Hi, my birthday is February 19th and I'd love something along the lines of enemies to lovers Modern AU (smut) if that's possible. Thank you so much to all the authors who contribute!! <3
Wishing you a wonderful birthday! To start you days off right, the always delightful @appleblossomgirl0305 has written this perfect bit of Everlark, just for you! Enjoy!
Trigger warnings: Logging operations? Heights? The mating habits of quail?
A/N: Happy birthday! I hope all of your birthday wishes come true! Never-ending gratitude to @xerxia31 for helping in every way possible.
Peeta hunkered down in his chair, swiveling away from the opening of his cubicle. He had two immediate problems; his editor was looking for him and he was hungover. Again. Plutarch Heavensbee was hard to take on a normal day, but with a blazing headache and already sour stomach, Peeta feared the consequences of a run in this morning.
“Damn,” he muttered, sucking a sharp whistling breath as he burned his tongue on his scaldingly hot coffee. Why did the little kiosk in the entryway always insist on making horribly weak, but ridiculously hot coffee? Maybe a better question was why he continued to buy it. But every time he walked into the chrome and marble opulence of the Capital Media Corps foyer, with its twenty stories of frantically busy, hungry machine of information and commerce looming above him, he felt like an imposter. He felt like every silk-shirted woman in her clackity-clacking heels determinedly running to the next important story, each shiny-shoed, cuff-linked man barking into his cell phone that he “needed it yesterday, dammit!” could tell he didn’t really belong there. That he was a small-town boy from District 12 who still dreamt of his parent’s bakery, cinnamon and dill-scented tendrils curling through his dreams.
de kerstman - Santa Claus de kerstmuts - christmas hat de slee - sleigh het rendier - reindeer het cadeau - present de kerstboom - christmas tree de kerstbal - christmas ornament de slinger - garland de lampjes - fairy lights kerstavond - Christmas Eve
koud - cold glad - slippery warme chocolademelk met slagroom - hot chocolate with whipped cream de wanten - mittens de sjaal - scarf de muts - knit cap de oorwarmers - ear warmers de sneeuw - snow de sneeuwvlok - snowflake
de tafel - table de mooi gedekte tafel - beautifully arranged table het bord - plate het bestek - cutlery het servet - napkin het recept - recipe koken - to cook het voorgerecht - appetizer het hoofdgerecht - main course het nagerecht - dessert Eet smakelijk! - Enjoy your meal!
Ella – buoyant, bubbly, indefatigable Ella – sounds oddly serious, twirling a strand of her black ponytail studiously between her fingers as she leans on the door frame. For half a moment Chloe tenses, doesn’t want to do this – she trusts Lucifer, of course she trusts him, he doesn’t lie to her – but just in case. If somehow she’s wrong, if he is, if this isn’t what it –
Well, if it is decidedly what she very much thought –
“Sure,” she says, too bright and too brittle. “Something about the case?”
“I, actually, no. Well, yes, but also no. Let me just – “ Ella steps inside and shuts the office door. Seeing Chloe look like a treed cat, she thinks about opening it again, then doesn’t. She takes a deep breath, looks up, and then says, “I just… I wanted to apologize if I did anything that made you mad at me. With, well, with Lucifer. He was working – well, we were working – on a case to find some weird blade or other and he was being incredibly mysterious and more than a little freaky about it, but I helped him because it was connected to the murder and – and well, I didn’t want to come off like I was doing anything, you know, else, but I realize that it did come off that way and it hurt you and – “ She stops, rubbing her eyes. “I’m babbling. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re…” Chloe opens and shuts her mouth. “I, look, Ella, you have nothing to apologize for, Lucifer’s a member of the department just like you, you two were working together and it’s over and – “
“No, I mean, I’m sorry. For hurting you.” Ella looks at her with solemn dark eyes. “Look, when I wanted to help you with your dad the other week, that was… that was real. I want to be friends and not for you to feel weird around me or like I’m trying to steal your guy or – “
“Steal my guy?” Chloe gasps a little laugh, partly (okay, mostly) to disguise the hitch in her chest, the way her heart turned over. “It’s not that way at all, I don’t – well, I know you two went out the other night, but that’s not my business, I – “
“I was taking him to church.” A little grin emerges from the corner of Ella’s mouth. “I swear, I absolutely pinky swear, that is not a nasty euphemism for anything. Taking him. You know, him. To church. Just to see how it went. I wanted him to find, well. What’s missing in his life.”
Chloe opens and shuts her mouth. She wants to say that Lucifer doesn’t go to church, for the obvious reasons. Because she knows him better. Obviously.
(She wishes she thought of asking him if he wanted to go to church. If it would have helped. Among everything else she tried.)
“I, uh,” she says at last, clenching her fists under her desk, blinking hard. “Well, he said it was just work-related, and I, you know, I believe him. I’m sorry. I was unprofessional and I – “
“You care,” Ella says quietly. “That’s not a crime. Trust me. We should know, right?”
Chloe gasps another little laugh, shaking her head, half a nod and half a deflection. The two women stand there, looking at each other for a long moment, and then abruptly, they step into each other’s arms, hugging quickly and fiercely. Ella pats her on the back, and Chloe shudders out a breath that it feels as if she’s been holding for days. As if the world is back on track, and right, and good.
Great job on Treed! I love the idea of Ecowarrior Katniss and her crusade!
Goodness, thanks so much for the lovely feedback! I seriously struggled with the enemies to lovers prompt. For a trope I really enjoy reading, I couldn’t seem to write it for the life of me. I can’t thank you enough for letting me know you liked it!
We are you
We are the madness that lurches within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind.
We are what you hide from in your beds every night.
We are what sedates you into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven we can not treed.
So nearly free.
I tore myself out of my own mother’s womb.
There was no other way to arrive in this world.
A terrified midwife named me Monster
and left me in the pine woods with only the moon.
My mother’s blood dripped from my treed head.
In a dream my mother came to me and said
if I was to survive
I must find joy within my own wild self.
When I awoke I was alone in solitude’s blue woods.
* * *
A woman found me and took me to her mountain home
high at the end of an abandoned logging road.
We spent long winter evenings by the fire;
I sat at the hearth as she read aloud myths of the Greeks
while the woodstove roared behind me.
She sometimes paused to watch the wall of shadows
cast by my antlers. The shadows danced
across the entire room like an oak’s wind-shaken branches.
* * *
The woman was worried when I would not wear dresses.
I walked naked through the woods.
She hung the wash from my head
on hot summer days when I sat in the sun to read.
The woman grew worried when I would not shed
my crown with the seasons as the whitetails did.
“But I am not a whitetail,” I said.
* * *
When I became a woman
in the summer of my fifteenth year,
I found myself
suddenly changed in the mirror.
My many-pronged crown had grown
into a wildness all its own;
highly stylized, the bright
anarchic antlers were majestic to my eye.
The woman saw me and smiled. “What you are I cannot say,
but nature has created you.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
When night came it brought a full moon.
I walked through the woods to the lake
and knelt in the cool grass on its bank.
I saw my reflection on the water,
I touched my face.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Black Bear Cub in a Tree by David & Shiela Glatz Via Flickr: Black Bear cub in his safe place. Mother Black Bears “tree” their cubs to make sure they stay out of harm’s way. Mom and cub had been eating berries when a huge male black bear decided to take their spot. Mom ran away, but the cub “treed” himself by climbing up a tree and staying put on one of the higher branches until the male black bear left the area. Vince Schute Wildlife Refuge, Orr, Minnesota.
The scruffy, orange filly made her way down the perilous stone face, a barren outcropping common to the mountainous Northern region of the world; far from all the tumult of the central valley. The filly’s deep red mane was streaked by white though it had been roughly cut short with little apparent care; far from glamorous, this was a practical style. ‘Ruby Streak’, is what they’d called her. A name born out of her stupid mane. This added to her already scruffy look, though, she was never the pony to pretty up; her past days in the wild only underlined her image.
A goes to the park to feed ducks while B goes to jog. One day A hears B swearing & calling for help. A goes to see what happened & find B treed by a goose. The goose charges & they’re both stuck in a tree. What happens next is up to you.