see gepard from time to time in the library, and by luck's draw, one of the only free seats in a particularly busy hour ends up being next to him
-he glances up when you place your books down, shooting you a quick smile before turning back to his own work
-you're about to put on your headphones and start revising, but you catch the faint melody of an ice spice song blasting from gepard, oblivious to the world
-it takes a lot of self control to not burst out laughing in the middle of the library, but you text this information to your friend instead while biting back a smile
-she responds after a few seconds with a link to gepard's spotify account, telling you to take a look through his playlists
-risking a glance at gepard, still heavily focusing on his work, you click on the link and begin to scroll through his account
-you find yourself growing more and more blown away by his music choice
-someone who was so serious and stoic didn't seem like the type to have one of the most insane tastes in music you've ever seen, but you liked it
-it offered you a more human side to his aloof self
-when you saw him start to subconsciously mouth the words in time with ice spice, though, that's when you snorted a little
-and when gepard looked up at you in confusion, you waved him off
-maybe you would try talk to him after class more
𓆩♡𓆪 DAN HENG
-although he doesn't share a lesson with you, dan heng actually takes the same bus to get home from school
-you have a tendency to oversleep in the mornings, so you've never had the opportunity to realise this as the buses you take arrive at school minutes before the bell
-and after school, you can leave as soon as lessons finish, and your differing timetables kept you apart as well
-but after a day at the library in school, you ended up getting a bus nearer to the end of the day rather than your usual time
-because of this, you found that most of the other students at your school were getting this first bus back, and a lot less of the seats were available
-you scanned the seats, searching for an empty spot when you got on, and you saw dan heng sat on his own, looking out the window with his earphones in
-you recognised him as a guy in your year and headed to where he sat, gripping your bag tighter for emotional support
-"could i sit here?" you spoke before realising that he probably couldn't hear you over the sound of his music, and you hesitated before tapping him on the shoulder
-his attention snapped to you before he shuffled slightly, leaving you with ample space to take a seat
-you didn't talk much, feeling self conscious of your feed as you scrolled through your phone next to dan heng, waiting for the stop where you would get your second bus
-you were lucky that you were sat closer to the aisle, and didn't have to make things more awkward by asking him to get up too
-you pressed the button to stop the bus, picking up your bag and getting off
-but to your surprise, as you looked behind you to check if it was clear to cross the road, you saw that dan heng had gotten off of the bus as well
-which wasn't too weird, really. there were plenty of other buses to take from here
-yet your suspicions were confirmed as you realised that you and dan heng were headed for the same bus, stopping in the same queue with him just behind you
-normally you would keep to yourself, but you must have been feeling extra talkative that day because you decide to strike up a conversation with him
-"so you take this bus as well?"
-dan heng nodded, taking out an earphone to better hear you as you both waited for the bus
-"yeah, in the morning too"
-"i'm guessing the early one? i always miss it because i sleep in"
-dan heng smiles and shrugs
-"maybe you should go to sleep earlier, then"
-"yeah, maybe"
-the pair of you talk a bit, and despite his appearance dan heng is actually quite fun to talk to, though he moreso tends to listen to you rant and occasionally provides some input, which seems to suit you both just fine
-come next morning, you found yourself waking up a little easier than usual, getting ready and leaving your house earlier than usual
-and as a result, you managed to catch the early bus
-you spotted his cropped dark hair almost as soon as you got on, and decided to sidle up to him again
-dan heng spotted you this time, though, and even offered you a smile as he pulled put his earphones as youvsat down next to him
-"so i'm guessing that you slept earlier, huh?"
-if it meant getting to talk to him more, you'd be in bed before it even got dark
-but he didn't have to know that
𓆩♡𓆪 JING YUAN
-he's that one guy in the year who's just universally loved, by teachers and students alike
-he's warm, he's studious, he's head boy, and he's practically everyone's friend
-it's not uncommon to see plenty of the girls in your year go up to him to try and flirt, and for others to look on in jealousy at their attempts
-and despite everyone's best efforts, jing yuan remained single
-as much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but get a crush on him, just like every other girl in the year
-your heart beats out of your chest when you walk past him in the corridor and he gives you a smile and nod
-your knees feel weak when you see him in the library studying, his handsome face scrunched in concentration
-and though you may only be observing from afar, you're completely content with that
𓆩♡𓆪 LUOCHA
-luocha is a friend of yours that you made pretty recently
-there's a quiet charm to him that leaves you feeling at ease, and you've found it incredibly comforting to be in his presence when revising for exams
-even though he's a man of few words, he's managed to keep you as grounded as you can be during the stress of your last days of school before it's over
-it all came to an emotional headway at prom night
-you had been drinking a little, and with the night coming to an end the realisation that you wouldn't be seeing most of the people here again had you feeling teary eyed
-luocha found you on the dancefloor, pulling you towards him without a word and letting you just cling onto his suit as you both swayed in time to the slower song
-you let the soothing scent of him wash over you as you started to wind down at the end of the night, and you felt one of his gentle hands resting on your back as you began to wind your arms around his neck too
-"it was nice to know you," you mumbled to him, voice muffled by the material of his suit
-you felt luocha's grip on you tighten almost imperceptibly, a sign that he had heard you regardless
-"you can still know me" he murmured, and in your hazy state of mind you relaxed into him even further
-"that would be nice"
-as prom came to an end and after you had gotten over the air of finality, the pain from wearing your heels all night was beginning to kick in
-your car was parked a while away and while you did want to just go home, the prospect of taking another step was making you wince
-luocha was quick to notice your hesitance, and before you even said anything he was crouching down in front of you, telling you to "get on" which you gratefully did
-his warm hands wrapped securely around your thighs, supporting your weight as you told luocha where to go
-he made it to your car effortlessly, letting you down carefully and even opening your own car door for you
-you giggled at him being a gentleman as you got behind the wheel, smiling up at him with a bittersweet pang in your heart
-"thanks for everything, luocha"
-the man hesitated for a second, before returning your smile
-"any time"
-he ducked down, leaning in closer to you, and you felt yourself inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around you, encasing you in a last embrace before you would part ways for the last time
-"keep in touch, okay?"
-"okay"
୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist
#🍙 ! food for thought#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#blade x reader#blade fluff#sampo x reader#sampo fluff#sampo koski x reader#sampo koski fluff#gepard x reader#gepard fluff#gepard landau x reader#gepard landau fluff#dan heng x reader#dan heng fluff#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan fluff#luocha x reader#luocha fluff#honkai star rail fluff#hsr fluff
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
🎈emoji so I’ll see it:
AITA FOR NOT HUGGING AN AUTISTIC KID? (Long read ahead)
ok so I’m a middle schooler (M), yes I’m 14 (old enough to be on the site) and today we were doing some end of year activities (eg. signing yearbooks, playing games, etc etc). And I was talking to a friend of mine we’ll call her V. Suddenly I was approached by a teacher who said that a kid (let’s say Jessica) wanted to talk to me. I was like “oh ok sure.” Jesica approached me and brought me a card. Now some background on Jessica:
So Jessica is autistic and in all different classes than me. I’ve interacted with her a few times, she seems to have some friends? I don’t really know. In the past I tried to be her friend not knowing she was autistic (this is the possibly asshole part) but her behavior was really strange as she would often say odd things that made me uncomfortable (not perverted or anything but just really awkward) and would really kinda creep me out so once my class with her was over I never spoke to her unless she initiated it which only happened once or twice. Another thing that really bothers me is that I co-lead our showchoir group with V and another student and it’s a difficult job that requires a lot of participation and effort from all the members. Yet Jessica hardly ever does anything, she just sits in a chair half the time while everyone else is working hard. I know that it’s a spectrum and not all autistic ppl are the same but there’s two other autistic dudes who both work super hard and help out a ton!
Anyway she insisted that it had to be a surprise and told me to close my eyes and put out my hands. I absolutely hate closing my eyes in public due to the worry that someone will touch me while my eyes are closed but I didn’t wanna upset her so I did it anyway. When I opened my eyes she’d placed a folded over piece of paper in my hands. She’d written a card in pink magic marker, it was almost illegible so all I could make out was “my full name and grade, the date, summer (have a good summer?), and school. She asked me to read it out loud so I mumbled a bunch of sounds together to make it seem like I was reading it even though I couldn’t tell what it said on account of the handwriting. She seemed satisfied so I thanked her telling her how much I appreciated and moved to leave when she said “and what do we say?” Confused I said “thank you”. I think that was the right answer? She then put out a hand toward me which is a pretty normal gesture in our school meaning you want the other person to dap you up. So I did, to which she seemed confused and tried to shake my hand. She then said “don’t I get a hug? You have to hug me right?” I HATE hugs. It brings back traumatic memories and I really really could not bring myself to hug her epesecially since I didn’t know her well. “I told her I’m sorry but I don’t do hugs. I just really don’t like them.” She looked disappointed at that and then said “that was really sweet of me right, writing you a letter?” I didn’t know how to reply to that so I said “yeah it’s great.” She replied saying I had to right her back and that I should “write it at home and give it to her the next day”. Knowing I’d forget, I just grabbed a piece of paper and wrote it to her right there. It was a simple paragraph on a different sheet of paper with the usual stuff, “have a good summer, you’re really cool, good luck in hs” the kind of stuff you write in someone’s yearbook. she seemed satisfied and she put her hand out again so I dapped her up again. She then shook my hand vigorously and walked away saying she’d see my tommorow.
I hated everything about this encounter but I still feel like I did a good job being nice and stuff even though I have a hard time being patient with people that pressure me to do things (eg. Writing her another letter, hugging, affirming her over and over, the handshake thing). Idk V said it was a strange situation and I handled it fine but again was not hugging her bad of me? Or like did I mess up in some other way? I have no beef with autistic people at all and I’m friends with a few of them but is it wrong of me to just not like her?
Also thanks for reading all that but if it was too long:
TLDR: autistic girl wanted me to hug her as thanks for her writing me a letter and I declined, aita?
105 notes
·
View notes
Note
I hate both classmates lol 😭
I personally LOVE rejection fics so now I think we all need a fic where reader dislikes both of them lol. She has a better temper with the second one(the more submissive one) but absolutely DESPISES the first classmate. He is so annoying bro 😭 if someone broke into my house and then drew photos of me submitting to them I would report that shit to the school and the police on god. Now the second classmate she just doesn’t like because of his appearance primarily. She isn’t a fan of his shaggy hair, or his piercing, or the way he dresses, he’s also too short for her. She’s cool with him though, even if she won’t go out of her way to talk to him.
tbh if the guys I wrote about were real I would hate them too! I think I have a couple of fics where yall are gonna absolutely HATE the yandere 🤷🏻♀️ and I have a fic where it’s yandere x yandere and dads best friend x yandere you.
Yandere Classmate
(the submissive one)
You just weren’t interested, period. He decided to confess his feelings for you on the last day of school, hoping that maybe you would like him back, and that you two could start dating. But he felt his heart drop when your expression was stoic. You started to say how you really only think of him as “that guy from math class” or “that guy that always sits near me at lunch”
His face slowly turned pink as he realized you weren’t returning his affections, and he nervously played with his backpack straps. Thankfully the hallways were empty and no one could see him slowly slide down the wall, and sit on the ground in sorrow. After all the years of pining after you… he still wouldn’t say that he wasted his time.
During the summer, he begrudgingly had to go to work. He previously got a job at your favorite ice cream shop, and now he had to actually work. Shit. He had his little ridiculous cone hat on, and a pink and brown stripped shirt with a little name tag in the corner. When he sees you walking around with your friends and you passed the parlor a couple of times, he had to duck down. He was suddenly embarrassed and self aware of what he had done. He confessed, you didn’t like him back and only saw him as a “friend”, and now he has to serve a bunch of whiny kids for the rest of the summer.
He was underneath the counter- just gripping onto his apron in hopes that you wouldn’t fancy an ice cream on a hot summer day.
Yandere Classmate
(the popular one that is the yearbook club leader)
He thought it would’ve been an obvious yes. His hands tightly gripped at the paper he was holding and he had to fake a smile. You outright rejected him in front of the whole school, and he was just trying to ask you to prom. His shoulders are tense as you walk off- not even sending a single glance back at him. His friends surround him and pat him on the back, saying that it was your loss anyways.
After school, your classmate avoided the hallway where you rejected him. Just the memories of that was enough to make him shrink back into his shell. He wanted to see you again, however, you really really did not like him. So what does he do? Get a job at your favorite ice cream place.
Your classmate rolled his eyes as his coworker hid underneath the counter whenever you walked past. He heard that fucker tried to confess his feelings to you too, so he’s a bit bitter having to work with him.
Your classmate perked up as you walked over to the parlor, an automatic smile on his face and he ignored how his coworker popped up from his spot too. Both men were now staring at you. One was a little shy and avoiding eye contact, the other was giving too much eye contact.
You both watch as the yanderes worked in a fervor trying to scoop up the ice cream you wanted. The men having to shove each other out of the way, and the popular one managed to be the winner of that front. However, the loner managed to wack his knee with the ice cream scooper.
In the end both men are panting and hold the ice cream in your face. They say that it’s free of charge, and you happily take the two ice creams.
#Allurilove asks#Allurilove yandere writing#rejecting BOTH of the yandere classmates!#they both fight for you#yandere classmates both meet each other#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x you
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
we’ll all be here forever
content warnings: references to underage drinking, general anxiety about going away to college
pairings: romantic logicality
word count: 1357
surprise, a lil logicality oneshot i wrote a few months ago but never posted. enjoy !!!
~
“I thought I might find you here.”
Patton glanced up from his spot on his attic bedroom floor. He was sitting cross-legged on his shag carpet he’s had since childhood, the dying light from outside pooling around him soft as honey, yearbook open in his lap. The circular window above his head was cracked open, letting the early summer air mingle with the muted sounds of the graduation party in the backyard.
Logan stood in the doorway, wearing a red Harvard t-shirt and looking unsure of himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you—“
“Not at all,” Patton replied, patting the spot beside him. “Come sit.”
After a moment, he did, stooping a bit to fit inside. Logan had had a major growth spurt back in the summer before junior year, and now could no longer stand at his full height in Patton’s bedroom without hitting his head on the slanted ceilings. He folded his limbs in carefully and sat next to him.
Once, Patton might have felt the need to grin at Logan, to wipe every trace of melancholy from his expression and eagerly fill the silence between them. But the silence was comfortable, and Patton was lately finding that around Logan, he had to pretend less and less. And so for a little while, the two flicked through the yearbook together, quietly laughing to themselves when a particularly bad picture of one of their friends came up, and recounting the memories of the past year. Of the past four.
“Aww,” Patton said suddenly, pointing to the two-page spread made for the annual school musical. “Roman was so good in that. He made me cry.”
Logan glanced at him, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. “It was Mamma Mia.”
Patton swatted him on the arm. “Mamma Mia has serious moments! I bet plenty of people teared up during ‘Slipping Through my Fingers’!”
Logan snorted, turning his attention back to the book. “Oh, there’s Janus at the mock trial.”
“He did so good!”
“He did. Though he is going to law school after college, so I doubt that his opponents were thrilled about facing off with him.”
Patton fell silent again, the statement settling over him like a weighted blanket. The pictures on the photo wall above his desk fluttered in the light breeze. He wanted to curl up beneath it and let this moment live forever.
“…Patton,” Logan asked carefully. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you down at the party?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Harvard-man,” Patton replied, but it didn’t come out as playful as he had hoped. The six of them—their tight-knit friend group since freshman year—had been planning the joint graduation party since they had gotten back from winter break. It had been decided that they would hold it at Patton’s house, because his house—which was actually a repurposed barn—had the biggest backyard. The others had come over at the crack of dawn to set up; now, fairy lights adorned the backyard, and streamers the colors of every college they had chosen cascaded around the perimeter.
It looked lovely, and yet as soon as the first guests had trickled in, Patton found that he just wanted to be alone.
Logan looked at him, a little furrow between his brows. Patton had often thought of that little furrow: if Logan knew it was there, what it would be like to press his thumb to it and smooth it out. He pushed those thoughts down, as he had gotten skilled at doing.
At last, he sighed. “I guess it’s just hitting me. That we’re all leaving.”
“…ah.”
“Yeah.”
Another bout of silence, punctuated by the faint sound of Remus beating Roman in a game of cornhole and crowing about his victory.
“You really don’t need to worry, Lo,” Patton said softly, offering him a wan smile. “I’ll be okay. Go down and enjoy the party.”
“You know that I have never been a party person.”
“You might be next year. I hear Harvard parties get crazy.”
“All the more reason for me not to go.”
“Yeah, well.” Patton sighed. “Who knows what next year will be like. Maybe we’ll all be different by then. We already are.”
A few weeks ago, they had rented a mountain house for a weekend, as per the “senior week” tradition. Roman had managed to smuggle a few boxes of hard seltzers and a bottle of vodka, and they had spent their Saturday night in various stages of drunkenness. It had all felt very grown up.
“Nothing has to change,” Logan started uncertainly.
“Logan,” he replied. “It already is.”
“That doesn’t mean that we won’t all still be close.”
“I know. But sometimes I wish that we could stop time, just for a little while.”
Another silence settled over them like a fresh layer of snow. Patton was thinking of what to say, of how to apologize for ruining the moment, when he felt Logan’s hand over his. He looked up in surprise—Logan was staring straight ahead, a muscle feathering in his jaw, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to speak.
Patton put his other hand on top of Logan’s and squeezed.
For a suspended moment, Patton’s world narrowed: the distant chatter outside, the early summer breeze, Logan’s hand between his, Logan’s breathing. He felt warm from the inside out, and all of his troubles suddenly seemed so very far away.
“Patton,” Logan began haltingly. “I—you know that I would never—that is, I could never—I could never let myself grow apart from you?”
Patton looked at him. Logan looked vaguely frustrated with himself, his cheeks daylily pink. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.
“I know,” Patton replied softly. “Me neither.”
Logan nodded faintly. “Good,” he said, almost to himself.
For a moment, Patton thought that that was it, and the comfortable silence would return. He turned his gaze back toward the window.
“Patton,” Logan said again, his voice taking on a strange timbre.
Patton looked at him again, and their eyes met. He felt a zing of something go down his spine, thrilling and terrifying. He suddenly had the distinct feeling of standing on the precipice of some great unknown, teetering precariously on the edge.
Logan, for the first time Patton could ever remember, was completely lost for words. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a short, nervous breath escaping him.
And then Patton leaned forward and kissed him.
Logan’s lips were slightly chapped, and he tasted a hint of vanilla frosting from the massive sheet cake downstairs; it was brief yet lingering, and when Patton drew back, Logan’s eyes looked starry behind his glasses.
And before Patton could even open his mouth to speak, Logan took his face in his hands and kissed him again, sweet and awkward and achingly tender. Their glasses clinked together. Patton could feel Logan’s nervous heartbeat through his chest, thumping in tandem with his own.
It felt like a puzzle piece had slid into place.
When Logan pulled away, there was a brief, suspended moment of pure wonder as they stared at each other. And then Patton started giggling. He felt giddy, like he was a can of soda that had been shaken and was now bubbling up everywhere. He was sparkling, fizzy.
Logan cracked a grin, shy and bashful but dazzling, and Patton’s heart felt so full.
“So,” he said, giggling.
“So.” Logan replied.
“Did I ever tell you you look cute in red?” Patton grinned, nodding at Logan’s Harvard shirt. Logan’s flush deepened.
“I don’t believe so.”
“I guess I better tell you more often, then.”
“I suppose you should.”
Later, Roman would burst into the room, reprimands about ditching the party dying on his tongue when he sees their joined hands. Later, they would have to endure endless teasing and scrutiny from their friends, various ‘I called it’-s and ‘I told you so’-s. Later, they would officially call themselves boyfriends, the word thrilling and new.
But for now, on the floor of his attic bedroom, Logan’s hand in his, Patton felt time stretch before him, golden and bright, and he found that he wasn’t scared at all.
#sanders sides#patton sanders#logan sanders#logicality#romantic logicality#logan x patton#ts sides#thomas sanders#sasi fic#ts fic#my writing
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
prompt list 2023 1 w stiles!!!
‘’I don’t care we broke up, I still love you.’’
I miss Stiles so much 😢 I’m so sad he won’t be in the Teen Wolf movie. I probably won’t be watching it - unfortunately - because I don’t have Paramount+ and won’t be paying for a streaming platform I can only watch on a small screen with shitty earphones
my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time
—
It’s been two years since your and Stiles’ breakup, but he still looked at you the same way every morning since you were eight years old. You were too busy faking laughs at Mr. Popular’s bad jokes to notice though. He was nowhere near as funny as Stiles, but you were scared he would dump you if you didn’t laugh. A woman had two things to stroke to keep a man in her life, their dick and their even bigger ego. That included laughing at their terrible jokes.
Very soon, you won’t have to fake a laugh at Mr. Popular’s bad jokes — or to stroke anything of his. Very soon, you’ll be graduating and leaving Beacon Hills for the opposing coast.
At the beginning of graduation week, the yearbooks got distributed to the seniors. Everyone spent the day writing sweet messages to their friends and fellow classmates, knowing that soon they will part ways and — for some — never see each other again.
After the last bell, you were about to get to your car and go home when you spotted a familiar face at the end of the hallway. Stiles Stilinski.
Although you didn’t remain friends after breaking up, Stiles was part of your high school life. He was your first date and you were his first kiss. You even went to homecoming together in sophomore year…with his dad as the driver. Not getting his signature in your yearbook, the physical closing chapter of high school, would feel like erasing him from your past and you didn’t want that. You wanted to remember him.
‘’Can you sign my yearbook?’’
Stiles closed his locker, looking at you with a dumbfounded look, very surprised to see you standing there holding your yearbook and a pen. ‘’Yes!’’ he replied a little aggressively. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, realizing how he had sounded. ‘’I mean…of course.’’
A soft laugh left your lips. ‘’I didn't want to leave without your signature. It wouldn't have felt right,’’ you said as Stiles opened your yearbook to find a blank space to write his message. His expression was a mix of nostalgia and a hint of sadness as he wrote a few words. You could tell he was reminiscing about the past, just like you were.
You couldn't help but steal glances at him. Time had changed both of you, but the familiar features were still there — the way he furrowed his brow when concentrating, the constellation of light freckles on his face and his perfectly-crafted nose he loved to push in your neck when cuddling. It was bittersweet, knowing that you were about to go your separate ways.
Stiles finished writing and handed the yearbook back to you. ‘’Here.’’ You eagerly opened it to see what he had written, but he stopped you. ‘’No. Read it later.’’
You looked at Stiles curiously, his request piquing your interest. ‘’Okay. Eh, thanks for signing my yearbook.’’ You smiled and Stiles walked away, probably to join Scott.
Freshly showered, you sat on your bed and opened your yearbook to flick through and read the messages from your fellow graduates. You smiled through your friends’ paragraph-long messages, then fell on Stiles’s.
You’ll probably forget about me, but I’ll never forget about you. You're etched in me. We have shared so many firsts together, so many laughs too. I wish you nothing but the best in the future, following those big dreams we used to talk about.
love, Stiles
Yes, love, because I don’t care we broke up, I still love you. I always will.
You read his message again, making sure you read correctly, and called him.
—
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully
#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles stilinski imagine#stiles stilinksi imagine#stiles stilinski x y/n#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf stiles#teen wolf
254 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm gracing you inbox again, Pet, because I saw colours and of course thought of you...
Ploy's Yearbook finished this week and whilst I don't think it was necessarily colour-coded (there are a lot of characters and I didn't put much effort into tracking visual patterns) I wanted to share this moment of deliciousness at the end:
Do you see it? I'm sure you see it... (the blinding light of yellow love and the deep purple and the piiiiiiink 😍).
Anyway, the series was a generally okay het offering which mostly showed that the women at GMMTV need more opportunities to shine. But what it did do very well was the period representation (like, actual talk of bleeding), Joong looking like a whole-ass meal in the last scene (seriously, I think you'll want to go see that, it's a bit too blurry to screenshot), and the woman popping the question for once! (oops 🤭 spoilers, I guess).
#I wish there was a way of adding tags to an ask #so that I could leave a sort of post script ramble #maybe this will have to do #there isn't really any point to this ask #just that I wanted to say hi and that I thought of you #💛💙
*warning* This is going to turn into a
Cupid's Last Wish Appreciation Post
"Do you see it? I'm sure you see it…"
I thought twice about using the above image because it comes across a bit hostile, but any chance I get to insert a Big Dragon moment into the conversation, I'm taking it! Also . . .
Hopefully, we ALLLLLL see that pink = 💕love💕even when it's for the het couple (when the only het couple I've ever cheered for was this one, which oddly enough, also included Namtan).
So maybe I'm just really rooting for Namtan and the other ladies because I'm already seated for her and Film to hit me with that Blinding Light of Love in Pluto.
You already know that I agree with you that GMMTV underutilizes its women, but since I gave Namtan some love, let me turn to Earth while I give some love to Cupid's Last Wish for having good period-rep as Korn clutched every kind of tampon and pad
For his body-swapping not-yet-boyfriend!
And not only did the man buy all the pads and tampons, he bought pain relievers and chocolate based on the staff's recommendations. THEN, he gave his guy a warm water bottle to help with his cramps and held him all night!
And that as AFTER he hugged his man when he was having a breakdown about his body betraying him.
Not only did Korn exhibit the highest level of emotional intelligence every second of that show, in this specific moment, he stopped the vehicle, asked Win what was wrong, and actually took in what Win was saying without dismissing it. Then, he got out of the car, went around to hug Win properly, apologized, and waited until Win hugged him back.
I have my grudges against this show (THAT DAMN MOTHER!!!!!), but Korn was the greenest of all green flags and the way he handled his future boyfriend's period should be held up as the standard.
But one of the writers of the show was Pong who also wrote the screenplay for Cooking Crush and Only Boo! which are two shows I think epitomize care and comfort between partners.
So now that I've gone on a tangent about partners actively taking care of each other, I hope you are enjoying seeing your flowers growing and not stressing too much over things beyond your control. I also want to let you know that I thought of you when I realized Domundi played me and instead of giving me a Pink Person in Your Sky, gave me a Yellow Yal, so I'm getting another Blue x Yellow pair.
But for some *reason*, I'm less petty about it.
I hope you find comfort in that. 💙💛
#I see you played fair this time around#and didn't bring out any last minute shenanigans#so it's good that you can't have tags in an ask!#but now I'm going to rewatch the fourth and fifth episode of Cupid's Last Wish#and that's your fault too daddy
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨ writing interview tag game!!! ✨
Gonna go ahead and thank @busy-baker and @khywren for tagging me :) I'm very late to filling this out, but I wanted to really dedicate some attention to it!
I'm a yapper, I apologize in advance.
When did you start writing?
I started writing when I was in elementary school, I think. I know my fourth grade yearbook said I wanted to be an author when I grew up, and that's only KIND OF changed, I still want to write for a living, but for TV instead of novels (though I'm not opposed to that, should I ever have the right idea for one). I remember going to my friend's house after school all that time and using her mom's laptop to open a blank Word doc and just start writing. We wrote tons of stuff that we never finished, but I'd give ANYTHING to read some of it again, if only for a laugh. The only story I remember was about four teens being stranded on an island - we called it "Castaway." No clue what became of that, but our main characters were always based on ourselves 😂 I didn't start writing fanfiction until 2022 and only started posting this past June!
Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?
Hmm, that's a good question. I typically stick with what I like - romance, fantasy, silly - but it's fun to throw nonfiction in there every once in a while. Not sure how well I'd do at writing non-fiction without embellishing or getting narrative (even though I like reading those kinds of books as well). But yeah, usually I like to stick with what I know and enjoy most! It's also the best way to learn and improve; by reading a ton within the genre you love to write.
Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?
I don't......think so? I've always been told by English teachers and professors that I have a very strong voice in my writing, which I always interpreted as being unique. As corny as it sounds, I'm not trying to sound like anyone but myself. At the end of the day, I'm writing for my own enjoyment and am happy you guys found me along the way!
Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?
I don't have a dedicated writing space, but I often find myself writing either on my couch or in bed. Weirdly (or not that weirdly, considering most of us have day jobs) I write the best at night and I have to be alone so that I'm not distracted. Usually I'll find a song and play that on repeat while I'm writing (For Cheeks All Flushed, it was Resolve (Dark) from Fire Emblem Fates, and for Awfully Fond of You it was Climactic Return from Danganronpa 2). The music typically has nothing to do with the vibe of what I'm writing, I just need some sort of constant noise that won't distract me, hence why it's usually video game music with no words.
What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?
That's tough. The first idea I published on tumblr was the result of me making myself laugh when I was trying to fall asleep (If EYE were being propositioned by Astarion, my ass would probably be like "wait, what? Me? ME?! Why?"), but the others I've posted have come from just seeing where my brain takes me as I'm writing, known as the "flying by the seat of your pants" method. I have a pretty good sense of these characters by now so I think I know what they'd be up to at this point. Outside of fanfiction, it's really tough - I'll start with a small idea and then keep sitting on it until it's something I think I can write down. I'm definitely more of a planner when it comes to stuff outside of fics 😅 I guess my short answer is: No idea. It just happens. Someone please help me.
are there any recurring themes in your writing? do they surprise you?
OHHH this is gonna say a lot about me, but something I've noticed in my original scripts and even my first fic is that most of the time, my main character is deeply lonely (I'M FINE GUYS, I'm surrounded by friends and loved ones but I have Some Trauma there). It doesn't really surprise me, considering I know WHY I've felt those things, but it's still like.......yikes. Lol. Also humor. Gotta laugh it off, right? RIGHT?
what is your reason for writing?
To be honest, it's a good outlet for me. I went to school for screenwriting and my goal has always been to make people laugh and bring them joy - It's always been that way. I think if I weren't able to get my thoughts and feelings out on paper every once in a while, I might explode. It's also just fun and I like doing it! Piggybacking off of what Khy said in their post, BG3 has been a HUGE outlet for me creatively. The game is full and beautiful and complex, but there are still gaps that I want to fill in and roads I want to explore. What would happen if the player were given THIS option? How would this character react to THIS situation? It's been a blast and I've never felt this way in a fandom before. It's awesome!
Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?
ANY comment makes my day. The fact that you took the time to read and put thoughts together to let me know how you felt about it is HUGE! It's such a good confidence boost (I second guess myself A LOT) and it always lifts my mood no matter where I am. I always love when people agree with my interpretation of Astarion's idiot tendencies 😂
how do you want to be thought about by your readers?
Hopefully as someone approachable. I'm a big dumb dummy and I love to chat/fan girl. If I can be someone to brighten their day with something silly that I wrote, that's all I need :)
what do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?
Definitely my banter. I've always been a fan of quick snappy quips and have experience in sketch writing/performing improv, so it comes very easily for me when I need it to. I make myself laugh with it, so it's always really nice to hear that others like it too.
how do you feel about your own writing?
I really started writing as a way of entertaining myself, so the fact that it's able to entertain others is GREAT, but I am very self conscious about it at the same time. I know my interpretation of Astarion is goofier than most, I know I rely heavily on dialogue rather than scene descriptions and inner monologues, and I get very in my head about those things. My stuff has found its proper audience and I'm very grateful for that, but there's always the nagging thought of "this could be better," or "they wouldn't say this," etc etc. That's something I'll likely always struggle with. BUT! I always have fun when I'm writing and hopefully that comes through. I've become less of a perfectionist after posting my first fic, that's for sure.
when you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?
Aside from requests, where I'm trying very hard to make sure I get whatever it is right for the person who requested it, I'm usually writing for myself. I'm definitely writing what I think will be enjoyable, but it's usually what I personally would like to read. That's what I've been taught! Write what you know and write what you want to read! I'm so unbelievably grateful that you guys find it entertaining as well. My fave thing to do is slip inside jokes in for myself/my beta (calling Astarion "ass," turning to someone and saying "did you know those people?" after talking to a group of people you know very well, etc etc).
No pressure tagging: @maladaptive-menace, and @arzen9 (I know you're not a fic writer, but still!) - I think everyone else I know has been tagged 😅
#AHHHH#this took me so long#(affectionate)#i love stuff like this#:)#tag game#emma blabs#about me#writing#memes#writing memes#astarion#love him#baldur's gate 3#great game
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gayness. Tw maybe???
you know your family is fucked when your 70 year old grandparents are more accepting than the dumbass homophobes who literally popped you out Arthur Morgan style. Like, ok, this might be long but bear with me. When my mom caught on that I *might* be a queer, she said that she was bisexual and that my dad 'is probably bisexual too" (like uhm?) And I was all "okay cool I can date girls and boys!". WHEN I CAME OUT AS TRANS she totally flipped on me. Said it was 'just a phase' and that I was 'niave and oblivious' basically called me stupid. When I came out to my doctor, she was totally chill and I was ecstatic. My mom said on the car ride home that she "just thought I was lesbian". WOW. MY THERAPIST HAD TO EXPLAIN THAT I CAN BE TRANS AND LESBIAN. WTF WOMAN??? my dad though....omg. he literally dragged me into his truck and gave me a talk about how I was confused and asked me what made me want to be a boy. HE MADE ME RESEARCH AND RIGHT A WHOLE FUCKING ESSAY. I TOLD MY THERAPIST AND SHE TOLD ME HOW HARMFUL THAT WAS. I CRIES FOR HOURS AND HE WAS STILL POUNDING ME ABT IT. I don't talk about it anymore. I look like a boy, yeah. They know I go by a different name. They just avoid it all together.
NOW. MY GRANDPARENTS!!! OMG I LOVE THEM TO DEATH. My grandma was going through my school yearbook and say that I was using a different name on my yearbook (I wrote it in there and she knows that my friends don't call me my birth name) and her first reaction was "Hey I know that kid!". She also asked me if i still use that name and I said yes. She'll also drop hints about me looking handsome and once called me a prince. She isn't as adapted to all the genders and pronouns and sexualities but she enjoys learning. Like genuinely enjoys when I explain. She uses all of my friends preferred names and pronouns. My mother does not. My mom is more used to the gay stuff. My grandma is learning. My grandpa doesn't rlly care lol.
Does anyone understand how fucked up that it? My mom's family is more supportive than my mom.
#vent?? i guess#Gay#Trans#Tw#i love my grandma#My mom sucks#Not proof read#May be grammatical errors
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
This wwdits s5 finale has really been affecting me, and I wrote this Nandermo fic in a fever dream at 3 am. Lmao can you tell I’ve been really craving some emotional fucking vulnerability and intimacy lately?
Scared to Lose You
Guillermo quietly sobs and sniffles on the sofa in the living room. Nandor approaches the living room.
Nandor: Guillerm-oooo what is the meaning of this noise?? It is the middle of the day and I am trying to get some sleep.
Guillermo: Oh, I’m sorry.
Guillermo quickly looks away and wipes tears from his face, hoping Nandor won’t notice he has been crying. He is surprised Nandor is still awake. All the others have long been asleep.
Guillermo: I will try to keep it down. I did not mean to wake you.
Nandor sits down next to Guillermo on the sofa, unwilling to admit he has just been lying awake, unable to fall asleep.
Nandor: What is the matter now, Guillermo? Did I not fix?
Nandor pauses and sighs.
Nandor: Are you upset about Derek now? Fucking guy…because it was the only way…
Guillermo: —No no, it’s not that. We took him to the necromancer. Derek’s gonna be fine.
Guillermo sniffles again, and Nandor wipes a tear from Guillermo’s face with his sleeve.
Nandor: Then what is it, Guillermo?
Guillermo: I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve wanted to be a vampire with you for so long, and I, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.
Guillermo starts crying again softly. Nandor leans over and takes Guillermo in his arms, just holding him silently for a little while as Guillermo cries. Then as Guillermo starts to let go, he gently lowers Guillermo’s head to rest on his lap.
Nandor: I do not know what we are going to do now, Guillermo, but we are going figure it out together.
Nandor comfortingly runs his hand through Guillermo’s hair for a while in silence.
Guillermo: I just don’t know what to do now. I know I messed up everything. I don’t even have my footlocker to sleep in now. And I don’t want to be alone.
Nandor: Shhh Guillermo you can come sleep in my room for now. Let us get some sleep.
—Nandor’s room, pitch black—
Guillermo: Thanks for letting me sleep in here with you. The floor wasn’t really what I had in mind… but thank you, this is very generous of you.
Nandor: Guillermo, I must tell you something before I can fall asleep.
Guillermo: Anything. You can tell me anything.
Nandor: I must confess that I…
Nandor hesitates and stops mid-sentence.
Guillermo: It’s okay. You can tell me.
Nandor: I… I saw your school year book photos at your mother’s apartment, and they were hilarious hahaha how did you get your hair like that??
Guillermo: You wanted to tell me that my yearbook photos were funny?
Nandor: Yes.
Guillermo: Okay well, sleep well.
Nandor: Wait Guillermo, I wanted to say that I… am afraid to lose you like all the other humans I have known.
Guillermo gets up from his place on the floor and starts to walk over to Nandor’s coffin.
Guillermo: I know.
Guillermo approaches Nandor and reaches over to hold Nandor’s hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room without his glasses on.
Guillermo: I want to spend eternity with you too… I love you.
Nandor holds Guillermo’s hand tightly.
Nandor: Guillermo, will you lie in here with me, just until I fall asleep?
Guillermo: Yes, of course I will.
Guillermo climbs over Nandor and into the back of the coffin with him. Guillermo wraps his arm around Nandor’s side, holding him from behind.
Nandor takes Guillermo’s hand in his and slides it up to his chest where Nandor’s heart once used to beat inside him. Nandor holds Guillermo’s hand there on his chest with his fingers interlocked between Guillermo’s. Nandor knows if his heart could beat once more, it would leap right out of his chest, instantly betraying him and any composure he might have left.
After a minute, Nandor gently lifts Guillermo’s hand to his lips and gingerly begins kissing each finger he holds in his hand. Guillermo’s breathing shallows and he softly moans in bliss with each kiss. When he has kissed all five fingers on Guillermo’s hand, Nandor rolls over to face Guillermo in the coffin. Nandor pushes Guillermo’s hair back and smiles at him, gazing into Guillermo’s eyes.
Guillermo whispers: What else can you kiss?
Nandor whispers in return: Your cheek?
Guillermo feels his face and cheeks getting hot.
Guillermo: Yes
Nandor closes his eyes, leans in, and kisses Guillermo on the cheek.
Nandor: Your forehead?
Guillermo: Mmhm
Nandor once again closes his eyes, leans in, and then kisses Guillermo’s forehead.
Nandor: Your… neck?
Guillermo: Yes. Please.
Nandor leans over almost as if to feed, but then takes a breath, and carefully kisses Guillermo’s neck. Nandor looks into Guillermo’s eyes longingly and thumbs over Guillermo’s lips. Guillermo smiles, nods, and closes his eyes as Nandor leans in to kiss his lips. They kiss passionately over and over, neither wanting to pull away from the other’s lips.
The coffin is tight with the two of them in there, but Nandor tries to lift Guillermo’s sweater up using his fangs. Guillermo sits up and tosses his sweater to the ground. He unbuttons Nandor’s shirt and throws it out of the coffin too.
They lie down and begin kissing again, chest to chest, skin to skin. The hair on Nandor’s chest feels soft against Guillermo’s chest. Guillermo kisses on Nandor’s neck as Nandor moans in his ear. Guillermo gets a little rough and leaves a mark.
Guillermo playfully whispers: Oops, looks like you got a hickey.
Nandor, surprised and speechless, looks excited to be marked by Guillermo.
Guillermo responds softly: Oh right. It’s healing already.
Guillermo continues kissing his way down Nandor’s neck and chest to his nipples. Nandor’s nipples are hard, and Guillermo takes one in his mouth as he plays with the other in his fingers.
Nandor whispers: fuuuuck Guillermooo
Guillermo kisses Nandor’s lips again and then slowly glides his hand down Nandor’s pants. Guillermo takes Nandor’s hard dick in his hand as Nandor begins to moan. Guillermo slides Nandor’s pants down. Guillermo traces his finger from the base to the very tip of Nandor’s erect cock. Guillermo teases the head, and then strokes his shaft with increasing vigor.
Guillermo whispers: Kiss me. I want to feel you moaning in my mouth while I make you cum.
Nandor grabs Guillermo and kisses him breathlessly. Nandor moans as he verges on climax and Guillermo whispers: Cum for me, Nandor. Nandor finishes in Guillermo’s hand.
TBC…possibly
#WWDITS#Nandermo#wwdits s5#nandermo fic#nandor the relentless#nandor x guillermo#guillermo de la cruz#exit interview#what we do in the shadows
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP Snippet Game
I was tagged by @echo-bleu a while ago... and today I finally wrote something I'm pleased with. ;)
The Specters, fragment of Scene #16
“Which yearbooks do you want to see?” she asked in a tone that suggested the less the better.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Emma tried to act nonchalant, but she was terrible at this. “How about from the year five-hundred-thirty-five until five-hundred-forty? Forty-one maybe?”
Head Librarian Jalmari gave her a long look. “Six or, maybe, seven years?” she spelled it out in a way that could be interpreted as disbelieving, or mocking. Either way worked. “Wouldn’t two be enough? Thirty-seven and thirty-eight? Also known as the Apocalypse years?”
Emma gaped at the woman unsure how to respond. She scratched behind her ear and looked for help with Anaher, like she suddenly wasn’t sure.
She didn’t want to find Neve’s mother. In this moment it became painfully clear that Emma Lee used Neve as an excuse to get to those yearbooks, without revealing exactly what she wanted to look at. The years of the Apocalypse, of course. Or the Undine Crisis, as it was called outside of Undine.
“Actually.” Neve spoke, against her better judgment trying to salvage Emma’s ruse. “Thirty-six, seven and eight might be enough. Now that you mentioned it, that would explain a lot. My mother must have died during the Apocalypse, that makes so much sense. And my records--” she spread her hands, “this is why they were lost. But yes, I was born either during the Apocalypse or shortly before it, so, if we could look at thirty-six too, that would be wonderful. Do you think you can help me?”
Madam Jalmari stared at Neve like she got struck by a lightning for a few seconds of awkward silence. Neve could swear she saw in the woman’s eyes fear and disgust. The unpleasant sensation rose in her insides like a bile and with it the desire to run. She was this close to backing away and bolting out of this room, if the librarian kept staring like this, but Madam Jalmari shook herself out of her daze.
“I will be right back,” she announced and left.
The others didn’t seem to notice Jalmari’s look. Anaher moved his hands, but Neve only understood one word, “want”. Emma replied in sign as well, “tell, see”. Neve pushed her discomfort out of her thoughts and elbowed Nersan. She was trying to learn the hand speak, but it was slow-going. When Anaher signed to her, he would slow down, made his gestures easier to distinguish from one-another. With Emma or Nersan it was a flow. A dance almost. She needed Nersan to interpret for her.
“Noel asked what Emma is hoping to find, and she said she’d tell him when she finds it,” he explained in a low voice. “They’re bickering, you know.” Both Anaher and Emma gave Nersan disapproving stares, exactly the same, like they had one mind.
Thank you for reading. :)
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crushes I have had
I guess I can write about all my crushes prior to August 2016.
1996: 1st Crush I was in Kindergarten and it was Rene, they were someone in my class and we hung out a lot
2000-2001 2nd Crush I was in 4th Grade and she was named Elizabeth and we were really good friends and I used to hang out with her a lot.
2004-2005 3rd Crush I was in 8th Grade and my crush was Ashlee Simpson (The first celeb crush) Used to watch The Ashlee Simpson Show a lot and heard LALA a lot. I used to force myself to sleep a lot during those days and I constantly dreamed about her.
2005-2006 4th Crush I was in 9th Grade and my crush was named Ryan and I used to hang out with her a lot at lunch and I eventually told her the following school year after she already had a boyfriend and she told me that she would have dated me if I told her earlier.
2008 5th Crush I was in 11th Grade and my crush was Avril Lavigne and she was in my yearbook, like I kept seeing her picture in the musical influence page of the yearbook and the more I saw that image the more I started to crush. I had a friend who called me out on it, I denied it, but I did crush on Avril.
Really late 2008 6th Crush I was in 12th grade and my crush was Miley Cyrus and I kept watching Hannah Montana for some reason and started to dream of her constantly and it was weird.
Sometime during 2009 7th Crush I had a crush on a girl named Lisa that I used to have a biology class with and I made these Youtube videos of me singing songs about her, I feel like I went overboard with that crush. I did eventually tell her I had a crush on her, but she said that she thinks it would be best to remain as friends and so we did.
Sometime before Summer of 2009 I had my 8th Crush I had was of Hayley Williams of Paramore, like this crush didn't last that long, but it was nice. I liked her a lot and Paramore was really awesome tbh.
Summer 2009 9th Crush I was taking my 1st college class at a community college and I became friends with this girl in my math class and we talked a lot before class about our interests and what we wanted to do in the future. She talked a lot about Ghost Whisperer and that was a pretty good show tbh. I donated blood for extra credit for a different class and showed her where the mark was and she kept telling me not to show her it and she kept rubbing it to make it feel better (It didn't hurt) I found that really sweet of her. The day of my math final I wanted to tell her my feelings after taking the exam, but she was already gone by the time I finished. The last time I ever saw her was during the following Fall semester, but I was too busy talking to an old high school friend and didn't get to talk to her long.
Early 2010 10th Crush I wrote a story that had people I knew in college and eventually I kept dreaming of her, she was a friend of mine. That relationship didn't work out and to be honest it was for the best.
January 2011 11th Crush I had was of a Youtuber that used to watch a lot on Blogtv when she did livestreams. I dreamed a bunch about her and it was mostly a celeb crush, but whatever
November 2011 12th Crush I had was a college friend of mine that I honestly didn't even know I had a crush on her, like I had a friend that used to talk bad about her artwork and I constantly defended her, that friend eventually asked if the reason I was defending her so much was due to having a crush on her. I honestly didn't think of liking her in that way, I just didn't want him to talk bad about her art (Her art was awesome and is still awesome now) I confirmed to myself I had a crush on her due to worrying a lot about her when we lost power due to a lot of wind (We lost power for a few days) I was hoping she was alright, then I had a dream about her on the 20th of November.
Sometime after 2011 and before 2016 13th and 14th Crushes started to develop on both Rooney Mary and Mary Elizabeth Winstead around the same time, I found it really strange to crush on 2 people at the same time, but this was the first time I crushed on multiple people at once and I think this is the start of me learning I was poly. Both crushes never really ended and sometimes I start getting feelings emerge again even today. Celeb crushes don't fully count as crushes, because they are both people I would never be in a relationship with and Mary is married. Rooney is dating someone at the moment and I would never want to come between someone and a relationship.
Really Early Summer of 2016 15th Crush, I started to have a crush on a speedrunner that I found really beautiful that streamed on Twitch at the time. The more I watched her the more I learned more about myself and that crush didn't last more than I guess a few weeks or so idk.
Shortly after the 16th Crush I developed a 15th Crush on someone that came from within me, this one is someone I doubt anyone will actually understand at all. She appeared in my dreams and after I started watching a speedrunner I started dreaming about a girl that went by Raven and she talked to me a lot and went to a lot of events with me in the dreams. Raven used to be really closed off, but only talked to me. I kept dreaming of Raven and she helped me realize my gender identity, so they are a huge part of my growth. Raven eventually started going by her real name which is Erika. I took the name Raven for my name to honor her. Erika is a personality of mine and I do talk to her from time to time and she is now really open and radiates happiness, I thought about Erika when I was in a really dark place where I self harmed and she brought me out of my depression that happened in like 2017. I still do talk to Erika from time to time and she tries her best to keep me happy internally. I love Erika and always will, she is one of my alters after all, she tends to like all my friends and sometimes you can even pick out which of my Tweets are her.
I am not writing about any crushes that I had after 2016, because that is way too recent and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birthday photos! Mirose x Jamil 💗
Pov: I wrote this in one go, it's not beta read and I fell asleep mid-way through.
The halls stood still, as the sounds of soft heels echoed through and the sunshine swam past the windows in a yellow glow. It was still early September so the morning sun still gave off summer warmth as the young man continued on to his destination, the yearbook and newspaper club. It was funny how the two got lumped together seeming like too much for just four people but they somehow did it. Jamil stops at the door and knocks hearing a “Coming!” from inside. The door swings open to a blonde boy whose tan skin seems to glow sweetly like honey.
“Hey Jamil! Sorry, I had you come out so early.” Jamil nodded softly to say not to worry about it and walked inside. The camera was set up in front of a teal background with shiny stars that hung down. A flower bouquet sat on a broom in the corner waiting for the photo. Jamil himself was dressed in a dark blue robe decorated with gold accents in such intricate stars and designs to match the theme this year. The cape, belt, and ribbons added even more to stare at his own eyes had traced the details at least a few times. “Happy Birthday my love!” Mirose threw their arms around Jamil’s neck planting a soft kiss on his face. “Thank you” he responded by giving a tight hug in return. “Time for the photo” a voice rings out, “Coming, Glenn!”
Jamil stood in front of the background as Mirose gently posed Jamil’s clothes to get him just right. “Okay, Glenn ready when you are” The man behind the camera counted down, and with one quick flash, it was done. A small chuckle left Glenn, causing Jamil to feel slight embarrassment and wonder who he was laughing at. “Oops- one more time that's my fault.” Jamil turned to Mirose who wiped his cheek with a wet towel “My lipgloss rubbed off on you.” Their soft laugh helped to ease his previous anxiety of being made fun of. Once more a countdown started and this time the photo went well.
Jamil sets down his broom for a bit as he looks over his photo. It has already been edited into the template with a golden ribbon, sun, moon, and what appeared to be waves. His name seemed engraved on the gold and he once more took to looking over all the details of the photo. “You're so handsome, Jamil” feeling arms wrap around his waist as his face heats up. “Well we need to finish up some stuff but I’ll see you later at your party,” “Yes, I can’t wait to see you there.” Jamil leans in for a kiss before saying goodbye once more and heading off to finish the rest of the birthday plans.
“Glenn?” “Yes?” “Don't delete that photo of Jamil with my lipgloss. I want it.” “Yes of course.”
Enjoy my late-night story cause I was suffering from Jami brain rot. Plus shitty sketch of Jamil’s first photo
#jamil viper#twisted wonderland#twisted oc#twisted wonderland oc#twst oc#twst fanart#twst fanfic#twst jamil#twst oc x canon#disney twisted wonderland
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
☀️January TC Challenge (Day 1-31)☀️
1. Do you think your TC will teach you next year?
M is teaching me this year and i'm so exited for it! I also still have A this year!
2. If you had to move to another city, how would you tell your TC? Would you confess to them?
Maybe in person so i could see how they reacted and i would maybe confess them!
3. Have you ever written a letter to your TC? If no, would you ever do that and what would be in it? If yes, what did you write?
Yes. I made one for S mid 2022. I wrote how I was so thankful for him.
4. Are you attracted to your TC in a more emotional or sexual way? Or both?
Both if i'm being completely honest
5. How did you meet your TC? Do you remember your first conversation?
B and S both taught me when they first joined, and I sadly don’t remember our first conversation since we had so many and it was so long ago.
I think with A, it was just mainly about getting to know each other, and i got to know him because my old maths teacher used to teach him. I met A around the same time as S!
I met M at the start of last year since he was my teacher for a small bit of a subject i took! Our first conversation was him praising me and my answers
6. If it were to happen, how do you imagine the perfect kiss going down with your TC? If by chance you have kissed your TC, how did it happen?
For S and M, I imagine it being the last day of school and they give me a goodbye kiss! With B, maybe a reunion kiss or something like that. With A, maybe a quick goodbye kiss!
7. Have you ever had an argument with your TC?
No. I would have nothing to argue about with them
8. Do you see your TC outside of school?
I wish I did. Hopefully i get to see B maybe, especially because he left
9. Do you have a memory you are particularly fond of with your TC? Any cute stories?
When B was still at my school, B and I would have chats about random things and ask about my hobby of drawing! He also used to check up on me during school assemblies!
Once when i was staying back after school, i was on a call with my dad, and i saw S walking towards me. I finished up the call with my dad so fast (my dad and i were done anyway) and talked with S until he got to his car. I helped him remove some things off his car before saying goodbye!
This happened recently before it was the school holidays, but when i was in M's class, i was working on my own since i didn't really know anybody in that class. M saw this and decided to work with me! He was really sweet throughout it and technically gave me all the answers
With A, we were working on something that my teacher gave me, and it had a question about a sports team that he followed. The question involved his team losing, so A decided to cross out his team's name and put a different team's name instead. A and i were laughing about it for a while.
10. If your TC is still married, would you (still) want a relationship with them?
it all depends, really in my opinion
11. Do you have a photo with your TC? If yes, how did you get it?
Yes. I have one with B. I got it because the photo is in the school yearbook.
12. Do you think anyone you haven't told about your TC knows you're crushing on them?
Most likely. It is obvious
13. When is your last class with your TC? Will you see them over summer break?
My last class with S was in 2021 and with B, it was term 3 last year. I won’t see them over the holidays sadly. with M, it was at the end of last year. I will defiantly see A over the holidays!
14. Have you ever mentioned the tcc/teacher crushes to your TC?
NO WAY. I would move schools after that. Even to the other side of the world!
15. Do you think one of your classmates has a crush on your TC?
I don’t know tbh
16. Do you get jealous when you see your TC with other students?
Not really
17. If you and your TC had a long distance relationship, do you think it would work out?
Yes...
18. What's your TC's degree? Do you like what they studied?
S: Science and a language
B: English
M: Science
i like those subjects
19. Have you ever cried about your TC? If so, why?
No
20. Have you ever cried in front of your TC? If yes, why?
I have cried in front of B once, I have forgotten the reason why. S saw me just after I finished crying and it was embarrassing.
21. Do you know about your TC'S family? If yes, what do you know?
I know of M’s daughter. (He introduced me to her once which was cute)
22. Would you consider them a dog person or a cat person?
I would consider them all cat people. But maybe M would be a dog person
23. How would you tell your TC about your feelings? (If you had to)
Letter most likely so it can be anonymous
24. Do you know how your TC dresses outside of work?
In casual shit, I guess
25. What are they like when they are upset?
I’ve never seen any of them upset. When B was getting annoyed, he would just be like “come on guys” and everyone would just shut up
26. Where do you sit in relation to their desk/spot/lecturing position?
With B, i used to sit at the front, near where he was sitting. With S and M, usually at the back, so I can admire them. Since A and I have private sessions, I technically sit right next to him
27. Do they know another language?
S knows Italian. i think A may know a tiny bit of greek
28. What do you have in common with your TC?
B and I both had pets at one point and A and i went to the same School (he left a couple years before i joined)
29. Have you texted/messaged your TC?
I’ve messaged A multiple times! I’ve only emailed the others
30. What is the most frequent TC daydream you play in your head?
Me cuddling with them
31. If you could only say one more sentence to your TC before graduation, what would it be?
"I will miss you a fuck ton"
#teacher#teacher x student#male tc#tc#male teacher x female student#tc crush#teacher crush community#teacher crush#male teacher crush#tc community#January TC challenge#crush on teacher#male teacher#teachers pet#teacher and student#male tcc#male tc crush
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Illinois high school says it has launched an investigation after a "deeply offensive" quote about the Oct. 7 Hamas terrorist attack was printed in its yearbook.
An entry in Glenbrook South High School's 2024 yearbook has sparked outrage in the community of the northern Chicago suburb of Glenview for quoting a 10th-grade student's "happy" reaction to last fall's terrorist attack against Israel in a section on the war.
"In my opinion, it isn't a war, considering this has been going on for 75 years," the student's quote read. "The first day, I woke up and I saw what Palestine did, and I was happy because they're finally defending themselves. The fact that the whole world only saw that instead of focusing on the past - makes me sad because it's my home country. It's important [to speak up] because thousands of people are dying every day. Just be aware and educate yourself."
Fox News Digital has chosen not to identify the student.
The yearbook also appeared to downplay the events of Oct. 7 by repeatedly referring to Hamas as a "militant group" and refraining from acknowledging that Israeli civilians were targeted that day.
A statement from Glenbrook South's principal and superintendent to students and families on Friday expressed "profound regret" over the printing of the quote.
"The statements in the piece in no way represent the views of Glenbrook South or District 225," Glenbrook South Principal Dr. Barbara Georges and Superintendent Dr. Charles Johns wrote. "We recognize the feelings, fear and pain related to the content in the yearbook, and we want to assure you that we are in conversation with many students, families, staff and community members about this situation."
"Glenbrook South has a long history of prioritizing the safety and well-being of our students. We are committed to ensuring that all those impacted by the statements published in the yearbook feel safe and supported while at school. Our goal at Glenbrook South is to ‘ensure that every student at Glenbrook South will report feeling a sense of belonging as a valued member of the Titan community.’ Over this challenging year, we have and will continue to take intentional measures to listen and respond to all concerns. If any student needs additional support or services, members of the Student Services Department are available," the statement continued.
"When we became aware of this situation on Thursday, we initiated an investigation that will continue until we reach a resolution. Our goal is to ensure that all students and staff feel safe and are valued. We are exploring all options to remedy this deeply offensive and regrettable situation."
Pete Glowacki, vice president of the school district's Board of Education, condemned the "antisemitic" statements as hurtful and "will not be condoned or tolerated."
"The District 225 Board of Education, Administration, and staff condemn antisemitism, hate speech, and violence of any kind," Glowacki said at a meeting on Tuesday in comments sent to Fox News Digital by the school. "This is a core belief codified by Illinois statute, district policy, and our student handbook. The Board has directed the administration to promptly and thoroughly investigate these comments so that we can address these comments, how they came to be published and properly address any future occurrences. Furthermore, the investigation must consider the rights of all of those involved. The completed report and recommendations will be shared with the public, in the coming weeks."
After determining that Dr. Georges and the administrative staff were unaware of the comments before they were published in the yearbook, Glowacki continued, "We recognize that adolescence is a time when students are trying to make sense of the world and their identity within it. As a learning institution, focused on the positive development of young people, the district aspires to create a safe environment for our students to learn to be critical thinkers, recognize and appreciate multiple perspectives, and understand their responsibilities in our evolving world. In the days since the yearbook’s publication, anger has permeated our community, and this is understandable. People (we) are hurt and scared and feel a sense of betrayal. Unfortunately, these sentiments have led to threats and intimidation against the student, principal and faculty sponsor of our community. These actions against members of our community will also not be tolerated."
The Chicago suburb news publication Daily Herald reported that the "raucous" school board meeting lasted nearly 2-and-a-half hours as "dozens" of speakers featuring students, parents and alumni representing both sides of the Israel-Palestinian conflict expressed outrage.
According to the Daily Herald, this isn't the only yearbook controversy rocking the area. Last week, Bartlett High School reportedly halted the distribution of its yearbook in order to remove a photo said to feature a group of pro-Palestinian students, one of them holding a sign reading, "From the river to the sea."
Bartlett's interim principal Melanie Meidel emailed students and families stating, "We regret to inform you that an offensive photo was included in this year’s school yearbook…. One of our top priorities is the well-being and respect of our students, staff and community. Regrettably, we have become aware that the yearbook was printed with a photo containing text that is considered antisemitic."
The decision sparked a backlash, with Bartlett's Muslim Student Association collecting more than 1,600 online signatures declaring the antisemitism allegation "false."
On Wednesday, the high school's superintendent Suzanne Johnson said the yearbook's distribution would resume and that the photo did not represent the values of Bartlett. The school did not clarify to the Daily Herald whether that meant the photo would still be included in the yearbook.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
When Art Becomes Industry - The Menu Review
For my elementary school yearbook, I was given a slip of paper that had me answer the following prompt: "What do you think you'll be when you grow up?" These would later be printed just below my name and portrait that would proudly beam on the glossy pages of the 5th grade section of the yearbook, among the other classmates off to do wonderful and ambitious things as preteens in middle school. In short, this was like a high school yearbook quote, but a little more hopeful and earnest.
I answered Probably a comic book writer or a piano player. While the use of "Probably" helped me ease into the idea of letting go of my short-lived comic book writing ambitions, it still amazes me today that, at 10 years old, I knew in my heart that the piano would be a part of my life.
My earliest memories come from the time when I was a toddler who could barely walk, stumbling down the soft carpeted hallway of my childhood home in South San Francisco as I approached the mysterious and booming mid-range tones from the piano in the living room. I'd see my dad's legs, rhythmically pressing on the ornate pedals with the balls of his feet at irregular intervals, like he was operating a weave as he conjured up a net of harmonies beneath his palms. While I might not have fully comprehended it at the time, there was a understanding in our family that the piano is a gene in our household, and I inherited it from my dad, whether I liked it or not.
Fortunately, I did like it. My dad took me to my first piano lesson when I was five years old, in the back of a Chinese-owned musical instrument shop on Clement Street. I never saw that teacher again (maybe the first lesson was complimentary, and my dad just didn't like her enough), but I got to keep the book. At home, with the help of 12 colorful cartoon characters printed in my book, I taught myself all 12 notes in the scale (more if you want to count the treble and bass clefs), simply because I was hungry to learn more notes and more songs. I took great pride when my dad clapped for me finishing Mary Had A Little Lamb, and shame when he reprimanded me for improvising wrong notes. I loved learning new songs, and held myself over with nursery rhymes and folk songs until it was time to take formal classical lessons from a teacher who met my dad's approval. At nine years old, I finally was reaching the next step.
My piano teacher introduced me to the world of music education and the rigors of music training. She was compassionate and warm, but demanded dedication. Through her, I internalized the technicalities of finger placements, metronome speeds, hand compartmentalization. I expanded my repertoire to included Russian contemporary composers whose surnames sounded like Harry Potter spells, but whom sometimes wrote the easiest pieces for my nimble fingers. I reckoned with the performance anxiety that dreaded my psyche before every monthly recital, which eventually bled over to my Certificate of Merit performance auditions. While I changed schools and subjects during the day, music became the constant test that loomed over me.
By the time I became an adolescent, I had nothing to show for it. In high school, it dawned on me that, not only was the piano barely used in any high school ensemble, but everyone knew how to play it better than I did. Everyone knew an ensemble-friendly instrument, whether it was a string instrument for the orchestra, a woodwind for the symphonic band, or a brass for both. All I had was piano, an instrument that's barely heard unless there's a solo, a concerto, or a jazz rhythm section involved. If I wanted to be heard, I had to be perfect. All 4 years of high school, I didn't pass a single audition for piano - not for the school jazz ensemble, not for any of the school musical pit orchestras. I dreaded each audition anyway, and probably flubbed them out of nervousness. I only got into orchestra after I begged the music director and offered to be a TA and a percussionist for the orchestra class, and the one time I did play in the musical pit orchestra was for percussion.
The stress and pressure I felt in the rigors of the music world left me jaded; they were a sobering reminder that I would never be cut for a career in music, or at least as a piano player, as my 10-year-old self prophetically proclaimed. My worth was at the whim of directors listening for every perfect note. The world was telling me that I wasted my time with the piano, a constant reminder of my own inadequacy. I became angry. I lost sight of why I was even spending time and money on these piano lessons, when I had schoolwork and college applications to worry about.
It's this jaded feeling that I think The Menu fully understands. Ralph Fiennes' Julian Slowik is a world-renowned chef who uses his reputation and art to seek retribution for the ills of the arts-turned-service industries. His dishes are the visceral expressions of his stoic hatred and rage for the pretentious, capitalist, and opportunistic subculture that has plagued his beloved art. Having been deeply engrossed in the higher world of fine dining, he manipulates and upends the culture to his own vengeful benefit, usurping expectation and surprising his guests (and by extension, us) by forcing them to confront their dismissive participation and moral crimes against art and humanity. In public reference does he create his own personal chaos, a heaven out of a living hell for those he finds undeserving.
There's a point in the film in which we see Slowik's origins. In one photo shown, he's younger, relaxed, and smiling, holding up a greasy burger patty on a flat and wide spatula, like the kind you'd see in cartoons. It's in stark contrast to the Slowik we got used to seeing, a stoic and terse statue of a man with thunderous claps and a commanding presence, arms crossed. And it's this point in the film where we see it's emotional core, an outlet for our own passionate angst and frustrations. We see a man who was once happy, doing what he loved, now grown into a bitter, spiteful shell.
With nothing else to audition for (save for the slightly less rigorous annual piano tests I habitually studied and trained for), my time with the piano became much for personal. Around my early adolescence, my love and ear for music bloomed with The Beatles, and the piano became the perfect outlet for that rediscovered joy and love of music. Like how I was when I was five, I began dedicating myself to learning more and more songs I loved, Beatles and beyond. I sought new territory and creativity in jazz piano and improvisation, a new language that was previously shunned from me.
When I see Ralph Fienne's Slowik as he is, I am reminded of all of those failed auditions, those nights slumped on the piano bench, those feelings of worthlessness, and if I sat through more of those and eventually found the success I was looking for, I'd come out a shell like him. But, when I see Slowik cooking a burger, I am thrust with nostalgia for the days when I learned Beatles songs on the piano, noodled jazz piano solos over wavy chords, and weaving harmonies out of thin air.
So yeah, I got pretty emotional watching this.
59 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
trustinhumanity
『Humanity last hope』
theartloca
Andrea Hernández
musfiqsvn
𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐨𝐧
mushroommako-art
Art side blog
primakapselndiaterfahrung
Prima Abnehmen Kapseln,, Inhaltsstoffe, Erfahrungen & Kaufen