#next - camp femininity!!!

[mangle-my-mind]

Todd Haynes on Mandy Slade

OM: How did you come to cast Toni Collette as Mandy? She doesn't strike me as an obvious choice for the role as it is written; her most famous part was in Muriel's Wedding where she played the podgy, Abba-obsessed ultra-hetero outcast.

TH: Mandy was the hardest part to cast in the film. It's a particularly demanding role due to the range Mandy has to display as she changes from the seventies to the eighties. This type of camp female character has basically vanished from our cultural landscape, as far as I can tell. The closest equivalent today is probably a Parker Posey-type character, but she's still quite different from the Liza Minnelli of Cabaret or the Angela Bowie of the glam era. Mandy has a theatrical, campy party girl persona that can be turned on and off at will, and owes a great deal to the gay male sensibility of the time. I think women around the world were liberated from all kinds of highly codified notions of femininity when people like Patti Smith entered the pop cultural arena. It had such a profound effect on women but girls today have no memory of that kind of camp femininity.

I saw so many strong actresses for Mandy, both in the US and the UK, and it was really tough to find the right one. We came close a few times, but it wasn't until I met Toni that it all clicked. I had no doubt about her acting ability, but the question was how to transform Toni Collette psychically, both for the camera and in her own self-regard into this very different, very confident, overly sexual creature. She really had to go off the cliff; I'm sure it was terrifying. And what you see in the film is such a transformation, such a complete commitment to the role that she almost becomes unrecognizable as Muriel in Muriel's Wedding. After a certain point, nothing was too scary for Toni. What you get with the character is what you get with the actress playing her - this range of changes and the effects of various cultures and various experiences on one extraordinary woman.

OM: Although the script informs you of Mandy being an American bisexual who reinvented herself, you get the sense of invention fully in the scene where she presents Brian with the divorce papers. She breaks down and you see the façade in a seventies context. It's a very moving moment and it's contrasted with Brian's coked-up emptiness. What did you discover in your research about the 'back-stage' women of the glam era?

TH: I guess Mandy's basic expression of real needs is made more vivid by that scene, but the beaten-down, hard-boiled Mandy of the eighties gives you the framework for that. She was definitely one of those people who was feeling and hurting and acting out at the same time. Often the casualties were the women of the male rock world. I really feel the film builds and develops complex sympathies for Mandy that you won't necessarily feel going in. The character is loosely inspired by aspects of Angela Bowie, and it's very easy to make fun of that kind of pop creature after the fact. But in all the books I read there was no argument on how fundamentally essential Angela Bowie was to the invention of Ziggy Stardust and to glam rock in general. She inspired risk-taking and flamboyance to a degree no one else can claim credit for. It wouldn't have happened without her.

Source - "Superstardust: Talking Glam with Todd Haynes", Oren Moverman.

Photo source

Emphases my own :)

[astrow0rldx]

PAC 18+ : their personal kinks

anyone friendly. lgbt friendly. future spouse, current partner, friend, stranger etc friendly. this is their kinks.

Pile One

signs: fifty shades of grey, outer banks. pussy waterpark.

off the bat, they have high standards. they are into high aesthetically pleasing woman, sex, sensuality and intimacy. they are into pleasure foreal foreal, and want to see you cum and wet the bet. they like to deeply connect, be vulnerable. they like mutualness in the bedroom, and need to feel connected and secure with sex. that is a kink for them. they may also have bathing suit kinks, camping/fishing/cabin/woods/camp/island/vacation sex kinks. they like beautiful woman though maybe siren looking woman, clean looking woman. woman who smell good, especially fruity scents. woman with nice jewelry, especially silver but gold too. woman with high worth in themself, and put themself together. they love kissing, calming, slow sex, foreplay, making out, the romantic part of sex, and love pretty titties. may love woman with naturally straight, or long hair.

their sexual KINKS are very toxic romantic games. they like the idea of having a high valuable, trophy of a woman. someone who's stable and beautiful and just thriving. and then their like the very smart, clever, masculine, controlling, detached man. they could also have business partner kinks, or mommy/daddy family kinks, where you guys work on serious life things together, good high status family. they have kinks about moving in with you, how it would be to live with you, have kids. but also the toxic dynamic of keeping you stuck, confused, making decisions. maybe making you jealous, doing sneaky things, being manipulative, or taking from you and you are just this delusional person. but you guys are where home is. even playing bad husband and little boy outside of the home. life responsibilities, and working together, like living together is a big kink of theirs. so thats probably why since they like stable woman they would want to do sneaky things and play that toxic masculine role someway. think about your person. wife/milf kink, and they would like if you would serve them as a wife. but you being their wife is still more about you, and your value as a woman. maybe stems from past relationship issues, mommy issues, relationship expectations issues, masculine/feminine roles etc.

They like to for you to come home for daddy, or daddy comes home to you. when they see you they just want to shut you up and stuff it in your mouth. come home to their wife, and fuck your face. they are the type of freaks, as you are being submissive and being their slut they want it to still be like "you my wife. you my baby" they like bedroom, house sex. they like the thought of after work sex. if you work with them, or live with them that's a bonus. they can stay with the same sexual partner, and try all type of new things. especially if they get comfortable enough to be so free. that dick is all yours baby. they also have kinks of like just being a business man, a free person, a person just on the go living life and your always there. you can come to them at night. your in your meetings, lunch break and your thinking about last night or what's to come when you see each other next. they like to see you undress, they like when you walk around with no panties on and easy access. they like cuddling, buddling up with you. even before bed. this is their kinks btw idk if its specifically for you, tell me if it shows up in you guys connection. they also may be into some sensory deprivation, on the romantic part, like depriving you from sex, or depriving themself, or when you do it to them. closing your legs, denying it when your near them and the tension could be strong. high kink on the value of yourself, and who you are as a independent woman to. if you don't live together, they like the idea of a woman bedroom and how its expressed like her sanctuary. especially living clean. they might have a lot of kinks to do with the pleasure of you on their dick, how your pussy feel, you pleasuring them, making each other nut. they have a exhibitionist kink where they want you and them to be naked, they like exposure, and fun times. they like other people probably knowing about it. they like to maybe show off their dick by choking you with it. they like choking in general though.

Pile Two

signs : p diddy. narcissist, misogynist.

they are into fun, free, carnal, raw, nasty animal sex. passion burning, any time anyplace, spread it open baby. they like hair, crazy hair days, even pubic/leg hair. they might like acne, strech marks, cellulite, natural pheromones, squirting/pee kinks. they like when people change positions. they like free spirited get into it, this is human nature type of sex. they like the adrenaline, and the anticipation. they like physical body to body sensations. they sexual kinks are kind of being a toxic man though, this is similar to pile ones. and its funny how i chose 2 strippers & a nude "available" woman as the pile pictures. they are really controlling. mentally controlling. they want to be in your head, control your head, make you feel emotions. they might want to be-little you and do them or betray you. not this is for them to you this is like some dark kinks of theres. they might be into heartbroken woman. they might be into hoes that turn hoes after hearbreak, or the kinky ness of the attachment, or emotional baggage that comes with after having sex with someone. this person may be highly experienced, and could be good in getting people in bed to have sex with them. their kink could be being able to get away with just picking whatever flower they want to out the garden, and conquesting them. they like to trap woman. im picking up dark energy, they could even take situations like p diddy and other tr... stuff freak offs or whatever relatable to their kinks. they could listen to music about get money fuck bitches. that seems a little gay to men and misogynistic.

they like the adrenaline to sex. even slight clothes, like v necks, bras, to imagine. they may like porn, or masturbating to sex. and when they do finally get some, and finally have a pussy delivered to them as a sneaky link, that's their kink. they like the chase too. and when it gets to the time they don't have time to be boring. they like it where you both are putting work in, like a workout. you might both be hot, sweaty, marks, its okay they want it all. toys involved, crazy kinky stuff, cameras. fucking like you wont ever see them again. again they like the chase, and sneaky link. gives me young energy. they may like to meet people in class, college, high school, work, projects, goals, financial things. and be that seducer to the wild side.

Pile Three

they want a girl to perform for them, maybe while both possible intoxicated. dim lights is a kink. seeing each other pass midnight. sneaky link/sneaking in, secret backrooms/sex work/running away from the party, lingerie, wigs, makeup, butt plugs. they are into femme fatale dolls. they like sexual woman who can tempt people into dark sexual things, and taboo sexual kinks. they like woman who are also more dominant, or first lead taker. they like woman with power, woman who are intense and can possess you. Scorpio energy. nothing casual about the sex, they want this to be transformative, deepening. they might even be into you or them breaking up a pre - existing relationship, or being someones side and what they really need. they like seductive woman with a lot of allure, mysterious woman you might not have a hold on, and can leave you. they might even be into sex workers or strippers where they do this for more as something transactional. and working with them is a kink, plus they are really lustful with a high sex drive. that's why they like woman that match they freak and use it to their power.

they are really horny a lot. but their favorite positions is missionary and anal sex. and putting it into both holes. they like makeup sex, where something ended but the spark is back, toxic sex, i miss you sex. like to do it all over the house, or the building. running from each other. a game of cat and mouse and power play. but they like when you express energy, toxic or sexual. they like it to be kinky and fetish sharing. they like the idea of giving you dick. like your theirs. they like being yours and you dominating them and taking their sex, money, and girlfriend even. those type of woman could be a kink for them.

[befemininenow]

This month is not only prom season, but it’s also a month of motherly love. Prom season is usually also the time of graduation, which is the time when students become independent and free to venture out in the so-called real world. For moms to watch their kids transition into adults can be rewarding as they realize at that point that being a mom is more than just giving birth; it’s also learning to love their children and lead them to a better path in life.

The transition from child to adult is not the only topic of transition here. I made this cute little story about a teenage boy coming out as a trans girl to his, now her, mother. Although she knew about her child’s feminine side, it was a surprise for their kid to come out as transgender. To the kid’s surprise, the mother is supportive. What convinced her? Seeing her only child smile with sincerity for the first time when wearing her old prom dress. It was here that mom decides to help get gender affirming therapy for her newly out daughter. (Btw, the guy in the picture frame next to the vase is the kid while the suits in the closet are part of their school uniform.)

Two years of HRT later, the former boy is now an adult and has transitioned into a lovely girl. Excited for her prom day and graduation, her mom surprises her with a familiar gift: it’s the same dress, but now more modernized and adapted to her feminine figure. Although the pics don’t show it, she tears up when mom says how proud she is for her trans daughter’s transition since her journey also made her learn and appreciate many things she didn’t knew about her daughter. For the mom, the fact that she will do anything to make her trans daughter the happiest girl ever is priceless to her. Because of that, their bond is stronger than ever and the daughter is thankful for the motherly love she receives to make her feel happy to live as herself.

It’s sad that with the way things are happening in today’s world, things are becoming tougher for everyone, not just emotionally, but also morally. No mother wants to outlive their child, nor would a child want to grow up into something they’re not. Unfortunately, trans kids are facing the worst of it right now due to constant laws taking away their gender affirming therapy while also endangering their lives by sending them to camps or through violent attacks from others. Having a dysfunctional household where they also face hate from their own family is also why so many trans kids have lower mental health. This is why it’s so important that trans kids get the necessary help and love from family so that they can get to live to see themselves become adults.

While not every mother will be as supportive the one in the story at first, the change of heart upon seeing their kids happy for the first time is what makes them learn to become a better mother figure. Even if their kids don’t become what they think is right for them as they grow up, seeing them become very happy adults is what really matters for a mother to be proud of her kids. And that is priceless.

Very Happy Mother’s Day to all of you! 💕💐

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱

daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧

IN WHICH.. in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret

warning! the fic contains- feminine reader // post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together) // use of y/n

🎧- give you the world by steve lacy

2.4k

Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.

And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.

Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.

It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.

You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.

Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.

Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good.  And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.

You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.

That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature. 

The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin.  -

“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.

“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“

Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed. 

-

The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.

-

The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.

“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake. 

You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry. 

He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin. 

You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.

“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.

The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.

“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.

You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside. 

Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality. 

While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit. 

“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.

“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you. 

You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.

-

The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.

-

“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!” 

Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.

Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon. 

You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens. 

As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.

“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them. 

They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.

“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.

You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.

“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.

“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.

“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.

“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.” 

“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.

After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.

You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later. 

“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”

“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.

“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out. 

“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger. 

“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.

“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.

“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.

“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated. 

You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.

“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.

As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.

“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat. 

“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“ 

“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.

“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.

“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTEXT chapter five, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, caesars interviews, rafe and reader bonding, the last night before the games, i havent slept im so ready to start writing i havent even worked on the masterlist for this LMFAO sorry im spewing these out so much i just love thg

main masterlist | tag list | previous next

the day after the scores, you’re told it’s your rest day, but there’s no such thing as rest here.

enobaria calls it a “refining session.” brutus, on the other hand, tosses a lopsided grin and says, “boot camp.”

you literally don’t even laugh.

the two of them are already planted on the velvet couches in the living room when you step in, hair still damp, expression blank. rafe drifts in behind you and flops down beside you on the couch, one leg bent beneath him, his elbow thrown lazily over the back of the cushions. when brutus eyes him, he shrugs.

“what?” rafe says, stretching his arms with a quiet crack. “we’re all friends here.”

enobaria rolls her eyes. brutus just exhales like he doesn’t have the energy to argue.

what follows is not friendly. it’s sharp-edged and exhausting, a full-blown psychological breakdown of what you’re supposed to be tomorrow when you step on caesar flickerman’s stage. not who you are, but who they want you to become.

“you’re not just tributes,” enobaria says, pacing slow. “you’re symbols, metaphors, breathing metaphors. do you understand?”

you nod, though you’re not sure if you do.

brutus rubs a hand over his face. “we’re giving you roles to play,” he says, a little softer. “you have to sell yourselves to the capitol. they’re going to fall in love with the idea of you.”

they look at rafe first.

“you’re the knight,” enobaria says. “protector of panem. young soldier from district two. charming, powerful, noble. someone who doesn’t fight because he wants to kill, but because it’s his duty.”

“chivalrous,” brutus adds. “but intimidating when you need to be.”

“someone the audience trusts,” she finishes, “but knows better than to cross.”

rafe lifts an eyebrow. “so you want me to be terrifying and trustworthy?”

“exactly,” enobaria says, not missing a beat.

he leans back again, mouth twitching at the corner. “guess i can do that.”

you wish it were that easy. but they turn to you next. enobaria studies you for too long, like she’s trying to peel your skin back to see what’s underneath.

“you’re not fire,” she says. “don’t try to be.”

you raise your chin, something cold curls in your gut. okay.

“you’re elegance,” brutus says. “grace, a flower that blooms in the middle of a battlefield.”

enobaria steps closer. “you’re the divine feminine, not to be underestimated. you don’t fight for glory. you fight to survive. and when you do, you make it look like art.”

you don’t know whether to feel flattered or furious. how the fuck do you portray that in an interview?

instead, you just breathe in slowly, eyes fixed on the window across the room. you’re too tired to argue.

they give you sample questions, hypothetical answers. you sit there for over two hours, repeating lines until they sound rehearsed in your own head.

rafe plays along easily, his tone slipping into charm when he’s asked about his strengths, letting a grin tug at his lips. you catch glimpses of what he’ll be like on stage. it’s convincing. dangerously so.

you get a break after that, barely ten minutes. just long enough to want to be anywhere else.

you’re standing near the sliding doors to the balcony, arms crossed, head pounding. the sky’s just starting to turn a hazy kind of blue. the city below doesn’t look real. nothing here does.

behind you, you hear rafe’s voice. “you wanna go?”

you turn your head slightly. he’s holding open the door with one hand, eyebrows raised.

“spar,” he clarifies. “just you ‘n me.”

you don’t answer, just step past him. you roll your shoulders back as you turn to face him, bare feet shifting against the smooth tile.

“first hit wins?” you say.

he smirks. “you won’t land one.”

you launch at him without warning, and he catches your momentum easily, spinning to throw you off balance, but you recover fast, ducking under his arm and aiming a quick jab at his side. he dodges, just barely.

your bodies move in rhythm. it’s dance-like and clean. but he’s faster, more grounded. his strength is in his restraint. he never uses more force than necessary. you can tell he’s holding back again, testing you, watching how you move.

but you’re not weak. you’re sharp, light on your feet. your hits are quick and calculated.

there’s a moment where he catches your wrist and twists, and your breath catches, but instead of panicking, you roll with it, using your other hand to push him back, your legs sweeping under his.

he stumbles, just for a second. you both pause. then you laugh, he does too. you wipe sweat from your brow and shake your head. “you’re better at this than i thought.”

“i’m better at everything than you thought.”

you roll your eyes, but the tension in your chest has eased. the sparring is the most normal thing you’ve done in days.

he steps closer, not in a threatening way. he holds your gaze. “you’ll be good out there,” he says, voice low.

you don’t ask if he means the interview. or the arena. you just nod. “yeah,” you murmur. “you too.”

the morning of the interview, you wake before the sun.

there’s no need to, no call time that early, no knock on the door. but your body just knows, like it’s wired to the pressure now. your stomach turns the second your eyes open, heavy and hollow all at once. you lie there for a while in the dark, the sheets tangled around your legs.

you don't remember falling asleep. you barely remember yesterday. the rehearsals blurred together, your body and brain pushed past the point of tired, and now you're on the other side of it.

you keep hearing brutus’ voice in your head.

you don’t fight for glory. you fight to survive. and when you do, you make it look like art.

whatever the hell that means.

you rise slowly. everything you do feels deliberate now, like it matters. like they're watching. even now. even here.

you step into the shower and let the heat burn against your skin. it's too hot. you don’t care. the steam curls up around you, beads of water streaming down your back like they’re trying to rinse off the nerves, the fear, the truth of where you're going.

when you step out, you don’t bother looking in the mirror. you know what you’ll see. your prep team does, too.

they're waiting when you step into the room that’s been transformed into a personal studio. valis is standing to the side, arms folded in a sleek black outfit, surveying your approach like a general waiting for her soldier.

she doesn’t say anything at first. just looks you over and nods. you’re a canvas, and she’s about to make you perfect.

the prep team descends in silence, gloved hands on your shoulders, guiding you gently toward the chair. your damp hair is already being combed through, braided, twisted. there’s music playing somewhere, no real words being sung, but you barely hear it over the sound of your own thoughts.

you murmur to yourself under your breath, just words from yesterday’s rehearsal, like the phrases they drilled into you, the fake answers, the poised smiles, the things you’re supposed to say when they ask you about the games, or about your partner, or what makes you different from every other tribute.

you think about your parents, what they’ll see. you wonder if they’ll even recognize you when you step on that stage.

a warm hand lifts your chin, guiding your face as the stylists start to work. powder, shimmer, subtle contouring that sculpts your features but doesn’t hide them. they know the image valis is aiming for.

the dress appears partway through. someone wheels it in carefully, draped over a velvet mannequin, covered in clear silk. your eyes lock on it instantly.

it’s breathtaking.

it doesn’t scream district two. not really. but there’s a nod in the design. it’s less armor, more divine regalia.

you catch your reflection now.

valis steps up beside you and nods once. “you’ll have them in the palm of your hand.” but you don’t answer.

you’re standing in line.

the stage is just beyond the doors, a glowing, blinding light on the other side. the screen above will play each interview in real time, showing the faces of the tributes in front of you. it’s where you’ll laugh, charm, and lie.

the line forms by district, starting with one. you’re somewhere toward the front again, right behind topper. your heels are quiet on the smooth floor, your body still, your breath slow.

topper stands in front of you, hands loose at his sides, relaxed in a way only someone from district one can be. he plays with the button on his jacket, bouncing slightly on his heels. you can hear him humming. he’s not nervous. he’s performing.

diamonte is already on stage.

you don’t even realize you’ve been tuning her out until caesar starts clapping and thanking her. her voice was quiet, her answers clipped. gee, her mentor must be exhausted.

the moment she exits the stage, the prep team swarms her like flies. and once his name is called, topper steps forward, a grin blooming across his face like it’s second nature.

you let your attention drift as the cameras pan to him.

his laughter fills the hallway as he starts his interview, all teeth and charm and easy. caesar eats it up. so does the audience. you let your eyes flick to the screen above, only half-listening. it’s hard to focus. you’re running through every question brutus made you answer yesterday, every phrase enobaria made you repeat.

the words still live in your mouth like muscle memory.

you’re so deep in your head, you don’t realize your hand has drifted back until you feel something warm brush your fingertips.

you blink, focus sharpening. his fingers. rafes.

you glance down, startled, but don’t move. his hand is at his side too, casual like yours, but his fingers are grazing yours like they’re asking a question.

his movements are slow, hesitant, like he’s checking if you’ll pull away. but for some reason, you don’t. instead, your hand stays there.

rafes fingers finally press softly into yours, and you stare at the floor. his thumb brushes along the inside of your knuckle once, kind of grounding in a way.

it’s stupid. and still, you squeeze his hand back.

you don’t say anything. you don’t need to, you just feel the warmth and the way it anchors you for a second when the world feels like it might spin off its axis.

topper’s name is shouted overhead in that sing-song way caesar flickerman always does, a final cheer ringing out from the crowd. on the screen, topper flashes his signature smirk, presses a hand to his chest, nods once like he’s accepting a crown, and walks off into the wings where his team waits for him like he’s already won.

your hand tightens slightly around rafe’s. his thumb strokes yours once more.

then you hear your name.

his touch disappears, you’re the one pulling away. you take one breath, two, and you don’t look back. you lift your chin, and walk.

once you step out into the light, it floods you all at once. you feel the heat on your skin, the flutter in your chest. your shoes hit the stage like they belong here,

smile, you remind yourself. so you do. not too big. just enough.

your lips curve gently, like a subtle invitation. you walk like you’ve done this before. like you’ve walked on runways made of bone and silk. like you’ve never known fear.

you cross to the velvet armchair opposite caesar flickerman, who beams like he’s just seen a goddess step into his living room. his blue hair sparkles under the lights, suit more outrageous than ever. it’s something gold and high-collared tonight, glowing like it was made of static.

you sit, and the applause simmers down to a purr as caesar leans forward, hands clasped.

“welcome, welcome,” caesar says, beaming at you. “you look stunning, my dear. absolutely radiant. tell me—who is responsible for this masterpiece of a dress?”

you glance toward the audience, then down at the gown.

it’s a dark wine red, almost black under the lights. the fabric flows like water, high-necked with a slit up one leg, the cut hugging you like it was poured on. petals are made from delicate glassy mesh climb up the bodice, unfurling across your chest and one shoulder.

“valis and my prep team,” you say. your voice is clear, calm, just a little smoky. “they worked very hard on it, caesar.”

“they deserve a raise,” caesar says dramatically. the crowd laughs. “and is it true we have a theme going on with this look? i’m sensing something floral, something . . .”

you smile again. just slightly. “roses,” you say, letting the word linger. “a reminder that something beautiful can still be dangerous.”

a hush falls. then applause.

you see it in caesar’s eyes. you’ve got him. he adjusts in his seat. “now i have to say, there’s been a lot of talk about you. your training score was . . . well, let’s just say it had everyone leaning forward. and the quiet ones, oh, we know what they say about the quiet ones. i mean, it was the highest score received this year.”

you keep your expression unreadable. “what can i say?” you reply softly. “i prefer to let my actions speak for me.”

the crowd loves that. they cheer again. even caesar claps a little, but you feel yourself settle into the moment. you were born for this, weren’t you?

“so tell us,” caesar goes on. “what’s your strategy going into the arena? any strengths you want to share? anything we should be watching for?”

you pause for a breath.

“i’m not here to make friends,” you say simply “i’m here to survive.”

another pause.

“but i do think there’s a . . . poetry in surviving. it’s not just about killing. it’s about reading the arena, understanding people, knowing when to wait, and when to strike. and how to turn the odds.”

caesar whistles. “spoken like a true daughter of two! and is there anyone, back home maybe, who’ll be watching you closely?”

you let the question hang in the air. your eyes flick to the camera softly, and you nod. “i hope my parents are watching,” you say. “i hope . . . they know i haven’t forgotten who i am.”

that earns a quieter reaction. people are still respectful, just a little more curious. you don’t say anything else.

caesar stands with you, takes your hand, raises it to the crowd, “district two’s rose—y/n!”

the applause swells. you let them cheer, let them look at you and see exactly what you want them to see. you smile, but it never quite reaches your eyes.

you step offstage into a rush of motion. the applause is still buzzing in your ears. immediately, you're swallowed by hands. valis’ voice hits first, sharp with breathless praise.

“you were perfect,” she says, adjusting the fabric at your shoulder, like there’s something to fix even though there’s not. “the smile, the posture, the answers. perfect.”

your prep team swarms in next, touching your hair, smoothing your dress, giving you anxious, excited looks. they all talk at once. someone hands you water, someone else mutters something about a strand of hair being out of place. you don’t listen. not really.

enobaria appears behind valis, arms folded. “well done,” she says simply. “you said everything we wanted them to hear. you owned the room. didn’t overstay, didn’t overshare. you were exactly what we needed you to be.”

you nod, just once, like you’re absorbing it, but your eyes are already moving up, to the screen above the door.

caesar’s still standing on stage, soaking up the applause that followed your exit. “and now,” he announces, voice rising again, “please welcome to the stage . . . our male tribute from district two—rafe cameron!”

the camera follows him as he steps into the light. his suit is simple, dark, collar slightly open like he couldn’t be bothered to wear a tie. and a small, barely-there detail: a single rose pin at his lapel. it matches the petals from your dress.

he takes the chair opposite caesar, leans back like he’s done this a thousand times, like he’s not about to enter a deathmatch, but like he’s sitting at a bar about to tell you a story.

you don’t realize you’ve stepped forward until valis gently tugs your elbow, ushering you to sit. but you don’t sit. not yet. your eyes stay locked on the screen.

you watch as caesar leans in, grin wide. “rafe cameron. i think you’ve just broken quite a few hearts in this room.”

rafe’s laugh is low, warm. just the right amount of amused. “that’s not my intention,” he says. “but i’ll take the compliment.”

the audience swoons. you can already see the headlines. the capitol’s favorite solder, the face of two, panem’s protector.

“now, you’re quite the mystery, rafe,” caesar says, smiling. “the training scores don’t lie. and you’re not exactly the loudest tribute we’ve had, but there’s something about you . . . something commanding. tell us, where does that come from?”

rafe shrugs slightly. “i grew up around people who didn’t let words mean much,” he says. “they taught me that actions matter more. if i make it out of that arena, it won’t be because i talked my way through.”

gee, you two are looking like two peas in a pod now.

“so no fancy speeches?” caesar teases.

rafe smiles again, slower this time. “if i give a speech, it’s probably because i’m buying time to get behind you.”

the crowd loses it.

even caesar laughs, clapping his hands. “oh, i like you.”

valis murmurs something beside you, something about how his phrasing is perfect, how he’s sticking to the plan, how he’s a dream.

caesar asks about the arena next, like what he’ll do when it all starts.

“i’ll fight,” rafe says. “that’s what i’ve been trained to do.”

“and if you’re not the last one standing?” caesar asks, voice softer.

rafe pauses.

and for a second, you see it, something flickering in his expression. “then i’ll make sure the person who is . . . deserves to be.”

caesar lets the silence hang for just long enough before rising to his feet and calling out his name like a victory bell, “rafe cameron!”

the applause slams through the studio again as rafe rises, nodding once to the audience, then turning to disappear into the wings.

when rafe walks past the prep teams and camera cords, he doesn’t stop until he’s beside you.

you nudge his arm, “panem’s protector?”

he hums like you’re challenging him, “our rose of panem?”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile in it.

the ride back to the apartment is quiet. brutus has already mumbled something about calling it a night and disappears into his room the moment the elevator doors open. enobaria lingers in the living room, speaking in low, clipped tones into a thin communicator tucked into her wrist. a family call, maybe. her voice softens when she says the name lynna. it makes you smile, even though you don’t know who that is.

you don’t listen in anyway. it’s not your place.

instead, you let valis and your prep team start their work.

they're gentler this time, quieter, more careful, like they know tonight is different. it’s not just an end to the public show, but the last stretch of normalcy before it all crumbles into the arena tomorrow.

the dress is removed, handled like it’s priceless. and maybe it is. your skin is wiped clean, their fingers warm as they dab off every trace of shimmer, rouge, gloss. even the kohl lining your eyes. it’s all erased, like none of it ever mattered.

you're back in your loungewear again. it’s just you.

you hear the other prep team working on rafe in the room across from yours with muffled voices, maybe some quiet laughter. his team has always been a bit more relaxed than yours. you wonder if he’s smiling. if he’s pretending he’s not scared.

you don’t speak to each other yet. not with all these people still here. but when they finally start to pack up, hands gentle and final, you feel a strange kind of grief tug at your ribs, like losing something you didn’t even know you were holding.

valis kisses the top of your head before she leaves. you don’t stop her. she doesn’t say goodbye just yet. she’s probably saving it for tomorrow. but she squeezes your shoulder and goes.

rafe’s team probably does the same. you hear the soft footsteps and hushed murmurs, and then the front door hisses shut behind them, and it’s just the four of you now.

brutus is silent behind his door. snoring, probably.

enobaria’s still talking in the living room, but her voice is fading into something calmer. laughter, even.

you don’t mean to sit down on your bed. you just find yourself there. your fingers twist the edge of the blanket without thought. your gaze is trained somewhere between the floor and nothing at all.

you should rest, but your mind doesn’t want to. it’s loud now. strategies, maps, faces, weapons, alliances, weak points. it’s all there, all fighting for space in your head.

it feels like studying for an exam in school, except this time, a wrong answer doesn’t just mean a bad grade. it means a knife in your throat. a cannon fire. a name in the sky.

you hate that thought. you hate it. but it’s real. you have to be the one who survives. you can’t afford not to be. not after all this. not with how many people are counting on you. but then again . . . the games don’t care what you deserve. and luck doesn’t care either.

you’ve seen it in old games before. it doesn’t even matter if you’re strong, or fast, or smart. one misstep, one wrong branch or trap or breath, and it’s over. that’s what scares you, not the killing.

you shift and lay back, arms at your sides, eyes on the ceiling. you think about the arena, what it might be.

a sunken city, maybe. collapsing buildings, rusted steel and water pooling beneath cracked rooftops. a place where every step is a risk.

or maybe something dry and open. a desert with no real water source comes to mind. but no, they wouldn’t do that. it would end too quickly. there’d be no tension, no drawn-out battles, no long, bloody entertainment.

they need a spectacle this year. the tributes are too good. the scores too high. no one wants to see a short game.

you sigh, and roll to your side. the fabric of the blanket scratches slightly against your cheek. you’d watched the rest of the interviews once you were back in your room earlier. nothing stuck except for a girl from five. her name slips your mind, but not her face, her hands didn’t fidget when she spoke. and the guy from eleven. there was something in the way he hesitated before answering certain questions. something he didn’t want to give away.

you’ll remember that if you see them again. like, you’ll see him before the bloodbath surely, but once you’ve taken what you need tomorrow and start to survive in the arena? it’s weird to know you might never see them again.

you close your eyes for a second, but the quiet only sharpens. the light dims in your room after it’s suspected no movement from you, and you let it. maybe your room without light will make you calm down.

there’s a soft knock at your door, like three light taps.

you blink, lifting your head slightly, already assuming it’s enobaria. maybe she’s just checking in, saying goodnight before finally calling it. you half expect her voice on the other side, ‘rest up. don’t waste your nerves now.’

but instead, the door cracks open slowly, just enough to reveal a boyish, crooked smile, like he’s trying not to laugh. like he’s about to say something really stupid. your heart flickers in your chest when you realize it’s rafe.

he doesn’t say ‘wakey wakey,’ but the look on his face might as well scream it. he leans his head in a little more, eyes squinting like he’s checking if you’re already asleep. when your mouth twitches into a smirk, he smiles wider.

you sit up slowly, brushing a blanket wrinkle smooth with your hand. “you look like you’re about to break in and rob me,” you mutter, eyes squinting back at him, amused.

he gives a dramatic glance over his shoulder, like he’s being tailed, before slipping fully inside and nudging the door shut behind him with his heel.

“can i crash here for a bit?” he scratches the back of his head like it’s casual, like it’s normal for him to just be here, hovering in the half-dark with his hair still a little tousled from the prep team’s touch.

you raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t explain. he just doesn’t have to. you figure he just wants to go over strategies, maybe revisit some of the things you two talked about earlier. one last brain meld before the big plunge. you nod and scoot back until you’re flush with your pillows, tugging the blanket over your lap and leaving plenty of space.

he takes the opportunity immediately like a damn cat. rafe shuffles across the floor in a quick motion and flops forward onto your bed, stomach first, the heels of his feet hanging off the edge. he sighs dramatically into your mattress like he’s just dropped the weight of the world behind him. which, to be fair, he kind of has.

for a little while, you just talk. nothing important. dumb things, mostly.

you make a joke about brutus’s snoring sounding like a broken hovercraft. rafe brings up how his prep stylist nearly burned off his eyebrows with some kind of capitol serum today. he mimics the voice of caesar from earlier, going all wide-eyed and grand, waving his arms in mock imitation, “the stunning, the spectacular, district two's shining girl, y/n!” and then immediately butchers your last name on purpose.

you laugh. you genuinely laugh. it feels strange in your throat. his grin is lazy, but then it gets quiet.

not awkward quiet. not heavy yet. just quiet enough that you can hear the tick of the wall clock and the hum of some ventilation system in the room. you realize you’ve been playing with your fingers for a while. twisting them in your lap, knuckles cracking faintly. your breath feels a little tighter.

he doesn’t say anything at first. but his head turns slightly toward you, like he knows it’s coming. and then you ask.

“do you think they’ll make it fast?”

he blinks, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “who?”

“any of us.” you keep your voice low. “or if they’ll . . . drag it out. for the audience.”

they always want a show when someone dies. the words feel like glass in your mouth, but you say them anyway. it’s too close to tomorrow not to. and the longer you hold them in, the more they burn.

rafe’s smile fades a little. he rolls onto his side to face you better, his elbow propped up beneath his cheek. “depends.”

“on what?”

he shrugs. “how interesting they think we are.”

you look at him, really look at him. you know that you two have to be one of the most interesting of the litter this year. no doubt about it. it’s not even being cocky, but you don’t even have to question whether you’re interesting enough.

his brows are furrowed, like he’s working through something of his own now. whatever mask he wears for everyone else, it’s off tonight. it’s just rafe. he exhales softly, like something’s sitting heavy in his chest.

“sometimes i think . . .” he starts, then stops. his fingers drum lightly against your blanket. “i think i’ve spent my whole life being trained to win a game i never actually wanted to play.”

your heart twists. none of his words are you. you can’t relate to that, at least not fully, but you shift slightly closer. “then why play?” you ask, just above a whisper.

he stares at the ceiling. “because people expect me to. and because if i don’t . . . someone else dies in my place, i guess?”

he turns his head toward you again, his eyes softer than before. you both sit in the quiet for a long moment.

at some point, you don’t know what time it is, don’t even bother to check the clock, but you know the night’s not long enough. not with tomorrow looming the way it is. the games. the arena. the countdown that won’t stop ticking.

rafe’s still lying on your bed, arms folded under his head, his legs half hanging off the edge. his shirt is rumpled, and there’s a faint line across his cheek from where he must’ve pressed his face against his arm a little too long. he’s quiet, but not asleep. you can tell. his eyes are still open.

you don’t talk at first. it’s the kind of silence that doesn’t feel awkward, just tense, like you’re both listening to the same thing.

nothing will be the same after tomorrow.

you shift, pulling your blanket higher over your lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge. rafe swallows, shifting slightly.

“i think . . .” he starts, voice low as he breaks the silence. he hesitates. you don’t think it’s the kind of hesitation that means he doesn’t know what he’s about to say, but maybe it’s the kind where he does, and it scares him.

finally, his voice breaks through the hush again, “i think my dad rigged the reaping for me.”

you blink, hard. your first reaction is confusion. your mouth parts slightly, like the words don’t compute. you stare at him, processing. “what?”

he finally shifts. he sits up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, like he can’t say it lying down. “i think my dad rigged the reaping,” he says again, quieter now. like he’s still not sure if saying it out loud makes it more real or less.

you just stare. your brain takes a second to catch up. “okay, but how can . . . how can someone even do that?”

he huffs. “if they’ve got enough pull. i told you my dad’s a high-ranking peacekeeper. i wouldn’t put it past him.”

you just watch him.

he runs a hand through his hair. “i’m eighteen, it’s my last year. last shot. he’s been pushing for this forever since i was a kid, always said it was ‘in my blood’ or whatever as if he ever did it when he was my age. warriors, winners, glory, all that bullshit. i thought maybe i’d made it through. like maybe he gave up. but then my name got called and . . .” he shakes his head. “i knew.”

the silence between you thickens.

“so,” you say slowly, “you didn’t even want . . . to be here.”

“not like this.” he says it flatly, like he’s already accepted it. like it’s just a fact.

you nod, but your stomach turns. you think about how fast you raised your hand, how fast you moved toward the stage. how you didn’t even hesitate. you wanted it. you asked for it. and he didn’t. he was shoved in, boxed up and dropped into it like a piece on a game board.

you look away for a second, a sharp tightness in your chest. guilt? maybe. maybe something more complicated than that. you shouldn’t care. don’t get too attached. everyone should accept their fate, but for some reason, you just can’t let this shake.

“i didn’t know it could even be rigged,” you say after a moment.

“most people don’t. the blame would go immediately to the capitol for it, and they can’t afford that. already have too much to worry about.”

you glance back at him. he’s looking straight ahead now, somewhere past the door, unfocused. he looks tired. not in the way everyone looks tired, but in a way that’s deeper. oh. he’s been carrying this for too long.

“so then what was it like?” you ask. “growing up with him.”

he doesn’t answer right away. then he laughs dryly. “loud. exhausting.” he rubs at his jaw. “everything was a test. everything had a consequence. there was no playing. no room for mistakes. if i cried, i was weak. if i hesitated, i was a failure. he used to time me doing drills in the backyard. would get pissed if i didn’t beat my last record.”

you don’t say anything. you’re not sure what you could.

“i don’t think he ever really saw me,” rafe mutters. “just some idea of who he wanted me to be.”

you shift closer without thinking, just enough that your knee almost touches his. your blanket shifts with you. you don’t say anything dramatic, don’t try to fix it. you just sit there with him.

“i’m sorry,” you say hesitantly, quietly, something you’re not used to. but you’ve been thinking that maybe you should now.

he shrugs. “nothing to be sorry for. just how it is.”

you nod. it’s quiet again. but this time it feels different. there’s no performance here. no prep team, no sponsors, no cameras.

he leans back again, rests his head against the bed, eyes shut. you keep your gaze down.

he stays quiet for a while like he’s trying not to think too hard. and then, after a few more seconds pass, he speaks. “oh, but what about you?” he asks. “what were you like before all this?”

you glance over at him. “what do you mean?”

“before the games, or the training center, or before your name was even in the pool. what’d you care about? what’d you want?”

you don’t answer right away. the question sits in your chest like a stone.

he isn’t asking in that surface-level way people do, the way interviewers or capitol hosts might. he isn’t fishing for a soundbite. he’s just asking because he wants to know. maybe because it makes everything feel a little less isolating if he knows someone else used to be a real person too.

you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek. sigh. “i don’t know. i think i was bored.”

it’s a poor way of starting this, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, listening.

you shrug a little. “my mom works in records for the district. basically just moves files around and makes sure everyone else is on time. it’s as dull as it sounds. she's been doing the same thing since before i was born. every day. same path to work, same lunches. she gets home, sits in the same chair, turns on the same channel, and that’s her night.”

you pick at the blanket in your lap. “my dad’s a peacekeeper too. nothing like yours, i think, but he plays the game. he keeps his head down, follows orders. they’re both good people. i know it. i think they’re just . . . resigned. like they don’t expect anything more. i was probably gonna end up doing what my mom does, to take over her job eventually. get slotted into the same chair, the same shifts. get used to silence.”

your voice drops. “and yeah, i didn’t want that.” you glance at rafe again, “i didn’t want to be invisible.”

you laugh once. “i thought volunteering would make me matter. thought it’d give me some kind of identity, some pride. like maybe people would look at me and see me for once, i guess.”

he doesn’t answer right away, and for a second you wonder if it sounds ridiculous out loud. like a kid trying to win gold stars in a system designed to kill them.

but rafe just nods, slowly. “makes sense.”

you exhale, finally letting your back rest against the wall too. you turn your head slightly. “what about you?” you ask, softer now. “if you didn’t get reaped. if your dad didn’t, whatever the hell he did to get you here, what would you be doing right now?”

his jaw clenches a little. you can tell he’s thinking, but you can also tell the answer’s not easy.

“i’d be home,” he says finally. you glance at him, but you don’t push. “probably walking sarah to school,” he adds. “she hates waking up early. always complains the whole way there.”

a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t last long. “wheezie would already be up, probably trying to get out of eating whatever our stepmom cooked for breakfast. she used to slip it into her jacket pocket and then flush it when no one was looking.”

you smile, just a little. it’s the first time you’ve heard him talk about them. “you have siblings?”

he huffs a breath, a little like a laugh but not really. “yeah. two sisters. sarah’s sixteen. we used to fight all the time, over nothing. she’s stubborn as hell but she’s smart. too smart, sometimes. wheezie’s thirteen. she’s got this habit of pretending she’s not listening, but she remembers everything. like . . . everything. it’s creepy.”

you smile, surprised. not because he has sisters, though that’s new, but because of the way he’s talking. you’ve never heard him like this. not in the training center. not in the interviews. not even on the rooftop.

“they sound like a handful,” you say.

“they are.” he pauses, then adds, quieter, “they’re good, though. better than me. wheezie would slack off during training more than me, but sarah’s good for it. all the camerons are.”

“you think they’re watching?” you ask.

he shakes his head. “i hope not. not if they’re smart.” he exhales slowly through his nose like he’s trying not to let something show. “they probably think i volunteered, talked my dad into saying my name,” he mutters. “i wonder if that’s worse.”

you don’t say anything. you don’t know what the right thing would even be.

he runs a hand down his face and lets it drop, then turns to glance at you. “any siblings?”

you shake your head. “just me.”

he nods like he figured. “that explain the volunteering?”

you almost laugh. “no. i mean . . . maybe a little.”

he waits. doesn’t push. but he’s looking at you now, and it feels like you owe him something, but you’ve already said it. “i just didn’t want to end up like my mom, you know,” you say like he already understands, and he does.

he looks at you for a beat longer, then nods like he gets it.

you both fall quiet again. you’re tired, and not just physically. it’s in your bones now, all of it. but sitting here, next to him, it’s a little easier to breathe.

and neither of you says it out loud, but you both know this might be the last night you ever get to talk like this. maybe that’s why it matters so much. maybe that’s why you don’t want to move.

but then there’s another knock. you and rafe both glance up at the same time, barely a beat after it lands, and the door creaks open. enobaria stands in the doorway, shoulder leaned into the frame. she lifts an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“are you two having a sleepover?” she drawls.

you deadpan right back, “why, you wanna join?” you toss her a look over your shoulder, one part playful, one part exhausted. it’s not a real invite, but it’s not not one either. you’ve never seen her act normal.

she huffs, something that’s almost a laugh, and crosses the room to pull the desk chair out. it gives a small squeak as she turns it around and drops into it backwards.

“cute,” she mutters. “but let’s talk strategy again.”

you groan immediately, flopping backwards like she’s just sentenced you to death early. rafe doesn’t miss a beat either, dropping his head until his forehead nearly hits the mattress, arms sprawled out beside him.

“what is this, homework?” you mutter into your pillow.

enobaria doesn’t smile this time. she’s watching both of you now, eyes sharp, tone steady. “listen,” she says. “you can complain all you want, but in the next week, one of you might die. or both of you. i’m not gonna sugarcoat it. i’m not good at that. but i know what works.”

you sit up again, slowly. rafe’s already half-propped on his elbows, listening now, even if his head’s still turned to the side.

“you two watch each other’s backs,” she says. “no matter what. no splitting up unless you have to, and even then, you circle back. don’t assume anyone’s dead unless you see it with your own eyes. and if it happens, if one of you goes, you make it mean something. don’t let it be for nothing.”

you can feel your throat tighten and your stomach turns. you glance at rafe. he doesn’t even look at you.

enobaria leans forward. “you don’t have to kill each other,” she says. “but one of you needs to come back. one of you has to. you understand me?”

you nod. it’s faint. rafe gives a slow blink. another nod.

“use everything you’ve learned,” she continues. “everything. don’t wait to be clever. if it’s brutal, be brutal. if it’s manipulative, fine. lean into it. alliances are fine for the first few days, but they always burn out. you two are a unit. don’t forget that.”

you shift in place, something in you itching. “you’ve seen this a lot, huh?” you ask.

enobaria gives a quiet nod. “more than i’d like.” she leans back again, resting her head briefly on the top of the chair.

“last year’s kid from four, ria, remember her? she got cocky in the final five. thought she had enough food stockpiled to wait the others out. didn’t account for an acid rain trigger that melted her stash. by the time she had to come out, she was half-starved and stumbled right into the final three’s ambush.”

you wince.

enobaria’s voice drops lower, thoughtful. “always account for change. for traps. for things that feel unfair. because they are. it’s a game, but it’s also a show. that means it’s rigged for drama. that means they want surprises. don’t fall into them.”

you nod again, slower this time. “okay.”

she exhales, like she’s getting tired of the weight of her own words. then she adds, almost offhandedly, “also . . . i don’t know. if it gets desperate, you could always start a fake romance or something. no one’s done a believable one in a while.”

you groan like she’s your older sister telling you something you don’t wanna hear, but rafe huffs out a soft laugh into the mattress.

she grins. “i’m just saying. the capitol eats that stuff up. doesn’t have to be real.”

“goodnight,” you say, waving her out.

“just keep it in your pocket,” she smirks, standing. you scowl at her through narrowed eyes. rafe’s still half-buried in the bed, clearly choosing not to comment. enobaria starts for the door. “get some rest. you’ll be up late enough tomorrow.”

you turn your head on your pillow as she leaves, watching her go. she stops in the doorway just once more.

“noon,” she reminds the two of you. “we’ll say our goodbyes then.” and then she’s gone.

the door clicks shut, leaving the room. you exhale hard into your pillow, bury your head deeper into it.

rafe hasn’t moved much. he’s still stretched out across your bed, holding himself up on his elbows, staring at the far wall like it might offer answers.

you stare at the pillow beside you. you don’t know why, but neither of you say anything. you just sit there, processing.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14

[rivendell-poet]

Maybe the Fellowship with an S/O who likes to be the big spoon despite the fact that in any other situation, they're the more 'submissive' one in the relationship? Something like the Fellowship finding that out about the Reader and how they react/respond to it, while Reader's a bit nervous since it's generally the man/more dominant one in the relationship who's the big spoon (if that makes sense) Take your time with this and I hope you have a good day/evening/night wherever you are <3

Of course I can! And hello again Raikan, sorry for leaving you on inbox for this long. And thank you so much for the little message at the end, it always genuinely means so much <3

Hope you enjoy this!

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 1.4k | TWs : None | Reader is not given a gender at any times & no gendered tones are used, however Fellowship are sometimes referred to as 'the masculine one in the relationship' - so be mindful if you need to.

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ The first time he encounters it is while you’re travelling together as rangers. He’s decided to set up camp for the night, and as there’s frost all around he proposes you share a bedroll.

✧ At first you simply agree, and it’s only afterwards that you begin to look tentative.

✧ He worries that perhaps he’s overstepped, that you feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to do. Aragorn immediately explains that what he said was only an offer.

✧ You reassure him that that’s not what you were worried about. It’s just… you’d rather be the big spoon.

✧ He stops and looks at you for a second, with the intensity you worry you’ve said something, before he simply nods and says he’s more than willing to do that.

✧ “My love, you never have to be nervous to ask me about anything. Especially if it’s so I can make you feel better.”

✧ Doesn’t particularly address it until nighttime strikes, when he simply asks if you’d rather he lay down and you move around him, or you lay down and he leans into you.

✧ Is more than happy to go with whichever way you prefer.

✧ Aragorn normally moves around quite a lot while he’s sleeping, so you being there as a steady presence is actually quite helpful for him and lets him fall asleep faster.

✧ Nothing particularly changes between the two of you, except how you’ll sometimes lie like that.

✧ Until he approaches you while tired, and sheepishly asks if the two of you can simply cuddle - he doesn’t need to sleep yet, he just needs someones (your) presence.

✧ Every now and then, you’ll now get the ranger coming up to you and gently laying out next to you. Relaxing slightly as your arms close around him.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Elves don’t exactly have the same standards of masculine and feminine partners in relationships.

✧ He’s also quite unused to physical touch (although he’ll always lean into any you give him), but he can’t still tell there’s something slightly off when he’s holding you while your cuddling.

✧ It’s not ‘off’ enough of a feeling that there’s something majorly wrong, but he’s observant enough to know there’s something wrong.

✧ So he asks you.

✧ Legolas is honestly slightly confused when you admit it, mainly because he isn’t sure why you’d be embarrassed by such a request.

✧ Is also very enthusiastic about being the one to be hugged.

✧ Enjoys the feeling of being held, and also doesn’t have to worry that he’s not providing you physical affection the right way.

✧ Does move around a bit, but nothing too uncomfortable and it doesn’t happen very often.

✧ Asks if it’s okay for him to lean on you at other times, and once you give you consent he definitely takes advantage of that fact.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ In a way, he has sort of the opposite problem. He wants to be the man of the relationship, to prove that he can protect you, and cherish you, and do everything expected of a dwarf in this relationship.

✧ But, he also really enjoys being held by you - there’s something comforting about the times you’ve hugged, and he’s been able to relax in your arms.

✧ In the end, both of you approach each other about the issue at the same time.

✧ You’re both awkward and apologetic about it, insisting the other goes first - before agreeing to say it at the same time. Lo and behold, it’s actually the same issue.

✧ There’s definitely some laughing the first time you settle into each other's arms as you think of the discussion.

✧ However, both of you very quickly settle into - and enjoy - the routine.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ The fact you’d rather be the big spoon doesn’t come out in conversation, but rather in an action.

✧ Both of you had cuddled each other a few times before - and you had to admit it was very nice to be in Boromir’s arms, it just wasn’t your preference.

✧ Instead, it happens as the Fellowship is winding down for the night, and getting ready to sleep.

✧ Watch has already been decided, and Boromir is taking a moment to relax before he starts his - when you lie next to him.

✧ Except, instead of his arms going around yours, your arms have gone around him. Holding him securely, comfortingly, making him feel… safe.

✧ He simply leans into you for a second, and you to him, before he feels you stiffen and realise that you’re holding him and not the opposite way around.

✧ Your hands begin to move backwards with an awkward apology, before he gently stops you.

✧ Keeps your arms around him. Before asking why you would remove them.

✧ You begin to sheepishly explain, and half apologies, before he clarifies that this is the position that you’d prefer to be in.

✧ When you say yes he simply settles slightly more into your arms.

✧ “I’m glad you prefer it this way. You make me feel… safe.”

✧ (Occasionally he wishes to the big spoon - normally when he’s in an anxious mood, and wants to be protective - but most nights will happily have you cover him.)

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Hobbits definitely value up-front communication in relationships, and within the Shire there’s a lot less stigma around having an ‘odd’ preference in relationships.

✧ Yes, you could get looked at occasionally, but most hobbits simply care if you’re happy. And they’re always all smiles when they see the joy in you and Pippin’s eyes when you're together.

✧ So Pippin simply immediately asks.

✧ He can see your hesitation, before reassuring you that he truly doesn’t mind.

✧ As long as cuddling is happening, he’s happy either way. Or both ways. Or even to barely touch at all, and instead give mournful glances across the room.

✧ When you explain your preference you see his eyes shine for a second, before saying he’s completely fine with that.

✧ The second there is a sofa, or a bed, or even some dry enough grass after the confession - he looks at you with the biggest puppy dogs eyes.

✧ “Please, my love?”

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ It’s after a day’s work that he’s ran to you, burying his face in your arms when the thought hits him.

✧ You’ve never truly cuddled. You’ve hugged, you’ve kissed (he’s accidentally made the two of you fall onto the grass together), but you are yet to cuddle.

✧ Instantly, Merry Brandybuck recognises this as a problem that needs to be solved.

✧ So, his arms still wrapped around you, he asks how you like to cuddle together.

✧ Merry asks with such genuine sincerity, a joyful curiosity that shows he cares, that you don’t feel uncomfortable when you answer honestly.

✧ And the massive grin that stretches across his face when you answer reassures you as well.

✧ (Is definitely the type to come up to you and almost fall into your arms after a long day. Or, if he’s found a particularly comfortable position he’ll sometimes call you over and ask for hugs there.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Is also one of the Fellowship members where you find out from actions, instead of words.

✧ Mainly because Sam is far too shy to initiate a cuddle intimate enough that big spoon/little spoon roles would even occur in.

✧ So in the end it’s you who initiates one, which also means it’s you who gets to pick what role you want.

✧ With only a hint of nerves, you lie down next to him and hug him fully - letting him lean into you.

✧ The slight contented sigh tells you you’re doing something right, that and the fact he sheepishly comes closer to you.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frankly, Frodo is the little spoon anyway. He enjoys hugging you - and lying on the outside occasionally.

✧ But he feels so safe when he’s in your arms, that truly he wants to just be in them. For you to hold him instead.

✧ When the situation for cuddling first arises, it’s actually him that brings it up first.

✧ Hoping that you’ll be okay with it.

✧ The soft look of surprise followed immediately by a smile and shining eyes confirms it for him.

✧ (Frodo is also very prone to coming and just lying next to you throughout the day. Has an almost cat-like tendency to be drawn to you when he’s sleeping.)

A/N : I feel I typed the word 'arms' too many times here. Oh well, hopefully it was still enjoyable <3

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @wordbunch / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @fern-reads / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 / @fleurdemiel-145 / @anchy-bananchy / @zeldastrife / @themuseinthewoods / @deannie13 / @eliosberry / @northernwing / @paigemackenzie0206 / @satans-bitch / @awayaesworld / @Staygoldsquatchling02 / @permanently-nothere ✧ wish to be tagged?

[johnpriceslamb]

— 𝓕𝓔𝓑𝓡𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓨

Soft murmurings of gossip rises within the Van Der Linde gang about the close relationship of the enforcer and the ex-noble.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 : age gap . fem ! reader . afab ! reader . hyper feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than chars mentioned in story . reader is in early 20’s . arthur is in late 20’s - early 30’s . crybbie reader snifle . traditional gender stereotypes heavily mentioned . tis short chapter ^_____^

The sun casts is warm rays across the expanse of the campsite, shrouding the trees in a soft glow. The soft murmurs of the people amongst the camp blends with the rustling of leaves and a gentle breeze carries the scent of a strange concoction of multiple animal meat and vegetables boiled down into a stew.

It’s been a week since you’ve stayed with the Van Der Linde gang.

You heave a bucket load of laundry onto the curve of your hip before sauntering to the place with a thick line roped around two trees which conveniently is placed where sun shines the most. The luxury you experienced back in ‘Denis was something you wish you never missed but the ultimate reality comes to clunk you gently on the head. Never hardly, because you couldn’t ever do harsh. The epitome of softness, you are.

Your feet ache from the weeks load of walking and helping with chores but alas, you could not just sit down and sniffle about your incident involving the man who lead the carriage to Chicago. You ponder at the thought if your father was still waiting for you, almost bouncing on his feet once he tells the boy he found as a partner for you to get on his knee and serve that dainty little ring on your left hand.

You tighten your grip on the wet fabric your hands enclosed on before spreading out the clothing on the line and clipped the ends with it with two half-broken pegs.

You’d rather be cooped up in a gang filled with outlaws than be married off to a man who could not even wash himself properly. You remember begging Dutch a day ago or so on your knees, dirtying your sweet little dress in the process, hands clasped together tightly as you cried out for him to let you stay.

He had a soft spot for pretty girls, and an even more softer spot for girls who keened at him like a needy puppy.

His warm hand combs through your hair as you sniffled upon his lap, beady eyes coming to stare at him through glossy tears. Your long lashes fluttered at the slight irritation, and the leader of the gang watches those fat globes of tears run down your cherub-like cheek.

From then on, you’ve received the embarrassingly sweet title of ‘Princess’. Suited for you. A pretty noble. Spoiled.

You knew life which held privilege unlike most of the camp members here. You pitied the people who told stories about their experiences of living around the campfire, noting yourself to bring a handkerchief for the next campfire session. A sense of envy was evident around the girls you slept next to, understandably so. However, they loved you like a sister, teasingly taunting you with your sweetest nickname as you giggle shyly at their prodding.

You shake your head lightly, lower lip lightly poking out at your distracting thoughts before finishing up with the laundry.

A soft crunch of leaves under a pair of boots, matched with a soft jingle of spurs to pair up with the evident way the loyal enforcer of the gang creeps up to you with a lazy stance. Your smile is light as you turn yourself to face him.

“Hey, princess.” Him too? Thats… Great.

Your cheeks feel warm at that silly title, “Good morning, Arthur.”

He takes the empty basket from you and you feel your heart soften just a bit at his kind gesture. Each time you look at him, you feel a slight spark between you both.

“Grimshaw been keepin’ you busy?” He looks at the long line of clothes, before that slightly boyish grin etches on his mature face.

You sigh, fiddling with your delicate cuffs, “Undeniably so. The soles of my feet ache from the amount of chores I do.” Now you understand why the maids from your manor would lightly stretch their legs before working around the interior.

He looks at you with concern, “Y’alright? Y’need anythin’?”

You shake your head politely, walking beside him slowly. “No, but thank you for your service.”

He looks down at your petite figure. You barely reached his shoulder, “Hm. If y’need anythin’, just call f’ me.” A hand comes to gently guide the small part of your back to avoid any sticks or sharp edges on the forest grounds.

“I.. I appreciate your kindness a lot.”

And he looks at you again. A shy smile.

“Any time.”

You walk with him across camp to place the basket with the other woven stacked baskets. Then, he turns towards you with a sheepish expression.

“‘M uh, ‘m gonna be ridin’ with the guys in a few minutes. I’ll be goin’ to town..” He clears his throat, “Anythin’ you want me to get f’ you?” His eyes dart to the simple little necklace you wore. He looks at your face again quickly.

You feel your cheeks becoming warm again, before shyly looking around, “Oh! Um.. I-.. Please, don’t waste your money on me.”

“It ain’t wastin’ if its ‘bout you.” He states.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

You ponder. Perhaps a proper needle and thread to sow that stubborn little hole which keeps falling apart no matter the needle you used. It’s that damn thread you have to work with, which is probably older than Hosea himself.

“If you could just buy a small amount of thread for me, that would be lovely. If you can’t find any, I don’t mind at all.”

“Right got it. Jus’ some thread? Don—”

The bellowing voice of that lanky late teen whom you remembered his name was John comes huffing out. Wheat between his mouth, and a furrowed look on his scruffy long face, “Arthur! Stop talkin’ to your girlfriend ‘n come on! We’re all waitin’ for you.”

“Pipe down, Marston. Gimme a sec,” Arthur grumbles lowly, before his hands come to hold onto his heavy belt around his waist. You almost hiss at the sound of that new title coming out of his mouth, feeling your insides burning up from fluster.

“A-Alright. I’ll see you then?” He asks, almost shyly.

You wave at him as he backs up to leave, “Bye, please travel safely.”

He nods his head before sauntering off. You watch him saddle up on that beautiful mare of his that he proudly called Boadicea and rode off with the rest of the men to rob.. Or something. You’re not really sure what they do, turning a blind eye and kept on with the chores among the campsite.

A slight nudge is felt by your side, you yelped at the sudden appearances of the other girls when you turned your head around. Karen stands beside you with a slight smirk.

“What in the world was that?” Tilly pipes up, looking at you with a smile adorning her delicate features.

You look around and peer at a tree, glancing at the ground to see multiple footprints. With that in mind, you realised the three girls were all stalking you and Arthur’s conversation.

Stammering, you pat your hands down your dress and cross your arms in front of your chest, swaying side to side and looking away to avoid eye contact with any of them. They giggle at the fact that your cheeks turn into a darker colour, “I— What do you mean?”

“Bye, please travel safely~” Karen mimics you, her pitch much higher than before with a slight drawl of poshness added to it to make you even more flustered.

“Thats not funny!” You hiss at them, before they all erupt with laughter you’ve never been acquainted to. Warm, sweet, and most importantly..

Comforting.

Your nimble hands fiddle with the ends of your frilled-tipped dress. A week since you’ve been gone from home, and won’t return until then. A week. You’ve used up all of your delicate fabrics, picky about wearing the same clothing everyday. They may call you prissy and overly prim for it, but you would quite literally rather die than be cooped up in clothes which stick to your skin from sweat and body odour from not showering nor changing.

Thus, the frequent fussing of your laundry. You’ve ought to buy another dress or so with the pocket money you stored in one of the thin pockets of your dress. Until then, you’ll have to deal with the feeling of your palms becoming more wrinkly from the many times you’ve dipped it in water.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Marybeth sits quite close to you, a shy demeanour etched within her figure. Sheepish, almost.

“Hi, princess.” She greets you with a light smile.

You smile back, feeling comfortable around the woman. She shared similar thoughts with you upon any topic you sigh about, and the same adoration for romance novels.

“Hello, Marybeth. Can I help you with anything?” You greet back, delicate hands placed on your lap.

She lightens up immediately, softly stumbling on her words, “Oh! R-right, I was just wonderin’.. well.. er,”

“—Lemme start from the beginning.” She searches for something behind her, which was stored with the other girls stuff. She grabs a book, flipping to a few pages before showing you an illustrated picture of what seemed to be the main character in the novel she held onto.

“‘S called.. Lorna Doone by RD Blackmore! A story between two star-crossed lovers.. That woman,” She points to the picture with her thin finger, “Shes the love interest of this man here,” She flips to a page of the illustration of the man.

“The man’s father was a farmer who got murdered by this clan called the Doones. Actually, if I recall.. The Doones were actually nobles but turned to outlaws. ‘N guess what? He falls in love with her, who turns out to be in this clan!” She explains with excitement, holding the novel close to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

You flutter your precious lashes a few times, before giggling lightly at her enthusiasm, unconsciously telling her to keep going with her ramblings with a light nod.

She then adds, “Right, look.. I know this is a bit silly of me to ask but..” She shyly looks at you with an upturned smile, “Could y’ maybe.. put a bit of makeup on my face? Y’know, to match with her looks?” She gestures to the illustration of Lorna drawn onto the page.

“I reaaaally admire her, ‘n’.. You get the jist right?”

You light up. Of course, shes seen you put a light bit of makeup on your face sometimes just to feel a bit prettier and pass time. In fact, you were wearing a little bit right now!

“Hmm..” You look at the picture, before glancing back at her.

“I can do that.”

“Oh!” She cheers, pulling you into a tight hug, “Thank you, princess. You’re the best!”

You giggle again at her soft squeals, before hugging the girl back with the same intensity. You saunter away for a bit to grab your small pouch of makeup products. Once you come back, you perch yourself on your knees in front of her form and politely asks her to close her eyes.

She does so immediately, watching her lashes flutter down and meet her cheeks.

You grab your small tin of home-made cream, screwing the lid off and using your finger nail to whip a dollop and gently place it on her freckle-kissed skin with a sweet hum. Your fingers rub into her face until the cream disappears and forms a very thin barrier of blurring any pores on her face.

You peer at the illustration again for a bit. It wasn’t difficult to replicate. Lorna’s lips were so prettily placed with a red stained lipstick, and her cheeks blossom touched with blush.

Your fingers clasp onto another small container, this time filled with powder grounded from rice. You’ve heard that some cosmetic manufacturing stores sold powders with arsenic and lead which drastically reduced safety in women’s skin, but in a magazine you’ve read, some women used grounded up rice powder to hide any blemishes on their skin.

With the lightest dip of a cushion, you apply the fine-rice powder onto her skin.

She hums at the smell, peaking at your nimble hand which was encased with a little cushion, “Smells kinda nice.”

“Hm.. Kinda does,” You mumble in response, lightly smiling at her pretty complexion. Finally, you reach for a thin bottle of lipstick, rubbing the tip first to get rid of the previous use you had for it and applying it with another finger, before gently dapping it on her thin lips.

Finally, you move on to the final step. Blush!

Grabbing your last makeup product from your little pouch, you use the same cushion you used for your powder, but on the other side. You dip it into the pink substance before applying it on the apples of her cheeks.

Once you were finished and packed your supplies back into your little bag, you excitedly show her face with your little floral emblemed pocket mirror, “Tada!”

She fawns over herself, lightly touching her skin. Your little tinkering and handiworks has made her feelings for her beauty burst into stars of light.

“Not much of a difference, but I applied a bit more blush on your cheeks to emphasise it. At the end of the day, y’can just wash your face with some warm water ‘n’ a bar of clean soap.” You mention, before she nods.

“Thank you, princess! Why, I ought to show the other girls!” She happily smiles, before hitching her magenta skirt lightly and tittering off to find the other ladies her new look. Her excitement bounces off the lonesome camp, but it feels like it’s bustling with energy from the other women around. A much different place when the men were gone.

“Well I’ll be,” That southern drawl catches your attention as the man you were closest to amongst this group approaches from behind. You turn, smile drawn onto your demure features as you stand up from your spot and saunter closer.

“Looks like you ‘n Marybeth were having a good time.” He crosses his arms and relies on the soles of his feet to keep him standing, peering at you.

“When did you arrive?” You question, sizing him up and down a few times to see if he sustained any injuries.

“Just a few moments ago.” You didn’t even hear the sounds of Boadicea’s footsteps clacking on the rough grounds. Just how skilled was he when it came to horseback?

Then, he reaches to his pocket and grabs the thread you asked for. You lightly gasp and profusely thanked him.

Your hands enclasped around his and picked the string from his palm.

His heart flutters lightly at the quick touch, breath hitching in his chest as he takes a step back.

“I can finally sow that little pest of a hole in my dress now! Thank you, Arthur. I really appreciate it.”

He grunts, clearing his throat before looking away. “‘S all good.”

You place it in one of your pockets, “How can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He gently chimes, the rim of his hat tipped lightly down. You puff your cheeks at his nonchalantness, trying to poke and prod at him to waver a bit on repaying him. But of course, he stood firm on his decision and doesn’t budge.

“..Please?” Cue your big beady eyes staring up at him.

“M-m.”

“…Why not.”

“Cuz it don’t matter. ‘S just string.”

“But.. it must’ve been a bit expensive.”

“Princess. ‘S string.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“Arthur!” You whine lightly.

“Princess.” He hums in response, before placing his hand on your waist and guiding you to where food is served in a large pot.

“C’mon, lets eat.” Somehow, you forget everything he’s said because of how gently he treated you.

From the other side of camp…

Tilly, Marybeth with her newly applied makeup- smudged a bit from unconsciously itching her face, and a Karen watches the two. Javier— curiously grouping with them.

“…Chicas, what are we staring at?”

“Shhh. We’re lookin’ at plot development.”

[darknight3904]

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Three- Strangers

Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader, Slowburn!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living at the end of the world is never easy, and a simple trip for basic essentials can mean life or death.

Warnings for this part: Canon typical violence, language, gore, and horror. Period products make another appearance. Reader and Tommy being the apocalypse's cutest couple. Check the Series Masterlist for expanded warnings.

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Word Count: 3.4k

March 2004, Somewhere in the Southeastern half of the US

The bright blue letters on the sign seemed like a juxtaposition to you. The entire parking lot was trashed, overturned cars, dead bodies, and old trash littered the ground as you stared up at the shiny blue letters on the building. 

“Remind me what we need,” Tommy says from the driver's seat 

“Well, basically everything.” You hum, staring at the list in your lap, “You and I are grabbing toiletries and clothes, Joel is on food and camping shit. Oh, we also need oil for the truck.” 

The three of you sit in the truck, unmoving and silent. No one wanted to be the first to leave the safety of the vehicle, entering a fucking Walmart might be the death of you afterall. 

As usual, Joel is the one to lead; he pushes his door open, mumbling about staying quiet and being quick. 

The brothers pry the doors open, and you click your flashlight on. The inside of the store is like every other place, trashed. Overturned carts sit on their sides, contents of whatever people were trying to buy spilling onto the dirty floor. 

As for life forms, infected or not, the store seems relatively empty. A few dead infected lay every few aisles as you stick behind Tommy, Joel turning off to go find what's left of the canned goods and cereal aisles. 

“It’s empty.” You observe as you carefully step around an overturned display of baby diapers. 

“Yeah,” Tommy leers, “Don’t like it, stay alert.” 

Tommy keeps watch as you grab a cart and begin filling it, you clear the toothpaste shelf; there wasn’t much left anyway, maybe twenty tubes at best, before turning and reaching for a big bag of handheld flossers. The next aisle over is nearly picked clean, you sigh and begin grabbing what bottles of shampoo and body wash aren't already crushed and spilling out onto the concrete floor. 

“Not that one.” Tommy directs 

You glance down at what you hold, a men’s three-in-one body wash from Dove, sitting in your hands. It advertises an extra deep clean through the use of charcoal and clay. You look up at Tommy wordlessly, questioning why he’s turning down a full bottle of soap.

“It makes my ass itch.” He whispers 

A snort escapes your lips, and you slap a hand over your mouth, doing nothing to hide your amusement. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, one day it’ll happen to you.” Tommy sighs, grabbing the body wash and putting it back on the shelf.

“What? My ass itching or finding a body wash I hate?” You tease 

“Just…grab that bar soap and get moving, we still need your shit and then we gotta find Joel.” Tommy shakes his head 

You push the cart into the feminine hygiene section, to your delight, whoever came through here last left some products behind. Three boxes of tampons and even a big pack of the huge overnight pads are now in your possession.

“What the fuck is this?” Tommy asks suddenly 

You spin around to see him holding a cardboard box labeled DivaCup in his hands. You lean over his shoulders, equally confused. Turning the box over, you skim the instructions and diagram. 

“Oh, I saw a commercial for this once.” You say, “It's an alternative to tampons, it's this silicone cup that you fold up and y’know…” 

Tommy looks over at you, “You mean…you shove this up there?” 

“Yeah, put it in the cart, I might need it one day.” You say you’ve never used one, but if you ran out of everything else, it might be your only option.

The cup falls into the car with a small thunk as Tommy shakes his head, “Glad I wasn’t born a girl.” 

“Yeah, well, Mr. My Ass Itches, you’re only here cuz of girls and their periods.” 

“I know, I know, just glad I don’t gotta-” 

The sound of something big falling over has both of you shutting your mouths. Tommy’s gun raises slowly, and the joking demeanor he had just moments ago gone. He motions for you to stay quiet and then waves his hand to follow him. 

The cart squeaks as you slowly push it, your hands gripping the handles so tight your knuckles are white with fear. Another thud sounds and you nearly jump out of your skin when something turns the corner, nearly colliding with you and Tommy. 

A young man, maybe your age is staring at both of you. He’s covered in dirt and his clothes are torn. 

“Please don’t shoot. I just…I saw you guys push the doors open and followed you in…I just needed some supplies, didn’t mean to get in your way I just got scared.” 

Your eyes flick to the man's bare feet which are bleeding, most likely from the glass that was shattered from the cars in the parking lot. Tommy’s gun slowly lowers as he takes in the stranger before you. 

“Stay away from us, you can have whatever shit you want.” Tommy says slowly 

The guy nods before fixing his gaze on the gun, “I-Is the store clear? I don’t have any weapons and infected are-” 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Joel. 

You turn around to face the bright light of Joel’s flashlight, it wasn’t working a few days ago, he must’ve found some batteries. Batteries meant that the radio you found a week ago will work, you might be able to get some news of what the fucks going on. The sound of Joel’s revolver clicking into place has you snapping out of your haze.

“W-Wait!” The guy stammers, his arms raised 

“Joel, he’s harmless.” You vouch for him, “He doesn’t even have a pair of shoes.” 

“Can’t be too sure, might be part of a larger group gunning to kill us.” Joel says 

“I’m not, I just need supplies.” The guy pleads

“Yeah if that's true why didn’t you just come in here yourself. I heard you, you said you followed us in.” 

“I couldn’t get the doors open. I’ve been waiting days for someone to come buy and pull them open for me!” 

“Could’ve broken the glass on the doors.” Joel points out 

“And let the infected follow me in? I'm not that stupid.” 

Joel scoffs and you glance at Tommy, hoping he’d help your case. The loud bang of something outside has all of you turning towards the exit. 

“What was that?” You ask, it sounded similar to a gunshot or small explosion 

“S’ a car, backfiring.” Tommy says 

You follow Joel and Tommy who are already sprinting back to the parking lot. Three other people sit in the truck Joel had taken back in Austin, you had been lucky to find the keys sitting in the ignition and before you knew it you were sitting in the back while Tommy and Joel bickered about what direction to go. Now, you watched as a woman and a man were arguing, cables from the dashboard in their hands. 

“Shut the fuck up, Perry, I know what I’m doing! We need the car going so when Isaac gets back we can-” 

You watch as Joel yanks the woman by the back of her shirt out of the driver's seat. She lands on her ass in the dirt as Joel shouts at Perry and the other guy to get out. 

You turn to the stranger whom you now know as Isaac, 

“You were setting us up.” You accuse 

“No! I don’t even know them!” He lies 

You fumble with the hunting knife Tommy had given to you weeks ago, holding it out infront of you as to stare at Isaac, “Don’t fucking move.” 

A gunshot rings out, followed by loud wailing. The woman kneels over Perry, or what was Perry, since Joel has blown his brains across the Walmart parking lot. 

“You fucking-” The third man who was sititing in the backseat when you ran out lunges at Joel but is stopped when Tommy fires a bullet into his upper thigh, reducing him to a sniveling pile of blood and tears. 

Joel lets two more shots fly, and the man and woman fall to the ground. Your eyes widen as you turn to watch the pool of blood form around them. You had seen Joel kill before, or well heard it at least, Tommy was careful to keep you away from Joel whenever you had all encountered other people on the open road, always telling you to turn away or go sit in the truck. 

A heavy weight from behind rests on your shoulders as Isaac grabs you, one arm secured around your neck, the other hand rips the knife from your hand, pressing it to the soft skin of your throat. 

“Hey!” Isaac shouts 

A choking sound fills your ears as you register that it comes out of your mouth. You stumble as Isaac drags you backward, fear filling your system when a prick of pain follows after he presses the knife down harder. 

“Let her go,” Tommy says, his gun up and focused on Isaac, behind him, Joel stands his own gun raised 

“Give me the keys to the truck, and I'll let her go.” Isaac bargains 

“You can let her go, and I won’t put a bullet between your eyes,” Joel says 

“The keys.” Isaac shouts, “Or I cut her pretty throat open.” 

Isaac shifts, pushing you slightly away from him, his scratchy voice whispering something only you can hear as he pulls you back a few more paces. 

“How much are you worth to them? You must be something else if they’re both pointing their guns at me, tell me do you fuck them both at once, or it is it trading situation? You can tell me all about it tonight after I-” 

Warm, wet metallic splatters across your face as Isaac falls to the ground. Your ears ring as you try to wipe the red out of your vision. Tommy rushes up to you, his hands cradling your face as you blearily try to focus on what he’s saying. 

“You alright? I didn’t graze ya or anything?” 

You shake your head and fall into his warm arms, a small whimper escaping you as he hugs you. He runs a hand through your hair as he says something about you being safe again. 

Joel and Tommy work to load the truck up, you lie in the backseat, wrapped in Tommy’s flannel as the brothers toss what you had found in Walmart into the bed of the truck. 

“Is she alright?” Joel asks quietly 

“She’ll be fine, just shaken up, I think.” Tommy says back 

A beat of silence followed by the sound of one of them tossing another something into the bags you kept in the truck bed. 

“We can’t trust strangers. You see that now, right?” Joel points out 

“I know…It’s just…they’re people too. Probably used to work some 9-5 and went drinking on the weekends…” Tommy sighs 

You can practically hear the malice in Joel’s voice when he speaks again, “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

Joel miraculously finds a farmhouse a few hours later. He’d been driving aimlessly, just trying to get away from the main roads, when the sign for “Twin Maple Farm” came up. The farmhouse has seen better days. Someone had already come through and looted it and one of the doors has a sign pinned on it that said don’t open in simple cursive. You had pushed it open anyway and nearly puke at the sight. A half-decomposed man sits upright in bed. He was probably only dead a month or so, his skin bloated and half ripped open by god only knows what. The window by the bed is half open, bringing fresh air in but the scent still has you gagging as you slam the door shut. 

Don’t open was the understatement of the century. 

“What's wrong?” Tommy asks when you reappear to help them unload some of the bags in the truck. 

“There's a body upstairs, half rotted away.” You explain quietly 

That night, in the glow of a lantern, Tommy sits with you at the kitchen table, a couple of baby wipes sit in his hands as he tries to rid your face and hair of Isaac’s blood. 

“Tomorrow, we can see if the shower works. I checked it out, the shower head is rusty, but I think Joel and I can get it going.” 

The idea of a shower, even a cold one, nearly has you crying. You brush the tears out of your waterline as Tommy chuckles. 

“I know, I wanna get clean too.” 

“Yeah, you totally stink.” You mumble 

He laughs harder and runs a thumb across your cheek, “Yknow who stinks more though?” 

“Joel.” The two of you deadpan in unison.

Joel listens to the laughter and hushed whispers that flood down the hall to the living room. Here he was busting his ass, dragging a mattress down the steps and his brother was telling jokes to his girlfriend for fun. Typical Tommy, even at the end of the world he was chatting the pretty girl up instead of doing anything useful. 

Joel sits down on the mattress he’d dragged down the steps, it was a small full size, if the fool upstairs hadn’t blown his brains out, they’d have access to a queen size as well, but no, he was upstairs, rotting away on a perfectly good mattress that Joel could’ve slept on. 

Joel stares at the bags of food and other necessities they’d been able to take from Walmart. All in all, it was a pretty good haul. At least 50 cans of assorted soups and a good twenty bags of pasta, Joel had even managed to snag a few boxes of Pop-Tarts and even a family-size box of Fruit Loops.  He sighs and looks over what toiletries you and Tommy had found, from the looks of it you and his brother had done even better than he had. Many boxes of toothpaste and six bottles of assorted body wash stared at him as he combed through the duffle. One box said DivaCup; Joel had no idea what that was, but hey, if you needed it, it wasn’t his business. 

Thumping footsteps have him glancing up, you and Tommy reappear, hand in hand, as the two of you plop down on the couch across from him. 

“Not bad, huh?” Tommy asks 

“Yeah, would’ve been nice to have some meds though, you two didn’t see any Advil or Tylenol?” Joel asks 

“The pharmacy section was picked clean.” You shake your head 

Figures. Of course, the end of the world happened, and the drugs were the first thing that people swiped off the shelves. 

“I’m sleepin’ first tonight, one of you can take the first watch,” Joel says, eager to be the first one to lie on this mattress, no matter how small it is. 

Joel continues to count the canned goods and other supplies while you and Tommy disappear into the kitchen again, this time to warm up a few cans of chicken noodle soup. 

He doesn’t know what you and his brother have become. Sometimes he catches the two of you making out in the dead of night when you both should be sleeping. Other times he watches Tommy pick a few wildflowers before presenting them to you as a sad pass for a bouquet. In some people’s minds it might be endearing, a budding romance while the world has literally come crashing down. Instead, it has him filled with a feeling that he can only describe as bitterness. Bitterness for the world and the hand it's dealt him. Why should his brother get to be so happy with some girl while Joel sits, haunted by his daughter every time he closes his damn eyes.

 It’s not fucking fair. 

Tommy watches as you dump the cans of soup into a pot, the gas stove already going after he got it going with a match. God, you look pretty like this, barely illuminated by a shitty camping lantern and the blue flame of the stove. Tommy feels his heart squeeze as you give him a small smile. He didn’t think he’d ever really get a chance with you, always presumed you’d written him off as a weirdo and that you’d eventually move off to college and shack up with some Chad in a pastel polo shirt who worked in finance. Guess the apocalypse has its perks. 

“Is there something on my face?” You ask, “You’re staring.” 

“What? Oh, no.” He says, “Just admiring.” 

You scoff and go back to stirring the soup, “Admiring what?” 

“The pretty girl in front of me.” Tommy grins, flashing a smile that usually got him what he wanted. 

He can practically hear your eye roll as you pull a few bowls from the cupboard. He shifts, taking a few small steps to rest his head on your shoulder, his hands circling your waist, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. 

“I think I was wrong, Joel might not be the smelliest one here.” He teases, his nose crinkling as he sniffs you

You shove him off you a laugh escaping your lips, “You’re a dick.” 

The three of you wolf down your bowls of soup. The past week had been rough; you’d been running on nothing but granola bars and stale potato chips. Now, your stomach felt like it might burst as you lounged on the porch with Tommy. He had insisted that he could keep watch alone, but you didn’t think you could sleep anyway, so here you were sitting beside him on a porch swing, your legs kicked up, resting in his lap.

Your thoughts swirl as you stare up at the night sky. You think about what happened today, how Joel had killed those people, how Isaac’s scratchy voice still rang in your head even now. You pick at your fingers, trying to not imagine what would’ve happened if he had gotten the truck and stolen you away from Tommy and Joel. 

“You alright?” Tommy asks 

“M’fine.” You mumble shallowly 

“Now I know we’re kinda a new thing, but I can tell when a girl is lyin’. What’s going on?” He asks again 

You sigh and stare at him, trying to hide the shake in your voice as you speak, “I’m safe here, right? With you and Joel?” 

Tommy straightens up at this, his hand coming to rest on your knee, “Course you are…Do you not feel safe with us?’ 

“No, I do…it’s just, earlier today that guy said some stuff that's been stuck in my head.” You shudder, “It’s just making me think about how I guess some guys are probably using the end of the world to y’know…” 

Tommy nods, he gets it, and you breathe a sigh of relief that he understands you. 

“Don’t know what he said, you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t wanna, but if you ever feel unsafe with me or Joel, you can tell us, but I promise we wouldn’t ever hurt a woman like that, and we definitely wouldn't do that to you.”

You nod, shifting to tuck yourself into his side, sighing when his warm body touches yours. Sometimes you just crave the heat of another person. 

“Joel scares me…He didn’t before, but some of the stuff today, it just freaks me out.” You admit, hoping Tommy won’t be mad, after all, he killed a man today as well, Joel had just looked scarier to you. Besides, Tommy didn’t exactly have a choice when Isaac was standing with you like that, right?

Tommy is silent for a moment, the only sounds being the squeaking of the porch swing as it rocks back and forth. His thumb draws circles on your shoulder as his arm rests over you. 

“He scares me sometimes, too. Sometimes I look at him and I don’t even recognize him, it’s like he’s some…hollow shell. I know why he’s like that, it’s just…I dunno…” 

“Strange.” You finish for him 

“Yeah, something like that…It’s just, he worries me, always quiet and sulking off in a corner. Fuck I mean of course he’s like that, everything with Sarah…it makes sense, I just, M’worried for his mental health y’know?” 

You snuggle closer to Tommy, like the fabric of his shirt will be enough to protect you from the horrors of the outside world, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his shoulder, sighing as you speak, 

“I know.” 

Next Part

I can't find Tommy's official age anywhere. We know Joel is 36 on outbreak day, so in this fic I've written Tommy to be about 29/30 on outbreak day, reader is about 20 and a half at this point.

I came to a realization that not everyone might know what the southeastern half of the US is. Here is a diagram for those who don’t know. I picture the trio in the Kentucky/Virginia area (The states that are the lighter red towards the top of the map)

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@freythecrazyfae @rae-gar-targaryen @keseqna @eniepascal

[tealottie]

DUCKBLR FASHION WEEK 2025 #DuckblrFashionWeek25 #DFW25

Here are the 2025 prompts for this year in celebration of Pride Month starting Monday next week! All of these are very open to interpretation, but if anyone wants more context; below the cut!

Monday: Bedazzled Ball An ode to ballroom culture that celebrates drag fashion and provided a community for queer people who needed a place to express themselves. This specific culture especially gave many black and latin people a place to call home.

Tuesday: Fragment 31 To honor one of Sappho's most famous poems that highlights loving women to a point of pain. Of understanding a woman's beauty deeper than anyone else ever could.

Wednesday: To st4rs and Time A T4T and transgender celebration of glam rock and the gender nonconforming artists before us who broke down the walls for us to show us the stars.

Thursday: Butcher the Norm A play on words. Celebrate butch identities; mascs, nonbinary people, transmascs, studs by embracing breaking down what stereotypical femininity and masculinity mean.

Friday: Versatile Vile Celebration of sexuality and embracing the diversity we have in our community.

Saturday: Bound in Binary Whether queer people celebrate their binary identities or denounce the concept of the binary as a whole; this is meant to be open ended in a celebratory manner. Find the meaning of this prompt in your own way. What does gender mean to you?

Sunday: Rocky Horror A homage to a camp classic; Rocky Horror Picture Show. Horror and camp alike have long been a part of queer culture, and now even shapes mainstream pop culture. We should be proud of this!

[tiamathh]

Your Next Friendship <3

Note: it's been a while, this is a repost but I have the same audience I had like 4 years ago so bear with me, new pac being worked on love you stay hydrated stay healthy muah <33 like and rb if you can!

Do not plagiarise, reword, steal, repost my work!

✧ Masterlist

Pile 1

Oh, this is cute, this will be a very new beginning for both parties!! There will be a lot of innocence here, it's playful and will help heal your inner child. This person may even help you feel freer, you could help them back by making them be more careful and grounded with their decisions. You may be manifesting this friendship!! It will definitely be some sort of wish fulfilment for you. They would be someone who's really accomplished and successful in whatever they do, they could have Aries or Capricorn in their chart as well. They'll teach you how to be more confident and open to accepting love and affection. Your relationship dynamic is very given and take, however you may find yourself too absorbed in this friendship at one point where you could miss out on meeting new people and making more friends, so beware of that.

Ah there's so much cheerful and extroverted energy here! The person coming in is definitely a people person, they may love socialising and something about their laugh will stand out, they could like accessorising as well. They're someone who looks towards the brighter side of life, but they may have problems with facing negative emotions, which could lead to toxic positivity to a certain extent. They may also like spoiling their loved ones with gifts, you may work on a project together as well.

Keywords: close, build, seeking answers, paying attention, curiosity, money, status, complacency, love you as a friend, anger, define, allowed, everything, dreams, smooth, why? Far away

Song: Manta Rays - Chloe Moriondo

Pile 2

Ah, okay so this person is probably someone who is mysterious and can come off as deceptive at times. The kind of person you may think is shady or brooding, someone who could be a little more pessimistic. They could be struggling with their mental health and could get stuck in their own head quite a bit, and may have issues with feelings of inadequacy. This friendship may be more for them and less for you, it's giving karmic relationship where you'll help heal them and they'll teach you important lessons. They could be extremely wise beyond their years, but they could have trouble expressing it in a way that doesn't come off as slightly argumentative.

However, your relationship dynamic would be very sweet and promote a lot of growth for the both of you. They may teach you how to stand up for yourself more and take a more realistic approach, maybe you're someone who is more idealistic, they'll help ground you whereas you can teach them how to take it easy and not be very hard on themselves. This would be a very strong bond, they may be someone who believe actions speak louder than words and their love language could be acts of service and physical touch, they would be the kind to ensure your comfort over anything else and could remember small details about you.

Keywords: angry, forgive, camp, dirty shoes, first choice, night conversations, strangers, doubts, imagine, almonds, loneliest, accept myself, worship, passion, devotion, planning.

Song: Wish on the same sky - Monsta X

Pile 3

Oh, this could be someone who you could meet either while travelling or online. They may be different than you in terms of your ideologies, ethnicity, country, etc. They could also be someone who has different ideologies from you and could teach you how to look at things from different perspectives especially if you're more stubborn and set in your own ways. There could be some argumentative energy here, initially there could be a bit of conflict however the both of you will bring balance into each other's lives. They may teach you how to balance your masculine and feminine energies and make them work together rather than focusing on one at a time.

This could prove to be a perfect partnership, probably a long-term friendship as well, this person will be charming and fearless, they could be someone who thinks about consequences after an action been completed, a bit impulsive but it works for them either way. You could think they're really lucky and generous, something about their hair would stand out as well, they could attract big crowds too. Your dynamic would rely a lot on words and communication, maybe you text more than call but they would be big on words of affirmation, the kind to stop you from continuing negative self-talk (if you do talk negatively about yourself).

Keywords: power, universe at play, timing, patience, repression, hunger, senses, hands, drink, forever, exploring, learning, protection, in love, believe, trying, dream girl, boring clothes.

Song: Suburban Wonderland - BETWEEN FRIENDS

[hanespiritu]

I HOPE HE'S NOT PREGNANT

(Neoptolemus x Telemachus)

written by: Han Espiritu

Disclaimer: I got the story idea from an art by @callisto-artsy NYEHEHEHEHEHEHHE

---

The morning sun peeked through the linen curtains of the Ithacan guest room, golden rays falling directly across the tangled mess of limbs on the bed. One of those limbs—specifically a muscular, slightly hairy one—twitched, and then Neoptolemus cracked open one bleary eye.

His first thought was, My head feels like it was used as a war drum by Apollo himself.

His second thought, upon seeing the bruised, marked, completely shirtless man next to him, was, Oh. Right.

Telemachus groaned beside him, half-awake and already regretting life. “My back hurts. Why does my back hurt?” he muttered into the pillow.

“You kept arching it like that,” Neo said sleepily, voice raspy from both sleep and the night before. “I think I was holding your hips too hard.”

Telemachus rolled over—and promptly winced. “You think?”

Neoptolemus’ eyes trailed lazily down the red, blue, and distinctly tooth-shaped trails he’d left along Telemachus’ chest and collarbones. His gaze then stopped, horrified, somewhere near Telemachus’ lower stomach.

Telemachus noticed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Neo’s brow furrowed. “Is your stomach… swollen?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Neo said, voice high-pitched and uncertain, “I think it’s slightly rounder than last night?”

“I had four helpings of lamb stew, you absolute pelican,” Telemachus groaned. “Don’t make me regret sleeping with you more than I already do.”

But Neoptolemus was now spiraling. “Wait. Wait. Telemachus. Telemachus.”

“What?”

“Do you feel… different?”

“I feel like I got tackled by a minotaur.”

Neo’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

Telemachus sat up, scowling. “Why are you making that face.”

“I hope you’re not pregnant.”

There was a pause. A thick, stunned, drop-a-pin-on-the-marble-floor kind of pause.

“…Excuse me?” Telemachus asked slowly.

“I’m just saying!” Neoptolemus threw up his hands defensively, blankets falling off his shoulders. “I’ve never done that with a man before. What if it… you know, triggered something?”

“Triggered something?! What do you think this is, divine conception?!”

“I don’t know!” Neo gestured wildly at Telemachus’ torso. “You’re glowing!”

“I’m sweaty!”

“You have that... glow!”

“That’s grease from the stew!”

“I don’t know anatomy, Telemachus, I was raised in a war camp!” Neo cried.

“Oh my gods—”

“Do you know anatomy?”

Telemachus blinked. “I—what? Yes?! Yes, I—what kind of question—?”

“Because my father never taught me how babies work!”

“That’s not what we’re even—OH GODS, NEO.”

Neo buried his head in his hands. “Do we need to consult a healer? Should I go to the temple? What’s the procedure for post-coital male pregnancy?”

“There is no procedure because that’s not a thing!” Telemachus shrieked.

Then came a knock.

Both froze.

“…Telemachus?” called a voice from outside the door—calm, feminine, very, very familiar.

“NO GODS NO,” Telemachus whispered. “My mother.”

Neo went pale. “Should I jump out the window?”

“You’re naked!”

“I’ll take the blanket!”

“No, stay still!” Telemachus hissed, yanking the covers over himself like that would erase the evidence.

The door cracked open and there stood Penelope, dignified as ever, one brow slowly rising.

She looked at her son.

She looked at Neoptolemus.

She looked at the scattered armor, the knocked-over vase, and the distinct constellation of hickeys and love bites trailing down Telemachus’ body like a sailor’s map.

Her expression didn’t change, but the air dropped to Hades-level cold.

“…Is now a bad time?” she asked, voice smooth and even more terrifying because of it.

“Yes,” Telemachus said instantly. “Horrible.”

She nodded once. “I’ll wait for you in the courtyard. Bring both of yourselves. Fully clothed. In twenty minutes.” She turned and left.

Telemachus waited until the door clicked shut.

Then: “I’m going to walk into the sea.”

Neo sat very still. “I think we’re cursed.”

“No. We’re idiots. There’s a difference.”

Neo touched Telemachus’ shoulder with an uncertain hand. “If… if you are pregnant—”

“I’M NOT!”

“—then I will raise the child with you.”

“NEO.”

“I mean it!” Neo insisted. “I’ll learn to knit! I’ll build a crib! I’ll—I’ll name them after Patroclus—”

“Neo, I’m going to smother you with a pillow.”

Neo pouted. “You’re being very aggressive for someone who might be carrying my heir.”

“Stop TALKING.”

They sat in silence.

A beat passed.

Then Neo frowned again. “Okay but hypothetically, if a man could get pregnant—”

“I swear on Poseidon’s left nipple if you finish that sentence—”

“—would the baby come out of his mouth?”

Telemachus screamed into the pillow.

---

In the courtyard, Penelope sipped from her tea like a queen preparing for blood.

Neoptolemus whispered, “Do I bow to her? Or do I kneel?”

“She’s not a goddess, she’s my mother!”

“She has that aura, okay?! I feel like my soul’s being judged.”

Penelope looked up at them. “So. Rough night?”

Telemachus opened his mouth.

Neo said, “We think he might be pregnant.”

Penelope stared.

A bird in the tree dropped dead.

Telemachus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother, please ignore him, he’s stupid.”

“I—” Neo started, only to be met with the most disappointed glance Penelope had ever given a man since Odysseus told her he was "just going to pick up milk" twenty years ago and didn’t come back for a decade.

She looked at Telemachus. “We’ll talk about the marks later.”

Then she turned to Neo.

“And you. We’ll talk about anatomy now.”

---

Ten minutes later, Neoptolemus sat stiffly in the garden, knees together, posture perfect. Penelope had drawn diagrams in the dirt. There were sticks, stones, and several very pointed questions.

“So,” she asked, “where do you think babies come from?”

“I thought... maybe the stomach.”

“And how do they exit the body?”

“…The mouth?”

Penelope breathed deeply. “Telemachus, go fetch the physician. We’re starting from the beginning.”

Telemachus snickered as he walked away.

Neo called after him, “Hey! I’m trying! This is for our child!”

“WE DON’T HAVE A CHILD!”

“You don’t know that!”

Telemachus threw up his hands to the sky.

The gods, very likely, were laughing.

---

⚠️ Plagiarism Warning:

This work is original and written by HAN ESPIRITU. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission. Plagiarizing or claiming this story as your own is strictly prohibited and will be reported.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 9

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

July 1983

There is a crackle and a pop that comes from the fire that dances before you. Fiery like an angry monster erupting from his hibernation, ready to feed. The wood sizzles, as the last bit of sap cooks from the bark. Moisture drains as the wood turns to ash.

Your eyes train to the open night sky. Trees touch the air reaching out to the heavens above. Pine has become one of your favorite scents since coming out to camp here nights ago. This is one of the final nights all together.

That being said, you’re a bit melancholic about going home tomorrow. At home, you won’t have the dramatic retelling of woodland monsters by Eddie who ghosts over the flames, and nearly commands them to bend and to turn. You won’t have Gareth’s half decent cooking that sits just right in your belly, and not making you bloat out until you’re about to burst. Freak quietly eats the leftovers from dinner time. Hot dogs. Potato chips. It’s all quite typical of a camping trip. And, Jeff, who plays you songs on his harmonica that he says his grandfather taught him ages ago. You’re immersed in the experience, truly.

Jeff puts down the harmonica a moment, and Eddie files his stories back between his ears. The conversation is light. Although, there is a line crossed eventually. Gareth storms off down a darkened path to a lake of water to get some air. You tell the group that you’re going to the bathroom quickly after this happens.

You sneak around the campers, and take a flashlight with you. The pathway is a straightforward slope. Even if you somehow veered off the path and onto the thick wood, you would hear the water and still push forward until you hit the lake.

The large moon overhead mirrors into the water, along with its friends - the stars. Ripples in the tide gently caress the sand leaving soggy wet trails. You can find Gareth making purchase against a fallen log not too far from the path.

“May I join you?” You clear your throat, adjusting the flashlight to the beach floor when Gareth squints at you.

Gareth doesn’t have much to say to you. It’s not you that has him irritated after all. He drops the tension built at the base of his jaw, and his shoulders follow.

You take this as an invite, and you scoot not-so-close next to him. The sea speaks to you. She says so many words without saying anything at all. The freedom to travel the world, and to touch so many people. She’s home to many creatures. And, abused by so many humans. They take advantage of her generosity, and thus is the meaning of womanhood. You could shred your English teacher apart for giving you a scalding hot ‘D’ on your essay about femininity. For him, the world bended on hand and knee.

At least you wouldn’t have to take a class with him this upcoming year.

“Moon’s big,” you bite your tongue for such a silly little thing to say.

Gareth kicks the sand and the pebbles at his feet, “I know they’re just teasing me because they’re older.”

Their conversation grew childish, as Eddie had picked on Gareth for his lack of experience with women. It nicked a hole in his pride, or perhaps invited the shy little boy to rise to the surface after all of these years. Truthfully, the sting of Eddie’s comment isn’t what bothers him. The other guys laughs. It’s all a joke to them. But, internally Gareth has been struggling. All by his age, the boys had at least one date under their belt.

You inhale deeply, which grabs Gareth’s attention. With the moonlight caressing your skin like a tender hand holding up your chin to bless you even more beautifully than you already are, Gareth knows how screwed he is. Jeff has told him to back off. He insists that you’re Eddie’s girl. You’re fueled by a secret passion that burns only for Eddie.

That might be true by the way you laugh undeniably hard whenever you are left together. Oh, your laugh is a fresh breeze on a hot day. Warm sun punches his body. The leaves on the trees begin to shake. Finally, the wind kisses his ears coolly in a most needed sort of way.

In a way, he needs you to laugh at him like that.

“Don’t let them get to you,” you shrug your shoulders up and down. The flashlight has fallen into the sand, while still on. Shadows of their toes hit the beach sand making silly little puppets. “You don’t have to go around sleeping with every girl you see. I’ve never . . .”

Your confidence fails you right then. Simply, you didn’t want to seem suggestive towards Gareth. Well, in case a situation like that might happen. That’s not to say that it would. But, you know - you have a long life ahead of you and Gareth isn’t the worst looking guy you’ve seen. Or, calling him not-the-worst sounds wrong. That’s not what you meant.

Gareth bursts your train of thought, “I’ve never even kissed a girl. Shouldn’t I have at least done that?”

Was he really asking you for advice? Sure, your first kiss was soggy and far too wet for your liking. You could have sucked face with a frog, and he would have been kinder than- oh, it doesn’t matter. First kisses are always less amazing than what you expect. That’s why you practice.

“There isn’t a timeline on this sort of stuff,” you explain to him. “It just sort of happens. Some people don’t get kissed until they’re forty.”

Gareth’s half glare shuts your mouth, before you could make him feel any worse. So, you’re not good at this? Who knew?

“I cannot wait for my first kiss to be when I’m forty,” he snorts lightly. “Eddie’s already-,”

You jerk your head, but the end of the sentence never falls out of his mouth. Gareth’s quite red in the face, and he doesn’t dare turn his head back to you.

“Eddie can do whatever - whoever he wants,” you pretend like the bomb Gareth dropped doesn’t bother you, but he watches your shoulders bend slightly.

According to Jeff, you’re Eddie’s girl. They’ve spoken a lot. Jeff’s advice is to back off, before Gareth gets bitten. Knowing Eddie, he’s a shark that could take you down whole if he wanted too. That’s not to criticize his close friend. It’s just that keeping you so close, but to not make a move on you is beyond childish to think of. He has to understand that one day someone will come along and ask you on a date. That they’ll sweep you off your feet. You deserve to be loved, and to be held. Not kept under Eddie’s shadow.

Oh, God. Can Gareth risk loosing Eddie as not only a friend, but as a major part of a band they created. This band means everything to all of its members. The sound is so unique, and so new. They could really be going somewhere with this.

Gareth decides in that moment that he would rather chance making the band a success, and to keep everyone and everything the same as it has always been. One day he can wake up without humming to the tune of you. That the scent of your perfume doesn’t send him into a trance-like-state of utter silliness.

The burn in his belly aches. Gareth stares into the sea, as though he’s thrown his greatest secret, and his greatest worry into the ocean. She swallows the message whole. Yeah, if only that works. He hangs his head.

Your fingertips grace the top of his left shoulder blade. Even though his jacket, Gareth can imagine the softness that the pads of your fingers provide. Soft and smooth ridges pepper alonghis hidden skin like a well-rehearsed song and dance.

“Gareth,” the sound of your voice melts him. “Are you okay?”

Gareth cocks his head in your direction. You watch in waiting as his eyes fall to your lips. Hopefully, he doesn’t see you tremble too.

There is a moment that the both of you share in complete silence. The waves quiet themselves. The trees no longer move, but rather watch the scene unfold in front of them. It’s perfectly romantic.

Hot breath hits your face. Gareth has become closer to you, or maybe you moved to him. You swallow thickly. He licks his lips.

Pause.

There is a thrust of wind that hit the both of you, but doesn’t cause either of you to break away. It only moves you closer. Hand in hand.

“Fuck it,” Gareth mutters to himself, and closes the gap.

Slotting his lips against yours, Gareth could swear he hears the heavens calling from beyond. You tangle your fingers into his hair, holding on for dear life. While Gareth’s lips aren’t classically trained, you hold out for practice. The message is clearly written. His nose bumps against yours, and you hum through locked lips. Gareth sneaks his grip on you around your waist, below your jacket. The skin there is cool. Shivers wrestle up your spine. you around the waist below your jacket in a bold move. You gasp.

As the kiss ends, you both find pulling away to come too soon. Sneaking in one or two more small kisses, your eyes do finally meet. Your lips are swollen and damp, and so are Gareth’s lips. Somehow you’ve tangled yourself into him. Threatening to swing your legs back over his lap, Gareth grasps the back of your knee with his hand.

“Stay,” he stammers out of breath. “Please.”

You nod - completely winded yourself.

“Maybe you could use a bit more practice?” You pinch your fingers together with a suggestive smirk playing against your lips.

Gareth cackles into the sky, then lets his head fall back to you. “Seriously?”

You nibble your bottom lip.

Gareth brings his lips to yours once again bringing your two bodies into one shared unit. You wait to slip into something deeper that he isn’t quite ready for yet. Instead, the two of you spend far too long enjoying the moment.

There is a group of campers not far away wondering where you have gone off too. Robin rides into the darkness with the assistance of a flashlight to use the bathroom. Hopefully, you haven’t died in there yet.

Robin does catch up with you two in the sharp fork that’s along the pathways. If you head upwards, you’ll begin to smell the bathrooms not too far away. Down the hill is the short walk to the lakeside where you’ve just come from.

“I went to the bathroom, and then I went to find Gareth,” you explain rapidly to Robin.

While she knows that could be a lie, Robin has had far too much pop and she does really have to go to the bathroom. She leaves you there, and she will forget about finding you two suspiciously in the woods together.

Upon returning to the camp site, you hadn’t talked about if either Gareth or you wanted to tell the others about what has just happened. It doesn’t seem as though you’ll get a chance because Gareth is whisked off in a drunken apology from Eddie. Gareth tells Eddie not to sweat it, then accepts a marshmallow peace offering.

You too return to the fire opposite side to Gareth. A poker is offered to you, so that you might stick marshmallows on the ends to cook them. That is one of your favorite parts to a camping trip - it used to be your favorite.

Perhaps, something has changed your mind. Something sweeter has come along. It's like the scent of a new book. Sweet and woodsy. You’re just unfolding the pages to this novel.

Gareth’s gaze softens as he catches you looking right at him, and you blush while tucking your lips into each other.

You can’t wait to read this book.

-> <-

[August 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

[cuttleimagines]

𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚏𝚏 𝚊 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔'𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 || Halsin

Summary: 𝚃𝚊𝚟 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞r𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Characters: Halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, Tav

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, contains sexual content, swearing, mentions of alcohol and body gore, porn with plot, smut with fluff, unprotected water sex, tav has lady parts but no mention of feminine or masculine pronouns, no use of y/n bc yucky, voice kink if you squint, elven Halsin/no wild shape during it

word count: 6.54k 🐻

Like what I write? Tip me on ko-fi! ⚔️

"Be honest... What do you think of the new look?"

Your eyes widened at the display. Shadowheart stood before you, her hair platinum white. You noticed how her braid cascaded down her back with an elegance that reminded you of the woman you've grown to befriend. You smiled. This was who she was.

 "I love it. It's gorgeous." Your voice came out gentle but sincere, loving the way it complimented the faint color of her cheeks and eyes. She gave a shy smile in return, averting her gaze. “Listen, I need to ask you about something, whenever you have the time. I know you've had an... eventful evening. But it's important to me. You're also the only person I can really ask this kind of thing to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You know from experience that one wrong word can send Shadowheart the wrong message, the wrong idea. You take a long pause as you debate on what direction to take this, but much to your surprise, Shadowheart doesn't seem off-put by your hesitation, rather, she welcomes it.

You gesture to the fireside where the bedrolls lay, a determined twinkle in your eye. She follows.

The night air chilled the skin on your arms, crickets singing in the grass. It was as though you and Shadowheart were isolated in this moment, the moonlight shining down on her pale features. Although the night was cold, the warmth from the flame took away your goosebumps. You threw a nearby branch into the flame, watching it engulf and build the fire to increase Shadowheart's warmth.

"Thank you." She sighed, her muscles relaxing under the heat of the fire. "I'd... like to know what the next steps are. In regards to when we reach Baldur's Gate.” “Your parents, for one. Cazador, for two, saving the Duke, fucking up Gortash, taking down the Absolute, and getting rid of our tadpoles.” You spoke, almost without wasting a breath; as if you were reading off a list.

“Exactly my point.” Shadowheart shifted, her back straightened as she sat up. “All of those are hopes. I applaud your optimism but we don’t have a plan; a fully, laid out plan that we would follow and that scares me.” 

That made you grin, a little amused at her worries. “When have we ever had a plan? We went from looking for a healer to going against an Elder Brain. All we knew was we didn’t want these in our heads.” Your tadpole squirmed in your head, in recognition of Shadowheart’s, making her grimace. 

“I don’t need to be reminded.” She shivered, letting her chin fall onto her hand with an exasperated sigh. “It just felt like we had one when we trekked the Shadow-cursed lands, or when we went to the Tiefling grove. We knew where to go next, and who to talk to. I felt safe and like I was headed in a guaranteed path with Lady Shar, but now…” She trailed off, averting her gaze once more.

Your eyes softened. You couldn’t imagine what Shadowheart was going through, and that was the worst part of this conversation. Shadowheart lost everything she thought she knew. The most important part of herself was ripped from her. Of course she’d feel lost, blinded to what was in store for her. 

Your tongue felt tied. For once in your role as the camp leader, you didn’t know what to say, or what advice to give. 

Come on, say something. Your friend needs comfort, it’s your job to keep morale. Why can’t you think of something helpful?

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Shadowheart let out an exasperated, lightly sardonic laugh, standing to her feet. Despite her plight, she still held onto her sense of humor. You admired that. 

“Convincing me to become independent of myself, going against everything I was taught. Everything I thought I wanted. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.” 

She meant to tease you, judging by the playful smirk on her lips, but all you felt was the pit in your stomach. You didn’t doubt that you made the right decision, but it sucked that you didn’t know how to help Shadowheart in the aftermath. Before you had another chance to offer her a kind word, she chuckled and shook her head, offering you a small smile. 

“Let’s sleep on this. If you’re convinced we’ve been this lost the whole time, I trust you. That’s not an easy feat, by the way.” She winked, walking back to her tent, leaving you sitting by the fire. Despite the warmth, you still felt the chill on your spine. 

Before you had the chance to catch your breath, you heard a familiar smooth voice call your name, beckoning you to his tent. Without missing a beat, you stood to your feet, walking towards him.

Astarion’s fangs shined under the pale moonlight as he grinned at you, a goblet of red wine in his hand. 

“There’s my favorite traveling companion.” He greeted with a purr, his slightly slurred, honeyed words catching your attention. He wanted something. “Won’t you have a drink with me? Our humble leader must be tired, tending to the other lost souls in our little band of misfits.”

“I don’t think I can drink after what happened, if I’m honest.” You dismissed, your brain still conjuring the image of Ketheric Thorm’s beaten-up corpse in the Illithid colony, his mouth hanging open as the soul left his body. You shivered. “I’m surprised you’re drinking tonight. We’re heading closer to Cazador tomorrow.” 

Astarion frowned, disappointed when you didn’t humor him. “Darling, that’s precisely the reason why I’m drinking. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m just worried, is all. If you’re– gonna be in the right mental state for that kind of thing.”

He rolled his eyes, swishing the red liquid around in his goblet, staying silent. Truth is, he wasn’t in the right mental state. He didn’t think he ever would be. He was terrified, hoping that the adventure would be easier with some alcohol in his system. Instead, it just made him sadder, and more emotional. More irate. His lip twitched when you mentioned you were worried about him. 

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying your pretty head over me. But I didn’t call you over here to coddle me.” He started, taking another smooth sip of his wine, letting it run down his throat with its comforting warmth. The kind of warmth a night of indulgence could never give to him. 

“I want to know your opinion about my stance on the ritual. You know I’ve considered taking his place, right?” His eyebrows narrowed, leaning forward a little to try and get a read on your expressions. 

You felt the same as you did with Shadowheart. That sinking feeling that you could say something wrong here, and ruin his perception of you. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been… thinking on it.” You admitted with a long breath, really wishing you could run away right now. You weren’t in the right headspace, not focused or wise as you usually were. 

“And?” He pressed further. 

…

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“...What? Why not?” Astarion’s eyebrow raised, his tone slow and careful. And suddenly, your heart began to pound, your mind felt… clearer. You knew exactly what to say. So, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re throwing away lives. I know they’re dead, I know they’re vampires and the public probably won’t waste too much time grieving. But you’ve forgotten who you are.” 

His gaze darkened. Not at your dismissal of his idea, but at the gall you have. The gall you have to act like you’re smarter, wiser than he is. You must think you’re so much more put-together than him, huh?

“You’ll have lost everything you’ve worked for. You’ll get to lay in the sun again but at what cost? Your dignity will be gone, and your relationships with the people who love you will be gone. You’ll lose sight of yourself.” You chuckled, almost in disbelief at the fact that you need to even say this. “You’ll be exactly like the man you’re trying so hard to get away from.” 

“I will never be like Cazador.” 

“Really? Because if you go through with this… I… I don’t even think I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

He’s glaring at you, not saying a word, fighting the urge to spill his drink on you for even going that far. 

Amid this silence, you begin thinking back. Remembering your words, and your mind lurched with regret. You shouldn’t have said that, gone that far. Especially when he was already so vulnerable. So fragile. 

“Astarion-”

“Just leave. Let me drink in peace.”

His calm, firm tone terrified you. He could’ve stabbed you right there. Could’ve sucked every drop of blood out of your neck until you were an empty husk of a person on the floor, maybe screamed in your face. Instead, he sipped more wine in his goblet, too disgusted to even look at you anymore. 

You felt blinding hot tears form in your eyes, your throat beginning to close as you tried to hide your face from him. Act like you didn’t want the earth to swallow you whole. 

“Sleep well.” You rasped out, your voice cracking under the heavy weight you felt in your chest. 

The camp was even quieter than before as you stepped towards your tent. You could hear the fish swimming in the nearby lakeside, peaceful and unaware of the horrors on the surface. Sitting on your bedroll, you prepared for a sleepless night. 

…

The morning air was biting, clinging to the hairs on your arms as you let the sounds of the water against the rocks fill your senses. You decided to leave with the rest of the party around highsun, leaving you just the right amount of time to think on the events of last night. 

Why was leadership so difficult last night? You were usually so alert, and dominant, commanding the attention of all who surrounded you, but Shadowheart was right. 

You were lost; aimlessly wandering for someone, something to guide you in the right direction. You weren't a leader. It was foolish to think of yourself in that way. To think you could be a leader. How silly of you. 

Maybe you could run away. Perhaps they'd be better off without you. Halsin or Wyll could take the reigns. Maybe Karlach. She has the soul for it, the passion. 

You hugged your knees to your chest, closing your eyes. Focusing on the water. Trying desperately to focus on the water instead of the thoughts that threatened to consume you from the inside out. 

From the trees behind your figure, you heard a low grunt, along with a scratch against tree bark, and a faint smell of honeycomb. You looked towards the noise, standing to your feet. As you stepped closer, watching your step, you noticed a flicker of brown fur in the depths of the bushes and leaves. 

"Halsin?" You guessed in a quick whisper, hoping it wasn't a typical cave bear or a druid you didn't know. Your hand moved to the clasp on your hip where your dagger lay, holding your breath. 

The bear looked at you when you called its name, its eyes twinkling with recognition. A bright light surrounded it, blinding it for a quick second before slowly fading as Halsin returned to his normal form. 

“You startled me. What are you doing up so early?” His eyes were wide, a light pink across his cheeks at the sight of you in the glow of the morning sun. When your expression grew hesitant, he stepped closer. 

“I had a rough night. It’s nothing to fuss over.” Your words came out unsure as if you didn’t know if it was wise to downplay your status to one of the wisest members of your troop or not. By the way his eyebrows narrowed down at you in disapproval, you figured the answer was clear. 

“I’m honored to fuss over you, my friend.” His sentences were sweet, laced with warm, smooth honey that coated your worries and anxieties whenever he spoke. He had that effect on you. Perhaps it was his level-headed nature of being an arch-druid; being firm but caring. Or perhaps, you just got lucky. “Nothing that you could say would hinder my respect for you.”

He paused, as if considering his words, before shaking his head in dismissal. “Okay, there are some instances, but the probability of that is extremely low. You have nothing to fear.”

You laughed a little, relaxed in the proximity between the both of you. Halsin gestured to the lakeside where you previously were with a smile. “Come, sit with me.” 

The morning air felt chilling once more. You wanted to tell him what you were feeling, but you couldn’t find the words for it. So, instead, you just decided to tell him what happened.

“I just… froze up last night. Shadowheart was feeling some anxiety over what the next step is, or if we’re just going in blindly.” You began, staring off into the soft ripples of the lake water. “I mean, I just feel so terrible for her. Devoting your entire self to someone, a goddess who didn’t deserve it. She must feel so empty.” Halsin frowned at your words, giving a silent agreement as he continued listening.

 “I wanted to comfort her, wanted to…” You paused as you stumbled, finding the right words to say. You still felt like you were walking on eggshells. Even though Halsin’s comforting presence was right next to you. “Let her know that I’d be here for her, no matter what.”

“And you… didn’t say that?”

“No. All I could say was how sorry I was. Made her feel like she had to comfort me instead.” 

You were mentally punching yourself while recalling the events of last night, and suddenly, your words began to flow out like a tidal wave being held back by a cracking dam.

“And immediately after, I don’t know why, maybe the divine fucking hates me, but I got in a fight with Astarion. I just got on his case when he didn’t ask for it. He didn’t need me lecturing him on my superior high horse. I could’ve handled it so much better, could’ve… done anything, but I didn’t,” you gave up on coming up with the words for how you were feeling, your head in your hands as you tried to ease the ache in your heart. 

Halsin stayed quiet, despite having so much he wanted to say to you. He knew you had more brewing. 

“I just don’t think I’m as cut out for this as everyone thinks I am.” Your tone was weak, hurt as if one more blow to your confidence would put you straight into Avernus.

 “Hey, hey–” Halsin began, but before he could get a word out, you let out a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes. “You’d be so much better at this fucking leader thing. Karlach, Wyll. Even Scratch could do a better job–” “Hey, that’s enough.” Halsin spoke firmly, his stare piercing. 

You shrunk, embarrassed as Halsin rebuked your self-deprecating language. Despite it, you didn’t feel like you lied.

“Listen, I can handle a lot. I’m a patient man, but when you spread lies about the people I respect and love, that’s where I draw the line.” Halsin began, scooting closer to you so you had to look him in the eye. “Have you forgotten everything you’ve accomplished, how far you’ve come, the sheer number of people who owe you their lives?” 

A dark heat spreads across your cheeks. You didn’t mean to fish for compliments like this.

“The truth is” He pointed behind the both of you, towards camp. “None of those people would be where they are today without you. I’ll be the first to admit I also happen to fit in that category. Without a shadow of a doubt.”

He spoke earnestly, taking a quick breath before gently taking your hand in his. His skin felt rough, likely from calluses and scratches that being an outdoorsy man gave him. Despite how it felt, you felt safe in his gentle hold. “It feels like I owe every inch of myself to you. I don’t exaggerate when I say that.” His voice lowered in volume and pitch as he spoke to you, his eyes gazing into yours. He wanted you to let him in, let him love you.

You clung onto every word that left his lips in a speechless awe, your focus glued to the firm, but desperate look that he gave you. He was begging you to hear his words, but you still couldn’t shake the insecurity that burdened you so. 

“I just don’t know what you all see in me.” Your voice was small, mirroring how you felt under Halsin’s hard gaze. Suddenly, his look softened, letting out a small laugh. 

“You think every good leader is secure in themselves?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t be a good leader, commanding the confidence of your peers without being in tune with your abilities.”

Halsin listened, before laying on his stomach on the sand. “Let me tell you a secret. Something I’ve never told a soul.” He started, a smile on his face. Your eyes widened in curiosity, unconsciously leaning closer to Halsin’s figure.

He smiled wider. “Despite popular belief, I’ve made a mistake before.”

You blushed, embarrassed at how simple his words were. He laughed, leaning back up at you. 

“You, my dear, need to cut yourself some slack. I know I’m horrible at that, but trust me when I say it will make you feel better. Focusing on what you could’ve done, what you could’ve said won’t make the recovery of your mistakes easier.”

He sat up again, nodding his head towards the lake. “Life flows, just like the water in front of us. Filled with waves moving up and down with the tide. You can’t be perfect. There will be days when your words will have empty meanings, or you won’t say the right thing. But that’s the best part of learning. When you fall…” 

Halsin stands, offering you a hand. You take it. 

“You get up again. And do better the next time you try.” 

There you go, speechless again. Except this time, you were admiring him. The creases in his eyes when he smiled at you, the way his hand felt, protectively encasing yours. Being this close to him, you saw the waves in his brunette hair, the beautiful wrinkles in his skin, the strong biceps that you wished would hold you close.

For a few seconds, he drinks in the awkward silence of this moment, staring into your hypnotic eyes that threaten to consume his soul. The moment is gone when a small chuckle escapes him, and he looks towards the calm waters of the lake once more.

“Do you know what helps me when my mind wanders to dark places?” Halsin hummed. Your eyebrow raised. 

“Swimming” He answered in a slow exhale, recalling treasured memories of his youth, swimming beside waterfalls and rushing river rapids. “Nothing compares to the natural cold waters against aching skin to clear the mind. I’d be happy to join you, if you’ll humor me.” 

You thought about it for a moment. How long has it been since you’ve properly gone swimming, or even bathed for that matter? How long has it been since you’ve taken time for yourself to relax and let your mind rest? The memory of soft, warm cloth towels against your damp skin, that refreshing feeling of being squeaky clean and laying in the warmth of the sun as it dried your skin felt like a blur. 

“Gods, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve done something of that caliber.” You breathed out, realizing what a toll this adventure had taken on you, the overwhelming weight lying on your shoulders. 

“Maybe I could use a moment of respite.”

Halsin smiled, a warm satisfied smile. He felt honored to be able to give this to you. Every passing moment, he could swear he saw you working, rarely relaxed and laughing for the hell of it. He’d admit that he was a workaholic, but he knew when breaks were necessary. He wanted to pass that knowledge to you. He wanted to introduce you to the warm feeling of being nestled in Silvanus’s hand, with only the tranquil scent of rain and lavender filling your senses. 

“I’ll look away as you undress. Let me know whenever you’re ready and we’ll jump in.” Halsin winked, turning his broad back towards you to give you a moment of privacy. 

As you began to strip down, you considered what you were about to do. Swimming with Halsin was something you didn’t know you wanted this badly. Getting a moment where nobody needed or wanted anything of you, it made your heartbeat spike.

Clothes fell down the skin of your body onto the grass before you were even able to process the loud ‘splash!’ from the water beneath you. As you turned your head quickly to the source, a happy laugh escaped Halsin as he rose to the top of the water, shaking the water out of his long hair like a dog. As he noticed your startled expression, his excited eyes softened, a big apologetic smile on his face for scaring you. “I couldn’t resist!” He laughed, raising his arms out of the lake and gesturing for you to join him. “Come on in! The water’s heavenly!”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight, cool, glistening waters, having fun, letting loose. Something you haven’t even thought about doing for weeks, months, perhaps. You’ve stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve felt the comfort of good food, a warm bed, the comfort of laying in the arms of another.

As you jump in, the sharp coldness of the waters sting your skin, forcing a sharp gasp out of your throat once you rise to the surface of the waters. “You call this heavenly–?” You gasp out as Halsin barks out a laugh. “Of course! Cold waters cleanse the skin, hot waters soothe it. If you want to be truly relaxed after a long day, cold waters are the remedy.”

Gods, you knew he was right. But damn, if your lungs didn’t clench at the frigid lake waters around you.

“I could warm you a little, if you’re comfortable with that. It may be faster than swimming around like a madman trying to get the shivers out,” although a blush reddened the tips of his ears, dusting the surface of his cheeks, he had an earnest smile on his face, wanting you to have a good time with him.

You nod. Quickly. Anything sounds better than being alone, shivering while kicking your legs to keep yourself afloat.

His warm body pressed against yours as you ached for closeness. His stomach’s rise and fall with his breathing lost its calm rhythm when you inched even closer to him. Your skin felt like velvet against his, and his hands shook for a split second as he held you in the waters.

“There, plenty of warmth,” He chuckled. However, this wasn’t a typical Halsin chuckle. It was shaky, quieter. The way he held you in his strong hands was tighter than his usual hugs, and his breaths were faint, both in volume and length.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was quiet, a small trace of worry, and before he could speak, he averted his gaze, a hesitant look on his face. He paused for a few seconds, then spoke, out of necessity.

“I–have a confession to make,” Halsin let go of you, but maintained his closeness. “I wasn’t completely honest regarding my motive for bringing you out into these waters with me,”

“What’s wrong? Have you been struggling too? Halsin, you know you can tell me anything.”

He let out a humored laugh, but you could still sense the apprehension laced in it.

“You could say that. I’ve been fighting demons, my friend, and they’re stubborn with me,” He began, aching to touch you again, but holding himself back so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Ever since you saved Thaniel, saved nature, I’ve–I’ve longed to have you, whether that be physical or not. I don’t wish to merely fight at your side, laughing beside the campfire only to retire to our separate tents after. I want to find rest beside you; retire after a long day underneath the calmness of night with you.”

Your heart began to pound, your cheeks flushed. Halsin seemed passionate, talking about the many lovers he’d taken before you both had met and the long life of desire and freedom he had. You never thought he’d want you to share in it. Halsin took your stunned silence as an invitation to express himself a little more, confess everything he’d been holding back.

“I’m in your debt, you inspire me more than words can do justice, and for that reason, I don’t want to ruin the bond we share as equals. If you do not feel the same way, we can let this matter rest, return to camp, and never speak of this again,” He gently took your hand in his, letting his calloused thumb trace the peaks of your knuckles with his thumb. His eyes fell to where his hand met yours, cradling you like the beautiful flower he saw you as.

“But I must know if one day, I’d have the privilege of sharing in your love, experiencing what it’s like to be bonded with you. If I deny the inevitable any longer, I’ll burst.”

At his words, your heart soared, your mind clouded with passion. The way his hungry hazel eyes bore into yours, fingers twitching at his sides with the carnal urge to hold you close, claim your lips to his.

He shivered as he felt the softness of your hand gently stroke the definition of his arm, watching as it flexed involuntarily to the foreign sensation.

“As long as I get to share in yours.” You whispered, and Halsin couldn’t control the smile that spread across his lips, admiring you again.

“May I?” He asked breathlessly, still wanting to remain respectful of your boundaries, but you could tell, he’d be a kicked puppy if you dared say no to him. You nodded and leaned close to him once more, and he met you right in the middle, his hands finding purchase on your waist.

His lips were softer than imagined, tasting faintly sweet as he pushed a little his weight into the kiss. Although you really only imagined this being a quick, short and sweet exchange, you couldn’t help but lean more into him as his rough hand squeezed at your waist, moving to the small of your back. He let out a deep breath through his nostrils, his lips beginning to move slowly, methodically against yours.

When your fingers met his damp hair, he shivered, gently taking your waist back in his hands as he directed your body back into the waters with him. As you felt the temperature balance once more, comfortable in his protective hold, you began to nip at his lower lip.

You hear a deep groan in the back of his throat as he tightens his grip on you, his self-control beginning to slip away from him with every breathy sigh against his lips. Your legs slowly wrap around his. The warmth from his skin, even under the cool waters, makes your blood run hot.

His chest touches yours, the peaks of breast against chest, and he revels in it. With a start, his lips pull away from yours, and without a word, begin to eagerly press firm kisses down the side of your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more room.

A direct contrast from how they started, his kisses grew vigorous, desperate. His hands ache to touch every inch of your skin. Every curve, every imperfection. He wanted it all in the palms of his hands.

Halsin’s breathing is short as his kisses move further down to your collarbone, quickly growing addicted to the taste of your skin on his lips, his hands dancing across your skin under the waters. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t hold back any further. I—I need you to tell me to stop if that’s what you desire,” he breathed out, his heartbeat pounding with the stress of holding everything back.

The truth is, Halsin’s been craving this. Needing this. Needing you, for far too long by his standards. He’d gladly wait a lifetime for you, but with your warm skin pressed to his, your body being cradled so perfectly in his biceps—it was all making his mind melt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you admitted with a sigh, fingertips tightening around his shoulders.

Yes, yes. This is what I need. Distract me, prove my self-deprecations wrong.

Halsin hardly needs any egging on in the first place, honestly, as he already has your wet body laying back down on the grass. You whine in the absence of warmth as the cool morning air hits your damp skin once more, but the image of Halsin between your thighs is enough to distract you from the cold.

His hair is damp, his eyes focused as he kisses your navel, the plushness of your thighs. A satisfied grunt leaves him as he runs his tongue along them, the beauty of you mixed with the earth filling his senses.

It doesn’t surprise you that the Druid gets off on the mixed scent and taste of sex and nature, especially not with the proof of being connected mouth-to-clit. His tongue is experienced, due to the many lovers he’s brought to ecstasy in the past, but he’s scarcely had this much desire towards someone. He gives a long, wet swipe of his tongue against your slick, wrapping his lips around the puffy bud up top and sucking against it, flicking his tongue with a rapid eagerness that has you spiraling.

He holds you to his mouth like you’re a means for survival, like he can’t see the colors of the Earth if not for your essence. As the taste of you settles on his tongue, he delves deeper, slurping up the arousal fluid that you’d been seeping out into the cool waters.

Your body begins to shake and stir, not wanting anything to do with an orgasm yet, merely wanting to bask in the moment. Halsin’s face is buried betwixt your thighs, his brown eyes locked on his work, focused and deliberate. His eyebrows splay in contentment. He’d spend an eternity down there if you’d let him.

However, your desperation for praise, his flowery words, caused you to tug your hips towards you, popping them away from the suction of Halsin’s lips. A small chuckle leaves him as he pushes himself out of the water, looming over your body on the cool grass.

He lets out a shaky, excited breath, connecting his lips to yours to show you how you tasted, to convey to you how happy he was to be here with you, after all the stress, turmoil, and victory.

As you disconnect from the kiss, his breath wavered even still, possibly more.

“You’re unbelievable, truly,” he huffs with a small laugh, biting his lip as he pulls you back into the waters with him, giving you small loving pecks on your lips.

“I haven’t done this in so long. It may hurt me.” The warning goes through him, but he simply chuckles, gently positioning himself between your thighs under the water.

“I’m here for you. To support you, to adore you,” He begins, snaking an arm around the curve of your waist to support your body in the comforting waters. “You need not worry, any pain you have, I will mend, with my touch and words.”

Once he sees you nod, his face moves to the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

That’s when it slides in, albeit, not very smoothly. Lake water has never been the best lubricant, but Halsin eases you through. His hands cascade through your hair, giving slow rubs to the back of your neck to distract you with a more pleasant sensation.

“Shh, you feel amazing… Hold on as tight as you need,” Halsin’s grip tightens for a split second or two around the skin of your nape before returning to a comforting looseness just seconds later. “I’m as content as can be at the moment, being like this with you.” His breathy, low voice goes straight to the pit of your stomach, exploding into tiny butterflies that have you reeling, pleading for more.

With soft kisses and flowery praises, your walls begin to finally relax, a siren song to lure Halsin into your depths.

He stays like that for a moment, drinking you in as his hips become flush with yours, under the water. He couldn’t ask to be anywhere else, a wide smile beginning to spread across his lips as his hips begin their slow, languid thrusts.

“You have no idea–” he starts with a smile, his hips beginning to find a consistent rhythm. “--how agonizing this wait has been, looking upon you from afar without even the slightest idea of how beautiful you could be.”

“You didn’t find me beautiful before?” You grin in a small, breathless laugh, eyes locked without waver on his.

“I found you breathtaking. That hasn’t changed…”

His arm, which was wrapped tightly around your midsection, begins to loosen, allowing himself to focus his strength on his movements and keeping you perfectly above water.

“What has changed is the way you feel. Your bare skin, pressed against mine. Just like this.”

As you both move like this, he continues to whisper loving words, breathless “thank you”s, like you’d given him the stars for allowing him to take you so intimately. A symphony of his moans and groans fill your ears as his movements begin to pick up pace.

An overwhelming gust of warmth flows in your abdomen, a blossoming flower of fire that makes your body violently quake and shiver, yet Halsin holds you protectively still, relishing in the fact that he’s the one making you this vulnerable underneath him, and every inch of his focus is on you.

Halsin’s breaths grow vocal now, his arms supporting his weight with every deep and carnal thrust into you. Every movement is calculated, learning every sweet spot and which angles made you feel the most. He savors the sight of your mind-boggling orgasm, the feeling of your fingers grasping at his hair, pulling down at the wet strands for support.

“My heart— my beloved,” He rasps out in the crevice of your neck, feeling himself fall deeper and deeper in love with you with every sloppy, quick thrust against your cervix. His dick practically swims in the glory of your orgasm, your fluid dripping out into the waters from him with every withdrawal. Meanwhile, your mind grew fogged, pussy practically milking him as it clenches with every overstimulation he delivers through his eager movements.

“Gods, do you hear that?” Halsin grunts in your ear, a satisfied smile spread across his lips. He begins to buck his hips with promise to prove his point. The sloshes of the lake water mixed with your labored breathing, raspy moans from the overexertion sound like music to his ears. He turns you over, lifting your lower body out of the water just barely to watch the water splash with every thrust into your sloppy cunt that swallowed him oh-so-perfectly.

One thing about Halsin was that he adored the sound of sex. Not just the moans, although those were a great bonus. No, no. He loved the environmental reaction to love-making. Skin against skin as you indulged him, laying back on the grass as he begins to fuck you just barely over the water, enough to make small splashes with every connection of his hips to the curve of your ass.

“Hahh—Halsin!” You breathe out, biting down onto the meat of your finger to ease the sensitive stimulation. Oh, how he loved hearing his name fall from your lips so carelessly. “Say my name again… Your voice is heavenly…” he speaks with a low mumble, too lost in this rapture to make a proper sentence. His calves tighten as he adjusts the angle to loom over your back, and suddenly flips you over again to look into your eyes as you lay on the grassy ledge. He takes your thigh in hand, right below the curve of your knee, and lifts it up to your chest to get better access to you. The water drips off his stomach, and you now see his body in its full glory as he stares down at you.

The remnants of your slick glimmer against his chin and lips, the curve of his belly brush deliciously against your navel, his damp, long hair dripping down onto your bare body as he fucks into you like a man desperate for salvation, and his deep grunts that leave his throat and straight to your core. Every movement seems to flow in slow motion, and the sounds of his needy, desperate groans in the crook of your neck gave your body enough of an excuse to cum again, but this time, you weren’t alone.

Halsin’s breathing grows louder as his legs begin to spasm from under him, fingers grasping at the Earth for leverage. “You’re close again… Don’t worry. I’m… ngh—right there with you,” His words come out shaky, wavered as his thrusts begin to pick up with a grunt. He moves a little, hoisting your leg up further while turning at an angle to thrust deeper than he already was, making you see stars. You can’t help the floodgates from crashing open as you coat his dick with your cum for a second time.

“Yes–yes… There you are…” He breathes out, a small smile spreading across his lips at the feeling of your release around him, your walls spasming from it all as he gives a harsh, lasting thrust into your core, painting your insides with his seed. You feel a warm shiver run up your spine at the sensation of him filling you up to the brim, bottoming out inside you as his legs shiver a little against yours.

A relieved, satisfied groan sounds at the back of his throat, attempting not to collapse on top of you. “Come to me… My heart.” He whispers, laying on the cool grass, soothing his hot skin. You find solace in his warmth, placing small pecks on his lips to try to make up for how exhausted you are.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” His breath comes out wavered, his hands roaming over your body to make sure he didn’t bruise you too much or scratch you. “You were perfect. I’ll be sore for a bit, but I’m alright,” you manage to chuckle out, your chest heaving up and down with the lack of air. “I feel incredible.”

“You deserve to feel that way, love.” Halsin moves up, caressing your body with feathery touches and loving rubs, your ear now pressed to his bicep while he holds your back to his chest. You stay there for a few minutes, basking in the glory of his warmth and embrace.

He lifts his head from the grass to admire your face. “Once we return to camp, I think it would be wise to release your tensions with Shadowheart and Astarion. If we’re to make this trek to the city, we must be connected and in understanding of one another.”

You sigh and nod, but not out of exasperation.

“I will. I’ll make it right. I want to.”

He smiles and sits up, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss.

“Fate has spun itself beautifully to have me end up with an individual like you in my arms.”

You smile, genuinely. In love, and happy. This adventure has taken you down winding, treacherous roads. But the warmth of your companions and peers have brought you and leveled you into who you are. A friend, a lover, a confidante, and a leader.

[rrezshifts]

𝓻𝙚𝙖𝖑𝙞𝙩i𝙚𝙨 𝙞’d 𝙡o𝙫𝙚 t𝙤 𝙛𝙞n𝙙

this is a list of realities i compiled from three lovely people’s dr ideas posts: ellysdreamworldd, deminetly, & lalalian. this post is a way for me to clear out my likes without having to keep track of the realities i’m interested in shifting to in a notebook i’ll lose or forget about . . .

a retro high school/college reality. this could be a reality from any decade where retro still fits. the original poster wrote 70s-00s. i feel like i partly already have this with my twilight reality, it’s set in the early 2000s. but it’s definitely something i could be interested in shifting to outside of that reality

2000s victoria’s secret angel reality. see this is weird because i am a trans man. and like . . . the parts of my body that are inherently feminine and ideal for an angel, i don’t like. however, it can be what i like so put my ideal masculine but twinkish form in some lingerie and call it a day!!

professional tourist reality. a reality where i have all the money in the world and travel the world with no responsibilities seems SO fun! but like an ideal and bigotry free world. and also i get to bring someone with me!!

vampire reality. tbh i already have a few of those . . . but i’m not in love with them. that and they’re from pre-existing media, and i want one that i can really play with and make my own and just fall in love with my own mind and life through it, yk??

royalty reality. this could be so so incredibly fun. but i fear the way i view and picture a royalty reality in my mind at the moment . . . it’s off putting. i’d need a new perspective to look at these type of realities from before trying any world building or i may genuinely give up immediately

summer camp reality. as the counselors of course. like imagine being a counselor with other hot people your age and just bouncing from counselor to counselor all summer as we all sneak around camp after curfew and just go crazy!! though i technically have a reality like this already . . . my the quarry reality is basically this because i removed all the horror game elements. i should think about it more though for sure, that why i put it here

mermaid reality. like genuinely the way the original poster described it as a the little mermaid kind of romance plot almost makes me not scared of the deep ocean aspect of this reality. but i love marine biology and marine animals so like i would realistically love this too. this is another one though, that i would need a perspective shift because right now the idea of this reality is off putting to me as well

magic university reality. quite literally just hogwarts in my marauders reality. but i haven’t scripted shit and i need to get on it. so i’m adding it in hopes that’ll change. it won’t lol

small town shop owner reality. the original poster said it was a flower shop. but the idea of it being like a small business of my choice, for example a metaphysical shop, and falling in love with the small business next door’s owner?? bonus points if it’s a tattoo artist i fall for, because why can’t fanfic tropes come to life!!

planetary romance reality. described as exploration of different planets with romance specifically with aliens. and you know what . . . i’m not gonna lie. the romance with aliens is what sold me!! call me what you want! (it’ll probably be true) but this genuinely seems like such a fun reality to get to workshop!!

eco-metamorphosis reality. described as a world being colonized by aliens but instead of rejecting them you welcome them with open arms. and i was thinking this could be so fun to imagine a world that has coexisted with aliens for generations now, a good many years after, and how that looks and what daily life would be like

that’s all of them!! please look at their posts if you liked any of these and want to see what else they have shared!! i’ll tag them here so they know i used their posts for a sort of form of content @ellysdreamworldd , @deminetly & @lalalian !! thank you for the great ideas 🙏

[asteroshearts]

Levi as a Dad to Teenagers

Dadvi x Reader

Any AU, he has an older daughter and a younger son

My Father's Day special to the dad who stepped up!!!!

For the longest time, Levi thought that he would be the most comfortable with the teenager stage of parenthood.

After all, he was always around teenagers (like his team), and thought that he would know how to handle them the most.

He loved his kids fiercely regardless of age, but troublesome twos or the onset of pre-adolescence were brand new experiences.

Teens (better) take directions more easily, and Levi can begin to treat them like adults.

He just never thought that he'd feel so...sad once they became teens. Although he would never show it on his face.

To start, there is no such thing as gender roles for Levi. He treats his son and his daughter equally. They both learn how to fight, and when Levi has to go out picking dandelions for his tea, he takes both of his kids.

And cleaning is not a "woman's job," he'd kick anyone's ass if they think otherwise.

The only thing that might be "unfair" is that his daughter gets more allowance specifically to be used on feminine products.

And the Ackermans are such man-haters!!! Your son hates them too!!

Levi is always going on and on about how men ain't shit, his mom's experience with men, and how Kenny was.

It's such a relief when his daughter starts to date women (she's bi), but horrifying when his son comes out as gay.

Wait until Levi figures out that lesbian relationships are just as or more toxic.

Of course, he doesn't care that his son is gay, but get ready for his talk about how most men can't be trusted!!!

Levi is an advocate that everyone should be free to make their own choices, and it's none of his business what they do. As long as it's a choice they don't regret.

However, he never admits that his heart gets a little bit broken once his kids drift further and further away as they become teenagers.

Ever since his kids were born, your entire family volunteers at a soup kitchen on almost every major holiday, and you take the morning of or the days around it to celebrate together.

However, when your son asks if he can go on a ski camping trip during Christmas time...

Levi wonders if his kids are finally leaving the nest. Never mind the fact that it's his birthday: he's an old man, birthdays don't phase him, but his son is asking if he could spend time with his friends rather than with his family on such a major occasion.

He'd answer with something snarky at first, What, the first couple of years living in tents after the Rumbling wasn't enough? Now you want to sleep in a tent on purpose? but when his son doesn't back off with a chuckle, he turns to you.

You love your kids dearly, that's true, but Levi thinks that you were ready to let go a lot earlier than he was. You don't love as intensely as an Ackerman.

"So?" you ask your son. "You want to go on your ski trip when your family is volunteering. What are you going to do?" you ask, staring him down.

You wait for his response, and you're satisfied (and you think he passes the test when your son says he'll volunteer for two weeks before and after), but Levi feels a bit betrayed. He hoped you'd be the one to put your foot down.

He doesn't think his kids would ever be anything but the little girl and boy in his head, small enough to fit in his arms.

But now they're taller than him, and beginning to grow older than the people he's lost in the past.

His birds are leaving the nest, and he has to accept it.

Next thing you know, he's taking your son and daughter out to get a suit, helping them choose dress shoes and how to polish them, and teaching them how to do their hair for professional settings.

[frogs-in-my-tea]

I’m tired of the constant hate towards making male characters more feminine. Having fem traits doesn’t make a character weak and it doesn’t make a them submissive.

So, just out of spite, take some headcanons that show the more fem(?) side of Will and Nico:

Before Will and Nico dated, Will was with Drew Tanaka (he’s got a type). He had told Drew he wanted to do her nails for her like the gentleman he is, so she taught him how to expertly treat nails and paint them. Ever since then, Will almost always paints his and his sibling’s nails. When Nico and him got together (and Nico felt more comfortable with who he is), Will made it so that every two weeks they got their nails painted (they also put face masks and gossip, because those two gossip a lot).

Nico likes to be held, to get carried to bed when he’s hurt or tired, to rest in the arms of people he deeply cares about. He would never admit this, it could ruin his edgy reputation. But that feeling has always warmed his heart, someone caring for him so much they want to keep him in their hold, they want him around, they don’t want to let go, its something he thought he would never have. It’s the touch he had desperately craved but flinched away from. Now, he finally has it, and he won’t let it go.

I will die on the “Nico’s the little spoon” hill. That boy’s the master of curling into a tight ball and sleeping like the dead. He’s an isopod man. Sometimes he’s too curled up Will tries to shift him into a more comfortable position so he doesn’t destroy his back. (And of course Mr. Will “I love to hold other people so they are safe in my arms” Solace takes advantage of that.) but I also think this is a protective instinct, he unconsciously does it because he feels safer (more so when someone he loves is holding him). He probably learned to do this those few years he was homeless. Also he’s cold.

Will has a very long and complex hair routine, he’s so dedicated he wakes up at 5 am to do it early in the morning and take his sweet time. His hair was messy asf before Hazel taught him how to properly treat it. He’s become obsessed with curly hair routines now, sometimes he does his routine with Nico (when his boyfriend’s too tired to complain). Will has one of the shiniest and healthiest hairs in camp.

Will loves to braid Nico’s hair, especially when it gets long. He makes tiny braids that are scattered around when he gets bored, when they are cuddling, when Nico’s sitting next to him or on his lap, when he needs to do something with his hands. He does this with his siblings too! Kayla’s the only one who gets annoyed when he does it to her but she lets him have it.

Nico’s lips are always dry asf (dehydrated mf) and he always bites the dry skin when he’s stressed or just thinking. Will forced him to have a chapstick in his pocket at all times. The chapstick has a hint of maroon, Will justified it by claiming it made Nico look more alive and less like a zombie (Will actually bought it because he likes how the color looks on Nico).

I’m genuinely curious if these are actually more feminine things. To me, they’re not. Because everyone has a different conception of what’s fem or masc to the point were you start thinking if it really matters. In conclusion, labeling is stupid.