#Duncan: no man it’s worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunsburns · 12 days

Text

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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storiesforallfandoms · 6 months

Text

new toy ~ felix catton;saltburn

word count: 5901

request?: no

description: when he brings a girl home for the summer, she finds herself struggling to fit into his lifestyle

pairing: felix catton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of parent deaths, farleigh being a catty rich bitch (affectionate), feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, little bit of angst, things get steamy but no actual smut in this one

masterlist (one, two, three)

Venetia rushed to the window of her bedroom as she heard the car carrying her brother pulling up the drive. The family had been made aware that Felix was bringing a friend home for the summer. Not that anyone had to tell them. Felix often had a new sad sack in tow whenever he came home from school, who would never be seen again once they returned to school at the end of the summer. Venetia had tried to get some information on this new friend from Farleigh, but her cousin said he hadn't seen anyone new hanging out with Felix during the school year. She was itching to get a peak at Felix's newest toy.

She gasped and turned to Farleigh, who was looking at her in curiosity. "It's a girl!"

(Y/N) stepped out of the car as Felix excitedly talked away. She looked at the giant house with wide eyes. She knew Felix had money; his parents were paying his way through college after all, meanwhile (Y/N) was a scholarship kid. But she never could've imagined he was this level of rich. His house was a goddamn castle!

She was wondering if it was too late to back out of Felix's offer to stay over.

An older man dressed in a black suit opened the front door as (Y/N) and Felix approached. (Y/N) stopped suddenly as the man's glare landed on her.

"Duncan!" Felix exclaimed. "How are you, you serious old brute?"

"Good to see you, master Felix. This is your new...friend?"

The way he said it made (Y/N) wince.

Felix turned to her and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Don't be frightened, (Y/N). This is my family butler, Duncan. He looks terrifying, but his bark is worse than his bite."

(Y/N) tried to smile at Duncan, but he merely continued to stare her down. She shrunk into Felix's embrace, which, luckily, the taller boy noticed her discomfort and brought her into the house. With his arm still around her, Felix brought (Y/N) around the giant house. There was so much to see, so much to know. There was simply no way she'd remember it all. She expected to get lost just trying to get to the bathroom.

Luckily, that wouldn't be a problem at least, as Felix led her into his room. "Your room is just through here. We'll be sharing a bathroom. Hope you don't mind."

She was glad he wasn't facing her so he missed the look on her face at his statement.

Felix threw the door to her room open with a flourish before turning to her. "And this is where you'll be staying. Don't worry about unpacking, the butlers will do that for you. It has a nice view of the garden and such, and I'm just next door past the bathroom, as you've already seen."

He flopped down onto her bed and stretched out so he was taking up the entire bed. (Y/N) pushed his leg over a bit so she could sit next to him. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know," Felix said. He rolled onto his side to look up at her. "It'll feel like a lot, but I promise my family will love you. And if it gets overwhelming, I'll be here."

He put his hand on her leg. She looked down at it, the heat from where his hand was touching rising from that spot all the way up to her face. Her entire body felt like it had been ignited by a simple gesture to try and bring her comfort. She wondered if Felix knew what he did to her.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as Felix stood, removing his hand from her leg.

"I'll let you unwind or whatever," he said. "Dinner isn't until 5, so you have plenty of time to yourself until then. You brought a dress, right?" She nodded. "Good. Mum and dad insist on fancy dinner wear. It's a little embarrassing. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

And just like that, he was gone. (Y/N) sighed and fell back onto the bed.

This definitely was not how she expected to spend her summer. She had started her time at Oxford as an outcast, a scholarship loser among a sea of rich kids. She tired not to let it get to her. Getting into Oxford at all was a big deal, (Y/N) knew to be proud of that. But that didn't make the whispers and dirty looks directed towards her any easier to take.

She didn't seek out friendship with anyone, let alone with Felix. Of course, she had noticed Felix. Who wouldn't? He was beautiful and had charm for days. Everyone loved him. But (Y/N) knew better than to try and approach him. They were from two completely different worlds, and (Y/N) knew she didn't belong in his world.

To her surprise, it was Felix who initiated first contact.

They were in an English class together. Felix had sat next to her one day and asked, "Did you finish the reading for today?" (Y/N) was so shocked that he had spoken to her that she could only nod in response. "Can you summarize it for me? I tried to read it but it was so fucking boring."

Apparently, that one act of kindness was enough to consider (Y/N) a friend. Felix invited her to sit with him at the bar, to come study in his room, to go to the "invite only" parties on campus. His other rich friends didn't seem to enjoy her company, but he did and that's all that mattered.

When (Y/N) told Felix she had nowhere to go for the summer, he invited her to come stay with him and his family in Saltburn. He refused to take no for an answer. So now here she was, in a bedroom that only had a bathroom to separate her and the boy she had started developing feelings for but knew she couldn't have, in a house the size of a castle owned by a family who mad more money than she'd ever see in her life.

She let out another sigh for good measure before sitting up. She still had plenty of time before dinner, but she wanted to make sure she was presentable to meet Felix's family for the first time. She got up and went to the bathroom, locking the door that led to Felix's room just in case. There was no shower, so she had to opt for a bath. She tried to be quick, but once she had laid in the oversized tub and allowed the hot water to engulf her, she never wanted to get out. Maybe she could spend the entire summer in the tub instead of dealing with Felix's family.

When the water began to go cold, she reluctantly got out and returned to her room. She had packed the limited amount of makeup she owned just in case there were any formal gatherings she needed to dress up for. Now she was definitely glad she had if dinner was meant to be a formal thing. She did her makeup carefully to make sure it was perfect, then dug through her bag for the dress she had packed. It wasn't anything super fancy, just a royal blue, off the shoulder dress with a pleated skirt that came down just above the knee. It was the nicest dress she owned, so eh hoped it would suffice.

There was still some time before dinner, but (Y/N) figured it was time to meet the family.

She stepped out of her room and realized she had no idea where to go to find the dining room.

"Need help?"

(Y/N) jumped and turned to see Duncan stood, blank faced yet again, looking at her,

"Yes please," she responded, her voice soft.

"Follow me," Duncan told her. He didn't wait to see if she was following, she she quickly troted along behind him to keep up.

The Catton family was sat around the dinner table already when Duncan led (Y/N) into the room. All eyes turned to her when she walked in. She suddenly felt very self conscious and wished she was back in the hot, welcoming bath tub.

Until she caught Felix looking at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Oh, Felix, darling," an older woman sat at the head of the table - Felix's mom - said. "She is absolutely beautiful."

His mom stood from her seat and quickly approached (Y/N). She gently cupped (Y/N)'s cheeks. (Y/N) tensed, unsure of what to do. Mrs. Catton didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't let on.

"Honey, you didn't tell us how beautiful she was," Mrs. Catton said to her son.

"You never believe me," Felix retorted.

Mrs. Catton turned back to (Y/N). "Welcome, darling. We're very happy to have you here. You can call me Lady Elspeth." She took (Y/N)'s hands and squeezed them, then gestured towards the table. "We left a seat free next to Felix for you. Come, sit. Dinner will be served soon."

(Y/N) quickly moved to the table, oping to no longer be the center of attention. Felix was still smiling at her as she sat down next to him.

"You do look beautiful," he said.

Her face started heating up. "Thank you."

Across from them, a throat cleared. Felix glanced up at his cousin. (Y/N) didn't miss the subtle change in Felix's expression. "(Y/N), this is my cousin, Farleigh, and my sister, Venetia."

"Oh, I know Farleigh," she said, looking over at the other young man. He gave her an obviously forced smile. "I-I mean, I know of Farleigh. I've seen you around on campus."

"Weird that I haven't seen you. It's not like Felix to hide his friends away," Farleigh said.

"I wasn't hiding her away." Felix's face was tense. (Y/N) wondered what the story between him and Farleigh was. They seemed to get along well on campus, or at least Farleigh was in Felix's friend group.

Dinner was served, thus breaking up the tense moment. A plate was placed in front of everyone and they all began to eat. (Y/N) tried not to draw too much attention to herself, but she knew her presence alone was drawing attention. Both Farleigh and Venetia weren't very subtle with the way they were staring at her.

"So, (Y/N)," Elspeth said after a few moments of silence, "what is it you're studying at Oxford?"

"English," (Y/N) responded. "I'd like to be a writer when I graduate, but I know that's not an entirely realistic dream so I'm aiming to be an English teacher as a backup."

"Oh, writing! That's wonderful, darling!" Elspeth said. (Y/N) was somewhat shocked that Elspeth seemed genuine with her interest. "Have you written anything yet?"

"A few short stories." She shrugged. "Nothing major."

"'Nothing major'?" Felix questioned. "She's won contests with her short stories! Remember, you told me one of your stories was published in an anthology of short stories when you were still in high school?"

Elspeth and Felix's dad, Sir James, were impressed, while (Y/N) was surprised that Felix had remembered her telling him that. He was smiling down at her in pride and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Is that how you got your scholarship?" Farleigh asked. The look on his face told (Y/N) that his question wasn't as genuine as Elspeth's had been.

"Farleigh," Felix sneered.

"What? I was just asking. It's not like it's a secret that she's a scholarship kid. There's no shame in needing some financial help."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Boys," James said, his voice stern in warning.

Dinner fell quiet after that. (Y/N) pushed her food around her plate, suddenly no longer hungry. She was back to wishing she could melt away into the floor and never be seen again. Maybe it wasn't too late to just go back to the school and stay in the dorms alone for the summer.

Once she had finished eating, she politely excused herself and went back to her room. She had paid enough attention when Duncan showed her to the dining room that she made it back with no issue. The minute the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh. A lump had started to form in her throat, but she was refusing to let herself cry. Even now while she was alone, she didn't want to give in to these feelings. She had to be strong, at least until she could get her things together and figure out a way back to the school.

As Felix had told her, the butlers had unpacked her bag while she was at dinner. It took her a moment to find her pajamas and makeup remover. She pulled on an oversized shirt she had packed to wear on the warm nights and was leaned over the dresser to start taking off her makeup, the shirt riding up just enough, when the door connecting her and Felix suddenly opened. Felix walked in, still in his suit from dinner, except he had removed his tie and the top few buttons had been undone. (Y/N) quickly stood up straight, pulling her shirt down to cover her ass.

"Don't you knock?" she asked.

"No, why would I?" he said.

"What if I was changing?"

"You weren't."

She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her makeup off, this time more cautious about how much of her was being exposed with Felix in the room.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how Farleigh acted during dinner," Felix said.

(Y/N) paused for a moment. She glanced at Felix through the mirror. He was looking up at her with an expression that told her his apology was genuine.

"It's alright," she said.

"No, it wasn't alright. He shouldn't be saying those things about you. It's not like he's much different. My parents have financially supported him for years and let him stay here for free. At least you earned your scholarship, he only got his way in life because of his family."

"So did you, though." There was a beat, and (Y/N) quickly turned to face Felix. "Wait, I didn't mean - "

"No, you're right," he cut her off. "My parents have financially helped me, too. You're the only one among us who has really earned your spot at Oxford. It's not fair of Farleigh to try and make you feel small because you come from a different background."

(Y/N) wanted to tell him it wasn't just Farleigh, it was everyone at Oxford. Even Felix's own friend group had shunned (Y/N) when he introduced her to them. It felt like Felix was the only one who truly wanted to befriend (Y/N).

"You don't have to apologize for him," she said instead. "But I appreciate that you'd want to."

"You're my friend. I didn't bring you here to be insulted by my obnoxious cousin, I brought you here because I wanted you to spend the summer with us."

Friend.

Even though she knew that's all they were, it still stung to hear him say it. She wanted so much more than that, but it was wishful thinking to believe that Felix cause ever want more than that.

"I...I think I'm gonna just...get in bed."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "It's still only early."

"I know. All the travel just has me feeling pretty worn out."

"Okay."

He stood and (Y/N) expected him to go back to his room. When he started to unbutton his shirt more, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"What are you doing?!"

"I was going to stay over here tonight. If you were okay with that, that is."

"You're supposed to ask these things before you just start undressing."

Felix chuckled as (Y/N) turned her back to him. "You really don't want to watch as I undress?"

Of course I want to watch! "I'm just...trying to be courteous."

He laughed again. (Y/N) could hear the sounds of his clothes hitting the floor. She wondered why he hadn't at least gone back to his room to get a pair of pajamas. At least pajama pants. She was starting to get the feeling that at home, Felix didn't have to ask many questions, and that also extended towards his guests.

"Okay, I am covered."

When she turned back, he was under the covers of her bed, his hands behind his head so she could see that he was at least shirtless under there.

"The bed is big enough for us to share," he said, reading the shocked look on her face. "That is, again, if you don't mind."

"N-No. I-I guess that's fine."

(Y/N) crawled into bed next to Felix. She tried to put as much distance between the two of them as she could but, despite what Felix said, the bed certainly was not that big. She could still feel the heat from his body as she turned onto her side, her back to him. She could feel his nearness. And she could feel the fact that he was only wearing his boxers.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she said. "I'm not going to slip away during the night or something."

He bed shook a little as he laughed. "I know. I just wanted to stay over here. At the very least, I want to make sure you don't have any issues sleeping. I always find I struggle when I'm trying to sleep in a new place."

(Y/N) rolled onto her other side so that she could face Felix. The full moon was shining through the window, illuminating his face. He turned his head to look down at her.

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Felix," she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.

He smiled. "Get some sleep, (Y/N). I don't intend on having a boring day tomorrow if the weather is nice."

~~~~~~

When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, she completely forgot where she was. The bed was far too soft to be the one in her dorm at Oxford, and it was certainly too hot to be just a normal day during the schooling semester.

Not to mention the fact that there was a body laying under her.

(Y/N)'s eyes snapped open as she realized her head was resting on Felix's chest, and his arm around wrapped around her. At some point in the night, they must've shifted so that they were cuddling. (Y/N) wasn't sure if she should pull away or stay where she was. What would Felix's reaction be when he woke up and found them both in such a compromising position?

A knock came at her door. "Miss. (Y/N)?"

It was Duncan's voice. Now she was definitely panicking.

"Just checking if you're awake," he added.

"Uh...yeah! I am Duncan!" she called back.

"Breakfast is being served in ten minutes. Do wake up master Felix and let him know as well. His mother will want him to punctual since she didn't get as much time with him last night."

Her face burned. She wondered if Duncan knew Felix was in here with her, or if he meant for her to go over to Felix's room to wake him.

The sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway told her that Duncan had walked away. She let out a breath, relaxing into Felix's side yet again. She felt him move beneath her and she quickly pulled out of his arms before he started to wake up.

She was shocked at how beautiful he looked in the morning. The same perfect beauty he had when he fell asleep. Not a single hair out of place, no drool on his lips, no sleepy gunk in his eyes. It was really unfair just how perfect he really was.

His eyes slowly blinked open and he smiled when he saw (Y/N) looking down at him. "Good morning."

"Morning," she said. "Uh, Duncan was just here. He said breakfast is in ten minutes."

Felix groaned. "I don't want to get up yet. Why does mum have to have breakfast so early?"

(Y/N) looked at the clock hung on the wall. "It's almost 10am."

"Far too early to wake up in the summer."

She couldn't help but chuckle a little. Felix stretched his arms out and sat up as well. His face was suddenly very close to hers, almost too close.

"I suppose I should get ready for breakfast then," he said.

"Is there any dress code for breakfast?"

He shook his head. "Not for breakfast, but the dress code for today's events is a bathing suit. Once we finish eating, I'm taking you down to the lake."

~~~~~~

A few hours later, (Y/N) was following Felix towards the lake next to his house. It was a scorching hot day outside. One that was definitely better spent in the cooling water instead of cooped up inside.

Farleigh and Venetia were already by the lake. Farleigh was laid back on a towel, reading some book, while Venetia was sat by the lake with her feet in the water. She looked over her shoulder as she heard the two approach and smiled.

"Well, here they are!" she announced. "Finally you're here."

"Pull up a towel," Farleigh said, not looking up from his book.

(Y/N) went to sit on the grass, but Venetia called, "Not you! You're joining me down here. I've been surrounded by this testosterone for far too long."

She wasn't about to argue. She was already coated in sweat just from walking down from the house. (Y/N) sat beside Venetia and placed her feet in the water. The sudden cold was like a shock to her system, but definitely a welcome one.

"So, (Y/N)," Venetia said, "tell me, how did you and my brother meet?"

"We were in class together," (Y/N) responded. "I helped him with an assigned reading he had trouble with."

"Saved my ass from failing that surprise test the professor gave us," Felix added.

"It wasn't a surprise, he told us about it the class before," (Y/N) said.

"I wasn't there that class, so it was a surprise to me."

"Was that the day you were too hungover after a dorm party on a Sunday night?" Farleigh asked.

"A Sunday?!" (Y/N) laughed.

"It was a surprise party for one of my friends in the dorm," Felix responded. "He had gone home for the weekend so we had to have the party that Sunday. I didn't plan to get fucked up that night."

"You never do," Farleigh commented.

"What about your family, (Y/N)?" Venetia interrupted. "Are they okay with you spending your summer with a load of strangers?"

Felix opened his mouth to deter his sister from asking, but (Y/N) cut him off by saying, "My parents are dead."

A silence fell over them. Venetia looked a mixture of horrified and sad. Farleigh lowered his book to look over at (Y/N). Felix was trying not to look at any of them while (Y/N) was fixing her attention on the water in front of her. She was running her feet back and forth, disrupting the otherwise calm water.

"They died when I was ten," she continued. "Car accident, drunk driver. I've lived with my grandparents since then, but my grandpa died a year ago and my gran is starting to develop dementia. When I got accepted into Oxford, I made a deal with the Dean that I could stay on campus during the summers until I could afford my own place."

Venetia looked like she was about to cry. (Y/N) suddenly wished she had lied and made up some story about her parents.

"Way to ruin the moon, V," Farleigh commented.

"I didn't know!" Venetia retorted.

"No, it's fine," (Y/N) cut off their bickering. "It's tough, but I've had years to come to terms with all the death, and gran is in a nursing home now so she's being taken care of. I don't want anyone to tip toe around me like I'm made of glass."

As if to make her point, (Y/N) pushed off the edge of the lake and into the water. She shrieked as the cold engulfed her. Venetia followed suit, and soon enough both of them had convinced Farleigh and Felix to get into the water as well. The conversation was long forgotten as they swam around, splashing one another as if they were children.

~~~~~~

That night, (Y/N) was sat in the garden underneath her bedroom window. With the sun gone down, the air had cooled off, but only slightly. The room was still too stuffy for her, and opening the window just made it worse, so she opted to sit out in the cool air before she tried to sleep again.

Footsteps approached and she expected it to be Felix. When she turned, she was surprised to see Venetia instead, dressed in a sheer nightgown and carrying a lit cigarette between her fingers.

"Mind if I sit?" Venetia asked.

"I feel like I should be the one asking you that, considering it's your house."

Venetia chuckled and sat next to her.

(Y/N)'s first impression of Venetia had been wrong, and she was kind of glad it had been. She thought that, like Farleigh, Venetia was also going to be a little catty and condescending towards her. But after their day by the lake, she felt a sort of kinship with Venetia. They were the only two young girls at Saltburn, they had to look out for one another at the very least.

"So, how are you enjoying your stay so far?" Venetia asked.

"It's lovely here," (Y/N) said. "Much better than spending the summer at the Oxford campus along. At least there's a lot of the house to explore, and at least two people who seem to want me here."

"Three, if you count mum. She's ecstatic to have you. If you're not careful, she might just try and adopt you."

"I wouldn't complain."

Venetia took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "And, um...has Felix been treating you well?"

(Y/N) looked over at her with confusion. "I'd...say more than well. Why?"

"I just..." Venetia leaned over, resting her arms against her legs. "I'm not saying this to try and scare you or anything. I truly like you, (Y/N), and I just want to warn you because I know how my brother is. He often takes someone who is a little more...damaged than him under his wing and brings them back here for a few months. But once the summer ends, or once he's lost interest, he casts them aside for whatever new shiny toy catches his attention."

Venetia's words hit (Y/N) like a ton of bricks. She had been telling herself for months since meeting Felix that their friendship was too good to be true, that he was going to realize he was making a mistake and move on. But when he didn't, when he asked her back to his house for the summer, she thought that maybe she was wrong. Maybe he actually did care for her and wanted to be friends with her. She had a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe this summer would bring them closer together, that they could become more than just friends.

If anyone would know how Felix was, it would be Venetia. She was his sister. She had seen a lifetime of the way Felix acted with friends. If she was warning her of the possibility that Felix might toss her aside once the summer ended, then she felt inclined to believe Venetia.

"Again, I'm not telling you this as a way to make you upset," Venetia added. "Trust me, I want nothing more than for you to stay with us for the summer. I just really do not want you to get hurt if that's what happens with Felix."

Tears were forming in (Y/N)'s eyes again. She was having a harder time at fighting them than the night before after all Farleigh had said to her. She quickly stood and murmured a "goodnight" to Venetia before rushing back inside the house. She got to her bedroom just in time for the tears to start falling.

Stupid! You're so stupid for thinking you belonged here in his world. You're nothing more than a charity case for him!

(Y/N) sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She cried and cried until the tears dried up and she was essentially dry sobbing. Her eyes felt heavy and her body was aching from being on the floor for so long. She just wanted to go to back to the school and pretend this entire trip never happened.

When she finally coaxed herself to stand, (Y/N) went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth before bed. She looked at herself in the mirror and winced. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks were flush, and there were tear stains on her cheeks from crying. She grabbed a face cloth and wet it down with warm water. Before she could start wiping her face, the door leading to Felix's room opened. She froze, the wet cloth in her hands.

"Hey," Felix said. She thought for a moment that he hadn't noticed her state, until suddenly he was beside her. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, wincing again at the sound of her horse voice.

"You don't look or sound fine."

She began to wipe her face, trying to ignore Felix's presence. As she rinsed the face cloth again, she said, "I think I'm going to call the Dean tomorrow to ask if my room is still available at the school, then look into getting the next train back to Oxford as soon as possible."

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to stay."

(Y/N) shook her head. "I don't belong here, Felix. This is your world, not mine. I'm just the girl with dead parents and a scholarship, struggling to figure out how or if I'll ever be financially stable enough to live on my own once the school kicks me out."

"What did Farleigh say to you?"

"It wasn't Farleigh!" she snapped, finally turning to face him. "It was Venetia! She told me that you don't let people stick around for long. That you take in the charity cases and toss them aside when you're bored. And I knew that's what was happening with me, I knew there was no way you could possibly want to be friends with me, but I was also stupid enough to let myself believe that maybe it was all real. That maybe you actually cared and you actually wanted me here!"

She was crying again. She must've looked and sounded insane. She wished she had never accepted Felix's offer to come here. She could only imagine what he would say about her when she left the next day.

"I'm not staying here and waiting to be hurt, Felix," she said. "You may think it's fun to toy with people's emotions, but I don't. Not when I trusted you in telling you about my parents, about my stories, about my sad little poor life."

She had more to say, although she wasn't sure if any of it would've made sense, but Felix cut her off before she could. He took hold of her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It surprised her at first and she pulled away almost immediately. He looked down at her, worried, like he was scared he had just crossed a line. When her brain finally caught up to what was happening, she quickly leaned back in to kiss him again.

Her hands held on to his shirt while one of his still cupped her face and the other started to move down her body. With one quick movement, he had lifted her up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands moved to tangle into his hair. His tongue moved across her bottom lip, silently asking for entrance to her mouth. She realized he was commando under his pajama pants when she felt him pressed against her, the only layer between being her panties as she was once again in the oversized shirt she had worn the night before.

Felix broke away first. She tried to follow him, but he held her back, a playful grin on his face.

"I don't want you to go," he said. "I want you here. Not just for this summer, but every summer from now on. I want you in my dorm room back at school, and eventually in my own place when we finish with school. I want you, (Y/N). You're not some toy to me."

"How long have you felt like this?" she asked.

"Since before I spoke to you in class that first day."

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I kept chickening out. Every girl I've been with has only wanted me for my money, or my looks, or both. No one has ever really cared for me as a person. When you did, it almost intimidated me. I needed to know for sure you'd be here for the long run, so I brought you home to see how you'd react to everything."

"Am I passing the test?"

He chuckled and kissed her again. "With flying colors."

She couldn't get enough of him; of his lips, his smile, his body against hers, his hands on her. She wanted all of him all the time. She suddenly never wanted to leave either of their rooms for the rest of the summer.

"You can still go back to school if you feel uncomfortable here. I wouldn't blame you there," he said. "But if you're going back, I'm coming with you."

She shook her head. "I couldn't take you away from your family."

"Then stay. I want you to be here, too. I want to be with you."

She grinned cheekily back at him. "If you're going to beg, you should be on your knees at least."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "If that's what you want."

She wanted all of him all the time, but she decided not to say that just yet. She was still a little cautious. She had to make sure Felix meant what he was saying, even if she felt deep down that he was. He needed to prove himself to her before she opened up that much to him.

But for now, she would definitely take the sight of him on his knees, his face between her legs as his hands pushed the shirt up around her hips.

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine #saltburn #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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lieutenantfloyd · 3 months

Text

How they react to you suddenly kissing them — Dune preference

Characters: Gurney Halleck, Feyd-Rautha, Duncan Idaho, Stilgar, Count Rabban.

Warnings: Fluff, insecurity, brief mentions of biting and hair pulling.

Authors Note: I used to write preferences like this years ago, but I wanted to try writing some for my current fandoms :)

Gurney: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, he loses himself in the kiss before quickly coming back to his senses. He'd step away from you slightly, a part of him fearing that your affection is some kind of joke, or worse, that he's somehow taking advantage of you by accepting your advances. Once you've given him the proper reassurance, gurney will put his initial reservations aside and happily make up for your awkward first kiss.

Feyd-Rautha: When you close the gap between you and place your lips to his, Feyd-Rautha instantly takes hold of your hair and sinks his teeth into your lip. It's impossible to catch such a confident man off guard, especially one as psychotic and unpredictable as him. He relishes the kiss and the metallic taste that blooms in his mouth. Now that you've made your interest known, Feyd-Rautha has a twisted mind full of plans for the two of you, none of which include letting you go anytime soon.

Duncan: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, you can feel Duncan smirk before deepening the kiss almost instantly. He wastes no time pulling you closer and bringing a hand to rest on the nape of your neck. What feels like forever passes before you pull away, nearly gasping for breath. Duncan, being the man he is, goes back to his previous task as if he didn't just turn your world completely upside down. Though the small smile and glint in his eyes tell you he's waiting for his next chance to recreate the moment.

Stilgar: When you close the gap between you and place your lips on his, Stilgar's body stiffens against yours and his blood runs cold. His mind immediately starts racing, thinking about all the now-blatant signs of interest you'd shown him and how he should react now that you're in his arms. Unfortunately, his lack of reactions leads you to pull away. You only barely move before Stilgar's recaptures your lips, giving you a searing kiss in return.

Rabban: When you close the gap between you and place your lips in his, his instincts have him shoving you away roughly. While he doesn't want to reject you—and much less hurt you—the sudden contact triggers his warrior instincts. He gets worked up, yelling questions about what you were thinking and why you'd want to kiss him in particular. His demeanor turns uncharacteristically shy and bashful as he listens to your reasoning, and he doesn't object to a redo. This time he lets you take the lead, bending down slightly to give you better access to his lips and touch starved body. Any and all forms of kindness are completely foreign to him, but if your kiss is anything to go by, he's dying to learn more.

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ihavemanyhusbands · 10 months

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The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

A/N: Shout out to beelmons and G for their endless support and help with my fics <3 :') where would I be without y'all?

Summary: You run into your long-time nemesis in the last place you ever expected, but things take a turn for the worst when you find yourself stuck with him during a snowstorm.

WC: 7.2k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, mentions and depictions of violence, fighting, accidental assassination of a third party, some serious bickering, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), choking, very light knifeplay, dirty talk, slight degradation mixed with some praise, rampant sexual tension, ooey gooey lovesick fools who are just SO SO STUBBORN, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

----

Triple Oak, Montana.

It’d been a while since you’d last found yourself in such a quaint little town, especially in the middle of winter, but you supposed you’d been in way worse places. It was barely even on the map, which made it a convenient place to lay low.

You didn’t have to worry about interacting with many people, and you sure as hell didn’t think you’d encounter anyone you knew. At least for the time being, you felt like you could relax just a little bit while you made plans.

In a few more days, you’d continue driving north and cross the Canadian border into Saskatchewan, where you were meant to carry out your next assignment. Your target was a skeevy arms dealer that had to move his whole operation out of Serbia and was now shacked up somewhere in the vast prairies.

You’d been tracking his activity for some time, slowly narrowing down the list of possible locations. You’d also scored some insider information about a big upcoming transaction with a terrorist cell, and your goal was to get to him before the sale was finalized.

Successfully eliminating him would pay handsomely, and you were already planning on a months-long vacation in which you’d go fully off the radar. Preferably somewhere by the beach, where you didn’t feel the constant threat of frostbite.

You pulled into a small gas station — the only one to be found in a long stretch of the highway between the town and more secluded cabins — and occupied one of the three measly pumps. There was only one other old pickup truck next to you, but the owner was nowhere to be seen.

You blew hot air into your hands as you walked into the convenience store, eager for some coffee despite how shitty it was.

“Hey Lou,” you said to the now familiar attendant, the little bell above the door ringing as you pushed in. “How’s it goin’?”

“Eh, slow, the usual,” he shrugged. “At least it’s decently warm in ‘ere. They say there’s gonna be a snowstorm over the weekend, starting tonight.”

“Shit, really?” You groaned, not only because you loathed the freezing temperatures, but because it would set you back by a few more days.

“Yup, perfect time to cozy up with the missus back at home.”

You poured yourself a large cup of black coffee and snapped the lid on top. On the way back to the register, you grabbed a couple of magazines and a pack of Ding-Dongs to eat on the road.

“Well, lucky you,” you said, putting everything on the counter. “I gotta find ways to keep myself busy and warm in case I lose power.”

As you spoke, the door to the restroom opened behind you and a tall, rugged-looking man stepped out. His eyes instinctively flickered between the two of you, even if he couldn’t see your face. He lingered close to the back, trying not to bring attention to himself.

“You sure you’ll be good all by yourself out there?” Lou asked. “Enough supplies and all?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” you said, fishing cash out of your wallet. “Give me thirty on number two, also.”

“You got it, tough gal.”

You chuckled as he rang you up, glancing outside. The man behind you tensed, gripped with the dread that came with sudden recognition. Your voice was one he knew well, the very same one he’d heard all seventeen times he’d almost died. Well, eighteen if he counted that one brief altercation in Belfast.

And that laugh… How many times had it been directed at him? Taunting him, teasing him, driving him utterly mad.

It was perhaps the only thing that stopped him from actually getting rid of you that one night you slept so soundly at some shoddy little hotel in Madrid. He’d watched your chest's steady rise and fall from his spot in the darkness, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now he’d most likely have to pay for the consequences of his mercy.

Lou looked over your shoulder at him, but you didn’t immediately notice since you were absently flipping through one of the magazines.

“Need anything else, Duncan?” He offered. “Pack of Winstons?”

Your skin prickled at these two very familiar details, but you didn’t move, still staring down at the magazine without actually reading. It was probably a mere coincidence. Really, there had to be dozens of Duncans in the world that just so happened to smoke Winstons.

But then, a very particular smell reached your nose — cheap cologne you didn’t know the name of, with strikingly bitter notes that had flooded your nostrils when his hands were tightly wrapped around your neck.

You glanced up at the fisheye mirror above the register… and there he fucking was, in all his deadly glory. The Black Kaiser himself.

You couldn’t help an amused huff, especially after hearing the faintest rustle of a knife being unsheathed under his coat.

“Are you sure you want to stab me with that, old man?” You said slowly over your shoulder.

“Less impersonal than a gun. I owe you that much, don’t I?” he said with that deep, gravelly voice of his that always made a stubborn tingle form at the base of your spine.

Your hand just barely inched towards the hidden holster of your gun. “Oh, but you know I get a little crazy when the knives come out.”

Lou looked between the two of you, confusion and a tinge of fear in his eyes.

“Uh, you two know each oth—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you whirled around and shot Duncan’s head. He ducked, but not before hurling a large knife at you in return. You dove out of the way, hearing it whizz right past your ear, and it sank into Lou’s forehead with a wet thud. His body slumped behind the counter, blood spraying over the stuff you’d intended to buy.

“Hey!” You yelled from your hiding spot. “I didn’t even get my change back!”

“You’re not gonna need it anymore,” he said gruffly, his voice not too far from you. “But before that… want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing up at the fisheye mirror once more.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t get a very good look at where he was, but you couldn’t stay put. You slowly began to inch to the end of the aisle, staying low. “Let me guess, you missed me so much these last three years that you decided to hunt me down.”

He scoffed. “Three years was not nearly long enough time away from you.”

You dove around the corner to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there. You started pulling yourself forward, but suddenly you were flipped onto your back. You were about to whip your gun around, but it was harshly knocked out of your grasp, sliding against the linoleum. You thrashed against the weight that pressed down on you, but he pinned your hands down beside your head.

“Who sent you?” He asked.

“No one sent me, you paranoid geezer!” You sneered, driving your knee up full force right into his crotch. “Not everything’s about you.”

He growled at the pain, swaying to the side, his grip on your hands relaxing. You pushed him off of you, scrambling to get to your gun. Right as you managed to get a hold of it, he was on you again, pulling you back by the legs. You tried twisting around all the way, firing another shot semi-blindly. It narrowly missed his shoulder, shattering one of the windows.

“Can’t kill me without paralyzing me, eh, little Nightmare?” He taunted.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed a scream as he stepped on the hand you held your weapon with, his heavy boot cracking your wrist. Your fingers splayed involuntarily due to the pain, and he bent down to take the gun. He kept it pointed at you as he removed his boot from your wrist and grabbed your arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated, starting to pull you up.

“Like hell I am!” You spat, but you froze as you felt the barrel pressed against the back of your head.

“You were saying?”

He dragged you to your feet, leading you through the broken window, glass crunching under your boots. The wind seemed icier than it had been when you first arrived, which made you remember Lou’s warning about a snowstorm.

There was no way in hell you’d be stuck with him during it, so you’d have to find a way to weasel out of his grasp… and kill him in the process.

He led you towards his truck, but you pretended to trip at the last second, bending down and retrieving a knife you had hidden in your boot. You stabbed backward, aiming for his femoral artery, but he moved and the knife stabbed into his thigh muscle instead.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he didn’t let go of you, tightening his grip on your arm. He fired off a warning shot into the air, which made you flinch a little. “Try me again and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your thick fucking skull. I only have so much patience.”

He shoved you into the passenger seat of the truck, managing to tie you up with the seatbelt. Your bound hands were still slick with his blood, and you smiled triumphantly at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately peeling out of the gas station.

“This is what gets you hard, isn’t it?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re kind of a sick fuck, old man… but I didn’t expect any better from you.”

He said nothing, instead momentarily glaring at you. He grunted as he pulled the knife out of his leg, tossing it out of the window. You grumbled about him owing you a knife, but he continued to ignore you. He drove mostly in silence, winding through the icy roads as he gripped his wounded leg with one hand.

So far, it had been one of your tamest encounters. Really, it had all sort of felt like a game, but neither of you had won quite yet. After all, a game such as this could not be left unfinished.

Usually, the circumstances were vastly different. Your respective agencies had assigned you the same target a couple of times, and it always turned into a competition on who would finish the job first. As it turned out, the two of you were very competitive.

You’d left plenty of souvenirs on each other every single time you crossed paths – broken bones, an assortment of scars, and bruises as dark as the midnight sky. You wondered vaguely how much more damage you might make by the end of the day.

Why neither of you had succeeded in killing each other was… a bit of a mystery. Maybe he saw something in you that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he was growing soft with age. He would never admit it, but he’d had plenty of fun in this deadly dance with you so far, and it seemed a shame to let it come to its conclusion so soon.

He’d have to do it though, after some thorough interrogation.

Soon enough, he pulled up a long gravel road hidden among the tall pine trees. In the clearing ahead, you saw what you supposed was his cabin. It was modestly sized and a little dilapidated, but at least it seemed to be sturdy enough to withstand harsh conditions.

“Nice place,” you said sarcastically. “I don’t suppose you have many visitors?”

“Rarely,” he said without looking at you. “I like the quiet. No one’s going to bother us here.”

“You mean no one’s gonna come running when you scream?”

He grunted, readjusting his position in his seat. You were mostly tied up at the arms so your legs had some room to move. Rookie mistake on his part, which you would definitely take advantage of.

Before he could pull up in front of the actual cabin, you leaned back and kicked at the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, throwing you against the window. He tried to correct it on time, slamming on the brakes, but the snow made it careen right into a tree.

It wasn’t a tremendous crash, but the windshield still broke, glass raining down on both of you. You were both disoriented for a moment from the whiplash, but then you began to untangle yourself from the seatbelt. You kicked at him when he tried to reach for you, but he managed to pin your legs down.

“Can’t you stay put for one fucking second!?” He growled, fully bracketing you between his sturdy legs as he freed you from the seatbelt.

You panted heavily, trying to thrash beneath him, but he only pressed his legs tighter against your sides. A small, high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt the air being squeezed out of you, and you stopped moving.

“Satis…fied?” You managed between gasps.

“Not nearly,” he said, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he pulled back. “Come here.”

He kept a firm grip on it as he dragged you out of the truck and towards the cabin. He wobbled a little with each step, his leg still bleeding some.

“I warned you about the knives,” you said. “Even if you didn’t let me finish having fun.”

He chuckled sardonically. “No, you’re mistaken. The fun is only just beginning.”

He led you inside and locked the door behind him, making you sit down on a rickety chair. He bound your hands and feet with duct tape, wrapping some of it around your torso and the back of the chair for good measure. You decided not to struggle for the time being and instead ponder on your next move, covertly glancing at your surroundings for anything useful.

When Duncan was sure you wouldn’t be able to bolt, he went to grab something from an adjacent room, returning with his version of a first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. He looked at you from the corner of his eye as he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of fun,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Still, your gaze was drawn to his crotch first before trailing further down to the injury you’d caused. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down on the bed, which creaked a little under his weight.

He took a long swig of vodka and then poured some on the bleeding gash, hissing through his teeth. Your expression of slight amusement didn’t change as he glanced at you once more, taking out a needle and thread.

“I have to be careful about infections, who knows where that knife of yours has been?” he said.

You merely watched as he began stitching himself up without so much as a grimace. His breathing was slow and steady as he concentrated, and you found yourself entranced by the precise movements of his hands.

An obscene thought about those hands wriggled into your mind, but you immediately pushed it away. It was all the more reason for you to get the hell out of there, especially now that his pants were down.

As he was finishing his stitches, you leaned forward onto your tiptoes and then threw yourself back as hard as you could. The chair broke apart under you, the force of the blow and the angle in which you fell spraining one of your wrists. The adrenaline made you barely register the pain, and you quickly wriggled out of the tape wrapped around you.

You pulled a Swiss army knife out of your boot and hastily sawed off the tape binding your ankles. He swore as you stood, lifting your arms and slamming them down to free your hands. You stumbled towards the front door and yanked it open.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously and a thick flurry of snow limited your vision of your surroundings. You felt the unforgiving cold slicing through you as you hesitated, knowing deep down that your chances of survival were very slim.

Still, you were reckless enough to try and brave it. You started towards the steps when you were yanked back once more, your back pinned against the wall and Duncan’s hand around your throat.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” He growled.

“You only caught me because I hesitated, old man.”

His grip tightened a little in warning. “Didn’t anybody teach you never to hesitate?”

“There is a very fine line between foolishness and courage, you know…” The corners of your mouth twitched, an amused gleam in your eye. “I wonder how often you cross from one side to the other.”

He clenched his teeth and an absolutely devious, cheshire cat grin spread across your face. The mere sight of it made his blood boil with both rage and arousal, and he felt it flowing southward. Your back instinctually arched towards him, as if you could somehow sense the sudden influx of violent desire, and became infected by it.

You stared at each other for a charged moment before he suddenly fell upon you, intent on devouring you. His lips clashed with yours in a fierce kiss and you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging at it as you retaliated.

You bit his lower lip hard, making him groan into your mouth. You used this opportunity to slide your tongue against his, and he moved the hand that had been around your neck toward your jaw. Without thinking, you pressed harder against him, your fingers about to slide under the hem of his sweater.

He clasped your wrist to stop you, assuming you were reaching for some hidden weapon. You whimpered slightly, painfully reminded that it was in fact sprained. He pulled back to look at you, both of you panting heavily and still clutching each other tightly.

“I fear that line was blurred a long time ago, and I suspect it’s the same case with you,” He murmured.

His words broke through your daze and you immediately pushed him away from you, cradling your injured hand against your chest. A maelstrom of emotions roiled inside of you, predominantly confusion and a worrisome throb between your legs.

“And what now?” You asked, glancing out of the window. “It’s clear neither of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Now we weather the storm,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious.”

You huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I… can’t believe I’m asking this right now but, maybe we can… put the killing each other thing on hold for a few days?”

“So you were coming for me.”

“No! I wasn’t!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I have work further up north. This was just a pit stop.”

He assessed you for a moment, trying to find any clues that you were lying. You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on his face. He sniffed, leaning against the wall to get his weight off his injured leg.

“I’m fine with a temporary truce, but only if we both keep our weapons in plain sight at all times.”

“I am a weapon myself, big boy.”

“So am I. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on each other as well, then.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stomping to the couch and pulling it over to the kitchen. “I’ll stay on this side of the cabin, you can stay on the other side.”

“What!? This is my house!” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m being generous by letting you keep your bed. Not to mention, your life.”

He rolled his eyes, limping back over to his bed. “Whatever you say. Now, can I please fix my stitches in peace for one fucking second?”

———————

There was no sleep for the entirety of the first night.

The cabin creaked and groaned, straining against the disastrously strong wind. Your breaths fogged up in the air as you shivered under the thin blanket Duncan had given you. The cold seemed to seep into your very bones as if punishing you for your decisions. To distract yourself from the chill, you kept an eye on his prone form across the room, knowing well he wasn’t sleeping either.

When dawn broke, a thin grayish light filtered into the room. The storm raged on and all you wanted to do was doze off, but you were still on edge. You clenched your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, irritated by a headache. Your mood didn’t get any better when Duncan rose from his bed, crossing towards the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquired, not moving an inch.

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m hungry. Don’t you want to eat?”

Your stomach growled in answer and he lifted an eyebrow in slight amusement. You unwillingly threw the blanket off of you, getting up with an annoyed grunt.

“I’ll give you the food. Let’s see what you’ve got,” you said, rummaging through the cabinets.

“I could just show you…”

“No, stay on your side. Even better, why don’t you go sit back down on your bed?”

He followed orders, not really wanting to start quarreling with you so early in the morning. You finally found some oatmeal packets in one of the cupboards, and you took out a few and poured them into a pot along with some water. You left it to boil over the stove top, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face him.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” You asked.

“Fine. Why do you care?”

“I really don’t.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re a better assassin than you are a liar.”

You sighed deeply. “Well, it is your house, I should at least have some manners.”

He scoffed, still amused. “We are way past manners. Our only courtesy to each other would be a painless death.”

“Oh, really? Painless?” You arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget Lisbon? And that grenade launcher you stole?”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t technically aiming at you. You just happened to be in the way,” He argued. “And it’s not like you haven’t given me the same sort of treatment…”

You shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

The two of you lapsed into silence as you turned your attention back to the pot. Once the oatmeal was ready, you spooned it into two bowls and walked to the invisible line that divided the cabin in two.

He got up and met you there, reaching slowly for his bowl so as not to seem threatening. Not that you were viewing him that way, anyway. At least not in the clearly exhausted state he was in.

“Careful, it’s hot,” you said. “Need me to blow on it first?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, resisting the lure of your impish grin. He figured it was perhaps the more masochistic part of him that made him so drawn to you. Always pushing him, testing him, keeping him on the edge. He would never admit it to himself — much less to you — but it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t for a really long time.

He muttered a quick thank you before heading back to his side of the room, plopping down on the bed and immediately digging in. If he burned his mouth, he showed no indication of it, but you still huffed in amusement.

When he was done, he said nothing as he lied down, his back to you once again. A little confused and wary, you watched him as you slowly ate. Soon enough, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, and you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

You glanced over at the dining table, where the two of you had laid out all your weapons, and considered them for a long moment.

It seemed too easy to have such a window of opportunity. Normally, you’d have jumped at any such chance, but once more, you hesitated. Not out of any sort of newfound benevolence, but something deeper than that. Something that had been gnawing at you since the previous night.

In the end, you opted not to do anything. Surely, it was bound to be a mistake to not have killed him at that moment. But that would be a problem for another day, perhaps when the storm was over.

You sat down on the floor by the foot of the couch, back resting against the frame. Sleep deprivation was starting to hit you as well, and you knew that if you were to lay down you would certainly fall asleep. Instead, your eyes focused on the suspiciously peaceful sight of Duncan sleeping.

The longer you stared, the blurrier the lines seemed to get. Literally. His broad form was smudged into a single sphere, and without much thought about it, everything suddenly went black.

Until… Shit.

How long were you asleep?

It had been long since you’d last awakened to a man in front of you, let alone holding a knife to your face. The blade shone in your half-open eyes, reflecting the setting sun outside the window. You must have been unconscious for over two hours. Stupid, so very stupid.

You blinked the haze of sleep out of your eyes and followed the glint to his fingers, his forearm, up his broad chest and shoulders, until it finally landed on his face.

“So, the game ends at last, huh?” you muttered, your gaze not wavering from his.

“Could’ve ended long ago, but it didn’t,” he said, once again looking every bit the coldhearted killer he was. You could still see, however, the presence of doubt in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I knew you weren’t actually sleeping…”

“Even so,” he pressed, straightening to his full, imposing height. “You didn’t even try. Why?”

You blinked, not really having an answer, not one that would satisfy him at least. What's more, you had a set of questions of your own, ones that would likely also have no answer.

The words slipped before you could even think about them. “Why did you kiss me?”

Silence hung between you like a heavy drape. You were cornered in more than one sense. Windows for precaution and escape had long since closed, maybe even since the moment you ran into him in that little gas station. And through hardships, you learned that if there’s no way back, the only way is forward.

The wound in his thigh didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore, so there was no way you could outrun him. You looked down to avoid his scrutiny and he used the back of his knife to force your chin back up.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes bore into yours, almost as if seeing through them into parts of you that were foreign even to yourself. The flat part of the blade trailed up to your cheek in what could be interpreted as a caress.

Your hand unconsciously intended to return the favor, running up his knee to his thigh, extra cautious around his wound. You noticed a change of pattern in his breathing, and so you looked down only to find one of the answers you sought — the print of his hardened cock cruelly imprisoned within his pants.

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised. Then again, when the reality of what you were looking at fully sank in. “Oh.”

Your hand moved on its own accord again, slowly slipping further up his thigh. Again, he tightly grabbed your wrist before your fingers reached their target, and you hissed in pain. He immediately let go, withdrawing the knife as well.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“A sprained wrist isn’t gonna kill me,” you said, keeping your hand on his leg to drive your point across. “Now that, on the other hand, has to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of, huh?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with want and self-directed anger because of it.

He raked a hand through your hair, gathering it in his first and pulling your head towards his crotch. He pressed your cheek against his bulge, his hips bucking ever so slightly.

“And how do you suppose that’s gonna happen?” He added.

“I have a few ideas if you’re open to them,” you panted, ignited in a way that almost fully consumed you.

His eyes searched your face for a moment, drinking you in as he searched for any indications of doubt, and then he whispered, “Are you sure?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He saw the feverish gleam of hunger in your eyes as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants. The outline of his cock was even more prominent through his briefs and you couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath at the sheer size of him. He was still holding onto your hair, stepping closer and effectively cornering you against the couch.

You boldly started to reach for the hem of his briefs, but he said, “No. I want you to use your teeth.”

“Getting a little bold there, old man,” you said with a smirk, keeping your eyes on him as you dipped your head to plant a soft kiss on his thigh, right by his stitches.

He winced slightly at the contact, but you could see his cock throb against the fabric covering it. Your smirk only widened, “But I gotta admit I’m pretty impressed so far. Didn’t even have to slip a blue pill in your oatmeal.”

He gripped your jaw, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you need more proof, actually. Allow me.”

With his free hand, he roughly tugged down his briefs and his cock finally sprang free — so thick and long and just fucking perfect — hitting his lower abdomen. The head of it glistened with precum, which he spread with his thumb. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as saliva flooded your mouth.

“Open,” he ordered.

You immediately complied, wondering when the fuck you’d gotten so obedient. He gripped the base of it and fed it into your mouth slowly. You wrapped your lips around it, feeling it slide smoothly against your tongue.

A small groan escaped him, his head tipped back at the first rush of pleasure. You hummed a little in response and he felt the vibration of the sound against his shaft. His hips began to move again, shuttling his length deeper into your mouth, until you could feel the head of it reach your throat.

He let you steady yourself by placing your hands on his legs, his hand returning to the back of your head as it bobbed up and down. Then suddenly, when you’d reached the very base, he kept your head down. Your nose was against his pelvis, your deep, even breaths fanning against the fine hair that curled there.

Your nails dug into the flesh of his legs as you staved off your gag reflex as best as you could. Still, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, already pretty slick between your thighs.

He cursed under his breath as he let you come up for air, an obscene string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"If I knew you were such a cock drunk slut, I would have dropped my pants much earlier just to shut you up,” he said with a smug grin, looking down at you.

“More bold words from someone who’s only gonna last this round. I’m gonna have to take care of myself after you’re done,” you taunted lightly, making him pull at your hair.

You kept eye contact with him as you stuck your tongue out and traced it over a large vein on the underside of his shaft. You left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as you made your way back to the tip, and he lightly slapped it against your tongue a couple of times before pushing your head back down on it. His balls tightened momentarily as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and you knew he was enjoying himself much more than he let on.

"Well, if it's gonna be only one, might as well make good use of it, don't you think?" He said, pulling you off of him and making you stand up.

His lips were on yours in the next moment, just as desperate and hungry as the first kiss. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and yanked your sweater off along with your thermal undershirt. He reached for your pants, but you slapped his hand away, extricating yourself from his lips to undo them yourself.

As soon as they were off, he turned you around and bent you over the back of the couch. There was a wet spot in your underwear that made him smirk, but he also couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the sight.

“This is in the way…” he grunted, tugging at your bra strap.

Before you even registered what was happening, he brought the knife back out and sawed the bra off of you. You let out a gasp that was both surprised and indignant as he proceeded to rip your panties off with his bare hands, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

“Hey! Those are the only ones I have here!” You huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Unless you have a secret stash of women’s underwear, you seriously owe me.”

He nudged your knees apart with his leg. “I don’t think you’re going to need them while you’re here. You were already ruining them yourself, anyway.”

Before you could retort, you felt him push inside of you slowly, grabbing your hips as he let out a low moan.

“Fuck…” you sighed without thinking, leaning your elbows against the back of the couch.

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He cooed condescendingly.

“In your drea–”

His hips snapped into yours harshly, interrupting you. You felt the heat of him against your back as he leaned over you, his breath fanning across the side of your face.

“If I were you, I’d be careful about lying again. I might just stop and leave you all drenched like this, with your hands tied behind your back so you couldn’t touch yourself.”

He felt you clench around him at that and his smirk turned victorious. He kissed and sucked at your shoulder and neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks. His thrusts were hard and deep at first, hips barely pulling back as his weight pinned you down.

You let out a sound that was a strange mix between a whimper and a gasp as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks behind. The jolt of pain mixed with pleasure – not to mention the slight shame that came with the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs – only fueled the fire that was steadily growing within you.

Then, a little mindlessly, you pleaded, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He straightened immediately, readjusting himself to start pounding into you at a nearly punishing pace. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, but wanton sounds of pleasure escaped your throat despite your efforts. He was hitting a spot that made your head spin, tugging you backward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sound of flesh slapping together, along with your collective pants and groans, filled the room. He reached forward to grab your throat again, keeping you semi-upright as he continued to take you. In truth, he was focusing hard to stave off his release. He had plenty of stamina for his age, but the way your cunt took him so perfectly, as if molded just for him, was enough to have his balls tightening again.

But he would never hear the end of it.

Your legs began to shake a little as the coil in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. “I-I think I’m gonna cum, fuck…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, immediately stopping his motions.

You cursed him under your breath, beyond frustrated. You pushed your hips back, intent on fucking yourself on him, but his firm grip stopped you. He landed a firm smack on your ass, making you involuntarily clench around him. He hissed, feeling the strong urge to give in and continue fucking you until you came all over his cock, but he kept his composure. He wanted to keep indulging you for as long as he could, still not fully believing he wasn’t just having a dirty dream.

“Do that again and I’ll rip your fucking head off,” you snarled as he pulled out, grabbing your arm and leading you toward the bed.

“I told you I was going to make it count.”

He tossed you onto your back on the bed, crawling on top of you and pushing your knees up to your shoulders. He positioned himself between your thighs and sank back into your cunt with no further preambles, his strong body covering yours once more.

His hands cradled your head as he began to move again, reaching impossibly deeper than before. You clawed at his biceps as he ground his pelvis against you, making your brain practically short-circuit.

“There we go… See? I knew you could take more,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “Are you scared I'll pull out again? You keep sucking me back in.”

Too dazed to form words, your lips chased his so he would kiss you properly. Your tongue trailed over his upper lip enticingly, and he opened his mouth so his tongue could meet yours. This kiss was deeper, less frantic, finally giving yourselves a chance to taste each other properly.

Soon you were clenching around him again, too distracted by your mounting pleasure to continue kissing him properly.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Duncan. Please, please, please, just like that,” you begged desperately, moaning as he moved to kiss your jaw.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, too?” He rasped against your skin. “Claim this needy cunt all for myself?”

You nodded eagerly, face contorting with ecstasy as you held onto him for dear life. Your muscles seized up as your climax washed over you, overpowering your senses. His hips stuttered as you cried out, your hot flesh molding into his like the deepest embrace.

He kissed you again as he felt his own release rippling over him, groaning into your mouth as he shuddered, unable to hold himself back any longer. He thrusted hard a few more times before remaining fully inside of you, and you felt heat flooding your cunt.

A whimper of slight overstimulation escaped you, but he soothed you with a whispered praise in your ear. You couldn’t help but smile beatifically, almost purring in content as he kept his cum inside of you.

As you both rode out your highs, your kisses turned lazy, almost tender, and even the way he held you felt different. Somehow, in some deep recess of your mind, it seemed right… and that scared you a little.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you then. Not as he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, still panting, and said, “I think I tore my stitches.”

You chuckled. “You should probably take care of that, then.”

“In a minute…”

He disentangled himself from you, pulling out and sliding his body down between your legs. You tried to draw your thighs together, but he stopped you, planting a kiss on your mound.

He spread your lips with two fingers so he could see his cum trickling out of you, but then he pushed it back in with those same fingers, making your hips jerk slightly.

“T-this was a one time thing, you know,” you breathed, trying to sound firm.

He barely glanced up at you, seemingly unbothered. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But only an hour or so later, you found yourself riding him on the couch. Then, he took you against the wall, over the kitchen counter, off the edge of the bed, and subsequently on the floor. He seemed intent on making sure you never questioned his endurance ever again.

Even throughout the night, you slept sporadically, pawing at each other whenever you stirred. Not many words were exchanged during this time, but that didn’t mean your mouths weren’t put to good use. As usual, you both wound up with bruises, bite marks, and scratches all over each other, but the intention behind them couldn’t be any more different.

The storm died sometime during the night, but instead of fleeing right away, you let him hold you until dawn broke. There were too many new questions floating about in your head, but you weren’t really sure you wanted the answer to any of them for the time being. Perhaps it was simply best to let what happened remain in the past and simply move on.

As quietly as you could, you got up from the bed, cleaned yourself up, and dressed. You sheathed your weapons, avoiding looking at him as you prepared to leave. When your hand was on the doorknob, his voice stopped you.

“You didn’t kill me again,” he said. “Should I take that as an indication that you like me?”

You looked over at him, frowning. “Absolutely not. I’m serious, this was the last time it’ll ever happen.”

“I’m not sure I can trust your word.”

You huffed, irritated. “Well, you’ll have to. I intend to keep it.”

You yanked the door open, about to stomp outside, but you heard the creak of the bed as he sat up.

“You know, I’m going to be in Portofino in a few months. I heard it’s beautiful there in the summer, and I figured I could use a vacation.”

“Are you trying to make yourself an easy target?”

“...Maybe.”

“And if I decide not to hunt you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If?”

You grimaced. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up. I’m a very busy gal, I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you.”

“And who’s who in that analogy, hm?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Goodbye, Duncan. Truce is over, do you hear me?”

“I’ll see you in Portofino. Make sure you bring sunscreen.”

The door slammed shut behind you.

---——-

Part 2 out now!

#duncan vizla fanfiction #duncan vizla x fem!reader #duncan vizla x reader #the black kaiser x reader #the black kaiser fanfiction #polar fanfiction #duncan vizla smut #the black kaiser smut

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fraudulent-cheese · 1 month

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Actually no, i want to expand on my relative dislike of WT. Because when people talk about this season's faults, i BARELY see people mentionning the complete flatterning of like half it's cast!

Oh sure, people are super willing to throw shit at TDA and especially TDAS for it's flanderisation of characters, but outside of some rogue posts by mutuals, i don't see ANY OF YOU pointing the finger at World Tour when i'd argue it's especially eggregious.

Owen's the easiest example of this, and while it didn't start this season it got so much during it. Nearly all of his lines revolve around food, his aerophobia, or Izzy for a single episode. His relationship with Alejandro is also super indicative of this; im willing to accept the HC that he was aware of Alejandro's dislike of him and just wanted to win him over, but that's absolutely not what the writters intended, no way in hell. He's just completely oblivious to his shitty behavior when he seemed at least somewhat aware of Heather's shifty behavior back on Island, or at least able to stand up for himself (shoutouts to that one Action episode). It's not fun to watch, either.

Bridgette too had her personality reduced to one or two traits, for either comedy reasons (because apparently people making out 24/7 is funny) or story reasons (establishing Alejandro as a threat who uses flirting and his general attractiveness to advance his strategy) and it suckssssss because she was! an actual character! and World Tour especially benefits from having a 'straight man' type character that can look at the other's weirdness and react to it like a normal-ish person! That and she could be an interesting presence to have on Team Victory, with her friendships with Leshawna and Courtney for instance.

DJ too is a BIG victim of the flanderisation thing; his personality is dumbed down to just being a huge scaredy cat, and his character is just The Curse. That's all he does and that's all he is, all he talks about. And that sucks because he too, was an actual person in Island and even Action! Sure, he was sometimes a pushover and had an accident-prone bunny, but he was also kind and could actually go out of his way to play pranks on people! But all of that is just gone in WT.

There's also the characters that weren't flanderised, and more just. Written entirely out of character. Outside of the entire Love Triangle (which i will get to) the biggest example of this is Leshawna to me. The writters straight forget the episode in Action where she's entirely dsitrustful of the Pizza they were offered (which did turn out to be tampered with) due to Chef being uncharasterically nice to them. Guess what Alejandro was doing. Being overly nice to her out of nowhere. Frankly she fell victim to the same thing Bridgette did; needing to be sacked for Alejandro's villany to be better established.

Ok fuck i need to mention the Love Triangle too because while people complain about it alot i don't think they complain about the correct stuff. i'll go rapid fire because it's been talked to death however; Gwen's liking of Duncan is a retcon, her acting like this is out of character for her frankly, Duncan's out of character by trying to emotionally manipulate his ex and the lore established to justify it makes it worse (remember the "At least im straight with people" line?), Courtney is villanised from even before this point which while her anger might've been targetted at the wrong person she was justified in being upset imo, Courtney's entire character is thrown out of a window in general this season, blah blah blah.

I'll end on the whole "the writters forgetting entire character traits/arcs" Cody still hitting on Gwen this season makes no goddamn sense and is super uncomfortable to watch. He's really such a nothing character man. Sierra deserved better than being a manic pixie stalker girl.

#cheese posting #for the love triangle thing: doesn't help that gwuncan's way better as friends AND worse than romantic duncney imo #string cheesing #tdwt #total drama #yeah im main tagging this #td owen #td bridgette #td dj #td leshawna #not tagging the love triangle/cody because it could count as character hate and im not gonna be an idiot

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graceshouldwrite · 1 year

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How to Write Devastating Betrayals (Pt. 1)

Here are some elements + tips on satisfying betrayals that will destroy both your characters AND your readers!

1. Relationship Between Trust and Betrayal

The #1 Betrayal Rule:

MORE TRUST = WORSE BETRAYAL

This is because TRUST implies 2 main things:

The traitor has probably PROVEN their trustworthiness, and now has a shared history + bond with the character they’re betraying

The traitor probably has access to a LOT OF INFORMATION about the character, whether it’s career-wise or personal. Probably at least some information the character considers STRICTLY confidential

An act of betrayal undermines Point 1 by manipulating Point 2 to their advantage.

So, if you want your betrayal to DESTROY, have the traitor be CLOSE with the character they’re about to betray. Lets compare examples:

you are a gang boss. You hire a new recruit who doesn’t really know anything except one insignificant operation, like “today we buy groceries at 2PM”

your recruit tells the rival gang about the grocery trip

→ betrayal doesn’t really matter that much

you probably didn’t place much trust in a new recruit

the implications of information leak are insignificant

→ not much plot weight

On the other hand:

you find out that the entire time, your RIGHT HAND MAN (also your childhood friend!) has been feeding information to the rival gang and sabotaging your operations

→ HURTS a lot more emotionally

might ruin everything you’ve built, career-wise, for good

→ LOTS of plot weight

From a completely SECULAR PLOT STANDPOINT (please don’t come for me, theologians), Judas’ betrayal of Jesus is a good example because:

Judas was one of Jesus’ disciples, a.k.a. the people considered closest to him, and who followed Jesus throughout all of his preaching years

Judas’ information about Jesus’ identity and whereabouts led to Jesus’ crucifixion → LOTS of plot weight (the entire Bible from a Christian standpoint foreshadows this moment, and every point after is spreading word of this moment. Talk about plot implications!)

ONCE AGAIN, I know all the “Jesus knew and allowed it to happen” “it was the will of God” stuff but this is purely used as a good plot example!!!!

2. Reason for Betrayal

“’Cause it’s super edgy/evil/cool” is DEFINITELY not a valid option.

All the plot points in a book build towards achieving a goal, and all the characters do things they think will get them closer to what they want. Likewise, the traitor must want a specific thing that ONLY betrayal can get them, or that betrayal can get them more efficiently.

People generally portray typical traitors as:

completely selfish with no personality trait aside from infinite ambition and ruthless pragmatism

a hero whose had enough

someone who sees the person they betrayed as a “worthless disposable” or something

Traitors don’t have to be morally bankrupt, even though betrayal is typically seen as something inherently bad, or just a bad means to a good end at best.

They can be conflicted about the betrayal (like Macbeth delaying his murder of King Duncan), remorseful about it (like Discord from MLP feeling super guilty after he hands the main protagonists over to the villain), or even do it for the “greater good.”

e.g. Brutus thought Caesar was becoming too power hungry, and would destroy the republic by becoming a dictator, so Brutus betrayed him to preserve the republic

→ example of a betrayal that was NOT self-serving

However, building on the MLP Discord example, a traitor can also have been manipulated into it themselves.

(For context, the villain basically promised Discord lots of power if he handed over the protagonists, but then the villain also sucked away Discord’s powers afterwards—won’t bother explaining MLP magic mechanics LOL)

3. Foreshadow It

A satisfying betrayal is usually a subtle, looming shadow that creeps over your plot before it makes its grand entrance during the scene when the character realizes the traitor sold them out.

A good example is in Shakespeare’s dramatization of Brutus’ betrayal:

Brutus’ loyalty to the REPUBLIC is made super clear throughout. When Caesar starts deviating, seeming more dictatorial, Brutus remains firm.

Their values are CLEARLY conflicting, so SOMETHING has to be done. Either:

they reconcile by both agreeing on either dictatorship or democracy

they turn on each other...and that’s what happens

Basically, planting the possibility in your reader’s mind is a great way to foreshadow a betrayal.

Other ideas could be:

traitor begins suddenly acting a lot warmer to the unsuspecting character, or even colder right BEFORE the betrayal

traitor is always TOO obedient and/or sycophantic

traitor acts suspicious, e.g. caught in lies, using inconsistent body language (ex. pretending to cry when talking about something really bad), caught talking to people they shouldn’t be talking to (e.g. rival gang)

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

stay tuned for part 2!

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

#writers on tumblr #writing #writing tips #booktok #writer #writeblr #novel #writerslife #writergram #wattpad #betrayal #oc #writing stories #creating characters #characters #fantasy #ya fantasy #ya books #plot holes

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nika6q · 4 months

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Tech and Phee

So, I just read a bunch of arguments against this ship. And I don't really want to try to persuade anyone to feel either way. I just have some thoughts.

First off, I don't think Wanda Sykes works in this part. Personally I like to picture Sharon Duncan-Brewster. Also, I don't disagree that she comes off as a bit abrasive when we first meet her. But so did the Bad Batch, like waaaaay worse. It would be weird if she was some demure uwu girl.

There's actually a lot of parallels between them. They both make I'm seldom wrong, I'm always right comments. They have similar disregard for danger. They both have an intense (to the point of endangering themselves) love of knowledge and investigation.

They have both made communication blunders. I'm referring to the dreaded "it's called a conversation" incident. It's not fair to always expect women characters to be perfect so that the male character can work through their shit. This was still less hurtful than Tech's blunder with Omega. It's okay to make blunders. It happens to both men and women, and NT and ND people. We autistics can't expect NTs to immediately understand how to perfectly interact with us anymore that they can expect the same from us. It's not going to be perfect from the start. But they both have the patience and focus to get through that.

The build up. Ok, before the Pabu, I didn't see it. I don't think he did either. He clearly blue screened during the "head to these coordinates" shoulder touch. I think this is the "holy shit she is flirting" blue screen realization. I think after that it clicked for him, like ooooooh that's why she acts like that, okay. Suddenly, we see him smiling at her and interacting in a different way. Especially the "hold on scene". We've seen Tech carry Echo by him holding around his neck. We see Wrecker in this episode carry the old man the same way. It would have been very appropriate to carry her that way too. But no. He grabbed that lady around the waist without hesitation.

The goodbye. Again, this is just my read on the scene, but why was he hanging outside the ship? I think he wanted to say goodbye but didn't know how. Phee comes over (as he probably expected which is why he was out) and he just shutdown. This isn't a situation he's been in, it's not easy, he doesn't know how to function here. I don't think he was staring at his screen because he wanted to ignore her, it's because he fucking shutdown. I've addressed the "it's called a conversation" above, but I'll add that she didn't get pissed or shitty. She finally sees that he's not willing or able to have this conversation and she ends it with a goodbye and a kind smile. As she leaves, his look isn't a "thank God that shit's over" look. It's a longing look. Maybe he still has to work out his feelings. But there is something there.

This is as much build up as a show this short can fit in. There is literally not enough time for more. Considering the amount of storytelling they have to get to, it's actually quite a lot (IMO).

Again, these are just my thoughts. I'm not trying to invalidate if other people read it differently and don't ship it.

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crossdressingdeath · 2 years

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A thing that I find really fascinating about Alistair and the Warden's dynamic is how for Alistair becoming a Warden was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, but it's very easy to have a Warden for whom it ruined their life.

Like, the only Warden who absolutely had to become a Warden or they would die is Mahariel, because the Joining was the only thing that would stop the Blight from killing them. Some of the others needed rescue, but Duncan could've "conscripted" them and then let them go free once they were away from the people threatening them. Some of them would've been in trouble if left on their own, but the Wardens weren't the only group that could've helped them! It's possible to play a Warden who absolutely wants to be a Grey Warden, but it's just as easy to portray them as a frightened, desperate victim of circumstance getting press-ganged into the Wardens by the man who in that moment has a huge amount of power over them. The Warden can say no... but they don't really have a choice.

Meanwhile for Alistair, Duncan absolutely saved him. He hated the Templars and the Wardens were a dream come true for him. But that creates a situation where you can have this massive disconnect between him and the Warden, because for him the Wardens were his salvation but it's very easy for the Warden to view it as a fate worse than death, and we never really get a chance to get into that conversation with him. Which is like... I would've loved to really get into that with Alistair! It would've been fascinating to hear Alistair's near-worship of Duncan and respond to it with "He ruined my life, I didn't want to be a Warden and he made me do it anyway". And I do wonder if sparing Loghain might have been gone over somewhat better if we were able to have that conversation with Alistair before that point? Because Alistair has this very firm image of the Wardens as heroes because he views Duncan as a hero, and the image of joining the Wardens as a reward when... yeah, for most people being dragged into a secretive society that worships self-sacrifice and that will ultimately kill them is very much not a reward. It is better than the Templars! But it's not something most people would want. So Alistair is looking at you sparing Loghain and going "You're rewarding him for what he did", but for any Warden who wasn't super into joining the Wardens it's more... this is a punishment for Loghain. This isn't something he wants. He's being sentenced to serve the organization he betrayed until the day he dies, and from the way Riordan talks about it it seems pretty clear to me that his intent was basically "If I can't kill the Archdemon, these two young adults should not be the ones to die for the world"? The intent in putting Loghain through the Joining is to have a convenient sacrifice to throw onto the fire, not to spare him or reward him. From what people have said Alistair is less angry with you if you sacrifice Loghain, which suggests that in hindsight and with the knowledge of how killing the Archdemon works he does understand that joining the Wardens was not a reward for Loghain? But it's a little sad that there's no equivalent realization if you don't sacrifice anyone, so if you choose to go through with the ritual after sparing Loghain Alistair just... continues to be angry with the Warden for keeping Loghain alive. I don't know if it's ever even confirmed that he was told about how the Warden who lands the final blow dies. Although he does seem to have relaxed about it by the time of Awakening.

I wonder if a Warden who was forced into the Wardens by Duncan ever explained that to Alistair, though. Because the disconnect between Alistair worshipping Duncan for saving him and a Warden who loathes the man for forcing them into a situation they never wanted to be in against their will on pain of death is fascinating to me.

#dragon age origins #hero of ferelden #alistair theirin

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excavatinglizard · 5 months

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✨ Hello all it is that time once again!! ✨

Do you like queer sci-fi and fantasy? Do you see the same books recommended everywhere? After a year I’m back with a collection of strange and sometimes dark books that you may have heard of, but I hope I’ve found a few you haven’t! I’m just chucking these into the void so if you enjoy these recs or have read any, let me know!

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea, Akil Kumarasamy

Honeycomb, Joanne M Harris

Hot Head, Simon Ings

Are You Listening, Tillie Walden

Hell Followed With Us, Andrew Joseph White

Enigma, Peter Milligan and Duncan Fegredo

Ninefox Gambit, Yoon Ha Lee

Salt Slow, Julia Armfield

Never Have I Ever, Isabel Yap

All the Hometowns You Can’t Stay Away From, Izzy Wasserstein

I’ll put the full descriptions below the cut, but as always I’d love to hear if you have any more recommendations!

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea, by Akil Kurasamy

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea by Akil Kumarasamy was one of the strangest books I’ve read this year, but also one of my favourites by far. This is a story within a story, following both the near-future second-person narration of a woman training an AI while grieving her mother, and the lives of a group of Tamil medical students. This is a story about grief and the sensationalization of war and the things we do to live each day—but at its heart, it’s a story about women who love each other in whatever way they can. This book has some of the most gorgeous prose I’ve encountered in a long time, and it’s strange and meandering and contemplative.

Honeycomb, by Joanne M. Harris

Honeycomb by Joanne M. Harris follows the well-trodden path of fairy stories—a child swapped, a woman seeing what she was never meant to and being blinded for it—and slowly expands into an intricate web of stories and characters. Worlds within worlds within stories make up this book, and the illustrations by Charles Vess bring everything to life. The characters in these stories feel ancient in a way I can’t explain, and if you enjoyed the Starless Sea you’ll almost certainly enjoy this.

Are You Listening, by Tillie Walden

Are You listening is a book that I’ve picked up over and over again—it’s a graphic novel which I can finish in one sitting, and each time I have to sit and think and just feel afterwards. This is a story of a girl who’s run away from home, and who encounters another woman heading on her own way. What started as an escape becomes a road trip across Texas full of cats and shifting roads and tiny quiet moments. Strange and dreamlike at times, this book manages to make me cry over each character and their individual stories every time.

Tw for references to SA

Hell Followed With Us

Hell Followed With Us is one of those books that I didn’t realize how hard it was hitting me until I finished and couldn’t function for two hours. This book follows a young man in a world plagued by a disease that makes mindless monsters out of its victims—only he’s been infected by the church he was raised under, and he’s slowly turning into something much worse. Benji tries to escape, but his past isn’t ready to let him go just yet and the infection is only getting worse. The author describes this book as beginning as a ‘fit of rage’, which is truly the only way to describe it. While this is technically a YA book, beware of body horror, transphobia, religious extremism and disease. Somehow this book managed to look inside me and see so many things I’d never been able to put into words, all bundled up in a mass of viscera and grieving boys.

Enigma, by Peter Milligan

I discovered this comic through a newsletter from Charlie Jane Anders, and then proceeded to absolutely lose my mind over it and have to tell everyone I know about it. Enigma is a story about a man stuck in a dead-end job and a dead-end relationship, who suddenly finds that the characters of his favourite childhood superhero comic have come to life. The art style is gorgeous though it changes throughout the book, and Enigma swerves between a vast and bizarre story of gods in wells and far too many lizards, to incredibly intimate moments and interesting characters. Be prepared for body horror and a constant general sense of unease.

Ninefox Gambit, by Yoon Ha Lee

If last year was giving in to reading Gideon, this was my year of going insane over Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee (this is sadly the only space opera on this year’s list). Ninefox Gambit has everything I love in science fiction—casually queer characters, intricate universes, strange definitions of self and TRAUMA. Someone please get these two some therapy. When a major position of power is attacked, Kel Cheris finds herself with a promotion to general and the disgraced strategist who massacred his crew inside her head. The thing that stands out to me about Yoon Ha Lee’s work is his characterizations—even the most minor character has quirks to make them feel like a person, which is only stronger in the main characters.

Salt Slow, by Julia Armfield

Saltslow is the first of three anthologies on this list, and it’s the debut collection by Julia Armfield (who wrote Our Wives Under the Sea. For an idea of what you’re getting into). Following the trend of strange and a little dark this year, a lot of these stories border on horror and explore experiences like losing your ability to sleep, shape shifting through puberty and being a roadie to a band that leaves mass violence in its wake. While Our Wives Under the Sea will definitely stay my favourite Julia Armfield book, Saltslow managed to pack a whole lot into such short stories full of queer women and trans feels.

Never Have I Ever, by Isabel Yap

I picked up Never Have I Ever on a whim and I’m so glad I did, since it definitely ranked in my top anthologies of the year. Never Have I Ever is a collection of short stories, often centered around Filipino and Japanese folk lore (although there is one story about a wizard in San Francisco making a love potion, what of it). This collection ranges from funny to sad and explores Filipino culture, the anti-drug campaigns and the horror that is growing up. Often short stories feel unfinished but every part of this collection felt well thought out and polished, plus the cover is gorgeous.

All the Hometowns you Can’t Stay Away From, by Izzy Wasserstein

The final anthology, All The Hometowns You Can’t Stay Away From is mostly sci-fi with a handful of fantasy-leaning stories, though whatever technology there may be takes a back-seat to the characters who stood out as the heart of each piece. Unplaces, a story set up as a researcher’s notes in the margins of an atlas, desperately trying to make the world a better place in whatever way she can, and Everything the Sea Takes, It Returns—a story about living after the end of the world—were the two that really stuck with me. The writing here is perhaps more straightforward than some other entires on the list, but each story is a perfect little piece of character and emotions which truly make an excellent anthology.

Anyway, that’s this year’s list! Go forth and read more strange queer books, and support your local libraries!

#book recommendations #queer books #ninefox gambit #queer scifi #tillie Walden #book recs #here we go. this wasn’t my best year of books but I still managed to drag together enough to make my list!#these lists keep getting broader and broader haha #I need to find more space operas to satisfy my need

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total-noco-takes · 7 months

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Noah giving pet names to Cody.

Cody punched Duncan when he found Noah's body in IOTS

Noah often watches YouTube or reads while cuddling Cody. Cody doesn't understand but he enjoys it.

Also

Malnoco

"I can fix him" - cody

" I can make them worse" - Mal

"You guys are stupid" - Noah

IDK MAN

#total drama #td cody #td noah #td mal #noco #malnoco #island of the slaughtered #<- for people who have it filtered out

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johns-prince · 1 year

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I told him: “You know you love your own company. Even Cyn says you go days without speaking to her. She feels a million miles away from you.” John replied: “Ah, but she’s not, is she. She’s in the kitchen putting the kettle on.”

—Tony Barrow, Beatles Book Monthly Magazine, No. 149 (Sept. 1988) [×]

There’s one line in the lyric I don’t really mean: “Well knowing you / You’d probably laugh and say / That we were worlds apart”. I’m playing to the more cynical side of John, but I don’t think it’s true that we were so distant.

—Paul reads from his new book, The Lyrics (2021). [×]

“I’m kind of expected to say, ‘[John] was a saint, he was always a saint, I remember him as a saint’, but it would be a lie. He was one great guy and part of his greatness was that he wasn’t a saint. He was a great guy but he was pretty sacrilegious. He was pretty up front about it. But it was half the fun.”

—Paul McCartney (c. 1984) in The Dream Is Over: Off The Record 2 by Keith Badman [×]

“John is neither a saint, nor is he a sinner. He was just human, like the rest of us.”

—Cynthia Lennon, answering the question “John Lennon: saint or sinner?” The Independent, July 1999 [×]

“Seeing Lennon focus on Ono rather than him[Paul] was as devastating as it would have been for Cynthia Lennon to witness the couple making love.”

—Peter Dogget, You Never Give Me Your Money. [×]

“Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.”

— Paul McCartney, Interview by Duncan Fallowell in the Chicago Tribune, October 14th, 1984 [×]

“Apart from giving me the courage to break out of my stockbroker belt... Yoko also gave me the inner strength to look more closely at my other marriage. My real marriage. To The Beatles, which was more stifling than my domestic life. Although I had thought of it often enough, I lacked the guts to make the break earlier.”

—Skywriting By Word Of Mouth by John Lennon (pg. 17) [x]

“I still think at the back of John’s mind was this fascination of wanting to get back with the first girlfriend, if you like, and that was to get back with Paul, who he had so much history with.”

—Tony Barrow, The Beatles’ press officer, on the Lennon/McCartney reunion that was never to be [×]

“I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…”

—April 3rd?, 1985 (Soho Square, London): Paul talks on German television show exclusive about the breakup of the Beatles and his personal breakup with John. [x]

“But Paul was his own man and not afraid of John. In fact, musically and personally, the two were beginning to go in separate directions so perhaps Paul’s visit to me was also a statement to John.”

—Cynthia Lennon, John [×]

“Paul, who believed strongly in the family and in family values, told me that he felt as if it was the Beatles themselves who were heading for divorce, not just John and Cynthia.”

—Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours [×]

I wanted to end this post with a quote from Cynthia, whether it was from a book or was an answer to a question, about how she simply misses lying in bed with John, and just the two of them talking. This quote from her book John [x] is relevant, but unfortunately I couldn't find the exact quote I wanted.

To accompany the sentiment from John's first wife though, is this quote:

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?” “In bed.”

—Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998 [x]

#anthology of mclennon #mclennon #paul mccartney #cynthia lennon #john lennon #it's not much but it's what i felt i needed to do #point is cyn and paul loved and lost #the meeting of wives #husband and wife #parallels it's the dots I've connected

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a-doll-that-got-lost · 7 months

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This is a post about Sylvester Lambsbridge from Web Serial Twig by Wildbow. He's Plural Btw.

(Warning: Major Spoilers for LITERALLY ALL of Twig. I can't talk about this without covering the entire story and talking very explicitly about the ending.) This is really a take I haven't seen anyone make about him ever before I don't think (not that many people are out here making takes about Sy, but) so here I am to loudly shout to twigblr that Sylvester Lambsbridge is plural and he makes factives of all the people important to him and he's a fucked up little freak about it. Now obviously Wildbow didn't write him to be plural. I think if he'd *tried* to write Sy that way he would've done a dogshit bad awful job, because he's Wildbow. That said, Sy's hallucinations of the Lambs (and later a number of other notable figures) that he conjures, who act with varying degrees of independence (especially later on in the story as he gets more unstable), match pretty closely with a lot of my experiences with being plural. The ways that each of his alters are interconnected and how they're tied into deep-rooted concepts (Duncan is Politics and Social Engineering, the Infante representing Power, etc) matches a lot with how things are structured with us. Also a lot of him is tied up in his fucked up relationships! Sylvester cultivates the people around him into the shapes that best please him. He does this because he is a very very traumatized, scared individual who was sold to or seized by the government and made into a child assassin when he was a toddler. They inject his brain full of neuroplasticity drugs which cause excruciating agony on the regular. This has, naturally, leads to him having an somewhat skewed worldview from someone from a more reasonable world. He views people as either Threats or Allies, and neither can be trusted fully, ever. Both can be manipulated, though for different purposes. For the Lambs of course he'd say that he was trying to help them thrive, help them get everything they want (and genuinely he does). But he still manipulates them actively, willingly, consciously, and deliberately. This means that fundamentally, no one can ever trust him (except Jessie but this post is long enough without getting into their relationship) and so he can't get the kind of human connection that he craves. This is where his alters supplement that human need for connection. All of Sy's alters are factives of real people (and monsters), both allies and enemies. The most powerful and concrete of them are the Lambs of course, as they're the closest thing he has to people he can trust and be vulnerable with. His alters serve to help him understand and predict them, since they will never trust him and open up to him in the way he craves (because A) he's Sy and B) they're all also sooooooooooooooo fucked up in their own ways :3). Sy's deteriorating memory also fits really really well through this lens because, well, dissociative amnesia! During the time that he was on his own and his mental state got worse and worse, more and more alters started forming. He starts losing more and more memories. This is just kinda stuff that can happen when you go through a big period of trauma and you're plural. It really just Fits. And the ending of Twig, well. The alter that was Sylvester is gone. Now the host is Lord Simon. Lord Simon is a somewhat more integrated person; a lot of the crowds and voices that built up alongside Sylvester got woven in. Fusion of alters is also a thing that happens, especially during big crises. A major headspace restructuring is also not particularly weird! This man is literally just part of a system. I think I've kind of finished what I was trying to say. No clue if this is coherent or if the people will care to read it, but here it is! Maybe I'll post more Twig thoughts in the future, who knows :3

#twig web serial #twig wildbow #wildbow #twigblr #plurality #plural system

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writerofadream · 5 months

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Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Thirteen: Princess and the Frog

You were bored, out of your mind. So bored that you had started to juggle which wasn’t something you had done since you were maybe three.

Your mothers had sent Duncan and you to an acrobat camp because your fathers wanted you to get stronger in your upper body.

The tiny rubber spheres flew into your hands and back up again with practiced ease. You were so caught up in watching them fly you didn’t notice the chocolate covered underwear that just flew in front of you. But then you did.

Your eyes quickly found the redhead responsible. “Harold, what the hell.” You let the balls fall into your hands and you had half the mind to throw them at the boy. Despite his protests you walked away now annoyed.

But before you could get very far you heard Chef Hatchet on the speakers calling you to the dock of shame.

The way he was talking didn’t have you excited.

As you lightly jogged over to the dock you saw your green-haired devil who was walking on his hands beside Geoff. “Hey cutie.” You resumed juggling. “Hey darling.” Duncan said as his hands felt the difference from the grass to the hard boards.

“Just kiss already, geeze.” Geoff rolled his eyes as you all lined up.

“You call this proper formation!” Chef Hatchet was losing his absolute mind. His stick whapped everybody no matter what they were doing. T

he stick hit Duncan’s arms making them fall down, you noticed his body tense. Memories of his father were surely coursing through him. “No fun?” Chef yelled, sounding confused on why the balls were in your hands and he quickly threw them in the water, his stick hit your thigh making you stand on both legs at attention.

You were going to start yelling.

“Shut up.” Duncan hissed beside you, he was not going to let you lose your cool on Chef, not today. You both had gone to a million military schools. You’ve had worse teachers than this. One lady actually had fourteen-year-old Duncan and you ran fifty laps while carrying twenty pound bags.

Do you want to know why?

Because you asked when lunch was.

“Today’s challenge will not be an easy one. In fact I do not expect everyone to come out alive.” Chef yelled into the megaphone making the sound ring in your ears.

When faced with trauma people deal with it in a multitude of ways. Some revert into a submissive state, some fight back with a vengeance, some deal with it with laughter, some turn themselves off.

Duncan and you were the last too.

Your mind was quiet and your face went blank and you had a rigid posture.

Three years ago

“You are a grown adult so act like it. My training will make you stronger than you ever were before, youngling.” The man got close to your face and spit flying across your cheeks, you nodded.

“We are fourteen? The only thing making us stronger is milk… sir.” Duncan winked and the man hit him across the face without a second thought.

Duncan on the other hand was… pissed.

“My orders are to make sure every baby here drops out of my boot camp. Except one.” He yelled through the megaphone and your eye twitched. “The last one standing wins immunity for their team.” He whipped Owen.

Then he began down his set of rules. “Yes, Master Chief.” God, that sound was too familiar, you cringed at your words.

The first challenge was to hold a boat over your heads for as long as physically possible. But Chris wanted you to do another monologue bit in the outhouse.

—

“I am an obedient soldier. No matter if I want to or not.” You muttered staring at the camera, you held your hands as if trying to wring the sweat out of them, your leg shaking anxiously. You were trained at a very early age. Your wants, and needs? Didn’t matter. “

—

Master Chief explained the rules of the challenge and Gwen watched as Duncan directed you towards the canoe, his hands were on your hips as if you were blind and couldn’t see. She noticed that there was something going on in your mind. Some unseen battle.

You lifted the canoe above your head and had to laugh when Owen and Geoff thought this would be easy.

—

“Come on you sissies you’ve only been at it for three hours.” Chef yelled at you and you noticed how weak the other team was becoming. Duncan had an abusive father, and you’ve had to take care of a man who was supposed to take care of you since you were five. You were beyond used to pain.

Geoff caught Harold's underwear.

Harold took his hands off the boat.

What a stupid, stupid, man.

“Is there a problem here?” Chef’s head bent down to look at you spit flew on your face and you almost lost it right there. This was too familiar.

—

The moon was bright above you.

Duncan had his chin tucked into your collarbone. He was snoring softly. He knew you wouldn’t fall, you never did. Lindsay on the other hand, lost the challenge for her team as she rang the bell. “Wake up, tiger.” You whispered as your team dropped the canoe gratefully. “I’m up, I’m up baby.” Duncan’s voice was filled with a rasp that made your heart skip a beat.

Chef and Chris had you all go to the cafeteria and you stared at the trash cans in front of you. “You remember when my dad didn’t give me money to buy food that month after my mom died, so I had to eat from the trash.” You chuckled into your palm smiling at the memory. “Fucking racoon.” Duncan laughed much to Courtney’s horror.

“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before night training.” Chef announced.

The entire camp groaned at the mention of night training. Duncan shook his head and you wanted to start shaking with laughter. Gwen asked a VERY obvious question. “Where’s the food?”

“Right here. At war you take what you can get!” Chef smiled, taking a lid off the trash. The rancid smell filled the room.

It was probably good that you were getting used to not eating.

You went with Duncan as he pranked Harold for throwing the underwear at you. He gave him kitchen grease. Which was probably deadly but it’s okay. You rolled your eyes as Harold spit out the drink. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Tarun.” You put a hand on your hip.

“Okay look, I know you like me sweetheart. He knows you like me, everybody knows it.” Duncan leaned close, wrapping his arm around your waist causing you to smirk, booping him on the nose.

“So here’s a tip. You want to kiss me? I might let you.” He winked and you rolled your eyes blowing him a kiss. “In your dreams, baby. But don’t let me stop you from dreaming.”

Geoff gave Duncan a look as you went back to talk to Bridgette who had asked you to help her do something with the trash.

“Oh you're in love aren’t you man?” Geoff noticed the look the green-haired boy gave you. “None of your business, blondie.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair.

—

You were having dance classes at two in the morning.

By a man in military clothing.

Still not the strangest thing you’ve done to be honest.

You looked to your side but Duncan had disappeared, he reappeared next to the boom-box and turned it off. Chef screamed at him. “Tarun what are you doing?” You yelled at him.

“If someone drops out, we’re done for the day.” Duncan said matter of factly. “You're done when I say you're done.” Chef yelled, ordering him to do 20 pushups.

That’s strange.

Duncan does one hundred pushups every morning.

(Juvie habits)

“Anyone else have something they want to say?” Chef challenged the campers surrounding him. Gwen went to the restroom. Suddenly before you could stop yourself you raised your hand. Chef raised an eyebrow as did Duncan. You didn’t ever challenge authority.

“Can I do twenty as well?” Your face broke into a small smile and Duncan almost leapt with joy.

Chef ordered you to do twenty and you bent down next to the boy. “Oh my days, did I just see a certain girl disobey her superiors? When did you learn how to do that?” Duncan smiled as he did his twenty in sync with you.

The music continued.

“I do a lot of things for people I have crushes on. Thought you knew that, Tarun.” You winked and he had to stop his twenty because did you just say what he thinks you just said?

—-

Chef put you in the cafeteria again and he ordered you to write a three-hundred-word essay on why ‘he was the best’. You’ve had a lot of vain people be in charge of you. But that’s a whole other level.

It was three a.m, by the time everyone was done.

Honestly your essay wasn’t even about Chef Hatchet.

It was about the idiot beside you.

Just instead of writing Duncan you put ‘Master Chief. It worked, it worked REALLY well actually. “She’s my new favorite.” Chef declared. “Teacher's pet.” Duncan yawned and you smiled innocently.

Duncan of course had to challenge the teacher.

God he never grew up.

You of course had to save him. “No, he’s going to go right to bed.” You dragged the boy away from the sergeant. “If you get eliminated I am going to murder you.” You jabbed a finger in his chest. “Didn’t know you cared, doll.” Duncan yawned again, he was amazed you were still up.

“I don’t. But if we lose this challenge because you are a rebellious idiot I will eat all of your hair gel.” You said. Duncan smirked, you talked a LOT of nonsense when you were tired. “Just don’t get yourself killed because I will make sure your mother beats you if you do.” You kissed his cheek and went to splash some water on your face.

“I love her.” Duncan muttered.

“No, really, bro?” Geoff rolled his eyes.

—

The next challenge was to complete a death-defying course in one minute. There was something familiar about this course which you didn’t remember until you were jumping from one head to another as you raced up the wall.

You were twelve the first time you did this course

Five years ago

“It’s unfair, really.” Duncan laughed as he watched you fly through the obstacle course which was made for grown adult men. “How so?” The counselor looked at him mildly confused, this was supposed to be a punishment drill.

“Acrobatics have always been her favorite thing.”

Duncan did extremely well on the course, he did it slowly on purpose, just so he could grate at Chef Hatchet’s nerves, which earned him one night of solitary confinement.

He wasn’t even scared of the punishment. He was scared of what his stupid mind was going to conjure up for him.

—

At dinner, breakfast, lunch, you don’t know anymore you're dead tired. You stirred the mush that was your food before declaring. “I’m going to go check on him. Idiots should not be alone for that long.” You stood up and Geoff smiled at you.

“Does little ole Y/N, have a crush?” he asked. “Clearly, now shush or I’ll gouge out your eyes. Ciao!” You winked when the boy paled.

You used your phone's flashlight to find the door to the boathouse.

“Oi, tiger, you in here?” You called out into the darkness before your eyes adjusted, you saw Duncan smiling at you though it was obvious he was shaking. “Heya princess, come to claim your kiss?” He winked.

“Actually yes, maybe you’ll turn into a prince. I brought food.” You handed him the bowl as you sat down.

“I prefer bait.”

You giggle rolling your eyes. “I hate how I love your laugh.” He said in what you believed was mock amazement. It indeed was not. “I don’t get you, Duncan. How do you egg adults on like that?” You had to laugh. That was your number one fear. Adults.

“You're the one that doesn’t make sense. You're so free when it comes to kids our age. But the second it's an adult you clam up, and turn into a soldier, it’s crazy.” Duncan laughed in bewilderment. “I think it’s because I’m so used to taking care of them.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“You wanna ditch the shack for some pb&j’s?” Duncan asked.

“This isn’t you just trying to get me to eat, is it?” You leveled a fish as if you would smack him with it. “No? I’m hungry too, it’s not always about you.” he said quite dramatically. (He was just trying to get you to eat)

You snuck into the counseling tent and stole a bunch of food.

Also alcohol.

Lots.

—

You were sharing the food with everyone. Duncan and Geoff were busy pranking Harold so he didn’t notice how many drinks you had. (Five shots of vodka to be precise) You were grabbing another one and before Bridgette could protest you chugged that one too.

“That was a mistake.”

You quickly threw the contents of your stomach over the railing and Duncan walked out feeling a mild sense of worry.

“So the perfect soldier can be a kid sometimes too?” He smiled holding your hair back. You smiled clearly, still a bit drunk as you sat back up.

He gave you a bunch of peppermints. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been free like that, tiger.” You giggled. “I just want more.” You sighed wistfully.

“You could always give me that kiss, princess.” He cupped your chin smiling. “Are we sure that you're my type?” You questioned ruffling his hair and he leaned into your hand.

“Enjoy a funless life then.” He smiled dramatically, turning his back on you. “Enjoy prison, I’m sure the army would love to finally have me.” You smirked.

|Trending on X right now|

#whatishappening

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“Oh you’d never leave me. Who’d make you laugh-” He whined his eyes shut and just like that you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss, a long one.

“Lucky for you we’ll never find out, baby.” You kissed him one more time and skipped away.

“LET’S GO MAN!” Geoff, Duncan, and DJ were losing their minds.

You smiled. Unbeknownst to you, Harold had been watching you, and he wanted revenge on Duncan… but from the side..? You look like an exact replica of Courtney.

The next challenge was a bore. All you had to do was hang upside down. Duncan got out first, weirdly enough. This was something you had practice with. You loved hanging upside down. It felt strangely amazing.

That was for the first thirty minutes. But after having a lot of alcohol. You have to come down.

So you guys lost.

At the campfire that night the strangest thing happened…

Courtney was voted out!

Duncan and you were confused.

Geoff and Bridgette were also confused.

Harold smiled.

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tdinyomomma · 9 months

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TDI X Reader- Phobia Factor (Chapter Seven)

If you haven’t read: six

After the Killer Bass’s elimination we decided to go to the campfire and join them. Well there’s more to it but whatever. “What do you guys want? Come by to rub it in?” Courtney questions us with her hands on her hips. “We got some extra dessert after our tuck-shop party, thought you might want some.” Trent speaks for us as Beth jiggles the green jello in her hands.

“So, what? You’re just being nice?” Courtney rebuttals.

“Okay, Owen stank up our cabin and we need some time to air it out.” Gwen rolls her eyes and Owen farts. “Ew, dude.” Trent gives the big guy a look.

Beth then brings over the green jello to the Miss C.I.T. who ends up squealing, stepping back. “No!” She then collects herself. “I mean, no thanks. I’m good.” She politely declines the offer.

“What? Are you on a diet or something?” Duncan quizzes her.

“No, I just don’t like green jelly, okay?” She defends herself, Beth then goes past her and over to DJ, he gasps. “Snake!” Flipping the tray over. Cody bends over, grabbing the worm. “Chill, dude, it’s just a gummy worm.” He shows it off to the poor guy.

“Sorry for tripping. Snakes just freak me out.” He apologizes. “I feel you, chickens give me the creeps, dude.” Tyler comforts his teammate.

“You’re afraid of chickens?” Gwen asks in disbelief, Duncan chuckles. “Wow, that’s-that’s really lame man.”

“So suddenly, everyone’s having this big share fest by the fire. Like Beth went on and on about her mortal fear being covered by bugs. Harold’s afraid of Ninjas. Even Heather admitted she’s afraid of sumo wrestlers.” Gwen tells the camera, growing interested in each one she tells.

“What’s my worst fear? I guess being buried alive.” Gwen answers.

“Walking through a minefield… in heels.” Lindsay distresses.

“Flying man. That’s some crazy stuff.” Owen speaks up, shivering.

“I would never go up in a plane. Never.” Izzy holds her hands at her chest.

“I’m scared of hail. It’s small but deadly, dude.” Geoff expresses.

“Being left alone in the woods.” Bridgette says and Sadie sniffs, holding a wooden plank from the dock. “Bad haircuts.” Sadie cries out. “Oh, okay, I change mine. That’s so much scarier than a minefield.” Lindsay shutters at the thought.

“Having to diffuse a time bomb under pressure.” Cody scratches his cheek, then we all turn to Courtney.

“I’m not really afraid of anything.” She holds her knees to her chest. “Baloney.” Duncan coughs. “Oh, really? Well, what exactly is your phobia, Mr. Know-it-all?” She questions him, his face drops instantly and he glances around.

“Uh, Ce-Celine Dion music store-standees.” He slumps, holding his face. “Exsqueeze me? I didn’t quite get that.” Cody snickers, cupping his hand to his ear, I agree, covering my mouth as I laugh. “Dude, did you say Celine Dion music store-standees?” Trent chimes in. “Ooh, I love Celine Dion!” Lindsay excitedly admits.

“What’s a standee?”

“You know, that cardboard cutout thing that stands in the music store?” Trent clarifies. “Don’t say it dude.” Duncan whines, pointing to the other guy speaking, but gets ignored. “Kind of like a life-size but flat Celine.” I sit up straighter, holding onto Cody’s knee to stop myself from laughing.

“Shut up!” He covers his ears. “What about you guys?” He directs between Trent and I.

“Okay, well, I hate mimes. Like a lot.” Trent says, “Similar to Trent, clowns.” I boredly tell them, Courtney rolls her eyes at us. “All right Courtney. You’re afraid of something. Spit it out.” Trent orders and I nod but she sits taller. “Nope, nothing.”

“If that’s true you would’ve jumped during our first challenge. But you didn’t.” I then bend my arms, pretending to flap my wings.” “Shut up!” She shouts at me and I laugh.

Chris whistlers as we all give him our attention. I sit between Heather and Cody. “Campers, your next challenge is a little game I like to call. “Phobia Factor.” Prepare to face your worst fears.” He announces.

“Worse than this?” Leshawna lifts her food in disgust. “We’re in trouble.” Gwen mutters. “Now for our first victims… Heather!” A card flies into his hand and he reads off of it. “Meet us all in the theater. It’s sumo time!” She spits out her drink in shock. “Gwen you, me, the beach. A few tons of sand.” Her eyes go wide. “Wait how did they know those were your worst fears?” Lindsay asks, Gwen slaps her own forehead. “Because we told them.”

“At the campfire last night.” Trent reminds her, Beth and the blonde look at each other. He then comforts Gwen, rubbing her back as her head lays down on the table. I stare at them without realizing, my mind going blank as I go off into space.

Immediately getting out of it once Lindsay speaks again. “Wait, they were listening to us?”

“It’s a reality show, Einstein. They’re always listening to us.” Gwen sarcastically says.

I know I don’t like Gwen how she likes me but still being avoided and her bringing in the comfort of Trent as if I did something wrong hurts. I truly thought we were close friends…

“That’s like eavesdropping!” Lindsay pouts.

“Chef Hatchet, didn’t you have a special order for Tyler here today?” The muscular cook smirks, showing Tyler a fried chicken, the teen picks it up, he stares at it for a moment. Then he bites off the head and then an actual live chicken head pops up and Tyler screams in fear.

We go to the first thing which is for Beth, it’s a blow up pool filled with bugs DJ vomits just by looking at it. I cross my arms glancing over to Cody who was a worryful expression. For it being Beth’s worst fear she jumps right in. Coming out with worms all over her. “And Beth sets the bar way up there!” We cheer for our girl; she has a big smile planted on her face.

Lindsay and Sadie get wigs on their heads. Owen and Izzy have to go on a roughed up looking plane. Leshawna runs, screaming away from Hatchet who’s in a spider costume.

Next is Heather standing across from a sumo wrestler. “Heather, stepped up to the plate, scoring the Gophers their second point on the board.”

The wrestler comes running and the girl crouches down, the wrestler trips, falling off the stage.

Next was Gwen being buried alive, Trent comforts her, giving her a walkie so they could talk. I want to jump in and also comfort the girl but again… Not my place anymore I guess. She wants something I don’t.

As we’re moving onto the next thing, Trent runs past us. “Just talk to him bro and ask him to go away!” Chris yells after him. I tense up realizing I don’t know when a clown is going to come for me. I unconsciously grip onto Cody’s arm.

“Okay, then, we have 2 minutes before Gwen’s done. Cody, you’re up.” His eyes go up to the host after looking down to see my hands wrapped around his arm. He then looks back up to my face. “You got this.” I give him a thumbs up after letting him go.

We follow Chris to this trash bomb. I decided to stay with the boy, maybe helping him disconnect it. “All right, Cody This garbage bomb’s going off in exactly 10 minutes. Everything you need to know to defuse it is on these schematic blueprints.” Chris lifts up a blue paper he rolled out.

“What? No way! I can’t do this!” He exclaims, holding his head, clearly stressed out. “Then I suggest you find a safe place to hide, bro.” The host then throws the paper and I catch it before it hits the ground. “Later, dudes! Also, [Name]! Be careful.” He winks, walking away and my body freezes.

“Wait, you’re not gonna watch?” Cody questions. “No way, that’s a live bomb, dude!” He then runs away.

He turns to the trash bomb sighing. “You don’t have to stay, you know?” He takes the paper from my hands and I shrug. “I know but I don’t mind helping.” I smile motioning for him to pull the paper out so we can both read it.

As we’re reading the paper he speaks up. “What makes you so scared of-” I cover his mouth quickly. “Don’t even, it’s going to manifest it.” I whisper aggressively. “They could be a killer under that mask. Or- or, a kidnapper. And for some reason people just let them go to parties and carnivals.” I rant, not realizing one was right behind me. “[Name], you might want to start running then…”

Then that stupid clown horn squeaks in my ear and I scream, running away from Cody and the trash bomb. The thing laughs at me and I cry out in fear. “Stay away!” I take off my shoe mid run and throw it back at the clown. It stays hot on my trail and I run past the dock where Trent was soaking wet and Chris was sitting down controlling a cloud of hail following Geoff.

I notice Heather on the porch and wave more arms around. “Heather! Please!” I wail, going up the porch and throwing her in front of me, shielding myself from the clown that giggles, squeaking the horn again. “What- Let go-”

It stands on the bottom of the stairs. “Heather, please! Please, don’t make me let go.” I plead with her and she looks back at me, noticing the tears in my eyes. She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “What do you even want me to do?” She questions and I squeeze my eyes shut, gently holding onto her arms. “Tell it to go away.” I mumble, she then walks down the steps, taking off her sandal. “All right, go away you stupid clown. Shoo! Get away!” She slaps it with her shoe repeatedly and it sadly puts its head down, walking away.

“Yeah! Go away!” I cheer, and then run up to Heather after I know it’s gone, embracing her tightly. “Thank you! I owe you big time!” I grin, before running off, not letting her respond to me.

An explosion occurs and I gasp. “Shit, Cody!” I run to the area where the explosion happened and he’s sitting on the ground covered in trash. “[Name]? Is that you?” He groans, his arms out since he can’t see and even though I’m disgusted I help him up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry, the clown was just following me and flight or fight, response you know? Heather luckily helped me but I’m still so sorry, I should’ve done something to help.” I ramble on and he tiredly laughs. “It’s okay, I really need a show though.” He sighs, taking the banana peel off his head. We make it through the forest and as we’re walking through he goes in front of me, still groaning from the pain of the explosion.

Bridgette then hits him, screaming before running off. He grunts, falling to the floor once again. “Oh my god, are you okay?” I ask him and he just lays there for a moment. “I’m fine, just- just give me a minute.” He gives up and I laugh.

After Cody takes a shower and I wash my hands we make our way to a pen where Chris and Tyler are standing. The Gophers all made it through their challenges.

“All right gang, we’re ninth inning. Tyler, for your challenge you need to get in this pen for three minutes with these chickens.” Chris unboxes a momma chicken with two baby chickies. “You can do it Tyler!” Bridgette shouts. “Yeah, unless you’re chicken.” Duncan taunts. Tyler ends up sitting down, cradling himself back and forth.

“I’m not sure we’re getting anywhere on this one.” Chris says boredly.

“Tyler, this is the last challenge. Quit being such a girl!” Courtney yells at the boy. “You have to do this or we’re going to lose!” Courtney rolls her eyes.

“Actually if you do the math you can’t possibly win.” Cody calculates then shows the calculator. “The score’s 8-3.”

“Not necessarily. We’ve got one more challenge set up.” Chris says.

“Who? It can’t be me. But I didn’t-” Courtney goes on confused. “You didn’t have to. We’re always watching you and your reactions.” Chris reminds her.

“I knew it. Didn’t I tell you guys, they were eavesdropping?” Lindsay angrily asks. “Oh, who cares? It’s not going to make a difference.” Courtney frowns.

“Let’s make this interesting then. I’ll give you triple points if you can complete it.” He tells her.

We now stand in front of a huge wooden pool of green jello. “You’re afraid of jelly?” Duncan laughs. “Shut up! Only the green kind. It’s like sugary, jiggly snot!” She cries out in disgust.

“You can face your fear and dive straight into this pool of jelly or let your team lose yet another challenge!” Courtney slumps, making her way to the ladder. “This is insane! I could seriously die doing this.” She climbs up.

“Oh this is just cruel.” Gwen says, “It’s probably warm by now! Warm green jelly. Snotty, bouncy, ugh!” She stifles.

“You’re not going to make me quit!” Courtney yells down. “That’s it, keep climbing!” Duncan smiles.

“She’s just trying to psych you out!” Bridgette chimes in. “Like you said, Courtney! It’s okay if you can’t do it!” Duncan shouts, I yell up a chicken clucking sound just like I did in our first challenge earning a scowl in response. Once she stands up on the board she thinks about it then covers her face. “I can’t do it! I’m coming down!” She yells, her team all lower their head in disappointment as the Gophers cheer once again.

“And there you have it! The Gophers won invincibility this week… Again!”

After everything calms down we all chill in our cabin, mostly everyone was on the boys side except me, Gwen, Heather and Lindsay.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.” Gwen huffs, standing up, stretching out her body. “Ooh! Me too, I’ll come with!” Lindsay grins, following after the goth girl. Gwen scoffs but opens the door for the blonde and they walk out. Heather then stands up and I raise a brow at her. “Dang you have to go too?’

“No, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She tells me and I put my book down, giving her my attention. “What’s up, Heather?” I smile softly. “You said you owe me earlier right?” She asks and I slowly nod.

“Well, before that, I want to apologize for my actions with the whole diary thing. And then by owing me a favor I’d like you to pretend to be my friend for a little bit.” She crosses her arms and I’m taken aback for a moment.

“Seriously?” I lean closer to her as if I didn’t hear her correctly the first time. “Yes, just don’t expect me to be all nice with Gwen.” She says and I glance around. “What’s the point of this?”

“Just- please?” She huffs.

“I-I guess? Just pretending to be friends?” I furrow my brows, her face turns a light shade of pink. “Nevermind-”

“No, no, I’m down, we can be friends.” I wink, then go back to my book.

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