#I need more content with these two I am starving

[imsofreakingtired]

hihihihiiiii can you make more of Sevika x Masc reader, I just read it, and I'm sorry to say I'm now ADDICTED!!! Scenario: Sev and Masc reader encounter a cockroach, and fight over who's NOT gonna kill it (they're both scared little girls squealing, and convincing eachother to kill it. They moved out) ORR, ORR, ORRR Sevika x masc reader, where Sevika is jealous and possessive over reader, and reader is the same to her. I NEED MOREEEEEE (I'm sorry I'm so hyped, I love this, please make more if u have time hehe 🙏) -I'm just a really deprived butch4butch girl who's not above begging 🎀🎀🎀

absolutely i am also starved for mascxmasc content 😩

Sevika x masc!reader pt 3

pt 1 pt 2

________

on nights out it’s always a fight for your life because there are girls coming left and right trying to hook up with either of you. Sevika finds it funny because they always assume the two of you are just two masc lesbian friends out looking for some action, but she never gives them so much as a glance. when someone is really insistent, she’ll give them a half smirk and say “thanks doll, but I’m spoken for,” nodding in your direction where you’re glaring at the girl across the table gripping the cup so tight it might shatter.  on the other hand, sometimes you like to tease Sevika. when the girls come over to flirt with you, you entertain them, leaning forward, touching their hair, letting them try on your rings. you know nothing gets Sevika off like jealousy. you like to watch her seethe out of the corner of your eye as the girl gives you a whiff of the perfume on her neck. you know that the minute she gets you alone that night there’ll be hell to pay, and god are you looking forward to it. 

one day you hear a huge clatter in the kitchen while Sevika’s making dinner and you jump up and run over, thinking she hurt herself. you find her withdrawn to the corner of the room, breathing hard, staring at a huge roach on the floor, cocking its antennae as if aware of the terror it inflicts on her. “sevika, what the fuck, are you okay??” “quick. kill it,” she says, pointing at the roach. “kill it before it gets away.”  that’s when you see the bug. you let out a scream and practically jump back into her. “i’m not touching that! you’re the butch here!” “oh so suddenly i’m the big strong masc?” the roach skitters a few steps towards you. you scream again. you can feel every fight-or-flight instinct being jolted in Sevika’s body.  “fine. FINE!” you take a shoe from the foyer and tentatively move towards the roach, shoe raised. when it moves, you lose your nerve.  “what if we just moved, Sevika.”

on days when she comes home late from work stressed and frustrated from a problem she can't work out you grab her hand and pull her into the hall without a word, push her up against the wall, and fuck her till her knees go weak and her thoughts fade into nothing. then you walk away to cook dinner like nothing happened

she doesn't like movies unless you're watching them with her, but she will get heavily invested in true crime documentaries and you will not be getting any attention in the two hours she is watching the docs and yelling at the screen as if the detectives can hear her

you like the texture of her buzzcut hair at the base of her head so when she lies with her head in your lap you rub behind her ear with your thumb like she's a dog and it always makes her fall asleep

the two of you are like dumb & dumber when it comes to buying gifts for female relatives or femme friends because you'll both walk into a sephora looking for a specific piece of makeup they requested, walk around as if you know where you're going, then leave muttering something about ordering it online

Sevika is like a kid on Christmas morning in a hardware store. you have to physically drag her away from each aisle. "Sevika, for the last time, we don't need to renovate our sink, we're here for fucking LIGHTBULBS." (she will also mysteriously discover all of a sudden that she needs three new wrenches and a drill)

she gets awful period cramps and calls you an animal for working out on your period (maybe i'm projecting here) "do you enjoy torturing yourself??" "running helps with the cramps." "come a little closer and say that to me again..."

she's the "in-bed-with-a-good-book-by-10pm" older butch and you're the "i'm-on-my-6th-cup-of-coffee-and-whenever-i-pass-out-next-is-purely-up-to-the-gods" younger masc. she gets up at one point in the night to use the bathroom and sees you learning a choreography in the living room because you randomly decided to teach yourself to dance. she just stares at you in sleepy disbelief in her boxers and tank top. Sevika: it's 3am. You: aww, your hair's all messed up. cutie patootie. Sevika: Sevika: *slowly turns and walks back into the bedroom* (she isn't entirely sure if she dreamed the whole thing or not.)

on formal nights out: she's the tux, shirt, dress pants, shoes combo and you're the blazer with a bra underneath combo. it drives her insane how hot you look. "baby, that blazer is not making it through the night." "i sure fucking hope not."

when Sevika walks down the streets at night she tends to scare the women a little because she's 6 foot fucking 1, very masc presenting, and wears hoodies and leather jackets. to remedy this she has begun tying gay ribbons to the belt loops of her jeans "vika, i don't think anyone'll be able to even notice those." "it's the thought that counts." "no-"

Sevika always being the tough butch at her workplace with her poker face and relentless efficiency. you come in one day to surprise her at work and find her telling off an employee about some mistake, and it's lowkey both scary and hot as hell. it's also a little funny since you're so used to seeing her all soft and needy at home, because you're the only one she feels safe enough to let her guard down for.

~~~

thanks @shanesevikasfuckdoll for the req :)

[stressed-depressed-andobsessed]

I've cooked. Everyone can now get back in the kitchen, someone please turn that smoke alarm off, I have finished the meal. Eat up.

Happy late birthday to my 2nd favorite Owada birthday! Mondo is telling Daiya about all the cool shit him and his friends did for his birthday. 🫶🏾🎉🎂

I tried to finish this earlier, in time for his birthday, but I was busy attending a Melanie Martinez concert so my priorities were a little bit elsewhere for a while. It was beautiful by the way.

The DaiyaMondo brothers have had me by the balls for a good long while now and I can't stand it. I've scrounged for every bit of media where these 2 interact and I'm beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel. Pretty please send me anything containing these 2, I'm getting desperate.

Down below are the shaded versions of this drawing plus an old Daiya piece I found where I drew him for the first time ever. It's a little blurry because I had to transfer it from my drive instead of taking it straight from my drawing app, but it's good if you ignore the pixels.

Now that this is done, I can start on the art and writing for the little Hamilton Musical of 78 I've been talking about.

[quibbs126]

Have you ever loved a game so much that you become instantly relaxed and uplifted just hearing the UI sound effects?

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x Reader (no mention of gender).

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled auburn behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

one three

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

[tra1nchi]

trainy please I'm begging for subbot amab welt 🤧🤧🤧 there's no content and I am STARVING

some degradation and breeding never hurt him... maybe a biting and collar kink too 😞🙏🙏🙏

- 🕳️anon

MINORS DNI!! top male reader,, feeding the like two welt fans lol,,Degradation,,breeding,,collar,,

He looked so pretty for you like this, Welt was layed so cutely back against the bed. His eyes shy and averted away from your hungry gaze as he felt it trail all around his body, his cock unbelievably hard and leaking against his tummy.

"You..can't just stare at me like that." Welt scolds weakly, his chest heaving as you checked the tightness of his collar, his breath hitching at the feeling of it tightening so perfectly around his neck, squeezing at just the right parts.

His whines would be so sweet as you trailed up the skin of his shaky thighs, he was so embarrassed to be exposed like that infront of you! He was so vulnerable, he could feel each sweep of the cold air of the express kiss his cock, he couldn't handle how slow you were going! So without thinking he wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you flushed against him.

"Please, take me..I'll be your good little slut." He grumble out embarrassed but before he knows it, he was flipped over onto his tummy, his brown hair being gripped until his mind felt fuzzy as your cock perfectly pistoned in and out of him, he couldn't help his eyes from rolling back from how perfectly you found his prostate, like his body was meant for you, yo be fucked by you.

"Yes yes! I'm yours! Please, harder!" He knew he sounded like a whore but he didn't care, he didn't care about anything except for how you fucked him, how good it felt to have his mind completely blur just by your thrusts.

Welt needed more and more, to be filled to the brim with your cum and stuffed full of your babies, he could barely think straight but he knew how much of a good father he'd be, all he could do is pray that you'd come inside and not pull out to tease him!!

[postanagramgenerator]

for the time being this blog is dedicated to reblogging donation posts for people suffering from the ongoing genocides. if youd like an anagram, please send me (via the submission box) proof of either donation to a fundraiser of your choice, or an esim for gaza, along with the text you would like me to anagram, through dms or the submit box. any anagram requests without proof of a donation or esim purchase will be ignored.

there are a few guidelines:

no slurs or otherwise offensive content

the more you donate, the longer the text i am willing to anagram

current campaign spotlight: ibrahim, 15 years old | @ibrahim-family | post to share | verification

below is a list of more verified accounts* who have personally reached out to me:

Mahmoud Khalaf @helpkhalaffamily, @mahmoudkhalafff: PhD student living in Ireland, 8 family members stuck in Gaza. #151 on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's vetted fundraiser list

Tamer Al-Deeb @tameraldeeb: Dentist in Gaza, 4 family members, #191 on the vetted fundraiser list

Basil Ayyad @basel-1995: verified TWICE after being accused by high-profile blogs of being a spambot. 8 family members, #214 on the vetted fundraiser list

Mahmoud Sharif @mahmoud-sharif : trying to save his wife and 3 children with a fourth on the way, has lost an eye and finger, vetted by 90-ghost

Mahmoud Balousha @tamer200333 @5735765: is working with various intermediaries to help several different family members; he's also been the target of recent harassment. see here for links and information. verified by apollos-olives.

Doaa Jad Al Haq @free-gaza: met her initial goal to raise money for a new sewing machine for her business in Egypt now that she's evacuated, and is now hoping to make enough for a workspace and more materials. check out her designs here. reblogged by 90-ghost

Nour @nor-famaily @nourfamily1989: raising money for her husband and 5 children. initially reached out to me for help setting up a gofundme, but fortunately she was able to get in touch with the Gaza Thrift Collective and they were able to set one up for her. verified by 90-ghost and killy

Mohammed Atallah @mohammed-atallah: Mohammed is only 17 years old, and needs a bone graft after being shot with an explosive bullet. this fundraiser will also benefit his parents, siblings, and baby niece and nephew.

Hazem Khalil @hazempalestine: dentistry student living in Belgium hoping to evacuate his family. vetted by Bilal Salah, who himself is #132 on the vetted fundraiser list

Mahmoud Ayyad @mahmoudayyad: raising funds for many family members and receiving VERY few donations so far. vetted by 90-ghost

Fahed Shehab @fahedshehab-new: a family of 8 hoping to evacuate; Fahed, his wife Reem, their 5 young children, and the childrens' grandmother. vetted by el-shab-hussein

Sarah Zidan @sarazidan: a mother caring for her disabled son. vetted by el-shab-hussein and co. at gaza-evacuation-funds

Mohammed Shehab @mohammedshehabneww: a family of four seeking evacuation, including 2 children. shared by sayruq and 90-ghost

Abdul Salam Al-Anqar @nader5555: a family of seven, including two teens and one baby, who is starving. abdul's father has cancer and desperately needs treatment. #4 on the spreadsheet by GazaVetters

*when i say "verified", i mean that well-established palestinian users on this site have been able to confirm their identity via private correspondence. all users i mention as having vetted fundraisers are palestinian and have been working their asses off to help people with their fundraisers for months. they deserve every bit of love and appreciation in the world and none of us should let their efforts go unrecognized.

[janitorhutcherson]

i'm totally NOT touch starved so IM TOTALLY NOT asking for peeta mellark and touch starved reader... totally NOT. (i love your writing sm ☺️)

i am FINALLY giving the people what they want!! i know this isn't a whole fic/imagine but instead headcanons, BUT! it is finally peeta. i promise there will be more peeta content in the future. im working my way through the movies again and im about to reread the books, i want to be accurate about his portrayal so y'all feel like its more realistic, but here is a lil taste of what is to come! i rly hope you enjoy <3 btw!! this takes place after EVERYTHING in the books. ur basically katiness.

• Peeta is a huge softy, he's cuddly, loving, affectionate, and definitely touch starved himself. He's the type of guy to mostly have his own contact with you in some way. Sometimes he will grip onto your arm, he'll have his arm around your shoulder or your waist, or even just grip onto your shirt. When you're sitting on the couch, he opts to sit hip to hip even when the entirety of the couch is empty. When you're not cuddling in bed, you're facing opposite sides, sleeping butt-to-butt. Even with that being said, sometimes Peeta needed some space, his own bubble. You, however, did not love that.

• This is exactly why it was somewhat difficult for Peeta to understand touchstarved!reader. Regardless of how close you were, you needed more. Anytime you're walking in the district, rather it's to pick up some ingredients for the bakery or simply a leisurely walk, if he opted not to hold on to you in some way, you'd freak a little. You'd grip onto his hand, either squeezing it in yours or holding onto his larger fingers.

• Whenever dishes were being done or chores were tended to, you would wrap your arms around his waist from behind or follow him at the heel. You were desperate for his attention, his affection, his touch. Without it, you felt cold and disconnected. His touch pleased the ache that prickled against your skin from years of desperately wanting to be held.

• At night, you'd squeeze up under his arm. Your head would be tucked into his armpit, your arms wrapped around him as you tugged him close, closing your eyes and taking in his smell. When you'd fall asleep facing away from each other, Peeta wouldn't even notice you flip over to face him once he was fast asleep, curling up against him, squeezing him tightly like your life depended on it.

• In all honesty? It felt like your life did depend on it. You were a tribute alongside with Peeta, you'd both been through hell and back together. You had nightmares and he was the only one that could ground them. Part of your touch starved desperation came from the times you were alone, afraid, for yourself, for your lover. It was difficult.

• A lot of nights Peeta would ensure he'd hold you close, all too aware that he was the cure to your nightly insanity. This made you feel better, softer, warmer. On days when you were simply cuddling in bed together, you felt like you couldn't get enough. Your legs would be tangled with his, your foreheads touching, arms wrapped around one another. But nothing felt good enough. In instances like these, you would climb into his shirt, sticking your head through the hole for his own head, one that was stretched out from the many times you'd done this, one he specifically designated as his lounge shirt for this reason. Other times you would both strip your clothes off, cuddling skin to skin while Peeta would stroke your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

• All in all, Peeta is a gentle and caring lover, understanding of your needs. He'd do his best to meet them, even when it meant staying glued to your hip. He loved you, the history you two had, the stuff you'd been through, and he'd do anything to ensure your happiness and your safety. After all, you were who saved him, who kept him grounded as well, the love of his life... but, his thoughts are for another story.

[hitomisuzuya]

Soft smut with Aventurine, I want to praise him, tell him how much I love him, and how he’s doing so well for me

I wasn’t sure if you were taking requests from Aventurine but then I saw what you just posted

If you don’t want to write this feel free to ignore!!

Anyways I love your writing so much and I’m glad you’ve picked up writing for Aven, now one of my favorite writers writes for by far my two favorite characters to read about :)

Aventurine x fem!reader. Soft smut. Cunnilingus. Praise. Pussy drunk! Aventurine. Aventurine cums from praise.

I am always taking requests for Aventurine. I want to spoil him with praise, so he cums from it. Spoiling him is the name of the game, isn't it? Thank you🥺❤️

It was Aventurine who seduced you into this position, using his silver tongue and teasing phrases that made you red faced and flustered. However, as his hand caressed your inner thigh, his eyes glinting satisfied hearing your shaky moan as he parted your folds with his tongue, you did something that softened the playful look in his eyes.

You'd reached down to stroke his hair. It was such a tender, and loving action. One that made that usual playful look melt into one of complete adoration. Adoration for you.

Aventurine sighed into your cunt, content as you ran your fingers through his hair again. A soft moan of pleasure escaped your parted lips, pleasure spiking through you as he lovingly kitten licked your clit. His eyes were trained on your every movement, ears keenly focused on your noises.

Between your thighs, he was looking up at you like you are the center of his whole world. Without you, he would have nothing left to grasp onto and cling to. It was hard for him to feel vulnerable, but you made him secure enough to show vulnerability.

And it was liberating for him.

Your back arched off the bed, your hips rolling up into his mouth as he latched his lips around your clit. The prodding and licking of his tongue sent your clit throbbing, louder noises of pleasure for Aventurine to feed off of keened from you.

"Y-You are doing so good for me," You stumbled over your words. And Aventurine loves when you do that. That told him he was really making you feel good.

He groaned into your cunt, his mouth leaving your clit. He flicked his tongue at your hole, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head feeling it clench around the tip of his tongue. He slowly lapped at your hole, moaning huskily as you pushed his face further onto your cunt.

Aventurine's fingers trembled as he held your thighs apart. Your body was starting to tremble in his hands, your legs shaking as you grinded against his mouth. "Good boy, Aventurine. Your tongue feels so good," Hearing more of your praise made his tongue feel more ravenous.

His cock pulsed hard between his legs, muffling the sweetest whimper into your cunt as he rutted into the mattress. He knew you were eager to please him too, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He was soaking up your words of praise, lapping and sucking, starved.

"Please," Aventurine groaned, swirling his tongue around your clit as he held your cunt against his mouth, determined to soak the taste of you on his tongue. "I need to hear it," With every fiber of his being.

He couldn't even be embarrassed about already being so close to cumming just from hearing your praise. But he couldn't get enough of it. He knew it wouldn't take the much to push him over the edge.

"I-I--" Pleasure quaked so strongly through you that you stumbled over your words again. Aventurine vibrated a moan of anticipation on your clit. "I love you, Aventurine I love you so much!"

He moaned like he had just heard the one thing he'd been waiting to hear all his life.

"Good boy, good boy," Your words keened another whimper from Aventurine. "I'm so close, please don't stop!" You were writhing on the bed, your fingers urgently tugging on his soft hair.

Your pleas, utter praise, and chants of good boy finally pushed him over the edge. His body shook as cum soaked his pants. He rode out his orgasm by further tasting you. His tongue was frenzied on your clit.

He was determined to be worthy of soaking up and basking in your praise. And the way you looked at him, your body trembling in the wake of your orgasm told him that he deserves it.

[whumpcember]

Welcome back to Whumpcember!

Or if you're new, welcome!

This is the second ever Whumpcember event and I am happy to be running it again! I am so thankful for all the support for last year's Whumpcember and for everyone who filled out the prompt list form! I hope everyone has a wonderful writing Whumpcember, and now, onto the rules!

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @ the blog or tag with #whumpcember2023 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember2023 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

An AO3 Collection will go out on December 1 and close January 1, it's not mandatory, but if you want your works saved in a collection, make sure you get it in on time!

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

If you have any more questions, send me an ask, but please read the FAQ first!

Written Prompt list below:

-Main Prompts-

Day 1: Fever

Day 2: Sickness

Day 3: Hypothermia

Day 4: Hidden Injury

Day 5: Impaled

Day 6: Nightmares

Day 7: Fainting

Day 8: Isolation

Day 9: Brainwashing

Day 10: Freezing

Day 11: Infection

Day 12: Touch Starved

Day 13: Restraints

Day 14: Cornered

Day 15: Hallucinating

Day 16: Head Injury

Day 17: Fire

Day 18: Chronic Pain

Day 19: Exhaustion

Day 20: Drugged

Day 21: Choking

Day 22: Seizures

Day 23: Nosebleed

Day 24: Bullet

Day 25: Coma

Day 26: Collapse

Day 27: Bleeding Out

Day 28: Abandoned

Day 29: Paralyzed

Day 30: Delirium

Day 31: Homeless

-Alts-

Alt 1. Stabbed

Alt 2. Forced to Watch

Alt 3. Drowning

Alt 4. Ice

Alt 5. Sacrifice

Alt 6. Concussion

Alt 7. Hunger

Alt 8. Tears

Alt 9. Begging

Alt 10. Abused

[thebearer]

if you lie down, lie next to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: you and carmen are newly weds, moving into your forever home.

inspired by @carmybears fic assembly required which has been SO heavy on my mind lately mixed with lana del rey's "if you lie down, lie next to me" <3

contains: fluff. just fluff newly weds, alludes at smut, some language, but tooth rotting sweetness and fluff.

“Carmen, I’m not even kidding. Where the fuck did all of this stuff come from?” You groan, collapsing another cardboard box with a huff, shoving it into the pile with the others by the door. “Our apartment was, like, one-fifth the size of this one. The living room was like our whole apartment. How do we have this much shit?” 

Carmen snorted lightly, grinning and unpacking the various pots and pans. New pots and pans- wedding gifts.Your wedding came with an influx of appliances and cookware, gadgets for the kitchen that Carmen bubbled with excitement about. And a margarita maker- for you, of course- courtesy of Natalie Berzatto herself. The old apartment, you barely had space for the dishes and pots you had, let alone new ones. 

So Carmen kept them tucked away, until he got the new place for you. He didn’t have a clue at the time he’d be buying you the Brownstone you were in now, nestled in the heart of Old Town. A good neighborhood, close-ish to the restaurant, zoned in a good school district- a forever home, for the two of you. 

“I mean, most of it was wedding gifts.” Carmen shrugged. “The rest are your shoes.” He teased, a playful glint in his eye when he looked over at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha,” You said sarcastically, bumping him with your shoulder. “Seriously, though, I’m never doing this again. We’re here for life, Berzatto.” 

“That’s the plan, Berzatto.” Carmen nudged you back lightly, leaning to press a sweet kiss to your blushing cheeks, a loving squeeze to your ass when he passed you that left you squealing. 

“The good news is,” Carmen paused, sliding the pot onto the hanging rack over the island, stepping back to admire it. “The kitchen is unpacked.” 

“The most important room.” You hummed playfully. Carmen nodded in agreement, arms slipping around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

“Think we should celebrate?” Carmen grinned. “Christen it?” 

“We already christened it.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Twice- no, three times, already.” 

“Yeah but now it’s done.” Carmen countered. “No more boxes in the way.” 

“I think you can only christen something once.” You give him a pointed look, ignoring the way his crotch is rubbing against your hip. You were still sore from the celebratory round of “putting the coffee table together” from earlier. 

“And I’m starving. Should we order in again?” You hum, looking at the fridge. Nothing but a bottle of champagne and leftover takeout Chinese food. Your stomach turned at the thought. 

Carmen caught your grimace, a hand running soothingly down your back. “If you want. I can run to the store, too. Grab some things for dinner. Break in the kitchen now that it’s done.” 

“I think I like that idea better.” You nod, leaning against his chest, feeling his chain through his t-shirt- the same chain you had tucked between your teeth earlier. Your knees wobbled at the thought. “What are you making?” 

“What’re you in the mood for?” Carmen tilted his head back to look at you. “Can make you whatever, baby, just lemme know.” 

“I am down for anything that doesn’t come out of a box.” You giggle, nose snarling at the Chinese food. “Surprise me, Chef.” You grinned smugly, content at how Carmen’s cheeks flushed with heat. 

“You wanna come with me?” Carmen asked, reaching over to swipe his keys off the kitchen counter. 

You rolled your lips in thought. “I need to shower.” You blink at him sweetly. “I feel all sweaty and gross.” 

“Alright. Need anythin’ else, baby?” Carmen is looking for his phone, patting his pockets and turning in a semi-circle to look around him. 

You roll your eyes, plucking the phone off the coffee table in the living room, passing it to him. He was always losing his phone. You’d begged him to get an Apple watch but he swore it got in the way of his cooking, so you took to texting Nat or Richie- who always had their phones- when you needed him. 

“Something to drink? Unless you want champagne because I’m pretty sure that’s all that’s in there.” You giggle, looking at the fridge. 

Carmen smiled, pulling his hat over his tousled locks. “I got it.” He muttered, leaning to press a sweet, soft kiss to your lips, hands splaying over your hips, pulling you closer and closer into him. 

He always managed to make you swoon like that, cheeks rushing with heat, dizzy and light with love. You hoped you’d always feel like this. Even when you were old and wrinkly and wobbly, you hoped Carmen would still kiss you like that- in this very spot, in this very house. 

“Oh, Cass Elliot?” You grinned, spinning with the vinyl in your hands, brows raised playfully at Carmen. “He has taste.” 

Carmen snorted lightly in laughter, dishrag slung over his shoulder, spooning the sauce over the chicken in the pan. The kitchen was warm, smelling heavily of spices and a dash of citrus. You’d set up the vinyl in the corner by the nook, an old school record player passed down from Carmen’s grandmother. His Nonna Berzatto, who he adored. He had told you about how he’d always go over and help her make Sunday sauce. She had that same vinyl in her kitchen, next to a picture of her parents, and a prayer candle of Mary. It was all he managed to get, keep after she passed and his parents sold everything else that they could. He’d even snagged a few records, though the one you held looked new. 

“Yeah. Thought you liked her stuff?” Carmen muttered, eyes cutting to yours gently. 

“I do.” You grinned, slipping the record out of the protective paper. “How’d you know that?” You lifted the arm of the record player, slipping out the old disk and sliding in the new one, careful of the bouquet you’d just placed by it. Carmen had snagged one at the grocery earlier, surprising you with the beautiful bloom when you’d gotten out of the shower. 

“Because, you told me.” Carmen said simply, checking the asparagus inside the stove. Your heart fluttered. “When we were comin’ back from that trip… The, uh, the one we took to Detroit, remember? You played it on the way back.” 

Your chest soared, filling with that warmth that made your body tingle from head to toe. “You remembered that? That was… two years ago?” 

“Of course I remembered that.” Carmen scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you like he couldn’t believe you’d say something so ridiculous. “You said that, uh, that one song was like the love song to you. So I-I started listening to it because… ya know, it reminded me of you and stuff.” Carmen muttered, cheeks heating at the omission. 

You beamed, lifting the long arm of the record player, letting it softly come to life with a scratch of static before the slow melody filled the room. “You’re sweet.” You hum, arms wrapping around his torso, swaying gently to the familiar medley. “Never would’ve guessed you woulda been this sweet.” 

“Yeah? I’m given’ off asshole vibes?” Carmen laughed, hips turning slightly to face you. 

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “Gave off recluse vibes.” 

“Recluse?” Carmen turned to you. 

“Yeah, like… quiet, shy boy vibes.” You giggle. “You barely spoke to me when I started… and you hired me!” 

“I thought you were pretty.” Carmen shrugged boyishly. “And I thought if I talked to you, I’d throw up or embarrass myself. Also thought there was no way you’d be single. Too pretty and funny and… I dunno, thought you’d never go out with me.” 

“Little did you know.” You grinned wickedly. “I had been stalking you in secret.” Carmen laughed at you. “I thought you were pretty, too.” 

Carmen blushed at your omission, lips twitching in a smile. You swayed lightly, cheek pressed to his chest, letting the soft melody lull you. You remembered the car ride back from Detroit. Carmen was going to some chef expo there, trying to network and get Sydney the star she deserved. You’d agreed to go along. Things were far enough along it was stable, but still new and exciting. Your first real trip as a couple. You’d stayed in a hotel, gone to Carmen’s colleague’s fancy restaurant, went sightseeing and shopping hand-in-hand. You couldn’t help feeling so romantic, shuffling songs from the playlist you listened to when you were getting ready for a date. Old school tracks, filled with symphonies and ballads of love. 

“I think this is almost done. D’you want to grab the glasses and I’ll-” 

“-Let it sit for a minute.” You sigh contently, turning down the heat on the stove top. 

“What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffs in laughter, turning while you pull at him, your hand lacing through his own, tugging him to the open space on the other side of the kitchen island. 

You just smile at him, pulling him close to you. Your hand in his, the other wrapped around and settled on his spine. His free hand followed, sliding down your back. You leaned towards him, chin tilted towards his face, his curls tickling your forehead. You swayed slowly, nothing elaborate or coordinated, just a soft shuffle type sway, Carmen pulled close to you. 

“‘M not good at this.” Carmen’s breath hitched, hand squeezing yours, his thumb gliding over your wedding rings. 

“Yeah, you are.” You hum, nose brushing his. “Best dancer I’ve ever seen.” You mutter, your lips slotting over his sweetly. Carmen’s hand left yours, cupping your jaw and pulling you closer, his lips soft against your own. Your head found his shoulder, dipping into his collarbone, arms wrapped around his torso while he rocked you gently. The sound of Cass Elliot’s voice humming out of the record player Baby, I’m Yours fading into Words of Love. The fan from the stove still buzzing with life, wafting out the steam from the pans, rhythmically merging with the sounds from the street. A relatively quiet neighborhood, filled with quiet cars and the occasional children’s screech from their strollers that pushed by. It was all so calming, the sound of your new home. Sounds you hoped would become familiar overtime and still shared with Carmen.

[wileys-russo]

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (5/?)

Chapter 4 ✿ Chapter 6

Summary: Just a random few days in the first Summer in the wilderness. (Y/n) explore her surroundings and the people around her in the wilderness to find some sense of control and agency. She is blossoming. Adult (Y/n) gets an unexpected visitor late at night and has deep thoughts about the right move going forward. She also needs to get ready for a romance novel convention, but she just can't catch a break from her pine-scented memories.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x fem!reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Gore, Mentions of Starving, Mentions of weight, Mentions of Chronic Pain and Injury, the 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Coming out of the closet, Mentions of sex and voyeurism, Mentions of Cheating, Mentions of menstrual cycle, Stalking.

Word count: 16.7k

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEARS! Back in action with my monthly uploads, and I am so happy to have my first headcanon chapter that doesn't follow an episode of the show, I hope I can add about three in the first and second season that shows things more about the reader and her experience out in the wilderness when there was still a lot of hope. I even did a poll for the readers of this story to have a voice in the direction of this arc for the reader. If you have any questions or thoughts about this story, please let me know in my inbox, and if you have any requests, I would love to hear what you all think and want from the story. The three days that I focus on in this chapter are July 7-10,1996, during their time in the wilderness, and I plan on making a timeline written for anyone really into the story!

Day 1 

The hard ground under you was comfortable enough to sleep on, and maybe enough blankets and exhaustion made it the most comfortable place in the cabin. Your pillow's plush, fuzzy fabric snuggled against your cheek as you slept deeply. The pain in your neck rested just right as you folded your arm under your pillow. Your blanket was warm. 

A hollow growl rumbles in your stomach again as you rest. 

You have skipped another meal last night. Making it the third meal of the day you have skipped for the others.

The months have been getting to you.

You didn’t think you could avoid hunger, but you didn’t think your stomach would hurt this much. It felt hollow and sore, but you were mostly fine and had the same energy. You haven’t been getting as much fish as you did your first time fishing, but it was enough for almost everyone. You decided to go without for the past four days to help everyone ration out the food. Lately, you would catch about three fish daily, around 1 pound each for 16 people. It was spreading thin on the days when Natalie didn’t catch any animals, but you were content with it sometimes. 

You had two advantages over everyone else in the woods: you had wilderness survival, and you were overweight. It will take longer for you to suffer from starvation, and if you skip your meal, that just means everyone gets a little more.  You didn’t mind it, but everyone else seemed not to like it; not even the boys wanted you to go without unless you simply put your food on the table and walked outside if you thought the portions too small for everyone. You would just say you could handle it, and if you had a negative calorie intake, it wouldn’t be as harmful as it would be if Jackie or Larua Lee skipped. Sometimes Van, Shauna, Lottie, or even Travis, to your great surprise, skipped with you for everyone else to have more. It was those days when there was a whispering dread in your ear, making you think too far ahead for your liking. You didn’t like to think about the nights becoming colder and the food slowly disappearing, and only having food that you saved, which would be nothing as things were going.  

You worked your anxiety away as much as possible with the fishing and projects around the cabin, so you didn't think about it too much. You still hoped to be saved and didn’t want to think about the colder months unless you had to. 

A soft hand lands on your shoulder and gently pushes you back a few times until your eyes creep open, “Hey, get up.” Natalie’s soft voice comes to your ears as you slowly get up. 

“Wha- what's wrong?” You yawn as you sit up, your hands pushing the wooden floor. You wore your blue and pink striped lattice hem set your mom got you for your trip to Seattle. As you were sitting up, your shoulder peeked out of the top. Your clothes were slowly becoming bigger on you, and you couldn’t find it inside yourself to complain; you had wanted to be a couple of sizes smaller, but this wasn’t how you thought you would lose the extra weight. A thin layer of salty sweat lines your face and neck, feeling every small move with a sticky sensation tickling your flesh. The morning of July was as unforgiving as the day. You pray there will be rain today so you can get a break from the beating sun. 

“Nothing. I got some food,” Natalie said with a smile as she looked over your face. She was most worried about you not eating the last few days. 

“Really!?” You say as you quickly start to get off your makeshift bed from the floor. You try to pull yourself off the floor like you usually do, but your left arm gives out from under you, causing you to light thump back onto the floor, and a sharp stab stocks you through your stiff neck. 

“Are you okay?” Natalie asks, concerned, as she takes your hand, pulling you to stand with her. Her eyes are concerned and worried at your inability to lift yourself. Seeing the biggest girl in the group fall apart wasn't a pleasant feeling because she wasn’t getting enough calories. 

You chuckle as you place your hand on her shoulder as she helps you stand up. Your cheeks become hotter as she holds you up. When you are on solid ground, you softly push her off you and say, “Sorry. I was pretty tired yesterday. I don’t know why; I was just in the heat, I think.” 

“I could tell; you slept like a damn rock yesterday after I got back from hunting. You good?”

“Yeah,” you say with a little sigh of exhaustion, but you smile at her nonetheless. ”It must have been jet lag, " you joke as you run a hand through your hair. You find a greasy curl in your bangs that stood up the whole conversation with Natalie. You try to hide your cringe at the feeling of your own bad hygiene. After two weeks in the wilderness, most of the body smelled sensitivities left everyone after the deodorant ran out. 

“Looks like your prayers have been answered ‘cause I got us some rabbits.” Natalie chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck and looked at you. 

You don’t notice how her eyes seem to study your movements, “The rabbit traps finally worked?” 

“Yep, we caught four rabbits this morning, but one was lost. Something got to it before we got up.”’ 

“A wolf?” 

“Maybe. But there was just a foot left behind.” Natalie shrugged her shoulders with an amused smile like she was going to laugh. 

“Did you keep it? It’s good luck. Maybe Lottie would have liked it.” You say with a little chuckle at Natalie’s face, and you just turn your head away. You felt your cheeks getting warm talking to her. Before the crash, Natalie was flirty with you, but now she seems more serious. She only talks about food and how people feel, but you always feel like she has a special interest in how you feel. Your stomach growled last night, and she gave you strong looks from the corner of the room.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be eatin’ good today.” Natalie jokes as she crosses her arms, leaning on the doorway to the kitchen, the second half of the first floor. She seems to be waiting for you to follow her to the hearth where Mari and Laura Lee are cooking the food, and the smells of meat cooking fill the whole cabin. It was making your stomach growl. 

“Good. I will eat until I am sick if I can." you say as you finally move to look for clothes for the hot day. Natalie's steel-blue eyes lock as you move to your bags on the opposite side of the small room. You thoughtlessly take off your pajama shirt and expose your bare torso. 

Now, after months in the wilderness, you have grown comfortable with your body being seen by others. It didn’t help that you all changed in the locker room together before the crash, but since there was nowhere you could go without peeking eyes, you have grown accustomed to just exposing yourself to change. Even if the boys were in the room, you didn’t even think about it even more because there are a lot of tits out here in these woods. Yours couldn’t be the only ones their eye see in the morning when everyone changes. 

It was a little different this time, and you felt Natalie’s eyes on you, tracing your back as you looked down at your pile of clothes in your luggage bag. You could hear Misty and Krystal quiet in their conversation as you move quickly to find a shirt; your chest softly jiggles for everyone in the room to see. You find a thin pink shirt and a Harley-Davidson shirt your dad gave you that you made into a crop top. You tell Natalie to break the loud silence, “Did you find the rest of the pop tabs?” 

“What?” 

“Wha-” You say as you throw a sports bra on yourself, “Pop tabs, Nat.” 

“Oh, yeah.” She says, quickly pushing her hand into her black jeans pocket and pulling out a couple of old pop tabs from the crash site. “These were the only ones I could find in good enough condition.” 

You throw the pink long sleeve over your head as you take the pop tabs in your hands and push them into your bag. “Thank you, Nat! I needed a few more to improve my net,” you say as you pull the crop top over your head. 

“What do you use pop tabs for again?” she asks with a chuckle. Her smile lingers on her lips, making you feel light in your stomach. 

“Hooks, " you crock out to her as you start straightening your hair as best you can with your fingers. “Just bend them back and forth at an angle, and they're makeshift hooks.” 

“Sick.” She says as she leans away from the doorway. She leans away for you to walk into the second living space. 

“Good morning!” “Morning!” “Hey, (y/n)!” was sent your way as you walked into the room. You smiled and waved back to everyone as you sat down at the table. Everyone had a pile of rabbit meat on their plates, but yours was slightly larger, with berries and the last of the fish jerky on your plate. 

“Guys!” you say as you look at your plate, worried everyone didn’t get enough food. But you are shut down by looks. 

“Stop it; it's yours,” Jackie says, smiling. She then leans her shoulder towards you playfully. 

“Yeah, please. We all thought it would be nice for you to have a big breakfast after skipping the last few nights,” Shauna says as she chews on some dark meat. 

“But, guys-” you try, but your stomach growls as you look at the freshly cooked meat.

“Just shut up and take your present,” Van says with a playful glare and shakes her head. Everyone laughs as you try again to make them take some of your portion. 

You eventually succumb to your urge to eat the meat. You sink your fork into the meat and shovel the dark meat into your mouth. 

You feel the strands of muscle on the rabbit leg you bit. You feel the juices of the fat in its body flush out of the strands as you chew on it more. You savor the gamey and wild flavor of the rabbit’s meat. You just moan as you keep eating everything on your plate. There was a click in the back of your throat as you ate. Your jaw healed weirdly after the crash, making you hear the tiny clicks as you swallow. 

You rub the back of your sweaty neck, and every step you take holds a tiny stab of discomfort at the base of your neck. It’s been two months and three weeks in the wilderness, and most of your wounds from the crash have healed beautifully. Your black eyes, busted lip, and burns healed within the first week, and the more significant wounds on your legs and neck seemed to take longer than expected. Misty said your leg took a little longer to heal than the other wounds, but it was because it was on the lower part of your body, and you believed her. But your neck has yet to feel the same. You know you should have had a brace on it, but you couldn’t find anything to make one without leaving someone without. You hoped that you would be saved before it became a problem. Luckily, it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore, but it felt like you constantly slept wrong on your head, having a stiff neck for the rest of the day. You have been messaging your neck as much as you could as you felt it becomes sharply painful, but you have made it a habit in the week of walking in these woods for hours. 

In another circumstance, these walks in the woods to the lake would have been therapeutic. The sun's rays peek through the branches and kiss the ground with light. The greenery completely consumes the environment, and with such natural beauty, sometimes you stand still, looking up at the tall trees. As you walk down the trail, you look up at the tall branches of the trees. At this point, it becomes almost muscle memory for you as you slowly approach the beach. 

You decided after breakfast to take a bath and clean the grease out of your hair and the thin film of sweat on your skin. You felt uncomfortable in your skin on a hot day out in the Canadian sun, and knowing your day would be spent sitting under the sun fishing, you felt like it was just time to wash and use some of your soap rations and lotion. You hold your toiletries bag, a new pair of underwear, and a towel in your hands as you stand on the end of the grass to the beginnings of the sand, but you stand in place as you look down the lake. 

There standing alone was Lottie in her nightgown, looking absentmindedly out to the sky, almost like she was trying to piece something together being written in the blue. 

You notice her absence at breakfast, and the last few breakfasts, she has been gone, and you always find her at the water, just staring out into space. It worried you, but you knew there was nothing you could do for the time being. The only thing you could do is be there for your friend. You didn’t need her to tell you to notice that there was a mental health issue underlining Lottie’s behaviors lately, even though she is mostly normal throughout the day. Sometimes, you would have a conversation with her so that she could only forget what she was talking about or completely state vague and ominous things without being able to explain herself. 

You softly place your towel on the big rock and untie your shoes. Then, you sit down as the soft waves brush against the hot sand, watching the brunette standing in the water. You stand up from the rock, taking your belt off, then your shorts, until you are in just your underwear. You unclasp your bra from under your shirt, slip the straps through your sleeves, and place your bra onto your towel next to your new pair of underwear. 

You walk toward the water, softly stepping into the cold, blue water. Water splashes caress your leg, hugging your body with fresh frost. As you walked deeper into the water, it was a painful pleasure to reach the unresponsive Lottie. 

When the water was at your thighs, you called out to Lottie, who was only a few more feet away from you, “Hey! Good morning, Lottie!” 

You decided the best thing you could do was be there for Lottie and ensure she was on the right track. You also had to comfort her and help everyone stay in the best conditions possible until you were found. 

She was deeply lost in her daze, but she seemed to slowly come back to reality with slow blinks when she heard your voice. She blurted out, “Huh?” and paused to rub her eyes with her fingers. “Um, right. Good morning, (y/n).” 

 You chuckle, playing down what you were watching, letting her get herself in order, “Hey, I saw you weren’t at breakfast when I woke up.”

“Have you eaten?” Lottie says in a deep, raspy tone as if she is sleeping but looking at you seriously. Hearing her talk to you like that was a little eerie, but it shows her concern about skipping meals. 

“Yeah, Nat found a lot of rabbits, and they basically gave me one whole one with berries. It was surprisingly delicious.” 

Lottie nodded, but her eyes looked miles away from her. She looked down at your body as you came beside her in the lake. She says as she doesn’t look connected to her body yet from wherever her mind is, “What’s the bag?” she asks as she stands still. 

“Soap and stuff, I wanted to take a bath, but I saw you out here and came to you. Can I ask you a favor?” 

Lottie's attention was now drawn to the bag in your hand and your thick thighs. "Yeah, Of course."

She didn’t move for a moment but blinked a few times, a clearer and more present look returning to her face. Lottie turned her body to face you fully. "What do you need?"

“Can you hold my things? I'll take my bath real quick, and you can take one, too, if you want.” 

Lottie blinks at you and nods, her hands out to hold the bag. You smile as you slowly place the bag in her hands. You say, “Is it okay if you hold my shirt too? I know you have seen my tits enough times, but I want to ask before I take it out,”  you chuckle as you look at her shocked face. 

Lottie laughed quietly, her cheeks darkening with a grin spreading on her cheeks, and nodded. "I'm sure I can survive the traumatic experience of having to see your naked tits for another few minutes."

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Whatever.” You quickly take off your shirt and put it on Lottie’s shoulder to keep it from becoming wet. Lottie then glanced around to make sure no one else was there. 'We're alone here, right?"

“I’m sure, and if we weren’t, they wouldn't be seeing anything new.” 

Lottie chuckled as she turned her head back to you, her brown eyes scanning your face as she opened your bag. You move in with your naked body to grab the shampoo, start to dunk your head under the water, and stand back up to rinse the foaming soap. 

 You splash water on your head as you close your eyes and place the soap on the crown of your head. You move the bottle towards Lottie’s direction, then quickly wash your hair with both hands. 

Almost instinctively, you peek your eyes open. You see Lottie looking at your chest and down your torso. She doesn’t even notice your eyes, watching you gaze at her. You close them again and say to her, with a little laugh on your lips, “Wanna take a picture?” 

“Maybe, so I have it for later,” Lottie muttered. She took another longing look as you rinsed the grease from your hair. She said louder before you asked her to repeat herself, “I don’t have a camera.” 

“Guess you just have to use your memory, Matthews.” You laugh as you lean over again. After you rinsed your hair off the shampoo, you also decided to use some conditioner. 

“Don’t make me out as some kind of pervert or something, (y/n)!” Lottie says back with a laugh, and she is now looking at your face as you scrub the smooth soap through your ends. 

“I’m not, but I don’t know, you might be liking my tits.” 

“What can I say? You’re my girl crush.” Lottie says, looking harder at your form as your eyes closed. She quoted Cosmopolitan about movie stars and singers, but Lottie has been thinking she is forming some kind of crush on you since you both shared that kiss late at night. Lottie doesn’t know what to think, but she knows she feels safe with you, and Lottie knows that she is pleasantly surprised with how beautiful you truly are. “I also have a girl crush on Sandra Bullock.” 

You giggled as you rinse out the conditioner from the ends of your hair, “What the fuck?” You laugh as your cheeks grow in heat as she talks at you like this. You are happy she is out of her episode, but you didn’t realize that your tits were so distracting for her. 

Lottie laughs and says, “I don’t know, I am just talking.” 

From across the lake, in the thick brush, she watches with rasped and raggedy breath as she sees (y/n) in the water with Lottie. Jealousy runs through their veins like a heroine, making them hot off this intense hatred for Lottie and even (y/n). “Why is she always with other people? Why does she just show her body off like that? Doesn’t she know how beautiful she is? Doesn’t she know I would kill someone to touch her soft skin just once?” thoughts race through the teen girl's head. She wanted to touch herself at the image of (y/n) so beautiful and vulnerable in the water. If (y/n) was alone, they could have stood in the water bathing with her and watching the soap run down her body up close. It’s all they have ever wanted; it’s what they have thought about for years. They felt themselves retreating to the woods after the sounds of the girls' shared laughter got to their ears. It felt like knives were stabbing into their skin or like bugs digging into their flesh. Their hands formed into hard fists as they stormed away from the shoreline. They couldn’t take much more of this. 

After your bath, you and Lottie separated for the rest of the day. You went to your new fishing spot with your makeshift fishing net, and Lottie returned to the cabin to do laundry. She stopped by with a basket on her hip alongside Laura Lee and Van. They asked if you needed help bringing the two medium-sized grey fish, but you declined. You work hard to weave fishing lines and waterlogged weeds into a sturdy fishing net with two thick branches to anchor the netting. You would bend pop tabs at an angle until they broke, making a hook to braid into the net. You were almost halfway done with this project, but you needed to constantly work on the net to finish it before midseason when fish became less active. 

When you leaned into your braiding, the small remaining hole on the tab got stuck on the fishing line in a specific braid. You let your fishing pole sit lazily next to you. You put a small frog as your bait this time, but there wasn’t even the smallest bite for the last hour. 

Suddenly, as you are weaving the netting, your fishing pole lunges forward, almost getting thrust into the lake water. You quickly drop the net and rush over to your old, rusty fishing pole, and before there is another thrust forward, you grab hold of it. 

A mighty thrust forward caused you to step into the water, and you panicked with the pole. You quickly tried to reel in the line, but it didn’t move; instead, it moved you. 

You looked down at the water with wide eyes. As you saw the clear fishing line thrash about quickly, you stepped back and decided that the best course of action was to pull it to the surface. 

You slip on the mud, and your back leans on a tree as you struggle to pull in the heavy creature at the other end. You panic as you start to feel yourself being pulled forward again into the water by a strong force. You pull the pole with you, both hands on the reel and rod, and rush back to where you sat for hours. Surprisingly, the creature at the other end seemed spooked by you; pulling it forward, the turtle stilled, and as you rushed back to your spot from before, the green ball came to the mud with a low hiss coming into the air. 

You look behind you to see an ugly, large, snapping turtle staring you down. The fishing line is in the turtle's beak, most likely in its stomach, as it ate the frog. 

You were amazed, but you were also scared. You didn’t know what to do, so you stared at him. A few feet away, he stood, afraid, hissing at you. He was at least 25 lbs without his rocky shell. 

SNAP! SNAP! 

Before you could pull him in more, he lunged at you with two great snaps of his jaw, missing you each time but getting closer to you with each bite. He stands a foot away from you with his mouth open to whine a hiss. 

You couldn’t think but quickly backed up again and looked for your knife. You grab it quickly before the turtle can react. You pull him in with all the strength in your arm. He hissed as his body lifted from the ground, and he hung from the line in pain from the hook in his throat. You try to stab the turtle’s neck to kill him, but he reacts quickly.

SNAP! 

You moved quickly out of the way and luckily didn’t lose your finger. You rejected not letting the others help you because now you were dealing with more than before. You didn’t want to let the turtle go, but you didn’t have the strength to keep him in the air like that. You tried again, and he snapped at you. You then decided to put the fishing line on a lower branch of the tree next to you.

You take a trig growing from the broken branch to distract the panicking snapping turtle. You annoy the turtle with a twig to the face, and the turtle snaps onto the twig like it’s nothing, but as he is distracted with the twig, you stab the turtle in the back of its head. The blade pops through its head through the turtle's left eye, popping the small ball out of the socket and making you cringe. You pull the blade from the turtle's head and pull the massive beast from the tree. 

You gave up on the rest of the day after killing the turtle. It was a very taxing experience fighting with an adult snapping turtle, and you pack up for the day. You put your little tabs in the fishing box, and your net inside the box handle to walk home. You put the two gray fishes on the stomach of the snapping turtle as you held onto its shell. Walking home with the big guy was laborious, but it was worth it. You knew how much food he would be if you brought him back, so you kept walking with the turtle, weighing you down. 

When you got to the cabin, everyone circled Natalie, who held a small beaver in her hands. They cheered when you came to view and seemed beyond excited that both of you caught huge catches you had for them all. There was enough food for everyone for the next couple of days, and it could be spread out for 5 days.

Everyone decided to jerk the beaver and fish to keep them longer and to eat the turtle because Mari could make so much soup from it.  

Jackie looked at the slimy moss-green turtle with a curled lip and narrow eyes, “I’m not eating that.” 

“What?” Mari says and steps into your space to look at the turtle. Mari picks up the turtle from its shell with both hands and huffs at the weight as if she knew how to handle the beast. “My mom makes killer turtle soup. We can cook it with its shell. We just have to scrub him up, and we have a whole soup!” Mari smiles as she struggles with now Misty to bring the dead turtle to the porch. 

You held the two small grey fish by their tailfins and added to Mari, “Don’t we have some carrots and spring onions?”

Jackie gave you a sideways glance at the mention of the bendy forest purple carrots you all found by the plane. The carrots naturally grew on the vine marshy ground the plane lay on. They were a fantastic find. The problem was preserving them long enough to eat throughout the days because they were root vegetables. They were bendable and weak but still were edible. “This sounds so gross.” 

“You’re such a stick in the mud, Jackie. Just think it’s rabbit.” Mari says as she starts to wipe the turtle from its blood with a rag. 

“Dude, look at it! It looks like a slug!”

“Dude!” Shauna says to Jackie, nudging her shoulder to make her stop talking badly about their dinner. 

“I would rather have the beaver!” Jackie yelled with defensiveness, her eyes big and wide and serious. 

A snicker from Van started it, making you laugh out loud and making everyone giggle at the joke Jackie unintentionally made. 

“Beaver.” Van says, and it makes everyone laugh harder. Jackie rolls her eyes with a loud ugh. She stomps off to the back of the cabin to get away from the laughing and her unintentional pussy joke.

Late that night, after everyone had eaten the turtle soup, you sat outside on the porch, writing about your day with your journal in your lap. You had picked up the habit from Shauna, and you both decided to write about your experience out in the woods so that if you were found, people would know what happened in your time stranded. You have been becoming lazy with your journal lately because there has been nothing new to write about. You have been fishing, talking with your friends, and worrying about your mom. 

A strong breeze sent a chill down your legs, making you cringe at the cold night. You closed your journal, placed your ballpoint pen in the center, and decided to pack it up for the night. You stood up off the porch steps, but as you stood, you felt a deep pressure in your pelvis, making you want to pee. 

You turned yourself around to go to the woods, the pooping corner, as Mellissa coined it. You felt the tall grass brush against your calves, crickets and salamanders sing in the twilight of the Canadian mountainside; you felt the crisp, clean air reach your nostrils and travel down your throat. You traveled down the small trail you and all the others made from traffic, but you felt a drop in your chest as you approached the bushes. 

Snap!

You turn your head to your right, through the thick brush of trees toward the abandoned plane, to the sound of something snapping a branch. You see the small figure in the brush coming towards you, her hands holding the tree for whatever reason. Her eyes glued on you, her mouth slightly open, she looks shocked at the snapping branch. 

“Misty! Holy moly!” You yelp as you jump back on instinct. Misty always had a way to catch you off guard. “What the hell are you doing over there?” 

“Uh, Peeing?” 

You laugh out loud as you pant. For whatever reason, you feel your heartbeat in your chest. Misty’s unsettling personality isn’t one to be around at night. It is uncomfortable, but it is bearable if you speak right. You put your hand on your chest as you laugh again to distract from her creepiness and act like you are not uncomfortable in her presence. 

“Oh, of course! Sorry, Misty! Doing the same!”

She steps forward out of the brush and keeps her eyes on you. “I could come with you to keep watch, you know, um,  just to make sure you're safe,” she says.

A stiff breeze hit the back of your legs, but it wasn’t as chilling as the feeling of Misty’s eyes staring into yours. Something simmered under the surface—it was always there, but in this moment, it felt dangerous. You felt a desperate need to let her near you, to be friendly with her, but she didn’t know how to mask the sinister undertone in her words. 

You hated the fact you felt pity. You felt bad. You didn’t want to make Misty feel like a freak like everyone else. You remember how crushed she was when Randy called her a dyke at homecoming years back, and you remember the rumors of her having anal and giving boys footjobs even though everyone knew she didn’t. You know how everyone treats her like an outcast in the wilderness. It wasn’t fair to be permanently outcasted because you were offputting but overly kind, you thought. 

“Yeah, sure. Can you hold my journal?” You say to her as you stand in place, waiting for her to be beside you. “Hey, I have a question to ask you, actually?.” you add as you move to be behind a bush. 

Misty looks into your eyes softly, her hands tightly holding the leather bond book. She smiles tightly and says, “Yeah?” 

“What are those birds out on the water, do you know?” you ask as you unbutton your pants, move to a squat and pee. Your eyes lock onto Misty as you continue, “The one that makes those loud dove noises. I know those aren’t crows because they are like ducks sitting on the water and don’t sound like crows. They are so loud and scary early in the morning.” 

Misty smiles, her eyes perking up with light, her face almost red with excitement as she proclaims, “Those are Common Loons. The black ones with red eyes.” She says with a smile growing on her lips, like she is smiling under the mask she wears, “Fun fact! They use Loon calls as Mourning Dove calls in movies because Loon’s are a lot more crisp sounding.” 

You smile at her softly as you study her face. “That’s crazy... I thought it was some kind of duck or something.” You chuckle as you watch her face. You look to the forest floor for some leaves to wipe with, and Misty continues talking about different birds. You feel a shiver down your spine at how normal Misty is. 

After you were done, you walked with her, took your journal back from Misty, and kept talking about her special interest in birds. She told you she has a pet named Neapolitan, Yellow Canary, back home who always sings for her when she enters her room. As she was talking, you watched closely at her eyes and lips. 

Her eyes are bright and wide, and her lips turn upward as she speaks. But it was as if something inside wasn’t connecting with her eyes. 

There was no sadness or grief at being here and not with Neapolitan. There was just contentment in her face. 

Misty is acting the same way she did before the crash. She seemed fine, happier talking about the loon out on the lake more than her pet in her room. It wasn’t right. It made no sense. It scared you. 

The energy coming off misty just made you want to run away. You don’t understand why Misty is giving you the creeps in the back of the cabin, but you don’t feel well hearing her speak. Hearing her become so content with being here and talking about home like it didn’t tear her apart made you feel sick. You couldn’t understand how she wasn’t sobbing, talking about home or a pet, and just talking to you like this was her best conversation in years. 

Misty was at the porch with you as you started to step up the stairs to the cabin’s front door; she listed, “There is also the brewer sparrow, burrowing owl, bald eagles, American dipper, the brown-headed cowbird-”

“Misty?” 

“Yeah?” She asked with her head whipping back to you, her blonde curls bouncing around her head with the movement. 

“I need to ask you a serious question, and it needs to stay between us, okay?” 

Her eyes widened for a second as she approached you with a deadly serious expression, taking the face you needed her opinion on sincerely. “Anything, what is it?”

You sigh and look away from her at the beautiful starry sky above you. “Do you think we're going to be found? I just—” You sigh as you look at the north star off the side of the Waxing gibbous.

“I don’t know.” Misty immediately answers before thinking about it, but she says, “Maybe the plane had its last location sent to the power tower, and people are searching high and low for you guys.” 

“What do you mean “you guys”? Your family are looking for you like all our families are.” 

“I don’t think they are, " Misty said as if it were a fact. At this moment, her eyes were empty of emotion, and her face looked too relaxed to be natural. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Well, don’t ask if we’re going to be found as if you've given up hope, (y/n),” Misty says with a serious voice as she steps closer to you, with her face almost in yours, “You are the one everyone is looking up to for what to do out here, you're the one holding all of this together, and you can’t start asking those things now. You’re our only hope of staying alive long enough for search teams to find us, and you're doing amazing. You can’t lose hope now.” 

She spoke to you like she was pushing you on a pedestal, building your confidence with a fierce glare to push you back in place. It was so unsettling. It was just wrong; it felt wrong, like she was toying with you for losing hope, which was so odd. Why do that? 

Just like the day you left the locker room after their last game before the whole plane ride, she hid in the hallway just to stare at you. 

“Okay, " you say to her as you fight the urge to step back, trying not to hurt Misty’s feelings. I’ll try. Sorry. I haven’t given up hope; I have just been getting wary lately.” 

“It’s okay, (y/n), just make sure you don’t tell anyone else what you just told me because that might scare them.” Misty says again with her smile creeping up slowly, predatorily, like a wolf lifting its lip to lick their chops. 

You blink slowly, feeling unnerved by the words but seeing why she was saying them. “I mean, I am just being realistic. I’m not trying to be a stick in the mud.”

“I know that.” Misty quickly animates her face and body, her hands to her chest to prove her innocence, with her eyes looking big up at yours. “We’re friends that understand each other, but the others don’t understand that. They will judge you and never take you seriously again.” 

You look at her momentarily to understand what she is saying and feel the sinister undertone in her words. You know you should play it dumb and safe, though, as you smile at her and say, “Yeah, okay, you're right. Sorry for talking crazy.” 

“No problem, bestie!” Misty beamed with a tight grin. Her eyes looked cold as she tried to make her smile warmly. 

‘21

You had a wonderful last few days. When Misty dropped you off at your house, you quickly wrote the ending for your smutty novel. It was a perfect ending where the two women stay together and have hot sex, the perfect ending for a complicated romance story. It made you so happy to turn in the novel finally to your publisher, which after review, they fucking loved as well. It was sent to the editors, and the book's production will start by the end of next month. You couldn’t help but feel so accomplished that you even took your father out on a nice dinner to celebrate, and you have been on a happy high since. 

Tonight, you have been sent over the editor's notes to fix the holes in the story. You went to get yourself a coffee and dinner and came home to see your cat sitting on your laptop keyboard. 

You then took the next couple hours devoting yourself to critically combing through your story, your handwritten notes beside you, and your reading glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose. The chapters have been read over four times with edits each time to be approved in your eyes to move to the next. You remember when your first published book came out. It was a lesbian Vampire book trilogy about a feminine Noblewoman meeting a street fighting masc, which just so happened to come out at the same time the movie Twilight came out.  The success of the movie made your book blow up in popularity among queer groups, in conservative groups from outrage, and from everyday literature lovers. You remember how stressed you were when you were writing the series and how many demands were placed on you to push out the next book and the next, and then you didn’t hear from your publisher for a year until they demanded a new book. You then wrote a fantasy book romance that had a fairy falling in love with a goblin, another successful series. Now, on your third romance trilogy, you have grown bored of your fantasy creatures and celebrate concepts. Tension grows in your shoulders in your computer chair, and you lean back, taking your glasses off in exhaustion. 

Rubbing your eyes and leaning back in your chair, you naturally pulled back. The wheel glided on the carpet under your resting foot, and your eyes landed on the open closet. 

Your chest grew hot, and your breath became deep. Staring at your closet door, with your hands on your head, you slowly rose from the chair. 

“You don’t need to read them again.“ The voice begs in the back of your head.

In a semi-self-inflected trance, you step into the closet and find a mess of clothes and long-forgotten items: skates from the 1980s, notebooks from NYU, and an old steel safe.

“Stop it. You don’t need to read them again.” It says again.

Your painted fingers type in the code, your mother's birthday, and quickly open the safe. When you open the safe, a wave of smell barrels towards your nose, smelling like old paper, dirt, dust, and small hints of Pine. 

You start at the worn black leather of the bound journal, which has water and sun damage staining on the exterior. The once-white pages have yellowed over the years, and the quality feels like it will fall apart in your hands before too long. 

You gradually breathe as you lean against your closet wall and slide down, looking at the 25-year-old journal. 

“(Y/n), it’s not going to change.” The voice pleads as you turn the page to a random page of the first book you found. 

7/7/96 Today was productive and amazing!  I caught a snapping turtle about 30ish ibs, and we made a yummy soup of it. It's the best thing I've had out here so far because I feel myself salivating about it. I can't wait to have a bowl tomorrow for breakfast. When Travis took a bite of the soup, he got the eyeball of the turtle, and he gagged. Mari said it was good luck and should eat it, but he kept gagging. He is so pathetic!! Natalie caught a beaver today, and we decided to make it jerky. Jackie didn’t want to eat the turtle, so she said to everyone with a straight face, “I want the beaver!” Needless to say, it made us all laugh until we peed! I am feeling happy today and hopeful. I feel better about being here, but it doesn’t make me feel completely at ease at the thought of being okay. I hope they haven’t given up looking for us, and I know everyone’s family wouldn’t stop looking for us.  7/8/96  I caught two fish, one of which was a salmon (score!!) Natalie and I started making a map by walking around the area and building it together. I had a bowl of turtle broth for breakfast and some fish jerky. a lot of progress with my fishing net. I am about ¾ completed, but I need more stable vining. I feel somewhat like I am PMSing, and I am so not ready to be on my period just yet again out here. I wish I had a pad or tampon out here. All we have is homemade ones out of shirts and stuffing made from cattails fluff. I am about to start because I am much more sad than yesterday.  I miss my mom so much I can’t even help but cry when I think of her face

You violently start to sob and cover your face with your hand after reading the tragic line from your old journal. The journal that you and Shauna started there. It’s been 25 years since you wrote that sentence in the journal, but the statement is never more accurate than it is right now. You felt like you were 18 again. You were a child missing their mother and just want to talk to them about it. About everything, but you couldn’t. There was no way for you to talk to your mother again. Nothing has changed from then to where you are now. 

It was physical proof of your broken mind and heart. The words don’t even sound like you anymore. It was so young and naive, hopeful to no end. But when you see lines like that, you break down like a baby. Maybe it was for all the times you didn’t cry when you should have been out there. 

You felt as you looked at the young woman’s words a feeling of grief that just harassed you in place when you so much as looked at a page. It didn’t matter if it was a sad or mundane page. It always made you break down. You don’t understand why you still have urges to read over your old dairy, but you did almost every week for your whole adult life. Maybe it was a reminder of the dead young girl you used to be or just clinging onto the moments in the wilderness that made you feel whole. It made you feel like you knew everything, your purpose, and the meaning of life, but as time marched forward, you didn’t feel any more in place than you did then.

It wasn’t fair. 

You were just a girl. 

You all were just children. 

You may not have died, but a part of your soul did. Some of you just couldn’t escape those pine trees and butterfly weeds. It’s been a whole lifetime away, but you still haunt yourself. 

It hurt because the words were just as true then as they are now. 

You missed your mom. 

You missed yourself. 

Knock! Bang! Knock! Bang! 

You pause in panic and hold the journal to your chest in fright. You don’t understand. Is it real? It’s dead of night outside, and you live in the middle of nowhere. 

Knock! Bang! Knock! Bang! 

“Hello! (Y/n)! Open up, please!” A familiar feminine voice yells from outside your house. It comes from your backdoor. The glass French doors rattled from the knock from the other, making a vibration ring out into the house and your shaking heart. Your anxiety spikes as you slam your journal shut, and you throw it into the safe, shutting the safe door with a sharp click. You race downstairs and go toward the doors with your heart beating violently against your chest. You don’t know why, but you knew you had to open the door for some reason without a fight. 

You rush to your door in a panic, worried it is one of the team members in trouble and immediately needs you, and quickly unlock the back door. You felt foolish and like you were putting yourself in danger by opening the door when it was dark outside, but the knocking wouldn’t let up.

You rip open the door to come face to face with the big blue eyes of your goddaughter. 

“Callie!?”

“Before you say anything, I need to-“

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” You gasp at her and grab her arms, looking over her small teenage body for any wounds or signs of her being harmed. How did she get here? She doesn’t have her license yet. She lives 3 miles away. She is in her bedclothes and has no coat or a bra.

“What? No, I’m fine.” She says to you in a snapping tone, tired from her journey to your home. She came from the wooded separation between the neighborhoods. You stand in shock, your mouth wide open as you stare at Callie. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE SO LATE!?” you raged as you grabbed ahold of her arm. You look outside to see if her boyfriend is there in his car. He wasn’t. You pull her into your warm home. “What the hell are you thinking!? It’s 1:20 in the morning!” 

“Jesus Christ, Let me explain, chill!”

“Chill!? Are you serious? Does your mom know you're here?” 

“Like she cares! She thinks I am at Cyanne's house, and I came home, but no one was home.” 

“Callie, of course, she cares about you. She cares a whole shit ton about you.” 

“Sure, she does.” She rolls her eyes softly, looking to the floor to examine her shoes. She is ashamed and defensive and feels foolish for coming here. You can read it all over her face. You take a deep breath. You need to calm down and make her understand.

“Callie, I am freaking out because I love you. Why did you walk to my house in the middle of the night with no coat? Do you know how dangerous that was?” You continued with a stern voice, your hand on her arm again to make her look at you.

She rolls her eyes again, annoyed, “I was okay, alright! I am fine! I was cold, and my feet hurt, that’s it!” 

“You could have run into a dangerous person, you could have gotten lost in the woods-“ 

“I didn’t, OKAY!” 

“Why are you here?” You ask again with her stern tone, your hand holding her tighter to make her look at you.

“My parents are cheating on each other.” She blurted out as she kicked off her shoes. She moves her arm out of your hold to sit on the couch beside your backdoor. You let her push off your hold of her at the words; you feel a sense of guilt come over you again as you lean against the wall. 

Day 2 

The humidity of the July morning breeze made your skin feel sticky as you carried some logs toward the chopping block for the firewood you all would need for the day. You woke up early today, restless as always, and stuff in the neck as you were the day before, and you look down at your tied shoes. Noticing the now caked-on dirt, mud, and leaves that have stained the fabric of your shoes it made you sad to see how dirty they got within only a few months out here.

You lift your head, and to your shock, you stand still in what is in front of you. As you approached the back of the cabin through the woods, you noticed two girls giggling against a tree. You see pale hands holding the tree as they lean into the other girl, their other hand on the other girl's stomach. You almost immediately know it was Taissa and Van making out against a tree. Soft moans from Taissa came out as she arched her back against the tree. You notice Van’s other pale hand down Taissa’s shorts. 

You were in shock as you watched them. You felt dirty for walking in on their intimate moment and pervert for feeling your body tingle at them touching each other. Jealously ran hot in your veins, but embarrassment possessed you stronger. You realize you are watching like a peeping Tom and try to turn away from them.

Snap!

You cringe at the snapping of a branch under your foot. The two girls turn to your snapping branch to find you standing awkwardly behind them with wood logs in your hands. 

“(Y/n)!” “Please, stop-” 

“Guys, it’s, please don’t panic-” You try to calm the two down as they storm towards you. Van’s face was painted red, eyes dressed in worry as Taissa’s face was panicked. 

“(y/n), You can’t tell anyone about this! I’m so sorry you walked in on this, but don’t think that we are lesbians or anything we- we just-” Taissa rambles as she grabs your arm to keep you there. They’re scrambling to find any explanation or excuse to explain the two of them making out against the tree even though there was no way to play down what they did. They still tried, and you just shook your head. 

“Please, it’s okay, I promise-” 

“You can’t tell anyone about this, (y/n)! They can’t find out about us; please don’t.” Taissa panicked again, tears in her eyes. The sight made you pause, and your heart hurt. Seeing how hard they tried to hide their love made you want to cry. 

“Please, (y/n), don’t tell anyone,” Van added with deeply concerned eyes. She kept her hands to her waist, hugging herself, and tried to hide the proof of Taissa on her hands. 

You look at the two with wide eyes as you realize you must calm them down. “I won’t tell anyone about this! I didn’t mean to walk in on you two-’

Taissa completely broke down as you spoke. Her face turned painfully in sadness as she started to cry. Her cheek was red with a lack of breath, and her eyebrows furrowed together tight. She was stressing out and about to have a panic attack. 

You drop your wood logs on the forest floor, approach Taissa, and hug her. She tried to push you off at the first attempt, but at your second, she came into your arms with deep sobs coming from her stomach. 

She wasn’t just crying about you finding out she was gay. 

Your eyes scan towards Van, who bites the cuticle on her finger as she watches anxiously. It seemed to be a death sentence for the two to be found out. You say without hesitation, “I’m not saying a word. You have my word. I would rather die.” 

Van blurts, “(Y/n), it’s okay, but you're not okay with this. We don’t know what to say-” 

“Please, " you say again as you rub Taissa’s back. She is still sobbing quietly in your neck. With tears in your eyes, you say, “I understand. I get it more than you understand.” 

There was a pause in the air after you spoke. Even Taissa calmed her breathing and her cries. 

Van’s eyebrow quirked in confusion, and Taissa, hidden in your neck, seemed to be doing the same. 

You felt brave in this moment with the two completely a mess in their shame and worry. 

“I have known about you two for a while. I didn’t say anything because I was envious of you two. You found each other, and you had each other.” You pause as you try to find the right words. Taissa pulls away to look at you. I never found anyone to be with like you two.” 

“What are you saying?” Van asks, her eyebrow higher on her forehead as she slowly figures out what you are saying. Taissa quietly connects the dots as she listens to you speak. 

You tear up more as you would say it out loud for the first time. You felt emotional. 

“I like girls, Van. I’m gay. I’ve never tried to be with a guy or anything, but I am sure I won’t be getting with anyone who isn’t a woman.” 

They both pause as the moment comes over the three of you. A eureka moment was almost in the air as you looked down at your feet. 

“I’ve known about you two since Randy’s party before leaving for Seattle.” You said as you looked at your feet. “I saw it in the way you two looked at each other. I just knew. I don’t know if anyone who isn’t gay would know, but I knew.” 

You look back up to the two silenced girls and add, feeling yourself vomiting your emotions to the two only people who would understand, “I didn’t say anything because I was happy you two found each other. I was jealous because I didn’t have anyone, but I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how much it would kill me if someone told people before I was ready. I mean, I haven’t even dated a guy before or had sex with one to completely know if I am, but I just never had the urge to be with a guy, so I don’t think I am wrong…”

“(y/n), Why didn’t you tell us?” Taissa asks. She steps closer towards you with a hand holding yours kindly. It touches your heart. 

You choke up as a tear comes to your eye. Van comes towards you, too, with a soft smile. “I don’t know. I didn’t even want to mention it. I don’t want you to think I wanted to do something wrong or that I wanted to break you two up-” 

“Oh, no, no, (y/n), you big dummy.” Van chuckles as she comes to hug you and rubs your back. “We would never think you would do that!”

Taissa agrees instantly. She says, “We didn’t even think you would tell anyone; we were just panicked!” 

‘I know, I get it! So, please believe me when I say the secret is safe with me! I am happy you two are together, and I don’t want to push you before you are ready to say anything. It's none of my business to tell.’ 

“Thank you,” Taissa says again, deeply touched by your words. As you finish speaking, she quickly pulls you into a hug. Van quickly follows suit. She holds a soft smile the whole time. 

You softly cried and said in Taissa’s chest, “You two are the first I’ve ever told. Not even Shauna and Jackie know.” 

It always felt so shameful that you never told your closest friends your true proclivities, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look them in the eyes and say you liked girls and not guys. Not after years of lying and saying you wanted to fuck random guys you decided you had a crush on, you felt like if you let the truth out to Jackie and Shauna, it would hurt whatever dynamic you had left after your distance because of your mom’s health. You skipped out on so many hangouts, sleepovers, club meetings, and even birthdays with your sandbox best friends, and it has been slowly killing you. They still reached out and acted like nothing changed, but you all know things have shifted to Jackie and Shauna being the best friends, and you are now the tagalong old friend. But since being out in the wilderness, you have been closer to them than ever. Every day the three of you steal away time to talk shit and just be girls for a few hours by the river while you fish. It was slowly feeling like it did back in freshmen year of high school when you three were a true trio, but the growing weight of your mental health and shame for not telling them so many things, being gay being one of them. 

Van rubs a hand on your back as she pushes a hair behind your ear. “I am very happy to be the first to hear it. Thank you for telling me that. I told my big sister, " she confesses. She smiles softly at you, a sadness in her eyes. “She wasn’t super happy about it, but after a while, she acted the same as she always had.”

Taissa nods her head and says with a chuckle, “You are the first I’ve had to tell I was gay without dating them.” 

You chuckle softly back as you pull away from the hug. You say as you look at the two again, “Please, believe me when I say it’s all going to be okay. Just be more careful with people being around.”

After this morning, the day went smoothly. Van went to chop wood, Taissa started cleaning laundry in the lake shortly after your deep confessions, and you went out to fish like always. 

Today was a lucky day in the spring season because you caught a small gray fish and a Salmon. You caught a stray salmon on its way to lay eggs for the season, and it was completely healthy. As you raised the fish from the water, it snapped its tail. 

You returned to camp with your wins, only to find Natalie returning with two more brown rabbits, dragging the small animal back to camp. 

“Hey, pretty lady, what are you doing over there?” she calls as she approaches you on the trail. She seems in good spirits today, walking with a skip in her step, the rifle comfortably hanging from her shoulder. 

“Got a fish, what about you, baby?” You say back with a chuckle at the end, trying to flirt back with her playfully. 

She chuckles with you, a big smile, as she lifts the rabbits in her hand. " I got some dinner.” 

You chuckle again without realizing you feel like a stupid schoolgirl not even listening to Natalie’s words, and you beam to her, “You did well with those traps!” 

Natalie blushes as she chuckles; her hand scratches the back of her neck, and her eyes shy down to the ground. “Yeah, well, you helped me set them up.” 

“It was nothing because you were doing almost all of it.” You giggle offhandedly, and you walk together to the cabin. You then snap your fingers that you remembered a thought you had. “I have an idea to run by you!” 

“What’s up?” 

“I was thinking that maybe we could start making a map of some sort to find a way out because we both go into the woods often.” 

Natalie nodded slowly as she processed what you said, “like how?”

“Like we can draw the cabin as the center and then draw everything around it until we are as far as we can go.” You say with a shrug as you reach the cabin. Girls circle the fire, talking, working on firewood, hanging and sewing clothes on the line. 

Natalie looks at you as you both place the animals on the table in the cabin for Coach Scott to skin for cooking later. “I see. You're saying we piece together everything we know until we get enough coverage to find a way out?” 

“Yeah! I don’t know, but can we figure it out while we go? Like when we are bored, we draw more to the map.” 

“Yeah, okay, I like this plan.” She smiles as she slowly looks over your face. With a cute shrug, she says, “I’m happy I’m doing something. Gives me a reason to steal your time.” 

You giggle a little at the comment, trying not to take it as a clear hint that she wants to be with you. You say, “You always steal some of my time away, baby.” 

“I just want more.” Natalie smiled at you playfully as she slid away from you in the kitchen doorway to the other living space. You felt yourself smile to yourself in a flustered state, huffing out air. “Holy shit.” You mumble as you walk from the table to the back of the cabin. 

‘21

You lean against the wall with your eyes wide. You study Callie’s distraught face and see her lip quivering.

“My mom is cheating on my dad, and my dad is never home because his stupid fucking database needs work on, but it’s all just bullshit!” Callie says with a quiver in her voice, and tears come to her eyes, and she continues to say, “I am so sick of this shit!” 

You stay quiet because you feel like she just wants to yell out her frustrations at you, and you want her to calm down. 

“My mom asks me how I am or my day at school, but she doesn’t care about me! She doesn’t know what music I am, she doesn’t like my clothes, she hates my boyfriend, I can’t do this.” She has fat tears rolling down her face as she rages on. She tries to keep up the front that she is nonchalant and doesn’t care even though it is failing. “She just looks at me with these cold fucking eyes. I can’t stand it anymore. She looks at me and doesn’t see me at all! I am just a roommate to her!”

“Callie, that is not true. Your mother loves you.” 

“No, she doesn’t. She fucking hates me.” 

You stop yourself from yelling at her by closing your eyes and covering your mouth. You had a painful flash of a memory as she says that, of a bloody pile of rags used in the wilderness that old winter night when Shauna was in labor for the first time. You remember her cries that rattled your soul and caused you to have a tear in your eye. You could never bring yourself to speak about the baby before her, and it wasn’t your place to tell Callie something so heartbreaking about her mother. It didn’t stop your heart from breaking. 

“Callie, stop-“

“I know she is fucked up, and she is traumatized, but she doesn’t care how she traumatizes me.” She says with her eyes full of angry tears, and she points to herself with her hands, but her eyes grow wide as she looks at you across from her after that sentence.

You just stood there emotionless against the wall, with your eyes losing color as she paused to reflect on what she said. You sigh deeply. You slide down a wall for the second time tonight as you softly raise your eyebrow at her and look away for a second. You take out the pack of cigarettes in your sweatpants pocket, and you put one in your mouth.

“I’m going to let you in on a little something,” you pause to light your cigarette, “something about the woods.” 

You see her eyes keep wide and watery as she hugs her arms around her belly. She is focused on what you are saying but says nothing, scared of what will happen.

“Your mom, Jackie, and I have been best friends since kindergarten. We met playing house at recess and were always at each other's hips.” You say as you take a puff of your stick, looking at Callie with soft eyes, “I knew how your mother was when we were young. She was stubborn and guarded with her emotions; sometimes, Jackie and I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. She hid some things from us but always told us eventually.” 

You stand up and sit next to Callie on your couch. You stare at the floor in front of you. Not her as you continue, you want to vomit, “But when we got out there, uh, the things that happened,” you pause yourself as you feel your lip quiver, “You have heard what people say about us, how they whisper what we did and what we did to each other to survive, is not as bad as it did go, honey.” You say with honesty dripping in your haunted tone, and you are in a faze staring at the burls in your hardwood floors. You know what you said was too dark and too vague not to continue as she sits beside you with bated breath. “People passed away out there because the winters were so cold that death felt like going to sleep. People passed away because they were trying to hunt, and wolves found them.” You stopped yourself again as you felt a tear fall from your eye. You weren’t even in your own body as you kept talking. It is somewhat the truth, mostly a lie, but still, the same reality you lived. You didn’t need to tell her the truth just yet. 

You didn’t even look at the girl in the corner of your eye. Callie stared in awe as you spoke about the unspeakable—the crash and surviving the wilderness. Tears formed in Callie’s eyes as she looked at her godmother. She was emotionally and mentally affected by what had happened just from speaking vaguely about it, thinking about you as a teenager going through all that, and thinking about her mother as a teenager in that situation, too.

“I need you to know what happened out there changed your mother. It kept her alive. It’s why she is here today, baby.” You say as you slowly turn to look at Callie. You push your goddaughter's hair behind her ear as your face stays still, tears running down her young, flustered cheeks. “When we lost Jackie, me and your mom were never the same. Something died within us. And every time you come face to face with the death of a friend like that, it kills something inside of you. It’s hard having kids of your own when you have known so many dead children at one time…”

You put your cigarette out as it reached the filter of the stick, and you flicked the rest into the small ashtray on the corner table.  “Callie, you are the age we were when all that happened. I know that in some small part when she looks at you, she sees what she could have been if it hadn’t been for the crash. And maybe it’s why she isn’t close to you right now or why she isn’t up your ass wondering what you're doing. Because she wants you to have a good time and do the stupid teenager stuff. She will never tell you that, though.” You say with a smile to Callie and a nudge to her side. You look at the calmed-down girl who looked deep in thought with her hands on her knees, 

You add to her ear with a warm tone to your voice again, your hand on her shoulder. “She loves you. Period. She worries sick about you, and she couldn’t put you down when you were born because she worried you would go away if she let you go, Callie. But she couldn’t be a mother like she could have been if your mom had never been out there in those woods, even if that doesn’t make that easier for you or make it fair… it was some really dark times out there for your mother, and that’s why she is not as emotionally open like other mothers. I’m sorry, Callie, but please don’t think your mother loves you.”

“Okay.” 

“And with that being said, what is happening with your mom and dad is between them. Stay out of it. I don’t know what is happening, but you have no part. They love you, no question, even if they are cheating. I understand it is affecting you and making you uncomfortable, but you can’t get involved with your parents. Okay.” You add that as you nudge her with your shoulder with a big smile. She softly smiles back with a shake of her head. 

“Fine.” She sighs, defected. 

You stand before your stove as you fry eggs in a pan. You yawn as you sip on your coffee. Your eyes still have a sleep crust in the corners of your eyes. You woke early to make breakfast for the sleeping Callie on your old sofa. Last night, after your long talk with Callie, you led her to your comfy sofa with the TV controller. You have her a pillow and a throw blanket to sleep on as you sit in your dad's old recliner. You let Callie put the TV on CartoonNetwork on some show she liked as a kid. You didn’t care much for its colorful characters or their loud laughing, but you leaned back as you heard Callie softly snore beside you in the living room. You leaned on your fist as you napped until the morning birds chirped outside your window. 

You made a big breakfast for the two of you, including eggs, bacon, toast, and a fruit salad bowl. When you hear the teenager walking down the hallway connecting to the kitchen, she slumps into a counter chair. She looks comfortable and relaxed at your house, as you always do when you watch her. 

“Good morning, Callie. How did you sleep?” You asked as you poured yourself another cup of coffee.

She yawns with her arms wide stretching, and she says in a deep yawn, “Good! I’m starving!” 

You chuckle as you place the fruit bowl before her and fry her eggs, “Eat up. You came at the right time. I needed to get rid of some food.” 

Callie chuckled as she threw a blackberry into her mouth. She says, “See, your favorite goddaughter coming over wasn’t such a bad thing.” 

“No, but sneaking out of your house at midnight and crossing town to my house isn’t so cool.” As you look at the side of your face to her, you want her to know you’re not over the danger she put herself in to talk to. “You couldn’t have called me to pick you up.” 

“You would have said no.” 

“I might have, but you would have been safe.” 

Callie sighed and took another berry in her mouth, slumping back in the chair almost defectively. You sigh in return as you plate the buttery egg for the child, “Listen, I love you. I care about your safety and feelings, okay? I would have come to your house and taken you out for ice cream or something. I wasn’t doing much then anyways, just picking out an outfit.” 

Callie looks at you with big, soft eyes as you push the plate toward her. She just keeps her head down as you speak. Callie picks up a fork and eats the hot eggs and bacon. She mumbles as she eats, “Thank you for talking to me last night. About what happened.” 

You move beside her, slumping into the chair. " Any time, I’ll always be there for you.” 

“Why were you picking out an outfit at 1 in the morning?” Callie chuckled as she spoke, completely taken from your comment earlier. 

You chuckle and say, “I’m promoting my book at a convention soon, so I was trying to find something cute.” 

“Can I help you?” She asks you with big eyes, pleading for a yes, and shoves the hot egg into her mouth. 

You chuckle and nod, “Finish your breakfast, and we can look around.”

Day 3

You and Natalie decided to start the map idea today. You went west towards the plane. There were enough animals that you both felt comfortable not fishing for the day, so you could devote more time to mapping the area. Today was the hottest day this week, and just walking to the front door from getting dressed made you sweat like a pig. 

“Alright, I’m going to head north, and you go to the plane, try to find out what's beyond that big ass tree.” Natalie says to you casually as she readjusts the rifle strap on her shoulder. She looks over you softly. 

You nod as you hold onto the strap of your purse, which you emptied to use as your forage bag—it just so happens to hold your remaining cigarettes. “Okay, I’ll try to get back at sundown, but I might take some rest.” 

“Please do. Try to get under some shade and stay out of the sun.”

“I’ll try. You better try, too. You're so pale you’ll get sunburnt just standing right here.” 

Natalie chuckled and shook her head, turning herself around to walk in her direction for her hunting, “Sundown!” 

You smile and turn away towards the trail, “Sundown!” 

You then march forward in the familiar trail down the forest. The way to the plane crash was like the back of your hand at this point. The once long and narrow path has become comfortable to travel through from Natalie and Travis. 

The heat surrounded your skin, creating a sticky film that dripped down every curve of your plush body. You felt a sweat drop from your back and collect on your bra’s clasp. The heat was getting to you, but you kept yourself under the shade of the tall trees. You would have already been resting if you were directly under the sun. 

 A pale-barked tree with lime leaves had dark branch scars on its flesh, standing at a curve in the trail, looking like almond eyes staring down at you in random directions. It was natural for birch trees to have lower branches to break off so that the plant could focus on the top branches that face the sun, but the scars of the branches falling age into the almost furrowed fiber. It was unreal but completely natural. As it was unnerving, it was beautiful. You stop yourself in awe at the simple, complex, tall plant; it is skinny but tall enough to be at least 50 years old and 60 feet tall and stare up in wonder at the peaks of sunlight through the cotyledon. As you gently let your eyes glance down, the slight curve of its shape as it comes to its base. 

The symbol stares at you. You softly raise your eyebrow as you stare down at the carving. It had to be new because it was at eye level with you, but it was faded enough not to be made by one of your teammates. Was it the mummy in the attic that made this? Or was it someone else? You were always so confused as you looked at the odd shape in the bark that your finger ran across the image out of a sudden urge. Your finger glides against the triangle, the short arms of the descending sides, the long diagonal line that crosses the entire shape, a crowned circle to the point on the top, and then a crooked hook at the base. You sighed to yourself as you moved away from the birch tree to continue on the trail. Your finger tingled with the friction.

You passed the old plane with a stiff, steady foot away from the eerie sight. Since the crash, you had wanted nothing to do with planes. The thought alone of being suspended in the air made your heart squeeze in your chest, and your stomach turn. You didn’t look at the white exterior as you rushed past the beast. 

When you get past the wide thick dark brown oak tree, aka big ass tree, that had moss dominating the left side, at least 150 years old, you walk forward on the tall grass. You look down at the ground and try to find anything worth taking back as you walk forward, making the map a wonderful excuse to forage. 

The summer has been a little dry in the last few weeks, with insufficient rain. The grass is turning brown in places as you move forward. The ground was barren of any nuts or mushrooms. You glace up, and you pause. 

In front of you was the old, wide, thick tree again, and the plane was just behind you again. You looked behind yourself to be sure of it. 

The plane was behind you again like you hadn’t walked at least five feet away from it. 

A breeze brushed against your side, moving the baby hairs on your cheek as you studied the tree in front of you in confusion. 

The timber has deep lines embedded in the tree's grain, and the moss grew on every pendant's surface. The swirls of the fiber were enchanting to look at and find where the line goes, but you pull yourself back from the beauty of the wood. You pull your crop top up to your face and wipe the multiple drops of sweat trailing down your nose and cheeks. 

 You march forward with some determination, trying to solve this problem. It made no sense. 

You walk past the mossy oak tree again and go towards the crowd of trees in front of you that goes on and on. Your eyebrow quirks stay on your forehead as you continue on your journey. 

And you walk forward towards the detritus as expected. The crunch of dead leaves and branched cry under your feet as you walk faster forward. Your eyes softened as you glanced around the environment, and you felt the uneasiness of whatever happened to melt from your shoulders. You reason that you must have turned yourself around when looking down at the mushrooms. You feel your mind wander as you march forward. You look up absentmindedly to look at the leaves above your head for some kind of entertainment. 

Your eyes level back to their natural direction, and when you do, they widen in terror. 

The cabin was before you, and Natalie was next to you. She looked at you nonchalantly and said, “Please do. Try to get under some shade and stay out of the sun.”

You freeze in place as you stare at the bleach blonde with a cold sweat coming over you. You felt the sweat collected from the hike you just had, and it felt like you spilled in time back to your conversation over 45 minutes ago. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Natalie asked concernedly, her hand touching your upper arm to reassure you. She noticed how much you were sweating and was completely confused. How could you be so sweaty from walking from the cabin to the fire pit?? 

You just stare into her eyes, feeling scared, “Wha-what?” 

“I said to stay out of the sun. Are you alright? Are you sure you're up for it today? It’s really hot.” Natalie says as she looks you over. She notices the pale complexion on your face and how your hands softly shake. “We haven’t looked past the tree, but you shouldn’t be scared.”

It was like you didn’t walk away. It felt wrong. This was wrong.

“I know, sorry! I’m getting a little lightheaded because my period is coming.” You lie, trying to find any excuse for acting so strange to her. 

She raised an eyebrow and questioned what was happening to the girl beside her, and she said, “Okay… Just take some water with you. Take as many breaks as you need.” 

“I will.” You say and nod. You must have imagined walking past the plane if you hadn’t left this conversation like nothing happened. You take the plastic red water bottle Natalie handed you with a soft smile and worried eyes.

“(Y/n), if you get tired, just head home. We can always come back to it; don’t overwork yourself.” 

“I’ll try not to. I will come back as soon as possible, I promise.”

“Okay, try to get back at sunset, " she says as she softly steps back and starts to head in her direction to hunt. Her gun hits the back of her thigh as she stares you down. Please don’t overdo It.”

“Okay, be careful,” you mutter back to her as you watch her walk off in her direction as she did in the morning. You remember everything, and it’s happening again. 

You shook your head to yourself as you turned yourself around, “I’m fucking crazy.” You thought as you walked the trail again, but you knew for certain you had traveled, and there was no question in the ache of your feet. 

You get to the carved birch tree once again with its dark eyes. You don’t give it or the plane so much of a glance as you continue to the mossy oak. 

You felt focused on your mission to understand how you got turned around so badly when you got back home, ignoring the fact you walked into a conversation you already had. You let your hand touch the moss on the left side of the oak as a marker in your memory if it was truly tricking you.

 As the hour passes, you rush to see beyond the oak tree and familiar trees. You just needed a landmark to find it to draw, and you would head back. It didn’t need to be so confusing. You walk past the oak tree to the sea of timber to find a boring environment again, no trail to have your eyes look down to or rocks to stumble on, as you see the sparkles of light and birds resting in branches above. Your focus again relaxed even with your sharp mind, and your eyes glance down to your shoes again. 

Your eyes look at your laces as you walk forward in routine. You took a deep breath as you tried to calm the nerves building in your body, and as you looked up, it felt like it shot whatever efforts you made to soothe yourself. You still your movements to the feeling of your heart dropping to your stomach.  

Again, the pale-barked tree with lime leaves stares back at you on the curve of the trail. You didn’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. 

You walked straight past the oak tree, glancing behind the birch tree to peek at the fat tree standing in the background of the plane. Then, you closed your eyes slowly. 

Your lower lip quivers as your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth catch your salty lip. You swallow the spit collecting in your cheeks, holding a cry in your throat—a big drop of sweat rolls down your neck from the back of your head. 

Why are you so emotional right now? 

Why does it feel pointless? All of it. The trail, the map, the fucking point of trying to find a way out. It felt like everything was up against you, and you know rationally that it was mostly true.

You weren’t going to help anything. You are not fit enough to go more than a mile before you get tired, and you can’t help but get lost. 

It’s a trail in the ground. How could you get turned around in circles? 

Halting in your tracks, you covered your tear-covered eyes as watery tears ran down your cheeks, mixing with your sweat. 

You don’t know what to do. 

“Dad would know what to do. He knew what to do for everything out here.” You thought as your lip curls in a deep frown, pushing down a sob to the bottom of your stomach. 

You wanted to hit yourself on the side of your head, and you wanted to scream into the bright green leaves that looked down at you with indifference. 

You didn’t listen to your dad about everything. You wanted to hit yourself for every time you didn’t listen, and you didn’t care about what he was saying, didn’t absorb everything he gave you so lovingly. You wanted to crawl into his arms and be rocked like you were as a child. You wanted to feel the safety of his strong chest and arms around you. You are never going to feel it again. 

The river ran down your cheeks as your feet started to march forward. 

You felt stupid. Ashamed somehow. And overwhelmingly devastated.

 It was fucking hotter than hell outside. 

You slap your hand that covers your eyes to your side. You look down at your shoes, walking through the dry grass and dirt. You say to yourself, as you hiccup a cry, “This sucks.” 

As you expected, you look to find the brown curvy tree again. You stop again as you wipe away the sweat from your brow and the wetness collecting at your upper lip. A breeze gracefully brushes against your back. 

You sigh as you focus on yourself again. You wipe your face again with your black crop top and wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. You walked on. It felt like you were walking into a wall and expecting something different. 

As you walk forward, you look at the oak tree, which is mossy and dominates the right side of the plant. This made you pause again this morning. As you stared at the tree, you wanted to pull your hair from the roots. 

Wasn’t the moss on the left side? 

You couldn’t be mistaken. You knew this tree. It’s the tree you slept under when the aftermath cuddled beside Jackie and Shauna. It was the tree you collected kindling for your first fire out here. The moss was on the left. 

You fucking touched it, for god sake. You are not crazy. 

Why is it now on the right? 

You put your hand on the mossy side as you walked past it not even 15 minutes ago. You don’t know how you could have been turned around from looking down at your feet. It was in the direction you left from; it was on the left, not the right. 

You threw your hands up in defeat, and a dry laugh came from your throat, tears streaming down again. You were too hot to think straight, but you felt an itch in your skin. You were so confused.

You walk towards the right side, lift your leg over a thorny bush, and start walking forward.

It wasn’t like it was before. It was a rocky and uneven terrain that made your aching feet uncomfortable. The crowd of trees was as it always was. You hiccuped at the end of your cries. 

You stumble on a sharp rock, fall forward, and catch yourself with your knees and elbows on the grass. 

You hiss a moan of pain, and you sit up on your knees. You wipe dirt and blades of grass from your elbows. You look back up to the dark branch scars of the single birch tree at the curve in the trail. 

You didn’t cry this time as you stood up. You sniffled and looked on with fear. You are losing it. Maybe you're having heatstroke? 

The birch tree with lime leaves and eyes staring down at you with almost a mocking laugh. You felt a scowl grow on your lip as you walked forward stubbornly. You just fucking can’t understand. 

You think for a moment and can’t remember this strange birch tree. You don’t remember when you and Taissa found the lake, and you don’t even remember a curve in the trail. You thought birch trees grow in their groves and asexually sprout saplings around themselves. Sure, the seeds could have been eaten and taken to this specific spot, but not a single seedling for an adult healthy tree made no sense. 

Nothing fucking made sense.

You find yourself in front of the oak tree again, almost dizzy from the turning around you have done today. The sun's heat beats on the crown of your head, and you feel a boiling sensation. You stare down at the bark of the oak, seeing the moss collect on the left side as it always has. 

It was like the trees were messing with you and laughing. The leaves stare down at you with a snicker on their lips. 

“Fuck it.” You spat out in frustration. You didn’t stop your leg kicking out to the tree, kicking the moss. The growth softly lands on the sole of your shoe and the tow box of your beaten shoes. You give up. “I don’t get it.” You say to yourself as a breeze comes over your burning face. 

You turn around and see the curve of the birch tree move. You pause again as you look on, glaring at the change. You are paranoid.

The tree’s bark and scars moved in front of your eyes, and the curve on the side of the wood slinked into what seemed like a feminine hip. 

You feel like you weren’t in your body as you wanted the tree morph in front of you. It completely moved two smaller scars to the center eye level to you, and it seemed to slowly open one of the scars like someone waking up from a deep sleep.

(Y/e/c) flashes in the new pocket as you feel your body launch back to the trail, running back to the cabin. You felt a scream rip out of your lip as you ran past the tree with a chill tickling your spine. 

And you ran.

You look behind yourself to see a sapling next to the birch tree. It looked like a woman with her arms above her head, and what could have been hair stood up tall, her fingers connecting with her hair with leaves and seeds dancing. The body curves and leans to the side as if it looks at you running away with a studying eye. 

You don’t look back after that. You stumble and panic your way through the sunsetting light. You felt unaware tears spilling as you tried to stay straight on the trail. 

The sun was set when you reached the cabin, and the stars shone brightly above you. Time must have escaped you like your sanity. You puff out the pants of breath you had, and you can’t help yourself from feeling exhausted. 

Natalie and Shauna sat at the porch steps waiting for you, the spring from their spot as they heard your footsteps.

“Oh my god, (y/n)!” “Dude! I said sunset! We were about to go out to look for you!”

You pant as you come to the two girls. They grab your sweaty form, and you look down to the ground as a sharp breath travels down your throat. You wanted to vomit how much you were exerting yourself. You knew you couldn’t tell the truth; they didn’t need to know how bad you were getting.

“I’m so sorry! I fell asleep and woke up, and I rushed back! Am alright, just fucking ran like hell.” 

Shauna chuckles and punches your arm harshly, “You could have been hurt! Of course, you were just napping!” 

Natalie shook her head softly at the confession and chuckled, but her eyes remained stern. " You can’t be trusted alone anymore. I have to babysit you because you need your baby naps.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You huffed in your still panting breath. You point your middle finger at Natalie as the two laugh, pulling you towards the cabin. Something bothers your foot inside your shoe, making you want to kick it off.

You follow them without a fight, and a growl in your stomach loudly grumbles as you enter the cabin. Most of the others were in their sleeping bags and makeshift beds on the ground of the living space, some in the kitchen. 

Misty sits up from her spot and whispers, “Is (y/n) back?” 

“Yeah, she's here. All's good.” Shauna says to Misty as she walks past you to the kitchen. “I’m getting your dinner.” 

“Me too.” Natalie says as she follows behind Shauna with a concerned face. 

Misty sits down with a big smile and says, “I’m happy you're back, (y/n).” 

“Thank you.” You say to her without smiling, moving yourself to your bags. 

You wanted to peel the sticky fabric off your body, completely change every piece of clothing you had, and take another bath. 

“Is she back?” You heard Coach Scott ask the girls in the other room with sleep in his voice. There was a conversation you would hear, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to listen to. You wanted to lay down on your pillow.

It seemed well past 10 while everyone took a rest. You couldn’t wrap your head around how what felt like a 3-hour journey into an 11-hour one. You didn’t have the energy to care much, though. As you pulled your shoe from your foot, a pile of moss stumbled out from the inside, littering your sock with small moss fur.

You throw your shoe to the side, rip your sock off, and moss is even between your toes.

You stood up, disgusted and anxious. You pulled your crop top off, wanting to shred every piece of the day away. Then, you pulled a long pink shirt from your jean shorts, and lime-colored leaves fell inside your clothes. 

The birch tree leaves.

You look down at the floor beside your feet at the pile of leaves and moss all around you as if you rolled around in the earth. You looked at your hands to find dirt under your nails as if you were digging for roots. 

“(Y/n)?” 

You turn your head sharply at Jackie. She lays beside your makeshift bed and looks up at you with big eyes. “Are you okay, (y/n)? You seem spazzed out.” 

You shook your head and said, “I think I started my period, and I am covered in dirt.” 

She chuckled and said, “That sucks, okay! I freak out every time I bleed out here.”

You nodded your head with a chuckle, lost in your own head, “Yeah, now I have to clean-“ 

When you look down at the ground, you see only a birch leaf and moss fur. 

“I have to clean myself.” You finish your sentence, and you rub your eyes. “I think the heat is getting to me, too.”

“It’s okay! Lay under the window.” Jackie smiles as if she solved the problem and closes her eyes. 

You were going fucking crazy.

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic @gayandfairycore @lttllmb @gigabitemyass @happy647 @alyssaisntdoingalright @kandicanesworld @theworldscalamity @yeziisblog @bigbenis4life @shuribabymama @ih3artjooo @goldusttt @grimzzuhhhhhhh @sapphic-lil-lime @powercake @urmommyluvrr @astrasmindpalace @cstar-hi @only3my

[bloodblanks]

FOLLOW YOUR DEAD DOVE HEART im BEGGING YOU TO WRITE DARK HEADCANONS FOR HIM homicipher lacks so much dead dove: do not eat content its crazy...please...i need food...

no caus like. i’m absolutely fucking flabbergasted at the homicipher fics out there. not that there’s anything wrong with fluff but it’s shocking to me that homicipher has such a lack of dead dove. like out of all the fandoms that i would think have dead dove fics, homicipher is definitely near the top of the list.

but every single day i am desperately prowling the internet for homicipher dead dove and i just CANNOT find any. like. i swear i’m one out of like. two and a half dead dove writers in this entire fandom. where are my brethren… </3 it’s so hard out here i need more dead dove content i’m starving 😭😭

like tbh it seems to me that most of homicipher’s fanbase is literally just here because of mr. crawling. who canonically is the least dead dove coded character ever 😭 like crawling’s popularity is more than all the other characters combined i swear (besides scarletella maybe) so us dead dove girlies are just gonna have to starve ig 💔

and like. crawling is adorable at all but he just doesn’t scratch that itch for me sobsobsob but barely anyone wants to read any of the other characters sniff sob

truly a tragic and devastating world for us dead dove enjoyers

[melodic-haze]

Okay, hear me out. Having the power over the Tsaritsa herself

If we get Arle our levels should surely surpass and manage to get the ice woman herself under our thumb.. RAHSHSHHAHD the thought alone makes me so turned on Imaginee???

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Tsaritsa x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Degredation 🤷‍♀️✌️ one day I will use this part for something genuinely worrying like someone dying idk but today is NOT that day

☆ — NOTES: When I tell you I stared before screaming in sheer glee 😭😭😭 LIKE THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME AND MY POWER FANTASIES HALLELUJAH

God I love having powerful women at my feet ty YESSIR I CAN IMAGINE IT AND I'M GOING INSANE❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

This woman was once a goddess so full of love, only for her heart to harden once she ran out of love to give :(((( it's up to you to give her that love again 🥰

In all seriousness though it is such a PRIVILEGE to be let past the many walls she has made for herself, let alone being able to hold her heart in your hands. Please hold it gently :( I know you lot wanna get on with it already but the path towards loving and domming this archon is! Very difficult! But in the end it's so worth it :333 bc she will show you pure, utter love and devotion—it'll have everyone, especially the Harbingers, jealous of such a connection, though whether they're jealous of you for being in the arms of their Tsaritsa or they're jealous of their GOD being the receiver of your love is anyone's guess

Ofc there's always the option where you date the Harbingers too but like that isn't the focus here shhhhh 🤫🤫🤫🤫

Once you have gained her full trust, now all you need is to reassure her that it's okay to put down her crown whenever it's just the two of you. It'll certainly take a while again, but when she finally has the courage to let go and essentially give you the reigns, well...

It started off with the same sort of song-and-dance, with the two of you kissing each other deeply as your hands roamed around each other's bodies.. yet usually none of your actions have ever gone beyond simply feeling each other up and building up that excitement before simply letting it down lightly and settling for something less.. carnal.

This time, however, it's as if some hidden switch had been found—you know not of what spurred your beloved archon to get more starved for touch than usual, with her hands wandering within the confines of your clothing and brushing onto bare skin, but you weren't complaining in the least.. though you couldn't help but feel confused.

It is only when she backs you up and pushes you down onto the bed before straddling your lap with a brand new look in her eyes, so utterly clouded with need, that you realise what she wants.

"Are you sure? You know I don't mind waiting for as long as you need."

"And how long will you last in this world before it takes you from me too?" The Tsaritsa shakes her head with a sad smile as she focuses on you despite the lustful daze she's in, "No, I am ready to be taken by you, in both body and soul."

You couldn't help but soften at your lover's confession, warmth filling you despite the cold radiating off her skin—something of a side effect from being the Cryo Archon, you had guessed—and just a touch of melancholy brushing against your heart as she speaks of her fear for the loss of you.

It's not as if you were going to simply discard such a proclamation, especially when it comes from the Goddess of Love herself, so you gently brush a hand on her cheek before moving down to squeeze her bicep in reassurance, "If that is what my Archon wants, then--"

"No."

"No?"

"Within the confines of this room, I do not want to be above your stature." She wraps her hands around your neck, causing you to shiver pleasantly at the icy contact, "I wish to be equals.. and..."

"And..?"

Her voice was quieter this time, a lot more bashful as she looks away with a rosy tint on her cheeks, "Perhaps even.. below you.. with a loss of my power."

"..You're sure?"

"Yes, I..." She lets out a light exhale before looking at you with true sincerity in her eyes, "I trust you with full control over me."

You try to find the words that seem appropriate to answer with, and yet you find none. So you kiss her tenderly at first.. before deepening the kiss, taking charge as you pull her towards you.

When she lets out a low moan of satisfaction, you couldn't help but smile as you proceeded beyond the line that the two of you were initially hesitant to cross.

Anyways after that, you have the feared Tsaritsa at the palm of your hand, ready and eager to do what you'd want to do ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Imagine being gentle with her at first, showing her soooo much love in your actions as you kiss and touch and worship her body. Her breaths are heavy and deep, perhaps even hot if it weren't for the fact that they came out as cold fogs. In fact, she's cautious at first due to her being very cold, her body temperature SO unlike yours but you tell her that it's okay!!! It'll feel even better anyway 🫶 why?

Temperature play ☺️☺️☺️ she's naturally really cold, so if you put your finger in her sopping cunt, your warmth is doing basically like half the work for you. Start adding friction into the equation, moving your digits inside her as you pepper hot kisses on pale skin and let your tongue swirl on her breasts, and she'll be squirming in basically no time due to how hot your touch feels compared to hers 🫶🫶🫶🫶

THEN you get rougher with her; adding more force into your touch and you start getting more relentless by the second and preventing her from actually taking a moment. The moment you say something degrading towards her by pure accident, you swear it just slipped out, at first you think you've made a GRAVE mistake like yk she said that you can do whatever but YOU DON'T THINK SHE MEANT??? THAT!!!!!!! But when a whine escapes her lips as her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head, her wet folds squeezing your fingers all the while, you realise she LIKES that. And that's like. Holy shit she trusts you THAT much that she's LETTING you essentially ruin her and her godly image

The moment you mutter both words of praise AND degredation is the moment she's gonna be SOOOO GONEEEEEEE❗️❗️❗️

"You're sucking me in," you mused out loud with a light smirk. "Who knew the Cryo Archon turned out to be such a pretty whore... For someone like me, no less."

She bucks her hips up with a raspy moan at your words, the sound absolutely sinful to your ears, despite the fact that at the state she was in, there was no way she understood most of what you said. Her skin flushed and her lips swollen because of you, the once ever-so-frigid archon was reduced to a pathetic mess.

Of course such a scene was an ego boost for you, not to mention a turn on.

Your lips traced a line all the way down, from her lips.. to her chest.. to her abdomen.. until it brushes her sensitive clit, your breath hot against cold skin. You feel her fingers tangle themselves in your hair, gripping tightly in anticipation and need for you to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

"My beautiful girl is so eager for me, aren't you?" You cooed as your free hand airily grazed the outside of her thigh before gripping onto it, "Don't worry your pretty little head, hm? I'll give you sooo much love, you won't even know what to do with it all."

All it took was one lick with your tongue, the muscle so unbearably hot to her touch, for the Tsaritsa to realise that you were going to make good on that promise of yours.

SHE'LL TAKE EVERYTHING WITHOUT A WORD OF COMPLAINT UGGHGB in fact she'll even DELIGHT in the change of roles, in the way that you're happily using and toying with her :3333

Overstimming her would be SO MUCH FUN because of the temperature build-up. Not to mention if you say that you love her??? Oh FUCK her reaction is delightful—she'll start fucking CRYING, both at the overstim and the fact that you truly love her and you were willing to show it in every way you can :((((( and suddenly she's seeing STARS behind her eyelids as she cums herself silly :3

From that and the later sessions you have, it's very clear who TRULY holds the reigns between you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 and with the Tsaritsa, who needs and DESERVES a break from being looked down upon as some......some antagonist in Teyvat's story, well. She wouldn't have it any other way 🥰

Oh. One more thing before this is done!!! She's an EXPERT at aftercare hello she's not the (former) Goddess of Love for nothing, just saying..........just give her a few mins to recover first. Or maybe an hour. Just give her a moment 😭😭😭 OR ALTERNATIVELY PAMPER HER AFTERWARDS❗️❗️❗️❗️ Take care of her, you'll see her cry again, something she'd usually refuse to do around everyone else, and you just gotta hug her and tell her you're here and it's okay and that you love her :((((