#olive tree one day i’ll get to you

[rochichan]

an odypen doodle i drew while listening to Hamilton videos

[kxsagi]

hear me out bllk characters with an “innocent” s/o who doesn’t understand pickup lines/takes them too literally 😭 with my freaky kings shidou, kaiser, aiku, karasu and otoya, pretty please

“𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐳? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

a/n: omg nah this is peak 🙏

(ac: miiuu1103 on tik tok)

ft. shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, aiku oliver, karasu tabito, otoya eita

shidou ryusei

shidou, being the menace he is, cannot resist dropping the dirtiest, most unhinged pickup lines on you. 

he corners you one day, eyes gleaming, and purrs, “you wanna ride me like a skateboard, baby?” 

you blink up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and a soft gasp. 

“but ryu... i don't know how to skateboard.” 

and you sound so genuinely distressed about it too, like you just failed a pop quiz. 

he stares at you for a second. just stares. like a man witnessing the purest creature alive. 

his brain actually short-circuits. 

“nah, nah, princess, you don’t gotta know how to ride. i’ll teach ya, easy.” 

you perk up immediately. “really?! i've always wanted to learn!” 

shidou goes through it. 

next thing you know this man is out here dragging a skateboard out of the garage, fully committed to giving you lessons like he didn’t mean it in the filthiest way possible. 

he falls in love every time you wibble-wobble on the board and giggle when he catches you. 

thinks you're the best thing since violence and energy drinks. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is OBSESSED with you. 

he thinks your innocence is a gift from the gods, handcrafted to make his life more entertaining. 

one afternoon, he leans back lazily against the wall outside, smirking, and says, “are you a magician? because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears.” 

your eyes go HUGE. like a cartoon character. you start whipping your head around, frantically looking around the room. 

“wait, where is everyone? what did you do?!” 

you’re actually worried. you start listing people: “wasn’t ness just here? and that man selling pretzels?” 

kaiser nearly slides down the wall laughing. 

he’s gripping his stomach like he's about to ascend. 

when he finally manages to breathe, he cups your cheeks and plants a kiss right on your forehead. 

“relax, schatz. it’s just me being stupidly in love with you.” 

you still make him check if ness is okay, though. (he texts ness “u alive?” ness replies “unfortunately.”) 

aiku oliver

oliver has no shame. 

if he sees you in cute shorts or a dress, he will immediately pull out the worst pickup lines he knows. 

lounging on the couch one day, he winks at you and says, “your body’s 70% water... and i’m thirsty.” 

you stare at him, so genuinely confused, like, “you can just drink from the kitchen? i refilled the brita.” 

realizing how sassy that might have sounded, you legitimately run to get him a bottle of water and come back looking so proud of yourself. 

“here, stay hydrated.” 

oliver’s just sitting there with a hand over his face, sobbing internally from how precious you are. 

he accepts the water, kisses your hand dramatically, and mutters, “god gave you to me because he knew i couldn’t handle anyone else.” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks he’s the king of smooth. 

he leans over your shoulder while you're cooking, breath warm against your ear, and says, “are you from tennessee? ‘cause you’re the only ten i see.” 

you immediately turn around and frown very seriously. 

“tabi... i’ve never even been to tennessee.” 

you sound so sad about it too, like you’re worried you disappointed him somehow. 

karasu has to physically restrain himself from collapsing into giggles. 

he straightens up, clearing his throat dramatically. 

“nah, babe, it’s just a cheesy way of saying you’re insanely hot.” 

you light up like a christmas tree. “oh! thank you!!” 

and then you very earnestly offer, “i can go to tennessee if you want!” 

karasu almost proposes on the spot. 

from that day on he makes it his mission to hit you with a ridiculous pickup line at least once a day just to see your confused little face. 

otoya eita

otoya thinks he’s the smoothest operator in the universe. 

he slides up to you while you're minding your business and purrs, “do you have a map? ‘cause i just got lost in your eyes.” 

immediately, you gasp and start rummaging through your bag like your life depends on it. 

“i don’t have a paper map on me, but i have the maps app in my phone! wait, wait, don’t panic, i’ll find it!” 

otoya watches you absolutely spiral over helping him and he has to cover his mouth to hide the fact that he’s losing his mind. 

when you look up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, holding your phone out like a lifeline, he just melts. 

“no need, princess,” he croons, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i’m exactly where i wanna be.” 

you: "yay! so you’re not lost anymore?" 

otoya internally: somebody please call an ambulance, i’m in love. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[runnning-outof-time]

Someone For Christmas - Tommy Shelby x Reader

“You’ve been a better man since she’s entered your life, Thomas,” Polly commented, a knowing look present on her face, “don’t go back to the man you were before her.”

She was the first to visit the brooding Tommy Shelby that evening, and she brought back to light all of the poor choices he’d made in the past.

“She’s done way more for you than anyone else has,” Ada said as she sat down across from her brother, “I see how she helps you every day. Only a fool would let her go, Tom.”

Tommy stared straight ahead at the Christmas tree as his sister rehashed all of the correct decisions he’d made recently…and she made sure to point out how the woman being mentioned was part of every one.

“I really like her, dad,” five year old Charles Shelby’s voice was soft as he held onto the doorknob of his father’s study. “Will she come back for Christmas?”

This time, Tommy looked at the person — the third of the day — addressing him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I…I, I don’t know, son,” was all he managed to get out.

“Why’d you call me here, Tommy?”

This time Tommy Shelby was the one who requested a visitor.

“I wanted to speak to you,” he answered, not realizing how business forward the sentence sounded until it left his lips. The fact that her one eyebrow quirked upward immediately after he finished speaking told him that he’d be fighting an up-hill battle.

“About?” she asked, her guard still very much up. She couldn’t believe he called her back again….she couldn’t believe she gave in and listened, again.

“I need you to come back, (Y/N),” he decided it’d be best not to dance around the subject.

“If you want to win me back, that’s not how you do it,” she blatantly responded. Tommy sighed, running a hand over his face. “Did someone put you up to this?” she then asked another question, “because it seemed like where we stood was pretty final the last time we spoke.”

“Charlie came to me,” he chose the one out of his previous three visitors who he felt would cut through her reinforcements the deepest. “He said he missed you, asked if you’d be here for Christmas. He really likes you.”

“I really like him too,” a soft smile formed on (Y/N)’s face as she thought of the boy. Tommy thought he was finally gaining some headway. “Shame his father’s a terrible man,” she couldn’t resist getting a dig in.

“(Y/N)…” Tommy locked eyes with her, a deadpanned expression present on his features.

“You brought this upon yourself,” she didn’t crumble under his gaze, instead returning it to him.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he paused to sigh, pressing the pads of his thumb and index finger against his eyelids, “this meeting was meant to be an extension of an olive branch.”

“Tommy Shelby offering peace?” the surprise was clear in (Y/N)’s voice as her eyes widened greatly. “Well I’ll be damned…it’s a Christmas miracle!” her sarcastic comment had him sending another glare her way. She couldn’t help but smile at it…she was having fun getting under his skin.

A moment’s pause fell over the conversation as Tommy took some time to regain himself. There was no use blowing this up to more than it had to be. He knew (Y/N) was trying to push his buttons, and he had to hand it to her…she was succeeding. There was no hiding the fact that they had some things that they needed to hash out, and he had no doubt that they’d get to that soon enough. Christmas Eve wasn’t the time for that though. Right now all that he could think of was his son, and how he so desperately wanted someone other than his preoccupied father sitting beside him in front of the Christmas tree come tomorrow morning.

“Will you accept it?” he finally asked, affirming that he wanted no parts of getting into the details of the animosity that stood between them.

Now it was (Y/N)’s turn to think. She truly did love Charlie, even if his father had been getting on her nerves as of recently. What she didn’t want was this to seem like her seceding to him so quickly. If he wanted her back this time, he was going to have to work for it.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy called out, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the conversation they were having.

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him again. His eyes were already intently on her, and she knew that he wouldn’t wait much longer for her response. Thankfully she’d decided - right now they didn’t need to discuss what their future would look like…right now they needed to focus on going one day at a time.

So with that in mind, she answered him: “everyone should have someone for Christmas…” she paused, letting those words sink in for a moment before she added the second half of her statement: “and right now, that’s all you’ll have me for.”

A/N: congrats on 17k, Chi! I’m sorry that wasn’t able to write something more than these few lines. This was my take on the movie/book A Christmas Carol - I hope it came across as such.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[michelle-is-writing]

Concussions, Greg House

Word count: 1.7k~

Warnings: mentions of vomit, concussion, hospital rooms.

Arguing with your boss is one of the worst things you can do with your boss. For my boyfriend of almost a year, it was nothing new. Plus, in Greg's mind, there were worse things one could do with their time. Like argue with me, his girlfriend - that was much worse than arguing with his boss, according to him.

Still, that didn't mean that he could always get away with arguing with his boss. Especially around Christmas time when the hours were needed and he just so happened to be an asshole. Anyone could figure out why I was upset when he told me he was unable to get Christmas Day off. He just had to be rude to Cuddy the day before he asked, and because of it, we both have to suffer.

Despite him promising to call me almost every hour, I still felt lonely when it came to Christmas Day. I woke up without the love of my life beside me, and I'll be alone until he gets home around nine in the evening. When Cuddy told him she couldn't give up the hours, he was especially rude in response, therefore earning more hours to work that day.

Right now it's around eleven in the morning, and even though I've put on a Christmas movie and made myself hot cocoa, I still feel sad. I have no one to spend this great day with, and it sucks. Maybe a nice walk outside will help me feel better. It's cold and snowing, but I can always wear a heavy coat and boots - no biggie. Besides, I may even see a pair of cardinals flying through the white sky like a holiday card straight from the hallmark section, and it would make the weather all the worth it.

Slipping on my fuzzy black boots that Greg got me at the beginning of our relationship, I throw on my fleece coat before heading out front. The lights strung on everyone's apartment are lit up, and the people that have their Christmas trees in front of their windows have them lit up as well. The green and red bulbs are a nice contrast to the white snow that fills every window sill and yard, making it look almost like a floating blanket on all the little segments of grass. It's such a beautiful sight to see, but it makes me miss Greg even more. He's always pessimistic, but even he would be happy with the looks of everything.

Stepping off the steps and onto the pavement, I take a few steps forward, only to look up and see a pair of cardinals flying above me just like I wanted. I marvel at the beautiful red shade of the male next to the equally beautiful olive colored female floating next to it. When they find their mates, a pair of cardinals can never be separated as they are mated for life. The idea of such a thing makes you smile, but the idea of finding your own true mate? It feels nearly impossible.

I seem to find the cardinals very distracting as the next thing I see is the pure white sky above me as I feel myself slip, my arms and legs flailing to grab onto something as I fall backward. However, they don't, and I end up landing on my back with my head colliding against the ice I slipped on. Everything happens so fast that I barely recognize the pain rushing to my cranium or mine and Greg's elderly neighbor rushing toward me as concerned words flow out of her mouth. Despite wanting to respond, I can't, and instead, my eyes close as I feel myself slip into a vast sea on unconsciousness.

It isn't until I finally wake up once again that I register the pounding pain in the back of my head. It nearly makes my eyes roll back, but before I can even do that, I quickly lean over the edge of the surface I'm lying on and feel the contents of my stomach empty. I soon feel a pair of hands gently pull my hair back as I do so, my eyes clearing up enough to watch a nurse’s legs in purple scrubs quickly push a trash can in front of me to finish vomiting into. However, it doesn't take long before I’m done and I almost fall back onto the slightly stiff surface I'm on, a damp cloth wiping at my mouth once I do so. Flashing my eyes throughout the room, I recognize the bright fluorescent lights above me as ones used in a hospital room and the surface I'm on is one of the uncomfortable beds in a hospital room. Great.

Turning my eyes over to the source of the hand holding the wet cloth, I find it to be the man I've been wanting to see all morning, a worried look etched onto his face. I want to fling myself in his arms and hug him, but my almost drunken haze prohibits me from doing so. Instead, I languidly smile and tiredly reach a hand up toward him, to which he takes in his own hand with a small smile.

"How in the hell," he begins, his voice taking over the almost stuffy noise in my ears. Gently running his thumb against the back of my hand, he takes the damp rag away from my face before tossing it onto the lid of the biohazard bin a few feet away. "Did you get yourself a grade two concussion just by walking outside?"

"I didn't mean to," I defend myself, trying to sit up a little, despite the deep pounding in my head. Greg helps me, but not before pushing my head back against the pillows to angle my face upward. "I just wanted to go for a small walk, and see some cardinals maybe! I did, by the way, and man, were they beautiful."

"You seem to be doing better than I thought," Greg points out, hovering over me to look into my eyes with a flash light. "No confusion or seemingly dizziness," he lists off. "You just seem fatigued and dazed, which is to be expected. The good news is you don't have memory loss."

"Who are you again?" I quickly throw at him, earning a downcast face with a frown. I immediately laugh at his reaction while reaching up to take his face in my hands, but his hands catch mine before they're even halfway there. I really am tired.

"I would say you're also having some psychological disturbances, but it's nothing different from usual," Greg jokes back, making me laugh again. At this, he smiles, but continues on. "How bad is your head pain?"

"Compared to the constant headache you give me, it's nothing," I tell him, once again, earning an eye roll in response. I know he's wanting to throw playful insults back at me, but he's trying to keep the moment as serious as he can. Don't get me wrong, I understand how severe my situation is, but I just can't help but take the chance to banter with Greg like he usually does with me.

With a sigh, Greg sits back in the armchair beside my hospital bed before taking something out of his pocket. "You just had to hit your head so you could end up in the hospital with me today," Greg chides, holding the rectangular box in his hand as he stares at it. "I guess irony plays a huge part in life's never ending game of... slipping and falling on ice!"

With his sarcastic comment, Greg pushes the box toward me as I smile at him, my hand reaching out to take the box from him. "Open it," Greg tells me, scooting his chair beside me to be closer to my bed. Doing as he says, I shakily unwrap the green ribbon from the box before slightly struggling to open it, my hands trembling from being asleep for so long.

With the maroon velvet box now open, I gasp upon seeing the diamond tennis bracelet shining back at me with the bright hospital room lights causing each beautiful crystal to sparkle like a thousand pieces of glitter. "Oh my God, Greg," I mutter, my eyes flashing over to him beside me. "This is... beyond gorgeous."

Smiling, Greg lifts one of his hands to brush my hair away from my face before using the other to take the bracelet out of the box and secure it around my wrist. "Merry Christmas," He tells me, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "I thought you would like this."

"I-I love it, Greg," I tell him, looking over at him with a frown. "But I don't have my gift for you! They're at the apartment and-and I wanted to give it to you so bad-"

Greg cuts me off from my rambling, an almost flabbergasted expression washing over his face. "Are you kidding?" He sarcastically asks me, reaching over to take my now diamond covered hand in his. "You ending up in the hospital with me is possibly the best thing you could do today, as morbid as it sounds," Crinkling my face at him with amusement, I shake my head at his demented words as he continues on. "This means I don't have to do what Cuddy says and stay in here with you and watch I Love Lucy."

Just as he says this, Greg takes the remote from the side table and turns the TV on, flipping through the channels before finding the show mentioned seconds earlier. Glancing away from our intertwined hands, I smile at Greg as he turns to look back at me as well. "I love you, Greg," I tell him, receiving a smile back before he leans over once more and presses a kiss to my cheek.

Sitting back in his chair, Greg keeps my hand in his as we both look over to the TV and watch as Lucy banters with Ricky just as Greg and I did moments ago. At this, I smile and ignore the pain in my head as I enjoy the positives of today despite being in a hospital. My loving partner beside me, a beautiful diamond bracelet on my wrist, and I Love Lucy reruns on the TV in front of us. As long as I'm with Greg, it doesn't matter where I spend my Christmas - just as long as he's by my side, I'll be fine.

[thegrapeandthefig]

Dissecting ancient Greek wedding customs (or “How to adapt the clusterfuck they are into something somewhat doable for the 21st century”)

This post is going to be a bit different. I could stick to writing about the customs we know of from a purely historical perspective, and while it would be informative, it wouldn’t reflect what I’ve actually been up to. Some of you might already know, but I’m getting married, so I approached this topic with the intent of seeing what I could do (and get away with).

So this post is going to be more about method and the practical challenges that come with doing the groundwork of adapting very old (and often outdated) traditions in a way that makes sense for our modern times.

I do have some disclaimers to make before I get started:

Most (if not all) of the literature around ancient Greek marriage is hetero-normative. However, this does NOT mean that marriage rites shouldn’t be adapted for queer marriages or that queer marriages can’t be done within Hellenic paganism. It’s our job as reconstructionists and revivalists to rework and adapt to our needs.

Similarly, this post is bound to mention or detail cult practices that are no longer in line with our modern sensibilities. I also want to make it clear that this post is not a tutorial. I’m not saying how things should be done, I’m only exposing elements that I consider reworkable and propose suggestions so that it can help others make their own research and decisions, with the level of historicity that they deem fit.

While the wedding customs from fifth century BC Athens are decently known, the ones from other cities and regions of Greece are much more obscure outside of anecdotal and fragmentary details (with the exception of Sparta). For this reason, the Athenian example is what I’ll be using as foundation. If you reconstruct practices from other areas of the Greek World, you might find something valuable in this article: The Greek Wedding Outside of Athens and Sparta: The Evidence from Ancient Texts by Katia Margariti.

Basic/simplified structure

The typical Athenian wedding would spread over three days, and be marked by several steps, some of which are listed below. Note that the order of these steps is not precisely known and might have been flexible:

Pre-wedding:

Decorating: korythale at the door, decoration of the nuptial bedroom

The Proteleia

Filling of the loutrophoros

Wedding day

Nuptial bath

Adornment of the bride

Wedding Feast

Hymenaios

Anakalypteria

Nymphagogia

Katachysmata

Day after

Epaulia

Gamelia

Final sacrifices

Some of these steps included specific customs and traditions, not all of which are reconstructible for various reasons.

Decorations

The korythale: the korythale was a sprig, usually from an olive tree (or laurel), which was placed at the groom’s door (and perhaps the bride’s too). The word in interpreted as deriving from “koros” and “thallein”, which would translate “youth-blossom”.

The korythale is very reminiscent of the eiresione, which was a similar kind of branch of laurel used during the Thargelia and/or the Pyanepsia that had apotropaic purposes. Athenian weddings included a procession from the bride’s home to the groom’s house, so the presence of the korythale at the doors would indicate that a wedding was taking place involving the decorated homes.

While I haven’t seen any one make this interpretation, I would still be tempted to argue that decorating the thresholds of houses has a similar protective and luck-bringing purpose than the eiresione, which was also hung above the door of Athenian houses.

The thalamos (nuptial bedroom): While there is no doubt the houses were properly decorated for the occasion, we have mention of special care given to the nuptial bedroom.

It’s important to understand that the procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s went up to the bedroom door, it was generally an important location and its preparation is seen represented on ancient pottery. Euripides mentions the adornment of the bed with fine fabrics, while Theocritus mentions the smell of myrrh (sacred to Aphrodite). There is also evidence that, in the Imperial period, the practice of hanging curtains to create a canopy above the bed was adopted, very likely from Egypt.

When it comes to adapting this today, it is pretty straightforward and there is plenty of room for personalization. The korythale could be challenging depending on how easily available olive or laurel are in your area. I would also argue that the custom could be more loosely adapted so that instead of being at the houses’ doors, it could take the form of a floral arrangement at the door of whatever venue you are using.

Proteleia

In short, the proteleia refers to sacrifices and offerings that would be made to various gods before the wedding. The exact timing of these is more or less unknown, but we have reasons to believe they could be done a day or a few days before the wedding, and perhaps also on the day of the wedding. These offerings were made independently by each family.

It is in this context that the offering of a lock of hair and of childhood items is best known for brides. The recipients of the offerings are varied: In Athens the most mentioned are the Nymphs and Artemis, but various sacrifices to Aphrodite, Hera, Athena and Zeus were also performed. In other parts of Greece, pre-nuptial customs often included sacrifices to local heroines. Plutarch, in the 2nd century AD (and therefore way after the focus of this post) mentions the main five nuptial deities to be Zeus Teleios, Hera Teleia, Aphrodite, Peitho and Artemis.

Today, I believe the exact choice of who to offer to and what to offer very much comes down to personal preferences and circumstances. While we assume that both families made prenuptial sacrifices, we know very little of the groom’s side of things, since the focus was on the bride, and the rite of passage aspect was not present for the groom in Ancient times. This is a gap that leaves room for modern innovation eg. including Apollon to either replace or accompany Artemis or choosing a group of deities that is more couple-centric rather than family-centric.

Personally, I have settled on Aphrodite, Hera and Artemis and have integrated a Spartan custom that includes the mother of the bride in the sacrifice to Aphrodite. Hera Teleia will receive a lock of my current hair, while Artemis will receive a lock of hair from my first haircut as a child (that my mother has kept all these years), alongside some other trinkets. The groom will honour Zeus Teleios in a passive way. And I will honour the Nymphs through the the rite I will explain next.

Nuptial baths

Both bride and groom had a ritual bath before the wedding. Its purpose was of cleansing and purificatory nature, and is consistent with other water-based pre-sacrifice purifications. What made the bride and groom's baths distinctive was their preparation. The bath water used to be drawn at a specific spring or river. At Athens, the water for bridal baths came from the Enneakrounos, the fountain house for the spring Kallirrhoe, but each city had its dedicated source. The water was carried in a special vase named the loutrophoros (bathcarrier) and the act of fetching the water and bringing it back to the homes constituted a procession. The loutrophoros was often given as offering to the altar of the Nymphs after the wedding. It was an important symbol of marriage, to the point that, if a woman died before being married, she would often be buried with a loutrophoros.

This will be more or less difficult to adapt depending on circumstances and environment, but the logic of a purifying bath (or shower even) can be kept (though I would discourage bathing in water you are not sure of the cleanliness of). The idea of having a specific vessel can also be kept. Personally, I plan to have a special vessel for some type of purified water, and while I may not bathe in it, I plan to sprinkle it and/or wash my hands with it.

Adornment of the bride (and groom)

Traditionally, the bride would have a nympheutria (which we could equate as a bridesmaid, but seems to have often been a female relative) charged of helping the bride get ready. I won’t get into the details of the clothing we know about, mostly because there seems to be a lot of variation, and because I consider this to be a very personal choice. However, we can note that both groom and bride were adorned with a wreath or a garland of plants that were considered to have powers appropriate for the occasion (sesame, mint, plants that were generally considered fertile or aphrodisiac). Perfume is also something attested for both bride and groom, especially the scent of myrrh. The bride would wear a crown, the stephane, which could be made out of metal or be vegetal (the stephane is now the object of its own crowning ceremony in Greek Orthodox weddings). The bride’s shoes were also particular for the event, and named nymphides. The bride’s veil was placed above the crown.

Hymenaios and Feast

I am grouping these two since they are linked. The feast was more or less the peak of the wedding ceremony and lively with music and dances, as Plutarch indicates (Moralia, [Quaest. conv.] 666f-67a):

But a wedding feast is given away by the loud cries of the Hymenaios and the torch and the pipes, things that Homer says are admired and watched even by women who stand at their doors.

The hymenaios was a sung hymn in honour of the couple and the wedding, and there were other songs that were specifically sung at weddings. However the hymenaios wasn’t only for the feast, these songs would be sung also during the processions. The hymenaios also had the purpose of ritually blessing the couple, a ritual that bore the name of makarismos.

As for the feast, it was obviously abundant with food and the prenuptial sacrifices provided the meat that would be served. There is otherwise very little difference with what a modern wedding feast would be like: food, drink, music and dance around which gathered friends and relatives of the couple. Like today, the wedding cake(s) was an important part of the celebration. It was called sesame and consisted of sesame seeds, ground and mixed with honey and formed into cakes to be shared with the guests.

Anakalypteria

Note that there is a bit of a debate around this step, which is the unveiling of the bride. Some believe the bride kept her face veiled until this part of the wedding, where her face would be uncovered for the groom to see. Others interpret this step the other way around, where the bride is then veiled as a result of being now married. The timing of the unveiling is also up for the debate. It might have been during the feast (at nightfall), or after once the couple was escorted to the bridal chamber. There doesn’t seem to be a clear consensus.

The concept of unveiling the bride is otherwise something that isn’t unknown to us as a modern audience. As with everything else, how to interpret and modernize it is up to personal preference.

Nymphagogia and Katachysmata

The nymphagogia aka the act of “leading the bride to her new home” took place at night, likely after the feast. It is at this point that the groom ritually led the bride to his home by taking her by the wrist in a ritual gesture known as χεῖρ’ ἐπὶ καρπῷ (cheir’ epi karpo). The relatives and friends of the couple formed a festive procession that accompanied them to their new home accompanied by music and songs. The mother of the bride led the procession carrying lit torches, while the groom’s mother awaited for the new couple in their home, also bearing lit torches.

Once there, the rite of the katachysmata would happen. The couple would be sat near the hearth and the guests would pour dried fruits, figs and nuts over the bride and groom as a way to incorporate them into the household and bless the union with prosperity and fertility. As part of this rite, the bride ate a fruit (either an apple, quince or pomegranate). It is only after this step that the couple would be escorted to the bridal chamber.

These two rites are tricky to adapt in a modern context because of how location-specific they are (and that’s not even taking into account the implications of having family escort you to your bedroom etc). My take would be that the katachysmata is not too far off from the custom of throwing rice/flowers at the couple after the ceremony, and could probably be incorporated as such. The torches could also be replaced by any source of light placed in a meaningful location, depending on the where the wedding is being held. The nymphagogia could also do with an update, the easiest of which could simply be holding hands while leaving the wedding ceremony.

The day after (Epaulia, Gamelia & sacrifice)

The epaulia refers to wedding gifts to the couple, which would be given the day following the ceremony. At this point, it is implied that the couple has consummated their marriage and are officially newly-weds. Pausanias informs us that the term “epaulia” (also?) refers to the gifts brought by the bride’s father in particular and included the dowry.

After the epaulia, the bride's incorporation into her husband's house was complete. This might have been when the groom held a feast for his phratria (aka direct family), as a way to conclude the wedding.

As for final sacrifices, the bride herself may have marked the end of her wedding by dedicating her loutrophoros at the sanctuary of Nymphe, south of the Acropolis.

The epaulia could be adapted, in modern terms, with having a registry. Should someone choose to have a specific vessel linked to the ritual bath today, it could very well be kept, dedicated to the Nymphs and used as a small shrine. Considering how symbolic the object is, there is also room for it to become a piece of family heirloom.

Final words

This is really only a small summary of what a wedding could have looked like, sprinkled with a few ideas of how to manage the gaps, discrepancies and limitations. As I said in my introductions, there are details I haven’t mentioned. Some of the customs detailed here have clear modern counterparts, but others don’t. I’d like to conclude by addressing these.

First, the ancient Greek (Athenian) wedding is completely devoid of priestly participation. It was entirely planned, organized and led by the two families. Religious responsibilities were entirely self-managed. I find this point important to remember because it makes it much more accessible than if modern Hellenic pagans had to seek out an external authority.

Some of you might have noticed the absence of wedding vows, at least in a formal form like the one we are used to in our modern days (derived from Christian and Jewish traditions), this is not an oversight, there simply were none that we know of. As a sidenote, I would also advise against turning a wedding vow into a formal oath. I’m still debating on what to do myself, but I’m leaning towards a religiously non-binding vow that won’t curse me should things go wrong.

Adapting the structures and rites of the ancient wedding to today’s framework of ceremony will naturally lead to changing the order of things, on top of sacrificing elements for the sake of simplicity, practicality, personal preferences and, very likely, visibility. Unless you’re lucky enough to do a private elopement, chances are that relatives and friends might be there, and not all might know or even approve of your faith. I hope this post shows that there can be ways to include traditional religious elements that will go unnoticed to the untrained eye, like I hope it showed that the private nature of the ancient Greek wedding rites is a significant advantage for modernization.

[hope-to-hell]

story time with dr. robotnik. Agent Stone x Ivo Robotnik. Brief blood and violence, first kiss, pov first person, hope does traditional dialogue, humor, romance, fluff. Doctor Robotnik doesn't need anybody. He certainly doesn't need another babysitter-- er, assistant-- all up in his business. Enter Agent Stone.

----------

Okay folks, get your listening ears on because today we’re going to have a little story about the smartest guy in the whole wide world and his loyal henchman. Can you guess who they are? I should hope so. It doesn’t take two braincells rubbing together to figure it out. Is everyone comfy? You’d better be, because once we get started I don’t want to hear a peep out of you, or see so much as an eyebrow wiggle. Got it? I’ll count us down. Three… two… one.

First things first. Working for the government is a soul-sucking, demeaning, exhausting slog through the dullest meetings and blandest working lunches you’ve ever seen. You think the private sector is bad? Try having to give a powerpoint presentation as to why your beautiful, sleek, semi-autonomous robots are more deserving of funding than yet another fucking tank, while keeping your vocabulary simple enough that even the most decorated generals can understand. Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

Now try not only having to deal with that mountain of crap, but also the occasional kidnapping or assassination attempt— at least those tend to be more interesting than the normal day-to-day blah blah blah “okay, Doctor, let’s go over the budget for next quarter, make sure you pay attention to the line items for infrastructure repair and psychological counseling.” Have enough of those meetings and eventually they’re going to start assigning babysitters. Well, Walters says they’re assistants, but Walters is like your grandpa who got stuck in the bathroom at an Olive Garden ‘cause he forgot to turn left at the plastic ficus tree. So he’s either lost his goddamn mind, or he’s the most sadistic freak this side of the Rockies, aside from yours truly of course.

Anyway. Where were we?

Oh, right. The kidnappings. They used to happen now and then, usually in between leaving lab complex B and driving off into the sunset. Some big burly dumbass would slam a pillowcase over my head and we’d take a little field trip to some dank basement or another. Did they ever get violent? Yeah. Most of the time it’d be your basic hit to the face, maybe a four out of ten on the pain scale. A few bruised ribs if they were feeling especially handsy that day. They’d say something asinine like “aww, look, you’ve gone and got your suit all messy,” which, talk about stating the obvious. Of course it’s gonna get all messy when I’m being dragged across the floor like a fucking swiffer. Bet you’re wondering if that’s why I started wearing all black, to save on dry cleaning bills. The answer is no, but thanks for playing.

Maybe they’d start cutting my shirt open if they were feeling especially saucy. There’d be more tired by-the-book intimidation, the sound of buttons pinging onto the floor, then a little bit of “give us what we want and I’ll stop cutting here, unless you want me to find out if the carpet matches the drapes.” After a while it gets old, you know. Also, you don’t get to find out the answer to that one either. Too bad, so sad. Use your puny little imaginations instead. Then there would be someone holding a phone up to my ear with Walters or somebody yammering down the line. And I’d have to be all “yeah yeah your stupid secrets are safe, blah blah blah, somebody come get me already, I’m bored.”

That’s how things used to be. But I guess someone decided too much of the budget was being spent on rescue ops and not enough on sweet rolling chairs for the big bosses’ offices. One day the mandatory meeting wasn’t about “Doctor, stop torturing the interns” or “Doctor, your floating egg thingys are frightening the staff.” No, this time it was just Walters and some new guy. New guy was glaring at his coffee like it ran over his cat. He took a sip and scrunched up his nose. I could practically hear his tastebuds begging to be put out of their misery.

So the first thing I said to the guy was, “who the hell are you?” followed, naturally, by “I wouldn’t drink that. It’s probably poisoned.”

“Tastes like it,” New Guy grumbled, which was kind of surprising coming from Uncle Sam’s bitch. Most of them have sticks so far up their asses the ends are being digested in their stomachs. “I could do better.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of chances—“ this from Walters, who was looking entirely too self-satisfied.

“Don’t say it.” Dammit. Another babysitter already? “I just got rid of the last one.”

“—since you’ve been assigned to Doctor Robotnik as his full-time assistant. Doctor, meet Agent Stone.”

“…fuck.”

And that’s how we met.

Now, I know it’s hard to believe, but I have a bit of a reputation. Difficult to work with, makes widows and orphans cry, cuts in line at the self checkout, that sort of crap. It’s all true, except for the self checkout thing. I get my groceries delivered. Well, Stone goes out and plays fetch for me, so really it’s the same thing. For whatever reason, my assistants don’t tend to stick around for very long. I wish they’d mop up their snot and tears on the way out the door, though. It’s all…slimy. Totally gross, not to mention a slip and fall hazard, even if Walters denies all my claims with “it’s your own damn fault, now scram before I send OSHA after you.” Jerk.

I can’t help it if these dimwits can’t even duck when one of the robot arms goes by. Assistants? More like ASS-isstants. At least Stone didn’t start bawling the first time one of the arms got him. He just picked himself up and meandered off to find an ice pack with an “apologies, Doctor, is it alright if I take a minute to sort this out?” The concussion was totally unrelated. The guy’s got a diamond-hard skull. And a diamond-hard…er. Ahem. Moving on.

Speaking of hard-headed: do you know how long Agent Stone has been working for me? Eight years. Eight long years. The previous guy lasted about a day and a half, and the record holder before that got to his one-month anniversary before fucking off to greener pastures. But this guy. This fucking guy. First off, he comes in with his ridiculous mononym, like he can’t afford a first and last name. Just Stone. Plain old Stone. Boring, rock-steady, dependable Stone. If you ask him, he’ll just say he doesn’t remember ever having any other name. Is he lying? Did the head trauma get to him after all? That’s a question for the ages.

Let’s circle back to the kidnappings for a minute. Our first abduction happened about six months in, after Stone got comfy enough to start keeping a potted plant on his desk but not comfy enough to complain when I’d walk past and swat it onto the floor. What, you doubt he’d complain about anything? Clearly you don’t know the guy. If he’s not pestering me to get some sleep or to eat something that I can’t slurp through a straw, he’s staring at me like he wants to chew on my… leg. Yeah. Leg. Or whining “please, Doctor, I’m so close!” Sucks to suck at Scrabble, my dude. But we’re getting off track here. Kidnappings. Right. Yeah, you sure perked up at that one.

So we started off like usual, with the pillowcase and the hard chair and the zipties. It’s a dependable setup, if uninspired. The location was new at least: some office building with grody grey carpet and big windows. We’d just gotten to the punching part, with some bozo demanding answers to questions that hadn’t even been asked yet. I told him he had it all backwards, and he didn’t like that one bit. Talk about a being a bitch ass; guy couldn’t even handle a little helpful criticism. So he slugged me right on the jaw, and the asshole left his ring on, so now I was sitting there all bloody with this guy’s class ring embossed on my damn face. It hurt like hell, so I started yelling and then he started yelling, and then faster than you can say “quantum mechanics” he had a very large knife pressed to my throat. Now, even I know when it’s prudent to shut the fuck up.

It’s just that I find prudence to be boring as hell, so I told him he could go fuck himself if he could find his dick. Why be cautious when you can be awesome?

Too bad Mr. Big Knuckles disagreed. He pressed that blade in, just enough to make a shallow stinging cut. He leaned in so close I could smell the tonsil stones on his breath, and ground out “just because I still need you alive doesn’t mean I can’t carve some of the extra bits off you, starting with your tongue. You don’t have to talk if you can write, little man.”

Which, rude.

So there I was, bloody and gross, with a knife-wielding maniac all up in my business, when somebody started screaming. Then someone else joined in. There was gunfire echoing all over the place. Big Knuckles went to peer out for a little look-see and his head exploded. I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean his head just wasn’t there anymore. Gone. Kaput. I’d say his brains were all over the wall, but it’s doubtful he even had any to begin with. Then in came Agent Stone, gun drawn, splattered with blood like Jackson Pollock had a lovechild with Michael Myers, only hotter.

And do you know what the first thing he did was? Not cut me out of the damn chair, which would’ve been the logical thing to do. No, he holstered his gun and held my face in his big warm hands and stared at me like… well, at the time I didn’t have any idea what that look was like, but it was intense, even for me. Kinda got me a little shivery. “Doctor? Are you okay?” The first thing out of his mouth was just asking for Captain Obvious to kick him in the nuts.

“Do I look okay?”

“Right. Sorry. I mean, are you badly injured?” He was still staring. Did you know his eyes almost have a reddish glow when the light hits them just right?

“I’m fine. Get me out of here, you can play nursemaid at home.”

On the plus side, the ride home wasn’t actually that long. On the minus side, we had to do a mini debrief on the way, tablet stuck to the dashboard with bubblegum and string. Walters shuffled into view in his bathrobe all like, “this had better be good, I was just about to put on my stories.” He went from doddering grandpa to doddering Commander in a hurry when he saw all the blood, though. “Oh, good god, Robotnik. What did you do now?” Not “are you okay, Doctor?” or even “are my precious state secrets safe?” No, he jumped straight to blaming poor innocent me.

Now, that got Stone’s hackles up. He could’ve turned coal into diamonds from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “The Doctor was injured in service to G.U.N., sir. Some concern would not go amiss.” I know that doesn’t sound too bad, but you had to be there. You could practically smell the brimstone wafting off him. If he could have reached into the screen to strangle the Commander, he would have. And Walters knew it too.

“Just message me your report later, alright?” At least the old man knew when to cut and run.

Fast forward. I’m getting bored of this bit. Let’s skip forward to something more interesting. Do you want to hear about Stone patching up his dearly beloved Doctor? I hope so, because either way you’re gonna hear about it. We went to my place, because to be honest I had no idea where Stone lived. Did he sleep at the lab? In a van down by the river? Some penthouse full of glass and chrome? At that time it was a big mystery, and anyway he just kind of auto-piloted to my apartment so it didn’t really matter. He knew the way, probably from fetching groceries all the time, so we got there quick enough.

Stone laid me down on the bed, which, okay. Kind of weird in hindsight, since he had to go past several chairs and a sofa to get there. At least he had the good sense to put a towel down so the sheets wouldn’t get all bloody. “That’s my guy.” I guess I must’ve said that bit out loud, because he looked at me almost… fondly. Which was super weird because nobody looked at me like that. With hatred, sure, or annoyance. Admiration, briefly, usually from the ones who only read the white papers and hadn’t actually gotten a chance to say hello. But never fondness. It was…

It was nice.

“Always yours, Doctor.” He poured some antiseptic on a cotton ball and started cleaning my cuts so gently it barely even hurt. His lips were parted just a little, tongue poking out to tap his front teeth. He was close enough that under the blood I could smell warm skin and sweat and a little whiff of cedar. Now, don’t give me that look. There’s nothing weird about noticing how someone smells. We have senses for a reason, you know. Observation. Classification. And sure. Appreciation. Why not. He leaned over and smiled a little when he was done. It wasn’t a big old goofball smile— just a soft small thing— but the corners of his eyes got all crinkly so I knew it was real.

We didn’t kiss then. I know you’re thinking about it, but it didn’t happen. I thought maybe it might, but all he did was look at me for the longest time, like he was thinking hard about something. He opened his mouth and shut it again, which. Have you ever wanted something and not wanted it at the same time? Like if it happens it’ll just be too big for you to handle, and if it doesn’t you’ll be disappointed? Well, that kind of weakness opens you up to the whole world fucking you dry. But me? I’m all lubed up with self-sufficiency. I don’t have to worry about paradoxical nonsense like that. Mmmhmm.

Stone cleaned up and went off to write his report while I settled down for a snooze. Guess my body was ready for a recharge, because it was morning before I woke up smelling coffee. What do you know, there was a fresh latte on the nightstand— on a coaster, of course, Stone’s nothing if not thoroughly conscientious— and it was the best damn latte I’d had in a long while. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could make good coffee.

I found Stone in the kitchen, doing I don’t even know what. Something domestic. He looked up with his big bright “I get to work for the greatest genius ever” smile. It was positively disgusting. Anyway, despite all speculation to the contrary, I don’t actually wear my gloves to bed. And since I was all distracted by my latte with its adorable badnik drawn in foam— but don’t tell Stone I said that or he’ll get a big head— I was still barehanded when I gave him back my empty cup. Well, his little finger brushed against mine and when I say that it felt like an electric shock, I’m barely even exaggerating. He felt it too, and I heard his breath catch. You wouldn’t think such a little thing could matter so much.

“Doc— Doctor.” It was almost a whisper, slipping out like he didn’t mean to say it, and then he was reaching up to my face again, slow and careful. “Are you, um. How are you feeling? Your face, I mean.” Now, normally I would brush him off but I guess my brain was still rattled a bit from being smacked around like a piñata the day before, because eventually his eyebrows got all squinched together and I realized I was staring. “Doctor?”

If I was staring, then so was he. “Mmm?”

His thumb brushed over the ring-shaped lump on my jaw and sure, it hurt some, but I kinda wanted to see where this was going. Now, I don’t like being touched. Skin on skin is too— naked, not to mention unnecessary. And yet here he was touching my face again and I was letting him. Maybe I really did have a concussion. If I had a concussion, though, then he must’ve had a death wish for trying in the first place. I tried to be angry. I tried to make myself shove him away.

But instead I leaned into his hand, bending down a bit, and he was right there. He was mumbling, looking up at me, hand still cradling my jaw. "Tell me to stop, Doctor, please. Hit me, do something, I can’t. I need you to, or I—“

I didn’t stop him. I could have. We could have gone back— not quite to how we were before, but close. I could have drawn a hard line and he would have respected it no matter how he felt about the matter. But I didn’t. I opened my mouth, for once not knowing exactly what I would say next. What I said was, “Stone. Shut up.”

And then I kissed him.

Yes, me. The great Ivo Robotnik, the man with gears and wires where his heart should be, the man who needs— and is needed by— no one. I closed that last little bit of distance and pressed my lips to his. You’d think he wasn’t expecting it with how he gasped into my mouth. His other hand came up and now he cradled my jaw in both hands like he was holding some precious fragile thing.

“Won’t break, dammit.” I won’t say I moaned it into his mouth, even if the words were wet with strings of saliva. But I could feel the way my words vibrated against his lips and it was…it was…

I understood, then, what people mean when they say that a touch or a kiss took their breath away. It felt like drowning, and the only thing between me and my untimely end was him. Is that crazy? It feels crazy, but what do I know? But if I felt it, then he felt it too. He gulped air and dove back in, and his mouth was so warm, so wet, and his tongue— well. It was everywhere, thick and hot, licking into me like he was trying to memorize every crevice, every tooth, every place where needy wet sounds might go to hide.

I realized then, he was trying to commit the kiss to memory. He was afraid he would never get another chance, that at any moment I’d miraculously come to my senses and push him away, that I’d never let him touch me again. Idiot. So I told him exactly that. I pulled away and I could see that fear cementing in real time, but before he lost himself to it, I brought my hands to his face, so that each of us was holding the other.

“Stone. Stop thinking about it. You’re being ridiculous.”

And then I kissed him again.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Artemis Crock and being in the Batfamily

Artemis Crock x reader

warnings:

a/n: ok vibes actually reader will be LOOSELY based on an oc (like au oc if anything their background just makes sense for this!) i also struggled trying to figure out if i wanted this to be a younger artemis or older artemis and i went for younger i suppose?

prompt: anonymous: “Artemis crook x male reader who is the son of Batman”

you and artemis had known each other since the beginning of the Team

you were probably one of the only people on the team that didn’t make her feel insecure about her past or meet her with any hostility when she joined up

well, also, you had deduced her identity in a week (and it wasn’t even priority you just figured it out a week after meeting her)

“i wouldn’t listen to them. they don’t know what you’ve been through—they’re just insecure because you know what you’re doing” -you

“and how would you know that?” -artemis, defensively

“paula nguyen. lawrence crock.” -you

“wha—how—who??” -artemis

“i was a shadow once, not too long ago. i know what it’s like to not be trusted—but you need to trust first if you can” -you

“easier said than done” -artemis

“how do you think i became batman’s protégé?” -you

you let artemis take her time with things, after all—with the fragility of the new team, maybe she was right to feel out her options

but you extending that olive branch really built a connection with her

and it only grew stronger when you backed her up to people like wally and roy

“roy, what do you know? you walked away, you don’t have a say in these matters. ollie knows what he’s doing, what makes you think you know better?” -you, in front of half the JL and the team

“i—i think you need to step back, y/n. this doesn’t concern you” -“roy”

“she’s on my team, she’s one of ours. if you stayed, maybe we would hear you out, but you’re the one who needs to step back” -you

“thanks for that, his face was priceless!” -artemis as soon as you split from the group

you became a shoulder to lean on since youw ere so familiar with the life and the shadows and you never judged someone based on what they couldn’t control

and you let her get comfortable with her past on her own, but she always asked for advice

and what the shadows were like up close, you knew she worried for jade most of all

“what’s up with you and the new girl? you got a soft spot for moles?” -wally

“no, but i have a soft spot for your mom” -you

“touché. i’ll get you back for that” -wally

dick also knew artemis’s secret, but you’d warned him against input

“you don’t know what a secret like that means. especially in a group like this. she’s…she’s different, dick” -you

“sounds like you’ve got a crush on her” -dick

“oh yeah? and what’s going on with you and zatanna” -you

“shut up! do not” -dick

“both of you, quiet” -bruce

“sorry, b” -both of you

when artemis eventually revealed her secret to the team, eyes were on you

“you knew all of this?” -kaldur

“of course. i’m a shadow and a bat. i would have figured it out with respect to either identity” -you

“well, i appreciate you encouraging artemis to share this when she was ready” -kaldur

and she did too, and she gave you a big hug and burst into tears once the relief poured over her

“i have another secret, y/n. i really like you” -artemis

“well i have a secret, too…i know” -you

you shared a kiss and went about business with a new sense of urgency to nip this situation in the bud

and also, you knew cheshire and sportsmaster prior to your defection (sportsmaster moreso)

they were pleased to see your relationship bloom

“well, babygirl, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. you’re dating a shadow?” -sportsmaster

“i’m dating a bat” -artemis

“once a shadow…” -cheshire

“yeah? what do you know?” -you

artemis was pretty pleased you could argue with her family so well

speaking of family, paula was thrilled when you started coming over to the apartment

“i never thought i’d see the day my artemis brought over a friend, much less someone so important to her! usually she’s embarrassed, you know how she gets” -paula

“mom!” -artemis

and vice versa

“artemis. glad to have you. hopefully y/n will be a good host” -bruce

“can you sound any more robotic, b?” -you

“can you stop going off mission, y/n?” -bruce

you and artemis spent the next few years doing what you do best, while she pulled away from the Life, it was all you’d known and you dont think you could put your weapons down

“will you be home tonight?” -artemis

“i…i’m not sure, batman has me on a stakeout for a possible joker sighting. jason and all…” -you

“i understand. wish i could be there” -artemis

“it’s okay, i know you have exams” -you

but just because your relationship had lows didn’t mean it didn’t have highs, you supported her work and she did the same for you

plus, your family (adoptive) happened to be rich, you could afford the “night life” and you always made up for it

“you know, y/n. i’ve been thinking about when we met—im just…i don’t know, thankful? i don’t know how i would have put my issues aside without you.” -artemis

“trust me, you’d have been able to do it without me. you just got lucky to meet someone with your unique background” -you

“love you”

“love you too”

taglist: @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @ravenstrueluv // @captainshazamerica // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[mrs-dr-reid]

Show Me How Sorry

A Wolverine Fic

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader makes Logan prove how sorry he is after an argument

Genre: A teensy bit angsty, then pure filth. I don’t make the rules, bub

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (I mean it), Swearing, insecurity, crying, unprotected p in v (DON’T BE SILLY, WRAP YOUR WILLY), oral (fem receiving), fingering, choking kinda(?), a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine (aka size kink), groveling (*cackling intensifies*), breeding kink if you squint, kinda subby Logan/kinda dom reader but for plot reasons

A/N: You’re welcome. Also, ayyyyyy, first published work of smut! Big thanks to @foxy-eva and @imagining-in-the-margins for being my human thesauruses.

Word Count: 2694

———————————————————————

Y/N had to hand it to Charles: the roof of X-Mansion was one of the best stewing places she’s ever come across. Throughout her life, she’d found herself in plenty of spots that were ample for sitting and seething about a bad day or a petty argument: fire escapes, tree houses, a water tower that one time, but none were as effective as crawling out of the window of her room at the mansion and sitting on top of the dormer with her knees pulled up to her chest. Which is what she was doing now, all because of Logan.

This particular fight was a long time coming. Ever since they’d started dating, little things had been piling up and slowly reaching a tipping point, leading to the idea that Logan didn’t think Y/N was capable of handling herself. She confronted him about it, and the resulting screaming match culminated in Logan slamming the door and Y/N retreating to the roof, where she had been staying for nearly two hours.

She was watching the sun sink below the treeline when she heard her window open and a familiar gruff voice. “Y’know, one of these days you’re gonna fall off the roof.” Logan crawled out of the window and fixed her with a disapproving stare. Y/N avoided eye contact and ground out, “For your information, Hard Ass, I’ve been doing this since before my mutation manifested, and I never fell off of anything once. And in case you forgot, I can fly, so even if I did, I’d be fine,” hugging her knees tighter.

Logan let out a sigh and said, “Can we talk? Please?”

She turned her head away. “Unless the next thing that comes out of your mouth is an apology, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” A groan escaped him, then she heard him say, “Okay, I’m sorry. Will you get off the roof now?”

The last embers of anger Y/N had left in her belly stoked back up into a raging fire at him reacting to her wanting an apology like it was some great inconvenience, and the idea that he was only saying it to get her to come back inside.

She whipped her head back towards him and snapped, “Sorry for what, Logan? Do you know why I’m upset with you, or are you just handing over a baseless apology hoping I’ll forgive you just like that?”

A look of surprise crossed Logan’s face at her tone. He thought for a moment, then said, “I think I know, but I want you to tell me anyway because I want to understand.”

His tone was even and measured like he was extending an olive branch, so Y/N nodded and let her legs hang off the dormer as she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“When I joined the X-Men, I thought I was finally done with people overlooking me, underestimating me, belittling me. I thought I’d finally found a group of people who would support me and let me handle things on my own. You’re the only one who doesn’t do that, and I can’t take it anymore, Logan. Do you have any idea what it feels like when the people you love actively show how much they don’t think you’re capable of? I have power now. I can make a huge difference in the world, and in the lives of the students, but hearing someone I love say in not so many words that I can’t handle something? It hurts.”

Logan was silent for a moment, then he carefully made his way onto the dormer. He sat beside Y/N, tilting her chin up so she’d look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for makin’ you feel that way. You’re one of the most capable people I know, and I’m sorry for underestimatin’ you. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt if you take on more than you can bear on your own. You’re my best girl, and I wanna keep you safe, okay?”, he asked, wiping away the tear stains on Y/N’s cheeks.

She nodded, then said, “Thank you for the apology, and for explaining yourself.”

Logan smiled and said, “Anytime, Darlin’,” before kissing her forehead.

After a moment of silence only broken by the rustling of the wind and birds chirping, Y/N said, “I’m still mad at you though, Howlett, and words aren’t gonna cut it.”

Logan quirked his eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then what did you have in mind?”

She leaned in and whispered, “You’re gonna show me just how sorry you really are,” before sliding off the dormer and crawling back through her window. Logan watched, letting out a lustful groan as she did so.

Once he’d managed to get back through the window, his Adam’s apple bobbed at the sight of Y/N sitting on the end of her bed with her denim-clad legs spread and her flannel shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal a black lace bra underneath. She raised an eyebrow suggestively and said, “Get to work, Big Boy. You know where I want you.”

His eyes darkened before he husked, “Yes, ma’am,” and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Y/N unbuttoned her flannel the rest of the way and let it slip off her shoulders as Logan pressed open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, and she let out a breathy sigh of his name, weaving her fingers into his hair, when his lips started traveling lower and his hands came up to fiddle with the button of her skinny jeans.

She breathed out, “Go on, Tough Guy,” so Logan popped the button and started sliding her skinny jeans down her legs, cursing under his breath as it happened slower than he would have liked.

He grunted out, “Hate it when you wear these pants, Darlin’. Takes fuckin’ forever to get ‘em offa you.”

“I know. I only wear them when I want to make you work for it.” She unhooked her bra and sent it flying towards her hamper, earning her a groan from the man kneeling between her legs as he finally managed to rid her of the dreaded jeans. Y/N crooked her finger at him, so he obliged instantly, kissing his way from her clavicle to her inner thighs, nipping at her skin and soothing the bites with his tongue along the way in his efforts to coax his favorite noises from her.

Y/N let out a tiny gasp when she felt Logan’s breath on her clothed center, and gripped his hair tighter before he could do anything else. She made him look at her before she said, “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Logan?”

Logan ran his hands up and down her legs and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you, Sweetheart. I was being an asshole, and I’m so sorry. You smell so fuckin’ good, Baby. Can I show you how sorry I am now?”, while hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her black lace panties and looking up at her with pleading eyes. Y/N pretended to think for a moment, then loosened her grip on his hair and said, “Go ahead, Bubba.”

He groaned in thanks before sliding the soaked fabric down her legs and tossing them over his shoulder.

Logan took a moment to breathe in her scent, but when Y/N’s nails scratched at his scalp, he took the hint and draped her legs over his shoulders before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her core. He let out a guttural moan when Y/N whispered, “Good boy,” and tightened her grip on his hair like she was trying to bury him in her pussy (not that he would have complained). He continued lapping at her like he was on death row and she was his last meal, relishing in the sounds he was drawing out of her. When Y/N was least expecting it, Logan added two fingers into the mix, which made her whine his name and dig her heels into his back.

He continued his ministrations, and Y/N felt the familiar knot in her belly tighten. “I’m so close, Lo. Always make me feel so good, Bubba.”

Logan let out an honest-to-god growl against her as he spread her legs even wider and sucked on her clit. Her orgasm crashed over her, and she let out a breathless moan of Logan’s name as if it was the only word she knew. He whispered soothing words against her as she came down from her high.

Once Y/N had caught her breath, she said, “You’re still wearing a lot of clothes there, Wolvie,” and fiddled with the collar of his leather jacket.

Logan shot her a look. “Still not satisfied with my apology, Princess?”

She sat up to gather the front of his tank top in her grasp, then pulled him onto the bed. “No, that was a perfectly adequate apology. I just need to remind you what happens when you hurt my feelings," before flipping them over so she was straddling him.

Logan’s eyes blew wide with lust, and he shed his jacket as quickly as he could while Y/N undid his belt and jeans. He went to put his hands on her hips, but she held his hands down at his sides. “Uh-uh. Touching is a privilege, Big Boy. You haven’t earned it back yet,” before ridding him of his pants and tank top. She kept his boxers on, and she rested all of her weight on his throbbing erection before sitting back on her heels and surveying him. She tilted her head to the side, a seductive smirk on her face as she shifted her hips ever so slightly so he could feel her desire pooling against him.

Logan dropped his head onto the pillow behind him and groaned, “Woman, you’re gonna be the death of me,”

Y/N leaned closer and whispered, “Quite a feat considering you’re effectively immortal,” before attaching her lips to his pulse point and running her hands down his broad chest, earning a guttural moan from the man beneath her. She snuck her hand into his boxers and stroked his length with her index finger a few times.

The whole time she was teasing him, Logan was gripping the sheets as hard as he could to keep his hands to himself.

Y/N withdrew her hand from Logan’s boxers. “You’ve been so good, Bubba. Have you learned your lesson?” She asked, toying with the waistband as he let out a strained, “Yes, ma’am.”

She replied, “Good,” then lifted herself off of him briefly to drag the final barrier between them down his legs and discard it. She lined herself up, then said, “Touch me, Lo. You’ve earned it,” before sinking down on his cock.

His hands flew up to grip her hips the second he was permitted while letting out a euphoric moan.

Y/N let out a whimper of, “So big, Honey. You fill me up so good. Fuck!”, and gripped Logan’s shoulders before starting to move above him.

He grunted out, “Love making you feel good, Sugar. Love how your tight little pussy squeezes me so perfect,” as he gripped her hips so tight she was sure there’d be bruises in the morning.

Y/N’s hands moved up to Logan’s neck, and she coaxed him into an upright position before pressing her lips to his in a breathless kiss, accidentally applying too much pressure on his throat as she got lost in his lips.

Logan gasped out, “Fuck, Baby!”, against her lips, which made Y/N realize her mistake.

“Sorry. Too much?” She began to remove her hands from his neck, but Logan reached up and grabbed one of her wrists to stop her and looked her in the eyes before husking, “Just the opposite, Baby Doll,” earning a delirious moan from Y/N. She tightened her grip slightly and continued rolling her hips in tandem with Logan’s thrusts. Many moments passed where the only sounds to be heard were the rustling of sheets, two pairs of lips moving in feverish tandem, and skin against skin, with the occasional breathless moan from Y/N or grunt from Logan.

Y/N felt the knot tightening again, and she could tell by the stuttering of Logan’s hips that he wasn’t too far behind.

“So good, Lo! Gonna make me cum!” She buried her hands in his hair once again to tug at the strands desperately.

He grunted back, “I’m close, too, Darlin’. Wanna cum inside you so bad, please, Baby?”, and attached his lips to her cleavage. Y/N let out a whimper before regaining what little composure she had left to whisper in Logan’s ear, “Fill me up like a good boy, Bubba."

That sent him over the edge.

He started driving his hips up into her like a man possessed. Y/N cried out his name as her climax barreled into her like a freight train, the spasms of her velvety walls bringing him right along with her.

“Fuck, Darlin!” He shouted as he grasped her tight. Y/N collapsed against him with a gasp as the final pulses of her pleasure faded away, and Logan continued rocking into her until he was completely spent, his large hands running up and down her back comfortingly.

Once they’d both come down from their respective highs, Y/N pressed her forehead against Logan’s and whispered, “I love you."

He nuzzled his nose against hers and whispered back, “Not as much as I love you, Darlin’,” before kissing her gently.

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few moments of blissful silence, then Logan broke it by saying, “Am I forgiven now?”

Y/N giggled and buried her face in the crook of his neck before saying, “Can I get back to you in three to five business days? My brain is kinda mushy right now.”

Logan let out a snort. “Yeah, I can work with that." He pressed a kiss to her temple, then carefully pulled out of her to go get a warm cloth from the bathroom. Y/N rolled over to watch him go, and she silently thanked whatever deity sculpted his perfect ass and sent him her way before he came back and cleaned up the mess they made together, peppering kisses on her stomach and thighs as he did so.

Once he’d finished, he fished his boxers out of the haphazard pile of clothing that hadn’t exactly made it into the hamper, pulling them on before grabbing a Pink Floyd shirt (that he was well aware was stolen from him by her) and a pair of boy shorts from their respective drawers in her dresser. He handed them to her as he crawled back onto the bed.

Y/N tugged the well-loved cotton over her head and slid into the undergarments before beckoning Logan under the covers (which he happily obliged to), and let out a content sigh when he wrapped his strong arms around her and murmured, “Sweet Dreams, Baby,”

She was happy they were able to resolve their problem, albeit through slightly less conventional means.

———————————————————————

MCU Taglist: @libraryofloveletters

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[haosweater]

perhaps i loved you.

content: idol! jeonghan x gn! reader, angst, fluff, past life au, coffee shop au, royalty au (just read, you’ll get it), unrequited love.

summary: a unique cafe down fifth avenue opens a whole new door of surprises for jeonghan.

word count: 1.4k

note: based this off the short exert i wrote at the end lol. totally not inspired by real life events haha… also i’m writing this at almost two in the morning please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes.

it was cloudy. the sun peeked through the smallest crevices it could find as the wind gently brushed against jeonghan’s skin.

he shivered, pulling his green cardigan on tighter. he reached up, grabbing his white bucket hat to make sure it didn’t fly away. god knew the wind was ruthless these past few days. jeonghan felt like the world seemed to be against him.

he hummed along to his music, walking down the street in solace. the cherry blossoms bloomed magnificently, its pink petals falling to spread its beauty. he looked up, admiring the trees with a gentle smile.

there weren’t a lot of people out this time of the day and jeonghan liked that. he liked the comfort of not being recognised, being able to go about his day peacefully. the solitude was exactly what he needed.

inhaling a deep breath, he turned and continued down the street. the shops down this road were vintage. unique little thrift stores, record stores, quaint coffee shops that sold overpriced coffee— wait.

jeonghan paused, staring into the shop. olive green bookshelves lined the beige walls of the shop. behind, there was a counter with coffee machines and cake displays. at the very front of the store, there was a table. it had two chairs with a typewriter sitting on it.

a cafe? no, bookstore? or was it a vintage thrift store? confused, jeonghan looked up at the sign.

‘caffeinated literature’.

‘how peculiar,‘ jeonghan thought. glancing around, he peeked into the cafe again, noticing no one was inside. he wondered if it was closed, a slight pang of disappointment filling his chest.

however, the ‘open’ sign on the door proved him wrong. his eyes moved down, and noticed the poster on the door, prompting him to move closer and read it.

enjoy a cup of coffee,

and let me write you poetry.

welcome to caffeinated literature.

it didn’t take jeonghan another second to push the glass door open, the soft chime of the bell ringing in the air. “hello?” he called out softly.

there was a muffled crash followed by a yelp, shocking him. “hello! just give me a moment! please, take a seat!”

jeonghan sat down apprehensively, fluffing the cushion beside him. the interior was cozy, minimalistic and welcoming. swinging his feet, he continued to observe his surroundings, not realising you had emerged from behind the counter.

“hello, so sorry about that! what can i get for you today?” you panted, handing him the menu.

jeonghan looked at you in awe. your voice sounded like sweet, smooth honey that dripped slowly into a cup of warm tea. there was a sense of familiarity to you, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“uh, sorry,” he mumbles, snapping out of his thoughts. “i’ll just get an iced cappuccino and a poem, please.”

you grin. “great choice. i’ll be right back with your coffee, so just take a seat in tbe front,” you gesture to the table with the typewriter. he nods, getting up as you disappear behind the counter.

jeonghan feels light-headed from staring at you. something about you was so enchanting, so magical and so familiar. he sighed, annoyed that he was unable to figure out what it was.

the aroma of his coffee drifted in the air as you brought it over. he thanked you as you sat across him, smiling as he sipped on it slowly.

“oh, wow, this is really good,” he remarked, licking his lips. “thank you.”

“it’s no problem,” you say, smiling. “now, for the poem,” you gently slot the paper into the typewriter. turning around, you turn the speaker on, calm jazz music filling the cafe.

“i know this sounds rather far-fetched, but i usually hold people’s hands to get a better feel of their aura before i write their poem. do you mind if i do that with you?”

jeonghan shakes his head almost instantly. “no, not at all,” he says, extending his hands.

you smile, nodding in acknowledgement as you take his hands into yours, slowly shutting your eyes.

jeonghan shivered, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the cafe anymore.

he was now clad in formal wear, standing at the entrance to a balcony. you stood at the edge, back facing him. the moon was bright and the stars shone in the sky.

“i didn’t expect you to come,” your voice wavered. jeonghan couldn’t speak– he could not control what he did.

“i’m here now, aren’t i?” he chuckles, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “what bothers you, my dear, on the night we are to celebrate?”

when you turn around, tears rolling down your cheeks, he freezes. you stare at him, sniffing softly. even when you’re crying, you look breath-taking to him.

averting your gaze, you sigh. “i can’t lie to you anymore, han,” you whisper. “tonight i watched you get married to the love of your life, confessing your love to each other in front of the whole kingdom,” you look up at him again.

“and now, i will confess my love to you, in front of the moon and stars.”

jeonghan is in shock. he doesn’t know how to comprehend this situation. it is all too fast, too quick– was this his past life?

“i have loved you ever since we were kids, han. my heart has held onto you tightly, refusing to let go. i’ve seen the best and the worst of you. i’ve seen all your flaws and imperfections and yet still i love you. i have been your friend, but never once did i love you like one. i loved you more than that. i would sacrifice the moon and the stars just to gaze at your beauty. i would burn the kingdom down if you wanted me to. my heart aches and yearns for your touch, your love, your heart and i know i will never get it, but i had to tell you.”

by the time you’re done, you’re panting, out of breath. jeonghan wants to rush forward and hold you, but his body stops him. there is no control.

“b-but y/n, i’m a prince and you’re a—”

“knight, i know,” you sob. “i prayed to the gods every day that my heart would let go of you because i knew i could never be yours, nor you, mine.”

jeonghan simply stood there, heart aching at the sight of you. “i am sorry, y/n. i am sorry i cannot love you the way you want me to,” he whispers, taking a step forward.

“it’s okay, han,” you say softly, tears staining your once rosy cheeks. wiping them away, you look at him with a sad smile. “it was never meant to be anyways.”

with a loud gasp, jeonghan finds himself back in cafe. he’s panting, eyes darting around vigorously before landing on you.

you were crying.

and so was he.

“sorry,” you let out an awkward laugh, wiping your tears away. “i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whisper, trying to stop yourself from crying, but the tears keep coming.

“it’s okay,” jeonghan stutters, quickly wiping his own tears. he wants to comfort you more, but he couldn’t find the words to. he felt like he didn’t deserve to.

sniffing, your fingers suddenly start to gly across the typewriter, the clicks ringing in the air. jeonghan observes you intensely, watching you throw draft after draft away. you were clearly frustrated.

finally, after his ice had melted, his coffee finished, you were done.

“sorry,” you say, removing the paper. “i had a hard time finding the right words,” you confessed as he smiled.

he looked down, reading the poem as you fidgeted with your fingers. his eyes drift across each word, heart clenching as he reached the last line.

“this is beautiful,” he says breathlessly. “thank you. i love it.”

you return the smile. “thank you for coming. i hope to see you again.”

jeonghan’s heart flutters at your words momentarily. “thank you for the coffee and poem. and who knows? perhaps i will see you again,” he chuckles before waving goodbye, pushing the glass door open as the bell chimed.

the breeze was stronger now, and jeonghan had to grab onto his hat again. with a loud sigh, he began to walk down the street, thoughts flooding his mind. it was racing, restless and utterly confused.

as he reached the end, he stopped at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. pulling out the piece of paper, he reread what you had written, tears forming in the corner of his eyes once again.

‘who are you,

stranger?

you look rather familiar.

perhaps i have loved you.

in another life.’

[m0th-person]

MARSH! His lore was already spilled in an ask that you can probably easily find.

his voice claim is Aleph from Reverse:1999.

long ramble but while making this i got super into the lore of outlast (AGAIN) more particularly the outlast trials and I think some of Easterman’s voicelines sound like stuff David would say ngl (ONLY SOMETIMES THO, THAT MAN IS SO CREEPY IN SOME OF HIS LINES) (David Example: “I’m doctor Easterman, I want you to think of me as a friend, a father, a confidant.” “You will be a sun in an eclipse, they won’t know they’re blind until they look away.” “This is progress, but I need you to be making more progress.” “if you think you recognize someone, you’re seeing who they used to be” “don’t bring it up, that person is dead.” “What if they aren’t what they say you are, what if they’re afraid because they know you’re special, just like I do.” There’s more but this is getting long)

development:

Marsh himself has gone on a wild ride in just a day ( the same day I made the ask lol). His ORIGINAL original concept was just A NICKNAME that Kim could’ve possibly called Layla’s parent that was Kim’s offspring and had dark marsh green hair (I think Kim would do something like that) because unless there’s another parent for that child, Kim probably created that child the same way Flores created her dad. Then I listened to one song and it went to shit. The song is sweet Rosalie by American murder song, you should probably listen to the song for some context but let’s moving on. Add a weird deity+ obsessed worshipper relationship into it plus my strange and general “let’s make it darker” attitude and that’s how Marsh was made.

I think he shares a lot of design elements with Oliver and Mayflower Melanie and his pre-curse form is incredibly poorly drawn + his hair and facial hair wasn’t supposed to be THAT long in his pre-curse form.

afterthoughts:

To me, Marsh has no unique depth, he may be fun, sure. But he is what he is on paper. He isn’t complicated, he isn’t interesting to me. I like Edmund more. The most depth you can go into detail for is that he, just like David, is still waiting for Kim but Marsh is locked up in the temple prisons and over time has made a mural or weird religious scene out of his blood on the stone walls of his prison. I really want to draw that. I’ve already done a draft on the right drawing page.

the only thing I’ll say is that I wonder how Dahlia would react to him given that she’s the canonical #1 David and Kim fan as I see Marsh’s tale as a spooky story told to children about Kim’s trickery with what is essentially a ‘creepy big tree man’. (Like Dahlia hears about the story on the Organa version of Halloween and then later once she’s in the temple she randomly stumbles upon Marsh rotting in his cell making his ‘mural’ to Kim out of his blood)

[hunterthecharmer]

Unexpected - Part 1

Alright everyone, here is part one to my Glen Powell x Reader fic! I will start part two tomorrow, but wanted to go ahead and throw this up to get your thoughts. :) no Glen in this one yet, just setting the stage for reader's context/job and how the two will end up crossing paths. Feedback is welcome! Part two will be very long as I want to be sure to include a lot of Glen x reader scenes of course.

Love you all! xoxo

Word count: 2.3k

“Savannah, we can’t put this off to another day. We have to turn in our plans by Friday morning!” you sigh, massaging your temples. Savannah was a hard worker, but having her partner on this project go on maternity leave earlier than unexpected had really rattled her. She began twirling the ends of her hair as she chewed her bottom lip, your words going in one ear and out the other. You shake your head before stepping closer to your coworker, placing a hand on each of her shoulders to try to get through to her. 

“Sav, listen to me. Janet is going to kill us if we can’t prove to her that we can handle this event. The flights and talent are already booked, we just need to decide who we want to speak at this convention and nail down the catering. All the other little details, I will take on myself. Deal?” You shoot her a soft smile, her shoulders slouching into her olive green cardigan. She exhales deeply, eyes closing before opening them to meet your gaze. “Okay, deal. Let’s do this!”

“Have a great night, Sav! I’ll see you tomorrow.” You shout over your shoulder as you stride out of the office, waving to Savannah as she returns a smile to you, the humidity providing a slight fog to her glasses.

After hopping into your car, you crank up the AC and turn on your playlist before driving down Rodeo drive toward home. The palm trees gently blowing in the breeze, the lit up signs..it was quiet for a Wednesday night. Granted, it was only 8pm, but still. In the 6 months you’d lived in LA, you hadn’t been able to go anywhere without seeing some type of night life or large groups of people gathered, having fun in their shorts and Ray Bans. It wasn’t necessarily for you, but you had indulged in the lifestyle a bit. Going out for drinks with coworkers, seeing shows on the weekends, soaking up the sun on the beaches. It wasn’t home, but there are definitely worse places to live.

Working for Ignite Cons had been a dream come true. You started as an event coordinator in your hometown for tourists that would visit for shows that were filmed there, and ended up going viral online to catch the eye of the company. You loved working behind the scenes to make tourists and talent feel welcome, and their experience to go as smooth as possible. From tours, to dinners and even decorating and staging panel events - you had your hands in all of it. Immersing your mind into the world of these different shows or movies was never boring, and oftentimes challenged you to put your own personal interests aside to really think outside of the box about what fans or stars would want to see or do. 

You succeeded at this for 3 years before Ignite reached out, bringing you on to focus solely on Hollywood -esque events to be hosted by the company for different brand trips, special dinners in town or anything else they may want to host. You were quickly pulled away from caring for fans and tourists to being sent a dozen emails from publicists and assistants to ensure the talent attending these events had any and every possible thing they could need. Instead of focusing themed dinners around a tv show or film, you were setting up panels, teachings or classes for actors, singers, stunt doubles, etc. all across the world to attend in hopes to re spark that creativity or drive in them for an upcoming job. To ignite their love for their job and to bring in the money for the production companies and all involved, hence the company’s name: Ignite.

You turn the key to your apartment, the sweet smell of vanilla and sugar cookies filling your lungs as you toss your keys on the counter and mentally pat yourself on the back for setting your diffuser before you left this morning. You peel your high heels off your feet, stepping onto the cold hardwood floors and exhaling with a smile at how nice it felt on your sore feet.

After a shower and warm mug full of some tea, you drift off to sleep before another full day ahead.

“No, Thomas, that won’t be an issue. I’ll get a check in the mail to you by this afternoon. Of course! Oh, and do you guys have any special desserts you could prepare as well? Maybe a dairy, non dairy and gluten free option? Yeah…you know how we roll in California. Ha! Okay, perfect.” you smile while twisting the phone chord with your finger as you check ‘Find caterer’ off your to do list. Three knocks on your office door shake you from your concentration, turning your attention to your boss waving at you, motioning for you to meet her in her office when you are finished. You thank Thomas and hang up, smoothing out your dress before grabbing your notebook and heading to Anne’s office down the hall. 

“Ah, there she is! Please, have a seat.” Anne smiles warmly at you, gesturing toward the velvet armchair in front of her. You take a seat and cross your legs, opening up your notes in anticipation of her questions. “So, how is the project going? Is Savannah hanging in there?” She begins, clicking her pen as she shuffles some papers around her desk. “We are making great progress! I have already found a caterer, and Sav is supposed to be choosing from a handful of speakers as well as a paint and sip instructor. She’s hanging in there.” You flash your boss a sympathetic smile. Anne nods, scribbling on her paper and nodding slowly. “Good. I knew you two could do it. I really appreciate you stepping up with Leslie being out. I don’t know what I would do without you! I promise, once we get past this event in Tennessee, I will release you back to your regular tasks and behind the scenes zone.” Anne smiles at you once more before standing from her chair, mirroring her movement. “See you Friday morning!”

She closes the door behind you as you return to your own office, her words echoing in your head. Why did she say back to behind the scenes? Wasn’t this still behind the scenes work, technically? Maybe she didn’t mean anything by it…

The work day comes and goes, and next thing you know it’s Friday morning. You slip into your black work pants, heels and maroon blouse. You make sure to spend a little extra time on your makeup and hair today, as you and Savannah will be giving a presentation on the entire two week agenda for Ignite’s next convention you two named “Expressions”.

 Savannah had all but fought you on the name of the convention, having fallen in love with a couple of the activities and teachers she had found regarding actors wanting to expand their emotional range for different projects, specifically showing it in their facial expressions. Teaching them how to react in certain scenes while also showcasing how they can under react in some ways as well to let co stars and the sets built around them shine when and if need be. To not overdue a character or emotion.

You and Savannah gave a final wink to each other before standing before the executives, your boss included, to click through your slide show and pitch the theme, dinner menus, lodging and finalize the talent who were attending. The budget had been respected, and after the hour long pitch came to a close, applause was all you and Savannah could hear ringing in your ears. All the tension and anxiety melted away. The company officially gave you both the green light and outlined the responsibilities the two of you, as well as other staff would have for the convention. 

Among the laundry list of roles and requirements was physically being in Tennessee for the duration of the event, and helping to assist the talent in getting to and from their chosen activities each day. The resort would have golf carts for each person attending, and everyone would have someone from Ignite as well as other companies helping keep the talent on schedule and basically being their assistant for the two weeks they were away from their regular day to day schedules and teams. Suddenly, Anne’s comment from the other day finally made sense. Doing your best not to show your distaste in front of everyone in the conference room, you sign the contracts and shake hands with everyone before grabbing Savannah’s arm to pull her into the breakroom. 

“How’d I do? No, how did we do?!” Savannah excitedly asks, her voice low. You give each other a high five. “I think it went great! I’m so happy they liked our ideas and all the activities we lined up. But I have to be honest, I am not thrilled about the whole talent handler thing.” You scrunch up your nose as you grab a water bottle out of the fridge.

“Are you kidding? I was hoping they’d at the very least allow us to go see our ideas come to life in person, but this is even better! Can you believe all of the talent going? I wonder who we will be assigned to!” Savannah’s enthusiasm causes you to take a deep breath in and adjust your tone. “You know I’m just more of a behind the scenes kind of girl, not really a face to face person.” You sip your water, watching as her smile grows.

“This will be good for both of us! We’re in it together, deal? Think of it like a work vacation. We have two months until November to get ready for this- don’t worry!”

You pace your apartment, staring at your suitcase full of boots, sweaters and everything else you could possibly need for your two week trip to Tennessee. You had a week before you had to leave, and come tomorrow morning you would know who you were assigned to as a handler. You hoped it would be someone nice, maybe someone your age or someone you enjoyed watching on tv. Maybe it would be someone older, someone more established? Your mind was swimming with possibilities as you fell asleep.

“Alright ladies, here are your assignments!” Anne claps her hands together before handing you both a manila envelope. Savannah’s jaw drops, and she holds the portfolio close to her chest. “I’m too nervous to look! You go first.” She nudges your arm, and you let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s see who I’ll be carting around…” You flip open the folder to see a photo of a 32 year old male actor, with dark hair and brown eyes. 

“Dylan O’Brien? Not bad, not bad. I’ve seen him in a few movies!” You smile, before closing the portfolio and sliding your chair back in place as you glance to Savannah’s folder. “Okay Sav, your turn. Let’s see it!” 

Taking a breath, she opens hers to read, “Glen Powell?” she reads the name, a curiosity in her voice. “I don’t know who this is. Do you?” 

Anne shrugs, sitting back down behind her desk and reaching for her glasses. “You girls go home early for the day, time is ticking away and you need to be sure all your ducks are in a row!”

You take one more glance at the photo of Glen, heat rushing to your cheeks. You knew exactly who he was. In an effort to keep your composure, you quickly excuse yourself from your boss’ office, pulling Savannah with you. “Savannah..I know who he is. He’s one of my favorite actors! How have you not seen Twisters yet? Or what about "Set it Up?” You excitedly gush before Savannah cuts you off. “I’m sorry, but you got Dylan?! My celebrity crush? What! Not fair.” She pouts, crossing her arms as she follows you down the hallway to your office. Closing the door behind you, you sit her down in the chair. “Look, we are not going to be there as fans, we are there to work. We have to be professional, and I’d offer to switch with you but they’ve already been sent our names and photos- I checked. We have to forget that we’ve seen any of their work and strictly drive them around the property for the next two weeks, okay? Our jobs could be at stake if we don’t impress Anne and the company. Besides, this isn’t my job anyway.” You trail off, Savannah nodding slowly at your words. “You’re right. Okay, it will be as if we don’t know them. Got it. We can do this!” You both high five before heading home for the day.

On your drive home, your mind is going a mile a minute. Would Dylan be nice to work for, or would he be a total douche? And Glen…there will be so many people attending this thing, there’s no way your paths will cross. Right? Besides, this won’t be the time for photos or meet and greets. Glen, along with every other star there will be attending on their own accord, their own dime and will be looking to immerse themselves to try and hone their craft. You were not about to let your inner fangirl get in the way of that. They’re all just people like you, after all. You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you pull into your complex. This would be an interesting few weeks ahead.

[iguessweusewords]

prompt from @misscrazyfangirl321

"Are we in love? I mean, yeah, probably, but that is a problem for future us. Right now, we're just trying to survive the plot."

Odysseus and Penelope pre-EPIC ______________________________________________________________

There was nothing in this world that could have prepared Odysseus for the pain of Athena’s betrayal. He asked her for help to get Penelope to notice him. It was his fault, he supposed, for not being more specific. Afterall, nothing gets a girl’s attention like ruining her best friend’s love life. He was pretty sure Penelope would never even look at him again after this. 

He was currently trying to mend Helen’s broken heart by proving that Menelaus wasn’t the one who stole the Queen’s favourite necklace. It was rumored that anyone who touched the necklace other than the Queen would die a horrible death. Unfortunately, it just so happened that Menelaus got a cold the very day it was stolen. Naturally, the suitors with their brains the size of a rat’s nose decided that the most logical conclusion was that Menelaus was the thief and the necklace, obviously, was cursing him with death via a runny nose.

Of course, all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if Odysseus hadn’t tried to impress Penelope with his cleverness by pointing out that the Queen’s necklace was stolen. In his defense, the goddess Athena told him it was a good idea. In Athena’s defense, she was not the goddess of love. 

Now, here he was hiding behind the curtains of the Jewel Room trying to find out who the real thief was. 

He heard a rustling beside him. Odysseus turned, intending on telling them to be quiet, only to freeze when he saw who it was. 

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked.

This was fine. This was totally fine. Penelope was looking at him. Speaking to him. Looking as beautiful as ever. He most definitely did not forget to breathe. He was fine. He was calm. He was cool. He was collected. 

“Penelope, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make Helen cry. I was just trying to impress you. Please don’t hate me. I’ll fix this. I’ll prove Menelaus didn’t do this.”

See, completely calm. 

“You were trying to impress me? Why?” she asked, ignoring everything else. 

Okay, that’s not how this was supposed to go. The first time he told her how he felt, he was supposed to be cool, impressive, not nearly crying on his knees. But it was too late, he couldn’t go back now. 

“Because I’m in love with you? I have been since the very first time I saw you. I was supposed to say this in more beautiful words, but I can’t look at you and form coherent sentences at the same time.”

“How about this?” she suggested with a smile. “After we’re done with all this, why don’t you meet me by the olive tree and you can give me those beautiful words then.”

It felt like Odysseus’ brain turned to mush. Maybe there just wasn’t enough oxygen behind these curtains. The real thief could have walked in at this very moment and stolen every jewel in the castle and Odysseus would not have noticed. Did Penelope just suggest that she wanted to meet him again?

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” she laughed. “You’re the only one here with any brains. I like you.”

She liked him? 

“Are we in love?” Wow, he needed to slow down. She never said anything about love. He probably freaked her out with that. Now she really was never going to speak to him. She probably doesn’t even want him at the olive tree anymore.

“I mean, yeah, probably” she said, breaking him out of his spiral. 

Oh. Oh.

They were in love. 

“But that’s a problem for future us.” she continued. “Right now, we’re just trying to make it through this plot.”

Right. The plot. The plot where the suitors accused his best friend of something he didn’t do. He totally forgot. 

[cailinsblog]

Autumn Adventures

Cole caufield x reader

As the crisp fall air swept through the streets of Montreal, the vibrant colors of the leaves painted the landscape in hues of red, orange, and gold. It was a perfect Saturday morning, and Cole Caufield was excited to spend it with his girlfriend, Y/N, and their spirited three-year-old son, Oliver. The plan for the day? A visit to the local pumpkin patch.

Cole, recently back from a successful game, was still riding the high of victory. He cherished these moments away from the rink, relishing the chance to connect with his family. Y/N was already in the kitchen, preparing snacks for their outing, her laughter echoing through their cozy home as Oliver bounced around, full of energy.

“Mom! Can I help?” Oliver shouted, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

“Of course, pumpkin! Can you pass me the apple slices?” Y/N smiled, knowing how much he loved being involved. Cole leaned against the doorframe, watching the two with a fond smile. The sight of them together warmed his heart.

With snacks packed and Oliver bundled up in a cozy, bright orange jacket, they set off for the pumpkin patch. The drive was filled with laughter and chatter, the car alive with Oliver’s tales about the “biggest pumpkin ever” he wanted to find. Cole and Y/N exchanged amused glances, their hearts swelling with love for their little boy.

When they arrived at the patch, the sun shone brightly, illuminating rows of plump pumpkins scattered across the field. Oliver’s eyes lit up, a mixture of awe and excitement as he tugged on Y/N’s hand, urging her to explore.

“Look, Dad! Look at all the pumpkins!” he exclaimed, pointing at the vibrant display. Cole knelt down to Oliver’s level, ruffling his hair.

“Which one do you want to pick first, buddy?”

Oliver pondered for a moment, his little finger tapping his chin. “That one!” he declared, pointing at a pumpkin that was nearly as big as he was, nestled among the others.

“Alright, let’s go get it!” Cole laughed, helping Oliver navigate through the patch. Y/N followed close behind, capturing moments on her phone—Oliver’s beaming smile as he stumbled over a vine, and Cole’s playful efforts to lift the hefty pumpkin.

Once they secured the giant pumpkin, they wandered over to the hayrides, where families gathered, excited for a tour of the patch. They hopped onto the hay-filled wagon, Oliver bouncing with joy as the ride began. The tractor pulled them through fields of corn and sunflowers, with the vibrant landscape rushing by.

“Look at the trees, Mom!” Oliver shouted, his tiny hands pointing at the changing foliage. “They’re like fireworks!”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re right, Ollie! Just like fireworks in the sky, but on the ground.”

The hayride eventually returned them to the main area, where a small petting zoo awaited. Oliver’s face lit up at the sight of fluffy goats and friendly pigs. He rushed towards them, giggling as he gently petted a goat’s head.

Cole and Y/N stood back, sharing a proud glance. “He’s growing up so fast,” Y/N mused, her eyes softening.

“Yeah, he’s a little explorer,” Cole replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “Just like his mom.”

After the petting zoo, they found a cozy spot under a sprawling tree for their picnic. Y/N laid out the snacks she had prepared, and they all sat together, munching on apple slices and sandwiches. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and stories, as Oliver animatedly shared his adventures with the animals.

“I want to be a farmer when I grow up!” he declared between bites. “And I’ll have the biggest pumpkin patch ever!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cole laughed. “You can teach me how to grow them.”

Once they finished their picnic, they decided it was time for one last adventure—finding the perfect pumpkin to carve. As they searched, Cole found himself mesmerized by Y/N’s laughter and the way her eyes sparkled in the autumn sun.

“Look at this one, Dad!” Oliver said, pulling on Cole’s hand to show him a slightly misshapen pumpkin.

“That’s a great choice, buddy! A little quirky, just like you,” Cole chuckled, lifting it up for them to inspect.

With their chosen pumpkins in tow, they made their way to the carving station. Oliver was in awe as he watched other kids carve their pumpkins, his excitement palpable. Cole and Y/N helped him carve out a silly face on their pumpkin, laughing as Oliver tried to scoop out the seeds.

“Eww, it’s gooey!” he exclaimed, making a face that sent them all into fits of laughter.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the patch, the family gathered for one last photo. Cole lifted Oliver onto his shoulders, while Y/N stood beside them, her heart full as she captured the perfect moment.

“Say pumpkin!” Y/N cheered, and the three of them shouted in unison, the joy of the day etched on their faces.

On the drive home, the car was filled with sleepy giggles and soft music. Oliver, exhausted from his day of adventure, soon dozed off, his little head resting against Cole’s shoulder. Y/N reached over, giving Cole’s hand a squeeze.

“Today was perfect,” she whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude.

“Yeah, it really was,” Cole replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t wait for our next adventure.”

As they drove through the enchanting autumn landscape, they felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that these moments, filled with love and laughter, were what truly mattered.

[mcytadventevent]

@matcha-fawn is creating for Day Fifteen!

Prompt: Cooking/Baking

Her piece is written and features the Clocker Family!

Credit Links:

https://matcha-fawn.tumblr.com/

https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchafawn

(Piece is below the cut)

There’s something about winter – the looming mountains with their coat of ice, frigid lakes frozen over, bony fingers of barren trees combing through the solid white sky – that makes it difficult for Etho to like it. There’s always an associated… dejection.

Or maybe harsh nature isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s the strings of lanterns outlining the wood-framed houses and the blend of cosy cinnamon and laughter leaking from open windows that sour the cold months.

He can’t exactly claim to hate it either, though. One glance at his Familiar, her soft ivory fur covered in cotton-balls of snow as she darts excitedly through drifts, and any onlooker would assume he enjoys the season. After all, if the literal embodiment of his inner sentiments in the form of a small white fox is having a good time, how can he not be?

For this very logical reason, Etho has concluded that the second hypothesis must be the more accurate one – the people-related one. After all, when your emotions enter your estranged family’s house, paws pattering over the hand-made doormat, the shift in her demeanour as she crosses the threshold is painfully noticeable, the way her ears flatten against her head at some invisible, awkward scent.

He has been led to believe that winter, and all its holidays, should be a time to squeeze shut the gaps between loved ones. To stand around watching fragrant cakes rise. To share gifts and time and smiles, keep out the icicles with the warmth of companionship. And yet…

It’s… complicated, Etho and his ‘family’. Well, no, it’s not really. The situation is perfectly simple, entirely predictable, from Bdubs’ overenthusiasm to Cleo’s barely veiled contempt. What’s complicated is trying to fix it.

So seeing his Familiar curled alone in the corner of the kitchen while the other three tussle playfully before the furnace is not the most promising sign.

“Right, no, that’s perfect – just get the flour everywhere, Etho. I’ve got experience with cleaning up your messes.”

 Tearing his eyes away from the wrestling cat, ferret and baby bear, whose scuffle is oddly enrapturing when lit from behind by gentle flames, Etho glances down to find a lot of flour on the counter. And thus not in the bowl. His cheeks heat in embarrassment; Cleo’s dig is deserved.

“Hey, he’s doing his best! Right, Etho?”

Bdubs’ wide, hopeful grin somehow only makes the embarrassment worse. He doesn’t merit it, not after he walked out on them to build ties somewhere else. 

“Oh, can’t the famous Redstoner transfer flour from one container to another without bringing the snowstorm inside?” Scar says, waving a hand dismissively. “Have you really fallen off that hard, dad?”

Well, that stings. It should be a funny inside joke, a nickname from back when they were younger, when Cleo and Etho used to laugh about being responsible for their immature friends, preventing them from accidentally blowing themselves up with faulty magic. Scar using it now should be fond, but his tone is only bitingly sarcastic. By the furnace, his cat Familiar hisses. 

“Hah, no I have not, thank you.” Etho firmly presses the lid back onto the flour box, avoiding another mistake. “I’ll go find a broom.”

In the corner, the fox withdraws closer to the wall. 

Making cookies had been his idea. He’d dug up the recipe and found the ingredients, lied to Tango and Skizz and Impulse about where he was disappearing to, and trekked from his village into the distant rocky mountains. An olive branch.

Looking back, it’s such a weak gesture. Pathetically material, failing to repair any of the cracks in their relationship. And now he’s hiding in the storeroom, the flimsy excuse of searching for a broom, while they mix the dough without him. If his fox wasn’t still in the kitchen, he probably would have fled.

Yeah, pathetic is the right word for it.

Scar’s voice whispers through the wall from the kitchen. 

“Is he coming back?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t. That seems to be his signature move, leaving.”

“Hey, c’mon! He showed up all of his own accord without us having to ask—”

“Interrupted my painting…”

“Still showed up! Watch, ye of little faith, he’s still here. Etho!” Bdubs’ sudden shout makes him jump, nearly smashing his head on the coat hooks. “Wanna put our creations in the furnace?”

Scrabbling frantically through the organised supplies, Etho grabs the splintered handle of a broom and all but topples out of the storeroom. 

“Yep, yep, I’d love to. Found a broom!”

Cleo raises an eyebrow, hands on their hips. “What have you done to my nice, neat storage? If I go in there and it looks like you’ve ignited a stack of TNT…” They leave the threat hanging.

 “…I’ll tidy it before I leave.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes, but nods anyway. “Yeah, you will.”

“Cookies, furnace!” Bdubs thrusts a tray of sweet-smelling, haphazardly-rolled cookies at him, and he fumbles to lean the broom against the wall before taking them with a nervous smile. 

This he can do without messing up, surely. How many times has he chucked raw iron into a furnace without watching, then received by a perfectly melted-down ingot for his efforts? How different can that be to mimic with a tray of cookies? 

Unsurprisingly, it somehow goes wrong.

It turns out cookies and iron are not the same thing. Who would’ve thought? Cookie dough cannot be ‘chucked’ into a furnace; the tray has to be carefully positioned on the iron grill over the fire without being tipped to one side. Otherwise, gravity will take over, dragging the cookies down into the flames. It’s an interesting discovery, but not the best time to make it.

An incoherent stream of shouting bursts from his mouth as the fire rears up, spitting charred dough into Etho’s face in defiance of all laws of physics, and he stumbles away from the heat instinctively. One of the burning ex-cookies lands on the stone floor, rolling towards the wooden cabinets, and all four of them watch in frozen surprise while flames lick the base of the cupboard.

Cleo’s bear is the first to react, nudging her out of her shock. She snatches up a tea-towel and swats at the growing fire like it’s an irritating bug.

“Here, I can help—” Etho tries, but he’s cut off angrily.

“I’ve got this, thanks. I think you’ve helped enough. Just… all three of you go sit in the living room, or something. Get out.”

They don’t mean ‘leave the house,’ and Etho knows that, but his stomach drops anyway. Spilling flour was one thing, but setting the place on fire? Definitely worse. Every inch of him itches to run, yank on his boots and flee back to the village, where Tango, Impulse and Skizz can make fun of his total failure, but he came here with purpose. He won’t waste another winter wondering how his family are from a distance.

His fox isn’t bound by the same mental override, though, fuelled purely by his emotions, and with a yelp, she leaps from the corner to an open window and disappears into the snowy landscape.

“She’ll come back,” Bdubs says cheerfully, patting Etho on the back. “Familiars never run far.” 

Easy for Bdubs to reassure. His ferret is curled securely over his shoulders, sleepy head buried in his mossy jacket, snoring softly. Meanwhile, based on the pang in Etho’s chest, indistinguishable from homesickness, his fox has covered quite a substantial distance. And worryingly, he doesn’t sense she’s gone in the direction of TIES.

“Mm. Probably.”

“Jellie’s never left my side,” Scar comments, waving a cat toy in his Familiar’s general direction and snorting when she pounces for it. From his tone alone, it’s hard to tell whether he means it as a pointed jab or innocent input, except Scar never does anything innocently, and the side-eye he directs at Etho confirms his true intention.

“This little fella neither, but that doesn’t mean Etho’s hates him.” Bdubs scratches his ferret’s head softly. Gee, thanks, Bdubs.

Cleo’s bear pads into the room, closely followed by Cleo themself. They’ve got soot smearing their face and hands, and the heat from the flames has puffed up their hair like an angry cat, but given the house is still intact, Etho assumes they were successful.

“Alright, fire’s out. Couldn’t rescue the cookies though — poor things were burnt to a crisp.” She glares at Etho pointedly. “Totally unsalvageable. Ruined.” 

“Ah.”

“Has your Familiar returned?”

Scar answers for him, still mostly focused on teasing Jellie. “No sign of her. Though since she’s linked to Etho, she’s probably pretty good at leaving and not coming back.” 

“You’re never going to leave that be, are you?”

“Nope!”

“And that’s why Bdubs is my favourite.”

Jellie forgets the cat toy in favour of scampering over and swiping at him with an offended paw. 

“You know what, everyone, this is a golden opportunity!” With a flourish, Bdubs claps his hands together, somehow not waking the creature asleep on his shoulders.

“An opportunity?” Cleo crosses her arms sceptically. 

“To play a game!”

“A game?” Scar and Jellie tilt their heads.

Etho gets what Bdubs is trying to do, and he’s grateful. He’s here for a reason, and he’s determined to see it through, burnt cookies and accidental arson and all. Even if it’s clear his efforts aren’t exactly… appreciated by fifty-percent of the group.

“Yes, Bdubs, excellent idea. I’ll go first, whatever it is you have in mind.”

From the mantle, Bdubs retrieves one of Scar’s top hats, already filled with pre-prepared pieces of paper. He offers it to Etho expectantly, watching with eager brown eyes as he takes a slip and opens it.

“It says—”

“A-bup-bup!” Bdubs interrupts. “Can’t tell us – we gotta guess. Like, um, goodness’ sake… what’s the name?”

“Charades?”

Bdubs nods rapidly in confirmation, settling into the couch beside Cleo. All three of them stare at Etho, waiting for him to begin.

Icing a cake.

He flounders for a moment, unsure how exactly to mime the prompt, and Bdubs takes this as a sign to begin guessing.

“Confused! Going for a swim! Oh, oh, one of those silly inflatable dancing things they have outside the stables!”

“Absent dad who only shows up when it’s convenient to him?”

With a sigh, Etho crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it into the fire. “I haven’t started yet, thanks Cleo.”

“Shh, no talking,” says Scar. “And you shouldn’t throw out the paper – how will we know you’re telling the truth? Although I suppose burning things is second nature for you.”

He’s one to talk. Etho keeps the come-back to himself, though.

Preparing his invisible piping bag, he acts out icing a cake, a mime which one would think would be fairly simple to figure out, except either his guessers are terrible at charades or purposefully dense. (Etho would put money on the latter.) Bdubs shouting every thought that pops into his mind doesn’t help, but at least it covers up the scathing sarcasm of the other two.

In the end, it’s Scar that wins the round, presumably bored of finding ways to not-so-subtly call Etho washed up, so he rolls his wheelchair into the centre of the living room and unfolds his paper. A mischievous glint flickers in his eyes. He flings his prompt into the flames.

It’s not hard to see what he’s miming. First, rolling out balls of cookie dough – Bdubs guesses warming hands by the fire. Then bending down to clumsily place the tray in a furnace – Bdubs guesses posting a letter. And finally, an explosion, flames filling the room – Bdubs guesses… oh, no, that clue is apparently enough for him.

“Etho burning our cookies! Huh, I don’t remember putting that one in the hat…”

“That’s because his paper didn’t actually say that,” Etho says. Scar shrugs innocently.

“I guess we’ll never know, since I threw it into the fireplace. Just taking after my dad, hmm? Maybe I’ll disappear next, or nearly burn down my family’s house.”

“I clearly didn’t mean to do that!” He looks to Cleo beside him for support, but they don’t seem interested in defending him. Not surprising, honestly. Their bear turns its back to him, and if his own Familiar hadn’t run off into the mountains, she’d probably be hissing in frustration.

“Which part, the desertion or the arson? Because you seemed pretty sure of yourself when you galloped off to the village, betrayed us for your fancy Redstone buddies.”

Are they seriously doing this now? Etho didn’t come here for an argument; he came for the winter magic of reconciliation and family. That was how it worked in the stories. Someone showed up on the doorstep with a carol, or a gift, or a box of cookies, and everything worked itself out. Back on good terms by the time the bells were ringing.

Except real life isn’t a story. Oh boy, he’d been naïve, hadn’t he, imagining he could erase their problems with a simple recipe and good intentions? He should know better than anyone that it takes a few explosions before a machine works smoothly. And even then, there will be loose cogs and wonky gears clogging the system, constant repairs, careful attention required.

And setting it on fire, even accidentally, probably won’t help. 

“I’m not sorry for leaving.” Bdubs gasps at the admission. “I like my… ‘fancy Redstone buddies’. We work well together, and they’re good guys. You can’t exactly blame them for disliking you, either – Bdubs almost killed Skizz that one time!”

“Accidentally…”

“But I am sorry for not visiting more often, or only visiting on my own terms. It honestly never occurred to me that showing up uninvited today, even with the suggestion of baking together, was selfish. I’m sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing, Scar, and for almost burning down your kitchen, Cleo, and… well, we actually get along pretty well, Bdubs, so I suppose I’m sorry for being bad at charades?”

The room falls silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace, until a distinct purring sound resonates from Jellie. She stalks over, pouncing on Etho’s lap and curling up happily. He can hardly risk petting her, afraid to move in case he annoys her, but Scar is grinning too.

“My actual prompt was ‘playing solitaire’ – can I draw again?”

As Bdubs and Scar rummage through the top hat of papers, Cleo leans over and whispers to him, in a low tone. “For what it’s worth, it’s nice to see you. Thank you for making the effort occasionally, even if a letter forewarning us would be appreciated. And I’m sorry we never give you much of a chance before the teasing begins.”

He smiles at her, finally daring to scratch Jellie behind the ears.

“Aha! Oh, oh, I know this one – ‘falling asleep’.”

“Bingo,” Scar winks, shooting Bdubs a finger gun. 

They play charades until the light outside dips into an orange glow, the ache in Etho’s chest lessening with each genuine laugh. Cleo nearly loses her mind over no-one guessing ‘carving a statue’, but in Etho’s defence it really did look like she was just hitting a judge’s gavel. 

It’s while Etho is taking his twenty-something-th turn of the evening that there’s a gentle scratching at the window. Outside the frosted glass is a small white fox, blending in with the snowy environment, only visible for her black eyes like melon pips. Her paw pats against the glass again, the gentle tip-tap of claws.

Cleo opens the window for her, and Scar wheels over, gently lowering her into his arms and holding her tight. She doesn’t shy away from him or lash out to frantically reach Etho, just settles against his chest with a happy chatter.

“Look who it is!” Bdubs nudges his ferret awake, gesturing to Etho’s Familiar. “Told you she’d come back.”

Like fire in the bleak midwinter, the ache in Etho’s chest warms and burns away into soot, gentle wisps of smoke dissolving into the darkening sky. She did come back; she felt safe and welcome and enough like she belonged to return. 

“You know what, I think we’ve had enough of charades,” Cleo says, and Etho’s fox yips worriedly. Has he overstayed his welcome? He’s happy to come back another time, but he thought they were finally— “We should still have the ingredients for gingerbread – do you guys fancy building a house?”

As they clatter through to the kitchen, Scar and Bdubs arguing over which style of roof to design, Etho shoots a glance back at their Familiars. 

All four, curled together on the rug in front of the fireplace, Jellie playing with his fox’s tail, Bdubs’ ferret resuming his snoring, Cleo’s bear letting the other three lean against them like a fuzzy brown pillow. He can’t help smiling at the sight.

“Etho?”

“Yep, coming!” 

[egnlotsc]

i guess i like playing with fire (let's fire it up one more time) - egnlotsc

~~Percabeth AU in which Annabeth is forced to go to Athena's college "friend reunion" and encounters one of their sons, Percy, whom last time she saw five years prior was scrawny and annoying, and now looks as if he should be modeling in his free time~~

“Remind me why I have to accompany you to this useless reunion, Athena?” Annabeth snipped, glaring at her mother as she flipped through the fashion magazine on her lap.

Athena gave her daughter a look as she trimmed a leaf on her olive tree, clear annoyance decorating her features. “Is it impossible for you to do a simple task without argument, Annabeth?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, choosing not to entertain her mother’s words. “Just seems pointless. It’s your friends, not mine. I haven’t seen any of these people in years.”

“Neither have I, Annabeth. That’s the point of a reunion.” With a sigh, Annabeth rose from the chair and tucked the magazine under her arm. “I guess I’ll start packing,” she retorted, turning on her heel and pretending not to notice the ever-present disappointment on her mother’s face. It had become a stationary expression.

Annabeth couldn’t remember the last time her mother was proud of her. Maybe when she was born. As she ascended the stairs toward her room, she contemplated how the next few days would play out.

First, they would travel to California, where her mother attended college decades ago. Athena had a tight-knit friend group throughout college to the point where, almost forty years later, they still chose to meet up every five years for a “friend reunion”.

Annabeth had grown up with only two best friends who attended specialty colleges thousands of miles apart. She felt as if talking on the phone with Piper and Rachel a few times a month was enough for her. She didn’t see any use in forcing them to fly to her just so they could have some lunch and talk about the same things they did on the phone.

Annabeth knew she was cynical, but it wasn’t her in character to be overly sentimental. For how harsh and cold her mother was, she was surprised Athena held as much value in the reunions as she did. It didn’t seem to suit her character.

Annabeth was her mother’s daughter, for sure, but this was one area in which she and her mother differed. This meant Annabeth would suffer while her mother would spend hours bragging about some new build she had created or another useless award she had won that month.

It was all trivial and superficial in Annabeth’s eyes. Her mother just wanted a reason to flaunt her accomplishments - as if she didn’t do it enough.

By the time Annabeth was done mentally ranting about her mother’s choices in life, she had messily packed her suitcase - she didn’t pack nicely for occasions she didn’t feel deserved it - and was sitting in her seat on their private jet, her headphones blaring music loud enough to drown out her mother’s endless rambling.

“We will see Sally first…her house is on the way…Percy is your age…not sure if you remember…” Athena’s voice filtered in and out of Annabeth’s range of hearing during pauses in each song.

Annabeth nodded, acting as if the mismatched sentences and phrases made any sort of sense to her. She did catch two names in her mother’s words - Sally and Percy. Anger flitted in her chest as she slowly remembered who they were.

Sally was Athena’s best friend from high school who had attended college with her as well. Sally had a nineteen-year-old son named Percy who had driven Annabeth crazy since she was old enough to comprehend who Percy was. He liked to pull her hair, steal her books, and eat her food. Anything he could do to get under her skin.

She slid an earbud out, glancing at Athena who seemed surprised by her acknowledgment. “Percy is coming?” she asked, deliberately pronouncing each syllable of his name.

Athena was fully aware of her daughter’s hatred of Sally’s son, Annabeth had complained about Percy since she could form sentences. Despite only seeing him every few years, she had practically grown up with him. He had been to Annabeth’s house a few times when they were younger, back when Sally and Athena had more time to see each other.

“Annabeth, be nice. He’s matured a lot since you last saw him.” Annabeth scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her mother’s ridiculous words. “I highly doubt that. I’m not sure his brain matured past the age of fourteen. He probably hit his peak intelligence then.”

Athena shook her head at her daughter once again. “If you continue to speak to him the way you are speaking to me, you are not going to have a pleasant trip. Remember, Annabeth, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Annabeth mouthed her mother’s favorite saying along with her voice, earning another glare from Athena. Athena turned back to her laptop, muttering under her breath loud enough for Annabeth to hear.

“Percy is such a nice boy. Sally and I had always hoped you two would get married.” Annabeth knew with certainty that would never happen. They’d kill each other before they could make it to the altar.

~~~

“Athena!” a loud female voice exclaimed, the sound filling Annabeth’s ears and making her flinch. Annabeth wouldn’t admit it, but she loved Sally. Sally was the complete opposite of her mother, a loving, caring woman who would give the world for her children.

Percy’s baby sister Estelle was propped on Sally’s hip, happily chewing on her pacifier as her mom threw her arms around Athena. Annabeth smiled politely, fiddling with the strap of her sundress uncomfortably. Sally pulled back, gently hugging Annabeth with a wide smile. “My, my, Annabeth, you’re so beautiful! Your mom must be so proud.”

Annabeth resisted scoffing, instead smiling softly at Estelle who made some admittedly adorable baby noises in return. Annabeth began to reply when suddenly, a deep voice interrupted her and the pleasant silence surrounding them.

“Mom! Where is the food? I’m starving!” Annabeth bit back a gasp as the owner of the voice came into view. The boy looked as if he had stepped off the runway ten minutes prior. His tan skin highlighted his lean, muscular figure, and complimented his jet-black hair that fell in a perfect swoop across his forehead.

Trying her best to keep a blush off of her cheeks, Annabeth simply watched as a look of amusement crossed Sally’s face. “It hasn’t been set out yet. You ate on the way here, you can wait another hour or so.”

The boy’s identity become clearer, much to Annabeth’s horror. It was Percy, but sure as hell not the Percy she remembered. The Percy from five years prior was a scrawny high school freshman with braces and hair that stuck up in all directions; not some Greek god that stepped straight of mythology and rivaled the likes of modern male models.

Percy’s shockingly green eyes landed on Annabeth, who had been unsuccessfully attempting not to stare for the past five minutes. A slow smirk spread across his face, causing unwanted butterflies to flit across Annabeth’s stomach.

She couldn’t stand the effect this boy had on her. “Annabeth Chase,” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing with egotistical confidence. Annabeth hardened her expression, lifting her chin slightly in passive acknowledgment. “Hello, Percy,” she replied.

His gaze slid down her figure before settling back on her face. “You’ve changed,” was all Percy said. Annabeth scoffed at his words. “Five years does tend to change a person, especially during puberty.”

“Some things never change, Smartie,” Percy laughed, emphasizing the old nickname he had given Annabeth after he had discovered she enjoyed reading architecture and science books in her free time. A familiar annoyance filed Annabeth at Percy’s remark, and she began to retaliate before Athena placed a hand on her arm.

“Annabeth,” Athena stated, her voice loud enough to drown out Annabeth’s snarky remark towards Percy. “Let’s get settled at our table. I need your assistance with some last-minute decor.”

Percy smirked at the pure rage on Annabeth’s face as her mother dragged her away toward the seating area. Annabeth vowed at that moment to destroy Percy’s massive ego - no matter what it took. It’s about time someone taught him a lesson in manners.

~~~

Percy watched silently as Annabeth moved back and forth across the venue, her yellow sundress hugging her figure in a way he couldn’t help but notice. Her blonde hair fell across her back in soft curls, moving along with her as she ran from table to table setting up silverware and plates.

Popping a cheese cube into his mouth, he tore his gaze away from her - reluctantly - and made his way over to the snack table to refill his plate. As he walked, he pondered the events that had just taken place.

When Percy’s mom had invited him along for the reunion, he had initially refused. At nineteen, he worked a part-time job on top of full-time classes and didn’t see any value in taking off time from work and school to take a road trip across the state just to make small talk with people he hadn’t interacted with in years.

However, his mom seemed to know him better than he knew himself and subtly mentioned Annabeth would be attending. He never missed a chance to mess with her. When she was angry or annoyed, her cheeks turned pink and her gray eyes sparkled in a way that kept him coming back for more. She was addicting.

He had just piled his plate with more cheese and crackers when he realized he could no longer see Annabeth’s form flitting across the patio. Confused, he glanced around, his gaze catching on a small yellow flash moving into the woods surrounding the venue.

He realized with a start it was Annabeth, making her way down the wood’s built-in trail. He knew Athena would lose her shit if her daughter were out of her sight for more than ten minutes at a time, so he was more than intrigued at Annabeth’s sudden disappearance from the action.

Setting his plate down on a nearby table, he made his way towards the small opening in the trees a few hundred feet away. The entrance to the woods was admittedly beautiful, with flowering vines draped across the trees’ branches.

However, Percy was familiar with the outdoors after years of camping with Jason and Grover and knew that the dangers lurked within the expanse of flora. Despite her soft, feminine appearance, even Percy was aware of Annabeth’s inner strength. Annabeth was wicked smart -hence her nickname he was quite proud of - and could very well handle herself.

Even so, Percy refused to let her roam the woods by herself. For the first time since the “friend reunions” began, they had chosen a different venue than their usual as it had been booked out for a wedding.

According to his mom, Athena had a few choice words for the happy couple. Percy could only imagine living in such a household his entire life. No wonder Annabeth always had some sassy remark to each of his taunts. It was annoyingly attractive, the way she could cut down his teasing with a simple sentence - more than it should be.

~~~

Annabeth took a deep breath as she made her way deeper into the woods. Athena had become insufferable, more than usual, during the decorating.

Annabeth had grown tired of hearing “Move that an inch to the left,” or “It’s crooked, Annabeth. You know how design works. You’re the daughter of one of the world’s most famous architects!” and made her escape when her mother disappeared inside the venue in search of a different shade of tablecloths.

At first, the small opening in the woods draped with flowers had seemed inviting. Now, Annabeth wasn’t so sure she had made a smart decision.

The darkness became more potent the further she trekked, the well-worn path becoming less smooth and narrower. It was clear most people didn’t risk going as far as she had. Annabeth prided herself on being a generally brave, fearless person.

Yet, even she could develop reservations from a dark wooded path. Her head snapped up at the sound of rustling nearby. “I know Taekwondo,” she warned the darkness to her left. Despite her fear, her voice was strong. 

“Never let your fear show in your voice or posture, Annabeth. You cannot lose the upper hand.” Her mother’s voice filled her head, providing some form of comfort - at least as much comfort as Athena could provide.

A familiar chuckle resonated, causing Annabeth’s heart to sink as she realized who had caused the rustling. “Good to know. I wasn’t planning on breaking out my Karate skills today, but I’m always up for a match,” Percy responded, stepping out into the small amount of sunlight filtering through the dark cover of leaves above them.

Somehow, the dim light made him even more attractive - Annabeth wasn’t sure that was possible. Annabeth rolled her eyes at his remark, crossing her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here, Percy? How did you even find me?” Percy laughed, a grin breaking across his face. “I noticed you leave and decided to tag along.”

“I needed an escape,” Annabeth replied, beginning to retrace her steps. “Clearly you don’t know how an escape works.” Percy followed her as she made her way back in the direction she had come from.

“Oh, I do. The woods aren’t exactly the safest place, though. I didn’t want you to get lost.” Annabeth scoffed, adjusting the strap of her sundress which had fallen slightly.

Percy followed the movement, suppressing the feelings her bare shoulder conjured inside of him. “How sweet,” Annabeth snipped, brushing a branch out of her way. “I can handle myself.”

Percy smiled at the venom in her tone. “Oh, trust me, I know, Smartie.” Annabeth spun around to face him, her grey eyes filled with fiery anger. “Why do you find such enjoyment in being insufferable?” she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.

Her sudden stop didn’t allow Percy to react in time, and he collided with her, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Percy had landed directly on top of Annabeth, his arms wrapped tightly around her small waist, the hem of her sundress flipped up and exposing her thigh.

He couldn’t keep the blush from his cheeks as he took in their position, slowly looking at Annabeth whose expression, for a split second, was one he couldn’t decipher before it switched back to her usual combination of annoyance and superiority.

Even so, her cheeks were as red as his, betraying her true feelings. Annabeth struggled against his grasp, glaring at him as he failed to let go of her for a few seconds. “Percy,” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Let me go.” Percy shot her a grin before lifting himself off of her, holding out a hand to help her up.

She instead pushed herself up, ignoring his outstretched hand, and brushed off the back of her sundress. “This dress was new,” she griped, her cheeks still painted pink with a telling blush. “Not my fault you decided to stop in the middle of the pathway,” he replied, holding his hands up in a sarcastic gesture of surrender.

“God, you’re impossible,” Annabeth groaned, running a hand through her slightly-messy hair. Narrowing her gaze at him, she stepped closer, her lips pursed in repressed fury. “You never answered my question,” she stated, her crossed arms pushing the front of her dress down slightly. It was incredibly distracting for Percy. She didn’t seem to know just how gorgeous she was.

“It’s fun,” was Percy’s response, the tension between them palpable. Annabeth threw her hands in the air, turning on her heel to continue walking. The motion caused her sundress to swish across her legs, making Percy clench his fists to prevent reaching out and pulling her into his arms.

“Annabeth, wait. Let me help you find your way back.” Annabeth was already several hundred feet away, her footsteps becoming quieter with each passing moment. “I can handle myself!” she yelled back, disappearing into the darkness.

Percy sighed heavily, beginning to follow. Annabeth said he was insufferable? She was the same way.

~~~

Annabeth had lost track of how long she had been walking. At this point, she couldn’t even tell if she had walked in the same direction the whole time. She felt as if she was underwater, in the middle of the ocean, unable to tell which way was up or down.

Her breathing had become faster as the minutes progressed. The darkness seemed to stretch on for miles, with only a small sliver of light hitting the ground from the gaps in the leaves above.

She could no longer hear Percy’s steady footsteps behind her, which worried her further. As much as she hated to admit it, she was glad he had come after her.

Annabeth had become accustomed to being alone due to her mother’s frequent business trips, meetings, and awards ceremonies as well as an absentee father. She couldn’t remember the last time a check had come in the mail from him.

However, there were moments when she hated being alone. Deep down, she knew this was one of them. Annabeth may have been raised a strong, independent woman who could handle herself, but it didn’t mean she didn’t wish for another’s presence at times.

Glancing behind her, she only saw darkness as she tried to make out a glimpse of Percy’s form, or even hear the soft crunching of leaves beneath his feet. Annabeth soon realized she had made a mistake turning her head when she tripped over a stray tree root in the ground she hadn’t seen.

Time seemed to slow as Annabeth lost her balance once again, falling forward with her arms outstretched in anticipation of impact. Sharp pain shot through her wrists and arms as she collided with the ground, the sharp rocks and twigs digging into her skin.

Annabeth had let out a startled cry when she fell, which had thankfully alerted Percy of her location as she soon heard fast footsteps and his familiar voice yelling her name. Percy came into view, his eyes wide in alarm as he scanned the area.

“Down here,” Annabeth whispered, the wind knocked out of her lungs and a persistent, throbbing pain radiating from her left foot. “Oh my god, Annabeth,” Percy exclaimed, concern etched across his features as he knelt on the ground next to her. “What happened, Beth?” he asked, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic softness.

Despite the pain she was in, Annabeth blushed at the tenderness in his tone and the shortened version of her name. No one had ever called her that. It was her new favorite thing. “I tripped over a tree root. I think I hurt my ankle,” she replied, gesturing towards her foot which she realized was turned at a slight angle.

Percy gently reached towards her foot, his face gravely serious as he touched her ankle ever so slightly. Annabeth whimpered softly at the contact, causing Percy to quickly retract his hand.

“It’s definitely swollen. We need to get you some sort of medical attention,” he stated. “I don’t want you to walk on it, Beth. I’ll have to carry you.” Annabeth shook her head fervently, her face flaming at the thought. “I’m fine, I can walk.”

Percy shot her look which effectively stopped her in her tracks. “Please don’t argue. Let me help you.” Annabeth slowly nodded, sitting up so he could slip his arm behind her back.

Percy then slid his other arm under her knees, bracing himself to stand. “Hold on tight,” he instructed, slowly lifting her. She winced when her foot lifted, the movement causing sharp pain to shoot through her leg.

“I think it’s broken, Percy,” she whispered, her eyes landing on his sympathetic green ones. “It’s okay, Beth. Just hold on tight. I’ll get us back.” Annabeth nodded, burying her head in Percy’s shoulder and breathing in his intoxicating oceanic scent.

She felt so comfortable in his arms, a feeling of belonging she hadn’t felt in years. Somehow, she knew she’d be okay in his care, which shocked her to her core. Annabeth couldn’t believe how much trust she held in this boy whom she had hated for so long.

~~~

Percy held Annabeth’s body closer to his chest, secretly enjoying her warmth and the way she felt in his arms. Her skin was soft, her hair smelling of a sweet lemon shampoo. Percy’s heart was beating so fast, he would be shocked if Annabeth hadn’t noticed.

The effect she had on him was unbelievable. Percy sighed in relief as the trail become lighter, sunlight filtering across Annabeth’s body as the trees began to open up and the path cleared.

“We made it,” he whispered, watching as Annabeth’s head lifted off his shoulder. A soft smile drifted across her face, her eyes lighting up. “It feels so good to see light,” she whispered, glancing up at him.

Percy opened his mouth to agree with her statement when Annabeth moved suddenly, cutting him off. All coherent thought left Percy’s brain in an instant as the feeling of her soft lips pressing against his filled his senses.

She was overwhelming - in the best way possible. Annabeth’s scent, her hand resting on his cheek, and the soft brush of her tongue against his bottom lip were all he could focus on.

After a few seconds that felt more like a few hours, she pulled back, a wide smile across her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, brushing his cheek with her fingers before turning back to face the entrance of the woods in front of them.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as Percy’s brain hyper-focused on what had just happened. He didn’t register his mom and Athena’s concerned exclamations as they noticed Percy carrying Annabeth fireman-style out of the woods, or the 911 call made by Athena, or the stretcher Annabeth was placed on. His world had just tilted on its axis - and he wasn’t sure he would ever be the same.

~~~

Eight Years Later

“Mommy,” Chase whined in the way only a three-year-old can, clutching his stuffed owl tightly in his tiny fists. “Where are we going?” Annabeth smiled at her son, scooping him up and kissing him all over the face. He giggled happily.

“To see Grammy!” she exclaimed, watching as Chase’s face lit up. “Gammy!” he cheered joyously, squirming in her arms. “C’mon, baby,” Annabeth said, lowering Chase to the floor and taking his hand. “Let’s get in the car!”

Annabeth slid the SUV’s door open, smiling widely at her son as she reached over and unbuckled him. He scrambled into her arms, scanning the area in search of his grandma.

It was sweet how much he loved Athena, a blessing Annabeth had been asking for since he was born. Athena turned out to be an amazing grandparent, transforming into a loving, kind, caring grandma who looked out for her grandchild. She had even stepped up her mother game, supporting Annabeth more than she ever had. Annabeth couldn’t ask for more.

Athena appeared at Annabeth’s side, pulling her daughter into a hug before holding out her arms for Chase. “Hey, buddy!” she exclaimed, balancing her grandson on her hip. “Let’s go find Aunt Sally!”

Annabeth watched with a wide smile as they made their way to the seating area where Sally was standing, talking with one of her and Athena’s college friends. Annabeth was about to turn around to lock up the car when a deep, cocky voice interrupted her.

“Smartie! Look who decided to grace us with her presence!” Annabeth rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel to face the man behind her, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” she retorted, watching as Percy’s gaze slid down her body, pausing ever so slightly on her chest. “My eyes are up here,” she scoffed. Percy laughed, stepping closer. “C’mon, Beth, can’t I admire my wife? After all, she is the prettiest woman on the face of the Earth.”

Annabeth laughed, uncrossing her arms. The light caught on the sparkling rings on her left hand, speckling across Percy’s confident expression. “That might be an exaggeration, Perce,” she replied, laughing softly as her husband pulled her against his chest in one quick motion.

She looked up at Percy with wide eyes, blushing slightly at the look on his face. “I never lie, Beth,” he said before pulling her face to his, his lips moving across hers in a way that never failed to fill her stomach with butterflies, even eight years after their first kiss.

When Percy pulled away, she interlocked their hands and they made their way towards the reunion which was in full force. Listening to the happy giggles of Chase in the distance, she glanced up at her husband who was watching him with a look of such love. In that moment, Annabeth knew she had found her forever - with someone she had never expected.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Oliver and His Company

[A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but if you want context on Aaron & reader’s relationship, find their story here and here! Enjoy 🖤]

4 times Aaron Hotchner refused to admit that he’s a cat person…

1) A Spicy Upgrade

“I swear, Em, it was like an out of body experience,” you tell your best friend through the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you balance grocery bags in one hand and fish your keys out of your pocket with the other.

“So everything was just backwards?” Emily laughs.

“Yes!” you cry, equal parts miffed by your dream and excited to have somehow slotted the key into the lock in the correct orientation without looking. “Pen was, like, fifty shades of beige, and everyone else was super bright and colorful! Hotch was wearing a suit worthy of Elle Woods herself,” you assert.

“I would pay a stupid amount of money to see that,” your best friend snickers. “Can we please get him a pink suit?”

“Not gonna lie, he looked pretty hot,” you muse quietly as you shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. “I’ll work on…that…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, sorry to have worried her. “Just found my man in an interesting position. Call you later, love you, bye,” you rush out in a whisper, ending the call and snapping a photo for your personal album before the opportunity disappears. Clearing your throat, you place the last of the grocery bags on the counter with a solid thud. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

Aaron’s answer is muffled given the fact his head is currently in the spice cabinet, the rest of his tall form tucked under him, ass comically up in the air for better leverage. You bend down with a groan and open the adjacent cabinet to pop your head in, meeting his sheepish smile and reddening cheeks. Pressing your lips to his, you murmur, “I didn’t quite get that.“

“I said-” He pauses to capture your lips in another sweet kiss, and the butterflies that have taken up residence in your belly since the first day you met Aaron Hotchner stir to life. “I read online that it’s easier for cats to open doors with handles than knobs, so I’m fixing all the doors before you move in.”

“You’re what?” You bump your head against the top of the cabinet in shock, letting out a harsh curse that you’re glad Jack isn’t around to hear.

“Oh, honey,” Aaron tuts softly, unfolding himself from his spot to help you out and delicately rubbing the tender area on the back of your head.

“You- by yourself- you’re swapping out every single handle in this house for Oliver?” You don’t mean to sound incredulous, but there’s no way this man is real. Then again, he bought this house six months into your relationship so that you could each have an office space and ample room for Jack and one or two additional little Hotchners to grow up- although he hadn’t divulged the latter part of that plan to you when he gifted you a key.

“I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“No,” you cut him off immediately, molding your palms against his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss, your lips quirking up in a victorious grin. “It sounds like something a loving cat dad would do.”

Aaron scoffs before muttering, “Just don’t want him getting stuck, that’s all.”

“Right,” you draw out the word, one eyebrow raised playfully. “Totally not cause you’re a cat person. And that’s why I spotted an empty box sporting a picture of a cat tree as tall as you in the garage?”

“I never said I dislike cats, I’m just a dog guy!” Aaron insists, his words falling on deaf ears as you playfully hum a tune from The Aristocats while arranging the groceries in the fridge and he returns to his project.

2) A Sleepy Surprise

Toeing your shoes off in the mud room, you call out, “Boys? I’m home!” The novelty of getting to say those words has yet to wear off even though the last of your moving boxes are piled up on the curb, waiting to be recycled.

There’s no answering pitter patter of feet in the hallway nor voices greeting your arrival, but the sneakers lined up next to yours- one large pair in understated colors, one much smaller pair with Darth Vader on one shoe and Luke Skywalker on the other- tell you your little family is definitely home. You place your car keys on their designated hook before making your way down the hall, pausing at the threshold of the living room with a smile on your face at the sight before you.

Aaron’s lying on his back, his tall form taking up the entire length of the couch, with Jack tucked into his side and an orange ball of fur curled up on his chest, rising and falling with each peaceful breath of his. You let out a content sigh, warmth blooming in your chest from the overwhelming sense of comfort and love these three have brought into your life. Holding your hair back so it doesn’t tickle your darling boy’s face, you press a delicate kiss to his cheek and his mouth turns upward for the briefest of moments. Then you nuzzle your nose against the soft fur between your cat’s ears, and he stirs with a half-hearted chirp before curling up even tighter on his literal man-made bed.

“You’re home,” Aaron murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper with a guilty pout, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to make dinner.”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far, and you turn back to find just who exactly Jack inherited the puppy dog eyes from. “We can order in tonight. Stay with me?”

You gesture to the full couch and ask, “Where?”

Aaron tips his chin down to see Oliver purring contentedly on his chest, and he taps his head until the cat sits up with bleary eyes. “You’re in your mom’s spot.”

You stifle a laugh as your cat pointedly yawns in your boyfriend’s face, then takes his time using Aaron’s solid body to stretch before flouncing away in search of a bed with less attitude. Aaron looks up at you with a self-satisfied grin and pats the newly vacated space. Shaking your head as you ease yourself down to lay across his body, you chide, “That was mean.”

“Never too young to learn about sharing,” he pontificates.

“Mm, yes, what a poignant lesson from father to son,” you respond, voice muffled against Aaron’s chest.

“Step-cat, at best. And don’t you even say it- I’m not a cat person.”

“Sure, babe.”

3) A New Purr-spective

“Jack-Jack,” you call out with a knock against the doorframe to get the little Hotchner’s attention. He looks up from his latest art project with a smile and says, “Yeah?”

“Daddy washed your uniform so you’re all set for tomorrow’s game. And I wanted to ask you about…this,” you offer hesitantly, flipping the shirt in your hands around so he can see Hotchner displayed at the top and the number matching his jersey. “Would it be okay if I wore this so we can match?”

“Does Daddy have one, too?” His excitement- and nonchalance about you sporting their last name- has relief flooding through you, and you mirror his eager smile.

“Of course! Except his is even cooler cause it says ‘Coach’ on the front,” you respond with a click of your teeth. “I made one for Uncle Dave, too!”

“Awesome. You’re the best!” Jack proclaims.

“No, you are.”

“Nu uh, you,” he insists.

“Nope! You!” You let the word be drawn out as you make your escape down the hall, peals of laughter from Jack’s room echoing behind you.

“I have received official approval to wear my shirt,” you announce as you cross into the master bedroom, only to find the space empty. You can hear Aaron’s voice in hushed tones from the walk-in closet, so you approach quietly thinking that he’s on the phone.

“…not exactly your textbook psychopath, right?” He pauses, then continues, “Right. So there must be a piece of the profile we’re missing, something that explains the evolution of the kills with the alarming disorganization of the crime scenes. Do you think we could be dealing with two unsubs?”

Aaron’s phone is on the bedside table, and he’s using both hands to wrestle one of his dress shirts onto a hanger. Then, you spot his silent partner- Oliver’s sitting in his bed, in the nook that Aaron built into the closet for him, languidly cleaning his paws as your boyfriend theorizes aloud.

“So,” you start, crossing your arms and leaning against the wide doorframe, “you still maintain that you’re not a cat person?”

You can see the back of Aaron’s neck turning red at having been caught, but he studiously carries on putting the clean laundry away. Without turning to face you, he asserts, “I’m just… using him as a soundboard. Animals are excellent judges of character.”

“Congratulations, Ollie,” you offer proudly to your son, “you’re the very first cat to join the Behavioral Analysis Mew-nit.”

“Now that’s bad, even for you,” Aaron chuckles, and you bark out a, “Hey!” with faux umbrage. “When are you going to admit you love this cat?”

“I do love this cat,” your boyfriend counters, finally turning to face you. He curls his arm around your waist to pull you against him and speaks between kisses dotted along your nose and cheeks, “I’m just not a cat person.”

Smoothing your hands across his chest with playfully narrowed eyes, you mutter, “The Hotchner doth protest too much, methinks.”

4) Paw-sitively Whipped

“Bedtime, my little bubbas,” you raise your voice to be heard over the churning of the dishwasher as it starts up, drying your hands on a towel while you walk into the living room. Jack is sprawled out on the floor, flicking a feather toy on a stick back and forth that has Ollie frantically giving chase. You’re honestly not sure which little guy is more entertained by the game. “But I’m helping Oliver get his exercise! Daddy says he’s looking chunky lately,” Jack negotiates.

You and your cat turn to Aaron in unison, the man in question suddenly engrossed in an article on his phone. “Daddy’s lawyer genes certainly passed on to you, huh, Jack?” The little Hotchner grins proudly up at you in response, but even that sweet face doesn’t break your resolve. “C’mon, my love, we left off at a really good cliffhanger last night, remember?”

“You’re right,” Jack gasps, suddenly inspired to get ready for bed. “I’ll be ready in two minutes!”

“Make it three- you need to brush your teeth for a full two, Jack,” Aaron calls as he zooms past you to his bathroom.

“Okay!”

“Alright, Weight Watchers,” you snort, tweaking Aaron’s nose while he looks up at you sheepishly, “who’s on reading duty tonight?”

“I’ve got it,” he declares, tugging on your hand to guide you into his open lap. You settle against him with a sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pressing lazy kisses to his skin. Aaron turns his head to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly grows more heated, and you let out a whimper when he cups the back of your neck to hold you more firmly to him until Jack’s little voice rings out down the hall.

“I’m ready for bed!”

“And that’s your cue, Daddy,” you laugh, patting his chest fondly before detaching yourself from him.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he declares in a murmur, and you can’t resist a smack to his shapely ass before parting ways in the hall.

You run through your own nightly routine, then make your way back to Jack’s room to say goodnight. You find Aaron with his son settled on his lap as he reads, and Ollie is settled on his favorite boy’s lap, purring up a storm. Your boyfriend is absentmindedly scratching his chin, pausing only to turn to the next page in the book. Then Aaron shifts to hold the book with both hands, and Ollie bats at his arm until he relents and resumes petting him. He looks up to find you standing in the doorway, the ghost of a smirk twitching at your lips, and you mouth, You are so a cat person.

He smiles back and shakes his head in response, refusing to give in.

…and the 1 time he finally did.

When you open the front door, you’re surprised to find the house dark. Given your shared line of work and healthy dose of paranoia, you and Aaron always leave at least one light on when the house is empty. But then you hear Jack giggle, “She’s coming!” and Aaron quietly shushing him, and a smile graces your face at whatever adorable surprise awaits you.

You flip on the light to find the foyer decorated with balloons dancing across the ceiling and streamers hanging down, each one adorned with pictures of you and Aaron, you and Jack, and your little family together. Your eyes immediately well up with tears seeing all the memories you’ve created and thinking about all the love you’ve been blessed with thanks to this family.

You walk through, awestruck, touching the Polaroids and printed pictures as you pass them. By the time you reach the living room and your eyes settle on Aaron with Jack standing pressed against his leg, your little boy holding your cat in his arms, you’re damn near sobbing.

“This is why you sent me to get my nails done, huh?” you ask through a half sniffle, half laugh. “You boys certainly were busy.”

Aaron smiles at you and holds out his free hand, and you grab onto him like a lifeline, letting him pull you in before bending down to press a flurry of kisses along Jack’s squishy cheeks. Ollie lets out a squeak of protest in the same timbre as Jack’s ticklish giggle, and you relent your attack with a pleased grin.

“Jack has a very important question to ask you,” Aaron murmurs, then winks at his son.

Jack raises Ollie up as high as he can, not unlike the scene out of The Lion King, and a glint of light flashes at you from your cat’s collar.

“Aaron,” you breathe out, moments before Jack excitedly asks, “Will you marry us, Y/N?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer softly, looking up at Aaron as if he hung all the stars in the sky to find your adoring gaze reflected in his eyes.

—————

Lying in bed that night tangled up between the sheets and Aaron’s legs, you absentmindedly trail your fingers across his chest and muse, “Mighty interesting that a vehemently self-proclaimed not cat person would use a cat to propose, isn’t it?”

“You’re still on this, hm?” he murmurs from above you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Merely making an observation,” you answer back lazily, then roll over until you body is nestled between his legs, your hands pressed against his chest so you can look at him directly. “I lied, I’m still on this,” you concede with a playful grin. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you’re not a cat person, Aaron Hotchner.”

He hums, then leans up to capture your lips in a series of soft, slow kisses that nearly make you forget your name, let alone the challenge you’ve posed. “Can’t do that, honey,” he finally admits between pecking your lips.

“Cause you are!”

He laughs, his fingers ghosting up and down your spine. Aaron notices you shiver under his touch and pulls the sheets up higher on your body while you settle against the warmth and security of his broad chest. “Honestly, I have been since day one.”

“Oh yeah?” You attempt to goad him, but your sass come out muffled thanks to your lips pressed to his skin.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if you haven’t been lovingly arguing about this for over a year now. “He was your cat, and I’m a you person.”

Pushing against him to stretch up and level him with a raised eyebrow, you clarify, “Wait. He was my cat?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now Ollie’s ours.”

“Everybody thinks you’re such a hardass, but you’re really a big teddy bear, Aaron,” you tease before pressing your lips to his.

“I’m admittedly both,” he concedes with a chuckle, pausing to kiss you again before adding, “and a reformed cat person.”

—————

[A/N: I absolutely adored writing these two and I enjoyed getting to sprinkle in a healthy dose of cat puns 😂 Thank you all for reading!]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner