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Title: It Will Come Back

Pairing: Deimos-postDeimos!Alexios x Fem!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: You pluck an arrow from his back and he turns around like Eros and shoots you right in the heart. 

SPARTAN AND ATHENIAN dead litter the shores of Amphipolis –a feast for crows. Though among the dead few are luckily have clung to life. A wave of healers and physicians from both sides descend to collect those injured and those who had already taken the journey across the Styx with Charon.

You bear the mark of Athena –a servant of Athens. Combing the field of battle, you look for soldiers who wear the blue color of Athens. The first man you turn over is dead – his throat slashed and entrails exposed. Another is barely alive, having lost his hand and sustained a long and jagged gash on his calf. Shock will set in soon if he is not tended to. You hold up the silver medallion fastened around your neck –it glints in the sun and soon after two men come forward with a crude stretcher to take the soldier to the infirmary tent.

The next is beyond saving –his right eye is bulging from its socket, a minor grievance in comparison to the shattered back of his skull. He cannot speak, but his delirious eyes say it all. End this. I beg you. You’d never enjoyed this part of your duty. It didn’t feel right for a healer to take life –regardless, you draw the dagger from the sheath on your belt and position the tip of the blade next to his larynx. Pushing down with your weight, the dagger sinks into flesh and then you pull the cutting edge toward you. It’s a clean-cut that will grant the soldier peace before he can take another labored breath.

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Hi! I would like to request a one-shot for Alexios. Can it be where he finds another demise god that didnt know until the Cult tries to find her, so he then takes her in and then they fall in love? Some fluff and angst and *cough* other stuff if you want to. Thank you and I love your work!!!

Here you go! Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️ Alexios x fem!Reader

ALEXIOS LINGERS IN the shadows —watching, waiting, listening. Those in the agora pointed him to Kresilas's Residence to the south of Kydonia, near the Temple of Artemis Diktynna. Between the clues and the whispers overheard in the cave beneath the Sanctuary of Delphi, his search for Melite has led him here to Messara. Another cultist to fall upon the Spear of Leonidas.

The sea breeze rustles the dry shrubs and carries more whispers. The old fortress one of the guards mentions, looking toward the towers rising along the rocky coast see if he can squeeze out any information. Alexios flexes his fingers, draws in a slow breath, and disappears into the night. He will find Melite at the Kydonian Fort. 

The fort is built on the ruins of a lost civilization, and the tunnels beneath wind into the darkness. Alexios follows them until they spit him out into a cavernous room with felled stone columns and wooden scaffolding with a line of iron holding cells. The fort’s prison. At the center is a whipping post, and strung up by shackles is a woman, beaten and bloody with a man circling her —Melite. Alexios moves along with the shadows cast by the burning braziers, steadily moving closer.

Blood fills your mouth. Melite’s torturer had done a fine job. Your struggles earned you a bloody nose and mouth and three fewer fingernails. Four more, and Melite promised they would start taking fingers and toes. He tilts your head back, and through one strained eye, you can make out his twisted smile. It’s the same questions every day. Who is your father? Where is your father? Questions to which you know not the answer and not even lies will suffice to spare you from the pain. 

“I told you I don’t know!” You cry, voice cracked and strained. The same answer you’ve given a dozen times over. “I grew up an orphan in the streets of Kyrene.” Tears streak your face, carving paths through the dried blood and filth from the endless days. Melite shakes his head and loses the flaying knife on his belt, but Alexios will watch no longer. 

The Eagle Bearer surges forward, nigh silent, and thrusts the broken spear up and into Melite’s back. The point of the Leonidas spear emerges from the Cultist’s chest, bloody but shining in the firelight of the burning braziers. Melite goes limp in seconds with no resistance, no sound. Alexios pushes the corpse aside, but you shuffle back as much as you can —startled and frightened, unsure if this stranger is your savior or destruction.

Alexios reaches behind him, slowly, sheathing his spear back to its place on his quiver, then lifts his empty hands to show he means no harm. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, reaching up to unbind your fetters. Your arms drop down, and you rub the broken skin on your wrists —the rush of blood brings throbbing pain.

“I’m Alexios,” he says, introducing himself as he kneels in front of you, frowning at the dried blood and bruises on your face. He helps you stand on shaking knees, but there is something strange about his touch —something calling to you, as though you’ve found something you hadn’t even known was lost. “Do you have anywhere to go?” He asks, and you shake your head; it’s been years since you had anywhere you would dare call home.

HE CAN NOT leave you like this, so Alexios returns to the Adrestia. There is always room for another aboard the old trireme, but above all, Alexios needs to know if you had felt the same spark when his fingertips first brushed against yours. He has no doubt members of the Cult can be cruel for cruelty's sake, but there must be a reason Melite kept you. When your legs can no longer hold you upright, Alexios lifts you into his arms and makes his way down through the city and to the docks, and by the time he reaches the Adrestia, you are fast asleep —or unconscious, he is not sure which it is.

Barnabas and Herodotus are quick to make room when Alexios steps onto the trireme’s deck, calling Leda and Iola to help. They will have more skill than he and the others and a kinder touch to tend the open and angry wounds —Leda assures the Eagle Bearer that you will be in good hands and tells him not to linger, for there is little he can do now besides wait.

Alexios nods, looking back toward the fortress from whence he came and to the city. The answers he seeks must lie within. “Where are you going?” The old captain calls when Alexios sets back off for the heart of Kydonia.

“I still need answers,” he replies, raising the hood of his dark chlamys before disappearing amongst the dockworkers and merchants preparing for the day.

ALEXIOS RETURNS IN the dark of night after several days with newfound answers, more questions, and his pockets heavy with drachmae. Almost everyone is asleep, above or below deck. Several rowers sit on the edge of the deck, legs dangling over the water as they pass a skin of wine back and forth. He goes to the helm, standing in the center of the painted Hellas map, wondering where the winds will take him next. Running a hand over his face, he sits one on of the stern benches, then removes his sword and quiver, placing them within arm’s reach.

Though, he doesn’t expect to see you looking at him from the opposite side of the Adrestia —eyes shining in the moon and starlight. The cuts have all scabbed over, healing cleanly by the looks of it, and the bruises are fading, but Alexios knows healing physically is only half of the battle to recover. “Thank you,” you tell him, smile still weak and tired. It breaks him from his trance.

“What did they want with you?” Alexios asks, then curses himself for asking such a callous question. He has his suspicions even if he has no answers.

Your gaze flicks away, wondering how big a fool you’ll sound for speaking the truth of why Melite had captured you and strung you up for days. "They think I have the blood of hereos," you start, looking back to Alexios, but there is no ridicule in his gaze. He believes you. “Because of my father, whoever the malákas is.”

Alexios picks up the Leonidas spear and holds it out. Your brows furrow on seeing the broken spear, uncertain why he is offering it to you. “Hold this,” he says, placing the wooden lance into your palm and curling your bandaged fingers around the cloven weapon.

What happens next cannot be described. Eyes slipping shut, you focus on the spear and the energy thrumming through your body —calling to something that has yet to be fully awakened. Alexios knows you must feel something from your sharp inhale. “Do you feel it?” He asks. “Power, warmth, strength?” You nod, releasing the broken spear and focusing on him once more. “Then you do have the blood of heroes,” he tells you, lips quirking upward in a kindly smile. “As do I.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, unsure if you can process everything that has happened so quickly. None of it makes sense. You’d grown up without a family —on the streets of Kyrene— stealing food, conning those who came as tourists, and working small jobs to afford the clothes on your back. An odd start in life for someone with the blood of ancient heroes.

“Melite was a member of the Cult of Kosmos,” Alexios explains, and you nod weakly, having heard your captor speak of the Cult before and their penultimate goal of world order. In Egypt, the whispers were of a different group —the Order of Ancients. “I’m hunting them down. They have…” his voice trails off, searching for the right words though you can see the pain and anger flare up in his tawny gold eyes, chasing away the kindness, “…wronged my family.” Part of you is curious, and a budding question forms on the tip of your tongue, but the other part already knows the answer after having endured Melite’s hospitality.

He reaches out unwittingly, the backs of his fingers brushing over the fading bruise on your cheek. Alexios finds strange comfort in being this close —and he can’t help but wonder. You and he are the same, and it feels good to know he’s not alone anymore. You search his expression, unable to decipher what Alexios is thinking, but a fleeting smile kinks his lips. “You can stay, if you like,” he starts, knowing the Cult would never stop hunting you or him, not until they are all ripped from Hellas by the root. “I will protect you.” Alexios means it as a promise.

THE STARS SHINE bright overhead, and the waves softly rock the Adrestia to and fro. Time has slipped from your grasp since joining Alexios and the others —all you know is the wounds inflicted by Melite and his myrmidons no longer ail you, having left faint scars. Now, it all seems like a bad dream from a distant memory. You lie in the center of the painted map, Alexios’s head is next to yours, his legs extended in the opposite direction. He looks at you; all his curiosities have yet to be slaked. “Kyrene,” he starts, having heard you speak of the city before, “where is that?”

“South. In Libya,” you tell him, remembering the many days and nights you spent underneath the stars there, wishing one day to be able to run far away. But it's the surrounding red-rock faces and fields of flowers that you are most fond of when thinking back to childhood. “They grow poppy and silphium there.” You shift, turning to look at him. There remains much you do not know about the man who rescued you from the grasp of the Cult of Kosmos. All you know is he is kind, handsome, charming, and has the blood of ancient heroes flowing through his veins —the same as you. “Where are you from, Alexios?” You ask, wondering if he will tell you about himself. 

“I was born in Sparta,” he explains, not ready to tell you of his past yet, especially given what happened when he returned to Mount Taygetos, “but grew up on Kephallonia.” For years he dreamed of the quickest way to leave the island and its miserable inhabitants behind. Now he almost longs to return to the simplicity of life before Elpenor showed up and offered him the contract for the Wolf of Sparta. He would gladly take the Cyclops over the Cult of Kosmos.

The name of the island piques your interest, knowing Ithaka lay just off its shores —and you know the stories of the great people who hailed from there. “Have you seen Odysseus’s palace?” The tales of Odysseus and the Trojan War had been among your favorite to listen to from storytellers and your favorite to watch when sneaking into the Kyrene theatre.

He nods. “The ruins,” Alexios says, “yes.” The great palace is nothing more than felled stones, fading paint, and crumbling columns —overrun by bandits and deserters from the war between Sparta and Athens. Alexios looks back at the stars with a soft sigh. “I found the Shroud of Penelope among the ruins,” he starts. You turn on your side, smiling, hoping he will tell you more of his discoveries and victories.

YOU INSIST UPON learning how to fight properly, and Alexios finds out just how stubborn you can be. He relents after you pulled Barnabas to your side of the argument. Despite his promise, Alexios will not always be around to protect you. He circles you on the deck of the Adrestia, appraising how you hold your short sword and shield —a heavy bronze piece with the fading colors of Lakonia. “Keep your shield up,” he instructs. You heft it up farther so the curved edge hides your chin and nose. Alexios nods his approval. 

“You are Spartan,” you refute, following his pace. “Why do you not use a shield?”

“Slows me down,” he answers. Alexios had not endured the agoge, had not learned to fight with spear and shield in the Spartan way. Everything he knows has come by harsh ordeals —fighting to survive. It’s by sheer luck he’s managed to come out of so many scuffles unscathed. He sees the protest forming on your tongue, and before you can say anything, he shakes his head, pushing your shield back up into position. “But first, you must survive the fight,” he says, smiling. “And a shield will help with that.” You know he is right, even if it seems you could be just as quick as him. “Good,” he remarks, stepping back. 

Alexios lashes out without warning, his blunt sparring sword swinging low. Enemies would not be so courteous as to give a warning during a fight. You bend at the knees and lower the shield to block the blow and push back. “Better.” Then he is upon you again, blunt blade thrusting forward, but it skids off the bronze shield and to the side. It’s then you catch the opening, an opportune moment, and press forward —throw your weight behind the shield and into him. The force of the sudden impact is enough to send Alexios backward. He doesn’t regain his balance fast enough and finds himself on his back, looking up at you —surprised. 

You smile at him, and from the helm of the Adrestia the old captain laughs. “Hubris, my friend,” Barnabas calls. 

THE POPPY FIELDS of Samos are in bloom under the summer sun, their petals a bright orange-red against the clear blue water. Since hearing you speak of Kyrene and fields of flowers, Alexios has made it a point to bring you here. But it is only now that the winds have been kind enough to guide the Adrestia back east after a lengthy pursuit of four more members of the Cult of Kosmos —only a few weeds remained to pluck from the earth.

As Alexios looks upon you, it is hard to see the same woman he’d found so long ago. Before him a warrior, though with more to learn in time. And that pesky feeling tugs at his heart again when he sees how the sunlight and shadows dance across your face. 

You’ve caught him staring, he knows you have from the blossoming warmth on your cheeks and the almost shy downturn of your gaze, but it’s no matter. You step toward him and reach for one of his hands hesitantly. “Thank you for everything, Alexios,” you start, knowing words are not enough to express your gratitude for his friendship. Had he not found you…you don’t care to imagine what would have happened. “You’ve been so kind to me.”

Something is shining in your eyes Alexios has not seen before or at least has not taken notice of until now. It makes his throat feel tight and his heart heavy. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he says. Your brows furrow with how close he is and how his dark gaze flits down to your lips, you can’t help the way it makes your heart start to pound. “I may do something I regret.” He’s not going to let this moment slip away. Alexios’s fingertips brush over your cheek and back into your hair, then he leans in, warm breath ghosting across your lips. “Like this.”

His lips are soft and rough, with the slightest hint of salt from the sea breeze upon them, and his kiss is slow and confident. He cradles the back of your neck, and you meld into him, arms slipping over his shoulders to draw him closer. The spark you both felt upon first meeting flares back to life, turning to flame. “Alexios.” His name is a breathless whisper as you both part, his forehead resting against yours, then his arms settle around your waist —a gentle cage you do not wish to be freed from.

“Stay with me,” Alexios says. He does not wish to be parted from you after the gods brought you into his life —you are the same as he, and Alexios does not want to be alone in this world again. You smile and make your promise with a slow and sweet kiss, and Alexios’s lips tug into a smile against your own.

[ Alexios taglist: @wallsarecrumbling @novastale​ @maximalblaze @erzsebetrosztoczy @kitkitvm @overratedsun @alexandra-alle @thepreciouspurrsian @missmannequin @chaotic-spooky @mrsragnarlodbrok @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Alexios taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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something unrealistic about Golden Wind is that Bruno’s suit doesn’t jingle with every movement. how tf is he so stealthy? you’d hear this man from a mile away thanks to those pull-tab charms.

I made this video to show what he should sound like:

jingle jingle

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The Perfect Offering

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Paring: Alexios X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut..smut…blasphemous smut. There is a temple involved. 

Requested by Alexios Anon and Based on a confession submitted to Dirty Assassin’s Creed Secrets. Hope you like it!

Another sleepless night.

No matter how much you tried to relax yourself, your thoughts were keeping you wide awake. Thoughts of worry for your husband, who was due to be home in a few days, that was if the Gods deemed it so.

Every time he went away, no matter how long or short, it felt like an eternity. You did your best to keep busy during those times, even visiting the temples every day to pray for him, but you still wondered if it was enough to keep him safe.

Thinking of your husband, you recalled the day you met him, outside the Temple of Aphrodite. You had gone there for a small party, still in mourning over your previous lover deserting you for another. Though it had been several weeks since the split, it still stung. The two of you had been sweethearts since childhood and the two of you were all but married. Until you saw him one day cavorting with your sister. That had not only been the end of your courtship, but communication with said sister. It was at that very party you met him, the man who had made you forget all about the pain the others had caused.

Thinking of him made you think of the Temple itself. You liked to go there during the times that you missed him the most and it helped to make you feel closer to him. Even though it was late, the Temples were always open and since you were not about to go to sleep, you decided it was better to be with good memories than alone.

You got out of bed and got dressed, hoping that she wouldn’t mind that you were not bringing an offering. You always hated not having anything to offer her, but you hoped your love and devotion that you showed towards her, others and your husband would be proof enough for the goddess. After wrapping the peplos around yourself, you stepped out the door and set out for the Temple.

The air was cool but calm. The moon shown so brightly in the night sky that you didn’t need a torch to help you see. Nary a sound could be heard as you walked the streets and your only worry was that the town guards might stop you, but none were in sight.

Arriving at the temple, it was still well lit by all the flame pits surrounding it. The trees with their numerous pink blossoms swayed gently with the soft evening breeze. For once the gathering areas outside the temple seemed to be deserted of other worshipers, save for one or two guards who were asleep at their posts.

Stepping quietly up the stone steps and past the large flame pits, you lowered the wrap and walked through the entryway, slowly making your way towards the end where illuminated by several candles at her feet was the large stone statue of the Goddess Aphrodite.

You kneeled before the Goddess reverently to petition her to keep your husband safe from harm, promising to bring an offering of honey cakes the next day if she would keep her watch over your husband, Alexios.

Thinking of him with his dark shoulder length hair, chiseled jaw and his bristly beard, his body sculpted so much like the gods themselves, brought a smile to your faces and made your heart ache even more for him. Though you knew he could mind himself more than most, you still worried greatly for him and made the wait for him even tougher.

Though you appeared to be alone, you were not. Though you hadn’t seen anyone else along the way, you were not the only one. Another had spotted you and followed you to the temple and as they watched you walk inside, offering in hand, they knew this was their moment of opportunity.

Your prayers to the Goddess were interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps. Opening your eyes, you caught sight of another, cloaked in a Chlamys of red cloth with dark trim, their face hidden from you. The stranger bore the scent of the waters. Though the face was hidden, you could see a pair of rough looking hands and like you, this person seemingly had no offering for the Goddess.

No sooner had you resumed yours than they spoke. “What do you pray for?” Came a deep, sensuous voice from under the hood. A voice that to your surprise seemed very familiar. You considered not answering them. After all it was a private matter between you and the Goddess. But though it was private, it was not a shameful one.

“My husband’s safe return.” You answered politely.

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pfft who brings knives to a stand fight

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Tallest to Shortest JJBA Characters

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history keeps pulling me down

Falling, Florence + the Machine // The Fall of Icarus, Rene Milot // Fallen Angel, Andreas Birath

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I just choose to think that the cuts showed up on all the other Joestars too

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Awwh thanks for the tag, this was fun! @igot-sarang-ggg

1. golden hour- JVKE

2. Ghost- Badflower

3. Life’s a Mess- JuiceWRLD

4. I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE- Måneskin

5. Sanctuary- Joji

No pressure tags, ily all! : @papersirens @monstersandmaw @dios-diary @jjbastuff @blondeboyfriend

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

thanks for the tag @xmxrfx <33333

(idk how to embed tracks someone pls send help-)

1. First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

2. How To Never Stop Being Sad by dandelion hands (its not really a song ig? idk its just vibes)

3. This is Home by Cavetown

4. People Watching by Conan Gray

5. Love Story (cover by Sarah Cothran)

tagging (no pressure): @nightmareinfloral @maxiijay @redrobin2009 @aliens-took-my-iwa-chan @evil-eggroll

<333

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🤨

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"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏"

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Dio ⭐

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ok. im gonna say it. some of y'all need to learn how to consume media without looking for two men that could potentially be romantic/sexual partners

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It took me 5 hours to draw this on a kindle with my finger 🫠

Please reblog if you like my art, it would genuinely mean a lot to me!

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eek i hope this is ok but can i request some soft sex with caesar and a female reader? afterwards the reader gets kinda emotional bc they're just really happy to have caesar and they just love them alot and then they finish with soft aftercare or cuddles or smth 💕 that just sounded super cute djwhfkwjfjns

A/n: Oh hell yes, I love this idea!!!sorry, the ending came out kinda shit, but I tried. Thank you for your request, my dear anon💚

Pairing: Caesar Zeppeli x afab! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, slow sex, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie

Not letting you sleep

A dark heated room is full of different sounds - quiet whispers and mumbling, soft moans, wet sounds of kisses, heavy breathing and a rhythmic jolts of bed headboard against a wall

Caesar’s warm hands are trailing all over your body, stroking all the right spots, making your toes curl in pleasure. Moans and pleadings slip past your lips, turning both of you on even more. Your bare skin brushes right agains his, all your senses go crazy, turning you into a little whore, so greedy for sex. His little whore

Blonde’s pace is slow, painfully so, you try to snap your hips into his thrusts but Caesar’s grip on your pelvis is strong, pinning you firmly to the mattress, not allowing to move. You whimper, almost crying, begging man to speed up for a little, but all you get in response is this amazing teasing smile

- Babe, stay still. We have the whole night, there’s no need for haste, - the way his words has made you nibble on your lip and furrow your eyebrows made him chuckle quietly. At the sight of this nasty smirk you got even wetter, grinding against Caesar’s abdomen impatiently

Blonde crouches over you, leaning down to give you a sweet breathy kiss. It turns out incredibly wet and long, making hot sloppy sounds that cause you moan right into Caesar’s mouth. You feel his lips curving a little into a smile, but you quickly forget about it. You forget about everything but him, all your thoughts are only about Caesar, the way he fucks your pussy right now. No one has ever made you feel even a half of the way that Zeppeli makes you in this exact moment

His thrusts are deep and slow, pounding your pussy in a soft mattress of the bed. His kisses are fervid, his warm swollen lips almost leave burns on your sweaty skin. Blonde’s words are nothing but filth, whispering sweet nothings mixed with italian in your ear. You can feel Caesar’s hot breathing on yourself, which sends thousands of shivers running on your whole body

Zeppeli’s calloused palm finds yours, and blonde fondly intertwines his fingers with your own. His other hand lowers to your clit, rubbing slightly a sensual bud of flesh, making you squeal in pleasure beneath him, rolling your eyes into head

- You feel so amazing on my dick... holy shit, that feels so good. You’re doing a great job bambina, milking me so fucking good, - at those words your cunny clenches on blonde’s cock, causing him to moan right into your ear, almost making you cum from this. God, it how is he that hot?

You snap your hips into Zeppeli’s each thrust, making the penetration even deeper. Your core is dripping wet, staining the linens, but if you two could care. Caesar places the inner side of your knees on his elbows, bending you over even more. Now he has you with your knees almost pressed to your chest, shoving his fat cock even deeper into your slicked cunny, with each thrust hitting your womb, nearing you closer to your high

- Ah, cara, I’m almost there... - you hear Caesar mumbling abruptly

Orgasm hits you like a tsunami, filling every cell of your body with pure pleasure. You grip on blonde’s muscular shoulders, scratching them slightly with nails in sweet agony. A few thrusts later you feel Caesar erupting inside of your pussy, filling your throbbing womb with his hot semen, and this feeling almost makes you cum for the second time

Caesar’s body relaxes and he lays on top of you, pinning you to the bed and not allowing to breathe properly, but you feel so tired and exhausted that you don’t even have strength to complain. Blonde snuggles his face into a crook of your shoulder, taking a deep breath, inhaling your body scent

You are almost sleeping when Caesar’s fingers trail on your ribs, tickling your sensitive skin. His lips are showering your neck with light kisses. Oh, you really thought that it was over? Babe, you got the whole night, Zeppeli won’t let you fall asleep that easily~

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