#man this one truly is miscellaneous

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

Happy New Year! — and what better way to celebrate than a festive and topical beverage?

Just under six years ago (wow), I posted this recipe for punch that I'd found in an old Dickens recipe book. I was incredibly excited to one day experience a taste of what Carton and Stryver might have been drinking on one of their many long nights — and now, finally, I've made it - twice!

I'll start off with a copy of the recipe:

——————————————————————— peel and juice of 3 unwaxed lemons 5½ oz/150g brown sugar cubes 1⅔ cups/400ml good-quality Jamaican rum 1 cup plus 1 tablespoon/250ml Cognac 4½ cups/1 litre boiling water You will need a large enamel pan with a lid SERVES 10-12

Carefully peel the lemons, not including the bitter white pith. Place in the pan and add the sugar, rum, and brandy. Warm gently. Take a metal ladleful of the warm spirit, set it alight using a long match and holding it over the pan, then carefully pour the flaming liquid back into the pan to inflame the rest of the liquid. Let the spirits in the pan burn for 3–4 minutes, then extinguish the flame by putting the lid on. If you don't like the idea of flaming spirits in your kitchen, warm the punch to just below boiling and let it simmer for a few minutes to evaporate some of the alcohol. Add the lemon juice and the boiling water. Let it cool for 5 minutes; taste for sugar and add more if desired. Leave to stand for 15 minutes in a warm place or a low oven. Discard the pieces of lemon peel before ladling the punch into heatproof glasses. ———————————————————————

And yes, it turned out as marvelously as you'd hope from a recipe like that.

I did not actually light either one on fire (sadly), but it got its chance to steam beautifully nonetheless. Here's the first batch as I was making it vs. what it looked like after it was given the chance to cool and settle a bit:

And here's a glass of the second batch in a little punch cup!

Both batches turned out beautifully (though each was slightly different because I used slightly different ingredients!) and made for delicious party drinks. The sweetness of the brown sugar really worked with the sharpness of the lemon and all the flavors (and strength😳) of the rum and brandy. It was like something between tea and a hot toddy, heavy on the lemon — I'd highly recommend it!

(Now, for the fuller experience, I'll just have to make it again in the middle of the night while I'm trying to do intense and knotty paperwork🤪)

Cheers to the new year!

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

How do you think Nanami would announce your pregnancy to Gojo and the jujutsu high cast…. Possible fic idea?

Rainbow Baby

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, TW- mentions of a previous miscarriage, (is not described, but it’s heavily referenced), grief, tooth-rotting fluff at the end, happy ending that you and nanami deserve.

An: This is def not the fic that I accidentally wrote about the wrong character for. I definitely did not write this entire fic about Satoru before rereading your request and seeing that you clearly wrote for Nanami.

Nanami is a private man — not secretive, just private. While he loves when you visit school to see him because your presence eases his weary mind, he doesn’t flaunt you around to his coworkers. It’s honestly just a known thing around the school that Kento has a very pretty wife who he doesn’t introduce to anyone.

There is only one exception to the rule: the man who isn’t afraid of anything and has no concept of social boundaries, Satoru Gojo.

Nanami watched in utter disdain as Satoru always found a way to inset himself into yours and Nanami’s conversations. He never bothered to hide how much Gojo gets on his nerves.

However, Satoru gets a pass. Nanami may shoot him death glares and give him short, irritated responses, but Nanami will never shoo him away.

Satoru gets a pass because he was the one who made sure you and Nanami didn’t drown in grief when you two lost your first little one.

Nanami hadn’t even told anyone that you were pregnant yet — it was so early on. You two were still enjoying keeping it a small secret between you two. However, Gojo picked up on it immediately after seeing you. You weren’t showing, but he could see the small bundle of yellow and orange energy radiating from your tummy with his six eyes.

To Nanami’s surprise, Satoru didn’t make a huge deal out of it. He shook Nanami’s hand while whispering a quiet congratulations into his ear. Nanami laughed as he realized that Satoru knew, and he pulled the white haired male into a hug.

Satoru immediately knew something was wrong when Nanami didn’t show up for work the next week. Deciding to check up on his friend, he stopped by yours and Nanami’s house.

Nanami looked like a wreck compared to his normally put together self when he answered the door. His skin was pale, dark bags under his puffy red eyes from crying. He was wearing a shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked even worse…

Satoru didn’t need an explanation whenever the small bundle of energy was no longer present in your tummy.

If it wasn’t for Satoru, Nanami was sure that the grief was going to consume both of you. You were… you were understandably a wreck, and Nanami was so heartbroken himself that he struggled to hold you together. He was the man of the relationship, but he lost a child too. He had to witness his wife go through the worst pain imaginable, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Satoru checked up on you two often. He never mentioned what he knew, which was comforting. He was just always there with a kind smile and food plus desserts. Even though you and Nanami barely would eat anything, Satoru would come over anyways.

He was the only thing constant and stable in yours and Nanami’s lives. He was the only one who knew, and he helped you two out with a level of empathy and care that Nanami didn’t know he was capable of. The house would get cleaned. Food would be served. Different bills and other miscellaneous items ended up being paid.

Soon, the grief became easier to deal with. You and Nanami learned how to cope with the loss and start living again. The grief books lie by the way. You never truly get over the loss of a baby. You just learn how to live with the subtle ache in your heart.

It sneaks up on you sometimes. You see a small baby on tv, and you’re in shambles. Nanami watches Kusakabe announce his wife’s pregnancy, and he has to excuse himself to the restroom for a breather.

Satoru spent father’s and mother’s day with you and Nanami. It’s not like he had any family to celebrate with anyways. He brought you two gifts - making sure to remind you two that you are still parents. Your little one just isn’t on this earth.

So when you see those two pink lines on a test a year later, you feel your heart stop. You can’t take another heartbreak. You’re so scared; you don’t even want to tell Nanami. You two weren’t exactly trying for another baby, but you weren’t preventing one either.

You and Nanami celebrated, cried, laughed, rejoiced, mourned, grieved, every emotion hit you two like a truck when you revealed your pregnancy to him.

You don’t stop by the school for a little while. You and Nanami are both not ready for Satoru to find out… especially not during the first trimester when it’s possible that miscarriage can happen again…

Once you hit 20 weeks and know the baby’s gender, you finally think it’s time to let Satoru know. Nanami reluctantly agrees — also because Satoru has been hounding Nanami for weeks about where you’ve been. Satoru misses the cookies you’d always bake for him.

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” Nanami asks the white haired male at work that evening. Satoru immediately perks up, knowing this is basically an invitation to come over.

“Nah, I was thinking about getting hot pot. Why?” Satoru asks, trying not to sound overly excited, but it’s a rarity when Nanami formally invites him over. He also hasn’t seen you in so long. He wants to spill all the new tea to you since you like that sort of thing, unlike Nanami.

“My wife baked those cookies you love so much. You should stop by tonight.” Oh, and Satoru was getting sweets? Hell yeah.

Though, the cookies wasn’t the biggest treat of the night. When Satoru enters your home behind Nanami, he walks to the kitchen where you’re standing over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Your tummy is rounded, and there’s a strong accumulation of golden energy residing in you.

“You’re-!?” Satoru’s eyes widen and he flicks his head quickly between you and Nanami. Your husband playfully rolls his eyes, but his smile tells you everything you need to know. He’s proud to be announcing your pregnancy.

“Yes, she’s pregnant.” He answers with a laugh, and Gojo pulls him in for a tight hug. Even if Satoru lacks some social skills, he’s able to read people like a book. He knows that this is all you and Nanami have ever wanted — a little family to call your own.

Now, imagine his big blue eyes welling with tears when he sees the cookies have writing on them.

“Nice to meet you, Uncle Toru!”

Now, imagine how fucking ecstatic Nanami is when he finally gets the privilege to announce your pregnancy to the rest of the school. He’s private with his life, but after everything you two have been through, he happily announces your pregnancy to anyone — everyone.

Oh, and your baby girl, Satori, was born happy and healthy. Besides you and Nanami, Satoru was the first one to meet your sweet baby. Yes, he cried like he was the baby when he found out about her name.

[rockingbytheseaside]

I just read 'a boy named heretic' and it was really great cuz I can see little zandik being obsessed of his favourite researchers. And Imagine after creating his segments, little segments being so obsessed with you that they start their days with reading your researchs or treating your researchs like a religious book maybe even the older segments still do that. they would have memorised everything by now and that would be so funny like little segments make a mistake when they are talking about your researchs and older ones go like 'no no it goes like this and this' I can definitely see that happening.

Thank you for reading my brainrot over your fic and even though i just discovered you I love your writing style and your art is amazing so thank you for blessing us

Thank you so much! I try to write fics and tropes because I also struggle with Harbinger brainrot. Sometimes I draw and sometimes I gotta write. So I hope I won't disappoint with this one (｡•́︿•̀｡)

✦ You learn that Dottore taught his little segment about your old research too

(tw: none, pure fluff)

In the days of old, a young boy named Zandik was infatuated by you.

You were there, in the photos of the Akademiya’s best, A brilliant alumna. Meanwhile, he was still a mere student, looking up at you with eager ruby eyes. The distance between you two, not just in seniority, but in intellect and knowledge looked like an insurmountable ocean for little Zandik. 

He read all your published works, theses, or even miscellaneous essays. You were one of the few who dared to explore risque topics, often researching the fallen technology of your homeland, Khaenri’ah. Your works became his mantra, as the young trainee Dastur frequently stayed at night reading and memorizing your written words. 

How he longed to stand by your side. To bask in the glow of your wisdom, and hopefully, one day stand beside you in these photos of The Akademiya’s best. The thought of being your equal on that wall is a fantasy that once consumed him during many sleepless nights. 

But alas, his name was not in the records beside you. Instead, it was in the records of exiled students. 

The expulsion was a bitter pill to swallow for Zandik, yet it became a blessing in disguise. It allowed him to break free from the constraints of the Akademiya and truly delve into the depths of his research; to walk where you walked. With this liberating and newfound freedom, The Fatui heightened his abilities. They provided him with the resources and tools, and in return, he shared the fruits of his labor with them. But the Fatui were not the focus of his pursuits - you were. 

The little boy who once admired you from afar is no more. Now, a Fatui Harbinger stood before you, a man who has grown and shaped himself in your shadow. So here you were, in Dottore’s lab quietly musing. That was the story of your unceremonious reunion with The Doctor, whom you didn’t even know was after you. However, you didn’t mind it. You even met one of his many segments. 

What you didn’t expect is… a little child in his lab. 

A boy, looking awfully similar to little Zandik, no older than 8 years old. He gawked back at you, with his ruby-red eyes and you felt a sense of deja vu. You kneeled in front of him, catching a glimpse of a book in the child’s arms: 

“Um, hello, little one. What is that book you’re reading?”

The child cast his gaze to the floor timidly, revealing the worn-out book he was concealing behind his back. He held it tightly with his little hands, speaking in a small but avid voice:

“It’s your work… Your name is right here!” 

You blinked in surprise. It indeed had your name on it. The title was one of your research papers that you honestly forgot about. But what was even more surprising is why would an 8-year-old child read some old academic papers. 

“Oh, it is? But isn’t it a little… boring or difficult for you to read?” 

“No, I love it! I can even recite it if you want!” 

When Prime Dottore entered and spotted you talking to the eager younger clone he smirked. It seems you finally met his youngest segment, and your bafflement was expected. 

Dottore assured you that his segments, especially the younger Zandik, cannot contain their excitement at the mere mention of your name. They speak of you with a reverence that borders on idolatry, and they often ask Dottore about any copies of your published studies. 

It seems even the segments have inherited his admiration for you.

And the youngest segment, the 8-year-old child? They are absolutely enamored with your work. Every day, they ask about you and patiently anticipate any new information about your next visit to the lab. They even have a small collection of your books on their shelf, reading them diligently and trying to understand the complexity of your ideas. It was a bewildering sight, but the youngest segment enjoyed your academic essays as his bedtime stories.

“Dottore, listen. Did you make this boy memorize my thesis instead of reading fairy tales or something? Isn’t this a little… complicated for a child?” - you asked, picking up the little segment into your arms. 

“Nonsense my dear. Instead of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, a prodigy must start early by instilling a desire for knowledge. You can test it for yourself.” - Dottore explained, turning to the young child - “Recite the passage about energy infusion, paragraph 2.” 

“Okay! Ahem… ‘In the realm of Khaenri'ahn technology, we find a profound example of the interconnectedness between opposites. The use of advanced energy systems combines the power of light and electricity and as according to the data numbers of…”

Oh boy. These are big words for an 8-year-old. You don’t even remember the exact words of your 400-year-old thesis; that thing is ancient! You didn’t have the heart to tell them both that this thesis was written during an all-nighter rush. You did not feel nostalgic remembering your stress over deadlines. 

“Little one?” - You smiled at the boy in your arms and pointed at Dottore “Promise you won’t grow up like this big meanie here. He's annoying” 

“Heehee, okay!” - The tiny Zandik gently hugged your neck. The clone's innocent presence contrasts starkly with Il Dottore's imposing frown. What you failed to notice, however, was the young segment sticking his tongue out at Dottore's jealousy while you hugged the child unawarely. 

[littlemisspascal]

Creature Comfort

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Female Reader/OFC

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: 

Waiting out there is General Marcus Acacius. A real man of flesh and blood, strength and power. The legendary Atlas Lion himself.

Your husband-to-be.

Rating: M / 18+ only

Warnings: Language, at least a million historical inaccuracies, referenced smut, references of blood + war + death, weapons, too many lion/animal references and metaphors to count, reader has self-esteem issues, arranged marriage, domestic life, cameo of reader's parents, switching povs,

- Reader has no name and no physical traits described in detail. Reader wears clothes such as a toga + wedding outfit

Author Note: This started as me simply wanting to write a fic where Acacius is compared to a lion and Reader's his wife and then it quickly led to me having a complete emotional breakdown that caused me to quit writing entirely for several months. Not one of my finest moments, but 🤷‍♀️ that's life I guess. It's nice to finally toss this fic out here, hopefully someone somewhere enjoys it 🧡

Special thanks to @wheresarizona for putting up with my emotional highs and lows and answering some questions about Rome for me and for just being an overall too-nice-for-this-world person I'm lucky to have met on here 💗

The morning of your wedding you can barely stomach your breakfast. Nerves are natural, your mother assures you, watching with a critical eye as the female servants of the house help dress you.

Your impending ceremony has severed your protection of your family’s household gods, leaving you spiritually defenseless until you’re officially wed to your husband. Maybe that is the true source of your worries, dark spirits playing wicked games with your heartstrings. Or maybe it’s your mother’s looming presence coupled with her stubborn determination to see you safely married off, analyzing every inch of your bridal outfit to root out the tiniest of imperfections, that has your stomach tied up in knots. 

The wreath atop your head is thick with summer blooms, their scent potent and almost sickly sweet, tickling the inside of your nose. You’d sneeze if not for the veil covering your face, attached to a headband beneath the tangled greenery, its deep yellow color identical to the slippers donning your feet. 

You’d personally woven your tunic on your family’s loom, a task expected of every new bride, intertwining every fiber into tangible proof to show your husband you were ready for the responsibilities of managing his household. Linen had been your initial choice, but your mother insisted wool was the better material to repel the forces of evil. The garment is heavy beneath your matching white stola, but rather than irritating there’s something oddly comforting about the weight. Almost like a warm embrace.

It’s tradition for weddings to take place in the home of the bride’s father. You can hear the arrival of guests now outside your room. Friends and relatives and other miscellaneous people here to witness and celebrate the union. Every minute brings you closer to a new stage of your life, and if not for the servants’ steadying hands, your weak knees might send you crashing to the floor. Fainting would surely be interpreted as a bad omen, derailing the whole ceremony before it even truly began.

You suck in a quiet breath, shoving down the worst of your anxieties. This day–your wedding–has been on your mind practically your whole life. You’d learned from a young age the importance of marriages arranged between families for political and financial purposes. You’d also learned you wouldn’t be the one choosing your future husband, that decision would be made by your father alone. 

Of course, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t imagine marrying someone who was your own choice. Someone kind and handsome and as loyal as your household’s guard dogs. Someone who loved you above all others.

But waiting for you out there isn’t the imaginary stranger who's starred in your most intimate dreams. Waiting out there is General Marcus Acacius. A real man of flesh and blood, strength and power. The legendary Atlas Lion himself.

Your husband-to-be.

When the pronuba arrives to accompany you to the ceremony, the servants disperse but your mother lingers a beat longer, running her fingers over your shoulders to smoothen out non-existent creases. Neither of you mention the shiny gleam of her eyes or the trembling of your hands. 

Then, with a firm nod of her head, your mother declares, “She’s ready,” and leaves without another look to join your father’s side.

Your mother is not prone to lying. If she says you’re ready, then ready you must be.

You take another deep breath before linking your arm through the elder matron’s, but it’s the gentle patting of her hand on yours which calms you most. A reassurance of good things to come.

Stepping out into the atrium, you’re met with a packed crowd, locals and soldiers mixed as one, craning their necks for a glimpse of you. Their clothes resemble yours and the groom’s, another tactic to confuse evil spirits, but human eyes only need to spot your yellow veil to recognize you as the bride. And as for Acacius…

Well. To mistake the Atlas Lion for another would be as foolish as mistaking fire for water. He is unique in all the world.

You see him standing at the altar with the high priest, clad in a purple toga embroidered with a lion’s head in golden thread. A reward in honor of the general’s triumphs in warfare. The placement of the lion above his heart is deliberate, you suspect. A warning of what lies beneath the surface. A guarantee all the tales of his savagery and blood lust passed from mouth to mouth from the battlefields to the city streets are true.

Is it terrible that a part of you–an inane, minuscule scrap of a thing you’ll never verbally acknowledge, not even under oath–is fervently captivated by the notion? You should be listening to the high priest’s prayers to Juno, paying attention to the omens he reads in the entrails of the sacrificed ram upon the altar. But Acacius’ brown eyes, burning with the radiant June sunshine and something else distinctly dangerous, put a flame to your focus and narrow your vision to one central, all-encompassing point.

Is it terrible that you can meet a lion’s stare without a modicum of fear? You wonder how many have been able to say the same, if anyone else at all.

The priest deems the relationship blessed by the gods, carrying on with the proceedings, oblivious to your state of mind. He asks Acacius to make certain his intentions, if you are an acceptable wife. 

Acacius draws himself up to full height, an immovable mountain firm in his convictions. “She is mine to me,” the timbre of his gravelly voice drags over you, eliciting a shudder down your spine you pray the elder matron does not notice. “I will want no other.” 

Then it is your turn, and your voice is only a little hoarse when you confirm, “He will be my husband. My only choice.”

The slightest quirk of a smile curls the corner of Acacius’ lips. Instinctively, you return it with a small grin of your own. And even though he can’t physically see your face behind the veil, you think, somehow, he does see you.

It’s only after signing the marriage contract with crimson seals that the pronuba places your right hand in Acacius’, officially uniting you as one. The general’s palm is callused, fingers thick and gnarled from past wounds, but you can’t find it in yourself to hate them, or recoil, or do anything else than keep holding on.

“Raise the veil,” the priest says.

You swallow, the fingers of your left hand spasming against your side, then slowly reach for a fistful of the yellow fabric. Pulling it up over your head, you carefully watch the lines of Acacius’ expression, heartbeat fluttering at the way those brown eyes widen, taking you in for the first time. Absorbing everything like it might be his only chance. Like you’re something wondrous worth memorizing.

Acacius starts leaning forward, sending every last thought in your head scattering with his nearness. He’s massive, radiating such intense warmth, thumb stroking a line of heat along your wrist. There’s a fire igniting in your chest, lungs choking on the smoke, yet you’re trembling when he cups your face, the quietest of whines escaping your parted lips.

Please, you start to beg, the whooshing of blood thundering in your eardrums, plea–

Acacius swallows the silent plea with his own mouth, kissing you like a starving man. This isn’t love–no, it’s too soon for such sentiment–this is carnal passion, roaming tongues and clashing teeth like you’re no better than animals committed to the hunt of this new territory, this new taste. 

The eruption of applause yanks you back to reality. You tear yourself away with a choked gasp, and it’s satisfying seeing the heave of Acacius’ broad chest with each ragged inhale as you both struggle to catch your breaths. You did that. You’re the reason for the flare of lust in his eyes and smear of spit across his bottom lip. 

You’ve heard people say no man’s looks can compete with Adonis’ striking beauty. A fallacy, you realize in that moment upon seeing General Marcus Acacius in purple and gold, dark curls caressed by the gentle breeze, a constellation of freckles along the tendons of his neck, hardened by violence yet holding your hand so heartachingly sweet.

The rest of the world can have Adonis. 

And as for you–boldly and selfishly, you’ll keep this man. The legendary Atlas Lion himself.

Your husband.

~~

The wedding feast afterwards is a blur of lavish food and wine, the jovial notes of flutes accompanying fescennine songs with interjections of salutations shouted from inebriated lips. Every touch of Acacius’ hand against your arm, your waist, everywhere sends sparks skittering along your nerves. It’s as bewildering as it is thrilling, like you’re balancing on the edge of a precipice, and you wonder if this is what Icarus felt moments before he flew too close to the sun. Falling, falling, falling…

You can only hope you meet a different, kinder fate.

When the sky begins to change and darken with the promise of encroaching evening time, you find yourself standing in the middle of your childhood home, trying to etch into memory everything from the slope of the roof to the tiny cracks in the stone floor. All the noises and voices seem to fade away, granting you this moment to yourself.

Once you step outside, there will be no familiarity to cling to. You’ll be escorted by the crowd of guests to Acacius’ secondary home—smaller, but no less grand than his main domus in Cosa. A port city to the south you’ll have to learn to navigate from square one—and then, once alone with the general, taken to his bed. His body will be another, far more intricate labyrinth you’ll need to learn and recognize the details of.

A new city, a new spouse, a new chapter of life with new expectations…

It’s overwhelming to say the least.

Your eyes cut to Acacius across the room, widening when you catch him already watching you. Something in your chest aches upon realizing you don’t know him well enough to read his face. If he’s angry, pleased, or just totally indifferent. But you can’t look away. Caught and cornered.

Like prey, you think, loathing the thought as soon as it forms. A lion cannot have a mouse for a wife. Imagine the shame of being an unworthy partner of one of Rome’s highest-ranking generals. Your name dragged through the mud, an embarrassment to your family and a blight on Acacius’ esteemed reputation—to say nothing of how the gods would react to your ruining of a blessed union. You’d be as insignificant as the fleas on a dog’s pelt in their eyes.

You must be stronger. Braver. Better.

Where Icarus fell, you must fly. 

Maybe Acacius senses this change stirring within you, or maybe he grows impatient with this lengthy staring contest, either way he suddenly draws closer, weaving between bodies until he comes to a stop in front of you. Purposefully within grabbing reach. The ache in your chest lessens at that, replaced by a spike of adrenaline as awareness dawns.

“Is it time to leave?” you ask.

“It is,” he answers. Then, quick as lightning and just as unexpected, he pinches your waist. 

You jerk away at the teasing touch, gaping like a fish. “Do you touch all women in that manner?”

“No.” A smug smirk spreads across his handsome face. Relishing his next words. “Only the woman who belongs to me.”

Possessive brute. Your eyes narrow even as heat envelops your body, toes curling in your shoes. 

“You haven’t taken me yet. My body has no claim.”

Acacius’ jaw clenches at that. Like he’s holding onto his restraint by a mere thread. It’s practically tangible, a siren song tempting you to flex your claws.

“Answer me this, general, because it remains unclear to me.” Tilting your head, exposing the column of your neck for his hungry gaze to feast upon, your tone is deliberately provoking. “Are you a passionate man of action? Or merely a man of empty words?”

“Bite your tongue,” his tone is low, closer to a snarl than actual speech. You almost believe he’s angry, if not for the glint in his brown eyes, aroused and impressed by your antics in equal measure.

“I’d rather you bite it.”

The fragile thread snaps.

Acacius is on you at once, his large hands seizing hold of your arms. You wrestle against his grip, delivering a solid kick to his shin that draws an irritated hiss. He puts up with your struggling for a bit longer, unaffected by your inexpert blows to his torso, then ends it with a harsh tug, pulling you flush against his brick wall of a body. He sticks his face in your neck, breath hot and ticklish, mouthing at your thrumming pulse with blunt teeth. Oh gods. You slump against him, letting his thick muscles take the brunt of your weight, mind sinking like a stone in the overflowing well of new and overwhelming sensations. Desperate for more, more, more.

The deep rumbling of his chuckling vibrates through your bones, and you have the deliriously greedy thought of cutting out a piece of yourself to store the sound there. 

“You’ve caused quite a scene,” he murmurs into the underside of your jaw, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. But beneath the raspiness, you detect the unmistakable lilt of amusement. 

“It’s tradition,” you breathe, conscious of the numerous stares watching your every move, including your mother’s. Your pretending of resistance must have been satisfactory enough for her to not intervene.

Acacius leans back just enough to look at you, cradling you in the cage of his arms and chest. You place your hands upon his waist, absently clutching the purple-dyed wool between your fingers.

“Tell me how to call you.” It’s not a request.

“What?” Yet another tradition to appease household gods is meant to happen later after you had arrived at the threshold of Acacius’ home and smeared the doorway in oil and fat. He would ask you your name, to which you answer, taking your husband’s and modifying it: where you are Marcus, I am Marcia. And at last, excluding the event of a bad omen occurring, he would carry you inside. Your brow furrows, not understanding why he’s changing the order of things. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Not the name tradition wants, nor the one your parents and the gods assigned you,” he interrupts. “Tell me how I will call you when we’re alone.” 

Oh.

You bow your head to hide your smile, pleased to have a choice. Your eyes fall upon the golden lion head.

Oh.

“Where and when you are Leo,” you tell him, trailing a finger along the perfectly stitched mane before tapping the spot where his heart resides. “There and then I am Leaena.”

~~

{His bride is too innocent, too unaware of the ruthless nature of the Empire’s politics to endure what is expected of her as a general’s wife. This marriage should never have been blessed by the gods.

Still, Acacius can’t stop his gaze from following her every movement, intrigued to know the thoughts running through her head. Can’t stop himself from touching her either, drawn to her warmth, the rightness of her body in his hold. The ceremony was mere hours ago, yet seeing her in his bed, flesh bare and soft and trembling beneath him, the woman has already become the most important treasure of his life. His to worship and protect for the rest of his days.

“Gods, you really are massive all over,” she blurts out, seemingly without thinking, feeling the press of his hard cock against her. Then immediately averts her eyes with a nervous giggle, insecure of her own inexperience. “Could–could we take it slow?”

“That’s fine, my leaena,” he assures her, kissing the corner of her mouth, addicted to her taste dangerously fast. She won’t last, he thinks, scraping his teeth along her neck. They’ll swallow her whole. “I’ll make you feel good. I’ll take care of you.” And he sees it, the exact moment the apprehension slips aside and trust rises to take its place in those big, expressive eyes. She wants this—wants him.

It’s an impulsive, raw need that has him leaning down to kiss her, licking deep into her mouth, craving something he doesn’t know the name of. Repentance, maybe, for the hell coming her way in the coming months. Or maybe he’s just a selfish man who wants this, wants her, more than he deserves. 

She rips him out of his thoughts by grabbing fistfulls of his curls, tugging until they’re even closer pressed together, opening up for him impossibly wider. 

Maybe he’s wrong in his initial assumptions of his bride.

Maybe she’ll be the one to take care of him.}

~~

Cosa matters a great deal to the Empire. A strategically defendable port with close connections to sources of timber and other supplies necessary for maintaining a vast army of fleets. The city itself was built upon a hill, high enough that on a clear day one could see miles of the Tyrrhenian Sea’s coastline. The crashes of the blue-green waves against the limestone cliffs.

Accompanying Acacius into the forum provides you with opportunities to observe the city’s layout. Enclosed within an imposing circuit of walls, the community has put careful thought into every corner of limited space, separating private houses from the sacred temples and civic buildings. Necessary architecture only, no spare room for the entertainment of a theatre. 

Cosa is significantly smaller than the size of your birthplace, drenched in the scents of sea salt and fish, yet there are elements of opulence if one looks close enough. Pearl necklaces adorning necks and solid gold bracelets fastened around wrists. Chairs carved from precious woods, embellished with touches of silver or bronze. Acacius’ curule seat in his tablinum is made out of pure ivory, its legs resembling a lion’s paws. A gift from the Senate after a successful military campaign.

The majority of Acacius’ hours in the public square is split between the basilica, the curia, and the comitium speaking with the aediles and magistrates. Offices of elected officials which exclude women from entry–not that you have much interest in politics anyways. 

The marketplace quickly becomes your favorite place outside of your domus. A variety of stalls clustered together bustling with activity. Haggling becomes second nature to you, and when you can’t get the price you want you make trades with your weavings. 

Still. Cosa is a small enough city where you’re easily recognized as someone new by the locals. More than once you’ve experienced lingering glances, examining everything from your clothes to your hair. More than once those eyes have made your shoulder blades curl with the instinct to somehow fold into yourself like the little crabs that occasionally wash up on the sandy coastline.

A week after settling in, a man in the bathhouse grabs at your palla before you can enter the women’s section, pulling harsh enough to send your mother’s brooch clattering to the ground. You press a hand over your pounding heart, scrambling backwards a few steps, all too aware of the heavy veil of silence that has fallen over the room. 

Acacius calmly appears at your side, soundless in his approach, filling the whole place with his commanding presence. 

A blink. That’s all it takes.

One blink and suddenly the man’s blood spatters the stucco wall as Acacius slams his skull against it repeatedly until he no longer resembles anything human. Just a gruesome muddle of scarlet and bone, life thread severed by the jaws of death. 

Acacius releases his hold, then points a bloodstained finger at you. “She is mine. Anyone who touches her will face my retribution. And I won’t hesitate to add another soul to Dis Pater’s realm.”

~~

Living under the roof of your parents, you’d thought of home as a physical structure. A place to stay in a world full of constantly moving parts. 

Marriage has taught you home is so much more. It’s the soft notes you hum as you spin and weave wool. A kiss pressed to your temple as Acacius moves past. The scent of fresh citrus each morning for breakfast and the sweet taste of fine wines. Plans to visit the coast. A bowl of seashells. Gazing up at constellations when the moon is high. Feelings bubbling up, spilling out, casting shadows on the walls and slipping beneath the bed sheets. It’s the warmth of another body, touching, feeling, familiarizing, until two halves become an inseverable one whole.

Home is learning to be loved and to be in love. 

~~

Acacius doesn’t receive many guests in his tablinum, preferring to settle his business affairs in the public offices, yet he still keeps a cushioned stool in front of his desk. You sit there, elbow propped on his desk and chin resting upon your fist, watching your husband search through his shelf of scrolls. The mosaic floors have been recently cleaned, colors popping vividly in the patches of sunlight sneaking in, and the painted scenes of nature adorning the walls are masterfully done, but you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere else except him.

“Where did your name come from?” you ask, breaking up the quiet.

Acacius pauses, glancing back with a raised eyebrow. “It was my father’s name. And his father’s name. And his father’s father’s name and–”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Your scolding is softened by the smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. Acacius keeps looking at you, smirking like he finds the whole thing amusing. “The Atlas Lion. A moniker as frightful as that, it must have an origin.”

He chuckles that deep, rumbling laugh of his. “Wondered when you’d finally ask.”

His tone is light, still smirking, but you see through the cracks of the facade. See the hesitation in the lowering of his eyes to the floor, see the slight furrow in his brow that only appears when he’s worried he’s upset you. He’s nervous—it’s so obvious and so dearly human that it aches. It looks absolutely wrong on the face of a man known throughout the Empire for his larger-than-life confidence.

You watch him warily, unsure what to do, what to say beyond his name. “Acacius.”

Your husband faces the scrolls again, and for a moment you’re afraid the fragile moment’s broken, but then he tells you the story behind his name. ‘Story’ is too soft a word though. Stories are for parties and entertainment, full of humor and unfolding drama and moral lessons. Acacius doesn’t tell you a story. No, he tells you his truth. 

Acacius doesn’t mince words, describing the hellish months of military training in grueling detail. He tells you, in an almost detached manner, how he’d been a different man back then. Scrawnier, unused to bloodshed, restless, but above all else, near feral with the need to prove his own worth. 

“It was General Meridius’ idea for soldiers to train as bestiarii.” There’s something about the way he says the name—full of respect. Admiration for a superior. But you think you detect a note of something else laced within the syllables too. Something almost…sad sounding. Grieving, perhaps. It’s gone in the next breath. “Face to face with wild beasts, you either become an expert with your weapon fast or you die an unglorified death in the arena.”

For all the nights you’ve traced meaningless patterns along the large scars gouged into Acacius’ shoulders, you didn’t ask about them. Assumed they were the result of a too-close enemy with a too-sharp weapon. A blade or spear, something man-made. Never occurred to you to think of fangs and claws as weapons too.

Blinking sharply, you sit up straighter, stuttering, “W-wait, are you…is that where…” There’s a swarm of questions buzzing in your head, stinging the back of your throat when you try to voice them. Finally, you manage to choke out, “So, that’s how you got your name? You actually fought lions?”

Acacius finally turns around at that, only to surprise you by shaking his head. “I did fight lions—and bears, boars, even a pair of hyenas once. But that’s not why they call me the Atlas Lion.”

He trails off, tension in the wrinkled lines of his expression your hands itch to smoothen out. You hesitate to rise from your seat, unable to tell if drawing closer would lighten your husband’s mood or worsen it. Moments like this–where he’s loosened the reins of his tightly controlled emotions, offering a glimpse of an ordinary, flesh and blood mortal man who’s been chewed up and spit out a dozen times over– are few and far between. Delicate like fine glass, requiring just the right handling.

“To prove I was ready for the army, I had to pass a test,” he explains. “I fought everything that attacked me. I stopped thinking, stopped feeling. Nothing mattered except the next stab of my gladius. And when they started throwing men into the arena, I didn’t even notice.” Acacius exhales a ragged breath. “I stopped seeing people as people.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, voice barely above a murmur. 

There’s another pause, time seeming to slow down, seconds stretching lazily like a plump housecat, and then Acacius crosses the distance, close enough your knees graze each other, head tilted back to peer up at him. He says nothing, even as his thumb brushes over your chapped lips.

“Acacius.” Your body trembles, edges of your vision starting to blur. You lean into his touch. The center of your universe.

“I mean,” Acacius says, eyes on your mouth. Your lips part unthinkingly, letting his thumb slip inside, pressing lightly against your bottom teeth. “We’re all just animals, my leaena. Red tongues and hands.”

~~

The air is cool this time of night, seems to press against your skin like a damp washcloth. Cleansing you from the inside out with each deep inhale. 

Acacius stands in the courtyard, bronze skin painted in streaks of moonbeams and starlight, hair tousled by fitful hands. His absence from bed had stirred you awake, and a part of you wonders if these midnight musings are a regular occurrence you’ve only just now become aware of. Not all dreams are sweet after all, especially for soldiers. 

“A nightmare?” you ask, a hushed inquiry disrupting the still of night.

“A memory,” is all he offers. 

“Oh.” 

He hasn’t looked at you yet, brown eyes boring holes into the distant moon. Maybe you should return to bed, give him space and privacy to sort himself out. But your bare feet stick to the floor and you can’t pull your eyes away. Noting the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his hands, the rising and falling of his chest with each breath.

You try to ignore the disappointment gnawing at your heart, hurt that Acacius won’t share his internal burden with you, even in the cover of darkness where it’s just you and him. 

He’s revealed the truth of his name with you. Encouraged you to lick and bite and mark every inch of his flesh as your own. But tonight he’s put up a wall you can’t climb over. 

Maybe that’s why you stay. You’re a glutton for punishment.

Somewhere else in the city, a dog begins to bark. It’s a harsh sound, all teeth, defending its territory from a threat, and you flinch despite the distance. Unsurprisingly, Acacius doesn’t so much as even twitch. 

What is surprising though, is that he chooses then to finally speak.

“There are victories yet still to come,” he mutters, a tremor to his voice you’ve never heard before, like he’s standing on unsteady ground. And there’s this look in his eyes that unsettles you, haunted by something only he can see. “That’s what they always say.”

They?

Stepping closer, you gently bump your hand against his. A knot unravels in your chest when he blinks back to himself, pinky hooking onto yours. A tether securing him home with you.

“Who says that?”

“The Emperors.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Don’t know what words will build his wall higher or what ones will knock it down–if that’s even possible. 

“What are they like?” Your mouth makes the choice for you. “Geta and Caracalla?”

You’ve never been to Rome, never seen the ruling brothers in person. All you really know about them are the stories and rumors from the mouths of travelers gossiping in the marketplace. Sometimes nice things are said, sometimes…not so nice things. 

“They’re…” Dark brows draw together, mouth pulling downward in a frown. Acacius finally looks at you, the brown of his eyes lost in the dark, but not the sharp glint of fear. Tumultuous and excruciating, you feel it cut deep. “They’re fire and water. Two opposing forces unfit to inhabit the same space. It’s only a matter of time before one prevails over the other.”

You swallow, nervousness swelling in the pit of your stomach at the flat, doomed sound of certainty he speaks with. “And then what happens?”

“The Empire will either burn or drown." 

“And us?” you ask tentatively. “What will happen to us?”

Acacius doesn’t have an answer.

~~

A Roman naval ship is spotted just as dawn breaks, drawing a sizable crowd by the time it docks in the harbor. There’s a sense of wrongness associated with the lack of an official fleet, and that unsettling feeling is multiplied tenfold when it’s announced there are numerous injured soldiers aboard.

Acacius attends to them, ensuring each gets medical attention while also gathering information from the head officer in charge. You stand at the back of the crowd, heart in your throat, seeing but not truly processing. Blood, so much red. Expressions of young men scrunched in pain. The grim, motionless bodies of those who didn’t last the final hours of the journey.

“Steel yourself.” A feminine voice warns, and you turn with a blink of surprise upon seeing the high priestess at your side, unused to encountering her outside her temple walls. The sea breeze ruffles the red and white ribbons in her braided hair as she holds your gaze, calm in an almost preternatural way compared to the surrounding commotion. “You are a general’s wife. To express your fear in public is to express doubt of the Empire’s dominance and your husband’s own prowess.”

Her words sink like a stone in your stomach. “I’ll be better,” you promise, the acidic taste of shame burning the back of your throat.

“Stronger,” she corrects, fierce blue eyes rivaling an ocean storm. “You must be stronger than your greatest fear.”

You can only nod, imagining one of the corpses wearing your husband’s face. 

~~

{With every inch of territory the Empire gains, its list of bitter enemies grows exponentially longer. Not every threat rising up in defiance stems from foreign soil though, Acacius was forced to learn that the hard way. He’s seen the effects Rome’s constant warfare and rotting politics have had on its subjects, witnessed people turn against their masters’ hands like rabid dogs hell-bent on stripping flesh from bone.

Rebels are dealt with just like rabid dogs, too. Caught and decapitated in a public spectacle. Crimson rivulets flow from their remains, discoloring the city’s streets reminiscent of a spilled wine stain, seeping into the very foundation itself. 

Then come the speeches in the comitium from Cosa’s magistrates. Addressing the huddled masses with sickly sweet, empty promises of better times to come. Lying through their teeth, scared the next outburst of internal strife will end with their own severed heads tossed into the sea.

Acacius’ attendance is mandatory, yet he only pretends to listen while standing on the stone steps behind the speakers. His wife’s shoulder presses against his, their hands firmly locked together, unbothered by the harsh ridges of his battle-hardened palm grazing against her smooth skin. A simple comfort he’d long believed himself unworthy of ever indulging in.

“It tears you up inside, doesn’t it?” His wife’s voice is just a faint murmur, so quiet there isn’t a chance anyone else hears her, but the knowing note in it has his chest tightening with a stiff exhale. “Like a thorn in your soul. Even from Rome, Geta and Caracalla control your tongue.”

“There is a time for a general to speak his mind and there is a time for him to keep his head,” he reminds her frankly, careful to maintain his facade of blank detachment. “It’d do you good to remember your place.”

Her sharp inhale is torturous to his ears. She reacts to his blunt discipline like a physical blow, shoulders sagging, lips pressed together in a thin line, practically rolling over and exposing her vulnerable underbelly. Acacius hates that look. Hates even more he’s the cause of it. He thinks impaling himself with his own blade would hurt less. 

Nudging her shoulder drags her gaze reluctantly back to him. And this is not the appropriate setting for levity, Acacius should bite back the smile curling at the corners of his mouth—but for his wife, his divine leaena, he’s a sinner on his knees desperate to be in the warmth of her good graces again. “You are fond of this general’s face, yes?”

It’s not the offering this goddess deserves, but it’s enough to begin mending what he’d torn, soothing the worst of the sting. She smiles, an amused, uneven little twist of her mouth she once confessed being insecure about before he kissed away all worries from her mind. There’s something undeniably perfect about it, like the first rays of sunlight after a bleak winter. 

“Of course I am. But…” She bites her lip, caught on something. He squeezes her hand, and it seems to be the needed boost to force the words out from the cage in her throat. “Even the Atlas Lion must want to roar sometimes.”

Acacius should be annoyed with her ability to read him–it’s a weakness, and any weakness in his personal experience is a promise of death’s swift arrival. It isn’t safe, for either of them. But she’s done the unthinkable, worming her way into his ugly, greedy heart, treating it like something tender, something lovable. And it was too damn easy how quickly she filled up every vacant space in his head. From the moment she lifted her veil he’s been enraptured by her essence. Starving for every scrap of attention she’s willing to give. His wife has become a critical piece of his life, as vitally essential as the breath in his lungs and the sword hanging at his hip.

It’s dangerous, what she’s done to him.

But it’s far, far more dangerous, what he’d do for her.

Her eyes widen with surprise when he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, but he feels the way she relaxes against him with easy acceptance. Believing she’s safe with him, ignorant of the threats closing in on all sides. Every day drawing nearer and nearer still. 

That will have to change, he swears to himself. Her survival depends upon it.

“Yes,” he says at last, and it’s the most honest he’s been with himself in years. “Sometimes he does.”}

~~

Acacius places one hand on your shoulder, the other settles on your hip. There is nothing delicate about his touch, no hesitation about maneuvering your body into a proper defensive stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, pugio held in a strong grasp.

“Lower your arm, always aim the blade at your opponent,” Acacius instructs, slipping into his alternate persona as a leader on the battlefield like a second skin, his critical eyes zeroing in on all the mistakes that will get you killed in a moment of danger. “When you hold that dagger, you must hold it with the intent to spill blood, my leaena. Words alone aren’t enough to protect you.”

You swallow, fingers flexing around the hilt. It’s a daunting experience, learning to sever someone’s life thread from an expert on the subject. You’re grateful for the privacy of your domus’ courtyard, concealing your clumsy movements from outsiders who’d undoubtedly laugh at each ungraceful slash and lunge. You resemble a fool, sweaty and fledgling, undeserving of your husband’s calling. The only women you’d seen fight with weapons were gladiatrices at festivals, an exotic and unusual form of entertainment which never failed to attract large crowds. Your mother claimed they brought shame upon womankind, yet when Acacius had asked you to learn, you’d accepted without delay.

She’d disown you immediately if she could see you now. The thought has your stomach churning, a sour taste on the back of your tongue.

“We’re wasting time,” you say, voice hoarse. “I’ll never be strong enough to pose a threat to anyone.”

Acacius clicks his tongue at you. “Never say never, my leaena. You’ll tempt the Fates.”

The courtyard is quiet besides your breathing, and the streets beyond the domus’ walls are empty this time of day. You’re keenly aware of Acacius’ nearness, the slight frown pulling at his lips, like he’s trying to understand your thoughts, and you want to fight him. Howl and claw and lash out like the beast he seeks to bring to light from your depths. But there is nothing there. 

“I’m not like you. I can’t be.” His head tilts, still uncomprehending. You gesture at him with your empty hand, the rippling muscles straining the fabric of his sleeveless tunic. “The Atlas Lion. Devourer of the Emperors’ enemies. Ferocity unmatched amongst Rome’s army of warriors.” You then gesture at yourself, forcing the ugly words past your teeth if only so he’ll give up this futile endeavor. “I’m just me.”

The air shifts between you and him, a thick, cloying tension weighing heavily upon your shoulders. It’s only the knowledge that there’s nowhere in all of Cosa you could hide from your husband that keeps you anchored in place even as your heartbeat gallops away. Acacius’ brown eyes darken, thunder clouds blocking out the sun.

And then his callused hands are on your face, palms rough along the underside of your jaw, fingers pressing into the skin, squeezing. Claiming. An inescapable hold. 

“Do not,” he starts, voice low and gravelly, a snarling darkness you’ve never heard before and never want to again, “ever speak so poorly of yourself again. How can you think of yourself as anything less than magnificent? How can you not know of the power you wield over me? You’ve made me live again. My heart, long cold and numbed by the trials of war, beats again only for you. There is nothing more valuable to me than your wellbeing–not wealth nor fame, nothing. Is it clear to you yet? You have tamed the Atlas Lion body and soul. This general heeds your every call.”

You shudder, dazed and captivated by his close proximity, his devotion. Intoxicated, that’s what you feel. So caught up in a fog of mindless pleasure you fail to notice him guiding your hand up, up, up until the pugio’s blade is put to his throat. 

“All that I am is yours,” Acacius says, hushed now, a secret between lovers. The dagger pierces skin, a thin trickle of blood oozing. You flinch, eyes widening, but his hold remains firm. “Which makes you the most dangerous creature of all. And for that reason, my leaena, you will and you must learn to fight.”

He shoves you backwards a step. It’s not his full strength, more surprising than hurtful, but something inside you uncoils, teeth gnashing. A feeling sparks in your bloodstream, erupting into a wildfire at the look of pride in Acacius’ eye when you reflexively point your pugio at his heart. 

You swipe at him, again and again, driven by this new source of power. And through it all he holds your gaze, the brown of his eyes as sharp as the blade in your hand. Neither one says I love you, I’d take a bite out of the world for you but neither one needs to. 

Actions have always been louder than words.

~~

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” you ask one night in bed together. Acacius reclines against the headboard, staring at you through half-lidded eyes as you drag your fingertips over his bare, scarred skin in meaningless patterns. 

Would anyone believe this man was the Atlas Lion? A wild, virulent beast compliant and disarmed beneath the gentle stroke of your touch? 

No. You think not.

“Out where?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, thumb catching on a particularly rough patch of damaged skin left of his hip bone. Every battle he fought, every combatant he faced—Mars laid fresh claims to his body with each fresh cicatrix.  

Claims you challenge the only way you know how. Scrapes of your nails breaking skin and tender presses of your mouth licking up the crimson pearls of blood.

“Beyond the Empire’s borders. Somewhere without war.”

Acacius’ brow creases, gaze alert now, looking at you as if you’ve spoken a different language. “Without war…” he repeats slowly. “My leaena, there is no place such as that. Discordia’s reach is far, farther than the Emperors could ever conquer in their combined lifetimes, stirring up strife deep in the hearts of even the mildest of men, and it will always find an outlet one way or another.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. It’s not the response you had hoped for, but it’s the one you should have expected. Acacius isn’t the type of man to indulge in far-fetched fantasies of softer living. Can’t be, not with all the horrors he’s witnessed and played a part in crafting. 

“But,” Acacius pauses, and his hand covers yours. Not holding or moving it, just staying there. Feeling. “If somewhere without war did exist…” he smiles, a soft and little thing reserved just for these quiet moments. “I’d do whatever it took to get us there.”

~~

The wool for your new palla has been carded and spun into yarn. It stretches and winds around the teeth of your wooden loom, weighed down by terracotta scales. 

You’re alone in the domus. Acacius had been summoned by the magistrates for an urgent meeting, and you try not to let fear interfere with your work, an aggressive wasp buzzing at the back of your mind. Your touch remains light when pulling at uneven sections, its intended shape coming together bit by bit. The whooshing of a racing heartbeat echoes in your ears.

So long as there is land outside the Empire’s borders, the Emperors will expect Acacius to conquer it in their names. His time in Cosa is trapped in an hourglass, never quite knowing when the last grain of sand will slip away, summoned back to the front lines for another campaign. Another brush with death. Another chapter added to his legacy.  

You feel the sand’s effects sometimes, a sinking sensation threatening to drag you down when you walk with him through the market. Coarse and gritty, scratching your skin as you fall asleep in his arms. Piling so high it chokes you, the cursed inevitability of it all.

Another loop of wool around teeth. Tension taut and held firm. The muscles of your arms burn with effort, left foot tingling uncomfortably from sitting too long with little movement. Cosa’s awake and thriving in the warm weather, echoes of voices drifting in with the breeze, but you’ve never felt more alone. A feeling you dread becoming intimately familiar with sooner or later.

Later, you pray selfishly, desperately, achingly to the Fates. Make it later. 

So long as Acacius breathes he will always walk two paths—the path of a general and the path of a husband. And it’s a priority of yours–a requirement as his wife–to find a way to be okay when those paths split and you’re truly left all alone. You must then nurture the tiniest flame of hope one step, one trial, one lonely night at a time. Burning fiercely until every last shadow of doubt is purged from your mind, and the only thing that remains is the steadfast belief he’ll return to your side.

Then you must prepare yourself to do it all over again and again and again…too incapable of challenging the Emperors’ insatiable greed, too mortal to stop the sands of time.

You roll your shoulders once finished, scrutinizing the piece for errors. Later you’ll detach the palla from the loom to cut and tie off the loose end-threads of dangling wool, and later still you’ll take it to the fuller to be washed then to the dyer to be colored. You wonder if Acacius will like the shade of golden yellow you have in mind. If he’ll even be in Cosa to see the finished product or a thousand miles away in the heat of battle. A tremor racks your spine at the thought.

But then the front door opens with a quiet groan, and the cheerfully hummed notes of Acacius’ favorite song float through the house. You smile, heartbeat settling into its natural rhythm with the knowledge he’s here with you. The war has not stolen him away just yet.

“Come, my leaena,” he calls out, and you can hear the grin in his voice without having to see it. “It’s a beautiful day. Should we spend it by the coast?”

There’s an urge to close your eyes, to sink into this moment for all its worth, but sand is rising around your ankles. A reminder of all temporary things. 

Your legs can’t move fast enough, drawn to your husband’s side. 

Just a little bit longer. Another hour, another day. 

You reach for Acacius’ hand, tangling them together, pulling him closer. Always closer.

Another call of my name.

“Let’s not waste a single second.”

[yourfatherlucifer]

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Two

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x female!reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings: mxm relationship, death, murder, mentions of being burned at the stake, tragic backstory, violence.

WC: 2k

Amazing Help: @potatomountain

AU: Mafia/?

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

Tags: Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx @kitten4sannie tags to be continued.

A/N: This series isn’t what you thought it’d be huh? Hehehe

Taglist Link

500 years ago, Kim Hongjoong stumbled upon a dirty and old shrine. Bruised, bloody, and broken.

He begged the silent deity for help, tears cascading down his nearly broken jaw. A miracle he could still talk. His broken fingers dropped all of the coins he had to offer onto the shrine. He continued to beg for help and prayed to the God but he got no answer.

His body could no longer sustain his energy and he collapsed onto the wet ground. Hongjoong knew this was the end and he didn’t want to die like this.

Hongjoong let out one more scream before the light faded and he passed out from his injuries. No longer able to stay present.

To die for loving the wrong person. He would never change it, even if this was his death.

The deity appeared out of thin air and stared down at the almost corpse on his sacred ground. He couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Humans and their violence. Wake up, boy. I will not have you die on my holy shrine.” The deity pressed two fingers to Hongjoong’s head and he awoke with a gasp for air.

“You..Thank you.” Hongjoong tried to sit up but his ribs and other miscellaneous injuries screamed at him to stop. How he is still alive is baffling. The deity thought of him as a fighter for surviving this long with the extent of his injuries.

“Why have you come to my shrine, why do you seek my help, human?”

“Because I don’t want to die. I need to live for Seonghwa, but his family won’t let me see him anymore. They’re the reason I’m like this. They tried to kill me but I got away.” Hongjoong was able to sit up with the help of the deity, who only frowned at his words.

“Love? That’s a strong reason to fight for your life.” He admired that. A lot. He missed his love life.

“Do you want revenge, human?”

“What? I- I..yes. I do. I shouldn’t be tortured or killed for loving another man.” Hongjoong truly loves Park Seonghwa of the noble Park family. He hated Seonghwa’s face and screams when he was getting the shit beaten from him.

Hongjoong hated the Park family for trying to kill him in front of his lover. He wanted them dead. He wanted to steal away Hwa and live in the mountains away from the rest of this cruel humanity.

“Very well. I can feel your anger, human. I will grant you your revenge but it comes at a cost.” The deity crossed his arms before speaking once again, “You must take my powers and my status. You will be a God instead. Only then I’ll finally be free of this torture of living forever.”

Hongjoong was confused, “Wait, you’re willing just to give up everything? For me?”

“Believe it or not, I was once in love just like you. I was born a God, they were born a human. It was agony watching them die and I’m ready to be with them. But you must take it from me.” The deity held out his hand, a glow emitting from it. It was so inviting.

Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows before quickly grasping the deity's hand. A scream emitted from their longs as the power was transferred to Hongjoong.

Nothing else was said as the deity faded into nothing but dust.

Hongjoong could feel the power coursing within him. Each wound and broken bone was immediately healed and he felt a strange sense of longing. He knew it was for his lover down in the village. He could only hope he was still alive and not locked up in a cell by his family. Or worse, being forced to marry someone very fast.

Hongjoong didn’t care. He was going to kill them alone and take Seonghwa away with him.

One quick flash and he was standing in front of the Park residence. The guards screamed at him and ran towards him to finish the job they tried to do earlier. They failed and were flung to opposite sides. Hongjoong made them disappear as if they never existed and marched his way in, blasting the doors open with just an open palm.

Screams were heard from inside. Good. They should be scared.

“You! How are you still alive!” It was Seonghwa’s father. No matter, he was swiped against a wall with a flick of a wrist.

“Peasant.” Hongjoong spat at the man’s now broken body.

Seonghwa’s mother screamed in absolute horror, “Geo-“ Dead. Hongjoong broke her spine with yet another gesture.

Seonghwa’s older brother ran out to be by his dead parents and to fight Hongjoong. It was pointless. Hongjoong killed him too. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his lover.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called out as he stepped over multiple corpses. He ripped his bloodied hanbok and threw the pieces to the ground, they were pointless.

He couldn’t find Seonghwa anywhere. Fuck. They must’ve locked him up. That angered him much further. Hongjoong left the residence ablaze once he stepped out of the threshold. Villagers who saw the massacre stayed out of Hongjoong’s way. Now terrified of the man.

A good choice.

The new deity made his way to the village's cells. Once he gets his man, this whole town will be gone. He wasn’t going to leave anyone alive. Not after they all sat around and let Hongjoong and Seonghwa be separated.

With the cells in site, the guards were slaughtered and he burst open the gates, each criminal ran out of their cells in fear but Seonghwa remained. He knew his lover came back for him. He didn’t care how.

Seonghwa was just happy Hongjoong was alive.

“Hongjoong!” The noble ran out of his cell and into Hongjoong’s arms, “How are you alive?”

His lover only laughed, “I’ll tell you later, for now we must leave this place. We don’t belong here.” Hongjoong kissed Seonghwa with such fever that he refused to separate for several moments.

They left the village hand in hand. Hongjoong didn’t even bother to look back when he set everything ablaze, leaving nothing to save itself. He got his revenge and much more. Nothing was going to separate them ever again. Ever.

-

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa, both now immortals, faced the earth and its challenges together. They hid in the mountains away from the humans to maintain their happiness and peace. Hongjoong had gave Seonghwa powers to protect himself. Powers that matched their invisible tie to each other. He honed abilities from the planet. Elemental.

Seonghwa maintained a garden that he took care of with his new powers. The animals in the forest kept him company when Hongjoong had to leave to Deity Overworld, now that he’s a god.

One day, Seonghwa heard a blood curdling scream and chanting coming down the mountain. Hongjoong was gone so that couldn’t be him.

Seonghwa set down the white rabbit in his lap and marched down the hill, carefully treading.

Once he made it past the clearing, he found a big man strung up to a post, men and women surrounding it with torches. Seonghwa knew what it was immediately. A witch trial.

Humans are so cruel to anything different.

Just as they were about to light him aflame, Seonghwa cleared his throat, “I suggest you let him down or there will be consequences. I don’t take innocent bloodshed lightly.”

The people whipped their heads toward the newfound voice, “Excuse me? How dare you threaten us. Are you a witch too?” A man poked Seonghwa’s chest with a pitchfork.

He didn’t like that. Without moving, the ground swallows the man whole, “Anyone want to go next?”

The humans screamed in fear and ran away, not wanting to die.

The man on the post had been crying, thankful to be saved. Why did he have to be scorned for practicing a non harmful craft?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you now.” Seonghwa cut the ropes that held the man high, “Careful.” He caught him as he fell, “What’s your name? I’m Seonghwa.” A beautiful smile stretched his cheeks as he kept the man warm.

“Yunho. Jeong Yunho. Thank you for saving me. I’m forever in your debt.” Yunho’s large hands grasped Seonghwa’s in desperation, “I don’t know how to even begin to thank you.”

Seonghwa shook his head, “You don’t need to. What the humans are doing is harmful. You don’t deserve to die, Yunho. Come with me. I’ve got somewhere to keep you safe.”

-

“Um, Seonghwa, who is this?” Hongjoong appeared from a mist into the living room, confusion smeared on his features.

Yunho jumped, nearly screaming in his spot, still jumpy from earlier.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Seonghwa was quick to comfort the big man, “This is Yunho, he was about to be burned at the stake for witchcraft..I just couldn’t let that happen.”

Hongjoong melted at his words. One of the many reasons he fell for Seonghwa. His selflessness and care for others beside himself.

“I see, well, make sure he has somewhere to stay warm and rest. I’m sure it was stressful.” Hongjoong smiled and walked to his bedroom, exhausted from traveling between worlds.

Yunho smiled to himself and held the blanket close to his body, “You two are very kind. Thank you for the hospitality.”

“So, tell me, Yunho. Do you have anyone?” Seonghwa carefully sat beside Yunho, caution on his features.

“Ah, no. I don’t. It’s just me. I suppose that’s why it was so easy for me to be found by those villagers.” He could never return to his home. Not if he wanted to live.

“Well, I have a proposition for you then, Mr. Yunho, how would you like to live forever without having to worry about being burned alive?” Seonghwa offered with such nonchalance.

Yunho was in shock. What was he saying?

“Huh?”

“Look, Hongjoong and I are immortal. Hongjoong is a god and he gave me immortality to be with him forever. I want to give you that now. I know you could use it for the good in your heart.” The former noble was serious in every sense, “Of course, I’d have to talk to Hongjoong but I want to give you that offer.”

“I just thought you were also a witch honestly.” Yunho laughed.

“Well, no, but still.” Seonghwa stood back up, “I’ll let you think about it but I’m going to go speak to Hongjoong about this.”

-

“You’re an immortal now, how do you feel, Yunho?” Seonghwa grinned, Hongjoong’s arm around his waist.

The new immortal couldn’t help but cry as fire emitted from his palms, “I..I’m so happy.” Of course the fire was a bonus. Now he could make everyone pay that tried to burn him alive.

“Be careful with that ability, Yunho, I know what you’re thinking. I can hear everything. If you do not tread my warnings carefully, I can take it all from you without breaking a sweat. So don’t test me.” Hongjoong was stern but he knew Yunho wouldn’t break his trust. It was like he had a golden retriever that followed his every demand and order.

After all, this was just the beginning of a big tale to come.

“I will, thank you, Hongjoong.”

The three men would continue to live in harmony for decades. In peace and tranquillity. They never had to worry about another human trying to kill them and Hongjoong helped Yunho and Seonghwa hone their abilities. He was going to shape them into beasts. A small army if you will.

Nothing was going to stop him from being who he was meant to be.

They lived their lives on a pirate ship that sailed the ocean, that Hongjoong had stolen, becoming the new feared pirate crew for years to come.

He had to grow this team and he had to use the abilities he was given.

Yunho made them a fourth member. A living doll but with a human body. His name is Kang Yeosang and he’s another immortal. His abilities are unknown as he’s still getting accustomed to being a living doll. Made from dark magic.

Again, this was only the beginning for this forming team.

They’re only going to get stronger.

[xavimeow]

miscellaneous love and deepspace spicy headcanons

disclaimer: i am not a writer im not even a poster i simply want to post my random thoughts ok do not expect shakespearian riddles in here :3 also fem reader ig but most could be general

Xavier:

-switch but is the most dominant out of the 4

-likes when you act bratty because he enjoys giving punishments

-focuses alot more on your pleasure than his, like he will sit there and give you 5 orgasms in a row on his fingers, tongue, knee, or whatever and not even think about the fact his dick is 2 seconds from exploding

-likes to be really close to you while fucking, basically lays completely on top of you

-not even in a controlling, keeping you in place kind of way, hes simply likes feeling your entire body on his

-actually likes being in control when you're riding him, grabbing you by the waist and holding you inplace while he thrusts into you while his mouth sucks and kisses all over your chest

-not a biter but rather a licker

-likes putting you in a mating press so he can just lick and kiss your neck while asking you if you like it

-wants you to tell him how good he's making you feel at all times

-sensitive ears to both touch and sound

-lovessss when you dirty talk and when you get especially loud while hes pleasuring you

-the second you go to cover your mouth hes grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the bed because how dare you not let him hear every pretty sound being forced out of you by him

-likes to be smothered a bit when going down on you

-when he says sit on his face he means SIT DOWN ON HIS FACE LIKE A CHAIR OK NONE OF THAT HOVERING BS

-likes to go down on you after a mission after you've sweat alot cause he a freak like that

-helping you out with laundry like the good bf he is but also 100% is stealing a pair of your dirty panties im sorry hes just obsessed with you a little bit

-Favorite position: missionary, doggy

-Turn ons: dirty talk, tongues, lazy sex, handcuffs, brat taming, dry humping

-Turn offs: lack of noises, choking

Sylus:

-switch but more dominant

-unpopular opinion but I do not think he's a rough dom sorry

-sure if you were to ask if he can be a little rough with you he'd definitely comply with your request but I truly feel like he'd prefer passionate slow sex over hard and rough sex majority of the time

-well he'd prefer it that way when he's the one in charge

-when he's feeling submissive however, he wants you to absolutely destroy him

-that man wants to be choked and slapped and spit on and called a dumb slut trust me i can see it in his eyes

-finds it really hard to not thrust up into you when you tell him to be still as you ride him, sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it (you notice though and, while you do sometimes call him out for it, soemtimes you just let it slide because it feels so good to see him be so needy for you

-you have definitely had one of those remote control vibrators inside you in public before

-he's a huge exhibitionist and wouldnt even slightly lower it after you've came

-i do not think he's the jealous type at all really infact i think he wants to show you off in any way he can and would definitely want to try fucking you infront of people (obviously if you said you weren't comfortable with that he would immediately drop it though)

-his dick is so stupidly big that he has made it a rule that he will always make you cum atleast once or twice before actually fucking you

-despite what fanfics tell you, having a stupidly big dick is not always a good thing, and he would not want to hurt you so hed always make sure you're super prepared

-though he doesnt want to hurt you, he does feel his heart and dick swell a little when he sees how overwhelmed you get at his size, how your eyes roll back and your breathing stop when he pushes into you because holy fuck how is that thing gonna fit all the way in

-put his hand on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can really feel how deep his cock is

-Favorite position: rocking horse, mating press

-Turn ons: exhibitionism, toys, size kink, ropes, spit

-Turn offs: giving heavy degradation, giving heavy amounts of pain

Rafayel:

-the ultimate switch, doesnt have a preference for either

-likes when you edge him while kissing his neck and ears, grabbing his hair in one hand and his dick in the other

-maybe another unpopular opinion but i think rafayel is a mean dom when he gets really into it

-grabs your hair and forces you to watch as his cock absolutely destroys your insides

-enjoys degrading you, calling you a slut, telling you that all you're good for is making him cum, that your only purpose is serving him and making him feel good

-definitely a headpusher when receiving oral

-likes when you slap his ass but would never admit it, its obvious from how red his face gets though

-ok idk if this is too much but if you fingered him while sucking his dick i think he'd cum so hard he dies and ascends to heaven

-you ask to peg him and he's immediately like WHAT no way not happening but is eventually like fineeee (he secretly really wants it)

-cums the second you hit his prostate the first time and then gets immediately embarrassed when you start giggling at his expense

-he just couldn't handle how hot you looked when taking control

-loves when you wear skirts and dresses for easy access bending you over the nearest flat surface so he can just slip himself into you and take you right then and there

-Favorite position: cowgirl, over the counter, 69

-Turn ons: edging, degradation, dubcon, fucking on every surface of his house, your house, an any hotel you guys stay in ever

-Turn offs: being ignored, making him jealous on purpose

Zayne:

-generally kinda submissive but sometimes switches

-i feel like he has 0 experience and also doesnt really masturbate often so probably has a cumming in pants moment with you

-always pulling you into his lap because the feeling of you on top of him drives him absolutely crazy

-his mouth is always on your tits that man is HUNGRY

-would probably never ask for it but if you were to dress up in lingerie and give him a lapdance i think hed be replaying it in his head every single time he touches himself for the rest of eternity

-would never ever degrade you even if you asked i just dont think he'd enjoy it whatsoever

-if you have a praise kink though, hes your guy, he loves calling you his good girl and telling you how sexy you look when you feel good

-likes when you play with his nipples

-enjoys risky sex such as in his office or his car but doesnt actually want to get caught ever, would kiss you to stop you from being too loud

-likes to be completely tied up by you occasionally and to essentially be treated like a sex toy during those times

-if hes already came dont worry about stopping cause hes goes insane when you overstimulate him, would probably start crying because it feels so good he cant believe this is really happening

-heavy groper when doing it, just loves feeling and grabbing every inch of your body

-definitely a brat tamer but not a harsh one, will spank u til ur ass is red but not cause bruises or anything

-Favorite position: cowgirl, lotus, butterfly

-Turn ons: nipple play, lingerie, overstimulation, rolepay, foodplay a little

-Turn offs: degradation, unresponsive partners

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Ask and ye shall receive! Double update today because that last part was so short and Vox'less.

He's so melodramatic. Vox and Alastor have their pity party tantrums in common for suuuuure.

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

To say Vox was furious would be an understatement. Much like you, his emotions ran HIGH. And dear god were they going haywire after he came to.

When Valentino finally came into his room after hearing so much crashing and screaming all the way from the large break room exclusively made for the Vee's, the bedroom was a wreck. Broken screens and miscellaneous things were thrown everywhere. Vox had even tossed a lamp through one of the large wall windows that overlooked the city. Valentino peered curiously down to see a crowd taking pictures of some poor sinner who had been squashed by the offending piece of furniture.

Vox was trembling with anger and heartache as Valentino looked over him with an unreadable expression. A sadistic part of Valentino was actually enjoying Vox's suffering. The moth still wasn't quite over Vox bringing their on-and-off situationship to an official end. Valentino didn't see what the big deal about you was and it annoyed him that Vox was "pursuing something real" as if he wasn't enough. It wasn't his fault Vox was so damn petty!

Valentino still liked to hope that maybe your relationship would end and things could go back to how they were before, but without Vox bitching about Valentino fucking Angel as much. That being said, he also knew he should probably get Vox calm before he caused any more of a scene that could be noticed by the public.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut with an unimpressed frown as Vox screamed in rage and tried to flip the bed. He was such a man-child sometimes.

"THAT O̷̡̧̅͆L̷̻̒̇D̸̞̆-̶̲̓Ţ̵̧́̽I̷͐̈��M̵͉̀̈E̸̩̗̿Y̸̜̪̑͐ NO GOOD SON OF A F̸̄ͅU̵̲͒C̴͓͠Ḵ̷̇I̸̤͉͑̅Ṅ̶͚͊G̸̣̅ ̷͔͋̄B̴͖̍̚Î̵̖T̸͕̆Ċ̴̪Ḧ̷̖́, "He growled. "Why couldn't Alastor just keep his stupid tinny voice s̴̤̿͒h̴̳̔́ͅǔ̷͙̣t̷̩͍́́?̶̰̐!̶̳̟́"

Valentino rolled his eyes, pulling out his lighter and blowing out a plume of smoke. He knew it didn't actually work on Vox, but it helped calm his own nerves. "Oh, come now cabrón. You act like you didn't do this to yourself."

"Oh go choke to double death on a horse cock," Vox spat as his claws ripped into something else. The last thing he needed was Valentino rubbing salt in the wound. Vox knew this was his fault. He knew he'd fucked up and crossed a line. But it was easier to blame Alastor for spilling the secret. It was easier to blame him, rather than look at the cold hard truth that in his attempts to protect you, he may have lost you for good.

He'd called you twenty times and had sent so many texts that the security system he'd installed on your phone flagged him as spam. Needless to say, he hacked into they system and tore the firewalls he'd designed to shreds. The only thing that kept him from rebooting for the fifth time in the past hour was the distant feeling of your soul. He felt where you were and felt that you were safe. But he could also feel your pain. The soul bound by his own could feel the way it tore itself into pieces as you burned through the angst that he'd caused.

"Don't get snippy with me," Valentino scoffed. He crossed the room and used his pipe to lift Vox's face. Vox smacked the damn thing away from him with a snarl, and Valentino simply blew a puff of smoke against his screen. "It's not my fault that your little cunt of a plaything is so sensitive. You're the one who asked for this, baby."

Vox flinched hard as Valentino's hands trailed down his chest. His heart rate picked up for another reason as the pink haze swirled between them. Sometimes the way Valentino manipulated him every which way so easily made Vox wonder if he truly was immune to the aphrodisiac of Valentino's spells.

"Isn't it about time you forget that little bitch and come crawling back?" Valentino purred, his nails scratching down Vox's chest and drawing blood. He lowered his face to the side of Vox's head and smirked. "Come back to me, luciérnaga~"

Vox gasped, his arms shooting out and shoving Valentino away from him. Valentino squawked in outrage as Vox felt an unpleasant hum of anxious energy thrumming through his veins. He felt a panic attack approaching rapidly and retreated into one of the broken cameras that still had an electrical charge. He reappeared in his monitor room and fell to his knees. He lurched as he fought the urge to vomit and grit his teeth as dead pixels filled his screen through the painful glitches.

Everything was too much. It was too damn much.

You. Valentino. Alastor. His own damn hubris. It was too much. He sent out a fresh wave of desperate pleas to your phone's inbox as he spiraled into self-doubt and loathing. He needed you back. You were the one that showed him a brighter life. One that wasn't bound to the poisonous desire of Valentino. A life where he felt seen for who he really was. You didn't see him as a figurehead of evil intent and merciless charisma like everyone else. You didn't see his power, you knew his weakness. And you showed him that he could be loved for it, not just in spite of it.

The week passes by in a blur. Valentino didn't mention the way Vox rejected him and both of the Vee's tried to force Vox to get his shit together. They even held him down and locked him in a room without cameras when he tried to leave the tower to go after you. The image of the trio was too precious for either Vee to let him destroy it in an emotional rampage.

They'd given him a shit old phone to keep obsessively trying to get ahold of you through, but besides that, he was practically a prisoner to his own fuck ups.

"I̵̥͗'̴͇͈̏͗ṃ̵͎̇͠ ̷̘̐͝s̸̖̈̽ȏ̷̼̞r̴̛̯̈ȑ̸̩͘ỹ̷̪," Vox sobbed as he held the phone to his head in a broken prayer. His voice and screen hadn't been clear for the past day. He was at his wit's end and wondered how he ever thought hell was hell before now. This was the suffering all the dumbasses back on earth expected for the forsaken. Hell before now was a piece of cake compared to what he felt now.

He was alone and sinking further into his own despair. And the only thing that'd be able to pull him out was you.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 8!!!!!!!!

This has literally been sitting in my drafts for so long I forgot it existed. Sorry to all the Baron Draxum fans (and Draxum himself, bbgirl deserves better). If you're new to my line of notes here's the beginning where I started with Raph. Alright part 8, Baron Draxum, here we go.

Language Habits:

Speaks in long and drawn out sentences, if you're getting nervous about run-on sentences you're on the right track

Due to this, tends to give speeches or monologues

Dramatizes everything fairly eloquently, look for the most exaggerated form of a word. Classic villain speak: "imbeciles", "brethren", "eliminate"

Puts emphasis on those dramatic adjectives and verbs

Occasionally refers to himself in the third person, not as often as Raph

Tends to yell or raise his voice when frustrated or lost in passion

A common gag is trailing off in a casual tone about the severity of his experiments ie his "if it works right" about the ooze causing pain when mutating that poor fish guy

Personality:

Incredibly intelligent yet impatient. It isn't known to my knowledge who taught Draxum or if he taught himself, but his mastery of alchemy and fighting makes him a truly impressive opponent. However, he's always cutting corners to get to his goal. He wasn't willing to raise through the ranks of The Foot the traditional way, he created an army of mutants rather than seek yokai, and was unwilling to spend further time interpreting the prophecy of doom towards yokai-kind

Flair for the (over)dramatic. Draxum is almost your classic evil villain kind of guy. He'll pull out all musical stops, including flowing hair and clothes. On the other end he'll completely overreact and commit to things of little matter like his position as a lunch lady.

Unyielding in his stubbornness. Draxum is not easily swayed in his belief, and even as hard as Mikey tries he is not rid of his disdain for humans by the end of the series. Guy was also incredibly persistent in his research despite his lab blowing up twice. This also allows him to hold longer grudges, even resorting to childish pettiness if he feels annoyed enough.

Affinity for muscles and power. He was drawn to Lou Jitsu for many reasons, but a main one was definitely his muscles. All his guards are usually incredibly beefy, and he was immediately drawn to Raph as "beautiful" when he's reintroduced to his specimens. As for power, he's drawn to the dark armor and is lost in the ecstasy of being imbued with so much mystic energy.

Self-absorbed and egotistical. Draxum is kind of obsessed with his title and self-proclaimed responsibility for saving yokai-kind. He's not one to easily admit his mistakes and takes great pride in his work.

Willing to toe the line of morality. Huginn and Muninn have blatantly called him their evil boss, but Draxum does see his actions for the good of yokai-kind. I don't think he really cares if he's working with evil organizations (The Foot) or doing evil things if he saves the day.

Team builder. I think it's interesting how Draxum is drawn to building teams. He's drawn to working together, all he wants to do is unite yokai and his mutants into an efficient force. This does not mean he's very successful.

Miscellaneous:

Has minor telekinesis

Was a warrior before he was an alchemist

Does not have a good relationship with the Three Heads (apparent leaders of the Hidden City)

Controls seeds that can a) grow into vines, b) expand into robotic vine gauntlets, c) encase his gauntlets into meatier gauntlets that can shoot out waxy cocoons

Is referred to as a sheep-man from the brothers, but I suppose whatever animal you interpret him as is up to you

Has a great singing voice :) ( which is subjective I suppose)

Alright now that is finally posted just gonna let you know that this Isn't the last of my rise analysis posts!! I'm so sorry for the wait!! I got lost in so many schedule things. I'll try and pump a few more analysis posts out within these next few weeks (excluding June 16-22), but I've also been busy working on miscellaneous wips. Thank you for being so sweet to me on all the other notes posts, you guys are so awesome :)

[sweetprfct]

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: Welcome to another enemies to lovers fic! :) Let's also welcome back our bff, Sara. I'm sort of excited about this because it's so chaotic and fun and as you all know, I usually write angsty sad fics. So, I'm kind of having fun with this one. I hope you all enjoy! Please comments are always welcome! Thank you!

Wordcount: 2.9K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Two Years Ago…

The sun was beating down in the city of New York. It was the middle of July, and the heat was basically a torture for you at the moment. You and your best friend, Sara, were just moving into your new apartment building. The both of you had been roommates since you graduated college, and you both have finally earned enough money to actually rent a nice and bigger apartment. It was both of your dream apartment with the nice kitchen, marbled top counters and big glass windows that overlooked the city skyscrapers. 

However, as much as you both were excited with the new apartment, the New York summer heat wasn’t really helping. You were already in shorts, tank top, and your hair was up in a messy ponytail and yet, you were still sweating so much. You both have spent the last two days taking everything out of your old apartment and bringing them into the new building. You and Sara would switch back and forth driving the U-Haul truck, and you both would carry your new furnitures up into the new apartment. You didn’t even realize you had so much stuff until you were packing up your things and had to throw most of the unnecessary ones away. 

But today was your last day of moving the rest of your things. All the heavy stuff was already set up and organized in the apartment and the only thing that was left were just boxes of your clothes and miscellaneous stuff for the kitchen. 

“I’ll take this last box and I can go drop off the U-Haul truck back.” Sara said, grabbing the last remaining box at the back of the truck. 

“Are you sure? I can go with you.” You suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I got it. Maybe I can pick up some pizza for dinner tonight?”

You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good. I’m too tired to make dinner.”

Sara chuckled softly, agreeing with you as you both entered the building. You were carrying another box, following behind her and entering the elevator. You loved this new apartment. It was fancy, nice and everything was new. It even had a security guard outside the building that made you feel safe. You couldn’t help but feel proud of how far you two had come.

Ready to finally set down the last box, you followed Sara down the hall when you were greeted by a man from across the hall. He looked familiar, and he looked like he was about your age too. He was, however, shirtless, and he had a grin on his face the moment he saw you. 

“Looks like I got new neighbors across the hall.” His English accent slipped through his voice. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He was cute and not to sound too desperate, you rarely have any men interact with you. Especially cute and handsome men. Immediately, you were already hooked as soon as you heard that accent slip through his voice. His chocolate button eyes sparkled as he smiled at you. His curly brown hair was all disheveled, but it made him look more attractive. 

“I’m Joe.” He grinned excitedly.

Setting the heavy box down on the floor, you introduced yourself. For a moment, you were reluctant to shake his hand because you were literally all sweaty and dirty from doing all this moving. Joe, however, didn’t hesitate to shake your hand. Instantly, you were already charmed by him. 

Or maybe this heat was just getting into your head.

“So, are you new in the city?” Joe asked.

“I’m actually from Chicago, but I’ve been living in New York for five years now.” You cheekily grinned at him. 

“I’ve never been to Chicago, but it seems like they have great and beautiful people over there.” 

You knew exactly what he was doing. 

You knew he was flirting with you, and you couldn’t help but flirt back. He was cute, and him standing here in front of you shirtless was making you slowly fold for him already. 

God, you were pathetic. 

How were you already blushing and all flustered because of this man? You literally just met him two seconds ago. 

“So, you’re moving in with a roommate?” Joe nodded his head towards Sara. 

Looking over your shoulder, the door of your apartment was open, and you could see Sara setting down the boxes and organizing the kitchen. 

“Yeah, that’s Sara. She’s my best friend.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I hope I’m able to get to know you better.” Joe leaned against the doorframe, a flirty grin still plastered on his face.

Before you could say anything else, the door behind him swung open and a woman with disheveled hair looked at the both of you furiously. She was fixing the strap of her mini dress, and she barely had put on her other high heels. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as soon as you saw the angry look on her face. You were literally flirting with someone who had a girlfriend. 

Wait, was she even his girlfriend? 

And if he had a girlfriend, then why was he flirting with you?

“Really?!” The woman exclaimed, slapping Joe’s arm. “You take me to your place, fuck me, and I haven’t even left yet, and you’re already flirting with another girl?!” 

Your eyes widened as you stood there dumbfounded at what she just told him. Your lips parted about to reason with her that you didn’t know he had a girl inside his apartment, but she had started yelling at Joe. She swung her purse to hit him on his stomach, making Joe groan and hunched down in pain before she turned to look at you with wide angry eyes. 

Oh god. 

You couldn’t believe you fell for it. 

You couldn’t believe that you fell for Joe’s charms and flirt talk, only for you to find out that he was a player. He had another girl in his apartment, and he was flirting with you? 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The woman set her palms on his chest and pushed him away and nudged you with her shoulder to push you aside before walking away. You stood there, feeling astounded because you couldn’t even comprehend what just happened. You were exhausted, you were sweaty, and you could barely feel your hands from carrying heavy boxes all day. Your brain was too fried to even deal with this. You couldn’t help but blame the heat for getting too much into your head. 

Joe looked over his shoulder, watching the woman walk away as he shook his head and turned back to you. 

“She’s just overreacting.” Joe explained. 

Tilting your head at him, you raised your brows and let out a scoff. 

“Oh really?” You asked, irritated. “Or you’re just a player?”

You shook your head in disbelief, picking up the box from the floor and walked inside your apartment and slammed the door shut behind you. 

You couldn’t believe that you actually fell for that. 

Looking up from what she was doing, Sara knitted her brows as soon as she saw you enter the kitchen. She couldn’t even describe the expression that was on your face when you had set the box down on the floor.

“What happened?” Sara asked. 

“Stay away from the man across the hall.” You said. “He’s a pig.”

Sara just chuckled softly, shaking head. Knowing you for the last couple of years, she knew you could be overdramatic sometimes, especially when it came with men. Although, she didn’t actually expect that the first day in this new apartment was going to be the first of many fights that you and Joe would have. She also didn’t expect that this was going to be something that she was going to start dealing with for the next two years. 

As you got up early the next morning, you went for a quick jog around the neighborhood and as soon as you came back into the apartment building, you saw Joe leading a different girl out of his place. You couldn’t help but shake your head and felt disgusted by his behaviour. Then, as days, weeks, months went by, it was the same thing almost every week. 

It annoyed you to the core.

You found out a month later that he was an actor and that was why he looked so familiar when you first met him. It wasn’t like you have seen his projects before. Just that one Stranger Things show, but you barely even finished it. However, his little celebrity status wasn’t what you really cared about. You were more disgusted by the fact that he thought he could get whoever he wanted and act like this just because he was an actor. 

Ever since then, you had promised yourself to never fall for anything that he would tell you ever again. 

Present Day…

The Friday night rush hit the subway station a little too early. You just got out of the office, and you were ready to just go home and snuggle under your comfy blanket. Your eyes studied the many faces of people inside the subway car as you held onto the metal pole. It was packed and everyone was literally shoulder to shoulder. 

Thank god that your stop was next because it was starting to smell in there, and you hated it when it was this crowded in the subway. Walking out of the station, you decided to stop by at a local shop near your apartment building and pick up some snacks. As you walked through the aisles, you didn’t even care what you picked out on the shelves. You just started putting everything in your basket, whatever that looked satisfying to you. It was Friday, and you had a long, exhausting day. You deserved a little treat after all the stress from work that you have been dealing with. 

Arriving at your apartment building, the moment you exited out the elevator, you instantly saw Joe walking out of his apartment. His curly hair pushed back, he was in fancy clothes, and a playful grin tugged on his lips the moment his eyes caught you. You rolled your eyes at him as he chuckled softly when he passed by. 

“Is that what you're going to do on a Friday night?” Joe asked, looking down at the plastic bag that you were holding in your hand. 

You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him with an annoyed expression on your face. The last thing you wanted to do was deal with his obnoxious behavior. 

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Your eyes were literally giving him a death glare. 

Joe’s grin widened as he took a few steps forward closer to you. His index finger softly grazed the top of your nose as he poked it. Immediately, you made a face and swatted his hand away. 

“Not with yours.” Joe murmured, amusement all over his face.

You could feel the anger and frustration coming up in your emotions. You didn’t understand how he never got tired of annoying you. It has been two years since you have moved in and every day, Joe always found a way to make you feel irritated. You didn’t care one bit if he was an actor. You didn’t care if he has a little celebrity status. 

He was still disgusting, and he was still a pig. 

You felt your nose flared in anger as you grimaced at his little comment. “Is there someone else you could torture?!”

Your voice raised as Joe laughed softly and poked your nose again. 

“Yes, but I like doing it to you.” 

“And what are you going to do, hm?” You raised your brow at him. “You’re gonna go out there and pick up a new girl again?”

Joe shrugged, “Well, at least I’m not spending my Friday night with a bag of Doritos and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”

“Well, at least I’m not an asshole.” You retorted back.

Pushing him out of your way with your shoulder, you could see the playful grin that kept tugging on his lips, but you ignored it as you unlocked your door and immediately slammed the door shut behind you. Groaning in frustration, you set the plastic bag on the dining table and saw Sara walking out of the bathroom. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she was holding a towel to dry it. 

“What did he do now?” Sara asked. 

Sara had lived with you in this apartment building for two years now, and she knew exactly what was happening whenever you entered your apartment with that look on your face. There was no one else in this world that could get under your skin but Joe. Not even your annoying boss or co-workers at work could get you all worked up like this, and Sara could see that every time.

Sometimes Sara would wish that Joe would literally get under your skin, so the both of you could stop playing this game and admit what you two actually felt for one another.

But she would never say that to you nor would admit what she could see between the both of you.

She knew it would just enrage you even more. She couldn’t help but just shake her head and chuckle at your reaction all the time because after all, it seemed like she was the only one who could see why Joe tends to push all your buttons so easily.

“He’s just being an asshole like always.” You grumbled, taking out the snacks that you bought from the plastic bag. 

Sara laughed softly, grabbing the bag of Doritos, opening it. She tilted her head at you and said, “You know, I don't understand why can’t you both just ignore each other?”

You gazed up at her with an even more frustrated look on your face. “Are you kidding? You think I don’t wanna do that? He’s the one who’s always starting something.” 

“Always?” Sara raised her brow at you. 

What was she trying to say? 

When you didn’t answer her question, she added, “Remember when he had a package that was accidentally left on our doorstep, and you held it hostage for two weeks?”

You knitted your brows, stuttering for a moment and said, “He… He deserved it. Besides, I was doing everyone a favor.” 

“Holding his package hostage until he kept the noises down from his apartment wasn’t doing everyone a favor!” Sara argued. “You two were arguing in the middle of the hall every day, and that was a lot noisier.” 

You rolled your eyes, scratching your forehead in frustration. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips without even arguing back with Sara because yeah, you did that on purpose because you just wanted to piss him off the way he always pissed you off all the time. 

“Are you still mad about what happened two years ago?” Sara asked.

You scoffed, stunned at the subject that Sara had brought up. 

“No!” Your voice sounded defensive. “Yes, I clearly fell for his charms but that was before I knew how much of a fuckboy he is.”

Sara chuckled, rolling her eyes at the excuse that you were throwing at her. She never pressed the subject every time she would see that the angry meter on top of your head was starting to spill over. Sometimes she would just imagine grabbing the both of you and banging each other’s heads to see if you both would realize how ridiculous this stupid game you two kept playing. She never understood how both of you weren’t tired of it after two years.

“Which is too bad.” You added, grumbling under your breath. “Because he’s cute.”

Sara stuffed her mouth with Doritos as she settled herself on the sofa. She lets you continue grumbling under your breath until you have let all your feelings out. That was what she always did because then, she would be able to really see how strong your feelings were for Joe. She knew you were just angry with how he behaves, so Sara just let you do your thing as she started browsing movies on Netflix. 

“Hey! That’s my Doritos!” You scolded her after you finally had gone back to reality.

“Too late now.” Sara deviously smiled, throwing a piece of Dorito at you. “Are you done?”

“Done with what?”

“Grumbling over Joe.”

“I wasn’t—” You exhaled a sharp breath. “You know what, I’m gonna go freshen up. You can pick the movie for tonight.”

Walking away, you went to shower to wash away today's stress and settled next to Sara later that night. Holding the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, you reached over and grabbed some Doritos from the bag that was sitting on Sara’s lap. As you focus your attention on the movie, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. You couldn’t help but recall your little conversation with Joe from earlier. 

“Are we this sad? Spending Friday nights like this?” You asked Sara, turning to face her. 

Sara shrugged, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment as if she was thinking about your question carefully. 

“Maybe.” She answered. “But at least we’re not getting our hearts broken.”

Laughing softly with her, you nodded your head in agreement. 

“True.” 

*********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 💤 MORPHEUS: GOD OF DREAMS 💤

A/N: I see you Morpheus demigods out there, this is for you. Also because in the books, there was a reference that there are demigods of Morpheus, but we don't really see any but they exist sort of? So, we all know the drill! Thanks for reading and have a nice day!! MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERLIST LINK: [TUMBLR] || [AO3]

When you get claimed, you have a very similar experience to the children of Hypnos; where it involves sleep. However, instead of falling asleep as soon as you get a claim like a Hynos demigod, you have a dream where Morpheus used his realm to meet you and basically say, “You are my child” while everyone is forcibly evicted from their sleep and dreams to see the claim hanging above your dead-asleep body.

You were still dead-asleep in the dream realm and after Morpheus left, cause this was a major gray zone he was doing, a chosen child of Hypnos would appear in your dream and give you the down-low, while the rest of them had to trudge up the Hermes cabin where you were in, and basically carry you to the Morpheus cabin. Why you may ask? Well Morpheus’ claim was dreams and touching your vicinity would make anyone else fall asleep and have either a russian roulette of forced dreams; whether they were good or bad dreams, no one knew but anyone who had fallen under the spell would not wake up easily. The only exceptions to this case were the children of Hypnos and a few children of Hecate. 

So your first morning as a child of Morpheus would be greeted by the children of Hypnos looking down on you as you stared up at their eyes and a new roof of the Morpheus cabin. What a way to wake up.

Being a child of Morpheus obviously deals with dreams and sleep, but your powers are more in the former than latter… and no, it’s not Morbin time. Yes you have the power to make someone fall asleep but you can’t hypnotise someone like a child of Hypnos.

 At the minimum, you can give someone a nice daydream or daymare (day-nightmare) and making someone fall asleep and manipulate their dreams. To the max, if you’re a powerful Morpheus demigod, you know and can see people’s dreams, peering into their psyche as if to even bring it into the reality. You can also bring their nightmare to life and truly make it a living nightmare.

With Morpheus being also referred to as the Sand-man, you also inherited this aspect. You can manipulate sand or dream-sand to be exact, and you can use that as your advantage. Think of Sandy from the movie “Rise of the Guardians”.

While the children of Hypnos have this duty as well, they’re basically chronically asleep so you’re the next person to go for deciphering dreams. You make good business in helping people decipher their dreams, to see what the future is talking about and the occasional love drama you get from the children of Aphrodite. On a serious note, the children of Morpheus act as consultations on dreams; especially if they are Prophetic dreams. While prophecies are not your realm, you learn a thing or two from the children of Apollo and Hecate (maybe sometimes even from the gods themselves), deciphering dreams based on symbols, places, and etc.

On the flipside, Morpheus is also considered the messenger of the gods who appeared in the dream of kings in human guise, so you’re also relegated as messengers of the messengers of the gods.  Depending on how you feel, it is either awkward, terrible, fun, or an honour in delivering messages to certain recipients that you get from your dreams. How you feel depends on the context of the message and who you have to deliver it to. You did not enjoy delivering a message to Clarisse la Rue from her godly half-brothers Phobos and Deimos, nor did not absolutely enjoy almost feeling the wrath of her spear and rage. This is why people keep saying, “don’t shoot the messenger”

You’re also chronically tired ™ like your Hypnos cousins, but just 40% of the time. Instead of falling asleep like your cousins, people often find you daydreaming and being in your own little world

Your godly father’s reputation precedes you in more ways, with him being responsible putting all of Manhattan to sleep during the Titan War, and in the Roman’s eyes, they stiffen around you and act very tense on the job, as Morpheus’ Roman side, Somnia, alongside his father Hypnos, Somnus (r.), killed those who weren’t alert at their jobs.

Despite being the child of Morpheus, the god of Dreams, there’s a good chance that you don’t have many dreams yourself. It could be because you are perfectly able to lucid dream or are like the children of Hypnos who enter people’s dreams and float through the astral realms, or your dreams are hijacked being a messenger of the gods, dealing and talking to gods, or having to oversee people’s dreams; no matter how you feel on it. You’re also busy taking people’s bad dreams away and making them good dreams (or vise-versa), taking that energy to yourself as a sort of substance. However, just like the children of Hypnos, don’t spend your time too much in the other realm or you won’t find yourself coming back to the land of the living.

You felt like you were having a headache but you weren’t really sure if you could have a headache when you were technically passed out and asleep and be lucid dreaming all at the same time. 

Especially when you’re face to face with the man you’ve seen in your dream occasionally, only to be revealed that this entire time he was Morpheus, your godly father who revealed to you just now. 

“Wait, so all this time I thought you were some boogey man that’s been haunting my dreams for years, was you? Morpheus? The god of dreams who is also my father?” you asked, trying to wrap your mind around it. 

“Boogey man, sandman, however the mortals like to call me, they’re all me” said Morpheus as he leaned against his seat. 

“Wait, should you be even talking to me? All the other demigods say that the gods don’t really talk to their own children cause of some law?” you said, panicking. The setting of your dream world shook in response to your emotions. The dreamland you were in was created by Morpheus was modelled after a place you felt more comfortable to you; as he said, it allowed him to see more about you. 

Morpheus waved his hand flippantly, switching and stabilising the dreamland to something else that you were familiar with. 

“Bah, as if they don’t do the same here in the world of the wake and the world of dreams,” said Morpheus with slight distaste, “Besides, the dream world is a different reality that is made and managed between me and my father, Hypnos. I would like them to see them have any thoughts and be barred from seeing their own children in their dreams.” 

“Do gods dream?” you blurted out. 

Morpheus gave you a look that started to make the world around you distort. Your ears were ringing while also sounding like it was being put into a vacuum chamber and it kept building and building until-

Everything was back to normal. 

“Of course we dream” Morpheus stated before he cocked his head to the side. “Now my time has come and by now everyone in that camp knows who you are.”

“Wait what-” 

Morpheus waved his hand and the world distorted for a moment before another kid like you came stumbling in, as Morpheus scoffed. “One of my mortal half-siblings will fill you in the rest. Have a good time and learn well from Chiron, [first name]. Until we meet again.” 

Before you could even process what he said, Morpheus disappeared as he came all of a sudden. 

“I’ll never get used to him doing that” said the mysterious kid. 

“Wait, who are you? What did he mean that everyone in camp knows?” you stammered out.

“Hi, I’m Clovis, son of and cabin leader of the Hypnos cabin” he introduced as he yawned. “That’s why Morpheus referred to me, and the rest of my siblings as mortal half-siblings.” 

“Okay…can we get back to what did Morpheus said that everyone in camp knows? What do they know?”

“Oh, right” said Clovis as he seemed more awake. “Well…apparently, while you were talking with Morpheus, he basically ejected everyone in camp from their sleep to see you being claimed…while you’re still sleeping in the real world.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…even us the children of Hypnos were ejected out too. I’m here to explain everything to you while the rest of us are currently carrying your actual body to your cabin.” 

“Wait, why are you carrying my body?” you asked, your mind reeling from everything.

Clovis waved his hand and showed you what was basically you being carried by a bunch of kids who all shared the baby face appearance. There were also some holding people back and some further ahead to clear a path while you were still dead-asleep like a pile of rocks. All in the dead of the night. The rest of the campers were either looking very sleepy and dead on their feet, or were lighting the path in front of you. 

You felt your face burning as Clovis patted your shoulder. “Yeah…basically Morpheus’ claim is so strong that anyone who is close to you or tries to wake you up puts them to sleep…and while that may not be a problem right now, since it’s night, everyone who touches you gets thrown into a nightmare. So it falls onto us, the children of Hypnos and the few children of Morpheus, to carry you to the Morpheus cabin.”

You had your face in your hands to try and hide but because this was a dream, you could see yourself putting your face in your hands and still witness the scene in front of you. Clovis finally releasing you from your embarrassment waved his hands away to clear the image before he spoke to you. 

“Well…you’re the first child of Morpheus that we’ve had in a while, and the last one isn’t used to this procedure yet so it falls onto me to give you the rundown of everything. Welcome to the Morpheus cabin Cousin” introduced Clovis as you groaned. This dream was actually a nightmare in disguise.

[hisui-dreamer]

hi hi!!! i hope you're doing well :D !!! i really really love how you write the octatrio (ESPECIALLY AZUL BC BIAS YK) and i was wondering if i could request some headcanons for the octatrio with a s/o that has an acts of service love language? no pressure ofc, you're never obligated to write anything <3 thank you for all the lovely writing you're shared so far!!! i am in loves w the way you portray azul btw have i gushed abt your characterization enough yet WHAHWHAHWA <333

at your service

Characters: Octavinelle (Azul, Jade, Floyd)

Synopsis: how he is with an acts of service lover

Tags: fluff, fish shenanigans, bot proofread

Word count: 885

Notes: @azulashengrottospiano auburnn! here's your very belated wedding gift! congrats on becoming mrs. ashengrotto <3 i hope you like it!

Masterlist

let's be real, he is too dense to know you're showing affection

he's like playing 4D chess in his head thinking about why you keep helping him with tasks???

do you want something from him?? he will pay you handsomely?

wait you don't want pay??? seriously he's tries so hard to think about how you might benefit from helping him, but this octopus never considers you're doing it out of affection

he keeps finding ways to repay you or see if there's a contract you're working under

it's only until one of the tweels point out that you seem to be in love with him, that the realisation hits him like a cauldron to the head

after that, he starts returning your affections by helping you with anything you might need, tutoring, miscellaneous duties Crowley threw your way, etc., or just throwing gifts at your direction

he'll walk into his office ready for another day of work only to find that you've already sorted out most of the paperwork for him

there's a lovestruck smile on his face as he plans what he could do in return or get you as a gift

he finds it so odd that he'd do anything for you, and not expect you to do anything in return

oh how far the businesses man has fallen

Azul's voice, soft and sincere, carries a touch of gratitude as he addresses you. "Angelfish, I am truly grateful for your help with the mountain of paperwork," he says. A smile, warm and affectionate, dances upon his lips as he continues, his voice infused with a hint of excitement. "As a token of my gratitude, would you like to join me for dinner tonight? It's on me," he offers.

jade's a bit confused when you start offering your help to him, but it doesn't take long for him to understand you're doing it out of affection

he might feel a bit obliged to return the favour, so sometimes he'll refuse your help

but he can't deny how endearing it is when you offer to take care of his mushrooms when he's too busy at work

or when you join him on hikes to help him find whatever mushroom is in season

he's very much used to taking care of people around him, with him basically acting as a secretary to Azul, and always having to act as the more reasonable twin in comparison to Floyd

you make him feel seen in a way and he finds himself smiling unconsciously when he sees you trying to help him in whatever way you can

he finds himself wanting to rely on you more, while also reaching out to you in concern when he sees you're struggling with something

he's so glad to be offering his services to you

sometimes you take up shifts in the Mostro Lounge when Jade's also working to alleviate some of the work on his shoulders

it's not obvious to others, but he works more efficiently and there's a slight smile on his face

he loves the simple connection the two of you have, having a great dynamic that plays off great when working together

"We make quite a nice pair, don't we?" Jade's voice comes from behind. You turn to see him, a gentle smile on his face that feels more genuine thank the usual he shows. "It's always a joy when I'm working alongside you. Thank you so much for offering your assistance," he says, before reaching for your hand and placing a kiss on it, his eyes piercing and never looking away from yours.

this eel loves that you're offering to do work for him!

most of the time he's doing his duties purely out of obligation and complaining the whole while

so if you offer to do it for him, he'll be elated and run off to do whatever he's in the mood for

definitely takes your willingness to help him for granted and starts asking you to do his work for him

jade will tell him not to be too spoiled with his demands though

and if he sees you're overworked or upset while working he'll whisk you away from whatever is hurting you

wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, apologising that he's been too irresponsible

his affection for you grows so unexpectedly, but with you were always there for him, willing to lend him a hand, he found himself always in a good mood when you were around

he'll return your affection with lots of squeezes, random gifts that reminded him of you, and he's always willing to help you if you need a hand

this eel can be very efficient when he's determined and motivated, so you'll see the best of him when he's actually doing tasks for you

"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaims as he catches sight of you. He envelopes you in his arms, squeezing gently while mushing his cheek into the top of you head. "I'm sorry I gave you so much work," he murmurs softly, his voice laced with sincerity and regret. In a swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly off the ground, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. "Let's ditch work and go on a date!"

Masterlist

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[vote-gaara]

2025 is the year of GOOD!!! FORTUNE!!!!

And to bless this post, here are some money and luck headcanons for Gaara.

Gaara doesn't get paid a very high salary for being Kazekage, however...this man has like zero bills. Basically everything but his food, entertainment and miscellaneous items are covered by the Kazekage's estate budget, his health insurance, his uniform budget (yes you get one as a ninja), and people offering him free/complimentary stuff.

Speaking of medical insurance, he has a plan that covers EVERYTHING health and dental related. No deposit, co-pays, fees or anything. The only exception is that the Land of Wind doesn't have great healthcare facilities due to under funding. Because of this, sand ninjas will often seek healthcare in different countries.

He doesn't have a great pension...mostly because when he was younger and filling out the paperwork, he wasn't concerned about his future and opted not to pay much into it. As he grew older he decided not to pay more into it because...

He has a crap ton in his savings...well, actually his chequing account. He doesn't have a savings account, just one very large chequing account he barely glances at.

That being said, he spends A LOT on clothes (though he likes to believe he doesn't!)

Some rare cacti he got at private auctions are like $10,000+

He doesn't donate money to many charities or to his village because he doesn't want people to think he's lobbying or bribing his community. If he does it, he'll donate anonymously or through a third party. He also donates A LOT of his time.

Always offers to pay for his friends' and siblings' dinners when they go out to eat together.

Shinki gets everything when Gaara dies. Although Shinki has the same financial stability as Gaara, he believes that his son would be able to distribute the wealth to various causes, without having as much backlash or criticism as if Gaara were to do so himself.

Gaara likes buying gifts for people and he does so often. He thinks he's bad at it, and in some cases...maybe he is...but when one of his gifts lands, it really is a hit and very meaningful to the recipient.

I could see Gaara and Kankuro going to a Casino together every year or so. Gaara may still be awkward around people, but he feels like the games are a good buffer to help him through interacting with people, and with Kankuro's help, he would actually be really good to chit chat with over the course of a game. Gaara isn't prone to addiction, and knows when to stop - perhaps even setting himself a general budget which he has no problem tapping out at when he goes over. Generally he enjoys the strategy of poker (and he has the poker face for it lol), but after awhile he misses the quietness of his home.

Now onto luck! Yeah, Gaara has terrible luck. I'm talking shit luck. They say the Kazekage line is cursed, and that very well may be true cause holy moly did he ever inherit a potent dose of the family misfortune.

He's not clumsy, but has weird accidents. Things seemingly leap out of the cupboard when he opens the door. Appliances break. People around him seem to get bad news every other week...He just can't seem to catch a break when he needs it most, and bad things will happen several consecutive times before things recede. Poor Gaara has the luck of a genuine curse.

During festivals, he used to stop and get his fortune read upon his siblings and friends insisting "it would be fun!" He doesn't go anymore. It is not fun, not for himself or the fortune teller....not that he believes in that stuff anyways.....

He believes in superstition and curses. He tells people he doesn't, that luck and curses and all that mystical stuff is ridiculous, but he believes, truly...after all, it is difficult not to have some kind of superstition living in such a mystic place such as a desert, with a rich oral history of hauntings, legends, cryptids and gods.

He rolls snake eyes constantly when playing dice. At first it was kind've humorous, then it got really weird, only to become accepted as an advantage that he rolls with. His siblings have even noticed, and when they play a dice game and Gaara goes to roll, his siblings always shout out in expectation, "snaaaake eeeyyyeesss!!!"

That's all! Good luck on 2025, everyone! And may good fortune find you!!!!

[st-kitten]

707 pt.4 christmas special

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WARNINGS: soft toji... (we all deserve it), choking, hickeys

NEXT PART COMING SOON: SMUTTIEST SMUTTY SMUT SMUTTIER THAN SMUT HAS EVER SMUTTED (hopefully)

you stood in your kitchen, making hot chocolate for yourself and megumi upon his insistence. it was early evening and megumi had woken toji up from his five hour long nap to ask him to play. and like a moody man, he dropped him off at your house, going back to bed.

so, after an hour of sketching with him and letting him play on one of your guitars, you placed him on the kitchen counter. megumi latched onto you like a slug until you agreed to make him hot chocolate. he looked at you with so much love. you had been a welcome surprise for him. he adored how you let him be himself unconditionally. you encouraged his hobbies, helped him find new ones, and you never forced him to behave. you had become his safe space too.

you let megumi decorate some cookies you'd baked with icing cream. he was truly an artist. you watched him hold the icing bag with his tiny hands and fill in the star shaped cookies.

the shelf against your door creaked and moved as toji barged inside your house (which you didn't mind of course).

"put it back in place. there's no point in that barricade if you end up pushing through it, you know..." you said from your kitchen.

toji kicked the shelf with his knee to push it back against the door. he stood, leaning against the kitchen island, eyes shifting between you and the cookies megumi showed him.

he held back a laugh watching your outfit for the day. the way you paired miscellaneous items of clothing and still came out with an outfit had his eyes glued to you. you wore fishnet tights, a brown plaid skirt, beige turtleneck and a huge cardigan that engulfed you. you felt his eyes staring at you. not staring at you, but, well, checking you out. his mind always wandered. never to bad places, but his thoughts were usually, well, dirty...

you poured an extra mug of hot chocolate for him too. you dipped your finger in megumi's mug to check how hot it was.

"i want..."

"it's boiling hot, gumi."

"gimme" he did his grabby hands, and you smirked. you held your finger out to him and he licked the steaming hot chocolate off it, flinching at its temperature. toji licked his own lips, envying his son for a solid minute. he could just keep looking at you. your lips, your hair, your eyes, your figure… god, you were beautiful. you were so, so perfect. his heart was beating hard in his chest.

"will you be a good boy and wait for it to cool down a little?"

"yes he will," said toji as he scooter over to stand behind you, hiding you from megumi's view. he had you trapped between him and the kitchen counter. as you sprayed whipped cream on the mugs, toji slid his hand under your skirt and grabbed your ass, giving it a nice squeeze. you jumped a little, startled, and dropped a spoon, his hand grasping at it and grabbing it before it hit the floor. he moved his hands to your legs, to your thighs…

"so clumsy..." his voice reverberated. you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck as his hands started to move up your legs, his lips almost touching your ear.

"you have some nerve..." you said, a shudder running down your spine.

"don't blame me."

"here," you said, handing him a mug.

you managed to escape his towering frame looming over you, and slid a mug of hot chocolate to megumi. he crushed some cookies and sprinkled them over the cream. the three of you circled the kitchen island, sipping hot chocolate and wiping cream moustaches.

"so, what's your plan today? it's christmas eve..."

"he wants to see the giant tree in the a city square. guess i gotta take him there."

"oh yeah! they go all out on the lights. this year i think they're letting people hang their own ornaments on it. it's a huge tree," you said. "come with us," he said. toji never cared much for celebrations, but it meant something to his kid and if there was one lesson he'd learned from the life he'd grown up in, was that every child deserves an innocent and fun childhood. so if it meant taking megumi out to see the sights, buying him candies or toys, or even inviting his favourite person with them, he'd do it.

"i have a delivery coming in tonight, i'll need to supervise it," you replied.

"we'll make it back in time."

"they need to set it up and all, toji..."

"y/n come with us!" megumi chirped, his eyes shining like stars.

you groaned at how cute he could get. "you're gonna be such a heartthrob, gumiiii. fine, i'll come." you ruffled his and kissed his forehead and megumi giggled with glee.

"he's got you wrapped around his finger."

"tell me about it..."

the three of you roamed around the city, looking at the sights. christmas came alive with a twinkle of lights and festive decorations. tall buildings sparkled with fairy lights, casting a warm glow across the streets. storefronts dressed up their windows with scenes of santa, snow, and elves, creating a holiday buzz. wreaths hung on each door, bells and holly tied to them.

eggnog stands popped up on corners and the air carried the scent of spices as people savoured cups of eggnog, dusted with nutmeg. megumi had the appetite of two grown men and drank a whole pint of eggnog, hogged candies, cookies, and caramel popcorn.

"he's gonna wreck havoc tonight..." said toji, picking his kid up before he spotted anything remotely edible.

"and stay knocked out the whole day tomorrow."

"i'd pay to see that," he sighed.

megumi, bundled up in a cozy jacket, marvelled at the storefronts and the twinkling lights. he loved the colours and the glow of the city.

you soon stood in front of the giant christmas tree. it was massive, draped in ribbons, tinsel, lights, and a myriad of ornaments that people brought. some were storebought, some hand-made, some hung small lockets, picture-frames, and some even hung love letters.

toji held megumi on his shoulder and let him hang a little sketch he'd made of a christmas tree.

"it looks so pretty over there, gumi!" you said, admiring it.

"are ya gonna put something on too?"

"yep," you said as you pulled out something from your purse. you stood on your toes and hung an ornament you'd created out of one of your old golden guitar picks.

"huh. nice."

"i have too many picks. thought i'd spare one... do you have anything to hang?"

"uh... sure," said toji, pulling out a vicks inhaler from his pocket.

"bruh..." you burst into laughter, swatting the fuck out of toji's arm as he messily hung the keyring on a branch, next to your pick. you took a picture of megumi with the tree and his sketch. you snuck in a few pictures of toji looking absolutely disinterested in everything. the three of you roamed around some more until you walked by the lake, frozen and decorated with lights. people were skating on the ice. megumi pulled your hand and led you to the lake.

"you wanna skate, gumi?" you asked and he nodded. so you paid for a pair of skates for you and him. before you could ask toji, he backed away and waved his hand at you.

"loser," you quipped and took megumi to the rink. the winter evening cast a gentle glow on the ice. megumi eagerly hopped from foot to foot in his skates, in anticipation.

it took a few tries to get him used to the light footing. it felt like a scissor gliding through thin paper. megumi slipped a few times, but you caught him in time, helping him regain his balance. after momentary tumbles, you hold his hand and skate across the frozen lake. your skates etched swirling patterns on the ground as you glided over the ice.

toji, leaning on the bannister that surrounded the lake, watched you from a distance. his gaze followed your every pirouette, leap, and glide. he could see you encouraging megumi from time to time. seeing you twirling around, throwing your head back laughing, and skating with his kid did nine kinds of things to toji, and they all made his heart swell, and that was his silent applause to you. you skated your way back to where toji stood, and helped megumi off the slipper ice. both your cheeks and noses were pink, and your laughs gushed out with a puff of mist.

"thought you'd fall..."

"you'd have loved to see that..."

megumi got tired of walking, so he sat atop his father shoulders. your taut walk home passed by in minutes, conversations seamlessly shifting between the trivial and the festive. megumi fell asleep on toji's shoulders, so you offered to hold him.

the three of you stood in the elevator; megumi asleep in your arms, his head resting on your shoulder, while your red handbag rested against toji's.

"sugar game was on point today. he's fast asleep."

"thank god... i can't have this brat run around all night."

"do you have to call him a brat?"

"he is..."

you rolled your eyes and stepped out as the elevator dinged and opened. the two of you were met with two delivery men standing in front of your house, alternately looking through the hole in your door.

"oh, right on time." you wade past them and open the door.

toji followed you, not liking the way the delivery men were looking at you, their eyes trailing your legs.

you asked them to come inside and go on with their work. they brought in a large parcel inside and placed it in a corner of the living room. they began unwrapping and taking their tools out, occasionally checking you out. you had megumi in your arms, so you couldn't see that.

toji, however, saw that and more. he knew what those nods and raised eyebrows meant. he wasn't one to be jealous of prawny men like them. but something about the way they looked at you made him feel... possessive about you.

"put megumi in the bed," he said, gently holding your arm, and guiding you inside.

"you okay with him sleeping here?"

"yes."

toji almost hurried you inside your room. you put megumi on the bed and tucked him in your blanket. you switched the lights off, turning around to leave.

toji caught you by your arm and pushed you against your bedroom door. before you could even respond, his lips crashed onto yours. he kissed you fiercely. he heard you whimper and gasp, but he did not stop. he grabbed your waist and pushed you against the door, pushing himself against you, harder. he pulled away for a second, allowing you to breathe. he didn't need any lights to see your swollen lips and dim expression. he tilted his head and kissed your neck, feeling your arms grab his shoulder defensively. toji brought one hand to your throat and wrapped his fist around it. he began sucking at your neck. his hands, and his mouth could feel your gulps and panting heartbeats. the urge to consume you had taken over him as he started biting your soft neck. the whimpers and moans that left your mouth were music to his ears. your hot and heavy breathing and the way your throat felt in his vice-like claw sent him to a boiling point. his teeth dug into your flesh softly. his hold over your throat tightened and your breathless moans only encouraged him to bite harder. he wanted to take you then and there... but he had a statement to make.

he pulled away, much to his reluctance.

"what was that for..." you asked, panting, feeling blood rise in your neck. not that you were complaining.

toji pulled you aside and opened the door to your room. he led the two of you outside. he went straight to your kitchen and downed a glass of water.

you were still coming down from the high he'd put you through. you sauntered into the living room to check on your parcel. pleased to see it put together, you leaned against the wall, watching the delivery men clean up their tools.

they turned around to look at you and the mischievous grins they had earlier faltered away into thin lines of disappointment.

"it's done, ma'am."

"thank you." you were about to reach for your purse on the kitchen island when toji stood beside you, snaking his hand around your waist.

"that looks great, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you almost rocketed through the roof. what the fuck is wrong with him...

the two men awkwardly waited in your living room, hoping you'd give them a holiday season tip or offer them refreshments.

the door to your bedroom opened and megumi stepped out, awoken by your conversations. rubbing his eye, he trudged to his father. toji knelt down in front of him, ruffling his hair.

megumi looked up at you... he asked, "what happened y/n?", pointing to your neck.

you had no idea what he was talking about. all you heard was toji whispering something to megumi.

"you see those men, megs? they hurt y/n... they've been bad boys..." he looked at you and threw a wink.

like a rabid puppy, megumi dashed at the two delivery men, flapping his arms at their legs. stunned and perplexed, they began backing away. megumi bit one guy's calf and he yelped in pain, running away, crashing into his partner. the two scurried out of your house, colliding into the walls.

"gumi! what... why would you do that?" you swatted toji's arm and he draped it across your shoulder.

he brought his lips close to your ear and whispered in a sultry voice, "well, my girl ain't available... someone's gotta teach those boys how to behave..."

megumi came back to you and asked if you were okay.

"yes, you... anklebiter..." you chuckled and assured him you were just... damn... fine.

"what were they here for anyway?"

you held toji's hand and brought him to your living room.

"i swear you act like you're blind sometimes..." you said, pointing to a large mantlepiece piano resting against the living room window.

"i was looking at you..." he shrugged.

megumi, like a curious cat, inspected the piano. he'd only seen grand pianos on tv and in malls. he'd never seen one like that.

"can you play?" he asked.

"sure! why not!" you agreed happily and sat down at the piano. opening the lid that covered it, you turned it on, and checked all the pedals once.

you began playing some chords softly, setting the tune, hoping to transition it to some song. well, it was christmas eve and you felt mildly grateful for the year. you also felt pleasant knowing that toji liked you for real. that he didn't turn out to be a one night-stand or a lesson learned.

slowly, you thought of a song to play. the ivory keys obeyed your fingers as you played chords familiar to most people your age. by habit, you began singing the song you were playing.

you smiled at megumi, who was glued to the side of the piano, looking at you with heart eyes.

as you reached the poignant peak, toji stepped forward, a barely noticeable smirk playing on his lips and bent down. without uttering a word, he began to sing, his voice carrying the lyrics with an unexpected depth and resonance. your eyes widened in astonishment, fingers still pressing the keys.

you had been accustomed to the solace of your music for so long that you were caught unawares by toji harbouring a hidden talent, let alone the fact that he knew the lyrics to the song. his voice croaked at a high note, but as the first few lines escaped his lips, your initial shock gave way to a mixture of disbelief and delight.

"you're my, my, my, my..."

"lover..."

your eyes met like strangers on an opportune day. you gave him a soft, affectionate smile and he gave you his cocky grin.

megumi's claps snapped your from your trance. you ruffled his hair. he asked you if he could play too and you helped him sit on the stool, adjusting it to increase the height. so while megumi played random keys, you stood beside toji, watching him.

"who the fuck introduced you to taylor swift?"

toji clutched his forehead, hiding his face with his hand. he knew this was coming. he could hear your contain your squeal.

"hold it in."

"i can't..."

"please..."

"but-"

"don't make a big deal out of it."

"can i please make a big deal out of it?"

he made the mistake of looking at you. oh, how could he refuse when you were staring at him with innocent doe eyes?

he sighed.

"you like her. so..."

"you listened to taylor swift for me?"

toji just groaned in response, hiding his face again. he felt you throw your arms around his neck. he wasted no time in hugging your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck... the one with a bold hickey he'd marked you with not minutes ago.

"i got you a gift," he whispered in your ear.

"oh?"

toji took something out of his pocket as you pulled away, his arm still around your waist. it was shabbily wrapped in a golden gift paper.

you chuckled and took it, slowly unwrapping it.

"awww, toji, you big old softie..."

you hugged him again, pressing a kiss to his cheek; your arms around his neck, hands holding a brand new doorknob.

(im dying at the way toji says “lover…”)

taglist @amaiyasha @szillx @ruixrei @maddypaddyladdy

[possessiveandobsessive]

The Spirit of Determination- Epilogue

The battle is over, the Veilguard was victorious. Now Rook has time to let herself live a life, and a man to live it alongside. He is her home and she is his. A small series of Rookanis moments set after the end of the main storyline of Veilguard.

This is Part One of a two-part epilogue! This part is Rookanis focused, while the next part will include everyone (and obviously still Rookanis). Enjoy!

Epilogue Part 1: So This is Love

Rook was humming lightly as she absentmindedly traced random symbols and shapes onto Lucanis’s bare chest. The two were laying on the infirmary bed that now lived in her room at the Lighthouse, still recovering both mentally and physically from the fight with Elgar’nan only a couple days previously. After the exhausting confrontation, the whole team had returned to the Lighthouse, where nearly all of them proceeded to sleep for 12 hours. It was only then that they ate dinner together and celebrated their victory, and mourned the loss of the missing member of the Veilguard together. It was cathartic, and Rook realized just how much her companions had become her family in such a short span of time. 

As of now, they were all still residing in the Lighthouse. Emmerich and Davrin however, already had plans to leave in a few days' time. Emmerich wished to return the the Necropolis to help in the funeral rites for the Mourn Watchers who had fallen in battle that night in Minrathous, and Vorgoth had requested his help with several other miscellaneous tasks, the descriptions of which Rook had completely failed to comprehend when Emmerich was explaining to her. She had been supportive regardless, after all, their mission was complete, and she was not his or any of their keepers. 

When she had said as much to Emmerich, he had smiled at her before saying, “Well my dear I suppose you’re right, but I have gotten used to following your lead. It feels odd to be leaving with no plans to return as a group.”

He had seemed emotional about the thought, and Rook had placed a hand on his shoulder before reassuring the older man, “We will all be together again at some point Emmerich, I’m not letting any of you disappear that easily, not after all we’ve been through.” 

Emmerich had brightened at that. “Yes! Splendid Rook! I’d love to invite everyone to have tea in the Memorial Gardens when we’ve all the time. I think it would be a wonderful backdrop to visit with friends.”

Rook had to fight back a snicker at the idea of Taash holding a teacup in the Memorial Gardens at the Necropolis. “I’m sure that will be lovely Emmerich.” Rook smiled at him, “I will definitely come to visit when I can, Manfred will miss me too much otherwise.”

Emmerich chuckled, “Oh yes, he’s already been upset as I’ve been packing. He doesn’t want to leave any of you behind. Change is still not easy for him, poor thing.” Emmerich seemed to perk up and looked at Rook with an excited expression, “Oh! And do invite me to the wedding, Rook! I wouldn’t miss you marrying Lucanis for anything!”

Rook sputtered and fell into a fit of coughing at THAT unexpected statement. Emmerich seemed concerned and patted her back lightly as she got control of her breathing back. “That isn’t- We haven’t- I don’t-” 

Emmerich waved off her many broken attempts at a response, “Oh don’t worry dear, Lucanis doesn’t seem like he would be keen on a huge ceremony, I’m sure you will be fine.”

Rook simply stared at him open-mouthed as he gave her shoulder a pat and bid her farewell as he returned to his packing as if he didn’t just send her into a confused fit. Classic Emmerich.

Davrin had told her that he and Assan were heading to meet with Evka and Antoine in Lavendel. Apparently, they had some pretty urgent news and wanted Davrin’s help. They had also inquired whether or not Rook was coming back, and when Davrin relayed the question to her, Rook had a tough decision to make. She truly didn’t have any desire to return to the Grey Wardens at this point, though she would miss the nights spent around a fire with Evka and Antoine. Rook simply couldn’t see a future within the Order for herself anymore. Once, she had wanted nothing more than to be like the Hero of Ferelden, now, she was exhausted and wanted to get away from the darkness. 

When Rook had said as much to Davrin, she was surprised at his reaction. He had laughed and told her he was glad she wouldn’t be returning, which had deeply offended her before he explained. 

“Rook, you’ve earned a break. You of all people deserve to live free of darkspawn and the blight for a while, and I don’t want to see you back in Lavendel, coming back to a tent every day covered in darkspawn blood. You answered when duty called, so now you need to rest, before the world needs you again.”

The elf had laughed as he said the last part, and only laughed harder when he saw her grimace in response. 

“Oh no.” Rook shook her head as she spoke, “No more world saving for me, I took my turn. It’s someone else’s problem next time some evil fuck decides they want to ruin the world.”

“As if you could say no when people’s lives are on the line.” Davrin smirked at her as she simply rolled her eyes in response. “People who become Grey Wardens by choice are usually not ones to shrink from conflict, especially when innocent people are getting hurt.”

Davrin then sobered again, looking at Rook seriously, “I mean it though, go live your life Rook. You don’t owe the order anything. Plus,” He shot her a sidelong glance and a grin, “I don’t think Lucanis is interested in becoming a Grey Warden.”

Rook flushed and shoved his shoulder. Then, she furrowed her brows and turned to look at him again. “What about Assan? His brothers and sisters are living in Arlathan now, I figured you two would go and stay there. I’m sure Eldrin could use the help wrangling twelve griffons.”

“That’s the plan, eventually.” Davrin said, smiling at the thought before turning back to her, “But Evka said they have news, and they could use my help. So Assan and I will go there first and see what they need.”

“I’m glad you’re moving on too, Davrin.” Rook smiled at her friend, “You deserve a life too.” She had hugged him after that, promising to visit him in Arlathan once he and Assan were settled there.

Neither Neve or Bellara had said anything about their plans for leaving yet, but given how Neve had desperately sprinted towards Bellara after the battle before pulling the shocked woman into a passionate kiss, Rook assumed they were probably going somewhere together. 

Taash hadn’t given any indication that they had a plan either, but Rook had elected to give them some space for a bit and let them come to her when they were ready.

Rook was pulled from her reverie when Lucanis’s hand moved to rest on top of her own that had been tracing his skin. Looking up, Rook’s cheeks heated. Lucanis was looking at her with a raised brow and a half smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, which was the exact look she received when she had been so spaced out she didn’t hear him speaking to her. 

“Are you with me, Rook?” Lucanis asked in a teasing tone once she had returned to the present moment. He was always patient when she “disappeared” into her mind. It happened often these days; she frequently found herself caught up in a thought or memory, and the rest of the world simply ceased to exist when this happened.

“Yes…” Rook responded sheepishly, feeling guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out, were you trying to get my attention long?”

“No.” He responded simply, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I just asked you a question and when you didn’t respond, I knew you were gone.” At her guilty look, he chuckled and gently grabbed her chin, coaxing her to look at him. “Rook, it doesn’t bother me, you don’t have to feel bad.” Lucanis smiled at her before adding, “I am well aware you’re not ignoring me on purpose, especially because you normally can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

Rook grinned and rolled her eyes, all traces of her anxiety gone now. “Well yeah, you are incredibly attractive. It’s not my fault, I’m only a woman.”

Lucanis was the one to roll his eyes at her this time, but he pulled her to him and kissed her gently. “I love you, Rook. I cannot imagine being anywhere but at your side, which brings me back to my question that you did not actually hear before.” 

Rook’s cheeks went pink again, both at the confession and at the fact that she had completely missed what seemed to be a relatively important question to Lucanis.

“Would you- I mean, what are your plans now?” Lucanis stumbled on the first few words, cursing himself for giving his nerves away immediately. He had been doing so well before.

Rook was surprised at Lucanis’s sudden shyness as he asked the question. He had cut his eyes away from her own after he began speaking which was odd. Lucanis valued eye contact with her normally. Then she digested what he had asked and understood. Rook mentally face-palmed for not having established her position sooner, but to her credit, everything over the last several weeks had happened very quickly. 

She waited for Lucanis to meet her eyes again before she answered. “Luca,” Rook began, smiling at his blush. The nickname was new, and she was pretty sure that he loved it even more than she did. “My only plans are going where you go. I figure you’ll want to return to Treviso soon, what with you being The First Talon and all. Pretty sure your fellow Crows are itching to have you back home.”

Lucanis stared at Rook with wide eyes and seemed to be speechless for a moment. Told you! Spite shouted from within his mind, making him flinch slightly. Rook stays with Lucanis and Spite, would not leave us! Belong with Rook! Okay, okay, Lucanis thought, trying to calm Spite down. Yes, you were right, please stop yelling. It gives me headaches, remember? Spite went quiet and Lucanis could feel his chagrin. …Sorry. Forgot. Did not mean to hurt Lucanis… It’s okay, Lucanis fought a smile at how far the spirit had come in understanding him. I know you didn’t mean it, just relax while I talk to Rook.

When Lucanis refocused his eyes, he realized Rook was watching him with a hand covering her mouth and eyes full of laughter. “What?” He asked, confused at her expression. “What is it?”

Rook gave him his favorite smile, the one that made butterflies erupt in his stomach. “I have been able to tell when you’re talking to Spite for a long time, but now I can tell when he’s yelling at you.” Rook giggled before continuing, “You get this scrunched look on your face and your lips get all pursed, and then your face just slowly relaxes after he calms down. It’s just funny how I can see you interacting, that’s all.” 

Lucanis snorted, of course Rook was focused on the weird thing his face was doing and not on his utter shock at her previous statement. He shook his head at her before returning to her answer to his question. “So… you said, you plan on coming with me? To Treviso?” He paused, “I just wondered… I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go back to the Grey Wardens. I mean, that was your life before this, right? Do you not wish to return?”

Rook just shook her head and grabbed his hand to begin massaging his palm as she spoke. “No, I don’t plan on going back. To be honest, I have no desire to return. I became a Grey Warden when I was 19 because I wanted to feel like I was serving a greater purpose. Plus, I had always been a relatively skilled fighter.”

Lucanis watched her with rapt attention as she spoke, she almost never referenced anything about her past beyond meeting Varric.

“But… after a few years, I started to become pretty disillusioned with the order. It was so much more political than I expected, then it should be. So after the incident at the village, when I joined Varric, I wasn’t really ever sure I’d go back. And now that this is over, now that I’ve killed enough darkspawn to last a lifetime, I will absolutely not be going back. I already talked to Davrin about it.”

Lucanis simply stared at Rook in shock. “You already… Is that allowed? I thought Grey Wardens were bound for life?”

Rook busted out laughing at that. “Lucanis,” Rook collected herself, the last few laughs trailing off, “The order doesn’t even officially have a leader up north at the moment. Evka is running the show for now. She’s not going to drag me back, and I’m pretty sure the Warden Commander isn’t going to show up at my door and force me to come back.”

Lucanis was still somewhat reeling at this point. Sure, he had been pretty certain that they would work something out in order to stay together, in fact, he had considered leaving his title behind and following her if that’s what it took. But, he had not been prepared for her to simply leave the wardens and join him in his home city. His heart swelled for the woman in front of him, and he had to fight to hold onto his composure. 

Lucanis was not entirely successful in this endeavor, and a huge smile made its way across his face. “You are going to come home with me, to Treviso.” His voice held a note of wonder, and he suddenly pulled her tightly to his chest in a crushing hug. Rook made a squeaking sound that evolved into laughter at his reaction. Lucanis didn’t even care if he was being ridiculous anymore, he simply held a laughing Rook to his chest as he listed off the things he would take her to do when they returned to Treviso. He’d take her back to Cafe Pietra, he would introduce her to his favorite stray cats around the city, take her to his favorite rooftop spot to look out over the city, and introduce her to his favorite restaurant for dinner. 

Lucanis continued his list to add taking Rook on a private gondola ride, but he stopped when she went still in his lap. “What is it?” Lucanis pulled away to look at her as he asked, immediately concerned.

“Well I- It’s just…” Rook desperately tried to come up with an excuse to play her reaction off, but gave up when she met his eyes. They were so full of warmth and love, and she realized that there was no reason to lie to him about it, especially if she was going to be with him in Treviso of all places. “I can’t swim…” Rook admitted in a small voice, looking down at her hands on her lap. “I never learned, and when I was 14 I almost drowned in a river near where my clan was staying. It was running fast because of all the snow melt, and I slid off a rock and fell in. If my friend hadn’t been there to get help, I would've died. Ever since, I just… avoid water when I can.”

Lucanis felt his mouth fall open at Rook’s admission, before quickly closing it when he realized how hard this was for her to admit to him. She’d never said a single word about it, to anyone as far as he was aware, the entire time they’d traveled together. Looking back, she had always seemed off when they were near bodies of water, and always went silent when they had to cross rivers and streams in Arlathan or the canals in Treviso. Then it really hit him, her room was surrounded by a fish tank that made it appear underwater.

“How have you been sleeping here??” It probably wasn’t the best initial reaction to Rook telling him about her fear, but he couldn’t help but blurt the question. Wasn’t this akin to torture or something?

“Hah… It took a few weeks for me to really be able to sleep a full night.” Rook rubbed the back of her neck. “I used a lot of sleeping potions for the first month or so. But it got easier.”

Lucanis was looking at her like she was crazy. “You… why not just move? Why stay here?” He couldn’t fathom this new information, knowing she was afraid of water… Then it hit him. Before Rook could even answer his questions, he said in a hushed voice, “The Ossuary…” Lucanis directed his full attention to her eyes, which had widened a bit at the intensity in his voice. “How… How did you even manage to get there? It was a lengthy boat ride in a tiny boat, and then you had to go under water! And stay there the entire time it took to get me out!”

Rook sighed. “It was awful, I won’t lie. I wanted to throw up the entire boat ride there and back. Once we were in, I was distracted with killing a bunch of Venatori so that helped a lot. And then I-” She broke off and flushed, “And then I was distracted by you so it was easier after we freed you or, I guess you kind of freed yourself.”

“Rook…” Lucanis whispered her name, looking at her incredulously. “I, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. To be so afraid and still push through, the whole time pretending you aren’t afraid,” He shook his head in wonder, his eyes never leaving her, “I am so lucky.”

“Lucanis…” Rook looked incredibly embarrassed. “It’s not that big of a deal. You can’t really be afraid of water and still live as a Warden or lead a team like this one, so I just had to adjust. That’s it.”

“But-” Lucanis stopped himself and just smiled at her. “Okay. Fine, it’s only kind of impressive. Happy?” Rook responded by giving him a look, and he chuckled. “So, how about this: I teach you to swim. There’s plenty of places in Treviso that are good to learn in, I can take you to where I learned and teach you.”

Rook went pale. “Uh…” She began to form some kind of excuse when Lucanis stopped her.

“Rook, if you’re going to live in Treviso, which is filled with canals and surrounded by water on two sides, you should know how to swim. We won’t do too much too fast, we can start with just getting you used to the water. I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Rook still looked apprehensive, but slowly nodded her head. “O..kay, you can teach me.”

Lucanis looked pleased. “Thank you, Nyra. I know it's frightening, but I would hate you going anywhere in Treviso near deep water, knowing you can’t swim. You don’t have the best luck.”

Rook blew air out of her nose at that. “Understatement.” She muttered under her breath. Then she looked back up at Lucanis, “Speaking of going home to Treviso, when did you want to go back? Also, were you planning on just returning to the mansion?” This last statement was spoken with an edge to it, and she prayed Lucanis wouldn’t catch it. Of course, he did.

“I am ready to return whenever you are. If you’re ready to go, then we can return in a couple days after I write Teia, Viago, and Caterina. As for returning to the mansion…” Lucanis raised a brow as he studied her face, “Do you not want to live there? We can-”

“No!” Rook interrupted. “It’s not that I don’t want to live there, it’s just… Caterina also lives there. And she doesn’t know about me, and most likely wasn’t expecting someone like me to be the one you bring home. So I just worry, I don’t want things to be weird and I don’t want to start a fight between you and her and-”

It was Lucanis’s turn to cut her off. “Slow down Nyra, take a breath.” Rook stopped and did as instructed. “Good, now, first of all, Caterina will move to the guest house in the back. That has been the plan since I was young. When I was old enough to take over and had my own partner and family, she would move out of the main house. Secondly, I’m not sure Caterina would have a leg to stand on in terms of rejecting you, but even if she didn’t approve, it wouldn’t matter. She doesn’t make my decisions for me, and if she doesn’t like you, then she is not someone I want to spend my time with, blood or no.”

Rook looked relieved and sagged into Lucanis’s warm chest. “Oh good. Then I’m ready to go home with you as soon as possible. I really do hate this room.”

Lucanis threw his head back with a bark of laughter and fell back against the bed so that they were laying down once again. “Perfect, I will write to them later. Right now, I’m busy.” Rook felt her body heat and let herself melt into his kiss. Moving to his mansion in Treviso was definitely looking more and more appealing. 

************************************************************************

Two Months Later:

Rook regretted agreeing to swimming lessons as soon as Lucanis brought her to the small pond on the Dellamorte property where he had learned to swim as a child. Just looking at the body of water and knowing she was going to have to get in was making her feel ill.

“Why do I need to learn how to swim again? I have made it 27 years so far without and have been fine, very successful actually. I saved Thedas not knowing how to swim, so I’m probably good. Let’s just head back inside and we can-”

“Ah ah ah,” Lucanis cut her off as he pulled his loose-fitting tunic over his head. “You promised, remember? I’m pretty sure promising me anything is essentially the same as making a deal with a demon, so you’re locked in now, Nyra.”

“Yes!” Spite agreed, hissing out the words from Lucanis’s mouth before curling his lips into a smirk, “Rook promised! Cannot. Break her promise to us!”

“Fine, fine, okay.” Nyra agreed warily, still eyeing the pond with distaste, “A promise is a promise.” She gave Lucanis a sidelong glance, adding, “You’d better not let me drown, I’ll haunt you from the afterlife.”

Lucanis chuckled at the comment as Nyra finally began stripping her own clothes off. As soon as they were both down to their undergarments, Lucanis closed the distance between them and pulled Nyra towards the pond by her hand. She resisted weakly for a moment before accepting her fate when they arrived at the edge of the pond.

“Okay,” Lucanis began, “We’re just going to work on getting in the water, floating, and keeping your head above the surface today. Nothing crazy, and I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”

“We will not. Let anything bad happen to Rook. We keep safe, Lucanis and Spite are good swimmers.” Spite added, the purple light in Lucanis’s eyes flashing as he pushed his way to the surface to speak before fading back to their warm brown color.

Nyra blew an anxious breath out in a huff, before nodding. Lucanis went first, pulling her gently behind him as he waded deeper into the pond. Nyra’s legs trembled a bit as she followed behind the assassin. The water crept further up with each step, and her anxiety grew with it. 

Get it together, she scolded herself, it’s water. Even the kids here can swim, you need to calm down. It was easier said than done though, and once the water reached her waist, Nyra stopped suddenly. Lucanis paused when he felt the sudden resistance and turned to look at the woman behind him. His eyes softened when he saw Nyra was standing completely still and stiff, with her eyes closed as she took deep breaths in and out in an attempt to relax.

Lucanis then took several steps back until he was standing right next to her, gently tracing his hand up and down her spine. He watched as her left eye cracked open slightly to see what he was doing, and was relieved when she seemed to relax at his proximity.

“Would it help if I walked the rest of the way next to you?” Lucanis’s voice was genuine and soft, and he fought back a smile at the way Nyra’s freckled cheeks pinkened in response.

“Uh… yeah, that- that would help I think.” Nyra stuttered out a response lamely. Gods, I’m so hopeless, she thought, cringing internally. Why is this so hard??? I’ve literally killed a god, and I can’t walk into a pond?

Lucanis pulled her out of her self-deprecating thoughts with a light squeeze to her waist after he had wrapped an arm around her back to help guide her forward.

“Get out of your head, Nyra. Just follow me and try not to focus so much on the water, I promise I’ve got you.”

Squaring her shoulders, Nyra gave him a nod and the two began moving deeper into the pond again. She was doing well, and was excited at her progress. Nyra turned to grin at Lucanis proudly, and opened her mouth to share her giddiness. Just as she turned her head to the side, her foot hit a slick patch of mud and got stuck under a small rock. She found herself suddenly falling backward into the water with a startled gasp.

As her head dipped below the surface, Nyra kicked her legs and sputtered. Her eyes burned and she closed them tightly, trying to fight back her panic. Just as soon as she had gone under however, there were strong arms hooked under her armpits, hauling her back above the water.

Nyra’s head broke the surface and she coughed as water dripped down her face from her bangs that were now plastered to her forehead. “Fuck!” Nyra said breathlessly as she re-oriented herself with her surroundings. Lucanis was looking at her with wide eyes and an anxious expression.

“Are you alright?” He looked her over and brushed her soaked fringe out of her eyes as she coughed lightly again. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you it gets slippery-”

Nyra cut him off and rendered him speechless as she began laughing. Her laugh rang through the empty space of the large property, and Lucanis grew concerned that she was having some kind of break.

“Nyra..?” Lucanis spoke again in a concerned tone, running his eyes over her head in search of a wound that would cause something like this intense shift.

Nyra finally caught her breath again and looked at Lucanis, who was shocked to see a smile on her face. “I’m such a mess.” she laughed again, “Only I would find a way to somehow get my head underwater in water this shallow.” Then she beamed at him, “But I didn’t die or completely freak out. And you got me up right away. I’m actually feeling much better about this now.” 

Lucanis stared blankly at her for a few beats before he also burst into laughter. “I cannot believe all it took to ease your anxiety was falling into the water. I would have just shoved you in at the beginning had I known this would be the outcome.”

Nyra swatted his shoulder, “Hey, no shoving. I’m still nervous and I don’t really want to have that particular adrenaline rush again today.”

“Okay,” Lucanis agreed, still laughing lightly, “No shoving. Are you ready to go deeper and try floating?”

Nyra took a deep breath and met his eyes, her own smoldering with a new determination, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

************************************************************************

Four Months Later:

Nyra was humming to herself as she finished brushing her hair, also giving her outfit one last once over in the mirror. Lucanis was taking her to Cafe Pietra, and then he planned to take her on a gondola ride (now that she could at least keep herself from drowning).

She smirked as she recalled his puppy dog eyes when he had asked her to let him take her on the small boat. 

“Nyra.” he had tried for the third time that week, “You cannot live in Treviso and have never taken a gondola ride! That’s practically a crime!”

“Good thing I only hang out with criminals these days then.”

He had groaned at her response and she just gave him a mischievous grin. Finally, she elected to take pity on him. She really didn’t have any major issues with the gondola, but Lucanis had been so insistent and brought it up so often, Nyra couldn’t resist messing with him.

“Fine Lucanis,” Nyra began and Lucanis’s face lit up with excitement, “You can take me on a gondola ride.” 

A huge smile split Lucanis’s face and he kissed her. “I can’t wait, I know you’re going to love it. You just-”

“Wait,” Nyra held up a finger, “You have to take me out for coffee at Cafe Pietra first. That’s my condition.” 

Lucanis stared for a moment before grinning again, “You’ve got a deal, I’m glad you thought of that actually.”

So now, here she was several days later, getting ready to head to the Cafe to meet Lucanis. He was already there, having had to meet with a couple Talons about some changes he was imposing on the Crows. Apparently these Talons were the most frustrating, so he was going to need an extra coffee AND plenty of affection from her to recover. Not that he’d ever tell her that, stubborn as he was.

Nyra continued to hum lightly as she walked through the market. She had an old Grey Warden tavern song stuck in her head, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was missing Davrin, Antoine and Evka. She’d have to write them soon, Nyra decided.

She was so lost in thought, Nyra didn’t clock the man behind her who had begun to follow her after she passed the fruit stall. Nyra just wasn’t as vigilant as she used to be, the gods had been dead for over 6 months by now, and living with Lucanis in the Dellamorte manor meant she didn’t have to be too concerned about threats. The people of Treviso knew better than to fuck with the First Talon by trespassing.

This man however was drunk and stupid, so much so, he didn’t realize who the woman he had begun trailing behind was. He just saw a beautiful woman and decided he wanted her, a “classic scumbag” as Neve would say.

Nyra had reached the front of the cafe and began to head inside when an arm was suddenly barring the entrance in front of her. She frowned and turned to see who was denying her entry, and took a step back when she came face to face with the seedy looking man. He stank of shitty wine and body odor, and she could see how yellow his teeth were when he leered at her. 

“Heeeeey missss.” The drunk slurred, taking a step closer to Nyra, who took another step back to avoid being so close to him. She was getting a bad feeling, and discomfort began to stir in her stomach. This man did not have good intentions.

“You’re too pretty to be walking thessse streets alone.” The man continued, “Why don’t you let me walk you home, I’ll keep you niiiiice and safe.” 

Nyra flinched as he leaned forward. Mr. Disgusting took a deep breath, clearly trying to smell her as he moved his face towards her neck. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t knock him senseless, but she was too surprised and uncomfortable to think clearly or act. It was incredibly disturbing, and Nyra took another step back so that his face didn’t creep any closer to her neck.

“I’m not interested,” Nyra said in a cold tone, “I’m meeting someone here, and I don’t need assistance or want to go anywhere with you. Leave me alone, I won’t ask again.”

She fixed a glare on her face at the end of her sentence to solidify her point, but was horrified when the man simply laughed and shot his hand towards her, snatching her arm. His grip was painfully tight, and rage combined with a sick feeling coursed through her. Nyra made a fist with her right hand, about to punch this idiot’s lights out, when suddenly the man went flying and crashed into the brick wall, 20 feet behind him.

Mr. Disgusting groaned and cursed at her. “Dumb bitch, what do you-” 

He didn’t ever get to finish his sentence. Lucanis materialized in front of him so fast that Nyra’s eyes couldn’t track him, and broke the man’s neck in an instant, without hesitation. The square went silent for a moment, before a man, most certainly a Crow, left his spot against the wall and began dealing with the corpse. Lucanis said something quietly to the Crow, who nodded and whistled to a second man who came to help him take the body away. 

Conversation in the square resumed then, but Nyra couldn’t even hear it. Lucanis had turned to face her, his irises glowing a faint purple and smoldering with rage. They softened as soon as they met her own, and Lucanis was in front of her in a second. He began immediately running his hands lightly up and down her arms and looking for any sign of injury with a small frown and furrowed brow. Satisfied that she was unharmed, he muttered something in Antivan under his breath and pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I’m glad you’re safe. I was just sending the Talons away when I heard people start whispering about something happening just outside. Spite could tell you were there, and practically made my ears bleed with his shouting. I am grateful though, it made me move fast.” “No one. TOUCHES. Our Nyra. He made Nyra upset. Now he is dead. Wish we could kill him again.” Spite growled out the last part, causing Lucanis’s eyes to flash brightly and the air to take on a light electric charge, smelling of ozone.

“Easy Spite,” Lucanis murmured, “He’s dead. Calm down.” 

Nyra could practically hear Spite’s huff as the air around them settled. Then Lucanis finally addressed her directly.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he…” Lucanis trailed off, eyes growing murderous again.

“I’m fine!” Nyra said quickly, hand coming up to cup Lucanis’s face. “He was creepy, disgusting, and awful, but he didn’t touch me or hurt me. He just made my skin crawl and stomach churn, nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix.”

Nyra forced a smile onto her face. She was fine, just still slightly shaken from the vile man’s sudden, forceful advances. She desperately didn’t want it to ruin their evening, especially since Lucanis was already tense from the meeting he had just finished.

“I will make you coffee at home then.” Lucanis’s look left no room for argument, not that Nyra even truly wanted to argue, she would much rather be home. “We have plenty of the coffee beans, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. We can take a gondola another day, they’re not going anywhere.”

Nyra nearly teared up at how well he knew her. She wanted to stay for him, but she preferred to go home after this experience.

“Okay.” Nyra said softly, smiling at the love of her life, “I like your idea better.”

“That’s because I’m a very smart man with fantastic ideas.” Lucanis smirked at her, before sweeping her up into his arms. 

Nyra let out a shocked squeak and her hands automatically found their way around Lucanis’s neck. “Lucanis!” she exclaimed in a whisper, “You don’t have to carry me, my legs aren’t broken!”

“I am aware I don’t have to carry you.” He said simply, and began to quickly weave his way back to their home. Lucanis’s tone said this wasn’t something that he was going to debate with her, so Nyra settled against him. His heart beat steadily under her ear, and she smiled. She may have had to fight gods themselves to get him, but finding Lucanis was the best thing that had ever happened to her. 

Feeling safe and grateful, Nyra drifted off. She had been tired before this whole confrontation, and she had barely been keeping her eyes open since Lucanis had picked her up.

Lucanis smiled down at the woman in his arms, watching her eyelids flutter and then stay closed. His own eyes faintly glowed, flecks of purple shining through his brown irises. “I love you more than anything in this world.” He whispered to her in Antivan, “I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

DATV Masterlist

[luciopioid]

#6 with any of the (g)-idle girls, please? <3

#6 from here. “Let him watch.”

miyeon x f!reader

window sex. cunnilingus (reader giving), voyeurism kinda.

note: thank you sm for requesting!!!!! i changed him to them because I couldn’t think of a way to involve a man…it’s just so hard im sorry……. hope u enjoy heheh

You and Miyeon stepped into the elevator that went to her floor, the two of you having just returned from dinner. You were grateful for Miyeon’s off-days and even more grateful that she decided to spend some of them with you. The ride up is quiet, Miyeon looking at her phone, you looking at her.

“Thanks for dinner tonight.” You say, smiling.

“You’re welcome, ba–”

“Can I eat you out?”

You blurt out, interrupting her. Miyeon’s eyes widen. “Like right now?” She asks, an intrigued but puzzled look on her face.

“At home.” You respond, grinning. Excitement plasters on her face as she stares at the elevator door, tapping her foot subconsciously.

Once the elevator dings and opens, Miyeon makes sure she’s the first one out, practically speed walking to her apartment. You walked alongside her, giggling in your best attempts to keep up.

The two of you reach the door and she’s rummaging through her purse to find her keys. She fumbles finding the right key and unlocking the door. Once inside she drops her purse to the ground and you do the same. It’s mere seconds before her mouth crashes into yours, pushing you against a nearby wall. Her hands are quick as she’s pushing off your jacket and undoing your shirt. You reciprocate, taking her sweater off and pulling her cropped shirt above her head.

Before Miyeon gets a chance to unbutton your pants, you touch her hand and signal for the both of you to move somewhere more comfortable. You guide her to her window sill, not once breaking the kiss. You come off of her lips to kiss at her jawline. Miyeon whines. “Hurry.” You scoff at her impatience, given that if it was you on the receiving end tonight, she’d still be teasing you relentlessey. Your hands snake around her torso to unhook her bra, her breasts laying warm and plush against you.

You unbutton her jeans, pulling the zipper down and tugging them down her thighs in one movement. Miyeon is left in nothing but her panties, and your mouth is damn near salivating to taste her.

You and Miyeon have been together for months, the two of you didn’t necessarily believe in roles or sexual dynamics. However, getting to have her like this at your disposal— chest heaving, squirming under you while she’s begging for you to fuck her— felt like a gift.

Miyeon sat on the window sill as you sank down between her legs. “People can see us.” She says, worried, but not too worried to tell you to move.

“People can see you,” You retort, pushing her thighs apart. You peel her panties off and pull them down her legs. You could see how wet she ways without having touched her, yet.

You push her legs apart a little more as you pull her lower half closer to your face. You press a gentle kiss to her clit before licking a stripe up along her core. Miyeon gasps, her hands immediately finding a place on your head. Before you could even continue— “I think someones watching.”

“Then stop looking.”” You say muffled, between her thighs. You lick against her again and she lets out a needy whimper. “Let them watch.”

Her wetness and warm taste serenaded your tongue as you moved it flat against her pussy, doing all that you can to truly take this in. Miyeon’s back arched and her hand made a fist in your hair, her pulling you closer to her center subconsciously. You licked circles and others innocuous shapes around her clit, each movement resulting in loud long mewls from her— noises you were sure she’d probably get complaints about in the coming days. You look up at Miyeon, mouth still working at her pussy. You admire the sight before you; her hair sticking to her face in miscellaneous spots, her skin flushed to a light pink, her tits bouncing as her body shuddered and squirmed against your tongue. You tap her thigh, wanting to get her to lock her eyes with yours. She looks at you with desperate, hooded eyes, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. After a while, you gave Miyeon control and allowed her to just grind against your face, but not once did you let her break eye contact with you. You were aroused at the thought of watching her come undone.

Without warning, Miyeon is letting out loud strings of moans and curses as her legs begin to shudder. Her back fully arched and legs locking your face to her core. You moan into her pussy, giving her any last stimulation to send her over the edge as you ate her through her orgasm. With one last groan from her, you come out from between her legs. You could feel the cold air immediately hitting the wet juices on your mouth. You stand up and center yourself between Miyeon’s legs again, You move some hair from her face and press a firm kiss to her lips.

“Look,” You tell her, signaling outside. She looks over her shoulder and then back at you, pouting and holding back a grin. “There’s no one out there…”

[richonnesbitch]

One moment that is not talked about enough for me is when Rick sees Michonne’s scar. And of course it‘s cloaked in that whole moment of Rick seeing Michonne undress and being very horny lol That man was starving, ok 😭 And of course you can immediately see the rage in his face. Like, he was already plotting on killing whoever is responsible for this. Jocelyn better be thankful she is already dead! But also it‘s something that shatters the illusion he is holding on to. Because as long as Michonne is not in front of him, as long as he pushes her away, he can imagine her living a happy life back in Alexandria with their kid(s). Like, it’s killing me to not be with them but if they get to live good lifes because of it so be it. And here is confronted with the fact that clearly it is and has not been all sunshines and rainbows for her. So why and what exactly he is sacrificing himself for?

Yes, it's so sad. He thought he did what he did for the greater good. He fully let himself believe that Michonne and Judith were okay without him, despite him knowing more than anybody how this world works. I can only imagine the guilt he must feel. He was fully ready to leave the CRM just to go back and kill Jocelyn lmao!

It's kind of funny because Michonne also had illusions. She let herself believe that once she found Rick again everything would be fine and dandy. She thought they'd be holding hands skipping into the sunset together. I guess them believing those things was basically the thing holding their last strand of sanity together.

Like imagine a protector and family man like Rick being ripped away from everyone he loves, unable to stop any of the evil happening to them. He HAD to believe they were okay or else I believe he would have physically let himself die. And imagine the discovering the love of your life suddenly and brutally "dying" in front of you. You have every reason to believe they are dead but somehow you still know they aren't. Everyone thinks you're crazy and the one person who tells you that you aren't crazy is a crazy person themselves. Years go by and at random you find miscellaneous clues that they are still alive! And so now you really know that they need your help because they must be really stuck wherever they are. Because there is no world you can imagine where they wouldn't do everything in their power to be with you. You would just have to believe that mentally they are okay. That once you find them everything else comes easy. You would not wanna imagine how broken they truly are. It's kind of really romantic when you think about it. Lying to yourself just because you can't fathom them not being safe.

They've both been through so much. I'm glad they got their happy ending 🥺🥺