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[xstarkillerx]

PLEASE OMG!! I’m a slut for overstimulation so that idea you had about the squirting?!?!? I’ll be on the lookout on your page like an Amazon package I can’t wait to get 😭😭😭

I never really planned on fleshing that one out, to be honest, but because you liked it so much let me go grab what Indy and I said when we were talking about it! Pretty much all of this was prompted by indy saying brian was a squirt loving, pussy slapper which... it sent me on a Brian-fueled tirade of 5 minutes worth of voice memos lol

Nsfw under cut

But basically, what I pictured is sitting beween his legs on his bed (always the 2 fast 2 furious boat), with your back against him. He's shirtless and you're completely naked, skin damp with sweat and catching against his every time you try to slump down further. He's been touching you for hours.

The first time he makes you squirt, it doesn't even cross your mind to be embarrassed about the mess you just made in someone else's bed because he takes his wet hand, and pulls you in for a hungry kiss. It's in your hair, on your face, on your lips like he wants it all over you; he doesn't even break the kiss before he starts touching you again. Dripping and still sensetive he pinches your clit just to feel you yelp against his lips, he doesn't bother touching you slowly after that, he wants to hear you whine.

"Oh, I know, I'm sorry," he says, against your wet neck. " I had to, I had to." He's smiling against your skin, not an ounce apology in his voice, nor a trace of a promise that he won't do it again.

Gross, we called him, mess maker, a little cruel. He makes you cum twice before his pants even come off and he tells you it's because you're insatiable, because his dick just wouldn't be enough for you, would it? At this point your skin is hot, red, wet with sweat and squirt he's wiped all over you and you're slumped further down his body than you were an hour ago. Brian's leaving kisses at your temple, on your damp hair, down your cheek, to your ear, just admiring the giant puddle on the sheets before you.

"Want me to fuck you in the wet spot? Yeah, you want it, I know you do." To seal the deal he guides you to his hard dick to remind you he got you like this with his hands alone, massive, strong, calloused and sticky with your cum. Your muscles are spent, eyes half lidded, but eager to please, you nod.

It almost hurts, to feel your skin peel away from his with the way sweat has melded your bodies together. Brian positions you onto all fours, laughing, calling you "Bambi," under his breath with the way your limbs shake. It takes little more than a nudge to your shoulder to put you in prone, tits, stomach, face pressed against wet cotton. He puts himself on top of you and slides in so easily it makes your eyes roll back, he calls you "easy," and that puts a knot in your stomach. Maybe his big hand places itself at your neck and pushes your face further into the wet spot, just to be a little mean, just to see you get messier, hear you whine his name in complaint. It's his favourite sound in the world, you know.

"Briiiaaannn," cute and muffled with your own fucking wetness on your lips.

"Shut up, you like gettng messy," all boyish cockiness while he fucks in and out of you. "Letting me fuck you in your own mess, are you dirty baby? You dirty?"

All you can really bring yourself to do is whine, maybe reach back to paw at his bicep if you've still got it in you.

Hope you liked it! I tried to whip it into something with a little more shape than its original form, it was a half-baked horny concept at best, but Brian liking squirt is worth talking about.

[teddywook]

mirage ꨄ osaki shotaro

summary. in the middle of the night i feel your fingers over my skin

warnings. shotaro x fem!reader, first person narrative. mention of dead, antidepressant use and its side effects, irresponsible mixing and abuse of medications (pls DON'T do that). suggestive, sort of a smut attempt.

words. 2.566k

"y/n"

soft caresses run over my body, fingers light as feathers, touching inch by inch of my exposed skin. murmurs in the darkness that take me out of dreams.

"y/n"

i shift on the mattress, the sheets get tangled in my legs, there is movement on the side of the bed. it's hard for me to open my eyes, my eyelids feel very heavy.

"love"

i can barely open them enough to see the shadowed silhouette heading towards the door, but when i manage to open my eyes, the shadow is gone and i fall asleep again, until sleep completely escapes me.

the sound of the alarm fills the room ending another long night of struggling with sleep. every night is the same. long hours tossing and turning on the mattress trying to empty my mind without success. and on those rare occasions when my brain finally shuts down, i only manage to get a little sleep and then wake up in the middle of the night. with my clothes stuck to my body from sweat, with my mind clouded and my muscles tense. feeling my chest tight, my ribcage too small for my lungs, preventing me from breathing properly.

i sit on the edge of the bed, my dangling feet barely touching the floor with the toes. my eyes travel from the chipping polish on my nails to the nightstand next to the bed. two pairs of eyes stare back at me from a lilac painted wooden frame. brown eyes, bright and full of love.

a flash of warmth runs through my chest a moment before i feel the sting, so on impulse i place the photograph face down on the surface and stand up before slamming it against the wall.

i face the reflection in the bathroom mirror but the person i see in it looks nothing like the person in the photo on my nightstand. no bright eyes, no dazzling smiles. she has no warmth or love. she is lifeless.

the cold water of the shower hits my hot skin, making my hair stand on end but helping me clear the haze in my head enough to function normally. i have a long day ahead, the last thing i want is to walk like a living dead down the street. i feel miserable and i know i look that way, i just don't need others to tell me so.

i adjust the towel around my body as i open the glass closet door, my hair dripping leaving a puddle on the floor. cotton shirts greet me on their hangers, perfectly ironed and without any trace of lint. my fingers slide over the soft fabric and the aroma of spices flutters in the air around me; i can't help but bring a sleeve to my face, burying my nose in the fabric

filling my lungs with the spicy smell, a chill runs down my spine and i feel the electricity run through my body and go straight to my crotch.

a soft murmur reaches me through the curtain of fog that forms around my mind, taking me out of the trance "coffe is ready"

the smell of freshly brewed coffee stings my nostrils, overshadowing the previous aroma that intoxicated me. without much enthusiasm i force myself to let go of my shirt and, knowing that i must hurry if i don't want to miss my appointment with dr. song, i begin to get dressed, ignoring the wetness that has accumulated between my thighs.

the hum of the toaster is getting quiet as i leave the room and the ping of toast jumping outta it catches my attention when i enter to the kitchen. next to the coffee maker is a cup waiting to be filled and a sticky note with a small yellowish pill by its side.

make sure you get enough sun :)

i smile at shotaro's tender note. he always has these details, reminding me to take my medicine and making my coffee in the morning. finishing breakfast i head to the door, putting on my coat i'm about to turn around to say goodbye when my eyes land on the picture of my boyfriend smiling at the camera and then i stop. i remember that he's gone, i take the keys and i leave too.

it's after noon when i leave the building where dr. song works. the sun at its highest point causes discomfort to my sensitive eyes due to the lack of rest and the strident noise of the cars' claxons causes hammering in my head.

i want to go home, but i'm at that time of day when the medication has subsided a little and my mind is clear and sharp. images of an accident flash in my memory, broken glass, sirens and flashing lights. a loop explosion that makes my senses dizzy again.

i take the strip of blue pills out of my bag.

«only if the memories are too overwhelming»

dr. song's words make their way through the sequence of images, echoing in my mind. should i...? oh, fuck it.

i swallow a capsule and go into the small place that seems familiar to me. my eyes immediately catch the empty table in the corner.

i just ordered a sandwich to go when the phone vibrates against the table. the screen lights up revealing the smiling photo of my mother and i rush to answer.

"y/n, honey"

"mommy"

my voice breaks, wishing my mother could put her arms around me, unable to tell her everything i feel and lighten my load. but my mother knows me well and doesn't need my words.

"everything will be fine. you are strong, you can handle this, you'll see"

"i'm taking the medicine again" i dare to confess "i know i promised i wouldn't do it but i couldn't help it. this is too much, i don't want to continue feeling like this" 

"oh, honey"

a paper bag appears in my field of vision, i move the phone away from my ear, suppressing my mother's voice. i watch sohee, the youngest boy i tutored in english last year, give me an awkward sad smile.

"noona, i... i couldn't tell you before... i'm so sorry about the accident. mom wants you to know that if you need anything you can come to us"

"i..." i take a quick look at my phone screen, which is dark and off. without any call in progress. "thank you"

i get up feeling a lump in my throat and blinking the tears that begin to sting my eyes, i take my sandwich and leave.

by the time i enter my apartment the medication has already taken effect. i am aware of an accident, but i do not remember the specific details. the images are increasingly blurry and with every step i take the haze condenses again in my head.

my steps are heavy, my limbs are languid and a momentary calm invades me.

i keep half of the sandwich in the refrigerator for when shotaro comes home and i drink a glass of cold water to relieve the heat that is now suffocating me. i fall on the couch with a book in my hands, but my vision is blurred because of the medication and no matter how hard i try, i can't focus on the tiny letters on the pages.

so i give up, now strangely annoyed, and throw the book across the room.

i hold my head in my hands, trying to calm my growing anxiety. breathe in, breathe out. i look up, exchanging glances with the smiling shotaro in the photo next to the front door, feeling calmer with the pure image of my boyfriend. i pick up the book and put it on the shelf and satisfied that i have avoided a scolding from him for my mess, i head to the bedroom to take a bath.

unable to muster the necessary strength to take a shower, i choose to fill the bathtub, hoping that the water and the vanilla essence that shotaro likes will take away the heaviness of my body.

the cold water heats up quickly due to my body heat, but i allow myself to stay in the water a little longer. i have my eyes closed as i hum a soft song whose name i don't remember but it feels familiar; my chest heaves at a flash image of a pale, cold hand against mine.

i push myself up, sitting up straight, confused. the memory goes away as quickly as it came but i question myself if it was something important to remember.

i lie back in the bathtub without giving importance to the matter. the melody has changed to a more sensual one and my hand involuntarily begins to run over my wet skin. the pads of my fingers caress the softness of my skin under the water and i let out a sigh when they reach my center. 

memories of shotaro and i baptizing this bathtub the day we moved. wet skins colliding, water overflowing and splashing on the floor, the mirror fogged up and the echoes singing i love you's like a mantra.

the song changes one more time, clearing the haze again and giving me a fleeting moment of lucidity. durable enough to remind me of the cafeteria scene. my mother called me, i spoke to her.

and yet there was never such a call. because she didn't call me, nor will she ever call me. because she is dead.

my chest heaves with panic rising within it. my mother is dead. and i talked to her. no, i didn't talk to her because she is... shit.

i get out of the bathtub as quickly as i can and head to the kitchen with just a towel covering me. my hands shake as i grab the bottle of pills from the counter but i manage to take the small capsule.

i wet my face with the cold water from the sink and little by little i let the medicine take effect.

i leave the bottle next to the others and take the paper with doctor song's notes, i am about to read them when a click of keys sounds followed by the sound of the door closing. i hear footsteps approaching and i let myself be enveloped by warm arms, releasing the page with letters too blurry for my tired eyes, leaning on their comforting embrace.

"you're back"

"i will always come to you"

"it's been a hard day"

my voice trembles, fearing to hear disappointment in his, but contrary to what i expect, he speaks to me calmly and with love pouring out his words.

"let's go to bed, my love. now i'm with you"

"let me take my medicine first"

"no" his hand holds my wrist, preventing me from taking the strip of blue capsules "you don't need that"

i follow him into the room without arguing, feeling better just having him by my side. he comes in first and i lose sight of him, so while he's in the bathroom i head to the closet to put on some clothes, deciding on the white shirt from this morning. the soft fabric hugged my body, surrounding me with its spicy aroma of spices.

i frown when i see the picture on my nightstand upside down, i didn't realize it fell this morning. i place the frame correctly and smile at the photo of shotaro and i in the beach, happy that the glass hasn't broken.

i get into bed and close my eyes, falling asleep while i wait for my boyfriend to come out of the bathroom.

it's hot.

i kick the sheets off the bed, feeling my body too hot against the fabric. my hair sticks to my forehead and the cotton shirt feels like thick, suffocating wool on my skin.

i look at the alarm clock, the same time again. my sleep loss is always punctual.

i turn on the mattress trying to go back to sleep, although without success.

"y/n"

hands moving up my legs, squeezing the flesh of my thighs and hips and stopping at my waist. fingers unbuttoning my shirt and a light breeze hitting my breasts, making my nipples hard instantly.

a soft palm cradles my breast, kneading the flesh and rolling my nipple between his fingers. i feel his warm breath against my ear and his hardness against my back.

"y/n"

a moan falls from my lips as his other hand slips under my underwear, where i'm already soaked and needy. his fingers run up and down my lips, spreading my arousal across my swollen clit that begs for attention.

"taro" my voice is a broken moan, my mind becomes cloudy but this fog is different, it is pure lust and need.

his fingers find my entrance and torture it a little before entering me completely, drawing a loud moan from me. he begin to thrust into me at a constant pace that slowly becomes faster and sharp.

i move my hips faster as i feel the orgasm building in my belly, hot sweat covering every inch of my skin. my breathing is heaving, my legs are trembling, and my clit is throbbing, desperate for release. i bring my hand to the little nub of nerves chasing my climax. the orgasm hits me hard, wave after wave of pleasure washing over my entire body.

my eyes slowly close due to the post-orgasm numbness, but i manage to open them enough to see the darkness surrounding me and the shadow that is lost in the door.

it's past 8 when i wake up in the morning.

i feel confused, unable to remember the last time i slept that much. my body feels light when i get out of bed, my mind calm and clear. i almost feel like i'm forgetting...

i stop dead when i see the smiling picture of shotaro on the shelf in the hallway, next to the wooden urn and the candle holder. i feel my eyes sting at the memory of his pale face and tears slide down my face. his cold hand against mine, his skin full of cuts.

the burst of images from the car accident where i lost my boyfriend makes me shudder and sets off a chain reaction with memories of yesterday.

i run to the kitchen to get my medicine.

i'm about to put the pills in my mouth when i see doctor song's note and i decide to read it before the fog eclipses my mind.

'sweating, muscle pain, blurred vision, insomnia, anxiety, irritability, memory lapses, lucid dreams'

a different memory comes to mind.

«"PTSD, y/n. totally normal due to the near-death experience. it is also the main trigger for your depressive disorder, and i am specially worried about the extent of it"

"please help me, doctor. i don't want to feel this hole in my chest anymore"

"these antidepressants will help you calm the feeling of emptiness. they will mitigate your sadness to a manageable level, but they will not eliminate it completely, time will do that. and for panic attacks take these capsules. but be careful, only if the memories are too overwhelming. don't mix them too much, they can have some annoying side effects"»

i swallow, feeling the emotions overwhelming me. so much anger, sadness, fear.

shotaro preparing my coffee. coming home, hugging me. shotaro with me in bed, touching me.

only it wasn't really him. actions that i myself carried out that i instantly forgot or that i simply imagined clinging to his memory. in the shadow of his love that follows me everywhere.

and as i let the tears flow down my cheeks, i feel the whisper of his voice and the ghost of his love embrace me.

"i will always come to you"

but i must let you go

i cried so bad.

thanks for read my loves ♡

[rachoxpotato]

Flip’s Day Off

Flip Zimmerman x Reader CW // free use, cunnilingus, some butt stuff, dirty talk, praise, light degradation, light choking, Daddy, p in v 2.4k words

Beams of soft light streaking through the gap in your curtains wake you. With your eyes open in the room’s rather dim glow, you can’t help but wonder how it wasn’t Flip’s snoring. 

Must be used to it, you muse, as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and search for the flannel he’d worn the night before. The one you desperately stripped off of him while he still had you in his arms, your legs around his waist. Seconds before he’d thrown you to the bed and spread your thighs with his bare shoulders. 

You shiver at the thought and look down at him as you fasten only the middle button, the too-big garment falling to mid-thigh. You have to roll the sleeves up to your elbows to use your hands. Worth it. 

From your bedside drawer, you pluck a clean pair of cotton panties and slip them on beneath his shirt. It’s Flip’s day off, so you’re not sure how long they’ll last but at least the effort is there. 

His scarred chest rises and falls with his even breaths, his naked lower half barely covered by the layers of blankets you need to stay warm on nights he works late. 

Following the thin trail of dark hair south of his bellybutton, the sheets are tented by his proud morning wood, and had he not had a rough round of shifts leading up to this: his first day off in two weeks, you’d wake him up with your tongue swirling around the tip. 

Your mouth waters at the thought. You know he’d love it. But he can use every minute of sleep he can get. So you pad into the kitchen and get the coffee pot going. 

Besides, on Flip’s days off… you’re the sex toy.

It’s just as the maker is spewing its last drops of hot coffee that Flip emerges from your bedroom, a pair of plaid boxers riding low on his hips. 

He runs a hand through his thick, lush hair, his fingers combing through and straightening out his middle part before his hand rubs lazily at his muscular chest and defined abs. You try not to gawk but when that hand drops and he scratches his happy trail, you clench. 

“Morning, Love,” you say calmly as he approaches you, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

God, he feels so good like this. So big. So warm. You’ve never felt safer than you do in flip Zimmerman’s arms. 

“Would you like some coffee?” you ask as his lips find your neck. His mouth explores like it doesn’t have every inch of you road-mapped and you sigh as he sucks gently at your pulse point. “C-coffee?” you try again shakily. 

“After,” he says, though, his hands practically answer for him. His massive paws climb your thighs, reach beneath your (his) shirt and squeeze your ass so hard, he brings you up into your toes. 

You whimper as you look back at him over your shoulder and he claims your lips with his own, his tongue wasting no time in finding yours and forcing dominance. 

“Daddy,” you sigh as his fingers pinch the fabric of your panties and he drops to his knees as he tugs them down. 

“Drives me crazy. You in my clothes.”

“Yeah?” you gasp as he spreads your legs from behind and presses a wide palm to your lower back. His thumb and forefingers nearly stretch to wrap around your hips, his hand is so big. 

“Youre mine,” he says as he pushes you forward, your hands bracing yourself on the countertop as his tongue finds your sex. 

“Flip!” you gasp, hands scrambling for purchase. 

“The fuck did you just call me?” he asks, a finger dragging lightly up and down the inside of your sensitive thigh. 

“Daddy,” you sigh. 

“Good girl,” Flip murmurs and rewards you with his tongue between your folds. 

He steadies you with a hand on your thigh, holds you against the kitchen cabinet, and licks through your labia, tasting every inch of you. Probably tasting himself from a few hours ago as well. 

That thought drives you wild. 

“Fuck, Daddy, I…”

“I know, Baby Girl,” he murmurs, lifting the finger from your thigh to your heat. He circles your clit and traces the circumference of your opening… but never quite touches you where you need him. “My little sex doll can’t even go the morning without getting fucked, hm?” And before you can even insinuate that he’d initiated this, Flip spreads your arousal up to your clit, circling it, never touching it directly. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, Baby Girl. I’ve barely touched you.”

He urges your legs further apart and spreads you open for him, gently pulling your lips apart with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You just have the most perfect pussy,” Flip says. “Daddy likes to admire what’s his.”

You moan at that, your fingertips nearly puncturing the granite countertop as he circles, circles, circles your entrance with his finger. 

“Daddy, please,” you beg.

“Only because my baby girl asked so nicely,” he says, pressing a finger into you and you sigh, but your relief quickly morphs into a gasp as his tongue finds your clit. 

And the stretch you feel inside your cunt leads you to believe he’s slipped a second finger inside of you. 

“Ohhh, god. Yes yes! Daddy, don’t stop,” you pant as his tongue applies the expert pressure only he can deliver. “Close… I’m close…”

Flip maintains his finger speed and wraps his lips around your clit. As he sucks at your sensitive nub, you suck in a breath of air, and hold it until your orgasm flips low in your belly. 

And then you’re scrambling, you’re flying. 

Pleasure bursts within you, causing you to cry out as sensations flood your body and ricochet off every inch of your insides as the storm crashes back down in waves. 

Your scream goes silent as you rock back against his face, mouth open, desperately trying to keep from falling off the earth as your legs shake violently and your intimate walls clamp down on his fingers. 

And before your climax can even begin to dwindle, the tip of Flip’s tongue is between your ass cheeks, prodding the tight ring of muscle and prolonging your orgasm as your asshole gets the attention it didn’t even know it craved. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, once you’ve finally come down from your high. You’re still bent over the counter while Flip’s hand does god knows what to you between your legs as you recover. 

“I’m gonna fuck you here later,” he says, using the arousal he’d collected from your pussy as lube and inserting his finger inside your ass to the first knuckle. “It’s been too long. My cock misses fucking this perfect ass.”

He grabs a cheek with his free hand for emphasis. 

You look over your shoulder, your bottom lip between your teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me there now?”

“I’d be too rough.” He withdraws his finger and in one fluid motion, Flip grips your hips, turns you around to face him, and lifts you up onto the counter. Your ass hovers precariously on the edge but Flip’s strong hands keep you steady.

He’s got a hold on you but still manages to push his boxers down to his thighs, revealing his massive erection. 

You often forget how big he actually is. Usually so lost in the throws of passion, you’re just begging for it in some capacity. 

But this is one of those times your eyes bulge as he lines it up with your entrance and you wonder how it fits in your cunt at all, let alone your ass. 

Flip smirks when he catches your expression and you’re whining as he feeds you the tip, already begging for more. 

“I like to take my time when I fuck your ass,” he says, continuing his previous sentiment. “And Doll, I’m not gonna be able to hold back this morning.”

 He thrusts into you then, wholly, roughly, quickly. 

You cry out as your spine arches, pressing your chest toward him. With quick fingers, he rips the button of his flannel open, exposing your breasts as the fabric frames your curves.

Flip places a hand on your lower back and the other on the edge of the counter, using both for leverage to fuck into you hard, fast, wild, his eyes on your tits as they bounce and jiggle with his motions. 

“Daddy!” you gasp, looking between you. 

His huge cock is slick, shiny, covered in your arousal. The sheen matches that of his lips. 

“You like watching Daddy fuck you?” he grunts, pumping his hips a little harder. 

“Uh… uh huh,” you manage to say as you watch his cock go in and slip out. 

“Yeah you do, Daddy’s perfect little slut, hm? Lets him tear down her panties whenever he wants like the good little doll she is.”

His words make you moan but before he can continue whispering filth, his mouth is on your breast, teasing your nipple. He’s licking, sucking, biting at the skin around the aching, rosy nub and he smirks when you shift, attempting to line it up with his lips. 

“Daddyyyy,” you whine. Then, “DADDY!” when he sucks a bruise into your skin. 

“Good girl,” he praises, staring at the reds and purples. Flip’s lips curl into a smile and then he descends onto your nipple. 

His hot mouth sucks, laps, and nips at the bud. He sucks harder, eliciting tiny shards of pain that turn swiftly into pleasure on their way down to your center. 

“Feel good, Baby Girl?”

“Yes yes yes!” Your hands fly to his hair and tug while simultaneously holding him in place. 

“Need ya to come, Doll. ‘m close… fuck, baby. You- you close?”

You are but you’re also on another planet, so answering him doesn’t come as easily as it should. 

And he’s getting frustrated. 

Flip consumes your throat. A hand around your neck, squeezing the sides with his fingers, and you moan so loudly, it makes him chuckle. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to punish you anymore? You get off on this now. Answer me.”

“I’m close,” you squeak out and Flip smirks. 

“There’s my good girl, huh?”

His hand slides down the front of your body, roughly squeezing your tits and pinching your nipples as it continues over your stomach. 

“See? You can listen,” he says, his thumb finding your sensitive clit immediately. “God, you’re so fuckin’ wet, Doll.”

Flip grunts before hooking his left elbow under your knee and hiking your leg up higher, spreading your legs even more for him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says as his thumb moves in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. He slows both motions to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, Baby Girl. Can’t believe you let me do this to you. My perfect little slut doll…”

You gasp at his words, lips curling up into a smile as he hikes your leg up higher and finds an angle that makes you scream. 

“Harder, Daddy! Faster, please…”

“Gotta teach my doll some patience, hm? Don’t forget, Baby Girl…” You cry out as he hits you with a particularly deep thrust, so deep, you swear he hits your lungs, forces the air from your body. Then, his eyes darken and he says, “you’re my fuck toy. For when I need to get off.”

He thrusts into you so hard, his thighs clash against the cupboard, the door slams over and over with each pump. 

“Say it,” he whispers, eyes on his massive cock as it glides in and out of you, the base seemingly wetter each time he pulls out.

You’ve lost the ability to speak, think, form a coherent thought. All you know is…

“I’m Daddy’s fuck toy,” you sigh. 

“Good girl.”

“Please, please can I come? Daddy… Daddy… I’m—“

The room smells like coffee and sex when you take in a deep breath and hold it. Between the friction of his huge cock, the perfect circles of his fingers on your clit, Flip’s dirty talk, and the asphyxiation, you're a goner. 

“Come for me, Baby Girl. Let me feel this wet little pussy squeeze my cock. Fuckin’—“

You cry out as your second orgasm before 9am wreaks havoc over your system, stretching your spine tight like a bow. 

Flip fucks you through it, your climax a catalyst for his, and suddenly, his thrusts lose their rhythm and he’s grunting and groaning as he paints your walls with his hot, white cum. 

After your body collapses in pleasure, Flip uses the leverage of your leg to keep your body open for him, even after his hand has left your clit and grips the countertop, and you’re clinging to him, desperate for skin to skin contact. 

He wraps an arm around you and buries his face in your sweaty neck as he gives you two last pumps of cum, his shaking lips sucking at the skin below your ear. 

“There’s my good girl,” he says before gently pulling out. “Well done, Baby Girl. Stay right there.”

His cum drips down the underside of your ass cheeks while you wait for his return. He’s got a warm washcloth between your legs seconds later and you’re combing your fingers through his hair. 

Flip turns his head as kisses your wrist. 

“Come on, Doll, let’s go back to bed.” He bridal carries you while you cling to his neck, and sets you carefully on the mattress. “Turn over.”

You do as you’re told. 

“Good doll,” he praises as a slippery hand grabs your ass cheek. 

You gasp as the tip of a cold, stainless steel plug presses against your asshole. 

“I know, Baby, I know,” he coos behind you as you whine. “Tried to warm the lube up a bit. Take a deep breath in… good, now breathe out. Relax.”

As you exhale, he presses the plug inside of you. 

“For later,” he says with a smirk as he climbs into bed next to you and drapes your body over his. 

You might just love his days off more than he does.

[fall-of-achilles]

Dorm Essentials

Here is a super comprehensive list of every item I could think someone would need in a dorm. Obviously this will differ from person to person and room to room.

*Check your university's rules surrounding these items

Uni Essentials- a comprehensive list of electronics, stationary and clothing

Storage

Carts that roll under your bed

Loft equipment to add extra space

Collapsible fabric bins

coffee cart

desk organizer

If you have a private bathroom

over toilet shelving

shelving for shower

hand soap

Toilet Plunger

toilet brush and cleaner

speaker (don't bother your neighbours)

toothbrush holder

shower mats

toilet paper

small trash can

shower curtain

If you have a communal bathroom

shower caddy

shower shoes/ slides

General Bathroom needs

towels

shampoo

conditioner

body wash

skincare

makeup

toothbrush

toothpaste

body wash

loofah/ wash rag/ body scrub

Q-tips

Cotton balls/ pads

Hand soap

If you have a microwave/ kitchen area

Ice cube trays

microwave ramen cooker

single cup coffee maker*

plates/bowls/silverware/cups

rice cooker*

Hot plate*

milk frother wand thing

paper towel holder

salt and pepper grinder

Pitcher

Brita

french press

measuring cups/spoons (liquid measure)

toaster*

tupperware

lunch box

Chip clips

Mayo, ranch, salad dressing

Popcorn popper* my dorm allows a hot air popper

Snacks and Food

granola bars

trail mix

Chips

instant matcha/coffee

Kcups

peanut butter (or other nut/soy butter)

jam/jelly

candy

mints

gum

Brita water filter

reusable water bottle

olive oil

vinegar

cookies

salt/pepper

instant coffee

honey

Popcorn kernels

Butter/ margarine

Cleaning Supplies

Broom

swiffer/ mop

disinfecting wipes

all purpose cleaner

duster

scrub daddy

dish soap

laundry detergent

dryer balls

baking soda

vinegar

cleaning rags

Pinsol/Fabuloso

small steamer/ iron*

stain remover

Medicine/First Aid

bandaids

gauze

tape

liquid bandaid

nyquil

ibuprophen/tylenol

cough drops

cough medcine

pepto bismol

covid tests

hand sanitizer

Neosporin or my personal favourite PRID

Cooling and heating packs

Antacid ( tums)

Other

Nightstand

area rug

Desk lamp

Night light/ small lamp

large trash can

room spray/ oil diffuser

desk chair

laundry hamper

sheets

pillows

curtains

towels

wash cloths

paper towels

tissues

Pads/tampons

hangers

Command hooks

heated blanket*/ weighted blanket

extension cord*

printer*

small fireproof safe (with all your legal documents in it)

tool kit

flashlight

Bedside organiser

Door draft/ window draft stopper

Clothing shaver

Batteries

pepper spray

security birdie

Condoms

From home

Photos

blankets

stuffed animals

decorations

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The Babysitter- Epilogue.

Theif!Reader x The Red Hood.

1k

Part 8

Warnings: SMUT, swearing.

Jason wakes as the midday sun filters through the darkened windows of his warehouse. He had insisted that you stay at his place after you both got caught in the rain, mostly because it’s closer. But he won’t deny how perfect you look in his bed, how wonderfully you fill up the space in the empty warehouse and how pretty you look beneath his dark cotton sheets.

Rolling over he reaches.out for you, his.arms in need of something warm to hold, to ward off the chill of the warehouse, "trouble maker?" He mumbles  his hand patting down the empty side of the bed. Shit, he sits straight up. Did you leave? Was- he thought after last night that you would stay, that you would figure whatever this was between you out. 

He moves fast. His sweat pants halfway up his thighs, when he's stopped dead on his tracks.

“Awww, man. You woke up,” you pout, “I was going to bring you this,” you hold up the two mugs of coffee, “in bed. But I couldn't find your coffee or the cups or the kettle. You guys have a weird layout down there and now it's ruined my surprise. What's with the look?”

“I thought you left,” Jason admits, bringing you on for a tight hug, his nose pressing into your hair, “that you had changed your mind.”

“If I had done that I certainly wouldn't have left my phone here,” your eyes dart to where it's charging on the right side of the bed, “aren't you meant to be a detective or whatever?”

“Hard to detect when your heart is filling with worry.”

“I didn't go anywhere,” you push him with your body back towards the bed, sitting next to him and handing him his coffee, “I mean I went downstairs. But I was still technically in the building. I may have also gone through your fridge and had a little peek at all those arrows.”

“You didn't touch anything did you?” His arms wrap around you as he presses his face into your tits his tongue darting out to lick at your nipples, "because,” he pauses, “and I know I'm going to regret telling you this," his teeth nip at your skin and the coffee starts to slosh in your hands, "some of them are bombs."

“Really? Which ones?” You try to turn to head back down the stairs only for the coffee cups to drop from your hands as Jason pulls you onto his lap. 

“Maybe you can convince me to show you?”

“Without tricking you by making you mad?”

“Hmm… there's much nicer ways to convince me.”

“Seems like,” you press down onto the growing hardness below you, “the less fun way,” you rest your hands on his shoulders as you continue to grind.

“I'm sure we can make it more fun,” Jason's hands tug on your thighs pulling you don't lower so your bare pussy is grinding right over his cock, your juices already seeping onto it, “just like that,” he leans down trailing kisses down your neck, “not even inside you and it feels so good.”

“Hmm, just needs- Ahhh,” you moan as the tip of his cock presses into your clit and you start to squirm, “Yeah, just like that.” you start to pant into his ear as you lean your head into his shoulder.

“Keep going, Trouble Maker,” his hands grip at your hips, guiding you along his length when you lose your momentum. His cock snags on you, a hiss escapes his lips and his teeth bite into your neck, “Fuck, you want me inside you?”

“Please,” you start to beg, your ass shimmying back to try and suck more of him inside of you.

“Don’t stop moving. I’ll take care of you.”

Jason pushes himself inside of you, your pussy enveloping him in a tight grip as you already start to pulse. His hands still guide your hips, encouraging you to grind yourself onto him. 

Trying to raise your hips, you move to start fucking him. But those strong hands keep your movements steady and slow, “We’re not rushing this,” those pretty blue eyes meet yours, “I want to enjoy you.”

The pace remains slow, intimate as you keep eye contact, your hands slowly exploring each other's bodies, your breaths intermingle, tongues twining for what feels like hours. Both of you share this moment in time where there are no arguments, no spite just yourself and Jason.

It sneaks up on both of you, one moment you're staring into each other's eyes, the next sweat is dripping down your neck and your heart is racing. Your pussy starts to squeeze down on Jason's huge cock and you start to shiver. “I can feel your close,” Jason whispers, “Don’t force it,” he leans back, keeping both hands on your face, “but I want you to look at me.”

You try to think of something to say, but your orgasm is so close and you can feel Jason throbbing inside you. You nod, your hands holding onto his neck as you bring yourself somehow even closer, your sweat mingling together as your pleasure starts to flow through your veins and seeps out all over Jason's cock as it throbs inside once, twice, three times, before you feel him release inside you. 

You hold each other, your eyes never wavering as you watch in awe his pretty face contort with pleasure and you collapse into his soft chest, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll give you a minute Trouble maker,” his thick fingers glide down the sweat of your back, “But don’t think I’m finished with you yet.”

XX

“Iv’s can you hear that?”Harley asks as they step up to the warehouse door.

“They're probably killing each other if they aren't already dead,” Ivy shrugs, rolling her eyes at her wife.

“She wasn't at her house, they have to be here.”

“Unless they're in the grave.”

“You got no faith in me, I told you this would work.” Harley moves, trying to peek into the darkened window.

“Are those,” Ivy moves beside Harley, pressing her ear to the window,”giggles? Never heard her make that noise before,”

“Yeah, but can you hear that,” Harley smiles devilishly, “That faint clapping?” she moves, trying to somehow see through the window, “Maybe we should break in and check she's ok.”

“You’re a perv,”

“You love me.”

“I do, which is why I think we should go,” Ivy wraps and arm around Harley guiding her away from the building.

“Can we get cookies on the way home?”

“Yeah, we’ll call and-” Ivy stops when she sees Harley pull out her phone, “What are you doing?”

“Calling Brucie.”

“Is that really a good idea?”

“Yes, I wanna rub it in his face. I told him they'd be a good pair.”

Tag:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko @viperbaroness

[laurenrodr]

Obi-wan was dead: to begin with.

(an obi-wan x 2nd person Original Female Character)

you thought he was dead, no - you knew he was dead. You’d seen him die. Sobbed over his lifeless body as you nearly bled to death yourself. You had not eaten, nor drank, nor slept for weeks after you were finally dragged away from his body. You spent the days staring at the wall of your Jedi quarters, wasting away in isolated mourning. it had taken you ten years to gain any sense of normalcy again. ten years.

Ten years of feeling nothing but emptiness and despair over your friends sudden departure. You knew he was dead,

you had felt it, you had gotten over it.

but yet - yet he stood in front of you.

Sure, the past ten years had taken the same toll out of him as it did you. Grey hairs peppered his trimmed beard, matching the swept back hair that sat atop his head. Long gone was his Jedi uniform you were so used to seeing. Instead, he donned a simpler sand-coloured cotton shirt and worn, black trousers. And - of course, he wore his signature mud brown cloak which hung loosely around his shoulders.

The light of the two Tatooine suns casted their brilliant glare onto his face. Apricot and mandarin flickered through the open door of the small, empty cafe you worked in. Blue eyes fixed on yours, gone was the spark that swam in the blue ocean you had missed. and, oh how you missed them dearly. That spark had been replaced by the dull glaze of regret, so familiar with those who’ve seen the chaos of battle.

As your brain took a beat to register what you have laid your eyes on, you have to blink one, two, times to make sure it wasn’t just the dust that hung heavy in the air. Or spice, left over from people who wanted to forget their past.

Now, he stood at the threshold of the cafe,

his tired face twisting into something resembling shock, it matched yours.

It was quite metaphoric, actually, when he stepped past the invisible barrier back into your life.

“You’re dead.” Is the first thing to break the silence. A statement, one of which you though to be true for the years now passed.

At this, the man only smiled at the sureness of your voice.

“Well, I hope not. Tatooine isn’t exactly my idea of heaven.” A smooth, velvet voice replied. It reminded you of the bedsheets in your penthouse back at coruscant when the senate was at its strongest. Back when all you needed to feel safe was warm, clean sheets on your bed. Back when chaos was still a stranger.

The lightness of his reply makes your heart flutter, you can’t count how many times you asked the maker to allow you to hear the soft melody that came from his lips just one more time.

“You’re- you’re not- this isn’t real. This isn’t real- i’ve gone insane. Or-or i’m dehydrated. Sunstroke. i’ve got sunstroke-“ you begin to reassure yourself, voice shaky and knees weak. You have to grip the counter in front of you to stop from collapsing on the floor.

Without thinking, he moves to steady you. The action as fluid as a dance, on the balls of his feet as he glides across to where you shake. without thinking, he places a large calloused hand on your waist to ground you. And, without thinking, you lean into him.

Musk and sandalwood attack your senses. But you surrender to the smell willingly, dragging the long lost scent into your lungs with a deep and heavy breath.

He smells of home, it almost makes you forget the past ten years, it almost allows you to smile.

Once you regained your composure, you quickly pushed him away.

He stumbled back at the suddenness of it, but quickly becomes stable again. His eyes find yours, weary, careful.

“Obi-wan.” His name tastes strange on your tongue, it’s a name you haven’t said in a long, long time. You can still taste the salty tears that had usually followed when you thought of him.

Obi-wan doesn’t say anything at first, still the gentleman as ever, letting you collect your thoughts before he makes any more moves. He knows how hard this must be for you. he can sense it. He can hear the drumming of your heart, the rush of your mind. He smiles. It’s a sad sort of smile, a smile you would find at a funeral. A smile that says - i’m sorry, truly.

“Hello Elora,” he begins, the lightness gone completely, replaced by silent an apology, replaced by the heavy burden of guilt. You take a sharp breath in at the sound of your name on his lips. It doesn’t sound as natural as it should. Instead of rolling of the tongue in that familiar way you know it should, it catches at the back of his throat as if it physically hurt him to say it.

“-you look well.” he finishes, hand running through his hair to push back the hairs that had fallen onto his forehead.

“I look…well?”, a small humorous laugh was all you could manage.

“well, as well as one can be on this planet. I suppose, you seem like you’ve done well for yourself- not that I ever doubted that you couldn’t. You have a natural knack on that sort of thing. But, anyways, you look good. I mean- you’ve always looked good but what i’m trying to say is that you don’t look too worse for wear. In any sense that could-”

You can only stand speechless as you watch one of the most poised people you’ve ever known, stumble over their words.

You interrupt before he could finish his word vomit of an explication.

“You’re alive.”

A heartbeat of silence passes.

“I’m alive.” He replies, and the sentence hangs heavy in the air.

To make sure this isn’t a cruel trick, you move closer towards where he stands.

Your hand shakily finds the edges of his face, holding it slowly around the soft skin of his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, dipping his head down for better contact.

Obi-wan lets out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes, just feeling your skin on his.

“Maker only knows how much i’ve missed you, Elora.”

With him being so close, you can feel the slight shudder in his voice, you can feel the elevated rise and fall of his chest that matches yours.

“How are you alive? why- why didn’t you come back? you left me to believe you were dead, all these years. I mourned for you! For ten years i-“

This time he cuts you off by placing his forehead on yours.

“please, can we just. stay? like this, just for a moment.” he asks, almost begging, hot breath tickling your cheek as he does so.

you don’t know if it’s for his sake or yours but you comply. and stars, you’re glad you do. The almost instantaneous shift in the force feels like a million weights being lifted that you hadn’t even realised we’re holding you down. with this, you release a breathe you’d been holding for who knows long and close your eyes to match with the man in front of you.

the moment feels like a lifetime, the hot suns making your already hot skin tingle.

it’s not until you hear the familiar chime of the door do you pull away, muttering a flustered apology and scurrying away to serve the customer. throughout your interaction, you can’t help your gaze as it scans over the cafe and lands on Kenobi, his eyes meeting yours each time.

It was strange, seeing him like this - hand raking over a greying beard and fidgeting.

He was …. nervous. He had never been nervous, in all the years you had know him. Apprehensive and guarded? Sure, as all good Jedi are - but Obi-wan Kenobi was never nervous.

“Thank you for coming in, enjoy your day~” You shout out as the customer leaves, following him to flip the open sign and lock the door, Obi-wan’s eyes never leaving your body.

You’re purposely slow closing the shop, trying to stretch out the time you have before you need to confront the man currently sat in one of the booths.

“I’m sure you have some questions, Elora.” He states, his poised accent cutting through the stiff Tatooine air, your name on his tongue rings in your ear.

You spin to face him, “I have a lot more than some.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, it’s distant and cold and it’s broken. It’s ten years of grief and it’s an unexpected visit. It’s the voice of a widow, whose husband is standing in front of her, alive.

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned for Better Chapter 19: Always Remember We're Burned for Better

Here we are. The TITULAR chapter. Only two more chapters follow this, one being the epilogue. We are at the end of the war. We have made it. We are just about at the end of this fic. It is absolutely wild we have made it this far together. I finally picked a title for the sequel, so thats cool. This is the longest chapter by far. It is the most important. They have been burned, and now it is time to find that it is for the better.

I have a LOT of emotions in writing this. I never imagined how it would feel to nearly finish the biggest fic i've ever done. And I'm feeling a LOT. Idk. I'm kind of sad about it?

title from The Great War. Also the titular chapter of the fic. Wild.

AO3

Masterpost.

As always, thank you to my friends. For your endless support and listening to me ramble. I literally cannot thank @ohhowwehavefallen enough. @kentwells who has essentially helped me restructure some things in the sequel already that i'm honestly weirdly excited for. @mollywog who was my first ever commenter who continues to read a story about a ship that she isn't even a stan for. @crookedlyniceperson my dear meme maker. @clarascrabarmy my nightshift angel who talked me off a ledge last week. And so so so many more. I am just.. yeah. Feeling a lot about this fic. It's been a crazy crazy ride.

And as we approach the end I just need to say thank you all.

Note: I do not own any of the Mockingjay content in italics, that all belongs to Suzanne Collins.

I'm like. On the verge of tears as I post this.

The banging at the door is incessant and alarming, more frantic than was usual in such a militant district. Compared to the festivities of the night before, with the wedding of Finnick and Annie, such a frantic rapping at the door pulls them from their comfortable position in each other's arms. 

Cato doesn’t really move, shifting his face to bury it in Clove’s neck, pulling her body flush against his even more so than it already was. “Mmm, think they’ll go away if we ignore it?” He murmurs, voice muffled in the mess of hair between his lips and her skin. “Think we’re in trouble for missing breakfast?”

“Seems a bit more urgent than missed scrambled eggs.” Clove mumbles in response, pulling the thin cotton sheet higher up over their shoulders, no intention to greet the stale morning air beyond the warmth of their minimally comfortable bed. The two twin beds pushed together was a FAR cry from the comfort of their home, but they both knew they likely would not be returning to such luxuries for quite some time. She’s about to continue ignoring the banging, content to rest in his arms until something of worth drags them out, when the knocking both deepens in intensity and increases in speed. “For fucks sake,”

The banging does not relent, and Clove is reluctant unbury her face and push herself out from under the weight of Cato’s arm, which falls on the bed behind her hips with a dramatic thump. Her feet hit the floor as she rocks to a sitting position, and the cool underground air prickles the hair of her skin. She ignores the dull ache the cold introduces to her skeleton, the way her shoulders throb just deep to the planes of her skin.  For a moment, she thinks about how this is going to feel in the winter in the mountains of District Two, before she remembers she will likely never step foot back in her District. 

The violent outbreak in District Two eventually did turn towards the side of the rebellion, but not before sides were further divided, largely because of Cato and Clove themselves. Many of the loyalists did hear them, saw them for the children who were born, raised, and sacrificed to the games in their childhood, and took their pleas of reality. There was still a small camp, though, who dove further into their cause, citing Cato and Clove both as traitors to not only their home but their country.  While it had ultimately turned out against the Capitol, the beliefs would remain. IF there was a District Two to return to, would they even be welcome?

 The banging continues to hasten, and Clove actually sighs out loud as she searches for something, namely, Cato’s shirt, from the floor before slipping it over her head and shuffling closer to the door. 

The exact second that she turns the door handle, the heavy metal door comes flying open as if it were made of cardboard and not steel, and Clove is pushed back into the room by the flurry of blonde that comes rushing in.

“They’re gone. Everyone is gone. Katniss, and Finnick, and their whole film crew and everyone is gone and It’s just us and Annie and Johanna and–” comes so fast that the words are nearly imperceivable by their intended audience. 

“Good Morning to you, too, Glimmer.” Cato rolls to his back, now understanding that no, he would not be going back to sleep anytime soon. “Can you breathe between your words so we can understand what you’re saying?”

“You’re pleasant in the morning,” Another unexpected voice follows, as Marvel follows in the room behind Glimmer, rubbing his eyes as his socks shuffle along the cement flooring of the rooms. “I don’t remember you being all grumpy in the games.”

“You look ridiculous.” Cato snaps, before stretching his arms above his head, holding his head in his hands as they rest on the pillow behind him. As result the sheets slip lower, leaving practically his whole torso bared to the room. “Shirtless isn’t for everyone.”

“I was asleep!” He defends mildly, before stifling another yawn. “It’s like..five in the morning, give me a break.”

“Why are you waking us all up at five a.m. Glimmer?” Clove redirects, practically grabbing Glimmer by the shoulders, stabilizing the blubbering, pacing girl. She looks frantic, nearly mad even. “Glimmer! Words!”

“Everyone is gone.” Glimmer grabs Clove’s arms, digging her nails in with a panic. “They’re gone, went to the Capitol gone.”

Clove’s face must fall first, as the realization hits her far faster than it does the men. Her fingers tighten on Glimmer’s arms ,and she shakes her just a little. “This is…it? This is the end and they just…left us? They didn’t even want us to help–”

“Sure did!” Yet another voice enters the room, this time the snarky tone of Johanna sliding into the room behind the other four. “Thanks for waking the whole district Blondie- oh GOOD Morning.” She laughs the second she sees Cato in his sheet on the bed, clapping her hands together once. “We’re the leftovers, but damn, I’ll take it. Speaking of leftovers, Clove if you get sick of-”

“Johanna i’ll still fucking kill you.” Clove warns, a sharp edge in her voice that relays that no, she is not in fact even slightly joking.

“Okay hold on, why would they leave without us, we’re useful.” Marvel argues, crossing his arms across his chest, before he sits himself on the foot edge of the bed,  far from Cato on the other side. 

“How useful are you, really, Marvel?” Johanna taunts, before shutting the heavy metal door behind her, protecting the secrecy of their conversation. “I’m sure they gave Katniss a bow and Finnick a fucking trident, nothing like sending people into an active warzone with symbolic weapons. Did you all fail your readiness tests? I almost made it then they flooded the fucking streets… tried to send me back to the hospital and everything?”

“You can swim, what's that matter?” Cato pulls himself to a sitting position to join the rest of the group more properly. “You’d never have survived the quell otherwise.”

Johanna bristles but goes quiet, suddenly shifting her focus towards a rather interesting spot in the floor, when Marvel speaks for her.

“Back in the Capitol they uh..” He waves his hand around, gesturing something Cato nor Glimmer quite grasp. “With the water and the electricity, they shocked her.”

“Electrocuted.” She corrects, before raising her head to look around the room again. “Not that it matters now. I didn’t pass and clearly neither did any of you–”

“What test do you mean?” Clove cranes her head to look at Johanna, but does not move her hands from where she holds Glimmer’s arms down, noticing the way her wrists twitch to reach for the skin of her own arms. “They didn’t tell us about some test,”

“A field readiness test. To see if you were capable of handling whatever the Capitol threw out?” Johanna now sits on the makeshift king bed, a few feet away from Marvel but no closer to Cato to prevent the risk of Clove taking it as a move on him. “They must have considered all of you too big of a liability to even think about sending you out there.”

“Do they think we’re just..team Snow? After all they’ve done to us, after all we’ve said?” Glimmer shakes her head, disbelief at the lack of trust this cause has for them, after the repeated displays of loyalty they have all given time and time again. “They just think we’re not worth including?”

“I, for one, am fine with not dying in this war. We made it this far, besides, they would have sent us out there like idiots trying to fight a war with swords and knives. A suicide mission, really, if you think about it.” Cato announces, but the disdain on his face reveals to Clove that he’s a little bitter about missing his final chance at violence and bloodshed in the Capitol streets. 

“We’re all dead anyway if Snow wins.” Johanna reminds them all, leaning back in Clove’s bed, stretching her arms out around her. “May as well watch the end of the world from a bunker. Aren’t you all tired of being used as little show ponies by both sides?”

“She fucking hates us, I can’t believe she didn’t want to exterminate us. She looks at us like we’re rats plaguing her district.” Clove says, but the way her eyes flit around the room shows she’s hesitant to even elaborate. 

“Who? Katniss?” Glimmer cocks her head, narrowing her eyes like she wants to defend the symbolic girl herself. 

“No..Coin.” Clove whispers, looking between them all as if she cannot believe they do not immediately agree. “She looks at Katniss like it, too. She doesn’t like us. Any of us.”

“Maybe it looks better for us not to even be there, then to turn for the Capitol and die for them.” Cato suggests, leaning back to prop his head up in his hand while his elbow rests on the pillow once again. 

“She hates us. We might be dead no matter who wins.” Clove warns, and immediately, turns to face the rest of them. “We should get Annie, too. It’s not fair to leave her, especially if Finnick’s already gone.”

“I’ll go grab her.” Johanna volunteers, pushing herself back to stand. “What a wedding night, wonder how that feels to have your brand new husband choose war over you.”

“He might not have had a choice.” Glimmer suggests, knowing all too well how it felt to be a symbol of something against your will. 

Johanna heads towards the door, pausing to look Clove over, pausing to bring attention to her bare thighs and legs that peek out from under Cato’s shirt. “You know, you have nice legs under all that crazy, Clove.”

“Go get Annie, Jo.” Marvel sighs, once again stifling an exhausted yawn  “If we’re going to wait out a war in here, can you two at least put clothes on.”

“Awwww…don’t be jealous you aren’t getting any Marvel.” Cato taunts just as a pillow smacks him in the face. 

——

They are kept in the dark on the status of the battle of the Capitol. 

Perhaps the whole district, the whole world is, but it feels like the six of them are particularly cut off from the reality of the outside world. 

The day itself is very…odd. No other term to describe it than weird, really. There are no overhead announcements of the change of a shift, nor announcement of mealtimes beginning. Maybe they are happening and the group of them are simply unaware, but after hours of, well, nothingness…Cato makes the call that he’s starving and he will be finding something to eat. 

He's on his way back from the kitchen, leftover cake from Peeta’s creation the night before in his hands to serve as their snack, lunch, AND dinner, when he physically collides with Haymitch in the hallway.

The older victor tries to nod and go on his way, but Cato grabs him by the shoulder to stop him from running. 

“Why didn’t they tell us?”

“She didn’t tell me, either, sunshine. Katniss isn’t one to give other people a heads up.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it, Haymitch. After all we did for them, they don’t even want us there when it ends?”

Haymitch gives a hesitant glance around, all too aware that the walls listened for even the lightest whimpers. “Plutarch wanted as many victors there as possible. Coin didn’t want anyone who could be seen as a Capitol loyalist-“

“We’re loyalists? Me and Clove, who literally have no home anymore as a result of this war? Glimmer, who risked it all to expose what they did to her? Marvel? Who doesn't even know what to believe? We’re loyal to Snow?”  The thought is unbelievable to Cato, who has lost his home, his family, and everything but Clove to this war. Have they not given enough to show that they are anything but a threat to this new world. 

“It isn’t me saying it, kid.” He gives another hesitant glance around. “Remember what I'm telling you right now, okay? About how she sees you all.” 

—-

The four of them sit on the still unmade bed, the screen in the room turned on in case of any sudden update that has still yet to come. Johanna had ushered Annie out of the room not terribly long before, after the lack of update had sent her spiraling to something akin to a panic attack. Johanna insisted she just needed to be alone, and that she’d bring her back once she was more stable. 

Clove’s head is on Cato’s thigh as he feeds her bites of the cake, her feet up against Glimmer’s legs where she is curled up under the blankets, head resting on Clove’s pillow. Marvel sits at the foot of the bed, distracted from all but the turquoise buttercream on the cake before him. 

“Shame he’s from twelve, he could’ve made a killing in a bakery in One.” Marvel comments, swiping the left over icing off the plate with his finger, before shoving it in his mouth. “That kid can bake.”

“I’m not sure there's really going to be district divisions left after all this. You can go get some loverboy cupcakes anytime you want.” Clove teases, before accepting another fork full of cake. “If there's even a Peeta left after today.”

“Why would they send him? Isn’t he literally programmed to kill Katniss? Isn't that a liability?” Marvel questions, before full on just digging directly into the entire tier of cake Cato had brought back with him. 

Something clicks for Cato, the words of Haymitch Abernathy combined with months of watching and absorbing the way things go down here. Everything is always intentional. “Maybe that's the point.” 

“You think the point is to kill Katniss?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, but props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at them. “Isn’t her whole point like…to represent the cause?”

“..but maybe she’s more symbolic dead?” Glimmer suggests, following along with what Cato is implying, tucking her blanket over her shoulders before snuggling deeper into the blanket. “...do you think we’re all more symbolic dead?”

“Honestly, I don’t know-” Cato is cut off when the TV actually flashes on for the first time all day, proudly displaying the Capitol seal before one Caesar Flickerman appears in a news anchor-esk desk. 

“For fucks sake, how is Caesar still alive?” Clove groans, but pushes herself to sit beside Cato as the tv calls their attention. 

“He’s the capitol’s favorite cockroach.” Marvel jokes, before he too turns around at the foot of the bed to watch whatever news Caesar brings. 

“They’re alive.” Is the first thing Glimmer whispers, tuned out to the snide remarks on alliances and loyalty from Cesar, as she tunes in directly to seeing FInnick, Katniss, and even Peeta alive. 

As Peeta grabs Katniss to throw her down, and some unidentified member of the squad pulls him off, a silence falls across them all. An uncomfortable silence, one that settles in the air and makes any word feel simply futile.  

“Do you remember the night before the quell?” Marvel finally says, clearing his throat as he does so. There's something in his voice, something between realization and fear, and Glimmer is the first to recognize it. 

“On the rooftop, yeah, why?” She follows up, and nearly reaches forward to grab his shoulder but stops herself, still, even in this end of the world moment, afraid of what he would think. 

“Doesn’t this feel a lot like it?”

—

Two entire days pass without another update. Two turns to Three. Three turns to Four into Five. 

It is five days later when they get their next news on the active battle in the Capitol. Ironically, they are in exactly the same space. Clove leaning with her legs and feet in Cato’s lap, who is sitting up against the wall that serves as the head board on their bed. Her head is across the bed, in Glimmer’s hands where the girl threads intricate braids through the length of her hair giving her something productive to do with her hands. The biggest change is that she now also leans on Marvel, who once again sits cross legged at the foot of the bed. 

“What do you think will happen next?” Glimmer brings up, raking her fingers through the soft waves at the end of Clove’s ever growing hair. “Like..what's next for us?”

“I think the answer is supposed to be live happily ever after, if you ask Annie.” Clove snorts, but stretches her legs against Cato’s torso to get him to pick up her feet. “I honestly haven’t thought about it.”

“You haven’t thought about what happens after this ends?” Marvel questions, leaning back against the metal bar of the bottom of the bed. 

“Why should I? Who knows what's left out there for us? District Two is literally ashes. I’m an actual orphan now, Cato’s probably also a war orphan. We literally probably don’t even have a home left for us.” Clove looks over at Cato, who is just nodding his head in disagreement. “Are we going to have to be drifters?”

“You could always just come stay with us for a while, if we even have standing homes. Otherwise we can all go hide in the mountains of District Two, living out of tents… it’ll be like we’re in the Hunger Games forever.”  Marvel suggests, but his face twists up as soon as the words are out. “Scratch that. Not like the Hunger Games. I don’t want to think about those..honestly? Ever again. But seriously. We may all be living out of tents so–”

“I am not living out of a tent.” Glimmer scoffs, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “After all this, I deserve at least running water. And a maid. And a chef.”

“You don’t need a chef, Clove’s right there and homeless.” Marvel teases, but the concept does bring another pending issue to the front of his mind. “....do you think we’re going to have to get like…jobs?”

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” Cato chimes in, taking Clove’s foot into his hand and digging his thumb into the center of arch of her left foot and for a moment they are seventeen on the train to her games for the first time again. “We won the Hunger Games. Monthly stipends for the rest of our lives, remember? Have we not done enough?”

“They may not care about all that, if there's no games, does it even matter if we won them?” Clove questions, before she tugs her foot back out of his hand as he pressed his finger in, nearly kicking him in the process. “You asshole.”

“I am not getting a job. When I was little my mom used to say I could either marry a victor or be one. And I am one. Working retail in One was just never even on the table for me!” Glimmer sounds nearly scandalized at the suggestion, sitting a little straighter and leaning against her once-boyfriend. “Katniss should add that to her list of concessions. We keep our income.”

“It’s not like there’s going to even be that many victors left.” Cato points out, smirking as he goes for Clove’s other foot, holding her ankle firmly in his hand so she cannot pull away this time. “It’s the least they could do for us.”

They had destroyed their homes. Stripped them of their livelihood as victors. Slaughtered their families and their friends. A monthly stipend was the literal least that the new government could do. 

It’s not like any of them really had employable skills, anyway. 

The television crackles on against any of their will, and the Capitol insignia once again covers the entirety of the room in a bright, blinding light. The familiar anthem of the Capitol plays, and Clove is the first to scoff. 

“I wish Katniss didn’t have dibs, I’d love to get my hands on Snow for this-” Clove starts, but her blood runs cold as soon as she sees what is being displayed behind him. 

It is an image they are all too familiar with. As the anthem plays the holographic pictures of fallen tributes scroll on the screen. This time, though, the tributes are people they know all too well. 

Finnick Odair. Katniss Everdeen. Peeta Mellark. 

“No..no. no. no.” Glimmer shakes her head, disbelief quickly turning to agony as her own breathing speeds up and she falls quickly over the edge of her own emotional distress. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is as chilling as the screams of Annie Cresta-Odair that echo through the depths of District Thirteen. 

“They can’t be dead, there's no way they’re all just..gone.” Clove tries, but the evidence is in front of her. Of course there is a way. They are in an active battle ground with literal bows and knives and tridents. They were never intended to come out as victors. 

Glimmer is beside herself, resolved to hyperventilating, body shaking sobs as the broadcast transitions to Snow. 

“We should go to Annie..” Marvel suggests, but as Glimmer physically collapses against him he can’t find it in him to do anything but bring a hand up to her shoulders, as he had done all those years ago during Clove’s games. Johanna is probably with her, if the footsteps running through the hall and the two rapid door slams indicate. 

Snow appears on their screen, and gives some speech about Katniss being a misguided girl.

“...I think we need to have another conversation.” Cato warns, leaning forward to grab Clove and pull her into his lap. “What do we do if Snow wins this?”

“I’m not living in a world with him in control, I can’t I can’t I can’t.” Glimmer cries, further digging herself into her ex-boyfriend's shirt, letting (or rather pleading) him wrap a single arm around her to give her any semblance of comfort. “I can’t go through it again.”

“I’m in no fucking hurry to get back in his hands, I won’t. He took everything from me. He stole who I am. I’m not living in his world.” Clove agreed, noticing the way she herself was also breathing rather heavy as a result of the news. Not to say she was panicking but..she also wasn’t far off. Her heart pounded, raced really, in her chest. After everything..she couldn’t survive in a world with Snow. 

The screen is disrupted when Coin takes over, and gives an empassioned speech about Katniss as well. Her false emotion is obvious to them, who are all too accustomed to her fake niceties. 

“She caused this! She’s the one who sent her in there with Peeta and Finnick and it’s her fault.” Glimmer blames, an arm at her waist the only thing that keeps her from lunging at the television in her rage. Coin is justly the target of her ire, as the loss of Finnick is like feeling the loss of a limb. They were the ones who went through it all together, and she is likely the one of the only ones who remain who have experienced the sexual abuse at the hands of elite capitolites. 

“Lesser of two evils, Glimmer, lesser of two evils.” Marvel tries, but it is no use as Glimmer loses it yet again. 

“Cato’s right.” Clove says, leaning back in his arms. “We need a plan if Snow wins, we can’t get back in their control.”

“What do you suggest, Clove? We hold a Hunger Games down here of the surviving victors? Just take each other out?” Marvel questions, not even slightly considering it. It’s preposterous to him, that they’d just be able to annihilate each other as if they had not gone through an entire war together now. 

“I don’t know if we could do it.” Cato admits, shaking his head just a little as he pulls Clove properly onto his lap. “After all this..yeah we can take ourselves out but could we really kill Annie? Or even you , Glimmer, I'm not sure I'd be able to.”

“I couldn’t kill you.” Clove fully admits, tucking her head against Cato’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist for him by grasping his hands. “I spent my whole life trained to kill you.. And I couldn’t do it. Not now. I couldn’t kill you, Marvel, even though you irritated the hell out of me when I met you. We survived the fucking capitol together. Glimmer… you are the closest thing to a friend I have ever had. I guess that makes you my best friend, doesn’t it? You have taken care of me for months down here. I can’t kill you. And God, Cato, you’re the love of my life. After all this shit, there's no chance in the world I’d be able to kill you so easily anymore. I don’t know what comes next if Snow wins…but come on. We can’t throw it all in so easily. We’re probably the only Career Victors left. We can’t give it up so easily.”

—

The war ends three days later. Formally, at least. 

 The television refuses to shut off, with mandatory viewing of evacuations and all cameras focused on the president's mansion an endless background noise.

Clove is laying on top of Cato, face tucked into his neck as he runs his hands over the small of her back absently. There has been a tension in the air ever since the conversation of the end of the world under Snow, and they had spent the majority of what could be their last days on earth alone with each other. 

Go out with a bang, right?

Go out with a bang, quite literally, when the mandatory viewing of evacuations turns into a mass civilian bombing by the Capitol. Or more specifically a mass bombing of the capitol children. 

“It’s like their own Hunger Games. Just..mass murder of kids.” Clove remarks from her place on his chest, tucking her chin against his sternum so she can look up at him. “Feels funny to see the games that way.”

A second bomb wipes out the camera footage as the bomb wipes out thousands more. 

Neither think much of it. They had been broadcasting the mass deaths of peacekeepers and rebels alike for days. What is one more bombing, what are thousands more added to the death count. 

It is not until an hour or so later, long after the broadcast has cut out, that a banging resumes on their door as it had days prior. 

This person, though, does not wait for the door to be opened, and instead keys in a code from the outside that flings it open. 

On the other side of the door is Haymitch Abernathy, a beanie on his head and a smile on his face for the first time maybe ever. 

“It’s over!” He announced from the door frame, hand still grasping the handle. “It’s over.”

Clove raises her head first, and Cato’s face whips around to face the door. It is Cato’s turn to break into the ghost of a smile as he waits to confirm what Haymitch is saying. There’s no way the man had broken in that enthused if Snow had won, right.

“We won?” Cato calls out, grasping Clove’s hip under the blanket so intensely that it was sure to leave bruises behind. 

“We won.” Haymitch narrows his eyes at the two of them, gesturing to the sheets that covered them. “If you two will disconnect from one another and get dressed, they’re going to fly us all out for the big execution of Snow.”

“...we’re invited?” Clove snarks, raising a dark eyebrow, but unable to stop the smile that is threatening to creep across her face. “What’s the occasion?”

“The war is over, kid. Everyone’s going.” Haymitch winks at them, and for the first time maybe ever, Clove recognizes him as another victor like herself. And maybe, just maybe, he sees them for that too. 

The door shuts on them both as Haymitch hits Glimmer’s room next, as evidenced by the shriek they can hear through the wall at the announcement. 

The reaction of Glimmer, or Marvel, or Annie, Or Johanna doesn't matter, not right now. 

Not when Cato grabs Clove’s face in his hands, and pulls her up so that they are only inches apart, his thumbs brushing across the freckles that dance over her cheeks like constellations. 

It is better than winning any fight, better than the night before any Hunger Games. 

“It’s over.” Clove whispers, her own hands coming up to rest along his jaw, her thumb stroking over his cheek. “We won.”

“It’s over.” Cato agrees, the smile fully breaking out on his face now. They won. And if they have nothing else in the world..they have each other. 

He pulls her face down to crash their lips together, and if he can taste the saltiness of tears he is kind enough not to mention it. 

Seconds, Minutes, who knows how long passes before Clove forces herself to pull back just a little, just enough to catch her breath. Their noses still brush, foreheads still together, when she finally, finally lets out a sigh. 

“We survived a war, Cato.”

“We always survive, babe. We always do.”

—

 The flight to the Capitol is unlike any train ride or victory tour ever felt. It’s a moment of victory all its own, yes. 

And yet, there is the feeling of unfinished business in the air. A war that is over but not quite. 

It is also the longest a journey to the Capitol has ever taken, a far cry from the quick train rides from Two. 

“Everything is going to change.” Clove warns Cato, sitting in their own little corner of the hovercraft. 

“Maybe it’s for the better.” Cato suggests, lacing his fingers with hers as he crosses his ankles out in front of him. It was strangely reminiscent, sitting side by side like this, of being kids on their lunch break at training. Their entire lives have centered around anchoring the other, really.  He nods in the direction diagonal from them, where caddy-cornered to them sit Marvel and Glimmer, in a position not at all unlike their own. They watch as Glimmer rests her head on Marvel’s shoulder and how he smiles down at her like she’s the source of all the light in the room.  “Maybe it’s for the better.” 

—

The first person they see upon landing is Effie Trinket who is back in her head to toe over the top regalia. Well. Some things change and some things do not. 

“Welcome, Welcome!” She greets, a megawatt smile plastered across her pale painted skin. Even in her Captiol attire she is still not quite as outlandish as she had once been. There is a wig and heavy makeup, yes, but it is not at the level that an escort would have once been. 

She had likely been brought out earlier, with Coin and Plutarch and other military stars. Still. It was nice to see a familiar face, with all the loss they were about to face. 

“If you will all follow me, we have thrown together a little prep team of sorts! To get you all presentable for the execution. It’s a big day!” Effie leads them into the president's mansion, and Clove straightens as she is reminded of all the torment she faced in these very rooms. Cato notices– of course he does, they are truly two halves of the same soul– and instinctively wraps his hands around her just a little tighter.

“The other surviving victors are slowly coming in, there's not many left but!” Effie starts and it is the immediate scream of Annie Cresta that draws all their attention.

“Finnick!” 

“Annie!”

Clove and Cato turn around just in time to see the two of them collide, when Annie wraps all her limbs around his shoulders and hips, as he holds her as if she weighs nothing. 

“I thought he was dead.” Clove whispers, disbelief and even joy laced in her tone as she addresses the district twelve escort. “And Katniss and Peeta–”

“That's what they had us all thinking! But no! Katniss and Peeta, they’re alive as well. Katniss’s poor little sister, though, it’s truly tragic.” Effie puts a hand over her heart to show sympathy, but continues to lead them down the hall where various groups are being reunited. 

“Prim is dead?” Cato pauses, and quite literally stops walking in his tracks. “How was she even involved in the war to begin, she's a kid–”

“The bombing. At the end. She was there as a medic.” Effie explains, though the tone in her voice indicates that something is, once again, being left unsaid. Something didn’t fit. 

Cato and Clove share a look, one that speaks their agreement, that something is off and they need to discuss what exactly it is. 

They pass yet another door and a flurry of blonde and sparkle catches Clove off guard. Her eyes go wide, and she nearly says her name, before a manicured finger comes to shush her. 

“It’s a surprise.” Mouths Cashmere, where she stands side by side with her brother Gloss just beyond the door. Glimmer had clearly not seen them yet, but the shining smiles on their twin faces revealed to Clove they were all too excited to be reunited with their baby sister.

Clove felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, at the realization that there is no one waiting to be reunited with her. 

Cato must feel it too, as he realizes that he likely lost his sister just like Katniss. He did not have a little sister any more to excitedly await the reunion of. 

“Perfect! The District Two Room!” Effie announces, and leaves them at the door. “You two will be prepped soon. Enjoy the meantime!”

Effie cracks the door for them, and gives them each a knowing smile before she heads off in the general direction of what they can only assume is District Twelve preparations for Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. 

Cato takes the lead on pushing the door open with his fingers, and god is he glad he did when he feels Clove practically sink like jello in his arms beside him. He feels her before he hears her little gasp, and Cato is looking at her, missing exactly what stands beyond the door frame that is bringing his girl down. Clove, though, couldn't miss it if she tried. 

“Well you two have looked better.” The cocky voice comes from just beyond the door frame, and Cato feels Clove’s hand slip from his just as he finally looks up to see who waits for them. 

Brutus and Enobaria. 

Their lifelong mentors. 

“Enobaria.” Clove whispers, before she is moving as fast as her legs can carry her to cross the couple of steps between them. Immediately, she throws her arms around the woman’s shoulders, clinging to her as she did seventeen years ago when she was the only person in the world to find her worth comforting. And like she had seventeen years prior, Enobaria pulls her close, her hair finding the back of her head as it had so so many times in her childhood. 

She is not just her mentor, no. This is the woman who raised her. This is who made her into a victor. It only took a war to see that.

“You’re alive.” Clove cries against her, as she buries her face against her shoulder. “You weren’t in Two, I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, we were there.” Enobaria promises, pulling Clove’s head back so that she can wipe at the tears under her eyes. 

“You should have seen her, the day that interview with Peeta aired. I heard you in the background, and in no more than thirty seconds she was in my living room demanding we get involved.” Brutus admits, holding out his arms and scooping up the tiny girl, for the first time in her entire life showing Clove any semblance of appreciation and affection. “You had half a district coming together in your defense, kid. All led by Enobaria.” 

He sets her back down, and no sooner do her feet hit the ground before Enobaria is back to hugging her. 

“I am so so so proud of you. Both of you.” Enobaria promises, running her hand over the crown of Clove’s hair, pushing all the curled fly aways back from her eyes. 

“I hate to say it and pad your already unmanageable ego, Cato, but I am too.” Brutus admits, running a hand over Cato’s head to ruffle his hair playfully. “I can’t believe you two joined a fucking war against the capitol.”

“We can’t either.” Cato admitted, brushing his fingers through his hair to settle the now fluffed blonde atop his head. “We didn’t really have a choice.”

“It was for the best, though.” Clove points out, practically hanging her arms around Enobaria’s shoulders as if she were still the little girl all those years ago. She can see the way Cato’s jaw is tightened, the way he is holding back a comment or remark of some sort. 

“Do you know anything about Cato’s family?” Clove asks for him, eyes flitting between Brutus and Enobaria for any trace of an answer. “His sister..”

“We don’t.” Brutus admits with a disgraced shake of his head. “We were so deep on the other side of the district.. We don’t know much about anyone. But we do know that we’ve never heard them in the counts of the dead.”

Cato just gives a single nod of his head, looking to the ground so as to not show disappointment. This was something. They had someone left alive. 

Clove lets go of Enobaria, immediately going to lace her hand with Cato’s, wrapping her other arm around his back before resting against him. It was always a comfort to him, just to touch her. 

“I’m sorry, Cato.” Enobaria frowns, reaching out to gently touch his upper arm in comfort. “Victor’s Village is still standing. That's about it. But it's still there, and I think it’ll be livable within a few months. At least I hope. I’m going to One until it’s finished.” She gestures to Brutus with a nod of her head. “Are you coming?” 

“I’ll go wherever I can get a Clove Kentwell breakfast. You know. The pancakes. With the chocolate chips.” 

They unpack the rest of the realities of District Two while the prep team comes and dresses Cato and Clove. 

Clove and Enobaria are dressed nearly identical, all black trench coats and slicked back hair. The difference relies in the bubbles down the length of Clove’s ever growing dark hair, versus the sleek straightened length of Enobaria’s. 

Cato leaves Clove’s side only for the sake of being whisked off to get dressed himself, and by God Clove just about undoes all the hard work of the stylists the minute she sees him in that all black ensemble. The black button down is unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“You know, for all I hate this whole capitol thing, they always did make you look good.” Clove grins, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his hips. 

“I did not miss seeing this.” Enobaria mumbles, tossing Cato’s black wool coat on top of Clove despite the appalled yelps from the stylists over Clove’s hair. “Can’t you two save this for literally any other time.” 

Cato smirks, wrapping his arms around Clove’s hips before turning her in his arms so they both faced their mentors. “Oh you are going to fucking hate the bitch in charge of this new country, Baria.”

—

Cato is not wrong. 

While they are all led into a conference style room, the looks of thinly veiled disdain are not hidden on Coin’s face.  

She has since cut her hair, but that is about the only new thing about a leader in what was once Snow’s conference space. Different sides of the same coin, and all that.

This is all that remains of a pool of what was fifty nine victors prior to the quell. Fourteen of them. 

Glimmer waves at them excitedly from where she is nestled between her siblings, and Finnick shoots them a million dollar smile from where he holds Annie’s hand atop the table. 

Katniss looks cold behind her eyes, but nobody can say they are surprised. Katniss Everdeen went to the games and led a war for the safety of her baby sister, just to come out on the other side without her. Primrose Everdeen would never see the safety of the new world her sister had created just for her. 

“We’re sorry for your loss, Katniss.” Annie offers in a soft voice, rubbing her hand atop Finnick’s hand. “Both of them.”

“Thank you.” Katniss said politely, but her gaze is trained on Alma Coin. 

“Both of them..?” Cato whispers to Finnick, who sits at his right.

“Prim and Gale. He got dragged off right before the second bomb. He was shot right before it ended.” 

Cato nor Clove offer condolences for that loss. 

“I have invited you all here for several reasons…but first i’d like to announce myself as the interim president of panem.” Coin starts, calling the meeting to a start without bothering to announce she is doing so. 

Cato is the first to shoot her a look of disbelief, followed by Clove and Haymitch.

“How long exactly is that?” Haymitch questions, echoing the confusion of every victor in the room. 

“The people will vote when the time is right. I’ve called you here for a much more important vote.” 

President Coin goes on about the execution of Snow to occur that afternoon, followed by an explanation of the trial of every peacekeeper, official, and capitol elite who was responsible for the war atrocities they had all faced. She targets Glimmer and Finnick with reminders of the abuse of the victors, and directs commentary on loss of life to Katniss. 

“An alternative plan. A majority for can approve it. Noone may abstain. In lieu of these barbaric executions we hold a symbolic Hunger Games”

“You want to hold a Hunger Games, with the Capitol Children?” Johanna Mason clarifies, a deranged giggle escaping her. 

“You’re Joking.”  comes Peeta. 

“Was this…Plurarch’s Idea?” Haymitch clarifies.

“It was mine.” 

The admission is enough for it all to fall into place for the surviving careers. This is what Haymitch had meant, when he has warned him to remember how she views them. Every capitol atrocity..how easily that could be assigned to them. 

“You may cast your vote.”

Peeta votes no, first. Citing the kind of mindset that started these uprisings as his reason. 

Johanna is next, and with a laugh she votes yes, claiming she wants to see Snow’s granddaughter in the arena. 

“Let them have a taste of it” is how Enobaria casts her yes. “After what they did to our people..Let me in the gamemakers room.”

“I agree. It’ll be the fastest game we ever have. These kids won’t be able to hold a sword.” Brutus gives as his yes. 

“No. I vote no.” Annie dissents. 

“Me too. Absolutely not. These kids are not responsible for the crimes of their parents. We have had enough bloodshed. I’ve been hurt as much as the next person by the Capitol. But we cannot keep punishing kids for the crimes of their ancestors. That's how we got to this point in the first place.” Finnick agrees with his wife, a firm and vocal no. “We need to end this. That's why we just had a war.”

“No. We need to stop seeing each other as enemies.” Beetee adds.

“We never got our chance to mentor.” Cato announces, wrapping an arm over Clove’s shoulders. “The things they did to Clove..If I could put their kids in the arena directly, I would. I’m not mentoring those ones though. I don’t want to see them win. Besides… I think we need one last game. Fuck yes.”

“What Cato said. I had my life ruined by Snow. They stole my identity. Fuck them.” Clove agrees, giving a firm nod of her head. “And what Enobaria said. Let them have a taste of how it feels to lose everything to the games. I don’t even want one of them to win. Absolutely Yes.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you all. Did we learn nothing? Did we stand up in those last games, did we fight this war for nothing?” Glimmer’s disbelief seeps into her voice as she looks frantically between her fellow victors, and hurt fills her eyes as she makes eye contact with her so-called friends. “What happened to no more children being sacrificed? I have been hurt as much as anyone by the Capitol..but I don’t want to kill their kids. How are we any different than snow if we condone and support the murder of children. That's what they are..that's what WE were! We were all kids when we won the games. We were children.. And shouldn’t we, as the adults who have survived it..want better for these kids. Shouldn’t we want better to protect our children? No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe you would support this.”

“I disagree.” Marvel admits, trying not to flinch when Glimmer recoils away from him in downright horror and disgust. “I have seen the things they did to you. They did them to me, too. I remember how hurt you have been. I remember what it’s like to be tortured in a basement, and I remember how it feels to hope you can hear your friend–” He looks to Clove, “Whimpering across the cinder block wall you share to have proof she is alive. Johanna is afraid of water. Clove lost her ability to defend herself. Annie lost her mind, and Peeta lost himself. And Glimmer, I lost you, because of what they have done to us.  So you know what? Yeah. Fuck them. I say yes.”

She is glad to be sitting between her siblings, who each take one of her hands in their own. 

“Noone else has the right to use our trauma and our abuse to justify further violence. I vote no.” Cashmere announces, making a point to shoot absolute daggers in the general direction of Marvel and the other careers. 

“You don’t get to weaponize our experiences. Only we can do that. And I stand with my sisters. I vote no.” Gloss agrees.

“It’s down to Katniss and Haymitch.” Coin announces, shifting her eyes between the two remaining revolutionaries. 

“I get to kill snow.” Katniss all but demands, and in that moment they know exactly which way her vote is going to go, and her yes will completely tip the scale in their favor. When Katniss votes “Yes. For Prim. “ it brings the vote to a solid 7 to 6. 

There is a wordless exchange between Katniss and Haymitch, and there is murder in her eyes. Whatever is said is well understood by both players. 

Haymitch holds the power to play peacekeeper or tip the scales and he does what he knows best. 

Haymitch sides with Katniss. Notably, he does not vote yes, more so that he is with the Mockingjay in whatever she brings to the table. 

“That Carries the vote. Excellent. We’ll announce the games tonight after the execution.” 

—

“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Glimmer grabs Clove by the shoulder as she passes her room, pulling her out of the hallway and into the privacy of a guest bedroom. “Was all of this for nothing, Clove?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You were raped and beaten and horrifically abused by the capitol and you don’t want a little bit of revenge?” Clove snarls, ripping her arm out of Glimmer’s grasp. “You want to lay down and be remembered for what they did to you, or do you want to be remembered for getting back at them? Think like a career, Glimmer.”

“You don’t get it, do you?! She isn’t going to stop with the Capitol kids! What happens when it’s not enough for her for it to be the kids of Capitol Elites. What about when it’s kids of ex loyalists in the districts? When It’s the kids of careers? Or even just the children of victors, Clove? What happens then?” Glimmer peaks into the hallway, to be especially sure they are alone. “Clove. You and I both know that neither of us are going to have kids. We know that. We are never having children. But you know who’s at risk under this whole plan? Cato’s little sister. Any kids of Annie and Finnick.”

“Glimmer, it’s just one last game–”

“That's what they always say, Clove. But it won’t. It won’t. And then it’ll be us again. She hates us. You said it yourself. She hates us and we are no safer under this plan than we were with Snow.”

How can Clove refute that when she knows, deep down, that it is alarmingly and painfully true. 

–

The knock on the door startles Katniss, who is catching the reflection of her Mockingjay costume for the last time. 

Clove doesn’t wait for permission to enter, and slips in through the unlocked door. She waits along the wall, hands tucked behind her back. “I’m sorry about your sister.” 

“Yeah, well, this is the least we can do for her, right?” Katniss slings her bow over her shoulder, before she turns to Clove. “This isn’t about Prim, is it?”

“We aren’t safe under her are we?” Clove whispers, fully aware that her words are probably treason and a one way ticket to her own execution. “This isn’t going to stop with one game.”

“No.” Katniss agrees, but does not vocalize which part. However, the look steely look when she locks eyes with Clove tells the other woman all she needs to know. “...do you still carry knives with you?”

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?”  Clove rolls her eyes, but stops another snarky remark from coming when she realizes there must be a reason for Katniss to ask such a thing. “..why?”

“I’d just say to have them ready. You know. In case I miss.” Katniss suggests before straightening her Mockingjay pin for the last time. 

“You don’t miss, Katniss.” Clove nearly laughs at the absurdity of it all. Katniss would never have made it this far if she were anything less than flawless with a bow. 

That being said, Clove would never have made it this far if she weren’t born to throw a knife.

“Neither do you.”

—

Katniss leads the march out to the execution, followed by a line of Victors who have been wronged in some way or the other by the Capitol. Clove is on the Far right, Cato immediately to her left with their hands interlocked. 

It is symbolic, as this whole thing is, that the remaining victors lead the march down the boulevard of the tributes, revolutionaries filling the stands on either side of their flanks.

“Bet you never thought we’d be doing this again.” Cato teases, giving her hand a light squeeze. When he turns to look at her face, hoping for any glimpse of a laugh, he catches the glint of something shining in her palm. 

No.. there's no way it’s that. 

“Bet you never thought we’d have survived a war before we turned twenty one.” Clove teases in response, rubbing her thumb over the back of his fingers. She is at the far end, and she cannot even see Glimmer, Marvel, Finnick, or Annie on the other side. Enobaria and Brutus walk in line with the two of them, and for the briefest moment, it reminds Clove of the end of a Victory Tour, when the victor is led to the President by her mentors and her team. Is this really all that different from that moment, anyway? 

It is somehow both the longest and shortest walk of Clove’s life, seeing as every other time she had been on this particular stretch had involved a horse and chariot ride. 

The end approaches as soon as it starts. Clove feels a tightening in her chest that stretches all the way across her back. It isn’t quite panic, and it isn’t fear. It is the kind of heart racing she felt in the beginning of every day of training, how she felt when the podiums rose in the hunger games. 

It’s adrenaline. 

Katniss is at the front of their pack, yes, but from where she stands on the far right end she has a clear shot at the president tied to a wooden pole.  It’s less than 20 feet, there's no possible way Katniss would just..miss?

Coin is beginning her ramble about a shot to end all wars, about the end of tyranny, but Clove is focused on Katniss. 

“Babe, what are you doing?” Cato whispers, noting the way she does not even look up to the president as she speaks, nudging her with his shoulder. 

She does not budge. 

“Mockingjay. May your aim be as true as your heart is pure.” 

Clove sees the decision the minute Katniss makes it, and suddenly she gets what she meant by miss. 

This was her gift to Clove.

Katniss’s chin and shoulders tilt up at the same moment the handle of the knife slips from around Clove’s forearm and into her palm. 

In the same moment that Katniss releases the arrow, there is a gasp of shock when it is not an arrow that pierces Snow’s heart but a knife that lodges itself right between his eyes. 

Coin falls to the ground with an arrow to her heart as Snow’s skull splits in two. 

He had taken this very thing from her, he had taken her aim and her strength, he had taken what made Clove Clove. 

Two leaders were dead, the fate of Panem now resting in the unknown hands of democracy for the first time ever. 

Peeta slaps something out of Katniss' hands, just as she is pulled away by guards. Clove lets out a laugh, throwing her head back as Cato  is the one to grab her and pulls her to the side. 

This is what all those countless hours of training with Cato had been for. To get Clove back. 

And that's the thing about Clove Kentwell. 

She never misses. 

—

Clove does not face the same consequences as Katniss in the aftermath. He was scheduled to die– as far as it is seen Clove simply carried out a mission Katniss abandoned. 

It is the victors who write a litany of letters in immediate support of Katniss Everdeen’s release. They write of tyranny and the horrors the country would have faced under Alma Coin, terrors that are not at all unlike the dictatorship they just escaped. 

All together, there are letters from Cato, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer, Johanna, Finnick, Annie, and Beetee that are brought together in their undying, complete, and total support for Katniss Everdeen and her decisions that day. Victors will always support their fellow Victors. 

“We’ll see you soon, in One?” Marvel checks the morning after the executions, leaning on the doorframe of the guest room Cato and Clove are currently packing their minimal belongings to leave. “Glimmer..hopefully she’ll move past all her issues with us all soon. You can stay with me.” 

They do agree to go to One, first. The train doesn’t even stop in Two, all things considered, and from the discussions with Enobaria it would be futile to even stop. Their home was in shambles. They need time to heal before addressing the crumbled castles of their childhood.

“Come on, we get our own train car!” Enobaria reminds them as they stand on that train platform, Her own minimal luggage in her hands. “We won’t have to listen to Cash and Gloss lecture us until we arrive in the district, isn’t that a real treat.”

Clove cannot seem to will herself to take the steps forward towards the doors of the train. The last time they  had taken them had been to this very spot, where neither of them had intended to come back. Even though they are not going home– and likely will not for many months– it was just the right side of unbelievable. 

“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” Clove looks to Cato, holding her hand out for him to take. “For the first time in our lives.. We can do anything. We can have anything. We can go anywhere in the world we want. Just..not home.”

“We’ll go home, one day.” He promises, before he bypasses her hand and instead wraps his arms around her shoulders. Cato rests his chin atop her head before kissing the crown of her hair. “We survived three Hunger Games between us. A little bit of post-war reconstruction has to be nothing, right?”

Clove snorts, leaning back in his arms as they take in the remnants of the Capitol together. “Yeah, but post war reconstruction involves us living with Glimmer and Marvel. We’ll be finding Glitter in our hair for the rest of our lives.”

“If the rest of our lives are a hundred years, I will be happy to smell like glitter and roses for all of them.” Cato promises, leaning down further to kiss her on the cheek more properly. “What do you think we do now?”

“....we live our lives?” Clove offers with the tiniest shrug, before she turns in his arms. “I love you. I don’t say it enough. But I love you, Cato. More than anything else in the world.”

“I know.” He promises his girl, leaning down so that their foreheads touched despite the massive height difference. “And I love you, too. But you already knew that.”

“You forgot something. You said we survived three Hunger Games, and reconstruction. But we survived an entire war, Cato. We survived the greatest war in Panem history.”  Clove points out, before she laces her arms around his neck and rests them there. 

“Will you two get on the train?” Brutus grumbles as he walks past, shaking his head in fake disdain. “You two never change, do you?”

“You may be adults who survived torture and a war, but I’ll still beat your ass if you have sex on this train.” Enobaria threatens from the doorway, waving her hand towards her. “Seriously, come on, I’m already tired of babysitting you two again.”

Clove laughs. Genuinely laughs as she leans back in his arms, taking a step back and nodding towards the train. 

They pause in the doorway, giving one last look over the Capitol as they remember it. They’d be back, probably, but never quite like this. Never in the shadows of war. Not as the remnants of the teen tributes they still feel like they are. 

“You know, how you said everything is going to change for the better?” Clove asks her husband, sliding her arm through his, resting her hand on the crook of his elbow as she rests her head on his shoulder. She lets out a content sigh, and smiles against his arm. 

“Yeah?” Cato cranes his head down to look at Clove, at the girl who has quite literally been at his side for the last fifteen years of his life. And now, she’d be there for the next fifteen. The next fifty, if they were lucky. It’s about time that the odds were in their favor. 

“I think you were right.” 

[seigephoenix]

Hi Seige! I'm here asking for more Garrett x Alissa. From smutty prompts: "Pinned against the mattress" Happy writing 😈

Hi!! I loved this prompt!! XD For once I actually got straight to the smut instead of writing 1k of plot before it got there. Kinktober has been kicking my ass in that regard. Enjoy this one!

Content Warning: p in v, fingering, snark, size difference, pinned to a mattress

Alissa stretched out on her bed with a quiet sigh of relief.  Her arms hung off the edge as she went limp from exhaustion.  Her back throbbed with a vengeance as she remembered the desperate roll she’d made to avoid the dragon’s claws.  She’d wound up slamming into the crumbling stone ruins and the jolt rattled her teeth.  “I’m not young anymore,” Alissa murmured as she groaned.  Zephyr was spending the night with his uncle whom he adored and Alissa was happy to see them bonding.  Her husband was trying to drink Bull under the table and she just hoped neither of them got alcohol poisoning from it.  Varric promised her to keep an eye on them both and she’d limped off to her room.

Alissa kicked off her pants and shirt with a huff as she heard the door open downstairs.  Her husband’s raucous laughter greeted her but she didn’t have the energy to look up.  “Dimples, I brought your illustrious husband.  What shall I do with him?” Alissa waved it off and Varric laughed and shook his head.  “Alright then.  He’s your problem now.”

“Come on now Varric.  I’m not that far gone.” Hawke boasted with only a slight slur of his words.  Varric patted his back and pushed him towards the bed before he made a hasty exit.  Alissa looked over her shoulder and saw Garrett staring at her when she realized she was practically naked.

“Garrett.”  The warning went unheeded as her husband simply kicked off his boots, almost losing his balance in the process, and flopping down on her back with her screech ringing in his ears.  “Get off!  You’re heavy Garrett!” Alissa couldn’t move with him pinning her down onto the mattress.  She squirmed but froze when she felt his reaction.  “Really?”

“What?  I find my beautiful wife desirable?” He grinned as his lips grazed her bare shoulders while his hands snuck underneath her.  “Hmm?  What’s this?”

“Not a single word Hawke,” she warned as his hand slipped between her legs to find her soaking.  Alissa buried her face in the sheets when his fingers massaged her clit whipping her body closer to that peak.  She groaned his name and he grinned against her shoulder when her hips rocked back against him.

“Not a single one?  That’s not fair.  Especially when you’re this ready for my dick.”  Alissa huffed at him over her shoulder but she squealed when his fingers hooked into the simple cotton between her legs and pulled it to the side.  “Maker’s breath but you feel good,” Hawke murmured against her skin as he slid his cock inside her welcoming heat.  Her breathing hitched in her chest when he moved at a frustratingly slow pace.

“Garrett, don’t do this tonight.  Please.” Alissa reached behind her and fisted her hand in his shirt.  He propped up on his elbows and grinned down at the back of her head.  He just wanted to tease her for a little bit longer, just a little bit.  He slowly leaned down until his lips brushed over the shell of her ear, savoring the shudder that went through her.  His teeth nipped the sensitive skin groaning when her walls squeezed his cock.

“But I like it when you whine.”  She tilted her face up towards him and he kissed the tip of her nose.  “You’re cute when you look at me like that.”  She narrowed her eyes at him and threatened to keep him on the sidelines for the rest of the dragon fights, she’d take Cassandra.  “Fine, fine.  Impatient aren’t you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Alissa snapped at him.  He grinned before he shifted and slammed to the hilt inside of her.  He smirked when her head dropped down to the bed and her fingers twisted in the sheets.  He watched the muscles of her back shifting with each roll of his hips against hers.  His hand slid underneath and pinched her clit earning a sharp keening moan from his wife.  He felt the way she tightened around his cock and knew she was close.

Alissa’s fingers clawed at the sheets when her orgasm broke.  Languid heated waves rolled through her centering on where they were joined.  She moaned his name, whining and begging him as the waves slowly moved through her.  She felt him tense above her and his cock twitching inside of her.  He whispered her name before rolling to the side and grabbed her.  She wound up stretched out over his chest.

“Are you quite happy with yourself Hawke?” Alissa asked as she struggled to get her breathing under control.

“Mmhmm.”  She shook her head on a laugh with that cocky answer.  She stretched up and kissed him, just a light peck before she shifted off him.  “No, don’t go.  You’re comfortable.”  Alissa snorted at him and pulled the blanket up and around them.

“Go sleep off the alcohol Garrett.  You’ll feel this in the morning, I’m sure.”

[thimbledoll]

The Strength of Cloth

Lace simply did not fit anywhere in her Maker’s atelier. She was a thing of warm, soft cotton. His workshop a thing of cold, hard metal. She was quiet and Still. His workshop loud and bustling. She was fragrant like the flower fields. His workshop like an oil field.

She had tried to fit in. Maker knows, she had tried. From the very day of her wakening she started assisting in her Maker's work of building great, complicated machines of steel and fire. It didn't take very long though for Lace to realize she just wasn't cut from that type of cloth. Despite her Maker's best efforts at repairs, she still bore the scorch marks and loose threads from her disastrous efforts.

It took much longer still for Lace to concede that machine work just was beyond her ken. For months and months she poured every ounce of her being into trying to understand her Maker's craft, to no avail. Half the time she tried to help, she just ended up breaking things or getting caught in one of the spinning gizmos. It seemed to Lace that she was becoming that which a doll fears most; a hindrance.

On their darker days, her Maker would say it wasn’t her fault, but his. Wearing a haggard expression that tugged at her heart threads, he'd say he Made her wrong. Her Purpose hadn’t been properly instilled and now the only way she’d find it would be to seek it out herself. He could no longer give her Purpose.

The idea seemed sheer lunacy to the confused doll. He was her Maker. How could he have Made her wrong when he always worked with the utmost care? There’s no way he could make such a mistake, yet the signs were there if she looked for them.

Her very first memory was of his thick, calloused fingers fumbling with the needle as he finished that last stitch. They were covered in bandages. Why not give her the strength of the steel he favored, so she could be of use to him?

And so Lace searched everywhere she could where a doll of softness could find some use. Her teas were over-steeped. Her scones were like rocks. Her cleaning caused more mess than it solved. Her gardening left the plant life like her search, barren and fruitless.

It tore at her Maker, she could see. He was always quiet, reserved, and distant, but he seemed to withdraw all the more the further she dived into her search. His words flowed less smoothly in her presence. His voice hitched uncomfortably. He made mistakes.

Lace could bear it no longer. She had failed him. Her core cried a despondent note that tore at her very being. Her stuffing twisted and knotted. She could burden him no longer. There was but one answer. He could try again. After he Unmade her.

So it was that come nightfall, Lace crossed the threshold of his bedchamber, a room she dared not enter before. It was his sanctum; his solace from the world. Intruding in his domain… One more failure for the pile. At least it would be her last.

Then she saw him. Head hunched over his knees. Deep, shaking, wordless sobs rocking his body like sheet-hammered metal. Her Maker was… broken. Just like Lace.

She ran, crossing the space from door to bed so quickly, it could only be Magick. Finding herself on the bed, barely realizing how she got there, Lace did the only thing she could think to do. She hugged him. She hugged her Maker with all the steely strength she’d yearned for.

She could not carry his tools, but she could carry his burdens. She could not suffer the fires of his forge, but she could suffer the fires of his heart. She could not understand his craft, but she could understand his needs. She could be here, be present, be Still.

They stayed embraced like that what seemed an eternity; Lace never letting go. Never letting up. Never moving except to better comfort her Maker. For all the despair that he cried out in, she knew this was her place. This is why she’d been Made. This was her Purpose.

End 🧵

(Old story reposted from Twitter)

[jaipurwholesaler]

A Super Cozy and Soft Reversible Comforter or Dohar For Bedroom

These days, everything is available online at big brands. But we recommend shopping locally from cotton bed sheet makers for the best quality and prices. You can choose from the above two based on your needs, suitability, climatic conditions, etc.

[audrreyhorne]

Wedding Essentials: Gifts and Decor Ideas for Every Celebration

Gifts that Reflect a Shared Journey:

Your brother's wedding day is a significant moment, marking the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Choosing a gift that reflects your bond and expresses your joy for his new journey is a thoughtful gesture that will be cherished for years to come. Here are some perfect gift ideas to celebrate this special occasion:

Gifts That Build a Shared Home:

High-Quality Home Appliances: A high-quality blender, food processor, coffee maker, or espresso machine can be a fantastic gift for a newlywed couple. These appliances add convenience and a touch of luxury to their daily life, making cooking and entertaining easier.

Smart Home Devices: Give them the gift of a modern home with smart devices like a voice-activated speaker, smart lights, a thermostat, or a security system. This will make their new home more convenient, comfortable, and enjoyable.

Luxurious Bedding: Elevate their bedroom with a set of high-quality Egyptian cotton sheets or a plush cashmere blanket. These luxurious additions will enhance their sleep and create a cozy haven for them to relax together.

Personalized Artwork: Commission a beautiful piece of art featuring a photo of the couple, a special scene from their wedding day, or a landscape that reminds them of a shared memory. This thoughtful gift adds a touch of personality and warmth to their new home.

Experiences to Create Lasting Memories:

Weekend Getaway: Plan a romantic escape for the newlyweds to a scenic location in India - consider a tranquil hill station, a vibrant coastal city, or a culturally rich heritage city. This gift allows them to unwind, reconnect, and create treasured memories together.

Cooking Class: A personalized cooking class is a fantastic way to introduce them to new cuisines, enhance their cooking skills, and enjoy a fun and interactive experience together. This gift also creates opportunities for delicious home-cooked meals in their new home.

Adventure Trip: If your brother and his new partner are adventurous souls, plan a thrilling experience like a trek in the Himalayas, a white water rafting adventure, or a scenic hot air balloon ride. This gift fosters shared memories and strengthens their bond through shared experiences.

Music or Art Workshop: For a couple with creative interests, consider gifting a workshop where they can explore their artistic talents together. This could be a painting class, a pottery workshop, a music lesson, or an introduction to a new art form, providing them with a chance to unwind, create together, and learn something new.

Gifts That Reflect Their Shared Interests:

Subscription Box: Choose a subscription box tailored to their shared interests, such as gourmet food, curated coffee, books, beauty products, or experiences related to their hobbies. This ongoing gift adds a touch of surprise, excitement, and shared joy to their life together.

Concert or Theatre Tickets: Gift them tickets to a concert by their favorite band, a performance by a renowned artist, or a play at a local theatre. This is a fun and romantic way for them to spend quality time together and enjoy their shared passions.

Sports Equipment or Gear: If they are both active and enjoy a particular sport or outdoor activity, a gift of quality equipment or gear can be a thoughtful gesture. This is an opportunity to support their active lifestyle and encourage shared experiences.

Luxury Items: Consider a high-quality watch, a sophisticated briefcase, a set of personalized luggage, or a piece of stylish jewelry that reflects their personal taste and will be a lasting reminder of your gift.

Adding a Personal Touch:

Personalized Photo Album or Scrapbook: Compile a collection of photos, memories, and heartfelt messages that reflect your bond with your brother and the couple. This heartfelt gift is a unique keepsake filled with laughter, shared experiences, and memories that strengthen your relationship.

Engraved Gifts: A piece of jewelry engraved with a special message, a shared inside joke, or a meaningful date will become a treasured symbol of your love and support. Consider a watch, a necklace, or a bracelet for a meaningful and personalized touch.

Donation in Their Name: Make a donation to a charity that is important to your brother or aligns with their shared values. This selfless act is a thoughtful and impactful gift that gives back to the community and resonates with their desire to make a difference.

Remember:

The most perfect gift is one that comes from the heart and reflects your special relationship with your brother. Choose a gift that celebrates his new journey, supports his interests, and signifies your love and excitement for his happiness.

[northeasthotelsupply]

Essential Hospitality Products for Every Hotel Room

In the competitive hospitality industry, the details of a guest’s stay can make or break their overall experience. Ensuring that hotel rooms are well-equipped with essential products can significantly enhance guest satisfaction and contribute to positive reviews. Here’s a comprehensive guide to the must-have hospitality products for every hotel room.

Bedding and Linens

1. High-Quality Sheets and Pillowcases:

Material: Opt for high-thread-count cotton or cotton blends for a soft and luxurious feel.

Maintenance: Ensure easy care and durability through regular laundering and replacement schedules.

2. Comfortable Pillows and Pillow Protectors:

Variety: Offer a range of pillows, including memory foam, down, and hypoallergenic options, to cater to different guest preferences.

Protection: Use pillow protectors to enhance hygiene and extend the life of the pillows.

3. Plush Blankets and Comforters:

Warmth: Provide different weights and warmth levels to accommodate various climates and guest needs.

Material: Choose high-quality down or synthetic alternatives for comfort and ease of care.

Bath Amenities

4. Premium Towels:

Variety: Supply a set of bath towels, hand towels, and washcloths made from soft, absorbent materials like Egyptian cotton.

Durability: Select towels that maintain their quality and plushness after repeated washes.

5. Bathrobes and Slippers:

Comfort: Offer guests cozy robes and slippers to enhance their relaxation and comfort during their stay.

Material: Choose materials that are both luxurious and easy to care for.

6. High-Quality Toiletries:

Variety: Provide essential toiletries such as shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and lotion in eco-friendly, travel-sized containers.

Branding: Consider partnering with reputable brands to offer premium products that guests recognize and trust.

Electronics and Appliances

7. Smart TVs:

Entertainment: Equip rooms with modern smart TVs that offer streaming services and easy connectivity for guest devices.

Ease of Use: Ensure user-friendly interfaces and clear instructions for guests.

8. Coffee Makers and Kettles:

Convenience: Provide in-room coffee makers and electric kettles along with a selection of coffee, tea, and condiments.

Quality: Choose appliances that are reliable and easy to use, ensuring a pleasant experience for guests.

9. Mini Fridges:

Storage: Offer mini fridges in rooms for guests to store drinks and snacks, enhancing their convenience and comfort.

Maintenance: Regularly check and maintain fridges to ensure they are clean and functioning properly.

Additional Comforts

10. Blackout Curtains:

Privacy: Ensure guest rooms have blackout curtains to provide privacy and a darkened environment for better sleep.

Insulation: Select curtains that also offer thermal insulation to help regulate room temperature.

11. Ironing Facilities:

Convenience: Include an iron and ironing board in each room to allow guests to freshen up their clothes easily.

Quality: Choose sturdy, easy-to-use irons and boards that guests can operate without difficulty.

12. Safe and Secure Storage:

Security: Provide in-room safes where guests can securely store their valuables during their stay.

Accessibility: Ensure safes are easy to use and offer clear instructions.

Conclusion

Providing essential hospitality products in every hotel room is key to creating a comfortable and enjoyable stay for guests. By investing in  North East Hotel Supply for high-quality bedding, bath amenities, electronics, and additional comforts, hotels can enhance guest satisfaction, foster loyalty, and garner positive reviews. Prioritizing these essentials demonstrates a commitment to guest comfort and helps establish a hotel’s reputation for excellence .

For more information,

 contact us at (603) 973-3311 or (603) 866-3405, or

 email us at sales@northeasthotelsupply.com.

 Visit us at 35 Fourth Street, Dover, NH 03820.

[sayyesbedd-blog]

Teen bed sheet collection ideas for a beautiful home

The demand of teen bed sheet is a rising choice of most homemakers, online shoppers who loves to have the best color trends to spruce up home style quotient with little bit of fancy, color combination with more lightness, purity in clothing like cotton made bed sheet for any size beds from single to double bed king size mattress. 

Need colorful floral comforter and bed sheet ideas for a comfy inspired home with more pleasure and delights? Here we present a handpicked collection of stylish home décor accessories at a competitive budget for stylish homes of all age groups, choose here queen and king size single and double designer bedding for all types of living room, bedroom bedding.  

At Sayyesbedding, we promote a wide range of amazing lines of soft, fabric bed sheet products to color your home ambience with peace, luxurious comfort and tranquility. Choosing a perfect pair of color combinations is the main intention of shoppers who want to get the best deals and discounts as per choice, color and quality preference. Are you searching online where to get the best quality teen bed sheet, bedding set with 100% genuine, color fabrics and the purity of product grade which is best for the body with more softness, perfect for teens nap time, and gives an eye-pleasing color to home! While choosing home bedding items here are some things you must carefully study:

Bed sheet quality like cotton, synthetic & polyester

During summer cotton is mostly needed for home for cooling and stress control without sweating much, but polyester bed sheets are too hot to handle during summer, depending upon season choice as per wish.

Best color and designs for peacefulness

For mental peace and soothing you must follow the style trend to match your mood color and design that reflects more positivity in your home, hotel or any ambience where bedding is decorated.

A great relaxation with genuine grade products

Choosing only quality products gives more joy and refreshments, as we know the retail market is flooded with products with different margin, design, stylish attire for any home appealing look. 

Durability of bed sheet that last many years 

Regular use of bed sheets gives more pleasure and attractiveness to home with different feelings, casualness to eye and outside guests when they are invited for any kind of events.

Product makers trademark with ISO grade 

Our product lines are perfect, which is double checked and verified to give customers with quality recommendations with no side effects, health problems and color fading issues.

Budget variation to compare

Do you like to buy top grade bed sheets online with matching mattress cover at low cost? Explore the trend here for all types of glamor and awesome color lists to get different charm and sweetness.

Color and stitching of materials

Sometimes we found low quality stitching which can easily be dragged, cracked with a few days of use, but here you will be amazed with color preference, prices, chic color styling for any type of mattress length.

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[lesless]

Lazy morning before we go play pickleball & hit a brewery with friends. Lover is napping, pup is curled on the summer blanket by my legs. I’m sunning/airing out the comforter before storage, washing the cotton, already put on linen sheets, & laid out my linen pajama set for bed. All the windows are open & it is a beautiful day. We both dropped to the 1% which is the last step before quitting & I feel much more energetic, experiencing more dreams, better sleep, lower heart rates, increased appetite, & no real withdrawal symptoms which is lovely. Tomorrow I have a half day training & a few things to do which don’t feel overwhelming.

I ordered a matcha & rosemary shampoo & conditioner bars which are meant to be good for wavy, dry hair. I just felt lately that the liquid washes are wasteful & ineffective, but the last bars I tried were for more straight hair & didn’t agree with me, so hoping a new maker & formula makes my hair happy. They come in a tin for travel & I can order future sets in a compostable paper bag. I have been looking into tallow mineral sunscreen but haven’t pulled the trigger.

I need to refill the bird feeders, feed my fish, & water plants. I might make iced coffee for breakfast. I am grateful.

[rcreveal]

Movie Night

Day 16

Summary:

NanoMutt Prompt a day Challenge: How you said I love you: over and over again until it became babble. Aziraphale hosts a movie night with an adaptation of a favorite Jane Austen book.

Work Text:

“Mr. Fell, they delivered one of your packages to the record shop,” Maggie calls as she comes into A. Z. Fell book shop.

Crowley is lounging in the atrium, and rolls his head over towards Maggie to say, “He’s upstairs.  Bustling.  You can just put the package down over…”  Crowley waves a languid hand indicating the floor, the desk, and several piles on side tables, “anywhere it won’t fall over.”

Maggie is turning to go, when Nina comes in rolling a movie popcorn maker, “Hey, Mr Fell, another delivery turned up at my shop!” she looks over at Maggie and Crowley, “What’s he up to now?” she asks somewhat suspiciously.  Crowley shrugs and Maggie says, “I haven’t seen him to ask...”

When Aziraphale sails into view at the top of the stairs, looking down delighted at having three people to tell about his wonderful plan.

“Marvelous! I wanted to invite you all to a cinema movie showing tonight!” Aziraphale beams around at them all.

Maggie looks sweetly supportive. Nina looks skeptical, and Crowley looks pleasantly blank.

“What movie?” asks Maggie while Nina tries to give her meaningful eye contact, while mouthing,”no”, and Crowley still looks pleasantly blank.

“Pride and Prejudice!  The Keira Knightley and Matthew Madfadyen version!  I’ve got popcorn and fountain drinks laid in for the full ‘theater’ experience, ” he burbles on, taking the package Maggie hands him and opening it eagerly.  Looking a little perplexed, he opens a clear case and unfolds yard upon yard of Egyptian cotton.  “That’s not my movie screen…”

Crowley has poured himself upright and padded over to feel the material, “Nah, it’s the new sheets.”  

Nina tips her head, “Mr Fell’s bed was already huge before, how much more space do you need?” 

“Well, sometimes I like to sleep with my wings out and Crowley’s gotten into the habit, too.  It’s so nice not to have to keep them winched in all the time, if that makes any sense.  I imagine it’s rather like taking off your corsets after a long day,” replies Aziraphale a little self-consciously.

Nina and Maggie, women for whom underwires and intense amounts of elastic had been a part of their lives for a long time, look at him thoughtfully. “Mmm, wrong era, but, yes, I do think we have a notion of what you mean, “ replies Maggie before Nina can say something sarcastic.

“I like all those period pieces, sounds fun!” says Maggie, and steps over to ask Azriaphale where the screen will go.  While Nina whispers to Crowley “Is that where he got the idea for the ball? Pride and Prejudice? All that sappy Jane Austen stuff?” asks Nina.

“That Jane Austen was living a double life!  The mastermind double agent and diamond thief” said Crowley overly jovially.  More quietly he makes an appeal to Nina, “Don’t leave me.  Plus, I’ll bring rum and at least we can have rum and coke and popcorn, please?”  He sticks out his hand and they shake on it.

“See you tonight at 8!” cries Aziraphale.

During the movie, Crowley surprises himself by having quite an enjoyable time, mostly due to his strongly held belief that he can talk all during this showing since it’s not actually in a theater.  He gets shushed several times for yelling things like, “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable those clothes are !” and, “Thank God for milled jersey knit fabric, am I right, angel!”  But as the movie progressed he was drawn in and yelling at the characters that they were only fooling themselves and to get on with it, and “Ger off, you git!” with one piece of popcorn sailing over and hitting Mr Collins square on the forehead when he was trying to propose to Elizabeth Bennett.  Nina is also having much more fun than she expected.  

By the time of the happy resolution, they are in a rather silly, giddy mood, partially because it was Nina pouring the rum and cokes, so it’s no wonder that Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand, looks mock seriously into his eyes and intones, “Mrs Darcy, Mrs Darcy, Mrs Darcy,” over and over again until it becomes unintelligible in both their chuckles.

Maggie’s giggling and Nina can only shake her head at the hopeless romantics.  Next time, she would choose the movie.