Christy Turlington For Alaïa (1992)

Betsey Johnson Spring 1997

The Winner Takes It All || Challengers

Part III: The First Crack

AN: Guys, I'm not going to lie this is the most chaotic posting schedule known to man and I'm so sorry. Parts of this chapter got deleted not once, but TWICE! I had to walk away from this story before I did something I would regret, but I'm back again. I know for sure the engagement for this story will have decreased significantly, but I don't care. I've put too much time and brain power into this, so I'm seeing it through until the end, there's probably only three or four parts left anyways. A lot of song references sprinkled throughout and I took some minor inspiration from certain movies, I wonder if you’ll be able to guess it.

Trigger warnings: emotional cheating (Art and Gianna truly embodying the song B.A.S. in this one), slight manipulation

Word Count: 7.0k

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

Part IV: Cocky Af

SIX YEARS LATER - US OPEN, AUGUST 2012

With a powerful forehand, Gianna hit the return back over the net, her muscles rippling with the effort. The neon green ball whizzed across the other side and straight down the court, just out of her opponent's reach. Immediately, Gianna felt her knees buckle and she fell back onto the court, letting out a cry. The thunderous applause and screams are instant, vibrating the hard court beneath her. She had did it, Gianna had did it. She was now the US Open Women's Champion.

Her hands covered her face, tears pricking in her eyes as Gianna's shoulders shook with soft sobs. All the sacrifices she made, every argument she had with her dad, the blood, sweat, and tears she shed had culminated to this very moment. Her crowning achievement, Gianna Langdon was a Grand Slam winner. The media had reported on her every move in the tournament, debating if she possessed the mental toughness to advance in the Open after having a rough start in her first match. Today, she proved her doubters and her most vocal critics wrong.

Composing herself a little, she dragged her hands down her face and sat up from the ground. Gianna rose to her feet and jogged her way over to Irina who was at the net patiently waiting there. Her head hung dejectedly, but she offered her hand to Gianna's shake which she accepted. The handshake was brief and Gianna released her hand to turn her attention to the umpire to thank them before facing the roaring crowd who maintained their rapturous applause.

With a grin that could rival the sun, Gianna began clapping herself before bowing several times to thank her fans and supporters. Staring out into the crowd, her eyes found her family's, their cheers were the only ones that truly mattered to her. Her brother and sisters were going wild in the stands, jumping up and down before embracing each other. Beside them, her mom and dad were openly crying and clapping harder than everyone else. Their eyes were filled with so much pride and joy that it almost made her want to break down sobbing again.

"What a journey this has been for you Gianna!" the interviewer began. "Tell me, what is going through your head right now?" she asked, before moving the mic over toward Gianna.

"Oh man," Gianna breathed out, still winded from the strenuous match only moments before. "There's not enough words in the dictionary to describe how I'm feeling right now!" she answered, a brilliant smile on her face. "This means the absolute world to me! I was pinching myself after I fell out onto the ground to make sure that this was actually happening," she continued, drawing out some laughter from the crowd.

"This is your first major title win, Gianna. How does it feel to finally hear those words spoken aloud?"

"It's incredible, truly," she replied, nodding her head. "I've been training so hard for this very moment since the day that my daddy put a tennis racket in my hand. And today, I'm finally bearing the fruits of my labor," she went on, resting her hands on her hips. "This title win is as much a dream come true not only for me, but for my dad as well, Maurice Langdon," she informed, and the Jumbotron camera quickly cut to her father in the stands. "Without his tutelage and guidance, I would not be where I am right now. When I left Stanford, I told my dad five words. 'Let's go make some magic'. I think I can safely say, we accomplished that here today," she finished, causing the crowd to aw at her outpouring of love for her father.

Smiling, her dad blew multiple kisses in her direction before placing his hand over his chest, genuinely touched by her praise.

"I did two things today that I previously thought impossible. I won a major title!" Gianna exclaimed excitedly, to which the crowd roared in cheers. "But more importantly, I made the Maurice Langdon shed tears for the first time ever!" she joked, a ripple of laughter echoed from the crowd as they were all probably familiar of her father's renowned stoic nature.

Gianna's on court interview lasted for a few more minutes before finally, it was time for the trophy presentation. She would forever be immortalized in tennis history with a picture of her proudly holding the US Open above her head. With her press conference wrapped up, the toll of the day was beginning to wear on her. Gianna was exhausted. Every bone, every muscle, every part of her.

Walking alone in an empty hallway within the Arthur Ashe Arena, the sound of Gianna's phone chiming echoed in the air. A smile lit up on face at the text she received from a name with snail emojis beside it.

"Can't wait to see you tonight, champ" with a winky face at the end of the message.

Matthias Schnell (snail as she liked to tease him since the words were similar in pronunciation) was a rising German tennis superstar much like herself. The two met at Wimbledon where they were both making eyes at each other during the tournament, but after she won against him and his partner in the mixed doubles semifinal match, Matthias congratulated her and asked her for number, the rest was history. They weren't official yet, but they were well on their way.

"Gianna!" a familiar voice called.

In a blink of the eye, her smile dropped from her face.

"I know that's not who I think it is," she thought.

Gianna clicked her phone back into sleep mode and quickened her pace, ignoring the repeated calls of her name. Until, she felt fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, an action which made her furiously whip around and rip her arm from the grasp of a strawberry blond haired man.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Gianna hissed.

"Gia—" Art began.

"No! You don't get to call me that!" she snapped, stabbing her finger in his direction. "You lost that privilege a long time ago!" she snarled.

"Please, Gianna," he pleaded, taking a step closer to her. "You ducked me in Atlanta," he reminded, only causing Gianna's nostrils to flare.

With a Nike baseball cap tucked low over her brow, Gianna made her way down the hall of the hotel. It was the night before the Atlanta Open, a tournament she usually didn’t pay any attention to, but this year she was here to support an old friend. Max Sullivan, a name she couldn't believe she was saying. After the Juniors Championship, they didn't part on the friendliest of terms and it was all Gianna's fault. She told Max to his face she thought he was a mediocre player and to add insult to injury, she also said she should take his trophy since she's the one who did all the work on the court. It was a mixture of immaturity, cockiness, and a kernel of truth.

Nonetheless, it would seem her words lit a fire under Max's ass, because from college and now as a professional tennis player, his growth had been tremendous. So, the only lesson Gianna took from that was, bullying works. Depending on his performance, she was considering them to be doubles partners again.

Placing her hand on the door handle to the stairwell, Gianna froze. It felt like someone was watching her. Without hesitation she turned her head in the direction of the hotel lobby, her heart all but stopped as her next breath caught in throat. Gianna's vision became similar to the dolly zoom effect at the sight of Art. The two of them were no longer standing on opposite ends of the hallway. By the second, it seemed like the distance between them was rapidly shrinking.

"Gia?"

He barely raised his voice, but it was just loud enough for her to hear as a soft frown creased his brow. Gianna didn't respond, instead choosing to avert her eyes to back to the door. Her breath beginning to quicken while her heart thumped wildly in her chest, the only thing keeping her on her feet was the death grip her fingers had around the door handle. Out of the corner of Gianna's eye, she could see Art slowly approaching towards her. Panic seized her at the thought of them being within arms reach of each other. They haven't spoken to one another in five years, Art's last attempt was rewarded with a swift slap across his cheek after he cornered her in their sophomore year, pleading for her to speak to him again.

"Gia, please, I'm begging you. I don't know how much longer I can take of this," Art pressed, desperation rife in his voice. "I miss you," he added, his voice cracking as he bent down slightly to try and meet her stare.

Gianna remained silent, keeping her gaze fixated on the cement with her arms folded tightly against her chest . A heavy, lingering silence engulfed them when Gianna finally flicked her eyes up to Art's, startling him. She did not mask her rage, Gianna's eyes burned with hatred which caused Art to flinch. Suddenly, her hand flew forward striking Art's cheek, the force of the blow causing his head to whip to the side. Then, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Art was less than ten feet away from her when Gianna forcefully pulled the open, rushing clumsily up the stairs and almost twisting her ankle in the process.

"Gia wait!"

Art and Gianna had a silent, intense stare off for several moments, before Art cautiously took a step closer towards her with arms raised.

"Gianna, please. I just wanted to tell you congratulations on your first grand slam win," Art explained softly, with a weak smile.

"I don't want it, least of all from you," she spat, looking him up and down with a sneer.

"Will you at least hear me out?" he asked, frustration creeping in his voice. "I only want to talk," he stated.

A deep, scornful laugh bubbled out of Gianna as she slowly closed the gap between them.

"And what the fuck, would we have to talk about Arthur?" she asked icily, the harshness of her tone making Art recoil. "You know I want? I want you to be a good boy and run along," she continued, moving in for the final blow. "A pet should never stray too far from its master, so how about you go fetch the lost dreams of her career and leave me the hell alone!"

With every venomous word Gianna hurled at him, Art withered from the verbal daggers she threw at him until he was left in a state similar to which a dog would’ve been after it had been scolded by its owner. How fitting. If he'd had a tail, he would have tucked it between his legs.

Gianna's lip curled in disgust, "Fucking pathetic," she muttered, stalking away from him and purposefully letting her shoulder bump Art's arm as she left.

~~~x~~~

FIVE YEARS EARLIER — STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2007

"40-15! Match point!" the chair umpire announced.

Gianna punched her fist in the air as the crowd erupted into applause and loud cheers, the yelling of her name mixed within them. It was only an exhibition match, but the Stanford bleachers were packed full as if it was the Junior's US Open all over again. It was the highly anticipated potential match up that never came to fruition at the tournament. Today, however, spectators could finally behold the athletic spectacle of two titans facing off against each other. More importantly, they wanted to see if Gianna had it in her, to pull off the upset of the day.

Glancing at her opponent on the other side of the net, Gianna watched Tashi shake her head in frustration, a deep scowl marring her pretty features as she picked at the strings of her racket. Behind Tashi, the ball boy bounced a ball to her and smoothly caught the ball with her racket.

Gianna crouched down, a smirk on her lips as she let the rubbery grip of her racket roll back and forth against her palms, rocking from side to side.

"One more point," she thought. "And I will have beaten Tashi two times in a row this week,"

The neon ball bounces softly off the ground and Gianna's grip tightened around the handle, readying herself. The moment Tashi released the ball high in the air and jumped to hit it, Gianna knew it was going to be excellent serve from her friend. Playing against Tashi was a tasking feat in itself, but going against her when she was absolutely livid and frustrated? Most competitors might as well be signing their own death certificates, Gianna however, had Tashi right where she wanted. Off-kilter and playing sloppy.

Whizzing over the net, the ball came flying at Gianna like a heat seeking missile and for a split second she wondered if Tashi had envisioned her face on the ball as she returned the serve. The next hit came in the form of a forehand slice and Gianna sent the ball back across the court with a strong one handed, backhand return. Tashi sprinted over to the ball, but fell a stride short as the ball bounce off the ground with a force that made dirt kick up.

"Game, set and match, Gianna Langdon," the chair umpire announced in a loud voice. "6-3, 6-3".

The crowd erupted in cheers as Gianna herself threw her arms in the air in victory. Jogging to the net, a grumpy Tashi was already waiting for her with her hand extended out. As usual, she still really hadn't gotten around the concept of losing to Gianna and it showed.

"Good game," she muttered.

Gianna, on the other hand, was clearly starting to get the hang of beating Tashi, and boy did she enjoy it.

"I know," Gianna acknowledged, with a smirk.

Instantly, Tashi's face darkened and she yanked back her hand, abruptly breaking the handshake. Tashi's reaction didn't phase Gianna at all, instead, it made her even more smug.

"And so it begins," she thought amusedly.

Walking back to her bench, she grabbed her gear and put it in her sports bag before leaving the court. Gianna had barely gotten far from the tennis court when Art fell in step beside her.

"Great match!" he complimented, with a grin.

A light chuckle left her, "All in a day's work," Gianna replied, lazily looking over at him.

"Everything alright between you and Tashi?" Art wondered. "She looked pissed off when you two were at the net," he remarked.

"She'll be fine," Gianna assured, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know how Tashi gets when she loses to me," she reminded, briefly looking ahead her. "She hates being humbled," Gianna added, smugness growing within her.

"Do you think she—"

Her head whipped in his direction, "You wanna come with me to dinner with my family?" Gianna asked suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She's had enough of Tashi for the last hour and a half, it was time to place attention elsewhere.

"Seeing how my best friend is not going to talk to me for the rest of the day," she went on.

"Wouldn't I be intruding?" Art questioned, one of his brows raising.

"No, because I invited you," Gianna answered simply. The two came to a stop on the corner of the sidewalk, facing each other. "Come on, I need to make this dinner somewhat bearable for me," she said, grabbing a hold of his hand with both of hers after seeing the indecision on his face.

Art's eyes flitted down to their hands, his throat bobbing before he swallowed thickly. In the back of her mind, Gianna knew what she was doing wrong, to essentially be toying with his emotions, but she desperately needed a buffer from her dad.

Gianna looked at him from under my lashes, "Pretty please, Art? For me?" she asked, using her thumbs to trace circles on his skin.

Art inhaled deeply, his eyes darting back to hers and he wordlessly nodded his head.

"Yeah, yeah!" he agreed hoarsely, finally finding his voice. "I would love to, Gia,"

"Uhh, you're the best!" Gianna cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Without thinking, she stood on her tip toes and pecked him on the cheek. She pulled back, a grin on her face as she stared at Art who had a smile playing lazily on his lips. Gianna spun around, resuming her path back to her room.

"Meet me at my dorm in an hour," she exclaimed, not bothering to turn around.

Today, it was Gianna’s world and everybody else was living in it.

~~~x~~~

A few hours later

On the floor of Gianna's dorm room, biology notes, index cards, and textbooks were pushed off to the side and strewn about. Her and Art were studying for their upcoming quiz, but Gianna decided she had a better way to occupy their time. With one foot outstretched along the plush rug and the other being held by Art as he blew on it, Gianna let her head bob along to "Sittin' Up In My Room" by Brandy playing on her docking station as her toenails dried.

"When your parents dropped us off before they left your father said 'I'm glad to see developing an identity of your own'," Art quoted, looking over her toes and at her. "Why did he say that?" he questioned curiously.

Gianna let her head fall back letting out a long, dramatic sigh, "It's a long story, but also a short one," she answered, running her fingers through her hair. "My dad and honestly my mom as well, believe that I cannot be my entire self or even unlock my full potential if I'm always attached to Tashi's hip," she explained.

"Wait, they're upset because you're too close to your best friend?" Art asked incredulously.

"I know. Ridiculous, right?" she said, tossing her hand up in the air.

"If that's how your parents think of your friendship with Tashi, that may explain why your mother was giving me the cold shoulder at dinner," Art reasoned, adjusting his grip on her foot.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about," Gianna apologized sheepishly. "I don't what that was about," she said, shaking her head.

"No, it's fine," he assured. "I'm pretty sure Farrah hates me as well, so it balances it out," Art commented, with a chuckle.

Gianna's eyebrow arched, "What makes you say that?" she wondered, chuckling at the thought.

"She said if I do wrong by you, that, and I quote 'your kneecaps are fucking mine, white boy,'" he informed, his warm breath fanning across her toes.

A smile broke out onto her face, "I'm the baby of the family, of course she's going to spout empty threats," Gianna replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Didn't sound that empty to me," Art complained.

"Well, we are talking about Farrah here...so you may have a point," she conceded, with a shrug.

The tickling heat of Art's blowing came to an abrupt stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a concerned frown knitting his forehead.

"You know, now that you mentioned it, my ex did break my heart and he came back to school with a limp the next day," she lied.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, Art's frown deepening. He opened his mouth to say something and Gianna raised her eyebrows in challenge as realization dawned on his face. Gianna's mouth began to twitch as she fought the urge to smile.

"You liar, he didn't break your heart. You broke his," he remembered, a grin spreading across his lips.

Art and Gianna held each other's stare and after a beat, they both bust out laughing. Three months had passed since their argument at the mini golf course, but they've acted as if it never occurred in the first place. Was it the healthiest way to handle the situation? Probably not. But, in a way, it benefited both of them to ignore it for their own selfish reasons.

For Gianna, her relationship with Tashi was beginning to show all the signs that it would be a stale one. She had remained dead set about not wanting to broaden her horizons for the sake of their relationship, much to Gianna's dismay. At this point, Tashi was more of a girl friend than an actual girlfriend. And Patrick, for as loving and caring as he was, the boy could be inattentive at times. Sometimes he would forget to watch Gianna's matches after she sent him a link that aired them. Or, other times he wouldn't pick up on her tone that she was not in a good mood and continue talking about his adventures as a professional tennis player.

Then, there was Art. He had been her rock whether he realized it or not. Gianna figured he stuck around because he didn't want to give up their friendship entirely, despite the you know, major crush he still harbored for her. Gianna was grateful, honestly. Everything that was transpiring in her relationship with Tashi and Patrick had actually brought them closer. Art filled in the gaps she was desperately craving from her boyfriend and girlfriend, attention and spontaneity.

"Catch," Art called, tossing her jacket towards her.

"Caught," Gianna said, grabbing it from the air with ease. "What are you trying to do? Test my reflexes?" she joked, sliding the jacket onto her arms.

"No, but I'm happy to inform you they're wonderful," he quipped. "We are going to Cantor Arts Center, somewhere I know you've been dying to get to," he informed, moving to stand in front of her.

Gianna let out a little squeal of delight as she sprung off the edge of Art's bed.

"Thank you, thank you!" Gianna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Art and hugging him tightly.

"Anything for you," he breathed, his laughter vibrating through her body.

"I don't know why you're worried about Farrah's threats," Gianna said dismissively. "You would never hurt me," she stated confidently.

"Never!" Art promised. "Out of curiosity, should I expect the same from her?" he asked, flicking his chin at the shirt Gianna had on.

Gianna glanced down at what she was wearing, it was a plain, white tee with the name of the ballet troupe that her sister danced with emblazoned on it.

"Pfft, Alicia is a downright angel compared to Farrah," Gianna assured.

"And Luke?'

"Only dangerous if you let him get close to you with a baseball bat," she warned, smiling at him. "Speaking of my brother, I'm getting tickets for the season opener game for the Dodgers, and you're coming with me," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

One of his brows rose at this, "Just me?"

"I would bring Patrick, of course," Gianna responded, leaning back on her hands. "And Tashi too, if she can squeeze me into her oh so busy schedule," she added, an undercurrent bitterness in her tone.

"I'm sure she would be thrilled to go with both her girlfriend and boyfriend to a Dodgers game," Art said, with a brief, strained smile.

At this, Gianna mentally slapped her forehead.

"Way to go on reminding him of his position in our friend group," Gianna thought.

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry Art," Gianna apologized profusely, covering her mouth with her hand. "I swear, that was not my intention when I brought up us going to the game," she insisted sincerely, reaching out and placing her hand on top of Art's knee.

He shrugged, "No harm done, Gia. I know you well enough to know it wasn't on purpose," he said, a tight smile still drawn across his mouth.

Another annoyed sigh blew past Gianna's lips, "It's so frustrating, you know? Somehow, some way, my relationship manages to find its way into every conversation, she grumbled. "It's annoying to me, I know it's gotta be annoying for you, it's probably the last thing you want to hear actually,"

"Listen, I'm always happy to lend my ear to my friend," Art reassured, his face softening while resting his hand on top of hers. "Seems like you're in need of a shoulder to lean on, I'll gladly fill that for you," he said, squeezing her hand.

She felt comforted, even though all he had offered was the simple gesture.

"I can always count on you, Art," Gianna said, grinning brightly. "Now I know what Patrick means when we talk on the phone," she remarked.

Art seemed to perk up at this, “Oh? What did he mean by that?”

"Just that I’m the easier girlfriend talk to," she revealed, with a small shrug. "Patrick and I are a lot closer than she realizes," she admitted offhandedly.

Gianna didn't miss the way Art's eyes lit up a bit, an unreadable glint in them.

"Is that so?"

"You know Tashi, she's 24/7 about tennis. She's been harping on him about losing and always trying to give him pointers when that’s not what he wants to hear," she explained. "And for him, I'm that person he can turn to talk about anything other than tennis," she continued, with a small reminiscent smile.

Gianna thought back to the time she had Patrick practically doubled over in laughter, recalling all the stupid shenanigans her and her siblings got up to back at their ranch in Louisiana. It delighted Gianna to know she was capable of eliciting that much joy from her boyfriend when he needed it the most after getting practically chewed out by Tashi following a tough loss.

"You and I share that same dynamic," Gianna went on, motioning between them. "It's so much easier talking to you Art, compared to Tashi and even sometimes Patrick. In fact, I always look forward talking to you. You make me feel seen," she confessed, feeling Art's fingers curl around her hand more tightly.

It wasn't uncomfortable nor painful, but a physical reminder that Art seemed to be hanging on her every word.

"You always engage with my interests. Every bio class, you slip a new recipe across our desk that you found on the internet for me to try, more difficult than the last," she said, unconsciously leaning in closer in. "You're even brave enough to try out said recipes, not knowing what the results will be," she joked, chuckling softly. "Anyways, I guess this is my extremely long winded way of saying I'm grateful to call you my friend. And, thank you for being such a trouper and coming to dinner with me and my family," she told him, her mouth shyly curving upwards.

A long moment of silence fell between them, the only sound filling the room was the low instrumentals of "He Loves Me" and both her breathing and his. Art coughed, briefly ducking his head down and trying to keep the blush which Gianna saw was creeping over his cheeks. When Art's eyes finally flicked back to hers, Gianna felt her insides twist. The barely disguised want in his gaze made her warm all over.

This was becoming all too familiar, this careful dance between them balancing on the tightrope of friendship and something more. Gianna's resolve to keep Art at arm's length from months ago was weakening. They both were teetering, another step closer and over, would plummet them into uncharted waters.

"I don't know if I'm deserving of such high praise you, Gia," Art said softly. His eyes darting to her lips, daringly lingering on them and then back to her eyes. "But, I promise I will never break the trust you have within me," he vowed, shifting closer to her.

"You can't tell Tashi or Patrick about this,"

Smoothly, Art's fingers slid around Gianna's hand and went under hers to lift it towards his mouth.

Art didn't take his gaze off of her, "It will be our little secret," he whispered, sealing his promise with a kiss to each knuckle more lingering than the one before.

~~~x~~~

Staring at her reflection, Gianna vigorously dabbed her sponge all over her face to blend her foundation evenly across her skin.

"Between the two of us, whoever gets the makeup deal first, can we please for the love of god make sure the foundation range goes beyond the color of a paper bag?" Gianna yelled, with a huff before finally placing the sponge onto the bathroom counter.

If she had to keep mixing two foundations just to get the correct shade for her skin any longer Gianna was going to lose her mind.

"Babe, you are the color of a paper bag," Tashi quipped, from within her room.

Gianna playfully rolled her eyes, "Yeah, only in the winter," Gianna pointed out, exiting Tashi's bathroom. "I still have a bit of my summer tan left," she said crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.

Pushing herself off her bed, Tashi walked over to Gianna and her hands instantly found themselves attached to her hips.

"Regardless, you look amazing Juliet," Tashi teased, letting her eyes trail down Gianna's costume.

It was Halloweekend at Stanford which meant only one thing to all students across campus, three days packed full of partying. Gianna, was one of those students who was thoroughly looking forward to the festivities with a costume planned for each night. Tonight, she was dressed up in a white dress, a cross necklace, and a pair of feathered angel wings inspired by Baz Luhrmann's iconic rendition of Romeo and Juliet. It was simple, elegant and the pure white fabric of the dress against her skin made her appear ethereal.

"You’re looking fantastic yourself, Josie," Gianna complimented, noting her girlfriend's leopard print bodysuit and cat ears. "And I didn't even have to twist your arm to go out tonight," she joked, placing her hand at the back of her neck.

A faux pout found its way on Tashi's lips, "Hey, I can be fun," she said, before placing a chaste kiss on Gianna's lips.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "Oh? This is certainly news to me," she responded, laughing a little.

"Ha-ha very funny," Tashi replied dryly, before moving down Gianna's to jaw and pressing her lips against her skin. "Excuse me for embracing the festive spirit," she deadpanned, her breath tickling her ear.

"I am not complaining one bit," Gianna clarified, with a blissful smile while Tashi kissed down her neck. "You're going to ruin my makeup," she complained, her eyes falling close and her breathing becomes ragged as Tashi found the sensitive spot on her neck.

"You're fucking hot without it," Tashi murmured, nipping at her collarbone.

A sharp series of knocks startled the two of them, breaking apart from each other in quiet laughter.

"Must be Art," Tashi guessed, fixing Gianna's hair.

"Gotta be," Gianna agreed, releasing her grip on the back of her girlfriend's neck.

Pushing herself off the door frame, Gianna took a couple, deep breathes in effort to calm her body down. With a hand on her hip, Gianna's finger wrapped themselves around the doorknob and swung open the door.

"Why the hell are you knocking like the police?" Gianna scolded warmly, staring at Art who was dressed up as Waldo with round glasses perched at the end of his nose.

Art opened his mouth to respond which Gianna assumed would be a witty one. Instead his mouth remained stuck in the same position while his eyes looked her up and down.

"You look amazing, Gia," he blurted, his mouth still open in awe.

Gianna placed her hand on her chest, "Aww really?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head vigorously. "You look like…well you like angelic," he breathed, flashing her a sheepish grin.

"Corny!" Tashi yelled from behind her. "Seriously Art? You couldn't have chosen the most obvious word?" she questioned, putting her arm around Gianna’s shoulder.

"It's the first word that came to mind!" he cried playfully, looking at Tashi.

"It's not Art's fault, that I'm just that breathtaking," Gianna said, placing the back of her hand to her forehead and swooning dramatically.

"Ugh, you see what you started Art?" Tashi joked, shaking her head with a smile.

Gianna turned to Tashi and they broke into a fit of laughter.

"You're gorgeous, really,"

The girls' laughing came to abrupt stop as Gianna paused, her eyes locking with Art's. She felt herself lean back, shocked by his soft utterance causing her face to heat up massively.

"Oh," Gianna breathed, still stunned. "Thank you Art, that's very sweet of you," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

Gianna wondered it was possible to get a high off of words, because she was experiencing it. From beside her, Tashi loudly cleared her throat as her hand slid down Gianna's back.

"We should get going, don't want to be late for the party," Tashi suggested, her hand curling itself around Gianna’s waist.

Gianna felt herself be tugged her ever-so-slightly closer to Tashi's side, a wordless warning to Art to watch himself. If the message was received or not, Gianna had no way of knowing, but it was from that point on there was a noticeable shift in Tashi's demeanor. And Gianna was doing everything in her power to pretend that there wasn't. She tried to defuse the subtle tension between all of them by talking about the latest horror movies released in theaters, only Art engaged in the conversation while Tashi remained uncharacteristically quiet.

With her arm wrapped still wrapped fairly tightly around Gianna's shoulder, Tashi led her to the porch of the house. Already she could feel the bass pumping from the inside and it became more intense when they entered. "Disturbia" was blasting from the speakers and cheers swept the room at the song playing. The three of them are immediately pressed together in the crowd. Gianna couldn't believe how many people had shown up to this party. The place was packed with students in all sorts of costumes, ranging from serious dedication to hilarious ones clearly thrown together at the last minute. Gianna turned her head to say something to Art, Tashi had other plans, however.

"Let's go dance!" she yelled, in order to be heard over the music.

Allowing herself to be dragged towards the center of the room, Gianna looked back at Art and flashed him an apologetic smile coupled with a half shrug before being swallowed up within the throng of partygoers. The two danced facing each other, their movements loose and carefree while their bodies swayed to the beat of the music. With every song they danced along to, Gianna watched as Tashi’s mood brighten until there was a wide smile plastered on her face as they sung along with "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" at the top of their lungs. Their laughter filled the air and Gianna spun herself around, her hair whipping across her face while kicking up the fog lingering in the atmosphere from a fog machine set the spooky season mood.

Facing away from her girlfriend, Gianna spotted Art across the room dancing with a tipsy blonde haired girl who appeared to be having the time of her life, but Art looked completely out it and was seemingly just going through the motions in a halfhearted dance.

Gianna turned back towards Tashi, "I'm going to step out for a bit for some air!" she shouted over the music.

"Don't be too long!"

"I won't!"

Pushing her way through people, Gianna made way to the back door quickly opening and shutting it behind her. Immediately, she’s struck by the autumn air crisp and cool, leaving goosebumps on her arms. She didn’t mind it however, it was refreshing after being in a packed living room. Gianna moved across the backyard deck before finally coming to a stop at the railing and bending over to rest her arms against metal surface. Casting her glance upwards, she admired the full moon lighting up the dark sky, the stars faint due to the lights of the city in the distance.

"You're doing on that purpose,"

Gianna's face scrunched in confusion, she looked over her shoulder to see Art standing not too far behind her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"Isn't there an identical shot like this in Luhrmann's version of Romeo and Juliet?" he pointed out, making a finger frame and observing her through it.

A small laugh left her as she remembered the specific scene he was talking about; it was when Juliet was watching fireworks going off from the balcony.

"Perfect," Art said softly, angling his fingers so she was precisely aligned in the square shape of his fingers.

Gianna scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Shut up," she said, a smile on her lips.

He mirrored her expression, dropping his hands and made his way closer to her.

"Why did you come out here?" Art asked curiously, using the side of him to lean against the railing.

"It was a fucking sauna in there," she answered, which Art chuckled at. "I needed air," she added. "What about you?" she asked, flicking her chin at him. "Why are you out here? I thought you and that blonde girl were really hitting it off," she joked, with a knowing smirk.

Art let out a scoff of his own, "Shut up," he laughed, echoing her own words a minute ago.

"What? I don't want her getting jealous—"

"Jealous?" he repeated incredulously. "Even if she was, wouldn't matter," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "She doesn't compare…" he trailed off, and a breathy chuckle passed his lips.

"To me," Gianna thought, finishing his sentence.

"So no point of competing," he finished, with another small shrug.

"You never did answer my question," Gianna remarked, tilting her head to the side. "Why did you come out here?" she asked again, pushing herself up from her position and turning to fully face him.

"Seizing the opportunity to dance with you," he answered bluntly, causing Gianna's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. "If that's alright with you?" he questioned, his voice softer in tone than before.

Inside, the speakers began playing "Time of the the Season" as Gianna mulled over his offer.

It's the time of the season

When love runs high

"It's harmless, a lot of friends dance with each other," she thought.

Her lips curved, "I suppose one dance couldn't hurt, I don't think it's going to cause a bloody feud between families," Gianna quipped, making Art smile warmly at her.

Looping her hands around his shoulders, Art's palms found themselves on the sides of her abdomen as they began to dance to the music. Then again, Gianna wasn't quite sure if she should call it that, it was more of them gently swaying back and forth. Neither of them spoke, as neither of them knew what to say. They only turned away from each other with shy smiles, both releasing quiet laughs which slightly eased the palpable tension lingering in the air between them.

"You know, back in Louisiana I used to love stargazing with my siblings on our family ranch," Gianna mentioned, breaking the silence that fell between them. "It's one of the few perks of living in the countryside. There's not any light pollution, so you're able to see the stars in their full glory unlike cities," she went on, lifting her head up at the moon and the starry sky above him. "You have to visit me in Louisiana this summer. It's a breathtaking sight honestly, their beauty is unmatched," she said wistfully, their swaying coming to a stop.

"It truly is," Art agreed softly.

Beaming, Gianna looked back down at Art to see him already staring back at her. Her breath hitched ever so slightly. There was not a trace of doubt in Gianna's mind that Art hadn't looked at a single star and was solely looking at her this whole time. His eyes traveled the length of her face before moving back to her own. All the while, Gianna mentally noted Art's hands were sliding down her sides and onto her hips, pulling their bodies closer together. A shuddering breath left Gianna feeling her heart begin to race with anticipation, a mix of want and uncertainty coursing through her.

Art leaned in towards her, "Gia," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Holding his stare, Gianna leaned in closer causing their noses to just barely brush against one another before she pulled away at the last minute in hesitation. She knew the implications of crossing this line, the risks it carried. But the warmth of Art hands seeping through the material her dress was dizzying and actively drowning out all logical reasoning from her, it just all felt too good. So natural. Slowly, Gianna moved back in as Art dipped his head down, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

An ear splitting shriek jolted the two apart and Gianna felt herself sag back against the railing, gripping it for dear life because it was damn near the only thing keeping her on her feet. Fireworks shot up into the air from the front of the house, exploding into a dazzling sight of red, green, purple, and orange. The raucous cheering of partygoers followed soon after. The frat boys must have brought the fireworks and are now setting them off in their drunken state. Gianna covered her mouth with her hand, inhaling shakily.

That was too damn close, she should have never even allowed it get that far.

Art's back was still facing her when she managed to stand at her full height. Gianna’s hand dropped down to her chest, her breathing slightly erratic and her racing just as Art turned around with a dopey smile on his face. Once he saw her expression, his smile vanished.

"Gia?" Art called, concern written all over his features. He a took step closer to her, reaching his hand out toward her. "Gia, are you alright?" he asked again.

His fingers had barely grazed hers when Gianna rushed past him and back towards the backdoor to the house.

"Gianna? Gianna what did I do? Come on, Gianna, speak to me, please!"

Art's questions and pleas were tuned out by her own voice repeatedly saying one word.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The news about the Trophy Wife YouTuber who just came out about how her husband SAd her two toddler daughters, when just before that she had an entire channel praising Shera7 for helping her land the “man of her dreams”, is a perfect example of how being a pick me and completely male-centered can ruin your life.

I’m done trying to tell other women that men should NEVER be their source of income. That they should look primarily at his character and not his money. That you don’t have to compromise on looks and values to date someone that isn’t a dusty. That that energy you are spending trying your hardest to get with a wealthy man could be used for you to become wealthy yourself.

You people have demonized the concept of self-actualization and independence on women to the point that no amount of reasoning will get past you. Some of you will have to go through traumatic events to learn that you shouldn’t blindly trust all the advice that’s viral on social media and based your life choices off of them.

I’m glad I’ll never have to endure sex with an old and ugly man just so he can buy me a bag. I’m glad that I prioritize my own education and career achievements so that I’ll never have to ask a man for permission to live my life as I see fit. I’m glad to have a name of my own and be able to stand on my two feet. No amount of “sprinkle sprinkle” propaganda will make want to crave that kind of lifestyle.

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief. 

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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I neeeed more poly!marauders x reader but maybe on the train to hogwarts and James gets worked up over some girl in a magazine???

Sirius's magazine - poly!marauders

summary: when sirius sneaks his porn magazine into james's backpack, it's almost inevitable for the boy to find it and caught a happy accident. wc: 2.2k+

It had been a long summer without your boys. Sirius and James had spent a couple of pleasant months together, exchanging kisses behind close doors in disguise of helping a friend out, and you and Remus had been left all alone. So it wasn’t really a surprise that you were the first to greet each other on the train back to Hogwarts. James watched with pouty lips as you and Remus engulfed each other in a tight hug, the taller boy leaning down to kiss you. James and Sirius followed your movements, exchanging hugs and short kisses before you settled yourself against Remus’s side, his arm slung over your shoulder, keeping you snug against him. 

The group fell into a comfortable atmosphere as Sirius delved into stories about him and James while they stayed at the Potter Manor, and how Fleamont almost caught them kissing a little more than one time. “Oh please, if anyone would be fine with their son liking boys, it would be James’s parents.” You pointed out, resting your head on Remus’s shoulder. James shook his head “No but my parents think I have a girlfriend. Well, they know I have a girlfriend, but that’s it.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise, feeling Remus’s body move as he chuckled. “Yeah, James spoke about you so much that his mum asked if you were his girlfriend. Spoiler alert: he said yes.” You grinned widely, putting a hand on Remus’s chest and glancing up at his amused expression.

“Also,” James added, “In every photo I showed of our friend group, you’re pretty much always sitting in my lap, so it would be weird if I said no and then showed them those photos.” You hummed, shrugging your shoulders. “What can I say, I know where my favourite seat is.” Remus lightly shoved you before instantly bringing you back to his side and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Let me show you.” James insisted, leaning down to lift his backpack up into his lap and ruffling through it. He huffed, pulling a large object out of the bag and saying “Sirius, you didn’t!” But the image on the front cover of the magazine instantly gave it away. “What!?” The boy defended, “I didn’t have time to put it in my luggage and I wasn’t going to leave it!” 

“Sirius, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t go shoving porn magazines in other people’s bags!” You and Remus both made a noise of understanding, nodding your heads in unison. “Three people aren’t enough to satisfy your needs?” Teased Remus, leaning further in his seat. Sirius held Remus’s eye contact, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke “James, turn to page 26.” James obeyed, but not without shooting Sirius a suspicious look first. “Doesn’t she look just like her?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with the scarred boy.

James’s small gasp told you enough. His eyes were trained on the page, eyes wide, and if you were close enough, you’d probably see the way his pupils dilated. “What do you think?” Sirius asked. James shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant, but the redness in his cheeks and the shy look on his face spoke otherwise. “Not identical, but yeah, close enough.” James flicked to the other page, and you saw his jaw go slack, hand freezing on the paper. Suddenly, he looked up, briefly making eye contact with you before he slammed the magazine shut and averted his gaze to the window.

“Hey, I wanna see!” You called, standing up and snatching the magazine from James’s sweaty hands. You stood silently flicking through the magazine, an eyebrow raised as you scanned the promiscuous positions of the models on each page. The train jerked just as you landed on page 26, and you stumbled, throwing your arms out to regain your balance, but an arm was wrapping around your waist and tugging you towards them. You landed with a squeal on someone’s lap, and you looked back to spot Remus’s grinning face, both his arms snaking around your torso. He nodded towards the magazine, and you turned your gaze towards it, your breath immediately hitching in your throat.

“I was not expecting that.” You muttered, and Remus hummed in agreement. Page 26 had the most inappropriate image so far, with the model on her knees, chest touching the floor as she arched her back. The image was taken from the back, allowing a perfect view of her leaking centre between her spread legs. Sirius was right though, she had nearly identical hair, and her body’s curves dipped in similar manners to yours. “Well, I’ve never seen myself from that angle, so I wouldn’t know.” You announced, looking up at Sirius who wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively. You turned to the next page, where the same model was now straddling a man’s lap, leaning over his chest with her fist closed around his dick. “Hey, he kind of looks like you!” You added, looking up at Remus with a grin. “Same tattoo placement too.” You pointed at the man on the page’s tattoo, just above his hip, and Remus ducked his head down to press kisses in the crook of your neck. “Meant to be together in every universe, yeah?” You twisted on Remus’s lap to face him, leaning closer to kiss him softly. One of his hands travelled to your hip to squeeze it gently, pecking your lips once more.

James’s attention was still turned towards the view on the other side of the window, but he listened closely to your entire loving exchange, an image of you an Remus together forming in his head. He winced, feeling himself grow impossibly harder. You cocked your head to the side as you observed James, calling the boy’s name once. As he turned his body towards you, he placed his hands over his lap, gulping harshly. You giggled, standing from Remus’s lap to wobble over to James. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders, you let yourself drop onto his lap, causing a loud moan to escape his parted lips. James’s hands moved to tightly grip your hips, adjusting you so that his swollen cock was right in between your legs.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” You asked teasingly, pressing a soft kiss on James’s temple. “Please, please.” He whimpered, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that Jamie, you know that.” Sirius turned his body towards you and James as the words tumbled out of your mouth, leaning back against  the compartment’s wooden door as he prepared himself for the show.

“I’m so hard, please.” He whispered, not daring to look at either of the other boys in the compartment. Sometimes they intimidated him too much, but you were always looking at him with adoration in your eyes. Turning your attention towards Remus, you silently deliberated with the quiet boy, a small smirk on his lips. The train hit a bump, causing your body to jump up and down on James’s lap, making him bite his lip painfully as he miserably tried to suppress a moan. Desperately, James bucked his hips up, looking for friction. His eyes fluttered shut as a satisfied breath left his lips, but his pleasure was short lived.

“James.” His eyes snapped open, looking directly across your body to make eye contact with Remus, who’d finally put on an assertive tone. “Are you so desperate to cum that you’re willing to do it in your trousers? On the train to Hogwarts?” James nodded quickly, which put a frown on Remus’s face. “Think about it for a few seconds.” It was James’s turn to frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head. “Go on and unbutton them for me.”

Sirius leaned to the side, reaching for the lock on the compartment door and turning it. He quickly mumbled a silencing spell while James rushed to undo his trousers. James looked up, waiting for further instructions from Remus. “Pull your boxers down.” You glanced down at James’s movements, watching his cock spring out of his boxers, tip leaking with drops of precum. You couldn’t help but wrap your hand around his cock, causing James’s jaw to fall open in a silent moan. A call of your name had your head snapping back towards Remus, patiently listening for his next words. “Just sit on it for now.” Sirius barked out a laugh as you whined “What? That’s not fair!” Remus raised his eyebrows at your disobedience, and it was enough for you to sigh submissively and follow his commands.

James’s hand slid under your skirt to push your panties to the side, the other arm wrapping around your waist carefully to help you slowly sink onto him. Your eyes snapped shut as you took in James’s thick length, a quiet whimper leaving you as you tried adjusting to his size. The only sound in the compartment was your and James’s heavy breathing, tears clouding your vision as you got yourself used to James’s girthy cock. James’s hands returned to your hips in an instant, slightly lifting you off him to help you adjust. Remus watched silently, manspreading and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not gonna tell them to stop moving?” Teased Sirius, moving to sit next to the boy in command. “Bold coming from the guy who got them in this situation.” He fired back, though the playful smile on his face suggested he was only teasing.

Remus put an arm out and Sirius quickly moved to fill the empty space in front of it, taking your precious spot. The two shared a quick kiss and James instantly whined, letting his head drop on your shoulder as he tried holding himself back from moving. “I still don’t think this is fair.” You announced boldly, squeezing your legs together for more friction. “I didn’t even do anything!” You whimpered as the train hit another bump, James’s dick grazing your cervix.

Remus smiled at you, standing up and taking a step towards you. You looked up at him hopefully, chest puffing up when he leaned down to kiss you, cupping your cheeks with both his hands. You moaned quietly, pushing yourself up to return the kiss and Remus chuckled in the kiss, sliding his tongue in your mouth. Your fingers closed around Remus’s sweater, trying to pull him closer to you, but he broke the kiss, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs as he smiled down at you. “I know darling, you’re being so good for me. Get through this and I promise I’ll reward you when we get to the castle yeah?” You nodded eagerly, only remembering about James when he sharply thrusted his hips into yours, causing a loud gasp to escape your lips.

“Well, we both know who isn’t getting a reward later.” Remus scolded, causing James to whine, his head falling back in disappointment. “Okay James, go crazy.” Your eyes widened when those words left Remus’s mouth, and you instantly opened your mouth to protest “Not too crazy!” But James had already started thrusting his hips into you with such force that you bounced up his lap with each thrust. “Oh god!” You cried, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud. 

From in front of you, Sirius bit his lip at the sight of you panting on top of James who desperately bucked his hips into you, feeling himself grow hard. Fuck, now he was going to have to find a magazine with a lookalike of you and James together. “Don’t forget about her.” Remus warned James, sitting back down next to Sirius. James whimpered, mumbling “I’m sorry, sorry” as his hand travelled to the front of your panties, snaking inside to fumble around, looking for your clit. You jerked up when James’s fingers connected to your clit, beginning to harshly rub circles on it as he began losing rhythm of his thrusts.

Suddenly remembering that he wasn’t limited to this position alone, James wrapped his free arm around your waist, using the momentum of his thrusts to stand up. You yelped as James put you on your feet, turning you towards the window so he could hit it from the back. You stuck your ass out, legs immediately beginning to shake from the new angle as James began thrusting into you with more power.

Sirius cleared his throat, reaching for the button of his trouser, when Remus placed his hand atop his, saying “Don’t.” Sirius’s eyes widened, and he mumbled “What?” though he quickly turned his attention back to you and James just as your back was arching and James’s thrusts were becoming sloppy. Your high pitched moans filled the compartment while James was crying out your name, releasing his load into you. He kept his cock buried inside you while you both came, emptying every last drop of cum into you. You panted heavily, turning your torso as much as you could to kiss James, who eagerly accepted your kiss. Sirius finally turned his gaze back to Remus, who still kept his hand over his, and questioned again. “What? You’re joking, right?” Remus shook his head, holding out the magazine that Sirius had hidden in James’s bag. “Think of it as a sort of punishment.” 

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe