#like he is a man of principles and he will hold onto those principles until he gets a clear sign that he is allowed to abandon them

[wifegideonnav]

also about half the season ago i associated this meme with jack and with each passing episode i am increasingly proven right lmfao. can’t wait for him to finally snap and start killing ✨

[authorhjk1]

Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

[perrywrites]

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 2;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Barou, Shidou, Karasu

Barou: ever so stringent with his principles, he makes you come on his fingers first, gaze dark and hungry as he looks on at your expressions twisting and body writhing in ecstasy. Rough hands grabby and kisses so overpowering you can only whimper and accept his domination, just the way he likes it. That’s how you’re supposed to be, submissive and pliant, all weak whimpers and powerless for him, and just him. He can barely restrain himself, grip tense and firm on your hips as he positions himself. He has prepared you enough, right? He can take what he wants now, right? He’ll stop if you say no. He will, he really will, even if his cock is painful, angry-looking, like it’s about to burst. He will stop, but God knows, he really doesn’t want you to say no right now. You don’t say no, but you do make a request that makes a growl come out from the back of his throat. You’re so powerless beneath him, helpless, eyes large and watery, he has to be careful with you, he remembers, his hand awkwardly reaching out to yours to give you the intimacy you yearn for. Gently, far too gently, like you’re already his wedded wife, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. You’re his woman after all, if he can’t even satisfy you and take care of you, he’s a failure as a partner. He pulls away from your forehead, and asks you yet again if you’re ready. He asks, holding back the urges telling him to just rail you and make you cry on his cock. That’ll come, and it’ll come later, once he’s taken your virginity, once you’re begging for his cock, begging for him to fuck you like he wants to fuck you. You’re his woman after all, there’s no way you won’t be begging for more once he’s done with you.

Shidou: you’re finally letting him do this with you, have you like this, weak and vulnerable under his touch. He’s greedy and unrelenting with the way he keeps on kissing you, wet and hot - he wants to mess you up so bad, fuck. Yeah, make sure his name is the only thing on your mind, hm? His hands grope, his touch hungry and insatiable. Come on, don’t try and hide those pretty sounds, he knows you’re a naughty girl, huh? Shit, maybe even naughtier than him - that flushed expression of yours, eyes squeezed tightly as your lips quiver, so lewd. So fucking lewd. Can you make an ever dirtier expression? He bets he can make you make an even lewder face, have you moan and cry out like his own personal cockslut as he pounds into you. He wants to watch your eyes roll back, head tilted back as you arch your back, his name your every prayer. It’s so romantic that you’re letting him corrupt you like this, letting him see all those erotic expressions as you unravel under his touch and mouth - yet somehow you manage to draw him in even closer. You want him to hold your hand? Was it not enough to ensnare him like a siren? Fuck, yeah, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll fuck you and keep holding onto your hand. He intertwines his hand with yours and then hikes up one of your legs over his shoulder. Love is so sweet, huh? He grins, manic; it’s going to be a long night. Hold on tight, because he’s not letting you go until your used body has satiated his hunger for you. He wants you to see you depraved and out of it, fucked dumb, a view only for him and no other man. You can give it to him, right? Well, he’s taking it either way. He loves you after all, even if it’s a little sick.

Karasu: he has you beneath him, exactly right where he wants. His touch is unrelenting, persistent, greedy - impatient to hear more of those sweet whimpers that are going straight down to his cock. Fuck, that voice, how do you sound so erotic yet sweet? He needs to make you cry on his cock, bet you’d sound even sweeter then, choking out his name and crying out in that broken voice of yours, face and body all flushed because of his ministrations. Oh, it’ll probably be even better than his imagination. He bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a low groan, panting slightly before he continues teasing you, his voice raspy and low, “Oh? Does it feel that good…? Come on, don’t fall apart yet, we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, eh?” His hand drags down your sides and squeezes perversely the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the way you jump and the surprised mewl that spills from your bruised lips. Honestly, as much as he wants to drag this out, watch the tears pooling on your lash line spill down throughout the night as the moon ages, make you dumb and babbling before he takes you on his cock, you’re sounding too good. Way too good. He can’t wait any longer. He might just bust untouched at this rate. And that’s no good, right? So he has you spreading your legs for him then, encouraging you with naughty whispers that have you whimpering, and then he pauses as you mumble a shaky sentence. And then he chuckles, pulling himself up and away from the side of your face as he smirks down at you. You’re blushing, shaking, all shy, eyes misty and dazed, and oh god, he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out to your hand, firmly grabbing it and holding it down as he presses a surprisingly delicate kiss at your lips. Don’t be mistaken, though, that kiss might just be the last gentle thing of the night. He wanted to be gentle for your first time since you’re trusting him with it, but since you’ve said something so cute, riled him up so much, you can handle it if he completely ruins you on his cock, right? I mean, you’re his now. Don’t complain too much - or maybe you should do it. If you keep on babbling in that shaky whimpery voice of yours, he can promise you that you’re not going to be leaving that bed until the morning - if you can walk, that is.

[soxcietyy]

hear me out…lap dance yuuta smut.

where reader makes yuuta cum in his pants while giving him a lap dance, after he mentioned he’s never had one. Yuuta is embarrassed at the end and can’t even look the reader their eyes

Lap Dance

You haven’t heard from Yuta in a bit. Last thing he told you was that he was going on a mission. He didn’t tell you when he was going to be back because that’s something that’s never known. You were starting to worry so you decided to look for someone who would know his whereabouts. Maybe Shoko, principle Yags, Nanami, or maybe Geto.

Unfortunately it seemed like nobody was on campus today so that meant that you had to look for them. Maybe they were in the classroom finishing up work? Going inside the building you opened every door you could find. Sliding them half way open so you could peek inside. It took you a while until you did find someone and to your surprise it was the man you’ve been looking for.

At first you were confused on why he was in an empty classroom. You guys had graduated two years ago. Then again this would have to be the quiets part on campus to take a nap. He was slouching in the wooden chair, his head thrown back with a wet cloth over it, and his legs spread wide open. His hair was messy and his shirt untucked. He must of just gotten back from the mission and wanted some rest.

At first you were going to let him be but his legs being spread wide open was just so inviting. Quietly you approach him and lean over him to hear his quiet breathing. He sounded so at ease making you feel bad for bothering him. You straddle yourself onto his lap and feel him jolt from surprise. He immediately lifts his head up causing the wet rag to fall off of him. This making the both of you look at each other.

"Oh it’s you, you scared me there." Yuta said as he brought you into a lazy hug.

His hug was nice and warm making you not want to leave his brace.

"What’s with this surprise? Am I finally getting a lap dance?" Yuta laughs.

"Is that all you can think about? What if I just wanted a nice seat?" You push his shoulder playfully.

"Would have been nice to experience one." Yuta kisses your cheek.

The strong and powerful Yuta Okkotsu has never had a lap dance? How interesting… A smirk grew of your face as you kiss him on the lips.

"Fine I’ll give you one but you hands." You say as you hop off of him. You grab his left arm and pull it back doing the same with the other arm. That’s when you make him hold his own wrist so he wouldn’t be able to touch you.

"That’s a little mean don’t you think?" Yuta tilts his head to look at you.

You laugh as you shake your head. Getting on top of him and running your hands down his chest.

"You’re a big boy now, you’ll be able to handle it." You say as you take a seat on him again.

Then you began to roll your hips on his groin. Going in a slow circular motion. Your heat rubbing against his member. The more you kept on moving the more you could feel him getting harder. He couldn’t help but just stare at both of your body parts rubbing against each other. You made sure to move in a steady place by playing a song in your head. You continue to roll your hips until you felt like going counterclockwise. His legs would twitch as you pressed onto him harder. His chest rising up and down heavily as he mouthed curse words.

"Liking the show?" You ask him teasingly.

"More than what I expected." He huffs.

Getting off of him you turn around and look at his painful boner that was begging to be let out those tight pants. "You’re lucky I decided to wear a skirt for work." You say.

The only thing he could respond with a "mhm" as he bites his lip. He watched as you lifted your skirt up to reveal your black thong. You rubbed your behind on his groin. Moving up and down quickly to get some friction going. Luckily from the reflect on the window you could see his facial expressions.

A blushed looked as he stared at what was going on. The way his arms would twitch because he just wanted to have his way with you. You grind on him harder causing him to let out a muffled moan.

"Fuck, okay okay that’s enough." He says as he tries to stop you.

"Yuta if you touch me I will make sure to not make you cum next time we do it." You threatened him.

You watch in the reflection as he quickly put his arms back where they were supposed to be. Throwing his head back as you continued to grind on him. Getting back on his lap your arms snake around his neck and caress his chin. You could see how badly he was trying to hold back to save himself the embarrassment. At the end it didn’t work out for him because he ended up letting out an exhausted moan as he released. His body shuttered as he let his cock leak out everything he had in him. Looking down you could see how his cum seeped through his pants.

"Yu, look at the mess you made." You coo at him as he looks away from embarrassment.

"You knew what you were doing." Yuta mumbles as he refuses to look at you.

"Right, now let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have you walking around like that."

An: I know what a lap dance is but at the same time I don’t.

[norlestappen]

Idea/Request/Me begging you

Tall!Model!Reader X Yuki Tsunoda. With reader being significantly taller than him (like 5'9) and just generally being a goddess.

And she's on the paddock being the biggest Yuki defender of all time and supporting him in whatever he does while being all cutesy about him. Like small man with anger issues and tall woman yelling "Go get 'em sweetie" in the background.

Please and thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Hello my bestie, here is your long awaited story, i decided to only put a bit in, maybe a part 2 if wanted "Yukinoooo, I am hungryy" / Yuki Tsunoda x tall!y/n

summary: you are joining your boyfriend Yuki in the paddock and you are just too much of a hot couple than anyone can ever handle Pairing: Yuki x y/n

warnings: too much cuteness, sadly no smut yet

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n POV:

You would never get used to the fact your boyfriend was literally perfection. From his beautiful eyes to the way his Japanese would make you weak, just everything about him made you want to always kiss him, never letting him go. That was, of course, not always possible since you wouldn’t fit into the cockpit with him, you did on the other hand fit perfectly on his cock though. 

He would push you onto him, making you ride him until you were out of energy, just needing you as close as possible for as long as he could. He needed you so much, it might sound unhealthy to others, but for you two it just worked. 

Pierre made it his mission the entire flight to call you two out as you argued over what you would wear to the paddock. While Yuki liked showing you off to others, he hated it when people saw how hot you looked, so he would always stand in front of you protectively. The funniest thing in that aspect is that Yuki could barely cover your breasts with his head since the height difference was just a bit too much than usual. 

Luckily, all four of you landed a few days prior to the race in Miami, which gave you time to recover from the adaption to new time zones. The first two days were always the hardest for you. As soon as you entered the hotel room with Yuki, he just made you lay in bed, not caring about your baggage at this given moment. He just needed to hold you, making sure you were right by his side.

So, this is what you did the following days, just laying in bed, taking walks together by holding hands, always stopping to kiss while you were photographed for most parts of it. So, when you wake up in the early morning of Friday, you know the hard part is coming up. Being a good WAG, looking the prettiest you can, supporting your boyfriend, possibly fighting the team principle again. 

You always hated getting a cab to the racetrack, so you made Yuki drive like a maniac through Miami’s streets and while most would be terrified of his aggressive driving style, you just loved those wild car rides with your boyfriend. Sharing sweet and small kisses whenever you encountered red traffic lights. Nevertheless, one of his hands always to touch your thighs, squeezing you softly to reassure himself that you were there. 

“Babe, why can’t I just quitttt? I want to lay in bed with you all day and just cuddle, making you feel good and have breakfast, lunch, and dinner on our bed” Yuki pouted as he was parking the car directly at the entrance of the paddock. “Well, one of us needs to drive fast cars and it won’t be me because my neck game is by far not as strong as yours” You smirk at Yuki as he almost jumps at you kissing him.

Soon you had to leave the car, journalists tried crowding you as you met up with Michael, his personal trainer. You always felt like a queen going through the paddock, Yuki loved seeing you in heels, making your height even more prominent than it already was. It was one thing that Yuki has always loved about you, your height.

As soon as you got into the motorhome, Yuki basically dragged you along to his driver’s room, claiming to have some privacy with you. Not like you didn’t do that already for the past days, but who would complain to being alone with a Yuki Tsunoda in a small room? Definitely not you, the one who was actively dating the hottest driver on the grid.

As you sat down on the small couch, Yuki made a call to get some food. “Yukinoooo, I am hungryyy and I want cuddles too” You looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes, knowing it works like a charm in your favor every time. “Shhh, I am trying to get us food asap but you need to be a bit patient” And that is the moment where Yuki spoke to someone in Italian for some reason while sitting down on your lap, legs on either side of you while smirking, knowing it always turns you on when he speaks different languages. You put your hands around his waist, looking intensively at him when he put his phone on the coffee table next to you. “Apparently we should have some food within the next 15 minutes, so lots of time to pass while we wait for some carbs” Both of you started giggling all of a sudden, just simply staring at each other, fully in love and awe. ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Plsss give me feedback on it, i just truly need some opinions on my writing, idk why i sometimes feel so insecure but i hope you all love it, especially the Yuki girliesss on here <3 <3 <3 <3

[harleehazbinfics]

Sly

a/n: im brushing up on how to write for lucifer. i missed him 😭

During the fall of man, there was chaos among the order of the angels. With heaven's very own Lucifer being the catalyst of it all, it had sent all the elders in a frenzy and leading to his eventual fall from grace.

You were but a child when it all happened. They all used his name as a threat, to scare off angels that dare defy the rules. However, you didn't quite understand why he was condemned from heaven for merely dreaming, and why couldn't he be redeemed by asking for forgiveness. Isn't that what your principles were? You confronted your mother about this, but in fear that she would lose you she begged you to stop speaking about the matter.

From then on, you stopped talking about it. Up until a fateful occurrence.

You were rushing your way towards your office, a tall stack of papers in your arms and as you guessed it, rushing when you can't even see in front of you is a really bad idea.

"Oops, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" You cried holding the remaining paper in your arms. The person who bumped into you used their magic to lift sheets of paper off the ground and back onto your stack.

"Oh, it's fine. What's the rush?" A familiar voice of a man calls while he was helping you.

"I need to bring this report to the virtues. Hopefully, the meeting hasn't started yet," you explain, "Thank you, Sir Michael! Would you like to walk with.. me.. there..?"

You look up at the male in a daze as you figure out it wasn't Michael at all. Though they look similar and act the same way, it definitely wasn't him. He wore a distinct white top hat with a snake coiled around the base with accents of red, you trailed down to his face seeing his apple cheeks and awkward sharp toothed smile from being mistaken for his brother as he clutched onto his apple cane.

"O-oh! I'm terribly sorry for not noticing, Sir Lucifer!" You apologized, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"Oh it's fine. I get that a lot," he chuckles charmingly.

You blush at your mistake and how irrefutably handsome he was. He has a kind smile that seemed to wane ever so often with how downcast his eyebrows fell. It was as if he felt uncomfortable being here.

Your tug your lips into a thin line before cheerfully saying, "Is there anywhere in particular you're going? I'd love to be your escort!"

He seems dumbfounded at how an angel was kind enough to talk to him so candidly. Weren't there tales about his disobedience spread across of heaven? If this matter didn't require his attendance, he would have never come at all. However, seeing your gentle kindness made it seem worth while.

"Oh, couldn't possibly bother you. Aren't you late for a meeting anyway?" he refuses gently, pointing at the papers.

"Oh, it's fine!" you blush, "I'd be honored to spend some time with you!"

He quirks his eyebrow at you with a smug smile, making you splutter at your mistake, "I meant--as your guide! Yes! I don't have those kinds of intentions towards you! I apologize if it seemed that way!"

He gives you an attractive laugh and uses his magic to lift the paper off your hands and levitate beside you. Saving you the trouble of carrying them everywhere. He gestures his hand forward and replies, "Then shall we?"

You beam him a smile and escorted him to his meeting room, while giving him an update on the changes that were made since he's been gone. He looked less tense when you first bumped into each other and even chimed a joke or two in your conversation.

Not before long, you arrived at the door now carrying the paper in your hands. Giving him a big smile while he carefully walks forward to the door.

"It was nice talking to you, Sir Lucifer," you say a blush adorning your cheeks which he found adorable on you.

"I enjoyed our time together, (y/n). Hopefully, we can meet again someday," he replies with a smile of his own.

You gave him one final smile and started to walk down the hallway. But before you could take your 2nd step, he says something that made you blush from your cheeks to your ears and nape.

"By the way, you can just call me Lucifer. I'm divorced," he calls with a flirtatious smirk before entering the room.

His gesture makes you blush from the top of your head to your toes at his comment, calling him sly in your head. You shake your head trying to gain your composure as you trotted to your office. But it doesn't wipe the stupid smile you had on your face.

🔗All OTHER Lucifer Fics Taglist:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @preciousbabypeter, @roboticsuccubus83, @simbalioness, @reachthestars, @atlas-rin, @luc1fersducky, @lovestruck-enby, @azullynxx, @delightedtosee, @s2tng, @cherry-4200, @aria-tempest, @lvstyangel, @0strawberrysorbet0, @corvid007, @kaminarithebest, @selvyyr

[xkaidaxxxx]

Kid's Murder

Geto x reader, Gojo x reader

Warning: Murder, brainwashed, manipulation, new light, happy ending.

no proof read sorry ya'll.

Reblogs are appreciated <3

“You’re a monster Suguru!” You yelled at him with tears running down your cheeks. “ Are you second guessing our life?” he asked. Your love for Suguru started during your 1st year of Highschool. As time passed by you two ended up dating. Bright and Happy. In love. When Suguru told you his future plans you didn’t care. You followed him. You were so blinded by love that you didn’t care to have him explain his entire process of his plan. He knew the girls he took in were more than likely to die, and so during your early twenties he wanted a son or daughter to carry on his ideals. To keep the cycle going in case he suddenly dies. You had twins at 19. Beautiful boys. Sena and Seiji. The pregnancy was surprisingly easy, same with birth. Suguru made sure he was there as much as he could while planning out what was cruel. When the twins turned 5…The eldest of them wasn’t a curse user. Sena. One Suguru came home feeling hurt. You saw blood on his cheek and hands. “ I tried saving him y/n. Our Sena.” he lied straight to you and since you were so naive you believe him. You were brainwashed and manipulated to the max. He got rid of his own son. As years passed by you ended up having 7 kids. Another set of twins and 3 single children. He killed off 3 out of the 7. Those murders with different stories. You were so fucking blind it was insane. Until you had 2 more kids. One day you were going to surprise Suguru and his daughter with lunch. It was an hour trip but it was alright. You heard their laughter and walked close enough to see the way Suguru made your little one scream and cry in pain. He then made it quick afterwards. You left running back. You got the kids fed and ready for bed. 

Children's names

Sena 

Kazumi 

Tadashi 

Aki 

Satomi 

You were going to search for help and the only people you thought of were your old classmates,teachers, and principle, Specifically Gojo Satoru. The strongest. One day you decided to take your children on a trip while their father was gone. They were so excited. You told them you’d take stops to different locations. The last one being where you knew Gojo goes to take a breather. To relax a bit. You enjoyed the time with your kids. Laughing, eating, taking photos. When you hit the last destination. You told them to set up the picnic you all decided to have “last minute”. You said you needed to use the bathrooms nearby. Instead you went into a hidden part of the forest. There he was. “ How did you know I’m here? Y/n.” Gojo asked. “ It’s always been your time to breathe and relax…I rolled the dice hoping you’d show here.” You replied, twiddling with your fingers. He noticed. You felt shameful having to ask for help. “What is it? Did you finally come to your senses after all these years?” he asked. You started crying silently, “I didn’t know Suguru was doing such cruel things.” you spoke. “You couldn’t be that stupid. You were so fucking blind and pathetic.” he replied looking at you directly. “ We h-had kids…ju-st recently..I witnessed hi-m murdering my youngest child a twin. My daughter. I noticed that the ones that died were non-sorcerers. The ones without curse energy.” you replied trying to hold back from more crying. Gojo felt awful. “ I can process him doing this to regular humans…but his own children..it's too much.” Gojo said. “ Mama!! Where are you!?” your son Sena called out. “Please Gojo help me. I can’t live with that man anymore. My kids…They can’t grow up to end up like him. They need a good environment to live in. I don’t want to lose them if they don’t agree with his ideals. Help me, I'm begging you.” You said falling onto your knees as Gojo looked away and didn’t respond to you. “Big brother… Is mama gone? Is she hurt? Did dada hurt her like he did with my twin.” Aki said, crying. Sena had his siblings in a line. You and Gojo heard him. “Please Gojo.” you begged. He helped you stand up again. He gave you a tight hug which you both needed. “ Let’s go now. I’ll support you and your kids from now on.” he said letting you go. “ I know the kids will want things from home.” you said. “ No we don’t.” Sena said. “ He hurt my siblings Mama,Right? Why?” Tadashi asked. You realized none of them needed anything from home. All they did was school and train. “ Your father lost his sanity.” Gojo said. “Let's get going. Leave everything behind. Any electronics as well.” You said. You walked back to the car putting everything inside. Sena lit the car on fire. Once you were all at a distance the car exploded and the flames burned incredibly strong. 

Children’s ages:

Sena 15 

Kazumi 11

Tadashi 10

Aki 5

Satomi 4

“ Mama, where are we going to live now?” Aki asked, holding her big brother’s Tadashi’s hand. “Somewhere safe sweetie.” you replied. Gojo carried Aki. “ My place. It’s very hidden. I will protect you all, don't worry.” Gojo replied. You knew he meant that. You didn’t want him to worry so you were going to hold up on your own as well. Satomi played with his blindfold. Hours passed. Gojo decided to keep you all close as you went shopping for daily necessities and fun things for the kids. Computers and phones for You, Sena, and Kazumi. He made sure you all had tracking devices for safety. Fun games. Board and online ones. He made sure their education will be good. He bought them school supplies and gave you their curriculums for the school year with the textbooks they’ll be needing. You’re a homeschool teacher and so you’ve taught them a lot. Once he took you all home they were shocked at how a hidden home could be so huge and luxurious. 

As they chose their rooms Gojo pulled you aside. “If you allow it, I'd like to take Sena to Jujutsu High. At least as a trial of 2 months. If he likes it, can he attend?” he said. “ A month and 2 weeks…if he wants to attend..he can but teach him all you can, to make him stronger, so he can protect himself and the relationships he makes along the way.” you said to him. “Yes. I will. I swear.” he replied. You nodded. He walked to the living room. “ Did you all choose a room?”  Gojo asked. They smiled and nodded. “ Satomi can have a room when she’s older, for now She’ll sleep with her mommy.” He said. “ Thank you sir!” they said in unison. “ No problem. Your mommy and I have known each other since we were in High School. Awesome right? She was a total weird and shy loser, however she’s a powerful person. A little bit near my level.” he said with a laugh he’s always had. “ Our mom isn't weird nor a shy loser!” Aki said. “ He’s right, I was weird and shy. He helped me get out of my shell. I kicked his ass only once, that's only because he had the flu.” You said taking Satomi from Kazumi. 

Months went on by. Sena did attend Jujutsu high. Gojo kept his promise. He trained Sena like no other. He taught him so much. When he’d come home to you and the kids. He helped them with the homework you gave them. He’d also help with Satomi. That little one is very energetic so he would tire her out with princess parties or playing who can get to mommy the fastest. With Kazumi and Tadashi he would teach them anything they’d need. One time you were busy with cleaning and Kazumi asked a terrifying question. “ Gojo. Is it true that periods hurt? When will I get mine?” she asked. It caught him so off guard. He was sweating and then put on his serious face. You and Shoko during those days were a pain to him and Suguru. You girls would complain a lot. He remembered how you girls complained about different painful spots. “Well… It will but every girl's body is different so who knows. I don’t know what age girls get it. Ask your mom about anything like that. She’s a female like you, so she’ll have loads of information about it. It’s good to know you trust me about asking things like that. Run along. Don’t forget to ask your mom and do your homework.” he replied. Kazumi left for her room. Gojo fell onto the couch and let out a huge sigh. He was panicking in his mind the entire time. “ Hey da- I mean Gojo…Is it okay If you can help me with math equations.” Tadashi said. Gojo was shocked. Tadashi called him dad. “ Yes of course. I’m always here if you need me okay.” he replied. 

There was a specific day where he bursted into tears.

“ I almost called him dad like 5 times…” Tadashi said to his siblings.  “Me too big brother” Aki replied. “ I did once..it felt normal. I apologized after. He said it was okay.” Kazumi added. “ I called him Dad in front of my classmates… They were all shocked. He didn’t deny me as his son. I keep wondering if he actually sees us as his kids…or if he was just trying to save me from embarrassment.” Sena said, playing with his shoe laces. Gojo was listening to them. He cried silently. Of course he did. After 2 months of you moving in with the kids, he started flirting with you. At first it was playful but after time he realized it was real. He started getting his shit together. He naturally became a father to them and a great boyfriend to you. “ Hey y/n..I heard them..they said Dad.” he said crying. You wiped his tears. “ I think that's beautiful. You are a great dad. You have your flaws but you’re a great dad. I love you Satoru Gojo.” you said. He kissed you passionately. The kids saw and gasped. “ Mama!” Satomi said. Gojo pulled away with a caught smile. “...does this mean… I mean..is it okay if we call you dad.” Kazumi asked. “ Sena, I didn't save you from embarrassment. I didn’t deny you because I think all of you kids are my own. My little, crazy, awesome angels.” Gojo replied. You held Gojo’s hand with a tight grip. Gojo always thought he’d never fall in love, that he’d never have kids, that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy life, it all faded away when he fell in love with you. “ Da..daa..dada.” Satomi said while having her cute little hands in her mouth. He carried her pecking her forehead. “That’s me.” he said happily. 

“ I love my babies and my Satoru.” You said. You were full of love and happiness. You all shared a big family hug.

[mishy-mashy]

So far there's the magician that likes to make fun of Joshua and has problems to sort out, and a kid who causes property damage on a daily basis and obsesses over instruments (OCs)

These aren't the only ones but I just think that of all my fics or Re:Zero OCs, the cutest is about Julius taking in another spirit (look at Pooka or Chamov for an image on the general character concept)

Including:

Julius has a spirit that's like a son to him

"Julius." Emilia turned to the knight with a smile.

Before Julius could give his own greetings, a fluffy head popped up from his left shoulder. Their cute face blinked at them, before a smile spread across their face.

Ho ho!" the demi-humanoid spirit shouted in greeting, holding onto Julius's shoulders without his help.

Subaru screamed.

Playing shop

Sure, he didn't have much idea about money, but that's why he paid attention to what the lady said! As per the rules of Lady Anastasia, money had only three rules!

1. More money is good!

2. Keep as much money to yourself as you can because that's good!

3. High prices aren't good!

With these core principles in mind, the little demi-human-looking spirit stood over a small box that acted as a shop counter.

"How much is this?" Julius asked, crouching in front of the makeshift desk and holding a valuable metia encrusted with gold.

Of course, because high prices are bad, that must mean they're bad for both the seller and buyer!

"Free, because high prices are bad prices!"

"... I see. How much is your most expensive item?"

"1 bronze!"

If his little spirit friend had hands, he surely would've held up a finger instead of his hoof.

"But I like you, so you can have it for free as my most loyal customer!"

Julius was his only customer, but he kept quiet on that.

".... Thank you for your hospitality."

"Thanks for your thievery! Please come again!"

Rule 3.1: Giving things for free is the equivalent of highway robbery.

Spirits can get sick?

"Buuu..."

"Are you okay?"

Said spirit was on the ground, forehead pressed and tiny arms wrapped around its tummy. Even though Julius couldn't see his face, they sounded like they were half-crying already.

"Feels cursed... buhuu..."

Everyone thinks the spirit is a real demi-human so the spirit needs a last name

"What's a last name?" they asked, doing their best to peer over the paper from the too-tall (read: average height) table.

"A name that identifies you to your house."

"My crystal?"

"No... Do you have a name you want?"

"Super-Cool-Mister-Big-Man!!"

"Let me rephrase that—a last name that's ideally one word?"

"Execution!!"

".. Where did you learn that word..." Julius sighed, not surprised.

"Blood! Murder! Explosion! DEATH TO ALL!! MIMI! IRON FANGS!!! TAKE NO SURVIVORS!!!"

Julius grew slightly embarrassed as others started to crane their heads, judging him for apparently teaching a child those words.

At least he knew where his friend learned said words.

Spirit worldbuilding

".. I'm not sure why he hasn't come out since then," Julius murmured, tapping his finger against the magic crystal that housed them.

It shook slightly—the only response he received up until this point.

"Are you okay?" he spoke to the dormant spirit, unsure if they could hear him. Julius could not receive a verbal or telepathic reply either, like with his little spirits.

After all, they were not—

[mariacallous]

Years ago, the late Russian writer Elena Gremina correctly predicted that her country was growing worse by the day. “I don’t want to live in an Orthodox Iran,” she told me back in 2013, after Russia passed a reactionary law criminalizing offending “religious feelings of believers.”

Now that the Russian Federation has fully embraced fascism, more parallels with Iran and other autocratic states like China are emerging. One of the biggest is hostage-taking. And that means that for Americans and other Westerners from countries helping fight Russia’s brutality, it’s past time to get out.

Ever since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the rules of the game have changed. Denunciations are on the rise. As it slaughters people abroad, the Kremlin is increasingly more paranoid at home. And an American passport won’t protect you from the Russian authorities. In fact, it’s likely to draw their attention.

After detaining Americans such as Brittney Griner and Trevor Reed in order to use them as bargaining chips, the Russians have decided to go after an American journalist, the first such case since the Cold War. This journalist is the Wall Street Journal’s Evan Gershkovich, currently detained in Russia on ludicrous espionage charges.

Gershkovich came to Russia the same year that I finally left, and we haven’t had much interaction, but I’ve always known him to be a stand-up individual and a terrific writer. He had a lot of affection for Russia, because he was interested in the stories of its people—even as he was more than aware of the darkness at its center.

Before he was grabbed, Gershkovich knew that Russia was growing more dangerous. You could see that from some of his tweets. His social media presence was smartly low-key—you can’t get the job done in Russia if you’re railing against its government on Twitter, certainly not anymore—but what is left unsaid is sometimes more obvious than what is articulated.

I believe that Gershkovich stayed because he is a brave man who is committed to his work. I have seen some victim-blaming of him on social media, which is gross and appalling. As Jason Rezaian, another brave man who knows what it’s like to be a political hostage, recently put it, we should all avoid “repeating the Russian narrative” when it comes to this story. Rezaian was held in Iran and understands how depressingly similar both country’s playbooks are. Gershkovich is likely in it for the long haul. The Russians will hold onto him until it is useful to trade him.

Politically combustible situations require nuanced thinking. What is happening to Gershkovich is sickening, but it also should serve as a very clear signal to any Americans remaining in Russia. These people need to get out.

Americans making plans to travel to Russia for whatever reason should cancel those plans, even—perhaps especially—if they have Russian heritage. Russia was never particularly safe, but now it is a minefield. There’s no need to place yourself in harm’s way if you can avoid it.

I know from experience that it is hard to break personal ties with a country like Russia. I gave birth to my son in Moscow (and wrote about it for this very publication). There are many tough, principled people in Moscow and elsewhere whom I miss. There is the legacy of artists and writers like Gremina herself—a group that has immense talent and pure grit. Gremina, a ferociously brave and funny woman, passed away in 2018, and in that, I suppose, she has been spared the worst of seeing what happened to her country, though she did predict it.

Yet the Russian government has repeatedly shown us what it is. The mask has been off for some time now. The Kremlin is uncivilized. Its political strategies are written and implemented by thugs.

Globally, Americans are being snatched and held hostage at an alarming rate. There are a few countries where that’s particularly likely to happen, Russia being just one of them. But in recent years China has seen the hostage-taking of two Canadians, Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor, the detention of Australians like Cheng Lei on trumped-up espionage charges, and even the kidnapping of its dissidents, including foreign passport holders, from other countries such as Thailand.

Russia has slid downhill even faster, however. The problem with the Russian government is that it talked a good game for a number of years. Until an all-out war in which Russia sees itself as battling the “evil West,” a lot of Americans, especially ones who couldn’t care less about Ukraine, could afford to be fooled by it. We cannot afford that anymore.

This goes for everyone, even the useful idiots—or, as the Soviets used to call them, the “shit-eaters.” There are Americans and others who to this day come to Russia to sing its praises. Some are political extremists. Some are sex tourists. Some are Steven Seagal. These people assume themselves to be safe, because they breathlessly support Russian President Vladimir Putin.

It’s a dangerous strategy, though, because if there is one thing to admire about Russian political culture, it’s this: They hate a traitor, and they view pro-Russian Americans as fundamentally traitorous to their own nation. As such, pro-Russian Americans are useful to the Russian regime, but they are not trusted or respected. It’s a bit like striking a deal with a fairy tale monster—the terms might seem OK on the surface, but there is always a risk, and a catch.

Of course, journalists still need to report on what is happening in Russia. But the danger now has become immense. There are no easy answers or platitudes I can offer here. There is just the cold, hard reality of a violent, fascist regime that despises Americans and will use them in its endless tit-for-tat games as much as it is able.

Do not give that regime what it wants. Don’t feed the monster. Stay out of Russia.

[maytheoddshq]

Rio Odair (he/him). District Four Mentor. 128 Victor. Twenty-Four. Noppanut Guntachai.

A conversation with death; 

How to inspire dread: 

Just be yourself. 

We find that works for us, usually. 

  – What was their childhood like?

Rio Styx Odair was born in a victor’s home.

The second one, to be exact. Finnick Odair had no use for two large houses all by himself, so it only came naturally that his son would inhabit the second one. First, his son, then every single person that got added to the ever growing family. Rio was the first grandchild, first out of five. Each and every one of the children was born into luxury, funded by a victor’s salary and virtually nothing to worry about, other than what their weapon at the academy would be.

The sea dulled even the sharp edges of glass with the steady rhythm of its waves. Underwater, long, dark green tresses of sea grass swayed with the movements. Though, with its endless power, not even the ocean managed to round out the sharpest edges of the roughest rocks.

Rio had the sharpest sort of ridges along his pretty smile, though there wasn’t much reasoning for it other than arrogance. His grandfather had won the Hunger Games twice, and by definition, by relation, by blood, that made him practically untouchable. Even as a young child, he sat on the beaches in Four as though he owned every grain of sand and every drop of water that touched upon the land. It would’ve been a rather powerful sight, to see a young boy already so full of confidence, had there not been a thin line between confidence and arrogance that Rio had crossed a long time ago.

He had to set an example for the generations that followed the Odair family, and he’d set a damn good one, just out of principle. Nose held a little higher as he grew into himself, he intended to pave a clear way for his siblings once they followed him to the Academy. Rio was twelve when he signed up, promptly picked up the trident as his weapon of choice because everything had a purpose. Where he set his feet as he walked down hallways, the smiles he sent certain people’s ways, the words he spoke. It felt otherworldly each and every time, to hold out a hand and have people glance at it in wonder simply because of who he was, who he could be.

Carol Eyre was one of those people. He felt easy to impress, a couple years younger and less experienced,  mainly because he was already fighting for his attention with sharp elbows and pointed grins. And nothing satisfied arrogance easier than blatant attention. Rio wanted to reach out and touch, grasp for the clear cut emotion and keep it as close as he could. In the beginning, that came in the form of a hand to hold, almost a little too softly, too gentle to compare to the way they kicked one another to the mats during training sessions in the Academy. The kisses were too soft until Rio bit down onto a lip and Carol reciprocated in kind. That was more like it. Like he could swallow it all up and have it warm his stomach more than nails that scratched at his abdomen as though they wanted to get inside. They fit together in the oddest ways. First, the same sharp weapon, before the younger man switched to something that complimented it and his wit for creating traps. A trident and a net full of razor sharp surprises.

What became apparent rather soon, though, was that the softness of a title like boyfriend and boyfriend worked less and less for them. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t friendly. It was rough, jagged edges digging under skin and leaving marks of pleasure in its wake. And really, it was just about enough. Out in the open turned into discrete. Stones that threatened to break through his window sometimes at night, and a hand clamped over a mouth to keep others from realising that nothing had changed about them, except for the fact that everything had finally fallen into place, the way it was supposed to.

– How did they feel about the games before being reaped?

He’d been born for the Hunger Games. First born son of the first born son of two victors, there had never been any doubt that once the time came, Rio would raise his hand to volunteer. His family seemingly accepted the fact, either out of undying, loving faith, or perhaps a little bit of hope for a problem to resolve. Rio liked to think it was the former, after tireless and hard work (sometimes less hard), he knew he’d be ready soon enough. If he wasn’t already. Those Games had been part of his DNA, deeply rooted in his bones, for all of his life. 

And then, on a shiny and slightly too warm day in July, Rio volunteered for the 128th Hunger Games. 

– What was their trajectory in the arena & how did they win their game?

The Arena was an overcast Town with fog that came and went as it pleased. It was unassuming and normal at the first glance, cosy looking houses with windows frosted from the cold. On the second, it became clear that something was just slightly off. The tributes were launched into the Arena on their usual platforms, ending up in a circular marketplace. Everything looked larger than it was supposed to be in comparison to the twenty four tributes. Many times larger, to be exact. Itself and the inhabitants seemed gigantic to the tributes. Nine lives were lost to the bloodbath. 

I. Rain Storm

A cloud darkened the entire Arena, and moments later, the heavy rainfalls began. Giant puddles formed, and through the dips in the cobblestones the water rushed through like a raging river. Rio was an exceptional swimmer, but not even that would’ve been entirely enough to save him. In the end, it was luck and an especially jagged cobblestone to hold onto. Another tribute was flushed past him, struggling and thrashing in the water. A cannon sounded overhead moments later, almost mixing into the thunder and lighting. The tribute wasn’t struggling anymore after Rio let go of them. 

II. Trespassers

Clothes barely dry and the sky just cleared up, he had found shelter underneath a garden chair on a large lawn. For a night, he was safe, just about enough time to catch his breath and hatch a precarious plan for what could come next. Anything he could’ve thought of barely prepared him for the grumbling and the angry snapping of teeth, though. A giant dog came bounding across the lawn, sending Rio running once more. Three cannons had sounded by the time he finally got rid of the dog that tore a chunk out of his leg.

III. Apple Attack

He was growing quite sick of running, especially because it was extra hard on his aching leg. First there’d been a rough wind sweeping through the streets, and then, the apples, oranges, strawberries and much more came rolling down the stoney paths. More cannons sounded, one of them courtesy of Rio’s curiosity how deadly it would be if someone were to be pushed right in front of a giant apple.

IV. Festival

From one hour to the next, the streets were filled with people rushing to the centre of the town. There was not an inch that wasn’t bustling with the excitement of the festival held in the town square. The tributes were by the feet of the partying population, having to evade the trampling of over excited people. 

V. Pitchfork Hunt

The tributes had been spotted by the people of the town. In no time, they had pitchforks and torches at the ready. It was a signal for the end and if anything, Rio was all for it. Five days in and he was ready for it to be over. All of the tributes were being hunted down by an enraged citizen, and they wouldn’t stop until their designated tribute was dead. A tough fight, and then Rio was lifted up by his arm and shaken around. It tore at skin and muscle, the arm almost ripping off completely. The last thing he could bring himself to do was launch a trident at the giant’s eye. Rio was dropped to the ground. He heard a cannon before he lost consciousness. In that short moment, he made peace with it being fired for him. 

– How were they affected by their experiences in the game?

Winning brought him less joy than he’d thought. Rio was at a loss then, for what he was supposed to do now. Things were mostly the same as they had been before, except now he had the crown he’d always wanted and a shoulder that was held together by metal inserted during surgery after surgery. He had a crown and the scars to show for the victory, but now all he felt was mostly empty and a little lost. 

The reality TV show cameras helped even less, the eager faces of people who wanted to know all the ins and outs of the famous and victorious Odair family. That reality show saw Carol Eyre as a guest star as well. It hurt to have him there, as much as it helped. It fixed nothing, though. The episodes had barely begun to air when Carol volunteered for the Games after Rio’s. All he could do was watch and write petulant, silly little notes in hopes of getting some sort of reaction out of Carol that could make watching this, on screen without being there, bearable. 

– What are they like as a mentor?

He tends to be pissed off easily and overcome by the urge to not care any longer about tributes that he finds to be incapable or hopeless. No matter their complicated dynamic, though, Carol and him made for a good team. In sync and knowing one another’s moves without the other having to comment on them in the first place. He would never admit to it, but being a mentor on his own had been far drearier than even bickering all the time could ever be. 

– Three strengths and three weaknesses;

( + ) skilled, charming, courageous 

( - ) arrogant, reckless, temperamental

PENNED BY: Leo

[nyssandracousland]

3

The Tower was incredibly overbearing. It stretched upwards into the farthest reaches of the sky. Nyss was sure that Andraste herself would kick the tip of it if she was not careful walking around up there.

“The Fereldan Circle Tower.” Knight Commander Greagoir said proudly. “I have been here for many years, and its beauty has never changed.”

‘Sure, if you are not a prisoner here’ Nyss mumbled to herself.

The Templars, Emmy and Nyss boarded a boat that took them from a dock to the entrance of the Tower. As the men rowed, Nyss could see Emmy shrink back in her seat. She put her arm around her and held her tight.

“Lady Cousland, I have a Templar waiting for you. He will take you to your room and help you to settle in. He will also be your personal guard for your stay here, and will escort you home. I have sent word ahead for them to clear his schedule. How long do you plan on staying?” Greagoir asked.

“Until I know Lady Amell is settled in and that I can do no more for her.”

“That is fine, you will not be able to see each other for a few days. It is apostate mage protocol, but after you may reunite. Until then, enjoy the grounds, take in the Library, and the History, and have Cullen show you the garden. I know you’ll appreciate that.” Greagoir almost made it sound like a holiday.

‘Why do all men assume I like gardening, I do, but it’s the principle! I would much rather be wielding a blade or spells for that matter, protecting those around me. Misogynistic thinkers.’ Nyss internally bemoaned.

As they approached the entrance the giant metal door swung open. It was nearly twelve feet high and at least ten feet long. ‘They really don’t want mages pushing this thing open. How terrified are they?’ She wondered.

Nyss and Emmy shared a glance. Their jaws wide.

“Is it not fabulous” Greagoir said boastfully.

“For a prison.” Nyss let slip.

Greagoir frowned. “You may be an Teyrn’s daughter but you have still much to learn about dangers you not know. Do not be foolish. You are not immortal, you could perish in these halls just as anyone else can.” Greagoir lectured.

Nyss nodded to show respect, but she knew she only did this for Emmy’s sake. Nyss hated thinking of her friend locked here, behind a massive door. The stories she had heard of the Circle were not of a place she would ever want to live, or as she interpreted, to be help captive.

The entry way was impressive. Statues in memory of Andraste lined the circular room. The Chant of Light was written in golden script along the top of the wall, along the bottom was flowers and greenery to give it a more favorable look, and in large black writing was: “To Serve Man, Never to Rule Over Him.” She figured it was their motto, to keep them feeling as of this was their purpose as Templars.

Greagoir motioned to a long hallway. Emmy grasped at Nyss’s arm, and they held onto each other tightly. The corridor was dark, and poorly lit, a complete opposite from what they were greeted with. All they could see were the two beams of light coming in from one end of the spire. They walked until the end of the hall and Greagoir said:

“Lady Cousland, you are to go to the left, and Miss Amell, you are to go through to the right. You will both be greeted by Templars, do not be afraid, give them no cause to harm you, and they will not.” Greagoir said.

Nyss kissed Emmy on the cheek and hugged her tight.

“Be strong my friend. I am here for you. Maybe hold back your quick wit for the first day.”

Emmy did not flinch at Nyss attempt to lighten her heart. She simply squeezed Nyss in a tighter embrace before being unpleasantly yanked away by Greagoir.

Nyss watched as she went through the door, turn, and blow her a sad kiss. Greagoir then led Emmy away.

Nyss was now alone. No choice but to go to the left. She pushed the door open, and all she could see was a bright beam of sunlight.

Then the enormous door, swung shut behind her.

Chapter 4

In that new hallway Nyss found herself in opulence. The cobblestone floors were polished, there was light all throughout the corridors, and the pleasing aroma of wild flowers filled the air. It was so unlike the previous corridor, she wondered if she had been somehow transported somewhere appealing, like back to the Arling. ‘That is crazy!’ she thought ‘No one can do that....yet.”

She heard steps coming from behind her, and a gentle but firm voice.

“Lady Cousland I presume.”

“I sure hope I am, or someone else has stolen my body.” she jested.

“I appreciate your sense of humor, but I would not joke about being possessed in the Circle Tower. I am all for jokes, but other Templars might not take too kindly.”

“I am truly sorry, I will think before I speak next time.”

“No harm, you obviously have not been around many Templars. My name is Cullen. I will be your Circle Templar Guard for the duration of your stay. I trust we will get along well.” He introduced himself nervously.

Nyss was surprised, he was rather kind spoken for a Templar, considering the ones she just traveled with said nothing to her the entire time. She quickly examined him up and down. Before her stood a tall, broad shouldered man. From what she could tell, he was almost a man. Still young enough to be in his early 20s, and had a head full of blonde loosely curly hair. His eyes were amber and his face looked unworn from time. He was pleasant to look at, but she pushed that thought quickly away.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, how do I address you, as you are correct in saying I have not had many dealings with Templars.” She respectfully asked.

“My Lady, please refer to me as Cullen. I have not yet attained any title other than Templar, so that would suffice.”

“Cullen then, I do have several questions about the tower and about where my friend is.” Nyss got straight to the point.

“I would assume you do, please, let me show you to your room so you can rest a while, then I will gladly answer any questions you may have over supper tonight.” He motioned to her to follow as he began to walk down the hallway.

“Cullen I need to know when I can see Emmy. I worry about her. She is like a sister to me.” Nyss couldn’t hold back. She needed an answer.

“My Lady, you will need to wait a few days. It is already very unusual for us to have someone escort a mage to the tower, let alone stay here to make sure they are settled.” He gently said, “Unlike the outside world you are used to, you will need to wait. It is essential for us to make sure we can be safe, and guarantee your safety as well.”

“Ser, I have spent my life with this woman, and all of a sudden she is dangerous? I do not think you…”

Cullen turned to face her, “My Lady, please listen. You have always been free, yes?”

“Always.”

“Then what would you do when you had pressure put upon you, that challenges all of your freedoms?”

Nyss thought of her mother trying to make a match for her, to cage her up to a pompous Noble. “I’d try my hardest to get free.”

“Exactly. How would you do that?”

“By any means possible.” She imagined scaling her bedroom window and fleeing before the wedding ceremony. Her imagination was her favourite part of her mind.

“Exactly. How do you think your friend is feeling? Free, and now caged. Anything could happen even if she means not to hurt you.” Cullen reasoned.

Nyss did not feel as if he was being condescending. He was gentle but firm on the Circles protocols. As much as it went against her better judgement she conceded.

“Your reasoning is understood Ser. Please take me to my room. I must lay down and rest before the meal.” She kindly said. “It has been a long trip, and to feel a soft bed would be most welcomed.”

Cullen nodded and walked down the hallway in front of her. “I am impressed you spent two weeks sleeping on the cold ground, not many would do that.” He commended her.

Cullens strides were long and his armor glistened in the light. It was shiny, and flawless. Not someone who has seen battle in it, like her fathers old armor.

Nyss briefly gazed at the walls of the corridor as they walked. The Chant of Light was scrolled across them, and portraits of templars lined the hall. They had not walked long on the stone floor until Cullen stopped and turned right.

“This will be your room. Please feel free to use any of the items you find in it. There are a number of books and scrolls of you wish to read or write to your family. Just be warned, the candles in the hall way are extinguished every night two hours after supper, and I will be posted outside your room to protect you.”

“Ser Cullen I am sure that will not be necessary.” Nyss said.

“Sorry My Lady, Greagoirs orders. He wants nothing to happen to the Teyrns daughter. Could you imagine if something did?”

‘Always being coddled’ Nyss thought. ‘But I understand the concern.’

“I’ll be back in a bit to get you for the your meal, there is no dress code, but please be mindful, you will be dining with many Templars who have no had contact with anyone from outside these halls in a long time. So to go less noticed would make this first day easier for you.”

“Too bad, I packed my very best ball gown.” She tried to lighten the mood.

Cullens corner of his mouth upturned, “It is up to you, but no powdered wig please, we only wear those on weekends.”

‘He just made a joke.’ Nyss was relieved. She did not deal well with serious situations so this helped a little.

He nodded to her and closed the door to her room.

Chapter 5

Nyss’s accommodation wasn’t grandiose. It was simple. A bookcase made of aged wood to her left and a desk beside it with an oil burning lantern on it.

A simple bed, which looked comfortable enough, and a shelf with a lot of used parchment on it. The room was cosy, and looked well lived in.

Nyss was always curious, and wanted to sort through the books, and parchments but she was too heavy hearted to do so.

Instead she decided to wash up with the help of fresh water from a basin that was left at her disposal. She looked in the mirror and a young woman looked back at her. ‘I barely recognize myself ’ she thought.

A once carefree girl had grown into a woman. She examined the scar under her right ear. It was from a battle lesson Fergus was giving her a few months back. She didn’t move fast enough, and his blade caught her skin. The bright red scar pulsed in the flickering light. She hoped it would fade, but it would always serve as a reminder to stay focused.

Nyss slowly wiped away the dirt that caked her face and fixed her dusty hair into a long side braid that cascaded down her strong shoulder and over her right breast. She sorted out her limited clothing and picked an outfit that wouldn’t draw too much attention to herself for her first real interaction with the Templars.

A white tunic, cinched together with her brown corset and greyed riding trousers. Satisfied, she then laid down and stared at the dark stone ceiling, watching the shapes move in the lamp light.

She kept thinking of Emmy and hoping her experience was as peaceful as her own. She couldn’t wait to talk to her. ‘Was there no way to even get a message to her?’ Nyss thought as she closed her eyes and let the flame from the lantern play it’s magical game of shadows over her lids, which eventually caused her to drift off.

Soon after, she was jarred awake by the loud bang from the door being heaved open.

“My Lady, did you not hear me calling your name?” An exasperated Cullen asked.

“No sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” She replied, and slowly started to get to her feet. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“I apologize, I just thought something had happened and since I’m responsible…”

“I understand. Is it supper time?”

“Yes let’s go.”

Cullen walked a step ahead of Nyss down the carefully lit hallway. The sun was no longer shining, instead the hallways glowed with the warm candle light. The flames danced on the wall and shone off the back of his armor as he walked. He opened the door to a large room with several tables and at least 40 men sitting around them.

No one looked up. Nyss was relieved.

Cullen ushered her to a table where it was just the pair of them.

“Do not women join the order?” She questioned as she took no notice of any.

“Some do, we do not have any here right now.”

Cullen pulled out a chair for Nyss and he sat opposite her. “I’ve chosen here so we can talk about your friend and the questions you may have. The other Templar’s seem not to notice your presence but if they do, be prepared for the onslaught of questions.”

“I thought Templars are free.”

“We are mostly but no one leaves unless we have an assignment. We really have no where else to go. This is our home.” Cullen responded, and handed Nyss a piece of fresh warm bread.

She looked at it thankfully, inhaled its sweet aroma and took a hearty bite. She hadn’t had any resemblance of an proper meal since she left Highever so this was most welcomed.

Cullen strode over to another table briefly, then came back to her with a generous portion of steaming food in a bowl.

“I realize you probably haven’t eaten anything in a while. I brought you extra. Eat, enjoy. Our cooks here are very good.”

Nyss took a warm spoonful of stew. She let the flavors and fresh herbs dance on her pallet. She hadn’t had anything that wasn’t cooked over a campfire in two weeks, other than tough salted meat.

To her this first full meal seemed like luxury.

Cullen poured her a cup of tea and continued to eat his portion of his dinner as well.

“This is very good, Cook back home needs to learn to make this. Although she is far too set in her ways to learn anything new.” Nyss complimented.

“You are never to old to learn something new.” He grinned, and continued to focus on his meal.

Nyss could see he was uncomfortable trying to converse. She suspected he did not have much contact with women, so this was probably difficult for him. She made a mental note to be kind, even if he was a Templar. Once she had her fill of food, she started the questions.

“So, what happens when you get taken to the right in that hallway?”

“First off, we take you to a room for a physical examination. After, we take the clothes you came in and give you Circle attire. When you do this, you’re allowed to bathe, allowed to cut your hair if you wish, and clean up as best you can. Then you’re put in an isolation room and given three meals a day. During each day, you’re regularly assessed and questioned. You’re also asked to display your talents, so they can understand how much magic you know. Then, by the last day, if you have shown no signs of possession or detriment, you’re allowed out to meet the mages in the tower.”

“Who does the assessing?”

“It’s the Knight Commander and the Senior Enchanter. This allows them to see what type of talents you could possess.”

“It sounds more like prison.” She raised her left eyebrow.

“In a way, but remember my lady, technically any mage who isn’t in the tower or a part of it, is an apostate, and therefore is illegal.” He again used his reasoning.

“I - suppo… I understand.” She did not want to agree they are illegal, but the law was the law and she understood that.

The rest of Nyss’s questions were regarding the actual structure they were in. How many rooms it had, where she could see the sky from, if she was allowed to roam alone.

Cullen told her he would take her to an observation balcony one of her days there and said she could see all the way to the Frost Back Mountains. She liked that idea, as well as seeing the armory - Nyss always liked to examine armor and weapons from different types of areas in Fereldan.

“So I suppose my last question is this; are you with me at all times?”

“Yes. Please don’t be alarmed but the circle doesn’t actually have ‘guest rooms’. You are staying in my room as I am attending to you.”

Nyss was surprised. “Where will you sleep?” She asked in a concerned tone.

“I have a place, you need not worry. Just remember I’m here to make sure nothing happens to you.” He paused, “Now, if you’re done your meal, we should get back to your room so you can have a proper nights rest.”

Chapter 6

Nyss walked into her room and heard her bedroom door shut, she was finally alone. She was curious, ‘Maybe he has information on mages.’ She thought as she started to leaf through the books on the shelf to give her some sort of clue. Mostly Chantry History, a few books on Strategy a book on Ferelden Etiquette. Sadly, she discovered nothing about Mage treatment.

However, she did find some letters written to ‘Cullen Rutherford’, from a woman. ‘No I shouldn’t read these, this is personal.’ She argued with herself.

Her inquiring mind got the best of her, and she picked one up off the shelf and started to read.

My dearest Cullen,

Things on the farm have been hard. Mother and father both are suffering from old age and sickness but we are hoping things will get better. Branson and his son are helping as much as they can.

I am so proud of you and every day I thank the Maker you are alive and well. Oh please write more often. I have much to tell you, I have had my hand asked for by Lon, you remember him don’t you? You were a little boy but I’m sure you remember him. I haven’t decided yet. But he seems decent.

Please come home for a visit, and write soon you ninny.

Love, your sister Mia

‘I shouldn’t have read that, but it wasn’t harmful. It’s so strange to think of Templars having families who have normal lives.’ Nyss thought.

For a moment, her mind had strayed from Emmy and started to think of what the Rutherford’s farm could have been like. She closed her eyes and pictured a big barn with horses and cows, and a garden full of vegetables. She pictured what Mia could have looked like and this Lon. She wondered what his mother and father were doing on a night like tonight. Nyss allowed her thoughts to roam, and soon enough, she was asleep.

Dawn came, and Cullen brought Nyss breakfast to her room. She was great full, she sat on the bed while Cullen sat on the chair at the writing desk, and they discussed the Circle.

“Do you feel all Mages are a danger?” She questioned.

“I’m sure they are not all going to fall prey to demons.”

“But I mean, the ones that do not, shouldn’t they be allowed more freedoms?”

“I suppose, but you never know when something can happen.”

“Ser, you could hurt yourself from riding a horse but yet you still ride. Shouldn’t individuals be given more credit?”

“In a perfect world, I agree. We cannot live in fear. Fear breeds hate.”

“Exactly. Does the Chantry teach us to hate?” Nyss raised an eyebrow.

“No My Lady, but being in charge of those who could harm, is a whole other issue. We are not supposed to hate our charges, we are supposed to…” he trailed off.

“You’re supposed to keep them under your careful watch.” She sighed. “I understand Cullen.” She took a sip of her warm floral tea, “At least you are kind enough to discuss this. Most will not. I appreciate it.” She smiled at him.

Cullen smiled back at her, and sipped his own tea. “Did you always know Emmy was a Mage?”

“Depends, are you going to lock me up if I did?”

“Never, then I’d have to answer your ethical questions more often.” He laughed.

Nyss grinned, and took a deep breath. “I found out a few years after the Amells moved to Highever. We were playing and Emmy threw a magnificent fireball at me. It grazed my shoulder, and singed my eyebrows off. It was sort of a dead giveaway.”

“And you knew to keep it secret?”

“Of course, she was my best friend and I knew what consequences were.”

“It’s so rare to meet someone who cares for people beyond what is necessary.” He said quietly.

“Do not Templars care for one another?”

“I suppose, we become companions but we tend to watch out for ourselves, unless in battle. Then we work as a unit.”

“So no one to really confide in? No one to send a letter to just to say ‘Hello! I fell into a giant swamp today.’?”

Cullen chuckled. “Sadly no.”

“That is rather a lonely life Ser. I tell Emmy everything. She knows me well, she came and found me a few weeks back when I had ran away from a party my mother threw. She knew exactly where I’d be.”

“Your mother throws parties?”

“She is quite invested in my future…..” Nyss furrowed her brow. “Not what I want, but what they deem useful.”

“I see, I’m sure the young men lined up for their chance at a dance!” He teased.

Nyss scrunched her face. “There were a few, but they are all so pomp and ceremony. So after pleasantries, I left. I can only make small talk for so long with people who only speak of their wealth and their endowment size.”

“I am glad to hear you are not so eager to find someone, most jump at the opportunity.” He said quietly.

Nyss grinned, “I want an adventure first.”

“Then let me show you some of the Tower!” He said excitedly.

Cullens stood and motioned for her to follow. She followed quietly as he took her to the Templar library.

Most of the corridors on the way there all looked the same. So she made a mental note not to get too sidetracked by them for when she would relay her experiences to Emmy.

The Templar library had more books than she had ever seen before. Walls lined from top to bottom with tomes, scrolls, pictures and histories.

Nyss was completely captivated by it all. Cullen could obviously tell, so he asked her “Do you enjoy the histories?”

“I do, my father was part of the warriors that took Ferelden back from Orlais. He fought with General Howe, Loghaine and King Meric.”

“That’s impressive. I had no idea your family history was so well written.” He paused and looked at Nyss. “Well my lady you can spend as much time here as you wish, and of course any questions you may have I am more than happy to answer, and if you would like to take a book back to your room we will have that arranged.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now I need to do some of my own readings, I will be in meditation for a while, but should you need assistance feel free to rouse me.”

Cullen turned and walked towards a desk not far away. He sat down, and closed is eyes. Today, he wasn’t wearing his Templar armor. He was wearing his robes that Nyss had seen another Templar wearing at dinner last night. They were a deep garnet color and had golden embellishments. They were fitted to him, and if she did not know any better, he could have passed for Nobility.

Nyss noticed that he slightly swayed side to side as he meditated on what she believed was the Chant of Light, as that is all she figured Templars ever thought about.

So instead of the Chant, she decided to finger through the books on the higher shelves. She figured less read works would be out of normal reach and perhaps that’s where she could find information on Mages or Templars.

Sure enough she found one entitled “Magic and Order - a History”. She sat down on the cold cobble ground and started to read it.

Nyss thought about Emmy as she turned each page and realized how feared Mages were. There was a part that spoke of The Tevinter Imperium where Mages were more or less completely free, and she made a note of remembering to suggest Emmy flee there to hide.

As time during the day passed, her patience for the evening meal was growing. She felt hungry, and realized she had been so involved with her book she missed lunch. Which reminded her that Cullen missed lunch as well. She looked over to the desk he was still sitting at.

The suns rays coming through the window had sprawled far enough across the room to illuminate the back of his head. The sheen that came from his locks was magnificent. She decided she would quietly see what he was doing for so long.

She silently walked up behind him, and peaked over his shoulder.

“What are you reading?” She asked.

“Oh my lady, nothing.” He quickly shut the book. “You startled me, how are you so quiet?”

“My brother Fergus taught me to use my rogue skills well.” She grinned wickedly, “so what are you reading?” She asked again.

“Honestly nothing, just Templar information, how to remain chaste, pieces of the Chant and so on.” He said shifting in his seat.

Nyss jokingly rolled her eyes. She knew it was not Templar business. “You are a terrible liar.” She smiled.

At this point she understood that anyone who shuts a book that quickly is looking at something they are secretive of. She caught Ser Gilmore doing that on a number of occasions, always to find him reading the romantic poetry that he so loved.

“Uh-er-ugh, fine, I was reading about war tactics.” He said unconvincingly.

“I see.” Nyss grabbed the book like a child and read the title out loud, “‘How to Capture the Queen’?”

“It’s not what you think, it’s chess strategies. It was one of my favourite games as a child and I have yet to find someone here who would best me at a game. I don’t mean to boast but I am really a decent player.” Cullen said proudly.

“You played chess before you came here? What else did you like to do before you came here?” She asked sitting down across from him.

“It’s been a long time, and I wasn’t the youngest when I first started my Templar training. I was thirteen when I came to the Order, some are even younger. I did not receive my title as Templar until I was eighteen, they want us educated and trained first. My sister Mia was the biggest supporter of my decision to want to become a Templar. Everyone else thought I was daft, but this is what I have always wanted.” He stopped, “Sorry that was not the question you asked.”

“That is alright, I suppose if I’m going to be spending my time with you, I would like to at least get to know you.”

The edges of Cullens mouth did a delicate upturn. Nyss could barely tell. She didn’t usually have a hard time reading people, but he was an unusual case.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a harm to either of us to do that. After all it will be a quiet time if we don’t.” He said. “And I did enjoy our conversation this morning.”

“Then how about we talk over a game of chess?” She suggested.

“Sound’s like my type of conversation.”

[sunlessea]

he must be quite lonely, to indulge something as dangerous as this conversation for this length of time. he's painting a target on himself, in a way he is certain will not come to pass until much time later. regardless of the strange infatuation this man seems to have taken with him, he is human, and the fact that he has remained conscious speaks volumes to his mental fortitude. while admirable a quality, the camarilla would punish him if this somehow backfired. he'd remained conscious during and after feeding from him ... there's no way he doesn't know. and yet, does that loneliness outweigh his fear? at this point, perhaps it would be smarter to just kill him and take the hit to his own humanity.

" ... " what to make of him? fedir stares at him, incredulous and vaguely offended, if only on principle of his audacity. he could rip his throat out if he so chose! and here he is, all but confessing love to him in so many words. he's had instances of attempts to pick him up at bars and the like, far too often in fact, but never one quite so determined, nor odd. "you cannot understand the position you are in." and he's not wrong, because he can't. it's the fact he may not care that concerns him. he can't just make him a ghoul to escape the consequences of this, either. bonding him to him would only exacerbate the feelings... feelings? surely that's too strong a word. "uncharm yourself."

and now he is embarrassed? after he'd followed him out here so pathetically, and waxed poetics for a stranger? he stares at him with subtly furrowed brows, torn 'tween exasperation and intrigue. he holds onto his own hand where he'd touched it moments before as if he'd burned his skin, shoulders tense. he wonders if his heart would have fluttered, once, to hear a man say these things to him all those years ago ... a man brave enough to love him, in a world where they will be killed for being together.

"is that what your goal was? to ask me out on a date? or did you have more salacious intent? ah, yes, a 'night' together, is that it?" his voice is gentle, caught somewhere 'tween curiosity and accusation. he doesn't pay much mind to how he's settled into his lap for this conversation, or argument. "as i said before, i am pure. chaste. i am not a practicing priest any longer, but i took vows of celibacy. i'm afraid i can't leave here to sleep with you, and as per my vows, i cannot engage in sexual rendezvous."

it is a self imposed loneliness, both of physical and emotional standards. there's undoubtedly something sad in how he holds himself, though he maintains such elegant poise throughout. he's accusing him of doing all this to have sex with him...! he doesn't think he's entirely wrong to do so, though. this man's a charmer, for certain. he's concluded that if he isn't crazy, he must just be horny. it's not as if they had worded their request all that innocently, either, given the circumstances of this ... very odd meeting.

love at first sight doesn't exist, at any rate.

they're painstakingly close to one-another, and if fedir sees the irony in it given his rejection, he does not allude to it. it would be disrespectful if they tried to kiss him, but he can see it written all over their face, unsubtle and humiliating. they're mooning, glasses crooked and eyes half-lidded. how intimate ... and human. he's never been this close to a man's face, before. nor anyone, really. but especially not another man.

"you can beg, but i'm afraid i'll still have to decline. i will not lie with you. i can't. does that satisfy you to move on?"

he regards them with such abject fascination, the stars above dull in contrast to their reflections that dance in his eyes, still wet with the remainder of tears from senses overwhelmed. it is a struggle to pull himself back to someplace more coherent, where his thoughts are less muddled and he is not kept mooning with nothing else more to offer, but he tries—particularly in his quiet regard, where even with tender, stupid, lop-sided smiles and an undeniable warmth returning to flood his body near-drained dry, he watches them. and they say a great deal without words, he's noticed. enough that they led him here, and enough that they stay despite their protests.

there's something undeniably tragic in how they stare back at him ... truth to their protesting, too : but he imagines there is a great deal yet that he will not be able to make sense of with those sad stares, nor the tension that ebbs and flows depending on how tightly he grips their hands in his own, for an unfathomably long time. that is, if he was continuously graced with their company. he watches with the slightest crease 'twixt his brows, where he swallows down the anxiety balling up in his throat, and considers prayer. t'would be the only thing to make him pious, if offered a lifetime together. but he'll settle for a few nights more, just like this.

perhaps there's some truth in that they cannot stay here forever, intertwined : but he doesn't even think he'd mind the privacy, should they indulge it, at least for a little while ... there's a growing desperation he feels before he even speaks, though his voice quivers still when he finds it.

" i could never, " he's quick to counter, much as he knows it rude to interrupt. it comes out quicker than he anticipates, a bit more frantic 'neath the exasperation, though easy enough could it be to assume him still catching his breath ... how his lungs still burn ever so faintly, it isn't an unfair assumption in the slightest. " perhaps it is unwise, yes, i will admit ... i am not so unaware as to misunderstand the position i place myself in, " especially now! though he couldn't have known in depth, the world he weaved between miraculously unscathed and untouched by the shadows that flitted within it alongside him, he still doesn't feel particularly misplaced. his nose scrunches, at most, frustrated only with himself for his fumbling ... but he catches himself soon enough, staring up at them with a soft-edged smile where he toys at interlacing their fingers, however much they'll allow him. " ...but it does not dissuade me. rather, i would dare say i am even more charmed than when i first caught glimpse of you. "

this is where his features return to a familiar flush, no matter how subdued. his body is catching up to him only in his embarrassment : and he is not afforded the luxury to duck away! even if he could hide—a cheek pressed 'gainst his shoulder, or unlacing their hands to hide his face in his own—he fears the message it'd suggest, so he's left no other choice but to grin and bear it. or, if nothing else, to jest at his own expense ...

" though it is—uhm— a fair bit more embarrassing to know i was caught. forgive me, Мій коханий, i find myself rather smitten by you. " it is too much to confess outright ... though he considers the thought, he can't be certain of how well they'd react to a proper profession of love. he thinks he makes himself obvious though, despite. it isn't as if he'd tried to be subtle after all, his 'cross the way fawning only a fraction of the piling evidence for his enchantment. " i haven't ... dated, necessarily, before ... i am not well versed. and it is a bit frightening when one feels so strongly. " it feels like a bigger sin, admitting to his impurities so casually ... that, and his greater flaws : his confidence is shaky at best, but still he tries his best to hold strong despite the swell of anxiety and affection 'like twist 'gainst his chest. they, in contrast, hold themselves with such poise ... it's almost enviable. and he thinks perhaps he could be envious, if he only weren't so distracted by their beauty. he feels the soft tug of their wrists 'gainst his grip, and compliant, he releases them.

they look near ready to scold him again. but for what of anything he said, he could hardly guess. not that they leave him long to ponder : his next words are cut short in a short puff of air, and whatever thought he had, lost entirely 'neath the intensity of their gaze. his name has never sounded so sweetly spoken, but from them, it's like silk. and they're so close like this ... mere breaths away from a kiss proper, and he knows he must look as dreamily dazed as he feels, as his eyes draw half-lidded, paired with a sigh of his own.

" allow us this night then, together. or must i beg? " he cannot tilt his cheek into their palm, like this, much as he'd try to ... but he can pout still, cheeks puffed and glasses left crooked 'cross his nose. " i would, of course, for you ... "

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 3. in the warmth of your love and the comfort of your touch

⤷ sakusa kiyoomi, miya atsumu

⤷ verse 1 | verse 2

⤷ play. i'll be fine somehow by benjamin ingrosso, remember the mornings by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ SAKUSA was hardly a believer of gods, firm with following his principles of crediting only the existence of things he can see with his own eyes. he detested myths, fairytales, anything that is far from reality. he thinks they're foolish; you thought otherwise— you adored anything that had something to do fiction, always finding the comfort of it being an escape from the harsh world you live in. it was the very same reason why the living room of the apartment you used to share with him was filled with shelves, full of books that you've read countless times but never got tired of them.

he heaves a sigh as he enters the apartment, shoulders drooping because like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence. his figure stops by the doorway leading to the said living room, eyes scanning the said area with a profound longing swimming in them. he imagines you standing there, bright orbs that were full of wonder looking up the shelves that were much taller than you, in a dilemma because you have no idea what you wanted to read next. and then you'll probably sense his presence because you'll soon turn your head to his direction, giving him a beautiful smile that somehow lifts his mood up. you always felt him, you've always felt everything for him.

"welcome home, kiyoomi."

he feels his heart becoming heavier because after a few seconds, he's pulled back to the reality. you were gone... you weren't coming back and it's all because of him.

"let's get divorce, yn. i... don't feel anything anymore."

he wonders what made him think that way, because his present state was obviously the exact opposite of what has been said to you. regret pools even in the deepest pits of his stomach as he remembers it all— the dinners you prepared with only care and love for him in your mind, his monotonous voice as he spoke those words oh so carelessly, your failed attempts of giving him an understanding smile, only for your lips to wobble as you held in your cries,

i understand, kiyoomi... j-just send me the papers and i-i'll sign them as soon as possible.

the doorbell brings him back from his trail of thoughts, a small light of hope ignited within him that maybe... just maybe it's you. to his disappointment, he's faced by a delivery man, a brown envelope being held out to him, "mr. sakusa kiyoomi?"

he nods, cautiously taking the said object and signing some papers before coming back to the darkness of his house. carefully, he tears it open, his insides slowly but surely becoming twisted altogether as he takes out the contents of the envelope.

hello kiyoomi, you weren't sending any document to me so i took the initiative to get the divorce papers. i guess you're still busy with work so that's understandable. i signed it. i don't want to hold you back from your happiness so yeah, this is it. i... i just want to thank you for making me feel so many things for all the years. it was a pleasure being your wife. it might be a bit overbearing but keep in mind that i'll always love you, my feelings... they're all for you, no matter how many years may pass. goodbye.

sakusa was hardly a believer of gods... but as his hands clutch the diamond ring you once wore close to his chest, he begins to pray to all of them— to give him the power to turn back time, to undo the agony and pain he gave you, to let him see your smile once more, to give you each and every bit of his feelings again—

but like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence.

⇢ ATSUMU furrows his eyebrows together due to the sudden ringing of his doorbell because as far as he can remember, he wasn't supposed to have any guests today. he had already planned to sulk his day off away by watching some sappy dramas and movies, your favorite ones— so who in the world decided to break his agenda?

he huffs, placing the remote he was previously holding on the coffee table, and stands up, footsteps heavy as he trudges towards the door, eyes widening when he sees you through the peephole. he swears he's never opened the front door so fast, "yn!"

his heart quickly thumps against his chest as he takes in your form; despite the slightly visible bags under your eyes (he thinks it's due to you overworking as usual— he hopes it's because you're thinking of him the way he thinks of you), you shone bright like every single day that passed and he can't help but wonder what made him think of letting you go that night. i can find someone better than you, someone who won't bother me every fucking second just because they're so needy for attention, his words echo in his head.

he tries to give you a strained smile, cringing internally as he looks right into your eyes that held nothing but pure anger and disappointment for him, "we're not friends, atsumu. not anymore so drop the friendly act."

you walk past him and heads straight to the painfully familiar bedroom, ignoring the rushing footsteps behind you, along with the quiet begging that escapes his mouth, "i love you, yn. i'm sorry, please."

"i'm just here to get my things, not make amends with you and our relationship," you reply, harshly swallowing the vile feeling that attempts to get out of your throat, "i... i just... i know love isn't supposed ask for something back... but don't you think it was too one-sided considering we're in a relationship, tsumu? i barely see you and talk to you without you feeling all bothered and annoyed. i get it, you're tired... but i am not a punching bag, you don't get to take it out on me every single time you come home."

you take a deep breath, cursing because this was not in any of your plans for today. shoving the last pieces of your remaining things as quick as possible and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you take one last look at the room you once found comfort in, only feeling your heart clench because this same scenario was exactly what happened on your last night here— same break up scenario, same hearts aching, same atsumu looking at you regretfully, same hand that reaches out for you as you both stand by the doorway.

"stay... please. i can't do this without you," he croaks out, the grip on your wrist tightening because he's terrified, scared to let you go, scared that you slip out of his hold and never return.

you don't reply for a moment, not even sparing him a glance, before removing his hand, "i'll... give you a call... maybe... maybe not... i don't know."

you know you'll never do. you think he knows that too— still, he holds onto the hope your words provided him.

but no calls came despite him waiting until past midnight and as he lied on his bed, chest contracting due to the pain his heart feels, he chokes out a pathetic laugh,

so this is what you felt like when i broke countless promises that i made to you, huh, yn?

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021 — reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[the-cult-of-russo]

gotta know how u think billy would be as a dad with his kids :D

I had so many requests for Dad!Billy headcanons 😭

I hope you're ready for this chaotic ramble.

Please remember this is my Billy I'm writing

-

You know those parents who take like a million pictures of their kid and show them to everyone? The kind that talks about their kid nonstop to anyone who'll listen? Their family, friends, the poor random old lady at the store that just wants to buy some damn milk.

That's Billy.

He's such an unbelievably proud parent, his pride for his kids knows no bounds. It doesn't even need to be some kind of milestone worth celebrating, everything his kid does makes him proud. You better believe when his baby has an explosive crap and ruins their clothes, he's boasting about it the next day to Frank and the guys at Anvil.

-

He's incredibly protective. Murder is a possibility if his kids in danger. He wants nothing more than to keep his kids safe. If they're being bullied, it takes all of his willpower to stop himself from kicking the kids ass for doing that to his kid. He's not above picking a fight with the bullies dad though if they don't get their little shit head in check and also making it known to the principle that this shit won't fly with him.

~

"Mr Russo, I don't think you understand how serious this is. Your son broke a kids nose," the principle mutters with a glare.

Billy tilts his head, regarding the teacher with those unsettling eyes that has the old man squirming in his seat.

"You’re damn right he did," Billy replies seriously, a proud tone to his voice. His dark eyes cut to his left where his son is, practically his double. As Billy smirks, unable to help himself, his son wears the same one although he's lowering his head to hide his amusement.

"We don't tolerate that behaviour here, Mr Russo," the principle huffs. Billy's eyes harden then as his eyes narrow, sitting forward in his chair just the right amount to be imposing. The second the man leans back he knows it worked.

"You know what I don't tolerate? My kid bein' bullied. You assholes won't do shit to stop it, so I say let the little fucker get a taste of his own medicine. Serves him right for messin' with a Russo," he smirks wickedly.

~

He teaches them self defence, wanting them to be able to look after themselves if it ever came down to it. Naturally, for their 16th birthday, they're gifted with a big ass knife.

-

Billy as a dad is so stupidly soft.

We all remember the scene from the show, right? Where he's in the hospital with his mom and he says;

"Maybe you did me a solid, you know? I mean, the way I see it, you want weak kids, give 'em everything. But if you... if you want 'em strong... treat 'em hard."

When he has a kid of his own he realises just what utter garbage this is. The idea of all the shit he's been through making him into the tough son of a bitch he is today is born from trauma that he still hasn't dealt with. The way his brain tries to rationalise what he went though. To make it make sense instead of it being so goddamn senseless.

But if he's honest, more than he'd like to admit, he finds himself wondering just what his life would have been like if he grew up in a loving home. What it would be like to feel wanted and cared for. To rise to the top being helped and cheered on by others instead of clawing his way there with bloodied and dirty fingers, the weight of the world bearing down on him as he's beat down at every turn.

He never wants his kids to feel that way. Not even a fraction of how unloved and unwanted he felt. He does everything in his power to make sure they know just how much he cares about them. There's literally nothing he wouldn't do for his kids. They could turn up at home one day and confess to a murder and Billy wouldn't hesitate to ask where the body is so he can handle it for them.

-

Billy is ridiculously sentimental when it comes to his kids. Drawings go up on the fridge and when a new one takes its place, the old one goes into a box of many others that he can't seem to ever throw away. He has multiple pictures of his kids at his office, even some framed cute drawings they did for him. He's kept all the mementos from the pregnancy, birth and onwards. They're his little treasures.

-

Billy is super supportive of everything his kids do. He makes sure they get a good education but he never pushes them to do something they don't want to do. Despite the large college fund he's got for them, if they choose not to go to college, he doesn't pressure them. Instead, whatever hopes and dreams they have, he does everything in his power to support and help them. Whether that's moral and emotional support, money or even breaking a few jaws of people standing in their way.

-

Let's look a little bit at how he is throughout some of the ages of his kid.

Billy with a baby is a sight to behold. No one has ever seen Lieutenant William Russo so goddamn soft. Once he's got hold of his baby, you've got no chance of getting them back off him. You'd have to fight him. He adores holding his little one close, soaking them in. He's constantly holding them no matter what he's doing and baby carriers and wraps are a godsend to him. You'd heard about them from a friend and told Billy and you better believe by the time the baby's born that he's an expert on all things baby wearing. He's a perfectionist and carrying a baby wrong can be dangerous. He makes sure he knows how to do it right.

Just as he has little affectionate touches for you, he has the same for his baby. His large hand stroking their tiny head and little hair. His finger stroking their chubby little cheek. He's a tactile person and touch is grounding for him. It soothes him to do so with his baby and reassures him they're really there and that they're okay.

He's super attentive. Of course he works a lot but as soon as he becomes a dad, he doesn't stay late anymore and makes sure to have days off. The second he comes home, he's making a beeline for his baby, scooping them up with a grin. He loves to read to them, something that continues as they grow up. His weekends used to be restful or if he was feeling like a masochist, he'd work from home. But now weekends are his time to shine. By the time you wake up on a Saturday morning, he's already up with the baby, making you breakfast as he's got the baby attached to him via baby carrier.

As his baby grows into a toddler, each milestone makes him tearful and full of pride. He kisses any booboos that happen and he's constantly playing with his child. He has a pretty silly side to him that most don't get to see. Making his kid laugh and smile brings him the greatest joy.

He loves taking his toddler to the office with him. Everyone dotes on his kid and treats them like royalty.

When they turn into a small child, he watches with a proud smile and amusement as his kid wants to fight with his men, watching them 'beat' the shit out of them. The guys at Anvil are more than happy to very dramatically go down, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when the tiny Russo grins smugly at their 'win'.

Their first day at school and Billy's a mess. It's such a turning point and he doesn't know how to deal with how fast their growing up. But every achievement at school, even minor ones, and he's showering them with praise.

He encourages them to work hard and as soft as he might be, he is still the boss. He makes sure they do their homework and don't fall behind on their studies.

One thing Billy loves is teaching his kids stuff. Whether that's mundane stuff to help with school or teaching them shit he knows like survivalist things, because you can never be too prepared, right? He loves helping them with school projects and answering any questions they might have about one of the many things he's knowledgeable about.

When his kids moves onto those hard teenage years, the ones where everything feels so dramatic and world ending, he's a little tougher when it calls for it. Billy is no novice to rebellion, he has a rebellious streak of his own and marches to the beat of his own drum half the time. He respects that. What he doesn't respect or tolerate is behaviour that's going to fuck his kid over in the long run or self sabotage. He will be firm and a hard ass if he needs to be to keep his kids on a path where they don't get hurt or ruin their life.

Billy has a zero tolerance policy on drugs. After the shit with his mother, he won't budge on this. If he finds out his kid is dabbling in drugs, they're grounded until they're old enough to move out.

-

No matter what age his kids are, Billy loves them immensely. He wants to be the father he wished he'd had growing up and he pours all of his anguish and pain from his upbringing into it. Channeling it into the purest form of love for his kids. To break the curse that had hold of him. He won't perpetuate the cycle.

Being a father brings him a sense of completeness and peace he didn't think was possible for him to achieve. It fills the void that's been eating away at his soul from his lack of love as a child and he loves every second of being a parent. Even the hard moments.

-

Bonus:

The Russo's and the Castle's go on monthly camping trips together. Billy loves the outdoors, the mild survivalist feelings he gets from it without the real danger. He loves taking his kids there, teaching them everything. In his role as dad and uncle, he sits around the camp fire at night, the light of the flames dancing along his face as he very theatrically tells the kids a spooky story.

You and his kids are his immediate family but the Castle's are his family too. So he really loves it when you all get to spend time together like that.

[lazarettta]

Misthios

Characters (Reader x Mother Miranda...?) 👀

Rating (T)

Word Count (2.8k)

Warnings (none, first half is has no dialogue, writing while high,)

Once her little warrior, always her little warrior.

I'm sorry if it's hot 🗑💀

The fire was finally the way you wanted it and you could finally fucking rest. You'd been hiking all goddamn day through the rain and snow, and you just wanted a minute to rest and to eat. The sun was starting to set and you still needed to set up your tent, but for the moment you were content to just sit on the log and get warm.

“Who'd ever think a Spartan would be in Rome looking for answers, hm?” it was ironic, how you would've been accused of being a traitor or something like that back then. Ha...back then?

Truthfully you weren't sure anymore where your life really started it's been so long, centuries really if you were being honest. Sometimes even your own secrets were too overwhelming for you to admit, and as the years continued to pass you by it was getting harder and harder for you to hold onto the same principles you once believed in. The wars you've participated in, two of them by choice...and as a favor for the third.

It shouldn't have been possible but it was for you, it was both a blessing and a curse because you were nothing special...you grew up with Spartan blood running through your veins, pushed at a young age to hunt and to protect, it was a common tradition for families then, especially for the oldest or only children. Your didn't ever recall your father, he died in battle before you were born but your mother was there, always. Even if her face was blurry after all of the time that has passed you by—you still remember her teachings and her technique. Your mother was the best hunter in Sparta, proudly.

But after...after her passing, the streets taught you how to be a mercenary at a young age...and then an assassin, not by choice but by necessity because you weren't a good person then, not really, and you still weren't now...but you still had the will do what was right, and so you did.

And maybe that is why the Gods did not let you die in the battlefield when you'd been caught off guard, for what is no longer relevant as it is now long gone, but the scar left through your heart would forever stain you inside and out by some random Greek bastard. You don't remember much of the dying part as much as you remembered how badly it hurt and how livid you were watching him stand over you with his bloody sword raised to the heavens. But just like your pain, that emotion was ebbed away as you laid there dying.

And die you did. And your body laid there for who knows how long but when you woke up, oh you sprung up ready to fight but there wasn't a fight left to be had...the war was over...but you didn't know that until you woke up the second time. Not realizing that your body was next to be burned in the ditch as the battlefield was being cleared of all the corpses from both sides. A gruesome chore performed by the prisoners taken by Sparta.

You had no idea why the Gods healed you and brought you back from the dead, you didn't deserve a second chance (at the time you didn't realize that it was a power). You were blessed by the Gods and that's all that it was, people looked at you with both awe and envy. Some gave all of their iron and dearest family possessions as a gift to the Gods in hopes that their wishes were granted. They hated you and you did not care. You were unstoppable, everyone wanted your attention and your skills—it made you arrogant and stupid for years. And when you caught a pretty nasty gash across your back from a werewolf that ambushed you and your horse, your leathers had been torn and bloody by the time you speared your way through four of those beasts. But while there was blood, there was no wound...the only evidence were the scars it left behind.

Snap!

You turned your head slightly, a few strands of your hair falling in front of your ever sharp (y/e/c) eyes. You stayed perfectly still, eyes scanning the forest surrounding you but there was nothing after several moments. Just as well...with a loud sigh, you finally got up to put up your tent for the night and probably for the next few nights too. You slipped your hunting knife back into your boot but kept it unhooked just in case.

You lived in a time where guns existed but you were always better with a blade. You may not be an active misthios now (mercenary in today's world) but old habits were hard to kick. You were too old and too wise now, even if you didn't look a day over twenty-eight.

The next morning...

You woke with a start your grip around your obsidian hunting knife so tight your knuckles your skin strained against bone. You didn't have a dream but something woke you up, and it wasn't those damn birds chirping literally above your tint. With the help of the morning sun you could even see the spot where one of them pooped. Great. You laid there for a few more minutes, finally relaxed enough to move. You checked your surroundings again, walking around your camp but that feeling of unease didn't go away but it wasn't as strong.

Today was clearer than it was the day before though you still had to deal with the snow and the cold, not that either really bothered you too much. Leaving your camp behind, marking the trees so that you had a way to find your way back through these unfamiliar woods, you set off to find breakfast. You came to an edge, a cliff's peak and you went to stand on the edge of it—to maybe see the rest of the mountain you were exploring but something caught your immediate attention.

When was the last time you ever saw a castle? Not...not those tourist marks they have all over Europe but a castle. The place was eerie but most castles always felt that way to you...but this was different? It was as if the castle was looking right back at you, mocking you. From your vantage point you could make out the edges of a lake through the thick trees, you couldn't see it very well but you could tell it wasn't small nor was it man-made.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover this as you assumed that your trip would mostly be you exploring this cold ass mountain without a proper guide but you didn't need anyone to know why you were really up here, your reasons concerned no one but yourself. That and you knew you'd end up leading your guide. You were better off alone. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself that but those words stopped being comforting a very long time ago. Not like fate was giving you much of a fucking choice though.

Your stomach growled, reminding you of your hunt...you glanced down at the village below the castle curiously before turning away from the ledge, the heavy aura of the castle still on your back.

~~

Fat and full, that's exactly how you'd describe yourself at the moment. There were more predators in the area than there were prey it seemed but the rabbit you caught seemed plentiful enough. With winter kicking in, the most worrisome predator in the woods would be hibernating leaving nothing but the wolves and maybe a mountain lion for you to deal with if you're lucky. You hefted your smaller backpack onto your back and left your camp, deciding to check out the village to see if you could learn more about the castle.

You were both excited and curious, you'd spent a majority of your modern life exploring the wonders of the Earth and using the currency you've collected throughout your lifetimes to fund whatever myth caught your eye. In other words, you were bored but the thought of war and fighting no longer made your blood sing or your heart race. You've done so much of that already, and lost so much because of it.

“Get back! Get back! Agh—GET THE FUCK BACK!”

Your legs stopped moving immediately and your gloved hand was already wrapped around the hilt of your hunting knife, ears trained. You heard growling and barking not too far from where you stood, maybe two or three hundred feet to your right just through those bushes and that fallen tree. It sounded as if someone was having a bit of trouble with a pack of wolves. Which struck you as odd, you were still pretty high up on the mountains and you hadn't seen anyone else up here in a week, so it couldn't have been a local...could it?

The growling grew more intense and there were sounds of a scuffle and grunts but the man still sounded alive.

And it wasn't your problem. Your days of coming to the rescue were over. You allowed your hand to fall from your knife. You got maybe seven steps away before the man spotted you, he caught a glimpse of your fur lined hood and started screaming for you to help him just as one of the wolves snapped the branch he was holding in half, forcing his back against a tree. His time was counting down now.

He was yelling so loud, you were sure even the villagers could hear him now. There was no way you could walk away now.

“Fucking hell.” with a heavy sigh, you dropped your backpack and stalked in the direction of the soon to be crime scene. You didn't feel the need to mask your presence, you wanted the wolves to know that you were there and that ultimately saved that man's life. The wolves were honed in on you the moment you stepped through the bush but three shots echoed through the small clearing before any of them could pounce in your direction. The echoes faded away quickly, and you sighed again watching the white snow stain red beneath the furry corpses.

The only other sound heard was the man's heavy breathing as he leaned against a tree. You looked down at your gun before putting it back in it's holster on your lower back, you may prefer blades but it was always better to have something and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

“Thank...thank you,”

You looked at the man with furrowed brows...just by looking at him, you knew that he wasn't a native but the moment he opened his mouth only confirmed it. He was American...you spotted all of his gear nearby, torn to shreds and you scoffed.

“I don't think camping is for you.”

“I don't think so either,” He tried for a smile but it was only a grimace, the blonde man pushed himself from the tree and approached you, carefully stepping around the wolves bodies, “I'm uh a bit lost, I guess.”

“And I'm leaving.”

“Wait!” he rushed around you, stopping you and you could've gone through the man if you wanted to...you were taller than him by an inch or two, and you definitely had more mass than he probably knew what to do with, “Listen, I'm obviously not from here, but I'm trying to find my daughter okay, she's—”

“I'm not from around here,” you held your hand to make him stop while simultaneously telling yourself that you're not about to get involved in someone else's mess and derail your own mission, “I'm sorry about your kid, but I can't help you.”

He frowned at you obviously not happy with your answer but he was quickly reaching into his pocket and any normal person, especially someone who is armed, would've taken a step back but you weren't some ordinary person. You simply raised an eyebrow, because you knew that he wasn't going to attack you even though he was probably fully capable of doing so. You assumed that he was about to dig out a baby picture or something but it was just a sheet of paper with writing on it. You took it before he could shove the damn thing in your face and you looked down at it carefully, keeping your face neutral.

“I can't read whatever language that is.”

You glared up at him from beneath your lashes, “And you think that I can?”

“Can you?” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes...your attention back to the paper before shoving it back in his hands, “Well?”

You nearly scowled at his impatience, “It's a mix of Romanian, Serbian and Tatar. Whoever sent that clearly doesn't want anyone else to know what's on it.”

“So you can read it then?”

“Bits and pieces,” You said with a shrug, “I'm not expert but someone named Beneviento is demanding a shorter route for wine delivery from that giant castle.”

He stared at you then down to the paper, which was full from top to bottom, then back to you, “What...that's all? Are you sure?? No, that can't be all...there has to be something about my daughter here! Here, please, just try again slower—”

“That's all I could read.” you shouldered past him, throwing your hood back up and ignoring his calls after you. Your backpack was exactly where you dropped it, you shook off the snow and threw it back on your back not caring about the cool wetness on your back now—you just wanted to get away from this area as quickly as possible. You should've used your knife as those gunshots gave away your position.

“Amateur hour everyone,” you grumbled under your breath...you veered off the path slightly, just in case he tried to follow you (wouldn't be the first time someone tried to force you to help them).

You'd maybe walked for a mile or two down the mountain before you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck standing, you chanced a casual glance over your shoulder but there was no one there, no man nor animal. Licking your dry lips you turned back around but as you were doing so, you caught something in your peripheral. A dark figure, twenty feet away and that's when you noticed how fucking quiet everything was around you...you forced yourself to keep walking even as a feeling of dread began crawling up your back, like two sharp fingers walking along the ridges of your spine.

Pushing the hood from your head, you whirled around with your knife drawn at your side gripping it with the intentions to kill but there was nothing there except two large obsidian feathers fluttering gently down onto the snow at your boots. Feathers?

Cool breath touched the base of your neck when you heard soft chuckling directly behind you. You turned around sharply, easily flipping your knife around but the mass of darkness in front of you disoriented you for a split second and that was all this creature needed. Before you could plunge your knife into it's feathery belly, a pale hand shot out and caught your wrist in a bruising grip as another hand curled itself around your throat, sharp nails oh so slightly pricking your skin.

You were about to kick away when the creature leaned forward, and it's face came from beneath the hood...only it wasn't an it, it was a she, though her entire face was hidden by the gold headgear you could see her lips and...and her eyes.

A pair of eyes you'd never forget in any of your lifetimes. It felt like a millennia ago when those eyes alone had you on your knees covered in fresh warm blood and exhausted from tearing through small armies.

Despite yourself, you were trembling in her ironclad grip, your hand that wasn't still trapped fruitlessly came up to wrap around her wrist as if that was going to help you. You both knew that it wouldn't. She brought you closer until your feet were no longer on the ground and you could feel the tip of your blade pressing against something...no, her...and your nose was nearly touching her helmet.

“ο μικρός μου πολεμιστής...” (my little warrior...) her cool breath washed over your face, her eyes still boring down into yours so intensely you swore you felt the heat, even as her hand tightened around your throat making you choke, but you were fighting against her... “επιτέλους ήρθες σπίτι μου...” her chuckle fell on deaf ears. (you've finally come home to me...)

~~

You were supposed to run into Alcina first 😭, but Miranda works too...(save the best for last obvi) I don't know I am playing Odyssey while waiting for this game to drop and I went The Old Guard route too so then I just ended up writing some shit, and I wanted to try something that's not so maiden-esque lol so I hope it's enjoyable at least...I honestly might make this a WIP...