#rose head wreath

[gremlingottoosilly]

Mafia!König x Florist!Reader?

You sell flowers. Nice little bouquets for teachers and housewives who want to make their routine a little brighter. Cheap ones, mostly wild things - you'd have to swat at the bees trying to get a bite, apologizing for messing with the natural pollination. You sell big, expensive things - graduation gifts, consolidations roses. Man coming in and trying to count how much their cheating was worth - and how much they could pay in ribbons for missing an important date. Then Konig came in, and brought at least 10 orders for funerals. Crimson-blood roses, expensive white lilies. Died black ribbons and some nice plastic dark plants to finish the composition. At first, you said you were really sorry for his loss, then you thought he ran a funeral home - he looked the sorts, a bit creepy and big. His mask covers the lower half of his face, the hood of his nice jacket - Patagonia, you think, out of your pay grade - dropping over his eyes. He ordered expensive bouquets of funeral flowers every other week - never the wreaths, just bouquets. Sympathy arrangements. The first he paid in cash - crispy new banknotes, looking too good to be true, made you look at them through the light and apologize - he grazed your hand in his when you gave him the change. Konig wrapped his fingers around yours for a second, held a bit too long - you didn't know what to say, so you said nothing. He grumbled something and left. He buys funeral flowers, and you aren't sure if you're curious or terrified. One night you went home a bit too late - boss asked you to close for a bit more of cash, and you can't really disagree with your late for a week rent - and you came across some weird guy. Dangerous guy. You clutched your hand around your pepper spray - useless, EU-safe kind - and then shrieked when a bullet got through the guy's skull. You think it was the first time you actually saw a gun. Heard a gun. Konig holds your hands as you scramble to your feet, and this time, he doesn't let go until you stop trembling. Pockets the gun like it's a normal Friday, and puts a worried hand over your waist. He still doesn't talk - a slight tremble in his head gives away his nerves - but he silently follows you home like a big dog. You have half a mind about letting him in, but he just stares, his head not dipping into your apartment. Next time, he buys flowers - red roses, pink lilies, dyed whites and tiny pink ribbons. He sets the bouquet on the counter for you - you don't have the heart to tell him you're sick of flowers after working with them all day, but he gets it without words. Sees your expression, nervous twitch of your lip - and silently leaves. You aren't even surprised when you're dragged into an undisclosed vehicle after your shift, your head dropping on the wide lap of a man in a suit, his red hair slightly messy from the hood he pulled off, and his Patagonia acting like a blanket over your trembling form. Konig drapes a hand over your ass and settles it near, tapping on your asscheek in a nervous rhythm. Something tells you you're about to find out where all the bouquets went.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

~

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal.  There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

[surielstea]

Solstice Special

(SFW version)

Pairing: ACoTaR x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: A compilation of drabbles with a theme of Winter Solstice, just an excuse to write fluff really.

Warnings: All fluff! One allusion to smut (rhys), but that’s it!

3.7k words.

Rhys - Mistletoe

I leaned against the archway of the foyer, sighing as I reached down to unbuckle the straps of my heels. The day's weight still clung to me, but the familiar warmth of home promised relief. One shoe off, then the other, I barely registered the soft sound of hurried footsteps until they were practically upon me.

Rhysand rounded the corner from his office, his usual grace momentarily abandoned as he skidded slightly on the polished hardwood floor. My brows furrowed at his urgency. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, my voice laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

He didn't answer, not with words, anyway. Instead, his hands cupped my face, firm yet tender, tilting my head up to meet his descending lips. His kiss was sudden, warm, and commanding, leaving me breathless before I had a chance to even think.

Still, I kissed him back, my confusion melting into a hum of contentment. When he pulled away, his violet eyes sparkled with mischief, and his lips curled into that devilish smile that always unraveled me.

"Welcome home," he murmured, his voice rich and teasing.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "What was that for?" I managed to whisper, still feeling the lingering heat of his mouth on mine.

His grin widened as he silently pointed above us. My gaze followed the gesture, landing on a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the archway. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, shaking my head. "Did you hang that up?"

"I did," he replied, looking awfully pleased with himself. His pride was almost endearing, considering I had done all the rest of the decorating. The garlands on the banister, the wreath on the door, the lights twinkling softly in the windows—all my handiwork. And yet, he stood there, so smug about his singular contribution.

I grinned, shaking my head as I leaned up on my toes to press another quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's my favorite of all the decor," I murmured against his mouth.

He hummed his agreement, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "I know," he said, his tone entirely too self-satisfied. "I'll expect full credit for it."

From that day on, the mistletoe became a tradition—one he refused to let go of. Every day when I walked through the door, he'd be there waiting. His excuse was always the same, a playful glance upward and a husky, "You know the rules."

Usually, the kisses were soft, sweet. A lingering press of his lips against mine followed by a quiet, "I'm glad you're home." Sometimes he'd brush his thumb along my jaw or press his forehead to mine, his eyes saying what words never could.

But on other days—those long, grueling ones when exhaustion was carved into every line of my body—his kisses were different. They were hungrier, more insistent. He'd pin me against the wall, his hands roving over my waist, my back, his touch dissolving every ounce of tension. His mouth would trail to my neck, his voice a low murmur, "Let me take care of you." And he always did, in ways that left me breathless and melting into him.

There were moments when I wondered if the mistletoe had been an innocent gesture at all, or if he'd hung it up knowing it would become something more—a way to anchor us, to carve out a pocket of intimacy amid the chaos of the world outside. If so, I couldn't complain. It was the best idea he'd ever had.

The archway and its ever-present dangling plant became our quiet haven, an unspoken ritual that drew me closer to him every day. And it was the last night of the Solstice Season, meaning all the decorations would go down tomorrow. So when I came home I expected rose petals leading up the doorstep and candles to illuminate our last kiss beneath the dangling plant.

But when I walked inside, I found him waiting for me, not beneath the mistletoe, but by the window, a glass of wine in his hand. The soft glow of the moonlight framed him like some sort of painting, his silhouette a study in elegance and ease. He didn't notice me at first, his attention fixed on the snow drifting lazily outside.

I paused in the doorway, letting the sight of him settle in my chest. He was dressed in more casual clothes—a loose, charcoal-gray sweater and black slacks—and for a moment, I could almost forget he was the High Lord of Night, the most powerful male in Prythian. Right now, he was simply mine.

"Are you going to stand there staring all night?" Rhysand asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. He didn't turn, but I could hear the amusement in his tone.

I rolled my eyes, stepping into the room. "You looked peaceful. I didn't want to ruin the moment."

He glanced at me over his shoulder, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You could never ruin anything." Setting his glass down, he turned fully, holding out a hand. "Come here."

I hesitated for only a moment before crossing the room and slipping my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and sure, and he guided me toward the window. "Look," he murmured, nodding toward the snow.

I followed his gaze. The world outside was blanketed in white, the kind of snowfall that muffled all sound and made the world feel smaller, quieter. It was beautiful, but I couldn't focus on it for long. Not with the way he was looking at me.

"You're not even looking at the snow," I accused softly, glancing up at him.

His lips twitched. "Why would I, when you're here?"

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "You're shameless."

"Always," he agreed, pulling me closer. His hands settled on my hips, and I found myself instinctively wrapping mine around the back of his neck, head resting on his chest as I stared out the window. We stood there, swaying slightly to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

After a moment, I tilted my head up to look at him. "You going to kiss me anytime soon?"

"Desperate, are you?" he countered, one brow arching.

I gave him a pointed look. "You're the one who started all this."

He sighed, a dramatic sound, but the way his hands tightened on me gave him away, he couldn't deny me.

He leaned forward, smiling as our lips nearly met but didn't quite touch. I huffed, rising onto my toes and closing that gap to kiss him. It was slow and deep, a silent confession of everything I couldn't say. He responded immediately, his arms tightening around me, grounding me.

His hands ran up my hips, large hands gripping my waist, the warmth of his touch seeping past my clothes as he pulled me closer and deepened our kiss, attempting to pour all his love into this one moment.

By the time we pulled apart, I felt lighter, the weight of my long day dissolving under his touch. "Thank you," I whispered, my fingers brushing over his jaw.

He smiled, that familiar, self-assured curve of his lips. "For the kiss? Or for being perfect?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "For this. For you."

His smile softened, his gaze turning molten. "Always, my love." He pecked my lips once more, slowly pulling away with his forehead against mine. "Always."

Az - Cookies

We had made a mess. Flour clung to the entire front of Azriel's black shirt, standing out starkly against the dark fabric, while dye from the frosting stained my hands in streaks of bright colors. The countertops were a warzone of cookie cutters, unused dough scraps, and piping bags in every color.

But neither of us seemed to care. Azriel focused on his latest creation with the precision of a Spymaster turned confectionery artist, the perfectly golden-brown sugar cookies serving as his canvas. I was still shocked he hadn't devoured the one he was decorating, considering he'd been snatching cookies fresh out of the oven all afternoon.

We weren't officially competing, but if we were, I'd be losing. Horribly. His cookies looked like something straight out of a Winter Solstice display—ornate wreaths, perfect bows, and snowflakes so detailed they might have been drawn by hand. Meanwhile, my snowman looked like he'd been through a blizzard and lost the fight. His crooked smile mocked me from the plate.

With a defeated sigh, I cleared a small space and hoisted myself onto the counter, leaning back on my hands to watch my mate work. I didn't understand how he was so good at manipulating the frosting—it seemed to defy my every attempt.

"Are you pouting?" Azriel asked without looking up, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Something like that," I replied, unable to keep the pout from my tone.

"This was your idea, might I remind you," he said, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving him off. "I remember."

Azriel placed the piping bag down with deliberate care, adding yet another masterpiece to the growing plate of decorated cookies. Finally, he looked up, those hazel eyes warm and alight with quiet humor as they locked onto mine.

Without a word, he stepped forward, settling himself between my legs. His hands, still dusted with flour, rested on either side of my thighs as he leaned in. The kiss was soft, sweet—lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. When he pulled back, his lips curved into a slight smile, dimples appearing as though summoned just for me.

"You taste like frosting," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

A soft giggle escaped me before I could stop it. "You're not entirely innocent either." I poke his chest.

He tilted his head, pretending to think, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes gave him away. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he said at last, his lips twitching into a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the warmth blooming in my chest.

Cass - Snowmen

"Using your powers is cheating," Cassian declared, gesturing toward my much more impressive snowman. His own creation, barely the size of a pre-schooler, leaned precariously to one side, a lopsided grin smeared across its face.

I scoffed, smoothing the snow on mine as I used my magic—honed in the Winter Court—to form the snowman's perfectly symmetrical, smiling expression. "Don't pout," I said, throwing him a smug grin. "It won't make your sad little snowman any better."

His gasp was loud and exaggerated, and he stomped through the knee-deep snow toward me, hands on his hips like a scolding parent. But the rant he was about to give cut off as his gaze flicked upward. He tilted his head back, dark hair dusted with white as fresh snow began to fall.

The soft flakes drifted between us, one landing perfectly on the tip of my nose. Cassian grinned, leaning in to brush it away with his lips before stealing a kiss, his mouth warm against mine. The cold melted away as I wrapped my arms beneath his jacket, hugging his solid torso against me. His hands pressed against my back, pulling me even closer.

But he leaned too far into the embrace, and the next thing I knew, we were tumbling backward into the snow.

I squealed as I landed with a soft thump, the freezing cold biting into me as I flailed. Cassian laughed, his deep chuckle loud and unapologetic as he flopped onto his back beside me.

"You're such a brute," I muttered, trying to brush the snow off my hair.

"And you're such a sore loser." He grinned, turning his head to look at me, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Thought you liked the cold?"

"I do." I glared, my cheeks flaming as the cold snow beneath me only seemed to grow colder.

"Then stop whining and enjoy it." Before I could argue, he swept his arms wide, his legs kicking out to carve a snow angel. The sight was so ridiculous—Cassian, a massive Illyrian warrior, lying in the snow and making an angel—I couldn't help but laugh.

"You don't need to use your arms, you already have arms," I said, flopping back beside him. "So ridiculous."

But I joined him, moving my arms and legs until a pair of angels stretched between us. He turned his head toward me, his grin softening into something warmer, gentler.

"I like this," he murmured. "Just you and me, acting like kids in the snow."

My heart clenched, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me tighter than his arms ever could. I reached for his hand, our fingers lacing together in the snow.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," I teased, "or I'd bury you in it."

He laughed again, the sound full of unrestrained joy as he tugged me closer. His wings wrapped around us like a shield, keeping the cold at bay as the snow continued to fall. We lay there for a while, watching the snowflakes swirl down from the dimming sky.

Eventually, he whispered, "I'll help warm you up when we go inside—if you admit my snow angel is better than yours."

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Not a chance, general."

Lucien - Ice Skating

"Wait!" I called out to my mate, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself. My knees wobbled dangerously beneath me, the ice beneath the blades of my skates feeling far less forgiving than solid ground.

Lucien turned, easily as if he wasn't on blades. His golden eye shimmered with amusement, the hint of a small smile tugging at his lips. He looked as though he'd been born on skates, while I felt like a newborn fawn—clumsy, awkward, and certain I was seconds away from disaster.

I took a tentative step forward, my arms stretched out as if I could somehow will balance into my uncooperative limbs. The moment my foot moved, I lurched forward, letting out a squeak of panic.

Lucien was there in an instant. I grabbed his jacket instinctively, clinging to him as though he were the only thing standing between me and certain doom.

"Here," he said, his voice warm and steady, "hold my hands." He extended his palms toward me, his confidence so disarming that it made my own nerves feel a bit foolish. Slowly, ever so slowly, I released my death grip on his jacket and slid my trembling hands into his.

"There," he said softly, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles over the backs of my hands. "Be confident, or you'll fall."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered under my breath, glancing down at the ice with a mix of terror and defiance. "My legs are so stiff from the cold I feel like they'll snap in half."

Lucien chuckled, the sound low and rich, like molten honey. "Always so dramatic," he teased, threading his fingers through mine as he took a small step backward, gently pulling me forward.

"Just match my movements," he instructed. His voice was calm, soothing, and so maddeningly self-assured that I almost forgot my fear. Almost.

My brows furrowed in concentration as I tried to follow his lead. My legs refused to cooperate, my body too tense to glide smoothly the way he did. Instead, I felt like a lump of wood teetering on the edge of disaster, certain that at any moment I'd go face-first into the ice.

Sensing my hesitation, Lucien squeezed my hands, and warmth bloomed from where his skin met mine, chasing away the biting chill that had settled in my fingers. The warmth crept up my arms and into my chest, soothing me in a way that only he could.

"See? You're already doing better," he encouraged, his voice laced with pride.

I frowned up at him, catching the faint curve of his lips. "Stop laughing at me," I huffed.

"I'm not laughing," he protested, though his golden eye sparkled with amusement.

"You're smiling," I pointed out accusingly.

"Am I not allowed to smile at my mate?" he countered, his smirk widening.

"No," I shot back, though my voice lacked conviction. "Not when I'm one slip away from breaking every bone in my body."

He laughed then, the sound so genuine and warm that I felt my annoyance melt away. "You're not going to fall," he promised.

"And if I do?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Then I'll catch you," he said simply, his voice steady and certain.

Something in the way he said it—like it wasn't just about ice skating, but about everything—made me falter. I swallowed hard, the moment of vulnerability making me cling to him just a little tighter.

"Now," he said, his tone light and teasing again, "let's try this without you looking like you're walking on hot coals."

I glared at him, but I couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up. His confidence was contagious, and as I let him guide me step by step across the ice, I felt my body begin to relax.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges, but with Lucien's steady hands in mine and his unwavering gaze fixed on me, I started to believe that maybe I wouldn't fall. And even if I did, I knew he'd be there to catch me.

Eris - Cocoa

I buzzed with excitement as I topped my steaming mug of cocoa with an indulgent swirl of whipped cream, crowning it with tiny marshmallows that spilled over the rim. The warmth of the drink seeped into my hands as I cradled the mug, savoring the simple joy of the moment.

"Love?" Eris's voice, low and laced with sleep, called from the hallway. I glanced up just as he peeked his head around the corner, his copper hair deliciously ruffled, his sharp amber eyes softened by drowsiness.

"Morning, Eris," I said softly, a smile tugging at my lips. He blinked at me, his expression still crinkled with sleep, and shook his head wordlessly before padding into the room.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he closed the distance between us. Gently, his hands slid over mine, tugging me away from the counter and into the hallway with the sleepy drag of his feet.

"Eris," I began, my voice full of curiosity, "what are you—?"

He didn't answer, his silence as warm and grounding as his touch. His hands in mine felt like slipping into a sun-drenched blanket on a crisp autumn morning. He led me to our bedroom, nudging the door open with a lazy kick. Releasing my hands, he turned to face me, his sharp features soft in the early light.

In one swift motion, his hands found my waist, and he pulled me down onto the bed with him. "Eris," I sighed as he reached for the blankets, cocooning us in their warmth.

"It's too early," he murmured, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he nestled into the crook of my neck.

"My cocoa's going to get cold," I protested half-heartedly, but the argument died on my tongue the moment he tightened his arm around me.

"Just a few minutes," he countered, his words brushing my skin like embers. His fingers began tracing slow, soothing circles along my back, their heat melting away the last of my resistance. He pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck, and I couldn't stop the warmth that bloomed in my chest, spreading like wildfire.

"Fine," I whispered, my resolve crumbling under his touch. "Just a few more minutes."

His only response was a soft hum of approval as I ran my fingers through his unruly hair, combing it away from his face. His quiet breaths and the rhythmic heat of his touch lulled me deeper into the comfort of the moment. Before I knew it, I'd drifted off, enveloped by his warmth.

I woke to the sensation of gentle kisses—one pressed to my forehead, another to my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. I blinked my eyes open, greeted by Eris's amber gaze, glowing with unspoken affection.

"Morning," I rasped, my voice heavy with sleep. "Again."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he leaned in, brushing a kiss against mine. His fingers cradled my jaw, the gesture tender enough to steal my breath.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek. "Think your cocoa's cold now?"

My eyes widened as the memory hit me. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the kitchen as Eris's amused laugh echoed behind me. I skidded to a stop at the counter, frowning down at the abandoned mug. Tentatively, I dipped a finger into the drink. Ice cold.

"It's ruined," I said, pouting as I turned to Eris, who had followed me with his usual unhurried grace. "It was the last of the cocoa powder."

He leaned against the counter, his hair still a mess from sleep, and shook his head with a smirk. "You forget who I am."

Taking the mug from my hands, he held it between his palms. Within seconds, steam curled into the air, and the rich scent of cocoa filled the kitchen once more.

I smiled, biting my lip as I looked up at him. "Show-off."

"There," he said with a grin, handing the mug back to me.

Rising onto my toes, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the warmth of his skin. "Thanks, 'Ris," I murmured, cradling the mug close as I took a tentative sip. The heat spread through me, as rich and comforting as the male watching me with sleepy affection.

"You're welcome, love," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His amber gaze held mine, filled with warmth, and I couldn't help but think there was no better way to start the day.

NSFW version here -> Link

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[trashmouth-richie]

frangere me | break me | 🥀 [3.4k] emperor geta x reader

dulcis ut rosa || dulex

vitiosus + deliciosus || ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

18+ smut, violence, talks of war

The stone wall bit into the tender flesh of your back. With your head thrown back, a silent moan etched itself across your face. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and Geta responded with a groan against the column of your throat, a deep thrust pistoning so hard the paintings hung beside you fell in a loud crack to the marbled floor.

It had been like this for months. What started as a midnight affair blossomed into fucking in broad daylight. The thrill of being caught making the lust for one another heighten to the Gods above. Each time was better than the last. Geta quickly became attuned to your body. 

You pleasured him beneath his desk as he discussed military stations and territories with his generals, his poker face never faltering— only hitting the large desk with a fist as he came hot and heavy in your mouth. 

He had you screaming in the middle of the coliseum, the sand rubbing against your forearms as he rocked his mighty cock into you, a whip in his right hand slapping your ass with glee. 

Fucking Geta was sinfully erotic, filthy and savory. A favorite time of yours was when you were face to face, a shared orgasm breathing between you as your hips circled his cock in the balineum, water splashing and slapping around you. 

His was during the light of dawn when he took your hand pulling you to where his throne was perched in the throne room. Geta was gentle as he kissed you, his fingers were feather light touches against your molten skin, he knelt before you as you leaned back in his throne chair, his laurel wreath crown balancing on your head. 

He licked and bit at your thighs. Suckling on your clit as he whispered, “mea imperatrix,” working you through the earth shattering orgasm as you coated his tongue. 

You couldn’t get enough of him, and he of you. The wall of this palace held many secrets, but yours and Geta’s was by far the most delicate of all.

—

Goosebumps prickled your skin as Geta ran blunt nails down your back. It was nearly daybreak, yet you still hadn’t left his chambers, how could you when his arms were wrapped around you pleading for you to stay with him just a little longer. 

You’re drifting to sleep against his chest when his breath fans against your ear, “you have not bled this month.” 

“Hm?” you mumble sleepily, a yawn drawing past your lips.

Sitting up in his bed, Geta hooks a finger under your chin. “Do not be coy, my dulcis… you haven’t bled yet, have you?” 

Stretching the kinks from your arms and spine, you rise to your knees, peeling your warmed skin from his, still sticky with the grape wine you poured down your chest and Geta had licked off just hours before. 

You met his eyes as they traveled across your body, “the month is not over, there are still days left for the cycle to begin.” 

Geta’s eyes continue descending down your bare body before him. The beautiful curves and supple skin he dined on, pinched between his fingers any chance he could get. He had claimed you every night and day for half of this year, and he’d continue doing so until his death. 

His chest rose and fell heavily as he scrubbed his hands down his face, “we have not been careful, my seed drips between your legs at this very moment.” 

Reaching for his hands you delicately pull them from his face so you can stare into his dark eyes. The torture this man was battling internally would one day consume him, and you tried your hardest to keep him afloat. 

“I have never missed my cycle, and I won’t this month either. I know the way my body works.” 

Geta grabs your wrist and kisses your open palm, “I know every inch of your body better than the maps of Rome on my desk. You smell sweeter, your breasts are fuller, I can tell by the way you whine and purr with pleasure that your nipples are significantly tender, more than usual.” 

You frown, pulling your eyebrows together before he swoops you up and lays you down, kissing your neck as you giggle. His face dangles inches above yours. “All of Rome will know our secrets when you start showing.” 

You move his face from your neck and hold his cheeks in your hands, rubbing against the rough midnight stubble collecting on his jaw.

When dawn creeped into the last dark drink of night, Geta was the most handsome to you— when the sleep drug heavy on his eyelids and those salmon tinted lips moved lazily when he spoke. Moving a lock of untamed honey from his forehead you admire him wholly. 

“We don’t know that I’m carrying for sure. For all we know, my love, this could be the work of Mercury.” 

Geta sighed deeply, “do not mistake my worry for ignorance. I would fill you with my heirs every year for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wanted. My worry isn’t about you bearing my child, it’s about the other that rules half of this kingdom.”

“Then maybe it is time for the unveiling of this adulterous devotion.” Pulling yourself up to his mouth, you slot your lips between his. Kissing him deep until your tongues join and you can feel the tension and worry seep from him. 

Geta slides down resting his body gently onto yours, “Not until a crown lay on your head and you stand next to that reptilian infant before the gods— no adultering has been made.” 

“And you’d want to wait for that moment?” you question. 

He bit your lip with his teeth until you squealed, and his tongue lapped up the single drop of blood that appeared, “I will stand before Rome tomorrow if I thought it meant you being mine was equal to your safety… Caracalla will not take this union and betrayal of ours lightly.” 

“I thought my bloodthirsty lover would kill any man who threat—”

Geta laughs darkly, “Caracalla is not a threat— merely an annoyance who uses others for his dirty work, but he is vile, and will go to extreme lengths to destroy anyone who crosses him… rest assured my little wicked thing—I have plans for him. My taste for bloodlust has not lost me yet.” 

He smiles then like a man gone mad, your blood staining the crooks of his teeth. 

“I will wait however long… but let’s not bother ourselves with him tonight Geta, I want you inside of me one last time before I have to pretend we’ve never lied together.” 

Your legs open for him, the heat from your core beckoning him as slick wets your lips. His eyes darken, “my favorite game, acting as if I hate you all day only to fuck you until you’re weeping into my sheets at night.”

He dives into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin biting harder when you moan. 

“You’re the worst, my love,” you say breathless as he reaches between your bodies and nudges the head of his cock between your folds, a small moan on your lips as you circle your hips needing him deeper, “absolutely the worst.” 

Geta leans up, grabbing you harshly by the bend in your knee, a wicked grin on his lips as he thrusts his cock into your wet welcoming heat, “that’s right, and don’t you ever forget it.” 

—

A servant’s day in the palace was bleak at best. Following Caracalla around as he fussed over his appearance, and shouted at staff for the way the grapes tasted, it was all monotonous. Everyone gathered for the mid day feast, a summer celebration where servants and the royalty eat in the same hall. 

You hid your smile when Geta approached behind his mother. The dried blood on your lip from last night a steady reminder of why you ached between your thighs today. Heat flushed your skin when you imagined those great veiny hands scorching body as he came loud inside of you. 

What if he was right? What if you were with child? A small ripple of joy shot through you at the way Geta didn’t seem afraid of having a babe with you. You let your mind wander as you sit next to the other servants of the palace while they gossip, and you pick at the roasted pork before you. 

You imagine him being stern, those overgrown hands of his no doubt able to discipline unruly children bearing their father’s eyes and quick fired temperament. But that side of Geta that no one else in Rome knew about would also leak through his tough exterior. 

The piece of him that was sweet and caring, that part of himself that he bore to you over and over again because of the way you made him feel. He was sweet, kind, gentle when needed. 

A smile presses on your lips and you hum an audible sigh. Yes, Geta would be a good father— when that time came, if it ever did. Your heart flutters and your stomach lurches when you peek over your shoulder at him. 

His jaw was set tight at the head table as he listened to his generals whisper about the upcoming war. A flicker of those dark eyes catch yours and he balances a smirk on his lips for a second before shooting a wink and quickly 

turning away. 

Your small victory over the contest of staring is short lived before a loud whisper interrupts your daydream of that devious mouth on your skin. 

“Don’t lie Jessaphina,” Claudia hissed behind her hand, “you’ve never been to his chambers!” 

“I have so,” the blonde announced unabashedly, sipping loudly from her wine, “how else would I know that it’s high in a tower? Or that he prefers the shades to be drawn at all times… but the view from his balcony is breathtaking, I could really get used to it.” 

Claudia clicks her tongue, “you’re going to get yourself killed with such nonsense lies. No whore is allowed in the Emperor’s chambers.” 

“You are if you’re invited.” Jessaphina crooned, a smile on her lips, “my garments are on his floor as we speak.”

“Jessapahina!” Claudia hissed out every ‘s’, “it’s impossible is it not? You’re betrothed to one of the general's men, fifth in command.” 

“Fourth— Claudia, and not anymore…Geta has promised me the throne besi—”

Slamming down your plate you had heard enough. It took seconds for you to reach across the table, an even shorter amount of time to wrap your fingers in her braids and bring her face down hard into the oak table until the satisfying sound of her nose breaking had every pair of eyes on you. 

Your name was screeched from Claudia’s lips as she tried to pry your fingers from Jessaphina’s hair. Rage boiled within you and a sudden rush of ecstasy as Jessaphina’s screams became blubbery sobs. 

It was his voice that silenced the room, demanding all attention to him. Your eyes met Geta’s and it was then and only then that hot tears welled within your own. 

Without breaking his stare, you spat on Jessaphina, unfurled your fingers from her blonde locks and spun on your heel, storming out of the dining hall.

Betrayal. The one person you had put trust in, gave everything too and more— and it was gone. 

You didn’t make it very far before a fuming Geta met up with you, “what in gods name are you trying to do?” 

Spinning to face him, you slapped his face with tears rolling down your cheeks, “I should ask you the same question!”  

Geta’s face burned with crimson as he stared down at you, “watch your tongue—”

Your hand cracks his other cheek, “how could you?!” 

“Gnat,” he says through gritted teeth, “I have no idea what you are asking.” 

“Jessaphina! The blonde whore with the now broken nose! She claims she’s been to your chambers!” 

He laughs in annoyance, “what?” 

“She knows where it is what it looks like— she knows that your curtains are drawn in darkness!” 

Geta reaches for you but you swat his hand away, “of course she is lying, I’m sure she has heard that from the servants who come to clean.” 

“She said she was invited!” you spat back, at him, “that she was to be your equal on the throne, that her clothing was strewn about your chambers as if she belongs there.”  

His left eye twitches at the crease, “I have never seen that woman before in my life. You are it for me, mea amor—”

“Don’t!” You screech, shoving him away, “do not call me that when you’ve been fucking another!” 

“I know nothing of her!” Geta yells loudly, “not my eyes, nor my hands or lips have touched anyone but you.” 

You scoff then, “you never touched me either when we started out. Remember? It was only my mouth, and your cock.”

Geta sighs and hangs his head, those dark eyes pooling with tears, “my sweet girl, please.” 

“Is that all I am to you? A warm mouth… even now? We play in the shadows of secrecy…all those nights swearing how I am yours… were you ever once mine, Geta?” 

“Mea domina,” he whispers, pulling you to him as you cry into his chest. “I am yours and yours alone, what more proof can I offer you.” He pulls your chin up to him, wiping a line of tears from your eyes. “I swear on my crown, there hasn’t been another since you, and there won’t ever be.” 

He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s an emperor, and you are nothing but a wet fuck when no one is around. After all these months you’re still his secret. 

You jerk your chin away from him, your hands falling to their sides, “I’m such a fool aren’t I? For ever believing a word that comes from your mouth.” 

Geta pleads your name as you pull away, leaving his heart shattering to pieces as he stands alone. In the same corridor that this all had started— it would also end.

—

Geta was a miserable man without you, he felt hollow— exactly as he did before your pretty and defiant smile came here.The daylight was easier on him, but when night fell he felt as if he was being suffocated, as if every breath was expunged from his lungs in one tight grip on his throat. 

Were you hurting? Were you as bad off as he was? Geta was many things but he wasn’t a liar, he truly had never seen that woman until that very day when you smashed her face to bits into that table. 

Days passed without him even catching a glimpse of you, but the night was filled with ghostly pearl whispers of your voice in his ear, invading his dreams and keeping him awake. 

He assembled soldiers into the foothills to train for the impending war. Cracking a whip over their heads as they fought to the bloody death to prove themselves to him. 

Every ounce of pain he felt since you left was pushed into those men, he was ruthlessly deranged and couldn’t be stopped, the spitfire temper he was known for was back with a vengeance, led by a weeping soul. 

Around the fire one evening as Geta polished his sword while the few surviving men slept, the ground crunched beneath Acacius’s feet. 

“Your excellency,” he greeted with a bow of his head, “I have my best guards watching Emperor Caracalla in my absence.” 

“Very well,” Geta mumbled, his vacant eyes losing focus. 

Acacius fiddled with the leather on his wrist, “yes, and the—erm.. sir? Your lady…would you like me to watch for her as well?” His dark eyes looked pitifully at his broken hearted Emperor. 

Geta’s eyes met Acacius’ and the moon kissed the tear as it fell on his cheek, “please.” 

-

Caracalla was full of himself. You were certain of that, and because of that reason alone— he didn’t notice that your eyes had lost their sparkle, or the way the skin beneath them seemed to darken from lack of sleep. As long as you paid attention to him he could give a shit whether you looked off or not. 

You had heard from the others that Jessaphina would heal fine. And from Caracalla’s loud mouth he said that Geta had taken troops to prepare for the inevitable battle that loomed ahead. 

Hearing his name burned like fire in your stomach. It had only been three days without him but you felt as if it were a lifetime. The palace was lonely without his presence.  Most nights you found yourself wandering the halls like a spirit, sneaking into his study and curling up on the chaise. Replaying your nights together in your head until the sun shone through the curtains. 

You missed him, and you felt sick to your stomach thinking of the pain in his face when you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. But you were also hurt, deceived by the only man you’ve ever truly cared for. 

It was irrational the way you had reacted, you spent every night in Geta’s arms for months on end, how could he possibly be seeing anyone other than you? He couldn’t have. It was that simple and truly were a fool for doubting him. 

More days passed and every time you heard a galloping hoof on the rocks your heart burned with it being Geta returning to you, but every time it wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t until tending to Caracalla’s wardrobe one evening that a lower ranked general you’d never seen before approached you in a hushed whisper.

He was covered in sweat and smelled of the wind as if he had just rode back from far away. He bowed at the waist before grabbing your hand and thrusting a note into your palm before leaving immediately before being seen.

The parchment was covered with soil and splattered in blood, but nonetheless you knew who it had come from. 

—tonight, when the moon is highest, meet me, our spot—

The corridor was ominous and pitched into darkness as you looked past the pillars into the sky. You had never been more nervous than tonight. The moon was positioned correctly as it always was in the beginning when Geta had requested you to meet, but he had yet to appear. 

You remained near the opening, feeling the humid air warm your face as the cicadas sang their mating calls. The loose fabric of your stola flowed behind you in white lengths. Dutifully, patiently you waited for your Emperor’s return.��

Too long it had been since you’ve held his eyes in yours, since his smell invaded your nose and filled your lungs, you couldn’t wait to throw yourself into his arms, to tell him how ridiculous you had been. 

Footsteps had you turning the same time a familiar voice rang in your ears. 

“There you are.” 

—

“… we must move through the western front for the advantage.” 

“Neigh Titus, the southern region is less barren, easier to disguise amongst the trees.” 

Geta and the highest generals were sitting in the war camp pouring over maps and territories on where to strike first. A full week had passed since he’d been home, but the attention and focus he put into his men waa slowly mending himself to how he was before you. 

“Emperor!” Acacius roared, slapping open the tent opening out of breath, “a word, please.” 

Geta flicked his wrist to release his men. After filing out of his tent, Acacius interrupted before Geta could ask. 

“Word just came from the Hill that there’s been an ambush.”

Geta’s nostrils flared and he rose from where he was sitting, the psychotic twitch in his eye stung as his breath quickened.

“We’ve been prepared for retaliation for weeks, our walls will hold until we get back— tell the men to gather their weapons, we are leaving camp immediately.”

“This is not an enemy led attack— it’s from within our own walls!” 

“Wh— Acacius explain yourself!” 

Acacius yelled frantically, “Staff are dead, soldiers killed by their own bloodlines— and your lady… my excellency, she’s been taken.” 

🌿🌿 there will be another part bc i can’t help myselfffff i love the angst 😫

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[cherubimcore]

pairing: emperor caracalla x fem!reader

author's notes: i'm in love with him, your honor

part 1

the throne room of the twin emperors was a place where decisions of life and death were made with a flick of a wrist, its magnificence designed to intimidate and impress. massive marble columns stretched to a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations, while golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the cold, intricate mosaics covering the floor. at the center of the room stood two identical thrones, one for each emperor, their backs adorned with gilded eagles clutching laurel wreaths.

it was here that you were brought, flanked by soldiers who led you through the imposing bronze doors. you entered with your head held high, your foreign features and proud demeanor immediately drawing attention from everyone. courtiers whispered among themselves, the rumors of your curse swirling in the air like smoke.

caracalla sat on the left throne, his body slouched lazily but his sharp eyes gleaming with intrigue. his tunic was dark red, a bold contrast to the opulence around him, and his fingers drummed idly on the armrest. he looked every bit like the predator you had heard about, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he watched you approach.

geta, seated to his brother’s right, was more composed. his posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but his gaze was no less intense. dressed in white and gold, he exuded authority and calculation, his mind clearly assessing you like a piece on a chessboard.

the guard captain bowed deeply before addressing the emperors. “great caesars, this is the captive of whom the rumors speak—the woman said to be cursed by venus herself.”

caracalla leaned forward, his interest piqued. “the infamous venus’ wraith. i was expecting... more chains,” he quipped, his voice laced with amusement.

you met his gaze without flinching, your defiance palpable. “perhaps you should have brought more, if you think I need them.”

the room fell silent. gasps rippled through the courtiers, and even the guards stiffened at her insolence.

geta raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. “bold words for a captive,” he said, his tone icy. “do you not understand where you stand, foreigner?”

“i understand perfectly,” you replied evenly, your voice carrying through the vast room. “i stand before men who believe themselves gods but bleed like mortals.”

caracalla laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber. “i like her,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. “she speaks with the confidence of someone who doesn’t fear death.”

your jaw tightened, but you said nothing.

caracalla rose from his throne, descending the steps with a languid grace. he stopped just a few feet from you, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity and amusement. “they say any man who dares to love you meets a tragic end,” he said, circling you, reminding you a lion sizing up its prey. “tell me, venus’ wraith, do you believe this curse is real?”

your voice was steady, though a flicker of pain crossed your features. “what i believe is irrelevant. the gods enjoy their games, whether we believe in them or not.”

caracalla’s smirk widened. “i don’t fear curses. or gods.”

“that makes one of us,” you replied with a sharp tone.

geta rose from his throne, his movements deliberate and commanding. “brother, don’t let your amusement cloud your judgment. if the stories are true, keeping her here could be dangerous—not just for us, but for rome.”

“and if the stories are false?” caracalla countered, turning to face him. “what better way to disprove them than to bring her into our court?”

the two brothers locked eyes, their rivalry simmering beneath the surface. you could practically see gears turning in emperor geta's head, after a couple second with the twins staring at each other geta sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “it... would be good for rome's fame when the word spreads and the other lands find out we have the infamous venus' wraith here... do as you will. but if this said ‘curse’ brings trouble, it will be your burden to bear since you so adamantly want to keep her."

but that wasn’t all, was it? you saw the shine on geta's eyes while thinking about his brother’s proposition, he came to a conclusion… but you were sure emperor geta would keep that to himself until time’s right, he’s that kind of ruler, no one ever knew what geta was planning to do until he already did it and by the rumors you heard before being held captive it almost always envolved someone with a knife on their backs… literally and figuratively.

caracalla turned back to you, a wolfish grin on his face. “you’ll serve me,” he declared. “you’ll dine with the court and entertain us with your wit. let’s see if this curse of yours has any bite.”

your gaze hardened, but you did not resist as the guards escorted you out of the throne room.

you whispered eerily while being taken away.

"good luck then"

caracalla watched your retreating figure, a flicker of fascination sparking in his chest, ignoring your words.

geta returned to his throne, his expression dark. “you’re playing with fire, brother,” he warned.

caracalla only chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the doors through which you had disappeared. “perhaps. but, as you are very aware brother, i’ve always liked the burn.”

you expected to be brought to a regular cell, a place fitting for a prisoner such as yourself, a dirty prison made for those who the emperors deemed less than nothing, undeserving to have at least the minimum a human should have to survive unscarred, both mentally and physically, a place with little to no sunlight, no bed, only the hard cold floor as a place to rest, and food not nearly enough for a small person to survive making them start to think that the rats running around looked appetizing.

you had accepted this was your fate when the emperors decided to keep you in the palace.

after all the deaths you caused, maybe you even deserve it.

but to your surprise you were brought to the top floor of the castle, a place truly fit for royalty and royalty alone.

the marble halls shimmer in the golden glow of torchlight, with intricate mosaics depicting the victories of rome lining the floors and walls. massive columns of polished ivory and black stone support the vaulted ceilings, painted with celestial imagery to reflect the gods’ favor. every corner of this level exudes grandeur, a constant reminder of the emperors' divine authority.

‘a bit egotistical in my opinion’ you thought ‘but beautiful nonetheless’

while being escorted to one of the three rooms on that floor you tried to think of an actual reason for them to keep there. did emperor caracalla really mean it when he alluded to wanting an opportunity to test their powers against the will of the gods? what about emperor geta with the odd glint in his eyes the more he thought about his brother’s idea to make you live in the palace, you wish you knew what both of them are thinking. were you a spectacle for the court? a new deadly weapon in their arsenal? political strategy? just plain and simple curiosity? all the above?

too many variables for you to get even close to a conclusion.

but one thing you knew for sure, they’ll regret it… just like everybody else.

when the guards opened the double doors of your newest room you were left in awe, staring at the large room with your mouth wide open and eyes shining brightly as if you were a kid looking at their newest gift at saturnalia, it was something you expected in a palace but still, you never thought that one day you would be able to see it let alone live in it.

the centerpiece of the room is a grand canopy bed, draped in layers of silken fabric dyed deep purple and gold, your hands delicately touch the frame, intricately carved with motifs of laurel wreaths and mythical creatures, you recognized the two sirens in the middle of the bed and a phoenix in between them, you turned around seeing tall, arched windows, framed by heavy velvet curtains, opening them left you with a breathtaking view of the city below and the distant hills.

it was perfect.

now that you were finally left alone your stoic facade got replaced by a huge smile, you jumped on the bed, happy to finally be able to sleep on an actual soft bed instead of the hard ones you were used to in hotels you stayed, having to change every other week when people find out you were venus’ wraith.

you didn’t want to think about your past or variables and possibilities like you always had since you discovered your curse, you also didn’t want to try and guess what the emperors were thinking, get inside their heads, you had a feeling you weren’t gonna like there.

you let yourself enjoy, at least for a little bit, the comfort of this tiny piece of your new life, after a long time just feeling ashamed for something that was out of your control, feeling those awful thoughts leave your mind you fell asleep.

after the heavy doors of the throne room groaned shut behind you, the space was left eerily silent in your absence. caracalla leaned back in his gilded throne, the lion motifs carved into the armrests glinting faintly in the dim light of the torches. his fingers tapped an idle rhythm against the polished wood as a crooked smile played on his lips.

“she is… unlike anyone we’ve met before,” he mused, his voice low and carrying a trace of amusement. “bold enough to speak plainly, yet clever enough to know her place.”

geta, seated in the larger throne beside him, steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. the cold silver embroidery of his tunic seemed to match the detached tone of his voice. “boldness can be dangerous. it breeds unpredictability.”

caracalla turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze narrowing on his brother. “and yet, unpredictability is what makes her intriguing, isn’t it? someone who defies tradition, dares to enter our halls, and yet does not cower. i see why the city speaks of her in hushed tones. do you think she feels the thrill of having someone’s life in her hands for something as simple as falling in love?”

geta’s lips tightened into a thin line, his dark eyes fixed on the flickering flames of the brazier. “intriguing or not, thrilling or not, she is still an outsider. a foreigner. her presence here invites gossip, and gossip can lead to dissent. we already walk a thin line with the senate.”

caracalla could be many things, bloodthirsty, a monster, impulsive, the list goes on… but on the contrary of many think, he wasn’t stupid, of course because of his disease his mind gets cloudy every once in a while, but right now his mind was as clear as crystal, he knew his brother wasn’t telling the whole truth, maybe he wasn’t even telling the truth in the first place.

but it wasn’t worth it to confront him, geta would only antagonize him, making him believe it was all in his head, his mind would be foggy and confused, making him act and feel insane like everyone believes him to be.

perhaps they were right.

but right now caracalla wanted nothing fogging his mind, especially when it was full of you.

caracalla waved a dismissive hand, the ruby on his ring catching the firelight as he smirked. “let them talk. let them wonder. she is no threat to us here.” his voice dropped, taking on a darker edge. “unless, of course, you plan to fall in love with her.”

geta’s gaze snapped to his brother, his composure unwavering but his tone sharp. “i am not the reckless one here. whatever amusement you find in her will not distract me from what’s supposed to be our duty to rome.”

caracalla laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber like a predator’s growl. “oh, come now, brother. you see the potential as clearly as i do. imagine her in the court, an exotic symbol of rome’s dominion over even the most defiant.”

maybe if he pushed a little geta would open up about his plans, once in his life he would trust caracalla with something, anything, but of course that didn’t happen.

geta remained silent, keeping his thoughts behind the usual cold and calculating facade.

caracalla’s smirk faded, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. then he leaned back again facing away from his brother.

well, it isn’t like he’s telling the whole truth as well.

the tension between them lingered like smoke in the air, unspoken truths and unacknowledged fears weaving an invisible web.

[yeoldenews]

A selection of looks from the 18th Century equivalent of the MET Gala (aka The Queen's Drawing Room) in March 1789.

(To help with your mental images - this would have been roughly the court silhouette at the time.)

Queen Charlotte - "Was dressed in purple, silver and orange body and train; the petticoat likewise of purple and silver, richly embroidered upon crape. Her Majesty’s head-dress was the most superb and beautiful that ever appeared at Court. A bandeau of purple sattin was fastened around the cap, with a motto in diamonds of “GOD SAVE THE KING.

Round the Queen’s neck was a medallion, tied with a double row of gold chain, and across her shoulders was another chain of three rows of pearls, and five rows of diamonds fastened low behind, with a fine miniature portrait of the KING, studded with diamonds, hanging in front. The tippet was of fine lace, and fastened with the letter G. in diamonds."

The Duchess of Gordon - "White sattin, superbly spangled in gold, and drawn up with a bandeau of the most costly embroidery, imitating the sun [in] the fullness of its glory. The petticoat was festooned in a beautiful manner with branches of oak."

The Duchess of Devonshire - "A white sattin petticoat most superbly embroidered with wreaths of foil, flowers and stones, the gown of dark green sattin, richly embroidered with spangles; and a most beautiful diamond stomacher."

Lady Lloyd - "A crape petticoat, over one of white sattin, with stripes of purple velvet, ornamented with gold and stones, representing peacock feathers. The train purple, trimmed with crape.

Her Ladyship's cap had a painting, describing Britannia kneeling and offering praises to heaven for the recovery of the King, very richly ornamented with diamonds, blond, flowers, and feathers. In the front, "Dieu nous le rend," (God restores him to us,) embroidered in gold letters."

Mr. Pitt - "A green and rose striped velvet, richly embroidered with gold and silver stones; the waistcoat of white satin, embroidered as the coat."

The Hon. Mr. Edgecumbe - "A blue and brown shaded velvet, most superbly embroidered with diamonds and point lace, with beautiful bouquets of flowers; the waistcoat of white satin, embroidered the same"

Sir John Marriott - "Sea green striped velvet, with gold tissue embroidered waistcoat."

and my personal best dressed -

The Duchess of Rutland (who was making her first appearance at court since the death of her husband) - "The time allotted by the decree of fashion for customary suits of solemn black, and all the trappings of widowed woe, being expired, her Grace, lovely in her person, and attractive in her manners, came forward in all the fullness of splendor, and in imitation of the Heavens when they declare, by a rainbow, that the tears of the sky have stopped, wore a dress of embroidered crape, fashioned in such a manner as to resemble that variegated sign of an unclouded atmosphere. But we are at a loss to find out what was meant by the gold-spangled darts of lightning that appeared through this rainbow, unless that her Grace meant them as emblematical of what her eyes can do, now that the day of weeping’s over. To write, however, in more plain terms, we shall state exactly what her Grace had on. It was an embroidered crape, something in imitation of a rainbow, having variety in its colours, and being ornamented with gold spangles which really appeared like darts of lightning through the crape, and gave it a most superb appearance. Her head-dress of white crape, with a towering branch of ostrich feathers, and the motto of God save the King,  in white and gold."

(source: The Times, March 27, 1789.)

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 4)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother.

Cherrie's note:She/Her pronouns. I am amazed by how much love you guys have shown my writing. Thank you so so much for your support, i hope i can keep you all happy.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Watching Gwayne train was more exhilarating than you’d anticipated. Despite his youth, his skill with a sword was undeniable. He dispatched opponents with a grace and ease that bordered on effortless, his confidence—teetering on arrogance—seemingly justified by his prowess. It was clear that his confidence wasn’t misplaced, though it stirred a mix of admiration and irritation within you. You were captivated by him, his every move drenched in sweat yet still strikingly handsome. A fleeting thought crossed your mind: a wish to knock him off his high horse, if only to humble him. Yet, even with his confident demeanor, he looked every bit the part of a heavenly vision. You were painfully aware of how your cheeks flushed at the mere sight of him, a fact not lost on him, judging by the small smirk he directed your way after helping up his sparring partner.

Considering whether to order your sworn protector to intervene and knock him down was a fleeting thought. Instead, you stood, smoothing your dress. Gwayne jogged over, concern evident in his eyes. “You aren’t leaving already, are you, Princess? Am I not impressive enough?”

You descended the steps of the viewing stand with his assistance. “It was satisfactory, Ser.”

Gwayne placed a hand over his heart in mock distress. “I’ve disappointed my princess. Whatever shall I do to recover?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his dramatic flair. “I have every faith that you’ll redeem yourself in the tourney, Ser Gwayne.”

As you headed toward the Red Keep’s entrance, Gwayne’s voice followed. “I hope so too, my Princess!”

The day of the tourney had finally arrived, and the atmosphere in the Red Keep was electric with anticipation. Royal duties had kept you and Gwayne apart, your time together limited to quick exchanges and lingering glances. You found yourself missing him more than you’d expected, a testament to the swift and deep connection that had formed between you.

In the royal box, you were seated between Rhaenyra and Alicent. Alicent was visibly nervous about her brother’s performance, her hands fidgeting with her nails. You placed your hand over hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. She returned the gesture, understanding your shared concern for Gwayne. Both she and your sister had noted your growing fondness for the knight, often teasing you about it in the days leading up to the tournament.

As your father rose to announce the commencement of the tourney, your attention was elsewhere, scanning the arena for Gwayne. When you finally spotted him, your heart skipped a beat, and you silently prayed to the old gods and the new for his safety. When the knights came to request favors, you turned down every offer, knowing precisely where your allegiance lay.

Gwayne approached, removing his helmet and smiling up at you. “Princess, it would be an honor if you would present me with your favour. Even if I lose, I would still consider myself a winner.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You picked up your flower wreath and approached the barrier, the eyes of your father and Otto Hightower upon you. But in that moment, their scrutiny faded as you focused solely on Gwayne. “Of course, Ser. Do be careful.” You placed the wreath on his lance, and the connection between you was palpable. His nod was a silent promise, and though no more words passed between you, the understanding was mutual. He donned his helmet and returned to his place.

As you resumed your seat, the weight of your father’s and Otto Hightower’s gazes became more pronounced. You tried to steady your breath, watching intently as the jousting began. Gwayne’s skill was evident, but his opponent had the advantage of experience and brute strength. You gasped silently as Gwayne was unseated with a jarring impact, struggling to suppress your urge to cry out. Instead, you gripped Alicent’s hand tightly, your heart racing with concern. Despite knowing Gwayne’s stubbornness, you wished he would yield to avoid further injury. Yet, true to form, he stood and challenged his opponent to continue on the ground. Though nimble and quick, Gwayne’s superior opponent’s strength and strategy soon took their toll. Gwayne fought valiantly but was ultimately overpowered and forced to yield. As he released his sword and was helped from the field, your worry surged.

You quickly excused yourself from the royal box, making a hasty yet dignified dash toward the deep green tent. Your urgency overrode the need for decorum; your only focus was Gwayne. The thought of him hurt and vulnerable drove you to disregard the etiquette you had been taught since childhood, propelled only by your concern for the knight who had swiftly become significant in your life.

Tag List: @deniixlovezelda @kieracassette

[pmamtraveller]

CARNATION, LILY, LILY, ROSE /1885/ by JOHN SINGER SARGENT

The painting shows two young girls lighting lanterns in what seems to be a garden at dusk. The artist used the 'en plein air' technique to capture the beautiful floral hues, which are pink roses, yellow carnations, and white lilies.

The painting's title was inspired by the song "Ye Shepherds Tell Me" by Joseph Mazzinghi. In the song's refrain, Mazzinghi mentions, "A wreath around her head, around her head she wore, Carnation, lily, lily, rose" when you think about it this directly relates to the flowers in the painting.

While in England, Sargent worked on this painting, he moved there because of the scandal from his 1884 painting 'Portrait of Madame X', which damaged his reputation in Paris. The painting, rather controversial, depicts Virginie Gautreau in ways that sparked outrage in Paris due to its provocative elements.

Ultimately, this painting revived Sargent's career after the 1887 Royal Academy exhibition. Some critics praised it for originality, with one radical publication calling it "the most interesting and original picture in the whole show" due to its innovative use of color and light.

[felassan]

The Flame Eternal

By Sylvia Feketekuty | Art by Albert Urmanov

Synopsis: "A pair of necromancers investigate what torments a distressed inhabitant of the Grand Necropolis."

"Thirty years ago, in 9:22 Dragon… “Well? You tore me away from an experiment for this, Volkarin.” The shorter necromancer caught a hissing monster of bone and dried gristle in a skein of light. A twist of her hand, and it was ripped apart. “What does the wretched thing want?” Emmrich Volkarin adjusted his collar pin. “Just a moment, Johanna.” “Fine.” Johanna Hezenkoss scowled at the skull cradled in Emmrich’s hand. “Anything to stop that howling.” The skull had started screaming, ceaselessly screaming, inside its niche in the Cobalt Ossuary of the Grand Necropolis. An attendant had noted it, informed the Mourn Watch, and a pair of necromancers had been dispatched. They came to a junction. Emmrich placed the shrilling skull on a plinth. “What insights on the dead it could—” “You already told me about your paper.” “Come now!” Emmrich turned. “What sort of passion drives one spirit above the rest? What tangle of thoughts and heart returned this soul?” “Mawkish drivel.” “You must admit it’s an interesting variation on possession!” The skull’s shrieks bounced through the corridor. “It’s only some petty spirit too weak to become a demon.” Johanna ducked under a collapsed lintel. Statues of corpses lined the passage. A flick of her hand, and a green bolt of light smashed into a lanky shape lurking at the end. The demon twisted up, wreathed in smoke, as another volley hit. It gnashed its teeth and collapsed into itself. “There. It should be safe for your corpse whispering.” Emmrich closed his eyes. Whispers came, and when he spoke, the air vibrated. “By breath and shadow. By endless night. Tell us what haunts you.” The skull’s sockets flared green. “Divided. Cold. Two graves where there should be one!” “Twaddle.” “Johanna!” Emmrich cleared his throat and turned back to the skull. “Tell me: what will grant you rest?” “Take this one… to sunken black walls… by silver flames…” The skull’s glow flickered, faded. It resumed its earsplitting shrieks. “You possess a grand talent, Volkarin.” Johanna gave the smallest inclination of her head. “And you’ve honed your command of sub-astral manifestation.” Emmrich beamed. “Why thank you.” “But what does this wailing nuisance want down in the Crescent Fane?” *** Emmrich leaned over a coffin ringed by bowls of silver fire. He placed the skull next to the body of an old woman, humbly dressed but crowned with white roses. The screaming stopped. “Mathilde…” “Your wife left gently, in her sleep, last midnight.” Emmrich smiled. “The records confirm she also wished to be interred together. You’ll not be parted again.” There was a sigh. Did the old woman’s mouth quirk, or was that the dancing flames? Johanna snorted. “All that fury, ending in another grave.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Emmrich ran a hand along the coffin’s snowy marble. “It would be rather fine to possess such an enduring affection. Besides, you did see this through.” “Someone had to ensure you weren’t beheaded while chattering with the dead.” “I am grateful for enduring friendships, as well.” “Bah!” They made their way back up the Grand Necropolis in companionable silence."

[source]

[anhells]

Characters: Arlecchino × kid!Reader (Platonic!)

Summary: The part of parenthood that Arlecchino wasn't ready for

Warnings: none (I hope so...)

SFW, Fluff, gn!Reader

A/N: I'm very, very sorry if something is wrong! This is my first time posting on tumblr, and I hope I haven't fumbled anything.

Arlecchino was not used to children loving her. She usually saw fear in the eyes of her kids, all of them, without exception. It was understandable: she was not a caring and kind Mother, she was a cold and unfeeling Father. She didn't know how to be a good parent, and she suspected she would never know.

After all, her childhood and youth under Crucabena's oppression had affected her personality too much. The kids sensed what kind of person the Fourth Harbinger was, knew about the blood on her hands, and kept their distance.

But you, you were obviously an unusual child. Or rather... In many ways, you were a normal kid for your age. You played with other children, sometimes you were naughty, but in general you followed the rules of the house. Appearing a few years after Mother's death, you caught the "heyday" of the renewed House of the Hearth. Arlecchino had already gained some experience in "raising" her kids, though she was still far from fully understanding child psychology.

So Arlecchino didn't understand what you wanted. At least not at first. It was a mystery to her why you passed by her office so often, pausing periodically for long minutes, as if you wanted to knock and enter.

Was something bothering you? Something so complicated that you wanted to go directly to Father rather than to the governesses or older siblings? Honestly, it worrying Arlecchino.

So when a quiet knock finally sounded in the office, the woman couldn't hold back a quiet sigh of relief. She distinguished the gait of her children and easily recognized you standing at her door again.

"Just a moment, little one."

The Harbinger set aside her papers and walked to the door, opening it.

"Do you need anything?"

Arlecchino tried to sound as soft as possible so as not to scare you off.

You nodded timidly. The woman noticed the wreath of rainbow roses in your scratched fingers and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"So?"

You looked up at her with big, naive eyes, and Arlecchino could have sworn there was something wrong in them.

You said something barely audible. After a moment, the woman realized what you wanted her to say and leaned closer, allowing you to whisper something in her ear.

Instead, however, you kissed her cheek gently, and while Arlecchino slowly realized what had happened, you placed a wreath on her head.

"I love you, Father!"

You said with a smile and, waving goodbye, you ran briskly off down the corridor somewhere.

Arlecchino straightened up, still staring disbelievingly in front of her, and reached up to remove the ridiculous accessory from her head. The woman twirled the wreath in her hands confusedly and noted that all the spikes had been neatly broken off. So that's why your fingers were scratched so badly...

The Harbinger closed the door of her office, still holding the flower ornament in her hand, and then carefully put it away in her desk drawer.

She went back to the papers, and a couple hours later she suddenly froze again for a moment. Thing that seemed wrong in your eyes to her... Fear. Or rather, the lack of fear.

Arlecchino smiled slightly, opening her desk drawer to take another look at the roses. This, of course, was ridiculous for the Harbinger that woman was, but...

Arlecchino carefully returned the wreath to her head. The door to her office was locked anyway, and what kind of Father would disregard child's gift?

After all, she loved you too, as she loved all the children of the House of the Hearth. All her children.

[bullet-prooflove]

Memories: Dean Winchester x Reader (feat: Michael) - NSFW

Tagging: @kmc1989 @district447 @cosmic-psychickitty @volumesofforgottenlore @@spaghettificationandpretzels

Companion piece to: Six Pack

You aren’t at home when Michael shows up on your doorstep. The lights are off and the house is locked up much to his disappointment. He can’t explain the urge he has to see you again, it’s a need that has nothing to do with purpose and everything to do with desire.

Where is she? He asks Dean but the other man remains stubbornly silent.

He’s been this way since the two of you shared a moment in that field in Mill’s Park. Quiet, reclusive. Michael thinks seeing you in that state hurt the other man in a way the Archangel can’t comprehend. He wants to though, he wants to understand the emotions Dean feels when he’s with you, he wants to experience them.

He spends ten minutes surveying the outside of your house, taking in the nuances that personalise it. You have a wildflower wreath on the door that Dean helped you make in the fall last year and rose bushes that were planted long before you were a twinkle in your Papa’s eye. He runs his fingers over the velvet petals before he plucks one and carries it with him inside the house.

There’s been changes since Dean was last here over Christmas. A new rug underneath the oak coffee table, a fresh pitcher of yellow tulips in the kitchen, he set the rose down amongst them before he heads into the kitchen to rifles through the cupboards. He takes out your favourite mug before filling up the kettle in order to make coffee. It’s as he’s waiting for it to boil that he sees the calendar attached to the fridge, the one you leave there for Dean so he knows where you are on the occasions he turns up.

Fire Tower is written under today’s date. It appears you’ll be there for several days.

He feels a pang then somewhere in his chest and he realises in some sort of odd sort of way that he misses you. He considers making an appearance but he knows instinctively that his presence will wreak havoc up there, it’s best to leave that alone for now.

It doesn’t take long for him to find himself in your bedroom. His eyes fixate on the bed and he reaches for Dean’s memories only for a door to slam shut in his head.

They’re not for you, his captive snaps and he wants to laugh because really Dean has no choice in the matter, but he still can’t help resisting. It becomes a tug of war between the two of them, each yank of the door becoming more desperate, more violent until Michael tires of the game and completely obliterates the damn thing.

The memories, they all come spilling out then, scattering across his mind like pictures before they form into videos and then suddenly he’s right there, face buried in the curve of your throat as he fucks you from behind and the things he’s saying to you…

They’re enough to make an Archangel blush.

Dean tries to snatch them back but it’s too late because Michael’s already moving onto the next one and the next one, experiencing them in a raw, maddening rush of euphoria and ecstasy.

Is this what it feels like for you? He asks Dean. Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

But the other man’s retreated again and Michael can feel his anguish vibrating through his mind as he begins to search through the drawers of your dresser, eager to learn more about your tastes. His fingertips brush across a pair of dark mauve panties and he’s thrown back into another memory.

His mouth ghosting over the underwear, the press of the material against his tongue as you hit that high, your taste flooding his senses.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s half naked, tangled up in your sheets, his face pressed into your pillow, inhaling the scent of sunshine and gardenias that clings to your skin. His pants have been shoved down his hips and he’s fucking those panties like he’s inside your wet cunt as another of Dean’s memories overtake him.

“Christ, you feel so good baby.” He whispers, his palm coming to rest on your throat squeezing just a little and your breath hitches as you tighten around him. “Gonna come for me aren’t you? That’s it honey, I’m right here with you.”

Michael climaxes into his hand, silver streaks staining those pretty panties as he spills his release into them. He stays there like that, gripping them in his fist as he stretches out amongst your sheets. His entire body relaxes and the sensation of being surrounded by you lulls him into a drowsy, sated state.

Is this what it’s like? He asks Dean again.

And once again Dean, he refuses to answer.

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[nayziiz]

Forever | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (she her)

Author's note: Very short, but very soft.

Masterlist

The sun began to set, casting a warm golden tint over the sprawling vineyard that stretched out like a lush, green ocean. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and lavender, mingling with the rich aroma of oak barrels from the nearby winery. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung between the towering olive trees, creating a canopy of stars that shimmered against the dusky sky. 

Guests mingled and laughed, their voices a pleasant hum that blended with the gentle strumming of a guitar from the live band positioned near the rustic, wooden dance floor. The band, dressed in casual, bohemian attire, played a melodic tune that invited everyone to sway and move to its rhythm, including the bridal pair, Pierre and Kika. Elegant tables draped in crisp white linens were scattered around, each adorned with delicate floral centrepieces and flickering candles. A long, beautifully decorated table stood at the heart of the venue, laden with an array of gourmet dishes and fine wines, reflecting the celebratory spirit of the occasion.

Charles stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes fixed on the centre of the activity. There, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the lights, was his partner, dancing with carefree abandon. The music seemed to flow through her, her movements fluid and graceful, her laughter a bright, contagious melody that added to the joy of the evening. She wore a flowing, navy dress with a slight glitter to it that caught the light with every twirl, the fabric rippling like water. Her hair, adorned with a wreath of wildflowers, cascaded down her back in loose waves. There was a radiance about her, a pure, unfiltered joy that made her stand out to him among the other guests. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the kind that made anyone who saw it smile too, spreading happiness like ripples in a pond.

Charles watched her, his heart swelling with love and pride. She moved effortlessly from dance partner to dance partner, drawing everyone into her orbit, making them feel like they were the only person in the world at that moment. Her energy was infectious, her spirit indomitable. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had fallen in love with her – her ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to share that joy with everyone around her, even at their friends’ wedding.

He took a sip of his champagne, savouring the crisp, bubbly liquid as he continued to observe her. She caught his eye and her face lit up even more, if that was possible. She beckoned him with a playful wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Charles couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the warmth of her gaze wash over him. He set down his glass and made his way towards her, weaving through the clusters of guests. As he reached her, she took his hand and pulled him into the dance, her laughter ringing out like music to his ears. He spun her around, the world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the joyful chaos of the wedding celebration.

They moved together, in perfect harmony, their steps synchronised like a practised dance. Charles held her close, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest, matching his own. The world faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them under the canopy of stars and fairy lights.

“How long is forever?” he wondered aloud, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of laughter and music.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. She had been so lost in the moment, twirling in his arms, that his sudden question caught her off guard.

“How long do you think forever is?” he repeated, his gaze drifting towards a newlywed couple dancing nearby. “They promised to love each other forever, so how long is forever?” 

His eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, returned to hers. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she studied his face.

“Are you having some existential crisis, baby?” she teased. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but she could see that his question was genuine, not just a passing thought.

“I'm just curious,” he said, a slight shrug accompanying his words. He looked down, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“I think forever is everything and more,” she began, her voice thoughtful and tender. “It's not just a timeframe, but all the small moments in between. The laughter, the tears, the joy, the sadness, the anger, the patience, the kindness, the forgiveness. It's how even when you're both long gone, your story will still be told and sung, swept away in the wind, etched in the Milky Way, so no one could ever forget it.”

He listened intently, her words resonating deep within him.

“Mmh,” he murmured, letting the weight of her words settle in his heart.

“What? Is that too philosophical for you?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.  He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I think that's exactly what forever is for us,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “You know I'd love you forever and a day.”

“And I'd love you forever and a day, too, baby,” she whispered, her eyes shining with love. She leaned in, their foreheads touching, and in that intimate space, the promise of forever felt as real and as tangible as the stars twinkling above them.

As the song came to an end, she rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. Charles kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes, letting the moment etch itself into his memory. It was a beautiful evening, a perfect celebration of love, and as he held her in his arms, he knew that this was just the beginning of their lifelong dance together.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Apollo Deep dive

Lord Apollon is an amazing god, he is a healer, but he is also the destroyer of health, the same string that holds his bow and arrows of misery is the same in his lyre that he makes beautiful songs and lyrics with, he deserves respect as a god and as a Father. I adore Lord Apollon as a worshiper and as a researcher, no matter how harsh he may be. May you not judge lord Apollon from his myths and remember his actions of good. May all worshipers of devotees Tell of his amazingness.

God of - prophecy and oracles, Music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young, divine distance, fertility, knowledge, dancing, wolves, locust, doorways, mice, entrances, foreigners, happy travels, light, omens, averting evil and harm, boundaries, and borders, laurels, mildews, the god who punishes and destroys, he helps and wards off evil, he protects the flocks and cattle, the foundation of towns and the establishment of civil constitutions, protection of young boys, god of purification, he’s also a Psychopomp.

Symbols- The lyre, Silver bow & arrows, Dolphins, Swans, Crows, Ravens, Lions, Wolves, Wolves, Mice, Griffins, Hawks, Snakes, Laurel wreath, Fire/flame, The sun/sunlight, Tripod, Apples 

Incense/scents - Bay, Frankincense, Cypress, Clove, Cinnamon, Mugwort, Myrrh, hythincath, Rays of light radiating from his head, Branch of laurel, Wreath, amber, myrrh, lily of the valley, frankinscences, orange, lemongrass, marjoram

Colors • orange and yellow, red, gold and pure white blue, pink (means healing) purple and green (associated with the Oracle)

Herbs• Palm Tree, Apple Tree, Poplar Tree, Mistletoe, cinnamon, myrrh, bay leafs, sunflowers and red roses, oak wood, cypress (his veey dear friend ((not a lover or crush))), mint, heliotrope, Goldenseal, Date Palm, orange, lemongrass, marjoram

elements • his element is light

Day, month and festivals• Yule, Midsummer, May, sunday, his festivals are Noumenia, Delphinia, Thargelia, Apatouria, Pyanepsia, Asklepia (maybe), Pandia (maybe)

Patron of - medicine, mental health, physical health, therapy, the alphabet/words, defender of herds and flocks, justice, prophecy, and mental and moral purity, herdsmen and shepherds, anything in the medical field.

What I resonate with him • resseces pieces (I forgot why),  Raven, lyre, lemonade, yellow, sun, bob Ross, painting, singing, humming, melody, Oracle’s, prophecies, knowledge, Purification, suns/ stars  

Crystals•Sunstone, Citrine, Carnelian, Clear Quartz, Pyrite, Selenite, Lapis Lazuli

His sacred items - Bow and arrows; lyre; the wreath of laurel leaves (he wears that which is to be understood as Daphne’s hair.) 

Planet - The sun 

Tarot card- the sun, the chariot

Number - 7 

Animals - Wolf, griffin, dolphins, Swans, foxes, roe deer, swans, cicadas, hawks, ravens, crows, foxes, mice, and snakes

Signs he's reaching out• Significant Dream Encounters of him, Frequent Solar Imagery, Increased Interest in the Arts, Strong Connection to Healing, seeing his Symbols and Animals, having  Prophetic Experiences, finding yourself seeking the truth all of the sudden, Attraction to Light and Warmth

What u could put on his alter • Sun water, Wine (diluted with pure water), Milk, Olive oil, Herbal teas, Honey, honey cakes, Orange and lemon pastries, Lamb meat,  goat meat, Fruits, Cheeses, Wheat, Breads, Golden objects (ex- such as gold bowls, gold wine cups, flakes of gold), Bows and arrows (real or fake), art, Images of the sun, All musical instruments, (especially stringed instruments), Wolf imagery, dolphin imagery, Any images of birds (especially crows and swans), Yellow, gold, and white candles, Incense he likes. He likes his alters Neat, clean, not cluttered, orderly, surround him with who he loves (ex- past lovers, Leto, artemis) , add images of wolves, mice, and ravens, Wine, incense, gifts of solar imagery, oranges 

Other titles of apollon• ABAEUS/ Abaios (derived from the town of Abae in Phocis),

ACERSE′COMES/Akersekomês (Apollo expressive of his beautiful hair which was never cut or shorn.) ACE′SIUS/ Akesios (surname of Apollo, under which he was worshipped in Elis, This surname, which has the same meaning as akestôr and alexikakos as the god of averter of evil), ACESTOR/Akestôr (A surname of Apollo which characterises him as the god of the healing art, or in general as the averter of evil, like akesios), ACTIACUS (a surname of Apollo, derived from Actium, AEGLE′TES/Aiglêtês (that is, the radiant god), AGE′TOR/Agêtôr (a surname given to several gods, example is Zeus at Lacedaemon) AGO′NIUS/Agônios (a surname or epithet of several gods, like Zeus), AGRAEUS/Agraios (the hunter a surname of Apollo After he had killed the lion of Cithaeron), AGYIEUS/Aguieus (a a title describing him as the protector of the streets and public places), ALEXI′CACUS/ Alexikakos (the averter of evil, is a surname given by the Greeks to several deities like Zeus.), AMAZO′NIUS/ Amazonios, AMYCLAEUS/Amuklaios, ARCHE′GETES/Archêgetês (A surname of Apollo, under which he was worshipped in several places, as at Naxos in Sicily), Megara (The name has reference either to Apollo as the leader and protector of colonies, or as the founder of towns in general, in which case the import of the name is the same as theos patroôs.),  BOEDRO′MIUS/ Boêdromios (the helper in distress), CARNEIUS/ Karneiosx, CATAE′BATES/Kataibatês (invoked by this name to grant a happy return home, katabasis (to those who were travelling abroad), CHRYSAOR/Chrusaôr) (The god with the golden sword or arms), CLA′RIUS/ Klarios (derived from his celebrated temple at Claros in Asia Minor), CO′RYDUS/Korudos (from the temple eighty stadia from Corone, on the sea-coast),  CY′NTHIUS and CY′NTHIA/Kunthia and Kunthios (surnames of Artemis and Apollo from island of Delos, which is their birthplace), DAPHNAEUS and DAPHNAEA/Daphnaia and Daphnaios (surnames of Artemis and Apollo), DECATE′PHORUS/ Dekatêphoros (that is, the god to whom the tenth part of the booty is dedicated), DE′LIUS and DE′LIA/ Dêlios and Dêlia or Dêlias (surnames of Apollo and Artemis respectively), DELPHINIUS and DELPHI′NIA/ Delphinia (a surname of Artemis at Athens & The masculine form Delphinius is used as a surname of Apollo), EPACTAEUS or EPA′CTIUS/ Epaktaios or Epaktios (the god worshipped on the coast, was also used as a surname of Poseidon in Samos) EPIBATE′RIUS/ Epibatêrios (the god who conducts men on board a ship), EPICU′RIUS/ Epikourios (the helper),

EUTRESITES/Eutrêsitês (derived from Eutresis, where he had a ancient Oracle), GALA′XIUS/Galaxios a (from Boeotia, derived from the stream Galaxius),

HEBDOMA′GETES/Hebdomagetês (was derived from the fact of sacrifices being offered to him on the seventh of every month, the seventh of some month which became the god's birthday), HECAERGUS/Hekaergos (same meaning as Hecaerge in the case of Artemis),HY′LATUS/Hulatos (derived from the town of Hyle in Crete, which was sacred to him), INTONSUS/unshorn, (surname of Apollo and Bacchus showing the eternal youth of these gods, beacuse the Greek youths allowed their hair to grow until they attained the age of manhood), ISME′NIUS/Ismenios (A surname of Apollo at Thebes), ISO′DETES/Isodetêg (the god who binds all equally, is also used as a surname of Pluto),I′XIUS/Ixios (derived from a district of the island of Rhodes which was called Ixiae or Ixia.), LAPHRAEUS/Laphraios (a surname of Apollo at Calydon), LEUCA′DIUS/ Leukasios (a son of Icarius and Polycaste, and a brother of Penelope and Alyzeus. Leucas was believed to have derived its name from him), LIBYSTI′NUS, LOE′MIUS/Loimios (the deliverer from plague),

LO′XIAS/Loxias (derived by some from his intricate and ambiguous oracles), LYCE′GENES/Lukêgenês (describing him either as the god born in Lycia, or as the god born of light), LYCEIUS/Lukeios (the meaning is not quite certain, some derive it from lukos, a wolf, so that it would mean "the wolf-slayer;" others from lukê, light, according to which it would mean "the giver of light;"), LY′CIUS/Lukios (the Lycian, a surname of Apollo, who was worshipped in several places of Lycia),

LYCO′REUS/Lukôreus (A surname of Apollo perhaps in the same sense as Lyceius), MALEATES/Maleatês  (surname of Apollo, derived from cape Malea, in the south of Laconia),MARMARINUS/Marmarinos (the god of marble), MALLOEIS and MELUS/Mêlos (A son of Manto, from which the sanctuary of Apollo Malloeis in Lesbos was believed to have derived its name), MOIRA′GETES/Moiragetês (the guide or leader of fate, occurs as a surname of Zeus and Apollo at Delphi) MUSA′GETES/MUSAE (?), NO′MIUS/Noumios (surname of divinities protecting the pastures and shepherds sheared with Apollo, Pan. Hermes, and Aristaeus) ONCAEUS/Onkaios (a surname of Apollo derived from Oncesium on the river Ladon in Arcadia), PAEAN/Paian, Paiêôn or Paiôn (meaning "the healing," however, used also in the more general sense of deliverer from any evil or calamity, PAGASAEUS/ Pagasaios/the Pagasaean, from Pegasus, or Pegasae, (town in Thessaly, uses the surname of Apollo there.), PALATI′NUS, (surname of Apollo at Rome), PARNO′PIUS/Paruopios (the expeller of locusts) paruôps (a surname of Apollo, under which he had a statue on the acropolis at Athen), PARRHA′SIUS/Parrastos (A surname of Apollo, who had a sanctuary on Mount Lyceius, meaning “the helper”, PATAREUS/Patareus (derived from the Lycian town of Patara, where the god used to spend the six winter months in every year), PHILE′SIUS/Philêsios (surname of Apollo at Didyma, where Branchus was said to have founded a sanctuary of the god, and to have introduced his worship) PHOEBUS/ Phoibos (the shining, pure or bright, occurs both as an epithet and a name of Apollo), PHY′XIUS/Phuzios (the god who protects fugitives, also occurs as a surname of Zeus in Thessaly), PY′THIUS/Puthios the Pythian, from Pytho (the ancient name of Delphi, often occurs as a surname of Apollo), SALGANEUS/Salganeus (a surname of Apollo, derived from the town of Salganeus in Boeotia), SARPEDONIUS and SARPEDO′NIA/Sarpêdonia (a surname of Artemis, derived from cape Sarpedon in Cilicia, where she had a temple with an oracle, The masculine Sarpedonius occurs as a surname of Apollo in Cilicia.) SMINTHEUS/Smintheus (a surname of Apollo, which is derived by some from sminthos, a mouse, and from the town of Sminthe in Troas), SPO′DIUS/Spodios (a surname of Apollo at Thebes, derived from spodos, ashes, because his altar consisted of the ashes of the victims which had been sacrificed to him.), TEGYRE′IUS/Tegurêios (a surname of Apollo, derived from the town of Tegyra in Boeotia. where, according to some traditions, the god had been born), TELMI′SSIUS/Telmissios (a surname of Apollo derived from the Lycian town of Telnissus or Telmessus),TEMENITES/Temenitês (a surname of Apollo, derived from his sacred temenus in the neighbourhood of Syracuse), THEOXE′NIUS/Theoxenios (a surname of Apollo and Hermes), THYMBRAEUS/Thumbraios (A surname of Apollo, derived from a place in Troas called Thymbra, where he had a temple in which Achilles was wounded, or from a neighboring hill of the same name), ZOSTERIUS and ZOSTE′RIA/Zôstêria (a surname of Athena among the Epicnemidian Locrians, The masculine form Zosterius occurs as a surname of Apollo in Attica, on the slip of land stretching into the sea between Phaleron and Sunium)

Epithets•Abaeus, Apollo Acesius, Acestor, Acraephiaeus Apollo, Acraephius Apollo, Actiacus Apollo, Apollo Actiacus, Apollo Aegletes, Agetor, Agonius, Agraeus, Agyieus, Alexicacus,Amazonius, Anextiomarus, Aphetor Apollo, Aphetorius Apollo, Apollo Musagetes, Apollo Soranus, Apollo Apotropaeus, Apulu, Archegetes, Argyrotoxus Apollo, Apollo Articenens, Apollo Averruncus, Apollo Clarius, Apollo Coelispex, Apollo Culicarius, Apollo Cynthius, Apollo Cynthogenes, Delius Apollo, Apollo Delius, Apollo Delphinius, Apollo Didymaeus, Apollo Epicurius  Apollo Galaxius, Apollo Genetor, Hecaërgus Apollo, Apollo Hecebolus, Hekatos, Helius Apollo, Apollo Helius, Apollo Iatromantis, Apollo Iatrus, Apollo Ismenius, Kourotrophos, Apollo Leschenorius, Leucadius, Apollo Loxias, Apollo Lycegenes, Lyceus, Apollo Lycoctonus, Manticus Apollo, Apollo Medicus, Apollo Nomius, Apollo Nymphegetes, Paean (god), Apollo Paean, Apollo Parnopius, Apollo Patroüs, Apollo Phanaeus, Ptoion, Ptous, Pythius Apollo, Apollo Pythius, Apollo Smintheus, Apollo Sosianus, Thyraeus, Virotutis. (I’m not gonna put who, why or what the epithets are, cut me some slack 😔)

Equivalents• Abru (Berber), Horus & Ra (Egyptian), Aplu (Etruscan), Helios (Greek), Apollo & Janus (Roman), Nergal (Aplu Enlil) (Semitic)

Offerings•  Candles (he’s the god of light), Paint brushes/paints, Canvases, Colored pencils, markers, crayons, Collages, Journals, Art books, Art prints, Anything you mad, Sculptures, Zines, Stickers, Any art supplies, Music boxes, Records, CDs,Cassettes, Record players,radios, MP3, Headphones, Music posters, Band merch, Instruments (especially String instruments), Dance shoes, Concert tickets, CD book holders, Sun and Light imagery, Sunscreen, Aloe for sunburns, Golden objects, Matches, Candles, Sunflowers/sunflower seeds, First aid kits, Medicine, Pain relievers, Band - aids, Ice/heat packs, Rice socks, face Masks, Aloe, Ambulance toy cars,Adaptive aids, Darts, Bow and arrows, Arrow quiver, Dart board, Targets used in archery, Bullseye used in archery, Snake skins, Snake imagery (ex - Python), Laurels, Bay leaves (because of Daphne), Palm trees (based on his birth myth), Ravens/Crows related things,  Crow feathers, Cattle/turtles (related to Hermes birth myth), Swans (the animals Pull His chariot), Hyacinths (Hyacinthus is his past lover), Locks of hair, Vanilla flavored/scented things , Honey, Sunny D drink, Lemons/lemon juice, Oranges/orange juice, Citrus, Water, chocolate milk (UPG),  molten orange-scented wax cube used on an oil burner, The first bite of every meal (keep a tea plate close by at mealtimes), Pot Pourri, visit a clairvoyant, Welcome foreigners, teach others your own culture/language, make sure foreigners are able to find helpful resources and social life in your community, Make sure the street outside your house is clean and secure, Resin, Sun-shaped cookies or cakes, Wine, Golden cakes, Golden raisins.

Devonatal- Donate to medical charities, Support beginner indie artists and musicians, Sing to Him, Play musical instruments for Him, Hold dance parties in his honor, Make a playlist for Him and listen to it, Read poetry to Him, Take care of your mental health in his honor, take your medicine in his honor, Try/do archery in his honor, Try/do different types of divination (ex- Tarot/Oracle decks, Pendulums, Rune stones, Charm casting supplies, Crystal balls, Scrying bowls, Cookie fortunes, Tea leaves), Try and wake up early and watch the sun rise, Go for a walk and feel the warmth from the sun, Let more sunlight into your home/room, Learn a musical instrument, learn how to sing, Learn simple medical care (ex- CPR), research his family in his honor,  research Apollon, Attend pride, advocate for  LGBT+ rights, Wear yellow clothing in his honor, wear orange clothing in his honor, Honor Leto and Artemis in his honor, Pray to Him/ speak to Him often (ex- for guidance, healing/good health, and new inspiration, protection, improvement in your mental health, fertility, ecstasy, for everything going well in the health aspect),  Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like,  Throw a feast in His honor, Support/donate to your local Hospital in his honor, Exercise in his honor, Get vaccinated in his honor, Get STI tested in his honor, practice Self care in his honor, Keep a first aid kit at home/in your car in his honor, Learn about alternative medicine in his honor, Advocate for accessible in his honor, Advocate for disability rights in his honor, Volunteer at a hospital in his honor, Give blood/plasma in his honor; Volunteer at a retirement home in his honor, Learn about anatomy/biology/nutrition in his honor, Learn about health conditions/rare disorders in his honor, Eat healthy for your body in his honor, Help fund surgeries if you can in his honor, Trip sit for someone in his honor, Listen to your body when it needs something in his honor , Sunbathe in his honor, Wear sunscreen in his honor,  Start a garden in his honor, Make sun water in his honor, Music Go to a concert/show, Listen to music in his honor, Make a playlist for someone you love in his honor, dance in general in his honor, Sing in general in his honor, Support local bands in his honor, Explore new music in his honor, Daily tarot card/rune stones sessions in his honor, Make an oracle deck in his honor, Give divination readings in his honor, do Shadow work in his honor , do Colormancy in his honor, Make something in his honor, Draw in his honor, paint in his honor, craft in his honor, Color something for him, Make a zine in his honor, Go see a play in his honor, Get a tattoo in his honor, Throw darts in his honor, Use a slingshot in his honor, Go to a shooting range in his honor, follow and support artist/poet YouTubers and their social media, Check in with your neighbors, do Photography (painting with light), light a candle in his honor because he’s the of…light!

Crystal•Sunstone, Citrine, Carnelian, Clear Quartz, Pyrite, Selenite, Lapis Lazuli, amber, calcite (only the color honey/yellow), quartz (rutilated or clear), rose quartz.

Parentage• Zues and Leto 

Siblings• his full sibling was his twin Artemis, His half siblings were Athena, Hermes, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Ares, Hephaestus and Persephone, Heracles, Ares, Perseus, Hebe, Aphrodite, Athena, Some Muses, Eileithyia.

Works well with• people who are respectful, and are honest, and not boastful. 

Jewelry • friendship bracelets

Hates• saying that your better than him, (too boastful), being to stubborn to learn (he is the god of knowledge.), and anything contradicting his godlyness 

Mortal or immortal • immortal.

Zodiac • Leo. 

Curses• Sickness, and often seeing yourself lying, and in trouble.

Blessings• your healthy and protection and purification. 

Vows/omans• he swears he will be Hermes best friend, and that he will never marry (the muses myth) because he swore he would never because he couldn't choose between all the Muses, not usually used in modern day, he could be married but it is a version of a myth, he could date. just never marry.

Morals• Morally grey.

Courting• he is unmarried. 

Past lovers & crushes• Admetus (a crush), Daphne (rejected him and he fell so in love she had to run away and turn into a tree..), all the nine muses (couldn’t choose so decided to never unwed), Cyrene (a crush), Evadne (a lover who bore him a child.), Rhoeo (bore him a child and made him raise it..) Ourea (had a crush on Apollo and they hooked up on his exile and bore him a kid), Thero, Hyrie or Thyrie (said they were lovers but he made them suicidal so..idk..). Hecuba (bore the child who made Apollo kill Achilles.), Coronis (bore him  Asclepius), Creusa (bore him a child and left him to die and then to be raised by a priestess of Apollo.), Hyacinthus (his most dear male lover.),  Cyparissus (a dear friend but still a honorable mention.), Admetus (a crush), Branchus, Adonis (poly with apollon and Aphrodite), Helenus, Hippolytus of Sicyon,Hymenaios, god of marriage hymns, Iapis, Phorbas, minthe (who he turned into mint) 

Personality• He’s very energetic, cheerful, wise, honest and kind, and very responding.

Fact• Apollo was temporarily stripped of his immortal power by Zeus – twice , he tried to over throw his father Zeus once (He failed, but they have a good bond.)

Roots• Greek mythology, born at Delos in Cyclades archipelago.

Appearance in astral or gen• depicted as a handsome, beardless youth with long hair and wears a wreath and branch of laurel, bow and quiver of arrows, usually accompanied with a raven, and holding a lyre.

Children• Acraepheus, Aeneus, Agamedes, Agreus, Amphiaraus, Amphissus, Amphithemis, Anius, Apis, Apollonis, Arabius, Aristaeus, Asclepius, Borysthenis, Cephisso, Chariclo, Cinyras, Coronus, Cycnus, Delphus, Dius, Dorus, Dryops of Oeta, Eleuther, Epidaurus, Eriopis, Erymanthus, Eumolpus, Eurydice, Eurynome, Hilaeira, Hymen (god), Ialemus, Iamus, Idmon (Argonaut), Ion, Ismenus, Korybantes, Laodocus, Lapithes (hero), Linus (Argive), Linus, Linus of Thrace, Lycomedes, Lycorus, Melaneus of Oechalia, Melite, Miletus, Mopsus, Naxos, Oaxes, Oncius, Orpheus, Phemonoe, Philammon, Philander, Phoebe, Phylacides, Polypoetes, Scylla, Syrus, Tenerus, Tenes, Troilus, Trophonius, Zeuxippus of Sicyon.

Pet• the swans pulling his chariot called the “singers of Apollo” or just “birds of Apollo”

Status• Greek mythology god, in the big theoi, not a Demi god. 

Prayers•

Prayer to Lord Apollon for Help with Divination

Hear me, Foreseeing Apollon, Son of Indomitable Zeus and Gentle Leto, Brother to Far-Shooting Artemis. He who speaks of truth, If I have ever revelled in your sunlight, accept this prayer, Apollon Leader of Fate, I ask you to be with me during this divination and to guide my cards with your knowledge, I ask for your favour with a token of my praise, I offer to you (offering)- @praise-to-the-theoi

To Lord Apollon when taking medication 

Hear me, healing Apollon, Father to Soothing Asklepios. He who controls both plague and healing, If I have ever honoured you, please accept this prayer, Shining Apollon, Please allow me to be safe when taking this medication, to aid it in its effectiveness, and to reduce the likelihood of negative side effects. I ask for your favour with a token of my praise, and I take this medication in your honour. -https://www.tumblr.com/praise-to-the-theoi

Prayer to Artemis and Apollon 

Praise today, O Lord Apollo and Lady Artemis, rulers upon the Sun and Moon. The Celestial Twins, on this date, join each other in the sky, shining upon us their divine light and presence. Praise the children of Great Zeus and Leto; Hail Lady Artemis, the oldest daughter, who helped her mother at birth. Godess of the hunt, divine virgin, patroness of girls, their childhood and innocence.  Hail Apollon, youngest son, born by his sister's hand. God of the plages and sickness. Patron of the arts, music and poetry. May they raise their bows and guide us towards their light. - serotoninbetweenpages

Prayer with his epithets in it-

Let us hymn Paean the great god, Apollo; Immortal, gloriously formed, unshorn, soft-haired, Stern-hearted, king, delighting in arrows, giver of life, Joyous, laughing, slayer of giants, sweet-hearted, Son of Zeus, slayer of dragons, lover of the laurel, Sweet of speech, of ample might, far-shooter, giver of hope, Creator of animals, divine, Jove-minded, giver of zeal, Mild, sweet-spoken, sweet-hearted, gentle-handed, Slayer of beasts, blooming, charmer of the spirit, soft-speaking, Shooter of arrows, desirable, healer, charioteer, Weaver of the world, Clarian, strong-hearted, father of fruits, Son of Leto, pleasant, delighting in the lyre, resplendent, Lord of the mysteries, prophet, magnanimous, thousand-shaped, Lover of the bow-string, wise, stiller of grief, sober,Lover of community, common to all, taking thought for all, benefactor of all, Blessed, making blessed, Olympian, dweller on the hills, Gentle, all-seeing, sorrowless, giver of wealth, Saviour from trouble, rose-coloured, man-breaker, path-opener, Glittering, wise, father of light, saviour, Delighting in the dance, Titan, initiator, revered, Chanter of hymns, highest, stately, of the height, Phoebus, purifier, lover of garlands, cheerer of the spirit, Utterer of oracles, golden, golden-complexioned, golden-arrowed, Lover of the lyre, harper, hater of lies, giver of the soul, Swift-footed, swift-voiced, swift of vision, giver of seasons. Let us hymn Paean the great god, Apollo.   

- Epigram from Book 9 of the Greek Anthology, translated by W.R. Paton (1916-18)

Links/websites/sources •

@praise-to-the-theoi

ofbloodandfaith

Reddit · r/Hellenism5 comments  ·  1 year agosimple offerings for apollo? : r/Hellenism

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo#Children https://www.thoughtco.com/roman-equivalents-of-greek-gods-4067799https://www.reddit.com/r/Hellenism/comments/d20s5v/would_amber_be_an_appropriate_incense_for_apollo/https://www.reddit.com/r/GreekMythology/comments/du0z4k/did_the_olympian_gods_have_particular_color/https://www.tumblr.com/eldritchhorror06https://www.tumblr.com/themodernwitchsguidehttps://web.pdx.edu/~scarmody/art342/exercise2/index.html#:~:text=Animals%20sacred%20to%20Apollo%20include,foxes%2C%20mice%2C%20and%20snakes.

let the light in and let your truth of loving Apollo shine aswell

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[pumpkinbxtch]

:D omg, you are going to make me addicted to apolo, the man cries out to be loved, a request for the favor of our dear apolo (in devinart there was a farm where the reader dated leo but he cheated on her with calypso, then the He realizes that he made the worst mistake of his life, seeing that because of calypso he was attracted but he loved the reader)How does Leo react when he discovers that his ex-girlfriend, whom he still loves, is now Apollo's partner(fiancee) pleeeees

i'm a loser.・゜-: ✧ :-

leo valdez x fem!reader x apollo

summary: Leo realizes that he messed it up a little... well no, he totally screwed up. And now he's going for you, he's going to tell you that he loves you, that you should be together for the rest of your lifes oooh, wait. Are you married with Apollo? THE GOD APOLLO? warnings: THIS IS SO LONG, HAHA but another one? mmm nope, i don't think so. a/n: yeaaaah, the concept you gave me is so hilarious, i love it. Leo is literally my boyfriend but making him suffer makes me laugh, it's like YES DAMN CRY FOR ME, but whatever. i was even inspired by that song by my beloved Beatles. i hope you like it.

w/c: 2.617 (the longest I've done so far, followed by "lovelorn")

Apollo wanted to laugh, he really wanted to, but he had learned not to make fun of other people's shit, but damn, could you blame him? He definitely never thought that Leo Valdez was an opponent for him, don't get him wrong, he was saying it because he likes him. (really) and helped him during his mission, but there, standing from his palace on Olympus, he could see everything, including if someone was threatening against you, his wife.

Flames rose as Leo threw the map into the air in fury, totally frustrated in Festus. He couldn't find you, in fact, Apollo kept wondering how he was tracking you, but he didn't seem to want to answer that question. No, or he would end his patience, yes, he had appreciation for the Son of Hephaestus, but when they messed with you, he would lose his mind immediately, or worse, try to get into their relationship? He would be in charge of throwing Leo from the Mount Olympus.

Of course, he wasn't afraid, much less jealous, but he knew what the relationship with Leo had meant to you. You were totally in love, even Apollo knows that you would have married him if only Leo hadn't screwed things up, and boy did he do it big.

He mean, cheating on you with the now ex-sorceress Calypso? Oh, man. Who the fuck would cheat on you? Hmm, yes, Leo Valdez.

The main doors of the palace opened and Apollo dissolved the image. Some murmurs were heard, followed by footsteps heading towards the main throne room, it was definitely you.

— Apollo?—  He heard the doors opening, and he stood in front of the fire, he didn't want to lie to you, but he couldn't interfere either, he knew that would make you upset. The footsteps approached and he felt you take his arm. — Apollo!— 

He looked at you and feigned surprise. He raised both hands in welcome and cradled your face with them before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. — My beautiful wife.

You closed your eyes when his lips touched yours, and you smiled tenderly.

— Dear husband — You said in a soft mocking tone. You used to do it when Apollo couldn't help but sound so… posh. But to tell the truth, he filled you with joy.

He ran his fingers over your forehead, removing some baby hairs, and made a golden wreath of laurels appear on the crown of your head. He always spent his time adorning you and making you feel loved, you loved him.

Then, Apollo forced himself to blow out the bubble.

— Do you want something, dear?

— I know we're on… — your cheeks turned pink — the honeymoon, but I need to go to Camp Jupiter.

Your pleading eyes, damn, not even Zeus would dare say no to you. Then, he realized what was happening. Apollo tried to hide the realization from himself, but that name began to swirl in his mind; The Fates. Those antiques would hear about him.

—The honeymoon is an old concept, with traditions that we really don't take so… literally anymore —Apollo said as he gently ran his fingers over your blushing cheeks. —So, you know you can come and go whenever you want. I'm not like my uncle Hades.

The blonde giggled, and you poked his arm, making him jump.

— Apollo!

— My love!

You looked at him with a frown, and he smiled even more, trying to push aside all those thoughts where you could get hurt.

It was a fact, you were going to meet Leo at Camp Jupiter, and he wouldn't be able to do anything.

He caressed your face once more and turned, walking to the large window of the great room.

You felt bad leaving him alone, you didn't want to leave him like that, but you were in the last semesters of your degree. Yes, you were on vacation, but you had to leave some paperwork behind.

— I won't take a second.

Apollo let out a short laugh, full of knowledge. He knew it would take you at least a day and a half to get back to him. He turned to you and walked slowly.

—Just come back to me, dear.

Your eyes shone, and you walked the distance he needed to close the distance between you. You took his hands and kissed his knuckles.

— Always.

He turned his hands so that he was the one holding yours now and made a wedding ring appear on your ring finger. When you looked at the diamond, you raised your eyebrow and your look became amused.

—Do you mark your territory?

Apollo smiled and kissed your forehead.

— In case some fool hasn't heard the great news that I am your husband.

The fool was Leo, yes. Apollo said it for him, if not, for who else?

Your husband had done you a favor and made you appear right at the entrance to Camp Jupiter, advantages of a god making you his wife. When the campers guarding the doors saw you, they immediately opened it for you.

You excused yourself and made your way towards New Rome, in fact, you hesitated whether to go there first or go say hello or… If you would meet them anyway near the university.

You walked to the limit.

You loved New Rome, it was definitely home to you, at least when you had to stay on campus during the semester. But to live the rest of your life there would also have been pleasant, although Mount Olympus wasn't bad.

You made your way and some looked at you. So, you quickened your pace, you didn't like to attract a lot of attention like that.

You moved quickly towards the university and found the campus. Blessed be the gods.

You clutched the papers to your chest and walked.

— HEY!

You turned around slowly, not really wanting any questions. But you turned completely around when you saw Frank holding hands with Hazel, trying to reach you.

— GUYS!

They both caught up to you and smiled hungrily. They wanted to hug you, but they backed out at the last moment, which made you frown.

— What was that?

Frank started babbling and Hazel laughed nervously.

—Can we hug you?

You laughed and threw yourself at both of them, so you hugged at the same time. — You fools, I'm the same as always. Just how married and that's it.

Frank denied. — WITH APOLLO

Hazel punched him in the belly, making him double over. The three of you laughed, and then she looked at you nervously.

—Have you seen anyone else? —She asked. You denied.

— I figured Percy and Annabeth would be in New York for the holidays. Nico and Will, Camp Half-Blood, Jason finishing his accounting for the new altars. Piper, in Oklahoma… — You made loops with your hand and thought if you had forgotten someone.

Hazel looked at Frank, and he encouraged her to say whatever had them both acting that way.

Hazel sighed.

—Leo arrived in the morning.

Your expression did not change at all, a reaction that your friends had not expected.

— AND?

Frank scratched the back of his neck nervously. — He is actually searching for you.

Then your eyebrows raised, showing your confusion.

— what? — You snorted. You looked for any sign that it was a joke, but there was none. — So? Do I owe him money?

Hazel laughed nervously and shook her head.

— I think he's looking for you because he wants to fix things with you.

— He's desperate —  Frank agreed.

You laughed sarcastically.

—But he knows that I'm already married, right?

— Apparently… no one told him.

— What? — You asked again, raising your voice a little more. Both exchanged nervous glances. You mean, how far is Indianapolis? — Wait, he was with Calypso, he literally cheated on me with her because he said she was the love of his life.

The two of them raised their shoulders and you scoffed.

—Anyway, I'll leave these documents and go off to enjoy what's left of the vacation. Apollo waits for me. Will you accompany me?

Damn, the three of you were about to enter when you heard someone call your name, then Hazel's and finally Frank's, he was definitely the one who turned around, consequently forcing you and Hazel to do the same.

What your eyes saw were priceless. It was Leo running across campus with half his shirt burned and a desperate expression. Your heart raced, and your feet wanted to run away, instead, you stayed still and speechless.

—You are seeing the same thing, right?

Your friends nodded.

—He wasn't like this when we last saw him— Hazel said, forcing a smile and shaking her hand at Leo.

Leo had stopped at Camp Jupiter for supplies, also to check that you weren't there, and you definitely weren't there when he arrived, but rumors spread fast. You wondered if your ex-boyfriend had heard about why everyone was whispering about your arrival, but it seemed like not, or at least he seemed to ignore it.

And so it was.

Fate, the planets, and the stars aligned to ensure that Leo was ignorant about it, so that you would be the one to deal the final blow.

Things with Calypso didn't work out, why? Leo couldn't get you off his mind. Oh, what had he done? He literally cried like a baby when he realized he still loved you. He loved you, you loved him, so as always, he had to screw up.

Leo ran harder; He was taller, a little stockier, and his curls were fluffier than ever. Everything you used to worship was probably just a shadow of its former self. You weren't saying that he was bad, but you definitely no longer felt anything for him, although you couldn't help but feel a tug in your tummy full of melancholy, pain, and anger.

You had already forgiven him, but his recklessness made you want to kill him.

With little breath, Leo crouched down in front of you, grabbing his knees and looking for air.

You took a step back, your face dripping with confusion.

Hazel and Frank looked at him disapprovingly.

—I've been looking for you—he finally said.

— That's what I heard.

Leo stood up and wanted to hug you. To your surprise, you didn't stop him. You missed your friend Leo Valdez. Not your cheating ex-boyfriend, Leo Valdez.

Frank and Hazel screamed and became nervous.

—I've missed you.— He said, breathing softly, taking in pinches of your scent.

Your heart clenched and you forced yourself to smile.

—Me too, Leo.

That gave him courage. He broke the hug and gently took you by the arms.

— I was wrong… — His brown eyes projected remorse and sorrow. — I was seriously wrong, I shouldn't have…

The son of Hephaestus took a deep breath.

— I betrayed your trust. I put your love aside to think that my place was with someone else, but what a jerk… My place has always been with you. You are the one I love the most. Please forgive me …

Those words, as you would have liked to hear them so long ago, but now they were slipping over you, completely meaningless.

—Leo…

— Please! Give me another chance.

His plea resonated, drawing the attention of some residents. They took it as just a student love situation until they saw you. Oh shit, weren't you the wife of the great Apollo?

— Leo, you see… No. We can't have another chance.

Leo's heart beat so fast that he felt like it would jump out of his heart. He held you a little tighter and leaned down.

He was going to kiss you.

— No! — Hazel gasped and Frank hid behind her.

People around the campus seemed on the edge of their seats, they even plead the gods for Apollo didn't appear out of nowhere and incinerate them all. The god was definitely struggling to control his breathing from the palace. Where did his Yoga classes go? Someone meditate with him, please! He wanted to hang Leo.

You put a hand on Leo's lips, and he felt something cold. You slowly pushed him away with a frown on your face.

— I said no.

You turned your hand and revealed the glow of the diamond to his view. The Sun made it look ethereal because, well, it was.

Leo's soul fell at his feet, and he shook his head in confusion.

—I don't… I don't understand.

— I'm married, Leo. I married someone. Did you think I would be heartbroken since you 

cheated on me with Calypso? That I will wait for you? — You snorted and pushed him gently.

— But with who?! Who the fuck-

You put your hand over his mouth again and shook your head.

—Don't do that.— You sighed brokenly and tried to do it delicately. If you named Apollo, everything could go to Tartarus. —He considers you for helping him during his mission as a mortal.

The gossipers laughed, some adults denied indignantly, and their friends, shit, Frank was almost having a heart attack fearing that Apollo would burn Leo to ashes.

—Apollo? —He said, with even greater confusion.

The god was still clinging to the edge of his throne, expectant.

You looked above and came to the conclusion that he was giving your ex-boyfriend a break. That action fell like a bucket of cold water on the son of Hephaestus.

He walked away from you.

— what?

You turned your gaze and caressed his cheek kindly. — I don't hold a grudge against you, Leo. I loved you so much. But I found someone who did not doubt his love for me and without thinking wanted to grow with me.

The boy shook his head and stumbled as he relented, leaving your hands suspended in the air. A gust of sweet air embraced them in that silent moment.

He let you go and thought he might have you back.

You were his friend, his confidant, and the love of his life, yet he let you go.

He disguised his doubts with bad jokes, dishonest touches, and lies.

How could he have been so stupid?

Haha, there goes the idiot that lost the love of his life to a god.

How could a love like the one you used to possess lose?

Look at me, then, Leo said to himself.

You returned with Apollo and your nerves were overwhelming you. This time you felt so distant to the palace, as if you were not worthy to enter. Still, they received you and welcomed you.

— is in his room.

You thanked and headed to the bedroom. Taking care not to be noisy and watch your steps. 

Being at the foot of the entrance, the door opened and revealed your husband. Smiling?

Apollo opened the door and pulled you into the room. You couldn't help but laugh.

Your clothing magically changed upon entering, your modern clothes replaced by a white robe edged with gold. Your hair now adorned with laurels and golden jewels.

The jingle of jewelry amidst your loved one's laughter seemed like the most exquisite sound to you. He held you in his arms and hid her face in the crook of your neck. 

You stroked his fluffy blonde curls.

— Welcome.

He said, bumping his forehead against yours.

—  Did you miss me?—  You said with humor. Apollo kissed your lips, instantly making you feel disoriented. He traced your cheek, your chin, and your neck. Kissed you behind your ear and hummed.

— I know I told you it would be fine if you went, but gods, how I missed you. Don't leave me the rest of your holidays.

You nodded.

That was your home.

[adrienneleclerc]

Christmas Decorations

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Latina! Reader

Summary: Christmas decorating with Charles Leclerc.

A/N: sorry if you don’t celebrate Christmas, I celebrate on Christmas Eve though, it’s called Nochebuena.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

Charles and Y/N are shopping for ornaments and other Christmas decorations because it will be their first time putting up a Christmas tree together in his apartment.

“Muñeco, should we get the colorful ornaments or the classic red, silver, and gold ornaments?” Y/N asked Charles, holding up the 2 cases of ornaments she found. “Ooh, what about these ornaments?” Y/N said, putting down the two cases she was holding to walk towards a different shelf. “They’re shades of blue! Ooh, and they have rose gold ornaments, there’s even pink, I fucking love Christmas. Which ornaments should we get, mi vida?”

“Mon coeur, we can get whatever you want.” Charles said, pushing the shopping cart.

“But It’s your apartment…”

“Our apartment.” Charles reminded Y/N.

“Our apartment.” Y/N emphasized the first word. “I need your input! Like I love blue, but it also needs to look Christmassy but not simple, you know?” Y/N asked. Charles chuckled, shaking his head. He walked towards his fiancé and kissed her softly, rubbing her arms with his hands.

“Mon ange, the tree will look beautiful. How about we get a set of red and gold ornaments, hm? Not just the perfect round ones, but the ones that are different shapes, and we can buy gold ribbon and add it to the tree too, how does that sound?” Charles asked. Y/N nodded her head.

“Sounds good.” Y/N said. “Should we be those types of people who have like Christmas towels, curtains, and stuff? Do you think we should get wreaths for every door in the apartment or stockings? Maybe ? A Christmas themed rug in front of the main door?”

“You Can turn the apartment into a winter wonderland if you want.” Charles said, holding her face in his hands before kissing the tip of her nose and going back to pushing the cart while Y/N went looking for assorted red and gold ornaments before heading to the ribbon section. Charles picked out their tree topper, and both picked out the Christmas home decor such as wreaths, stockings, mistletoes, and a cookie jar shaped as a snowman. After picking everything out, Charles was ready to pay for everything. Once paid, they put the stuff in the car and drove back home.

“I’m going to set up the tree.” Charles said, pulling out the fake Christmas tree he bought days earlier with Christmas lights already installed in. Once set up, Y/N connected her phone to a speak and started playing her Christmas playlist while they decorated the tree.

“I think our tree turned out amazing, thanks for the idea, muñeco.” Y/N said, hugging Charles’s side.

“Of course, Mon coeur. Let’s take a photo in front of the tree to send my mom.” Charles said, pulling out his phone. Y/N nodded and stood closer to him so the photo will come out well. Once the photo was taken, he sent it to his mom who said that they both look adorable and tree was beautiful. “I think it’s safe to say that the tree is Pascale Leclerc approved.” Y/N smiled.

“Ugh, what a relief. Ready to watch my favorite Christmas movie of all time?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, Mon coeur, I’ll put on The Santa Clause while you make the hot chocolate?” Charles asked.

“Of course! Not too hot, extra chocolate, shaken, not stirred.” Y/N quoted Judy the elf, making Charles laugh before he headed to the living room to put the movie on the TV. Y/N was in the kitchen making hot chocolate the French way so it’s a little thick, but using abuelita chocolate and adding a cinnamon stick the traditional Mexican way (unless other Latin countries use abuelita chocolate, I don’t know). Y/N poured the hit chocolate on their matching holiday mugs and she brought them over to the couch.

Charles grabbed a blanket before turning off the lights and pressing play on the movie. Name a better way to spend the holidays.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Up next: Christmas baking with Oscar Piastri (Yes, no?)

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🌾 DEMETER: Goddess of Agriculture and Fertility, of the Harvest & Sacred Law, of the Earth, of the Seasons, Nourishment & Bread 🌽

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, the ground beneath you bursts with vegetation. You look around you and notice that among the vegetation, it’s your favourites. Your favourite flowers, fruit, vegetable, and plants. It’s almost like Demeter had been keeping an eye on you this entire time and this was her bouquet for you. A wreath of corn and plants sit upon your crown.

Your siblings cheer and help you take the bouquet of vegetation, taking the roots of each plant to be planted later on, and the rest is gathered. You’re introduced to your cabin and siblings with a small impromptu picnic of said-bouquet as you all break bread together. As you sink your teeth into the nearest food, it fills you with energy you’re not sure how to place other than it’s good. 

There are plants everywhere in your cabin and the inside of the cabin is almost like a botanical garden that is also never uncomfortable to sleep in. You look around and you see plants hanging from above and/or rising above. Your bed smells like earth and flowers, and there are vines curling up around the frames. As soon you touch the bed, your bunk bed bursts into your favourite flowers and plants, providing you a little bit of comfort. 

The wreath you were given hangs above your head and it remains fresh. It’s like a soft reminder of Demeter’s presence.

You help with the camp’s business of growing and maintaining the strawberries they grow, and you find out you and your siblings all get a small portion of the profits. It’s almost like an allowance for doing your chores. 

Being a child of Demeter, you get along with the children of Dionysus and Mr. D. 

You also get along with the dryads at camp, being the child of Demeter. There’s a sense of love and respect directed towards you. If you don’t know, you’re later told by one of your siblings, the dryads, or Mr. D himself. 

Let’s just say, Demeter is very, very terrifying and you know when they say to never mess with Mother Nature. 

Do not mistaken for weakness and unimportance as a child of Demeter. Demeter herself is powerful, and hopefully no one earns her ire. 

People might not find your particularly threatening, but know that when the time comes, your hand that has handled the tools that till the earth, is just as practiced as a sword. 

Flower power to the max. You can sprout the plants beneath your feet, from the smallest of weeds that can tear apart stone through their cracks, to the network of tree roots beneath your feet that grow and grow. Fungi are also on the table and boy, there's no way more terrifying then razing down enemies with the power of fungi. You carry an assortment of seeds with you and let me tell you, a whip made out of Rose thorns go hard.

You looked at the miniature garden beneath your feet. You quickly take in the fact the plants around you are your favourites. Your favourite fruits, flowers, herbs, plants in general. You can’t tell if it is the pollen or dust, but you feel your eyes prickling at the fact that maybe, Demeter had been keeping an eye on you when her claim brought about your favourites. 

You felt the wreath of corn grow on top of your head, the vines and leaves moving and parting your hair behind your ear. It is soft, gentle, and deliberate, almost like a mother’s touch. 

You see a bunch of campers take out shovels, spades, and other gardening tools and begin working at your feet, gathering the plants. A girl steps forward and she had her hands on her hips, giving you a smile. 

“Don’t worry about the plants. Each new child of Demeter’s claim is different and their plants are a representation of them, so we like to gather the plants to celebrate. My name is Katie Gardner, child of Demeter and cabin leader. Welcome!” 

You introduced yourself before catching some of the children of Demeter talk excitedly about what to make with the produce they had gathered. “So what’s going on now?”

Katie gently guides you to the Demeter Cabin as she explains. “To welcome each new addition to our cabin, we also like to hold an impromptu picnic if its early or late enough before meal times, and we use the plants from their claim as the centrepiece. This also lets us get to know each other, a bit of an ice breaker if you get what I mean.”

“That’s actually pretty cool” you said as she led you to your bunk.

“It is, right? I know we may not seem as cool compared to the other gods, but trust me, being a child of Demeter is just as great as the others. We’re just…more down to earth.”

The reaction you gave to Katie as she let out a laugh. “Got you right there” she giggled. “Come on, there’s plenty to show you!”