#damnatio x reader

[mercillery]

Your writing is so goooood, I’m hooked! Damnatio SFW alphabet, I’m begging 🙏🏼

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I had to do a retake because I could’ve sworn I did a Damnatio SFW alphabet but apparently not? 😦 I got a bit dry and lazy at the end, sorry!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In public? Absolutely not. Public displays of affection are not his style. I’ve stated this so many times and will continue to do so: Damnatio is a private man. He does not want the whole world to know you are together. He values privacy a lot. The most he’ll show affection for you in public is by simply letting you lock your arms with him or just holding his arm, nothing more. The man’s idea of romance in public is letting you walk slightly closer to him than usual. Don’t take it personally, though. It's just Damnatio being—well, Damnatio.

In private? Well, he rarely initiates physical affection on his own. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it—he's just more reserved, even when it's just the two of you. However, if you take the lead and initiate a hug or a kiss, he'll certainly reciprocate. It’s not that he doesn’t want to show affection; he’s just not the type to start it. So, while you might not get spontaneous cuddles or surprise kisses, Damnatio is definitely not going to reject your advances. Just make sure the curtains are drawn and the door is locked—he's all about keeping things dignified and private.

Damnatio shows his affection through words of affirmation and acts of service. When you’re going through your toughest moments, and it’s just the two of you, he’ll reveal a small part of his vulnerability, telling you how proud he is of you and how much he cares. Alongside these heartfelt words, he'll offer logical advice to help you navigate whatever difficult situation you’re facing. Sometimes, he doesn't even need to say the words outright; you can tell what he wants to convey with just a glance. This subtle communication might go unnoticed by others, but you can read him like a book, and you appreciate these unspoken moments of understanding.

If you’re prone to forgetting things, worry not—Damnatio is your knight in shining armor. He’ll remind you of every single task you have for the day, even going as far as writing a to-do list and sticking it on the fridge, complete with a little doodle of his face in the corner 😐 as a small humorous reminder. You can almost hear him emphasizing the "to-do list" part with that stern yet caring look of his.

Damnatio also rises with the dawn, and one of his acts of service is preparing breakfast for both of you. It’s these small, subtle things he does that really show how much he cares, even if you don’t realize it immediately. But if you’re attentive, you’ll catch on to these gestures and appreciate them all the more. So, while Damnatio might not be the most physically affectionate partner, his love shines through in these thoughtful actions and supportive words, making you feel cherished and cared for in his own unique way.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Damnatio Kira would be a steadfast and reliable presence in your life. He’s not one to form superficial connections; he values depth and sincerity, so his friendships are built on a solid foundation of trust and mutual respect. Damnatio's reserved and serious nature might make him appear aloof at first, but once you’re his best friend, you’ll see a side of him that is considerate and deeply caring—in his own reserved way, of course.

Damnatio isn't the type to engage in small talk or frivolous activities, but he excels at offering sound advice and providing a balanced perspective, especially during difficult situations. He thinks logically and can see through the chaos to offer a clear, reasoned solution. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’s the friend who will very firmly help you sort through your thoughts, providing both support and practical guidance. His serious demeanor might mean he’s not the life of the party, but he’s the one who will always have your back, no matter what.

I think the only way you could possibly start a friendship with Damnatio is by working alongside him in the Magic Parliament. Given that he’s all about justice and holds the position of chairman, it's hard to imagine him forging friendships outside of this context. He’s dedicated to his work and principles, and that’s where his social interactions naturally occur.

If you share his commitment to justice and find yourself in the same professional environment, you have a solid chance of getting to know him. Being colleagues provides common ground and opportunities for interaction that might not exist otherwise. Whether it's collaborating on a case or engaging in discussions about the law, these shared experiences can pave the way for a deeper connection!

But don't expect it to be easy or quick. Damnatio values depth and sincerity in his relationships, so building his trust will take time and effort. You’ll need to demonstrate your dedication to justice and your competence in your role. Over time, as he sees your commitment and integrity, he’ll begin to open up. So, while it might seem like a tall order to become friends with someone as reserved and focused as Damnatio, working in the Magic Parliament alongside him is the most realistic way to bridge that gap.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

As mentioned in part A, Damnatio isn't one to initiate affection, or much of it at all. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it. If you take the lead and initiate physical affection, Damnatio is likely to reciprocate—as long as it’s behind closed doors and away from prying eyes. So, if you were to suddenly cuddle him, he wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, he does appreciate it, though his appreciation can come across as a bit reserved.

Damnatio's way of liking affection is more about the quiet comfort it brings than grand displays of emotion. So, while he may not be the most outwardly affectionate partner, he still values and enjoys those intimate moments you share. It’s a quiet kind of affection, but it’s genuine all the same. This part probably should’ve gone to part A, but whatever.

As for how Damnatio likes to cuddle, he's adaptable and goes along with however you want to cuddle. He doesn’t have a preferred cuddling position; he’s more about making you comfortable and happy. But if you’re curious, he does have a small habit that shows his affection—he’ll always have an arm around you. It’s a subtle yet meaningful gesture that signifies his return of affection. So, whether you want to snuggle up close or just rest your head on his shoulder, he’s perfectly content. And that arm around you? It’s his quiet way of holding you close and letting you know he cares, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

THE BIG QUESTION: DOES HE WANT TO SETTLE DOWN? No, yes, maybe, no, yes, yes, no, maybe, no, no, yes, no, no, no, yes, maybe, maybe, maybe, yes, no, maybe, yes, no, no, maybe, yes—MAYBE. The answer here is maybe.

Damnatio has thought about that stage in life, but he’s never put much serious consideration into it. His mind is always occupied with upholding justice, so he just kind of sees where life takes him. So whether he decides to settle down depends on several factors, primarily how much he loves and trusts you and whether you want to settle down yourself. He hasn’t ruled it out, but it’s not at the forefront of his mind. If he develops a deep trust and love for you over the years and you express a strong desire to settle down, he will consider it. 

Damnatio is a man of principles and dedication, and if he believes you’re the right person, he’d be willing to make that commitment just for you. So, while the answer might not be a definitive yes or no, it hinges on the strength and depth of your relationship. If he’s convinced that you’re the one and you want to build a future together, he’ll settle down to make you happy.

Oh, he can definitely cook and clean. Just because Damnatio is a royal doesn't mean he's spoiled. In fact, he’s quite skilled in both areas. He’s a very good cook and a competent cleaner, though he excels more in the kitchen. I’d even go as far as to say that he’s like Gordon Ramsey level when it comes to cooking.

Cleaning? Well, he's good at it, but it's clear his passion lies more with cooking. He approaches cleaning with the same meticulous attention to detail, ensuring everything is spotless. So, while there’s not much to say about his cleaning skills beyond the fact that he’s proficient, his cooking is where he truly stands out. Whether it’s a casual dinner or a special occasion, you can count on Damnatio to deliver a meal that’s nothing short of extraordinary!

Someone edit Damnatio with a chef hat right now.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If you lose him, you fumbled so badly I’m sorry.

No, but seriously, if Damnatio ever had to break up with you, he’d approach it with his usual stern and stoic demeanor. You’d be faced with the same composed and detached side he shows to everyone else, which might make you feel like a total stranger. It's not really his intention to make you feel this way—he just wants to be respectful and get it over with efficiently.

He’d be straightforward, explaining his reasons without sugarcoating anything. He believes in honesty and clarity, even if it’s painful. Despite the emotional weight of the situation, he’d maintain his composed exterior, making it clear that this is a decision he’s thought through carefully.

After delivering the news, he’d bid you well, expressing his genuine hope for your future happiness. It’s his way of being respectful and closing the chapter with dignity, even if it comes across as cold. In his mind, he’s doing what he believes is the right thing, treating the breakup with the same seriousness and integrity he applies to everything else in his life.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

How does he feel about commitment? Well, Damnatio takes commitment very seriously. If he's so dedicated and devoted to upholding justice, imagine how seriously he treats your relationship. He’s absolutely loyal and dedicated, treating your relationship with the same gravity and respect he gives to his role in the Magic Parliament. He doesn’t play games when it comes to commitment. When he’s in, he’s all in. He values trust, honesty, and mutual respect above all else, and he expects the same level of dedication from you.

He wouldn’t want to get married too quickly. Damnatio strikes me as a man who likes to take things slow and at an appropriate pace. He wants to learn and know more about you—your flaws, imperfections, perfections, non-flaws, and every single little thing that makes you who you are. He’s thorough and meticulous in all aspects of his life, and his approach to marriage is no different. He wants to ensure he’s not marrying someone who’s breaking the law, and he also wants to be absolutely certain that he’s 100% committed to the idea of marrying you.

For Damnatio, rushing into marriage without truly understanding each other isn’t an option. His careful consideration means that when he does decide to marry, it’s a decision made with full confidence and commitment. So, if you’re with Damnatio, be prepared for a journey of discovery and understanding. He wants to make sure that both of you are ready and fully aligned before walking down the aisle. This thoughtful approach might take time, but it’s all about ensuring a lasting and meaningful relationship. <3

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

His emotional gentleness is definitely an area where he could improve. Damnatio is heavily inclined toward logic and reason, often prioritizing them over emotions. While he understands that people have different emotional needs and he does make an effort to grasp those, he also wants others to use logical thinking more. So when you’re facing a stressful situation, he’ll default to logic first. His approach to offering advice is practical and well-reasoned, but it tends to lack the emotional warmth that might be comforting.

In essence, while his advice is undeniably useful and well thought out, it can sometimes come across as emotionally detached. He’s more focused on solving the problem than on providing the emotional support that could come with it. It’s not that he doesn’t care; it’s just that his method of caring is more about helping you find a logical solution than offering emotional comfort.

Physically, Damnatio is fairly gentle but with a firm touch—about a 50/50 mix, if that makes sense. He’s not excessively soft or overly forceful. It’s not really something that requires much reasoning; he’s just right in the middle.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs usually last only a few seconds—nothing too prolonged.

Damnatio doesn’t hug often, so it’s likely that you’d be the one to initiate hugs first. However, if it’s just the two of you, he’ll return the gesture.

His hugs might come across as somewhat dry, if that makes sense. While he appreciates the affection, he finds hugging a bit awkward. It’s not something he’s used to, and before you, he’s probably never hugged anyone—at least not that he can recall. But despite this, he values your attempts and will respond to them in his own way.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He will say the L word only when he’s absolutely, positively, surely, and completely certain that he truly loves you. This means it could take some time for him to reach that point, as he needs to be entirely confident in his feelings. But once he does say it, you can be certain he means it with all his heart. He doesn’t throw around such words lightly.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s not someone who’s easily jealous. If someone hits on you, whether it’s in front of him or not, he trusts that you’ll handle the situation and let them know you’re already taken. His trust in you is absolute, so there’s no room for jealousy. Sure, it might disappoint him slightly to see you being flirted with, but it’s more of a mild inconvenience than something that stirs up jealousy. His confidence in your relationship means he’s rarely, if ever, jealous. For Damnatio, it’s not about being possessive but about having faith in you and the strength of your bond.

Now, in those rare moments when Damnatio does feel jealous, he handles it with a great deal of maturity. He’s not the type to make a fuss, place blame on you, or lash out at the source of his jealousy. Instead, he might initially try to ignore the feeling, thinking it’ll go away soon, but if it becomes overwhelming, he’ll address it with you directly and calmly—like adults.

Damnatio believes in maintaining the integrity of your relationship, so he won’t let jealousy disrupt what you have. He understands that such feelings are natural but doesn’t see them as a reason to jeopardize your bond. His approach is thoughtful and measured, ensuring that even if jealousy arises, it’s managed in a way that’s respectful and constructive.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Again, if you initiate affection yourself, he will return it—kisses included. His kisses are never rough; they're always soft and gentle.

He doesn’t really have a preferred spot, but he usually goes for your cheek, considering it the most affectionate area to kiss.

He’d be the biggest liar in the world if he said neck kisses or jaw kisses didn’t affect him. Those areas are his weaknesses, and he can’t deny the effect they have on him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Unfortunately, there’s not much change in his demeanor. He maintains his stern, reserved nature and unwavering commitment to justice, even in the presence of kids.

Need an example? Well, remember that time he tried to execute a 10-year-old girl? Yeah, it wasn't exactly a shining moment. Her eye magic indirectly caused harm to people, and despite the fact that she was possessed and had no control over that, Damnatio was ready to enforce the harshest punishment. Not exactly the poster child for “fun uncle” material.

He doesn’t soften up or become more approachable around children. He’s still that same coldly committed figure, focused on the letter of the law and the principles of justice above all else. So, if you were hoping to see him get all gooey-eyed and playful with kids, sorry to disappoint. Damnatio stays true to his stern and serious self, even in situations that might call for a bit more warmth and understanding.

So while he might appreciate the innocence and potential of children, his rigid sense of duty and justice overshadows any softer feelings. Maybe one day he’ll learn to relax a bit, but for now, kids get the same stern treatment as everyone else—sorry!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He who wakes up at the crack of dawn. Damnatio has duties to accomplish, work to finish, and justice to uphold—so he starts his day early and strong with a cup of coffee to prepare for whatever lies ahead. By the time you wake up, he’s likely already out of bed, preparing coffee for both of you.

If you’re someone who wakes up late, expect a gentle nudge or a soft call to get you up. He’ll make sure you join him for that morning coffee, believing it’s important to start the day together. He might even turn you into an early riser with his persistent yet caring morning routine.

His mornings are structured and purposeful, setting the tone for a productive day. Sharing that morning coffee with him isn’t just about caffeine; it’s more like a quiet moment of connection before the busyness of the day takes over. So while you might not be naturally inclined to wake up at dawn, Damnatio’s routine has a way of bringing you into his world, one early morning at a time!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He rises early and falls early, meaning he goes to sleep early as well. Before going to sleep, he always makes sure to remind you not to stay up too late, almost sounding like a concerned parent. He doesn’t insist that you go to bed at the same time as him; he respects your sleep schedule as long as you don’t push it to unreasonable hours like 3 or 4 in the morning.

Believe me—this man will literally scold you if he catches you wide awake at those late hours. He’s serious about maintaining a healthy routine and genuinely worries about your well-being. It’s not just about enforcing a rule; it’s about ensuring you get enough rest to be at your best. So, while he might come off as a bit strict, his intentions are rooted in care and concern for you.

So if you’re a night owl, be prepared for some gentle (or not-so-gentle) reminders to hit the hay at a reasonable hour.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He starts revealing things about himself only when he's absolutely sure he trusts you—when trust is firmly established. This process definitely takes time and requires a good deal of patience, so prepare.

While you might feel a bit impatient or frustrated with how reserved he is about his himself, it's crucial not to rush him. Pushing him to open up before he's ready might actually make him take even longer to share those deeper parts of himself.

Once he feels fully secure, he’ll start revealing everything about himself more openly. It’s like peeling back layers—each layer reveals a little more, and eventually, you get to see the whole picture. At first, he might just share small anecdotes or thoughts, but over time, he’ll delve into his deeper experiences and vulnerabilities.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not that easily angered unless it involves someone breaking the law. But even then, he’s not too angry, just really fierce about upholding justice.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Despite his mind being constantly occupied with work and upholding justice, Damnatio remembers almost everything about you. His attention to detail extends beyond his professional life and into your relationship. He might occasionally forget the very small things momentarily, but they eventually come back to him with a bit of thought.

Whether it’s your favorite book, a story you told him in passing, or the way you take your coffee, he makes an effort to remember. So even though he has a lot on his plate, you’re never far from his thoughts, and he values every little detail that makes you—well, you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moments in your relationship are when you’re by his side after a particularly stressful, work-filled day and it’s just the two of you alone. Honestly, just being around you after a stressful day makes him feel at ease. These quiet, intimate moments where you both unwind together are what he cherishes most. Whether you’re talking softly about your day or simply sitting in comfortable silence, your presence alone is enough to bring him a sense of peace and relaxation. You’re like his charging station lol.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Unless you’re particularly vulnerable or lack any fighting or defending capabilities, Damnatio isn’t overly protective. He trusts that you can handle yourself just fine without him constantly hovering. He has confidence in your strength and abilities, and this trust allows him to give you the space you need.

However, if you are more vulnerable or less capable of defending yourself, he still won’t be around every corner you turn. Instead, he’ll adopt a more balanced approach, checking up on you from time to time to ensure you’re okay. He believes in giving you the independence to manage on your own while still providing support when needed.

Damnatio has never really been the one receiving protection; it's usually him doing the protecting. Because of this, he doesn't have a strong preference for how he likes to be protected. As long as you somehow look out for him, he genuinely appreciates it and makes sure to thank you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts effort into all aspects of your relationship equally—and quite a lot of it, too. Damnatio understands the importance of dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks, and he ensures that each one receives the attention it deserves.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His cold devotion to justice. While it's admirable how dedicated he is to upholding justice, he can be incredibly ruthless about it. You sometimes wish he’d show just a little bit more mercy, but that's just how he is, and it's unlikely to change.

His unwavering commitment to justice means he often views situations in black and white, leaving little room for compassion or leniency. This can be frustrating, especially when you see the potential for more humane solutions. However, this relentless pursuit of justice is a core part of who he is, and it's deeply ingrained in his personality.

You understand that his dedication is rooted in a desire to create a fair and just world, but you can't help but wish he’d soften his approach sometimes. Unfortunately, this is one aspect of Damnatio that remains steadfast, and learning to navigate this part of his personality is a challenge you have to face together.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He isn’t too concerned with his looks. As long as his hair is perfectly combed back like always and his green robe is free of dirty marks, he’s content. Basically, he’s focused on maintaining a tidy and professional appearance rather than worrying about fashion or trends.

Damnatio’s priorities lie in presenting himself as competent and respectable. He doesn’t spend much time fussing over his appearance beyond these basic standards. His hair is always meticulously styled, and his robe is kept immaculate, ensuring he looks polished and ready for his duties.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, Damnatio would feel incomplete without you. If, for whatever reason, you decided to leave him or something happened to you, it would undoubtedly affect him deeply. He would definitely be thinking about it, and it might even distract him from his work just a little. Despite his stoic exterior, Damnatio isn't immune to the pain of loss. The bond you share is unique and significant, and its absence would leave a noticeable void in his life.

While he would try to maintain his composed demeanor and continue his duties, the emotional impact would be undeniable. In those moments of solitude, his thoughts would inevitably drift to you, reflecting on the times you spent together and the connection you had. It’s not something he would easily move past, and it would likely stay with him for a long time. Yeah, for such a stoic and stern man, it’s kinda crazy that you’ve got him this way. But he makes sure to hide his pain well, not wanting others to notice and wanting to keep his professionalism.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He plays the piano. That’s it. That’s the headcanon. I imagine he finds a unique kind of solace in playing it. For him, playing the piano isn't just a hobby; it's a way to unwind and express himself in a deeply personal manner.

I’m saying this because every piano player I’ve ever met seems to exude a certain majesty…

…which aligns perfectly with Damnatio’s own regal presence, y’know?

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who BREAKS THE LAW. That’s it. If you’re a law-breaker, that’s the biggest and immediate red flag for him. He has zero tolerance for any form of illegal activity, and he’s ready to reprimand you without hesitation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Always sleeps on his back.

And he adheres to a very strict sleep schedule.

The man needs his beauty sleep.

[theautisticfroglord]

Damnatio crying hcs

pairing - damnatio x reader

notes - I've started to like the brick shaped judge man and I felt like writing angst so yeah also sorry if yhis isn't that accurate for him, this is my first time writing this goober

oh my god it takes SO MUCH to get him to cry this man hides his emotions a LOT

when he finally does, he'll just tear up and get embarrassed/slightly frustrated at first because he doesn't like being vulnerable

if you hug him he usually can't really hug you back because he doesn't know what to do when he cries

when he finally starts actually letting out his emotions, he'll hardly make any sound, just sniffles

reassuring him helps, it encourages him and lets him know it's okay to show his emotions around you

he's a pretty crier, telling him that will encourage him too

when he can't hug you, he'll hold your hand

most of the time, he can't talk after he cries because he's nervous about being vulnerable

sitting with him quietly with your head on his shoulder <3

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae: PART III

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima’, was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: oral m receiving, arranged marriage, foul language, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, Ancient Rome as a warning within itself.

notes: i am tired. no big notes today, just the chapter and a huge thanks to @trashmouth-richie for beta’ing for me even though we’re dying and surrounded by the plague.

⟡ Imperator- Septimius Severus

⟡ Augustus- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus “Caracalla”

⟡ Caesar- ⟡ Publius Septimius Geta “Geta”

III

“Brother,” Caracalla chuckled, surrounded by the finest of the court—his beloved whores, concubines, and every fair face that caught his eye—turned to his sibling, “have you laid eyes on my wife?”

Geta, his fingers entwined with his main flame to his right, shook his head slowly. “No, the better question would be: have you seen your wife?”

A silver platter brimming with powder was offered to Caracalla, who eagerly partook, stumbling backward, snorting and sniffling, until he finally crashed into his gilded seat.

“I thought we agreed to save the Rhino’s Horn for Saturnalia,” Geta shot a glance at the bearer of the silver dish, waving them off.

“Why not seize the day, brother?” Caracalla replied, “Father has departed for uncle’s villa, my wife is… well, lost to me at the moment, but that matters not. Let us enjoy these days of luxury.”

The two had been drunk for much of the day, with Caracalla lost in a haze of whatever was handed to him: Devil’s Breath, opium, Rhino’s Horn—none mattered. If it was offered, it was his. Geta, however, stayed pleasantly tipsy on sweet wine, his cup never empty, his tongue loosening enough to spill secrets like a river.

“Brother, I must share something with you.” Geta’s gaze met Caracalla’s, who leaned in, all ears.

Caracalla clapped his hands, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “At last, something of interest! Amuse me, brother.”

“Gracchus’s wife,” Geta began, “on the night of your wedding, her lips were wrapped so divinely around my cock.”

Caracalla nodded, interrupting, “A wondrous thing, indeed.”

Geta pressed on, “And Prima came to my chambers, asking to help you to bed while you were busy with one of your legendary displays.”

This piqued Caracalla’s interest. He sat up straight, eyes locked onto Geta’s face, lips pressed tight, nostrils flaring.

“And?” he urged Geta to continue.

“And, well, I commanded her to stay, to savor the moment.” Geta caressed the cheek of the woman at his side, who purred in delight, momentarily diverting his gaze from his brother.

Caracalla, though not entirely impressed, was curious. He grasped his brother’s arm firmly. “And she complied? She truly remained and watched?”

“Yes,” Geta affirmed with a nod, “who would dare refuse the command of a son of the emperor?”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face before he leaned down and whispered to one of the servants who knelt before them, awaiting his command.

It wasn’t long before you made your entrance into the chamber, a mix of confusion and acceptance washing over you at being summoned after a week of silence. You stood before the two brothers, maintaining a stoic expression while disregarding the crowd surrounding them, who now beheld the new Augusta. Most gazed at you in wonder, some wore expressions of intrigue, while others looked as if they were ready to eat you, relishing every moment they stood in your presence.

“Has someone died?” Caracalla asked, his brow furrowed as he took in your appearance from head to toe.

The toga you donned was a careful choice. Its deep black hue a sign of mourning, a garment you had worn through various times of grief. The black veil draped softly over your shoulders, trailing down the back of your dress and nearly brushing the floor, swaying gently with the warm breeze that flowed in from the balconies on either side. You adorned yourself with jewels—a delicate headpiece that held the veil in place, a gift from the Imperator himself, paired with his late wife's stunning collection of rubies that gleamed on your fingers. A golden cuff encircled your bicep, intricately designed with fine lines weaving a lace-like pattern, complemented by matching earrings and your family’s cherished wrist cuffs, passed down through generations.

“No one that I know of,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. “I just figured that if I dressed the part, perhaps the gods would take notice of my urgent prayers and send me off to the underworld with haste.”

A chorus of gasps filled the room, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning.

Caracalla staggered over, getting right in your face.

“Everyone, out!” he barked, his eyes locked on yours. When no one moved, he shouted, “Get out or live to regret it!” That was all it took for the crowd to scurry away like frightened mice.

“Tell me,” he said, dragging a finger down the bridge of your nose—an odd move, but on-brand for Caracalla, “did it make your cunt throb to see my brother getting his cock sucked?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Do not talk to me about implied infidelities when you’re surrounded by people the likes of which do not even make a good meal for a dog.”

Caracalla's expression shifted to a dangerous glint, his lips curling into a smirk. “Ah, so we’re playing at words now, are we? You think you can wound me with your tongue? I have better plans for that mouth of yours.”

“Brother,” Geta said, rising to his feet, “don’t do something you’ll come to regret.”

Caracalla pulled a dagger from his belt, pointing it at Geta. “You’ll sit down and keep your mouth shut, brother.”

And there you were, caught in the middle of two prideful men, like a sweet nectar drawing them in.

Geta lifted his hands in a gesture of defense, retreating toward his chair in defeat.

“On your knees, wench!” Caracalla bellowed, fury blazing in his eyes like a stormy sky.

Your gaze flickered to Geta, but Caracalla, with the edge of his sword pressed against your cheek, forcefully turned your head to face him.

“Is it not enough that you dared to speak with him? Must you also look upon him in my presence?” Caracalla whined, his naturally raspy voice sounding even more gravelly in his drug addled state.

“Are you deaf?!” he roared, “On your knees!”

You felt the cold of the sword as it slid from your cheek to your neck, pressing firmly against your carotid. With a heavy heart, you sank to your knees, shame washing over you.

As you gazed up at him, angry tears welled in your eyes. The golden laurel wreath tangled in his wild hair sat crookedly above his brows, as he looked down at you with a wild glint.

“Show me how well Gracchus’s wife treated my dear brother!” he cackled, delighting in the raunchiness of his demand.

“Absolutely not,” you spat through clenched teeth, attempting to rise once more, only to be met with his rough hands shoving you back down against the cold marble.

“Must I flog you for your insolence?!” he howled, spit flying from his lips, “Must I?!”

“Not here,” you pleaded, all pride abandoned as your knees ground into the cold marble, “Not like this.”

“Just like this,” he replied, smirking down at you as he pulled back his flowing robes to reveal his hard cock.

“Come on,” he flicked his tip against your lips, “open up for me.”

With angry tears stinging your eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, his velvet tip sliding past your lips, brushing heavily against your tongue.

“Should you dare use your teeth against me, I’ll have them knocked from your jaw with the hilt of my sword. Rome has no place for a wild, toothless harlot.”

He carelessly rolled his hips toward your face, swaying unsteadily with each thrust as you fought back the bile rising in your throat. When you didn’t please him the way he wished, he fucked your face with such fervor that he nearly lost his balance. You gagged as hot tears streamed down your cheeks, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth like a hungry dog.

“You must not have impressed her with your little show, brother,” he bellowed over his shoulder, gripping the roots of your hair, chuckling as you gagged even harder, pressing your nails into his thighs for fear you might topple over. “I have had better pleasure alone.”

He continued his brutal assault until finally he pulled you snug to the base of his cock, letting out a guttural groan, his legs nearly giving way beneath him as he released his hot seed into your mouth.

He stumbled back, shaky hands letting you go, but not fast enough to dodge the glob of cum you spat at his feet.

“You stupid whore—” he screamed, reaching for his sword again, but Geta grabbed him.

"‘Enough, brother,’ Geta commanded, gesturing toward the door. At once, two guards rushed in, seizing Caracalla, wrestling the blade from his grip, placing it firmly in Geta's hand.

A smirk crept across your lips as you met Caracalla's furious gaze, his struggles useless against the guards' hold. You wiped the last traces from your mouth, unflinching, while he spat threats of every punishment under the sun. His voice faded into the distance, growing fainter with each step as the guards dragged him away.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As soon as you stepped into your chambers, you snatched up a decorative vase, your stomach churning from the memory of his touch as you unceremoniously emptied its contents into the vase. A pang of guilt washed over you for the poor servant who would later have the misfortune of clearing it out, but you quickly brushed it aside; purging any trace of Caracalla from your system took precedence above all else.

As you crossed the threshold to the adjoining balneum, the air was thick with steam, a sensation that caused you to groan in pleasure. The gentle sound of water splashing filled the space while the frescoes adorning the walls told stories of playful nymphs dancing amongst the clouds lost amongst a blue sky. The buff marble floor cooled your feet, contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

The bathing area itself featured a large, sunken pool, its waters shimmering under the soft glow of oil lamps. To one side, a small fountain trickled water into a basin, where fresh rose petals floated, adjacent to a nearby selection of oils: patchouli, lavender, rosemary, their scents mingled in the heady, warm atmosphere. A strigil and pumice stone awaited on a shelf built into the wall, along with fine linen towels, and cloths, all carefully placed for your use.

With a soft sigh, you dipped your toes into the inviting water, allowing the robe you had worn in to drop to the marbled floor behind you. You relished the sensation as you waded in deeper, the water rising to your ankles, then your calves. Each step felt like a release, the warmth washing over you, dissolving the tension that had clung to you throughout the day.

As you reached the center of the pool, the water enveloped you completely. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back as you floated for a moment, allowing the water to cradle you. Everything felt so distant, so unimportant. The world outside faded away, and for a fleeting moment, it was just you and the serenity of the private sanctuary. You let your mind wander, thoughts drifting like the petals floating in the nearby basin.

Reaching for the bottle of patchouli oil resting on the edge of the bath, you poured a small amount into your palm, the rich, earthy scent wafting into the space. With your fingers slicked with the oil, you began to comb it carefully through your hair, taking your time to work out any knots and tame the unruly strands. Once satisfied with your hair, you took a fine cloth, its texture soft as silk against your skin, and began to bathe yourself with the perfumed oil.

With deliberate movements, you sloshed water along your body, enjoying the feeling of it cascading over your skin like a gentle waterfall. When you were ready, you dove under the water once more, the coolness contrasting deliciously with the warmth of the oil. As you rinsed yourself, you felt the excess oils wash away, the strigil waiting nearby for the final touch.

“Domina.” The tranquil moment shattered as one of your newly assigned servants peeked through the ornate doorway, her voice breaking the soothing silence.

“What is it?” you asked, trying to stall for just a moment longer.

“You’ve been summoned.”

Of course you had. It only made sense that your peaceful escape would be interrupted. You emerged from the water, droplets glistening on your skin, and caught the nervous gaze of the servant as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Come inside,” you beckoned her, and she hesitantly approached, holding out a towel like it was a fragile offering.

“Do you know how to use a strigil?” you asked, and she nodded, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

“Very well.” You dried your face with the towel, then reached for the strigil and handed it to her. “Quickly.”

With shaky hands, she began to scrape off the excess oils.

“What is your name?” you asked, trying to ease the tension as she glided the strigil along your shoulder.

“Cassia,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Cassia,” you repeated, letting the name linger in the air. “Is it Caracalla or Geta requesting me?”

“Neither, Domina,” she paused, placing the strigil back in its assigned place. “It is the Imperator.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You quickly slipped into a sleeping gown—something informal yet appropriate for the presence of the Imperator. Cassia’s hands trembled slightly as she helped you into the nightgown made of fine, onyx silk. She draped a matching robe over your shoulders, guiding your arms into the sleeves with a gentleness that put you at ease. The fabric glided down your arms, flowing behind you like a shadow as you moved to comb your damp hair away from your face.

“I believe it would be nice if you left your hair down to dry,” Cassia suggested meekly, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the looking glass.

“I can braid it when you return. It is not wise to make the Imperator wait.” Her eyes told a story, hinting at the consequences of such delays, as if she had witnessed them firsthand.

“Very well,” you agreed, sensing the urgency in her tone. “Lead me there.”

Cassia walked quickly ahead, navigating through the maze of twists and turns that made up the opulent palace. The gilded walls shimmered under the flickering sconces, casting warm glows on the marble flooring. You passed by frescoes depicting grand tales of valor and myth, the ornate pieces of art adorning each wall, their beauty almost distracting you from the nervous feeling that swirled in your gut.

Finally, you arrived at an imposing set of doors, intricately carved and adorned with symbols befitting the Imperator’s status. Cassia hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a mix of awe and fear. “I’ll wait here, Domina.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped forward. The doors swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond.

“Prima,” Septimius spoke from across the room, his voice smooth yet commanding. You crossed the threshold, your heart quickening as you made your way toward him. He sat at a side table, a decanter of wine glistening under the moonlight that spilled through the billowing curtains beside the table, casting soft shadows along the table and its contents.

“Thank you for joining me,” he said, standing to pull out a chair for you. You took your seat, the silk of your robe whispering against the chair as you settled in.

“Of course, Imperator,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. You studied his face, searching for clues about his intentions. Septimius possessed an air of authority, his graying hair slightly tousled, and his sharp features illuminated by the silvery light.

He poured a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling as he filled it, and then slid it across the table toward you. “A toast, Prima. To new beginnings.”

You accepted the glass, “To new beginnings,” you echoed, raising the glass slightly before taking a sip. As you caught his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passed in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “how do you find your new role here? The palace can be overwhelming, even for those accustomed to such grandeur.”

You considered his question carefully, weighing your words. “It is… a lot to take in,” you admitted.

“As to be expected,” he assured you, his gaze unwavering. “How are things with your new husband?”

“May I be bold, Imperator?” you asked, setting your glass down with a gentle clink, smoothing the fabric of your robe against your thighs to calm the tension that had begun to build within you.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, his expression encouraging.

You took a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “I believe I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know how things have been going.” You reached for the glass of wine again, taking a sip to wet your drying, anxious mouth.

Septimius leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his features. You spotted Geta right away in him, the way his eyes were shaped and how he looked at you like you were the most confusing thing in the world that he sought to understand. But Caracalla was there too—his fingers digging into the armrest, his middle and pointer fingers tapping an offbeat rhythm against the leather. Caracalla's fierce gaze matched Septimius’s as well as his wild curls, both full of intensity.

“True enough. The palace is a place of whispers, and my son’s reputation precedes him. Yet I am interested in your perspective—how you truly feel about your situation.”

“May I ask what brought you back early from your trip to Baiae?” you asked, genuinely curious about the reason for his fast return.

“Word travels fast,” he leaned in, lowering his voice. “I—” he paused, selecting his words with care, “am aware of what transpired earlier today.”

You nodded, a wave of shame washing over you as you pictured someone recounting the scene to the Imperator.

“I also know that you and Caracalla have not shared a bed since your wedding night.”

“I…” you sighed, “truly am doing my best. It’s just that he and I are two very different people, and I’m trying to navigate the ocean of differences between us.” You explained, your tone almost pleading.

Carefully, he slid a familiar piece of parchment your way. No need to touch it; you knew well what it said.

“How did you come by that?” you asked, brow furrowed.

“Never mind that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Do the words in this letter truly speak to your feelings?”

With a weary sigh, you opened it, your fingers dancing along its edges.

“If you wished me dead, you could’ve driven the blade yourself.” The words were yours, penned to your father a few days prior, when you felt as if being married to Caracalla was a death sentence, when tensions were at a high and you needed someone to hear you.

“It was confiscated before it left the palace,” he replied, his gaze steady as it met yours over the parchment.

“May I ask who thought it wise to spy on me and read my letters?” You laid the parchment flat, smoothing out the creases.

“You may not.” His expression was as stoic as a statue.

“I feel as if I’m being set up to fail, Imperator, as if your son wishes to see this marriage crumble, and I’ll be cast aside when I inevitably fail in my duties.” You spoke the truth plainly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“When he was, I don’t know,” he sighed, “seven or eight, we campaigned through Syria and up into the Taurus mountains.”

You leaned in, sitting up straighter, eager for him to continue.

“And I remember him shouting, ‘I’ve found another three!’ I turned around, and there he was, standing among a sea of headless corpses, yelling when he found one with its head still on. He took such joy in it; it became a sort of game for him.”

“Isn’t that what a man wants? A son who isn’t squeamish about death and war?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Of course, but not one who brings that chaos within his own walls, in his own home.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out with a weary sigh.

“And Geta,” he closed his eyes, “maybe I wasn’t hard enough on him. Maybe I learned my lesson with Caracalla. Maybe Geta is just his mother’s son.” He waved a hand dismissively, letting out a heavy sigh. “But none of this is your worry.”

He stood, and you followed, walking with him to the grand doors.

“Go and rest. After tonight, all will be well.”

You turned to question him, to ask what the gods had happened between the two of you and why it had become your concern even if he had assured you it wasn’t, but the doors swung shut before you could speak. You exchanged a bewildered glance with Cassia before heading back to your chambers.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not long after, the harsh sound of screaming pulled you from your thoughts. You followed the noise, retracing Cassia’s steps from earlier in the night, until you stumbled into Geta’s chest as he stood by the entrance to his father’s chambers.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. You peered around him, drawn to the chaos behind the door.

“I heard the shouting and got worried,” you replied. “What’s happening?”

“None of your business.” He looked down at you, his expression cold.

“Back to your rooms,” he ordered, waving you away.

“You will take your wife back into your quarters immediately!” came the booming voice of Septimius. A loud crash echoed, and you and Geta exchanged alarmed glances.

“Perhaps you should show me some respect for the title you’ve given me,” Caracalla shouted back.

“Perhaps you should earn that title, boy,” Septimius seethed.

Another crash followed, accompanied by the sound of shuffling.

“You are only Augustus and emperor of Rome by my say, Marcus! I am your father and your emperor,” Septimius continued, his voice cutting through the chaos. “I will strip you of every title and give it to your brother, who might actually appreciate it!”

Geta’s ears perked up, and a flicker of hope crossed his face as he looked toward the door.

But Septimius’s next words dashed his hopes. “Perhaps I’ll take your wife into my quarters and father a son with her. A new line of succession could be just what Rome needs.”

Another crash echoed, and grunts erupted from behind the doors.

“Look at you, bleeding like a woman,” Septimius mocked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you bled between your legs like one.”

The grand doors swung open, and Caracalla stormed toward you, his face smeared with blood. When he spat a crimson splash at your feet, you instinctively jumped back. He rushed past you, exchanging a quick glance with Geta.

“Do not follow him,” Geta warned, his voice low and tense.

But you didn’t heed his warning.

You navigated through winding hallways, twisting and turning until you reached Caracalla's chamber. He had thrown the doors open, pacing like a caged beast, blood streaming down his face.

“Get the hell out!” he bellowed, sending everything from the side table crashing to the floor.

“I refuse,” you shot back, firmly closing the door behind you.

“You went and lied to my father,” he hissed, stalking toward you like a predator. “You treacherous snake!”

“I did nothing of the sort!” you yelled back, your voice rising with anger. “He knew before he called for me.”

As he approached, the full extent of his injuries became clear. His nose was smashed, blood pouring from it, and his lip was split wide open. You roamed about his room scouring for supplies to clean him with until you found a few plain cloths on his dressing table.

“Sit.” You were shocked when he followed the command, sitting on the side of the bed, brow pinched at the way you had spoken to him.

“We must work together until I’m with child,” you said, as he winced a bit when you pressed a clean cloth against his split lip. “Then, once a son is born, you can send me off to whatever warm rock you fancy.”

“But first,” you said as you settled beside him on the bed, “we need to stop this bleeding.”

He placed his hand over yours, pressing down harder against his lip, a silent agreement forged in a simple touch.

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Tag list:

@alwaysahiccupandastrid

@justnobodynothingmore

Dividers:

@ghoulbloggerrr

[anabdaniels]

Local God

A Secret Santa gift to @papipascaaaal.

Huge thanks to @pedrostories for this marvelous event.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x Female reader

Summary: It was supposed to be the best work of your life analyzing the general's statue, you just didn't expected the statue to turn into the general himself.

Word counting: 7.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Major spoilers of Gladiator II, descriptions of damaged mental health, heavy angst.

A/N: This ain't 100% historically accurate for the sake of convenience, but nothing too serious. I created Acacius' full name based on this post by @elflutter.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || AO3 Link

You couldn’t contain yourself.

And actually, you weren’t the only one, after all, it wasn't every day that a statue from 210 AD showed up so well preserved, especially after the failed attempt of a damnatio memoriae. You spent your whole day in the museum room where the statue was placed, walking around it as you took notes about what you already knew and what remained an incognita, fascinated about all the information you had and wondering about the things you might never find the answer to.

You were about to roll your eyes and dismiss whoever was knocking at your door and interrupting your line of thought, but you promptly smiled sympathetically as you saw the kind old man who worked on the museum's cleaning team.

“We’re closing, Dr.” the senior man warned in his usual sympathetic tone, refusing to let go to address you by your academic title even after the many times you asked him to.

“Already?” you stated surprised and checked the hours on your computer, surprised by how you didn’t see it passing “I fear I’ll stay a little longer.”

“New boyfriend?” The man joked while opening the door slightly more to take a better look at the statue “I don’t know how you’re not afraid of being locked with these things.”

“Yeah, the big boy is keeping me occupied.” You joked back while patting the statue “You get used to them with the passing time.”

“I’m fine being away from them.” He laughed and shook his head “Good night, dear.”

“Good night.” You turned back to your notes when the man closed the door, recovering your line of thoughts and inevitably getting lost in them, wondering about so many things. You had spent most of your life studying ancient civilizations, especially Egyptians and Romans, and some events always got you thinking if the ancient rulers were truly that full of themselves or were simply dumb.

That statue in front of you was one of those cases.

You looked at the inscription on the marble plinth, a few bronze letters have fallen, but the dented gaps where they used to be had the shape of the letters, keeping the phrase complete and readable: ACACIVS VICTOR AFRICAE. Being face to face with such an opulent statue you wondered how crazy or stupid Geta and Caracalla were to think that the people would be amused with what and how they did to Acacius after they had converted him into Rome's greatest hero.

“You must have lived a hell of a life, hum, general?” you chuckled and shook your head, putting down your notebook on the nearest table and walking to the coffee machine on the opposite corner of the room, pulling your phone from your pocket while you waited for your espresso to be ready.

After the first shot of caffeine of the night, you hopped to get your brain to work faster, especially having drunk it while watching that sequence of short videos, remembering your psychologist explaining to you how they were probably the biggest cause of your troubles to fall asleep quickly. As you put your phone down and took back your papers, you were just about to write down what the next subjects you needed to check about the statue, until the noises of the street cats distracted you, making you involuntarily look towards the window.

And that simple action made any thought you could have shut down completely.

You blinked once, twice, rubbed your eyes, looked both sides, and still couldn’t gather a single logical thing in your mind, after all, wasn’t every day that an almost 6ft tall statue simply disappeared from its plinth. By the morning when it was brought to the Capitoline Museum and you got in charge of studying it, you thought that could only be a dream while seeing that it seemed to have evaporated, you prayed to all and any gods for it to be a dream, but your hope to be living a nightmare was crashed at the very second you heard a noise among the shelves near the door accompanied by a huge shadow; definitely wasn’t a mouse trying to gnaw old papers.

“Who’s there? This ain’t funny.” You felt like a stupid character from a low-budget horror movie while taking a few steps closer to the origin of the noise, but it wasn’t even a conscious move. You froze completely as the figure came out of the dark, not knowing if you wanted to run away or get closer.

“I apologize, ma’am. I mean you no harm.” The man spoke calmly, his deep voice echoing in the room.

“How did you… There’s no… You were just…” you still were incapable of making any coherent statement while facing a Roman general alive and right in front of you.

“I do not know how I am here either, ma’am.” Acacius explained himself while raising his hands at the level of his shoulders, wanting to guarantee you didn’t see him as a threat.

“This can’t be fucking real. You were a pile of bronze just two minutes ago.” You shook your head, rubbing your face one last time to make sure you were awake. “How could you just pop in here, Acacius?” The man seemed a bit surprised by your crude lingo, but what caught his attention wasn’t that.

“You know me?” he asked in a genuine mix of surprise and doubt.

“Of course, any dumbass that heard about ancient Rome knows the great General Marcus Acacius Justus Sacratus.” You said as if it was obvious, still shocked by the absurd situation.

“Ancient Rome?” he asked cluelessly, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, you lived on 210 AD and we are now on 2024 AD.” At that point you were sounding more casual, still not believing such circumstances, but holding yourself to the idea that you simply didn’t remember falling asleep and were having the craziest dream. Acacius digested the information with a frown, seeming to simply accept your statement.

“And what did you call me?”

“Acacius Justus Sacratus. They gave you the Sacratus agnomen after the chaos people made in Rome when the emperors tried to erase you.” You were quite surprised as you saw the shadow of a smile forming on his lips “Whatever, this is all kinda unbelievable. You weren’t supposed to be here. Oh my god, how I’m gonna explain to the director that a whole ass statue simply disappeared under my watch? I’m so fucked up, it would be our biggest exposition this year. I’m gonna be fired.” You had a small outburst of despair when the whole scene finally got solid in your imagination, after all, saying that one of the most searched historical objects had simply converted into its human form wouldn’t convince anyone.

“I deeply apologize for any inconvenience I might be causing you; I will leave immediately if it could help you.” Acacius’ sincere tone hit straight on your nerves, making you unsure if you were mad or sentimental about it.

“Leave where? The Rome you knew has fallen long ago and everything has changed. The empire you used to know and serve is now no more than a bunch of ruins spread across the whole Italy. Let aside the fact that you wouldn’t adapt to this new world by yourself and no one would believe your story. In no time you’d turn into an indigent or end up locked in a mental hospital because everyone would be convinced that you’re schizophrenic or something similar. And don’t get me started with your festive dress.” You said referring to his armor with the golden head of Medusa on the chest and the pompous red cape around his shoulders. “I can’t let you go, Acacius.” You sighed frustrated, all of that becoming too much. Acacius was lowkey confused about a few things you said, but also your temper was starting to annoy him.

“Well, since you know everything, tell me the way back home.” He rolled his eyes halfway, bothered about how you were speaking as if he wasn’t in a difficult situation either or had chosen to be there.

“Don’t start with that, I’ve dedicated a great part of my life to studying yours. I know your sassy temper.” You rolled your eyes, for a second lowkey forgetting that his personality was your smaller problem. Acacius had an answer ready, but your declaration got him unprepared.

“You studied my life?” he questioned, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course I did. You turned into the military version of Julius Caesar in terms of popularity, one of the most mentioned names when the subject is ancient Rome.” You sighed heavily, looking away from him “And I never got over what they did to you.” Acacius wondered for a moment what you were referring to, but he imagined you meant the whole situation in the coliseum.

“I remember all that.” He started in a contemplative tone “I remember being there, the exhaustion, the despair of my dear Lucilla, the pain of the first arrows, then I woke up somewhere else and remained there until today.” He sighed and shook his head “Do you have any idea of what happened?”

“No. Despite all the theories about time traveling and supernatural events, there’s nothing concrete about it that could explain you coming back to life.” You passed one hand over your hair, taking a deep breath. “Well, since I’m already screwed up with all this, can you answer a few things I always wanted to know?”

“Go ahead, it is not as if I have anything else to do.” Acacius agreed while taking a couple of steps to approach you by your desk, looking curious at your notes written on those peculiarly connected letters.

“Are the theories that you were trained by Maximus himself true?” you looked at him expectantly, feeling like your life would finally make sense with that answer.

“Yes, I had the honor of having him as a mentor.” He confirmed while curiously nudging the mouse of your computer, looking abruptly back at you when you slapped the wooden surface.

“I fucking knew it.” You sounded like an excited child “The behavioral pattern in matters of war is so obvious and explains your ties with the royal family. I know I wasn’t crazy!” you got slightly self-conscious as you realized Acacius’ confusedly staring at you, surprised that such a simple thing seemed to be such a big deal to you. “Now you probably think I’m crazy.”

“Not much shocks me after Geta and Caracalla. You look very normal to me.” He affirmed casually, taking a genuine laugh at you with how he seemed so casual about everything.

“Speaking about our crazy boys, the urban legend that you laughed when they threatened you with a damnatio memoriae it’s true either?” Once again you saw yourself breathing slowly to not miss a thing of the answer.

“Sincerely, I am not proud of it, but yes.” He shrugged with a discreet grin “But how do you know such a thing?”

“Well, we believe that it started as a rumor among the Pretorians that spread like fire on the straw due to people’s compassion for your history.” You looked away as your phone screen turned on with some random notification, but what got your attention was Acacius’ suspicious gaze toward the object. “Don’t be amazed so quickly, there’s a lot of weirdest technologies nowadays.”

“Everything seems quite familiar to me.” He said while looking around the room.

“We’re in the middle of the Capitoline Museum, what did you expect?”

“Capitoline?” he ignored your sarcastic remark, more interested in the familiar name.

“Come with me.” Before he could agree, you already had grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to the hallway.

“But this is...”

“Yes, the imperial palace.” You finished his statement as the two of you walked through the hallway full of statues.

“But you said more than a millennium has passed since my time. This place did not change at all.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, stopping a few steps away from the staircase, pissed at yourself for assuming Acacius would magically guess what happened in the last 1814 years.

“This is a museum now; the idea is precisely to keep all of this the most intact possible. Look at that.” You pointed to The Dying Gaul behind Acacius “This is from around 60-40 BC, approximately 150 years older than you and still perfectly preserved, just like everything else here. That’s why your statue was brought here, to be studied, cataloged, and exposed to the public, while we made sure it was kept safe and intact.” Acacius attentively listened to your explanation, actually surprised that those things were from his time or even before since they looked very much like they used to in their time.

“Now it makes sense to me.” He took another look around the hallway and then back to you “What do you want to show me?”

“C’mon, general.” You passed your arm on his while going downstairs, laughing at his expression mixed with confusion and surprise. You got out of the building, getting to the courtyard and leading to the front door, you hesitated for a second before opening it. “Please don’t lose your mind.” You sighed quietly when he nodded and opened the door in front of you.

Acacius took a first hesitant step, at first not seeing anything so different, but then he paid more attention; the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius showing the signs of time with the marks on the bronze, if only he knew that wasn’t even the original one, the pavement also didn’t pass unnoticed by him, definitely that wasn’t there the last time he saw the place. Afraid with which other changes he could find, but unable to hold back himself, he walked closer to the edge of the square, taking a full view of the city, unable to identify what he was feeling while seeing a completely new city, despite still being able to see the Rome he used to know on those ruins. Acacius leaned against the plinth of one of the two enormous statues at the entrance of the Capitoline square, only then seeming to completely understand how much has happened in the world since his death.

“Are you alright?” you asked, approaching him, noticing his distress.

“Yes.” He answered while looking again at the city for a moment, then back at you “I just did not expect all this.”

“You’ll get used to it.” You said casually, not wanting to make the situation worse. “C’mon, we can’t stay here for too long, it’s almost 6 am, soon the team will be here to prepare the guided tour.” Acacius just followed you while still looking around, less shocked, but still not totally believing in what he was seeing.

“What is this?” he questioned as you opened that unknown metallic device.

“It's nowadays carriages.” You answered with one arm lying on the car door “Get in, general. I’ll take you home.”

“You are quite an odd lady.” He said unable to suppress a chuckle.

“I’m not the one wearing a dress and a crown of golden laurels.” You rolled your eyes with a quiet laugh as he got into the car the best someone from his time could. You closed the door and walked around, getting into the vehicle and looking at Acacius, smiling at his childish curiosity at the screen showing the GPS.

“Is this a map?” he asked while recognizing the image.

“Yes, and this little dot there moves simultaneously as we move.” You mentioned starting the car and moving on the street.

“Fascinating!” Acacius’ enthusiasm was obvious “This would have been so useful to navigations.”

“You would love to be a general nowadays.” You kept looking at the street in front of you but could see Acacius’ head turning to every side it could.

Your way back home at these hours used to be boring, but not when you had your favorite historical figure asking you tons of questions: “What happened to the coliseum walls? What are those red and green lights? How does the map dot know where we are going? How did those strange street torches extinguish themselves?” Most times you’d be annoyed with so many questions, but the way he sounded so fascinated and curious kind of warmed your heart, making your brain occasionally click; you’d never give any of your male coworkers a ride to the next street corner, yet you felt completely at ease near to an ancient roman general you only knew through the tons of history books you read over your life, truly feeling like some kind of good aura came from him.

And the same was true for him. Despite the little harsh moments you had earlier, he trusted completely his judgment about people, and you definitely were on the trustworthy side for him, after all, he understood you would be in trouble with whoever was your superior, yet you refused to let him at his luck.

Finally, at your house, Acacius’ fascinations with the modern world didn’t cease, some of them quite comprehensible, like his shock when your Alexa turned on all the lights on the house, and some others funnier like his interest in your thermal cup and how it was able to preserve temperature.

“Slow down, I still do not understand how people get inside this thing.” Acacius said in complete confusion while pointing to the TV in your bedroom.

“They don’t.” you laughed and sat next to him at the edge of your bed “What we see is that thing called video that I told you about.”

“Sincerely still confusing, but I think I understand.” He admitted while exploratory pressing the buttons on the remote, shocked with how many things existed inside that illuminated box “I know this.”  You turned to look at the same spot he was, realizing he was talking about some random movie with the Roman legions on the cover.

“Oh yeah, there’s quite a bunch of movies about y’all and your fancy battle clothes.” You mentioned while looking into the grocery store bag you just found next to your bed, not remembering when that got lost there.

“But how do they have video from that time?” you couldn’t hold a genuine laugh at his adorable confusion.

“It’s not from your time, Acacius. It’s all acting as they did in Roman theaters, but now instead of only doing it in real-time, they record it so we can watch it multiple times, at any time we want.”

“How many amazing things exist in this time?” he questioned with an amused frown.

“A lot to be fair.” You found a bag of chips among your lost groceries “Lemme show you modern food.” You said as you opened the package and held it to him, with no second thoughts Acacius took a potato from the bag, savoring it as if it was a fine delicacy.

“This is what you eat every day?” He was already grabbing another chip from the package.

“Not ideally, but sometimes it happens.” You chuckled and grabbed the remote “Let’s watch this. Nothing like a real Roman general to tell me how accurate it is.” You settled better and played the movie.

You were surely amazed at his observations about the movie, sometimes perplexed with something absurdly inaccurate or highly excited with the facts that matched the reality while gladly savoring the potato chips. The most entertained you were, it was almost 8 am on Saturday and you’ve been awake since 6 am on Friday, so you didn’t even realize you started to melt on the bed, until you ended up fully asleep in an awkward position. When he stopped to listen to your opinions about his comments, Acacius looked at you, smiling discreetly as he saw you knocked out with one arm hanging out of the bed. Careful to not wake you, Acacius placed your asleep body the rest more comfortably and laid down on the other side of the bed, turning his gaze at you after looking around the whole room, still processing how amazing those modern things were and how you could be such a pleasing company despite your occasional rude manners.

"Acacius, I'm back." You said by the front door while taking off your coat. Not much later he showed up with a dishcloth in hand, taking a smile from you. "Hope you didn't make any mess in my kitchen." You joked despite knowing he hadn't.

"Can you trust me at least a bit?" He raised both eyebrows "I was just dealing with that plate cleaner thing." He said referring to your dishwasher, making you chuckle and shake your head. A week has passed and you were shocked by how good of a roommate Acacius was. He quickly understood how things worked nowadays to keep a house in order, accepting easily that no one would be around organizing the place and bringing him food as it used to be in his time, and he seemed to be quite fine with getting some tasks done, feeling useful and entertained while you were at work.

"I need to teach you how to use the vacuum cleaner." You chuckled and fell on the couch, pressing your temples and closing your eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Acacius moved to sit by your side, noticing your tension.

"They want to open the exposition next week." You said with a heavy breath "I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Oh, my dear, I feel so sorry for causing you all this situation." He reached to touch your hand, looking at you with a guilty face.

"It's not your fault." You looked at him and smiled "And at the end, if I have to get stuck with any historical figure, I'm happy it's you." you hesitated for a moment, but surrendered to your desperate need for some comfort, tucking yourself between his arms and resting your head near the medusa figure of his armor he refused to take off. "Damn, you're probably the best man I ever met." It all got Acacius unprepared. You had exchanged some casual physical contact, especially because the two of you ended up falling asleep together every night while you showed him some new modern thing or asked him about how accurate the information you knew about his time was, he even occasionally woke up with your head resting on his arms a couple times, but nothing like that.

“I am really sorry to have met you in such complicated circumstances.” He started while wrapping his arms around you “But I have to agree with you about it, I wouldn’t choose another awkward sorceress to get stuck with.” He mentioned that in that casual sassy manner, making you look at him with a frown despite the silly smile on your face.

“I’m not a sorceress, it’s just technology. The awkward part, you might be right.” You shook your head while your fingers brushed against the medusa on his chest.

“It fits your beauty.” He said it with no flourishes, making your brain freeze for a moment, that was the last thing you expected to hear. Aware that your current situation couldn’t be worse, you stopped fighting against your rational thoughts and leaned forward, pressing your lips on his, not knowing what to expect from it, but being gladly surprised by the warm big hand rubbing your back as Acacius instinctively pulled you closer to him.

And everything became a blur. Nothing else mattered. For a moment you forgot that your job was at risk, that you had no idea why Acacius was there and for how long he’d stay, that was completely insane to fall in love with a man who could disappear in the blink of an eye just like he showed up, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Even before knowing him in person your affection towards him was a thing, since you never accepted how fate could’ve been so cruel to a good man, and after spending a whole week with him, feeling more at home and happy than ever, that feeling could only grow. To your luck, it wasn’t a one-sided thing. Acacius’ mind was a complete chaos on the first day, cursing the gods for having done such a thing with him, making him live once more with the vivid memory of his tragedy, but after spending some time with you, he started to consider it a gift from the gods; the chance of live again while having the company of such a peculiar figure like you, while having the unique experience of see by himself how the world evolved after Rome.

“I’m sorry.” Your whisper cut the line of thought of both of you as you leaned lightly backward “I shouldn’t have…” you were silenced by the thumb softly pressing your lips.

“Do not worry. I have finally known how the most spectacular thing from this time feels, I could not be more blessed by the gods.” You were incapable of thinking about an answer and he didn’t give you the time to do such a thing, pressing another kiss on your lips.

“Please, Mr. Bianchi, I promise you this is the last extra time I ask you.” You begged with all your might, unable to decipher your boss’ expression.

“Dear, I know your amazing work and for me, you could have a whole year with that statue, but it doesn’t depend solely on my wish as you know very well.” The old man spoke while aligning the pile of papers on his desk.

“Another week is all I ask.” You tried your chances, twisting your keys between your fingers.

“Impossible. The best I can do for you is a couple of days.”

“I understand.” You nodded, trying to keep yourself together, and got up, leaving the room after a weak goodbye.

You crossed the building of the museum faster than you ever had, glad that the visits were already closed, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing the tears of despair rolling down your face. As you got out at the Capitoline Square, you walked around a couple of times in complete confusion. What would you do when they searched for the statue and only found the empty plinth? How would you convince anyone that your new roommate and lover was the lost statue? You certainly would go to jail accused of robbing the historical piece. Your academic career would be dead and buried and Acacius would be completely alone. Damn, you couldn’t bear the idea of him not knowing why you didn’t come back home or worse, thinking you had abandoned him voluntarily. The only way your life could not end in a disaster was if Acacius became a statue again, but that you could never wish for. Not only because your feelings towards him were almost unhealthily growing with each passing day or because you couldn’t imagine sleeping without his warmth again, but also because he seemed to be so happy and living such a light life, the life he deserved of all the misfortune he experienced before.

Standing in the middle of the empty Capitoline square, you stared at the replica of the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, feeling your rage on the verge of getting out of control.

“Your stupid bastard. Couldn’t you have kept your damn dream of Rome to yourself? Couldn’t you have changed the fucking Roman rules and let your damn daughter assume the empire so she would’ve never involved Acacius in all of this? Your dumb old man.” You angrily shouted at the bronze figure of Marcus Aurelius as if he could hear you and as if Geta and Caracalla’s cruelty towards Acacius was his fault either.

Not wanting to bear your thoughts any longer, you ran to your car and drove like crazy back home, aware that you would probably receive some notes from the transit department, and not caring about anything else but hiding yourself in Acacius’ arms and pretending nothing of that was true and that you were just a simple roman peasant that got lucky enough to catch the attention of the empire’s greatest general.

“Acacius?” you called passing by the front door, your heartbeat getting wilder when he didn’t show up like every day until then “Acacius?” you called louder while starting to look around the house. You heard some noises from your backyard and headed there, sighing relieved as you saw your general there, safe and sound. Then your attention moved to the whole scene and you finally understood Acacius’ unending questions about modern table setting and the specific things he asked from the grocery after going into your grandma’s recipe book. “What is all of this?” you asked with a wide smile, observing the picnic towel in the middle of your patio filled with most of the recipes of your grandma that you told Acacius were your favorites.

“You have been so good to me and you’re one of the best hosts I ever met. I thought it would be the minimum to try to reciprocate it.” He explained while stopping in front of you, placing his golden laurels on your head with a playful smile then held out one hand to you. You were anesthetized while holding his hand, your mind going blank of all worries and concerns. How could he become better at any passing second? You would never know.

Your heart felt light as a feather on the wind while you two shared that meal under the starry sky and your body was almost in a trance, making you unable to do better than nod with a silly smile at every word that fell from Acacius’ lips, fully convinced that if the afterlife paradise existed, it must be like that: sit on the grass and be fed on the mouth by a gold-hearted man while using his laurels crown.

“You look distracted.” Acacius observed while fiddling with a lock of your hair.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that all of this seems better than any good dream I ever had.” You moved to sit sideways on his lap; after two complete weeks and five days of living together, that already had become a casual move between the two of you.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead “And be warned that I intend to do it again.”

“You won’t hear a single complaint from me, general.” You chuckled and passed your hand through his graying hair, laying forward to rest your face against the curve of his neck.

“I am not sure if your personality would allow you such a thing, but I will have faith in you.” Acacius pressed a soft kiss on your temple and remained like that, enjoying the warm feel of you all nestled on his lap, not knowing when was the last time he felt so at peace, not even the annoying cold on his arm being able to disturb him at that moment.

 Having spent most of his life in the Roman wars, the feeling of being at home wasn’t a familiar sensation to him, but Acacius knew very well that being tangled at you in the middle of your patio with your breath tickling his neck was certainly his new definition of home, even in that strange period with its mechanisms that looked very much like some kind of wizard work and the memories of his first life haunting him, he still was unbothered by any of it.

“Are you tired?” he asked softly as your eyelids fell closed, caressing your face.

“No, I’m just too comfortable here.” You shifted slightly to look at him, smiling when he aligned the laurels on your head.

“Very well then, this was the goal.” He playfully pinched your cheek, making you chuckle and shrug.

“Damn, your hand is freezing.” You straightened yourself on his lap, rubbing his biceps to confirm that he was cold. “You’ll need a long-sleeved tunic to survive the winter.” You laughed and gave him a soft peck on the lips before leaning a bit backward, frowning as you felt a weird nudge on your back. You turned to look at what it was and immediately wished you had never done it, feeling the tears promptly forming in your eyes as you tried to deny the horrible truth, refusing to believe that Acacius’ whole right forearm was turning back into bronze. His gaze followed yours and he could only sigh exasperated when he saw it; despite imagining that the gods may not let him stay forever, he hoped it’d happen later. “No!” you shook your head in complete denial “This can’t be true.” You hugged him tight, hoping that was just a nightmare, but at the same time, you could feel his warmth fading away and his skin becoming as cold as the metal of his armor.

“Darling,” he cupped your face with his left hand, unable to move the other one “we both knew this might happen. Do not cry, everything will be alright, you will not have any trouble explaining my disappearance now.” It broke your heart how calmly he told you that, reminding you that he was the same man who surrendered in the coliseum to spare his stepson’s life, of course, he would only be happy and relieved that you would have a statue to present to your superior.

“It isn’t worth anything to me if I have to come back to my empty house every day. How am I supposed to go back to my old life now, Acacius? Who’ll make me explain to them that the singers aren’t trapped inside the radio?” you were already sobbing, holding onto his red cape for dear life.

“Ease yourself, dear. You are a very clever lady; I am sure you will be alright without me.” Acacius smiled tenderly, his eyes watery.

“I’ll not. This is not fair. I’ve dreamt my whole life about meeting you, and now that I did, you’ll leave me.” You clung to him like a scared child, feeling heartbroken with the idea of him coming back to be just a pile of bronze.

“Little dove, we both know this is not my place, no matter how much I loved every second spent with you. Furthermore, you’ll be close to me every day at the museum. It will be okay.” His voice was calm despite the crying tone. You still were in complete denial, but the rest of his arm also turning back into bronze was harshly bringing you back to reality.

“We should take you back to the museum, then.” That was the last thing you wanted to do, but there was no other choice.

The ride to the museum was dead silent, just like many authors said it happened at the coliseum the day Geta ordered Acacius’ assassination, and then you understood why the sepulchral silence was always mentioned in every work about the event, it was indeed a horrible thing to experience.

The way into the Capitoline Museum wasn’t the easiest, Acacius’ mobility was getting reduced and you could only curse Michelangelo for having put those huge ass stairs when he designed the place in the 16th century. Finally, at the Gallery floor of the Palazzo Nuovo, you entered the room you were designated to work in when Acacius’ statue arrived, feeling even more heartbroken when an invisible force seemed to put him back on top of the marble plinth and position his body exactly as it was the first time you saw it, the process of turn back to bronze seemed to be faster.

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” you asked, sitting by the floor, desolated resting against the cold marble.

“Maybe not in this life, but I am sure we will meet again someday.” Acacius answered in a weak voice, just the upper part of his torso still in its human form.

“This is too much time.” You whined completely miserable, feeling like you didn’t have any more tears left.

“I am sure my clever lady will find a way to spend this time.” That warm affectionate smile was the last thing you saw before the rest of him turned back into bronze and his face recovered that serious imposing expression that made you so happy when the statue was found, and now would forever haunt your nightmares.

You grabbed the laurels crown that still was in your head holding it tight against your chest, wanting to protect the only tangible memory of him you had, but of course, fate wouldn’t be so generous, taking your last hope away when the golden crown unmade itself, just to show up again at the head of the statue that just a half hour ago was your companion, then you couldn’t hold it back anymore, screaming and crying while holding into the cold metal legs of the sculpture, feeling your stomach twist and your heart ache, sobbing until your whole head was hurting and you had no more forces to stand on your feet.

You had no idea of how you made your way back home that night when you woke up on your couch, you didn’t dare to lay on your bed, fearing that Acacius’ scent might no be gone from your bedsheets and already certain you would never have the courage of wash them. You spend the whole day walking around the house like a zombie, also not daring to look at your backyard, aware that you didn’t have the strength to revive that final happy memory with him. You ignored the 20 lost calls of your boss, only calling him back by the end of the day to ask for a few days off, claiming that you were sick and your voice hoarse from your uninterrupted cry made the excuse very convincing.

A couple of days later you heard that the opening exhibition of Acacius’ statue was a success, and that would be all your contact with it. You wouldn’t dream of showing up there, you didn’t even know if you’d be able to ever enter the museum again, especially when you found out that after the first week, it would probably go to the same room as The Dying Gaul, so every day when you got up the staircase you would face it, wanting you or not.

That whole next week passed like a confused mess in your memory, you never knew when was the last time you had slept, eaten, or taken a shower. All you knew was your computer screen and the pile of papers and snack packages forming around it, wasn’t an unusual scenario, since a lot of your work required research, however, the difference this time was the content. You always valued facts with reliable bibliographical sources, yet there you were, reading articles written by people that in any other scenario, you would completely despise the work and refuse to read, but in desperate times, desperate measures are called for. You started with serious stuff such as Einstein's theory of gravity, but it didn’t lead you to any positive answer about time traveling or anything that could bring Acacius back, so you started to dive into dubious corners of the internet and searched all the roman mythology book you had to see if there was any legend that could give you any clue of what to do, but of course all that lead to nothing, you would even had searched about it on the dark web if that tutorial you followed had worked.

After days of non-stop research and at the edge of burnout, your logical thought finally seemed to be back, making you come to your senses for a second and realize that all that was bullshit. What happened to you and Acacius was probably an isolated situation that never could be replicated. Overthinking everything and having a manic episode, you saw yourself finally having the strength to deep clean the nasty place your house had become while talking to yourself about how ridiculous that was.

The only thing that you didn’t foresee was that brand new wave of sadness when you saw yourself standing in the middle of your perfectly clean and silent house, hoping that at any moment you would see Acacius showing up with a random electronic device asking you how it worked.

But he wouldn’t do it, never again.

The unique nature of your relationship that a few hours earlier served as a consolation, turned into your new nightmare. It had been an exceptional occasion, supposing that the gods existed, they probably just had accidentally messed up with some timeline and put you and Acacius together. Of course, it had to be an accident, there was no way your relationship would be manageable, at least not in 2024, if you were the one mistakenly showing up in ancient Rome, maybe it could work, but it wasn’t like that.

You entered another spiral of insanity, repeating to yourself that there was no chance of it ever happening again while you sobbed curled up on the side of the bed Acacius used to sleep, confirming that his scent indeed was still there. As you planned originally, you didn’t wash the bedsheets or the dishcloth he last touched, just like the dress you were wearing the night he turned into bronze again, preserving every crumb of his smell you could, and also going into some more serious business, taking a tone of pregnancy tests as you realized your period was late and praying to every force above for a positive result, hoping to have a part of Acacius with you, and feeling like the world was ending when after all the negatives, your period showed up.

Despite feeling like your life was over, after two weeks, you had to go back to the museum, looking away or closing your eyes every damn time you had to pass in front of the Sala del Gladiatore where now Acacius’ statue was, facing the Dying Gaul sculpture and the door, making it harder to ignore, especially if added the fact that the Gaul was your favorite statue of the museum, certainly a cruel joke of the destiny.

On that random ordinary afternoon, you were unworriedly turning off the hallway lights, after so much time working there, you managed to walk among the statues in the dim light without being terrified. You were ready to go downstairs, but saw that someone did you the favor of forgetting to turn off the light in that room you avoided for so long, for a moment you considered just letting it be, but you knew that was a risky move that could even start a fire, so you built the courage to walk in, planning to quickly turn off the light and leave, but you failed even before trying, passing through the switch near the door with no second thoughts.

You smiled as you stopped in front of the Dying Gaul, only then realizing you had missed him too; you used to pass there almost every day to look at him, but since they brought the general’s statue to the room two months before, you never entered there again. For a moment you wondered if it was just your confused mind or if the Gaul and Acacius looked a lot like each other.

After building the courage, you turned around to face Acacius, feeling that familiar sting in your heart. Indulging your search for some comfort, you sit by the floor, resting your back against the wall, just staying there for a moment.

“I have to admit you were right. I found a way to spend time. I adopted a dog, you know, a Pitbull mix, the cutest little guy. I named him Justino if you catch my drift.” You chuckled and looked at the other statues in the room. “Y’all stop judging me, I had to share with someone.” You looked up at Acacius, smiling widely as you briefly recalled the night when he became human. “I miss you, general, and sometimes I rewatch that horrible movie about the Roman army you found amazing. I hope you know I haven’t stopped thinking about you, I just needed time to put myself together. I’ll probably never stop thinking about our time together, and probably will show up here every day from now on.” You sighed and got up, looking at him with a sad smile “I cursed your gods a lot, but now I can only thank them for having messed up with whatever cable that controls the timelines of the world.” You reached one arm up, managing to touch one of his hands, relaxing with the familiar form, even with the warmth absent. “You’ll always hold a place in my heart.” You closed your eyes and allowed your head to fall forward, resting your forehead against the bronze surface. “Ubi tu gaius, ego gaia.” You mumbled quietly, taking a moment there before building the courage to walk away, turning off the light, and getting downstairs, wondering if would be a good idea to try to convince Mr. Bianchi to allow pets at the museum, at least for one day, so you could take Justino to meet Acacius and finally see the man you told him so much about and named him after.

[sp0np]

Drew myself into this uhhhh Fyodor x reader fic (damnatio memoriae by aamorpheous or smthg) it convinced me into liking fyodor and then i had a dream abt him errmmm🧌🧌🧌 he was so cute here 😕😕😕

[itjazzbicch]

Keeps Me Breathing

Pairing: Magna Swing x Reader 

Summary: FIRSTS THINGS FIRST! THERE ARE MANGA SPOILERS! SO HERE'S YOUR WARNING BEFORE YOU CONTINUE!

Also a continuation of New Motivations:

Magna's and the reader's plans are jammed up due to their current enemy arising, the reader sacrifices themselves for everyone, unable to hang on, thinking it's the end, but Magna keeps them breathing...

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, near-death experience

Word Count: 1.3k 

Well, it looked like this was it for me.

Taking on Damnatio while already roughed up was a challenge, but I had to. So, Asta could get to who was behind all of this, Lucius.

Forming my mana zone, I pushed past my limits. Creating the heaviest form of gravity to keep down and that came with a great cost.

His body was next to mine, probably knocked out, maybe even dead, as he was as stiff as a tree.

I wasn’t in great shape either. Using what little magic I had left to keep the rocks above us hovering, so I wouldn’t get crushed.

The gravity that I used to take him down was so heavy that I practically buried us alive. Gravely injured, blood all over me, and horrible couldn’t even describe the pain I was feeling.

Every second that passed, it got harder to breathe. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of my bones were broken and my organs were crushed.

“OVER HERE!!”

Looking up, I could hear voices, the rocks making it hard to tell who it was.

Pebbles started falling, some light peeking out through the top.

Captain Yami? Magna?

“Y/N?!”

I tried to speak and blood came out, coughing and it made the pain so much worse.

“Oh my god,” Magna came sliding down the rocks with Captain Yami, limp when Captain Yami picked me up.

“Just hang on tight, kid,” Captain Yami hauled me out, sitting me against a big rock, looking to see the rest of our squad running over, even if they were beaten up, Magna panicking but trying to help:

“Yeah, Mimosa is on her way, so she can-“

“That’s okay,” I whispered ghostly, she was too far away, and so, I accepted my fate, “Not ‘ough t-time.”

“Don’t you talk like that!” Magna instantly started crying at my words, “It won’t be much longer, I promise!”

I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, but I could feel what little oxygen I had being clogged, the tiniest amount keeping me conscious.

Everyone stopped around us, seeing Vanessa fall to her knees, tears in all their eyes, even Captain Yami’s.

They were the best part of my life, and I loved them. From barbecues, training, and all the crazy things we’ve done and accomplished. I wouldn’t want to live a life without them.

“Y/N-“ Vanessa was crying as they all came closer, seeing how my eyes were starting to drift off.

I managed to lock them on Magna as he took my hand, barely able to hold back his sobs as he kept trying to encourage me:

“You can’t die here! We still have our date! There’s so much we still have to do together.”

Everyone else kept trying too, mentioning our goals of becoming captains together, any little detail that came to their minds.

Starting to lose feeling, I did feel the tears streaming down my face, but smiling as much as I could, eyes still locked into Magna’s.

“L-Love you,” The last bit of air I had, I used to let them know how happy they made me, trying to squeeze Magna’s hand, “S-So ‘uch.”

Not fighting the sobs anymore, all their hearts were breaking together, Magna being the one to cry back to me:

“I love you too.”

Hearing that made me smile more, heartbroken that this was my last moment, but grateful that I had them and that I wasn’t alone.

My eyes started drifting off again, looking to the sky, cold and able to hear the last faint beats my heart had left.

Suddenly, I felt something warm. Realizing that Magna was hugging me, everything started going black, the last thing I heard was his cries, his sobbing plea echoing off into my mind:

“You can’t die on me! Please! Y/NNN!”

—————

Was I dead?

Everything was still dark but I could hear some birds chirping.

Gradually, some figures were visible but it was still dark. Trying to look around, my vision was blurry, but I saw a window?

The moon. A full moon that was glowing.

The realization smacked me hard that I must’ve been awake, trying to sit up and I slammed back down, crying out in pain.

That pain was enough to know that I was alive, sobbing at how everything hurt, screaming when I suddenly heard:

“Y/N!!!”

Looking to my side, it was Magna, who scared me. Falling out of his chair to his knees next to me.

His eyes were so red, dark circles under them like he hadn’t slept in days, crying more:

“You’re awake. Thank goodness, you’re awake.”

Reliving the end of judgment day, all I could think about was him hugging me. Sobbing and fighting the pain, I took his arm, crying with him, but cooing:

“Come here.”

I could only hug him with one arm, but I hugged him as much as I could, finally getting to say:

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you like I did. I just-; I had to defeat Damnatio somehow.”

“It’s okay,” He swallowed down, picking his head up to look into my eyes, smiling through tears, “I’m just so happy you’re still here.”

I was too. Smiling back and asking:

“Were you here with me all this time? How long have I been out for?”

“A week,” He mumbled, explaining to me, “You broke some bones and some of your organs got crushed and because of your gravity, it made it hard to heal. I’ve been here, ever since they’ve been trying to heal you.”

Just as I expected, my magic was unique and since I change gravity in ways only I know how, it can make it difficult for others to adapt to the changes it makes.

Either way, I was just happy that I was alive. I was touched by how he’s stayed with me.

“But don’t worry,” Trying to stay optimistic, he also informed me, “You only have two big injuries right now and they’re working to get it healed as quickly as they can.”

“That’s good,” I breathed out, closing my eyes and admitting, “Because I feel like shit.”

“I bet,” He sighed, fighting some tears again, “I’m just so relieved.”

Pushing some of his hair behind his ear, wiping his tears away, and promising:

“I am too. And the second I’m out of here, we’re going on our date.”

“I can’t wait,” He smiled, kissing my forehead and making quickly, “You try to relax. I’m gonna go tell Owen that you’re awake.”

When he came back with Owen, we learned that they were close to getting me patched up. It was just a challenging task with the kingdom still recovering.

I wasn’t in any rush really, but not even a week later, they had me fixed like new. The squad came to visit in between and kept me occupied. Unfortunately, Magna and the squad weren’t there the day I was released, but that gave me a good chance to surprise them.

Celebrating with everyone, and getting some of Charmy’s food to fuel up, I rushed because Magna still wasn’t back yet, so I got changed into one of my cutest outfits.

The look on his face was priceless when he came into his room, seeing me sitting on the bed, kicking my feet:

“Bout time you showed up!”

“Holy crap, you’re back?!” He rushed over, tackling me on the bed with a hug, making me squeal and giggle, but playfully scolding:

“Hey! I got all dolled up for our date! Don’t mess up my outfit!”

His head shot up so quickly, blinking for the reconfirmation that I gave him:

“I told you as soon as I was back we’d go on our date! Let’s go!”

Giggling at him stuck in place, I was shut up with a kiss, the both of us getting lost, but tapping him before it turned into a full-blown make-out session:

“Ah, ah. You’ll get kisses later. I wanna go have some fun.”

“I just needed that,” He pulled back smiling, running off to get ready, “Be back in a flash!”

“You better!” I giggled, making sure he knew, “You and I are gonna have a lot of fun today!” 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[vampire2468]

I did art of the first meeting between Fierce Deuty Link x reader from the quotev fanfic called “Damnatio Memoriae by Keerathehedgehog” ❤️💙 please check it out!!!

[hana-no-seiiki]

ALL THE BOOKS / COMICS MY OCS WILL COME FROM + THE GENRE / AESTHETIC OF EACH WORK

warnings: yandere stories, minor spoilers if you squint

elements of this post are STC for the actual series.

SERIES NAME: NARKA (lit. Hell in Tausug/Bahasa Sug)

I . LIMBO : LOVE ♡ MULTIPLIED ! INVASION OF YOUR HEART

— manga aesthetic , mostly in black n white. style changes as the story moves forward.

— highschool setting

— romance, thriller, psychological horror, horror

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included here are: yan! idol, yan! girl next door, yan! childhood friend

II . LUST : Midnight Darling

— high fashion, magentas, blacks and reds.

— college setting in ‘philippines’

— romances, thriller, psychological horror, horror

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included here are: yan! jock, yan!nerd, yan!faculty

III. GLUTTONY : LOVE ♡ MULTIPLIED ! ROCOCO LOCO

— manhwa aesthetic, bright and sparkly

— rococo/baroque era in ‘france’

— feel good, food p*rn, slice of life

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included here are: yan! emperor, yan! prince, yan! princess, yan! concubine.

IV. GREED : MAKE MONEY NOT LOVE

— mafia/yakuza/gang aesthetic

— delicious crime scenes. also equally if not more so disgusting crime scenes.

— mystery, thriller, some scifi/isekai

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included here are: yan! mafia boss, yan! yakuza, yan! hangure/delinquent.

V. HERESY : DAMNATIO MEMORIAE

— churchcore, lolita mixed with modern/sci-fi. reminiscent of genshin or honkai stair rail, painting aesthetic. very much blood sweat and tears / fake love era of bts esque.

— shounen, action, power fantasy

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) unfortunately characters here don’t really fit into an archetype, but i will be making yan! ver x reader fics nonetheless.

VI. VIOLENCE : LOVE ♡ MULTIPLIED ! MONSTER

— dark, unsaturated, messy artwork. sort of berserk if it were set thousands of years into the future.

— sci-fi, dark fantasy, seinen, body horror

— ( for yan oc! enjoyers ) some of the characters included here are: yan! scientist, yan! war hero

VII. WRATH : ISEKAICEPTION ! 1 000 000 TH TRY.

— shounen anime aesthetic, tons of battle scenes

— action, mix of high fantasy and some modern / sci-fi. mix of heresy and gluttony, power fantasy, family bonds.

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included are : platonic yan! parents and brother

VIII. FRAUD : GUEST IS GOD

— sexy, mature, red and black. semi realism.

— seinen, ecchi at times, thriller, host club.

— (for yan! oc enjoyers) some of the characters included are: yan! boss, yan! co-workers

©️ yun | hana.no.seiiki 2023

[lyranova]

Can you do some Damnatio as a dad headcannons??? Thank you!!!

Of course anon! I’m so sorry these took so long to write, but I hope you enjoy them! This is my first time writing for Damnatio so i hope they’re ok 🥺!

Black Clover Characters as Parents HC’s:

Damnatio:

• Would be one of the strictest dads!

• He didn’t really want to be a dad at first, but as time went on he got a little more comfortable with the idea!

• Is a very no nonsense kind of parent tbh, he’s probably one of the most serious parents.

• He treats his kids just like he treats other people, although he might be just a little warmer with them and a little more tolerant!

• He doesn’t really train them himself, he will train them when it comes to certain things, but usually he finds them a very good teacher who’ll train them!

• He tries to convince his kids to join the parliament like him, but if they decide to join the Magic Knights he won’t deter them. Even if he doesn’t agree with their choice.

• He doesn’t spoil his kids, he wants them to earn the rewards they get, so he usually has them do jobs or other such things in order to earn those rewards.

• He doesn’t mind discipling his kids tbh, his kids are probably very scared of him and his scales of judgment so they try to stay in line and behave themselves!

• He tries to spend time with his kids when he can, but usually he’s so busy he doesn’t get the opportunity to see them much. But he does sneak into their rooms while they’re asleep, gives them a small kiss on the head, and tells them how much he loves them.

• He is very protective of his kids! He isn't’ afraid to use his scales on someone if they mess with his kids, he probably keeps security around them at all times just to make sure they’re safe and well protected when he isn’t there!

[kaalogii]

— needle and thread (yami sukehiro x reader x damnatio kira)

one crushes you like his cigarettes as the other, strangely, has the kinder heart.

warnings: slight angst

Soft fingertips glided delicately along rough stone walls. The owner paced their steps through the halls as they listened intently to the stories being echoed throughout. Their presence generously acknowledged by those who came across them, though their response had been a pained smile. 

“Pardon me for disrupting your stroll, but Chairman Kira has requested your presence in the garden,” A servant of House Kira had suddenly informed Y/N, breaking them out of their thoughts. 

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be on my way,” Y/N moved their occupied hand to their side, missing the rough texture as they ventured to the garden to accompany Damnatio Kira. They maneuvered through the castle walls with ease, once again lost within their own thoughts. 

Y/N had lost count of the days or ...could it have been months? Whichever it may have been, Y/N wasn’t exactly time focused, nor bothered to be. All that had been important to Y/N was fulfilling their duties in the Clover Kingdom. House Kira had been kind enough to offer their home as a stepping stone for peace to the eldest child of a neighboring kingdom. 

If only Y/N had remained obedient and loyal to their royal duties, their mind would be free from pressing personal issues. Though, Y/N had been granted free will from their own kingdom and the Clover Kingdom, they wished they hadn’t strayed afar from the nobles. Then perhaps they wouldn’t have met Yami Sukehiro. 

Their meeting had purely been an accident. Though Yami had convinced it to be fate. Y/N had strayed away from their escort in the beginning of their stay in the Clover Kingdom due to their natural curiosity of the kingdom they’ve learned of in their youth. Yami had once again been on the search for his wild animals and took a sudden interest to the strange individual that peacefully stumbled upon his, secretly, beloved pets. 

It had been at that point on where their many secret rendezvous’ had begun. Y/N had been new to the idea of love, unsure of what it truly holds. Young and naive, Y/N blindly stepped into the abyss, only holding onto the strand of thread Yami allowed. 

“You look troubled” Damnatio Kira’s voice broke Y/N from their thoughts. They weakly smiled as Damnatio stood from his seat to pull theirs. As Y/N got comfortably seated, Damnatio returned to his own, silently eyeing Y/N. “Are you unhappy here?”

“No,” Y/N had been honest as they reached for their teacup to take a much needed drink. Damnatio had hummed in response, taking a drink of his own. The pleasant combination of gentle waterfall and the chirping of birds had comfortably drowned the silence between them. 

“I summoned you here out of the servants concerns,” Damnatio returned his teacup to the table, catching Y/N’s attention. “Normally I wouldn’t be bothered with quizzical issues being brought to my attention. Especially from servants, but the mention of your name had resulted in the exception,” Y/N placed her teacup onto the table, bringing her hands to her lap. “Our duty is to keep you comfortable and safe, for the sake of our kingdoms,” 

“Yes, I understand,”

“The members of my family had left your care in my hands at the beginning of this arrangement. I concluded you to be a responsible adult and let the rumors of your rendezvous with foreign scum to be a temporary phase. Though it seems as though it is not the case. Am I correct?” 

Y/N fumbled with their fingers, averting their gaze from Damnatio’s fierce one. They took notice of the difference in angered expressions they received from Damnatio to Yami’s. Though Yami had only directed anger toward Y/N on the many occasions of Y/N expressing their love for the man. Y/N continued to do so, concluding that anger had been Yami’s choice to express his feelings for the individual. 

“I love him,” Y/N softly blurted loud enough for Damnatio to hear. 

“You love him?” Damnatio had been amused. “Absolute beauty of royal blood loving foreign scum? A disgrace. That isn’t even the worst of it, correct? I’ll answer for you.” Y/N returned their gaze onto Damnatio, focusing onto green eyes. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors. Even I have heard them all. Yami Sukehiro does not love you,” Y/N flinched. 

Damnatio’s words pierced Y/N’s heart although they knew his words had been true. The rumors had begun as soon as Yami and Y/N had their first interaction. They, themselves, had been warned by the members of Yami’s squad to be wary of their captain’s true intentions. Their words and warnings hadn’t been enough, for Y/N had been too far down in the abyss to think otherwise. 

“Now that one subject is out of the way,” Y/N listened to Damnatio as his tone changed. “It appears our families have been working with one another, which I assume we would both agree to be excellent progress in terms of our kingdoms,” Y/N hummed in agreement. “Both sides have agreed to take a step to complete the alliance between our kingdoms by proposing the idea of marriage between you and I,” 

“Marriage?” Y/N searched for any indication that Damnatio’s words were false, finding none they awaited for him to continue. 

“I agree that this is sudden, but I did not dismiss the proposal when it was presented to me. I believe this is a good opportunity for us. I understand you may feel opposed to the idea, but I ask you to carefully think over the proposal,” Damnatio studied Y/N, expecting an outburst but received none. 

“A word of advice,” Damnatio continued. “Don’t allow your naivety to control your emotions. I assume you are smarter than you currently present yourself to be and you are willing to listen to information presented in these rumors you hear about regarding your unfortunate situation with Yami Sukehiro,” Damnatio watched as Y/N tensed. “If you’re looking for love and if you consider the proposal given to us by our kingdoms, I will devout myself in learning to love you as you deserve,” 

Y/N had risen from their seat. “I am grateful for your concern. If you could excuse me for a moment, I have much to think about,”

Damnatio nodded, silently watching as Y/N disappeared from his eyesight. 

The sudden situation had added onto the troubles Y/N had been dealing with in their inner monologue. As they battled the concerns, they were unaware of the location their legs had been leading them to. 

Deep down, Y/N had known the “love” Yami Sukehiro had shown them was nothing more than filling the void for his own loneliness. Along the way, Y/N had mistaken his words and actions for something deeper than what they had been. Yami had twisted their perception to the newfound idea of love into what he decided for them to believe. As a result, Y/N had blindly given everything to the man in every form; emotionally and physically. To the outside, and to Yami’s knowledge, Y/N had been another pet of his he held onto with a simple piece of thread. At anytime, Yami could break the connection, but for reasons unknown, he never had. 

A theory the servants had on the situation had been the idea of Yami Sukehiro using Y/N as a ploy for revenge on Damnatio regarding previous events involving the Black Bulls. The silly theory of the servants of House Kira had actually been correct, unbeknownst to them and others whose ears had the rumor fallen onto them. 

Y/N had been brought out from their thoughts as they sighted the door belonging to the hideout of the Black Bulls. The door had mysteriously opened by itself, from Y/N view as they stepped into the hideout. Although appearing that way, Y/N missed the sight of the member called Henry, who solemnly looked down in pity from his room at Y/N. 

Oddly familiar sounds echoed through the hideout, though Y/N couldn’t place the familiarity of the sounds. Deciding not to think further of it, they continued through the halls as they used the sounds as guidance until reaching the familiar door of Yami’s room. Y/N heart sank at the realization of the familiarity. Their actions moving ahead of their mind as they gently opened the door to come into view of the lewd sight of Yami and his fellow Clover Kingdom captain, Charlotte Roselei. Quickly, Y/N closed the door and made their way in returning to the Kira House. 

Hours had passed after the initial event and Yami had remained clueless to what had occurred outside of his walls. He groaned as he awoken from his slumber, dismissing the weight present beside him. Charlotte’s arms wrapped around Yami’s bare frame as he attempted to remove himself from his bed. Before he could perform further action in getting away from his minuscule hookup, a message from the Wizard King had arrived for Yami. The message played presenting an overjoyed Julius. 

“Weddings are lovely this time of year, but before weddings come engagements! I am honored to present the news in regarding the unity of two kingdoms as we solidify our alliance by joining two members of the highest seats from each of our kingdoms. With great honor, I announce the engagement of Damnatio Kira of House Kira and Y/N L/N of House L/N. I wish the couple a happy engagement and a promising marriage! That is all, good day!”

Yami settled into his bed, welcoming Charlotte’s sleeping embrace contrasting his previous attempts to get away from the woman. He reached onto his table, retrieving a single cigarette and his lighter. Yami took an elongated drag of his cigarette before exhaling. The smoke from his exhale had hidden the lone tear gliding down his face. He chuckled to himself before taking another long drag.

“I don’t give a damn.” 

[mercillery]

The Damnatio one was EVERYTHING oh my gosh I am so happy you took my request it's a drought for him ngl!! If you're down, could you write some headcanons for him with a super excitable social and friendly partner? And kinda how others would view them? I don't wanna overwhelm you with requests though so if you do it don't worry about how much or little you write I just love your writing so much for him and would love to see more!!

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: AAAAAA thank you so much anon <333 Don’t worry about overwhelming me, I usually have little to no requests lol. This one was a little short, but I hope it’s still to your liking as well 🙂‍↕️❤️

Absolutely no one had a clue that you and Damnatio were dating until your extroverted self decided to make the announcement. Your circle of friends and acquaintances were used to your lively, open nature, but the news left them in utter disbelief and maybe even horror. The idea of the stern, stoic Damnatio being in a relationship with someone as sunny and sociable as you was definitely not a believable one. Initially, most people thought you were joking or perhaps suffering from an intense crush that led you to concoct this wild story. They couldn’t wrap their heads around the contrast between your vibrant personality and Damnatio’s composed and intimidating demeanor. The mere suggestion of you two as a couple was met with scoffs and dismissive chuckles, thinking you just had a big fat crush on him. I assume that one day, the gossip and skepticism reached a peak one day when someone, out of sheer curiosity and a hint of disbelief, decided to approach Damnatio directly. With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, they asked him if he was actually dating you or not. To which Damnatio confirms he was in fact dating you.

Everyone in the room right now: 😮😯😦😧🫢

From that day on, you and Damnatio became the center of numerous conversations, much to his growing annoyance. It seemed like every social gathering and workplace chat had turned into a speculation fest about your relationship. Damnatio, who cherished his privacy, found the sudden attention and intrusive questions particularly irritating. He couldn’t fathom why everyone was making such a fuss over his personal life or why they felt entitled to pry into it. With that being said, the constant barrage of dramatic reactions and endless questions starts getting on his nerves—but he manages to keep it together. People approached him with an almost morbid curiosity, asking about every little detail of your relationship. It wasn’t just the questions themselves, but the persistent and invasive nature of them, that grated on his nerves. When he finally saw you again, his first concern was for your well-being. He first asks if people have been pestering you with questions, genuinely concerned about how you are handling the situation. As you sheepishly admitted that you were the one who had made the announcement, he couldn’t help but inwardly facepalm. He had suspected you as much, given your open and expressive nature. But he wasn’t angry with you or anything—just fed up with the sudden spotlight on him and you. Honestly, even if your actions sometimes leave him wondering how he would ever keep up with you, he knew he wouldn’t trade you for anything. <3

But anyway, onto the more general stuff in the relationship...

Whenever you and Damnatio take a stroll outside, your lively nature inevitably leads to spontaneous conversations with friends you bump into along the way. Each time, Damnatio stands there in silent exasperation, a stark contrast to your animated chatter. It's almost comical how he just stands there, awkward and out of place, like someone who’s been dragged into a social situation they’d rather avoid. Have you ever been friends with someone who is popular or just exceptionally talkative, and you find yourself tagging along? Then, suddenly, they strike up a conversation with someone else, leaving you to awkwardly stand by because you don’t know the other person? That’s precisely how Damnatio feels during these encounters. He stands quietly, not knowing the people you're chatting with—yet he endures it with resigned patience. Despite the slight awkwardness and his internal sighs of exasperation, he isn’t truly annoyed. It’s more of a mild exhaustion from trying to keep pace with your boundless energy and sociability. As you talk to your friend, completely oblivious to Damnatio’s predicament, your friend can’t help but notice the way Damnatio looks at you. Though his expression remains neutral, there's a softness in his eyes as he watches you—a look that speaks volumes. He listens intently to your every word, and his love for you is evident in the way he focuses on you, even in the midst of these impromptu social interactions. Your friend sees the subtle signs: the way Damnatio's eyes never leave you, the slight relaxation in his posture when he’s by your side—it’s truly an endearing sight—not that they’d ever call Damnatio out like that though.

Honestly? Damnatio might just be learning a thing or two from your happy-go-lucky nature. Your approachability, liveliness, and friendliness are traits he’s come to admire and, perhaps subconsciously, emulate when you’re around. While he’s naturally more reserved and stoic, he makes a conscious effort to be just a tiny bit less indifferent and more engaging in his interactions, at least when you’re by his side. It’s a subtle change, but it’s there. When he’s with you, he finds himself slightly softening, allowing your warmth to influence his usually composed demeanor. It's not that he transforms completely, but your presence gives him the courage to step just a little outside his comfort zone. The truth is, it’s only when you’re around that he genuinely feels a bit more relaxed and at ease. Your ability to effortlessly connect with others is something he deeply respects and tries to incorporate into his own behavior, even if it’s in small ways.

During dates, it's common for you to eagerly pick out where you'd like to go before Damnatio even gets a chance to suggest a place. These moments don't turn into arguments but rather small mini-debates that have become a ritual between you two. It's almost predictable how these debates unfold: despite your enthusiasm and creative suggestions, you often end up losing and going where he wants to go. After all, with his extensive experience in various courts and his participation in countless debates and arguments, he's hard to beat. However, the places Damnatio chooses are always worth the compromise. He prefers quiet, intimate spots with little to no people around, where the two of you can enjoy each other's company without any distractions. These serene settings, whether they are quiet cafes or hidden gardens, become the perfect backdrop for your dates. The peace and privacy allow for deeper conversations and a stronger connection, making every moment spent together feel special. Though, if I’m being completely honest, he often selects elegant, fancy restaurants for dates and reserves one of the tables outside. Under the serene light of the moon, with the night sky as your backdrop, these dinners become enchanting experiences. Despite his preference for planning, Damnatio always makes sure you get your turn in choosing the location as well. After he decides on a spot, he lets you pick the next one. This way, your dates become a balanced blend of his calm, secluded choices and your vibrant, lively ones.

Now, when it’s your turn to choose the location, things get pretty chaotic. In a good way. Maybe not so much in a good way for Damnatio, but he doesn’t have the heart to turn you down. Besides, it's your turn to pick, and he’s willing to give anything a shot if it means making you happy. This often means heading to places teeming with people and buzzing with energy, like carnivals, amusement parks, beaches, arcades, museums, and so much more. Your lively and energetic nature often leads you to choose the most exhilarating spots, and you have a particular fondness for roller coasters. Can you imagine it? Can you picture Damnatio, the epitome of stern and collected, navigating the chaos of an amusement park with you, his stoic expression unyielding even as he’s dragged from one thrill ride to the next? By the end of the day, he’s thoroughly exhausted from the countless roller coasters, the dizzying spins of the teacup rides, and the sugary overload of cotton candy you kept insisting he try. Which he did. But only because you may or may not have shoved it down his throat. Throughout these adventures, he likely keeps a straight face, his eyes only widening in surprise when the rides get particularly intense. It’s almost amusing how he maintains his calm demeanor amid the excitement and chaos you thrive in. He might be silently counting down the hours until the day ends, but he never complains. Your joy and enthusiasm are infectious, and he can’t help but be swept along in your wake. On the way home, despite being utterly drained, he glances over at you, your big smile radiating satisfaction from the day’s activities. That bright, contagious smile of yours makes everything worth it. Even though he’s tired, he knows it was all worthwhile to see you so happy. The outings might’ve left him hella drained, but they also left him with cherished memories and a deeper appreciation for the contrast you bring to his world.

So even if it means enduring a bit of chaos and exhaustion, Damnatio knows it’s a small price to pay for the happiness and love you bring into his life. ❤️❤️❤️

If you’re wondering how the tea cup rides look, they look like this: 

I was giggling for a good few minutes imagining him on a teacup ride lolol😭

[books-of-cherry]

Ok, maybe unpopular character here, can I get some general relationship headcanons with damnatio? I know he is very ✨heartless✨ but I love the judge man 💔

Damnatio Kira

• Sure, he may be “heartless” to people but he has a soft spot for his s/o.

• Not into PDA but he’s willing to show more attention when no one’s around.

• Scared that his s/o might go in the wrong side of his scales and has to sentence them.

• Not the type who says “I love you” most of the time.

• He says it when his s/o is out of track and will never say it again. That leaves his s/o confused and annoyed.

• Or when his s/o heard it. They’ll be flustered and want Damnatio to say it AGAIN.

• He likes it when his s/o brings him black tea.

• Treats his s/o as royalty. Like going to those expensive diners.

• He’s terrible at showing his emotions but he’s doing his best for his s/o.

• He’s serious when it comes to his s/o.

• Though, he doesn’t show it, he deeply cares for his s/o and he’ll protect them.

• He’s scared that his s/o might leave him.

• Probably the type of guy who accepts that his s/o left him and will let them go. IF his s/o left them on their own will.

Note: It’s hard to write for Damnatio. Anyways, I tried. Hope you like this :>>

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae: PART IV

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima', was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: arranged marriage, foul language, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, Ancient Rome as a warning in itself, bloodletting, p n v penetration, orgy-ish situation, animal sacrifice.

notes: literally posting this from a McDonalds parking lot on the way to a Christmas party. A quick thanks to my brotha @trashmouth-richie and @londonfog-chan for all the help. I owe you guys what’s left of my soul. Please like and share if you enjoy this series! Over 7000 words in this chapter alone.

IV

The delicate aroma of fresh bread and honey wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of blossoming flowers from the courtyard outside. Fine earthenware plates held an assortment of breakfast delicacies scattered across an oval table in the middle of the room: warm, crusty loaves of panis glistened with honey, bowls of ripe figs and olives, and delicate cheeses. A pitcher of cool, refreshing water sat alongside a flask of rich, dark wine—though it was early, you had indulged yourself. The gentle clinking of utensils and the soft rustle of linen filled the dining room as guests served themselves, enjoying the simple pleasures of the morning. A musician played softly in the corner, the gentle strumming of a lyre adding a serene layer to the room. You sighed happily as you sat alone at a table in the corner of the great room with the perfect view of the courtyard. For all the drama of the previous day, you revelled in being alone, relishing the magnificent frescoed walls that depicted scenes of mythological feasts and playful Bacchanalian revelries. The sunlight shone in delicately, warming the marble flooring in which you drug your barefoot across under the table.

“You must have said something to set him off. I could still smell your perfume when I walked into his chambers—he was that quick to summon me,” Caracalla said, plopping down in the chair across from you with an exaggerated huff. You sighed, placing your cutlery down, knowing fair well that any peace you had maintained over the course of the morning was over. His new golden incisor caught the light as he spoke. You had stepped out onto the balcony for just a moment when the physician had come to fix the cracked tooth the night before, a souvenir from Septimius’s fist meeting Caracalla’s lip.

“Just because you think we share a common enemy does not mean we are allies,” you shot back. Making it clear that your act of cleaning him up and reaching an agreement the previous night did not give him the right to intrude on your peaceful breakfast.

“He never even made it to Baiae,” he retorted, glancing at you dismissively. “He only got as far as Ostia. This was just a test to see how well I could manage on my own.”

His face was swollen, bruises bloomed in deep shades of purple and green around his nose and mouth, the latter catching dramatically on the light as he spoke.

“A test you failed spectacularly,” you replied, arching an eyebrow as you bit into a particularly sour grape.

“Did you let him turn you into a quivering mass of need?” he asked, a mocking giggle escaping his lips, “Did he entertain you with tales of his wild sons and his deceased wife?”

“No,” you admitted, shaking your head, “He did not reduce me to anything but confusion.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “I find that I am still confused.”

“If he truly cared for Rome,” he said, his tone dripping with jealousy and hurt as he turned to meet your gaze, “If he truly cared for me as his son, he would step down and stop fostering Geta’s hope that one day this empire may be ours together.”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, bitterness lacing his voice.

“Surely you see that I am just your wife—no consul, no philosopher, just a woman.” you replied, feigning innocence as you took a sip of your wine, challenging him with your gaze.

“Ah, that’s a rare admission from you, wife.” he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you think it was him?”

You flicked your gaze toward Senator Blandus, a quick movement that Caracalla caught. Senator Blandus stood with a slight stoop, his height diminished, yet his presence was still imposing. His once broad shoulders sagged under the weight of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of Roman politics. The edges of his toga were slightly tattered, its white wool dulled with age, carelessly draped over his shoulder. The deep purple stripe that signified his senatorial rank had faded, hinting at a man who had seen better days. His gaunt face and sunken cheeks accentuated his unkempt style, with thin, wispy hair and a matching gray beard that was scraggly and untrimmed. His murky brown eyes held a suspicious gleam as they scanned the surrounding people, narrowing even more when they landed on you and Caracalla.

He set his wine cup down with a sigh, glancing around the room before looking back at you.

“I have already had him investigated. He spent the night at his mistress’s villa.”

“That leaves us with only a few suspects.” you countered, leaning in closer, rolling a plump grape between your fingers.

“Indeed,” he replied, shifting in his seat, “But my wager is on Macrinus.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms, challenging his assertion. “Do you honestly think he’s that ambitious? Surely it is some sort of breach of conduct to obtain my correspondence and report to your father regarding your every whim.”

“He has been whispering in Geta’s ear since the unfortunate passing of Plautianus.” He snickered, finishing off his wine and fixed his gaze on you, “Ambition spreads like a plague within these walls.”

He set down his wine cup again, looking around as courtiers, senators, and servants bustled about the lavish dining hall surrounding you both.

“Is this what you have been doing all morning?” he asked, a hint of accusation in his voice, “Leading your own investigation?”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” you replied sarcastically, “I am merely enjoying breakfast, unlike some people.”

“Like I said,” he said, standing and looking down at you with a challenging glare, “there is always a motive here.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Anxiety snaked tightly around you as you made your way to your quarters in search of solace. The night spent in Caracalla’s chambers had offered no restful sleep; instead, you found yourself waking unceremoniously on the chaise by his balcony, time and again, while he lay sprawled across his bed, a thin sheet barely covering his bare ass, snoring and mumbling like a drunken soldier. It had felt strange to seek refuge in his quarters, united by the turmoil brought about by his father’s hand.

It was easy to crawl in your bed and get lost amongst the silky sheets. Having not slept properly the night before, you allowed yourself to be pulled under, letting sleep claim you without a fight.

You woke suddenly, a weight pressing you down, your breath caught in surprise as your body refused to move. Above you, a pair of pale eyes—hazy and unrelenting, like the sky before a storm—fixed themselves on you. Their intensity felt heavier than the body that held them. It took a moment for your senses to settle, for your vision to clear, and when it did, you realized Caracalla’s body was tangled with yours—his legs draped over your left thigh, his hands planted on either side of your head as though framing you.

There was no telling how long he had been there, silently watching, and it was clear he had no intention of stopping then, even though you had caught him. You let your eyes roam over his face, taking in the rough texture of his pale skin, like polished, blighted marble under the soft glow of a torch. His pupils shifted, dark and wide, as they moved over you, drinking in every detail, the quiet between you charged with something unspoken.

“Will you have me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you gazed up at him. You knew all too well how Caracalla’s moods shifted like the tides—unpredictable and dangerous. The effort to stay steady, not to be swept away by his waves, weighed heavily on you.

He nodded, silent but certain, and tugged his tunic over his head, baring his silken chest to the flickering lamplight. You remained still, letting him take the lead, scared that even the slightest misstep might stir his infamous temper or send him retreating into the shadows. His hands moved with surprising care as he slipped your toga down your slender form, letting it fall away to the ground to reveal your body beneath.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stared, locked in a gaze that spoke more than any words could, as the last barrier between your bodies was cast aside. The air between you was heavy, charged, and waiting.

You felt the heaviness of his cock against the soft skin of your thigh as he worked himself rhythmically, his closeness stirring a deep ache within you, a tension that spread like fire beneath your skin. The intimacy of the moment caught you unguarded, raw, and unspoken. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to yours, his breath mingling with your own. Unable to resist, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting softly before his mouth overtook yours. He sighed into you, his resolve melting as he met your kiss. Your tongues tangled, slow at first, then urgent, as though the space between you had collapsed entirely.

You opened your legs for him, this time by your own will. Yet, as he moved to settle himself between them, his breath, warm and uneven against your neck, suddenly stilled. His movements ceased, and a heavy sigh escaped him, brushing against your skin.

“It is not—” he began, his voice taut with frustration, “I cannot—”

He propped himself up, looking down at you with a furrowed brow, his expression a storm of shame and anger. Unsure of what to say or do, you felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks as your gaze drifted downward to his softened cock.

“Is it me?” you asked quietly, half-ashamed.

He let out another sigh, his eyes closing as though in pain. “It is not for lack of desire, I swear it.”

“Is there something I can do?” you asked, sitting up, clutching the sheet to your chest, suddenly feeling the weight of self-consciousness.

“No.” His reply was short, and he rose abruptly, pulling his tunic over his head forcefully. He avoided your gaze as he reached for the wine on the bedside table, pouring himself a cup with trembling hands.

The crash startled you. He had flung the cup against the wall, the red wine streaking down like blood spilled from a gaping wound, pooling darkly on the marble floor.

“Get out,” he growled, his voice low but heavy with restrained fury.

“These are my chambers,” you reminded him, pulling the sheet tighter around you, trying to steady your voice.

“Get out, Prima.” His tone was colder now, his warning unmistakable.

Swallowing your pride, you hurriedly adjusted your toga, your hands fumbling to secure it in place. You retrieved your veil, crumpled between the pillows, and made your exit with hastened steps.

Outside, as you slipped your sandals back on, the crash of objects breaking echoed through the wooden door, followed by a muffled scream that sent a shiver down your spine. You clenched your fists, your breath steadying. Though you had lost this battle, somewhere deep within, hope remained—for the war was not yet over.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As you stepped inside the temple of Juno, you were immediately enveloped by a sense of tranquility. There had always been something about Juno that stirred you, but now, with your own marriage in turmoil, you felt a deeper connection to her. Her struggles with Jupiter mirrored your own in ways you had not fully grasped before. As the patron goddess of the empire, it felt right to ask for help as Augusta yourself. A child granted by Juno’s favor would surely be blessed, a gift of divine intervention. Marital help could wait, you told yourself. For now, you had one prayer, and it was for a child.

The air was cool and inviting, a welcome contrast to the warm sunlight outside. Delicate frescoes depicted scenes from Juno's mythology—her fierce protectiveness over women, her role in the great tales of heroism, and the beauty of marriage. Each brushstroke told a story, and you would have allowed yourself to be swept up by every tale if you had not been on a mission.

The temple was supported by regal, marble columns, their surfaces gleaming, reflecting the light from the stained glass windows onto their polished surfaces. The soaring ceiling was painted in rich hues of blue and gold, much like the sky at dawn, and you found yourself looking towards the heavens at its beauty.

As you moved deeper into the temple, you came upon the central altar, an imposing structure made of polished stone, carved with symbols of Juno—a peacock, representing beauty and pride, and a scepter, symbolizing power. The altar was adorned with offerings left by devoted worshippers: fresh flowers in vibrant colors, fruits from the harvest, and fragrant incense that filled the air with a sweet, calming aroma.

Juno’s statue stood front and center on the altar, surrounded by statues of different sizes, each capturing her essence in their own way. Some portrayed her as a regal figure in flowing robes, while others depicted her in a more maternal light, holding a child or surrounded by symbols of family.

“Your Excellency,” a priest approached, bowing his head in reverence, “it is an honor to stand in your divine presence.”

Upon his head sat a laurel crown, its fresh green leaves glistened with dew, a symbol of both honor and divine favor of the goddess herself. You remembered him from your wedding day- specifically how the laurel matched his deepset, green eyes.

Cassia presented to you a basket brimming with fragrant lilies, glistening white candles, a flask of the finest vintage wine, and a jar of the sweetest honey ever tasted. With a wave of your hand, you dismissed her to take her place outside the temple, accompanied by your assigned praetorians. You felt assured, having sent word ahead to the temple of your arrival, requesting both discretion and a sacred space in which to invoke the goddess.

“I trust that my offering has been prepared,” you remarked.

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Follow me.”

You trailed behind him to the rear of the temple, descending a flight of marble stairs into an atrium of sorts. The soft glow of white candles illuminated the room, their flickering flames dancing upon the golden statues that adorned the shelves embedded in the walls. At the center of the chamber lay a medium-sized tiled bathing pool, set into the floor.

As you approached, the distant bleating of a lamb reached your ears.

"We shall begin when you are prepared," the priest stated with a respectful nod. With a sense of dignity, you removed your robes, standing tall before the gaze of the goddess.

At that moment, another priest entered the chamber, leading a lamb, adorned in a flowing white robe accented with a rich purple trim at the hem, wearing the same radiant laurel crown you had seen earlier.

Both priests raised the lamb above your head, their voices intertwining as they recited ancient prayers to the goddess, carefully steadying the creature before making the first cut. You closed your eyes, centering your thoughts on the heavens. As the warm blood began to cascade over your face and down your neck and shoulders, you raised your voice proudly to the goddess, proclaiming your devotion and intent:

“We adore thee Goddess, we invoke you, Juno, for it is written that you will bless those who call upon you and sacrifice to you. I pray to you, Goddess Juno, and offer these gifts so that you may favor my house and household.”

As you stood there, your thoughts continued to drift back to Caracalla—the way he had faltered just hours before, leaving you feeling a mix of frustration and concern. It was hard not to dwell on the sacrifices you had made and would continue to make, all in the hopes of giving him an heir.

The weight of your marriage pressed down upon you, and you only felt relief when you stepped into the bathing pool, submerging yourself as the thick blood mingled with the warm water.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As you knelt before the grand statue in the main hall, redressed and feeling lighter, you pressed a gentle kiss to the goddess’s feet. The lilies were arranged just right, symbols of your devotion, a reflection of what you desired and prayed the goddess could help you with.

You dipped the candle ends into the honey, feeling the sticky sweetness as you prepared to light them. The oil lamp glowed warmly as you ignited the first candle. One by one, the other candles caught fire, illuminating the space around you as you set them in the designated holder.

You poured the wine, its rich color glistening in the candlelight, and set the bottle down with care. As you whispered the prayer again, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. Closing your eyes, you let the words sink deep, hoping that the goddess would hear your heart.

Suddenly, your moment of peace in the temple was broken by another presence. Before you could even open your eyes to see who it was, he spoke, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“I cannot believe there is still a lamb left to sacrifice after your wedding. They must have sacrificed so many that the whole flock is nearly extinct.” Geta knelt beside you, a smirk on his face.

You quipped with a serious face, “Shall I offer you as the next sacrifice? Surely, one of your esteemed stature would grant me favor with the goddess.”

Geta laughed, the sound sharp and out of place in the quiet of the room. “Ironic, is it not? Not even a full cycle of Luna has passed, and you are already making offerings to save your fragile union.”

He seized your hand, running the edge of his nail beneath your own with deliberate care. A thin line of blood appeared, evidence of the sacrifice, vivid against your skin. He drew it to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted it, a sly smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you think your husband knows how devout his wife truly is? So unwavering in her dedication?” Geta’s tone dripped with mockery, each word drawn out as though savoring the chance to provoke.

“Why are you here, Geta?” you asked, weariness lacing your words. His constant mockery was like salting an open wound, relentless and cruel.

He tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over your face with the precision of a blade. “Tell me,” he said, his voice like silky steel, “do you know what your husband does while you linger here in the temple, like a devout little dove?”

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the statue before you. “What, pray tell, is he doing now?”

You rose to your feet, giving him a silent nod to lead the way. The journey back to Palatine Hill drew curious glances as Geta’s guards merged with your own, their strides echoing in the narrow streets. You walked side by side, close enough to appear united yet distant enough that the silence between the two of you felt natural, you would offer him no word or glance to break the tension.

Rome pulsed with life around you. The aroma of fresh-baked bread mingled with the earthy scent of clay and smoke, a reminder of the city's crowded living spaces, where families lived stacked upon one another. Cassia, ever dutiful at your side, stole glances when she thought you would not notice. Her unease was palpable, and you made a mental note to instruct her in masking her emotions—though you could hardly claim to be a master yourself. Your jaw clenched tighter with every step, the pressure so fierce your teeth threatened to shatter.

As you approached the grand imperial palace, the atmosphere remained unchanged. You waved dismissively to Cassia while Geta signaled his soldiers to depart. Your own guard bowed in respect, and you returned the gesture with a simple wave of your hand.

Leaving the atrium, you trailed a few steps behind Geta as he strode down a lengthy corridor, ascending a flight of gilded steps that led to the private chambers of the palace. Upon reaching the threshold of his quarters, he paused and beckoned you inside with a wave from the doorway.

“This is a bad idea, and you are well aware of it,” you replied, shaking your head in disapproval, “You know Caracalla has requested that I do not converse with you under any circumstances.”

“You can either come with me or stand there like a fool,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Your choice.”

With a reluctant sigh, you stepped into his quarters, moving just enough for him to close the door behind you.

“What happens next?” you asked, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

He led you across the room to another door, swinging it open to reveal his impressive study—similar in grandeur to Caracalla’s. Just as you suspected, he slid aside a panel next to a bookcase, revealing a hidden passageway, the same one he had guided you through on your wedding night when Caracalla had been passed out. You navigated the narrow corridor, following Geta, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat.

“I have had enough of these secret passages, of hidden motives and lies,” you admitted with a heavy sigh. “And I am emotionally drained from dealing with the fragile egos of you and your brother. I am sick from whiplash due to both of your ever changing moods. Have we not moved on from those childish days in Sicilia?”

Geta paused for a moment, the flickering torch light illuminating his features. “You speak as though we have tormented you day in and day out for years. I assure you, it was and will never be personal.”

“What is life if it is not personal, Geta?” you inquired sincerely.

“It is merely a game, Prima. We play the cards we are dealt.” He turned, his gaze thoughtfully assessing your expression. “Do not feign ignorance. You are indeed playing your hand, I have observed it myself.”

“Make sure you cover yourself up properly,” he said, glancing at the veil you wore, adjusting it to better hide your profile. “And take off that necklace.”

Feeling confused, you did as he asked, surprised when he took the necklace from you and placed it gently over the bridge of your nose, fastening it at the back of your head.

“To hide your face,” he explained.

“Hide my face from what?” you asked, but before he could reply, he slid the door open.

He stepped into the chamber, his silhouette suddenly illuminated by the flickering candlelight, a hazy cloud of incense swirling around him like a mist. With a graceful gesture, he extended his hand toward you, and before you could second-guess your instincts, you accepted it, allowing him to guide you from the dim corridor.

Before you, a scene of unabashed hedonism played out, where pleasure took precedence. Bodies entwined on every available surface; no lectus was spared from the terror of lovers lost in ecstasy. The air was thick with a chorus of moans and sighs, punctuated by the occasional sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh.

The chamber itself seemed to have once served as a sleeping quarters, now transformed into a sanctuary of indulgence. An elevated bed rested against the wall, draped in sheer curtains that obscured its occupants, their movements a hazy blur. In the area where you and Geta had entered, a grand table stood opposite, filled with exotic fruits and succulent roasted meats, inviting guests to partake in the feast while they watched the show. They swayed gently to the sultry melodies played by skilled musicians on lyres and flutes, the atmosphere alive and electric.

Geta guided you further into the chamber, his presence momentarily undetected as he settled into a high-backed chair that afforded him a prime view of the bed’s occupants. You lingered before him, your senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, when he suddenly drew you down to sit on his lap.

“Geta—” you protested, a hint of disapproval in your voice, “this is highly inappropriate.”

“Amidst all around us, you single this out as inappropriate?” he quipped, a playful smirk on his lips. “Sit still and enjoy the moment.”

His words hung in the air, a blend of mischief and allure, as the curtains on the bed began to sway, promising a view of its occupants lost in their own worlds.

There, amidst a tangle of hands and mouths, Caracalla lay sprawled in the center of the bed. His eyes were tightly shut, back arched away from the mattress as a woman stroked his cock with a dizzying rhythm—first lazily from root to tip, then with a fervor that blurred her hand around his delicate member. His toes curled, and his eyes rolled back as his seed spilled onto the woman’s fist, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

You tensed in Geta’s lap, torn between horror and fascination as the scene unfolded before you. Caracalla’s cock, spent yet firm against his thigh, filled you with a wave of shame as you recalled how flaccid he had been hovering over your own bare form earlier in the day.

Surrounded by three women, you watched as they descended upon him like vultures. The petite one mounted him, her cunt swallowing his spent cock in a single fluid motion. She rode him without pause, her gaze fixed on the other two girls who writhed at the head of the bed, their moans rising and falling in a symphony of pleasure as Caracalla’s fingers danced in and around their cunts, his ministrations causing them to lose all sense of reason as evident by their sounds.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to block out the pulsing sensation. Sensing your turmoil, Geta placed his hands on your hips, guiding you to press down and grind your damp cunt into the firm flesh of his thigh.

“No,” you breathed, inhaling shakily as you pushed his hands away.

A stunning woman approached the two of you, and you stood, excusing yourself from the scene. You watched as she led Geta away, his head turning back towards you, a fleeting look of longing crossing his features as you slipped away toward the panel, revealing the hidden corridor. It was only once you reached the solitude of your quarters that you finally allowed your mask to fall, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took exactly a week to ready Cassia, building her confidence for the task ahead. Though you had been anxious at first, desperation had a way of gnawing straight to the bone. Once you accepted the reality of your situation, you knew it was time to act—to wound Caracalla as deeply as he had wounded you.

It was common knowledge that Septimius had generously gifted you part of his late wife’s collection: a set of ruby rings, the golden diadem he had placed upon your head on your wedding day, and a striking emerald necklace. Of all these treasures, the rubies had become your favorite, their deep crimson a perfect match for your heirloom wrist cuffs, which you chose for your daily attire.

Cassia took pride in her role, carefully preparing each piece as you dressed daily, her timing impeccable as she laid them out. She beamed whenever she knew she had chosen well, her satisfaction a quiet victory. Though she was still reserved, Cassia had begun to open up, sharing bits of her life before becoming a servant of the palace. She spoke of her family, her village, and, to your surprise, revealed that the two of you shared a name day.

“Perhaps this is the gods’ way of blessing our budding friendship,” you said with a smile, resting your hand gently on her forearm.

“Perhaps, your excellency,” she replied, her cheeks flushing with color.

“I must admit, I detest such formality,” you said, tilting your head with a playful grin. “You may call me Prima.”

“I could never,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It would be dishonorable.”

“I believe it falls to me to decide what is and is not a dishonor,” you reassured her, your tone soft but firm.

Over the next few days, you spoke candidly with Cassia, sharing glimpses of your life before becoming Augusta. You told stories of fleeting childhood encounters with the Imperator and his sons with personal anecdotes, revealing just enough to make her feel at ease.

As the seeds of friendship began to take root, you started to stitch together the threads of your larger scheme.

“Cassia,” you asked one morning as she fastened the clasps on your tunic, “have you ever been to the villa that houses the concubines?”

“I… have not,” she admitted, her hands pausing briefly before returning to their task. “Though I am close with one of the regular servants stationed there.”

You nodded, your expression neutral as you combed your hair before the looking glass, watching her reflection as she carefully selected a veil to complement your attire.

Two days later, as you strolled through the rose garden, Cassia presented a petite blonde girl to you.

“Your excellency, may I introduce Metella,” she said, her tone light yet tinged with nerves.

The girl, no older than Cassia, bowed low. You tilted your head, studying her with quiet curiosity.

“She works at the villa, your excellency,” Cassia added, offering context, doing your bidding without you having to ask her to.

“Yes, of course,” you replied with a measured nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Metella.”

“The pleasure is mine, your excellency,” Metella said softly, her faint smile barely reaching her eyes.

You spent a good portion of the afternoon in their company, walking the garden paths. Cassia and Metella trailed close behind, pausing whenever you stopped to smell a set of roses. At your direction, they clipped the blossoms you favored. As they worked, Metella spoke in hushed tones about the villa.

“Behind the palace,” she began, her voice just above a whisper as she clipped another rose, “up the gravel road that leads away from the stables, there is a villa. Three ladies live there now.”

You nodded, already certain of whom she spoke, but said nothing as the pieces of your plan continued to fall into place.

You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. The speed of your movement caught Cassia and Metella off guard, and they nearly stumbled into you.

“If I asked a favor of you both, would you consider it?” you asked, your tone calm but carrying a weight that left no room for dismissal.

The girls exchanged a glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Cassia was the first to respond, her face lighting up with a genuine smile.

“Anything for you, your excellency,” she said, bowing low. You couldn’t help but smile softly at her devotion. Metella quickly followed suit, her bow a little less confident. It was in that moment you knew—the plan would succeed.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took two days to carefully craft every detail. You scrutinized the scheme in your mind, playing out every scenario until you felt confident enough for the plan to officially be carried out.

Late one night, under the cover of darkness, you met Cassia and Metella in the stables. The air was thick with tension as the girls paced nervously, their movements quick and uncertain. You had already arranged for the stable hands to be elsewhere, ensuring complete privacy.

“There will be panic,” you began, your voice low and deliberate, “and the servants’ quarters will be turned upside down in the search for these jewels. But if you listen carefully and follow my instructions exactly, no blame will fall on either of you.”

Both girls nodded, their wide eyes fixed on you as you reached beneath your cloak and produced a small satin bag.

“In the morning, Metella, place a piece of jewelry into each of their jewelry boxes after you have dressed them and they have left the villa,” you instructed. “Metella, once it is done, come straight to my quarters.”

Metella nodded, her trembling hands reaching for the bag. She tucked it into her satchel, her knuckles pale from holding the satchel so tightly.

“If, at any point, you feel frightened or unable to carry out the task, return the jewels to me immediately,” you said, your tone softening slightly. But then your expression hardened, and the faint moonlight caught the sharp edge of your gaze.

“And know this—if either of you breathes a word of this plan to another soul, I will see you crucified. Your entrails will hang from the city walls, and your families will be exiled to the furthest, most desolate rock beneath the sun.”

The chilling threat lingered in the air. Cassia and Metella glanced at each other nervously.

They turned back to you and nodded, their expressions solemn.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning of, you could not stop pacing your chambers, every detail of the plan playing on a loop in your mind. You woke early, bathing slowly, letting the warm water and scented oils calm your nerves. By the time you dressed and added the finishing touches, you felt more prepared—or at least looked the part.

Cassia appeared in your doorway, her hair slightly out of place and worry etched on her face.

“Your excellency, am I late?” she asked, her voice small.

“I am merely early,” you said, smoothing the folds of your tunic as you checked yourself in the looking glass. You barely had a moment to exhale before the door slammed open, and Metella rushed in.

“It is done,” she said, breathless and quiet.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral even as your pulse quickened. “Good. Now, listen carefully. I need both of you to prepare an offering to Juno in my name. Once you have gathered what is needed, go to her temple and spend the day praying—ask her to grant me an heir. Do not return to the palace until dusk.”

They exchanged a glance but nodded quickly, bowing their heads.

“I will give you enough time to get ready before I speak with the Imperator,” you said firmly. “You are dismissed.”

The door shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening. You leaned against your dressing table, gripping its edge to steady yourself. For a moment, you let the mask drop, your fear bubbling to the surface. Taking a shaky breath, you whispered a prayer—not just to Juno, but for the strength to face what was coming. You could only hope the Imperator would not see right through you.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Prima, what a delightful surprise,” Septimius exclaimed as you approached the table on his sunlit terrace. He nodded, dismissing the praetorian who had guided you inside, returning him to his post.

“I hope I am not intruding,” you said, glancing down at the imperator’s feet, which rested in a basin filled with amber liquid.

“Ah, the trials of age, nothing more,” he reassured you, gesturing for you to take a seat across from him. He poured a cup of rich wine and offered it to you. You nodded in gratitude as his gaze searched your face.

“What troubles you?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly.

“What do you mean?” you replied, taking a sip from your cup, feigning innocence.

“There is a shadow of worry behind those lovely eyes,” he noted, crossing his hands on the table.

You sighed and set your cup down. “I am embarrassed, Imperator,” you began, watching as his brows knitted together, “something has occurred.”

“What has happened, Prima?” he asked, leaning in closer, his concern evident.

“The rubies you gifted me, the ones that belonged to your late wife—I fear they have gone missing.” You covered your face in shame as he reached out to grasp your wrist gently.

“When did this happen?” he pressed, his delicate grip urging you to speak.

“I noticed this morning,” you murmured, “I sent my two servants to the temple of Juno at dawn, instructing them to make offerings in my honor and not to return until dusk.” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “I dressed myself to meet with my father, to catch up on family matters, but when I went to retrieve the rubies from their resting place, they were gone.”

Septimius sighed, leaning back in his chair, stroking the gray stubble on his chin. “Have you confided in Caracalla?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“He is not pleased that I wear his mother’s jewelry,” you admitted. “He has threatened to take them from me and give them to his courtesans if I continue to wear them. He thinks me unworthy.”

Septimius’s eyes narrowed. “He still indulges with his courtesans?”

“Please, your excellency, do not say it was I who revealed this,” you implored, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, asking for his discretion.

“I have heard whispers that the three he favors have taken residence in the villa behind the stables.” You spoke softly, shame flooding your cheeks.

Septimius straightened, his jaw tightening as he regarded you. “Spend the day with your father, and allow me to address this matter,” he instructed, and you nodded solemnly. “Exercise the utmost discretion and speak of this to no one else.”

“Of course.” You rose, but he caught your hand before you could express your gratitude and leave his quarters.

“Everything shall be well in due time,” he promised, kissing your knuckles as he met your gaze.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Word spread like wildfire through the bustling halls of the palace, as the praetorians stormed the servants’ quarters, tearing through each room, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. It wasn’t long before you learned the news: the jewelry had been found in the possession of Antonia, Tullia, and Marcella, the ladies residing in the villa behind the stables.

As soon as the jewelry was found tucked away in each lady’s respective jewelry box, the villa was locked down tight, with guards stationed to ensure no one could slip in or out, all by the direct order of the Imperator. The three women were swiftly banished from the palace and exiled to the farthest reaches of the empire, their families shamed by their actions, forced to join them in their sentencing. It was truly a stroke of luck that they still had their heads on their shoulders, for the Imperator could have dealt them a harsher fate.

Your plan had worked like a charm, unfolding just as you had hoped. The pieces fell into place perfectly, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how it all turned out.

As night descended and you faced the weight of your choices, you let your emotions wrap around you like a heavy blanket—neither ashamed nor particularly proud, but feeling as though you had sunk lower than expected. Shaking off such thoughts, you turned to the polished bronze mirror on your dressing table, brushing aside the strands of hair that clung to your neck and wiping away the remnants of kohl from your eyes.

It was then that the echoes of an angry voice grew louder, approaching your quarters. You sprang to your feet, frozen in place, the sheer fabric of your gown pooling around your feet as your gaze fixed on the door.

When Caracalla burst in, you remained still.

“You!” he spat through clenched teeth, flinging a handful of precious ruby rings in your direction. “You deceitful, rancid wench!” He advanced, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“You have made a fool of me!” He seized your shoulders, shaking you with fury.

“You’ve done that to yourself!” You pulled away, but he was quick to grasp you again, forcing you backward until your back hit the wall beside the door.

“I was merely reclaiming what is rightfully mine,” you declared, holding your head high, “what was taken from me.”

“What was taken from you,” he sneered, his arms pinning you in place as his hands braced against the wall on either side of your head. “Nothing here belongs to you.”

You struggled against his grip, but he pressed you closer to the wall with his own body.

“If we are to claim our rights, then I shall take what is mine.”

With a sudden motion, he hoisted you by the back of your thighs, slamming your back against the wall once more. You protested, pushing against his shoulders and striking at his solid flesh, but he merely laughed, relishing the moment as he held you against the wall, lifting your gown to expose your bare form.

“Deceitful wench,” he hissed through gritted teeth, yanking down the collar of your gown to reveal your neck and collarbones. You cried out as a sharp sting pierced the skin between your neck and shoulder, his incisors biting into your flesh. He pressed harder, a trickle of blood staining the sheer fabric of your gown.

You felt paralyzed, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as he pulled back, wrestling with his toga, his hands trembling with rage.

He held you so tightly that it started to hurt, burying himself deep inside you, lifting you off the wall with every thrust. He devoured the tender flesh of your neck and chest, biting, kissing, and sucking, his teeth grazing your soft skin.

All you could do was hang on to him, clinging to him so fiercely that it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

With a loud grunt, he spilled himself within you, letting his head drop between your shoulder and neck as he gasped for breath. When he pulled back to look at you, he searched your face just as you searched his. Both of you were left wondering what had just happened and why it stirred feelings in you that you had never felt before.

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Tag list:

@alwaysahiccupandastrid

@justnobodynothingmore

@miamariposita

@niungguang

dividers: @ghoulbloggerrr

[arckook]

damnatio memoriae - intro

pairing: kim taehyung x reader, kim seokjin x reader

au: ghost

warnings: blood, murder, kidnapping

word count: 828

description: The time you spent alive was marked by stellar grades, loving friends and family, and a bright future.You never expected that your life would be cut short at seventeen by the older brother of one of your closest friends.You never expected to be able to watch the aftermath.

There aren’t many things from your childhood that you remember clearly. Like most people, all the time spent in a classroom, on the playground, in front of the television when you were younger are more like distant visions than recollections of the past. And despite being one of the best students at your high school- the kind that can look over a page of notes for a minute before the test and manage an A- you don’t care to remember those days of being a kid sat in an uncomfortable seat around other kids who also no longer care to remember. You especially don’t remember the useless, simplified lessons they shoved down your throat with the idea that they would teach you morals.

Except for one.

It was sixth grade. You sat at a table of five desks pushed together so that you and the four classmates whose faces and names you can’t recall were shoulder to shoulder. Well, you can recall one. But you’d rather not.

It was sixth grade, you were at your table in your assigned seat, and your teacher gestured to the textbooks on your desk, announcing for everyone to turn to page 74, and begin reading the passage, which the class would discuss when everyone finished.

You read carefully, as you do by nature, and digested what was being given to you in a manner that meant you never forgot.

The passage was the story of Hatshepsut, one of the few female pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. There was her life story- how she was the fifth pharaoh of the eighteenth dynasty, came to power in 1778 BC. How when she came to power, Egypt was in a flourishing state, and she only helped to bring the Empire to more strength and grandeur. The passage spanned a few pages, but what truly stood out to you were just a few sentences towards the end.

It seemed to historians that Hatshepsut, the female king, had been deliberately forgotten. Now, the textbook didn’t go very in depth with that idea, but your teacher, a passionate woman who never wanted to teach kids as young as you, pretended that she didn’t, and explained why the loss of Hatshepsut’s memory was so important as if your class were far older than the ripe age of twelve.

She explained, and perhaps you were the only one who listened, that the ancient egyptians believed that in order to live happily in the afterlife, one had to be remembered in the first life. The pharaoh who came after Hatshepsut was bitter that she ruled as a woman, and vowed to ensure that every trace of her was forgotten by his people. He had not been able to keep her from power and happiness in her first life, and so he would do everything he could to keep those from her in the afterlife. He wanted her to suffer, to remain in the tomb for eternity.

Someone so prominent, powerful, important- someone who by no means should have been willingly forgotten- was gone until 1903, over a thousand years after she reigned.

Maybe, in your last moments of life, you should have been thinking about all the things you had not done yet, about all the people you would never see again, the places you would never visit, or the revenge for your death you would not be able to exact.

Instead, as you watched blood run in a thin line down your hand, dripping off the nail of your middle finger into the bathtub full of water, you thought of Hatshepsut. You had no energy for anything else- the pain of what had been done to you was so constant that it became numb, and your mind was so heavy with the steady loss of your corporeality that you weren’t able to think of things that mattered.

He turned around then. You saw him through dark and fuzzy vision, knowing your eyes were barely open. He had a thoughtful look on his face as you stared up at him, watching the way he cleaned the knife through your peripherals.

“Still not dead?” he said, his voice so calm, so unbothered. “Shoulda known you’re that tough.”

You wanted to respond, but the rope in your mouth and the cold, dense feeling that was descending quickly upon you prevented that.

“Guess I’ll put you out of your misery.” he shrugged, putting the knife down on the sink and walking across the room out of your line of sight.

A few seconds went by, feeling like an eternity, and he returned, the unmistakable shape of a revolver in his left hand.

Don’t waste your bullet, you thought helplessly. I’m almost gone anyway.

He pointed the gun at you from a safe distance, adjusting something in the barrel. “Bye bye, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, everything went black, and the cold feeling from before was everything you could think, feel, hear, and see.

And then, you woke up.

[wifeofnozelsilva]

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[zaimta]

彡change of time

paring: julius novachrono x gn!reader

warnings: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS BELOW. adding a read more please excuse the glitches.

a/n- i was supposed to post this 2 days ago but i got sick lol </3 also cashing in my multifandom card SLAYYY

ever since julius lost his time you haven’t been feeling like yourself. you felt like you were someone else quite literally. but this was no time for self pitty the kingdom was in shambles, as the partner of the wizard king the people looked up to you just as much admiring your loving relationship.

ever since julius lost his time you haven’t been feeling like yourself. you felt like you were someone else quite literally. but this was no time for self pitty the kingdom was in shambles, as the partner of the wizard king the people looked up to you just as much admiring your loving relationship.

ever since julius lost his time you haven’t been feeling like yourself. you felt like you were someone else quite literally. but this was no time for self pitty the kingdom was in shambles, as the partner of the wizard king the people looked up to you just as much admiring your loving relationship.

and since he was a child now you spent most of your time in his office helping him out with any paper work. it was just one of those days until damnatio walked in demanding some answers from the both of you.

he asked the both of you a series of questions about the devil astaroth and his partner. he spoke about his theories which left the both of you in shock.

“…it’s me” the two of you spoke in unison as your bodies changed to reveal your true forms.

“it appears our time is up my love.”