#same w one black tulip

[liyawritesss]

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜʙᴄᴜ!ꜱʜᴜʀɪ

Characters: HBCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!GN!Reader

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: What would a first date withHBCU!Shuri entail? Can you make it past the texting stage, or will you be stuck imagining it all in your head?

Warnings: mild cursing, but other than that, nothing but pure fluff.

A/N: it’s been a minute since i’ve seen anything HBCU!Shuri related, sooooo I decided to take my stab at it. Just a cute lil idea I’ve had for a while now, and thought to finally put it into words.

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdraco @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the-lesbian-fangirl @h34rtsformilli @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfashion @lulu-network @nichole-224 @niyahwrites @Lppriceisright @hufflehans

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The two of you meet by chance in a campus cafe. Shuri was there working on assignments for class, and you’d asked to sit at her table as all the other chairs in the cafe were taken. In engaging in light conversation, the two of you found comfort in each others company. Shuri was surprisingly easy to talk to, which soothed your worries when engaging with the royal.

You noticed that the particular assignment she was struggling with dealt with Literature, and in an effort to befriend toe royal, you offered to tutor her. Shuri graciously accepted your offer, and so, the two of you traveled back to your dorm for the impromptu study session.

Before either of you knew it, night time had come, and you’d been ‘studying’ for hours, which was more of watching random tik toks and getting to know one another.

To return the favor, Shuri asks you out on a date. Though her tone is nervous, she expresses that she thinks you’re cute and your company soothes her, and she would like to take you out sometime. The two of you agree that the next day would be the best, to avoid any unwanted anxiety from the prolonging of the occasion.

When the next evening rolls around, Shuri shows up to your door dressed comfortably yet stylish. She wears a cream colored hoodie with a white tee underneath, a pair of black shorts and cream sneakers to match. It was ironic, because you wore the same color palette for your outfit. A sheepish laugh was shared between the two of you at the realization of your unintentional matching.

Shuri brings flowers, because she’s got such good manners. She’s not basic, however, so in an attempt to make a good impression, she researches the meanings of certain flowers, and has a bouquet made at a local florist to make it extra special. It’s a mixture of purple tulips and daisies, to signify the start of whatever relationship the two of you may have, be it romantic or platonic, and the excitement that comes with it for her.

I believe Shuri would be the kind of person to prefer chill dates to ones that are extravagant or heavily thought out. You’ll probably drive to a nearby corner spot or late night food truck to grab a bite, and either sit at a trail overlooking a body of water or a beachfront. She’s taking it slow purposefully, as the two of you are still getting to know each other and don't want to push you into anything that may make you uncomfortable.

Doesn’t mind handing you the aux cord as the two of you eat in the car - in fact, she more than encourages it. She thinks that a person's taste in music tells a lot about them, so whatever happens to slip from the conversation, she’ll probably pick it up from whatever music you decide to play.

After eating the two of you will just sit at the spot, talking as if you’re two souls reuniting again and catching up on centuries lost. She’s quite the schemer though; will definitely slip your hand into her while you’re so engrossed in what youre talking about, or ghost a hand on your thigh while she maintains interest in your words. Licking her lips, maintaining eye contact, she does it all with intention. She knows it can be intense sometimes, though, and tries to dial it down for the first date at least. But if you reciprocate? She’ll absolutely melt into it.

The date will end with a sweet kiss at your dorm door. Depending on your body language, she’ll either give you a kiss on the forehead, cheek, or lips; she asks first in any case of course. ‘They’re sweeter that way’ she says, which makes you laugh and the heat creep up your neck menacingly.

Shuri texts you to let you know that she’s made it home, as to not have you worry, and throughout texting until you fall asleep on the phone, she definitely hints that she has another date in mind already.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[ladylooch]

could you do a friends to lovers fic w/ Nico pls?? my plates empty and i’m starving 🍽️😂

You know, it is lunch time and I'm happy to provide 😉

Where I'm Supposed to Be- Nico Hischier

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluffy, swearing, drinking, itty bitty amount of angst

A smile twitches my lips when I hear Nico Hischier’s footsteps running down the hallway of my apartment building. He’s cutting it pretty close this year. I should give him a pass for being on the road, but it’s too fun to watch his face scrunch in exasperation when I tease him. Nico is the only one of my friends who insists on seeing me every year on my birthday. Even if he isn’t in town, we FaceTime and do our traditional shot together to celebrate another year around the sun.

Not much changes from year to year and this year, it will be the same. Another year around the sun being in love with him. Not that he knows that. I’d rather have Nico as my friend than run the risk of losing him with unreciprocated feelings. As a captain of an NHL team, he has his pick of women. All of his last few girlfriends have the same thing in common, they model professionally. Although, calling them girlfriends might be a stretch. They never seem to stick around long enough for me to meet them.

I stand as his footsteps get louder, pausing with my hand on the door knob. 

“Shit.” I hear him mumble after the sound of plastic hitting the floor. “Fuck.” He whispers forcefully.

I open the door as he is raising his hand to knock. I fall a little more in love with him seeing his brown hair peeking out from his black beanie. His face is flushed from exertion and visibly lights up when he sees me.

“I made it.” He pants out. The hot pink tulips in his hand have seen better days as he trusts them at me, completely ignoring the few petals that have fallen to the floor. “Happy birthday!”

“Barely.” I quip with a large smile, referencing the clock on the microwave that says 11:56pm.

“It counts.” He insists, walking forward. His hands go to my hips, nudging me backwards so he can enter my apartment fully. Butterflies assault my stomach at his touch. It feels so personal, so assertive and loving, just like Nico.

“To be honest, your birthday game has been slipping since you were named captain.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just pour me your birthday shot.” He laughs, placing a hand on the small of my back to move me forward.

“I have Jameson or Fireball.”

“Jameson. It’s tradition.” I nod reaching for the bottle on the back counter and two shot glasses from the drawer.

“I’m doing fireball.” I insist. I pour the shots out, sliding Nico’s across the counter to him. I hold mine up, letting our glasses rest against one another.

“To my best friend. I’m glad you’re mine. Life would suck without you. Happy birthday.” He smiles sweetly. His words settle into my chest where I’ll surely overanalyze them later tonight, alone in my bed.

We toss the shots back, both grimacing slightly at the burn we feel. 

“Hit me again.” Nico taps the glass at me. 

“Wow, rough game?” His eyes lift, studying my face. He reaches out to my cheek, grabbing at a piece of lint stuck in my hair. Electricity explodes at the feeling of his skin against mine. 

“Just trying to chase some thoughts from my mind.” 

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.” He puckers his lips at me, scrunching his nose. Something passes between us. The air becomes unsettled and I feel the temperature rising in my body. Nico ends it before it can go any further. “Okay. I need to go get some sleep. It’s game day tomorrow.” Disappointment pulls my gaze from his.

“You say that like you’re not going to take a two hour nap.” I tease to keep the mood light. He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. He reaches for the second shot of whiskey I poured him, knocking it back easily. He licks his lips when he’s done, setting the glass back on the counter.

“Before you go…” I murmur, watching the shine of his lip in the low lighting. I shake my head at the thought of pressing my mouth there, tasting that shot of Jameson like I was the one who took it. “Um, could you fix my toilet? It’s running again.”

“Seriously?” He laughs in disbelief at me. “I showed you to how fix this last time.”

“Yeah, but I fix it and it happens again right away. You fix it and it stays that way. You’ve got the touch.” He raises his eyebrows in what I think is suggestion. My mouth goes dry and I resist the urge to reach for him.

“You really need to put in a maintenance request for this, babe.” Both Nico and I pause at the pet name. I hold my breath for a moment while his gaze diverts from mine. “Sorry, that was…”

“It’s okay…” I trail off, not quite sure what else to say. 

We walk down to my bathroom in silence. As we go, Nico shrugs his jacket off, handing it back for me to hold. His fingers work on the buttons of his dress shirt at his wrists, rolling the black fabric up his strong forearms. The sound of running water greets our ears as Nico walks to the tank. I lean my butt against the counter next to him as he sets the top on the ground.

“How long has this been running?” He wonders as he begins to work on the tangled chain.

“I don’t want to say.” I purse my lips together, trying to hold the laugh in.

“You’re unbelievable.” Nico snorts, shaking his head. The laugh bursts between my lips, shaking my shoulders. This catches his attention and his laughter joins mine.

“I may be a disaster, but I’m your disaster.” Our eyes shine together for a moment as I tilt my head at him. My gaze softens as Nico stares back at me with a depth in his face as if he’s contemplating something. Then, suddenly his smile drops.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nico mumbles, breaking our eye contact and resuming fidgeting with the chain in the tank.

“I’m… not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are.” He insists, clipping the chain back to it’s place. He tests the tension then does a test flush.

“How am I looking at you?” I push him, drinking in each tightening of his cheek as he bites his lip in concentration.

“Like you’re in love with me.” He turns fully to me when he says that.

“You’re my best friend. Of course I love you.” I try to sound calm as my heart pounds so hard in my chest that it hurts.

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” His brown eyes pin me in place. I can barely breathe. I think of the years of friendship we’ve had. I think about what it would be like to lose him. But then I think about living the rest of my life like this, pining for someone in secret. Despite my fear, I know which one is harder, so I leap.

“What if I was?”

“What if I know I am?” He responds immediately.

Years later, we’ll argue over who made the first move, but in the moment, we both fall into each other at the same time, lips sealing to one another eagerly. 

“Say it.” He says against my mouth as his teeth tug my bottom lip. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Nico. I can’t remember a day that I didn’t.”

“Good. I love you too.” We laugh to each other, then kiss again. Eventually, the realization of us making out in the bathroom hits, so Nico leads us to my bedroom. He sits on the bed and pulls me down with him. We fall onto our backs, then turn to our sides to braid our limbs together. 

“I thought you had to go?” I murmur as he snuggles me into his body with a firm hand on my butt. He shakes his head no.

“I’m finally exactly where I’m supposed to be."

[almightyhamslice]

KDL3 Stage 1-1: Tulip's stage!

I'm approaching these with a similar format to my KDL2 posts, except divided by stage rather than level since each stage is very unique in KDL3. This also means this is going to take me forever LOL. In terms of standalone ability drawings, each one will contain Kirby AND Gooey, since they have the same movesets. They're only placed next to each other for comparison though since like I said they can't BOTH wear the necklace at the same time. So far I think Gooey likes Spark the best!

This level has Rick and Nago, but I never used Rick since it was too risky-- too much of a chance of him accidentally stepping on the flowers!! Nago is preferential since he has 3 jumps. I would NEVER take Gooey here unless I was playing w 2 players though. His CPU is SO bad lmao (worse than any Helper in the original Super Star if you can imagine). That's how it is for the entire game quite frankly, but I REALLY like the idea of Kirby and Gooey going on the whole adventure together, so I'm pretending I did this whole thing with 2 people LOL.

I can tell you a little more about Nago since this post is very Nago centric! He's 19 years old and is honestly a completely normal guy... other than being able to turn into a giant cat anyways LOL. He can't use copy abilities for himself, but he's very crafty. He likes to help Kirby come up with new methods and angles to use his abilities. He has some difficulties befriending the other animal friends since he feels like he can't relate to them, so for now he's only friends with Kirby and Rick. He doesn't like when Kirby chooses to hang out with other friends over him. I guess that makes him n Rick more alike than I realized LOL. He is prone to expressing his emotions in catlike ways since he's a werecat.

I don't have much to say about this level's resident character, Tulip. She's a flower nymph, and she has 4... kids? counterparts? I don't know what they are to her. None of them transform, and the little flowers don't talk or anything, they just have eyes. Though, they can move underground by tunneling I think. Only between areas without grass though! They're very particular.

Ramblings abt Nago and calico cats in general under the cut since I have a special interest in cats and genetics:

So if you were unaware, calico cats (and tortoiseshell cats) are almost always female IRL! Thsi is because 'red' (orange) and black fur colors are both linked to the x chromosome, so a cat can only have 1 of those 2 per x chromosome. If the cat has only 1 x chromosome, it can only be red or black, never both. So this means that even though he's a male character, Nago must have 2 x chromosomes for his coat color to make sense. I think one could interpret him as transmasc, intersex, or they could say he has Klinefelter syndrome or some other chromosomal condition? So I chose to depict him as transmasc in my gijinka AU since I'm transmasc and he was my favorite animal friend when I was a kid!!

Did the designers working on KDL3 intend for him to be trans? Probably not, I think it was just an oversight. They wanted a funny cat character and calico is a very cute and popular color for cats! Though idk it is possible he was intentionally transgender since Kirby's probably like, the queerest popular nintendo mascot I can think of?? If he's gender neutral is it that farfetched for Nago to be trans or intersex? I don't know, I'm not his original designer.

Anyways another funny fact abt cats that Nago's designers might've known-- cats squint/close their eyes as a sign of trust in others! So Nago's eyes are usually shut because he's showing Kirby that he can trust him! (yes that means he's VERY upset when Kirby uses the needle ability or switches to a different animal friend cuz his eyes widen. TBF, if my friend was shooting chunks out of his face and turning them into needles, I'd be pretty distressed too LOL). I really like this detail cuz it means at least one person on the design team rlly rlly loved cats lol.

[itsohh]

The Light That Is My Valentine

A/N: Female reader, happy valentines day everybody! No sweat hun u didn’t come off as rude! It’s going good aye

Word count: 2569

Warnings: NSFT, smut

AO3 Masterlist

Working at Rainbow was a time of great opportunity, both for one's career and for life experiences. Travelling, meeting new people, it's all part of the experience. Yet sometimes those great benefits could get old. In moments of tiredness, the job could get old. Travelling could take a toll on one's body and sometimes the new faces didn't crack up what they seemed to be. There had only been one thing on Elias's mind- well two things on his mind. One of them was the sweet sweet comfort of a warm cosy bed, and the other was you.

While the building in front of him hadn't originally been his home, it had slowly become a second one to him over the years. His shoulder sagged a little with exhaustion and the suitcase behind him squealed slightly as he approached the door. No need to knock, you had long since given him a key. A key which slot into the lock with ease. It made a small click and he pushed open the door.

Elias paused when he pushed open the door, he hasn't noticed the closed curtains from outside. In front of him was an unbelievably cheesy scene, one of his lips opened lightly at it- his brows raising slightly at the same time. The entire house was almost completely dark, a trail made with rose petals and a thick line of candles accompanying them. Elias slowly walked in, mindful of the trail. The door clicked behind him and he put his suitcase to the side of the door. He would unpack it at a later date. Slowly, he bent over and poked one of the candles. Plastic. No risk of burning down the house.

He smiled to himself and he could feel the tension of work slowly start to melt away as his focus left work and was on you. Elias followed the trail through the house until it came through the dining room. There were a bunch of candles and petals on the table in a circle. In the middle was a clear vase full of red tulips. At the sight, his face lit up, and a smile broke out on his face well before he picked up the small note in front of it.

To my dear Elias,

No one lights up my life as you do,

My own personal sun that keeps on shining.

Your love.

Next to the handwritten message was a press of lipstick in the shape of your lips that had stained the card paper. His eyes flickered around the dark room, but still no sign of you. Yet he had the sneaking suspicion that he would find you at the end of the trail. The note was neatly placed back down, a light red dusting over his cheeks as he continued on the path.

Low and behind he eventually reached the end to see the door of your now shared bedroom open. Red fabric draped over the side of it making an impromptu curtain to frame it. He pushed it slightly out of his way as he entered the room, his eyes immediately falling on you. The trail finished on the bed, the small plastic candles littering the room. Elias sucked in a breath that alerted you to his presence. You were on your side in the middle of the bed, fully on display for him. A black set of lingerie decorated your body, embroidery flowers over the straps which matched the red stain on your lips and equally red heels on your feet.

Your eyes flickered up from your phone in surprise, obvious that you hadn't realised he was home. The phone in your hands was practically thrown to the side and you fixed up your position for him. "Welcome home baby." Your smile lit up your face and Elias stood there frozen, his mouth gaping slightly like a fish.

"What's all this?" He wasn't complaining, just surprised. With a playful roll of your eyes, you answered him.

"Happy Valentine's Day Elias." His brows shot up.

"Wait that isn't until tomorrow? I don't have anything to-"

"Time zones hun. Today is tomorrow." His lips curled into an o shape in realisation before he took a step forward.

"So… is all this for me?"

"No, it's for the other long-time partner who I love and adore. Of course, it's for you." Elias's eyes lit up at your words.

"For me, for me?" He bounced over to the bed and pulled his white shirt off with ease before he dove onto it next to you. Immediately he jumped on top of you, peppering your face with kisses.

A giggle escaped from your mouth as his hands ran up your sides. The kisses on your face were hard-pressed pecks that soon trailed over your neck before he pulled back. Like unwrapping a new toy, he grabbed your left leg and ran his down it until he reached the ankle. He shuffled down the bed slightly. From the ankle up he pressed kisses up your leg, unlike before, his movements were far more slow, careful. Taking his time his hand ran up your leg with his trail. “Gorgeous. Beautiful. All for me.” Elias’s eyes flickered up to yours and gave you a wink before he continued. All tiredness had left his body, re-energized by the sight of you.

As he moved up, he separated your legs in the process, pausing when he noticed the fabric shift with you. The fabric had a slit in the middle of it to expose your glistening cunt, the small lights of the artificial candles reflecting over your arousal that had escaped. The tip of Elias’s tongue licked over his bottom lip for a second and his eyes looked up to meet yours. A squeal left your mouth as both of his hands gript your thighs and suddenly pulled them over his shoulders in one swift movement. “Eliasssss.” His name was a whine that left you as the base of his tongue swiped over your cunt. His body adjudged until his knees were on the floor, his torso lying on the bed while he dove in. Nose pressed into the lacy fabric of the lingerie, he dove in with no hesitation.

“Mmm still the sweetest thing out there.” He hummed against you with a wink. Elias’s eyes cast down as he focused. The tip of his tongue flicked against your clit which sent a shiver down your body. He started a steady pattern of alternating between long laps with his entire tongue and small more focused licks of your clit. Your eyes shut and your hand wove its way into his hair.

Your moans filled the air, much to Elias’s delight. Always the one to shine under your encouragement he continued his actions, basking in the familiar taste of your arousal. His grip on your thighs tightened as you started to rock your hips against his face. For now, he allowed you to move with his pace but if you attempted to push against his face any harder, he would stop you. The light stubble of his chin rubbed slightly against the inside of your thighs but not in a painful way. “Elias please.” You tugged his hair instinctively, too lost in the pleasure of his mouth to control yourself.

“I got you, I’m here.” His warm breath spoke against your cunt before resuming.

“Please, fuck, please Elias.” The whines and begs that came from you were a signal of your oncoming orgasm. That mixed with the way your thighs started to shiver against him, threatening to close around his head. Not that he minded too much of course. Elias didn’t speed up, he continued that perfect pace until you were finally tipped over the each. A silent cry came from your open mouth, too choked up to make a sound as the wave of pleasure washed over your body. Elias’s voice was lost to the blood pumping in your ear while your legs tried and failed to close around his head.

“That's it my Liebling, that it. Let yourself go, so good for me.” His coos were the first thing you heard when you came back down to earth, lips dry and body shivering. Elias smiled as he gently placed you back on the bed. Slick covered his chin, his stubble completely wet. With the back of his hand, he wiped it away partially, not doing a very good job.

Slightly breathless you blinked at the man, much to his amusement. “A thank you, for the flowers.” He licked his lips before he continued. “That being said, it was a rather selfish thank you. A secret between us? I love that sweet cunt of yours.”

“Mmm, not a secret Elias.” You mumbled out while he undid his belt and threw it to the side, knocking over a couple of candles on the ground in the process. He chuckled at your response as he pushed down the top of his boxer briefs to reveal his throbbing hard cock. His thumb ran down the top of it, moving with its curve until he reached the tip of it. “How do you want me, Ms Romance?” Elias’s eye line met yours and your eyes flickered up from your obvious direction at his dick. Your head tilted up, mouth open as you processed his question. Still slightly mindless from your high you paused trying to think.

Elias jumped on the bed next to you, deciding it best that he chose the position due to your lack of proper thinking power. With his legs spread out he patted his thighs for you to come mount him. “Come here, let me get a good look at you.” Following his instructions you down yourself on his lap. His cock rest against your cunt while his hands ran up and down your body. His fingers danced over the flowers on the lace.

“You really didn’t need to do all this for little ol' me. But by god, I’m glad you did.” He leaned into you to press his lips against yours, unable to help the smile that was stuck in place. The wet sound of his open mouth kiss filled the air while his tongue came to dance with yours. You hummed against his lips and leaned down against him forcing his back to rest against the pile of pillows behind him. The somewhat sweet kiss became more disparate as the pair of you lost yourselves in each other.

A gasp from you gave him the advantage when he lift you up slightly, just enough for his member to prod at your entrance. Your arms wrapped around him for stability as Elias slowly lowered you into him. Your whimpers mixed with his moans as his cock slowly filled you up to the brim. It had been far too long since you had been this full, your walls already clenching him with need. “That's it, Liebling, that's it. Oh, you take me so well.” Forehead against yours his lips ripped away from yours, heavily panting.

A small jerk of his hips had him thrust up into you electing a choke to get caught up in your throat. There was a pause, a hesitation. “You alright?” Unable to speak, you nodded, clenching around him in reassurance.

“If I get too-”

“Fuck me, Elias.” You cut him off, finally able to speak, your arousal demanding he moved. He let out a small laugh and tilted his head slightly.

“Whatever the lady demands.”

Elias immediately started his hard and fast pace, thrusting in and out of you with ease. So overly wet from his easier actions, you took him with ease, Mouths open together the pair of you were a mirror of each other, panting and moaning. Eliass hand found the back of your ass, rolling your hips against his cock while his dilated eyes kept focus on yours.

“So stunning. Fuck.” He groaned, his voice slightly deeper than usual, filled with lust. “Going to be the end of me, this cunt is.” At his words, you clenched around him which had him practically growling against you. “They would find my body, dead. Here lies Elias Kötz, killed by his partner.” He let out a grunt before his voice changed slightly. “‘Oh she murdered him?’ ‘No it was said her cunt was so good he died from it’” He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, a laugh which turned into a groan.

“Elias.” You dragged out his name rather choppily as he bounced you on his cock.

“Ugh that voice alone I could die happy to, I love it when you moan my name.” His free hand ran up your side before he gave one of your straps a light lick, snapping it against your skin. It didn’t hurt and he seemed to enjoy slipping his thumb under the lace ever so slightly. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.” He hummed, clicking his tongue while he palmed one of your breasts. The hand on your ass rosed slightly up your back and pushed you forward.

At the same time, he leaned forward so that his face buried itself in your chest. His lips found the centre of your breasts where he started to suck, avoiding the lace that covered the rest of them. “I swear no one else can make me as speechless as you do.” Elias’s voice was muffled in your chest and if you weren't so caught up in the tightening pleasure in your core, you would have rolled your eyes at him.

“I don’t know, Specialist Kötz, you seem pretty chatty to me.” You breathed out. His head suddenly flung back and he quite literally slammed in and out of you. Eyes wide with desire, his fingers were almost bruising on your skin.

“Fuck I love it when you call me that.” It wasn’t often that he lost himself like this. Your voice was cut off by choaks, unable to speak due to the way he fucked up into your cunt. “Oh, you really know how to treat me special today, don’t you? Say it again.” There was a demand in his voice but a beg in his eyes.

“S-s” Unable to speak you cried out above him but he didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

“I can feel you, come with me. Just this once Liebling. That’s it, so close, just like that.”

“Elias!” your cunt clenched around him hard while he moaned out your name in unison with your own moans. His cock buried as far as he possibly could inside you, his hot seed filling you in the process. It throbbed and you could feel the pumping inside of you, filling you to the brim. Elias pulled you against his chest, your forehead once again against his and he brought you into a short lived kiss.

“Oh, I love you so much.” He panted and one hand stroked your face. “I love you so much. I’ll say it in every language there is if you want me to.” A breathy chuckle came from your in response, his dick finally pumping the last of his cum inside of you.

“I love you too baby, happy valentines day.”

“Happy valentines day.”

[k05h3k]

When Koshek wakes up again, the library has changed;

The previously light wood of the floor has been replaced with dark oak wood, the orange paint stains and a few scratch marks from Catshek disappearing in the process. The shelves have changed, too, though to a lighter color with a few leaves and colorful flowers painted on the sides to function as a contrast. One of the sides stands out, however, being of a dark grey color with a slightly rough texture. A box of different colors of blackboard chalk stands next to it on the ground, indicating the wall's purpose as a blackboard for Koshek to draw on.

At the far back of the library, meanwhile, what used to be just another wall of books is now a wide, open window front matching the style of Site-01 - and, right in the middle, an open gate leads straight out into the field, where the sun is rising in shades of pink and gold behind the apple tree in the distance and countless blooms of baby's breath.

Another story has been added to the library as well, with a few ladders leading up to the walkway about five metres off the ground that makes the higher bookshelves accessible. There is a second balcony as well, separated from the rest of the walkway but on the same level, with an open spiral staircase leading up to it. The view to what is actually up there is obscured by a curtain made of a heavy, royal purple fabric; when pushed aside, however, the curtain reveals a small, but cozy bedroom with a double bed and a night stand on each side. The bed is neatly made with sheets matching the color of the curtain, though both the blanket and the pillows have a loose, white rose print on it. Above the bed, let a bit into the wall, is a mostly empty pinboard, though there is a light blue post-it note pinned to it already - one reading "I love you" in Hebrew, written in Zayin's somewhat messy handwriting.

Returning downstairs, the table, too, has changed - though, not exactly changed rather than having been decorated. In the middle of the table stands a large bouquet of flowers, featuring different blooms; and, placed around it in a carefully arranged circle, are seventeen smaller bouquets, each made up of one of the flowers from the larger one, with a small card attached to them to show who they are from;

Light purple lilacs from Zayin, standing for young love,

Pink carnations from Seven, symbolizing a mother's love,

Pink gladiolus flowers from Eight, wishing Koshek strength,

Red camellias from Four, for admiration,

Veronica flowers from Five, sending its best wishes,

Peonies from Ten, standing for bravery,

Marigolds from Eleven, a promise of protection,

White lilies from Agnes, meaning childhood innocence,

Periwinkle flowers from Three, together with a cat drawn on the card as a reminder of their early friendship,

Wax flowers from Alexei, a wish for lasting love,

Pink chrysanthemums from Una, standing for joy,

Clematis from Sixten, a compliment to Koshek's cleverness,

Hepaticas from Cairo, wishing Koshek confidence,

Pink tulips from London, sending well-wishes of her own,

Pink hyacinths from Hel, commenting on Koshek's playful attitude,

Tweedias from Jane, symbolizing peace,

And hortensias from Two and his husband, for good luck.

[1/2]

Each of the bouquets is also accompanied by a gift from the corresponding person, some larger, some smaller, like a combined gift of two sketchbooks and a large set of colored pencils from Five and Ten, various sweets from the staff members, a book of short stories in Hebrew from Four and food from Agnes, including a birthday cake.

Presented in an almost innocent manner is also a black box containing Zayin's gift, decorated with a green bow. The box itself is flat and relatively large, like one uses for jewelry; and, when opened up, that's exactly what it is for, revealing six handmade enamel pins - two napping cats cuddled up together, another cat infront of a night sky with stars, a bee, a red and white koi fish, a mimikyu, and a dark red anatomical heart with six flowers in the colors of the rainbow flag behind it - as well as, on the right side next to the pins, a promise ring made of hammered silver. A small heart is engraved on the inside of the ring.

The two other gifts in the front, only behind the box from Zayin, look a bit different, though;

the larger one being a carefully folded sweater, crochet in a simple pattern from green yarn that slowly fades from light to dark green up to a solid black over the sleeves. The sleeves themselves feature an intricate design of embroidered, white cherry blossom branches with nine flowers on each side. The sewed-in tag at the back of the neck spells, in embroidered letters, "Love, mom". The sweater smells vaguely of Seven's flower perfume.

The second gift is a matching set of ceramic mugs from Eight, made of a light beige ground material, with the upper side of the mugs having been dipped in color to create a slow gradient from almost-black to a much more intense color close to the bottom. The inside of the mugs, too, is dark, and perfectly smooth to the touch; one of them has a purple to bright pink fade, the other goes from dark blue to an almost electric color.

Both of these gifts look... almost too real to be computer-generated, from the color flow of the sweater and the clearly handmade embroidery down to the not perfectly even edge and noticeable layers of the color dip on the mugs and the vaguely rough texture of their exterior. All three items seem too handmade to have been created by the AIs, or even Agnes, for that matter.

Amongst the presents is also a card, showing a cat napping in the midst of a flower field with a butterfly on its nose. When opened, the left side of the card is written on in an unfamiliar, somewhat old-fashioned handwriting, reading

"Happy Birthday from your friends in IT",

signed by Alexei, Three (as Jamie, notably), Una, Sixten and even Agnes. The other side features a note in Seven's handwriting, congratulating him on his birthday and wishing him the best for the following year, this one being signed by Seven herself (as mom, with a smiley face) and Eight.

[2/2]

[looksforleaders]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🔹️Black, Gray, & Cream Floral Print Scarf/Poncho w/Fringe One Size.

[dokiyeom]

DWWW u will see that from now on I'll just pop on ur inbox with random pics or just . rants LMAOOO hihiih do u have maybe dc or twt?? i feel like that would be easier to interact on yk? + i have a little something i wanna show u 🤭 PLS SHARE THEM WITH ME YES!! im such a sucker of ranting about fics & fic ideas with friends istg..

ill try it when I can but i live in a small village so they don't have that here 😞 ill go to the city for uni though so ik ill explore more diff foods since im a big fan of that yk!

mmmm ok ok now ik when to send u an ask 😝 && that's so interesting?? do u still have family there or will u go alone if u move there! tbh france is only cool from a touristic pov 😭 like i could write an essay about how much i hate certain things here it's Awful BUT i do like the museums and more artistic side so yayay OHHH??? HELLO that's so cool i love how u remember only that 🙏🙏 i love tulips they are my fav flowers too 😞💔

TWT THEORIES SAID SO TOO !! that would be a very unique announcement actually ohh :O for my friends 18th bday party another friend lent me a black dress w a v line collar? it was very light and just overall v cute but simple so i might just go for something with the same vibe ngl bit im picky too and i haven't really been able to find clothes i like for a few years rn so it's a bit of a problem 👎

OMG WHAT ALBUMS?????? i want to have the carat bong so bad but ill buy it (for now) if they come here in concert yk & if i can still use v2 for concerts! i hope u soon can get ur carat bong 🙏 omg show me PLS PLS PLS i have one too and i love seeing other people's collections 😞

i have . a lot 😭 rn i have 18 albums with 2 more for my bday...... PREAPRE URSELF. i have aespa girls, astro switch on, atz treasure ep fin all to action, bts love urself answer & proof, enhypen dimension dilemma & manifesto day 1, lsrfm antifragile (I PULLED SAKURA YAYYY), nct dream glitch mode, svt director's cut (THE LUCK I HAD FOR THIS ONE got it WITH PCS for 20€) semicolon & face the sun, skz no easy & christmas evel, tbz maverick, txt minisode blue hour & tcc fight or escape and woodz only lovers left!! for my bday i alr bought enhypen border day carnival + bss second wind hehe 🫶🫶

THAT NEW THEME WOULD BE SO COOL!!! omg tell me when u did it i wanna see it first hihi 💥💥💥

omg i have both !! but tbh i don’t think i’ve logged into discord in months,, but i’ll send u my twt :D AND RIGHT !! i feel like just talking abt ur fic ideas helps a lot w the writing process

oo id rec just making it at home if it’s possible !! i feel like sukiyaki would b a bit pricey at restaurants,, but the ingredients may b a bit inaccessible :0 && agh dw abt timing for asks !! i have an extremely turbulent sleep sched so pls just send them whenever it’s convenient for u :D

&& yesyes i have family there !! but tbh id probably want to move there alone if i could,, && that makes a lot of sense !! is it like the short stay that makes france fun for tourists ? or like general novelty of things wear off over time :0 ALSO HELLO SVT DIRECTORS CUT ?? that’s so cool hello ??? whod u pull :000

and dori,, i’ve unfortunately been collecting¿ buying albums for a while now,,, like i quite literally cannot list them all fjdjshs but i have svt, lsfm, twice, stayc, aespa, nct, txt, enha, ive, nmixx, izone, red velvet, and itzy albums :D i got really lucky w where i live bc there’s an album store nearby,, so sometimes my friends n i go together :D AND YES DEF U WILL B THE FIRST TO SEE THE NEW DOKIYEOM CARRD !!!

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Born to Run / Chapter 5

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: E for eventual smut

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Just TONS of kissing. Soft kissing, rough kissing, neck kissing, all the kissing. Brief mention of oral sex (m receiving).

Summary: Marcus comes over for dinner and the two of you actually TALK, for once. Marcus tells you about the circumstances leading up to his “vacation.”

A/N: GAH! I’m sorry! The smut was supposed to be in this chapter, but I wrote almost 5k words of smut, bringing chapter 5 to what would have been a whopping 7k, which was just too long compared to the length of all the other chapters. So yeah, sorry, it ends on a “fade to black” cliffhanger and they’ll get it on for real in the next part, which I will post TOMORROW. Also yes I made reader explicitly bisexual, because why not?

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

It was 5:00 pm, one hour before Marcus was supposed to get here, and you were a ball of stress. You had spent the day staring blankly at invoices on your computer, trying to work but not really succeeding. The most productive thing you did all day was reply to one email, and you were way too proud of accomplishing that singular task. Finally, around 2:00 pm, you gave up on work and started stress-cleaning instead. No man on Earth would notice if you cleaned the baseboards (not even Marcus, you assumed), but stress-cleaning was an activity meant more to soothe your nerves rather than impress any visitor.

You hated that you were nervous over some man, but it had been a little while since you had invited a man for dinner (and the implied after it entailed).

You stupidly just wanted to impress Marcus, even though you had a feeling that Marcus was the type of guy who'd be impressed no matter the state of your house, the quality of dinner, or what you were wearing. Speaking of… you needed to shower and get ready.

It was funny, you never had the same anxiety to impress women that came over. Maybe it was a little internalized sexism, you didn't know, but you were more comfortable letting other women see you as you are, while you worried much more about "good impressions" when you were dating a man. Especially when they were as devastatingly handsome as Marcus.

You spent an embarrassingly long time focused on hair removal in the shower and you inwardly chastised yourself for trying way too hard. All clean (and shaved), you selected one of your favorite sundresses--a cute pale blue one that was sweet rather than sexy with a full skirt that fell just at your knees and made your runner’s calves look a bit more… graceful. The sexiness, you saved for what went underneath. You pulled out your best black lace bustier and some matching black lace underwear. You stood back, admiring the effect: nice, with a hint of 'naughty' underneath. From what you knew of Marcus (which was admittedly little), you figured he'd like it.

You settled on Penne ala Vodka for dinner, a simple yet impressive recipe that finished in the oven to create a bubbling layer of cheese over top. You had also prepared little individual crème brûlées for dessert (they were deceptively easy to make) that were chilling in the fridge. You were just putting the skillet full of pasta in the oven when the doorbell rang. Marcus.

You opened the door to see him standing there, holding a small bouquet of tulips and a bottle of wine. And looking like a snack, you thought. He had on a dark pair of jeans topped with an attractive olive-green henley shirt with the top few buttons undone, showing a little glimpse of his broad chest that made your mouth water. You tried not to gape as he stepped forward and kissed you sweetly on the cheek in greeting. His eyes crinkled when he smiled at you, making your stomach thrum with attraction. This fucking man. This sweet, gentle, caring, whole-ass-meal of a man was going to be your downfall.

He handed you the flowers and you thanked him graciously. "Tulips are my favorite! How did you know?"

He laughed. "I wish I could say I deduced it, but I only chose these because they were on display for spring."

"A happy accident," you replied with a smile. Kind of like the way he had suddenly crashed into your life, you supposed, and you ushered him inside your house.

He followed you into the kitchen. "I brought some wine, too. Hope red is okay."

"That’s like, all I drink. Another happy accident," you joked. "Thank you, you didn't need to bring anything."

"I was raised to never come to anyone's house empty handed, I'll have you know." He set the bottle of wine down on the counter and came in for another soft kiss. "You have a beautiful home, by the way," he said against your lips.

You murmured out a little 'Thank you,' not really stopping the kiss. His lips were sinful. That was the only word you could use to describe them. Soft and tender, yes, but also incredibly skilled. Your brain had been in a fog of desire ever since that first, searing kiss in the rain. He was capable of such passion, such raw intensity, but he was currently teasing you with little playful nips of your lower lip, softly sliding his lips over yours in a delicate dance. It was driving you crazy. He pulled back and you chased his lips, making him smirk.

"I'm not keeping you from cooking am I?" He said playfully.

"Nah, it's already in the oven. Should be ready in five."

"What shall we do until then, I wonder?" Marcus's lips again descended to cover your own. He was still holding back, you felt. Still teasing you with the soft, gentle slide of his mouth when what you really wanted was for him to devour you. To plunder your mouth again, take what was becoming more and more his by the minute. Your entire body was thrumming for him; you felt electric, raw. You opened your mouth to him, trying to spur him to deepen the kiss.

Your knees nearly buckled when his tongue darted out to taste you in response. "Marcus," you whined.

"Mmhmm?" he responded with a sly smile. Asshole. He knew what he was doing, then.

"Marcus, fucking kiss me!"

He laughed. "I thought that's what I was doing?"

"Like you did today in the rain. Really kiss me."

Marcus's eyes darkened. "You like it when I kiss you like that?" he said, his voice deepening to a rasp that had no right being that attractive.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. You grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him to your lips again.

He didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, this time. He opened his mouth to yours, sliding his tongue inside, searching. His hands, which had previously been resting innocently on your lower back or tenderly stroking down your cheek, started grasping your body in earnest. He grabbed a handful of your ass and pressed you roughly into the counter behind you, making you gasp. You felt, more than heard, the answering growl in his chest. You clutched at him in response. You felt the evidence of his desire as he caged you in with his arms and pressed himself against you. Your breath caught in your throat. His desire, so to speak, was… impressive, based on how it felt rubbing against your stomach. He continued to take you apart--just from kissing--and you were ready to sink to your knees and beg him to let you suck his cock when you heard the kitchen timer ringing.

"You gonna get that?" Marcus asked, taking the opportunity to kiss a path down to your neck.

You groaned.

You both managed to pump the brakes enough to get dinner plated and soon you were both seated at the table, enjoying the food, but not really sure what to say to each other. What do you say to the man whose lips you'd been trying to devour all day, but knew so little about? It was almost awkward, asking Marcus mundane questions about who he was or what he did for a living after you knew so well the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, but here you were.

You traded questions back and forth as you ate. You finally found out what he did for a living, although you still weren’t sure what an ‘Art Crimes’ department really did. (“International art thefts, and a lot of cases of ‘dealing in antiquities,’” he had explained.) He seemed equally eager to know you, and his eyes barely left yours as you told him various stories about where you grew up, about college, your job, and how you started running.

“There was this older male co-worker when I was in college working at the foot court part time,” you told him. “I had only recently discovered how much I enjoyed running and I had signed up for my first half, and I was excited about it so I was telling some people on my shift, and he was like-” you waved your hands in the air and said in a exaggerated, mocking voice, “‘Oh wow, that is so impressive, usually only really skinny people run marathons! Good for you!’ like, being super condescending and ‘negging’ me about it. And like, it didn’t bother me exactly, he was just some asshole, right? But I never forgot about what he said, you know? I think of him before every race, and then I run it just to spite him,” you said gleefully.

“What an ass!” Marcus agreed around a bite of penne.

“Well, the joke’s on him, I turned out amazing and he’s probably still working there, trying to pick up college girls as he loses his hair!” you said with a laugh, taking a sip of wine. “So, Marcus, you said you lived in Washington, D.C. What brought you out here to a cabin in ‘Nowhereville,’ Kentucky?”

Marcus averted his eyes for the first time in several minutes. “I, ah… vacation, I guess.”

“‘Vacation, you guess?’” you repeated, skeptically.

“It’s- fuck, it’s kind of complicated. My co-workers set me up in this cabin for a week because I was driving them crazy after, uhm…” he trailed off, uncertain. “Well, the thing is, I was dumped, via text message, by someone I had just uh, proposed to.”

“Jesus! What a bitch,” you said, sympathetically. “You… you proposed? So, you just got out of a really long-term relationship, then?” You felt a little uncertain about this new development. After a breakup like that, the man was bound to have a lot of baggage. Then again, it sounded like he was only here for a week--and it was starting to seem like that was for the best. You two could hopefully fuck like rabbits, and part ways after a few days of fun.

“Not exactly. It had moved way too fast, I’ll admit that. I was supposed to be moving to D.C., I asked her to come with me, fucking proposed to her even though it had barely been a few months, and I just- I know I threw that at her to quickly. It was… bad timing, I guess.”

“I’m really sorry,” you told him, and you meant it, although you were more than a little shocked at how impulsive Marcus must have been, to propose that quickly. He seemed like a really good guy, but it was kind of a red flag for dating. Good thing you weren’t planning on dating, then.

“It wasn’t meant to be. She was in love with her partner, and I-- I knew it, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.” He sighed, looking at his plate. “But anyways, I was a real asshole at work for a few days, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t taking it well. And so some of the people in my department, they ah-- conspired against me,” he said with a little laugh. “They rented that cabin for a week using my own damn credit card that someone stole out of my desk.”

You laughed too. “They took your credit card? Jesus. I would have called to cancel, I’ll be honest.”

“I thought about it. Honestly, I think in my heart I knew I needed to get away for a while.”

“I’m-I’m glad you didn’t cancel it.” You bit your bottom lip, nervously.

He reached across the table, covering your hand with his own. “Me too,” he said with warmth in his eyes.

Your plates now empty, you stood and brought them to sit in the sink, not noticing Marcus had followed until you felt him press against you from behind and bring his lips to your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down the junction between your neck and shoulder, nipping playfully, then soothing with his tongue.

“Ah! Th-there’s--I made dessert, too,” you started, weakly.

Marcus spun you around quickly in his arms, and your stomach dropped upon seeing the hunger in his eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment, but can think of something much sweeter I’d rather have right now,” he said darkly, bringing his lips to yours once more.

-

Taglist: @honestly-shite , @thirddeadlysin , @deepstarsco , @221bshrlocked , @mando-amando , @frenchyjuju , @farfromjustordinary , @chronic-nosebleed ,

[knwsoft]

[my future with you]

— member. jake

— genre(s). fluff, time travel!au, slightly mutual pining

— words. 640

waking up somewhere unknown, is always an unsettling experience, but this particular experience had undoubtedly been one of the most terrifying. not only had you woken up in a familiar but more futuristic park, you also accidentally dragged someone unexpected.

you and jake had accidentally found this old machine in his house basement, an old rusty machine that is too big and complex to be a simple machine—it's a time machine.

after a month of fixing it, you finally had the chance to use this machine today, but of course without telling jake about it. he doesn't seem too fond of the idea of time travelling as much as you.

too bad he knew about your plan and didn't let you go alone. and here you are, specifically ten years from the present with jake after much persuasion.

“hey, jake! isn't this the park near your grandparents' house?”

“it is. it looks exactly the same,” Jake comments while smiling. you look at him while he looks around, amazed as he found his grandparents house, now renovated at the front.

“should we sneak in?” you suggests. "i don't think it's-"

“mom!” a little girl runs in your direction, cutting jake off and causing you to spring up from the ground. wait, why is a kid calling you mom and pulling you away from your previous spot?

"here, a gift for you." she excitedly pulls you and hands you over a fresh tulip, your favorite flower. "i purposely chose the fresh one for you."

"t-thank you."

the kid then reaches up to jake after stopping under a tree and asks your friend to carry him. he hesitantly crouches down and puts his arms around the kid carefully. she’s so tiny, he thought. probably four or five years young.

“huh? why is your hair brown, daddy?” she asks, curiously tugging Jake’s bangs lightly. she was sure it was black this morning.

“dad? you?” you widen your eyes at Jake. however, different from your surprised state, he just shrugs, clueless as to why he just got called daddy after you got called mom.

“jaemi? jaemi, where are you?” jake can hear his own voice, a bit more mature, as he puts the kid down. the kid looks at him with confusion in her face, then looking at the direction from where the voice came from, and back at jake again—why there is two daddy here?

you quickly pull Jake to hide behind the tree as the man approaches the kid. you both then realize that it was no other than Jake but, ten years older—so, this is jake’s future.

“that kid is your daughter? no wonder she kind of looks like you.”

“she also looks like you though,” Jake says and looks at you, gulping. "she even called you mom."

you continue to look at the direction, smiling like an idiot as you watch the future jake take care of his daughter. however, that smile doesn't last for long. a lady suddenly approaches the future Jake, and it makes you forgot how to breathe for a second.

it’s you.

the future you just kissed jaemi’s cheek, and then jake’s lips before took the kid from jake with a wide smile on your face. the jake beside you watches the same scene, ears going redder every second.

but it doesn't just end there. you notice the rings on your future’s hand and future jake’s before they left, and it almost sucked all the energy you had stored in your body before travelling to the future.

“w-wait, is that mean jaemi is our kid. we got married?” you slid down, sitting on the grass with your back against the tree.

“i guess so…” jake does the same. you gave him an awkward side glance and he looked at you as well. you didn’t know how you would break the awkwardness, and this isn't how exactly you wish to know your best friend feeling for you.

maybe you should have listened to jake to not travelling to the future. your future.

© 2021 knwsoft

[therealvalkyrie]

What Could’ve Been Without the War

Pairing/setting: Jean Kirschtein x Female!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls, set after the War; canon divergent w/ modern tech

Summary: You and Jean embark on your weekly trip to the grocery store.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: equal parts angst and fluff, idiots to idiots, mutual pining, unsatisfying ending (i’m so sorry)

AN: Surprise Jean! I hope you are all having a wonderful Friday evening and that I don’t ruin it too much with angst. This piece started out as a super fluffy drabble involving grocery store shenanigans and kinda....uh....got away from me. Ahem. It was also originally intended as a 157 follower cool prime number thank you! I think we’re up to 180-something now, but we can still count it. Big thanks yet again to the love of my life @ghostlightprincess for her edits and encouragements:) Please come let me know what you think in my DMs/askbox/comments!!  ~valkyrie

Jean opens on the third knock on his apartment door, already shrugging on a jacket. He greets you with a short “hi” and receives the kiss you plant on his cheek out of habit.

“You ready?” You’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, car keys jingling off of the magenta key ring looped around your finger. It’s cute, and he finds himself matching your enthusiasm with a grin of his own.

“Almost,” he replies, reaching back to his coat rack to grab a scarf. “Honestly, I still don’t understand why you’re always so excited for the grocery store.”

He looks back to catch you rolling your eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re not. A grocery store is a magical place, with all of the cheesecake and ice cream you could ever wish for!”

He chuckles and joins you in the hallway, leaning down to lock his door behind him. “Need I remind you that you’re lactose intolerant?”

“That’s what Lactaid is for, stupid. Come on!” He lets you pull him down the hall, your small gloved hand in his big one. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Croft!” you greet his elderly neighbor as you pass her open door, sticking your head in with a wide smile. “You need anything from the store? Jean and I are just on our way.”

Jean stands beside you awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with his shrewd neighbor. You haven’t let go of his hand and he can feel a blush working its way up his neck. 

“No, that’s alright, honey, I just went this morning.”

“Okay! Well, let us know if you think of anything!”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Have a good afternoon, ma’am,” Jean chips in as you wave. 

“You kids have fun.”

The next second, you’re pulling him away again and he misses the way Mrs. Croft chuckles knowingly and looks back to her knitting. 

—

“What’s next on the list?” Your voice drifts down the aisle back to him, and Jean pauses in pushing the cart to shuffle the papers in his hands. 

“Umm… AP flour, vanilla extract,” shuffle, shuffle, “brown sugar, olive oil, yeast.”

You hum in acknowledgment and he watches as you flit from shelf to shelf, gathering items in your arms. He pushes the cart up to join you.

You dump everything in haphazardly, and he sighs, leaning down to straighten it all out into categories.

“What’s next?” You’re already halfway down the rest of the aisle again, gazing up longingly at the Oreos on the top shelf.

God, she’s cute.

He joins you, reaches up to pluck a pack of Double Stuf off of the shelf, and wordlessly places it in your section of the cart, suppressing a smile of his own as you grin up at him.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right, Jean-bo.” You reach up to ruffle his mullet. 

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, ducking away and flushing red like a smitten schoolboy. “Next is the frozen aisle.”

—

“Was it the lasagna that she liked last time? Or the shepherd’s pie?”

“The lasagna.” He accepts three frozen dinners as you pass them over from where you’re leaning past the glass freezer door.

“Hey,” he looks up sharply at your soft call to see you staring down the aisle like you’ve seen a ghost, hand still holding the glass door open. He follows your gaze and sees him just as you say, “It’s Erwin.”

It’s not, but Jean’s heart twists all the same at the resemblance the stranger carries. Same neatly parted blonde hair, broad shoulders. But he’s shorter, still has both arms. And he’s alive. 

“It’s not, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reaching to wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“It is, look he—” you insist until the man turns and instead of the Commander’s piercing blue gaze you’re met with brown eyes that flick between you and Jean in confusion. “Oh.” Your face falls and you allow the door to close, turning into Jean’s side.

“You alright?” He tilts his head to catch your expression. It’s pure pain, mouth twitching into a frown and eyes unfocused. Your hand comes up to grip the bottom of his jacket, and after a second he can see you physically force your face back to neutral. 

“Fine,” you nod. He knows you’re faking, that it’s a survival tactic, so he lets it go for now, only steps back to let you in between his body and the cart. 

“Up you go,” he prompts you to step up, feet on the bottom shelf and hands clutching the bar. He starts to push as you ride, walking first then running down the aisle until you finally throw your head back and laugh genuinely. 

He misses the exasperated look an employee gives him as the pair of you whizz past, too preoccupied with your smile.

—

“What do you need three dozen eggs for, anyway?” you ask incredulously, nevertheless opening each carton to inspect before handing them over. 

“They’re a good source of protein,” he defends. “Plus, you always end up running out and coming to me to complain. Ran me dry last time.”

Another playful eye roll. “It’s only ‘cause I messed up my brownies! And I needed them to entice the landlord to finally fix my heater.”

“Your heater’s been broken?”

“Well, it’s not anymore. Espresso brownies work wonders, I’ll have you know.”

You’re trying to brush it off as you normally do when he worries, but the thought of you shivering and blue-lipped keeps him pushing. “How long did you not have heat for? It’s February!”

“Not the point, Jean-bo!” You poke at his cheek and twirl away towards the cheese. 

“It definitely is the point. Come to me next time and I’ll fix it.”

“And lose my deposit?” You scoff, reaching for mozzarella. “Fat chance.”

“Freeze, then.”

You grin back at him. “Why d’you think I came over so much last weekend?”

“Is that all I am to you? A hot water bottle in your time of need?” He feigns hurt, but some pride swells in his chest that he kept you warm, after all. 

“And a cute one, at that. Think fast!”

His hand flashes up to catch the mozzarella you toss deftly. 

“You wound me.”

“Eh, builds character. What’s next?”

Shuffle, shuffle. “Wine and flowers.”

—

Jean watches as you bounce in the driver’s seat, hands almost dainty on the wheel, leaning forward to stare resolutely out the windshield at the darkening road. You’re singing along to some song he doesn’t know that’s playing from the stereo.

It’s so familiar, this Saturday evening ritual with you, and it wraps Jean up like the softest blanket. He knows why you’re always so excited about grocery shopping, and it’s not the cheesecake — it’s the way this routine has centered itself in both your lives. He feels it too, the semblance of normalcy, of domesticity, that you’ve cobbled together with him in between hard weeks and harder nights.

You navigate the bends and odd intersections of his old suburban neighborhood with ease, having driven to his house maybe thousands of times since you were teens. The elementary school passes, then the vet clinic, until finally, your old black sedan pulls into his mom’s driveway alongside her silver minivan.

You shift to neutral and yank on the parking brake habitually, then turn off the car and settle back into your seat.

You’re both quiet for a moment: you staring out the window lost in thought, Jean checking the time on his phone.

“Jean?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever regret enlisting so young?” This catches his attention, turning sharply to look at your contemplative profile.

“Never. It was the right thing to do.” He’s resolute in this conviction, always. The War had seemed to be at its worst when you’d joined up, driven by the promise of Wall Maria’s reclamation and impassioned by your comrades’ fury. It had been the only choice, in his view.

“I do, sometimes,” you admit quietly, eyes downcast to where your fingers twist in your lap. “Maybe then my head wouldn’t be so messed up,” you laugh dryly and tap your temple, then shoot him a sideways glance. “And maybe—” you cut yourself off.

“Maybe what?”

“Never mind.” You’re out of the car so fast Jean almost questions if you moved at all. It reminds him of your natural grace on the ODM gear, how you’d whoop and holler as you hurtled past him among the trees during training. He wonders for a moment when your agility turned from a source of joy to an escape mechanism, then stops himself. He knows exactly when that happened.

—

The grocery store tulips thankfully survived their ordeal in the trunk of your car, bright against Ma Kirschtein’s tile kitchen backsplash as you arrange them in her favorite vase. After a minute of fussing, you take a step back, give a nod of satisfaction, and scoop up the trimmed stems off the counter. The rest of the groceries are already put away, organized so she can reach them without trouble.

It’s as you’re stepping on the trash can pedal to open its lid that the voices from the living room catch your ear. You pause, smiling as mother and son converse.

“Have you been eating enough, Jean-bo? You look so skinny….”

“Ma, I—”

“What am I saying, of course you haven’t. You’d waste away to nothing if you were left to your own devices. I’m so glad that darling girl is there to look after you.”

“Ma, she’s not my keeper—”

“When are you two getting married, again? I could’ve sworn I wrote it down in my book, but I looked the other day and couldn’t find the date anywhere.” She sounds serious. Confused, even, not a hint of teasing in her tone. Must be an off day. A symptom of her early-onset dementia.

“Ma, we’re not even together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been together since high school.” She’s so convinced, so sure, and you squeeze your eyes tight against the reality that you and Jean have only ever been friends. In the adolescent insecurity of high school, in the intensity of military training, in the fucking heat of battle, all you’ve ever shared is friendship.

“Ma, I don’t think… I don’t even think she—” He pauses and your ears strain in the silence to catch his last quiet phrase. “She doesn’t think of me that way.”

You just know, you can tell, he only says it like that to ease her confusion. It’s the opposite, really, he doesn’t think of you that way. Before you can hear more sideways rejection, you toss the flower stems and make a beeline for the bathroom.

—

“What was that movie you were telling me to watch, again?” You ask around a mouthful of spaghetti with sauce fresh from the jar, covering your mouth with one hand.

The pair of you are eating shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor of your apartment two floors above Jean’s. It’s got the decidedly better view out your picture window, complete with the perfect Eastern perspective of the river that cuts through Trost and its famous bridges. It’s this, the third leg of your traditional Saturday evenings together, that makes you feel the most warm.

Jean has the manners to chew and swallow before replying. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? Connie, Sasha, and I went to see it when they visited last month—”

Your snicker cuts him off and he raises his eyebrows as you roll your eyes and take a sip of wine. “The feet movie? Sasha said it was pretentious.”

“Really? I thought she was too preoccupied with the fact that the theater sold chili fries to pay attention.” He teases back, twirling more pasta onto his fork.

“I’m telling her you said that,” you warn with a jab of your own fork in his direction.

“Snitch.”

“Hey!”

He ducks to avoid your swat to the back of his head, grinning at your pout. “No, but seriously, apart from the feet it’s a good movie.”

“Hmm. I’ll consider putting it on the roster for next week.”

You take a moment to relish the comfortable silence, looking out at the city lights as you chew thoughtfully. His thigh is heavy and warm against yours under the thick knitted blanket his mom gave you last Yule. Your belly is warm and full, your shoulders relaxed in the company of your closest friend, your lungs breathing easily.

Jean says your name quietly and you turn to see him staring pensively down at the plate in his lap. “About what you asked earlier… in the car?”

You nod, eyes wide and mouth serious.

“Sometimes… I do regret it.” He grits the words out through his teeth, like it’s difficult to force the truth into the world. “Not because I regret what we did in the War. But because sometimes I wonder,” his eyes cut to yours for a split second, “I wonder what could’ve been. Without the War.”

You don’t say anything, don’t say you understand, because you know he knows. Instead, you loop your arm into his and lean your head against his shoulder. It takes a moment, a release of breath and the fall of his chest, but eventually he closes his eyes, turns his face into your hair, and allows himself to sink into the what could’ve been. Just for now.

[night-rhea]

An Angel/Demon au but more like im remaking whole HP universe that no one asked for but i did it anyway because i simply just h a d to...

Under cut for now because its just me rambling about it with no proper art. And its...long...

Okay you are here, are you ready??

At first, i wanted it to be some regular A.D. au that demons in hell and angels in heaven and they are enemies bla bla you know all that beautiful aus like that already

so welcome to my version of it, kinda crossover like.

In hp universe we have muggles - wizards/witches. I turned this into humans - angels/ demons. So humans are like muggles, living their life with no magic and no idea about it. Angels and demons are like wizards/witches, have magic and knows about humans. Angels and demons are not holy creatures, they belong in Earth and lives there.

Angels have light magic. They have white, bird like wings and that light magic comes from wing's feathers. Only most powerfull angels have ring on their heads (i really dont know its name...)Demons have dark magic. They have black, bat like wings and that dark magic comes from wing's scales. Only most powerfull demons have horns on their heads.

Light magic is creator, dark magic is destroyer. Simply, an angel can create a light, but cant make it disappear. A demon cant create a light, but can destroy it.

Because of that, most demon and angels works as team aand lives with each other. And a note, Hybrids cant exist, they simpy just demon or angel. Because dark and light magic destroy each other, one dominate other in every situation. (Also pureblood supremacists? They are still here, turned into all demon or

all angel families. Kinda still purebloods??)

Normally, angels and demons doesnt need to use wand to use their own magic. But they have it anyway. Why? To be able to use other magic kind that they dont have. Let me explain.

I thought it would be pain in the arse to live with not being able to basically cast Lumos but not Nox. Or opposite. So, im sure they would try to find a way to use other magic kind. Then i thought how???

Basic. An angel will have a wand that uses the power of demons wing's scale. A demon will have wand that uses the power of angels wing's feathers. Most impostant point is, actually that wands are just like in normal hp universe. To be able to use it as other magic kind, person need to power it up with feather/scale regularly. Because of that, every demon and angel has to donate some in periots, to Ministry. But some people like families or Aurors, ones that works as teams, they doesnt get it from Ministry, they get it from their partner. Because emotional bond between users makes is more powerfull. ıdk how, it just does because i want it jhgfdfghjkl also ✨magic✨

I think now i can move on Hogwarts and our Hphm characters. Thats where things gets exciting jhgfdfghjk.

There is just two houses now, for demons and angels (I couldnt find a name for them so if you have l e t m e k n o w p l s).

Demons, main color on uniform is black, as a second color person can choose one or two of cold colors (basically shades of blue,green and purple). House symbol is Dragon SİMPLY BECAUSE İ WANT AND İ CAN?? but also it has similiar wings with demons.

Angels, main color on uniform is white, as a second color person can choose one or two of warm colors (basically shades of red, orange and yellow). House symbol is Abraxan because wings and its light colors

Here a simple drawing of Talbott as angel and Rowan as demon, just because i wanted to see something about au. Also i didnt think about uniform much, so there is a chance i can make it more beautiful. ALSO i made Rowan demon because how they are mc's house, i mean they need to in mc's kind, but you feel free to change this if u want

. Im not happy with drawings b u t i didnt think about them much. so. dont judge meee.

And no robes OR different dress code based on gender. No one wants robes or skirts while flying. NO ROBES AND SKİRTS AS UNİFORM. Thank you :)

Nooow are you ready to learn what i think of who is angel who is demon??? İf you have another ideas let me know plss

Demons: Night, Cordell, Tonks, Tulip, Andre, Merula, İsmelda, Bill, Jae, Skye, Murphy, Snape, McGonnagal, Madam Hooch.

Angels: Penny, Chiara,Diego, Badeea, Talbott, Barnaby, Charlie, Ben, Liz, Erika, Orion, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout.

Normally student get sorted by hat in their house, in first year. İn that au, student get sorted in their team.

İn hogwarts, every demon has one main partner, an angel. And one secondary partner, another demon. Same goes as angels. And anegl have one main demon partner and secondary angel partner. Main partners makes the real team.

İt sounds little complicated, so allow me to give an example.

Night is demon. Their main partner is Talbott -angel- and secondary partner is Rowan -demon- The team is Night-Talbott. Rowan and Talbott has really nothing jhgfghjk.

I come up with everyones teams, but telling it like this would be hard, i will just write it like that:

Night-D-: Talbott-A- and Rowan-D-

Simple right??? Okay im starting, it might be confusing so maybe take a break before it?? Idk i felt bad for making this post s o long...

Night-D-: Talbott-A- and Rowan-D-

Talbott-A-: Night-D- and Badeea-A-

Rowan-D-: Ben-A- and Night-D-

Ben-A-: Rowan-D- and Diego-A-

Badeea-A-: Npc-D- and Talbott-A-

Cordell-D-: Barnaby-A- and Andre-D-

Barnaby-A-: Cordell-D- and Liz-A-

Andre-D-: Npc-A- and Cordell-D-

Liz-A-: Npc-D- and Barnaby-A-

Tulip-D-: Diego-A- and Tonks-D-

Tonks-D-: Charlie-A- and Tulip-D-

Charlie-A-: Tonks-D- and Npc-A-

Diego-A-: Tulip-D- and Ben-A-

Penny-A-: Skye-D- and Chiara-A-

Chiara-A-: Ismelda-D- and Penny-A-

İsmelda-D-: Chiara-A- and Merula-D-

Merula-D-: Npc-A- and İsmelda-D-

Last thing i wanna talk about it is, classes! İn that au, classes are karma -angel and demons are together- but differently than original hp universe, there is one angel and one demon teacher in class.

İn charms, while Flitwick teaches Lumos to angels, Mcgonnagal teacher Nox to demons. Sooo

Charms: Flitwick-A- and McGonnagal-D-

Transfiguration: McGonnagal-D- and Sprout-A-

Herbology: Sprout-A- and Snape-D-

Potions: Snape-D- and Flitwick-A-

Madam Hooch-D- teaches every first year to fly properly and she still quidditch referee

I think thats the everything i have in my mind. For now. I hope i explained it good, aaand i hope i didn't explode your brain with all details :((

If you read aaaall of it,tell me what you think about it! Au's are more fun if more people knows about it!

[alilbitofdoodles]

Red Silk & Nylons

---

Rating: E Paring: Elizabeth x Meliodas Word Count : 2367 Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes Summary: Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking." A Christmas Special! Gratuitous domestic fluff for that warm cozy feeling~ Ao3 Link: 📖

---

To be honest, he's surprised she puts up with him and his unbelievably tiny apartment.

Meliodas had offered to buy a full body mirror so she wouldn't have to deal with the cramped space that is his pathetic excuse for a bathroom ( He's pretty sure the maximum occupancy is like one person and a houseplant—it's an architectural feat that they somehow managed to squeeze in the claw tub, sink, and toilet ), but she insisted she was fine. Really, she was fine.

Still, he can't help but feel a little guilty. Especially now since Elizabeth has to apply her makeup while he bathes. He was considerate enough to run the water cold to not fog up the mirror, but even then he felt guilty about the situation overall.

As he gets out of the tub to dry off, wet flaxen hair sticking to the back of his neck, he sighs. He's never been in love like this before. Her happiness gives him happiness and he wants to do everything in his power to be able to provide for her and more. 

Elizabeth was born with a silver spoon in her mouth—no doubt used to a life of luxury. He’s so enthralled with her living with him, but she's almost out of place in his life with how radiant she is. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be enough, but admittedly, he's been getting better. Especially with her. Life seems a little bit easier to manage when you're not alone. Coming home to her warm hugs and bright smile instantly recharges his batteries and he feels like a better person when he’s with her. Someone he likes being, despite his messy past.

In his mind, he knows that his impoverished lifestyle isn't a big deal to her. Doubting her comfortability is just the same as being unable to trust her decision and it feels just as bad, if not worse. He can remember that determined look in her eyes, honest and full of warmth, when she had moved in and called it Home.

Their Home.

Malfunctioning air-conditioning and all.

With newfound confidence he snuffs out the negativity—vigorously fluffing out his hair with the towel as if to scrub the thoughts away.

"How much longer until the Christmas party again?" He doesn’t need to do much, really. Just dry off and put on some casual formal wear. His favorite part was putting on his tie, if only just because Elizabeth would insist on fixing it and he loved the extra attention. He’s guilty of maaaaybe not learning how to tie a windsor knot on purpose if it meant his adorable girlfriend fussing over his appearance.

He looks over to where Elizabeth is and it takes his brain a moment to remember that ‘Oh yeah’  his lungs need air to breathe, because he's sure his body forgot it's own autonomous functions when he sees her.

Elizabeth was leaning over the sink and applying makeup as she normally would, but this time around she was only partially dressed. Her underwear wasn't its usual practical white or nude, but a deep red silk with a sheen that faded to black around the edges. The two cups were edged with black lace woven in intricate scalloped designs. But the cherry on top was the dark pantyhose on her sinfully sexy legs.

Elizabeth tilts her head forward, brushing out her lashes with a little mascara wand, and regards her reflection for a moment before replying aloud, "Mmm...we've got around 45 minutes to get ready so no rush."

As she carefully sweeps the rouge over her lips, it’s color an equally deep red, he watches with heightened attention. The simple act draws his attention to her tulip lips in a coy act of seduction.

He walks over, leaning probably closer than he should, and his mind blanks at a loss for words. Meliodas wonders, always astonished, how perfect she is. She’s so captivating without even trying and Meliodas is just left speechless. His chest is a furnace of warmth and the feeling radiates through his body in little tingles.

Elizabeth spots him staring from the mirror and looks at him without turning around, "What, you think it's too much? I don't normally wear this shade, but Christmas, right?"

Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking."

Elizabeth turns to face him and shyly bites her lip. "O-oh, you like it? I bought it while I was out getting the ingredients. Normally I wouldn't splurge on underwear  of all things, but it came in a set. Plus it had a deep holiday discount..."

Meliodas swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, smudging her lipstick, and his dick throbs at the sight of her. Half-dressed wearing ruby red underwear and silken black pantyhose. He wants to ravage her. See how undone and desperate she looks while he's fucking her in front of the mirror.

"Ah, Meliodas, " Elizabeth pleads, a cute whimper of restraint, and it has his sanity hanging by a thread. "Mmm...w-we need to leave soon..."

"In a second, let me just—" Meliodas places a slow kiss, hungry and needy, upon the dip between her neck and shoulder and immediately he smells her warm perfume; the longer he lingers, the more he can pick up the notes of sweet, spiced vanilla from when they were baking gingerbread.

He slides his hand underneath her bra to palm at her left breast and god does it's pillowy softness fill up his hand just right. His fingers lightly sink into her flesh while the lace bites at his skin. Despite the slight pain, the reminder of said lace only sparks something hotter and deeper within him.

With skillful fingers he easily unlatches the offending material and Meliodas impresses his body against her. Fingers roam her body all slow. It's a careful exploration as he maps out all her sweet spots and judges her reactions. The slight graze of his nails against soft skin earns him a delicious little shiver; a firm grasp has her breathing hitched and heavy; a small tweak to her hardening nipples has her lower spine arching to the ceiling with silent, barely there moans.

Meliodas anxiously grinds his body into hers, his now stiff cock pressing against her ass, and he savors the intoxicating feeling. Another pump of his hips has the tip of his dick just barely reaching her clothed core and he makes it his goal to glide between it over and over again.

Elizabeth airly moans and her voice is heavenly music in his ears. He repeats the thrusting motion with more force and is again rewarded with her beautiful song of praise. He wants her to feel it too. The faster he glides, the more she reacts and it's like a continuous cycle of pleasure with both of them climbing higher and higher within their rapturous daze until—

RIIIIIIP

They both stop, eyes wide, quietly staring at each other for a couple of seconds.

Elizabeth is panting, slightly out of breath,  "Did you just..."

"Uh,  yeah I think I did…"

There's a small opening of torn threads stretching down her pantyhose. He's pretty sure he's stained her thighs with his precum and he can already see her soaking through her underwear more clearly now.

"You know, actually, your hole is kinda hot."

"D-don't say it like that!"  Elizabeth quickly defends in embarrassment, "Gosh, look at them. I don't think I have a spare. I mean, it's not like it'll be seen from underneath the dress so it should be fine...maybe it'll be okay?"

Meliodas hears her voice, but is only vaguely listening. He's far more interested in this little rip he's created. With careful focus he hooks his finger into the seam, playing around with the frayed edges, and something in him feels so strongly compelled to just—

RIIIIIIIP RIP

"Meliodas!"

The sound of thread snapping echoes in their little bathroom and Elizabeth gasps. The sheer material stretches over the fleshy skin of her plump butt as he tears apart the nylon even more. It’s not enough to pull it completely off her, but just enough to reveal more of her creamy skin. It’s like a flip is switched and he's, once again, rubbing his hardening dick across the wet spot on her underwear. Meliodas guides his dick along the slit of her panties, sliding the head along and angling it just right so that it tugs back at his foreskin with every thrust. 

It's miraculous how delicious it feels. Smooth and silky like water against his skin.

Meliodas sighs, breathing in ragged, hot breaths against her ear. "Close your legs a little bit." And she does, and the added friction and heat only spurs him on.

Meliodas felt that throbbing pleasurable ache every time Elizabeth breathlessly whimpered his name with every heavy stroke of his cock. It drove him to near madness. His actions became more urgent, more forceful, but it only had her moaning louder. Her nails dug into his scalp a bit painfully, but the pleasure made him blind to it.

He loved this. He loved her. She’s always beautiful, but there was something so thrilling and empowering to see her so immersed in nothing but the passion he could give her. He'd give her all of him and the world if he could, but it still wouldn't be enough. She compliments him and fits perfectly in his life.

"I love you." his voice rumbles between her shoulder blades while he comfortably nestles his hips between her legs.

"I love you too." She murmurs before placing a gentle kiss over his messy hair.

He pulls his face from her and has a wide, mischievous grin that exudes confidence. "So...do you wanna?"

As he strokes his still-hardening erection along her soaking arousal, Elizabeth gasps "Y-yes! Oooh, I-I need you. Please."

Without preamble, he uses two fingers to stretch the elastic band of her panties to the side, revealing her glistening folds bare to him. It’s almost a shame he's unable to take a taste of her sinful sweetness, but he has more pressing matters to attend to.

The tip of his dick is wet and his mouth slightly drops open at finally being inside.  As he slowly sinks further into her, he can feel his cock twitching in anticipation. It's a miracle he didn't just mercilessly fuck her into their bathroom counter right then and there.

With a gradually growing speed, he began plunging his cock in and out of her clenching body and it's almost painful how pleasurable it feels. Another thrust, quicker and harder this time, and Meliodas was rewarded with her sweet sinful, praise. Her back is arched so that the tip of his head is squeezed with every thrust.

It seems like Elizabeth had begun to lose herself to it all. Her insides stroked his shaft with every pass and she thrust her hips back in order to dig his cock in deeper. 

Meliodas firmly grasps her hip with one hand the best he can to anchor her as he begins to push his hips harder, thrusting into her at a wild and merciless pace. He was getting close, but he wanted to ride out the pleasure of being within her for as long as possible. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to come inside Elizabeth so badly, but he doesn't want it to end. The pleasure coils in his stomach as he strains himself from releasing inside her. 

"Elizabeth you feel so good. Everything is so soft .  ..Ah—ngh...I'm gonna...haa..I wanna come so badly."

"A-ahh, mmm! I-it's okay," her breath hitches as he nics a particularly pleasurable spot—judging by how she shudders beneath him. "Please, Meliodas, please...I'm so close.." 

The hot pressure of her tight core fluttering and enveloping his cock is consuming his mind and body in a blinding euphoria. His vision is starting to blur as his thrusts become more reckless. Pleasure singes his nerves and quickly he braces himself onto the counter. He picks up the pace, driving into her with long, intense strokes, and firmly clenches his jaw so hard that his teeth begin to ache. 

Her walls clench and constrict tighter and tighter and he knows she finally reached  her limit when she chokes back a pleasured sob. Her body deliciously shudders around his cock and immediately the unrelenting heat engulfs him and crashes down hard and unforgiving. 

The tension in him snaps and Meliodas buries himself harder and deeper, feeling his cock pulse whilst inside Elizabeth. He felt her body tightening on him as he continued to pump his hips repeatedly, intermingling their essences and slicking her plush walls with his seed and finishing inside her with thick, jerky spurts. As his release begins to taper off, he gives a few shallow thrusts while keeping a firm grip on her hips to fill her up as much as possible.

As they're coming down from their high, Meliodas flips her around and pulls her in for a languid, sloppy kiss. Sucking her tongue, then swirling and rolling them around each other until his head went blank and dizzy. 

He paused to pull away, licking his own equally swollen lips, with their mouth’s barely touching and breathing in each other’s air. Both of them dripping with sweat and Elizabeth’s body still trembling with aftershocks from her own release.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth I—" his voice is rough and breathless, "I love you so much, I couldn't resist."

"Mm...I love you just as much." She whispers, equally as tired. She brings her hand up to brush away at his sweat-slicked bangs to look more earnestly into his eyes. "But I have to say, we probably are going to be late for that Christmas party now."

Elizabeth gently laughs and it's like heaven sighing. It's so tender and infectious that he soon finds himself laughing along with her.

At least this time they could take a nice, long bath together. 

[themangledsans0508]

Flowers for a King

Read on Ao3

Hugo sat on his throne, the velvet cushions secured in a golden frame. His fingers gripped the arms of his seat and he looked down the hall at the solid oak doors with iron hinges. He looked at a golden clock on the wall and one of three other empty seats.

“Gerard!” He barked and the ape hurried over, bowing slightly before straightening his back. “Where is Kipo?”

“Visiting the ground quarter, your majesty.” Hugo scoffed.

“Frolicking among peasants again,” he grumbled. “Make sure she is back before noon.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Hugo smiled and leaned back. He was happy in his rightful place.

Then the ground shook and his world began to crack and fractured, and he opened his eyes.

He groaned at the sunlight beaming through his window and looked outside. Blinking the sleepiness from his eyes, he searched for the source of the vibrations. He found it to be a Mega-Pidgeon which had an interest in going to crush the other three homes around them.

He left his room and walked down the hallway, pausing to knock on another door with a “K” and a “W” carved inside a heart. Hugo’s own door simply had a star, which he had done himself.

“Kipo! We have a mega issue outside. The issue is a mega if that wasn’t clear.” There was a thud, some grumbling, and then the door swung open. Kipo rubbed her eyes with one hand and held the door open with the other.

“I’ll get right on it.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Wolf shouted from the bed, raising a finger in the air. Hugo rolled his eyes and walked off down the hallway.

Song stood in the kitchen, looking out a window for the Mega-Pidgeon. Lio was cooking and trying to keep things from falling off of shelves.

“Song, it’s out back now. I got Kipo, she said she’s going to deal with it. I’m going to go out for a walk” Song turned and hugged him.

“Thanks, sweetie. Stay safe.” Hugo nodded and continued out the door.

He was careful to avoid catching the attention of the bird while he walked towards the forest, ducking behind things and freezing when it looked at him. When he reached the towering oaks he let out a sigh of relief and wandered around.

Eventually, he stumbled across an overgrown cottage. It had a weathered roof that was missing tiles and a broken window. The faded porch had a railing that was almost completely hidden by vines and flowers. The staircase was led to by overgrown cobblestone. He was drawn in by all the plants, dozens of different kinds that he knew weren’t native to the air. He knelt down and picked up a small sunflower and looked at it closely.

“Hey Hugo, whatcha doin’?” Hugo turned and offered Kipo the flower he was holding.

“Just going for a walk, look at what I have come across. Care for a sunflower? Also, how did you find me?”

“I’m part jaguar, I could smell you.” She accepted the flower and put it behind her ear, smiling softly. She looked past him at the array of flora at brought her hands to her cheeks.

“Look at all those flowers! Roses, carnations, camellias, so many different kinds! This gives me an idea. Sit down, I’m going to pick some.” She hurried around, moving quickly and grabbing many different types of flowers. Hugo couldn’t name them all, or even half of them.

“What are you going to do with all those?” he asked.

“I have an idea,” Kipo stated.

“Care to elaborate?”

“We’re going to make flower crowns.”

“Flower crowns?”

“Yeah, they’re crowns made of flowers. I only could make so many in our burrow but it’s the same basic formula with all plants.” She came back with her arms full of flowers and sat across from him, dropping them all onto the ground. “So, I’ll make one for you and you can make one for me. Just pick whichever ones grab your attention and I’ll show you how to make it. Also here, use this geranium as a base. Copy me.”

Hugo had trouble following her movements and he had to ask her to slow down a few times but once he got it he found it easy. He quietly listened to Kipo go on about something Wolf said that was funny, or how cute Benson and Troy were together, or stories from her burrow and he nodded. He finished before Kipo, and his was noticeably messier but he was proud of it. Kipo looked at it and smiled.

“Black-eyed Susans, daisies, yellow tulips, and yellow jasmine. I like it! It’s very pretty! She gently took it from his hands and placed it on her head. “Here’s mine, it’s not the best but it’s for you. I used coriander, white chrysanthemum, thyme, and lily-of-the-valley. I feel like it fits you, metaphorically speaking, I hope literally too.” She leaned over and put the crown on Hugo’s head, it being slightly too big but it stayed where it was. “I dub thee, King Hugo.” Hugo stood up and brushed himself off, offering Kipo a hand to help her up.

“And then you are Princess Kipo. Now come, I presume breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Probably, especially since I chased the bird away so dad doesn’t have to keep multitasking.”

“I hope it’s not pancakes again.”

[voidingintotheshout]

Black History Month Public Domain Reading List

I’d seen a list floating around the internet with links to pirated books by black writers of note for black history month. I felt that it was problematic to be sharing something that’s disenfranchising black writers when there are a lot of great books by black writers to read that are in the public domain and free to read. I compiled this list of books by various black writers of note with descriptions and links to a site to download them onto your devices. The site is Project Gutenberg, the original e-book site, releasing ebooks since, surprisingly, 1971.

Slave Narratives & Other Writings

Up from Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. Washington (A Memoir). This is his personal experience of having to work to rise up from the position of a slave child during the Civil War, to the difficulties and obstacles he overcame to get an education at the new Hampton Institute, to his work establishing vocational schools—most notably the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama—to help black people and other disadvantaged minorities learn useful, marketable skills and work to pull themselves, as a race, up by the bootstraps. It’s worth knowing that Washington was a segregationist, and so some of his views may surprise modern readers. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2376

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave by Frederick Douglass (A Memoir). It is generally held to be the most famous of a number of narratives written by former slaves during the same period. In factual detail, the text describes the events of his life and is considered to be one of the most influential pieces of literature to fuel the abolitionist movement of the early 19th century in the United States. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23

Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave by William Wells Brown (A Memoir). A wonderfully gripping slave narrative that’s the length of a novella. The matter-of-fact, almost journalistic way in which the writer describes the horrors he saw and experienced really hits home. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15132

Clotelle; Or, The Colored Heroine, a tale of the Southern States; Or, The President’s Daughter by William Wells Brown (A Novel). This book tells a fictional story of what the life would be like for the mixed-race daughter of founding father and president Thomas Jefferson and slave Sally Hemings. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/241

The Souls of Black Folk by W. E. B. Du Bois (Essays). The book contains several essays on race, some of which the magazine Atlantic Monthly had previously published. To develop this work, Du Bois drew from his own experiences as an African American in American society. Outside of its notable relevance in African-American history, The Souls of Black Folk also holds an important place in social science as one of the early works in the field of sociology. In The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois used the term "double consciousness", perhaps taken from Ralph Waldo Emerson ("The Transcendentalist" and "Fate"), applying it to the idea that black people must have two fields of vision at all times. They must be conscious of how they view themselves, as well as being conscious of how the world views them. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/408

Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Phillis Wheatley (Poetry). She was the first African-American author of a published book of poetry. Born in West Africa, she was sold into slavery at the age of seven or eight and transported to North America. She was enslaved by the Wheatley family of Boston. After she learned to read and write, they encouraged her poetry when they saw her talent. On a 1773 trip to London with her master's son, seeking publication of her work, Wheatley met prominent people who became patrons. The publication in London of her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral on September 1, 1773, brought her fame both in England and the American colonies. Figures such as George Washington praised her work. A few years later, African-American poet Jupiter Hammon praised her work in a poem of his own. Wheatley was emancipated by her masters shortly after the publication of her book. They soon died, and she married poor grocer John Peters, lost three children, and died in poverty and obscurity at the age of 31. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/409

Alexandre Dumas’ Writings

Many don’t know this, but he was the grandson of a French Nobleman and a Haitian slave woman. Writing in the 1800’s, his work is characterized as adventure novels and page-turners with beautiful descriptions that rarely steal the show from the plot.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas is a standalone book that sets up his D'Artagnan Romances (pronounced Dar-tan-yun, by the way). Romantic in the sense of vivid and sentimental in tone, the stories have captivated generations all over the world. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1257

The Count of Monte Cristo (Illustrated) by Alexandre Dumas is one of the best adventure tales of revenge that spans decades, as our hero unfolds a tale of revenge that includes prison breaks, fabulous wealth, hedonism, and much more.  https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1184

The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas is one of his shorter novels that takes place amid murder and intrigue in a world where tulips were more valuable than gold. A good read, but not as gripping as the above two books, but great if you don’t want to be on the hook for a thousand pages of description and action. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/965

Zora Neale Hurston’s Writings

She was an American author, anthropologist, and filmmaker. She portrayed racial struggles in the early-1900s American South and published research on hoodoo. The most popular of her four novels is Their Eyes Were Watching God, published in 1937. She also wrote more than 50 short stories, plays, and essays. Her writings are known for their noticeable focus on vernacular speech, where character spoke as they would during that place and time.

Three Plays by Zora Neale Hurston (Lawing & Jawing, Forty Yards, & Woofing). Lawing and Jawing is about a "regal" Judge who having a rough morning sends everybody to jail. He adjourns the court so he can "escort" a pretty girl home since he sent her innocent boyfriend to jail. Forty Yards is all about the teams cheering and singing. Every step is a song. The game is just an excuse to sing, even when the place catches fire they sing. Woofing is about a procrastinating man who doesn't finish anything and when a marching band goes past his porch, he and all his cronies drop everything to follow the band. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17187

The Mule-Bone: by Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. (Novella) The only collaboration between the two brightest lights of the Harlem Renaissance—Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes. In this hilarious story, Jim and Dave are a struggling song-and-dance team, and when a woman comes between them, chaos ensues in their tiny Florida hometown.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19435

De Turkey and De Law by Zora Neale Hurston. The two friends from The Mule-Bone, Jim and Dave are back again and so is Daisy. These two friends become enemies because they both imagine that Daisy prefers himself over the other. They both go out to hunt a turkey to give Daisy. The two young men fight over the turkey and one gets hit with a mule bone from the same old mule from the other play.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22146

[bisou-doux]

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat) 

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!! 

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst 

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia  @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head. 

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself. 

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me. 

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?” 

“Yeah.” 

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil. 

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.” 

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought. 

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb. 

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No. 

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left. 

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far,  1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”. 

[looksforleaders]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🔹️Black, Gray, & Cream Floral Print Scarf w/Fringe One Size.